#cool towel rack

[microgeneration]

The Complete Book of Home Design (1989)

[cowardstiel]

made bagels twice this week. high effort high reward peace and love

[comfycozycrossfox]

shockingly, something being in a SHARED bathroom does NOT mean it’s full rein for you to use! believe it or not, if it isn’t yours, then it isn’t fucking yours, and you should either ask to use it or just not fucking touch it! personally, i thought this was a thing we all just knew!

[sunflowerwinds]

new look | s.a

summary: your girlfriend surprises you with a new haircut and piercing while your babysitting isha for the night. with her new arm missing, sevika adapts to one arm. being as caring as you were, you try to help her as often as possible.

pairing: fem!reader x sevika arcane

contains: nothing but fluff, tiniest bit of angst if you squint, isha & jinx being sevika and reader’s daughters <3

word count: 2.2K

a/n: TWO ONESHOTS IN ONE DAY??? i’m insane. also arcane ends soon and i’m genuinely so terrified omfg. enjoy MY LOVES!!!

It was a night when Jinx decided to swing by you and Sevika’s place to drop off Isha for a few hours when your girlfriend revealed her new look.

You were cooking a simple rice and chicken meal with Isha being your little helper for the night. She was perched up on the counter, bunny ears on the top of her messily blue-painted hair to match the girl she admired the most. Her head was tilted as her small yellow tight covered legs swung back and forth as she awaited your next instruction, golden eyes wide with curiosity.

“Okay now, my little sous-chef, can you pass me…” You hum as you stare at the raw chicken on the cutting board, thinking about what seasoning to add other than salt and pepper. “Oh! Cayenne pepper, please.”

Isha nodded with a determined expression, turning her body to look at the small rack of spices on the countertop. She reaches over to snatch the seasoning of your choosing, placing the container in your palm. You grin at her, bopping her tiny nose with your finger. She scrunches her nose back with a laugh under her breath.

“Thank you. Now I’m going to lather it to spread the seasoning around so every bite is delicious,” you explain to the child even though you were about 90% sure she was just watching you.

You place the first cutlet into the pan, watching it sizzle against the metal. Isha’s mouth drops with a soft gasp, holding onto her bunny ears as she leans over to watch the little bubbles pop in the oil. As you wash your hands to be rid of raw chicken and crumbles of seasoning lingering on your fingertips, you make sure to keep an eye on the adorable child.

You dry your hands on a soft gray beaten-down towel hanging off the stove, turning back to cooking the chicken. You’re so distracted with flipping the few chicken breasts over that you don’t even hear the front door open. It isn’t until Isha jumps off the counter, letting out an excited noise as she scurries to the front door.

“Hey! Isha, you need to be careful…” You trail off as your eyes follow to where she is running.

There stood your girlfriend in a dark gray tank top and her usual pair of low-waisted pants with a leather belt holding them up. You immediately noticed the extreme haircut your girlfriend had gotten, eyebrows raising as you made your way over to her. Her arm patted Isha’s back as the child snuggled her face to one of her meaty legs.

“Sevika?” You chuckle out of shock as you walk over to cup the sides of her face.

“You like it?” She asks timidly, her lips twitching into a grin at your bright eyes.

You nod slowly, eyes widening when you catch a glimpse of a small dot underneath her bottom lip. You tug her face closer, causing her to make a noise of surprise at the jolt.

“And you got a labret piercing?” You gasp.

“Thought I’d… get a new look, you know?” Sevika chuckles at how close you are examining the fresh piercing and haircut.

“You look…” You pause trying to find the right word. You glance down at Isha who was now staring up at the large woman, examining her new look as well. “Badass.”

You wanted to say she looked good enough to push onto your bed to take her right now but didn’t feel it was appropriate to say in front of the child. Isha nodded in agreement, signing ‘super cool’ to Sevika. You both chuckle in amusement at her words, rubbing at her fluffy hair.

“You ready for dinner?” You question the tall woman, kissing her cheek gently.

Sevika blinked as you didn’t freak out like she thought you would.

“Uh, yeah. How long do we get the kid for?” Sevika kneeled to hoist Isha up onto her only arm, letting her crawl over her shoulders.

Isha situates herself on Sevika’s shoulders, eyes widening at the sudden height change. She released soft noises of shock as Sevika made her way over to where you were now standing in the kitchen, setting all four dinner plates.

“Jinx should be here soon for dinner. She just dropped Isha off and said, ‘be back for dinner, Mrs. Lefty. Don’t wait up.’” You mimicked the blue-haired girl's voice.

Sevika hummed at your words as she grabbed her designated plate which you had carved her initial into. You beam as you feel Sevika’s lips delicately kiss your cheek, telling you thank you for dinner. Isha makes a noise along with a tap to Sevika’s head.

“What is it, kid?” Sevika questioned Isha as she set her plate down where she would eat.

Isha points to you and leans down to poke at Sevika’s cheek. You furrow your brows at her but when you realize what she meant, your heart softens.

“She wants to give me a kiss too, Sev,” you beam at her.

Sevika’s eyes soften as well as she holds her arm out so that Isha could climb off. She lets out a few soft grunts as she hangs off of Sevika’s large bicep, releasing her muscle to land on the wooden floors.

You lean down to her level, awaiting Isha’s kiss to your cheek. She places a hand on your shoulder and jumps a bit to give you a quick kiss, smiling satisfied now. You kiss the top of her head before motioning for her to wash her hands.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Go and wash your hands. It’s dinner time.”

Isha nods with an adorable grin as she marches to the bathroom. The second she leaves your view, Sevika turns to you with wide impatient eyes.

“Do you actually like it?” She questions, blinking her soft gray eyes at you.

You step into her with a small smile, cupping both sides of her face once again.

“Yes, Sevi. I love it. I actually like it a little too much,” you admit as you brush a few of the falling strands out of her face.

Her strong brows raise at your words, eyes flickering down to your lips.

“Yeah?”

Her demeanor switched from anxious and bashful to more self-assured. You playfully roll your eyes at her, placing a kiss to her nose as you knew you weren’t allowed to kiss her after getting the piercing.

“Mhmm, and in…” You trail off, not exactly knowing how long you had to wait until kissing her. “How long did they say you had to wait to kiss? Like a week?”

“Three.”

Your eyes widened at the time frame, scooping some rice onto your plate.

“Three weeks?” You deadpan to your girlfriend who simply nods along with you. “Well, they never I couldn’t kiss you in other places.”

Sevika’s smirk grows at your cheeky words, watching you leave her side to set Isha’s place setting. Her eyes shamelessly watch your ass and hips sway with every step in her pants.

Just as she was about to slap your ass, Isha comes running past her and you to eagerly sit at the table. Her small hands were a bit damp so you dab them dry with a towel.

“You wanna wait for Jinx to eat?” You question the girl.

Isha seems hesitant at first, the scent of the food tempting her. She nods regardless in agreement to wait for the elder.

“Good thing I’m already here!” You hear a familiar coming from behind you.

You jump, your body flinching at the sound. Sevika curses and grumbles at the blue haired girl somehow creeping her way into your home. You swore she was like a cat with how silent her movements were. Isha was the only one beaming at the sight of her, running over and hugging her striped pant legs.

“You two have to lock your door y’know? There’s some real weirdos out there.” Jinx leans down to fully hug Isha with a cheeky grin, winking at you two.

“Just wash your hands so you can eat,” you shake your head but smile at the girl regardless.

Jinx dramatically groans at your instruction but stands to her feet, her lengthy braids swaying behind her. When you give her a narrowed glare, you notice Sevika struggling with plating Jinx’s plate. She’s sighing as she keeps grabbing too much or too little meat or rice.

You frown and walk over to place a hand on her shoulder.

“Sev, babe, I got it. Go sit down and eat, okay?” You tell her softly, giving her a kind smile.

Sevika pauses her movements and she side-eyes you. The two of you had a talk about her taking a break from the mechanical arms. Jinx offered to build her another but Sevika refused; for now. You knew she would be hard-headed about getting help from you but you made sure not to make it a big deal. Little things like this in the comfort of your home made it easier.

She clears her throat with a sigh, nodding relectuanly.

“Okay,” Sevika’s hand comes up to cup your face quickly, needing to show a sign of affection as her kisses were put on hold for the time being.

You lean in it for as long as she’ll allow, which would be forever, but her stomach was betraying her. You chuckle at her rumbling gut and jerked your head to the table. Isha was already seated, spoon in hand as she waited (im)patiently for everyone else to sit down.

“Kid, you can eat. Don’t have to wait for these two lovebirds.” Jinx rounds the table from the bathroom as she plops down in her designated seat next to the golden-eyed child.

Isha, still hesitant, turns her head to look at you and Sevika. You press a couple more kisses to the woman's cheek before scurrying over your spot. Sevika followed like a puppy behind you to sit in her spot next to yours.

The second Sevika sat down, Isha dug into her food. You chuckle at her fast-paced eating before digging in yourself. You groan at the taste, nodding as you eat the meal you’ve prepared.

Sevika props her elbow up on the table as she digs into her food as well, humming at the flavor.

“This is delicious. Thank you, baby.” Sevika grins at you, nodding as she continues to eat.

“Well, thank Isha too. She helped me cook dinner tonight.” You turn to the child who was now washing some of her food down with water.

Isha set her cup down with a sheepish smile. Jinx raised her hand to brush her knuckle against her small cheek, a gentle smile on her face.

“Great work, kid. You might have to be the cook between us. Never been my strong suit,” Jinx shrugged as she devoured the meal in front of her. “I had other things to focus on.”

Isha grimaces at her words, causing you and Sevika to chuckle.

After dinner, you gave Jinx and Isha some leftovers as they left back to Jinx’s little hidden home. As you shut the door waving at the two, a new wave of silence settled over you and Sevika’s home.

You lock the door as a flash of Jinx’s face pops into your head, reminding you to do so. Sevika was washing dishes, her broad back tempting you to walk over and hold her. So you did just that.

You tip-toe over to her with a giddy grin, carefully wrapping your arms around her torso. Sevika, used to your addiction to clinging onto her, simply continued to wash the dishes to the best of her ability.

“You were a little quiet at dinner, baby.” You hum, placing kisses to the muscles decorating her backside.

She knew what that statement insinuated and she shook her head.

“I’m okay. Just… trying to get used to one arm,” she sniffs.

“I know you hate asking for help with pretty much everything but you can ask me to help.”

Sevika hums as you kiss all over her back, keeping them light and gentle. It only added to the domestic feel of your home.

“I know. It just feels—”

“Vulnerable?” You finish for her.

Sevika nods to confirm, muttering a curse when she slips up and drops a plate into the sink. You release her toned torso to scoot yourself right next to her, filling in the empty space of her left arm.

“You never have to feel hesitant to be vulnerable with me. I love being able to be that safe space for you.” You hum as you grab the plate and start washing it yourself.

Sevika turns to look at you, eyes rounded in admiration. She couldn’t believe how understanding and sweet you were considering where you both lived.

In her eyes, you were an angel in comparison to her.

“You feel safe with me, right?” You speak up as Sevika was again eerily silent.

Her gray eyes softened at your question before nodding as she rested her head on yours. You giggle at the feeling, being reminded of the height difference between the two of you.

“Always. You feel safe with me?”

“Of course, Sev.”

Standing in front of the sink, taking turns washing each dish as you spoke softly to one another. That was enough for you two.

TAG-LIST: @archangeldyke-all @theflyingforklift @strawberrykidneystone @prwttiestbunny @pumpkin-eater28 @yaeil @lunatakashi18 @caicreations @ayooooohush @lizzie2980

[robynravenclaw]

Contemporary Laundry Room Inspiration for a small contemporary galley porcelain tile and gray floor utility room remodel with flat-panel cabinets, white cabinets, quartz countertops, gray walls, a stacked washer/dryer and white countertops

[cinastre]

i have done the cake making it is in the oven

[wosola]

Not in the mood - Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: Your girlfriend Alexia is back from a couple of days away for football. She has a rest day, but when you come back from work you are not in the mood... or so you tell Alexia. Genre: Fluff / Smut Warnings: Minors do not interact, 18+

You had tried to go home as quick as possible when your workday was done. Today was a rest day for Alexia and that meant one of the rare occasions you and her could spend some quality time together.

She had texted you throughout the day about the things she´d been up to and about how much she was missing you.

You adored her, she was doing the laundry at home even though she was a six figure earner, while you made a mediocre salary. She was almost never home, and when she was she helped out in the house hold.

She was the perfect girlfriend. It is cool that she is a football player ofcourse, but that wasn´t why you had fallen in love with her. No.

You had fallen for the sweet, soft and caring woman that was called Alexia Putellas. Who also happened to be a pro football player, earning her the nickname ´la Reina´. Rightfully so, she really was a queen.

You stepped through the front door of the apartment the two of you shared. Having moved in together after a small 7 months of dating. Now it was already close to you two´s 2 year celebration, and things where still going as good as ever. Maybe even better if that was possible.

´´Good afternoon babyyy.´´ You called out in the hallway while dropping your bag, taking of your shoes and putting your coat on the rack.

You walked in to the apartment to be met with alexia watching tv and folding laundry simultaneously. She looked cute, her attention completely turned to the show she was watching. That was such an Alexia thing, always having her whole heart in the things she did.

´´Ale.´´ You chuckled, softly. You didn´t want to startle her.

She blinked and looked up, she turned to you and smiled. ´´heyyy.´´ She put the towel she was holding next to her and stood up from the couch, ´´I missed you.´´

´´I missed you too, how was your day?’’ you asked walking towards her.

She took you in her arms, holding you close, ‘’mmmm,’’ she swayed you back and forth, ‘’my day was good, I did absolutely nothing though, so I can’t wait to train again tomorrow.’’

You chuckled against her chest, ‘’you did laundry, you did the dishes, you vacuumed and made the bed,’’ you looked up and kissed her jaw, ‘’I think you did a lot for a so called ‘rest day’, ‘’

‘’Hm,’’ Alexia let out a disagreeing hum, but kissed the top of your head, ‘’and how was your day.’’

‘’Oh good,’’ you smiled, peeling yourself away from her slightly so you could see her face, ‘’I had a really good talk with that one client I told you about and I got a lot of paperwork done, so I had a very productive day.’’

Alexia smiled, ‘’I am proud of you.’’

You smiled back, ‘’I am proud of you too, my superstar.’’

Alexia rolled her eyes at the way you said ‘my superstar’, you always had to reply to compliments either jokingly, sarcastically or denyingly, she whished you would just accept her compliments for once.

You ignored her with a chuckle and kissed her, ‘’so what do you want to do this afternoon?’’ you murmured after slightly pulling away again.

Alexia blinked, thinking a second before pulling you in for another kiss. ‘’mm maybe we can cuddle on the couch?’’ she said after breaking the kiss.

You smiled, ‘’mm that would be nice, let me put on some comfy clothes and I’ll join you.’’

Alexia nodded, ‘’perfect, I’ll finish the laundry and put it away.’’

-

Alexia didn’t finish the folding, instead she took the laundry, half folded, half not. In the basket back to the room, following just a few moments behind you.

You had just taken your blouse and skirt off, sitting on the bed to take of your tights without creating any ladders.

You shook your head as you saw alexia standing in the doorway with the basket of laundry.

‘’You where right, I have done enough things for my rest day.’’ She explained, setting the basket down.

She stayed there, leaning against the wall, watching now as you had stood up and opened the closet.

You turned around with sweatpants, throwing them on the bed. You caught her gaze flicking up from your ass, quickly to land on your face. You smirked, ‘’sure no other reason you followed me?’’

Alexia walked over to you and wrapped herself around you, ‘’mm yes actually, wanted to tell you to put one of my sweaters on,’’ she kissed your neck as she reached out and grabbed a dark blue Barça hoodie from her stack of clothes, ‘’this one is very comfy.’’

You chuckled as you turned around and took the hoodie, which you had already worn maybe a hundred times, from her. ‘’Oh thank you, how considerate.’’

She nodded, ‘’only the best for my girl.’’

You shook your head amused as you threw the sweater on the bed as well, then you grabbed an undershirt and turned to the bed.

First you put on the sweatpants, then you removed your bra. You knew Alexia was watching but you didn’t give her any attention, it amused you. Then you put on the shirt and the hoodie and turned to her, ‘’very comfy.’’

She looked at you triumphantly. ‘’Do I deserve a kiss for helping you?’’

Chuckling, you took her hand to pull her closer, ‘’you always deserve a kiss.’’

She smiled like a kid who had just been told they could have as many pieces of candy from the jar as they wanted.

Alexia held your face and pecked your lips about a dozen times before giving you a proper kiss.

After a couple minutes you pulled back, you chuckled. ‘’Alright, lets get to the couch then.’’

A bit dazy, alexia looked at you, ‘’mhm, yes ofcourse, the couch.’’

-

You laid down on the couch as Alexia made two cups of tea.

She came back setting the cups down and next to your tea she laid down a cookie with one bite out of it.

‘’Mm nice,’’ you chuckled, ‘’a chewed cookie.’’ Often when Alexia brought you a snack it had a little bite missing, she always said the same;

‘’made sure it’s safe for you, and I can confirm there’s no poison in it.’’ alexia said with a serious face, knowing damn well she had done it with the other 4 cookies from this same pack as well the last days.

‘’I’m so lucky,’’ you rolled your eyes, ‘’you protect me from all the evils of the world.’’

‘’mhm,’’ alexia nodded proudly, ‘’now, can I lie behind you?’’ she asked, eying the bit of space you had left, balancing on the edge of the couch.

you nodded, leaning even more towards the edge.

alexia stepped behind you and tugged a blanket along with her. covering the both of you as she wiggled until she was happy with both of your positions.

‘’Shall we watch this,’’ you said, pointing with the remote at the show selected, ‘’looks fun.’’

‘’Mhm,’’ Alexia didn’t even look at the screen, her face nuzzled in your neck and her hand searching for the hem of your sweater.

You put the show on and put the remote on the coffee table as you felt alexia’s hand creeping below your shirt. You shivered as her cool hands traced the skin of your stomach.

‘’Ale, its colddd.’’ You said, trying to take her hand away from under your shirt.

‘’But I want to hold you.’’ She pouted, her lips finding your neck, kissing you softly as her hand crept up further and further, ‘’can I hold them? I missed them.’’ She pouted innocently.

You scooched back further against her, feeling her warmth against your back. You sighed and agreed halfheartedly, ‘’fine.’’

She smiled against your neck, ‘’mmm I love you,’’ she murmured as she gave both of your boobs some attention before cupping one and settling like that.

With one arm below your head, one hand under your shirt and her back flush against your front the two of you laid there for a while.

Every now and then you took a sip of the tea until it was finished and your cookie was gone too.

You where pretty invested in the show you had put on, it was some show about lawyers. Overly dramatized ofcourse, but entertaining nonetheless.

Alexia seemed to be contend too, she place kisses in your neck every once in a while and her hand was rested comfortably on your chest. Now that her hand was warmed to the same temperature as you where, it was fine.

-

All of a sudden you noticed Alexia removing her hand from your boob, trailing lower. It send a shiver along your spine.

She moved a bit, straightening herself against you as her hand was on your stomach.

‘’Ale’’ You said, your voice sounding in a tone somewhere between warning and absence, your gaze still on the tv.

“What?” she asked softly, her hand finding your hip, pulling you impossibly closer.

You took her hand, guiding her arm around you and clasping it gently with both of yours. Preventing her further distractions.

In response, she began placing soft kisses along your neck, each one lingering just enough to make your skin tingle. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“We were just going to cuddle,” you sighed, trying to hold onto the original plan.

“We are cuddling,” she whispered in your ear, her breath warm and teasing. “I just missed you.”

A shiver ran down your spine as goosebumps spread along your neck. “I missed you too, Ale,” you murmured, your attention now drifting completely away from the show. Just yesterday, Alexia had returned from a three-day trip to Germany for a Champions League match.

Turning around to face her, you smiled, your forehead nearly touching hers. “But now you’re home, hm?”

She didn’t seem to hear, her gaze fixed on your lips as if transfixed.

“Ale?” you chuckled softly.

She blinked, finally meeting your eyes. “Yeah, you’re my home.”

You rolled your eyes, cupping her face and brushing your thumbs gently over her cheeks. “Where’s your head at?”

“What?” She tilted her head, eyebrows knitting together. “My head is right here—with you. I’m thinking about you.”

You chuckled, unconvinced. “Mhm.”

“It’s true,” she murmured, tilting her face closer to yours, “and I want a kiss, please.”

You leaned in and kissed her, soft at first, but Alexia’s hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you deeper into her. The kiss quickly grew hungrier, her lips moving against yours like she’d been waiting forever.

When you broke away to breathe, she didn’t let you go far, her mouth already trailing to your jaw and then your neck, her kisses soft but clearly needy. Her hands slid to your hips, tugging you tight against her.

“What are you after?” you teased, trying to hide your smile.

“Missed you,” she murmured against your skin, her tone so earnest it made you chuckle.

“Oh, I couldn’t tell,” you replied, laughing a little, even as her lips found the spot on your neck that always made you melt.

She pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, a playful glint dancing in hers. “Let me show you,” she whispered, her hands sliding lower as she leaned closer, “déjame mostrarte how much I missed you.”

The way she said it—serious and full of adoration—made you laugh again. You kissed her because she was adorable.

Alexia kissed you back, but not with the same playful energy. Her lips moved hungrily, her grip tightening on your hips.

You pressed a hand to her chest, holding her back just enough to catch your breath and calm her down.

“What?” Alexia said breathlessly, eyes flicking between yours and your lips. “Something wrong?”

You bit your lip. “I’m not really in the mood, Ale.”

Alexia’s face fell, her pout so exaggerated you almost laughed. “¿No? No quieres? You don’t want to have sex?”

“I’m just a little tired,” you admitted, watching her expression turn soft but still a little dramatic. “I know it’s been a while. Maybe tomorrow.”

Her lips pressed into a thin smile, nodding. “Okay, mañana…” She pulled you closer, then grinned mischievously. “Orrr…” Before you could react, she rolled you onto your back and leaned over you.

“You can just relax,” she whispered in your ear, her voice low and teasing, “and I’ll make you feel good.” Her lips brushed against your skin as she added, “Then we’ll order food and eat it in bed.” She raised her eyebrows at you playfully, wagging them suggestively.

“Are you seriously trying to turn me on by mentioning ordering sushi?” you asked, unable to hide your smile.

“Is it working?”

“Almost.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, leaning down to press her lips to your neck. “What if I give you a massage, then we order sushi, and while we wait…” Her kisses grew slower, her breath warm against your skin. “I’ll give you head.”

Your mouth fell open. “Alexia!”

“What?” she asked innocently, her lips brushing your collarbone. “You love getting head, no?”

“Who even taught you to say that?” you said, clicking your tongue disapprovingly.

“TikTok,” Alexia replied proudly, her grin too pleased with herself.

You let out a short laugh. “I still can’t believe Vicky convinced you to get on TikTok.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, you knew what I meant, so I guess we’re both bad.”

You shook your head, stroking her hair fondly. “You’re not bad—you’re cute. I was just caught off guard.”

Alexia beamed, then kissed your neck again, nuzzling her nose against your skin. “So… back to my plan,” she murmured, her lips brushing the pulse point on your neck as her tongue flicked teasingly. “I’ll give you a massage, we’ll order sushi, and then…” her voice slowed as she pressed another kiss to your neck. “I’ll give you head. Make you feel really, really good.”

-

After a couple more words you agreed. Alexia grabbed her phone and ordered sushi, barely glancing at the menu before hitting confirm. “forty minutes,” she said with a triumphant grin.

You rolled your eyes playfully as you stood up and made your way to the bed. “Plenty of time for that massage you promised, then.”

She followed you, practically bouncing and waited as you stretched out on your stomach, the soft sheets cool against your skin.

‘’At least take the sweatshirt off amor.’’

You shifted, taking the sweater off and laid back down on your stomach, your arms besides your body. Your head sideways, sending her a smile. ‘’mkay, I’m ready,’’ you chuckled.  

Her hands were on you almost immediately, warm and firm, starting at your shoulders.

“Just relax,” she murmured, leaning down to kiss the back of your neck softly. “I’ll take care of you.”

Her thumbs worked into the knots in your shoulders, and you sighed as the tension began to melt away.

Suddenly she sat up, ’’I think you need to take off the clothes, then I can massage you better.’’

You staid quiet, finally relaxed, waiting for her to continue if you just ignored her. When she didn’t you rolled over and looked at her.

Alexia shot you a small smile, ‘’massage oil.’’ She offered innocently.

You rolled your eyes but smiled at her, ‘’okay but let’s put a big towel on the bed then, you just changed the sheets.’’

-

It wasn’t long before Alexia’s hands wandered your skin again, her palms smoothing over your back with a deliberate slowness, her lips following. She pressed kisses to your shoulder blades, then down your spine, her breath warm against your skin.

“This is a massage, not a make-out session,” you teased, voice muffled by the sheets.

“Shhh, it’s both,” she said with a grin, her hands sliding to your sides, fingers brushing your ribs in a way that made you squirm. “Feels good, no?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, but the way her lips lingered just a little too long at the small of your back made you suspicious.

Her hands drifted lower, kneading at your hips, then your thighs, her touch deliberate but clearly suggestive. “You’ve got such a perfect body, querida” she murmured, her voice low as she placed another kiss just above the curve of the waistband of your underwear.

“Alexia…” you said, a warning tone in your voice, but it lacked any real conviction.

“What?” she asked innocently, her hands trailing back up to your shoulders, only to work their way back down, slower this time.

By the time her lips started leaving kisses along the backs of your thighs, you were biting your lip to keep from whining—or moaning. “You know exactly what you are doing,” you muttered, turning your head to glance back at her.

“Making my love feel good,” she replied with a grin, her hands sliding up your sides again, her lips brushing the sensitive skin of your lower back. “I’m just doing what feels right.”

You rolled onto your back, her hands quickly finding your waist as she hovered over you, a smug little smirk on her face. “You’re so annoying,” you said, but your cheeks were flushed, and she noticed.

“Annoying? I think you secretly like it,” she teased, leaning down to kiss your collarbone. “You like it when I take care of you, cariño, don’t you?”

Her lips trailed lower and the heat building between you became impossible to ignore. You let out a breathless laugh, your fingers finding her hair as her kisses moved toward your stomach. “You’re not going to stop until I say it, are you?”

She looked up at you, grinning but completely serious. “Say what?”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks burning as you pulled her closer. “Okay I like it, fuck, I want you.”

Her smirk grew impossibly wider, her eyes lighting up. “Now that,” she said, kissing just below your navel, “is the only thing you needed to tell me.”

Her hands slid lower, and you let your head fall back, your laughter turning into a soft sigh as she kissed her way down, wasting no time making good on her promise.

You lifted your legs when she tugged of your only remaining piece of clothing, your panties.

Alexia’s lips traveled up the inside of your thighs, slow and teasing, leaving a trail of heat in their path.

 Her hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you in place as her kisses grew closer, breath fanning against your skin. She let out a low groan, her nose brushing along your sensitive skin as she murmured, “Dios… I missed this.”

You shivered at her words, your hands tangling in her hair as she kissed closer and closer. “Missed the way you taste,” she said softly, her voice laced with hunger and then her tongue flicked against you, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

Her movements were slow at first as she savored every moment. She groaned again, this time louder, as if the sound itself was pulled from her chest. “You’re my favorite taste,” she muttered between strokes, the reverence in her tone making your head spin.

Your back arched as she found the perfect rhythm, her tongue and lips working to push you closer to the edge. You could feel the pressure building, your breathing ragged as your thighs trembled around her head.

It went on like that for a couple minutes, but just as you felt yourself slipping over the edge, the doorbell rang.

You tensed, eyes flying open as Alexia paused, looking up at you apologetically. “Sorry, baby. One second.” She started to pull away, but your hand tightened in her hair.

“Alexia, don’t you dare stop,” you said breathlessly, glaring down at her.

She gave you an adorably sheepish look, her lips glistening, but she gently pried your hand from her hair. “I’ll be right back,” she said, kissing your inner thigh before grabbing a piece of the towel and wiping her mouth quickly.

You let out a frustrated groan, flopping back onto the bed as she hurried to the door, throwing it open with a too-sweet smile at the delivery driver. “Gracias,” she said briskly, practically snatching the sushi bag before shutting the door and rushing back to the bedroom.

She dropped the bag onto the bedside table and crawled back onto the bed, her grin smug as she settled between your thighs again. “So,” she said, kissing the inside of your knee before moving upward, “now you do want me, huh?”

“Alexia,” you growled, your tone both annoyed and desperate.

She laughed softly, her hands gripping your thighs to pull you closer. “Relax, cariño. I’ll take care of you.”

And with that, her mouth was on you again, picking up right where she left off, her teasing forgotten as she focused on one thing; finishing what she’d started.

She made you come with eagerness that left you breathless, her name tumbling from your lips as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

Afterward, she pressed soft kisses to your thighs and stomach, murmuring sweet words in Spanish before she cleaned you up with gentle care.

-

Minutes later, the two of you were curled up in bed, the glow of satisfaction and warmth surrounding you as you plucked a piece of sushi from the box and held it to Alexia's lips with a grin. “Your turn to be spoiled,” you chuckled.

She laughed softly, taking the bite before grabbing a piece to feed you in return. “I love spoiling you, my love.''

[anastasiabowe]

𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙏𝘼𝙐𝙂𝙃𝙏 𝙃𝙄𝙈 𝙒𝙃𝘼𝙏?! — Toji your MMA fighting husband wasn’t a man of pure morals. He often teaches his son, Megumi, not so great things for a little child, and you got a taste of what he was teaching him, and you were not happy.

note: Enjoy

Content warnings: Language and swearing in front of a child

Soft thumping grew louder as little Megumi waddled himself down to the basement, or your home gym. Toji put the weights back on the rack, since he was ending his morning workout. He looked up and saw his little boy walk up to him.

Megumi looked up as high as he could to make eye contact with his dad.

“What’s up, bud?” Toji grabbed the towel near by, and ruffled his hair with it, trying to dry the sweat that was dripping from his hair.

“Can I ask you something?” The little raspy voice confidently spoke.

“Sure, what is it?” Toji sat down on the bench, and pulled the boy onto his knee.

“What do you do when the bad guys you fight make-" megumi coughed, "make you mad?”

Toji stared blankly at his son. Where was he going with this?

"bad guys?" Toji asked the little boy.

"yeah! Bad guys, the guys you fight!" He pushed his little fists out into the air to kick the little clips you've shown him of his dad during a match.

“Why?” Toji asked skeptical.

“Just curious.” he blinked so innocently.

“Why?” Toji asked again.

“Can you just answer?” The little boy whined and sighed heavily, making Toji want to laugh.

“Well, when they make me upset, I usually use that anger to fight them.”

Megumi rolled his eyes. “I already know that, daddy. But what do you do?”

Toji thought carefully. Should he be blunt, should he sugar coat it?

“Well, I usually try and knock them to their feet to weaken them, then try and knock them out.”

“Can you show me?” Megumi smiled thinking about how cool his dad was.

“On you?” Toji looked at the mini him.

Megumi shrugged and hopped off his lap.

Toji laughed and stood up. He walked Megumi over to the mat that covered the entirety of the floor. Toji got into a fighting stance, encouraging Megumi to copy.

Once Megumi was in “position” Toji softly kicked his foot into Megumi a left leg that he was pushing his weight on and made the little boy fall out of balance.

Megumi giggled, and Toji helped the little boy up to his feet.

“Again!”

“Nah, let me show you something else.”

Once Megumi was in position again, Toji brought his fists very gently to megumi’s jaw. He lightly tapped there with his fist and said,

“I usually try to hit here. Yeah it can break someone’s jaw, but I prefer to win, and winning isn’t always the nicest way. But if anyone makes you upset, just give them a little punch here, and you’ll be the coolest kid on the block, okay?”

Megumi smiled, and punched his dad in the abdomen. Although his tiny fists didn’t even land enough impact for a sting, Toji pretended like it hurt, and fell to the ground, Megumi jumping and punching on his dad.

-

-

-

“Megumi baby, come up to eat!” You called down the stairs, and you heard him yell a little “okay!”

“Toji, you too!”

“I’ll be up there in a minute, I got to finish my workout!” Toji lied. He truthfully just wanted to be down there and watch his opponent for his upcoming match latest fight, get some details on him, but he didn't want to hear you lecture him on how he should save his research for when he's at work.

Megumi soon came up for lunch, and you gave him his plate of Mac and cheese, with applesauce and mixed vegetables.

Megumi gratefully ate only the apple sauce and Mac and cheese.

You thought the vegetable hatred from kids was an exaggeration because you never had any problems with it, but here is your own child outright refusing to eat his veggies.

“Megumi. This is not a game, eat your vegetables or you don’t get any dessert today.” Megumi rolled his eyes, making you scoff. He was turning into his father.

“Megumi..” you warned. He only challenged you more by sticking his tongue out.

“No iPad for 2 days.”

Megumi still held his ground. You clicked your nails on the table across from him, waiting for those broccoli, peas, corn and carrots to be eaten.

“We will sit here until you eat them.”

“Bite me.” Megumi bit back. If he wasn’t a little kid that you loved too much, he wouldn’t even know what was coming for him.

“Excuse me?” You looked at him in disbelief. You stood up and walked around the table and sat next to him. You grabbed his fork and stabbed the vegetables.

“Open your mouth. You want to act like a a baby, I will treat you like one.” You moved the fork closer to his mouth, he turned his face and you were becoming angrier by the second.

“Open. Your mouth.” Your voice was as stern as it was going to be, and here is your child not fearing you at all.

You grabbed his face as gently as you could, but strong enough to force open his mouth. You quickly tried to put the fork into his mouth but then you felt a solid fist hit your jaw, and it hurt (somewhat).

Megumi just punched you in the jaw. You grabbed your jaw and dropped the fork onto the table.

Tears welled in your eyes, not from pain, but from the shock and anger from your child just hitting you.

Megumi’s face was full of fear and regret, and you only clenched your jaw.

Fucking Toji always teaching him shit. You took a deep breath and stood up calmly. You grabbed megumi’s wrist and dragged him with you as you made your way down to the basement.

“Toji fucking fushiguro.” You yelled out to your husband when you finally made it to the basement ground. He looked up from his phone, and your anger was illuminating from you.

You angrily stopped walking, Megumi hiding behind you.

“What the fuck did you teach Megumi?!” Toji looked between you and Megumi, and he was actually so confused.

“What do you mean ‘what did I teach megumi’? What the hell are you talking about?” Toji pulled out his AirPod, and you wanted to light something on fire.

“Did you teach him to hit his mom or is that all on him?” Toji scoffed knowing where this is coming from.

“Megumi.” Toji’s voice growled as Megumi gripped harder onto your sweat pants.

“Come here.” Toji’s voice was now deeper and more demanding. It wasn’t loud nor condescending, it was rather scarily calm.

Megumi slowly came from behind you, and you crossed your arms, ready to hear what he was going to say.

“Megumi, did you hit mommy?” Toji softly grabbed the little boy’s hands and pulled him closer. He looked down at his feet. “Look at me when I am speaking to you.” Toji cleared his throat.

“I didn’t mean to, she was making me mad!” Megumi tried to excuse. You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. Toji looked up at you, and you licked your lips, calming yourself down. He was only 5.

“Megumi, you know you can’t just hit people when you’re mad, especially mommy.” Megumi whispered a little “I know.”

“I don’t think you do.” Toji tightened his grip on his hands a little. “If you think what I taught you today is an excuse for when you’re mad, it wasn’t. It should only be applied for my circumstance with professional practice. I'm sorry if what I said confused you, but you do not just hit people when you're mad, I don’t just hit people when I’m mad, I know how to and when to, you don’t.”

Megumi’s eyes were wide with tears welling in them. Toji couldn’t help but think how much he looked like you right now. You both made the same face when you're sad.

“I’m sorry.” Megumi softly said.

“Don’t apologize to me.” Toji let go of megumi’s hands and megumi softly turned around. He rushed over to you and hugged your legs, wiping his teary face into your sweats.

“I’m sorry mommy! I shouldn’t have hit you! I promise I won’t ever never ever hit anyone again!” You smiled softly, picking up the little boy.

“Mommies not mad anymore, baby. I just want you to grow big and strong by eating your veggies, that’s all. So are you going to finish your vegetables for me?”

Megumi sniffled and nodded. You kissed his face repeatedly making him giggle.

Toji stood up and followed you both. After all, it was lunch time.

[jjenthusee]

Aches

Pairing: jason todd x reader

A/N: i burnt my arm making baked potatoes and i wanted to write a drabble on that lol ENJOY :) comment ur thoughts

Summary: Nothing gets past Jason and you don’t mind a caring man at your side. You don’t know how baked potatoes led to an intimate conversation between you two, but anything for the man willing to drop everything for you.

Tags: potato troubles, fluff, hurt/comfort if u squint, soft jason, trigger warning: slight description of burns

Word Count: 1.4k

You stared wordlessly at the burn, oven mitts still in your hands.

You had seared two areas of your arm. It hadn’t hurt when you had accidentally touched the edges of the hot oven, but looking at it made your face scrunch.

The pain had only started once you looked at the damage. Two thin lines of seared skin, still slightly pink from the sudden heat.

Great.

You just wanted baked potatoes and you were going to place them on the rack, but at the cost of your lack of coordination, you grazed the oven with your arm.

The sound of water from the bathroom had shut off, Jason appearing in the corner of your eye as you stood there.

You were tired and another problem had been placed in your hands, or on your arm.

“What you cookin’ sweets—“ Jason lazily walked, trying to rub out the knots in his neck from a late-night patrol.

When you stood there, wordlessly holding oven mitts, had Jason sensed something was off.

Like the analyzer he was, his head perked up, a moment before he was assessing your entire body and kitchen as he briskly walked to you.

Despite being in his leisure clothes, he was ready for any sort of intrusion, but before he could pull out any sort of weaponry mounted to the underside of the kitchen table, did he spot the burns.

In a delicate motion, he turned your arm. You held onto the festive oven mitt as he adjusted your arm.

“Oh, sweets.” Jason softly whispered.

Judging by the preheated oven, potatoes, and the oven mitts you loosely gripped, Jason had put the pieces of events in the correct sequence.

“Lets get this cleaned up and then I can apply a cream.” Jason grabbed the mitts from your palms. “Then I’ll get you some medicine, in case it still hurts, sound okay?”

You nodded, looking down at your own mistake before you sighed.

“Yeah, thanks Jay.” You squeezed his forearm in a quiet thanks.

In a softened gaze, Jason rubbed your hand in return.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before. I’m gonna grab the first aid, you wanna sit on the couch?”

You let yourself sink into the cushions as Jason cleaned up what wasn’t already placed inside the oven.

He sat in front of you, his sheer size leveling out as he sat on the floor, removing the cap off the burn cream you kept in the first aid and placing a cool towel over your arm.

“Isn’t the floor cold?” You watched Jason focus on addressing your arm, first aid kit right by his side. His eyebrows firmly in a line—his concentration contorting his face.

It made you smile.

“It’s not.” Jason intently kept his eyes down, his lashes angled to his cheek.

You raised your free arm to play with his messy hair. It had fallen onto his forehead, spread in clumps.

“You’re lying. My feet were freezing earlier.” You continued to smile as you played with his hair strands, twirling his white streak in between your fingers. “Weather is getting cold, you might have to stay over every night to keep me warm.”

Jason had been growing out his hair the longer the two of you stayed together.

Partly from a passing comment that you liked his hair long and from how he felt comfortable enough to focus on his appearance for once.

He had struggled looking in the mirror for more than a passing glance, but with every reassuring compliment, cheek kiss, and late-night holding had he started to open up to the idea of treasuring his appearance.

Maybe it wasn’t initially for himself, but you wanted to lift him in the ways he had always worshipped your own skin, your heart—your entire self.

Jason’s chuckle interrupted your thoughts. Your eyes lost on the smile lines appearing on the edges of his mouth.

Your heart fluttered at the thought of how they would age as he did. How you can make him laugh and smile to make deeper lines.

You hand slowly drifted down to his eyebrow, to his cheeks, down to small scars littering his face.

Rubbing each blurred skin, sealing the past in a lightened patch.

Your hand drifted again.

Jason flinched at the feel of your subtle fingers at the edges of the misshapen “J” that littered his face.

Your eyes widen at the realization of your thoughtless movements.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—“ You pulled your hand away.

“No, it’s—it’s fine. Really.” Jason clasped onto your fleeing hand with his own. Your cluster of hands hanging in the air.

In one breath, Jason slowly moved your hand back to his cheek. His eyes closing just before your finger touched back onto his scar—like he was bracing for the same sting he felt all those years ago.

You sadly watched the vulnerability of the man sitting on the floor in front of you. His large hands, gracefully aiding you to touch a deepened hurt that goes past the barriers of his skin.

As soon as he let out the breath he was holding, did you move your fingers again.

The trust he had in you, to touch him so casually made your eyes burn.

When you got hurt, to the smallest of cuts, he was always adamant in first aid, taking all precautions to make sure you were fine.

It worried you how he needed to make sure he checked all the boxes before he could be rest assured, so he didn’t toss and turn as much as he usually did.

You expected as much for tonight, knowing deep in your bones he was going to come back tonight after patrol to check up on you.

But what really made your heart sting was the sloppy care he gave himself. Not giving himself the time to heal in the ways he deserved.

You leaned forward, not caring about interrupting Jason’s work, before you rested your forehead on his hair.

You could smell his shampoo as you rested your eyes, breathing as you cradled his face and leaned your head.

Curling over him like a shield.

“Sweets, it’s okay.” Jason mumbled into your shirt. Despite his reassurances, he had leaned into your warmth, resting his face into the center of your heartbeat, counting each pulse.

“I know, I just…get sad. Not at you, but at the fact I want to grab onto every single being who made you hurt and hurl them into the sketchy dumpster outside.” You rubbed your head against his, tickling your face with Jason’s hair.

“If that’s how you feel sad, I don’t wanna see you angry.” Jason rested his hand onto your waist, rubbing circles into your side.

His words were playful, but you could hear the slight strain as he listened to your protective words.

You smiled to the feel of his hand and the bundle of limbs you created with the gentle man sitting on your cold floor.

“Gotham wouldn’t be able to rest until I’m done.” You kissed Jason’s head, still gently soothing the ache of his scar with your words and hand. As he subtly shook under your touch.

A moment of silence before you felt his warm breath on your chest.

“And I’ll be right next to you.” Jason barely whispered, his grip tightening on you. Your shirt wrinkling at the desperation.

You held Jason as he tried to hide in your embrace, suddenly feeling overwhelmed at your words—the angry protectiveness you held over him.

As you rubbed soothing circles on Jason’s back, you lifted you head at the realization that the oven was still on.

“Jay, I forgot to set the timer.” You gazed at the oven.

Jason lifted his head to look up at you.

“My potatoes.” You quietly murmured. “I didn’t get battle scars for me to not get a single cooked potato.”

Jason smiled as he calmed, slightly pulling out of your embrace while letting all his emotional tension slowly wisp away at your potato conflict.

“It hasn’t been that long. Probably still needs a couple more minutes.” Jason lifted himself to kiss your cheek, to soothe your potato burdens. “I still have to wrap this, so it should be ready by then.”

You sighed into Jason’s hair again. His messy stands moving at your breath.

“I’m going to lie to Roy that I fought off an intruder and saved us both.” You laid your head on top of Jason’s as you gazed at the enemy, your oven.

“And you got a burn mark?” Jason chuckled.

“Yes, a miscalculated punch.” You sighed deeply again.

“Whatever you say sweets.” Jason kissed the top of the bandages, rubbing your skin around them and then leaving a final kiss on your forehead. “Let me get your potatoes.”

[monster-disaster]

[wolf-shifter] Hiro

🎃💋 Monster Fucktober Week on my Patreon 🔞🎃

wolf-shifter!Hiro x human!Reader Good to know: shower sex in the gym, rut

Summary: Hiro needs your help.

Hiro's phone chimes with a new notification in his pocket. He can feel the buzz of the device on his thigh through the thin fabric of his sweatpants. The sound is high-pitched and almost drowned out by the bustle of the gym. The metallic clatter and the music from the speakers mingle with the sounds of others. Quiet conversations and grunts reach his ears, but his attention is elsewhere. Each ragged breath he takes makes his chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. He focuses on his grip, feeling the cool metal press into his palms, grounding him to the bench. He stares at the white ceiling above him. The bright lights irritate his eyes, though he is used to it by now. His muscles are taut and rigid as he holds his arms in mid-air. His fingers tighten further around the metal bar, causing the veins to bulge under his skin.

"Need help?" his friend asks above him, standing a few inches away to catch the barbell if needed. He reaches out slightly but does nothing more without Hiro's permission.

"I'm fine," Hiro replies with a deep breath. His chest expands, and he spreads his legs a little to brace himself more securely. Sweat glistens on his temple and his hair clings to his forehead in damp strands.

After three more lifts, he pushes the weights higher with a low grunt to put the weights back on the rack. His muscles strain with the effort. The tension in his arms eases, and he lets his palms fall back onto his chest with a relieved sigh.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Hiro hums, nodding and trying to catch his breath. "Thanks."

When the man leaves to do his own thing, Hiro remains lying on the bench for a few seconds, letting the burn of his muscles gradually subside before pulling himself into a sitting position. He grabs his towel from the ground in the process, dabbing it over his face and neck to wipe away the sweat while stretching his neck to relax the tension in his body.

His gaze sweeps the room, checking to see if anyone is waiting for his spot. The gym is in full swing around him. It's loud and busy. It's no surprise that Hiro prefers coming here early in the morning when it's quieter and less crowded. However, his approaching rut makes it increasingly difficult for him to leave his home, crawling at the back of his mind.

The LED lights cast a vibrant glow across the space, gleaming on the rows of equipment. The treadmills, all new and shiny, hum steadily, their rhythmic whirring blending seamlessly with the clanking of weights being lifted and dropped nearby. The tall walls are covered with mirrors, doubling the brightness and amplifying the sense of space. People gaze intently at their own reflections, focusing on their forms and movements.

Hiro glances at his own reflection, too. He sits on the bench, hunched and breathing heavily. His shirt clings to his body like a second skin. Sweat glistens on his forehead, his hair is damp.

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Hiro unlocks the screen to find a new message notification from Charm. Charm is a dating app designed to help humans and monsters connect with each other. Right now, it is supposed to help the wolf-shifter find a partner for his upcoming rut. So far, he hasn't had much success with it, though.

Most of his matches are either too horny or overly fixated on the idea of having sex with a wolf-shifter for a whole week. Their fetishizing is weird and concerning. On the other end of the spectrum, some matches seem to be looking for something far more than he is willing to give; dates, flowers, and constant text messages. It isn't what he's looking for right now. He isn't in search of a girlfriend; he just wants someone who can be his partner for a week, helping and having fun without being too perverted or too serious about it.

He taps on the small icon to open the message with a bit of frustration swelling in his chest. A large part of him has already given up on finding someone online. He read through countless profiles and chatted with numerous matches, but none of them met his needs. It's not like he has high expectations. Don't be a pervert, and don't imagine a family and a happily ever after a few texts. Why is it so hard? It shouldn't be.

The gym's noise fades into the background as he focuses on the screen, but whatever hope he had a moment ago vanishes quickly. The woman on the other end of the chat ghosted him once, almost two weeks ago.

His thumb hovers above the keyboard, undecided if he should write back or leave it as it is. A 'Hi' can't hurt, but to be honest, he is not in the mood to get to know her better. Or at least enough to spend a week with her. And what if she stops responding again? Wasted time and energy. With his approaching rut, he can't afford any of it.

"Hiro?" A soft voice pulls him out of his thoughts.

"Hm?" he hums, needing a second to get back to reality. "Yes?"

"Are you okay?" you ask with a gentle smile, still watching him worriedly.

"Oh," he gasps, jumping up from the bench. The wolf-shifter isn't sure how long he sat there, but it seems like it was enough time to make you concerned. "I'm fine."

"I can bring you some water if you need it," you offer, still not believing him.

"You are sweet." You really are. "But I'm fine. Thank you."

Your gaze rakes over the tall wolf-shifter once again for an entirely different reason than making sure he doesn't need your help. Your eyes linger on the width of his shoulders and the hard cords of his muscles underneath the white t-shirt he wears. The thin fabric clings to his body with sweat.

Of course, the wandering of your eyes doesn't escape Hiro's attention. A smug smirk pulls on the corner of his lips, but he tries to suppress it when you look up at his face again.

"Fine, then," you tell him. "You know where to find me if you need me."

-

With his rut around the corner, Hiro finds it more and more difficult to leave his home. The only reason he is willing to go to the gym is because his small apartment in the middle of Meriad doesn't give him enough space to drain the energy that buzzes under his skin, deep within his tense muscles. He needs something to do so he doesn't go insane, especially since his every attempt to find someone on Charm hits walls and barriers. Every suitable match lives far away from the city, or can't take time off from work. The others... well, the others are still too serious or too bizarre for his taste.

So his frustration just grows and grows with each passing failed match and chat that leads nowhere.

Of course, there is nothing wrong with going through a rut or heat without a partner, but it definitely makes it easier. The wolf-shifter wishes for something more than the solitude of his apartment and the company of his hand.

When Hiro visits the gym again late at night, he is already sweaty. A part of him wants to turn around and leave the moment he steps through the entrance, but he knows if he doesn't tire himself out, he will pace up and down in his flat all night.

The wide glass door barely falls shut, and your voice immediately reaches his ears.

"Hiro," you smile at him. Your lips glint with light pink lipstick. "It's good to see you."

"I didn't think you would be here," the wolf-shifter says, approaching the reception. Your presence is a pleasant surprise.

You shrug. "They pay double for nightshifts."

His gaze swipes over the gym behind you with silvery, gleaming equipment. The music is quiet, and he can see the matching video clip on the screen hanging from the wall at the back. The place is almost empty, with a few orcs at the weights, doing their own thing without a word.

As if you read his thoughts, you shrug again with a smile when he looks at you. "It's still early for our nightly members."

And you are right. The gym soon fills with humans and monsters who prefer doing their workout at night for whatever reason. The place gets loud with the familiar clangs and thuds of the weights with the treadmills' monotonous whirring in the background. It's busier than he thought it would but still better than the afternoon he came here a week ago. The wolf-shifter has enough space to be alone with his own thoughts and breathe the cool air of the air conditioner instead of the others' scent and sweat. With his rut so close, his senses are even sharper than usual. Hero's jaw clenches every now and again when the reflection of the lights in the mirror gets too much for his sensitive eyes.

He works for long hours, shifting from equipment to equipment until his limbs shake and his muscles burn. Sweat glistens on his skin, and his clothes cling to his body stubbornly.

"Hiro?" Your voice breaks through his concentration.

"Hm?" he exhales, looking at you while still running on the treadmill. The machine is loud, and his steps are louder.

"We are... closing soon," you tell him with a bit of guilt in your voice. "If you want to take a shower, I can wait for a while longer."

His eyes swipe over the place, surprised by the fact that only you and him are left in the gym. "Oh."

"Yeah," you nod, following his gaze over the rows of empty equipment. "You were busy all night."

And yet, after all these workouts, he still feels frustration and energy surging through his muscles, buzzing beneath his skin. His bones are aching, too.

His rut is close. Too close.

"It's better if I go, then," he stops the machine underneath him, jumping onto the ground easily. "I'm sorry if I caused you trouble."

You grin, shaking your head. "No trouble at all."

His eyes linger on the curve of your lips for a second before forcing his attention away from your face. You have pretty eyes, too. And you are always so kind and polite to everyone.

"I will be quick," he nods to the men's changing room.

"Take your time."

Turning his head left and right, stretching his neck to relax his muscles, he removes his clothes before stepping under the shower. Truth be told, being alone in the showers is much better than when the place is full of loud and sweaty males. Maybe he should do this more often, especially when you take the night shift. You are always so happy and helpful. The image of you flashes across his eyelids when he tilts his head back, letting the water wash over his face, feeling it flow through his hair and trickle down his back. You always wear tight jeans and an even tighter T-shirt with the gym's logo on it. The water cascades down his body, and each droplet follows the hard lines of his rigid muscles. His bones ache and throb, urging him to get rid of this maddening tension in his body.

The change happens quickly and silently. His body starts to tingle, punching a relieved sigh out of his expanding chest as the pleasant feeling ripples through his skin in waves. His muscles and bones grow, redefining his body entirely. His limbs lengthen, and his fingers and toes stretch into sharp claws. Soon, light gray fur covers his new body, soaked by the water still falling from the showerhead above. The transformation is natural and feels much better than working hours upon hours in the gym, fighting his urges.

Finally, his face changes into a muzzle, his ears twitch at the top of his head. His eyes glow with something new and feral, and his long, thick canines glint under the LED lights.

Hiro stands tall and powerful under the shower, his fur damp and his posture hunched so he doesn't hit his head on the ceiling. He can feel himself relax finally, his muscles losing their tension. A sense of freedom surges through him, thrill coursing in his veins.

Well, one problem is out of the way, but he can't avoid the other one much longer.

"Hiro?" The soft tilt of your voice sends shivers down his spine as you search for him at the lockers.

"I'm here," he grunts, still leaning against the wall while the stream massages his wide shoulders.

"Oh," you reply. "Well, you left your phone on the treadmill, I put it next to your bag."

"No!" He snaps, then changes his mind immediately. "I mean, thanks."

A few seconds of silence follow his words before you speak. "Are you okay in there?"

It's the middle of the night. You should be at home by now, and you are still so kind and patient.

Always so helpful.

Hiro's cock jerks at the thought.

"Ugh," he clears his throat. It sounds like a growl. "Can you come here?"

"Are you sure?" you ask back, unsure.

"Yeah," he replies. "I really need your help."

"Oh, okay."

By the time you reach the entrance of the showers, Hiro pushes himself away from the wall to face you. He can clearly see the change in your expression as your eyes fall on him. He fills the narrow stall with a heaving chest and bulging muscles. Your eyes wander down his wolf form, lingering here and there and stopping between his thick thighs. His cock is long and heavy, bobbing up and down with every breath he takes as he silently watches you, waiting for your reaction.

Your throat is tight when you break the silence. "Why do you need me?" You ask, forcing yourself to look up at his face. You can see his nose moving as he scents the air. Underneath the warm steam of the shower, he can smell you. You are sweet and light with a hint of spice he never felt before. It makes his cock throb, and he finds pride in how you gasp at the obvious twitch of his length.

"Come closer," he hums between his sharp teeth. He has to force himself to soften his voice to not frighten you. "I won't hurt you," he adds. "I promise."

The lipstick still glistens on your lips as your mouth opens to say something.

"Help me, Y/N," he continues. "I need your help, sweet girl. It hurts so much."

A smug half-smirk pulls on the corner of his large mouth when you make a few tentative steps towards him. Every fiber in him demands to grab you and have his way with your warm, pliant body. He doesn't lose his mind entirely, though. He has to be careful with you.

"Good girl," he hums with satisfaction when you get close enough so he can wrap his large hand around your arm. His claw grazes over your soft skin, making you shiver with anticipation.

"Hiro," you breathe out his name, but you are not even sure what you want to tell him. He is so close and so big. He towers over you easily, and he smells like musk and wet fur.

This close to him, the cascading water reaches you, too, soaking your clothes within a few seconds.

"I should have told you to get rid of these," he says without any regret in his voice. He tugs on the hem of your shirt before moving his hand up your upper body. His thumb rubs over one of your nipples, teasing the small bud through your t-shirt and bra. The air catches in your throat at the light feeling.

"Y/N," Hiro says your name, making you look up at him. His large canines are barely a few inches away from your face. "Always so sweet and helpful, aren't you?"

You nod, a bit confused. Of course, you are, why wouldn't you? You love your job, and it pays the bills.

Hiro smirks at your obliviousness. "Sweet girl," he says, cupping your jaw. You feel so small and delicate between his fingers. "Do you want to be a doll and help me then? Help poor Hiro out?"

Looking at the tall, powerful wolf, you have a lot of things in mind about him, but poor is not one of them. You nod anyway, and he grins.

"Good girl," he hums with approval as he leans closer to press a searing kiss against your lips. It's strange at first but not less arousing. It's more teeth and tongue than anything.

"Fuck, doll," he growls. "You taste so good." Saliva drips down his black, thin lips as he speaks. "I'm curious if you taste this good elsewhere too."

You forget how to breathe as you stare at him with shock.

The male chuckles. "Don't look at me like that, Y/N, it just makes me want to eat you more."

"Please," your plea punches out of your chest with a ragged inhale.

Hiro grins, showing you his sharp teeth in the process. "Take off your clothes, sweet girl, let me see all of you."

You have some difficulty with your clothes, they cling to your body like a second skin, but Hero does nothing to help you. He finds amusement in your struggle, making you tremble with a bit of embarrassment under his heavy gaze.

Your wet clothes land heavily on the ground, leaving you naked and vulnerable in front of him. His eyes rake over your body with hunger in his eyes while licking his chops.

"Just as I thought," he breaks the silence. "You are sweet in every way possible."

You can't help but smile at his praise. "Oh."

"Hm?" he asks. "Do you like it, sweet girl? Me praising you?"

You nod. Yeah, they definitely feel good, making your thighs rub together to give yourself some friction. Your pussy throbs with arousal ever since you first saw his cock jutting out from his body.

"Be a good girl and use your words."

"Yes."

"Good," he smirks. "Let me get your reward for always being a doll for me."

Before you can say anything, he is on his knees in front of you. He manhandles you easily, grabbing your thighs and pushing you against the wall. A high squeal escapes your lips when he lifts you up and adjusts your legs over his shoulders. Your nails scratch over the white tiles, but you can't find anything to grab onto. The only things keeping you upward are the wall behind you and the wolf breathing close to your exposed pussy.

"Hiro!" His name bursts out of you like a scream when he pushes his nuzzle against you. His nose nudges your clit, and his wide, wet tongue laps a warm path over your folds. He tastes you thoroughly, humming and grunting into your pussy. The vibration of his voice ripples through your spine, making your hips jerk and grind into his mouth.

Within a minute, you forget your position on his shoulders as your fingers rake over the soft fur at the top of his head. You pull on the roots, and the shifter growls and snarls while still feasting on your drenched pussy. He laps up your wetness, nudging your clit with every move of his large head.

The world spins around you over and over again as you hold onto the male between your legs. Every prod and lick of his tongue pushes you closer to the edge while your muscles turn to liquid, and you can do nothing but grind down on him, chasing your climax. Your moans echo off the shower walls, loud and high as Hiro eats you out. Your hesitancy is long forgotten since you can't make your brain work anymore. The only thing floating in your mind is the wolf-shifter's name and nothing else.

The air gets stuck in your lungs when Hiro's tongue finds your hole, pushing and teasing your entrance. The warm, wet muscle slips inside you easily at the same time you cry out his name again. The rough texture of his tongue rubs over your walls, reaching every spongy spot that sends you spiraling.

"Fuckfuckfuck," you pant with half-closed eyes. Your pussy flutters around his tongue, begging for more as you get closer to your high. Your muscles twitch and tense, and the burning coil bursts in your stomach with a searing sensation. It surges through your veins and turns your body limp and helpless. The sound of Hiro slurping up on your juices rings in your ears, almost drowned out by the rapid beat of your own heart.

You barely notice under the thick haze of your mind when Hiro puts you down and holds you close against his large body. Without his arms around you, you are sure you would collapse. His damp fur clings to your skin, and his musky, earthy scent fills your nostrils as you still gasp for air.

"Are you okay, doll?" he asks after a while, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You can barely understand him because of the growl escaping his chest the whole time. It reverberates in your bones, shivering and rattling.

You hum, not knowing how to form words.

"Are you ready for more?" he asks with a hint of impatience in his voice while his clawed hands move up and down on your back, caressing your bare skin to soften his words.

You can't blame him, though. His cock is hard and heavy between his thick, hairy thighs. It leaks with pre-cum and bobs with every small movement Hiro makes.

"I still need your help, sweetheart," he continues, nudging your head softly with his muzzle. His breath is warm at the side of your face. "And you are the only one who can help me."

Straightening your posture, you lean away from him a little, just enough to look at him and nod. You are here to help him, you remind yourself.

"What do you need me to do?"

Hiro doesn't need more.

"Good girl," he grunts. "My good girl."

Before you know it, you are kneeling on the ground, ass up in the air, with the wolf behind you. The white, wet tiles are warm under your cheeks and palms, with the shower still cascading down on your pair. A helpless sound escapes your parted lips at the sudden change of position, but you do nothing against it. Your senses are too busy with the feeling of Hiro shifting closer until you can feel his fur against your bare skin and his erection on your pussy, sliding across your puffy folds. He is thick and heavy, and your body tenses for several seconds.

"Hiro-" you want to say, but the shifter just pats your hips.

"It's okay," he grunts. "Just take a deep breath, doll."

Deep breath, you think. It seems impossible.

How could you do anything when you can feel him moving behind you and soon, the blunt tip of his cock prods at your entrance.

"S-slow," you gasp with your heart beating in your throat.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he hums mindlessly, too busy groping the flesh of your ass to really pay attention to your words.

The press of the head of his cock at your entrance punches a high, mewling sound out of your chest. By the time he forces the first few inches inside you, you are breathless and delirious. Pain and pleasure throb in your lower body, but you do nothing to stop him. You don't want him to stop. Your drenched pussy stretches and tenses around his thick cock, and your legs go numb as you keep your position in front of him. He rocks in and out of you, going deeper into you every time without giving you at least a moment to get used to his size. With a slack jaw and half-closed eyes, you tremble around him while spreading your legs even more in hopes of making your job easier.

It does nothing, though.

"Fuck," the male moans behind you breathlessly, watching his thick length disappear into your wet, tight channel. You hug around his cock like a glove, milking him with every shiver of your overwhelmed body.

"Just like that," he snarls. "So good. You are helping me so much, doll."

His approaching orgasm blurs his vision every now and again, and he needs to bite onto his tongue to keep himself going for a while longer. Cumming so soon would be embarrassing for him, even though the knot at the base of his cock is already swollen.

"Really?" You pant. The hope in your voice that you are doing a good job is humiliating, but none of you care about it.

"Yes," he snarls, grabbing your hips bruisingly tight to pull you against his groin. A high, mewling sound escapes your lips, and your back arches at the sudden, invading feeling. Your tits press against the tiles, and your fingers are sore from the force you try to grip onto the smooth, hard surface.

A surprised, airy gasp wheezes out of your lips when he starts fucking into you roughly, grinding his cock deeper and deeper into your clenching hole. Every drag and press of his erection ripples through your nerves, making your muscles twitch and jerk while you try to keep yourself in position in front of the shifter. He pushes you beyond your limits with every ruthless thrust while you wail and sob, with your vision blurring at the overwhelming sensation. Every time his knot presses against your entrance, you tense and forget how to breathe, but Hiro doesn't try to force more into you, and it's probably a good decision. Even though the gym is closed, you still don't want to get tied together with him in the showers.

His orgasm almost pushes the ground out from under him, making him lean above you while still squeezing your hips in his large, paw-like hands. He empties himself inside you with a feral snarl while you sob and shake, with your own climax rocking through your body. Your blood turns to molten lava as your vision blurs while you cry like a wounded animal with his cock pulsing inside of your clenching pussy. You feel every rope of his cum, and your walls milk him for more.

"That's it," the wolf growls, grinding his hips against your ass roughly and convulsively. His spine is rigid, and his face is contorted into a threatening snarl.

For a long moment, he holds you tight with your greedy cunt squeezing his spent cock while his seed drips down between your legs and washes away into the drain under the water, still cascading down on your bodies.

When he lets you go, you spread out on the floor while Hiro leans against the wall with his cock softening between his thick, hairy thighs.

"How are you?" Your barely audible question surprises him. "Did I help?"

A light, gentle smile pulls on his lips as his head clears up a little. "Yeah, sweetheart," he replies. "You did."

"Good," you hum, already half-asleep.

"Come on," he says, scooping you up in his arms when he wins back his strength and the control over his body. "I can't let you stay here."

"Where are we going?" you ask him, resting your face on his chest. His fur is soaked under your skin.

"Home," Hero replies. "I need more of your help, doll."

"Oh, okay."

[del4yedsvnrise]

"Pretty" Katsuki Bakugou x Reader masterlist

“You owe me for this one, nerd.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever”

Normally, you wouldn’t need help dyeing your hair. Having done it so often before that you had grown quite experienced in doing it yourself. However, you had injured your arm during a training session and were unable to use your arm extensively for a couple days. Which led to your current situation.

You bent over the side of the bathtub and your friend, Bakugou, vigorously scrubbing at your hair

“Be gentle!”

“I wouldn’t have to be so rough if you just stayed still..”

He squinted, his eyes crinkling in concentration. It would take a while but he was fairly good at it. A good fifteen minutes later your hair was somewhat ready and you had finally finished washing. Bakugou grabbed your towel off the rack and helped you stand up. He pulled off his pair of gloves and tossed them onto a pile of discarded laundry on the other end of the bathroom. 

A tired sigh leaves your lips as you take a seat on the toilet seat lid and wait patiently. You didn't expect him to take long to get everything ready  – he was always incredibly efficient when it came to your caretaking (as much as he'd loath to admit). As soon as he finishes, he starts drying off your hair with a fluffy hand towel. The two of you sit there together in relative silence whilst he ruffles the back of your head dry. His fingers are rough and calloused from years of quirk usage –  you can barely feel anything through the towel but they're comforting nonetheless. After about five minutes pass by, his hands stop moving and he leans over you to grab another towel, the one he was previously using damp and covered in dye.

"turn 'round."

"What do you mean?" you tilt your head towards him, frowning slightly. “Aren’t we done yet?”

“Turn around,” he repeats, holding out the towel in your direction. “I'm nearly done. I just need to finish the front so hurry up.”

You roll your eyes but comply anyway. Turning your body slightly, You stare straight ahead, watching as he gets to work once again. You know he doesn't do it on purpose – or rather, you think he doesn't – but his eyes lock onto yours as he works. There is a hint of something in his gaze – an emotion you don't recognise, maybe a little bit more than just admiration, which makes you wonder how you must look right now. The room was filled with a gentle hum of the bathroom fan, the only sound accompanying the rhythmic rustle of towels and the occasional drip of water. 

Your half-damp hair cascaded down your face, the strands sticking together in clumps from the dye. Bakugou worked diligently, his movements precise and focused, as he carefully dried the front of your hair. The tips of his fingers lightly grazed your cheek as he moved his attention to your face. The touch, though unintended, sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of anticipation and nerves dancing along your skin. You could feel the heat emanating from his palm, contrasting with the cool dampness of your hair. Bakugou's eyes, usually sharp and intense, softened as they met yours, a rare vulnerability peeking through the cracks of his tough exterior. For just a second, you thought you saw him falter, but when he blinked his expression returned to its usual scowl.

"Done." His voice startled you out of your reverie. He turned your face towards himself and smoothed down the last section of the dyed hair. "Okay, move and let me see it!"

You got up from the toilet and moved over to the mirror. Your hair looked great, the colour being a nice change compared to the last colour you chose to dye it. You turned around to face him, expecting him to give you some kind of judgement on how it looked but instead, he merely stood staring at you with a curious expression.

"Well?" you ask, crossing your arms and leaning against the sink countertop.

"What's wrong with my hair?" you ask after a moment. He furrows his brows. You knew him well enough to understand that he didn't want to say anything, but you felt like he was holding something back.

"Nothing," he said quietly. "It looks good. Really good, actually." he grumbled, shoving his hand abruptly into his sweatpants.

"Then why are you looking at me like that? Is it messed up? does it not look alright?"

"No!" He exclaimed defensively, taking a step towards you. "You just look...pretty." 

"But why did you-"

"...Pretty." he interrupted, staring into your eyes with an unreadable expression. You stared back, confused by his sudden shift in behaviour.

His words made you blush slightly, the warmth spreading from your cheeks to the tips of your ears. Bakugou's usual fiery demeanour seemed to have momentarily subsided, replaced by a rare sensitivity that left you both intrigued and bewildered. Wouldn't he normally get lost in a fit of rage over someone trying to question him? This softer side of him was one you had rarely witnessed, a side that tugged at something deep within you, stirring emotions you had tried to bury beneath the guise of friendship.

"Um, thanks..." you mumble. You weren't sure what else to say, you had no idea what to make of this new development. Did he mean it or was he just messing with you like he normally does?

Either way, you found you were strangely disappointed by his comment. Even though he had just complimented your appearance, something about the whole exchange bothered you. Something told you that he didn't really mean it. That he wasn't telling you something.

With that lingering feeling in mind, you turn your head away from him slightly, ashamed your own insecurity made you react this way.

"Hey, what's wrong?"  you hear Bakugou ask. You shook your head slightly, hoping to shake the feeling away.

"Nothing," you answered. "I just gotta go, okay? Thanks for helping me dye my hair. See you tomorrow!" You hurriedly go to exit the bathroom, ignoring Bakugou's protests when a hand grips tightly onto your forearm, stopping you in your tracks. 

"How dense can you be?" he mumbled underneath his breath. Unexpectedly, he turned you round to face him,  forcing you to look into his burning red orbs. Your heartbeat picks up in pace at the proximity between you two, causing butterflies to flutter inside your stomach. You could hear Bakugou breathing heavily, his breath hot against your cheek.

The air feels heavy and tense all of a sudden, making it difficult to breathe properly.

"Don't leave." His voice is soft.

You blink twice.

"You heard me," Bakugou says sharply.

You nod wordlessly, letting your eyes fall closed as Bakugou guides your face closer to his. Your heart begins racing as you feel a warm pressure against your lips. The kiss itself is gentle, hesitant. When you part and open your eyes you're surprised to find him gazing down at you, an expression of tenderness and concern etched across his face. When he notices your staring, he quickly pulls his hand from your arm, pulling himself back to a healthy distance away from you.

"Sorry. That probably shouldn't have happened." he mumbles. "I should've kept my damn mouth shut." he mutters angrily, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

“No, it’s fine. I-I liked it.” you answer, smiling softly at him. He stares down at you , the tension slowly dissipating. Your heart rate slows considerably, the feeling returning to your chest as you relax against the cold tile wall behind you. 

"So…you wanna get dinner sometime?" Bakugou asks suddenly, glancing awkwardly at the ground, avoiding eye contact with you completely. "Maybe we can hangout or somethin'..."

"Sounds good to me." you reply, grinning. Bakugou smiles briefly, before reaching up with his free hand and pushing a stray strand of newly-dyed hair from your face.

"Alright then, I guess I'll see you later. Get some rest." he says before turning around, exiting the bathroom.

Once the door was closed and locked, you walk towards the bedroom, still feeling a light tinge of pink on your cheeks as you flop onto the bed. A smile still lingers on your lips,  the memory of the kiss playing on repeat in your mind until sleep finally claimed you for the night. ⭐︎

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Roads Untraveled 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, pregnancy, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Single and pregnant, you discover a super soldier in the dumpster but he might not be hero you think he is. 

[This is a rewrite of a series of the same name which I removed a couple years ago]

Characters: Silverfox!Steve Rogers

Note: I finally did this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

‘When he went away  The blues walked in and met me  Oh, yeah if he stays away  Old rocking chair’s gonna get me  All I do is pray...’ 

You sway to the melody as you wipe dry the last plate. You set it in the rack as Etta James’ soulful crooning wafts around the kitchen. Just the simple task of washing the dishes has you out of breath. You can no longer hum along as you’re suddenly light headed with sweat speckled across your brow. Even the breeze drifting in through the open window can’t cool the constant heat brewing within you. 

You brace your lower back as you reach for the dish towel and pop open the cupboard. The music drones to silence as the next some in queue loads. Your rounded stomach presses to the counter as you take a mug and dry it inside and out. Strange, you don’t remember the song starting like that; the strange warbling noise much unlike Marvin Gaye’s rich tones. 

You set the mug on the shelf and back up. Another noise peaks your attention, too tinny to be a snare. You rub your stomach mindlessly as you sling the cloth over your shoulder. You waddle across the tile to the folding table beneath the window. You tap pause on your phone and the bluetooth speaker goes silent. 

Your fingers pick the damp fabric away from your bump. These days you can’t avoid getting soaked. Even as you can’t forget about the burden of your condition, you’re still oblivious to how it gets in the way until it does. You sigh as you listen for another clue. 

A pained deep grunt floats up from below. Distant but decisive, another rustle beneath the unexpected noise. You lean over the table, a hand on the ledge as you push the pane higher. You bend, stomach pressed to the speaker, and peer down. You expect another dumpster diver searching for empties to trade in; rather you meet a most unexpected sight. 

There is a man in the dumpster, alright, but he isn’t moving. From there, you can’t see very clearly. You squint at the figure strewn among the trash but the zigzag of the fire escape obscures your eye line. 

You shouldn’t go and see. Not only is it a lot of effort, but it’s dangerous. You shouldn’t be wandering into alleys to check on strangers in dumpsters. You don’t know any good reason someone might be swimming in garbage. Nor do you think they would want to be bothered.  

Still, the prickling in your neck urges you to do something. There’s just something so peculiar about the angle of the arm you can see clearer than the rest of the body. At least they’re moving, even if they sound agonized. 

You take your phone and untether it from the bluetooth speaker. You unlock it and keep your thumb ready to dial out. You move as quickly as you can, not very, and waddles along the back of the couch into the entry way. You take your keys from the hook near your door and step into your cushy slides. 

You turn back the latch and leave the door unlocked behind you. The slides shift on your swollen feet as you rush down to the elevator. God, your back hurts. You try not to lean too far back as it only adds to the pain. You need a belly belt but they’re so darn expensive. 

You’re out of breath as you step on and turn to watch the numbers count down. You’re still panting as you reach the lobby and push through the front doors, leaning into the heavy grated iron until it creaks loudly. You clamour down the steps to even ground and your hips pang. 

You put your hand under your stomach, trying to lift it and ease the pressure in your hips. You blow out between your lips as you have to slow down. You shuffle across the grass and into the paved lobby. The stink of the trash brings you back to those early days of morning sickness. And afternoon sickness. And night sickness. 

You try not to inhale too deeply as you step between the brick buildings. You bring your phone up, ready to hit those three digits in a heartbeat. You should’ve done so already. Even if you do, it’ll take hours for anyone to come out here. 

You stop and listen a few steps from the dumpster. You don’t hear anything now. You look up at the sky, dimming towards evening in a mixture of pink and blue, the moon peeking palely through the hue. You grip your phone tight, keys jangling with your movement as you continue forward. 

“Hello?” You call out, “is someone in there?” You linger near the corner of the dumpster, the trash reeking in your nostrils, “do you need help?” 

No answer. You stare up, wondering how you might see inside. If you weren’t built like a keg, you might be able to see from the lower level of the fire escape but you can’t even make it one rung. You blink and call out again. 

“Hello? Are you okay?” 

You wait for a response. Silence again. Maybe they found their way out on their own. You huff. So much for all that. All you’ve done is added to the pain in your arches. You turn on your heel and a groan gurgles and plastic crinkles noisily. 

You stop again, wavering, and peer back over your shoulder. A hand appears over the tops of the dumpsters edge and grips it. You face the large metal bin as the knuckles strain within the stained brown leather, fingertips poking out nakedly, blood and dirty tinged across the flesh. A long grunt follows as the figure drags himself to look over the top. 

“Sir, are you--” you begin, voice catching at the sight of the cowl and the man’s square jaw. The white star on his chest stuns you. It’s him. Everyone knows that uniform, that face, even under his helmet. New York’s own Captain America. 

You gape as the super soldier strains and swings himself out of the dumpster with one arm. His other is hanging limply as his feet hit the pavement. His knees crack and buckle. He drops down onto them and hisses. 

“Captain America?” You utter dumbly. 

He puts his fist to the ground and leans on his arm. He hangs his head and heaves. He drags a leg forward, planting his foot, and makes himself stand. He pushes his shoulders back and winces, reaching to cradle his dangling arm. 

“Steve,” he rasps, “goddamn.” 

You don’t expect the obscenity. Not from him. He leans against the dumpster and turns his chin up. He gnashes his teeth as he grips his arm and jerks, moving the heavy bin with his effort. The pop of his shoulder is sickening as he growls tightly. He stomps his foot and as he shakes out the arm he just put back into place. 

He reaches up and peels off his cowl as he puts his head straight. He looks at you as he wipes the streak of blood from lip to chin. His blond locks are streaked silver and his face is lined. He looks much older than the magazine covers and the TV screens. The magic of editing, right? 

He swipes the sweaty hair from his forehead and huffs. 

“Steve,” you rest your phone on your stomach, “are you okay?” 

He pushes himself away from the dumpster and puffs, “I’m fine. Just... a hiccup.” 

You stare at him. He looks tired and worn. You believe him when he says he’s okay. He's a super soldier and the world has seen his many feats. Yet he looks completely hollow. 

“Are you sure? I could call someone or...” you step forward and point to the slash that borders chest and shoulder, “you should clean that out, shouldn’t you?” 

He looks down and grimaces, “had worse. I got comms. HQ doesn’t care about a few scratches.” 

He goes to step forward and stumbles slightly. He snarls and kicks his foot into the gravel. He wiggles his knee and bends to rub the joint. 

“I...” your mouth opens and closes. This isn’t the man you’ve seen in the media. He's not smiling and golden and shining. Still, he’s the Captain. “I live above,” you gesture upward, “I could help... or maybe you can just... sit for a little bit. Get yourself straight?” 

He looks at you. As if for the first time. His forehead smooths as the tension eases from his jaw. His gaze slowly crawls down to his stomach and you see the dimple in his cheek. 

“Your husband okay with that? I’m a bit of a mess,” his tone is lighter as he fixes his grip on his cowl. 

“Oh no, I don’t have--” you chew your lip and look at the brick wall, “it’s just me. But I have first aid kit and learned to stitch in summer camp. I think I can still remember how.” 

He glances around and nods, “got a back door?” 

“Yeah, it’s... past you,” you nod in his direction. 

He pivots stiffly and cranes to see around the dumpster. You near him and your keys jingle again. You follow him to the metal door with the glass window and you shove the key in and twist. You pull it open a few inches. It’s heavier than the front door. He grabs it and wrenches it all the way back. 

“Thanks,” you murmur. “There’s an elevator.” 

“Hm, fewer people see me, the better,” he sniffs as the door clanks behind him. 

“It might take me a while,” you warn, “I’m slow.” 

“What floor. I’ll meet you,” he offers. 

“Sure, it’s three.” 

“Number?” 

“310.” 

“I’ll find it,” he states and marches towards the stair sign. 

You go to catch the elevator, stewing in disbelief on your ascent. You step off and continue on to your apartment. He’s already there. He stands with his hand on the frame, looking over his shoulder as you waddle down the hall towards him. 

“It’s unlocked,” you say. 

He opens it and waits for you. You thank him as you enter and he follows. He locks it and lingers behind you. You put your hand to the wall as you slip off your slides. He gently lays his cowl on the corner table and bends to unlace his boots. You hang the keys on the hook and place your phone on the small table. 

He leaves his dirtied boots on the mat and limps forward. You stand in the open doorway of the living room and peek back at him. He looks around reluctantly. 

“Please, sit down,” you insist and wave through the doorway before you pass through. 

“I...” he begins and you hear his uneven gait down the hallway. “I don’t want to dirty your couch.” 

“I have a steam cleaner,” you assure. “Sit, I’ll get the kit.” 

He stares, his eyes once more scanning the space. Does he think this is a trip? That you’re some covert agent who all too conveniently found him? That’s absurd. Look at you. 

You shrug off that ridiculous idea and cross to the kitchen. You open several drawers before you remember it’s in the bathroom. Of course. Your brain likes to play games these days. You grab the metal tin from under the sink and return to Steve.  

He pulls off his gloves and balls them on the side table next to the couch. You come around the other side of the couch and sit, leaving lots of space between you. You squeeze the kits as you’re once more out of breath. 

“You okay?” He turns the question on you. 

“I’m not the one bleeding. Just pregnant,” you smile. 

You balance the kit on your stomach as you lean back. You sanitize a needle and weave it with surgical thread. You put that aside and fish out an alcoholic swap. You shift the kit aside and push on the back of the couch as you try to sit forward. You shake and he helps you, a humbling assistance. 

“First,” you turn to him, “we’ll see how deep it is,” you tear open the swap, “can I...” 

“One sec,” he dips his fingers into the fabric and tears the sleeve, renting the fabric like tissue. His arm is thick and well-toned despite the years. A centurion like him can’t complain for the shape he’s in, even battered. “I can do it myself.” 

“Yes, but it wouldn’t be easy.” 

You reach as he angles towards you. You gingerly dab around the gash and he tenses. He takes a sharp breath, “you don’t have to be so gentle. I can handle pain.” 

“Right,” you work more diligently. 

He’s quiet as you tend to him, picking out gravel and some metal slivers. You worry that you might miss some. You lean in closer and he steels himself at your proximity. 

“So,” he clears his throat, “just you and...” the kid?” 

“We all make mistakes,” you chuckle. You can only laugh about it, as scared as you are. 

“Mmm,” he flinches as you sweep down the length of the cut. It’s not that deep, mostly superficial. 

“Let me put some steri-strips on, shouldn’t need the stitches, ” you say as you sift through the kit with one hand, “if you’re hungry, I have leftovers. You like chicken?” 

You don’t know why you’re offering. Maybe it’s because you owe him. Like everyone in the city. It’s your chance to give back to the hero who gave so much. Or maybe it’s because you’re so damn lonely talking to your own stomach. 

“I should go,” he insists as you place a strip across the cut. 

“Up to you,” you say, “I don’t mind either way, but I’m not going to chase Captain America out of ym apartment.” 

He doesn’t say anything. You finish dressing his wound and gather up the wrappers and all. You crumple it in one hand and rock yourself to stand. You’re overly aware of him watching you. You touch your stomach and rub it, soothing your nerves. You find him watching the movement of your hand. 

“You must be pretty far along,” he says. 

“Six months. Chicken tortellini, if you want. I was gonna reheat some. I haven’t eaten since work.” 

“Work?” He frowns and stands, moving better than before. “Should you be?” 

“I’m at a desk. It’s nothing. HR got me some ergonomic stuff. Nothing compared to what you do.” 

You put away the kit and toss the garbage. You wash your hands before you search out the container of pasta in the fridges. You sense him behind you, just in the wide archway that peers into the kitchen. You reach into the cupboard you left open and take the single plate that isn’t in the rack. 

“So, you want some?” You ask. 

He’s silent with contemplation, the shift of his weight creaks in the floor, “I appreciate it, yes, please.” 

“I might have something you can change into,” you say. You wonder why you’re doing all this. Maybe it’s that maternal instinct kicking in. “The father, before he took off, left a few things.” You peek over your shoulder, “he was a bit smaller than you.” 

He shrugs then winces at the careless gesture. “Do you mind if I wash up before I eat? I smell like garbage. I don’t wanna overstep--” 

“Go ahead, it’ll take a while to warm this up,” you say. 

Another long lull. He taps his fingers on the wall and inhales deep enough for you to hear, “promise, I’ll get out of your hair after dinner.” 

“Please, take your time,” you say as you put the tortellini in a glass pan to rebake. He backs away and you sense his hesitation, “oh, down the hall, to the left of the bedroom at the end.” 

“Thanks,” he intones, “oh, uh, just realised, you know who I am...” 

Your brows pop up and you stop before you can put the pan in the stove. You look back at him and give your name. He nods. 

“Pretty,” he comments, “also, it’s just Steve, not Captain.” 

[woso-story]

Morning

Alexia Putellas x Reader

The morning was quiet, the golden sunlight streaming through the window curtains and casting a warm glow across the room. The bed beneath you felt too big, too empty. Reaching out, your fingers met cool sheets where Alexia's warmth should have been. With a groggy sigh, you opened your eyes, blinking at the spot beside you. She was gone—already awake, no doubt, knowing her habits.

You took a moment to stretch, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep, and slowly dragged yourself out of bed. The faint hum of music drifted through the apartment, accompanied by the soft rhythmic thud of something heavy being moved. Your curiosity piqued, you padded down the hallway, the sound growing louder as you approached your small home gym.

The sight waiting for you in the doorway made your breath catch.

There she was, Alexia Putellas, your girlfriend, in the middle of a workout. She was a vision, her body clad in nothing but a pair of tight shorts and a simple black sports bra, her golden skin glistening with sweat. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, a few loose strands sticking to her neck. She was lying on the bench with a loaded barbell across her hips, her strong legs pushing upward in a flawless hip thrust. The definition of her muscles, the sheer strength of her movement, it was hypnotic.

Your gaze traced every inch of her: the way her abs tightened with each lift, the flex of her quads, the focused expression on her face. It wasn't the first time you'd seen Alexia like this, she worked out often, but there was something about this moment that stopped you in your tracks. Maybe it was the early morning light catching on her sweat, maybe it was the quiet intimacy of watching her in her element. Or maybe it was just the fact that your girlfriend was ridiculously, breathtakingly hot.

You leaned against the doorframe, your presence unnoticed as you continued to stare, completely mesmerized. Alexia finished her set with a grunt of effort, festing the barbell on the rack and sitting up to wipe her face with a towel. She caught sight of you then, and a knowing smirk spread across her lips.

"You enjoy the show?" she teased, walking toward you with a towel slung around her neck. Her voice was light, playful, but there was a hint of pride in her tone.

You blinked, startled out of your trance "Uh." You struggled to find words, your cheeks heating as she stopped just inches away. Before you could stammer out a response, her finger hooked under your chin, gently tilting your face upward until your eyes met hers.

"My eyes are up here," she teased, her grin widening when you finally managed to meet her gaze.

You let out a sheepish laugh, scratching the back of your neck. "Sorry, I wasn't planning on looking at your eyes right now."

She rolled her eyes, though the amusement on her face remained. "Care to join me? There's a spare mat with your name on it."

"Not a chance," you replied, folding your arms. "I think I'd much rather watch. You're far more interesting to look at than weights."

"Impolite to stare, you know," she quipped, raising an eyebrow.

"Impolite? I'd say it's my right. You' re my girlfriend, and you look incredible," you said matter-of-factly. To punctuate your point, you reached out and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. She smelled like sweat and warmth, and it was intoxicating. You pressed a soft kiss to her lips before pulling away with a playful smack to her backside. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be i in the kitchen making us breakfast."

She laughed as you walked away, her voice trailing after you. "You' re impossible you know that?"

By the time she joined you in the kitchen, freshly showered and still glowing from her workout, you were standing at the stove, flipping pancakes. Her arms snaked around your waist from behind, and she pressed a kiss to your shoulder, her damp hair brushing your neck.

"Smells amazing." she murmured, her voice low and affectionate.

'It's almost ready," you replied, leaning back into her embrace. "Can you set the table?"

She nodded, releasing you to gather plates and silverware, but as she moved around the kitchen, you couldn't help but notice she was back in just shorts and a sports bra. Again.

"Do you not own other clothes?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

She glanced over her shoulder, a cheeky grin spreading across her face. "Of course I do. But I know you like it when I don't wear much." She winked before returning to her task, leaving you shaking your head in exasperated fondness.

Breakfast was simple but delicious, the two of you sitting across from each other at the small kitchen table. The conversation was easy, filled with laughter and teasing, but your eyes kept drifting to her toned arms, her sculpted shoulders, the curve of her waist. Alexia noticed, of course, and her grin only grew wider with each stolen glance.

Finally, she reached across the table and grabbed your wrist, tugging you gently toward her. "Alright, enough staring. Come here," she said, pulling you onto her lap.

You let out a surprised laugh, your arms instinctively wrapping around her shoulders. "Alex-"

Your words were cut off by her lips, warm and soft and utterly consuming. One kiss melted into another, and soon her hands were on your hips, her strength lifting you effortlessly as she stood.

Before you knew it, you were back in the bedroom, her body pressing against yours as the rest of the world faded away. It was mornings like this that reminded you just how lucky you were to have Alexia, not just for her strength and beauty, but for the love and joy she brought into your life every single day.

[osamucide]

⊹ FOR SURE

RELATIVELY STABLE AND TENTATIVELY ABLE TO SAY FOR CERTAIN WHETHER THIS UNCERTAINTY IS FOR SURE . . . ft. Osamu Dazai

wc: 2k

cw: sad and probably ooc dazai but he’s my husband so i actually know how he falls apart, pretty straightforward references to anxiety+dissociation, references to self harm+suicidal ideation but nothing graphic, angst+hurt/comfort, dazai cries and then you feed him that's all

reid: a little spur of the moment something i started when i wasn’t feeling so hot a bit ago. ethel cain’s cover of this song has altered the course of my life anyway enjoy me projecting

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

He was quiet when he got home, which is uncharacteristic, unless he’s scheming. But there was no glint in his eyes and no menace behind his grin, only exhaustion. What’s more is there was no downcast expression, no particularly sluggish movement to suggest he was upset; granted, he would regularly go on performing his usual persona even if he was upset. He was always all moving puzzle pieces, all thick mask and mystery.

It’s a good thing you’ve learned to read him so plainly.

You owe it to the little shared space you’re in, wrapped in a blanket on the couch, reading a book of his as he shakes his coat off and tosses it across the small dining table with two chairs side-by-side at it instead of across from one another. Dazai usually hangs his coat up on the rack by the door, slips his shoes off mindlessly and comes to flop his entire body weight on top of you, but tonight he pulls his laces undone and leaves his shoes tucked neatly against the wall, walks by the back of the couch to press a ghostly kiss to the crown of your head, and heads straight to the bathroom, which he locks himself in.

You swallow as you hear the shower start. You had specifically picked out an apartment with a standing shower, no tub, when you moved in with him. You’d emptied it of razors a handful of times and you probably would a handful of times more, and you kept all of both of your medication in your bedside table. Still, you can no longer quite focus on the words in front of you.

So, you flick the television on. A little more noise in your brain helps tune out the shower that’s just that—a shower. He showers, most often, because he’s feeling strange and not because he needs to feel clean. Maybe he needs to feel clean, but not in a way that a shower will allow. He does it anyway. You wait.

When the water turns off and he doesn’t immediately bounce out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, singsonging which leftovers you should heat up for him, you turn the TV volume down a few notches. When it’s been five minutes or so, you find yourself in the kitchen putting day-old bibimbap in the microwave. When it’s been ten, you’re knocking on the door.

"Osamu?" Your voice is soft as your knock. "I waited for you to eat." Dirty trick, you know. But you also know he won’t otherwise; not on a night like this.

You hear a bit of shuffling before the bathroom door creaks open. His eyes are red, his nose flushed, and he’s rubbing his face with the corner of his towel like he’s just awoken from a nap. He’s got no bandages on. He nearly whispers, "You didn’t have to."

"Wanted to." You work the towel from his hands as he turns the light off. He’ll hide behind the darkness if nothing else, but it’s alright; you’ll let him. You pat water from his shoulders before you sling the towel around him like a cape. You whisper back, "I’ll get you clothes. Please get silverware, yes?"

You don’t give him much of a choice, but he’s in a state where he’s pliant enough to listen to corporeal orders. Getting silverware will be a marginally easier task than dressing for him right now.

After pulling a sweatshirt and pair of pajama pants out of your drawers—they’re his, or maybe yours, doesn’t really matter; what does matter is they cover as much skin as possible—you return to him on the couch, two bowls of cooling bibimbap with chopsticks stuck in them on coffee table. He’s got as much of his bare body under the towel as it will allow.

When you set next to him and peel the towel back he looks nearly catatonic. It spurs tears to your lash line, but you hold back. "Arms, please."

He shoves himself into the hoodie, tousling his wet mop of hair in the process, and takes the pants from you, which he stands robotically to step into. When he sits you wrap five fingers across the top of his flannel-clad thigh and press a short kiss to his cheek.

As if sparked by your touch, he curls himself into you.

You’re quick to receive him; you unlock his hands from where they latch behind your neck, gently, like everything else, and you lean back, back, until your head is hitting the pillow you were lounged up against earlier. His fingers scramble for somewhere to land; you will his weight down onto you, his shoulder and hip to tuck beside yours on the inside of the couch, his free arm and leg to sling across your body and his sweet face in the side of your neck. The water from his hair soaks through your shirt. You don’t care. You feel his breath; your fingertips trace circles along his spine, and your outside hand comes to tangle up with his. Eating will have to wait.

You don’t waste time asking if he wants to talk. If he did, he would’ve started by now.

So you focus on his breathing, and how lucky you are to have it ghosting along your collarbone. He’s gray, then white, then gray, then blue in the light of the TV as his thumb moves across the back of your hand, stiff, like it’s just been freed from paralysis.

You wait for his breath to shake; you know it will.

And he knows you know, because he squeezes your hand in a pulsing rhythm like a heartbeat. He hates this. He hates that you've seen him crumble so many times that you know exactly what he needs.

You say it so softly, again, almost a whisper: "I've got you, my love."

He doesn't want you to say it's okay or let it out or talk to me; this is another thing you know very well. He feels like he's floating away from what little sense of self he has to begin with and it's not okay, and he doesn't want to talk about it, he doesn't want to be told when to cry or not, but he does need reminded that you're here, and you're real, and so is he, and so is this thing that both have; you'll grab his ankles and pull him down out of the air. You always do. You always do.

So he cries anyway.

It's like hearing a foreign language leave his mouth. There's something so assured about Dazai even while he believes he's all smoke and mirrors and seeing—hearing—his voice jump between heaving breaths and cracking sobs has always jarred you in some way. Moreover, now that you're so attuned to the way he breaks, it fills you with a tired anger that you can't place on anything concrete. It's a frustration you're glad to shoulder with him, but a frustration no less. You would set fire to everything you could touch, strangle it all to death with your bare hands, if it guaranteed his peace. But you know he wouldn't want that, not anymore; you quell the rage inside you between strands of his hair, fingerpads combing over his scalp with all that anger channeled into love, pure love. For as terrible and rotten as he's convinced he is, he's truly turned you into something softer than you thought yourself capable of being.

You feel his heart racing double-time against yours; you briefly wish you had no chest, no ribs, no physical form to separate you from him, so that your heart could cradle his, give over to his troubled body the time of the breath yours breathes.

He's all jagged edges right now and you're holding him like he's made of cotton. It makes him worse, momentarily, and he tears his hand away from yours; he knows wrapping around you like this, like a boa constrictor around its prey, will make his arms lose feeling but he does it anyway, like he's worried you'll go up in a cloud of dust if he doesn't hold onto you tight enough. He knows it's probably uncomfortable for you, too, laying back on his knotted fingers while he shoves every piece of himself as close as he can get to you, but you don't say anything, don't even make a sound when he hyperventilates into your shoulder and pushes out pathetic whimpers between his stuttering. He knows his face is twisted into that expression he long ago deemed too ugly to look at in the mirror. He gasps like he's underwater, and you just press your cheek to his temple while you lose track of if the wetness on your shoulder is from his hair or his eyes. It doesn't matter. You love him so fucking much.

He weeps against you with his constraint surrendered, loud but muffled by your shirt, at least until whatever movie was on is over. When he finally lifts his head, your eyes flutter open. You hadn't realized you closed them.

You tilt to look at him; the seam of your shirt collar is imprinted into his cheek. His bangs have dried wildly; you push them away from his eyes which are raw with sorrow, and Dazai's hands unclasp from behind you, settling back to how they first were with one curled up into the couch and the other interlaced with yours. He's devastatingly beautiful. You can't help the ghost of the sad smile you wear; it's because he's so gorgeous, and also you want to let him know you're content to be here—not content with what's upset him, not at all, but content to pick him up and help him haul himself forward. He does not reflect the smile back to you. You don't blame him.

"Let's eat." You leave the please unspoken, but it hangs there anyway.

"It's cold," he complains, still distant, but with a glimmer of a pout you think may be him. He's not getting out of it, though.

You sit him up, keep him close to your side and pick up a bowl; it's indeed cold, but you take a bite anyway, as if to show him it's not so bad. When you hold sliced carrot and broccoli to his lips, he looks at you like you're trying to feed him dirt, but opens his mouth anyway.

And it may as well be medicine going down. Not that he particularly cares for reheated and recooled leftover bibimbap, but your fingers being at the other end of the chopsticks makes it appealing. More than appealing. Delightful, even. He never really understood how things like food, music, or art could be healing until he met you and you doodles silly pictures of him on slow Sunday mornings, sang old love songs to him while you shooed him away from the stove as you cooked dinner, fed him leftovers in your shared home, on your shared couch, surrounded by all the things that were both yours and his, sweatshirts, books, blankets, chopsticks alike.

And he tells you that in his own way.

"Heat it up again for me? Please?"

He speaks the plea this time, and you grin—not sad this time, but wholly, as he relights slowly in front of you. And as already established, you'd do anything for him.

"Mhm."

"I love you," he blurts. Tags it on. You stand, gathering both bowls, still grinning.

"I love you." No question about any of it. You press a kiss to the crown of his head. He unfurls the blanket from where you'd slung it over the back of the couch earlier, picking up the remote to flick through the channels, finally breathing steadily as he waits for you to return from the kitchen. Your kitchen, his kitchen. He hears the microwave hum, in another room, not on another planet. He knows he'll be alright.

[reveryfics]

Late Night

Pairings: Eddie Brock & Venom x Male reader

Summary: Having just gotten out of the shower, you're met with Eddie and Venom both of which have more exciting plans then your moping around.

A/n: redoing this aesthetic on this post and some others. As always thanks for the likes and enjoy!

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

A young male steps out of his clothes, his bare feet sending chills across the cold floor. He grabs a towel from the rack hanging crookedly on the back of the door, its threadbare surface rough against his skin. He turns on the water, wincing as a rusty groan echoes through the pipes before a sputtering spray erupts from the showerhead.

He waits, counting silently under his breath as the water heats up. The minutes tick by, each one stretching into an eternity of anticipation. Finally, the scalding water begins to mingle with the cold, sending wisps of steam curling around the chipped porcelain walls.

He steps into the shower, letting out a sigh of relief as the hot water cascades over his tense muscles. He lathers up with cheap soap, the acrid scent filling the small space. He scrubs away the grime of the day, the memory of his dead-end job, and the gnawing hunger in his stomach momentarily forgotten under the soothing torrent.

As the hot water washes over him, the male allows himself to close his eyes. He pictures himself somewhere else, someplace far removed from this dingy apartment and life filled with supernatural beings. He imagines a pristine beach, the turquoise water lapping at his toes, the warm sun drying his skin. He breathes in the scent of salt and seaweed, the sound of crashing waves washing away the city's din.

But the dream is fleeting. The scalding water begins to cool, and the harsh reality of his situation seeps back in. He opens his eyes to the peeling paint and cracked tiles, the chipped shower head spewing its meager spray.

He finishes his shower quickly, the cold air sending goosebumps prickling across his skin. He steps out, wrapping himself in the scratchy towel. He looks at his reflection in the fogged-up mirror, seeing not the sun-kissed tan of his daydream, but a skinny kid with tired eyes and haunted shadows under his cheekbones. He sighs, a gust of steam swirling around him like a fleeting wisp of hope. He knows he needs more than a hot shower to escape his reality. But for now, it's enough. It's a small victory, a stolen moment of warmth in the cold grip of his circumstances.

There was a tense silence throughout the bathroom, broken only by the dripping water from the showerhead and throaty cough coming from behind the young male. The male's tired eyes peered at the man from the mirror, a low groan escaped past his slightly parted lips as he hung his head low. A pair of hands gripped his hips, the towel slowly slipping off his waist and onto the bathroom floor. The once scratchy feeling now replaced by the feeling of soft fabric against his bare skin.

Their eyes locked in the reflection of the mirror, both worn and tired from the day. The older male's hands slid up the others back, slowly massaging up and down his spine, shoulder blades, and neck. “You seem tense.” He whispered softly.

A soft chuckle sounded from the younger male, his body slightly relaxing against the other's soft touch. His muscles slowly unwound against every small and deliberate touch against his achy body. “Tell me about it.” He huffed, pressing his body against his partners.

There was a silence between the two for a moment, only for it to be broken by a quiet gasp as black tendrils wrapped around the young male's body.

The two guided him towards the bedroom, their hands cupping his face as Eddie gently pressed his lips against his partner's. Eddie's lips were soft, something he'd grown to love about the man. His own hand found its way around the back of Eddie's neck, pulling him in closer.

Eddie led him back and towards the bed, breaking the kiss when the two needed to breath before pressing back up against them quickly. The gentle kiss turned heated as Eddie sat against the bed, his partner straddling him. Eddie's hands now rested against his shoulders, while Venom still held into his waist.

The male pulled away, a small gasp falling from his lips as Venom's long tongue slowly trailed over his neck. The symbiote left out a low grumble, his tongue passing over each and every sweet spot he could find. His eyes fluttered closed, enjoying the feeling of Eddie and Venom kissing his exposed skin.

Eddie's hands gripped the soft skin of his partner's ass, earning a low groan from the male. He could feel Eddie's cock twitching in his pants, rubbing against his own exposed and growing erection.

The male pushed Eddie back against the bed, making quick work in removing his hoodie and shirt. Eddi hissed at the feeling of his partner's cold hands against his exposed chest and abdomen.

“Enjoying this aren't you?” He hummed, slowly grinding against Eddie's lap.

“You have no idea.” Eddie's voice mixed with Venom's, as the two groaned in response to the pressure.

His hands continued down Eddie's chest, stopping just above his sweatpants as he slowly came to stand in front of him. The brunette groaned as his undergarments were tossed aside, and the cold air of the apartment nipped at his erect cock.

He got on his knees, hands holding Eddie's hips down against the bed. His tongue ran underneath his cock, lapping up the beads of precum that leaked down his shaft. He continued, only stopping when Eddie's cock began to twitch and spasm against his lips and tongue.

Eddie pulled him up, his hands cupping his face as he leaned in to kiss him gently. He sighed against Eddie's lips, moving onto his lap like he had been before.

“Relax.” He hummed, pushing Eddie back against the bed.

The male slowly sunk down onto Eddie's cock, his head shooting back in pure pleasure. He let out a strangled moan as the brunette bottomed out, his cock twitching and pulsating inside his partner.

Eddie's hands found their way to his partner's hips, gripping them harshly. Venom's long tendrils wrapped around the male's cock, slowly jerking him in time with the steady pace of him bouncing against Eddie.

The two became a panting mess, strings of moans falling from their lips as their pace only quickened. Eddie pulling out only to slam back into his partner as Venom continued to jerk him off.

“Fu-fuck..” He moaned, his own cock twitching and leaking precum as Eddie slammed into his prostate.

A particularly hard thrust left him gasping for air as he choked on his own whines and moans, and caused him to clench around Eddie. As he continued for a second time, then a third, and finally a fourth, his partner came across his chest spasming in Venom's grasp. Eddie came not long after, burying himself deep inside as he rode out his orgasm.

Neither moved for a while, basking in the initial moments of their orgasm before Eddie slowly pulled out. He whined, collapsing in the bed beside Eddie and the symbiote, his chest heaving up and down as he caught his breath.

“You owe me a good bath.”

“Whatever you say.”

[lordprettyflackotara]

get him back! || sam golbach

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+ tw: revenge sex, marking, choking

You were the finest woman Sam had ever seen.

Being in the influencer space meant meeting a lot of people. Most of them forgettable. But you? Your eyes were sparkling with diamonds, full of life. Your lips were glossy and soft, always curved upwards in a big grin. Sam could remember the first time you two had met, that being a few years prior at a music festival. You both didn’t have too long to speak, both of you too busy to comprehend. You did take a picture with him though, the image sending the internet into a frenzy. Even now he’d look at it and regret not shooting his shot. You were in your own lane, your clothing line producing so much revenue that you were now starting a make up branch as well. You were everything Sam could possibly want: ambitious, enchantingly beautiful, witty, and just as goofy as he was.

Sam thought he had lost his chance. You began dating another influencer, the two of you together for years. The blonde stared over the rim of his red solo cup, admiring you from a far. But your relationship tragically crashed and burned a couple of weeks ago, igniting a spark of excitement in his chest. He watched as you danced with your friends, still maintaining your signature smile. His chance was now and he had zero intentions of fucking up this time.

Sam was thankful that Colby was off actually mingling, because Sam’s needs and wants were scrambled. Realistically he needed to be mingling with potential business partners or creators to collab with. But he convinced himself that pursuing you technically fit into that category. Even if you were just one person in a big party. He slithered through the sea of dancing bodies, tapping your shoulder to get your attention. You turned around, a red solo cup in your hand. You smiled at the sight of Sam, beginning to greet him. Just as you did so you were roughly shoved, causing you to be pushed into him. You cringed in horror at the sight of your liquor staining Sam’s white button up.

“Holy fuck i’m so sorry,” You rambled, desperately searching for a napkin. Sam chuckled as the cool liquid soaked against his chest. “It’s fine really,” He said cooly. You were failing to find any sort of napkin. “It’s going to stain if we don’t clean it, come on,” You say, grabbing his hand. Sam tried to remain as cool as a cucumber as you dragged him to the staircase. He wasn’t sure how good he was doing, pretending to be unfazed and not jittery like he was on the inside. Your heels clicked against the wooden stairs as you hauled up to the closest bathroom. Out of the corner of his eye Sam swore he thought he saw camera flashes pointing in both of your guys direction, eventually dismissing it as him being a few shots deep. You found an empty bathroom, grabbing the towel from the towel rack. It was pure white, similar to Sam’s shirt. “It’s alright you’re gonna stain the towel,” The blonde said, trying to convince you.

If he was being truthful he was so glad someone bumped into you. It gave him the perfect opportunity to be alone with you. “Fuck the towel, i’m sure it’s owner can afford many more just like it,” You grumbled. You felt guilty about tarnishing Sam’s shirt, the pigment staining the fabric. “I really am sorry,” You repeated. Sam slowly grabbed your wrist, guiding you to stop. “Seriously it’s fine. Adds character to the outfit I think,” He joked, trying to lighten the mood. Your cheeks were flushed from embarrassment and intoxication, your lips in a thin line. You were determined to fix his shirt, even if it were physically impossible. Sam propped himself up against the bathroom counter, watching you meticulously try to dab away the stain. “So, I haven’t seen you in a while. How have things been?” He asked, trying to switch the subject. Anything he could say or do to keep you around longer he would. Your eyebrows knitted as you avoided his intimidating gaze. “Oh cmon, you can ask me about it,” You say. Sam raised an eyebrow of his own, admiring your beauty.

“Ask what?”

You rolled your eyes sassily, grabbing the bathroom door and shutting it. “About my breakup? It’s all anyone can ask me about anymore. As if I didn’t exist before him,” You grumbled sourly. Sam had to make a quick decision, one that would result in you staying in that tiny bathroom with him. “I didn’t even know you were dating someone,” Sam lied. He noticed your lips curl up into a half smile. Even if it was a lie, you were happy someone wasn’t shoving you in the same box with your ex. “Believe it or not that’s the best thing i’ve heard all night. He was quite the dickhead,” You explained. You ran the washcloth under some water, before resuming your assault on the stain. Sam felt his phone buzzing in his pocket, causing him to glance at it. “Oh shit,” He mumbled. Someone had in fact taken a video of the two of you heading upstairs. Your gaze fell on his phone, the video circulating around twitter.

“It looks like we’re going to fuck,” You mumbled. You refrained from physically face palming, opting to sigh instead. “I can clear things up if you want, I don’t wanna cause trouble for you and your ex,” Sam started, beginning to craft a tweet. At the sound of his words your eyes lit up, a light bulb turning on over your head. “You’re a genius!” You gasped, causing Sam to stop typing. He raised his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side. “My ex is a literal scumbag. If it looks like i’ve already moved on it’ll be the perfect revenge,” You explained. Sam erased his tweet, shoving his phone back in his pocket. He found his heart racing as you both stood so close to one another. “You know we could make it look more real, if you wanted to,” Sam offered. The words left his lips effortlessly, the blonde trying to refrain from blushing. The room suddenly became full of nervousness, heat rising to your own cheeks.

“How do you propose we do that?”

“Hickies are kind of a statement.”

There was a pregnant pause, one that made Sam suddenly feel uneasy. “Thats if you want to of course i’d absolutely never try to pressure you or anything-” He rambled, your giggling making him pause. You playfully hit his arm, tossing the rag aside. “Yeah yeah yeah, you modest gentleman. Now turn your head,” You giggled. Sam could feel that he was visibly flustered, the blonde tilting his head to the side. He sat on the cool marble counter, man spreading to allow you access to his skin. You stood in between his legs, your heels providing you just enough height to reach his neck. Logic told you to question giving hickies to a practical stranger in a random bathroom. Yet as you hovered over his skin you could see him swallow nervously, it made you more flustered than you would’ve liked to admit. You kissed his neck softly at first, before gently beginning to suck on the skin. Sam closed his eyes, trying his hardest to control his impending boner.

He wasn’t sure how far you wanted to go with this. He bit his bottom lip, trying his hardest to not get hard as you littered his neck with blues and purples. Sam realized it was too late once you released his skin with a pop, both of your gazes falling onto his visible boner. Your curious eyes met his.

“My turn?”

“Your turn.”

Sam wanted to make you just as flustered as you made him. He jumped off of the counter, pressing your back against the bathroom door. You gasped under his warm touch, melting under him as he tilted your head to the side. He placed soft kisses up your neck, before finally finding your sweet spot. He sucked harshly at the sensitive skin, noting the way your hands grabbed at his shirt to balance yourself. Sam could feel the way you were shaking under his touch, his teeth grazing your skin. He moved onto the next section, wedging his knee in between your legs. It was then as he reattached his mouth to your skin, he heard you whimper. Sam froze, before lifting his knee higher to see what you would do. He felt sheer delight as you whimpered again, this time his name falling off of your lips. Sam grinned into your skin, noting the way you melted as his large hands grabbed your waist.

“You seem like you haven’t been pleased properly in a long time if you’re wet from this,” Sam chuckled. You couldn’t deny how flustered you felt, but refused to cave in so easily. “I’m not wet,” You denied. Sam lifted up your dress in a swift motion, cupping your cunt. You were soaked through your panties. “If this isn’t you wet i’d love to see what that actually looks like,” Sam purred. You whined as he applied pressure over your clothed clit. “If we do this I don’t want any strings attached. No emotional bullshit,” You say, feeling breathless as Sam began to rub your slit properly. Sam grinned as he leaned back, meeting your flustered gaze. “No emotional bullshit guaranteed. Just pray you don’t fall in love with me,” He gloated. You rolled your eyes as he flipped you around, positioning you to lean over the bathroom sink. “Yeah right, I don’t do love anymore,” You countered. Sam grinded against you, causing you to whine in desperation.

“You will by the time i’m done with you,” He quipped. He pulled your panties down, grinning at the sight of your soaked folds. “Jesus baby, do you even need foreplay? You’re so wet for me and i’ve barely touched you,” Sam murmured to himself. He brought one hand around to your clit, rubbing circles around the bud as he undid his pants. He wanted to savor the moment really, but he couldn’t imagine this going more perfectly than it was. “I’m not that wet,” You argued weakly. You didn’t even know what you were really arguing for, your body tattle telling on your lies. Sam brought his cock to your aching slick, rubbing it up and down your folds. “Oh really? So I won’t be able to slide right in or anything, right?” He asked sarcastically. You gripped the sides of the sink as he pushed himself inside of you, your walls eagerly accepting him. He bit his bottom lip as he glanced up at you in the mirror. Your face was flushed, your beautiful lips parted as you struggled to maintain any form of composure.

“Something tells me you haven’t had a good fuck in a long time,” Sam concluded, bottoming out. His fingers continued to work on your clit as his cock brushed against your g spot. “Perhaps you’re right,” You admitted lowly. Sam wrapped his arm around you, grabbing your throat. His slender fingers wrapped around your neck, squeezing the skin as he forced you to arch your back. “I say we change that, hmm?” He asked teasingly. It was then he began to move his hips, the sound of skin against skin and unholy moans clouding up the room. Sam watched in the mirror as your eyes glazed over with lust with each thrust. Through his fingers he was able to admire the hickies he had littered on your skin, as well as the ones on his own. His thrust were fast and deep, abusing your cunt the way he knew you needed. Strings of curses left your lips, the blonde delivering a sharp slap to your ass. You gasped at the stinging sensation, the pain colliding with pleasure. “Moan my name baby, let everyone know who’s making you feel so good,” He ordered.

Sam relished in the sound of your obedience, his name falling off of your lips like a mantra. If the video and hickies didn’t seal your revenge, your shameless moans did. Sam didn’t stop his circles around your clit or his thrust, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you both approached your highs. “So fuckin tight,” Sam grunted. He squeezed your throat, restricting your airway. You felt hopelessly light headed as he pounded into you, your knees threatening to give out. “You can take it baby, I know you can. So good for me,” Sam purred. He nibbled on your earlobe as he pinched your clit, causing your orgasm to crash down over you. His strong hands kept you upright as you touched euphoria, your senses temporarily blinded. “Where do you want me baby?” Sam asked, his voice rough as he fucked you through your orgasm. You were breathless as you tried to get your vision to settle. “My mouth, let me taste you,” You panted.

Sam was quick to force you to your knees. Your knees roughly hit the tiled floor as your tongue flattened out across your bottom lip. You stared up at Sam as he jerked his cock, your name falling off of his lips as he painted your tongue white. His salty cum was warm and tasty, Sam watching in pure awe as you swallowed it. You attached your lips to his tip, ensuring to suck him clean. “You dirty bitch,” Sam groaned, tilting his head back. He leaned against the wall for support as you overstimulated him. When you finally released him with a pop the two of you shared a loving gaze. He kneeled down to your level, tilting your head to the side. A patch of unmarked skin stuck out to him.

“Looks like I missed a spot, let me fix that for you.”