#carry on lovin'

[letterboxd-loggd]

Carry On Loving (1970) Gerald Thomas

July 16th 2023

[satorisoup]

is the demon slayer fandom still alive… plz awaken demon slayer lovers im begging yousss T^T

[procrastiel]

You know, I think Aziraphale knew. I think he did that because he knew Crowley was struggling. Never before or after have we heard Aziraphale say “let me tempt you” or anything along those lines, rather quite the opposite. This scene always struck me as out of character for Aziraphale but with the info you mentioned it makes perfect sense. The angel came to rescue the demon this time.

We gotta talk about Rome, y'all.

So, the flashback in Rome is pretty much exclusively the only time Crowley is actively short with Aziraphale and it has always sort of itched in my brain as to why. When I finally got my hands on the script book it started to make sense:

For the uninitiated, Caligula was a Roman Emperor so despicable that there's literally a wiki dedicated to his atrocities.

Some of the deplorable things he was said to have done include, but aren't limited to:

Ordering criminals to be fed to the wild animals used for Gladitorial entertainment, after having cut their tongues out

Decapitating and butchering several people

Beating a priest to death with a mallet

Crucifying, burning, and suffocating multiple people

Literally having a Senator he disliked ripped apart by a mob

With this in mind, we know that Crowley, despite his indifferent attitude toward his demonic assignments, actively works against hurting people and animals, and even though his dialogue implies that he never tempted Caligula, we don't actually know what he might have witnessed. Still, it's not at all out of the realm of possibility that he saw things that could have straight up left him scarred psychologically.

Though the filmed scene leaves this portion of the conversation out, including his failed rebuff of Aziraphale's company, it's clear that he's in some emotional distress. With this in mind, Aziraphale's appearance may have occurred at just the right time. If he saw even just a hint of the monstrosity and madness of Caligula, he'd have needed some sort of comfort, so Aziraphale's stupid question and temptation for oysters may have been the best thing that could have happened under the circumstance.

Plus, given Aziraphale's ignorance about Caligula (he was there for Nero,) he'd have no idea how badly Crowley was messed up. He never reacted to Crowley's irritation or boarish attitude with anything other than continued enthusiasm for his presence. Demonhood has likely been incredibly tragic and traumatizing for Crowley at times, and, in this scene, Aziraphale was a balm for that pain without ever knowing.

[cakeinthevoid]

Prompt/Part 1 — Part 2 —

Part 3 — Memory Meal (Under My Skin — Jukebox The Ghost)

Longer chapter that may deserve some content warnings! Flashback to whumpee in cage (not explicit/POV), implied/mentioned captivity, mistreatment of individuals (mentioned), injuries (listed, mentioned)

Truthfully, Carrie didn’t know why it took so long for them to make this discovery. They should have just treated this case as they did every other: business as usual. 

Carrie suspected that their success with most of the institutes patients is a result of the tried and true method of treating people normally. Yes, Carrie was also professionally trained in all the practical aspects of the job, but it was the softer skills that had greater effect. Their last resident needed to heal from severe leg injuries, but Carrie was almost more proud the day she had spoken kindly than the day she could walk again. 

They smiled as they remembered her, Rosia—a young woman who came to their home so full of rage and righteous fury and left with a little more hope in her heart. Not a completely new person—she was just as biting with compliments as she was with curses—but Carrie liked to think she would find the good things with a little more ease than she had before. The stars knew she needed it. 

Reflecting on all the most recent patients, Carrie found the idiosyncrasies of their most recent case…not disturbing, but it made them more uneasy than their typical case. 

Carrie loved music—everything from punk to classical—and would play it often throughout the day. Most of their patients had their own favourites too, making it easier to bond with them over the shared interest. Willow was the first time Carrie had decided to hold back.

Susceptible to audio/visual cues. Prone to overreact. Easily stimulated. Danger to the public. 

Those were only a few of the least worrying lines on the first page of the patient report they received those few weeks ago. They were expecting someone like a firecracker, like Rosia, or someone ‘violent’ like Lex—who at most could be called defensive—but instead an entourage from the institute arrived just to deliver a stoic Willow. 

In a cage. A cage barely tall enough to stand in and uncomfortable to sit in.

Before they even brought Willow inside, four of the institute officers came in to do an audit of their home. When Carrie had said that the institute did their annual audit just four months ago, the lead officer had simply said this was a “special case.”

Getting information out of those officers was like pulling teeth. 

The officers scattered across their home, even inspecting the field beyond the porch. Then they asked where the cell was. At that point Carrie pulled their own rank and announced they’d take it from here. The officers were skeptical but acquiesced. They looked eager to leave despite pitying looks at Carrie.

The lead left last with words of warning.

“Keep ‘em in the cage. I know you’re gonna wanna take ‘em out as soon as I leave—I read your files, don’t deny it—but at least this once, follow the institutes instructions to the letter. At the very least, keep ‘em locked up for a day or two.” 

Carrie had wanted to respond, but he continued: “I like you. Heard good things, and you do good work. So I’d really hate to be called in to clean up your body. Whatever would be left of it, anyway.” 

Either oblivious to or ignoring Carrie’s growing horror, he finished with a quick, “Just tie ‘em up when you feed ‘em and don’t hesitate to call for backup.” Then he pat them on the shoulder and took his leave. 

Carrie had stood there in dumb shock for a good minute after the door shut. 

Their kitchen timer went off and pulled them out of the memory, but they couldn’t shake their initial impression—especially when it was so far from what Willow was actually like around them alone. 

Willow was their highest rated patient to date, and yet there had not been any serious incidents at all. 

Granted, there was the time with the spoon… 

Spoon. They needed a spoon for the salad bowl. 

Carrie refocused their efforts on preparing the dinner according to the diet requirements outlined in Willow’s patient folder. They doubted this diet would sustain a healthy human, let alone someone recovering from broken ribs, malnutrition, and a painful amount of bruises and lacerations. 

Carrie had long begun taking the institutes words as guidelines rather than law. No one had reprimanded them for it (not severely, anyway) so they assumed some reading between the lines was expected. All the food groups were covered and allergies were respected, but Carrie did enjoy taking liberties with how they did so. Cooking was not only useful, but an enjoyable way to de-stress.

Taking the chicken out of the oven, Carrie chanced a look around the corner and caught a glimpse of—nothing. They frowned slightly as they plated two servings. They were really hoping Willow would sleep some more. 

As expected, once the cutlery clattered onto the table, it only took a few moments for Willow to meander into the kitchen. Carrie gave them a warm smile. They haven’t exchanged any words, but they adapted rather smoothly to a quiet system and schedule. 

Willow slipped into a seat at the island table and rested their hands in their lap as they waited for Carrie to seat themself. Once they had taken their spot at the head of the island, Willow gave a polite nod and took up their fork. 

Their hand still shook a little, but they were able to cut the chicken into bite sized pieces using the edge of the fork. 

Dinner was a quiet thing. Willow would only nod or shake their head slightly every now and then. Carrie decided not to bring up the music. Attempts at conversation died soon after, but the silence was comfortable. 

Tomorrow, Carrie would begin Operation Music Festival. 

Tag list (comment/ask to be added!): @whumpkinpie <33

[oepionie]

— "THE PRINCESS TREATMENT." various

SYNOPSIS: your boyfriend and the different ways he pampers and spoils you rotten ♡

⊹ [ cw ] — mentions of winter storms, prefect is implied to have bad living conditions, mild violence in the tweels parts, jade breaks someone's wrist, crowley slander, ace slander◞

⊹ [ tags ] — FLUFFY! feminine reader! no gendered pronouns used, riddle uses his dorm position to spoil you, seeing trey driving is very hot, deuce biceps, leona and azul sugar daddy era, ruggie would rather freeze to death than have you be cold, jack carries you, jade and floyd will fight for you, rook makes you his muse and paints you, malleus renovates the entire diasomnia dorm for you, sebek carries your pink handbags◞

⊹ [ characters ] — riddle, trey, deuce, leona, ruggie, jack, azul, jade, floyd, rook, malleus, sebek◞

⊹ [ w.c ] — 4.9k+◞ | 🦇masterlist◞

—♰ RIDDLE

Princess treatment, Like—literally

Loathe is Riddle to admit—He can't deny the fact that being his lover meant you got special treatment. Prime example being your position at unbirthday parties. At the banquet table, just beside Riddle's designated throne, was your throne. Similar in style, it had a heart-shaped crest and golden frame; the only difference was that it was milky white rather than deep red. And despite his best efforts to downplay the favoritism shown to you, Riddle knows for a fact that he had the throne commissioned himself.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

"Come with me." The dorm leader says as he moves towards you, leading you towards your throne. He didn't fail to notice how your legs shook slightly as you walked alongside him or how your hands didn’t leave his coat once. Not that he minded.

The redhead clasped your hands in his as he sat you down onto the leather seat before adjusting the train of your dress to ensure that it wouldn't bother you.

"How are you fairing?" Riddle asked softly, kneeling before you to slip a leather-clad hand behind your knees. He set your feet up on a plush stool and slipped your pointed heels off, gently caressing your ankles. "I overheard you earlier, griping about your feet aching. I certainly hope you're not pushing yourself too hard."

"Ah, no. I just chose the wrong heels today. They're too pointy." You sighed, poking at your crimson red heels, which were discarded to the grassy sides. Groaning, you reclined back on your throne, the billowing, fluffy skirt of the dress Riddle had recently gifted tumbling all about you.

"I see." Riddle nodded in understanding, taking your hand and pressing a quick gentlemanly kiss on your wrists. "The croquet game is up next. I suppose you'd rather stay here?"

"Yeah, I think I need some alone time," you sigh. Riddle squeezes once more your hand in reply, letting his eyes shut in contemplation.

"Very well," He hums, moving to gently tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. "Do rest here a while, rose."

There was a soft smile as the leather of his hands glide across your back. "Oh, and, please let a member of my dorm know if you ever need anything. Worry not. I've instructed everyone here to be at your beck and call."

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰ TREY

Passenger princess treatment<3

Every weekend, it was routine for Trey to whisk you away from your beaten-up dorm. After all, he was sure it was nice to spend the day in a place where you weren't inhaling dust and spiders every second. Both of you would always go over to his parent's café in the city for a simple little brunch date. And without fail, Trey would always pick you up at 9am sharp by the school gates.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

"… I was made for lovin' you, baby

You were made for lovin' me

And I can't get enough of you, baby

Can you get enough of me?"

Soft music played from the car's radio as the third-year weaved through the barren intersections, careful and slow. It seems as if the roads were merciful to you both today, calm and free of any traffic.

Trey languidly reaches one of his hands, calloused from his years of baking, over to rest gently on your thigh. His thumb rubs soft circles and nonsensical patterns over your plump skin while the other gripped the steering wheel in a loose hold, biceps flexing as he twisted the wheel to turn the car.

Focused as he was, you didn't miss how his gaze flits back and forth between the road and you, the expression swimming within them almost akin to a distant longing.

You place your hand atop his and lean against the passenger door. A wide grin spreads over your glossy red lips as you shake your head playfully. "Keep your eyes on the road."

Mirthful laughter spills from your mouth before your eyes flutter shut as you sway along to the song, mindlessly kicking your legs around. "Crashing and going to the hospital doesn't really sound like a good date idea."

A pensive smile creeps up on Trey's face, and he lets out a low chuckle. "Yeah? I just can't help it. You're a much more interesting sight."

He watched as the sun's dazzling light bathed your image in a beautiful, pleasant glow. To him, you looked ethereal, seemingly glowing and shining under the golden streaks of sunlight that pour through the windshield.

"What did I just say?" you sighed, smiling cheekily as you smoothed a hand over his clover-colored hair, fixing the stray strands moved askew by the wind from the open windows. "Hello~? Wonderland to Trey? Eyes on the road?"

He paused for a while before chuckling, his hands splaying out on the steering wheel as he turned his gaze back front. "Right, right. I'll be careful, princess."

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰  DEUCE

Carries your things for you and will not let you do any heavy lifting at all plus he buys you drinks!

Screw Crowley Dire. You were sick of Ramshackle's awful, scratchy furniture. For once, you wished you could sit on something that wasn't littered with dust bunnies or looked like it came straight from the depths of the underworld—no offense to Idia. And so, using the money you had painstakingly saved over the last six months, you decided to buy a cute, frilly sofa.

Problem was—you couldn't lift it at all. It was too wide and heavy for your poor untrained arms. Fortunately for you, your boyfriend was more than happy to help ^^

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

"Um…Deuce? Are you sure you don't want me to work?" Perched atop the kitchen counters, you were worriedly staring down at him.

While he was preoccupied with lifting the couch, you were lazily sipping on a bubble tea—a drink which he bought for you himself. Humming, you let your gaze move from the soft line of his cheekbone, to the sharper cut of his jaw, before resting it onto the thick of his arms. " I don't mind helping, you know."

Deuce was standing by the door, arms tucked beneath the couch as he braced himself for lifting. "Yeah, I got this. Don't worry."

Now, why was he here, exactly? Well…First off, you didn't intend to call him at all.

In the middle of trying to haul your couch into Ramshackle's entrance, Deuce had appeared out of nowhere, offering his help. Despite your vehement denial, the stubborn boy wouldn't take no for an answer, and eventually forced you to sit down, shoving the bright, bubbly drink in your hand without saying a word.

So, here you were. Shamelessly ogling at him while he tried to find a way to bring the couch in.

"Are you sure? I don't want you to get hurt—Oh!" You gasped, hand flying up to cover your agape mouth when Deuce easily lifted it up as if it were made of air. In response to your expression of astonishment, he grinned and playfully flexed his arms. "See?"

While Deuce set the couch down in front of the TV, you slipped off the counters and strode over to him. Jumping into his embrace, you draped your arms around his shoulder and pressed a big kiss on his cheeks, watching in delight as his face exploded in pink. "You're so strong! Thank you so much!"

Deuce let a wobbly smile stretch across his burning cheeks, his hands slack atop your hips. "Y-Yeah! No problem."

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰ LEONA

Sugar dad-I mean-financial help<3 + Hints at passenger princess treatment

Leona Kingscholar was not a romantic. Naturally, he has stayed to himself ever since he was little. This lion was not the kind to be sentimental, gooey, or emotional. So it is astonishing how quickly this stone-cold personality of his breaks down when he's around you.

Every little thing you do drives him into a lovesick frenzy, and he has no idea how to stop it. He wasn't particularly into grand displays of affection or romantic gestures. Ergo, in an effort to express his adoration, he turns to more…costly methods.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

"Tell me what you want." Leona demands, tone serious as he wraps a rough yet protective arm around your hips. Both of you were standing smack dab in the middle of a large shopping mall. Though the more you stood here, the more you began to realize that this place wasn't really your…ordinary mall.

First and foremost, when Leona pulled up, there was private parking, and that was already intimidating to you in and of itself. Second, it seems like every single store in here was a luxury brand. You've seen a couple of these logos plastered onto the tags of Vil's or Jade and Floyd's clothes.

As a matter of fact, you were pretty sure their plastic bags cost more than your entire yearly allowance combined.

"Ah, um…"  A nervous sweat built up on your brow as you fished your wallet out, peering into what little funds you had. "Leona, honey—I just needed to get some school supplies…Is there a different mall we can go to?" You sheepishly smiled up at him. "I don't think I can afford to get anything here."

Silence immediately follows as Leona stares at you with a dumbfounded look. Blinking bluntly, he scoffs. "Who said you were paying?"

"Hu-Huh?" You stammered, fiddling with your wallet. The lion's eyes were ripped wide open in shock, as if the mere thought of you spending your own money on your own things was a criminal act. Something so ludicrous that even a person with his deceptive persona finds it distasteful.

"Ain't it obvious already? I'm paying," Leona huffs, dragging you to a nearby jewelry shop. Behind the glass were displays of glittering pearls and jewels, each of which had delicate and intricate carvings. "And we're gettin' more than stationary."

"But-!" You start, only to get interrupted as his calloused hand clamps over your mouth.

"No buts."

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰  RUGGIE

Giving you his coat when you're cold and just being sickeningly sweet<3

Ruggie was used to working for others, and this habit of his pours over to you. Though it wouldn't take long for people to notice that his acts of labor was…different with you.

For others, Ruggie works because there's an exchange, a benefit, or a payment for him. For you, however, he does things with no motive in mind. He would never ask for more because he genuinely didn't need anything more, and if he ever did, a simple kiss or hug from you would be plenty.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

It was a frigid winter day and both of you were walking to school together, a routine you both developed over the past few months. As you followed him through the deep snowfall, the cold wind nipped and bit at your skin, making you shudder. Despite the struggle, you push on, the rough pads of your boots dragging along the thick blankets of snow.

Unfortunately for you, the flimsy cardigan you bought at Sam's did nothing to keep your body safe from the cruel winter.

While Ruggie's oversized warm coat helps kept him sufficiently warmed up, you, on the other hand, are struggling. You know you should have gotten a thicker coat, but this was all you could afford last minute.

Ever so caring, your boyfriend is quick to notice this and turns back around, trudging through the snow to meet you.

"C'mere," Ruggie drags you into his embrace and starts to slowly inch the coat off his shoulders. With your form now pushed against his body, he takes the chance to press a soft kiss against your cheeks. At the exchange of affection, both of you erupt in soft giggles, lovesick grins stretched across your lips.

The moment feels intimate, loving, and safe.

"Here ya' go." Suddenly he's engulfing you in his thick cloak and zipping it up. Protesting, you try to give it back, but all he does is snicker and shake his head. He peppers warm kisses on the side of your bare frostbitten neck, relishing in the giggles that spill from your lips. "Keep it. I can handle the cold. I'm used to it but I can't have you freezin' out here, now can I?"

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰  JACK

Carries you when your feet start to hurt, tee hee

Jack was strong and well-disciplined. He's worked hard and trained himself to peak physical condition, yet even then, he's continually seeking to improve himself even more. He's tried it all: fitness routines, weight lifting, and sports. And it pays off.

His strength has proven useful in a variety of circumstances. from physical education classes, sporting events, marathons, and, strangely enough, carrying you when your heels begin to hurt your feet.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

Jack looks around the booths as he takes your hands in his, pulling you along the festival crowds, "Hm. I think the takoyaki stand is around here. You were craving that earlier, right?" If it weren't for the intense dull ache at the bottom of your ankles, you would have been delighted to hear about the delectable octopus snack.

Instead, you hissed and pulled on the beastman's hand, halting to a stop, unable to take the torture of your heels any longer. "Jack, hold on a second."

Groaning, you slouch down on a nearby bench and kick off your heels, scowling at the dull throb that's pressing itself against the back of your foot. Jack quickly knelt down by your side, ears alert and tail swishing.

"What's wrong?" He questions as he drags your legs over to rest on top of his firm thighs. "Do your feet hurt?"

"Yeah," you sigh. "I kinda regret putting on heels at a festival like this…I didn't realize it would hurt so bad. I just wanted to look cute."

The wolf ponders for a moment before swiftly turning around, presenting his back to you, "Get on."

"Eh?" You blinked, tilting your head to the side. Jack looks away, keeping his head tilted to the ground as a dark flush swept over his skin. "I'll carry you…I-If your feet hurt, I won't mind carrying you."

"Oh!" Smiling, you slip onto his back and wrap your arms snug around his neck. Jack clutches your heels in one hand while the other grasps onto your thigh. The beastman easily stands up, supporting both his and your weight as he heads towards the food stands.

"Who knew you were such a softie, Jack! Hehe." You tease, pressing a kiss against the side of his neck. The beastman flushed even more, avoiding your gaze at all cost.

"Tch. I-I don't go around doing this for anyone."

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰  AZUL

Sugar dad-I mean-financial help<3 #2

Azul lived to spoil you.

For you, the octo-mer gleefully buys mountains of clothing. Your entire wardrobe has been thoughtfully planned by him (and often rapidly purchased, Floyd is always the victim to his 12am shopping whims).

Other than clothing, he's also quite fond of jewelry. He clasps pure pearls to your ears, drapes diamonds over your neck, and slips rings onto your fingers. It would be the highlight of Azul's day to see the items he had purchased for you proudly displayed for all the students on campus to see.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

"Shall we?" he asks softly as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you up from your chair. The smooth white silk of your dress cascades off the plush leather seat, draping down to your ankles. Azul swiftly guides you away from the lounge, signaling at both Floyd and Jade in the corner to clean up before turning his attention back to you, once more. "I hope the food was to your liking, angelfish?"

"Oh, it was," you confirm, a smile playing on your lips. Leaning up, you press a warm kiss against his lips, one which he returns. "Thank you for the wonderful night, Azul! The dress as well. It looks beautiful."

"Why, of course." The octo-mer hums, running his hand up your back. As he slips both of you into his room, he shuts the door with his foot and guides you to his vanity. "Though I do have one last gift."

"Another?" You chuckle, "Don't you think you spoil me too much? I don't want it to seem like I'm leeching off of you…"

"No, you could never," Azul says as he motions you to a seat near the table of his vanity. The octo-mer reaches over and opens a drawer, revealing a nice velvet box.

As the box is opened, a gorgeous sea-glass necklace with a stunning silver-coral colour is exhibited to you. It sat prettily atop a white plush pillow, winking at you. Azul deftly runs a hand up your neck to pull your hair back and your lips parts in a "o" when he clasps it on.

"Azul," you breathlessly murmur. "I can't possibly—This must have cost a fortune."

"It's for you," Azul smiles. "Only for you."

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰  JADE

You have scary eel privileges'

It was not uncommon for Jade to come knocking at your door in opportune times of the night to accompany you out for a walk. You mentioned once how you loved stargazing and Jade hasn't let that go since. For he too had always carried a fondness for the night, more specifically, the moon.

It was constant, a repetitive lustrous cycle, and despite his thrill seeking nature, he took comfort in its consistency. Walks with you were the highlight of his week, and he certainly does not take interruptions from pesky little bugs lightly.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

The night sky above Ramshackle was littered with painted specs of sparkling stars, burning brightly amidst the gradients of blue and black. Jade had a firm hand situated by the small of your back, gently guiding you along the dirt path of the trail.

"It's so beautiful…" You murmur in astonishment, craning your head up to peer up at the canvas of stars. Chuckling, Jade tugs you in closer to slip his large jacket over your shoulders. "I'm glad you like it, pearl. I do hope it's not too cold?"

"Not at all."

Both of you continue along your hike, going deeper and deeper into the thick, dense forest. As you trudged on, a bundle of wild mushrooms caught your eye and you halted to a stop, recognizing the patterns and spots on the fungi in a book Jade had once shown you.

"Wait here a moment. I just saw those mushrooms you wanted so bad. I'll go get it!" Before Jade could even reply, you were already off, sneaking past tall bushes and prickly trees. 

Just as you were about to pick your first mushroom, a low growl interrupts you. Freezing, your eyes dart upward to see a Savanaclaw student towering over your form. 

He did not seem happy.

"Oya? You're that Ramshackle punk, aren't you?…I have to say, Leona let you off real easy after that little spy mission you did in our dorm." He sneers, rolling the joints of his shoulders and moving closer, backing you up against a tree. "That's all good with me…Cuz' If he won't do something bout' it, then I will."

Suddenly, he was drawing his fist back, aiming for you. The sudden shift happened so quickly that all you could do was flinch and hunch over, preparing yourself for a hit.

Only for it to never come.

"My, my," a familiar voice muses. Breath hitching in your throat, you peek up and see Jade looming behind the boy. The eel's hand was coiled tight around the beastman's wrist, clasping tighter and tighter until there was a sickening snap. 

"How foolish of you to think I would allow that."

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰ FLOYD

You have scary eel privileges' #2

Floyd was a lot softer and caring than a lot of people would give him credit for. That or he just gives you special treatment. After all, the big bad eel found you endearing. You were his one and only beloved little shrimpy. 

You were the one who stood by him even when others dismissed him as strange or frightful because you loved and adored him wholeheartedly. So, he can't help but be protective of you.

Nothing will ever hurt you so long as he's by your side.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

"Shrimpy? What're you doing here?"

Sniffles and cries wreck your chest as you curled up on Floyd's bed, clutching his shrimp plush tight in your arms. Said eel was standing by the door, a look of shock plastered onto his features before it turned ice-cold as he approached your weeping form.

"My poor shrimpy…" Floyd rasps, tugging off his gloves to cup your wet cheeks with his big hands. "What's wrong with my shrimpy? Did someone do this? I'll squeeze 'em if they did."

The eel crawls into bed with you, tugging the plush out of your arms and slipping himself into your embrace. Soft warm kisses are peppered on your wet cheeks as Floyd coos at you.

Sobbing, you raise a hand to furiously wipe at your eyes before exclaiming, "It's Grim again! Why does he have to be so difficult?! I worked so hard for my alchemy exam, but it seems like he doesn't care! He's brought our grades down again!"

"It's that cat of yours again, huh?" Floyd clicked his tongue, thumb pressing against the corner of your teary eyes. He pressed a warm palm to your cheek, examining your face with close inspection as he slowly reached for your hand and set it down atop his beating heart. "No worries. Just let it all out, shrimpy. I'll have a talk with the baby seal later hehe~"

You sniffed and brushed his comments aside as you pulled away from the embrace, an action which made him pout. "…I'm not sure he'd even listen. Grim is as stubborn as a rock." 

"We'll see about that, shrimpy." Floyd scoffs, a frown on his face clearly visible as he pulls you closer once more.

"Yanno, I'm pretty good at alchemy myself." Floyd chirps, a dark grin slowly stretching across his cheeks. "I'm sure the baby seal won't mind having a private tutor session with good ol' me."

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰ ROOK

This man WORSHIPS the ground you walk on.

As they say, "Before you die, experience the love of a writer, poet or painter. If you're lucky enough to be an artist's muse, they will immortalize you." Such a muse you were to Rook.

Though it would take quite a lot of coaxing before he could have the pleasure of having you as his muse, at the rare moments you did agree—Rook did his utmost best to do you justice on the canvas.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

Portraiture looked into the life of the subject, revealed what was hidden deep inside, and examined it. With his hunter-like manner, Rook was all too acquainted with this study.

"A-Am I doing this right?" You murmur, trying your best not to move around as you held a bouquet of daisies up to your chest. There was a cream-tinted dress draped across your body as you reclined against the backdrop Rook had set up.

"Oui. Such beauty in your gaze, trickster. Angels lurk behind your eyes." The hunter flirts, resolute gazed locked onto your flustered ones as he drags his brush against the palette. There was an experiment with the hues for a time before he blended a few other colors.

"I cannot thank you enough for allowing me to do this." As he'd found the color he wanted, Rook turned back to you. He took careful note of every nuance and detail of your glowing visage and committed as much as he could to memory. Rook knew he’d have to make your portrait perfect. He simply couldn’t allow for anything else.

"You're very persistent," you huff with a small smile on your face. "I had to cave in eventually, huh?"

"But, of course!" Rook cheekily grins, turning his attention back to the canvas. "I can't let a chance like this pass me by."

Time passed and layers upon layers of color came together to form the picture he sought after. Out to the right, spread across a lush sofa, was your incandescent form. And he surely didn't hold back on the details. The creases in the fabric, the curve of your smile, and the contours of the plush pillows scattered on either side of the plush crimson sofa all draw the eye.

It was a large painting that he had boldly placed in Pomefiore's living room, much to Vil's chagrin. Try as he might, the dormleader couldn't get the hunter to remove it at all.

───────────────────── · ·

— ♰ MALLEUS

Princess treatment? pff. That's cute. No, it's queen treatment to him.

You had a bad tendency of rambling on about whatever that came to mind, often without realising that another person was in the same room as you. Even if you initially didn't mind this little quirk of yours, recent events have made you realise that you should probably curb your mouth-running.

Even more so considering that your partner, caring as he was, had a tendency to be quite…impulsive. Especially when it comes to matters concerning your comfort and well-being.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

Malleus was flipping through a catalogue of colour samples and scrutinizing each texture with careful judgment. Slipping the page into your hands, he murmurs, "This is all rather lovely. Perhaps a dark crimson will suffice. Or would you like this wine red dye, my dear?" The dragon looked at you, patiently awaiting your response.

Only for there to be none.

You stood awkwardly at his side, your cheeks flaming up with shame. Tugging at his coat, you rose up on your tiptoes and whispered quietly, "Tsunotaro…when I whined about it being cold, I didn't mean for you to go this far."

"Oh?" He quirks a brow up, "Do you not like these colors?"

"Mal," you utter gently, handing the catalogue back to him. "I don't really think we need to—"

"Young Master. If I may," Sebek interrupts, voice raising to a strained high squeak, "Please do tell. Why are we replacing every.single marble floor in the dorm…with carpet?"

Malleus draws you in his arms, all while ignoring the enraged stare painted on Sebek's face. "My darling's feet become frigid cold when they walk along the marble flooring. I think it's due time for it to get redone," he says while running his hands tenderly up your back and gazing at you with a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Sebek blinks, a strained smile sneaking up on his cheeks, "Well. I'm sure they can use slippers—"

"Nonsense." Malleus snarls, eyes flashing a luminous green. "How dare you even think of subjecting them to such a ludicrous act. Hmph. Using…slippers—How preposterous." 

"No. I think my way is much better." Shaking his head, Malleus turns back to the catalogue—paying no mind to the grief-stricken look on his retainer's face. "Now dearest, do you think burgundy would look good in the kitchen?"

───────────────────── · ·

—♰ SEBEK

Carries your sparkly pink purses for you, slay king<3

Sebek was not a fool. The fae was well aware he could be a bit…much at times. And even if he doesn't express it, he really values your nearly infinite patience with him. 

The boy was awkward at affection, and this is especially highlighted when it comes to anything involving romantic gestures. Even though your snappy crocodile was hard-headed and stubborn at times, he still showed you how much he cared in his own little ways. Even if it were something as simple as carrying your sparkly pink bag around the campus.

꒰‧₊˚⚗️☆༉‧₊˚.

"You ought to have known better than to jest so lightly about Diasomnia that way!" Sebek barks out, a leather-clad finger digging deep into Ace's chest. However, as opposed to being upset as Sebek had anticipated, the ginger chortles, muffled giggles sneaking past his clamped up lips.

"Sebek, buddy." Ace wheezes out, shoulders shaking from the strain of his suppressed laughter. "It's kinda hard to take you seriously…wh-when you have that."

The Heartslabyul runt gestures towards your designer purse, which was snugly resting against Sebek's bicep, slung over his shoulder. 

It was quite the eye-catcher. The sparkling pink diamonds of its handle twinkled a bright brilliant white, so bright in fact that it was almost blinding. 

Epel takes notice of the logo and crocodile keychain attached to it and he perks up.

"Oh, it's one of those girly-lookin' designer bags Vil is always yappin' about," Epel points out, squinting his eyes to get a better look at it. "Ain't that the prefect's bag?"

Unfazed by Ace's mocking, Sebek scoffs arrogantly, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Indeed, it is. As a knight-in-training, it is only right for me to possess the quality of a gentleman. Chivalrous acts like this are nothing to be ashamed of." He abruptly snapped his head over to glower at Ace, who was sitting rather comfortably in the cafeteria bench, crossing one leg over the over as he met Sebek's irritated stare. "Not that I anticipate someone like you to ever have experience with it.."

Sebek then rose from the table and strode boldly in the direction of your classroom, the pink bag swinging with each heavy step he took. Epel was leaning over the table, placing a shaky hand on Ace's shoulder as loud laughter racked through his body.

"Darn' right," Epel cackles, wiping the tears away from his eyes before turning to the ginger. "Nice ta' see someone still has sum chivalry…Unlike you, Ace."

The ginger visibly deflates, rolling his eyes as he mutters, "Yeah, yeah. We get it. He's down bad."

—TAGLIST:

꒰ ♡🧷: if you want to be tagged for ALL of my works, comment here!

@keedas @spadecentral @crypticbibliophile @pastellepastary @cassidycampfire @cocomollo @poisonioushearts @kawaiipotatoghost @ramvuda @sweeneyblue1 @the-lost-anime-dad @kyraxiyn @mayaaaeo @fluffimemes @awkwardspontaneity @phoneandchips @gussuri @lunavixia @heatofmyexoheart @heatofmyexoheart @pianopuppygirl @cross-crye @cerisescherries @cecilebutcher @savanaclaw1996 @msykaroly @a-bit-late

@furoidoleech @skadi-winterfell @mushroomchaos101 @taruruchi

[briseroyawritingsblog]

𝑲𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓

𝒉𝒖𝒔𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒅!𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒔!𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒘𝒊𝒇𝒆!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +18 minors do not interact. pregnancy sex, soft sex, fluffy, kissing, squirting, future together, established marriage relations. etc, minors do not interact.

𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

divider by @anitalenia

“Oh Lo” you whispered touching your chest in awe. You just moved into a new home.. few days ago. Busy like two bees getting everything in order to start living your lives together you gazed at your husband who currently put together a cot for your little one. “It’s ready” he smiled softly looking at you his heart fluttering at the mere sight of you carrying your love baby in your belly rocking the flowery dress. “You look beautiful sweetie..come here..” he extended his hand to you standing up from the floor. You caressed your round belly feeling the baby kick and move within you. Lacing your fingers together you touched the cot gently before feeling his arms around you. He kissed your shoulder humming big hands caressing your bump. “our baby seems to be very happy” you tilted your head towards him meeting his lips in a soft kiss. “I feel it” he kissed you sweetly rubbing over your bump.

“Lo..” you moaned feeling his lips on your chin as he touched your full breasts gently squeezing. “So beautiful” he hummed eyes clouded in desire your cheeks receiving a tinge of pink. “You always have a way with your words Lo” he continued to pepper soft kisses against your neck your hand scratching the back of his dark mane letting out a moan. “Keep going..” closing your eyes you felt his hand delve inside of your cleavage touching your perky breasts your nipples hardening to his warm touch and your core pulsated with warmth and wetness. He tsked “So wet sweetie.. all for me?” You nodded gulping with glossy eyes and swollen lips from all that sweet kissing. “Please.. there” you kitty licked his lower lip as he parted your folds with his thick digits circling your clit. “Oh please!” You tipped your head back leaning it against his shoulder as he stood behind you growling with hunger, growing bulge pressing to your butt. “I got you, c’here..” he gently pressed you to the drawers and you grasped them with both of your hands moaning loudly as he slid his fingers inside of your pussy. Your cheeks grew hotter as you felt his mouth on your ear whispering how beautiful and how much of a good mother you were about to become. You tugged on his belt impatiently “wanna cum on your cock daddy” you whined pressing your butt against his bulge “fuck.. fuck..” Lo growled hungrily, your hearts matching rhythm going wild in your chests. When you heard his belt buckle you moaned at the emptiness in your core.

“Gentle baby..” he wrapped his arms around you hands on your bump as he pushed in your dripping wet honeypot. “Daddy needs a little lovin little one.. mommy is impatient..” you giggled breathlessly feeling him fill you out perfectly. “Daddy” you breathed melting yourself in his arms and when his hips drew back and forth into you— you felt your world explode in ecstasy. Lo opened the front of your dress so your breasts bounced out to his pace and it was loving, soft “fuck.. lookatcha..” he hugged you feeling his big swollen cock coated in your creamy slick as he thrusted in out of you squeezing your breasts your mouths melting into another passionate kiss “can’t help it.. you make me so happy mommy”. His pace grew faster, your hands grasping his strong forearms crying out in pleasure feeling the heat in your abdomen just intensify and when you reached the sun you squirted on his cock making Lo curse with lustful groans and moans against your ear “my perfect little wife.. mine forever, mine.. ugh, mine” he praised making you whimper out sob in pleasure before he gave you even faster pounding grabbing your messy pussy from the front when he stilled his hips with a moan cumming undone filling you with his load. You accepted all of it— “love you so much I’m yours” you littered his face in soft kisses touching his hair. He held you close to him humming with a soft smile “my moon..my love”

-

[kumkaniudaku]

Stay A While (5)

Summary: Terry and Patrice enjoy each other with the promise of bright future.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 4.9k

Part: 5 of 5

Warnings: Smut (18+), NSFW

A/N: Thanks so much for joining me on this ride. I hope the journey turns out to be worth it.

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four.

“Uh, my name is Terry, I’m from North Carolina, and I wanna dedicate this one to my lady over there in the orange dress. You look good, girl.” 

“Oh no.”

“Sing your song, baby!”

A mix of encouragement and admiration at Terry’s public display of affection rang out in a poorly lit karaoke bar in the French Quarter. Liquor, good food, and good people were the perfect mix for a good time with the vestiges of Summer break rapidly slipping away. Terry stood on stage with a goofy grin and low eyes, pointing everyone toward his favorite audience member. 

Patrice had never been so embarrassed in her life. When she’d dared him to do something crazy on the last night of their spontaneous vacation, she thought he’d finally get that tattoo of her name on his ribs like he promised way back when. Singing in front of a crowd of rowdy strangers wasn’t on her bingo card.

Her hands covered her mouth to muffle her near-uncontrollable laughter. 

Terry couldn’t sing. At least not well enough to give a tipsy rendition of Patrice’s favorite Usher record. She still remembered forcing Terry to listen to Raymond v. Raymond over and over again in her cramped bedroom, many times not getting past Track 3 without gushing over how she hoped to marry the R&B heartthrob one day. Terry secretly carried a deep disdain for Usher up until his mid-20s, but couldn’t dodge the memories any time “There Goes My Baby” would play and take him right back to that cramped bedroom with his dream girl. 

He started just as Patrice expected. Though he knew the words like the back of his hand, his pitchy tenor was a far cry from the vocals needed to properly serenade an audience. He didn’t care though. As long as he could pull a belly laugh from Patrice he’d make a fool of himself in public every time. 

Between the second verse and bridge, Terry decided to take his antics up a notch. He abandoned the stage to make a beeline for Patrice with the mic in hand for a personal show. She was sure to play into the bit with playful hoops and fake screams between giggles. When he was close enough to touch, she pretended to fangirl like she was front row at one of Usher’s Vegas shows. 

“Baby, lovin’ you feels better than everything, anything. Put it on my heart, you gon’ get a ring,” he sang, spontaneously remixing the lyrics so far off-key that, if not for the levity of the ordeal, he’d surely offend every music lover in a 50-mile radius. “And I promise, our time away didn’t change my love.” 

Completely enamored with the absurdity of the moment, Patrice ran her fingertips across Terry’s abdomen underneath his shirt like a crazed fan and winked. Terry acknowledged the dangerous line she was toeing by flashing her a flirtatious grin to match the seductive sparkle in his eyes. 

Their connection overrode Terry’s awful singing performance enough for the crowd to show support through an assortment of cheers and supportive hollers only a city full of spirited Black people could provide. 

Always the perfect gentleman, Terry bid Patrice farewell for a moment with a peck on the cheek before returning to the stage to cap a truly unexpected performance and receive thunderous applause. 

“Oooo-weee. That’s your man, love? I’m talking official official?” The middle-aged tourist’s question and her thick accent interrupted Patrice’s daydreaming while she watched Terry’s every move with part of her bottom lip caught by her top row of teeth. 

“Yeah,” she answered, finally tearing her gaze away to acknowledge the woman while fiddling with the opal necklace he’d gifted her at dinner. It was the necklace symbolizing their first real date and the end of their friends only arrangement. “That’s him. Ain’t he somethin’?” 

“Somethin’ ain’t the word. I might need to head on up to North Carolina and get me one of them. My God today!” 

“He’s got a cute little single friend out in Percyville if you down with our Asian brothers. Former Marine too.” 

“You got a picture?” 

The two women fell into conversation about Ken’s availability while Patrice waited for Terry to rejoin her side. He soon returned with two shots of tequila in hand and a smile fighting to be freed from behind his poker face. 

“What was that about,” he asked, nodding at the woman who’d begun to show her friends photos of her potential beau as he placed a shot in front of Patrice.

“Might’ve gotten Ken somebody to take him out of the streets. You know he like ‘em thick and fine.” 

“I taught my boy a few things.” He used the hand closest to Patrice to breach the split in her dress and grip her inner thigh. He maintained contact, waiting for her to get shy and shoo him away. 

But she didn’t. She met his show of dominance with one of her own and crossed her legs to keep him in place, keeping him close to the pulse at her center. Two could play the secret foreplay game.

“What’s that about,” she asked, pointing at his gift of top-shelf reposado and ignoring the flutter in her stomach once he began rubbing slow circles on the top of her thigh with his thumb.

He smirked. “A little something to toast with.” 

“Oooh. What’re we celebrating?” 

“Being free, being together, and…” He lifted his shot glass, prompting Patrice to follow suit. 

“And what, TJ! C’mon!” 

“And…I got the job.” He followed his surprise by taking his shot, finishing with a quiet laugh while watching Patrice sit in unblinking shock. He squeezed her thigh again. “Don’t let me drink alone now. Bottoms up.” 

Shock gave way to a soft squeal and tiny, animated hand claps before Patrice took her gulp of tequila. Excitement had her rushing to swallow so that she could pull Terry into a series of quick kisses across his face. 

“I’m proud of you,” she complimented against his lips. “Tell me about it.” 

She stole another kiss to taste the remnants of buffalo sauce and alcohol on Terry’s tongue. He let her explore uninhibited until she’d had enough. If she wanted to put on a show, he’d be a willing participant. Even more so in the privacy of the Airbnb that belonged them to until sunrise.

The sexual tension had reached a tipping point and the clock was ticking. Images of her body beneath his were starting to be the only thoughts Terry could concoct.

Terry’s face was completely flushed, usually even caramel skin now red from lust and one too many drinks. A slow, tipsy grin put all his teeth on display before he ran his tongue across his bottom lip. 

“We can talk about that later. Can we get out of here right now, though.” 

“Yeah? Why?” 

Patrice assumed they were having a good time with at least one more stop on their self-guided nightlife tour. His eagerness to abandon plans was uncharacteristic. 

Terry continued to smile then leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “I really wanna make you cum tonight. You been waiting too long.”

A shiver hit Patrice’s spine as she tried to maintain some level of composure in a room full of people. Terry easily pushed her thighs open to free his hand, being sure to brush against her lower lips with the tips of his fingers. 

Terry didn’t need to speak when he stood to pull her chair back from the table. Patrice allowed him to tug her to her feet and out of the bar, waving goodbye to her new friend who gave her a congratulatory thumbs up. 

However, any morsel of confidence she had while they made out like teenagers in the backseat of a taxi had waned once they reached their dwelling for the night and the reality of their situation set in. 

Their first time together was her first time. She was young with too many influences in her ear telling her that the only way to make a man love her was through her body. No matter how many times Terry assured her that they could spend that truly imporable hour of alone time in her hotel room catching up, she insisted that they test the boundaries of their affection. 

Now, with history repeating itself, she couldn’t help but feel a deep pit of nervousness and uncertainty growing in her belly. 

Patrice stood in the bathroom mirror, tussling with her hair that had gone from pressed roots to a mess of frizz and curled ends. She suddenly hated the way her cotton slip dress fit and how the lace bra and panty set seemed to bunch in all the wrong places. The only thing she wanted to do was look like the woman of his dreams, but her confidence was waning with every second she spent judging her appearance while Terry waited patiently in the bedroom. Frustration was building and bringing the sting of fresh tears to her eyes.

On the other side of the door, Terry spent his time adjusting and readjusting the pillows on the bed. His bare back and shoulders glistened under the soft, warm light emanating from the floor lamp across the room, partially from the heat, but mostly from sheer nervousness. 

“What the fuck are you doing,” he whispered to himself, suddenly embarrassed. 

Terry forced himself to take a seat at the edge of the bed to calm his nerves. The last time he’d been on the brink of having her in this way, he was a young man with no clue how to love a woman. Now, all he wanted to do was prove that he’d earn every morsel of her trust back if she let him. 

He never told Patrice that their first time was his first time. He was scared out of his mind, wanting to give in to his fantasies but afraid to send the wrong impression. The memory of that summer afternoon never left him. But, it was time to start anew with a title and the promise of a different result on the horizon.

Taking a deep breath, Terry wiped his sweaty palms against the soft fabric of his briefs and sighed. 

“You okay in there,” he called out, concerned as the minutes ticked by with no communication. “I don’t wanna rush you. Just checking in. Tell me to leave you alone if I’m doing too much.” 

“I’m okay. One second. I’m fixin’ my hair.”

“Take your time. I’m sure you look…”

The soft sound of the door opening stopped Terry mid-sentence. Patrice stepped out, one foot in front of the other, until she was past the threshold and under his doting gaze. 

“...gorgeous,” he finished, the word coming out in one breath. “You are absolutely gorgeous, Treece.” 

Patrice had decided on a bun on top of her head with tendrils in the front and back that couldn’t quite reach the rest of her hair. She’d traded her light makeup for a bare face still glowing from her nighttime skin routine. Her slip dress clung and dipped in all the right places without the lace from her lingerie interrupting the smooth fabric. She looked at him through long lashes, her expression reading as the same timid girl from all those years ago.

Terry stood to his full height in reverence of her breathtaking form. The most skilled artists and creators from around the world couldn’t have dreamt of a more captivating marvel in his opinion. She was the pinnacle of beauty. 

Patrice watched him draw closer, her head slowly tilting up as he began to dwarf her with his stature. He reached out to trace her jaw before lightly gripping her chin between his thumb and pointer finger. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey, yourself.”

Goofy smiles and giggles followed their awkward introduction to ease the anxious energy in the room.

“Is Terrence James Richmond nervous behind little ol’ me,” she teased with a tickle to his sides. 

“I got a few butterflies, I’m not gon’ lie,” he laughed. “Just wanna make you happy, is all.” 

“I was gonna say the same to you.” 

“You have no idea how happy you make me.” 

His voice came in just above a whisper, nearly drowned out by the chirping of crickets outside. 

Their noses brushed against each other as Patrice stood on her tip-toes to rest her arms around his neck. Her fingers traced circles at his nape, making the hair all over his body stand at attention. 

A tentative peck connected their lips and gave way to more needy, hungry kisses that transformed them into eager teenagers making out for the thrill of physical contact. 

Euphoria wasn’t enough to explain Terry’s headspace. He was high off every kiss, lick, and bite Patrice allowed. He couldn’t get close enough. It wasn’t sufficient to pull her closer with a firm grasp on her ass. He needed to taste her, to be consumed by her, to consume her in every way possible. 

“Put me to work. Tell me what you need,” he whispered, breathless as blood began to rush south from the slight pain of Patrice’s fingernails digging into his shoulder blades. 

“You. Fold me, bend me, flip me, I don’t care. I just need you.” 

Patrice was far beyond playing coy. She’d drop to her knees and beg at his feet if he asked. Whatever she had to do to feel him from the inside was on the table. 

Terry didn’t make Patrice go to extremes for his affection. He preferred to acknowledge her request by carefully sliding the straps of her dress down her shoulders and arms. 

He watched her skin become more and more exposed with intense focus, taking note of the way her nipples seemed to salute him once they met the bedroom air. He acknowledged both of them with a soft caress that earned a whimper from Patrice as she watched him handle her with care.

Never in her life had been methodically unwrapped like a present on Christmas morning. Her heartbeat had gone below her waist, throbbing in an almost painful cry for her lover’s attention. Terry kept her yearning at bay with a slow kiss while he pushed her garment past her hips and to the floor. 

Patrice disrobed him with an equal measure of care, offering quick kisses across the expanse of his chest while she slid her hand past his Calvin Klein waistband. Round, doe eyes looked back up at him to catch the precise moment when Terry’s eyelids blinked closed from the sensation of her fingertips brushing past his sensitive tip. 

Her soft palms worked his shaft - up and down, up and down - until his member was proud and bobbing from the weight of itself without something keeping it at bay. 

Fearing what might happen if he let her continue, Terry pulled her back to his body for sensual openmouthed kisses on her full lips. The soft smack of their lips and tongues created perfect harmonies in the still room, communicating more desire than either of them could effectively vocalize. 

The intensity began to rise at exponential rates, sending them in a clumsy frenzy to the bed for somewhere stable to fully experience one another. Terry’s back hit the cool cotton sheets first with Patrice collapsing on top with a surprised yelp that made them both laugh.

“Don’t fight it,” Terry instructed, pushing a stray piece of hair from her face while he stared up at her lovingly. “Let go. I got you.”

His reassurance made her heart do a backflip on the way to its new home between her legs. She needed him in the worst way.

Terry leaned up to kiss her lips once, twice, and once more to linger. His fingertips traced a blazing path from her waist to the bottom of her ass to partially push her forward in a silent plea to kiss her where he missed her most. 

“Let me taste you. Is that okay?” 

Something about the way he asked for permission with eyes those stormy eyes robbed Patrice of her ability to respond with words. He prompted her to move forward again with a soft tap on her backside, finally convincing her to lift her hips and scoot toward his face. 

Cautiously, she hovered above his mouth with thick thighs flanking either side of his head. 

He moved slow with sweet kisses and lazy licks to mix spit with her wetness in a one-sided love song to his favorite girl. He was effortlessly sexy, combining broad strokes of his tongue between her lips with expertly timed sucks at her clit to elicit filthy words that fueled his best oral performance yet.

He ignored every plea for mercy and her cries for a break to compose herself. There was only one objective. Two if he were lucky to push her into a water show for the ages. 

Animalistic instinct had them trading moans in time with each other, fully in throws of passion. Every grind against his nose and call of his name made Terry want to show her the full extent of his skill. 

His face glistened beneath her with his eyes still low but open enough to get the full visual of her undoing.

“Terry, that is - oh…shit.” 

Full sentences became senseless babble as she clamped her eyes shut to brace for that familiar feeling pooling in the pit of her belly. Patrice struggled to maintain focus on herself while Terry enjoyed his new favorite meal. 

The velvety smoothness of his tongue took broad passes from her entrance to her clit, stopping every so often to chase wetness that had escaped to her thighs. He wanted every drop and then some. 

His moans and groans as he feasted vibrated against her most sensitive spots, turning her mind into television static. Seeing her unravel with every soft suckle at her clit and agonizingly slow, broad lick across her swollen lips drove him to near-obsessive levels of lust. 

Her chest heaved in a fight to keep her heart rate level as his efforts to make her cum for the first time became more targeted. 

“Fuck, baby” she moaned, finally taking a look down to watch the master in his element. “Look at you. You gon’ make me cum, huh?”

Terry seemed to smile at her admiration. If he could get her to talk back, her eventual undoing when all was said and done would be that much more satisfying. 

Taking her challenge, he began to push her to her limit. She was putty in his mouth as he brought her closer and closer to the edge, soft sucking turning into a talented tongue making moans devolve into nonsensical utterings until she was squirming for release while his arms kept her locked in place for a wild ride.

Almost there. Almost there. Then a brief pause to start from the top. More lazy passes and passionate kisses to rev her up to the point of delirium and practically screaming to finish. 

Just when she thought she may have to threaten him on the third revolution of his torture, he delivered on his promise from the bar. 

Colors emitted smells. Sounds became vivid pictures across her eyes. She could taste the stars as she erupted in a way she’d never done before. The prickle of his facial hair on sensitive skin felt like shockwaves on her skin. 

“Oh fuuuuck! Yesyesyes!” 

Her hips jerked without her permission, taking Terry’s face on the ride of his life. He kept up through it all with no objections. If death came from her thighs cutting him off from the oxygen needed to breathe he’d wear death like a badge of honor in the afterlife.

Another string of expletives fell from her lips in tandem with Terry’s muffled groan as she gripped the sheets below her for dear life. This was Heaven. She was sure of it. 

Terry took one last deep inhale with his nose pressed against her pussy before kissing along the warm skin of Patrice’s inner thigh while she came down. She caressed what she could reach of his head in appreciation and beckoned him to release his suction on her pussy. 

She rushed to get back to his lips to taste herself on his mouth and he welcomed her with open arms. 

Kissing. Grinding. Skin-to-skin friction. None of it was enough for Terry. He desperately needed to be inside her to satisfy the near-painful stiffness he was experiencing. 

His attempt to flip Patrice on her back was futile once she pressed her weight into his legs to keep him in place. He roughly nipped at her shoulder before trying again with the same result. 

“C’mon,” he pleaded, almost begging for the go-ahead to fill her to the hilt in one smooth motion.

Still, she denied him pleasure. Patrice shifted to straddle his waist, slowly dragging her hands up and down his torso while his stomach clenched from the warmth of her core on his body. 

“Lay back,” she breathed out, partially lifting her hips to reposition herself on top of his length. He hissed at the sensation of her gingerly dragging her wet, warm entrance against his shaft. “I’mma handle this one. Relax, baby.” 

If there was a thought to be had, Terry couldn’t piece it together to save his life once Patrice completely enveloped him inside her slick walls. His jaw tightened then fell slack once she began to work her magic. A slow bounce and grind combination in his lap kept her breast rolling in a lewd show with Terry as the lucky winner of a front row ticket. 

Patrice kept her head thrown back like a cowgirl, feeling perspiration gather on her forehead while he gave him all she had. His hands giving her firm smacks on the hip and ass acted as a round of applause each time she buried him deep and pulled back up with expert precision. 

Her right hand slid from its spot on his chest to his throat for a barely there squeeze just as a quiet gasp made her aware of another incoming orgasm. 

The feel of her thumb gripping his esophagus made Terry expel a sound that he wasn’t aware he could make, somewhere between a whimper and a growl awakening each of his senses. 

The sight brought him the beautiful visual of her eyes shut tightly in concentration while she glowed like a heavenly body from the lamp’s light. Her hair had slipped out of its bun, leaving a lion’s mane of coils to toss wildly in the wind. 

Smell brought with it the earthy scent of sweat and the lingering musk of her pussy. A smell that could awaken a deep longing in him in even the direst circumstances. If he could bottle it and wear it as fragrance, he’d do so proudly just to have her with him at all times.

Hearing pulled in the sound of their skin slapping together in time with the intermingling moans in the room. He’d never been so loud before, so unabashedly in the moment with another woman. He cursed, called her name, and praised her with equal ferocity. 

Touch was satisfied by the handful of ass he used to ease the stress on her thighs while she bucked wilder than ever before. 

Something akin to a growl erupted from his throat as he strained to hold back release. “You doing so good for me, baby. You know I love you right?” 

“Yes!” she cried out, hips starting to sputter out of control with Terry gently stretching her on every stroke. 

He wrapped his arms around her waist tighter as he fucked into her in search of their shared release. She sagged forward for the ride, her brain turning into mush while her mouth hung open with no sounds.

“Good.” His voice came through clenched teeth. “Because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.” 

She put up no resistance as he paused his pounding to flip her onto her back with a dancer's grace. Having her laid out beneath him, body open, leaking, and waiting for him was as exciting as the first time. He was reinvigorated. Any onset of sore muscles and tired hips was gone the moment she keened for his attention. 

Terry’s eyes were blown wide with excitement while he decided where to put his mouth first. He quickly settled on one of her legs, slowly lifting it by the ankle to lick and kiss the birthmark by her Achilles. His tongue traced an invisible map past her heel, to her pedicured toes, and back to her calf before closing his lips to cap his display of affection. He propped the leg on his shoulder and then pressed forward to bring his chest down over hers. 

Patrice’s small mewls from the burning in her hamstrings became caught in Terry’s mouth as searched her mouth with sloppy enthusiasm. Her whining grew louder still once his tip pressed past her entrance.

“You can take it,” he affirmed, pushing deeper. “I know you can. I’m so proud of you.”

Affirmations and appreciative pecks across her face overrode aching muscles. She wanted, needed, to please him. 

They released content sighs in tandem once they were pelvis to pelvis. A snug fit made every long stroke intoxicating as Terry set an even pace. 

The repeated squeak of the bed added to their symphony of sounds growing more rabid by the second. They were off to the races on the way to an explosive finish line. 

Terry was relentless as he kept her in place for a proper and precise fuck that reached all the way to her heart. She’d begun thinking up baby names and nursery themes when he split his attention between earth-shattering penetration and the addition of his thoughtful stimulation of her clit to cover all bases. She was just along for the ride and hoping that she could keep her volume at a reasonable level when the inevitable took over. 

Patrice was the first to cum just as Terry intended. Her back arched off the bed in near levitation while she called his full name and the Lord’s to the ceiling.

“That’s what I like, beautiful. Give me everything.” 

He smiled down at his work, obsessed with the sight and sounds of her much-deserved orgasm. She couldn’t hold back if she wanted to. Wetness coated both of them as her hips circled to feel him fill her to the brim while a rush of endorphins flowed through her nervous system.

At the crest of her wave is where he came undone. 

The involuntary clinching sent Terry into a tailspin of frenetic strokes and broken sentences with his face tucked firmly into Patrice’s neck. She comforted him through it all, speaking directly into the shell of his ear and punctuating every few words with a soft kiss. 

“I wanna do this for the rest of our lives. Don’t you want that, baby?” Terry forwent a verbal answer in favor of a short grunt as his pace became erratic. “Fill me up. Let’s try for that son you used to tell me about.” 

“Fuck, Treece.” 

“Maybe we’ll name him after you. He’ll have my eyes and your smile, hm. Think you can do that for me tonight. I know you wanna cum. Do it for me, baby. Go ahead.” 

The magic words. He came with a gruff groan and a slew of profane words that would otherwise be offensive to any outside of the bubble they’d created in those walls. His toes cramped, eyelids clamped shut, and ears rang while every breath came out shaky and labored. Patrice joined him throughout the ride until he returned to the Earth’s atmosphere. 

Neither of them moved, preferring to hear the other’s steady in and out while their chests rose and fell together. 

“One year,” Terry started, keeping his attention focused on bringing Patrice’s ring finger to his lips as he lay on her chest. 

She paused the imaginary circles she was drawing on his shoulders and looked down at him. “One year what?” 

“Gimme a year and you’ll be coming down the aisle or standing in front of the judge, whichever one you want. Where you wanna honeymoon?” 

“Mmm, how about Puerto Rico?” 

“Done. Summer wedding?”

“Early fall.” 

“10-4.” 

“Yeah,” Patrice questioned, giggling. “And what else? What’s next?” 

 “Making our parents grandparents, hopefully. I’m trynna be an honest man. Take me out the streets, please!” 

Patrice’s cackle at Terry’s antic invited him to join at full volume. “An honest man, huh? I can do that for you. I’ll make an honest man out of Terrence Richmond, no problem. It’s the least I could do.” 

“Mhmm.” Regaining some strength in his body, Terry kissed his way from her chest to her mouth, only stopping when he had her arching into him for more contact. He spoke with his nose pressed to hers. “Patrice Nicole Richmond. Sounds good, right?” 

“Sounds perfect.” 

Terry hummed his approval, preferring to get back to the worship he had planned from the moment they set off to New Orleans.

Every second in their lives, together and apart, had brought them to a new beginning that neither of them could’ve imagined. If tonight was day one of forever, they vowed before each other and God to make it glorious one day at a time. 

Terry had lost a lot. Money, family, himself. But under the white glow of a full moon and the touch of the one he cherished most, he’d gained so much more. Something he’d been searching for without the word to call it by its name until he got back to her front step one afternoon.

Love.

----

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

[ronearoundblindly]

Safety Captain (1)

lifeguard!Steve Rogers x vacationer!Reader (see series)

Summary: A very sexy man shows up at a very unsexy moment during your vacation.

Warnings for mild language, other guests being as thirsty as Reader, and a vague injury/danger. WC 1945

Written for @bigtreefest's Summer Lovin' 300 follower celebration (I'm very late tho 🥲), using the prompts “it hurts when I ___” “then stop doing that” and pool/resort/hotel. There will be a few small parts to this with eventual smut; this is just the meet-cute sorta.

If you consider drowning a peaceful and relaxing experience, then your trip’s going splendidly.

Water hitting your lungs stings much worse than sunscreen in your eyes, but the shock makes you gasp anyway. Your skin feels pressure everywhere. You don’t know which way is up. The world is bright and blue and shimmering until an arm encircles and yanks you backward by your chest—your bare chest, you realize, since the cups on your bathing suit top flipped when you hit the the pool at such a steep angle.

Once at the surface, a gift and a curse greets you, garbled hum replaced by a solid slap of screaming, the blare of whistles. Light burns, water burns, air burns.

Oh yes, this is going swimmingly.

You struggle to get enough fresh hell anyway, coughing out water, air stinging worse. Your limbs contract to fight the pain, but the wall of muscle behind you is unyielding.

“Out of the way,” a deep voice shouts close to your ear. “Buck, make me some room. Get them back.”

He—whoever he is holding you so firmly and safely—moves you to the shallow end’s stairs with heaving strokes, and just when he releases your body to lift you out of the water, he quickly flicks the front of your suit back into place.

Bless you, kind sir. You’re in love…

…or maybe that’s the hypoxia.

Unceremoniously hauled to solid ground, you continue to sputter.

“It’s alright. I got ya. Breathe for me. That’s good.”

Your sunglasses are gone, so you squint up in his shadow to see nothing but a halo of dripping gold hair. Then your eyes adjust. You see him.

Suddenly, the world is bright and blue and shimmering again, all contained in the stare of your sweet savior.

When he smiles, well, you need even more air to recover.

You’re on your side until he’s sure all the water is out of you, until his hands help you sit up, looky-lous everywhere being herded farther off by two more lifeguards and some resort security.

“The boys…” you rasp out.

“Everyone’s okay,” he rushes, rubbing your back, warm and slick against your wet skin. “You don’t have to talk yet. Take it easy.”

You still feel compelled to explain.

“The—they were teasing him—“ you point to the chubbier kid in your group, the poor thing cowering by your lounge chair headquarters for the morning “—and I tried to stop them.”

“I know, shhh, I saw. Just breathe slowly.”

“Don’t like bullies,” you cough out anyway.

The lifeguard at your side grins from ear to ear, quickly interrupted by a girl shoving your sunglasses in his face.

“I found these,” she announces, elated. “I thought it was important since you were so brave, saving someone who fell in.”

You didn’t fall; you were pushed. There’s a difference.

The lifeguard’s smile turns tight, but he gestures for the girl to hand them over to their rightful owner. She continues to stare with huge, bambi eyes.

Politely, he takes them from her and clears of his throat.

“Thank you. Now step back please.”

Her disappointment is palpable before his blue gaze returns to you. As he asks if you’re ready to move, his palm lands on your lower back and stays there supportively.

The best you can do is shift your legs beneath each other and then hiss, “it hurts when I put weight on this leg. I think I twisted my ankle on the way down.”

“Then stop doing that,” he chuckles, swooping to get his arms under you and carry you to your lounger—the right one, immediately, as if he saw the boys fighting but knew exactly where you were before then, too.

The stout little thirteen-year-old who’d been picked on steps up to you with guilty eyes. He’s one of your charges today while the other adults all drink at the swim-up bar.

“I’m sorry they—“

“It’s fine,” you croak.

“—but they wouldn’t stop, and I told them to—“

“Hey, hey,” your lifeguard whispers, deflating the boy’s panic, “she’s gonna be okay. Just a little banged up, but we got the best of the best coming to help.”

Shamefully, the boy’s eyes turn down. “Sorry they called you a ‘bitch.’”

Great. Yeah. That needed to be repeated.

“Don’t worry about it. Can you go grab your cousin and—“ a brief wheeze overtakes you “—the girls and bring everyone back here so I know where you all are? Just a real quick check-in.”

He nods and runs off, almost plowing into a woman heading straight for you.

“Ah, your nurse has arrived.” The handsome, dripping wet man sitting with a hand still on your knee beams. “The best of the best, as promised.”

The older blonde lady purses her lips and rolls her eyes, ticking her head to the side. “Scoot, Steven. Let me have a look.”

He—Steven, apparently—rambles off what happened and what you mentioned hurt, standing out of the blonde’s way, but leaning over her shoulder, hovering while she manipulates your ankle.

“Thank you, darling.” She looks up pointedly. “I’ve got it from here,” she says, turning back to you. “I’m Sarah, dear. We’ll get you fixed up in no time.”

“I’m Steve,” your lifeguard interjects as he backs away. “Glad you’re alright, Miss…?”

You introduce yourself in return. “Thanks for…um…” You glance down and tug at the front of your swim suit, remembering that this man might have already seen and touched your breasts. “Thank you,” you finish weakly, voice hoarse.

Steve beams again before Sarah swats him away.

While she wraps your ankle and anchors a bag of ice to it, you scan the guard towers to realize all three of the guys on duty are ripped, but Steve is…well, he’s something else.

“God, he’s gorgeous,” you sigh aloud without realizing.

Sarah snorts, muttering, “he gets that a lot.”

You smile, thinking it’s probably no secret that the cute guy gets around. “Bit of a man whore, is he?” you joke.

The nurse looks up at you sternly. “I should hope not! I raised him better than that.”

Shit.

Your face drops, a harsh and painful swallow globs down your throat, and you…just objectified that poor man to his mother who he so sweetly called ‘the best of the best.’

Is drowning totally off the table, or can you revisit that?

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—I—I just meant—“

She squeezes your hand, putting you out of your misery.

“It’s fine, dear. He is handsome, and I suppose there’s no harm in looking.” She packs away the last of her gear only to catch Steve’s eye across the pool.

He waves in your direction.

Sarah chuckles but doesn’t wave back. You put a quick hand up and mouth ‘thank you’ even though he probably can’t see that part.

“Well,” the nurse adds, “seems you aren’t the only one looking.”

Having one foot twice the size of the other can work. You can make it work. You’ll just camp out on a beach towel farther up the shore, no problem. The whole party is together today, day three of seven, so the good news is that you aren’t responsible for anyone. Also, your foot is only that size due to bandaging and not because it’s that swollen. Still hurts though.

In addition to a wicked limp, you need a relatively hard surface to sit on or stand up from. You end up on the rim of damp sand, wriggling to get comfortable. You try laying on your side, propped up on a bent arm. You try your stomach. You’re about try your back, reaching for one of the kids’ towels to roll up as a pillow when you notice a group playing volleyball.

Must be fun to, like, walk and stuff.

You sigh.

It’s fine. You are lucky enough to be on this trip in the first place, your ticket paid for by all the parents combined (with the agreement you’ll help wrangle the younglings for periods while the moms and dads do adult activities). The ‘job’ is a wildly fair trade since the families only split so far was the pool yesterday.

Is that…is one of the volleyball players waving at you?

You look over your shoulder, but there’s only the rest of your group, splashing and running through the surf. No one is facing you or the game.

As you turn back, starting to raise your hand, you see the golden glow of the player’s hair and think that sure resembles the lifeguard, Steve, from—

The guy waving at you gets hit, hard, by a spiked ball and stumbles back. Some commotion rumbles through the group, but you can’t hear specifics.

Shit, that is definitely Steve, son of Sarah, employee of the pool, jogging toward you. Are your tits covered?

You awkwardly pull yourself upright, shielding your eyes from the partially-overcast, bright sky, and smile.

“Hey,” Steve chirps, “thought that was you.” He is, again, in naught but board shorts and beauty.

“Yup, living the dream.”

He ignores your sarcasm and asks how your ankle feels (“meh”), if it’s messed with your plans so far (“had to bow out of zip lining this morning”), and if he might be welcome to sit with you for a while.

You blink a few times in shock behind dark sunglasses. “Won’t your friends…?”

He shakes his head, hair falling into his face, and drops down to the sand.

“I don’t see why not,” you say after he’s made himself comfortable.

When the littlest girl from your group comes shrieking over, bucket and scoop in her hands, you’re about to apologize for the interruption, but Steve immediately offers to help her build the castle of a lifetime.

He is sure to warn her to be careful around your foot.

This time, when you mouth ‘thank you,’ he sees it and returns another beaming grin.

Alright, perhaps vacation is looking up.

Steve is…very, very good at strategizing the sandcastle. After the first ‘tower’ goes up, the other kids get involved. Before you know it, the parents are all behind you gushing over how good your friend is with them.

"Handsome, too."

"Lots of energy."

"‘Bout your age, isn’t he?"

They aren’t quiet enough to not be heard which is clearly the point once the mother of bucket girl shouts out that Steve should join you all for dinner.

Oh, sweet holy—

“Not sure I wanna dive into your family time, ma’am,” he says politely, encouraging some water be brought up for the moat they’ve just dug.

“Then you should take our lovely girl here out. Show her more of the island.”

You glare daggers at the other woman who just chimed in.

“I can’t walk,” you bite out. “Where am I gonna go?”

Steve clears his throat to get your attention. “They line food trucks over on the west road until late, and…” his lip pinches to the side “…I can carry you.”

One of the dads darkly drawls, “like a fucking princess,” and you hear a sharp slap from his wife in annoyance.

Steve’s gaze remains locked on yours as the parents erupt in obvious innuendo.

“Could be fun,” he admits, only loud enough for you. “How about it? Getting hungry?”

All you manage is a nod before a bucket of water is tossed on Steve, and he chases the culprit down the beach and into the clear blue sea.

You’ll have to wait until the ‘monster’ is vanquished by the ecstatic children jumping to take down the big, strong man you, apparently, have a date with.

[Next Chapter]

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

A/N: Apologies that this isn't the whole dang thing. With how long everything has been taking me to write, I was afraid it wouldn't even be summer anymore, and if there is even a small chance that posting this will light a fire under me to finish, I am willing to try.

[casualhedonists]

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism (lmk if i forgot anything!) murder mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, oral sex, thigh riding, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here

chapter: 1/? (chapter 2 here)

MASTERLIST

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

A/N: this is what happens when i let my brain loose to do whatever tf it wants (title is from attention by doja cat as is the general theme)

Show you how to touch it Hold it like it's precious It don't need your lovin' It just needs attention

You were getting tired of this charade.

Snow was courting you, or so it would seem. In truth, it was all for show. He was seen with you on his arm at public events, just enough to make it look like you were together. Marriage was probably further down the line, but Snow was in no rush for that to happen. For now, he was pleased with the positive attention he received for appearing like a reliable, loving, doting partner.

“There’s a science behind it,” Cordelia, Snow’s preferred public relations manager - and one of the Capitol’s best - had told you in a meeting between the three of you, discussing strategy, coordinating events, and how best to make the relationship seem authentic. “The more the public see you as grounded, committed, and warm, the more respect they hold for you. The more open they are to your ideas, and any changes you make as president.”

You’d concealed your smirk well enough for it to go unnoticed upon hearing that.

Snow was a lot of things, but he was never warm. The name itself decreed it. He was cold, calculating, sharp witted, manipulative. Power hungry.

You were fine with the arrangement at first. It suited your thirst for power; despite coming from one of the richest families in the capital, Snow’s power was of a different breed. You wanted in, and so when your social circles crossed over and the proposition was made, you’d risen to the occasion.

The reality was this: it was a good arrangement. Coriolanus was adored and admired by any outsider with a pair of eyes, and you got anything you wanted. You got to live in the manor house Coriolanus occupied, eating good food while being waited on hand and foot. You got to network with powerful people in the highest of society. Even if you wanted someone executed, it would be carried out in turn, without question. Name it, and it was yours. Snow was a generous host and ally to you.

It was everything you wanted.

Almost.

Somehow, despite it all, all the custom gowns shipped in from the expensive designers, the buffet spreads and the silk sheets, the way that people had begun to stare in respect as soon as you walked into a room, there was just one thing that itched at you, one thing you knew wasn’t part of the plan.

It was Snow.

Somewhere, between the light kisses in front of expectant eyes, the gentle hand on yours at dinner, that was hurriedly removed once you were behind closed doors again, you’d grown a gnawing, incessant want towards the man that had given you almost everything you could ever hope for.

Eight months, this had been going on. Eight months since Snow suggested this business proposal. Sex was never a part of the deal. And of course, you couldn’t sleep with anyone you pleased; that would be catastrophic for both of your reputations. And so it had been eight months since anybody had touched you other than yourself, biting your pillow so nobody could hear Snow’s name on your lips as you gripped the sheets. Even if you wanted to sleep with other people, you couldn’t. Truth is though, you’d developed rather expensive taste. A taste for only him. Even if you had the choice, nobody else would do.

You wondered if he ever thought of you while he touched himself. That thought slipped into your head every so often, when your hand was between your thighs. Then it became a more frequent occurrence. Then it became a nightly one, and by then, you were pretty sure you’d started going crazy.

You weren’t a romantic - this arrangement would never have worked if you were. You were like him; power hungry, relentless, impatient. And most of all, when you wanted something, you got it. And you wanted to seduce Coriolanus Snow.

So you’d started leaving breadcrumbs. Put an extra glint in your eyes when you glanced over at him, in public, first, and then in private more and more. You’d thrown out dozens of your more conservative dresses, keeping only the shortest ones that hugged your hips and dropped tantalisingly low on the neckline. Started wearing them more around the house, pretending to drop things just so you could bend down in front of him.

You estimated this act would last for a good week or two before Snow folded.

You were wrong.

If anything, it seemed to render Snow even more indifferent to you than he’d been before you started playing your little games. And each time he ignored you, glanced unimpressed at your outfit then looked away, or full-on walked right past you out the room, you started to simmer even more.

A normal girl in a normal situation would take a hint, cut her losses. But you were no normal girl, and this was no ordinary situation.

You had to be in the same boat, surely. Snow was still just a man, after all. A man with similarly limited options, and you knew he must’ve at least found you a little attractive, else he wouldn’t have chosen you to parade around on his arm in public, in pretty dresses and expensive jewellery.

Snow’s indifference only fuelled your fire. Sure, an ordinary girl would just give up. But eight months of this torture and you were at your breaking point. Besides, it was either him, or nobody. You weren’t giving up. Not in this lifetime.

So you got more obvious. Started taking breakfast in your nightgown each morning instead of getting dressed, sitting opposite Coriolanus with several feet of the mahogany table between you, biting into grapes from the fruit bowl and letting the juice trail down your chin, wiping it off then sucking your fingers clean, humming with your digits in your mouth, glancing at him with full-blown bedroom eyes when he’d look over at you from behind his paper.

It was no use. Nearly a month had passed and he’d barely even looked at you for more than a second at a time. Your conversations were short, lacklustre and strictly business related. You’d even tried playing on his heartstrings, asking about his day and work and his family. You were lucky if you got more than blunt, one-worded answers every time.

You’d exhausted yourself with all these failed attempts, until one Thursday night you heard footsteps walking past your bedroom door. This wasn’t abnormal - Snow kept extensive household staff - except for the sound of these were different. You recognised the faint clicking of heels against the hardwood, a sound you heard all the time at galas and balls, but never in these halls, when an event was nowhere on the radar. And this was one such night.

Your curiosity led you off your bed and to the door, gently opening it to glance outside. Whoever it was had turned the corner, the clicking fading down the hallway. You carefully closed the door behind you and began to follow the sound. A chill ran up the backs of your legs as you walked; it was getting slightly colder as winter closed in, and your bedroom attire wasn’t exactly fit for the weather, given that you picked out the laciest, most impractical slips to sleep in, ready for your performance the next morning at breakfast.

You paced down the corridor, winding past the door to each room, a study, a small library (the larger one was downstairs), Snow’s office, and then finally, at the end, the door to Snow’s bedroom.

Oh.

This room was always enigmatic to you, as you’d never been inside. Your obsession with Snow had led you to wonder, day in and day out, what lay behind that door. The color of his bedsheets, what sat on his dresser, the contents of his closet, what aftershave he wore that had caused you to develop a practically pavlovian reaction anytime he got close to you.

You paused, a few feet away from the door, fearing Snow’s response if you crossed that line, if he were to walk out and find you hovering between his office and his room, clearly attempting to eavesdrop.

You heard shifting, then voices inside as you focused all your attention onto listening, trying hard to pick up on the conversation. You took another tentative step forward, practicing in your head what you would say if he stepped outside. I just wanted to ask what you wanted me to wear on Monday’s gala, I was thinking the white dress with the gold detailing. It wasn’t too late in the evening for that to be a viable excuse, if you could make it sound convincing enough.

But as you got closer you noticed something. There was a soft light spilling out from behind the door, which was in fact, just slightly ajar.

Snow usually kept the door locked at all times, you knew that from testing the handle - admittedly more than a few times - when he had been out of the house, and you were certain he wouldn’t be home for hours. This was something different. This felt dangerous, like walking a tightrope that was about to get cut, but the thrill of adrenaline pushed you forward.

You’d stopped hearing voices by then. You snuck ever closer, ears starting to ring as you found yourself drawn to the open door, taking silent steps towards it until there was no going back, and your body was practically flush to it. Holding your breath, you peeked through, pushing it ever so gently, praying that it wouldn’t creak. You had to crane your neck slightly to see any movement in the room, but it didn’t take long to see it, and when you did, you certainly didn’t feel cold anymore. Any curious whims on the color of his furniture and walls were long pushed to the side, because you couldn’t have focused on anything else in the room if you tried.

Snow was sat on a deep red velvet ottoman at the foot of his bed, shirt buttons undone and pushed behind him, leaving you with a full view of his chest. Your eyes panned down to see his usually pristine dress pants rolled carelessly down, pooling around his ankles. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows in a similarly rushed manner. One hand was behind him, propping himself up, and the other was tightly gripping a handful of blonde hair, belonging to a girl that knelt at his feet in nothing but black underwear and stiletto heels - the culprit of the footsteps - moving her head up and down as Snow roughly guided her, lips parted, head tipped back, eyes firmly shut, breathing roughly. A few strands of damp blonde hair had fallen to his temples, just enough to make him look disheveled, yet somehow still regal, like a greek god.

You stood there, frozen. A million emotions battling for dominance in your head, anger, panic, fear, raging jealousy. Desire.

That was the one that stuck with you in the moment. It was a good thing Snow’s eyes were closed and the girl’s back was facing you, because your feet were firmly planted on the ground, watching this scene unfold, and you wouldn’t be able to go anywhere even if you tried. Watching as Snow’s breathing got heavier, as his grip on the girl’s hair got tighter and more forceful. Watching as her one arm gripped his thigh, and the other moved to where her mouth was, out of your eyeshot, and the obscenity of this was made somehow worse by the fact that you couldn’t see exactly what was happening.

Firstly, because it allowed your brain to fill in the blanks as Snow hissed through his teeth and dropped his head back. Secondly, because from this angle, you couldn’t see the girl’s face, and you were able to picture yourself in her place, wet mouth wrapped around him, being the cause of his undoing.

Come to think of it, there was another reason you were glad you couldn’t see her face, and it was purely for her sake. Because if you could’ve seen her, you would’ve had no excuse not to kill the bitch then and there.

You could hear, though. You could hear her soft moans and the lewd wetness of her mouth as her head moved even faster, before Snow took full control as his hips started to jerk, holding her head in place. There was a fire in the pit of your stomach and your lips were parted, staring. Knowing that if even for a second, Snow opened his eyes just for a glance, he’d see you immediately. You’d be hanged, probably. Or worse. And yet you didn’t run; you couldn’t. Nothing on God’s earth could’ve caused your feet to turn you around and leave the room. It was like you were suspended in some dream-like state, hearing going fuzzy, head spinning.

Then Snow started groaning, breath hitching in his throat as he got closer to the edge, you could hear it. Your brain began melting, and you didn’t have time to think through what would happen after he was finished and he saw you. If you were going to be hanged for this, it would be worth it, you thought, as his hips started to jerk even faster and his groans turned into strained whispers. Fuck and that’s it and good girl, and finally, as his eyes squeezed shut even tighter, and he came into her mouth with a strangled cry, you heard a name.

Yours.

[kookslastbutton]

Lovin' You Right ༓ jjk (m)

✑ Summary: Your new badass neighbor won't leave you alone. You know the type, the guy your mama wouldn't want you bringing home. He'd break your heart as quick as he'd take it.

Pairing: new neighbor!jungkook x fem!reader

AU/genre: angst, fluff, smut, e2l, neighbors, oneshot/drabble

Word Count: 2,031

Warnings: cussing, dom!jungkook, sub!reader, missionary, praising, rough s*x, d*rty talk, sp*nking overst*mulation, reader's first-time, sl*t calling once, oc a bit of an uptight b at first, little manhandling, jk rides a motorcylce, jk giving it to oc straight, a very wet date bc MV made me do it

Now Playing: seven by jjk

A/N: no explanation, this is just what i thought of when i listened to jungkook's song 'seven'. Hope you enjoy! 💞

He looked like a real hard ass with all the black leather he wore, arms covered in ink, and chains hanging from his neck. You know the type, the guy your mama wouldn't want you bringing home.

He was your next-door neighbor and he rode a mean motorcycle. It was loud as fuck and woke you up about ten times during the night. And every time he saw you in the hallway? He'd have this shit-eating grin on, like he wanted to devour you whole.

"Think our mail got switched up again," he said, handing you a pile of letters. "Gonna need to talk to the mail man or somethin'."

"Oh geez," you replied, doing your best to avoid eye contact of more than three seconds–his eyes were just a little too piercing. "Thanks." You shoved the letters under your arm and carried on your way. It was laundry day and you desperately needed to have clean clothes.

"Hey wait," he kept on your trail. "How's your day goin'?" He rushed ahead to open the laundry room door, allowing you to go first.

Look at him trying to be a gentleman, hmph. You held your head high and walked through the door. He'd break your heart as quick as he'd take it.

.

Like an itch that won't go away, Jungkook followed you as much as he could. No matter how much you scratched, he'd be right there, burning holes in the back of your neck. He'd watch you dump your clothes in the washer, walk you to your car whenever you needed to go anywhere, hell he even helped you carry in groceries when given the chance.

"What do you want Jeon?" You finally popped the question. He didn't look like he was simply "being generous" or "doing his part to make the world better". He was bumming around for something, he had to be.

"Go out with me," he simply quipped, knocking the air out of your lungs.

"Excuse me?"

He rolled his eyes, he was too old for beating around the bush and he was fed up with you giving him the silent finger. Not once have you told him to beat it straight to his face so he's gonna shoot his shot. "Yes or no __? You know I like you, why else would I be bugging the crap out of you?"

"'Cause you want to fuck me then leave me for your other neighbor, the one who lives on the other side of your door." You crossed your arms against your chest. "Tell me I'm wrong."

He narrowed his eyes, tiniest of smirks on his overly gorgeous, no good, lying face. " No you're right. I do wanna fuck that pretentious attitude you got. It's been pissing me off for weeks."

He took a step towards you, caging you between himself and your kitchen island. "What gives you the right to be this bitchy huh? You act like you know everything there is to know about me, but you're too damn stubborn to open your eyes and see it's all a complete farce." He leaned his head forward to graze his lips along the edge of your ear. "I don't know what little girl fairytales you've been taught but I'm not the monster you need to watch out for....and prince charmings don't exist, princess."

You shoved your hands against his chest but he grips them tight in his own. "We don't have to go out anymore. I see what you really think of me."

He released your wrist and headed for the door. "It's really a shame," he hollered before leaving. "You're really beautiful."

God you hated him.

.

For the next week, Jungkook was no where in sight. He didn't come see you, he didn't bring you anything, he went completely M.I.A. It was a breath of fresh air but by the second week, you wondered where he was and if he was okay. He did drive a motocylce afterall, maybe he got in an accident and you didn't know.

You stared at his door, hesistant to knock in fear if him actually being in there. He'd likely laugh you off when he saw you, so you purposefully picked a time he'd most likely be out and about anyway. You hated that you kinda knew his schedule.

Jungkook quirked an amused brow at you when he finally cranked his door open. He was wearing light washed jeans and no under shirt, his pecs were on full display. "What can I do for you princess?"

"Nothing," you spat, definitely not looking below his thick neck. "Just wanted to make sure you didn't do anything stupid yet."

"Checking up on me huh?" He put an elbow on the door frame, eyes darkening. "That's sweet."

"Fuck off. You're healthy it seems so I'm gonna go check up on the other neighbors now. I think Mrs. Baker set the fire alrms off the other day so I need to make sure she's oka—"

You're arm was yanked back as soon as you moved to turn around. "Fuck you're bullshit __. You missed me didn't ya?"

"Not much to miss Jeon." You're such a liar, Jungkook muttered to himself. The whole world could see you were having a conversation with his pecs this whole time—too damn timid to look him in the eyes.

"Shut up and say you'll go out with me already. I'm tired of waiting for your ass to come around."

.

You swallowed your pride and there you were, watching Jungkook splash in every single puddle. He just had to propose going out the one day it was storming out.

"Wipe that sour look off your face!" He stomped in the water, drenching you entirely.

You shrieked at the sudden coldness. Big droplets of water soaked your face, clothes, shoes, everything. "You're such a child Jungkook!"

He ignored you and wrapped his muscular arms around you. The white tank he wore was drenched as well. "You're having fun, admit it."

You scoffed. The only reason you agreed to go out was to show him how ridiculous it would be for the two of you to go out. You and Jungkook were likely the most incompatible people for each other. While he was out riding his bike with heavy metal blasting, you were watching the latest law drama in you're pajamas. It was only a matter of time before this expirament of his would show him the true results of your intermingling.

"C'mon," he took you by the hand and dragged you through the rain. "Just be in the moment __. Let the rain shower over you and be free!" He grabbed your other hand and began spinning you both in circles.

"I'm going to get dizzy."

"Then only look at me. Look at me and don't worry about what's around us. Focus on a single subject and you won't get dizzy." He pulled you by the waist, forcing you to stare straight at him.

He was right. The dizziness went away but your knees feel like jelly.

"What's holding you back?" Jungkook smiled and it was the most genuine smile you'd ever seen. "Look at me __. Look at us. What do you see?"

As you stood there in the pouring rain, a pair of deep, boy-like eyes locked with yours. This was him, the thought dawned on you, a soft-hearted guy who wasn't afraid to open himself up.

You felt a pang of guilty settle in your gut–you weren't the better person like you so believed. You're closed off, comfortable in your space. Skeptical of anyone and everyone. You were wrong to see Jungkook as a careless, arrogant, motorcycle thug and it was a hard pill for you to swallow.

"I don't know." You replied softly, shivering at the faintest touch of his fingers supporting on your back. "I'm sorry, I don't know Jungkook."

"Well I see something worth sticking around for, rain or shine. I think I've become an idiot for you and I don't think that bothers you as much as you let on. You sought me out after I gave you space and I've literally been playing in the puddles this whole date and you haven't ditched me yet. So if you want some more of this, I'll give it to you with open hands, open heart, and I'll make sure to be loving you right." He winked before finishing. "As many days as you'd like."

Jungkook didn't give you much time to respond before he pressed his lips against your own. He made sure to go gentle, barely brushing them over your lips.

You understood immediately–if you wanted this, you were going to have to be the one to seal the deal.

And you did, kissing him with full force. You hoped you wouldn't regret this in the morning.

.

Ever since that night, you and Jungkook had started going out. It was slow at first but six months later, you and he finally made your relationship official.

"Shh," he cooed above you. He was a bit of a blur due to the pitch darkness of the room but you felt him everywhere. He was straddling your naked sides, praising your body like it was art. "Doing so good for me baby, making me so hard–fuck."

It was your first real-time being with a man and being your new boyfriend, Jungkook made sure to be extra attentive. "Kook," you moaned, back arching and pussy throbbing from where he had recently entered you.

He dragged his thick length out of you before slamming back in, a little rougher than the previous thrust. "That's it," he said through gritted teeth. "Let me hear those pretty moans. Been dying to hear them since I first saw you in those cute little sweat shorts you like walking to the laundry room in."

"Faster Kook, please." You gripped his muscular back, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. You needed him lodged so far in your gut that you'd literally see stars. "Plea–please."

"Shit baby, if you start begging this early I can't promise you I won't go completely feral and I don't want to hurt you."

"I want all of you Jungkook," you said. "You said you'd love me right, so do it." And that's all it took for your boyfriend to lock down on your waist with firm hands, pounding into you with all he had.

You tried looking up at him, wanting to look him dead in the eye as he fucked into you but you couldn't handle it. He was dripping with sweat, his muscles were tense, veins were protruding out of neck, and his teeth were clamped shut. He was focused and he knew what he was doing. You on the other hand were a complete opposite story.

"Jung-Jungkook, oh god, fuck!" You screamed incoherently. His big cock reached every inch inside you, stretching you out with every snap of his hips. Never in your life had you had so much pleasure in a short amount of time. And embarrasing it may be, you were definitely going to come far before the usual.

"Look at you fucking falling apart already. Too much for your tight little pussy to handle isn't it? Well you begged for this, and now you're gonna take this cock like a big girl aren't ya," he barked, landing a sharp slap to your ass.

"Shit!" You yelped, clenching around him automatically. "Gonna come Kook...please-please. It's my first time I-"

You came without finishing the plead, sticky white substance ran down your thighs and onto the sheets. Jungkook's wet length continues to move in you, pushing some of your cum back in. The erotic squelching makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"Mhm yeah." He planted a trail of rough kisses up your neck, teeth nipping at the delicate skin. "And now you're gonna come again, and again, and again til you're dripping with my cum. I'm gonna then eat you out while my fingers play with your clit. But congrats on your first-time baby, because from here on out, you're gonna become my slut , and I'll be fucking you seven days a week."

A/N: written a little different than usual but yeah...haha idk. Tysm for reading and lmk your thoughts 💞

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[modmad]

please modmad tell us the story of the music festival chicken

lmao not much to tell, I went to a big open air festival when I was a teenager and there were a lot of farms around locally, so whether the chicken wandered there by itself or some goober nabbed one I am not sure, but the first thing I knew was that there was a chant of 'ALL HAIL THE CHICKEN! ALL HAIL THE CHICKEN' and there in the distance I see this chicken being held aloft and carried like a saint above a crowd of muddy sweaty punks goths and rockers, handled with all the care of a deity come to earth. I am pretty sure it was handed to security in the end to be returned to whence it came but I promise you that chicken had nothing to fear that day save for the volume of about five hundred chicken fanatics and 10k party lovin people

[anika-ann]

A Series of (Un)Fortunate Events - S.R.

Part 2 of 2

Type: two-shot, idiots-in-love, feel-good fic (part 1 here)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 10,7k (I-)

Summary: A few things had gone wrong on your camping trip with Steve and other fellow agents.

But is that such a bad thing?

Warnings: NSFW,  18+, size and praise kink if you squint, semi-public sex kiiinda, language, attempt at humour, FLUFF , Steve being a menace

A/N: written for the Essie’s Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration hosted by @bigtreefest In this chapter, you darlings shall get "Who thought a place with mosquitos was a good idea?"; "You know this one’s my favourite", trying not to get caught and kinks size and praise, if you squint, as well as semi-public sex

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰 Several Agent of SHIELD characters are involved - I don't think you need any knowledge of the show to read this

The last sunrays of the day illuminated the crowns of the tallest trees, the shadows casted growing longer and wider. The fire the guys had started flickered in the breeze carrying the fresh cool air from above the lake. The warm colours of the flames danced across the improvised campsite you had settled, its heat not reaching the clothes you had washed and hanged in the nearby group of trees, but certainly had wonderful effect on everyone sitting around the fire. Work done and belly full, you were beginning to feel the miles you had walked taking its toll, pleasant but very real fatigue settling into your body.

And you weren’t the only one, by the look of it.

During dinner, everyone was supposed to share their most surprising moment from the field; but now, the chatter had quieted down, movements growing rather sluggish even as the atmosphere was serene and amicable. Bucky had taken it upon himself to finish the last pieces of grilled meat; the rest of you were simply staring into flames, talking quietly, or shuffled around in search of a soon-needed flashlight.   

The sudden rapid – and very distinct – movement on Daisy’s part startled you, snapping you awake from your near slumber.

It wasn’t just you who winced – not that Daisy seemed bothered by all the looks the unsolicited use of her powers attracted, huffing and waving her hand around.

“Ugh. Who the heck thought a place with mosquitos was a good idea? These little bastards love me for some reason… no one told me turning Inhuman had that effect,” she complained, once again striking the annoying insect with a wave of deadly vibrations. “Yes! Finally.”

You stared at her, blinking, wondering if you had actually fallen asleep and this was one of the creations of your hippocampus, nothing but a dream. The fact that everyone was staring too though made for quite an argument against that theory.

“Did you just… quake apart a mosquito?” Bobbi asked, sounding as incredulous – and amused – as you felt.

“Huh?”

Hunter cackled at Daisy cluelessness. “I think she did. Wow. Way to go, Trembles.”

“Tremors, Hunter. Mack calls me Tremors,” she corrected him gently, without an ounce of shame, proud of her murderous accomplishment if anything.“And why – yes, I did. And for everyone’s information, I’m not afraid to do that to any annoying elements on this trip.”

Smile dripping of sarcasm, Daisy turned to Hopkinson, who rolled his eyes and muttered ‘subtle’ under his breath.

A fresh wave of fondness towards Daisy swirled in your chest and you made a mental note to give her a hug just for that. You didn’t want anyone to get into crosshairs for your benefit; you didn’t want to stir conflict – if anything, acting partly like a liaison, you were often in the position of a peacemaker – but you’d be damned if Daisy or anyone else being on your side of things didn’t make you feel loved and appreciated.  

You had purposely not sat down next to Steve, even if you had wanted to. You didn’t want to give Hopkinson or anyone else any more ammo and… it was enough that you were wearing Steve’s hoodie, your brain somehow translating it into Steve’s warmth keeping you comfortable. From experience, you knew that if you sat next to him and felt the heat he was radiating despite only wearing short sleeves still, you’d lose it and might actually snuggle him. Even two seats over, you were painfully aware of his presence; and any moment you allowed yourself to think about sharing a tent with him, you were pushing yourself further into the area of crossing The Line.

Crossing it by miles.

“You know that the point of this trip is bonding, right?” May commented dryly, the twitch of the corner of her lips giving away her amusement – or approval.

“Sometimes eliminating the unbearable variable helps,” Natasha said matter-of-factly, gaze flickering to Hopkinson too. “Nothing strengthens friendships like burying a body of a common enemy together. Trust me.”

Mental note to hug Natasha as well, you thought. Or maybe buy her a fine quality bottle of red. She was a fan. You had drunk enough with her to know.

Bucky snickered silently at her side; and the fact Steve just hummed in silent approval and didn’t intervene despite this having been his idea, bonding during a camping trip indeed, spoke volumes about how pissed he was still for the comment Hopkinson had made earlier.

It almost made you feel bad for him; but Hunter’s wide eyes and Bobbi biting back a smile at the nonchalance in Natasha’s tone were simply too good not to enjoy.

However, Hopkinson did not seem to appreciate the gang-up, his face a mixture of offence and annoyance.

“Seriously, guys. Can you at least pretend you don’t play favourites 24/7?”

“No,” sounded collectively around the fire, causing your lips to part in awe; and your chest to feel pleasantly full.

Steve’s voice was no surprise to you, neither was Natasha’s or Bucky’s – or Daisy’s for that matter. Hunter’s too, since he was for any mischief he could get – but May’s voice joining the chorus took you aback a bit. The smile on Bobbi’s face told you that she herself only hadn’t agreed with the rest of them out loud out of diplomacy.

Hopkinson still threw his hands in the air, letting them fall to his thighs with a muffled slap before climbing to his feet and moving towards his tent in a demonstrative dramatic exit.

Bobbi followed his example, standing up too.

“Right. This was fun, guys, but I’m going to bed. Someone planned an insanely long hike for tomorrow,” she said, pointedly looking at Steve, who smiled and raised his hands as if he was giving up when everyone else glared at him too.

It was no wonder they looked at him; the way the flames painted shadows over his arms was simply gorgeous. It was hard not to linger, hard no let your eyes wander.

…and your thoughts were gradually losing filter the more tired you were getting. Maybe you should just go to sleep; if you were out before Steve would arrive, there was a chance of keeping up the façade. Maybe.

You rose to your feet.

“I guess I should go to bed too. I’ll just take a quick rinse in the lake and settle in the tent, that okay?” you said, checking with Steve, who only nodded with a reassuring smile

“Whatever works for you.”

“Take someone with you. Seems like bad luck keeps following you,” May hummed, earning a few chuckles from others.

As you looked at her, her smirk was somehow secretive, causing you to waver. Did she know something you didn’t? Were you cursed? Was this another of the infamous prank wars SHIELD agents sometimes declared? It didn’t happen often, but you had heard stories; in fact, May had such a great poker face that her team had once failed to recognize her as the perpetrator of the notorious whipped-cream-on-hand-when-sleeping prank on Agent Fitz and they only had found out when she confessed months later.  

“Yeah, we don’t want you to drown…” Hunter said, wincing when Steve and Bucky snapped their head to him with downright menacing glares. “What?! We don’t!”

You snorted, swallowing the ‘down, boys’ threatening to slip from your lips. It was still nice of them though – they didn’t know Hunter as well as you did. He didn’t mean anything bad.

Or did he? Was he, too, on that prank war that might be and might not be happening here with you as the main target?

“I’ll go,” Daisy said, jumping to her feet, now seriously making you question whether you were turning insane. “What? He has a point. Let’s go—oh come on, die, you blood-sucking little bast-”

Shaking your head, you just accepted it, too tired to care; but making a mental note to check your sleeping bag for bugs and itching power just to make sure.

As you were gathering the few precious pieces of clothes that had survived the marinade attack, including a towel, you couldn’t but chuckle at Hunter’s suddenly wide-awake voice.

“Hey, hold on, do you think that mosquitos who drink Inhuman blood turn into some… superpowered freaks? I read a story about a guy who was bitten by some freaky spider once, and he became a-“

“Hunter… shut up.”

While your feet barely even shuffled towards the part of the lake hidden from the sight of your teammates sitting by the fire, the cool water of the lake certainly awoke your senses anew. You and Daisy barely dipped your toes into water when you felt it started taking effect.

And yet. As Daisy looked back towards the camp, as if making sure no one had followed you, she dropped a bombshell on you which wiped any traces of fatigue as fast as if she fired a gun next to your ear.

“Okay, done deal,” she said, almost nonchalantly by her measures, as she descended into water, “you have to shag Steve, like yesterday.”

You turned to her so fast you nearly toppled over and fell into water just like Hunter had unwittingly predicted. Arms spread wide for balance, hissing as your knee hit the cold water surface, you didn’t – but that wasn’t important. And Hunter was not at all importantat the moment either.

What the--- what?!

And did she have to say it like that?

Of course she did. It was Daisy after all.

“Daisy!”

“What? Come on! He has literal heart-eyes whenever he’s with you. He even has a special nickname for you. That guy is smitten. And you are not at all better, since we’re at it, by the way,” she noted with a smirk, before sliding into water casually as if she was stating a boring obvious fact and not… that.

It left you dumbstruck.

Not that you didn’t want to ‘shag’ Steve. But that was not the point!

Were you really that obvious? Certainly, you couldn’t have been. You were an agent. A professional. Stealthy. And yes, Steve sometimes… looked at you in a certain way, way that made you feel warm and hot all over, but-

You shook your head, following Daisy’s lead, breathing out slowly as the nonetheless welcomed coolness of the lake enveloped you.

“That’s not-"

“Not what?” Daisy questioned, turning to you to show off her arched eyebrow. “Please. Take your lies elsewhere. And hey – the opportunity literally presented itself. I mean, maybe your sleeping bag is full of bugs, better to share with him since you’re already sharing his tent. I mean, you’ll have to be pretty close to each other anyway. It’s a big tent, but it’s not that big…”

She trailed off, a hint of a smile playing in the corners of her lips, your face growing hotter with every word; but there was also something in her tone that made the spy in you hyper-alert all of sudden. Something about the glee in her voice, her expression, the sparkles of enthusiasm in her eyes, her-

-abilities.

The realization dawned to you with a gasp, your jaw actually falling slack.

No. She wouldn’t.

Surely, she wouldn’t have-

Oh she absolutely would.

The buckles which had been securing the tent to your backpack had fallen apart. They had broken conveniently when you had been crossing the river, and in the area where the water was the deepest no less. Steve had had to hold you so you wouldn’t take a dive, Bucky had been too far to pull the tent out immediately, causing it to soak and sink-

“…did you quake apart the buckles that held my tent to my backpack? Because I’m sure they were as good as new when I secured the tent.”

You should be shocked. You should be scandalized. But as you said it out loud, it made perfect sense and Daisy was definitely the kind of person to do something like this given the right motivation.

And boy, did she seem motivated.

“…maybe.”

“Daisy!” You pushed the water with the heel of your palm, sending a solid wave to soak her hair to make her cool the hell down. “What the hell?!”

She laughed as she coughed the water out, shaking it from her hair, something impossibly warm humming in your chest and bubbling out in the form of laughter as well.

God, she had really done that, hadn’t she? You couldn’t believe her.

“What? You two are taking forever. Like… I’m sorry, I like me a slow-burn. But you’re moving like a drunk sloth, I swear. I haven’t decided if watching you two dance around each other is cute or painful,” she emphasized, the brightness in her expression telling you it was the former, but it was a close call. You just stared at her mutely, unable to decide whether to be mortified or laugh some more. “Plus, I’m begging you. You two need to get together just to put Hopkinson out of his misery and show him that it’s a lost cause.”

Your brain latched onto the last piece of information, because in the sea of things you were mildly mortified and rather amused to hear, this one didn’t even make sense.

“What do you mean? What’s a lost cause?”

Daisy chuckled, clearly entertained by a joke you were not aware you had said; a joke you did not understand in the slightest.

When she realized that, her smile slipped, replaced by awe.

“You’re… you’re kidding, right?”

“About what?” you asked, genuinely completely lost – and frankly, slightly irritated, because Daisy gasped at your reaction, laughing again. “What?!”

“Oh my god, how did you not notice? You’re a spy. One of the best agents SHIELD has, ever had, even May says so, and that says a lot,” Daisy noted, causing you to purse your lips, something inside you puffing in pride, effectively distracting you for a moment.“But oh my god, you really didn’t know. It’s obvious! H-jerk has hots for you.”

Blank. Your mind turned blank for a split second, no image, no sound.

Daisy could slap you across your face and use her powers doing so and you would be less dumbstruck.

“What?!”

What the---- what?!

Daisy, the little shit, had the audacity to snicker at your perfectly appropriate reaction – but that was because she was joking, right? She was pulling your leg. She had to.

“Come on, Libra.That ‘keep her warm’ comment? Grade-A display of jealousy – and I don’t think Steve is his type, if you catch my drift.”

You did catch her drift.

Except you didn’t.

“No! I mean--- yeah, I catch your drift, but… he doesn-“ you stopped mid-protest, words dying on your lips.

The idea was… strange at best. Intriguing, in the worst way possible. Plausible – except Hopkinson was being a douche to you 24/7.

Which, now that you thought of it, could possibly be some manifestation of his frustration of you not paying attention to him? But that would make it a lost cause – the bigger jerk he was being, the less you wanted to deal with him… which made him act like even a bigger douche, which made you even less interested in being in the same room as him and leading you to spend even more time with Steve, which would only make Hopkinson--- no. You didn’t not want to get into that vicious circle, getting the basic idea.

Insane and not really a likeable idea; plausible, but not probable.

Even if it did make a tiny bit of sense, you supposed. In some twisted, immature male logic.

“Oh.”

Daisy grinned. “Yeah. Oh.”

Oh she really believed that wholeheartedly, didn’t she? You weren’t even sure what to make of that – but frankly, you didn’t think you wanted to think about that too hard.

Scratch that, it was the last thing you wanted to think about, even if in a way, you understood Daisy’s amusement.

A little.

“Okay, this… today was a long day. I’m done,” you said decisively, earning a chuckle from your companion. “Enjoy the lake. I’m gonna go… before I find out other disturbing facts.”

Daisy, bless her, just hummed. She let you dry up and slip into your sleep clothes – and Steve’s hoodie, because you really liked the way it felt and made you feel, safe, among other things – in blissful silence, only speaking again as she was climbing out of the water herself.

“Well, now that we cleared things up… go shag the All-American golden boy.”

You ignored the pleasant tingle the idea sent through your body, raising your hand to gesture for her to just... stop please, as you gathered the rest of your things.

“Oookay, Daisy. I’m gonna go now. To bed. Alone. Have a good night though.”

“Sure. Night! …and share the sleeping bag!” she called after you as you turned away, causing you to shake your head, grinning like a madwoman now that she couldn’t see you.

Feigning outrage, you yelled back at her:

“Good night, Daisy!”

The tent was illuminated softly, signalling Steve’s presence as you approached it and climbed inside. Your backpack was already stored in the veranda, safe under the roof so none of your remaining clothes would get wet with a surprise night rain or the morning dew.

You lightly scratched on the cloth of the door, a wordless question you soon got your answer to, being invited in.

The warmth in Steve’s voice made your stomach somersault, the smile that had settled on your lips during your conversation with Daisy widening; and as soon as you unzipped the door and revealed Steve sitting on the improvised bed, you found him smiling in return.

He had changed into a pair of boxers and a sleepshirt, a nondescript grey loose thing only he could possibly make appear attractive, but one he liked anyway because the material was soft and airy at once. You would know; you had worn it before, with his scent lingering on the fabric, when you had needed some extra comfort after a nightmare, needed to feel as safe as you would in his arms but couldn’t have born the heat of his body holding you close at the moment.

Something gentle and sweet hummed in your chest at the memory; the sight of him, sitting here waiting for you, erased the last strain of the day.

Including Hopkinson’s annoying but truthful comment and Daisy’s strange theory… and more importantly, her instruction.

You shook your head incredulously at her shenanigans, Steve’s greeting earning a curious edge.

“Hey, you okay? You haven’t nearly drowned, have you?” he questioned, watching you as you climbed into the tent and zipped it up again, his gaze roaming your figure with attentive care despite his teasing.

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. “Har, har, Captain Rogers. I’m fine, just… come bearing some news.”

“Oh? Tell me.”

He didn’t scoot over to make space for you; he didn’t have to. You didn’t mind his proximity. In fact, you yearned for it; and he knew it all too well.

“Well, according to Daisy,” you said, unable to keep the puzzlement from your voice, “Hopkinson is being a jerk, because he ‘has hots’ for me.”

Steve’s expression darkened, a frown twisting his handsome features.

“I don’t like the sound of that… and why would he be such a jerk to you if he likes you?”

You shrugged before sitting down next to him close enough that your thigh brushed his. It was a little funny, really; the tent had a fairly high ceiling, though not enough for Steve to stand up straight, and it was wide enough for you both to sit comfortably on your own. But sitting beside him, touching him, was an instinct; a magnetic force you were helpless against and didn’t mind succumbing to. Especially since Steve’s face cleared as you did so, reminding you why he was all frowny in the first place.

“Go figure. I guess some men don’t move on from the tugging on girl’s pigtails to show affection stage,” you mused, suddenly unbothered by it; because it was not your problem and the other news was much more fun. “Oh and she thinks that I should, I quote, shag the All-American golden boy.”

A slow grin spread on Steve’s face, his thigh nudging yours. “Now, that I do like.”

“Don’t-“ you warned him, smiling wide, heart speeding up at the twinkle in his eyes and the sheer beauty of it. “The lights are on, mister.”

“Easy fix.”

One hand reaching for yours, the other for the lamp, you felt profound warmth spread through your veins as his eyes observed you, taking in all of you, as if you had entered the tent in a luxurious ballgown and not a pair of leggings and his hoodie. It could be unnerving sometimes, the eyes of an artist looking at you as if you were a fine piece of art, but the emotion captured in that gaze was making you breathless in the best way possible.

As the lamp clicked silently, Steve’s thumb ran over the back of your hand; a small gesture of affection hidden by the shadows, just like your love.

You and Steve had clicked almost instantly.

You had fallen hard.

You yearned for a touch, always.

And so did he.

The perfect match.

Two months ago, talking had no longer been the only thing on agenda for you when he had asked you out. Two months ago, you had found out that Steve’s lips were as soft and sweet as they seemed and drawing was not the only art he mastered. Two months ago, you had discovered that Steve’s hands were not only made for fighting and protecting and creating something beautiful, but for holding you and showing you heaven unparalleled.

You were in love.

You were lovers.

You had just decided to keep it low for the moment – as low as it was possible among spies like Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes or Melinda May, as low as it was possible among the Avengers.

It wasn’t that you were ashamed of each other or your together or worried about professional repercussions – Steve was confident that should it come to it, he could make sure you wouldn’t work on same missions should either of you feel compromised by your relationship. That wasn’t an issue, not truly.

It was just that… he was Captain America. You were a SHIELD agent, half an Avenger, one might say. You had noisy friends and colleagues, and the public already speculated about the nature of your relationship whenever someone snapped a picture of you two together. It wasn’t a question of life and death, even if Steve might argue on that one, worrying his affections might put you into an even bigger danger than you already were on a daily basis. It was a question of comfort.

You wanted your love to be just yours for a little while longer; you wanted your love to be a private place, a shelter, a sanctuary – not a public affair.

So outside the privacy of certain rooms in the Avengers facility, you were still nothing but close friends. That was what you had agreed on, this trip included. Key word of the trip: friends.

You weren’t sure if the façade would hold.

With Steve’s hand now cupping your cheek, you weren’t so sure you cared.

You cared much more about the relief flowing through your body at finally feeling his touch again, an invisible weight, a subconscious tension in the back of your head, melting off your body. That, and you cared that he could see just fine while your eyes were still adjusting, your brain scrambling to put together a mental image of the tent you had seen before.

It was rather difficult to focus now that Steve had kissed your lips, steering your mind elsewhere, but as you briefly met his lips in return – oh so sweet and tempting – one fact about the interior struck you, causing you to withdraw a bit.

“…where’s my sleeping bag?”

You might still not see Steve’s face clearly, but you could hear the smile in his voice just fine.

“Don’t know. Do you need it?”

You chuckled, arching your brow, naively clueless.

“I’m going to sleep, so yes. It’s a sleeping bag. There’s literally its purpose in its name.”

Steve’s hand grasped at your nape to pull you back as you tried to look around, inching closer, his amused gaze boring into yours in the shadows.

“Don’t get smart with me now, sweetheart,” he whispered, fingers flexing in your skin, a signal your body comprehended just fine, just like the message unspoken.

His lips brushing yours again helped too, excitement tingling in your belly, the protest slipping off your tongue but a weak alibi for when you’d reason you had agreed to keep your hands to yourselves in favour of keeping your relationship secret still.

“Steve… we shouldn’t,” you breathed against his mouth, as if you weren’t already reciprocating the affection, parting your lips for him, hand slipping from his own to stroke up his arm to grip on his shoulder, your other laid on his chest.

“No, we shouldn’t.”

Breathing having turned fast and shallow, you welcomed his lips like soil welcomed rain after weeks of drought; parched earth now soaking in relief, new wild life sprouting within, warm and beautiful under the sun Steve embodied as he caressed your skin.

It lit you alive, finally touching him again as you were meant to, as you were longing since had set off for the trip; finally feeling sated after having been drinking every feeble drizzle in the form of a gentle brush of hands he had offered, yet growing thirsty with every drop of affection you wished you could drown in.

You wouldn’t stop for air when he kissed you breathless. When he pulled you to his lap, his palm settling firmly over your back, the only sensible thing your desire-drunk brain could think of was to press closer, hand sliding into his hair, relishing in the way his fingers dug into your flesh with need. You wouldn’t have stopped for air – what was the few agents, your friends, who had no idea your relationship with Steve was way beyond platonic. They couldn’t see you anyway. Half of them already knew; the other half was probably asleep.

Here. Now. Steve’s lips, his hands, his torso firm and steady apart from his wavering breaths, thighs solid but soft and welcoming between your legs. That mattered.

Steve released your lips with a sigh of deep contentment and a teeny protest on your part, foreheads resting against one another, a peck to your lips to sooth you, a peck to his to show you didn’t have enough of him. Not nearly enough. You never would.

The smile he gave you was warmer than the midday sun; that much you could see, your eyes finally slowly adjusting.

“Hi,” he breathed out.

Just like that.

Hi.

The simplest greetingwhose true meaning – I missed you – remained hidden to the world outside of you two. Much like other small gestures today.

A smile; I’m happy you’re here with me.

Catching you when you had slipped; I’ve got you.

Treating your wounds; I’ll always take care of you.

Cradling your hands; you’re precious to me.

Checking up on him; I’m here for you.

Squeezing his shoulders, brushing your fingers over his skin; you’re safe with me.

Agreeing to share his tent; I need you close.

‘Not on my watch’; I’d fight the world for you.

‘We shouldn’t’; I want you.

“Hi,” you said back, smiling too despite the reprimand to come. “You’re a terrible influence.”; I adore you.

Steve ran his hand up and down your back gently, chuckling, brushing your nose with his before retreating and finding your gaze in the dark.

“I love you too.”

Unlike the first time he had uttered it during the trip, you whispered the words in return, rewarded by another sweet kiss, slow and deep, a confession of love written into your very soul, bodies so close they could merge into one.

“Missed you. Missed touching you. Almost kissed you on at least ten different occasions. Wouldn’t even care who’d see,” he confessed, sealing his words with another kiss as if to make up for all the lost opportunities.

“Yeah, me too. You are very distracting.”

Steve grinned boyishly into the next kiss, teeth pulling briefly on your lower lip, the hand on your back urging you to erase ever half an inch between you.

“You tell me. Especially now,” he mused, fingers tugging at the hoodie for explanation, a flicker of satisfaction igniting your chest. Good; for all his shameless attempts to break your will, as gentle as they had been, you had been teasing him in return by simply walking around wearing his clothes. Good.

It took a split second; that flicker turned into a wildfire of another kind as his dextrous fingers slid under the hem of the hoodie, tenderly – and so purposely lightly – brushing the sensitive skin under your ribcage. Your fingers dug into his shoulder reflexively, a soundless moan escaping you at the sensation of muscles flexing under your touch.

“You know, this one’s my favourite.”

Fondness battled with desire in your chest, the awareness of why feeling warm and burning at once.

“I know.”

“Uh-huh,” Steve hummed, lips trailing along your jaw, wordlessly asking you to tilt you head back. Oh how gladly you gave him the space... “You know why?”

You did. You were certain of it, but Steve’s hand on your back slid under the hoodie too, teasing alongside the clasps of your bra and the first and only word coming off your mouth was a pleading yes, the clasps undone a fraction of second later, your fingers plunging deeper into his hair, his lips returning to yours.

“What was that, sweetheart?”  

“It’s my favourite too,” you confessed, eyes fluttering open to meet Steve’s burning gaze. “Makes the blue of your eyes pop up…”

He caressed the bare skin over your hip, causing you to almost lose your train of thought again as his fingertips continued their path alongside the hem of your leggings, a deviously innocent smile adorning his lips as he watched your lips part with a sigh and your hips unwittingly buck forward.

The hitch in his voice at that was music to your ears.

“That so?”

“Yeah… and because I-- wore it, the first morning... after,” you whispered, the fond memory of Steve’s lips on your temple coaxing you to greet a new day with a promise of a breakfast and a lazy morning together, both forgotten for a while when you had followed him to the kitchen a few moments later and he had seen you walk in nothing but this very hoodie, deciding he was in a mood for a different kind of a feast and nothing all that lazy.

“That’s right,” he praised, hand sliding under your leggings at last, cupping your heat. Biting your lip to keep quiet, a silent keen of pleasure escaped you still at the relief and the tease all at once, Steve’s lips instantly on yours to drink up the sound with a groan. “Have to be quiet, sweetheart.”

“Thought you liked hearing me-”

“I always hear you… every little sound you make for me, every little sound I coax out of you,” he husked, dextrous fingers working to do exactly that, stirring the flames in your veins hotter, a muted grunt forcing its way past Steve’s lips as his fingertips explored with delight just how aroused you were. “God sweetheart, you’re dripping for me.”

“And whose fault is that? You’re the one who insisted on giving me this hoodie---- ah, and ripped logs apart with bare hands through half of this evening-”

Steve smile tasted devious on yours as you couldn’t but grin at his menacing ways – but by god, what a sight that had been. Lightning could have struck right next to you and you wouldn’t have noticed, entirely hypnotized by the display of sheer strength, the action barely making your lover break a sweat.

Now, when you tugged him closer to take more, to taste more, to get closer, always closer, already drunk on hip lips and nowhere close to having enough, his muscles danced under your hands again, a sheen glow of perspiration forming, the hardness responding to the undulation of your hips a testimony of you not being the only one affected, succumbing to primal desire.

Yet, you felt his obvious upper hand in his voice, the way he preened at your praise, even when hidden under the veil of a faux-complaint.

“You liked that, honey? Like it when I show off my strength?”

He knew the answer and yet you granted it to him in a silent whimper, hand sliding down the hard bulge of his arm, a sensation almost as divine as his fingers sliding past the soaked fabric of your underwear and entering you, the first step on the ladder towards the stars.

“Yes, Steve—love, I-”

“Yes, honey?” he coaxed, lips an inch from yours. “What were you saying?”

“Gentle and strong---and big,” you managed to breathe out as he pumped his fingers in a way he had already learned would lift you higher and higher towards your peak, his gaze hungry as he watched the pleasure distort your features, every little sound you tried your goddamn best to muffle as not to give your friends a show fuelling his effort to make you lose that game and driving him wilder in retun. “Should manhandle me more often-“

“Is that right?” he chuckled warmly, so warmly and content you didn’t have time or space in your mind to feel shame for admitting it, less so since he curled his fingers just like that, mouth pressed to the column of your neck in a demanding kiss, a graze of teeth that nearly knocked your breath out of your lungs, your whole body burning like a supernova about to explode. “I’ll take a note. But for now… I gotta be gentle so you don’t let everyone know how close you are to your Captain.”

And gentle he was; a gentle tease. But as devious as he could be, dark eyes drinking in the sight of you falling apart for him but few second later, a sinful smile on his lips shining with your arousal when he took you apart for the second time, sucking a bruise to your inner thigh as you came down from your high – he drew plenty of his pleasure from your own and was still a giver. He kissed his way up your still trembling body, exposing more and more skin to give love to, until he reached your lips again, muffling both yours and his moan as he slowly entered you at last, taking for himself too, once, twice, no need for rest, but pausing still to feel the shared bliss spreading through your bodies.

Despite Steve’s lips being nothing short of wicked, his hands both tender and all kinds of greedy – an honour you so willingly and enthusiastically reciprocated – the words spoken between you were soft and sweet; and as quiet as you tried to be, there was plenty of space for I love yous without uttering a word.  

A gentle touch to angle your hips.

A caress alongside his jaw.

A kiss to your collarbone.

A hungry kiss to his lips.

The grip on your waist.

The dirty roll of your hips you knew made him see stars.

A press of his lips to your lower back when he flipped you over, a lingering moment of reprieve and torture before he entered you again in one smooth movement.

Confessions whispered to your ear and just as sweet and delicate breathed in return.

Love you; need you; gonna keep you.

Yes. More. Always want more of you.

You have all of me.

I’ve got you, love.

You did have each other. Body humming in quiet aftershocks of bliss, contentment settled deep in your soul, you fell asleep curled to Steve’s front, his arm draped securely around your waist, keeping you close.

The one sleeping bag which he had unpacked was but draped over your bodies, way too small to cover you both fully. And yet, you were perfectly warm and safe from the cold and the outside world, Steve’s breathing lulling you to a peaceful sleep full of gentle fire and stars-littered skies resting just at your fingertips.

Waking up came with flickers of blurry images you could hardly distinguish from a dream; but as you found yourself alone, colder than before despite being safely tucked into a cocoon of a sleeping bag, you smiled as you recognized some of them as real.

A morning ritual of a kiss to your temple; a gentle advice for you to sleep a little longer; your body seeking Steve’s on instinct, the hard planes of muscle relaxing again as he gave in and held you for another while, lips pressed to your hairline, an embrace full of love. Bucky’s grumpy voice whisper-yelling from an immense distance, reminding Steve that he had been the one to plan the morning run so he’d better get his ass out and stop shagging his lady; Steve’s sweet grunt so quiet that perhaps not even supersoldier ears could hear it from outside of the tent that yes, but that had been before he knew he’d have you for himself.

The dreams after that you didn’t remember, but you recalled they were awfully sweet and you wished to be woken up just like the first time.

Still, despite finding yourself alone, body slightly aching, the memories of last night and earlier this morning brought a wide smile to your face. The inside of the tent was already perfectly bright, so sun must have been high despite the relatively early hour. In your high spirit, the idea of warm sunrays even made you consider going for a swim in the lake, just to have the excuse to wear Steve’s hoodie later, discarded in a corner, again.

You pulled it over your head, fingers running through your hair to have the worst of your bed hair go away and pull it into a lose bun, you slowly climbed out of the tent, your smile only widening at the beautiful scenery awaiting you – and you didn’t mean your friends barely just getting out of their tents too. The woods, the sun reflecting in the crystal-clear lake, the remnants of the morning mist, the dew sparkling on the grass like thousands of soft diamonds.

Eyes slipping close to feel the sunrays on your skin, you stretched your arms above your head, breathing in deeply, the slightly crisp and gorgeously fresh air-

“I BLOODY KNEW IT!”

Your heart nearly gave out at the sudden cry, making you wince and drop your arms in an instant, seeking the source.

Pulse thundering in your ears from the fright, your gaze found Hunter, turning to Bobbi by his side with his mouth hanging open with shock as if he had just witnessed a real-life Loch Ness monster peek out from the lake and dive back again. Maybe he had.

The tension melted from your shoulders as you sighed, willing yourself to relax again.

Whatever was his issue, it was way too early for you to deal with his shenanigans – you’d leave that to his ex-wife.

You shook your head and turned back, letting yourself to take inventory; your body was aching all over, a testimony to a long pleasant night, thighs, lower back and neck a little stiff. You rolled your neck to relief the tension a bit, then shoulders, tilting your head to one side and then the other, nearly groaning at the stretch and satisfying ache--- only for your work to be instantly undone by Daisy’s loud voice. 

“Hunter, what the-- oh my god YES! Fucking finally!” she all but shrieked, the undiluted excitement in her voice causing you to snap back to her, panic rising in your chest.

Because you knew that tone.

This was exactly the tone she had used when she told you to shag Captain America, to share the sleeping bag with Steve. Had she seen your sleeping bag packed, assuming you had listened to her? But she couldn’t have possibly known you hadn’t had a head start and already packed it back again, so why would she give into that excitement so easy, that couldn’t have been-

“What is it?” you blurted out, heart in your throat, brain in an overdrive as you tried to think, think, think-

Your gaze found Steve’s as he and Bucky emerged from among the trees, slightly breathless, the loud ruckus clearly having startled them and making them race back to the camp.

You took a precious second to appreciate the absolute god-like appearance of his, red, red lips, chest heaving, arms bulging now that he put his hands on his hips and looked around with slightly worried and entirely confused blues that reflected the colour of the sky, his hair ruffled by the wind, sticking to several directions as it had lined with sweat.

“Nice badge, agent,” May commented dryly.

And yet, her voice dripped with amusement, the corners of her lips twitching in a smile, causing you to frown.

Nice badge? What did she mean by-

Oh shit.

Oh fuck.

Your hands immediately flew up to your neck, covering the incriminated spot she was referring to, even as you hadn’t been aware there was one.

But there must have been.

A hickey.

You had a visible hickey, not just the one on your inner thigh which you knew Steve was so bloody proud of.

You had a hickey on your neck and now everyone saw it, an undeniable proof that you and Steve had most definitely not shared a tent platonically, but had shared a whole lot more.

You doubted you could blame the bruise – you didn’t even know what it looked like, oh god, you were mortified,why hadn’t you checked your appearance in a mirror, why – on some super-powered mosquitos drunk on Daisy’s Inhuman blood as Hunter had mentioned. And even if you could – you were hundred percent sure your spy training had flied out of the window and if the hickey hadn’t given it away, your imitation of a deer in the headlights when caught certainly had.

Speechless. You were rendered absolutely speechless and while this wasn’t any kind of tragedy, you felt the world spinning a bit. Oh no.

“Not that it’s any news,” May added, a smirk on her lips as all the gazes of those who did consider it news snapped to her.

“What do you mean?” Hopkinson asked, grumpy and entirely stunned.

Bucky snorted by Steve’s side, clearly highlyamused unlike your love and lover.

“You call yourself spies? They’ve been together for like two months and he’s been giving her heart-eyes from day one-“

“A-HA! Called the heart-eyes!” Daisy cried out pointing at you victoriously – and pausing.

Steve used the opportunity to put himself together, approaching you sheepishly and slowly as if he was worried you might actually throw something at him for leaving a badge of honour and shame on your neck. Which you might. Dammit Steven! If you found out that this was some kind of a ploy to make Hopkinson piss off if he really did have hots for you or whatever, you might spend the next night in your own tent alone just because.

“…wait, that means-- so you’re saying I quaked apart the buckles for nothing?”

At that, all eyes turned to her; and Bobbi let out a small sound of surprise.

“Oh! You quaked the— oh. That makes sense,” she said. “Well, I guess I unsecured the food container for nothing too, then.”

It was like watching a cartoon; at her admission, all heads turned to her in comical speed, stunned – and yours and Steve’s most of all, even as he stood at your side at last, a tender brush of his hand to your forearm for support.

Bobbi had done what?!

Something awesome in Daisy’s opinion, that was for sure. The women exchanged a conspiratory smile full of mutual respect and understanding.

All you could do was stare at them mutely. Daisy, well, she hadn’t surprised you all that much, even as you’d never dream of her doing that – but Bobbi? She had a wicked sense of humour and she certainly possessed a no-nonsense approach to things, but-

“Well, now I feel like a sucker,” Hunter said, glancing at his almost-wife. “I mean, all I did was not to tell her that her shoelaces were undone so she’d trip and someone would give her some TLC.”

You turned to him, gaping, no air coming in or out.

Y tu, Brutus?

All three of your friends had been on this, though apparently without cooperation? You were done. You were so completely done. And to think you had considered Hopkinson had been playing pranks on you. He was probably the only person who hadn’t been on this.

“Hunter, that’s awful,” Daisy commented at the sneaky act, causing him to raise his hands palms up innocently. “What if she’d have twisted her ankle or something?”

“Well then even better, wouldn’t it? He’d have to carry her in those--- arms with the biceps the size of bowling balls. And it worked, ain’t it? TLC, big time. Have you seen them when he treated her hands?”

Daisy paused, briefly lost in thought; then, she made a face. She couldn’t argue about that. Just like you couldn’t argue about the possibility of Steve’s solution being exactly the one and you being very much affected by being carried bridal style in his arms like that.

Not that that was the point.  

They really might have as well all worked in sync even if they hadn’t, huh?

Except all these things, arranged to get you and Steve together or somehow make you realize your feelings and act on them, were a little late to the party.

“Well, good work, everyone. I mean, it was fun to watch you try,” Natasha said, moving to continue packing her tent, slowly setting the scene in motion again.

“Almost as much fun as watching you two try to keep it under wraps,” Bucky smirked, walking past Steve and patting him on the shoulder. “Sorry to break it to you, but when it comes to undercover, you’d be more convincing as a couple of newlyweds.”

You sputtered at that remark, still to stunned to react otherwise, your famed ability to work under pressure and in unexpected circumstances suddenly nowhere to be found. You guessed it only applied to the field.

“I-” you started, unsure how to continue, feeling too busted – but also relieved somehow – turning to the man whose fault all this was. “Steve?”

He just opened his mouth, too taken aback as well; which you took as a prove that he hadn’t been aware of that hickey, bless him. Which… was curious at least, but he had enough wits to look guilty, so you’d leave that for after you’d process this.

May cleared her throat loudly.

“Alright, now that we established the bad luck that’s been following you was not bad luck at all, I believe we have a long hike ahead? We should move on with packing…”

Yes. Packing. That sounded wonderful. Anything to get the attention off you – though you weren’t sure it would help all that much.

Daisy, Hunter and Bobbi seemed simply too amazed by the revelation and satisfied with their work all the same. And Hopkinson was… something. Processing probably. Certainly not happy for you; you didn’t want to examine why. Even if it would support Daisy’s theory of him actually liking you, which was a wholly different can of worms you did not want to open at the moment.

You shook your head, your smile tight.

“Good call, Agent May. Thank you.”

She casted a small smile your way, actually shooting Daisy a pointed look so the younger agent would stop staring at you. She did; but not before she showed you a pair of painfully unsubtle thumbs-up, setting your cheeks aflame even more than earlier.

Once no one was looking, you lightly slapped Steve’s thigh with the back of your hand, staring him down despite truly feeling relieved you wouldn’t have to spend the rest of the trip hiding anything besides the incriminated spot on your neck. …and your inner thigh when you’d go for a swim.

He observed you sheepishly and gently took hold of your left wrist, lifting your palm from where it had been covering your neck still; his gaze zeroed on that side of your neck – the very side on which you had been lying on when you had woken up, probably having been hiding the testimony to your passionate night from him when he had left you.

His pupils grew a little wider, eyes a shade darker, the hold on your wrist tighter-

“No!” you whisper-yelled at him, the corners of his lips twitching even as he seemed genuinely apologetic. He let you go when you tugged your hands free. “No, mister. You’ve already done enough.”

“Yes, I did… four times,” Steve whispered as lowly as possible, a loud responding groan sounding from both you and Bucky, who probably regretted having enhanced hearing at the moment.

“What?” Natasha asked.

“Believe me… you don’t even want to know.”

Your plan was to pack as fast as possible and get on your way; but there were things to be done. The team was onto packing, cleaning up after the yesterday’s fire, rinsing in the lake – and thankfully, chatting about various things of which none was you.

With Steve’s help, you had put down your tent, now finally dry, and moved on to a the group of trees where you had hung your clothes – now also dry and clean of the smell of marinade if not the stains.

You heard the shuffle of feet before you saw him; you froze in your movements, recognizing the pattern.

Hopkinson cleared his throat, signalling his presence, causing you to sigh and slowly turn to him.

You expected a snidey remark, bracing yourself for him boasting about how he had been right, about the pimping all those weeks ago and about Steve keeping you warm through the night – but to your surprise, his face was set in a pleasantly neutral mask.

It took you aback so much you didn’t make a sound before he spoke.

“So uhm… I’m all packed. You need any help?”

Your eyebrows shot up near your hairline before you could school your expression, your jaw falling a bit slack; a voice in the back of your head, one that sounded a lot like Daisy saying ‘Grade-A display of jealously’, whispered of the guy actually liking you,as unlikely as it had seem.

It did not seem all that impossible now; his posture was stiff and careful, which could be just him being nervous now that he knew you were under Steve’s protection on a whole new level, or being unsure how to approach you – but there was a hesitant interest and warmth in his eyes when you allowed yourself to look at him for long enough. And despite the tension in his shoulders, there was something rather welcoming. As if he was genuinely offering help.

Well, you’d be damned-

The creeping realization must have shown on your face, because his own expression fell, heat colouring his cheeks, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Oh. You know. Well, this is embarrassing.”

“I little, yeah,” you admitted, your voice a little breathless and a little too high. Did an exchange just happen between you without a single insult yet? Did he really just admit to feeling anything else than the grandiosity of his ego, pointing out he was rather uncomfortable because of something? Wow. Just… wow. “I mean… I didn’t even realize. I’m… sorry.”

Your felt your features twist into a frown, confused by your own words – and feelings. The ‘sorry’ sounded strange to your own ears and tasted even stranger on your tongue, because from the two of you, it wasn’t you who should be apologizing. It hadn’t been you who had been the absolute douche.

And yet, here you were.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. A guy can’t exactly compete with… that, can he?” he suggested, chuckling bitterly.

Your eyebrows, having return to their normal position, arched again.

You understood his point: Steve truly was quite the competition for about anyone. But not for the reason you just knew flashed through Hopkinson’s mind. It had little to do with the size of Steve’s shoulders, the mantle he carried or his absolutely brilliant smile – as much as you admired or adored these things about him. It had much more to do with who he was without the shield; whom he’d still be if the serum fell out of him tomorrow.

You didn’t think he’d understand; he wasn’t in love with Steve Rogers.

“You mean… compete with the guy who’s not acting like an asshole around the woman he likes?”

Hopkinson grimaced, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“…I kinda deserved that. I’m… sorry.”

“Yup. You di-”

You stopped mid-sentence, his words actually registering in your brain. Did he… did he just apologize? And acknowledged that he had been an ass? Today really was full of shocking revelations.

The satisfaction of this one was too good not to enjoy. And yet. Maybe it was the emotional turmoil you had been riding out the whole morning, maybe the relief of you and Steve not having to hide, maybe it was the lingering euphoria of the previous night – but seeing Hopkinson stand there awkwardly, him, awkwardly, you did feel a little bit sorry for the guy.

You sighed again, this time mostly at yourself. “But hey. Some people are into the whole… golden hearted jerk thing.”

“What?!” he snapped, arms crossing on his chest defensively, as if the word jerk wasn’t the nicest one you could think of when it came to his behaviour. Then, he apparently heard past it – and his face cleared up. “Oh… what?”

Oh you were so going to regret this… and yet, it felt somehow right. Setting your folded clothes on the ground next to you, you met his gaze reluctantly, resisting the urge to sigh again.

“Look… have you’ve been a jerk? Yes. Absolutely. Jealous too, even when not entitled to it. But… I’ve seen you cover people in the field with your own body. Catch a bullet for them too. Save people. I’m not an idiot. Someone who does that? They’re not all bad. Hence the golden-hearted added to the jerk,” you said softly, unable to smirk as you threw in the insult just once more, because damn did it feel good to say it to his face after having to deal with his assholery. “And someone, like, I don’t know, maybe Agent Summers for example, are into that-“

“Wait what?! Angela?”

You had to blink as he interrupted you swiftly, surprised he knew who you were talking about – and that knew her first name. That was a good sign; maybe he wasn’t a completely lost cause yet. A flicker of warmth in your chest lit up, a silent reassurance that you had done the right thing telling him that. It seemed he did care for someone else than himself.

“Uhm, you didn’t hear that from me, but… let’s just say that maybe if you look around back home… you’ll be surprised there are people who have an eye on you,” you concluded.

Hopkinson watched you for a few beats of silence, something in his face softening in a way you didn’t think was possible. There was a hint of a smile, a genuine one, without a biting edge – and to your surprise, without the air of irony, it made for quite an attractive image. You hadn’t been blind to the fact he was a handsome man – one who was all too aware of it – but combined with something resembling kindness, it simply hit different. 

“Thanks, Libra. Really.”

A small smile spread on your lips as you hesitated for but a moment before you extended your hand – the final gesture of offering peace even as you hadn’t been the one to disrupt it. Surprised flickered on Hopkinson’s face; but he shook your hand, almost a gentleman’s grip.

Almost.

“But if you break her heart, I’ll break your arm. Minimum,” you said, deadly serious.

He retreated his hand, observing you with uncertain smile.

But oh he’d better be certain. Because you would. If he’d muck up his chance to be better, he’d pay.

“I’d trust her if I were you,” a familiar voice carrying a weight of authority and promise sounded behind you. “And you should know that I’d help her do it if she wanted.”

Hopkinson shot Steve a respectful glare and took a step back, causing the corners of your lips to twitch when he looked back at you. “Understood, ma’am… sir,---Captain.”

You bit your lips to stop the laughter at his sudden nervousness and prompt leave – but seeing Steve squared to a fight, wrapped in an aura of an uncompromising protector, did things to you, so you couldn’t say you blamed Hopkinson for being affected, albeit drastically differently than you.

Heat swelling in your belly, you tried to gather your wits by gathering your clothes; before you could, warm arms wrapped around your middle from behind, gently pulling you to Steve’s front, lips pressed to your neck, right over where your hickey was, now hidden by a scarf.

Smiling and revelling in the contact, you chastised him all the same. “PDA, Steve… and I’m not forgiving you that hickey, by the way. You’re possessive, mister. You’re gonna get me into trouble with my boss.”

“Can you blame me? And I have it on good authority at least one of your bosses approves,” he said decisively. You couldn’t feel his smile over the scarf, but you heard it in his voice, a silent whisper of an apology and seduction at once. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you or get you into trouble. I honestly didn’t even realize. I just got… lost in you. Always do… you drive me crazy in the best ways.”

The little sweep in your belly at his flattering confession was undeniable; smiling wider, you melted against his body, earning a brush of lips against your temple, drawing a content sigh from your lips. You could get used to that. Steve’s voice in your ear, his arms around you, a beautiful view of nature…

What had you been talking about?

Ah.

“Same… but your hickeys heal right away. It’s so unfair.”

“True,” he hummed, nuzzling your neck softly when your hand settled over his. “Speaking of fair and unfair… you were far too kind to that jerkface. You’re a good person.”

“I try,” you said with a grin, pleased all the same.

Suddenly spun around, you couldn’t help the small yelp erupting from your lips, and neither the laughter as you landed in Steve’s arms, palms steading you against his chest as he looked down at you with a heart-melting smile.

“And I love you.”

Hopkinson who? The guy had been right. There was no competing with Steve and this moment, seeing him so happy from something as simple as holding you, four simple words that made the world shrink into the small bubble of your embrace, was just one of million reasons why.

Why even after barely two months, you were utterly, undeniably his.

Utterly and undeniably in love.

“I love you too… even when you’re about to drag me god knows how many miles,” you added cheekily, your breath hitching in anticipation as he leaned his head down, alluring lips you already craved again but an inch away.

“I’ll carry you if it comes to it-”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time-”

“Always, sweetheart,” he promised, finally erasing the distance, mouth pressed to yours softly, warm hand between your shoulder blades pressing your closer as your hand slipped to his nape and into his hair.

The awareness of not being alone was but a distant thought in the minuscule corner in the back of your mind. You sighed when Steve moulded your lips to his liking, mouths parting for but a split second and then connecting again, your head beginning to spin, heat spreading through your veins that had nothing to do with the sunrays caressing your skin. You didn’t fight the sensations, letting them consume you, revelling in the fact you two could do that now, publicly; and whenever you would say no to Steve?

When he retreated with a smile, nose nudging against yours, you found yourself grinning like a fool and griping on his t-shirt, the profound happiness in his eyes causing your heart to flutter.

God, you were so very, very lucky. The fact you had good friends looking out for you in their questionable but well-intended ways, only spoke in favour of that assumption.

“Well, I guess that with that… despite all the little misfortunes I had on this trip, I feel pretty lucky then.”

“Yeah? That makes two of us.”

Steve’s grin tasted sweet as he kissed you again, your fingers caressing along his throat awakening a silent rumble in his chest, his hand moving to your nape to keep you in place as his lips grew more demanding, your lips parting oh so willingly to accommodate him, your core burning as the kiss became so fierce you felt a strain in your back from bending backwards just a bit.

“OI PUNK! Just because they all know now, doesn’t meant we want the front row to you necking your girl!” Bucky yelled with too much laughter to his words for anyone think he was truly annoyed. “Knock it off!”

You grinned into the kiss at Steve’s not-so-gentlemanly curse, blinking away the daze when his lips left yours with a muted pop, hands remaining exactly where they were.

Wow, okay.

“Speak for yourself. I’m super happy to finally see them together…” Daisy said, crossing her arms on her chest, a cheeky grin on her lips.

“Oh, it gets old pretty quickly, trust me,” Natasha uttered with a fond smile. “They’re gross.”

“Amen…”

“Come on, guys… we have a long trail ahead,” May reprimanded you all, throwing her backpack on, nodding towards Steve. “Where to, Cap?”

That finally had Steve release you – not before pecking your lips once more, much to your shared delight – his figurative leader suit slipping on, making him stand taller, his voice earning a quality that made everyone fall in line; and you look at him with pride.  

“I’m on it, Agent May,” he said dutifully. “Let’s go.”

With that, gathered your clothes in one arm and he headed up towards the rest of the group and to your backpacks; the pile of clothes on one hand, his other wrapped securely around yours.

You were still wearing his hoodie; if he’d let you, you’d proudly wear it for the rest of the trip.

Something told you he’d be more than happy about it.

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Here we go! I hope you enjoyed the little twist and the shenanigans 🤭 I certainly did. But also boooooy this is so much longer than intended.... ah well, Story of my life.

Thank you for reading and should you leave feedback, I thank you tenfold 💕 May your August be generous to you 🥰

P.S. - check out the rest of the masterlist for the challenge/celebration! I sure have my eye on it 👀

P.P.S - just because I can:

[dixons-sunshine]

Cleansing The Mind, The Soul And The Body | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

*GIF credits to @reedusmcbridedaily.*

Summary: Getting Daryl to take a shower or a bath when he wasn't in the mood was never easy. It took a lot of skillful convincing and even some bribery. Luckily, as his wife, all it took was a batting of your eyelashes and he was putty in your hands—and you took this to your advantage.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Alexandria; post Saviour arc, pre the building of the bridge.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of past abuse, Daryl's scars.

Word count: 1.6k

A/n: A fic born from this idea by @louifaith. Hope you like this! This was originally supposed to be a 500 word blurb but I got carried away lol.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

The sun was almost completely gone from the sky. The first stars of the night sky were twinkling brightly outside the window of the bathroom in your shared home with Daryl, and the calming, cool breeze was flowing in through the slightly open window. The water was starting to fill up the bathtub, and you meticulously added just enough bubble bath liquid you had found on a run a few weeks prior.

Behind you, Daryl was reluctantly slowly undressing himself, carelessly tossing his shirt into the laundry hamper. He was grumbling to himself under his breath, making you laugh lightly.

“Whatever you want to say, you can say it to my face, Dixon,” you joked, turning the faucet off and turning around to face your half naked husband.

Daryl rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Nothin',” he answered, slowly stepping out of his jeans and boxers and walking over to the bathtub and settling into the bubbly water. “Let's just get this fuckin' over with already.”

You chuckled affectionately, settling onto your knees beside the bathtub and bringing a hand up to brush through his hair. Even though the archer didn't admit it, the warm water of the bathtub was soothing the aches in his body. And your soft hand gently threading through his hair had him practically melting into the water. Despite originally being against the idea of having you bathe him, insisting that he wasn't a little kid and he didn't need someone cleaning him, if he was already so content with just your hand in his hair, he didn't even want to know how relaxed he'd feel if you were to gently wash him.

Daryl subconsciously leaned into your touch and let out a small, content sigh, eliciting a light laugh from you. “Relaxed? I thought you didn't want this. Didn't you say that you "didn't need to be babied" and that "this would be a waste of time"?”

Daryl grumbled under his breath, lightly swatting your hand away. “Shut up,” he mumbled, trying to hide how his lips twitched up into a smile.

You giggled and leaned over the bathtub, catching his lips for a quick, tender kiss, before pulling away again. “Okay, handsome. What first? Body or hair?”

“Hair,” Daryl replied slowly, suddenly feeling hyper aware of the fact that he was naked and vulnerable in front of your eyes.

You nodded and carefully got to work on his hair, wetting it and carefully applying shampoo, working it into his hair while lightly scratching his scalp. “I love your hair. Long hair really suits you.”

“Yeah?” he asked, looking at you.

“Yeah. It compliments your features perfectly. I love it.”

Daryl closed his eyes and basked in the caring, loving moment. However, he couldn't help the nervousness that creeped up on him. The scars on his body were on full display, but luckily the ones on his back were hidden from your view for now. He chastised himself for feeling so insecure about his scars—you were his partner for two years before you became his wife a couple of months prior, and a loyal companion and friend for two years before that, dating all the way back to the quarry. You were well aware of his scars and about his father's abuse, and always worshipped him and reassured him that his scars were nothing to be ashamed of, but that didn't stop his insecurity from creeping up from time to time.

And what should've been a loving, tender moment could potentially be ruined by his insecurity.

While applying the conditioner to his hair, you noticed his now opened eyes staring ahead at the wall, his eyebrows furrowed together as he subconsciously crossed his arms over his chest, right over his scars. You instantly knew what was going through his mind, and you took it on yourself to lift his spirits.

You gently cupped his cheek with one of your hands, prompting him to look at you. His beautiful, ocean coloured eyes locked with your eyes, and you could clearly see the turmoil within their beautiful depths. It made your heart ache to know that someone caused the man you loved so much harm. If his father was still alive, Daryl wouldn't have had to worry about a confrontation with him. No, you would've given the man a taste of his own cruel medicine and after that, you would've killed him.

“Baby,” you whispered softly. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

Daryl could feel a blush creep up onto his cheeks. He scoffed and ducked his head, letting his wet hair fall in front of his eyes. “Stop,” he mumbled, but he couldn't help the small smile that crept up onto his face.

You giggled and tucked his hair behind his ears. “You are! You're so beautiful, Daryl. I can't believe how lucky I got with you. I won't be surprised if every woman here has a crush on you. Well, except Tara, but other than her...”

“Nah,” he denied and shook his head in disagreement. “Ain't no woman who would give me the time of day 'cept ya. 'Sides, even if there were, I ain't need no other woman. I already have the perfect one.”

You smiled and leaned over for another kiss, this one lasting longer than the previous one. You pulled back with a soft laugh, admiring the man who you'd come to love above everything else.

“And you swear on your life that you're not a romantic. That last line was smooth, Dixon,” you mused, grabbing the soap bar that smelled like lavender and turned back to the archer. “Is this okay?” you asked, motioning to his body.

Daryl's heart swelled at your thoughtfulness. You never wanted to do something that would make him uncomfortable, and he appreciated you for that. Nobody understood him quite like you did.

“Yeah, s'fine,” he replied with a nod, pushing that nagging voice in the back of his mind away. You loved him, every part of him. If you didn't, you would've run for the hills a long time ago. You weren't freaked out by his scars. You loved him for him, scars and all, and he'd be damned if he let his self deprecating thoughts ruin a good, loving moment.

The two of you remained in a comfortable silence for a few minutes while you continued to wash his body. However, when he slowly sat forward so that you could wash his back, you broke the serene silence with your loving, soft whispers.

“You're so strong, Dar,” you whispered, gently tracing your soapy fingers over his scars. An involuntary shiver traveled across Daryl's spine, eliciting a small giggle from you. “You're a warrior. You've been fighting to live the life you deserve even before the dead started rising. You've been surviving for far longer than most of us. That makes you so fucking brave, baby. And I know you don't feel like it, but you deserved to be loved, and you are loved. Rick loves you. Michonne loves you. Carol, Maggie, Rosita, Aaron, all of them. But I can assure you, nobody loves you as much as I do. I've never loved anyone as much as I love you. I'd die for you. I'd kill for you. I'd do anything for you.”

Daryl inhaled sharply. He swallowed hard, willing the lump in his throat to go away. Hearing that from you was exactly what he needed in that moment. He knew it would be a long journey for him until he actually believed he was worthy of love, worthy of your love, but with you by his side, he knew he'd get there eventually.

“I love ya,” he whispered, staring into your eyes to let you know he meant it. He truly did love you. Nothing could ever change that.

“I love you too,” you answered with a smile, gently rinsing the soap from his back before grabbing the handheld showerhead and instructing him to lean his head back. You carefully rinsed the conditioner from his hair, bringing an end to the bath time.

You grabbed a towel and shook it out, using it to dry your husband. He looked at you in amusement but allowed you to do so, not-so-secretly enjoying the attention you were giving him. You then grabbed the fresh pair of boxers and handed it to him, as well as a pair of flannel pants. He got dressed in them and turned back at you.

“Lift your arms,” you instructed, watching the man lift an eyebrow at you but complying nonetheless. You helped him slip his shirt on, and after he was dressed, you wrapped your arms around him and nuzzled your face into his clothed chest.

Daryl wasted no time in returning the hug. He tightly wrapped his arms around you, placing a kiss to the top of your head before resting his chin there. He gently rocked you from side to side.

“Dar?” you whispered, catching his attention.

“Hm?”

“Do you wanna cuddle?”

“Mhm.”

“You wanna be the little spoon?” you asked, giggling as Daryl's arms tightened around you. You already knew what the answer was without him having to say anything. “C'mon. Let's go to bed, handsome.”

[hitomisuzuya]

ajdbks omg hi daddy!scara anon here... I LOVED THE FIC BTW MWAH MWAH CHEFS KISS- may i req aftercare with daddy!scara? maybe helpin you clean up in the bath (as he's very insistent on it...) and reader givin him some lovin too.. thanking him for being such a good daddy.. and maybe trying to give him some aftercare too.. (like a massage?) and he gets super flustered by it and lightheartedly grumpy because hes supposed to take care of you, not the other way around !! and it ends with some fluffy playfulness and lots of kisses and i love you's and aaaghh i love this man

scaramouche x fem!reader. a little smut but mostly fluffy fluff fluff aftercare. daddy kink. handjob. modern au

i very glad you enjoyed it🥺 i love scara. like a whole lot.

scaramouche insisted on carrying you to the bath tub, which was filling with pleasantly scented water, bubbles fluffing out on the surfacw. he absolutely knew he is rough with you, and you deserved nothing less than to melt like candle wax and relax while he took care of you afterwards.

the sweet little way you cling to him, your arms looped around his neck and your cheek nuzzling against his collarbone made his heart swell and flutter in his chest. how fucking precious you are.

moments after he gently set you down in the water, and got in the tub with you, you immediately went to him. "you are so good to me, daddy," you said, giving him a soft kiss on his lips.

oh please, go on. he knows how great he is.

"hush, you," he grumbled, his cheeks flushing as he picked up a wash cloth. it should be considered a crime how cute you are. he dabbed at some dried blood around a bite mark on your neck. he slid the wash cloth over your blossoming bruises, admiring his work.

you sighed softly, you eyes drifting closed for a moment. the warm water soothed your sore muscles, sore muscles you never minded. if you didn't feel a little sore, then scaramouche felt he didn't do a thorough enough job. "you always know just what to do."

opening your hazy eyes, you moved through the bubbles behind him. "you always take such good care of me," you wrapped arms around him, resting your chin on his shoulder. "let me take of you, daddy," you pressed a gentle kiss on his neck.

"you know this isn't how it works, right?" he said shakily feeling your finger tips brush against his nipple. sure, you are making his cock twitch but damn it, he was supposed to be taking care of you. you giggled, gently pinching his nipple before bringing you hand down between his legs.

"you sneaky little," he moaned softly, precum leaking onto his cock head as you massaged it with your thumb. he leaned back against you, rutting into your hand as you stroked his cock. you pumped your hand in time with his ruts, massaging your thumb on the vein that buldged to the surface.

scaramouche's hands groped around for your knees, your thighs, anything to hold onto while he grinded shamelessly into your hand. you nuzzled against his neck, gently pinching and rolling his nipple between your fingers. his cock throbbed in your hand as his husky moans echoed throughout the bathroom.

"ah, fuck, you are amazing," water sloshed around him as he writhed a little, gritting his teeth in hopes of not sloshing water all over the floor. water he knew you would attempt to clean up yourself. at the thought, he let out a frustrated whimper.

"it's you who is amazing, daddy," your tongue flicked out to lick the shell of his ear. your ministrations on his nipples made his cock pulse harder in your hand. "i love you," he could hear the pure genuine weight of your words.

his moans rose in octave as cum roped into your hand. an embarrassed flush darkened his cheeks, having cum hard hearing even a little praise from you. you held him as he shook from his orgasm, pumping your hand on his cock until he was trembling in bliss against you.

washing your hand in the water, you leaned around and kissed him before putting your hands on his shoulders. you pressed and massaged your fingers into his muscles.

"you," he groaned softly, his body immediately relaxing further into your touches, "what am i going to do with you? let me take care of you, brat," his eyes drifted closed, ultimately surrendering to your massage. he could practically feel your victorious smile behind him.

about 45 minutes later, he raised his hand up out of the water, wiggling his index finger for you to lean around him. "a couple of things," he said once you peeked curiously around at him with cutest little, "hm?"

"i'm carrying you to bed. i am taking you to dinner tomorrow night. and," he pressed a long, slow kiss on your lips. a cocky victory smirk of his own tugged at the corners of his lips feeling you melt into his kiss. "i love you, i hope you know," he looked shy in a grumpy way as he said it.

"that's three things, daddy," you giggled, kissing him again. scaramouche playfully swatted bubbles at you. "i love you."

[the-head-ancho-chilli]

The Hashira’s Favourite Hugs

Happy Valentines day everyone! Enjoy some lovin from your favourite Hashira ^^

Requests and asks are still open :)

Word count: 4k~

Mitsuri Kanroji

Mmmm

Prepare to be swept off your feet (literally)

Approaching our very own love Hashira and requesting a hug will be met with the same excitement no matter what

“Huh? Do you want a hug? Of course! Come here sweetie, let me hold you for a bit!”

She will be SO HAPPY if you asked ^^

Mitsuri may squeeze you a little, but never too much

Her goal is to get you as close to her as possible, no gap spared between you two

She’s honestly one of the best huggers here

Depending on your height, she’ll either prop her chin on either your head or shoulder

She’s a little warm from her flustering, but still enthusiastic nonetheless

If your head is tucked away, she’ll focus on swaying you both side to side in a rocking motion

Almost as if you two were dancing

But if you face is out in the open, Mitsuri will not waste a second before peppering your entire face in kisses

She tries her best to make you feel loved

Mitsuri absolutely adores hugs so she’ll never turn you down

She likes cooing about how much she loves you while the two of you hold each other

“Oh you make my heart skip a beat! I love you so much!!!”

Compliments will not be held back here, Mitsuri will go above and beyond

SHE MEANS EVERY SINGLE ONE, DONT YOU DARE DOUBT YOURSELF

But even the love Hashira has a favourite hug

Mitsuri was once gone for more than a week on some business that she had to attend to

You missed her terribly, and you grew more worried as time passed by

While lounging in your shared bedroom, you heard the door open and close as your love cheered “Honey, I’m home!”

You sprinted across the house, found Mitsuri and leapt into her arms, yours pulling her in by her neck

Seizing momentum while she had it, Mitsuri spun the two of you around while you were still in the air

But when the two of you had spun enough and she tried to put you down, she realized that your legs were around her waist

You were almost clinging onto her like a koala, and something inside of her melted

She was internally squealing at how affectionate you were :)

Mitsuri’s favourite hugs are ones where she can use her strength, often by lifting you up into her arms

“Sweetie it’s late, let me carry you to bed, okay?”

It just makes her feel strong and cherished

Would absolutely carry you around like this all the time if you let her

Obanai Iguro

He acts like he hates them

Do not underestimate him and the complete unadulterated adoration he has for you and the few people he lets near his heart

Obanai is just not used to that kind of thing, and it really stresses him out

If you asked him for a hug he would just shoot you a critical stare before groaning out an "Ughhh, fine. Come here"

You would be doing all the work here

Even if you have both your arms wrapped around him, your head resting on his shoulder, he still won't move

Obanai is really stiff about it

If you're lucky, he'll MAYBE pat your back unenthusiastically

Truth be told, Obanai doesn't let people touch him often so he wouldn't have much experience in it by far

Now if you ASKED him what is favourite hug is, he would say the side squeeze he gives you in public

Obanai can get overprotective easily, but he doesn't like showing it

He rarely misunderstands when someone is just being nice or affectionate in a platonic manner and when someone is actually hitting on you

If he sees someone making moves on you or just making you uncomfortable in general, he will glide over there and put his hand in your back pocket

Effectively pulling you into a very tense side hug

Obanai wouldn't say anything, but his main line of protection is his very judgmental look at his target

He wants you to believe that he's tough and all, that guarding you from danger is his greatest joy

But Obanai is really soft

His actual favourite hugs are what he refers to as "Sweater Time"

If you have larger sweaters than he does, he will pull the bottom hem of it up for a minute and pull it over his head

If he's taller than you then he just tucks you underneath the hem of his

Basically the two of you are wearing the same, spacious sweater

He's close enough that just fitting into it doesn't make you feel like you need to wrap your arms around him

But Obanai might pull you in if he just really needs your touch

He absolutely loves holding your face and resting his forehead on yours, absentmindedly tracing your jaw

Takes the opportunity to look into your eyes but Obanai doesn’t hold eye contact for long

So very warm :)

Tengen Uzui

Ohohoho

You’re in for a ride, that’s for sure

If you ask Tengen for a hug, he’s gonna be so snarky about it

He’ll make you confirm it like 5 times

“Hmm? You want a hug from the God of Festivals? Ahhh, of course, anyone would want to be in my arms! Come closer and claim you prize from yours truly~”

Tengen will motion you towards him, hinting to put your arms around him

Most of the time he’ll tease you about it, but sometimes Tengen will just flash a smile and pull you in

He’s pretty strong so his hugs are pretty tight by default

You can smell a hint of the cologne he uses, which is never too strong in the first place

Loves pressing you in by the small of your back, he can’t explain why though

Tengen’s hands just gravitate there, no lower or higher

Even when you two are already hugging, Tengen will not be able to resist teasing you

He is RELENTLESS about it too

Even if Tengen gets annoying with how affectionate you can be, he doesn't really mean it

Because every now and then, he just needs you there with him for a bit

It doesn't happen often but Tengen does have nights where he just can't sleep

You wouldn't know if its stress, repetitive thoughts or nightmares simply because he refuses to tell you

When he just lies there in the early hours of the morning, he'll carefully drag whoever is nearest towards him

This particular instance, you barely stirred awake as Tengen lifted your body to lie atop of his

Sensing your arousal from slumber, Tengen already hushes you back to sleep

"It's okay baby," he coos. "Just needed you a little closer. Get some rest"

If you happen to stay awake, he'll continue his attempts to get you to fall asleep again as he would honestly prefer for you to stay asleep when he's like this

Because when Tengen feels the worst of himself haunt his thoughts with all the memories and pain that he carries everywhere, nothing soothes him more than you pulling him closer whilst dreaming

This unconscious "I love you" of yours never fails to bring a sad smile and a few tears of love rolling down his cheeks

Pulls you even closer as he feels joy spread throughout his chest like fireworks

Yes, this is his favourite, and he will reward your efforts with forehead kisses and gently stroking your spine

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Either he has rabies or he just snarled at you

“Why the fuck are your arms like that? Are you looking for a fight?”

If you ask Sanemi for a hug, expect some backlash

See, all you wanted was some affection and somehow he's looking at you like you have two heads or something

"No you jerk, I just want a hug..."

Sanemi is pretty circumstantial with hugs, but he's not like Obanai where he's hiding how soft he really is

In reality, he would prefer that you got a hug from someone else

"Isn't it Mitsuri's day off? She should be in the garden at Shinobu's place"

Due to his workaholic nature, Sanemi doesn't think that he would be the best person for when you want affection

And its not because he hates affection nor does he find you annoying

Sanemi just think that because he's sweaty, covered in a bit of blood and is exhausted beyond belief, that maybe someone else's hug may bring more comfort than he could

But if there's no one else around...

"Mitsuri took a trip to a resort in the mountains, and you're already here"

With a roll of his eyes, Sanemi will acquiesce

"Get over here, you dork"

I will advise you however, that hug will not last more than three seconds

He will be firm in the hug, and maybe he'll give you a few pats on the back, but that's all you're getting

"There, now no more distractions. I've got some unfinished buisness..."

He will immediately turn away and go back to whatever he was doing

Honestly, he's trying to hide how (minorly) flustered he is by your sudden request for affection, but it's not surprising enough for him to let up a little on his unspoken self-consciousness

No, that would take at least a decade of attempts to make any progress

Just take his huffiness with a bit of grace; Sanemi just isn't the best person to go to when you want a hug

But if you come to him with tears dribbling down your cheeks, and a pained expression on your face

If you come to him with opened arms and a few sobs choked in your throat

If you push aside your dignity to allow Sanemi to see you at your worst, and a look in your eyes that shows that he's the only one who can alleviate the pain

"I've got you, I'm not going anywhere. I've got you"

He won't hesitate to immediately pull you in

There's something in the way you hold onto him that makes him believe that maybe, just maybe, he's not as bad as he thought

Hugs like these are his favourite, when he can push out his insecurities and hug you just for the sake of hugging you

Yeah, he's no good for hugging you when you want it

But he's perfect at it when you need it

Shinobu Kocho

She’s kinda iffy with them, but she does have her own preferences

If you approach Shinobu and you ask for a hug, she’ll open her arms to you and motion you toward her

“Oh my, my dear do you need a hug? No need to worry Angel, I’m right here”

She’s definitely shorter than you so she’ll normally press her face into your chest while the two of you embrace

Shinobu likes listening to your heartbeat, and sometimes seizes the opportunity to check your health

Usually she does it because she finds it soothing

Other times, Shinobu just worries even if she knows she has no reason to

Believe it or not but she doesn’t like being held

Shinobu will never breathe a word of it, especially if you’re really affectionate

Would never ask you to stop, she just wouldn’t go out of her way to ask you to hold her

You would think after learning this that Shinobu just doesn’t like physical affection

While cooking some dinner for the two of you, your mind will start to wander about Shinobu

She spends so much time studying medicine that you hardly saw her all day today

You missed her dearly

But then you feel two arms snake around your waist, and someone pressing into your back

The smell of wisteria and rubbing alcohol wafting around you

Yes, it’s true that Shinobu doesn’t like being held

But she LOVES holding you close

In bed she’s the big spoon, she hangs onto you when you share showers, her arms will wrap around your neck when she checks up on you working at your desk

But right now?

You cooking and talking about your day, while she hums along?

Feeling you relax into her touch as she hops up on her toes to press her forehead into your neck?

Yes, this is Shinobu’s favourite

There is no place she would rather be

PLEASE LET HER HYG YOU AS YOU DO STUFF

Shinobu is the type of person where she just loves existing in the same space as you, but with her chest pressed against your back

Overall, back hugs enthusiast

Kyojuro Rengoku

CUDDLE MANNNN

Look me in my eyes and tell me that he isn’t the best hugger here

If you ask Kyojuro for a hug, he would be so honoured to give you one

“But of course my love! Please allow me to give you a proper embrace!”

He’s so soft and warm you could melt away

Depending on how you are when you asked, he will either ask you about your day or stay very quiet for you

Our sunshine boy can brighten even the stormiest days

Kyojuro’s very versatile with affection, so if he knows you have a preference he will heed to it at once

Head scratches, back rubs, shoulder pats, you name it

He’ll do it all for you

If it’s possible in the moment, he will give you a loving kiss on the forehead

With how affectionate Kyojuro is, you would think maybe he doesn’t have a favourite hug but that’s not true

“My love! I have finished my project, sit down with me so I may share it with you!”

You had just came back from the kitchen with two cups of tea, setting them on the coffee table

Kyojuro sat on the floor with his legs crossed, arms open and motioning you towards him

Initially you were confused with how close you stood near him, but Kyojuro still hurriedly motioned you towards him

He softly held onto your hips, turning you away from him, and pulled you down so you sat on the floor with him

You were basically sitting in Kyojuro’s lap

He had one arm around your waist, using the other hand to pull the box he was working on for the past couple weeks across the table towards the both of you

It was a time capsule of various items and mementos of time spent with you and his friends

Although the two of you were reminiscing on the memories made , Kyojuro’s focus lied in how comfortable you were to hold in his lap

He fantasizes of turning you around to face him so he could be all romantic and look into your eyes

But yes, Kyojuro’s favourite hugs are the ones where you are seated in his lap

If you want to hug him as well, Kyojuro will spin you around so you can cuddle all you’d like :)

Big or small, he can handle you no problem

Don’t ever worry about being too heavy ^^

Giyu Tomioka

Also iffy but for different reasons

To be completely honest Giyu has no idea what he’s doing

And he doesn’t know if he should tell you

The last thing he would want is to come off as unapproachable (even if he’s aware that most of his peers don’t like him)

If you ask Giyu for a hug, he’ll just nod and open his arms slightly

When you close in on the hug though, his arms aren’t even touching you

They just stay there… hovering…

Good grief help this man

“Giyu, what are you doing…” “Hugging you?” He mumbled

HE DOESN’T EVEN SOUND SURE

There’s no way around it, you have to show him how it’s done

“Let me show you Giyu, put your arms like this-“

He’s still learning so please be patient with him

Even after you two practice a couple times, he’s still awkward about it

Very light grip on his end, he feels like if he were to actually put pressure in his hugging it might disturb you somehow

Like what if he's hugging too tight? What if you want to escape his hold earlier than you thought??? What if he's doing this wrong?????

After you two have hugged in a couple other ways, he starts developing preferences

For an example, he likes draping his arms on your shoulders in a way that they fall down your back

Giyu feels like he’s not bothering you too much this way, and it’s natural enough for him to not overthink it

His first natural instinct isn’t usually physical affection, and Giyu wouldn’t even be able to firmly place what his favourite hug would be due to his lack of experience

But one time you greeted him after he came back from a particularly rough mission

Idk he was just standing in the middle of his yard looking lost and worn out

You tried to talk to him but he was unresponsive, so you just pulled him in

His arms still rested at his sides but from the way that his chin rested on your shoulder, you couldn't have seen it but there was a twinkle in his eye

When you pulled away with a smile and bade him goodbye, you genuinely restored something in him

This is Giyu's favourite hug; ones where you just hold him close without an expectation that he has to reciprocate something

Next time you saw him seated at his desk and writing in his journal you noticed it

You almost missed it but it was most definitely there

A tiny smile was on his face as he printed his thoughts onto the paper

Gyomei Himejima

You wouldn’t notice right away, but he’s actually awkward with hugs

This gentle giant is so huge and you’re so small in comparison he doesn’t know what to do

So if you ask Gyomei for a hug, you're gonna have to be more specific

"You want a hug? Of course. May you please elaborate on your preferences?"

Boundaries are very important to Gyomei

He would prefer if you could have a discussion before you need a hug where you list the things you are and are not okay with when it comes to touch

But if neither of you have had that discussion, just describe what you need from this specific case and that'll suffice for Gyomei

Once that's done, Gyomei will only then allow you to wrap your arms around him

The most common tendencies he tends to gravitate to is petting your head and rubbing your back gently

I will warn you that unless you specify that you don't like getting picked up, Gyomei may unintentionally lift you off the ground by a couple inches

Honestly, he forgot how huge he is and he thought you were taller

If you want to return some level of affection to Gyomei, I would suggest singing some praises for him or making generally happy noises :)

He particularly likes it if you coo a small "Dawwwwwww" or let out a pleased hum, it just pulls a wide grin out of him

When you two eventually pull away, he will without a doubt rustle your hair or pat your head

"Are you feeling better? I'm always here for you, remember that"

His biggest priority whilst showing you affection is ensuring that he leaves you in a better state than he found you

Be it physically, mentally, or emotionally, Gyomei will always be ready to take care of you

Even if he's oddly stiff about it

You see, Gyomei is hyperaware of his size and it sometimes conflicts with his confidence in coming off as passive and kind

It's really hard to be perceived as non-threatening when you're 7'2 and one of the strongest Hashira

So he tries to establish boundaries with you not just to respect you and ensure he's not crossing any lines, but also to make him feel safe and comfortable in being affectionate with you

I will add however, Gyomei doesn't have any physical boundaries with you (except killing another living thing without full disclosure)

So imagine his surprise when you ask if you can try lifting him

"You can certainly try- ouf!"

He was interrupted with your efforts to pick him up

Regardless if you manage to get him an inch off the ground, your determination still has him flustered

Gyomei finds your strength and playfulness endearing, letting a soft chuckle at your smaller stature trying to lift his gigantic self

But he'll heartily tell you to put him down before you start to over exert yourself

Gyomei will hold onto you for a little longer in thanks though :)

Because Gyomei's favourite hugs are the ones that make him feel small and cared for, rather than large and nurturing

He appreciates how you remind him of that side of him

Muichiro Tokito (Platonic)

Muichiro needs a good measure of caution if you're going to be affectionate with him

Initially most people would think that it's because you would have to try a couple times to get his attention with the amount of times that he spaces out

But honestly, if you hug him without warning he gets scared

If you ever did pull him into your arms whilst his mind was elsewhere, you can see Muichiro start to panic

He won't say anything about it, just standing very very still

But Muichiro is visibly uncomfortable

I mean think about it, imagine how startling it could be if you were just minding your own business and out of nowhere, someone's in your personal bubble

It makes Muichiro feel like he missed out on something important :/

His shoulders will be shaking as he looks around the person who's hugging him, trying to gauge what kind of situation he's in and what would be the appropriate reaction

Muichiro doesn't really like hugs in general so I wouldn't recommend hugging him in the first place

If anything, Muichiro feels bad because everyone just assumes that because he's a kid that he likes hugs and being coddled

So if you ask him for a hug, he'll politely turn you down

"A hug? Sorry, I'm not a hugger..."

He really doesn't mean it maliciously so please don't hold any hard feelings about it

It's only a personal boundary, he just hopes that you'll respect it

If you want to be affectionate with him, then I would suggest handshakes :)

But I will also raise that there may be a time where Muichiro may want to give you a hug

It's usually when someone accomplishes some kind of feat, and Muichiro just feels really proud of them

So his favourite hugs are the ones that he initiates (usually out of pride)

Muichiro will always do it with his arms wrapped around your waist and pressing his face into your middle

Hugging him back isn't his favourite, but now would be a great opportunity for head pats ^^

Muichiro loves those

Overall you just need to be patient and understanding with Muichiro, and just trust that he will come to you

And you know what, if you really need that hug then Muichiro will at least go out of his way to cheer you up

It just might not be the way that you would expect

꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚ ꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚ ꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚

Let me know if I should do this prompt for the Demons too!

Reminder to read the rules before submitting any asks or requests ^^

[bradshawssugarbaby]

High On Lovin' You - Bob Floyd x Reader

a/n: this is an entirely self-indulgent fic inspired by a dream I had the other day, not beta read and may have some errors? I tried y'all. also inspired by h.o.l.y. by florida georgia line

pairing: bob floyd x wife! reader

warnings/content: bob as a dad, mentions of pregnancy, breeding kink, p in v, creampie, smut, fingering.

word count: 2.1k

The Californian breeze was warm and refreshing as it blew in off the coast of Coronado, brushing against your skin. You followed Bob up the brick-laden steps of Rooster’s seaside home, your daughter, Sunday, balancing on Bob’s hip as he jogged up the steps. You couldn’t help but admire the way he managed to make something as mundane as running up a couple of steps holding a baby effortlessly attractive.

His sandy coloured hair had been brushed back slightly, a change from his normal, military-approved style, and his wire framed glasses had been replaced with a pair of prescription aviator sunglasses. His baby blue polo shirt hugged his figure, accentuating his toned chest, his biceps flexing against the sleeve of the shirt as he held Sunday. He’d dressed her this morning, in a baby blue gingham dress that matched the hue of his shirt perfectly, with her curly blonde hair pulled back off her forehead with a coordinating headband, adorned with a bow.

“You ready to go see Uncle Roo, Sunny?” Bob cooed at your daughter, stroking her cheek gently with his index finger as he spoke to her.

Sunday giggled and cooed at her father as the three of you walked around to the side gate of the house. Bob reached around over the gate door to unlatch it, and as you watched him, you couldn’t help but notice that his normally slender build was appearing more and more muscular and toned. You knew that Bob had been spending a lot more time with Rooster lately, and by extension, Hangman, who’d convinced all the guys to start hitting the gym with him before trainings under the guise of “team-building” but you were convinced it was because he didn’t want to work out alone anymore. The gym sessions combined with carrying an almost toddler around were enough to have an impact on Bob’s upper body strength.

Bob looked over to you for a moment, flashing you a smile before walking up to Rooster with a firm handshake and a hug. Bob set Sunday down on the grass to play, watching as she started playing. He’d insisted on giving you a break for the day, feeling guilty for spending the last week and a half working overtime and putting in longer hours as they trained for an upcoming mission. You knew there was no use in arguing with him about it, and the extra time spent with Sunday meant the world to him. Besides that, something about seeing Bob take on the role of doting dad was driving you crazy with arousal, and you were going to make sure you did something about it later tonight.

“Sunday, come here, honey!” Bob called as he chased after your now very active and mobile 11 month old daughter. 

Later that night, you watched as your husband whispered goodnight to your baby daughter over the monitor on your phone, your heart fluttering at the sight of him leaning his tall, slender frame down to kiss his little girl on the forehead, murmuring sweet sayings to her that were barely audible over the noise of the sound machine that was playing.

 “Ok, I think Sunday’s finally gone down for the night. They aren’t kidding when they say that sleep regressions are the worst, are they?” Bob chuckled as he bounded down the stairs, shaking his head as he gently wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in tightly towards his body. 

“Have I told you yet that you’re the best husband in the world?” 

“You might have mentioned it earlier when she spat up on my shirt right before Rooster’s party for his promotion, but I’d be ok with hearing it again.” 

A cocksure grin appeared on Bob’s face as he nuzzled into your neck, placing soft, gentle kisses against the curvature of your body. A soft, surprised moan fell from your lips as his mouth made contact with your skin, but that was all the encouragement Bob needed to start kissing a trail from the top of your shoulder up to your ear. His movements were playful and light-hearted, but he knew that was what drove you wild. His hands caressed at your waist, sliding down to your hips as he pulled you in closer to him with a gentle yank, the curves of your ass now pressed firmly against his body. You could feel the fabric of his dress pants beginning to tighten against you as he began hiking up the skirt of your dress, giving your ass a firm squeeze.

“Bobby!” You giggled, shaking your head as you felt your heart race as if this was your first time being intimate with him. 

That was the thing you loved about Bob, he made every time feel as great as the first - the passion, love and excitement of when you’d spent your first night together, recaptured as if it was happening all over again. Bob had always been a passionate lover - your first night together he’d sheepishly confessed to you that he’d only ever had one girlfriend before, and he dated her throughout his high school years until he graduated and left for the Naval academy at 18. He’d been worried that his lack of variety in the field had made him inadequate, and he assured you that, if there was anything he was doing that you wanted him to do differently, he’d learn it for you. It’d been nothing short of perfect - you teased him that he must have been reading Cosmopolitan or something to know all the right places to touch you and kiss you, to which he just shrugged, pushing his glasses up on his nose with a grin.

Since that day, it was clear to you that Bob was a people pleaser, and there was no one on earth who he wanted to please more than you.

“You looked so hot in that dress today, babe. You’re stunning, you know that?” He purred into your ear as he continued to run his hands along your body, his breath hot on your neck as he spoke in that low, seductive tone he knew drove you crazy.

“Robert Floyd, you’re pushing it,” you teased, shaking your head.

“Now, now, darlin’, that’s Lieutenant Commander Robert Floyd. If you’re gonna use my full name, better be using that rank too, got it, pretty girl?”

You gave Bob a mock salute, a shit-eating grin on your face as you looked at him. Bob pulled you in closer, holding your hips firmly against him, your dress hiked up to your midsection as he gave your sides a gentle squeeze, his fingers digging into your flesh ever-so-slightly as he held you. Grinding your hips against his, you grinned wickedly as Bob let out a groan. He spun you around quickly to face him, his blonde eyebrows raised quizzically at you. His bright, deep blue eyes were locked on yours and you felt like you might melt right there on the spot.

“Now, a pretty girl like you, she deserves to be treated right by her husband, doesn’t she?” Bob hummed, his fingers toying with your inner thigh. 

“Mhmm, is that so?”

“That’s what I reckon,” Bob smirked, his accent shifting, becoming thicker as he slipped into his natural Kentucky drawl, his fingers brushing against your wet slit.

“Bobby!” You hissed, unable to stop the soft gasp that came out of your mouth with it. 

“I think, since you do such a good job taking care of Sunday and I, I should return the favor, don’t you?” 

Before you could open your mouth to speak, Bob pushed two of his long fingers past your folds, pumping them into your core at a tantalizing slow pace that left you practically aching for more. He smirked as his fingers worked at your core, feeling your body clench at the movement of his hand. 

“Fuck, Bobby,” you mewled, feeling yourself tensing up at his touch, “Feels s’good.”

Bob pulled his fingers out of you, your body aching at the loss of contact. He stood upright, quickly undoing his belt at a break-neck pace. He smirked as he noticed you biting your bottom lip, watching him as he shimmied quickly out of his khaki coloured dress pants and boxer shorts. Reaching into the pocket of the now discarded pants on the floor, he pulled out a shiny foil square of packaging. As he started to open it, you shook your head, whispering in his ear, your voice in a breathy whine as you spoke.

“We don’t need to use that if you don’t want to, baby. I wanna feel you.”

“That so, baby? Thought you wanted at least two years between kids?” He laughed softly, raising an eyebrow quizzically at you.

“I know what I said. That was before I saw you handling Sunday so well at Rooster’s this afternoon. Now I’m thinking 20 months is good enough,” you replied with a shrug, your lips curling into a smirk as you tried to convince your normally level-headed and rational thinking husband to forgo any form of contraception. 

Bob furrowed his brow in thought for a moment before tossing the condom wrapper behind him with a grin.

“What the hell, I’m on board,” He shrugged as he lifted you up, causing you to squeal in surprise as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Bob carried you effortlessly over to the couch before dropping you gently down on to the leather sectional. He grinned as he hovered down over you, lining himself up with your entrance. He dragged the tip of his cock against you in a teasing manner, causing you to shudder and whine as you felt him make contact with your clit. He gave you a wicked grin as he watched you squirm before gently pushing himself forward. He paused for a moment for you to adjust to his size - something you should be used to by now, but yet, each time your body needed that extra moment or two to stretch around him. 

“That’s it, pretty girl, taking my cock so well,” Bob cooed as he pushed himself further into you, maintaining the slow pace he’d begun with. 

“Bobby,” you whined as he filled you, your fingers gripping his shoulders tightly.

Bob began thrusting into you at a leisurely, slow pace, his voice low and husky as he grunted in your ear, reminding you of how good you feel, how you were all his, and how your body felt like it was practically made for him. You squirmed and shuddered with each thrust becoming harder and sharper, perfectly calculated to hit exactly where you wanted each time, something that was to be expected of a man who’s job entailed precision and skill when it comes to angles. 

“You feel so fucking fantastic, honey. Can’t wait to put another baby in ya. That’s what you want, isn’t it baby? Want me to give you another baby?”

Bob’s hips crashed into yours repeatedly as he thrusted, his sharp, quick movements beginning to grow sloppier as he edged closer to his orgasm. You tossed your head back in ecstasy as he bucked his hips into you, the combination of his words and his movements just about pushing you to your orgasm. 

“C’mon honey, tell me what you want from me,” Bob husked.

“Need you to put a baby in me, please, Bobby,” you cried out, unable to hold back any longer as his latest thrust pushed you to your boiling point.

As if your words flipped a switch inside of him, Bob’s hips bucked forward once more as he grunted, spilling out inside of you as your body clenched around him tightly.

Breathless and panting as you both rode out your orgasms, Bob couldn’t help but laugh as he looked at you, shaking his head.

“So what was it about my parenting that got you worked up?” He smirked, unable to shake the grin off his face as he leaned down to kiss your collarbone.

“Honestly?”

“Honestly, I know something got you worked up today, and I doubt it was the backyard barbecue at Rooster’s.”

“Your biceps have gotten huge from carrying Sunday around everywhere, and with the polo shirt and the aviators today, and you were all proud of yourself for coordinating your outfit with Sunday’s, it was a combination of things, but,” you breathed, shaking your head as you grinned, “imagine how you’ll look balancing two toddlers on your hip.”