#every bowl i light is for her

[louisegluckpdf]

there was this girl in my high school that made a really big deal out of the one time she smoked weed so everyone started calling her "the weedster"

[cosmicallydivine]

just so we’re all in agreement:

gideon- adhd

harrow- autism

nona- both

thank you i will be taking no questions

[boromirt]

Growing up, we had these beautiful Abert's Squirrels around. They have these big bushy tails and long tufted ears. Gray fur and white bellies.

My grandparents who raised me loved to watch them out on the porch, they put special birdseed out just for them and would watch them every morning.

My Papa especially loved them. He set up his recliner by the big full windows in the living room so he could watch them and the birds all day while he read the paper and his book. He built he house himself 40 years ago and made sure the entire wall of the living room facing the porch was all windows. It was his and my favorite room in the whole house.

One day, while driving, an Abert's Squirrel darted across the road, too fast for Papa to stop hisnold truck, and he hit it. He slammed on the brakes, but it was too late.

He was devestated. He was a military man all his life. Fought in Vietnam. Before that he was raised in a town so rural that the school was only one room. He was taught men don't show emotions, especially over "trivial" things. Him hitting that squirrel to this day is the closest I've seen to him crying.

My Grandmother is a tiny, gentle, deeply compassionate woman who would set out slices of pear for the wasps to eat. She cried openly. She collected the squirrel with a towel and wrapped it gently, and told Papa she would find a good place to bury it. Maybe in the garden.

But since Papa had tried to stop the truck, the squirrel wound up barely being touched by the impact. It was in almost perfect condition. Still soft and beautiful.

Papa has a few hunting trophies. A pheasant he was particularly proud of is his favorite. Grandma took the squirrel to hid taxidermist in secret and had it made into a piece.

Its a beautiful piece of taxidermy. She had them pose the squirrel on a branch as if it was climbing one of the pines and had stopped to look curiously at you, its head cocked and its fluffy tail up. Its black button eyes are big and dark and look truly alive again.

She gave it to him that Christmas. It's been displayed in our living room ever since, where Papa can see it while he reads, and the squirrel can look out the window with him.

[writersdrug]

Simon "Ghost" Riley is the kind of man who:

In your shared home, always sits with his legs spread. Manspreading king. Adores it when you cross your arms and give him a disapproving look, saying there's no room for you. "Course there is, luv. Jus' sit between my thighs."

Refuses to let you do simple tasks around the house, like making tea, folding his underwear, or putting away the dishes. One might think it's a sweet, husbandly gesture - but he's just super picky. You made tea in the microwave once, and now you're banned from ever touching his tea stash. Likes his underwear folded in a specific way, and you don't understand the importance of it. He got tired of you stuffing his underwear in his drawer, so now he folds it himself. And the dishes? Couldn't stand how you put them away. "There's no rhyme or reason to 'em." "I didn't think there had to be, Si-" "Just gimme the damn bowl." Fewer chores? You aren't complaining.

Looks like he's always on edge - and he is, kinda. When he's out with you, he can't help but be alert and watchful, and extremely protective of you. You've tried to get him to loosen up - it's the supermarket, what could happen? - but have just come to accept it as his nature. Plus, you get that giddy feeling when you see other men look straight down at the floor, avoiding Simon's stare as the two of you pass.

Is the grumpiest, poutiest, and most indignant man ever when he gets sick. Doesn't want you doting on him in case you catch whatever he has. But, wait - where are you going? "Get your ass back in this bed - 'm cold." Grumbles like a child when you force him to let you get up to grab him soup, tea, or medicine. And no, he doesn't care how sick he is, he's not wearing that stupid, floppy ice pack hat.

Brings Johnny over unannounced, and you've grown used to it. The moment you hear that Scottish yapping out the front door as the key unlocks, you grab a third plate for dinner - he insists you don't need to feed him, but you always make extra for Simon's lunch the next day regardless, and the last time he'd said that, he ended up grabbing an extra fork and picking from Simon's plate. Which, of course, had Simon up at 1 am making instant ramen because he was still hungry, but didn't have the heart to ask you to make him a decent meal. So, yes, Johnny would be fed.

Loves spoiling you on your birthday. What is a man if not someone who spoils his partner rotten? Orders in food from your favorite bakery, sets all your presents neat and nice on the table (the excellent wrapping job done by yours truly, Gaz), flower petals sprinkled on the ground and the table top (also Gaz's idea), and a seat on his lap so for you while you open your presents. Loves watching your face light up, and each little "you remembered?!" fall from your lips as you open each gift. Scoffs and shifts in his seat. "I's not that much of a fuss, luv..." as you squeal excitedly, but you know he's biting back a proud smile. The blush, he can't even attempt to hide.

Is somehow a magnet for your young nephews. Every time he comes along to your sister's place, he's either making conversation with her husband in the living room, or he's interrogated and cornered by her two sons. And, lord help him, he doesn't understand it either. He'd always expected kids to look at him like a monster, but, especially with these two, that was never the case. They'd ask him for stories about "being in war" - half of the time, he'd make up some not-too-gory adventure, sparing them the details of real war. The rest of the time, he'd talk about "Soap, my mate who blows everything up." And they'd listen with wide eyes and jaws on the floor.

Has scared you unintentionally, more than too many times. He'd come home at three in the morning from a mission, and all he wanted was to quietly peel his dirty uniform off and slip into bed with you. His main intention was to avoid waking you up, because you'd force him to shower before joining you in bed - and he was too tired for that. However, you'd been rounding the corner, up for your 3 am glass of water - you screamed as you saw the hulking, dark figure by the front door, launching your phone at him. He'd caught it effortlessly and shoved it into his back pocket. "What've I told ya 'bout using the bat?" "I was just getting water!" "I coulda been anyone." "Well you're not." "Missed ya, luvie." "Missed you too- but you're grimy. Go take a-" "No." He grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder, ignoring your protests as he hauled you back to bed.

[mxfitmatrix]

There's something bittersweet about going no contact with my mom.

There are little things I want to say or share. Questions I want to ask, stories and recipies I have to ask others to get from her covertly (though I don't have much time with this one as it seems that she is truly burning every bridge in our family). It's the grieving and having to treat her like she's gone, knowing that we love about 15 minutes apart still and at any time I might just... see her.

Tonight I have to grapple with the knowledge that my grandfather has my art surrounding him in his home. He's been redecorating lately and my brother's girlfriend just told me that he has a room that's now practically all decorated by me. I know how much he loves me, or I hope I do. It feels so good to have one member of my family who hasn't let me down once, not truly. Not without him being heartbroken and never repeating his mistake when he knew he hurt me.

To have a shining example of being a good family member, and know that I can't even talk about his daughter. I can't be the one to tell him why I have to miss his birthday lunch but I would love to get him breakfast and hear about his week, because if she's there he will find out and I will not be a part of that mess.

But there will be a room in his home that he loves and cherishes, that shows the joy I can express to someone who treats me with the same love and respect. And she will walk im there, and recognize the signature in the corner.

[jiarkives]

can you watch my boyfriend for me?

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ summary — you do the trend where you ask your followers to watch your boyfriend.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ character — bucky barnes (marvel)

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ content — fluff

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ notes — pretend they’re still in the tower,,, no endgame au; they’re all happy and alive 🤭 this piece is shorter i just wanted to write

~

Whenever you scroll on TikTok, you would come across videos where the user would ask their followers and viewers to watch their boyfriend for them. You find every video adorable and wholesome, so you decided to try it on your 107-year-old boyfriend, who is currently eating his breakfast alone. Perfect.

You approach your unsuspecting boyfriend with the video already rolling, then you place the phone in front of him. “Can you watch my boyfriend for me while I do my business? Thanks, you guys.” Then you’re gone before he could even get a word in.

He looks back to where you walked off before sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose as he looks over to the camera with his awkward but lovable smile.

“Guess you’re all stuck with me... whoever you are.” His brows then furrow. “Wait, are you even there? I don’t know. I’ve been getting the hang of these newer technology, but... they’re tricky, you know?”

He shrugs, eating a spoonful of cereal, his eyes lighting up slightly as he turns his bowl towards the camera. “Oreos as cereals.” He snorts.

“I wonder what’s taking her so long,” he mumbles with a worried frown. “What if it’s the time of her month? She’ll tell me, right?”

But you don’t come and somewhere during the video, Steve appears with Sam as they come back from their run. The video becomes more chaotic and noisier with Steve and Sam, but they quickly leave after a few minutes and he’s alone again. And you still hasn’t come back.

As the video hit its ten minute mark, you come back with a grin, taking your phone and speaking, “Thanks, guys!”

Once the video is turned off, Bucky turns to you with his brows drawn together in concern. “Is it your time of the month?”

Bonus — comments:

User 1: he was nice didn’t try to bite 10/10 i will watch again

User 2: he brought friends over when you left is that okay???

User 3: dude!!! i babysat the avengers!!! wait til my friends hear about this

[ceilidho]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 2 | masterlist

-

Sweat beads on your brow as summer approaches its zenith. Its hottest point. You splurge on an iced caramel latte from the gas station on the way over and pick one up for John as well. Your arm is already stretched out when he opens the front door to let you in, offering it to him. 

“I, uh…thought you might want one as well,” you explain, stuttering through your words. Crumbling under his amused expression. 

You crave it though. His approval. That fond smile that seems reserved especially for you. The rare murmured good girl, his hand sometimes coming down to ruffle your hair. Even the memory of it makes your breath get lodged in your throat. You covet every crumb of it.

He takes the iced latte from you though before heading out for the day. Gift received. Even squeezes your shoulder in thanks before he shuts the door behind him, and you manage to keep from swooning until you hear his car pull out of the driveway. 

You stand by the window with the baby pressed to your chest for so little that you can’t blame when a little fist tugs at your hair. 

“Sorry, lovie,” you whisper into his fuzzy hair. Inhale deeply. 

It’s not as though you’re starved for things to do. Were John’s son a few years older, you might have your work cut out for you, but there’s still plenty to do around the house even when you put the baby down for his morning nap. You save the vacuuming for when baby is awake and you’re not in danger of hearing him suddenly start crying through the baby monitor, but you dust and fold laundry and start the dishwasher and take the recycling out and by the time the baby is ready for lunch, you’ve already broken a light sweat. 

Let no one tell you that babysitting is a walk in the park.

That being said, you do put the baby in his stroller for a walk in the park after lunch. 

The park isn’t terribly far from John’s house, so coupled with the short path around the park and the walk back, you’ll get a good amount of steps in today without risking the baby being late for his mid afternoon nap. 

It’s hard to not have an accidental, forbidden thought. Something like I wonder if anyone thinks I’m the baby’s mom when you push the stroller past a group of moms gathered together near the jungle gym, their kids sprinting on wobbly legs and climbing like dexterous little wildlings. 

Those thoughts are dangerous though, best kept under wraps. Clandestine. Because once you start having those thoughts, they never really go away; they just get relegated to a part of your brain that switches on when the lights go off and you think about what it must have been like to carry a baby in your stomach for nine months. 

You’re in danger, girl, a small voice in your head warns you. It’s hard to hear her clearly these days. 

John comes earlier for once, around midday. It takes you by surprise. You jump when the door opens, the sound ricocheting off the walls like a gunshot and, in that same second, a wave of terror and rage washes over you, your heart already racing at the thought of someone breaking in while it’s just you and the baby home. You spring to your feet, hands already trembling by your sides, and then his familiar shape walks into the room, boots still on and all.

He pauses when he sees your shoulders slump with relief. 

“Sorry,” you breathe, heart still racing. “I thought you were…” Your voice trails off towards the end because you don’t know how to say it without sounding silly. 

His eyes cut to the baby in the bouncy chair behind you, your body still stood protectively in front of him, and then they soften. 

“No, that’s on me—should’ve given you a ring before I left,” he says, a light apology in his voice. He throws his keys into the bowl in the foyer before stalking towards you. You stare up at him wide eyed, only blinking when he ruffles your hair before bypassing you to go pick up his son. 

“How’s my baby?” he asks, pressing a kiss to the baby’s milksoft cheek, and your heart spins and cartwheels in your chest. All sorts of tricks that keep you rooted in place, unable to manage a single word. “You been good today?”

I’ve been good, you almost croak out, the words on the tip of your tongue. You swallow. Force them back down. You’re not his baby. 

Another dinner invitation that you can’t turn down. Not because it wouldn’t be polite but because you couldn’t muster up the will to refuse even if you really did have plans. Lucky that you don’t. 

When he puts the baby down to sleep for the night, you linger by the door, sure you’re a platitude or two away from being shown out for the night. John calls your name from the kitchen though, drawing you deeper into the house again. 

“Go put something on,” he instructs when you idle under the archway of the door. With his back to you, you can’t make out the expression on his face, leaving you no choice but to gawp at the undulation of his shoulder muscles as he washes out the dishes before stacking them in the dishwasher. “You want something to drink?”

“Just, uh—” you rasp, clearing your throat. “Just juice, thanks.”

You can’t settle on anything to stream, nothing perking your interests; or maybe you’re just too antsy to make an informed decision on what to watch right now. 

There are other things to worry about. Like John moving around in the other room or the way your denim shorts ride up when you sit down, bunching up at the crotch. You make an attempt to lift your hips and pull them back down as much as you can, but you panic and abort your plan when John comes into the room, embarrassed at the thought of being caught readjusting yourself. 

The cushion under you bounces slightly when John drops himself down onto the couch beside you, the motion making your shorts ride up even more. You wince when the seam presses tight against your clit, on the edge of mildly painful and turning you on. 

“Here, sweetheart,” he says, putting his own drink down on the coffee table before handing you your glass of juice. 

“Thanks,” you bleat, taking a sip almost instantly to mask the look on your face, afraid he’ll read the panic there and press for details. 

He sits closer than usual, as he always does these days. It’s not something you ever discuss. It just seems to happen. Slowly, like ice sheets drifting over water. One day you’re sitting on opposite sides of the couch and the next he’s all up in your space, thigh to thigh with you while the living room goes dark and the TV glows, the reflection throbbing against the glass. An ever-flickering light that illuminates the side of his head when you peer up at him.

Your tongue rests against the roof of her mouth, dry; sparing.

With his arm resting on the back of the couch over your shoulder, the scent of him is almost smothering. Each inhale makes your head spin. If you were to tilt your head to the side, you’d be level with his armpit, his scent strongest there, and that thought spins in your head like a merry-go-round until someone in the movie you’re supposed to be watching shouts, dragging your attention back to it. 

“Christ, these are little, huh?” John grunts, suddenly reaching over to pinch the frayed ends of your shorts between his fingers. “This what the kids these days are wearing?” 

You don’t know how to respond to that. Your body’s so hot that you feel like you’re swimming in heat, sweat prickling at your hairline and on the back of your neck. 

“I-it’s hot out,” you stutter, your whole body suddenly hot. With how high your shorts have ridden up, his fingers are precariously close to your core, just a hairsbreadth from skimming up your inner thigh and brushing against your folds, now plump and sensitive. 

You wonder if he can make out the outline of your pussy from underneath your shorts. They hug into the seam of your legs, pinching the skin of your inner thighs. You don’t dare glance down. 

He hums, pulling his hand away and you stare wide eyed at the television in front of you when you shift and the glide between your legs tells you just how wet you are. Sitting on the couch next to your boss twice your age with a wet pussy. 

You lean forward to try and readjust, masking the movement by reaching blindly for your glass on the coffee table at the same time. You must pick up the wrong glass by accident though because when you go to lift it to your lips, John’s hand stops you, fingers curling around yours and easily tugging the glass away from your mouth. 

“No, baby, that’s mine; bit young for a drink, aren’t you?” John chuckles, eyes squinting with his smile. 

“I’m legal,” you frown, pouting. 

He acts like that sometimes; like he doesn’t keep track of how old you are. 

“All right, but only a sip, got it?” he cautions, handing you the glass. 

You don’t know why you take it. You would’ve been better admitting to your mistake and putting the glass back down. 

He chuckles when you wince on your sip, nearly spitting it up. Horrifically embarrassing because it’s not like you’ve never had a drink before. You’ve gone out for drinks plenty of times with friends. 

“Yeah,” he rasps, taking the glass from you and flicking his knuckle against your bottom lip as he does. “That’s what I thought.”

And it happens again and again. Head resting on his shoulder when you drift off on the couch before he shakes you awake. In the grocery store, he comes up behind you while you’re pushing the cart and puts his arms around to steer you down another aisle, his broad chest pressed against your back. 

You hold your tongue. Bite off and chew the words. Because it’s nothing; it’s innocent. You’ve known from the get-go that John is more of a man of action than words. If anything, you’re the one reading too much into things. Little touch-starved girl from the bad side of town. It’s not his fault that you preen when he praises you; that you bunt your head against his hand when he ruffles your hair. Every drop of affection soaked up, savoured. Nourishing your heart and your soul. So lonely, so wanting. All those years holed up on your own, no warm body in the bed beside you. 

Then John Price waltzed in and you expected to keep everything sealed up tight in your chest.

So it’s no wonder you gorge yourself on his touch and hope he doesn’t notice the way you lean into it. The rabbit-quick beat of your heart. Your want simmering under your skin, a disgusting, base thing desperate for gentleness. 

You wonder if he sees the same thing when he looks at you.

In the heat of summer, John invites you to join him and the baby for a weekend at the beach in Portugal.

You only say yes because it’s the dog days of summer. At the beach, there’ll be umbrellas to sit under and beer coolers of cold drinks and the ice cold Atlantic to swim in. Plus, you’ve had little opportunity in your life to travel—you’ve barely stepped foot in France, never mind Portugal. But John has friends with a house in the Algarve that have graciously offered him the week, so who are you to say no to such a thoughtful gesture? 

The only reason you consider not going is because you can’t shake the sense of foreboding. 

“Baby, can you get my back?” John asks when you arrive at the beach the first day of your trip, and when you turn back to him, you have to act quick to catch the sunscreen lobbed your way. 

That’s how you find yourself kneeling in the sand behind him, rubbing sunscreen on his back. His shoulders flex under your hands, and you can feel the muscle bunching and relaxing with each swipe across his shoulder blades. The worst is when you get to his low back. John’s groans are obscenely loud, guttural rumblings from the back of his throat. Ravenous. 

“Okay, that’s everything,” you chirp, rubbing the excess off on your thighs. 

“Good,” John says, twisting around. “Now it’s your turn.”

Your eyes widen.

“Wait—I don’t need to—”

You don’t know quite how he manages it, but a couple minutes later, you find yourself lying flat on your stomach on your beach towel, John squirting a good amount of sunscreen onto the middle of your back. All you get as a warning is the sunscreen bottle tossed to the ground beside your head before two big hands come down to your back to massage the cream into your skin. 

There’s nowhere for you to go when John throws a leg over your hips to straddle you. He holds the majority of his weight off you, but despite his best efforts, you can still feel his dick against your ass, his loose swim shorts doing nothing to hold him in place. 

He doesn’t ask for permission before undoing the knot holding your bikini top together, one quick pull and then the garment loosens around your chest. You can feel the fabric pool around you on the towel. 

“John, you—” you start, almost coming up onto your elbows before realizing that your top won’t be coming with you if you do. 

“Just gotta make sure I get your whole back, baby,” he reassures you, both hands gliding up your back to curve around your shoulders before dragging back down. “Won’t be more than a minute.”

It’s no use calling him out on the lie because there’s nothing you could do even if you did.

With hands as big as his, his fingers can’t help brushing the sides of your tits every time he smooths his hands down your back. You bite your lip nearly raw to keep from letting your moans escape, toes curling in the sand underneath you and thank god John is facing the other way or else your arousal would be clear as day to him. The gusset of your bathing suit is already damp and you haven’t even gotten in the water yet. 

His hands drag up and down your back, lathering the lotion into your skin, massaging it into the muscle. Each pass of his hands making your eyes roll back, breath coming out in choppy pants. Tweaking when the palms of his hands easily encompass your shoulders, nearly tickling under your arms.

“There we go. All done,” he announces, jolting you out of the lustful fog you’d slipped into during his ministrations. 

“All good?” you ask, a touch breathy. 

“Mhm,” John rumbles, smoothing a hand up your back one last time, just to double check. Only clenching your fists until the skin around your knuckles tighten keeps you from shuddering at his touch. “Lemme just—” 

Your throat constricts when you feel him reknot the back of your bikini top, fingers quick and deft for their size. He’s tied knots before. It’s better not to let that thought sink in too deep. 

Turning over onto your back takes a near insuperable amount of energy, the rest wrung from your body by the hands now preoccupied with readjusting his shorts. 

“You alright if I take him for a swim?” John asks, holding his squirming son against his bare chest. 

You wave him off, a hand coming up to shield your eyes from the sun. 

You can’t help but stare at his ass as he walks away, practically mesmerised. In the water, he wades up to his knees with his son still cradled in one arm. The ocean water laps at his shins, dappled with light, low waves in the distance scintillating at their peaks. The ends of his swim shorts cling to his legs as the water leaches into the fabric. 

Trying to keep your eyes off him is a losing game, not when John’s clad in nothing more than a pair of swim trunks, broad shoulders and chest on display, and now your hands tingle with the memory of how they felt rubbing suntan lotion over his skin. His trunks are pulled taut around thick thigh muscles, just barely loose enough to keep from being indecent. 

The panic returns when you catch some nearby women ogling him, one angling her body towards him like she’s considering walking over, and that’s when your heart beats too fast and you stumble to your feet, leaving your beach towel and umbrella behind to go join John in the water. 

“Hey sweetheart,” he greets when you’re only a few steps away, shivering when the cold water touches your feet. “Missed us, did ya?”

He reels you in with his free arm, pulling you into his side before transferring the baby into the cradle of your arms. Doesn’t even flinch when your breast is pressed against his side, as if it’s nothing out of the ordinary. As if your cheek wasn’t nearly flush with the pelt of dark hair growing in whorls on his chest, your eye level with a dark, flat nipple. 

The girls hovering nearby scrunch their noses up when they notice you snuggled up against John’s chest. Assuming you must be someone special for him to be holding you that way; like a girlfriend or a wife—

You choke off the rest of that thought before it can take root. 

The rest of the trip is no better. You’re a right mess made worse by the cloying heat and the forced proximity. At the restaurant, John pulls your chair out for you and then sits right beside you, arm resting on the back of your chair while he talks, cologne clotting the air around you. He’s popular wherever he goes—easy candour and winsome smile able to make anyone, from the servers to the other patrons, want to get to know him better. 

All you can do is bask in the radiance; a sun in the middle of any room. 

Back at the house, you sleep in the other room, only a single, flimsy wall between your room and John’s. The walls are so thin that you can hear every groan and snore and snuffle, head ringing with his sounds until you fall asleep and they permeate your dreams instead. 

At seven in the morning, you wake to the sound of him rolling over in his bed, the mattress squeaking under his weight, and taking himself in hand. The sound of flesh against flesh; the groans bitten off too late for you not to catch them, sweat beading on your hairline as you stare at the white wall and picture John on the other side, big chest panting with his breaths as he tugs on his cock. You listen until his final groan, fingers petting at your clit until you have no choice but to turn your head into your pillow to muffle your sobs. 

As best as you try to put it out of mind, you can’t meet his eyes at breakfast. 

You flinch when the same hand that he must’ve used to jerk himself off comes down onto the top of your head when John goes to refill his mug of coffee. “Sleep well last night?” he asks, deep voice still coated in sleep. 

“Not bad,” you whisper. 

Shivering when he drops his hand to the junction between your shoulder and your neck and gives it a squeeze.

[cavillscurls]

Goodnight Kiss

joel miller x f!reader

Joel’s a good dad. You try to remind him.

warnings/tags: MDNI. pre/no-outbreak!joel miller. babysitter!reader. joel is in his 30s but sarah is a toddler because i said so. reader is in her last year of college; do with that what you will. sickening fluff. some borderline impure thoughts. self-depreciation. praise/comfort. intimacy. single girl dad!joel. overworked man finds solace in a sweet girl. not beta'd & hardly proofread. wc: 1.5k

main masterlist

His keys jingle in the door lock an hour after your shift was intended to end.

You don’t mind. You’re used to this routine by now. He still has the courtesy to text you that he’ll be running late, and he always pays a little extra for the additional hours. You’re only here for the summer, and every penny helps grow the savings fund you’ve been eagerly building before entering the less-than-reliable job market next year.

There is also the matter of your employer himself, and knowing that there are far more deplorable summer jobs than babysitting his sweet daughter.

You’re certain of it, in fact. Because you’ve never known a man quite like Joel Miller.

He’s the most hardworking person you’ve ever met, not only providing for his daughter and himself, but his brother. You’ve only seen Tommy a handful of times, and despite his flaws, Joel remains hopeful that his intervention will prompt a turnaround.

He signs Sarah up for anything and everything she’s willing to try, and somehow, finds a way to get her there on time. He fixes the panels on his elderly neighbor's roof before they’ve even noticed one is loose. Sometimes, he’ll snatch your keys off the counter when he gets home at a reasonable time and tells you to stay put while he fills up your tank because gas ain’t an expense you needa worry about right now.

He’s overworked, underpaid, and still finds it in himself to be kind.

You tuck your bookmark into the pages sprawled out across your lap, rising from the couch to greet him. Sarah’s been in bed since seven, and while Joel has made it clear you’re welcome to the fridge or the TV, you always hesitate to overstep.

You grab your tote off the armrest, slinging it over your shoulder and sliding your book inside before pattering towards the front hallway.

“Hey,” you call softly. He’s toeing off his boots and tossing his keys into the bowl by the door. He gives you a tired, apologetic smile.

“Hey,” he says, voice rough from a long day's work. The low vibration sends goosebumps up your arms which you nonchalantly rub away, hoping he won’t notice.

Joel Miller is also impeccably handsome. Another fine quality you’re certain he fails to notice.

“M’so sorry. I know it’s not fair of me to keep doin’ this to ya. The plumbing guys are not cooperatin’, so I—”

“Joel, it’s fine.” You take another step toward him, the golden porch light illuminating his features through the front window. You tilt your head at him, shrugging your shoulders. “I’ve got nowhere else to be. And besides, I love Sarah. She's such a good kid.”

You watch the rigidity in his shoulders fall, if only a little. He’s looking you over as if he’s the child, and he’s just been caught doing something he’s not supposed to. He shakes his head, muttering something discouraging under his breath. You have the great urge to soothe him.

The feeling is not new nor unfamiliar, but you’re tentative with the actions it threatens to elicit. A million grey lines begging to be crossed.

“Was hopin’ to be back in time to tuck her in,” he sighs, placing a hand on his hip while the other rubs at the tension in his brow. “Been too long since I have.”

You can’t help but smile. Not at the berating of himself or his clear display of stress, but because it’s endearing how much he cares. How blatant his love for his daughter is, whether she’s in the room or not.

“Well, I made sure to give her an extra kiss goodnight to make up for it.”

When he looks at you again, it’s with that same sort of sad, guilt-ridden smile. His appreciation for you cannot make up for the condemnation of himself, and while this would not be the first time Joel Miller confided in you about his shortcomings, you can sense tonight weighs heavier than most.

“Just feel like m’not… doin’ enough, I dunno.” His shoulders rise and fall defeatedly, and he’s shaking his head as if to further scold himself. “Worried she’s gonna grow up to resent me or somethin.’”

That strikes a nerve. You suffocate the strap of your bag with your grip, an attempt to redirect some of the outrage that fills you.

How could he even think such a thing? You know Joel’s a smart man, he can’t possibly be so blind to the things other children lack from their parents—none of which he ever falters on.

Your brows knit low over your eyes, serious. “She will not resent you, Joel. She adores you.” You make a point of emphasis; you want him to hear you, loud and clear. Know that there are things you see from the outside that he doesn’t, that a four-year-old may be far more perceptive than he gives her credit for.

“She talks about you all day,” you continue, and that seems to get his attention. Your heart aches at the tired, hopeful look in his eyes. You wish you could alleviate some of the exhaustion. “Everything we do is can’t wait to show Papa this, or we gotta tell Papa that.”

He chuckles a little, likely somewhat due to your poor impression of the toddler's voice, but you still aren’t convinced your words have sunk in.

You do something a bit uncharacteristic, then. You reach out, take another step forward, and place an honest hand on his forearm. The muscle below your touch is firm and warm, but his eyes that follow the path of your fingers are wildly more intense.

“You’re a good dad,” you tell him, voice dropping to a whisper. “Anyone with eyes can see that.”

He blinks, and when he peers at you now, there’s a glint of something different. You’ve seen it before maybe a handful of times, but it’s always fleeting. A shared understanding that whatever it is, there’s never been any time to acknowledge it.

But this time, it lingers. It festers between your bodies that, only now, do you notice how close they have drifted in the already cramped entryway. Who shifted first, or when, matters very little with Joel’s eyes on you, gentle and focused. You see them flicker, once to your hand that still rests upon his skin, another to your eyes, and then your lips. There’s the sound of crickets in the night. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with sweat and dust. The sight of his face, all sharp edges and scattered freckles and a furrowed brow, but his eyes. In all the time you’ve know him, they’ve always remained kind.

Your breath catches in your throat when he finally leans in.

He doesn’t reach for you. Instead, he flushes his chest against yours and lets the weight of his lips drive the kiss. Your fingers dig into his forearm for purchase. You can’t say you’re caught off guard, though pleasantly surprised.

There’s an innocence to it, tender and sweet. He lingers for a few long beats, never pushing further than the plush of his lips delicately upon yours, and then releases.

You don’t open your eyes right away, selfishly idling in the newfound thrill a beat longer. You can still taste him—coffee, mint, something sweet. He remains close; you still feel the brush of his lips, the tip of his nose bumping yours, the fanning of his breath.

“M’sorry…” he starts to mutter, and you can tell he’s retracting. Your eyes fly open and your grip on him tightens.

“No, don’t be.”

You have difficulty finding any trace of guilt in his expression, a fact that turns your stomach. An anxious thrill, the precipice of something.

His tongue traces his bottom lip as if he’s trying to salvage another drop of you. A somewhat devious grin breaks out at the corners.

“Had to put it somewhere, I guess.”

You’re all soft chuckles and sheepish smiles after that, and you feel your cheeks heat up with an array of excitement and nervousness. It was one thing to endure Joel Miller and his charm without the prospect of more, but now?

You aren’t sure how you can possibly contain yourself.

A million questions rattle through your mind as you stare at one another, but you notice the time on the wall clock behind him. You’re no stranger to the bags under his eyes, the paleness on his cheeks after a long day, so you set your selfishness aside. After all, you’ll be back in this very spot in a handful of hours.

You swallow hard, slowly releasing his forearm, though your palm aches to remain.

“We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

He isn’t subtle about his hesitation. His eyes do an elongated once over of you before he shakes his head, and bites at his lower lip to prevent another laugh from escaping. You have half the mind to yank him back to you by the t-shirt, but digress when he steps around and opens the door for you.

You’re slow in your exit, doing a full one-eighty once your feet are planted on the porch to flash him one more dazzling smile.

“Goodnight, Joel.”

You see the dimples cave in his cheek before he quietly closes the door.

“Night, darlin’.”

You can’t seem to fall asleep fast enough.

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[tame-the-lion-writes]

Thinking about reader finally stumbling onto one of the dogs shifted into their human form. Maybe Soap raiding the cabinets in the kitchen for a late night snack? Reader obviously freaks tf out about a whole ass man in their house... but the rest of the force are still in their dog forms. Reader's confused why their once very protective dogs are completely okay with this strange man in their house, and why this man is claiming to be one of her dogs.

(Note that these answers are non-linear! I’ll be having fun with a few more asks/requests as if this hasn’t happened yet 😉)

All you wanted was some water to ease the dryness in your throat, but as soon as they noticed you picking up your phone from the bedside table, the dogs kept tugging at your clothes to hold you back—something they never did. You swatted them away without thinking much of it, though, too sleep-adled to think that maybe, just maybe, they were doing it for good reason.

And then you saw the man in your kitchen.

“Why are you naked.”

It wasn’t much of a question. More of a statement—or an exaggeration, really—because he wasn’t naked. He was just wearing sweatpants that hung low on his hips, exposing a deep V-line and a happy trail that would’ve had you drooling if not for the sheer strangeness of the circumstances. At first, you weren’t even sure if you should be afraid—because it was comedic, the way he locked eyes with you, halfway through chomping down on a spoonful of cereal from not even a bowl, but a mug.

He swallows hard, and that’s when you grab a knife—earning several barks from your dogs. At you. Not him.

“He’s literally the intruder here!” you argue back. “You bark at, like, every other guy? What about him?! He’s massive!”

“Aw, thank y—“

“That wasn’t a compliment!”

The man’s smile tightens as he slowly puts the mug and spoon down, and lifts his hands as if in surrender. 

“Easy, lass,” he continues, eyes darting between your face and the knife. “I’m a friend.”

“The fuck you are—“

“Look. Look.” He gestures back and forth between himself and the dogs, who stand in place between you two. “You’re missin’ a pup, aren’t ya? Foxhound that gets into everything? Soap? Thah’s me!”

‘Me?’ What the hell was this guy thinking? But sure enough—just as he said—Soap was missing from the group. It was just Price, Ghost, and Gaz—all tense like you. If not more so. Gaz offers a whine in negotiation, stepping forward to get you to back up a little further, away from the stranger. There’s a beg—no—an intelligent plea in the Labrador’s eyes that nearly makes you falter, unsure of reason or rhyme.

Unsure of yourself.

“That’s— that’s not possible,” you laugh nervously, reaching for the phone in your pocket. “Dogs don’t turn into people, or vice versa. Now get out of my house or I’m calling the poli—“

— “Wouldn’t do that if I was you.”

And now there’s a third fucking person. Standing in your kitchen. Right where Price used to be. And now the shock runs cold, adrenaline gone in place of confusion. And a quick skip through the stages of grief into acceptance.

“Well,” is all that gets out of your mouth. “Shit.”

The world spins, and everything goes black. You’re out like a light. All you see is ‘human-Price’ moving forward, then darkness, and the sensation of two arms catching you before you hit the floor.

The boys hang around until morning light after that, sitting in the living room in dead silence. At least until Gaz gives a final suggestion.

“… You think we can pass it off as a dream?”

_

Bonus Thoughts:

You do, in fact, wake up as if it were a dream. Because you’re back in bed per usual, and the house is in order, and the dogs are piled around you like nothing ever happened. You eye them all suspiciously, then slap yourself. Because what kind of weirdo imagines her pets as hot, tall, buff men? Pervert.

Meanwhile, the boys are just exchanging the quietest glances before you settle back in bed. Because for a good few seconds, they think they’ve been discovered.

Also Soap has suffered a collective *bap* from everyone because it’s what he deserves for threatening their free food supply.

[xo100]

Baking cookies - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: Lando’s best friend Y/N babysits his daughter Nina while he’s away. They bake cookies, and when Lando returns, subtle flirtation and unspoken feelings hint at something deeper between Y/N and Lando.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1546

next part

୨ৎ

The sun streamed through the kitchen window, casting a warm golden glow over the cozy space. The soft hum of the oven in the background and the quiet giggles from the little girl perched on a stool by the counter filled the room with a serene warmth. It was one of those peaceful days, and even though Lando Norris wasn't home, his presence was still felt in the laughter of his four-year-old daughter, Nina.

-

Y/N stood by the counter, her hands coated in flour as she carefully measured out the ingredients for the cookie dough. Every now and then, she glanced over at Nina, who was eagerly waiting for her cue to start stirring. Nina, with her bright, curious eyes and a cascade of brown curls that matched her father’s, was the spitting image of Lando. There was no denying she had inherited more than just his looks—she had his spirit, too. Adventurous, playful, and always looking for fun, Nina had become the center of Y/N’s world, almost as much as Lando had been for as long as she could remember.

Lando had been Y/N’s best friend since they were kids, a bond that had only grown stronger through the years. But when Nina came into the picture—after her mother had left without a word—it shifted something deeper. Y/N had stepped in without a second thought, supporting Lando through the sleepless nights and the uncertainties of being a single dad. There had never been a question about it; they were a team.

"Can I stir now, Auntie Y/N?" Nina’s voice broke through Y/N’s thoughts, filled with excitement. She had been calling Y/N ‘Auntie’ for as long as she could talk, a term of endearment that made Y/N’s heart swell each time.

"Of course, sweetheart," Y/N smiled, sliding the bowl closer to Nina. She handed her the wooden spoon, watching with fondness as Nina’s tiny hands wrapped around the handle, stirring with all her might.

“Don’t spill it everywhere,” Y/N warned with a teasing lilt, knowing full well that half the flour would probably end up on the floor.

“I won't!” Nina giggled, her tongue poking out in concentration as she mixed the dough.

Y/N leaned back against the counter, wiping her hands on a towel and smiling softly. These moments were her favorite—just her and Nina, baking, chatting, and sharing in the quiet joys of life. It had become something of a tradition whenever Lando had to travel for work or attend meetings like today’s with McLaren. Y/N would come over, and they’d spend the day making cookies or cupcakes, surprising Lando when he got home. Nina loved it, and Y/N loved that Lando trusted her enough to leave his most precious person in her care.

“Do you think Daddy will like these cookies?” Nina asked, her wide eyes looking up at Y/N, full of innocence and hope.

Y/N chuckled. “Your daddy loves everything you make, Nina. You know that.”

Nina’s smile widened, her face lighting up. “He always says they're the best cookies ever!”

“That's because they are,” Y/N replied, gently patting Nina’s head. “With you being the head baker and all.”

The little girl puffed out her chest, filled with pride. “I'm the best baker! Right, Auntie Y/N?”

“The absolute best,” Y/N agreed, a warmth spreading in her chest as she watched Nina’s joy.

The sound of a door opening in the distance startled Y/N for a moment. Her eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. Lando wasn’t supposed to be home yet; he had told her he’d be gone until late afternoon.

“Daddy’s home!” Nina squealed, hopping off the stool and bolting out of the kitchen before Y/N could even react. She followed after Nina, wiping her hands on her apron as she went, her heart skipping a beat at the thought of seeing Lando again.

Sure enough, Lando stood in the hallway, his coat half-off, a smile spreading across his face as Nina launched herself into his arms. His laughter echoed through the house, and Y/N couldn't help but smile at the sight. He always looked happiest with Nina in his arms, her little legs wrapped around his waist as she peppered his face with kisses.

“Hey, munchkin!” Lando laughed, spinning Nina around. “I thought I was supposed to be back later?”

“Surprise!” Nina giggled. “We made cookies!”

Lando raised an eyebrow, his gaze lifting to meet Y/N’s as she leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen. His eyes twinkled with that familiar playful glint, the one that always made Y/N’s stomach do a little flip.

“Cookies, huh?” Lando grinned, setting Nina back down. “I think I’m the lucky one then.”

“They’re not ready yet, Daddy,” Nina explained, her little hands tugging at his. “Come see!”

Lando let Nina drag him into the kitchen, where the smell of freshly baked cookies filled the air. Y/N busied herself by checking on the dough, hoping to distract herself from the way her heart was racing at the sight of him. She didn’t know why it still happened after all these years, but there was something about seeing Lando with Nina that made her heart ache in the best way.

“So,” Lando said, leaning casually against the counter as Nina climbed back onto her stool, “How’d it go today? Any cookie catastrophes?”

Y/N shot him a playful glare. “We’re professionals, Norris. No catastrophes here.”

Lando chuckled, his eyes lingering on her a little longer than necessary. “I don’t doubt it for a second.”

There it was again. That lingering look, the way his voice softened just slightly when he spoke to her, the subtle flirtation that had always danced between them but never crossed the line. It had been like this for years, an unspoken tension that neither of them addressed, and yet, Y/N couldn’t deny how it made her feel. How he made her feel.

“Daddy, can we have cookies now?” Nina interrupted, her eyes wide with excitement.

“Soon, sweetheart,” Y/N said, placing the tray in the oven. “They need a few minutes.”

Lando moved closer, standing beside Y/N as they both watched Nina eagerly eyeing the cookies. His arm brushed against hers, sending a shiver down her spine. She tried to ignore it, focusing on the cookies instead, but it was hard when he was this close, his presence so warm and comforting.

“Thanks for looking after her today,” Lando said softly, his voice low enough that only Y/N could hear. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Y/N glanced up at him, her heart skipping another beat at the sincerity in his eyes. “You’d be fine. You’re an amazing dad, Lando.”

His smile softened, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before he looked back at her. “I couldn’t do it without you, though. Really.”

There was a vulnerability in his voice that made Y/N’s chest tighten. She had always known Lando was strong, but she also knew how much he struggled sometimes—how hard it was for him to juggle his career and being a single dad. He never said it out loud, but she could see it in the way his shoulders sagged at the end of a long day or the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at Nina, knowing she depended on him entirely.

“You’re not alone, Lando,” Y/N said gently, her hand brushing against his. “You’ll never be alone.”

For a moment, they stood there in the quiet kitchen, the warmth of the cookies filling the air, and Y/N wondered if maybe, just maybe, things didn’t have to stay the way they always had. Maybe there was room for something more between them, something deeper than the friendship they’d always leaned on.

“Daddy, can we have the cookies now?” Nina’s voice broke the moment, and Y/N quickly stepped back, her cheeks flushing.

Lando cleared his throat, the playful smile returning to his face as he turned to his daughter. “Let’s see if they’re good enough.”

Y/N busied herself with plating the cookies, her mind still spinning from the closeness she had just shared with Lando. She handed a cookie to Nina, who immediately took a big bite, her eyes lighting up with joy.

“These are the best cookies ever!” Nina declared, her mouth full.

Lando chuckled, taking a cookie for himself. “You heard her, Y/N. Best cookies ever.”

Y/N smiled, watching as Lando took a bite, his eyes closing in exaggerated bliss. “I have to agree with Nina,” he said, his voice playful. “You really are the best.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her heart swelled at his words. There was something so simple, so perfect about these moments—the three of them together, laughing and sharing in the little joys of life.

-

As the afternoon sunlight filtered through the window, casting a warm glow over the kitchen, Y/N couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was exactly where she was meant to be. With Lando and Nina, baking cookies, sharing smiles, and creating memories that were sweeter than anything they could ever pull out of the oven.

And as Lando’s hand brushed hers one more time, she realized that maybe he felt the same way too.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it. If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know!

[rambling-at-midnight]

Don't Go Disappearing On Me Again

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Jason's lost too much to lose you, too. (We stan healthy communication in this house)

Word count: 2.3k

Ow.

You've never worked Friday nights before at the restaurant, and you never want to again. And you'd thought Saturday mornings were bad.

But one of your favorite coworkers had called you in a panic early this morning, begging you to take her shift, because her lab group's department at GCU was going out to bowling and it would be a great networking opportunity. You were the last person she called, but everyone else before you had declined because they were either scheduled or determined to avoid the shitshow.

And because you were weak, you gave in and said you would cover her Friday night shift as long as she covered your Friday morning shift.

So you two swapped shifts, and you went into your library internship in the morning instead of the evening. It wasn't a particularly hard job, but end-of-week returns had you dashing all over the three floors, so your feet already hurt before you walked into the restaurant.

Right before coming in, you'd texted Jason that you'd gotten held up, and it was a good thing you did, because you haven't had a single break to look at your phone the whole shift. He likely wasn't even awake yet—last night's patrol had been tough on the both of you, him because he came home half beaten to death, and you because you'd had a heart attack waking up in the middle of the night to your bloody boyfriend passing out on top of you in bed. But you usually got home around six from the library, and it was looking like you wouldn't be back until ten at the earliest, so you wanted to let him know. It was going on hour seven after starting at two p.m., when the restaurant switched from its brunch to dinner menu. Personally, you think two p.m. is obscenely early to eat dinner, but apparently rich people loved eating at weird hours, because you had had nonstop tables the entire night.

But the good thing is that the restaurant closes at nine, so you’re almost there. After your last three tables eat and leave, all you have to do is clean your section, close your checks, and clock out.

In the kitchen, you lean against the fridge, rubbing your hips and knees. You’re a little too young to feel so creaky after seven hours on your feet. After all, Jason works all night, doing athletic feats you could never dream of.

You can't really complain, though. You'd gotten lucky with your tables; they'd all tipped well. Maybe you could even add a little bit to your savings account instead of shoving every paycheck right at your student loans, which just keep growing, no matter how much you pay.

“Oh, no,” says Charlotte, one of the other veteran servers at the restaurant. She’s staring at the camera feed display, which is tuned to a livestream of the restaurant’s entranceway. “Don’t you dare seat me now, Ashley, I swear to God.”

“What time is it?” your head jerks up. “We’re about to close, right? Is someone looking for a table?”

“Yeah,” she says, pointing to the screen. “The hottest man in the world just walked in our front door.”

You just hum, not bothering to look in favor of pulling out your phone. You know for a fact that the hottest man in the world is actually at home in your bed right now. “The kitchen’s stopped receiving tickets. No way Ashley seats someone right now.” The screen doesn't light up when you click the power button. Well, shit. It's dead.

“I can’t tell what he’s saying.” Charlotte squints at the screen. “He’s, like, huge. Does Ashley look a little scared to you?”

You’re out of the kitchen without even looking at the screen. You speedmarch right past your tables, ignoring one man’s halfhearted attempts to flag you down for more ketchup. A righteous fire is boiling in your gut. You’ve been here long enough that the managers won’t fire you for telling off any customers that harass the younger workers that are more scared to stand up for yourself.

Your mouth is already open, ready to spew forth the beginning of your tirade, when you recognize the man in front of Ashley at the host stand.

Dressed in gray sweats and a dark T-shirt, slouching slightly, he looks even worse than when you kissed his forehead goodbye that morning. The bruise on Jason's face has properly colored now, purple and blue along his jawline. His hair looks a little flat, like he's been wearing his helmet, which is strange.

Jason's eyes snap onto you the second you appear, and you falter at the intensity there. Something has happened, but you're not sure what.

"Hey," you say, a little hesitant. "What's up?"

Ashley exhales with relief. "So you do know him."

"Yeah," you say without breaking eye contact with Jason, who's staring at you with the same expression you think a wolf would wear when stalking a hare. "He's my boyfriend."

You expect Jason to tell you that someone was in an accident. Someone's in the hospital. Something terrible happened to your apartment while you were gone.

He says none of those things. Instead, Jason says, "I didn't know you picked up a Friday shift."

Ashley's face goes blank.

"I told you I would be home late."

“No,” he corrects. “You texted me that you were being held up.”

“Yeah, at work.”

“And then you disappeared.” Jason’s jaw clenched. “Did you know that a bank was held up this afternoon? Your bank?”

“Oh, shit,” your hand flies up to cover your mouth. “My phone died, I don’t know when. You couldn’t check my location and see I was here?”

He just shakes his head, stiff and wordless.

“Hey, Y/N.” It’s your manager approaching the host stand now, customer service smile on and eyes taking in Jason’s appearance. “What’s going on up here?”

“Hey, Steve,” you say. “Sorry, this is my boyfriend Jason—Jay, this is my manager, Steve—”

Jason gets the hint and smiles close-lipped, reaching to shake Steve’s hand.

“My phone died so he came to see if I needed a ride home.”

“As soon as your tables leave and your section’s clean, you’re good to go. Oh, and you have to roll silverware.”

“It’ll be at least another hour,” you say apologetically to Jason.

“Okay.” His eyes keep boring into you like he’s trying to send you a telepathic message. He’s mad, you get it, but it makes you a little mad, too. You’re a grown adult. Yeah, the miscommunication was your fault, and it’s fine for him to be worried, but he looks close to Red Hood levels of anger, which is totally unwarranted for this situation. “Is it cool if I wait at the bar for you, then?”

“Of course!” Steve answers for you. "Our bartender, Lacy, will be happy to serve you while you wait." He checks his watch. "Until last call, that is."

"He didn't scare you, did he?" you ask Ashley as soon as Steve leaves. You smile at Jason, trying to tease him, but his expression doesn't twitch. "He looks mean, but I promise he's a big ol' softie."

Jason just grunts, but on his way to the bar, he doesn't forget to drop a kiss to your forehead. It warms you from the inside out.

As soon as he's gone, Ashley blurts out, "What happened to his face?"

"Motorcycle accident," you fib. "Oh, my table's calling me."

You rush over to take care of the poor man's ketchup—he's been waiting almost five whole minutes—and check out another party. The back of your neck prickles as you do. Every time you glance at the bar, Jason's green eyes are locked on your every move. It flusters you so much that when your table leaves, they say thanks, and you respond with, "Good morning!"

"What?"

"Thanks, you too!"

You run back to the kitchen, and everyone immediately starts interrogating you about your 'huge hunky boyfriend' (Charlotte's words, not yours).

By some miracle, all your tables clear out by closing time, and you’re out by 9:20. There are still a couple people at the bar, but Jason’s up immediately to walk out with you, leaving his water glass on the counter.

He doesn’t say anything, though you can feel his eyes on you whenever you aren’t looking. You won’t fight in public, so you follow his lead and stay quiet.

He drove your car to pick you up, and even though he’s obviously mad, he holds the passenger door open for you before getting into the driver’s seat.

The drive home is silent. He parks in the spot for your shared apartment, then immediately, quietly, asks, “Why’d you pick up a shift without telling me?”

"It was super last-minute," you say. He's still facing forward, so you do the same, eyeing his profile out of the corner of your eyes. "Like, it happened this morning. I thought you were sleeping, so I didn't want to blow up your phone with texts. I thought you'd just check my location and see where I was when you woke up."

Jason's hand clenches on the center console. "I woke up and I was terrified."

"I'm sorry—"

"And the bank, and your wording, and your phone was off—"

"I know," you say, putting your hand over his fist. He unclenches immediately to lace his fingers with yours. "I'll make sure I tell you next time."

Jason takes a deep breath in, then lets it out. In a rush, he finally turns to face you and says, "I don't mean to be controlling."

You blink. "I don't think you're being controlling."

"You don't?" Jason frowns. "Then why were you so mad when I walked into your work?"

"Mad? I'm not mad—you're mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you, what are you talking about?"

"You've been glaring this whole time! And you didn't say a word this entire car ride."

"Because I thought you were angry. I wanted to give you space."

"Okay, wait, wait, wait." You hold up a hand. "Let me get this straight. You're not mad at me?"

"No," he says earnestly. "I was worried and scared, but you're an adult. You don't have to ask for permission if you want to pick up a shift at work." He makes a face like the thought disgusts him.

"Okay," you say. "Okay, well if you're not mad at me, I'm not mad at you, either."

"Then why did you look so pissed when I walked in?"

You press your lips together to keep from smiling. "Well, we have cameras that show us up front while we're in the kitchen, right? One of my coworkers was watching and said 'the hottest man in the world' walked in and I didn't look because I thought the hottest guy in the world was still asleep in my bed—"

Jason covers his face with his hands. You can't stop your smile now, and you pull them away so you can look at said handsome face. "And I didn't even look because I'm such a loyal, awesome partner—"

"You are pretty awesome," he agrees, trying to sound serious, but he's grinning like an idiot, too. His cheeks are flushed pink.

"I know I am. But then Charlotte said that the hostess, Ashley, looked a little intimidated by him, so I walked out to see if she needed help."

"Aw," Jason says. He lowers his chin to look at you from underneath his lashes, pretty as a picture. "Were you going to give me a stern talking-to?"

"I can still give you one," you offer.

"Maybe later."

He's still grinning, and you're still grinning, so the both of you are grinning at each other like idiots in the car.

You want to kiss him, and he's your boyfriend. You're allowed to do that whenever the two of you want, so you take Jason by the chin and pull his mouth to yours.

Jason sighs against you, and it's like all the tension in his body melts away. One hand comes up to cradle your jaw, the other on the back of your head.

You break away to murmur, "Are you patrolling tonight?" He's still so beaten up.

"No," he whispers, voice low and gravelly in a way that has butterflies whipping around like a tornado in your stomach.

"Good. Wanna go up and be the hottest patient in the world while I look at your wounds?"

"Only if you're the hottest nurse in the world."

"Oh, but then who will be the hottest chef in the world who makes dinner?"

"The hot chef is on vacation right now," Jason joked. "But I can be a really hot food-orderer. What takeout are you in the mood for?"

"You're the injured one. What do you want?"

"I want whatever you want."

You narrow your eyes in a glare. "Well, I want whatever you want."

"You gotta make a decision," he says, already on his phone. "You're the hottest decision-maker in the world, I'm the hottest food-orderer."

"Chinese?"

"You got it."

Right before he dials the number, you grab him and kiss him again. When you pull back, he chases after your lips. It's so tempting that you give him another firm peck before you pat his chest once.

Jason blinks twice, looking dazed. "What was that for?"

You shrug. "I just wanted to kiss the hottest man in the world."

"Oh, my God." He groans and covers his face again, but you can see his red ears. "You're never gonna let that go?"

"Mmm." You pretend to consider it. "No."

DC taglist:

@evalynanne @mismatchsposts

Forever taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit  @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

[wonderjanga]

Marvel’s Lives

As you guys know, there have been previous champions. They’ve all lived different lives and such. Some have been men, some women, and are some genders that don’t exist anymore. Point is, no one life is the same.

Let’s say some female heroes are talking about abortion one day and out of nowhere Cap just chimes in:

Marvel: “Oh yeah, pregnancy is tough, man. Giving birth is not for the weak. I’m speaking from experience here. Anyone who doesn’t want that, shouldn’t do it.”

Female JL members: “What…?”

Black Canary: “Marvel, last I checked, you were a man.”

Marvel: “Actually, a few thousand years ago, I used to be a woman!”

Female JL members: “???”

Marvel: “I’ve been a woman, multiple times actually.”*proceeds to walk away like he didn’t drop that on them*

They’re all thinking he’s trans, but no? His words imply he’s fluid? The thing is though is that Marvel’s never really shown that he’s either. The question was later asked by Hawkwoman when he was making oobleck in the kitchen of the Watchtower

Hawkwoman: “Captain.”

Marvel: “Yes, Ms. Hawkwoman?”

Hawkwoman: “Are you a woman?”

Marvel: *looks up from his oobleck to her, looking confused* “No? Why?”

Hawkwoman: “Some of the other girls were talking about how you were a woman at some point.”

Marvel: “Ooooh that. I was a woman. Yeah.”

Hawkwoman: “So you’re not anymore. What did you look like as a woman, if I may ask? Also what is that?” *points to the oobleck*

Marvel: “Oobleck.” *offers bowl off oobleck to her for her to play with* “Also, sure. Just a sec.” *mutters a spell*

Hawkwoman: *pokes the oobleck*

Marvel: *poofs and is now a female champion from like seven thousand years ago. His suit also changed to the previous champion’s own suit* “Tada!”

Hawkwoman: *does a double take when she sees him* “You… Certainly have a darker complexion.”

Marvel: “Yeah. If I remember correctly, I lived in the Middle Eastern area back then. That’s probably why.”

Hawkwoman: “And why are you white now?”

Marvel: “My appearance changes every few a hundred years or so. That includes my skin color, gender, and other features.”

Hawkwoman: “Oooooh. Okay then.”

They proceeded to play together with the oobleck after that.

Like ten minutes after that initial interaction…

WW: “Shayera. There you are. I was wondering if you wish to spar with me.” *notices Marvel* “Who is this? A new hero?”

Marvel: *turns around, hands covered in oobleck*

Hawkwoman: *also turns around, hands covered in oobleck* “What’d you say? I was distracted.”

WW: “I was wondering if you wanted to spar with m…” *trails off when she sees Shazam’s lighting bolt on fem Marvel* “Brother?”

Marvel: “Hi, Ms. Wonder Woman.” *waves an oobleck covered hand*

WW: “Why’re you a woman?”

Marvel: “Ms. Hawkwoman asked.” *shrugs*

The three then proceeded to play with the oobleck together.

Then, there was the time someone asked Marvel about his religion when they heard he believed in the Greek Gods.

Marvel: *shrugs* “I’ve been multiple different flavors of pagan. Fun fact, a couple thousand years ago, I used to be a ritualistic cannibal. It was apart of the offerings and rituals of a shaman. Or at least the types of shamans of that time in that specific empire.”

JL member: “Do you still eat people now?”

Marvel: “That’s not important, the point is, if there’s a religion, I most likely at some point practiced it. Or at least the super old version of it.”

JL member: “Okay? But do you still eat people now??”

Marvel: “I guess I’m saying I’m kinda in between religions?”

JL member: “Can you please stop ignoring the questioning ?”

He continued to ignore the question.

Of course, the ritual cannibal thing isn’t the only one of the outlandish things Billy’s casually admitted to doing. Eventually though, things can get a little bit too much for some members.

Marvel: *telling them about another thing he did in a past life*

GL: “Okay! That’s enough, dude!”

Marvel: *concerned* “What? Did I say something wrong?”

GL: “No, I’m just confused as to why you’ve done all these things, man. Are these like side quests you under go? Or like…? What’s going on, pal?”

Marvel: “Nothing…? These are just things I’ve happened to do.” *shrugs*

GL: “So you’re willingly telling me you tried to trample someone to death with a horse just for funsies?”

Marvel: “Well, when you put it like that-”

Flash: “Wait, what about the time you told me you were a princess before princesses were a thing?”

Marvel: “I uh-”

Superman: “And the time you told me that you used your lightning powers to become a cult leader?”

Marvel: “Okay, I get it. I’ll stop tell you guys about myself.”

MM: “Captain, it’s not that we don’t want you to tell us about yourself. It’s instead that your stories seem to have no cause for them.”

Flash: “Yeah! Like why did you feel the need to become a cult leader? How were you a princess?? Why would you want to trample someone with a horse???”

Marvel: *shrugs*

Flash: “Wha- Don’t just shrug!”

Marvel: “I was a different person back then.”

Superman: “That’s a little too cryptic, bud.”

[neos127]

enhypen hyung line x gn!reader | #youtube!!

different types of videos you make with the boys genre. hcs, non idol au, established relationship for some & fluff!! wc. 1.2k cw. just some cursing

heeseung

“he has no idea what he’s doing.” you giggled with every word, watching as you boyfriend’s eyebrows furrowed with each makeup product he pulled out of your bag. being a popular makeup youtube channel, you wanted to try something new.

you had seen many girls have their boyfriend do their makeup and with a grin more sly than a cheshire cat, you quickly called up your man with a video idea.

heeseung was more than happy to film a video with you (mostly to show your one million subscribers how much he loved you). heeseung had seen the way male fans talked about you on twitter, he was excited to finally show everyone that you were his.

“why do you have so many lip products?” he asked, his expression showing that he was clearly baffled. heeseung made you giggle quite often, but you really couldn’t contain the laughter constantly spilling from your mouth.

“you can add some highlighter now, hee.” you spoke up once you had finally calmed down. heeseung nodded, grateful for a hint on what to do next. he rummaged through the makeup bag, happy once he found a small round container that said ‘highlighter’. he picked it up eagerly, the quickness of his fingers trying to wrap around the item caused him to accidentally drop it.

you gasped as the highlighter cracked and spilled onto the ground, looking up at heeseung who looked extremely guilty. his round doe eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape as he observed the small mess on the floor.

“i’m so sorry…” he mumbled, dramatically covering his mouth in shock. you began to laugh once more, finding your boyfriend’s reaction to be adorable.

comments:

y/nloveees — they are so cute omg!!

angelbabie — heeseung loves y/n so much you can just tell

strawberryshortcake — pls bring heeseung back for more vids!!

jay

“you sure this recipe doesn’t call for cutting anything?” jay asked, observing your blindfolded face with an amused expression. the two of you decided to film a video on jay’s account shortly after publicly announcing your relationship. he often did cooking videos and you had suggested doing a blindfolded cooking challenge with him.

“ok hand me the apples.” you said after getting through the first part of making the pie. jay tried to keep his giggles to a minimum, observing the mess that was supposed to be apple pie.

he placed a bowl of previously cut slices in front of you, watching as you fumbled around the bowl and pick up a piece.

“ugh, i should’ve cut them more…it’s too big.” you sighed, reaching out for jay to ask if he could cut them again for you. but while reaching out for him, you accidentally smacked the man in the face, causing you both to go into a fit of laughter. you apologized multiple times, lifting your blindfold up so you could finally see your boyfriend.

you grabbed jay’s face, placing a light kiss below his eyes where you accidentally scratched him. jay blushed at the affection, already knowing that he was going to keep the small moment in the video.

comments:

jayjayparks — aw y/n is so cute!!

0x1lovesongs — jay being so worried for her the whole time…my heart

givenxtakennn — CUTE!! y/n kissing jay’s ‘injury’ and him blushing oh im giggling

jake

“remember, don’t curse.” you warned the man sitting next to you, already giggling at the idea of joining voice chat in roblox. jake nodded, pretending to zip his mouth shut as the game loaded. you and jake were popular for playing games, mostly streaming on twitch but you often posted on youtube because you liked vlogging. you decided that playing roblox with jake would be a fun video idea, especially since your subscribers liked you two together after he appeared in a ‘day in my life’ video.

“why is this dude following me.” jake whined as soon as the game had fully loaded. he moved your character around, trying to run away from the random player who decided to terrorize him.

“your voice is weird.” the player replied, sounding as if he couldn’t be any older than thirteen. jake’s jaw dropped while you began laughing hysterically, smacking the boy on his hoodie clad arm.

“go do your homework.” jake shot back, trying to move away from the player once more.

“go do my mom.” the kid replied, a very obvious young boy remark but you ended up giggling anyways. especially since jake seemed so offended.

“what the fuck.” jake laughed, making you gasp and slap a hand over his mouth.

“i said no cursing!” you scolded him, waiting for a few seconds to see if you two would be banned from the game. when nothing popped up, you both breathed a sigh of relief.

“sorry that was my bad—” jake spoke up, stoping his sentence short when a pop up appeared on the screen. your profile had been banned for using voice chat for a few minutes.

“jake!” you groaned dramatically, slumping onto his shoulder. jake began to laugh, leaning his head on yours.

“i’m sorryyyyy y/nnnnnn.”

comments:

ikeuismz — the chemistry…can i be y/n??

angelluv — this video was chaotic until the end I NEED MORE

10monthsluv — ouuuu the flirting…

sunghoon

being very popular on youtube for your traveling vlogs and ‘a day in my life’ videos, you wanted to introduce your boyfriend in one of them. you had mentioned to your followers that you were starting university in korea but never mentioned that you also had a boyfriend of one year that you were excited to see again.

sunghoon was a very private person and at first didn’t want to show his face in your videos. you respected his privacy, blurring his face out when the two of you hung out together with friends whenever you happened to be in seoul. but upon your recent visit, sunghoon agreed to be in your video, wanting to show off his relationship with you to the world.

“so…you guys don’t know this but…i actually have a boyfriend here that i’m meeting up with today. he’s a private person so he didn’t want to be shown on camera before but today he finally decided to say ‘hi’ to you guys.” you explained to your camera as you approached sunghoon’s apartment.

when you knocked on the door sunghoon’s roommate, jake, answered. he gave you a hug and welcomed you back before telling you that sunghoon was in his room.

after reuniting with your boyfriend and hugging him tightly for about ten minutes, you turned your camera back on.

“this is sunghoon, everyone! we met about three years ago when i first visited korea and we’ve been together for over a year now.” you introduced the boy, watching as he shyly smiled and waved at the screen.

the idea of over a million of your subscribers seeing his face was a bit scary, but sunghoon was ready for show the world that he was your boyfriend. seeing men hit on you in your comments irked him a bit— he just had to show them who your heart belonged to.

“he’s a little shy so please show him lots of love.” you giggled, cupping his chin.

“we’re going to eat now…guys. so come with us as we…do that.” sunghoon said awkwardly, sending the camera a thumbs up and tight lipped smile. you began to laugh at the cute boy which caused him to laugh as well, his shoulders relaxing a bit.

“you heard hoon, let’s go eat.”

comments:

sweetxvenom — SO CUTE!! i need more of y/n and sunghoon!

sweety/n — aw he’s so shy how cute :(

lovelysky — you look so happy with him i’m so happy for you!!

taglist; @boyfhee @junityy @aenify @iilwji @catzisb1og (ask to be added!)

[sharlsworld]

lando smau where theyre lowkey but he’ll find a way to slip small crumbs of her in every post somehow

⋆⭒˚.⋆ private not secret - ʟɴ4 ☆

✿ lando norris x reader

✿ a few of the times lando norris managed to sneak his girlfriend into his posts and the time he won his first formula 1 race

ᵃᵘᵗʰᵒʳˢ ⁿᵒᵗᵉ ୨୧ my brain is fried so i’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted 💀

🝮

landonorris

liked by pierregasly and 752,014 others

landonorris see you next time china 🇨🇳

hearts4lando bro thought he could slip a flick of y/n and we wouldn’t say anything

carlando everyone say thank you for the crumbs

⤷ danielricciardo Thank you king! 🤴

alexandrasaintmleux Missing my girl 😞 bring her back to me

⤷ landonorris how about no 😊

⤷ landonorris i’m coming baby - alex’s girl

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux I’ll be waiting 😉

⤷ charles_leclerc So I guess I’m stuck third wheeling my girlfriend and my girlfriend’s girlfriend when I come back

⤷ landonorris always 😇 - alex’s girl

landolovesyn i love y/n so much 🥹

georgerussell63 Y/n is my idol I wanna be like her when I grow up

⤷ landonorris your 5 years older then her??

⤷ georgerussell63 Well then I wanna be like her in my next life damn.

⤷ landonorris you are my hero george russell you’re such a icon - alex’s girl

⤷ charles_leclerc Oh we’re still doing this?

⤷ landonorris we never stopped?? 🤣 - alex’s girl

beloved.hamilton no it’s the fact y/n has her own account but always takes lando’s phone and replies on his account 💖💓💝

🝮

landonorris

liked by mcarlen and 3,227,986 others

landonorris WWE FUCKIJG DID IT. P1 🏆

yn so proud of you 💗

⤷ landonorris i couldn’t have done without you and all you do for me baby ❤️

oscarpiastri Well done man 👏👏👏

georgerussell63 Congrats mate!!

lando_luvr4 him running to y/n before anyone else got me in tears 🥹🥹

maxverstappen1 🥳🥳🥳

carlossainz55 Well deserved ❤️

mclaren We made it boys! 🧡👏🏆

chilipowder55 i took a nap and got woken up to be told LANDO WON HIS FIRST EVER F1 RACE???

maxfewtrell So proud brother 🧡

landowantsrizz ok but what does WWE have to do with this?

landolovesyn YOU DID IT LANDO IM CRYING HAPPY TEARS RN

all4lando i already know what him and y/n are doing tonight 😭

lnfour LFGGGGGG

estiebestie everyone shut up i’m so happy right now

charles_leclerc Lando we can be world champion!

team_quadrant *SCREAMING*

🝮

landonorris

liked by danielricciardo and 1,953,017 others

landonorris a night of celebration 🥳

charles_leclerc “alex wants to know the next time her and y/n can have a sleepover”

⤷ landonorris it’s like we’re just their side hoes or something 😞

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux Or something? you are - alex’s girl

⤷ landonorris babe come back i miss you where did you two go

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux You’ll never find us

⤷ charles_leclerc They just took the bowl of pasta and ran 💔

pierregasly the clam before the storm

maxfewtrell Come back soon I miss you 😘

sharls_lerklerk y/n and alex stealing the pasta and hiding with each other 😭

alex_albon it was amazing seeing lando going feral when y/n wouldn’t come out of hiding 😭

⤷ carlossainz55 Truly a sight for sore eyes

georgerussell63 I wish someone was as down bad for me as lando is for y/n

⤷ carmenmmundt Girl. Don’t even.

danielricciardo Crazy crazy night 😂

⤷ flowers444yn i need to know what happen now

🝮

landonorris

liked by judebellingham and 1,082,439 others

landonorris feels good to be back 🤍

landolovesyn y/n appearance!! 🥰

landonowins i’m only here for y/n tbh

⤷ lilymhe me 2

⤷ francisca.cgomes me 3

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux Me 4

⤷ carmenmmundt Me 5

⤷ lilyzneimer Me 6

⤷ landonorizz everyone loves y/n

carlando lando nowins & lando norizz are retired. lando norris has won in life.

carlito55sainz if you look very closely you can see me jumping off the balcony 😂😂

operationsainz55 this love is the typa love you find in movies & books

lewistearmeup the dark aesthetic then the light pictures of y/n 😭🥹🥰💘💖💗

lovely_leclerc my heart can’t take all this love and cuteness anymore stop

ynstan4lyfe awhh so cute i’m sleeping on the highway tonight 🥰🥰

🝮

ᵃᵘᵗʰᵒʳˢ ⁿᵒᵗᵉ ୨୧ i just took a nap and when i woke up i opened instagram AND THE FIRST POST I SAW WAS LANDOS?? i had to finish this and him winning was my motivation 😭

[juletheghoul]

The General

a/n: So, the Roman got me. It was to be expected, honestly lol. I am well aware we know practically nothing about this character but I couldn't help myself. I wrote reader as a slave here, if you aren't into that - no worries. This is un beta-ed, any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @foli-vora for letting me flood her with my thoughts and ideas and for helping me flesh it out🩷 Hopefully you enjoy!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, some dirty talk, creampie, alcohol, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance) one creepy dude making a pass, Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 1.6k

reblogs are appreciated

Series masterlist Masterlist next chapter; the baths

He comes through the tent flap late into the night, covered in blood, grime, and rage, and yet - you are there to greet him. The gods have seen it fit to bestow him with another day of victory, another day of life and with that life, comes his expectations of you.

You rush to pour the water you’ve kept hot at his fire into the basin he uses to wash, eyes scanning quickly for the clean linens he uses to cleanse himself of the gore of battle, and making yourself scarce once the basin is full.

He says nothing, but he has no need to. 

You watch from your place at the edge of his vision, every nerve and receptor in your body honed to anticipate his needs. 

His armor needs to be cleaned before first light, thank the Gods I didn’t fall asleep. I will need to mend the tear in his tunic as well–

His hand shot out, face up towards you, interrupting your mental tally of his state but your body responds quicker than your mind and you’re there in an instant, placing the clean linen into his dampened hand. Still, he says nothing. 

You move towards his table while he finishes, shuffling his maps and well laid battle plans with great care in order to set out the olives and cheese he likes, the crusty bread and the dark wine he prefers. 

“General.” The gruff voice at the tent flap scares you half to death, but you don’t cry out. You’re too well-trained for that. A few of his soldiers stand at the threshold. “We wish to share a cup, a toast to your victory.” They are eager, the red glint of blood still fresh in their eyes. 

He grunts in response, but gestures to his table before giving you a pointed look. You rush to fetch more cups, setting them down at the extra places at his table. They are all seated by the time you finish pouring for them, and with another glance from Marcus–your general–you move to fetch more food from his stores. 

They’re raucous, the heat of the battle still coursing through their veins. Where Marcus is focused on calming the blood, they are eager to stoke the fire. They are either oblivious to his dark mood, or unbothered by it. 

“More wine!” One of them cries out, despite the way the General’s jaw clenches. You hurry to comply, pouring into the younger man's cup without spilling. “You are lucky General Acacius, a pretty, young, thing like this waiting to warm your bed of a night,” he leers up at you, his gaze slipping across your body like eels in a bowl, “would you share your wealth, I wonder.” His other hand slides up the back of your thigh causing you to gasp, his touch wholly unwelcome. 

“If you would like to keep your hands, I suggest you keep them to yourself.” His voice cuts through the air, “Come girl, take my cup away. I have no taste for wine just now.” You move away from the unwanted touch and towards Marcus, avoiding his eyes to complete the task at hand. “Go now, all of you. I will see you in the morning.” He moves from his place at the table, and if the others are unwilling to comply, they make no mention of it. The table is clear by the time he comes back, absent unwanted company. 

He says nothing while removing his armor, but you rush to his side to assist anyway, carefully putting the pieces aside to clean. 

The mood shifts, and his gaze now bores into you, and your heart races to feel it. Where the other man's eyes made your skin crawl, Marcus’ eyes feel like a caress. You feel them on the slit in your tunic, where your thigh is exposed. You feel them on your chest when you turn towards him to help take his chest plate off. 

Goose flesh spreads like a stain across your skin, and your cunt weeps for him, betraying any thoughts that you might not want what he quite obviously wants to give you. The proof of it tenting his tunic when the leather Pteruges are removed.

Those brutal hands, the ones that’d been covered in blood and grime not an hour past, now grab onto your hips, the grip hard enough to bruise. The thin linen shift does nothing to insulate you from his heat, does nothing to dull the press of his want against your belly. Any doubts swimming in your mind about crossing this line with him–again–are silenced when the linen is all but ripped off, leaving you almost shivering in his arms. 

The arousal is something fierce, an entity all in its own and it responds to his brusque movements with a perverse glee. It sets your nerves alight, drips down onto your thighs as he herds you towards his bed mat. His intensity infects you, it strengthens your grip, you’d swear it sharpened your nails by the way you rip at the very tunic you’re going to have to mend.

You land on your back amongst his linens and he’s quick to follow you there. It takes less than a breath for him to shrug everything off, both of you as nude as the day you were born. 

“Open your legs.” His voice is gruff, and thick with want, the same want that smears fat pearly drops against the skin of your thigh. 

Your nipples harden, drawing both his eye, and his mouth as you hurry to comply. He bites, pulling a gasp from your lips. His tongue quickly soothes it though, this is his pattern, an addictive balance of pain and pleasure. First one breast, then the other gets his attention, but only briefly, his desire burns too brightly. 

You only manage to pull his face up to yours before his cock finally slips into your wet heat, feeding a gasp directly into his mouth when you take his kiss with a force to rival his own. 

The size of him always shocks you into silence. He isn’t the first man to have you this way, your chastity had been gone long before you came into his service; you were glad of it to feel the way he molded you to accept him though. Now, and every time he’s been inside you. 

His stroke is brutal, it’s hard, and rough and all but moves you higher onto his mat. It’s perfect.

Your knees hitch high onto his hips, just as he raises one knee to press against the back of your thigh for purchase and it pays off because he finds the spot that makes you keen. 

He lets out a breathy laugh, relishing the state of you and the euphoria of your climax is far too close to feel any shame. Instead your cunt floods him, the slip of him moving so noisy and vulgar and welcome and blissful it pushes you closer still.

“More, please—“ you moan out the words, the first words you’ve spoken to him since he’d returned from a day of violence and he corrects you even now. 

“More what,” he grunts, anger and ecstasy shining on his visage, “speak correctly, girl.” His voice is clipped, his movements faltering and you know he’s close.

“More please, Dominus.” They’re a whimper, and he responds to them just how you hoped he might. He moves quickly and for a moment you can see how he’s earned his reputation, agile and smooth and within a moment he sits back on his haunches, pulling your hips up to meet his thrusts. 

You don’t know whether to scream, or weep, either way you thank the Gods for putting you in this man’s way. The pleasure is peppered with pain where his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, and you know you will feel the ache of holding them open tomorrow, but it’s so hard to care when it feels so good.

The precipice looms, the shadow of the climax clouding anything and everything and when you reach down towards where you’re spread wide, it only takes a couple of quick, wet circles at your clit to float away.

He groans, hips stuttering and you know you’ve taken him over the edge with you, you can feel the evidence of it painting your insides. His eyes glaze over as he watches himself fill you to the brim, slack-jaw and drunk on his orgasm and your flesh on display for him. 

“I expect you to remain full of my gift-“ his tone is filthy, lust and victory of a different kind on his features as he grinds himself deeper, “until I take you again.” He hisses the last few words out, pulling his softening cock out to inspect his mess. “Am I understood?”

“Yes Dominus.” The words are sweet as summer fruit on your tongue, eager to please him.

He smiles, but it’s predatory and it makes you clench around nothing, your body betraying your words when you feel his spend dripping out in front of his eyes.

He tsks, pushing it back in with thick fingers.

“You are well aware I don’t tolerate such insolence.” His eyes narrow, but his mood is still playful, removing his fingers from your cunt, only to stick them in your mouth. “Now, get some rest. I expect you up at first light.” He speaks with absolute authority as you suck his fingers clean, and nod.

------

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[sugarcoatedstarkey]

Drunken mess

Pairing - Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary - sleeping with your best friend’s boyfriend.

Warnings - unprotected sex, cheating, hair pulling, fem receiving oral/fingering, choking. (18+)

A/n- just a little thank you for 5k, thank you to anon for the prompt/idea.

The music was loud, vibrating against the soles of your shoes that bounced against the hardwood floor. The disco ball spun above you, the light ricocheting of the walls, smoke filled the air and your lungs. Your best friend was dancing wildly in front of you, your back pressed to some girl who’s hands held you tightly by the waist, your best friend moved closer and placed her hands on your shoulders. The three of you moved in sync, you could feel the eyes of the others around you.

Some looked on in disgust but most looked on in lust, especially Rafe. He knew his eyes should be on his girlfriend, your best friend. But he found them wandering to you, letting his eyes roam your body. He had to readjust himself multiple times at the sight of your thick ass pressed tightly to someone’s body, he had the urge to replace her with himself but he knew that would cause a shit fight.

“You're looking at the wrong girl” Topper tutted, his own eyes drank in your outfit. Neither of the boys could keep their eyes off you, the way your tight black dress hugged every curve of your smooth body. “She’s so fucking hot!”.

Rafe nods in agreement, he can’t find the words to say. He’s so obsessed with you right now, he can’t look away. He’s imagining the way you taste, the way you feel, the way you would moan his name when he filled your tight cunt with his cock. “I gotta ask her to dance” Topper states, Rafes hand is quick to grasp his wrist. Pulling him back down onto the couch, with one look Topper nods understanding you had been marked, even if he already had a girlfriend. No one was to touch Rafe Cameron’s girl.

Your best friend pulls away, holding her hand to her mouth. Eyes wide she darts out of the crowd, you follow closely behind. You find yourself in the bathroom holding her hair back as she throws her insides up into a ceramic bowl. “I feel like shit”.

You let out a laugh and grab a cloth, running it under the cold water you bring it over to your best friend and dab her face. “Let’s get you to bed yeah?” She nods and lets you walk her out of the bathroom and down a hall, moments later you're tucking her into Rafes bed and heading back to the party.

Your back on the dance floor, throwing back your drink and getting back into the music. You don’t take notice when a body stands behind you, strong hands pulling you close. You're used to people dancing on you, with you. You didn’t mind the attention, you just liked to dance and let loose. “You look so fucking sexy”.

Your heart skips a beat and you're quick to put the voice to the face, his breath is hot on the tip of your ear. You know you should pull away but you let him flatten his palm to your stomach, helping you move your hips against his. “Do you know how fucking hard it’s been for me to watch you and not touch you?”.

You shake your head, his hands brush down the length of your arms. Lacing his fingers with yours only to pull them up and around his neck, the angle gives him a nice view down your dress. His cock hardens even more within his shorts, he presses himself tighter against you. You can feel him between your ass cheeks, subconsciously you bend just slightly. “Naughty girl” he groans, holding tightly onto your waist. He slips one hand up the length of your stomach and palms your breast over your dress, a soft moan slips from your lips. “You like me touching you?”

“Please Rafe… I like it” your voice is too quiet over the sound of the music but your body is answering his question. Your hands slip from his neck, bending over even more and placing your hands to your knees.

He clenches his jaw, he could slip his cock out and fuck you right here, infront of everyone. Give them a real good show, let them see your heavy tits bounce as he pounds you on the dance floor. “So desperate for me sweet girl” he chuckles, his fingers lock around your hair and pull you up straight, a sharp sting runs down the back of your neck. He presses your body against his own. He begins walking you out of the dance floor, only a few eyes on the two of you. Topper watches on in jealousy, imagining himself behind you instead. “Ella is in your room” you find yourself saying as he walks the two of you down the hall you had been down not too long ago, his chuckle is deep and it vibrates against your back. “”Did you hear-”

“I heard you”

He opens the door to his room and pushes you inside, your eyes falling to your best friend who’s passed out in the bed. The dim light from the lamp in the corner casts a shadow of the two of you over her sleeping frame.

You turn quickly but meet his chest, he grips your jaw tightly and your eyes widen at the harshness. “You want to be a slut and let me touch you on the dance floor… well you can be a good little slut and let me fuck you next to your best friend”.

You grip his wrist and pull, he chuckles again and pushes you towards the bed, the back of your knees hit the bed and you use all your strength in your calves to stop yourself from falling onto the mattress.

“Are you going to be a good girl?”

Your mind is racing, you’ve wanted to fuck Rafe since you met him. You’ve always wanted to be in your best friend's shoes, you wanted Rafe for yourself. But you let her have him because she called dibs first. “Answer me”

“Yes… I’ll be a good girl”

“That’s what I thought”

His lips are on yours before you can change your mind, his tongue slipping between your open mouth. Your arms wrap around his neck and pull him closer, he tastes the way you expect him to. Whiskey and cigarettes, it’s intoxicating. You can’t get enough of him, he also can’t get enough of you. His hands are roaming your body, squeezing and kneading the flesh of your hips. In one swift movement he yanks the top of your dress down, your breasts spill out in an almost slow motion movement. “So fucking perfect”.

He grabs a handful and kneads, pinching and rubbing your hardened nipple between his fingers. Your back arches pushing your chest closer to him, his mouth envelopes your nipple. “Oh fuck”.

Your legs turn to jelly and your bum hits the mattress, your body frozen as your best friend turns in her sleep. Rafe doesn’t let up his assaults on your tits, his face buried between the two. Your heart is racing, scared she will wake up and catch the two of you. “Don’t worry about her… look at me”.

You turn your head, he slips his shirt over his head. Your fingers are running down the length of his stomach, staring at his hard pecs. “Like what you see?”

“So much.. I like it so fucking much”

His palm meets your throat and he pulls up from the bed, mouth on yours. You pull your dress down along with your panties, he pulls away from your lips but keeps hold of your throat, he takes a long hard look at your body.

“Shit… I knew I should have fucked you when I met you”

He drops his hand from your throat and steps back, unzipping his shorts as his eyes roam your body. You're not sure where this new found confidence comes from, you're pushing the thought of your best friend to the back of your mind. Stepping over you sit on the ottoman at the end of the bed, scootching back just enough. “What are you doing?” He questions, he’s standing naked and proud in front of you. Watching every movement you make, his cock is hard and bobbing as he steps towards you. “Touch me”.

You part your knees dropping your legs wide, his eyes zone in on your wet pussy. “Fucking hell”.

He can’t believe the sight in front of him, he’s sure he’s died and gone to heaven. Your pussy is perfect, arousal leaks from your tight hole. He drops to his knees in front of you when you reach down and spread your lips for him, his hand gripping your wrist before you can push a finger in. “Your going to fucking kill me”.

He’s breathing in the scent of your cunt, pressing the palms of his hands to the back of your thighs and pushing them to your chest. Your breasts pressed tightly against your legs, both holes staring him in the face. You clench when he flattens his tongue out and runs it up the length of your pussy. “Holy fucking… SHIT!” You cry out, head thrown back as he devours your pussy. He’s sucking hard on your clit, pushing two of his large fingers inside of your hole. “Oh god Rafe.. so fucking good.. yes oh yes just like that!”

He pushes in a third finger, spreading you wide for him. Your arousal coats his lips and hands, it's everywhere, you're making such a mess on him. His cock is throbbing, pre cum stains the floor, his fingers are pounding in and out of you with such force your back hits the mattress and causes your best friend to stir again. “Yes yes oh yes harder.. fuck! Rafe I need your cock.. please please give me your cock” your begging, tears are spilling from your eyes. “Such a needy little slut… can’t be patient can you”

“No no I can’t Rafe, please… I need you”

With one swift moment he’s pulling you down onto his cock, he’s stretching you wide. An almost burning sensation hits you but is quickly swept away with the rough thrust of his hips. He wraps an arm around your waist and brings you up to the bed, your eyes meeting your best friends closed ones. “Look at me”

His hips thrust deep and hard, your brain feels like it’s floating in water “I said look at me!”

He grabs your chin and pulls your head, you stare up at him as he fucks you into the mattress. You reach up to hold onto his shoulder blades “fuck Rafe… you feel so good”.

“That’s it sweet girl… taking my cock so well. Your pussy is mine. Do you understand me? Mine… your mine.”

“I’m yours Rafe”

“That’s right… fucking your best friends boyfriend hmm, how are you gonna tell her? How are you gonna tell her I only want this pussy and not hers”

The bed shakes under you, your breasts pressed firmly against his chest. He pulls out of you and spins you around, nudging his knee between your legs. You lean down on your elbows and push your bum out for him, he slips back inside of you. “Should we wake her?”

You shake your head, biting down on your lip as he slips into you. His heavy balls hitting against your sensitive clit, he leans over you slightly leaving kisses on your back. “Go on… moan my name into her ear. Wake her up”

Again you shake your head, his fingers pull at your hair until your back meets his chest, one hand palms your breast while the other toys with your clit. “Come on baby girl… I can feel your sweet little cunt clenching around me.. you close?”

“Mhmm”

Your cock drunk, arousal soaks your inner thighs and the bed. The sound of your skin slapping fills the room and your gobsmacked it hasn’t woken her up yet, you can’t hold onto your moans anymore. He’s pounding your sweet post so hard you're sure you’ll squirt. “Fuck your doing so well.. a little louder”.

Your toes are curling, body sweating, the familiar white spots appear in your vision. The butterflies in your belly are fighting hard, you are squeezing so tight around him he pushes you back down onto the bed.

Pressing the side of your face into the mattress as you cum around him. Your screams and moans are muffled by the duvet, your body shakes as he chases his relief. He’s quick to pull out of you and cum on your ass, clenching your hips as he jerks the last of his cum out.

Your body trembles as your orgasm begins to fade and the realization of what just happened settles in, you notice your hand is holding onto your best friend's leg and she still hasn’t woken. “What the fuck did I just do”.

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