#i had to expose him for a second bc this is ridiculous

[themultifanshipper]

Hi I love your writing!!Could you maybe do the 🟡 prompt from your list with Oscar. I’m thinking maybe a female driver reader enemies to lovers kind of situation but it is really up to you

Thanks💜

You and Oscar didn't usually find yourselves battling on track, because you didn't usually qualify close to each other. But this time… this time you had locked out the front row at your home race, and it was going to be a blood bath.

Warnings: hate sex, rough sex, biting, hair pulling, the usual really, although I find the ending surprisingly fluffy for me but oh well, also Oscar is kind of a dick in this ngl, also Bestfriend!Lando bc I cannot seperate them even in fiction

Requested from my prompt list

Obviously this was a fight you refused to lose. You were in front of your home crowd, qualifying p2 behind your teammate for one of the rare times your car hadn't failed you half way through qualifying.

These days you felt like you were driving a fucking Williams.

Anyway, the lights went out and for the next hour and a half the cameras did not leave you two for even a second, the battle for p1 being so intense. You'd lost count of how many times you had overtaken each other, and both of you had damage. Part of your front wing was missing, your DRS was glitching, and Oscar had floor damage. Both of you were too stubborn to come into the pits so you kept going despite your engineers' orders, and on the last corner of the last lap, you brake checked Oscar.

You don't even remember doing it. All you remember is the crowd roaring your name as the McLaren crew lifted you out of your seat and carried you over their heads chanting the song they had affectionately dubbed yours.

“She's a maniac, maniac on the floor! And she's driving like she never has before!”

You remember the podium ceremony, Lando had overtaken Oscar thanks to you and was spraying you in the face from his p2 spot, as Oscar scowled and sprayed Zak, who stood off to the side, ready to give you two a stern talking to after the ceremony.

You remember being yelled at in his office. Something about him smoothing it over with the stewards so that you didn't get a penalty at your home race, at which point Oscar also started yelling, at Zak, at you, and at the unfairness of it all.

You remember going out to a club with Lando, the heavy bass of the music (and the alcohol) transporting you to another realm of existence as you danced together.

It's when you'd had one two many tequila shots (courtesy of Lando's fat bank account) that you thought it would be a good idea to call Oscar.

Unfortunately for him, he answered.

“Hello? Why the fuck are you calling me at two in the morning? Has something happened? Is Lando in a coma? No? Then don't fucking call me”

And with that he hung up on you. So you rang again, not one for giving up so easily.

“For the love of Christ, WHAT?!”

“Oscar! Why aren't you out celebrating your podium?” you said loudly over the music.

“Yeah Oscar I miss partying with youuuuu” Lando whined into the phone over your shoulder.

“Fucking leave me alone!” Oscar shouted, and he hung up again, but even though the club was loud, you definitely heard his voice crack.

So you and Lando had the marvelous idea to go to his hotel (you were staying at your own place, with Lando, it being your home race) and knock on his door. And he opened it to the sight of you and Lando clinging onto each other for dear life.

“Fucking hell you two look like shit, what have you been doing?” his eyes roamed your figures, staying a bit too long on yours, and on your ridiculous dress (picked by Lando of course) that probably exposed more of you than it covered.

The two of you barged into his room and sat on his bed. While he just stared you down.

“Well?... what the fuck do you want?” he scowled.

“We came to ask why you're moping here instead of celebrating your podium with us” Lando pouted.

“What is there to celebrate? You-” he pointed at you “ruined my race by making a dangerous move. I'm not celebrating a fucking p3 when I would have won fair and square!”

You and Lando looked at each other, which was a mistake, because you immediately started giggling uncontrollably.

“GET OUT!” Oscar shouted louder than you'd ever heard him, and Lando immediately ran for the door.

Mopey grumbling Oscar was hilarious, but you'd come to find that furious Oscar was downright terrifying when he needed to be.

You weren't scared though, you'd always found angry Oscar incredibly hot, and right now you'd had enough alcohol to make sure you couldn't run even if you tried.

The furious expression on his face as he stared you down did make you squirm though, and your thighs clenched together involuntarily.

His eyes were drawn to the movement, quickly scanning the expanse of your bare thighs before snapping back up to your face and taking a step towards you.

"Well?! Anything to say for yourself? A fucking apology perhaps? Or even just a reason as to why you're still sitting on my bed in that slutty excuse of a dress instead of running away like Lando?”

You were outraged at his words. How dare he say that.

“How fucking dare you!” you managed to stand up on wobbly legs to shove him backwards. Unsurprisingly he didn't move an inch. “This dress is perfectly fine! It's a club dress!”

“Oh please! It's indecent, I can almost see your-”

“SECONDLY!” you interrupted before he could finish that particular sentence, the thought of him actually seeing you so exposed slightly overwhelming you “I didn't run away because I’m not fucking scared of a dickhead like you!”

He stepped closer to you, so close that if he extended his arm he could touch you if he wanted to. His eyebrows were lost in his hairline, and there was a fire in his eyes you had rarely seen there before, as he shook with rage.

“If you’re not scared of me then why are you trembling like a fucking leaf? Is it because you're cold in that pathetic excuse of an outfit?”

“You seem awfully focused on my dress for someone who claims to be so nonchalant” you purred, stepping closer.

“Fuck you.” he scowled.

“Ooh is that a proposition?” you smirked, your bodies were almost touching now.

“Careful, don't get too cocky, I'm obviously not as easy for it as you” he spat, eyes darting down to where goosebumps had risen over the exposed skin of your breasts.

“How could I not get cocky?” you leaned in close to whisper “I'm the one who got a first place trophy a few hours ago…” and with that, you pushed past him and started walking towards the door.

But just before you could grab the handle, you were pushed flat against the door roughly and you gasped as Oscar growled in your ear.

“Fuck you, and fuck your trophy, and fuck this fucking dress!”

He wasted no time spinning you around and slamming you back against the door, plastering himself against your body and slotting a thigh between yours, forcing you to spread your legs for him.

“This dress is going to be useless by the time I’m fucking done with you”

You were reduced to a puddle of mush as his hands ripped the flimsy fabric, flinging it across the room and his mouth immediately went to your tits, mouthing over them and groaning into the skin. One of his hands went up to grab your hair and the other grabbed your ass hard enough to leave bruises. He tensed his thigh as you grinded on it shamelessly, whimpering as the friction of his jeans felt like heaven against your barely covered cunt.

His mouth went up to your neck, licking and sucking the skin it found in it's path before pausing and looking at you, his eyes hooded and mouth gasping for air as he panted into your mouth.

“I’m going to make you pay for the race, sweetheart, I'm going to fucking ruin you.”

And ruin you he did. Your body was on fire, your thighs were fucking soaked, and Oscar had you arched into the bed, ass up in the air as he pounded into you while holding your head up to look at yourself in the mirror that was facing the bed.

You looked like sin personified, makeup running down your face, drool and tears making a mess of the sheets as yet another orgasm wracked through your body.

He pulled out and turned you over, spreading your legs, weeping cunt on display for him.

He moaned at the sight of your used body, marks and bruises blooming all over it.

“Fuck you're so perfect for me, I can't get enough of this pussy” he slid his tip through your slit a couple of times, just enough to make you start begging again, before sliding back in to the hilt. “Fuck- begging so perfect for me when you're not running your mouth” he growled before pounding into you mercilessly and rubbed the meat of his palm over your clit. The friction was too much as your hands flew to his shoulders and your nails dug in, making him groan as his pace faltered and he grabbed your wrists to pin them above your head.

His face hovered inches above yours, sweat dripping off him onto you as he pounded into you for all he was worth.

“Too much…” you gasped “Osc, I can't”

“Shhhhh baby, you can do one more for me, I know you can.”

He kissed you, much too soft in comparison to how he was railing you into next week. And he kissed away the tears on your cheeks as his hand let your wrists go in favour of wrapping his arms around you to lift you up into his lap, deepening the angle of his thrusts making you cry out in pleasure.

He buried his head in your shoulder as he rolled his hips, fingers going back to play with your clit as you writhed above him.

“Oscar fuck… So deep… I’m so close, fuck don't stop!” You wrapped your arms around him as you finally kissed him without thinking, making him groan into your mouth as his hips never faltered.

He wouldn't dream of stopping, he’d been waiting for this moment a long time, and now that he had you, he was going to do everything he could to keep you.

“Come for me love, come on my cock, good girl…” he panted into your mouth.

It was like a volcano erupting as you came around him. You clamped down hard around his cock and it threw him over the edge as well, biting into the meat of your shoulder, so deep he could almost taste blood. You gasped and your hips bucked into his gently as you both rode the waves of your highs together.

Once the two of you regained a sense of where you were, wrapped in each other’s arms and covered in sweat, you just looked at each other, neither of you knowing what to say.

Daylight was already filtering in through the blinds and for the first time, you noticed the dusting of freckles on his nose and cheeks.

Neither of you wanted to let go, despite supposedly being bitter rivals. The two of you surged forwards at the same time and his lips were soft against yours as you clung to each other, hands grasping every piece of flesh they could reach. And you didn't let go until the sun was well and truly up, and Oscar ignored the calls from the team to say they were going to leave without him if he didn't get there soon.

“Stay with me for a few days?” You whispered into his neck as you lay under the covers with him.

“Okay” he kissed the top of your head sleepily, drifting off after an intense race weekend (wink wink).

You checked your phone for messages, only seeing one from Lando.

‘Do I even need to ask where you slept last night?’

Despite the obvious bait from your best friend, you decided to reply:

“Nope... but fyi I haven't actually slept at all ;) ’

You turned your phone off, and snuggled back under the covers with Oscar, who was already snoring softly behind you.

[bobluvbot]

late night cravings

pairing: sirius black x afab!reader summary: you sneak off the night for a cheeky midnight snack, hoping sirius won’t notice (spoiler alert: he does, and he’s sulky about it)  wc: 4k cw: pregnancy & baby talk, descriptions of food and eating, brief allusions to sex (not directly stated), no physical traits of reader specified but sirius can hold things out of reader’s reach  a/n: so i had a lengthy angst fic for sirius’s debut on my blog and im halfway done on it but i cant seem to finish it bc it sends me to a depressing spiral each time <33333 so pls enjoy a very self-indulgent domestic excessively fluffy blurb with my beloved <33333 p.s this is not proofread so plz ignore mistakes ty <3

opening the tomato salsa jar turned out to be the hardest part. 

back in bed, you thought the trickiest part of your late night escapade from sirius black was his long limbs wound up tight with yours, even in low light of the small nightlight in the corner, you could still make out the intricate script and designs following the curves and dips of his strong arms, holding you close to his chest. 

you had it committed to memory by now, having explored sirius’s body well enough to memorize the way his skin feels against yours, with heartbeats and breaths falling in sync without much effort. 

judging by the way his breathing gets heavy after every exhale and the little snores that escape in between, you knew he was beyond knackered. it was day five of sirius’s new job as an deputy director at the auror office. the day he learned about the promotion was pure unadulterated happiness. after letting you know through an express owl, you mustered up enough vigor available to your seven months pregnant self to get out of the house and go to the local shops to get party supplies and food to celebrate sirius’s achievement. 

Coming in third out of the list of things he genuinely loved in this life, after you and his luscious locks of course, was his job as an auror. young sirius had never thought in his wildest dreams that he’d work at the ministry, much less actually enjoy it. can’t really blame sixteen year old sirius, starting an underground rock band with the marauders seemed like the perfect thing to do after gruelling hours of studying at hogwarts. 

defense against the dark arts came to him naturally, with some counterspells like second nature to him as being exposed with use of dark magic young gave him no choice but to grow up quickly and defend himself from the excruciating pain or the mind control that was from his own family’s doing. Winning the first wizarding war alongside his friends and found family has solidified sirius’s calling in eradicating the use of dark magic and making sure the next generation can have a safe and normal life without the looming threat of a megalomaniac sorting people with their blood status and taking over the wizarding world. 

that night, sirius walked into a dark and eerily quiet home that had his senses on overdrive. but when the lights turned on and he saw familiar faces of his loved ones all beaming with pride, and there you were in the center, looking ethereal and round and all his, with his favorite red velvet cake on hand and a ridiculously big balloon that says “congratulations” tied to the candle, he could have melted in a syrupy mess of gooey happiness right then and there if he hadn’t caught himself together last minute.

Sirius had thought– that after you agreeing to go on one date with him to hogsmeade, winning the quidditch cup and seeing the proud look on minerva’s face, going home for christmas break and euphemia welcoming him with a kiss on the cheek and a warm hug, remus teaching at the very same classroom you all were in years back, james and lily’s first kiss at the altar, holding little baby harry in his arms, you walking down the aisle with a bouquet of peonies in the most beautiful dress, and when you held his hand that one night and told him that you were expecting—- that he knew of love. but you do something extraordinary that has him scrambling to add to the endless list of why you’re the love of his life. he was so focused on you that he wasn’t prepared to catch pure muscle of james’s body as he flung himself to tackle his best friend in a hug. luckily, remus with a party hat was aptly standing between a toppling sirius and the living room wall, and he singlehandedly saved the two from creating a huge hole in the drywall. 

this was the life, sirius had thought after many hours of partying celebrating and eating, when he laid beside you in bed, limbs tangled, sated and dizzy and warm as you both came down from your highs. and he gets to spend it with you.

but as fun and exciting sirius’s new job is, it entailed an increased amount of responsibility as he was assisting the head auror. his least favorite part of the job was the boatloads of paperwork he has to deal with. An express owl almost dropped a howler letter into the soup you were making for dinner earlier that day and you opened it up panicking thinking it was an emergency. But no, it was just sirius whining that his hand hurt and is about to fall off and that he needs you to kiss it better. 

You did eventually, and one thing led to another and here you were, tucked in your husband’s warm embrace. you could stay here forever, only separating to drink water and bathroom trips, but the gnawing urge to eat something savory, sweet, tangy, and crunchy has possessed your entire being, the only way to quell it was to get up and go to the kitchen. the baby doesn’t seem to have a semblance of time yet, a fact you both envied and despised, because the clock on your nightstand said it was 3:48am in bold red numbers. A few months ago, you’d never be caught dead awake at this time, taking your precious sleep time seriously. The man himself would poke fun at you and say you’d gladly sleep through an earthquake or a housefire just as long as you get your seven to eight hours of sleep per day, and despite of your assumed role of contradicting and arguing with spontaneous and stubborn sirius, you had to agree.

But this was not about you anymore, or at least not quite yet for a good seventeen years, so you untangle yourself from sirius and your perfectly warm and cool side of the bed and waddle down the carpeted stairs, careful not to set foot on the creaky step that might risk waking sirius up. You need your secrets too, and you’re not in the mood to share food.

Grateful for the heavens that you and sirius stocked up on groceries two days ago, you had a wide selection of random items to munch on. A few days ago, you were introduced to the idea of a fluffernutter sandwich while scrolling through the short videos on your feed. Peanut butter and marshmallow fluff as spreads on their own was something you didn’t mind eating, but both together in a sandwich? You were enthralled, and the only way to quell the curiosity was to make it. So you did. 

You shovel and slather more than enough spread on each slice of bread, though you might have used the same spoon on both jars.. but who’s to tell you off otherwise, your snoozing husband upstairs? pfft. 

Smiling happily as if committing a particularly naughty crime, you place the spoon in your mouth, licking off the gooey mixture as you place the sandwich on a piece of paper towel (yes, you take the no dishwashing tonight seriously) on the table. humming, you mull over what to prepare next.

The baby needs something savory and tangy, but you’re not particularly keen on going through all the effort of heating up the soup from dinner, not to mention the amount of cutlery and dishes you’ll use for that, so you zero in on the tostada shells you chose rather than tortilla chips because its much more crispier. 

Opening the fridge, you see the laughing cow on a round packaging and decide its the one, so you grab two cheese wedges from it. 

Sirius had argued that the next aisle had actual, real blocks of cheese with a variety on display and that there was no point in getting artificially flavored ones. But you’ve gotten really good at giving him the stank face, which inadvertently ends 75 percent of nonsense bickering before it even starts; and since you’ve started showing more and more, sirius has admittedly gone softer on you, not that he was ever more but a pushover your entire relationship. Merely widening of eyes and a jut of your lower lip, even adding a slight tremble or two during times where you did actually fuck up, sirius can’t hold his stance longer than a minute before sighing and taking you in his arms. he might call you out for being a brat at times, but there’s no denying he loves it. And so the artificial wheel of cheese wedges got purchased and bagged home, and you’re meticulously spreading it over the golden shells, leaving little to no gaps of it bare. 

Laying it on another paper towel, your heart gets giddy on your chest knowing you’re in for a treat tonight. But not quite time to start munching, the baby reminds you that you still need something tangy to complete the meal. So comes your big predicament, should you get dill pickles or tomato salsa? 

It took you ten seconds too long of weighing down the pros-and-cons of choosing one and feeling like you made the wrong choice if you end up not liking it. It doesn’t help that the pregnancy hormones make you more anxious and tend to put you always on the verge of tears. So when the not-so-groundbreaking idea of just eating them both hits you, you feel the weight slide off your shoulders as you sigh. Because again, who’s gonna tell you that eating pickles this late at night can give you bad acid reflux, your snoozing husband? Pfft.

Snacking on some, you do manage to pick out the juiciest looking pickle chips and lay them atop of your tostadas. You and the little one are beyond excited to dive in. It’s looking like a mini upside-down pizza with the cheese spread first then the pickle as toppings. Only thing left now was the the tomato salsa slathered on top to seal the deal. 

Opening tight lids wasn’t an issue for you before, in fact, you took pride when friends hand you a jar or bottle to open because you could do it in a breeze. Chances were, the lid wasn’t even screwed on that tight, you were just built different, you’d say with a shrug once you give the items back. So when the tomato jar doesn’t budge after two attempts, you get puzzled.

Maybe your hands were slippery? You wipe them down with a tea towel and try again. No.

You weren’t holding it tight enough? Fingers held taut against the lid, you try three times. Still no.

Determined, you try different positions before letting the jar go, shooting it glares as if it’d get intimidated and just open up for you. You were also getting lightheaded, and passing out on the kitchen floor due to excessive stimulation of your vagal reflex because you were too stubborn to use magic or wake your husband up to open it for you doesn’t seem like the best way to spend the early Tuesday morning hours.

Magic was even out of the option (well, in your brain it was), because your wand’s tucked beside sirius’s on your nightstand, and frankly, you don’t have the patience to drag yourself upstairs just to flick a utility spell to open the wretched thing. So you do the next best option: lose hope. 

The disappointment was mutual between you and your baby. And the acid reflux did start to kick in, making your stomach grumble in both hunger and pain. This was all going so well until it isn’t, tears began to make its way up to your eyes.

“See, this is what you get for being greedy and eating all snacks by yourself,” sirius huffs behind you, deep voice still raspy with sleep. You didn’t even hear him getting out of bed and coming down the stairs, that’s how preoccupied you were with opening the jar.

He grabs the container away from you to open it, but not without throwing a scowl at your direction, handsome face contorted with furrowed eyebrows and downturned mouth, enough to express that he felt betrayed by this whole ordeal. If you were in a better mood, you’d poke his sides and tackle him playfully, teasing him for being sulky. But for now, you need the jar opened so you could eat in peace. You’ll deal with the sharing food issue later.

“t wasn’t supposed to take long,” you mumble, caught off guard and refusing to make eye contact, pretending the fridge magnets beside sirius’s head is ten times more interesting than his face. You don’t miss his raised eyebrow and snort at your response. 

The second attempt comes and he opens it with a satisfying pop. your mouth falls agape, eyeing the *now accessible* tomato salsa dip in disbelief. What the hell? 

And you couldn’t even take the smug grin spreading across sirius’s face by the millisecond. Refuse to. You try to snatch the open container away from him but he holds it higher and out of reach, making a show of puffing his chest, flexing his biceps, even giving it a kiss. This is all James’s doing, you need to have a talk with Lily soon about keeping these two separated.

“Sirius!” you try to plead your way out. the trademark innocent, pouty expression settles on your face like a second mask, hoping he’d go down this easy. 

It doesn’t work. He just chuckles, mocking your pleas and face while his free hand sneaks up and pinches your unsuspecting cheek to tease you further.

You yelp in mock outrage and swat his hand away, trying your best to keep your displeasure firm on your face, but you feel the giggles coming up. “This is why I sneak out alone to eat, you’re such a bully,” you huff, but take a seat in front of your makeshift spread. 

Sirius places the jar near you, but not without poking your exposed sides, armed with the knowledge that the easiest way to get you laughing (and eventually conceding in an argument) is knowing where your tickle zones are. “Oh yeah,” he drawls, plopping himself beside you. “That’s also why you’re the only one waking up with an upset stomach, stinking up our bathroom so early in the morning.”

Now this one got you appalled, embarrassed, disturbed, basically hit with all the feelings. You’ve been living together long before you got married, and he never brought up this issue until today. “That’s it. I’m leaving.” He makes a move to snatch the sandwich away but the embarrassment on your cheeks made you more agile, swatting his hand away and shielding the sandwich with your hands. “After I finish my meal,” you continue, shooting him a glare.

But see, one of the things that drove you nuts even way back at Hogwarts, was how Sirius Black mostly managed to outsmart you or be one step ahead of you in everything. After you turned him down without much thought whatsoever despite his grand declaration of interest, Sirius took it upon himself to show you (1) that you made a mistake for rejecting him, (2) that his ego won’t let you embarrass him like that again, (3) and that you won’t get rid of him that easily. Once he set his eyes on you, you were face to face with him in everything: grades, OWLs/NEWTs scores, Quidditch plays and bets, wins at the duelling club, even with the fucking gobstones tournament. He never let you catch a break.

Things were surely different now, since you vowed to be with him in sickness and health and untill death parts you both– hell, you’re carrying his child. So you figured maybe, maybe, he’ll let you catch a break this time. Let you eat in peace as you mull over his bathroom comment and how you’re going to get him back. 

But again, no. Unlike you, Sirius remembered to grab his wand from the nightstand. Not even batting an eye, he says nonchalantly, “Accio sandwich.” And the fluffernutter you protected with all your physical might managed to escape your watch, and land gracefully on his waiting palm. 

What irritated you more from this whole ordeal? The prodigal auror that climbed his way up the ranks and became the youngest deputy director, fully capable of complex spells and wielding different kinds of magic, felt the need to do a verbal Accio spell just to make a point to you.

Out of words, you just stare at him blankly. Too stunned to even cry in frustration because you knew you made a conscious, willing choice to be with this man. 

Maybe your best guilt-tripping expression comes best when you’re not trying. Color drains from his face when you remained silent and he scrambles to take a bite off the sandwich before handing it back to you, or rather placing it on your limp hand as you refuse to acknowledge it, still too hurt to budge. “‘m sorry, baby. Just wanted to eat with you since we didn’t get to earlier.”

He did arrive later than usual, deciding to finish the stack of case files and paperwork so he won’t have to sift through them again the next day. There were plans to wait for him before eating, but when the jitteriness and slightly nausea started to kick in, you had no choice in the matter. Sirius had been sulky and clingy the moment he got home, and as compromise, you stayed to watch him eat; listening and reacting animatedly as he ranted about his stressful day.

So you cut him off some slack, also exhausted from all the emotional stimulation sirius brought since he woke up. As a silent peace offering (also because you’re not ready to say sorry to his face), you slide the tostadas within his reach and finally take your bite of the goddamn sandwich. It was good, tasted as expected, sweet peanut butter. You’d probably have it again as a drunk at 3am meal.

Sirius also went and got snacks of his own: microwaved popcorn, pickles, toasted bread slathered with butter, and grapes. Together, you munched on the little spread of random food you could find in your kitchen at 4am in comfortable silence, which is surprising after the earlier bickering. No matter how cheesy it sounded in your head, sirius was the only person that can drive you to the brink of insanity and right back. You were in for a hell of a ride for the foreseeable future; and while there’s a lot of uncertainty right now and changes to be made when the little one gets here, you’re beyond happy that you get to do all this with him. 

Sleep was beginning to creep up on you. Of course he notices this right when you do, so a warm arm wrapped across your back urges you to settle on his lap, bodies melding into the familiar crevices like puzzle pieces, though you both had to adjust certain angles to accommodate your growing belly. You sit like this for a while; your head tucked securely in the crook of his neck, steady breaths lulling you to sleep, while sirius’s hands instinctively finds its way under your sleep shirt and on the natural curve of your belly, lithe fingers stroking and drawing soothing circles anywhere he could reach. 

you wish you could stay like this forever– cozy and soft and safe– but alas, you were carrying sirius black’s offspring. the baby decides to reward you with a round of kicks, probably giddy after feeling their father’s touch. Sirius chuckles and coos at your bump, while a muffled groan leaves your lips from the sudden onslaught of movement, but still refusing to move from this comfortable position.

Smooth cold lips touch the side of your forehead and you relish in the feeling. “Does it ever hurt, love? All that kicking and wiggling?” 

“Not really,” a content sigh leaves your lips. “Feels strange at times, seeing your belly move on its own.” 

To prove your point, two tiny bulges make a split second appearance just above where Sirius’s hand lay. His thumb soothes the area lovingly.

“Definitely getting stronger though; Lily told me during the later months, harry for some reason loved to kick downwards, making bathroom trips more frequent than it already is. Not excited for that.”

He presses kisses on your forehead, temple, hairline, anywhere he could reach without moving too much. “Things that you do and endure for this ‘lil troublemaker,” sirius murmurs. He doesn’t need to say it out loud, you could feel his body reverberating with awe and fondness. You try to bask in it for as long as you could, but a passing thought makes its presence known to you again.

“Do i really make the bathroom stink?” it comes out whinier than you intended it to be but you just had to know for peace of mind. 

Sirius’s whole frame vibrates as he tries to stifle his laughter, taking you with him. He’s laughing at your expense but you feel your own giggles brewing in your belly. You try to hold it in for longer, preserving some self respect. “A little bit,” he says solemnly. You groan, earlier mortified feeling returning in full swing. It triggers another round of chuckles.

“But dove, it’s nothing that my deep love and adoration for my lovely strong hot and sexy wife can’t handle.” He says assuredly, and you curse yourself for being so down bad for this man as blood rushes to your cheeks from his words. Good thing it’s dim and your face is still tucked in the crook of his neck. 

You do pinch his arm in response, and both your laughters compliment the comfortable silence. 

“Although,” he says after a while. “The betrayal of you eating without me still hurts.” 

“Siri.. i’m sorry,” you mumble. “‘y looked so tired, Didn’t wanna wake you up.”

He tuts and doesn’t say much after that. In sirius dictionary, this means he just wants some affection from you— for you to dote on him and coax out his forgiveness, even if you both know he’s not really mad; judging by his arms still wrapped securely around your frame and steady breaths that tickle and fan on your bare skin. 

So you mimic his actions from earlier, planting tiny kisses on his neck, collarbones, jawline, anywhere your lips could reach. Kissing his cheek seem to do the trick, his fake scowl quickly coming undone as a bashful smile breaks through the frown, and his tiny dimple you love so much making an appearance. The muggle maternity books did say dimples are genetic, so an image of a little Sirius running around and smiling up at you with those dimpled cheeks is a warming thought. 

“I am charming all the lids to be stuck at night as soon as i wake up tomorrow for work.” You poke a sensitive spot on his side, making him jolt, but you couldn’t resist laughter as it bubbles out of the surface. “You’re insufferable, I can’t believe I married a psychopath.”

“And you let him knock you up too. I’d say it takes one to know one, hm?” 

[hyuckiefluff]

hihi! can i request corruption kink with jeno or hyuck?? if thats okay!

a/n: thank u for requesting!! i decided to do jeno bc i haven’t written anything for him yet oh and somebody else requested that i do something similar to my jaemin request with jeno so two birds one stone i guess? anyways enjoy!!!!! psa i got way more requests than i expected so thank u to everyone who sent im gonna try to get thru all of them as quickly as possible (if college doesn’t k!ll me first)

btw thank u for 400 followers! love u all

pairing: jeno x tutor!reader

wc: 2k

content: smut

warnings: cursing, fingering, masturbation, edging (kind of) , mentions of food (ice cream), big dick jeno ofc, backshots yuh!!!, rough sex, jeno is kinda too much in this lol, marking, cum eating, taking risky pics without consent, no after care, usage of pet names like pretty and baby *whispers* and whore. lmk if i missed any

masterlist

Jeno had always liked experienced girls. The kind he didn't have to treat with gloves, who were game for him to fuck so hard that they'd feel it afterward. At least, that's what he thought he was into.

Then you walked into the picture as his little brother's tutor. You were always polite and proper, wearing those buttoned up shirts and pencil skirts that gave off a more mature vibe than your actual age. He knew you recently graduated college, which he liked because you were older than him. But the thing is, you were incredibly innocent and naive. I mean, you didn't even catch on when his brother cracked those not-so-subtle, inappropriate jokes about you.

Jeno wouldn't usually spare a second thought for someone like you. After all, you couldn't even hold his gaze for more than a couple of seconds. So, why on earth was he now holed up in the bathroom, pumping himself to the thoughts of your ass in that skirt? Maybe it was because of how clueless you were, bending over the table to help his brother with his work, offering Jeno a perfect view of your perked ass. He tried to resist, truly he did, but it was hard, especially when your shirt hiked up, exposing the curve of your back.

Jeno had to make a quick exit from the living room, and now… Here he was, working up a sweat in the cramped bathroom trying to imagine your hand, or even your mouth, around his dick instead of his own. Imagining how he'd finish all over your face, leaving you in a state of shock and fluster, those big, innocent eyes looking up at him.

"Shit..." he whimpered shakily, the release of his pent-up load leaving him trembling as the white liquid ended up dripping messily all over the bathroom's curtain. This was getting ridiculous… he needed to fuck someone now.

A sudden knock at the door made him jump, his dick still exposed, flopping around as he hurried to check that the door was securely bolted. He quickly adjusted his pants, grabbed some toilet paper, and tried to clean up the mess as much as possible.

What he didn't expect was to find you standing there when he opened the door, holding a popsicle.

He vaguely remembered you saying something about getting ice cream for everyone because it was so hot. That was right before he had bolted upstairs to deal with his urgent situation.

The popsicle was melting, its crimson contents dripping down your hand and arm. Jeno couldn't help but feel like the universe was testing him, and he swore he felt his dick come alive again.

"Oh, sorry... Uhm... I kind of made a mess," you laughed airily but averted your gaze when the eye contact got a bit too intense "Your brother mentioned you guys had wet wipes in here."

"Uh, yeah, down there" Jeno finally responded after a few moments of silently staring at you. You bent down to check under the sink where he directed you, giving him another tempting view of your ass. You missed the quiet grunt he let out while discreetly adjusting the growing situation in his pants. 

You straightened up after finding the wet wipes, looking somewhat torn between putting the popsicle down to clean yourself or eating it quickly. Jeno sensed your struggle and casually reached his arm from behind you to take the popsicle from your hand, allowing you to clean up properly.

"Oh, thanks," you said, using the wet wipes to clean your arms and the stained area on your shirt.

Jeno silently watched you in the mirror, his attention focused on the way the white shirt clung to your skin as you diligently worked to remove the stain. When you finally looked up, you found him eating the popsicle—the very one you had been licking just moments ago. Locking eyes with you, he noticed your bewildered expression and gave you a lopsided smile "It was melting."

"Oh..." you said quietly, the heat rushing to your ears revealing your flustered state.

You tried to return to your task, but he stopped you by suddenly grabbing your wrist. His own hand was now sticky from the melting popsicle. He pulled you closer to him and reached his hand to your face, using his thumb to rub against the corner of your lip "You got ice cream here too," but instead of withdrawing his hand after, he surprised you by slipping his thumb into your mouth. 

You would have pulled back if you weren’t completely taken aback by what was going on.

With his finger still in your mouth, he playfully pressed the popsicle against your collarbone. The cold sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and your tongue brushed against his finger instinctively. The sight of your mouth enveloping his digit drove his self-control right out the window. He carelessly dropped the popsicle in the sink and leaned in closer, crowding your personal space with his larger frame. His cold hands sneaked under your shirt, and with a quick move, he unhooked your bra straps from your shoulders, exposing more skin for him to explore.

 "Jeno... I don't think this is ri-..right," 

"Why not?" he asked, his face burying in your neck, coaxing soft whimpers from your lips.

"Your... brother... he—"

"He's probably busy googling the answers to his exercises, believe me, he doesn't need you back just yet” He assured, pulling you even closer against his hips, causing your skirt to ride up and reveal your panties.

“I knew you were a whore,” he tutted, realizing you were wearing black lace “You wear lingerie to tutor students?" he chuckled dryly, biting a smile as you attempted to cover yourself.

"I’m n–," you whispered, but your words were cut short as his teeth grazed against your skin, leaving marks and savoring the fruity taste left by the popsicle. He didn't bother with the buttons of your shirt, causing a few of them to pop open from the stretch.

Your bra had slipped down too, partially exposing your breasts.

“You like being used like this, don’t you?" he teased, leaning back to take in the sight of your disheveled appearance. Your bruised neck from the sucking and biting, the strands of hair that clung to your flushed face, and your lace panties on display. 

He reached for his phone inside his pocket and snapped a quick picture of you in that state. Your expression instantly shifted to one of panic.

"What… are you doing?" You tried to slide off the sink, but he pressed back against you, his hips pinning you in place.

"Don't worry, this is just for me to enjoy later."

Then he kissed you, shushing any protests you had. His hand crept undetected inside your skirt and under your panties, his index finger gingerly spreading your folds. The action made you gasp against his tongue and then, without warning, he inserted a finger. The intrusion made you try to press your thighs together but he was standing between them so it was impossible. Every time he pumped his finger inside, his hips rutted against you, and you could feel the tent forming in his sweatpants brushing against your clothed core.

“…‘m gonna fuck you like no one ever has before,” He groaned against your lips.

He intentionally slowed down to a pace that almost seemed teasing as the knot in your stomach became almost unbearable. But given how shameful this situation already was, you didn’t want to ask for more.

"Are you that desperate for cock, hmm baby?" Jeno asked as you instinctively tugged on the waistband of his sweatpants to bring him closer and relieve the friction.

His finger pumped a few more times before he completely withdrew it. The emptiness immediately made you whimper.

"I'll give you what you want then," he replied as he reached into his sweatpants and casually pulled out his dick. You didn't want to stare like a pervert but... wow. You felt your legs quiver just from its sheer size. There was no way in hell you could take that.

You found it difficult to imagine how anything that big could fit comfortably inside of you. 

The smug smirk on his face told you that he liked your reaction "Clearly never seen one so big,"

"Jeno, I can't… we shouldn’t"

"But what kind of gentleman leaves a lady who is obviously in need?" He said cynically as he pulled down your panties.

No more words were necessary, the tension that had been building reached its peak as he aligned himself with your entrance. Jeno tried not to show any vulnerability, but the way your walls tightened around him, even though he was barely inside, was driving him crazy.

As he gradually entered you, soft, breathless gasps escaped your swollen lips. Your hands clung to the sink, keeping you from losing your balance. He stretched you so intensely that it made your eyes roll to the back of your head. You knew it defied anatomical possibility but as he bottomed out, you had a feel that if you touched your lower belly, you might just be able to feel him there.

“'m gonna move," he said through gritted teeth, more like a statement than a question. And with that, he started to thrust, not giving you much time to get used to the feeling of being so incredibly full.

As his hips met yours in a rough rhythm, he mumbled praises while also calling you things you'd never tolerate from anyone else.

"You feel so tight... for me," he groaned, his hand reaching for your face so you would look up at him.

“Eyes up here, doll,” he said in a breathless tone, the pace so fast and rough that it left no room for coherent thoughts. The knot in your stomach twisted, sending waves of almost painful pleasure through you. Your entire body buzzing with his desperate movements.

“J-..J-..Jeno…” His name was the only word that escaped your lips, each thrust causing your voice to quiver.

Suddenly, he lifted you by your ass and turned you around to face the misty mirror. Both your reflections appeared hazy in the condensation-covered glass so he messily wiped it with one hand and then resumed his thrusting. Now, you could see the way your expression changed each time he hit that spot deep inside you.

He continued fucking into you relentlessly, whispering how you would remember the outline of his cock by the time he was finished. His saliva-slicked lips left wet trails on the skin beneath your ear. From this close proximity, you could even hear the soft moans he struggled to suppress. 

Suddenly, a thought flashed through your mind, and with a hoarse voice, you pleaded, "Jeno... don't cum inside."

He hummed against your hair but continued ramming into you, and for a moment, you thought he hadn't heard you. However, just as your orgasm swept over you, he pulled out. You sighed in relief and rested your forehead against the steamy mirror, seeking a few moments of calm.

But Jeno had other plans and wiithout giving you a moment to catch your breath, he turned you around and had you on your knees. You looked up at him confused until he aligned his cock with your mouth.

"Open wide," he said, and with no energy left to complain, you did as told.

You expected him to shove his dick into your mouth, but instead, he stroked it a few more times before releasing his load all over your face. Most of it landed in your mouth, but some also splashed onto your cheeks and chin.

"Swallow," he said with a commanding tone, a stark contrast to the way he gently stroked your face.

You complied, taking in as much as you could. You even used a finger to collect the excess and popped it into your mouth. Savoring it much like you did when you licked the ice cream off his finger. Jeno bit his lip, trying to contain himself before he fucked you thrice more against the wall.

“Go ahead and clean yourself, pretty. You got a lesson to finish," he said, adjusting his sweatpants. And with one last chaste kiss on your lips, he left the bathroom.

[sethsclearwater]

I knooooww you don’t prefer writing Sam (so ignore me if you’re just like “STOP ASKING ABOUT THIS MAN” 😭😂)

But could you do a poly sam & paul where sam “gets back” at paul and like shows him how it’s done (wink wink if u know what I mean?) as paul watches basically??

something smutty and sort of like “I’m the alpha” bc Ngl it would be hot LOL

i appreciate the fact that y'all know i can't stand that guy💀💀

...

"princess tell sam how quick i made you cum with my mouth this morning," paul mused cockily as he leaned back in the kitchen chair he was sat in, looking over to sam who rolled his eyes.

you blushed, shaking your head as you thought about how absolutely ridiculous you'd sound if you told your other imprinter, "princess," paul teased, sliding his hands over your hips to tug you into his lap, "you gonna be a good girl and tell sam for me?" he asked, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he waited for your response.

you thought about it for a moment before slowly nodded, always wanting nothing more than to be a good sub for both your imprinters, "3 minutes," you whispered, peeking up at sam who offered you a smile, suddenly much more interested in the conversation.

"3 minutes?" sam repeated as he stepped over to the two of you. you nodded, cheeks an even deeper red as you processed just how stupid it was that paul managed to make you cum so quickly using just his tongue.

"sunshine go lay down on the bed for me, would you? wanna show paul who can make you cum quicker," he asked softly, letting out a breathy laugh when you looked up at him with wide eyes.

you didn't see it but paul was grinning, absolutely loving that sam had finally bought into one of his competitions he always seemed to be having. "c'mon princess," paul mused, standing up and helping you get your footing before he was guiding you into the bedroom, sam following shortly behind.

"always look so sexy," paul mused as he helped you lay down on the bed, hooking his fingers around the thin band of your sleep shorts and panties before he was pulling them down and tossing them to the side.

you let out a soft sigh as you felt the cool air hit your exposed cunt, slowly letting your legs fall open as paul stepped out of them in favor of sitting down in the chair in your room while sam took his place.

"paul," sam started as he got himself situated between your thighs, "start a timer would you?" he asked, not waiting for him to respond before he was diving in between your thighs and licking your pussy like his life depended on it.

at the first touch, you let out a loud moan, immediately knotting your fingers in his inky hair and drawing your legs closer to you, "oh my god-" you whined as sam pulled your clit into his mouth, allowing his teeth to just barely graze over the sensitive bud before he was thrusting his tongue into your heat.

"sam please-" you whimpered, tightening your fingers in his hair as he set a steady pace of fucking your pussy with his tongue while he made sure to suckle at your clit every few moments. within a minute, he had you teetering right on the edge of your second orgasm of the morning.

"cum on me sunshine," sam encouraged, only pulling his mouth away for a moment before he was diving back in and desperately lapping at your soaked cunt.

he had barely finished his sentence when the coil in your belly snapped and you came undone on him, letting out a loud moan as he continued fucking you with his tongue to help you ride out your orgasm.

as you came down from your high, sam's gentle touch helped recenter you, "hey sunshine," sam cooed, sliding his hand up and down your side, "i think you broke your record," he mused, pressing a soft kiss to your hip before he was looking over his shoulder at paul who had what could only be described as a flabbergasted look on his face.

"what the hell were you even doing to her?" paul asked, both boys letting out laughs as they processed just how quickly you came undone on sam's mouth.

"how long was that?" sam asked as he grabbed a hand towel from the bedside table to clean you up with.

"2 minutes," paul responded, rolling his eyes as he came to sit behind you on the bed and gently tug you up, in between his legs so he could hold you while sam got you cleaned up.

"felt good?" paul asked softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple as you nodded, dopily smiling up at him as you continued working at coming down from your orgasm.

paul chuckled at your expression, "i love you," he mused, pressing a quick kiss to your lips as sam got settled back between your thighs.

"i love you too," you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder that had him chuckling again at the gentleness of your touch.

sam got settled back between your thighs, gently running the towel over your thighs to help you adjust to the sensation, "i love you too," you said as you turned your attention to sam, giggling as he smiled to himself.

"i love you too sunshine," sam reassured as he got ready to clean you up.

[difficultdomains]

god, i would LOVE to hear ur thoughts about satoru's thighs, we do not talk about them ENOUGH (●´艸｀)ヾ

BESTIE I HAVE NEVER AGREED MORE WITH ANYTHING IN MY LIFE 🗣️🗣️

he himself never pays them much attention, thighs are just thighs yk - but not to you.

there are so many signs - your eyes trailing up his legs when you’re cramped in a changing room with him, sat on that ridiculous little stool and watching him try on like the fifth pair of jeans. or your refusal to join him at the gym after that one time. you lost count of how many times you had to bite your lip and look away that day, cheeks flushed not from the intensity of your workout, but from the way his shorts would ride up just right, exposing more than you could handle - especially in public.

so it’s no surprise that when you get him all to yourself, walking around your shared apartment in nothing but those damn boxers stretching around soft skin and defined muscle so deliciously, you can’t resist snapping the strained material against his thigh. you try to stifle your giggles when he whirls around, eyebrows furrowed and a pout on his lips, catching your wrist before you can repeat your offence a second time.

“why are you so obsessed with doing that?”

freeing yourself from his grip, you hook your fingers into the hem, pulling him closer to place an innocent kiss on his lips.

“would you rather i show you all the other things i’m obsessed with?” again.

his eyes widen just a bit, mind going into overdrive to conjure up the memories you just tapped into. his back against plush pillows, your lips on his neck, his chest, his hipbone. the shuddering breath he takes when he thinks he knows where you’re headed, just for you to diverge and bypass the target. your fingers pressing into the flesh of one thigh, while your kisses travel further down the sensitive inside of the other. the mischievous glint in your narrowed eyes before you sink your teeth into his skin, pleasure and pain tying in a race all the way to his very nerve endings, the arch of his back, the whimper that eludes him. your tongue gently soothing the sting, a stark contrast to the menace of a smile that spans across your lips right after, revealing how badly you wanna hear him make that sound again.

he is snapped out of it with another kiss, eyes refocusing and locking with yours again.

“where did you just go?” you purr, knowingly.

“show me.”

tagging @madaqueue bc ILY you fuel my delusion <33

[sweeter-than-teafood]

Sitri Attacker Card - Chapter Six (Finale)

TW: Oh, we’re getting angst again, Morax being a wholesome bbygirl, MC comes clean about her motives, A whole lot of crying and confiding

——————————————————

Paradise Lost

Once the trio reached Paradise Lost, Sitri and Ra-On were led into separate rooms. Marbas set about getting Ra-On an antidote for the aphrodisiacs, before letting her have some rest.

Meanwhile, despite Sitri’s protests, Morax had used his healing powers to absorb the deep scratches and bites that littered his upper body.

“There! All done! How are you feeling?”

Sitri couldn’t help but inwardly grimace at the kind-hearted devil. He took on too much of Hell’s pain in this war, and he could only hope that he wouldn’t take it too far.

“Feeling a lot better, thank you. Where’s Solomon resting?”

Morax paused to glance at a clipboard on his desk, bandaged fingers tracing down rows of patients until he found the line he was looking for.

“Ah, she’s in Room 49. Would you like directions?”

Sitri shook his head, not wanting the constantly injured devil to exert himself further.

“I’ll manage by myself. Thank you again, and please, take care of yourself.

Sitri quickly left the room, teacup in hand. The smell of disinfectant stung his nose as he paced the corridors, until he reached the room where Solomon was resting. He opened the door quietly.

Ra-On was laid in the pristine hospital bed, blanket pulled up to her armpits. She flicked through a book, unaware of the company she had.

Sitri crossed the room, before sitting on the edge of the bed. Something had been plaguing his thought since he arrived in Paradise Lost, and he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

“Solomon?”

Ra-On’s eyelids flickered upwards, greeted by the sight of the blue-haired devil before her. She set her book aside and was about to speak before Sitri cut to the chase.

“Solomon, I have a question for you.”

The human shuffled to sit upright, curiosity marking her features. She nodded, a sign for Sitri to continue.

He took a second before enquiring, curiosity with a hint sadness obvious in his tone,

“I recall that you said earlier that you took that medicine to fake your own death, to see what would happen. What did you mean?”

Ra-On swallowed hard and glanced away, to hide the tears that brimmed on the corners of her eyes. It was time for her to confess, though she was afraid of the consequences that would spark from her words.

“I know this is going to sound ridiculous but I… I wanted to see who you would mourn…”

She choked out a sob, unable to stop the tears now.

“I thought that if I had passed away, who would you mourn? Me? Or Solomon? 

Everyone has been so nice to me since I got here, but I feel like no-one is trying to get to know me, they just want to play catch-up with Solomon.

I was afraid that my existence means nothing; that I’m just an extension of the man loved by all.

What hurt the most was… You… You called his name over and over, even during sex…”

She couldn’t look Sitri in the eyes now. Her soul was exposed to him, her emotions in a state of vulnerability that she never thought she’d experience.

But the devil’s actions surprised her the most. 

Sitri pulled her into a tight hug, allowing the human to seek refuge in the warmth of his firm chest. Her cries vibrated through his body as she returned the embrace just as tightly.

“Solomon… No. You’re Ra-On. I’m so sorry that I made you feel like that. Please forgive me.”

His chin settled on the top of her head, while his hands comfortingly rubbed her back.

“It’s been hard for all of us, you see. Your ancestor may have been gone since 931 BC in your world, but for us devils, it’s only been 100 years.”

Tears started falling onto the top of Ra-On’s head as Sitri recalled the loss of Solomon.

“I know that 100 years is a lifetime for you and other humans. But most of us devils are centuries old. It… For me it only feels like a short time ago when I last saw him alive. I’m sorry Ra-On.”

The human tilted her head up to look at him. She couldn’t help but quietly marvel at how pretty the devil looked, even when tears streamed down his face. Without thinking, she reached up to wipe his tears away.

“Hey. It’s okay. I can’t begin to understand how you feel, I’ve never known the loss of someone who could have been my ‘forever’. Although I lost my parents a few years ago, and it pains me to know that they’ll miss out on so much of my life. I still miss them greatly, they’re always in my thoughts.”

Sitri gazed at the human in his embrace, biting his lip slightly. Now it was his turn to confess, as he leaned into her hand.

“Sol- No. Ra-On. I really like you. More so than just calling this a friendship with sexual benefits. I…I’m trying to love you for who you truly are, and not the man I lost, who you painfully remind me of…

…I just need you to be patient with me. Please.”

Ra-On settled her head against his shoulder, grasping him tighter than before.

“It’ll take some time, Sitri. But I’m here. I promise.”

[nowoyas]

(they all have) so much meaning - Midoriya Izuku/Reader (18+)

M.list - Ao3

A/N: ok so despite the spiderweb thing I actually did most of the writing for this BEFORE I watched across the spiderverse and veered clear into my government-mandated spider-man phase. I kind of want the tattoo, though.

(why yes, I DO default to The Front Bottoms lyrics every time I can't think of a good title for a fic. it's bc I'm right.)

Summary: It's your third date with your long-standing no-longer-crush, and Izuku just found out that you had a tattoo. You let him take a long look.

Warnings: public sex, oral (reader receiving), afab reader, reader has a tattoo, exhibitionism

Notes: Reader has a tattoo and established quirk. Yes, they're a literal emotional vampire. I can only write so much without vampires getting involved.

Word Count: 3600+

Midoriya Izuku is a pretty boy with sharp teeth and a brilliant mind. He does not possess the mind for what one would call a normal conversation, really, but you knew that long before agreeing to the first date, let alone the second.

By the end of date three, you’re honestly proud of him. I mean, neither of you got through the date without stuttering, which is fucking ridiculous given how long you’ve known each other, but compared to the first date’s rocky start, you both did a fantastic job! You completed the date with minimal stuttering between the two of you, and thanks to your quirk, you’re confident in saying both of you feel a fond sadness as he drives you home. You could have taken the train—planned on it, actually—but he’d insisted, and who were you to not say yes, if only to bask in his presence a little longer?

“I didn’t know you had a car,” you confess. You’re sitting on your hands, self-conscious for a myriad of reasons, least of all because having sat on your hands has left you hyperaware of how much thigh is visible in this skirt. “Is it new?”

Stupid question. It’s obviously new, and nice, too. Admittedly, you don’t know shit about cars, but you do know enough to be able to tell when one is nice. It’s shiny, for one, with a sleek, vintage look and classic black paint, and you don’t have to be a genius to know that any car with a convertible top is probably not super cheap. The seats, too, are luxurious—a dark, soft leather that caresses your legs quite nicely.

The trouble with leather is, again, directly correlated with how much thigh is exposed by this skirt. Being July, the world is hot and sticky, which means miniskirts, which means issues around gross men, windy days, and leather fucking car seats.

“It is, actually!” He lets out a nervous laugh. It’s strange to see him driving, strange to see scarred hands confidently turning the wheel. Izuku had asked if you wanted the top down, since it was a hot day, and nice out, and—

You had agreed with a nervous bubble of laughter. The novelty of it was a good draw. You’d heard “top down” from pretty lips and agreed without a second thought.

The thing about Midoriya Izuku is that, for all the years you’ve been friends—since entering high school, really—you have danced around one another like this.

Nervous laughter, words flowing so easily that they slip right past your filter or otherwise don’t make it to your lips. Honestly, you don’t need him to tell you that he didn’t mean to ask you on the first date when he did—he had the same affliction, where things were said too easily and then followed by the cringe. Hindsight is always 20/20, which meant that the moment he'd asked to take you out to a movie and let the word "date" slip, he was immediately running damage control, and you'd let "I'd like a date, actually" slip before you really realized the ramifications of it. So you had gone home to panic and squeal, and he had gone home to panic and squeal, and now here you were, three dates down with the rising star of the hero world, a title you did not begrudge him.

“Since when did you need a car with that quirk?” you tease. Right now, it’s easy. The nerves of being with someone who wants you instead of just likes you don’t strangle your throat.

“Well, I could have just carried you home, but I think that might draw too much attention?” The thoughtful look in his eye slides away to something else as he casts a glance your way, maybe a bit lower, and his face burns red before you. “Not to mention, um, it might not be advisable, um…”

You got the message. You shift a little in your seat in hopes that it’ll give the fabric cause to slide down a little bit. “Y-yeah, uh, maybe not. I’ll have to wear shorts underneath next time!”

Another glance at your thigh before the light turns green. You try not to think about the little surge in his emotions pressing insistently at you. His cheeks seem impossibly redder, and he turns his eyes to the road, ever dedicated to safe driving practices. “I-if you want! You looked really nice tonight, though! I mean it!”

It’s mildly amusing, watching him flounder like this. If you had less shame, you might revel in seeing his face go full strawberry just to pay you a compliment, especially after having fought a few villains alongside him and having seen that version of Izuku in action. He’s borderline unrecognizable like this, making still-nervous conversation and trying not to stare at your legs as he drives you home.

The fluttery, nervous energy between you is, if nothing else, good fuel for your quirk, and you catch it in the air and stock it away until the pair of you reach your destination.

“Thanks again.” You flash him your best smile as he parks, and you’re unsurprised to see him move to open your car door. Such a gentleman. “For driving me home, I mean. I would have made it home fine, but…”

“It’s not a problem at all! I wanted to.” He opens your door, offers you a hand, and once again, you regret the skirt.

In your defense, the skirt had passed the date check. It covers your ass, covers your tattoo when standing, and was cute enough to justify wearing out of the house!

It does not, however, pass the car check, which is what you discover as a movement to unstick your thighs from the seat also has the hem riding up far enough to show off your tattoo. You know, the one you didn’t tell anyone you got. The one whose location you picked because (and I quote) “if anyone I’m not actively sleeping with sees it, we have bigger problems than their opinions on my tattoo”. That tattoo. That someone you are not actively sleeping with (not yet, anyway) just got an eyeful of. Most of, at least.

He’s practically babbling, avoiding eye contact as he apologizes and helps you out of the car. “I-I didn’t know you got a tattoo.”

“Oh, uh, yeah! I did! I lost a bet with Mina and had to get something done, so I thought I’d go for something cute.” You nearly babble the words, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Cute” is not the word you had used to describe the design when you’d come up with it, and the bet you lost was really just a pretense so you had an excuse to get the tattoo anyway, but, you know. It’s the little things as far as word choice is concerned.

You rub the back of your neck. “It didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would, actually. And the artist did a great job with it!”

“I didn’t get to see it really well, but I’m sure they did a really good job!”

“I mean, I could show you,” you reply, and there it is. Once again, your words beat your brain to the punch.

“I’d like to, if you’re comfortable with it!”

And there’s his burst of nervous energy, which, to be fair, hasn’t gone down a bit since you met at the restaurant earlier this evening, only climbed. You’ve learned that when you feel that particular spike of energy arc off him, it’s him doing the exact “say things you mean but don’t mean to say” thing you do. Small comforts, you suppose.

“Sure,” you manage, and then you’re lifting the hem of your skirt to show him the tattoo in all its glory.

Its design is that of a garter wrapping around your thigh, delicate lace forming spider webs in the “band” of the tattoo. It’s pretty, it’s possibly a bite too sexy, and it’s perhaps a bit too far up your thigh to be showing off in any way anyone would consider modest. In the dark of your poorly-lit driveway, Izuku seems to find himself crouching and leaning in to be able to properly inspect your inked thigh, and you feel a little surge of something wave off of him.

It’s not until you let that particular energy feed you and compare it to your own feelings that you realize he’s turned on. Part of it might be the position—the fire racing through your veins at lifting your skirt up partway for a pretty face crouching in front of you is likely matched by being the pretty face crouching before your date’s lifted skirt. Just as quick as it came, it’s replaced by a hot flush of shame, an emotion you know well.

That one, you don’t need to guess the source of. Izuku’s spent countless hours talking to you about the intricacies of your quirk over the years, and by now he’s more than aware that you feel every little surge of emotional energy around you, having given his permission to you to feed off of whatever he puts out.

When he lingers staring just a bit too long, you slowly lower your skirt and manage a nervous laugh. “So what do you think?”

“It’s a really well-done tattoo! I like the design, it’s very, uh—hot. I mean! Pretty! It’s pretty! I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that, that was completely inappropriate and you probably don’t think of me that way and I swear I’m not the kind of guy who—“

“Izuku.” This time, there’s no nerves in your laughter. “Did you think I was platonically lifting my skirt for you?”

He freezes. You draw a blank from the air between you, and he stares, flush-faced and wide-eyed, at you. “Lift it all the way, then,” he breathes, and then comes the panic. “Oh my god. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’msosorry—“

You wish you could say that you had some cool, flirtatious response ready to go, some smooth line that would get you branded pick up artist extraordinaire, but you’re rendered entirely speechless. The thought that perhaps this is moving faster than normal relationships might flits past your brain as you grasp the sides of your skirt in two fists and lift it the rest of the way.

His frantic apologies die in his throat. For a moment, you think he dies, too—even his emotional signature is completely blank. He rests, half-crouched, green eyes cataloging the sight like he’s studying for a test. He sucks in an audible breath as he processes it and the heat of arousal floods back from him. You like to think it’s because of one detail you didn’t really expect to come up tonight:

Your tattoo matches your panties.

Izuku is surging attraction towards you in waves intense enough that you’re sure someone else must be able to feel them. There’s no one here to notice, though.

It is an eternity of him staring at your bare thighs, inked lace and real lace maybe two inches from touching, and then he is bringing calloused fingers up to hover just above the ink in your skin. “M-may I, uh—“

You try not to flinch when those same calloused fingers rest on plush flesh. He traces the lines of the tattoo almost reverently, eyes following his fingertips, occasionally flicking upwards just a bit, and you keep your eyes locked on his expression the entire time.

So focused on watching his face, you miss his fingers trailing inwards. You don’t miss them when they brush at the place your thighs kiss. Another little flinch, but this time he retreats to gauge your expression. “Is this okay?” he’s asking you. Your mind is tethered to the spot where his fingers rest on too-hot skin. “I-I don’t want to push too hard or assume anything, and—“

Your words are failing you, but you give a frantic nod. You’re not convinced you’ve ever been this turned on in your life, you’ve lost track of the feel of his emotions pressing against yours, and the only words coming to your mind at this point are: New kink. Score.

You think he thanks you as his fingers slide across your skin, but you can’t be too sure, because his fingers have left the tattoo to climb in agonizing slow motion up your thigh. They brush, rough and so, so gentle against the lace of your panties, and this time, you flinch properly, fabric slipping from your fingers to rest on his wrist.

The look Izuku gives you is uncharacteristic and nearly stern. “I want to see,” he says, gentle and sweet, as though he’s pleading with you to show him some innocent photo rather than to keep your skirt held up for his viewing pleasure.

Automatically, you’re lifting your skirt again, and he nods in appreciation. “If at any point you want me to stop, or slow down, or… any of that, tell me?”

“Mhm. I promise.”

“Good,” he says, and it’s so dangerously close to what you really want to hear that you have to suppress a shudder.

Again his fingers brush the lace covering your sex, and this time, you don’t drop the skirt. You hold it tight, even as Izuku’s fingers press into the space between your thighs, and you find yourself leaning back against his car for support. When his other hand rests on your opposite knee and pushes outwards just a touch, you let your legs part in turn.

You have the sense he hasn’t done this much. You know he hasn’t, actually—you have on good authority that he has precious little experience in the romance department, and, having been more or less in love with him for several years now, you aren’t faring much better. Maybe that’s why it’s so electric when he presses an experimental line on the outside of your panties. Maybe that’s why the shame burns so hot when his fingertip comes away damp.

His voice comes out a whisper. He’s staring up at your face in awe. “Are you…”

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut tight. “This is, like… insanely hot. You’re insanely hot.”

“Good,” he breathes, and then he’s slipping his hand past the band of your panties and touching you directly.

You jump a little at the contact, biting your lip to keep from gasping out. One experimental finger dips into you, and you take it readily.

That same finger leaves you quickly, and then you feel him tentatively tugging down your panties. When you peek at him, you find big, green eyes silently asking your permission.

“Please,” you whisper.

The panties are dragged down to your ankles, and then he’s returning to you in full force, sliding a single finger in and out of your hole, curling it inside you as though he’s figuring out how you react to each motion. Before long, he’s adding a second finger, moving so slow it’s torture more than pleasure.

He’s experimenting. Learning.

Your stomach flutters at the thought—he was always a fast learner. Too late, you realize that, oh shit, he just felt that, and now he’s staring up at you with wide eyes and red-stained cheeks.

“More,” you plead. “Please, ‘Zuku.”

The name slips from your lips so easily you almost forget you’ve pushed to a new level with him. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, except that he stops and retreats again, to your whiny distress.

“Can you spread them for me?”

“My legs?”

He shakes his head. “I want to see everything.”

Oh.

You shift so you’re holding your skirt in the center, and then a hand slides down to spread your lips for his viewing pleasure. He hums in contentment, and you’re aware of a subtle shifting of his position, though you’re not sure why.

“Trust me?”

“Always.”

That’s the only trigger he needs—he doesn’t return to fingering you, but those hands, large and scarred and rough against your skin, wrap around behind you as he replaces fingers with his mouth.

First a tentative taste, then a starved lick like a man starved, and oh, he’s always been good with his mouth, hasn’t he? Rambling, mumbling, brilliant thoughts have nothing on the feeling of his tongue as it finally plunges into you, the starved way he eats you out.

He’s still experimenting with you, still playing with you, but the curiosity of it all steadily falls away as he lets his instincts take the lead. When he at last brushes your clit and you gasp and your knees buckle, he takes note. He holds you up with ease, eyes half-lidded as though he’s torn between losing himself in the act and watching your reactions as he goes.

Two arms holding you up turns to one effortless arm around your waist. You have no time to consider where the other’s gone—he’s plunging those thick, rough fingers into you all over again, sucking on your clit, and suddenly you’re immensely grateful for the arm around your waist, because there’s no chance in hell you’re standing on your own like this.

His motions approach frantic. He is moaning quietly into your pussy, losing himself in it, and you’re grasping desperately for anything to find purchase on and finding only the smooth body of the car.

It doesn’t take you long. Before either of you realize it, you’re quivering, legs going fully weak, biting down on your free hand to keep from moaning out as you cum on his tongue.

He does not stop. He pulls away, just a moment, and you’re aware that you’re moving, but your head’s gone fuzzy from the everything of it all, so it takes you extra time to realize that he’s laid you across the back seat and climbed on top of you, lips pressed against your own. He keeps breaking away to mumble apologies against your lips—I’m sorry, I wanted our first kiss to be romantic, I wanted all of this to be romantic but I’m—and you find the cognizance within yourself to swallow those apologies with another kiss. You taste salty on his lips.

He is melting into the kiss, pulling away somewhat less frantic than he had been, eyes studying your face.

You quirk a smile his way. “Is it too forward to tell you I think you’re hot?”

He huffs a little breath of laughter against your lips. “Only if it’s too forward for me to say the same.”

You giggle, wind your arms around his neck. “Not too forward, I’d say.”

His hand trails up your side, fingers toying with the edge of your shirt. You’re glad, also, for the choice to wear a button-down over a tank top. The decision had been risky, and it’s not like you picked this outfit for access, but you’re appreciating that access now. He’s not even seen you naked yet, but he’s looking over you beneath him reverently, trailing fingertips up and down your clothed side.

“I can’t believe how gorgeous you are,” he confesses in a murmur. And then: “I always thought you’d look pretty underneath me. You always looked pretty, of course! I just mean… wow.”

“I haven’t even taken my clothes off for you yet.”

“If you seriously think you need to take your clothes off for me to think you’re the hottest thing alive, I don’t even know what to tell you.”

“Oh come on. You’re exaggerating.”

He grinds his hips down into you, and oh fuck. Maybe he’s not. “Does that feel like exaggerating to you?”

It was barely a moment, but that little press of his hips to yours was enough to be sure of one thing: he’s big. Between the muscles and the package between his legs, you are well set to be split in half.

You welcome the opportunity.

“Mm, I’m not sure. Better do that again so I can check.”

Another drag of his lips against yours. Another roll of his hips against yours. This he grants  you eagerly, groaning into your mouth.

Something presses at you that’s not him and his devastatingly horny state.

You intake a breath, pull away, press a hand to his mouth. He gets the message, easily—someone is nearby. A neighbor, stepped outside for a moment. He takes the hint, presses his whole body against yours in an attempt to conceal himself from view.

When the presence leaves, and you’re sure you have the advantage of privacy again, you give him a little nod and peel your hand from his mouth.

A small smile, a small laugh. “I think we might have finally cleared the air between us.”

He tilts his head down at you with just a touch of mischief in his eyes. “I thought we were doing good.”

“We were! We were also an entire trainwreck.”

His cheeks tinge pink. “I-I was doing my best!”

“I know. We both were.” You ghost a kiss onto his nose. “We should head inside, though.”

“Inside?” he squeaks, as though it’s something scandalous.

“You do realize you just ate me out in the middle of the parking lot, right? I think you’re maybe at the point where I can invite you into my apartment.”

“Right. Yeah. Right.”

“You’ve been in my apartment before. You helped me move in!”

He whines, buries his face in your neck. “That was different!”

“Oh, poor ‘Zuku. But you know, if you come inside, I could return the favor…”

You’re not really sure what configuration of anything makes it happen, but one moment, you’re sprawled underneath him in the backseat of his car, the next, he has you in his arms bridal-style, as though you weigh nothing at all.

He takes the staircase one flight at a time. You don’t go back on your word.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory @stxrrielle @snowymaltese @graywrites20

OKAY we are revamping the taglist. I've wiped it of all except recent requests just to quickly weed out inactive blogs.

If you'd like to be tagged, let me know by either replying, reblogging, or sending an ask letting me know what you'd like to be tagged in! (Eg. updates to this fic, all izuku fics, only nsfw fics, only sfw fics, all bnha fics, etc.) If at any point you'd like to be taken off the taglist, no hard feelings, just let me know!

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

OK OK OK OK OK. wibby thoughts. wibby bisection thoughts. we could just like vivisect him this time. fucking shit like that. have his guts and stuff all over the forest.

as i've said ummm. fucking around with passengers Is gonna come up a bit at some point (doesn't feel like a spoiler to say? i mean. bonesaw is Literally Here) so i won't say much, but bonesaw literally does say in snare 13.9:

so. yeah!!!!!!!!!! yeah!!!!!!! that could fucking happen!!! if the trickster has control over someone like bonesaw who is capable of doing that!! (would he Want to though? there's no like. secret well of planeswalking power in him here. would he just do it for fun????!!!!) and. ough. ok. let this one cook for a while ok there's a part u need to get to in worm that's relevant. i think this could go very hard i like it a LOT but i legally can't talk about it very much!!!!

ALSO. as i just made a post about. he could literally just get trapped in muse's area of effect during this final battle and get. um. well. really anything could happen to him. honestly the pulling him in half clicks really fucking well with this i think because that really does feel like some cartoon nightmare shit.... get yoinked!! & because it's dream logic he could still get put back together just as easily... he could be like. alive and aware the whole time it's happening. u know. wheezing bloody exposed lungs that aren't Working and aren't Doing anything and they should have stopped by now his heart is fallen out it should be stopped but it's still squeezing and his eyes are still moving etc. this would also be like. reminiscent of his trigger event (laying helpless and paralyzed and in immense pain for many hours in the middle of the woods that want to kill him). ik u have second trigger thoughts. shrug!! maybe ashe has a moment of lucidity before the field drops and goes OHHH GOD OH FUCK because wraith is just. strewn across the ground torn apart like a doll that yr dog got to. etc etc etc.

ANYWAY. thats what ive got so far what have u got!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 👀👀👀👀👀

AHA. YEAH. LITERALLY WIBBY FRIDGE IN THE FOREST. okay okay okay we are cooking we are in the kitchen together just throwing ingredients into the soup. I'm obv not going to comment on the passengers thing until I read some more of worm (btw quick side note the s9 had a cameo in the last interlude I read and I got so ridiculously happy to see them again. extremely nervous about yhem cloning themselves (???????) though. although i kind of hope they are so that it'll give me more ideas about tide. anyway.)

HOWEVER. I DO REALLY REALLY LIKE THE GETTING CAUGHT IN THE BLAST ZONE VIBE but something that hits so hard about that event in canon is just. how. Direct And Personal it seemed. like. he Did That while holding him in the air and telling him to not be afraid bc it'll all be over soon. that's so much. I love the wibby getting caught in the fucked up breaker effect but also i think it should be DIRECTED at him. reasoning behind this i don't know why yet. but I'm sure we can think of something sufficiently harmful.

god dude i didn't even CONSIDER the dream logic of it all. we literally don't even have to kill wibby we can just have him awake and alive and aware of it all. wow! awesome! and dakota can try to push him back together and he would be aware of this and trying to talk to him but his fuckign. everythign is ripped open so he can't exactly talk now can he !!!

I do have SO MANY second trigger thoughts and I do think this is so fucking perfect as a second trigger moment exactly bc of what u said abt laying helpless (ESPECIALLY if we have dakota trying to fix him because. hey he didn't trigger the first time until people came to get him. lol. lmao, even.) and i HAVE actually put a good amount of thought into what his powers would look like after this but i cant tell u until youre done w pd AUGH. also hey having ashe be lucid for a second sucks even more because he'd drop the breaker effect. the only thing that could feasibly put wibby back together in this state is ALSO the breaker effect. so he fucking panics because hey wow i just did this and the only way to fix it or undo it is to . go back to being a horrible little puppet or whatever. do u know what I mean

side note I think wibby needs to have a brutal gross awesome scar from this. i can't talk more about this until you finish 39. smile !!!!!!!!!! what the fuck dude.

[remyfire]

houlihawk + pegging bc they deserve it <3

Kink Writing Prompts (This got........longer than expected oops sorry. Tiny tiny tiny bit of pining for Beej because I'm me and this is my Hawk, but this is 99% houlihawk pining goodness, and I hope you enjoy!!!)

"Well, this feels familiar, doesn't it?" Hawk drawls, hands on the table, his back arched.

With the sound of the lock being pulled behind him, he fights the burst of anticipation right under his skin. Margaret's mildly impatient voice cuts through the air. "What are you talking about?"

"You know." Hawk peeks over his shoulder with a smirk, a quick wiggle of his rear. "You remember, don't you? A long stroll to a desk, the heat of frustration, my beautiful ass on full display, the charming interloper. Don't tell me you haven't fantasized about it."

"You're ridiculous. What my nurses see in you, I'll never know."

Hawk quirks a brow, his lips spreading further, exposing a few more teeth. "You're the one who's about to fuck me. You tell me."

He sees it, then, that moment of hesitating stride, the slight flush stirring on her neck. Not for the first time, he wonders how far down it wanders. Hawkeye catches his bottom lip between his teeth, feeling the answering heat in his own gut. Adrenaline. The collision he's been craving for a hell of a lot longer than he'd own up to.

See, it's one thing to prod at Margaret, to antagonize her like a little boy pulling her pigtails, and it's another to remember those low, throaty moans he'd coaxed out of her months ago in the middle of hell itself. Of course she's never taken his flirting seriously—why would she? In what world would she ever make a go of things with him again? They'd crashed and burned harder and faster than a shotgun wedding due to their complete lack of romantic compatibility. There's not a cell in his body that wants her for keeps, and there's not a single piece of her that could tolerate him.

And that's why that night was a one-time thing. Until it wasn't.

Margaret finally huffs and rolls her eyes as she goes for her locker. "Don't try to get cute with me, Pierce."

"Difficult ask, when that's my normal state of b—"

"We're burning off steam," she says, speaking over him. "That's all it is."

Hawk chews on the inside of his cheek, listening to her root around in her belongings, his chest going tight for a long moment. "I mean, yeah, sure, of course."

She doesn't seem willing to let it lie. "I'm fully aware of your current batting average, trust me. If you make a fourth ring around the camp, with the amount you've been drooling over my nurses, Father Mulcahy won't have to water his garden for a month."

His brows spring upward. As entertaining as it is to bat around comments like that with, say, Beej, hearing it come out of her mouth douses him with vinegar. "Ohh, and I'm sure you're just giving me a pity fuck out of the goodness of your heart. How many people are knocking down your door?"

Margaret tips her head back as she all but slams her locker shut. "Out. Get out."

"Hey." Hawk lifts his hands in the air, facing her like she's a firing squad. "Okay, too far, I get it. Sorry. I didn't..." All at once, the reality of his snapping sets in. Yeah, sure, he's been going a bit...unfulfilled lately. But he's not the person who had his ex-husband cheat on him for no reason at all. He's not the person who got strung along by possibly the most obnoxious man on the face of the planet for months and months even though he deserved so much fucking more.

Hawk breathes out all his air at once, then cycles through some fresh humid oxygen. "I'm sorry. Really. Maybe I'm on edge, but that doesn't mean I've gotta take it out on the only person who'll have me, huh?"

Margaret has her arms crossed, it looks like, her shoulders so tight and tense that he instinctively feels his fingers start to tingle. But when she turns to face him, she's holding what is frankly an overwhelming phallic object, and Hawk's eyebrows make their second leap of the night, this time practically into his hairline. "Then I suppose you can let me take my frustration out on you in a more productive way, hmm?"

"That's..." He doesn't realize he's gawking until he's almost drooling. Hawk blinks rapidly just to make sure he's seeing the thing right, but yeah, no, the longer he stares, the more confident he is in the toy being real. Long. Ridged. Thick. "Jesus, Margaret, how many times have you used that?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" But her tone's less dead now, warmed ever so faintly at the edges. They're getting back on track—and, by the smoldering fire in her gaze, fast. Margaret moves forward with that same commanding energy she always has at reveille, chin up, hips swaying just so. "Forgive me if I don't give you any additional material for your late-night fantasies."

"Au contraire, I think you're about to give me enough for a fucking month," Hawk drawls.

She tries to hide it, but the edges of her lips twitch, almost a smile, yet so far away. "You're going to want to turn around for this, I imagine."

His eyes widen. "What, I don't get to lay down, anything?"

"You're not making a mess on my cot, Pierce." Her alto voice drops just a touch further, breathier. "I already know you wouldn't clean it up. Turn."

He's not sure he's ever followed an order from her, but he spins on his heel like he's skating on a frozen lake back home.

"Besides." Margaret gently touches his back, lovely pinpoints of warmth right against his bathrobe, and nudges him until he slams his hands down on the table again. "You're the one who started this all those months ago in the CO's office, weren't you?"

The rush of overwhelming heat douses him like lava. He'd said a lot of things to her. Done a lot. Hoped for a hell of a lot more. He licks his suddenly very dry lips. "When I did all that, I-I was just kidding."

"Were you, now?"

"No," he replies just as quickly.

"Mm-hmm." Margaret thumbs slowly up his spine, vertebra after vertebra, sending goosebumps exploding over his entire body. They're followed by the warmth of arousal—a shot, a chaser—until it all starts to gather right in his slacks, becoming tighter by the second. "Pierce?" she asks one more time, heady, erotic.

He hadn't realized he had started to pant. Hawk gulps. "Yeah, yeah?"

"Take off your clothes."

"Uh-huh." All at once, he throws himself into the task, managing the robe with relative ease and letting it pool around his ankles. But one of his arms gets stuck in its shirtsleeve, which is ridiculous—he's learned how to take a bra off one-handed without so much as a fumble, and he can't even get his own top off right now? "God, what the fuck do they..."

"Struggling?" Margaret teases. She's already gathered his bathrobe up, tossed it gently over the back of the nearest chair.

"I think they starched this with their whole supply." Finally he gets it off, then goes for his belt. It rattles enough to humiliate him before he finally gets it open, gets his zipper down, and shoves his pants and boxers down all at once. It's only then that he realizes he'd forgotten his boots.

Calling it a loss, Hawk slaps his hands back down and sticks his ass out as far as he can go. "Okay, so—"

"Not winning any awards for speed, but there's something to be said for enthusiasm, isn't there?" Margaret draws just the edge of one nail over his waist, and when Hawkeye starts to bob away, she catches him on the opposite hip with her palm. "Ticklish?

"I'm not answering that," he murmurs.

She actually laughs, low and sweet, and as it always does when he makes her giggle, he feels something bloom in his chest. She's a hard woman to get to loosen up. She's been doing it more and more these days now that Trap's not here to antagonize her, now that Frank's off swanning around and enjoying a promotion he never fucking earned.

But there's something special about him being the one to do it. It almost makes him wish things had gone...differently. That maybe the two of them could've...

There's a familiar click behind him. They both know it well. The whole camp does. "What'd Potter say when you requisitioned the surgical lubricant?" Hawk asks.

"That's above your pay grade." In the quiet of Margaret's tent, the sound of her dispensing the product seems louder than a grenade.

"You didn't ask, did you?"

"I don't have to answer that."

Hawk grins, wide and mischievous. "Look at you. Major Margaret Houlihan, stealing from supply. I never thought I'd see the day."

Margaret tuts. "I'm about to fuck you senseless, and you still can't help but run your mouth."

"No, seriously, Margaret, I'm fascinated. Don't tell me this is all my doing." Hawkeye peeks over his shoulder, but he's so tight from the long shifts in OR that he can turn barely enough to see a hint of her hair. "Did me and Beej finally corrupt you the way we've been trying? We could always use a third, you know."

He catches the jerk of her head upward.

The words circle back to him. Instantly, he verbally pivots. "It's easier to get away with a petty prank or two if you've got three people, ah, executing it, y'know."

Margaret makes a quiet, contemplative hum. Whatever's going on in her head, it's a hell of a lot more interesting than what's actually happening in Hawk's life. Why does she think he's here, again? There's only so much pining a guy can go through before he goes out of his goddamn mind, and if he was getting anything more than a long stare and bumping shoulders from BJ, he certainly wouldn't need Margaret's cock in his ass.

Not need. Now that he's seen it, maybe still want. And once he sees it on her...well.

God, he really wishes she'd put him on his back for this. Fucking shit.

The silence stretches out long enough that when a digit touches his hole, Hawk tries to jolt away, but he's already trapped against the table. The lube's warm and Margaret's touch is practiced in a way that sends his mind racing away. When he closes his eyes, he can remember her halo of golden hair fanned across the dirt, the way she arched beneath his touch, how quietly but firmly she commanded his movements. "Right there. A little slower. Yes, good, now harder, fuck, Pierce..." She's a woman who knows what she likes. Who's probably more used to this as a solo act than she'd like to be.

"How much do you usually need?" Margaret asks, the words tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

Despite himself, he grins, tipping his head back. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

Her tone's a little tight as she goes on. "No matter what was said to get us here, I'm not under the slightest impression that this is your first time being... Receiving," she seems to settle on.

It's incredibly interesting, how she'll slide between pointing out that she's going to fuck him senseless, then appear to need a mental step back from the proceedings. God, he wants to bury right behind her eyes, lay a hand on her brain, be sucked into her neural pathways. She's a fascinating puzzle in one of the most gorgeous bodies he's ever seen.

"Between you and me, Margaret, I'm not entirely convinced this is your first time giving," he drawls.

The dildo appears on the table right by his hand, and he eyes it for a long moment, practically drooling, while Margaret grabs his ass with her other hand and opens him up a little further for her perusal. "I'm not at liberty to discuss my previous affairs with you."

Practically confirmation, really. What does a woman need with a toy like this and the harness he's betting is going to come into play if she wasn't flirting with deviance?

"Maybe we keep ourselves in the present?" Margaret asks, tinged with a million unspoken questions.

I won't squeal if you won't, he wants to say, but he's toed enough lines with her already tonight, and Hawk's not entirely confident that if he opens up the door to further emotional intimacy that she won't kick him out and bar him from entering forever. There's a tenderness in her that's always existed, but the first buds are finally coaxing further into bloom, and the last thing he wants is to rip the petals off the stem before they really flourish.

Instead, he peeks over his shoulder with a smirk and gives a bastardized, limp salute that has her shaking her head with mirth in her eyes.

And then she eases inside.

Hawk hums, draping more inelegantly over the hard surface under him. "Don't give me as much as you think I need," he finally advises. One finger doesn't usually cause him any trouble, but it's been so fucking long since he's been thoroughly ruined that just the feel of her gently rotating her digit in a small circle is enough to shower him in tingles. "If you're gonna use a monster like this on me, I wanna fucking feel it."

"Hedonist." But it's fond. She can't hide that from him.

He preens in response.

One of Hawkeye's favorite things is to sync himself up to the energy that his partner for the evening is giving him, to mesh with them so intimately that he feels as though there's no separation between them. If they're nervous and careful, he softens himself, turning into the seductive coaxer with a million questions in his eyes. If they're frantic, he loosens every muscle in his body as best as he can, making himself more than easy to throw around, pin down, and devour.

With Margaret, there's a silent intensity that's building with each passing second. She opens him meticulously, taking care with the curve of her nails in a way that he can't help but admire, though his brain cells are one by one dropping into a faint. And though she's not saying a word, his breath hitches under the heat of her gaze, viscerally drawn all over his skin, until the slow press of a second finger inside of him begins pulling almost inaudible moans from his lips.

It's like she's grabbed a switch, flipped it, and made sure that every part of his body is primed and ready to experience as much sensation as humanly possible. Everything is amplified.

And she's barely laid a fucking hand on him.

"You're tight," she observes, but her voice is...different. Huskier.

God, he's been hard for what feels like a decade, but that roughness makes a fresh, hot bead of arousal swell on the tip of his cock. "You like it?" he teases.

A pause. "Shut up." And then the third digit comes, almost tentatively so.

At that point, Hawkeye gives up on any concept of politeness. Hedonist? Yeah, fine, so he is. So what? What's wrong with drinking up sensation to the last drop in the cup? Why shouldn't he drop down to his elbows and feel the long stretch through his tired back and groan out his relief when Margaret slips just that bit deeper inside him? He's not here to be elegant or polite or collected or controlled. He's been dragged here to bleed a little bit of his own life into every patient, and if he needs the excuse to open himself up and be filled by whoever will have him just to regain his strength, what's it matter?

Time fuzzes over a bit. It's just him, just Margaret, just this little slice of relief in the middle of a war zone.

"Do you think you're ready?" Margaret prompts gently.

It's the softest he's heard her speak tonight. Hawkeye forces his swimming brain to reoccupy space and time, but it fights him valiantly. "Yeah, c'mon, let's try it."

"Are you sure?"

"Have me. I want you to have me."

Silence.

Her fingers withdraw and Hawk groans, resting his forehead on his joined fists. "C'mon, c'mon," he whispers senselessly, almost antsy in his skin. He barely realizes he's tapping his boot while he waits until the clink of buckles catches his attention and the toy disappears from his peripheral vision.

A click. A squeeze. More lube. The quiet sound of skin against a fair substitute, not quite as alive as a hand on a flesh-and-blood cock but still erotic enough to make him press back toward her.

"Easy." Margaret chuckles. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah. Just need..." Hawk tries to weigh the million aches inside his chest, but they all amplify into a shriek from a very deep void. "...just need."

"Hmm."

The sudden pressure against his hole is blunt and cold, and his breath catches in his throat.

"Easy," she whispers one more time before she enters him.

It's a long, slow process, and just as he opens his mouth to demand that she give him more, the words get choked into fragile sound as he feels the first real stretch from her cock. Okay, yeah, no, on second thought... But Margaret moves with confidence and care, her other hand resting on his hip and tightening in a way that strikes him almost as possessive.

Apparently he's thinking crazy. He shakes his head, trying to clear it, but it's too late. The yearning's there. To be taken, to be kept.

Hawkeye can explain to his heart day in and day out that this will never work, but every time she gets a fucking hand on him, he always loses the reasons why.

"That's it." She pets slowly up and down his back as though she can't stop, these long strokes that soothe the fact that she's still working herself inside of him little by little. "Almost there."

He lets out a high whine in the back of his throat, one that he knows he should be humiliated by, but it makes her other fingers bruise into his hip, so he really can't bother to give a shit. "Please..."

"That's it," she repeats. "Good."

He grins like a schoolboy, rolls his forehead against his fists.

Her thrusts are shallow to begin with, just tiny rocks that force him to focus on the shape of her cock inside of him. Really, he's always thought there's nothing like a hot dick that can fill him up the way he begs for every time, but he's starting to see the appeal of something ridged and textured like this as well. It keeps him guessing, rubbing his walls in just the right way.

"More?" he finally breathes.

"Yes," she murmurs back, an affirmation and a praise all in one.

The lush haze returns the moment she grazes over his prostate. As his nerve endings sing and drug him all at the same time, Hawkeye dribbles another rush of precum.

Deeper, deeper, more, more, and when she begins to pick up speed, a broken sound rushes out of him. Her hips slow again, and he pounds the table. "D-Don't stop, c'mon."

"You..." There's a pregnant pause, and Hawk white-knuckles his fists and tries not to whimper. "You really enjoy taking cock, don't you?"

"Oh, fuck..." The interplay between Margaret's hesitation and the filthy words—another brief moment of uncertainty—strikes another match that plumes into a bonfire. He grabs the base of his hardness and hums out a whine. "God, I fucking need it, Margaret."

"Do you?" Her fingers span almost delicately around his waist on the right side, a grounding presence.

"I do, I need it, I-I... God, it feels good. D'you know what you're doing to me?" All at once, the dam's fallen, and he babbles without screening a single word, letting them form like the sheen of sweat on his forehead. "Love your cock, it's fucking huge, I-I need you to use me, okay? Need—"

In one fluid movement, she slips out of him, then thrusts hard.

"Yes, fuck!"

She slaps a hand over his mouth and he leans into it, practically shouting against her palm.

"You want the whole camp to hear you?" Margaret asks as she resumes her pace, starting to pant.

Hawkeye nods furiously. Of course he fucking does. Why the hell should that be a problem? In what universe wouldn't Margaret want the whole camp to know that Hawk moans like a little bitch for her cock? That she fucks him better than all the MPs in the whole goddamn country?

Very possible that there's something about this insistent prostate stimulation that's just about turned his brain into mush, but it's fine, he can sieve it through a cheesecloth later, if that's what it takes, as long as she doesn't stop.

Hawk drags his nails down the table so he can grab the edge of it, and as muffled as his cries of ecstasy are, the way the table thuds as she fucks him into it probably isn't doing much to keep this a dirty little secret. He's just too caught up in her—the smell of her arousal, the taste of her skin, the way she groans out a low, "Jesus Christ, Pierce," as he starts to rock his hips back to meet her halfway.

He tries to tell her that he's close to the edge of overwhelm, but the mumbling against her hand is more a pleading, desperate kind of senselessness.

"So good," Margaret grits out in response, and he comes instantly.

As Hawk goes completely boneless against the table, he's vaguely aware of Margaret fucking him through the orgasm, of how she pulls out with a few shocked curses of her own, but all he can really think is a dizzied, must've been more pent up than I thought. It's been ages since he came untouched, since he—

Margaret splutters for a moment. "Y-You've ruined my table."

He drowsily lifts his head. Yeah. Yeah, looks like it.

"Lemme make it up to you." Hawk sinks down to his knees, rotates around like a drunkard with barely any sense of balance, and reaches out, but she's already opened the buckles of her harness and stepped out of it. She still has her shirt on, which is a shame, but the thatch of dark curls between her legs glistens, and Hawkeye closes his eyes as he grabs her by the hips and pulls her in.

"Oh!" Margaret sinks fingers into his hair for stability, and as he parts her pussy lips with one hand, he takes a long and greedy slurp. Her tangy musk coats his tongue, enough to restart the feedback loop of his own arousal. What he wouldn't give to get hard again. What he wouldn't pay to fuck her when she's just like this.

"God, yes, right there, Pierce," she breathes, starting to rock her clit over his tongue. "Right there, right there..."

He moans. Quick as his brain is shutting off, he'll still happily turn off all the other activity in his body so he can focus the last tiny bit of energy on nothing but his mouth. He follows her guidance, chases her pleasure.

In the end, it takes almost no time at all. Margaret comes hard, all quivering thighs and rolling moans, and Hawk tips his head so he can lap up every drop of her slickness that he can find.

The next thing he knows, he's flat on his back, sprawled across her floor like the fucked-out mess he is. Margaret nudges him with her foot and he mumbles, batting weakly at her leg.

"You can't just sleep there."

Hawk opens his eyes and smirks up at her. God. She's gorgeous. He's not gonna complain about what the hell she just did to him, but there's a certain part of himself that's overly grateful to get to look at her now. She's all pink cheeks and ruined hair, and her eyes are glowing with an affection she rarely shows anymore. No wonder. She's had her heart broken so many times. Why would she risk it for anybody? Especially for...

The edges of Hawkeye's eyes crinkle as his grin widens. "You wanna bet?"

"Pierce—"

"You can't fuck a guy that well and expect him to walk back to his tent, Margaret. By all means, I'll give crawling a chance, but if I pass out ass-up in the middle of the camp, you're responsible for my virtue."

She sighs as she sinks down to her knees, but she's not even trying to hide her own smile. "Is this your aim? Flatter me enough and maybe I'll let you sleep in my cot—which you'll probably also ruin?"

"I won't ruin your cot," Hawk murmurs patiently. He grabs a piece of her hair between his fingers, rubbing it, enjoying the soft texture. "Of course, if you let me sleep long enough, I might wake up and help you ruin your own cot, but..."

Though he expects her to, she doesn't pull away. "...what am I going to do with you, Pierce?"

His smile fades slightly. "That's up to you." Always is.

In the end, she lets him lean on her, and they make it inch by inch to her bed. She has every right to unceremoniously dump him in, but with more strength than she seems to have, she tips him in gently. He's content with that. Really. But when she not only covers him with her blanket but smooths it down into place, he goes completely breathless, gazing up at her with uncertainty dueling with guarded hope in his chest.

"I need to get some water so I can clean things up around here. You just..." She pauses. "I'll be back."

Hawkeye fights with all his might to keep his eyes open, but his cheek is on one of her several soft pillows, and they all smell like her incredible perfume, and he can still taste her on his tongue, and the world is fuzzing over at breakneck speeds, and before he knows it, he's out cold, dreaming of nothing but what life might be able to be like if his heart was a little smaller, a little hardier.

He stirs once in complete darkness with silky hair tickling his cheek. And though he knows what he's doing to himself, he wraps his arms around her and drops off once more.

[cygninae]

I'm curious why you relate to Lemony, I'd love to hear an elaboration

i'll try my best to explain why I find so much of myself in Lemony, but forgive me if I sound mad or something. I'm just going to ramble about this, no structure.

The first thing, really, that we ever learn about Lemony Snicket is that he has a duty to tell us the truth about a series of incidents, though they appear to be extremely detrimental to him to do so. He does it anyway. When I look at him, I see that he has no regard for himself, only the world around him. Meticulous to the very detail, dedicated to the last second, passionate to a boiling point underneath a front of witty disregard for practically everything.

He took it upon himself to write about the Baudelaire's experience as accurately as he could, because he couldn't stand by and watch the world move on when so many lives had been ruined. He doesn't really care that he could get killed in the process, or caught, or anything worse. He throws himself completely and wildly into this task of exposing what really happened to the Baudelaires. I'm not saying I relate to him because this was valiant - don't worry, I'm not that up my own arse. I relate to him because he is so book smart but actually completely stupid for not thinking that anyone loves or cares about him enough to be extremely hurt when he throws his life to the wind. I relate to his complete devotion to something that doesn't really need him. To something that stings as it reminds him of his past - Beatrice - while he clearly revels in that pain it brings back for him. He wants to ruin his own life. The answer is just why, really, and I don't think even he knows that. I'll touch on this a bit later tho.

Lemony is, as we know, forever in love with Beatrice. Even after she broke off their marriage, after she married someone else, after she died: he worships her completely, and he loves her, but at the same time I think this is because he is someone who genuinely loves being in unrequited love... bc he could move on from her. Easily. Anyone can move on eventually. But even after she is long, long gone he clings onto her through every aspect of his art (his books, his dedications) and his life (researching the Baudelaires even though they are her and Bertrand's, keeping her list of reasons she couldn't marry him, a lock of her hair, etc) and he does this because he wants to be in a tragic, unrequited love. I relate to that. What is it Donna Tarrt says - a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs? To me that is Lemony. He wants to live in this dark constant of loneliness and tragedy because he thinks it's what suits him. It's a bit ridiculous and it's a bit heartbreaking.

Anyway, moving on. To be easier on him, I'll be kind - Lemony is someone who loves. Yes, maybe too much, maybe in a way that is unhealthy, but he genuinely loves. He loves Beatrice. He loves literature. He loves his siblings. He loves VFD as much as he hates it. He loves the Baudelaire children, even though they have nothing to do with him, and he loves, well, I dont know. He loves the world around him though he is morbid and unhappy about it all. I suppose he loves the horridness of it. Oh and of course, he loves pistachios. (Me too.)

I hope this answers your ask, even though I just explained that all like a complete lunatic. I'm a bit sleep deprived so forgive me for that. To summarise, Lemony is a self-sabotaging book-smart idiot who doesn't just run away from his responsibilities, he fakes his death and gives himself new ones. He loves like a dog but to the detriment of everything around him. Yeah. I just think he is fascinatingly layered and yet so painfully readable because he wears his heart on his sleeve and he doesn't even care. I hope that in another lifetime he was happy.

[yuukei-yikes]

i’m so curious to hear more about how the haruka and shintaro relationship develops post str. bc like there’s konoha and also the mess with shinaya and shintaro and takanes messed up dynamic and i just read your thing about how takane and shintaros friendship plays out and like… i’m so curious how or if haruka and shintaro ever get back to a good place and like how much do they even interact outside the quartet and can they even have a relationship separate from takane

YEAHYEAHYEAH WOOOO WOOOO guess what. this one also got too long💗 whatever. deal with it

i think haruka and shintaro are rly quick to go back to their old dynamic!!! but erm. ok here's the thing.

SORRY TO GET ALL ANNOYING ABT THIS AGAIN i answered this in an ask a few weeks ago BUT i am gonna repeat. it pisses me off SOOOOO MUCH that shintaro is totally normal to haruka and just a dickhead to ayano&takane. i accidentally went on a rant abt the misogynistic writing in shintaro/in general lollll and i might do it again💗 i will do it again. sorry, because when it comes to haruka & shintaro's dynamic this is SO difficult for me to get past i just can't do it so HERE I GO AGAIN:

because it pisses me off too that haruka just doesn't say anything. i WILL get to ur question i will get to haruka&shintaro post str about the whole shinaya and codependent shintaka shitshow but i need u to hear me out for a second first. YES I KNOW IM REPEATING MYSELF WHATEVER

so i know haruka not saying anything and doing stuff like Lying to takane abt hanging out with shintaro bc he knows she hates him etcetc is rather like. haruka's like theyre both my friends i hate they can't get along :( and i know its written this way because writer doesn't see the issue in question in the first place. like i said i hate how takane is always put at the level of shintaro as if she isn't defending herself. ayano just lets shintaro walk all over her + haruka is either oblivious or too spineless to say anything and takane's fighting for her life LOL like she's not stupid she knows why shintaro is a dick to her. and like damn takane was SO nice to shintaro when she first meets him and shintaro is the one to start their shitty dynamic in the hs days because he decided he hated her right off the bat without even knowing who she was. he just stood in a 2 or 3 hour line to whine abt ohh u think ur such a big shot because all these ppl think ur cool and the funny thing is that takane AT NO POINT EVER thinks this and is the total opposite, she was crying her eyes out the whole day at being exposed and having all these people here. shintaro didnt know shit. like truly what is the reason he did this other than AUUGGHH GIRLS DONT PLAY VIDEOGAMES😡😡😡 HES SO RIDICULOUS Like if he had been mean to haruka too later, I'd let it pass it'd be like ok yeah ig shintaro's wholeheartedly just a fucking asshole and who knows what his fucking problem is but LITERALLY IN THE SAME HOUR shintaro's like haruka i can teach you how to play videogames and be ur best friend lets kiss on the mouth like girl. again gay not only bc i like men but bc i hate women👍or whatever. hs shintaro i fucking hate you youre SO annoying. there is NO OTHER REASON for the treatment💗 and takane sees it and ayano & haruka either see it and dont say anything or are oblivious. ayano bc she's too awooga over shintaro and haruka because (cracks knuckles) care for internalized misogyny. sorry i know he's better than this but lollllll. either haruka is oblivious which HE IS NOT because haruka is a dumbass but in his pov he shows again and again how perceptive he is to the ppl around him. he's just a fucking spineless loser. he doesn't say anything to shintaro because then maybe shintaro will think he's lame. maybe he did say something to shintaro and shintaro was like erm whatever dude lol and haruka's like haha. yeah forget i said anything lol(sweating) but haruka isnt stupid enough not to consider why shintaro is just a dickhead to takane for no reason. sorry seriously what on earth was going thru jin's mind to write shintaro and takane's meeting like THAT 😭😭😭

yes i know theyre fictional characters and this is one of those things i could truly just ignore because it is the fault of the writer not of the, again, FICTIONAL CHARACTERS, and i do this with many things in kagepro but HERE specifically. i can't bring myself to ignore it and i dont wanna. idk, it just bothers me lol because it's an entire dynamic. you're telling me shintaro and takane had that relationship for a over a year at school and haruka just watched the whole time and didnt say anything??? he still went to be buddies with shintaro when he walked in and said all that awful shit to takane first meeting?? yeah girl im holding him accountable (as a character)idgaf. LOL!!! again erm. reminder this is written. im mad abt the sexist writing not The characters who are not real people ok? ok.

sorry maybe im butthurt because im afab🤨and reading this kinda thing is like.i wanna throw up and i get all intense. but imagine being in takane's place and ur guy friend who u think is good is like. just letting the misogynistic asshole in the friend group say shit because its not directly affecting him and ur like wow. ok then. hehe takane getting mad at haruka for always being like aw guys dont fight like she's not defending herself LOLLLL ok sorry ill stopill stop.

.........getting to the actual question. clearly i have my thoughts abt their dynamic. i think.. sorry, i just can't get past shintaro&takane's relationship in general to be able to think abt haruka&shintaro's. when i read ur ask i was like well ofc they have a relationship separate of takane!!! they're bestest friends!!! BUT... when i really think abt it... maybe not LMAOO like yeah maybe im just super like 💗💗takane💗💗 and hate the misogyny too much. and i think shintaro and ene/takane's relationship is SO titular to kagerou project that its impossible for me to ignore it??

i think generally in post str since shintaro is glued at the hip with takane who in return is also glued at the hip to haruka ofc it's never just Them two alone and takane is in fact in the middle. haruka loves hanging out with shintaro though and he loves him!! he loves when he's around he loves hanging out!! he's also excited abt shintaro and takane being besties bc at first he's like YES DREAM TEAM💥💥💥(PERCEIVES THE HORRORS) WAIT A SECOND..

i think since haruka is the one slowly talking to takane abt their codependency and etc he slowly grows to sort of. be annoyed?? at some of shintaro's behavior. because haruka tries talking to him about it the same he talks about it to takane! but while takane's all like "ummm nahhh whaaa no way ermm (holds head) OK MAYBE..." shintaro's like U THINK IM GONNA STEAL UR GIRLFRIEND UR SO FUNNY LOOOOOL and haruka's like 😐THATS NOT WHAT IM SAYING.

but like with ayano, haruka is kind of scary to shintaro. not as much as ayano, bc with her there's the whole thing abt yaki and stuff but haruka is also like. WOW he's alive huh. and also, again, shintaro is sorta pissed off at harutaka as a whole LOL 1. he's kinda down bad for both of them 2. is INSANELY jealous of their healthy & communicative & non destructive relationship in contrast to whatever the fuck he's doing with ayano. LOL!! from shintaro's perspective (subconsciously i cant stress it enough. all the shit he's doing he's rly not. on the loop(LOOL!!!)about the fact he is doing it he's rly not doing it on purpose) its comforting to know that bc of their codependency(that hes also in denial about) takane is as distanced from haruka as he is from ayano, like both their relationships suffer for it so it HAS to be normal right??

so when haruka approaches him abt it shintaro is kind of annoyed. subconsciously. at first he's like ohhh yeah of course you wanna spend time alone with ur girlfriend lol sorry man get some 👍 and haruka's like well that's not the only thing?? it's not so much about me as it is about you and takane bc this is clearly a rly bad dynamic for u guys and i think ur kind of enabling her fears and takane is really overdue in facing her reality and its not helping her to cling on u like this

actually, i think haruka is able to articulate it better to shintaro than to takane bc with takane he's terrified she'll dump him over it. because he is very worried specifically about her mental state and how she's using shintaro as a means to STILL not face her problems and the fact she is alive. but if he were to say this to her face takane would. yeah she'd freak out a lil bit so while he still does it little by little, he thinks talking directly to shintaro should be ok right!! he'll understand where he's coming from, because takane was and is dedicating her existence to shintaro for a sense of purpose while shintaro...what's shintaro's problem, haruka wonders. he acts annoyed but still stays by her. obviously he's just used to her. but it's not as extreme as it is with takane since she's DEDICATED so maybe he will hear him out!

DEAD WRONG shintaro keeps talking like omg haruka ur being just like ayano lmaooo all jealous over me and takane u guys are so funny. shintaro's so delighted he's like THANK GOD ayano and i are normal then, haruka is doing the same as her!! but haruka insists its really not so much abt jealousy at all he's just genuinely worried for both shintaro & takane. and probably grows a little annoyed over shintaro's insistence of him being jealous and refusing to listen LOL haruka: u and takane share a while understandable, deeply destructive relationship u cope mindlessly with... shintaro: u just wanna make out with her and ur mad im around :3

i think haruka even trusts shintaro with why he's telling him all this and why he struggles talking abt it to takane. so shintaro is VERY aware of haruka's delicate self worth and yeah takane too but shintaro also knows in detail abt haruka struggling to feel good enough for her and all that shit. and he feels kinda good abt it LOL shintaro's like... he kinda feels like he can have haruka under control like this. SUBCONSCIOUSLY OF COURSE AGAIN shintaro isnt a manipulative mastermind he's just GOING THRU IT.

basically haruka and shintaro do kinda have their old dynamic but now there's all this stuff abt takane. shintaro specifically keeps trying to default to their old dynamic but that's difficult bc haruka is REALLY living the moment while shintaro is still stuck in all these emotions pulling him back. so of course haruka's eq freaks him out a bit. and again pisses him the hell off that haruka and takane seem so good together while he's fighting for his life with ayano.

so when shintaro is at his wits end and hits on takane (anyone reading this out of context to my other post the anon is referring to, im sorry) it REALLY crashes down. ofc i talked abt takane's side bc that's what it was about but only briefly abt haruka. i think. i think haruka is overdue sending shintaro to hell too. from being such an asshole to both ayano and takane in highschool all the way to his fucked up relationships with both even now post str. i think that's also a nice way for haruka to step up and stop being so spineless. srry i keep calling him this but its such a perfect word to describe him. haruka is so self conscious abt everything his self confidence is so nonexistent and that holds him back from everything but i think the same way everyone is breaking by now he also has his Moment.

like haruka KNOWS shintaro is dealing with a lot. of course he knows. so haruka isnt mean about it, he doesnt yell at him about it like takane does. i think haruka just kinda. grimaces and says he's really disappointed in him. and shintaro's like GOD ID RATHER YOU PUNCH ME IN THE FACE but haruka is just silent and thats so so so much worse. shintaro keeps begging him to just punch him and haruka's like why?? and shintaro's like cuz im ur bro and i hit on ur girl :((((( and haruka's like OHHH MY GOD. DO U EVEN UNDERSTAND WHAT IS GOING ON RN DO U HEAR HOW DEMEANING IT IS TO REDUCE IT TO JUST THAT?? ITS NOT HS CRUSH STUFF.... UR DESTROYING ALL UR RELATIONSHIPS MY MAN. shintaro's like a.

so hes like WELL...IM JUST...SORRY... LIKE I WASNT THINKING... and haruka's like apologize to TAKANE not ONLY me!! apologize to ayano!!where are THEIR apologies!! what's the matter with you!! i know ur hurting but ALL OF US are, why do u get a pass to act this way!! just stop!!!!

haruka doesn't say much else but i think only that is enough to send shintaro spiraling down + all the other stuff. he's like speedrunning destroying all his relationships its so funny honestly. and i think haruka is the one to point it out to him. he says he HAS been telling him and didnt listen and he's driven it to a point where even he needs a break from him and doesnt really wanna see him rn. shintaro's like 😐meltdown style. haruka's like Closes door on ur face cutely💗

sorry i kinda talked abt so much other stuff here but yeah. 💗👍

[skully-bones]

every contradictory thing my stepdad does just has me like

[daisysliv]

safe & sound | eddie munson

word count: 952

pairing: eddie munson x gen!reader

summary: in which eddie's arms is the only place you feel safe

warnings: fluff, light angst, mentions or death

notes: wrote this bc i desperately need to be hugged, preferably by joseph quinn. as always, not edited so all mistakes are my own!

library

stranger things bookshelf

If someone would have told you a year ago that the safest place to be was in his arms, you would've laughed and walked away not believing a word they said. It would've been a ridiculous notion but as you were in his arms, curling your body closer into his side, it wasn't ridiculous.

The warmth that radiated from his body kept you from freezing and feeling exposed to the outside world, the world you didn't trust anymore. The way he cradled your head in one hand and wrapped the other around your waist kept you grounded while he, and his big, brown doe eyes checked you over for any fatal injuries. When he finalized his opinion that there was no harm done that could be fatal, he carefully pulled you into his chest, the hand cradling your head joining his other arm around your waist. The tightness of his arms wrapped around you, fully, kept you secure.

Being in his arms was like being wrapped in a blanket while you sat on the couch and watched a movie or some stupid sitcom on a rainy day. It felt safe. You felt safe for the first time in a long time.

Gripping the back of his shirt with your hands and bunching the fabric in your fist, you buried your head deeper into his chest with a sigh passing your chapped lips. The sound of his heartbeat echoing in your head kept you tied to reality.

“You’re okay.” Eddie’s lips brushed against your forehead as he spoke, his arms tightening around you. “You’re okay.” He repeated.

You nodded against his chest, keeping your eyes screwed shut. You didn't want to open them in fear that this was all an illusion made by Vecna. You didn't want to open them and be met with sight of everyone and everything you love dead because that would break you. It would break you beyond repair and you didn't think you could handle it. “I'm not letting anyone hurt you, do you hear me? No one is going to hurt you again.” Hot tears brim in your eyes and you resist the urge to listen to the voice in the back of your head telling you to break down.

You would break down later, not right now. There were more pressing matters at hand than the need to sob. There were lives all over town in danger and could die at any moment because of the ground that caved in near their feet, taking people with it, there was no time for a cry session. You felt as if you were already wasting time as he held you but you couldn't bring yourself to pull away. His arms brought you a certain comfort that you hadn't felt in such a long time and you didn't want to lose it.

“We need to go.” Eddie hums in agreement but neither of you made a movement to let go of each other. Neither of you were ready to lose the comfort that you gave each other.

It was nice to feel safe—protected for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Maybe just a few more minutes.” He whispered, his arms tightening around you slightly. You became aware of the light trembling of his body and tightened your own arms around him. He needed your comfort as much as you needed his, it appears.

“We need to find the others. See if they're okay and see if… if everyone made-”

“Don't. Don't go there.” Eddie cuts you off before you could finish the sentence.

Despite not wanting to believe it, the only way the ground would’ve caved beneath them was if the plan failed and Vecna claimed another victim; someone had to be dead for this to have happened. It could've been anybody. It could've been any of your friends while that scared you, you were glad it wasn't Eddie.

It almost was him but you and Dustin were quicker than those bats and helped Eddie fight them off before escaping the Upside Down with seconds to spare before everything went to shit.

Reluctantly pulling yourself out of Eddie’s arms, you shivered at the cold breeze that hit with the absence of the warmth his hold brought. The urge to fall back into his arms grew quickly in you but there were still things that needed to be done. The fight wasn't over. And it wouldn't be over for a long time.

“We need to get Dustin and head over to the Creel house.”

The metalhead nodded and followed you out to the RV where Dustin had been impatiently waiting for the two of you. “What took you so long?! We needed to go, like, yesterday!” Dustin shouted from his spot in the back, his eyes wide.

“Sorry! Sorry!” You exclaimed while you fought with the buckle of the seat. You look around to see the damage and your eyes widen in horror. Homes were split down the middle, people were running around screaming and looking for their loved ones while smoke clouded the sky. It was a real life nightmare. “Oh, my God,” You gasped.

“I know. It's like everyone's nightmares come to life.” Eddie climbs into the driver’s seat after taking his own look around at the place he called home. “Jesus Christ.” He swore under his breath, his hands tightening around the wheel.

“Do you want me to drive?” You ask when you realized how much the sight of the trailer park in shambles terrified the man next you.

“No.” Is all he says before he speeds out onto the road and out of the place he’s called home his entire life without another look.

notes: if you would like to request something from the prompt list, you can find it here, just be sure to add the numbers, and if it’s angst or fluff! if you want to request something that is not on the list, go right ahead and send in the ask!

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[kyopmi]

Imagine:

Kiyo having THE rbf!!!

So, you being a friend of Meian, decided to go on a match of his and totally fell for the team, bc they are so amazing! Their dynamics are great plus obviously they have such good looks

Meian being like a big bro, takes you with them to go and eat (celebrate their win)

Kiyo seeing you and swooning, like who is that beauty?

So he would just stare at you from afar, trying to figure out if he could take the shot or nah, so if you first if all are single and second of all would even be interest just in talking to him

So he would stare, all nervous on the inside, but HIS face, oh mama Mia, his FACE he would have such a death stare!!! You would start believe that he hates you, that he wants you to be gone (like you going home not gone gone)

You would feel so pressured and insecure, while he was just trying to collect some courage to say 'Hi' to you

kiyoomi is the KING of rbf when in reality he's just an awkward mess😭

please anon i'm melting for this story... you think he hates your guts with the amount of times you've caught him glaring at you but you have no idea why???? it's so frustrating but you are determined more than ever to make amends with him and get on his good side (which you already are on, actually). but it's not as simple as it sounds because whenever you try to offer a smile, kiyoomi just looks away immediately or when you try to make small talk, he finds an excuse to leave (he is just shy!!! and doesn't want you to see him all blushy and nervous!!!!)

the amount of times you've whined and vented to meian, wondering why does kiyoomi hate me so much and what have i ever done to him while meian - who can clearly see it's not hatred that he feels, but very much the opposite - can only pat you on the back and assure you that you've done nothing wrong, because he doesn't want to full-on expose kiyoomi's ridiculously obvious (to everyone except you, it seems) crush on you.

one day you just have had enough with this tall, gorgeous, beautiful specimen of a man and make it your mission to corner him at an MSBY party that you were invited to.

"sakusa kiyoomi. why do you hate me?"

kiyoomi nearly chokes on his drink. he thinks this is the closest he's ever stood in front of you without running away. staring at you wide-eyed at your question, he mumbles out a reply, "i don't hate you..."

you don't catch the end of his sentence, his voice trailing off and he suddenly can't look you in the eyes.

"huh? what was that?"

kiyoomi has to clear his suddenly-dry throat and swallow nervously before repeating himself. "i said i don't hate you, i like you."

:-)

ufhljfhh shy kiyoomi is the cutest! (and also most annoying at the same time) thank you anon! giving you a big kiss for this <3

[hopeless-daydream3r]

Own you

Guren Ichinose x fem!reader.

wc: 1.4k.

A/N: soooo, this is the first time ever i write something on this platform, and it is smut, i tried my best, and sorry if this is crappy. The grammar might not be the best bc i’m not a native english speaker but i tried, since there is so little content for my boy Guren i wanted to help a little. So yeah, i hope you like this, maybe i will write a little more in the future but it all depends. Here it goes lovelies ❤

TW: SMUT, so please minors dni, a little gagging, a little bit of dacryphilia, daddy kink, sex on a public place, jealous Guren, creampie, i’ll add more if there’s something that i left out. 

You should've known better. You should’ve known about the slight touches that Kureto gave you from time to time. On the shoulder. On the arm. He even patted your head on certain occasions. You thought it was something he did to mock your height compared to his. You never noted he had second intentions. But Guren did, he gritted his teeth every time Kureto called you to his office to give you a mission. To ask for advice on something ridiculous. 

And you knew the relationship of the Hiragi House with Guren. You knew how much Guren despised them and he had good reasons to. So you tried to keep your distance with Kureto. But there was not a lot you could do when he was the head of the Hiragi house. So you should’ve known that every interaction with Kureto didn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend. And that’s how you ended up here. Ass bare on the boardroom table after a meeting with the higher ups. Your thighs holding onto his hips like your life depended on it. His gloved fingers shoved right into your mouth, the fabric coated with your saliva. Your uniform skirt was pulled up high, his left hand holding it in place while he grabbed your waist. Making sure your body was supported, The buttons of your coat and shirt were open and your bra was pulled down leaving your breast completely exposed to hungry lilac eyes. He loved to watch them bounce while he pounded mercilessly into your wet pussy. And still, Guren was fully clothed, the bastard had just pulled his pants a little to free his cock. 

‘’Look at you, so obedient. So ready to give him everything he wants from you. Haven’t i taught you better?’’ His thrusts were hard and fast, he needed this, he needed to remind you who you belonged to. He needed to have you drunk on his cock before you went to that office. He needed Kureto to see how shaky you were, the marks he had left on your neck. Angry bite marks and dark spots. ‘’At this point i think you are doing this on purpose, darling. If you wanted my attention you should’ve said so. If you wanted my dick you know i’m always down to fuck you brainless. You wanted that?’’ He teased. You could only babble nonsense. Not only because his fingers on your mouth. But because you were really lost in the feeling. You gagged from time to time when his fingers pressed on your tongue. 

‘’...o…ad…ddy.’’ No daddy. A particularly hard thrust from his part and a high pitched moan escaped from your mouth full of his fingers. 

You felt full, so full, your walls fluttering around him, making him grunt and curse. He chuckled when he saw your eyes full of tears. Your poor pussy was suffering his assault. He had spanked you there a few times before entering you. Enough to have you begging him to just fuck you already. He knew you were oh, so sensitive so responsive always, to him and only him. This was supposed to be quick. Teach you a lesson. But he couldn’t stop himself. Not now at least. 

His fingers abandoned your mouth. A trail of saliva connecting your mouth to them. This was going to be fun. His gloved hand came to rest on your chest. Pressing you down on the table so you were fully laying on it. Your legs found support on his back. And you both moaned when the action sinked him more into your heat. This was wrong. Someone could walk in at any given moment. But you were too gone to care. Then. Guren’s face was close to yours once more. 

‘’See that door, darling?’’ He motioned with his head to the door of the boardroom right at your back. ‘’Someone could walk in at any moment to retrieve you, to see what’s taking you so long.’’ 

The gloved hand that had been previously on your mouth and the same one that put you in place now toyed with one of your hardened buds. The cold sensation of your saliva still in the fabric making you whimper. 

‘’I particularly wish Kureto himself to be the one to see you like this. Legs open, eyes teary and lips begging for more, for me. Calling me daddy, watching me own you. Because I own you, don’t i?’’ His voice was low, dangerous. But he had the brightest smile on his face. 

‘’Guren, this…we should n…’’ Your words died in your lips when his hand came to your neck, squeezing tight, but just enough to have you seeing stars. Your walls clenching onto him. Making him curse under his breath. You could feel your slick coating him and starting to leak from your abused hole. 

‘’I said, I own you don’t i?’’ He stopped moving completely since changing positions. And you were desperate. You tried to wiggle your hips, but it was no use. Not until you gave him what he wanted. 

‘’Yes, daddy. I’m yours, but please, please, please.’’ Your whining and begging, oh how he enjoyed that. You were almost crying. And he could not resist. 

His hips started moving again, with more force, his tip kissing your cervix from time to time. And then you realized your mistake. He wasn’t covering your mouth. And neither was he planning on doing that. You almost screamed every time his dick reached that spot of yours deep inside. Your nails burying in his suit jacket. It was difficult. So difficult. 

‘’Slow…G…Guren, slow…’’ You couldn't phrase the sentence correctly. Your whole energy into trying to be quiet. 

‘’What’s the issue, baby? I thought you liked that.’’ The sound of slapping skin echoing in the room. ‘’I’m not going to cover your mouth, love. Didn’t you hear me? Are you that cock drunk already? I want everyone in this fucking building to hear you. I want them to understand who you belong to. I want you to scream my fucking name when you cum, and you are going to that office with my cum still in that pretty pussy of yours just so you think of me when you are receiving your orders like the good girl you are.’’ 

He didn’t give you time to even think of responding something remotely coherent. His thrusts were animalistic at this point, and his thumb found your clit next. You were done for. Wiggling a little under his touch, trying to contain yourself, but moans started to escape from your mouth, your tears followed next. Your eyes big and wet staring at the door behind you. Waiting, and fearing at the same time someone walking on the both of you. 

Then your back arched when his moth found one of your breast, starting to mark the flesh around your nipple with hickeys and little bites, and then circling your nipple with his tongue. Your mind went foggy, it was too much, you were babbling, you were almost certain of that. You could hear yourself. 

‘’T…oo much…please. Daddy too…’’ You didn’t even finish when you were cuming already. Walls clenching around him. Legs shaky and breath uneven. Your lips were parted, a loud moan coming out. You were praying to god that it was just that, but the satisfied smile in Guren’s face told you that maybe it was a little too loud to be considered only a moan. The blush on your face increased. Like that was even possible. He fucked you through your orgasm. Never stopping but slowing down just a little bit.

‘’Such a beautiful slut.’’ His voice was deep. ‘’And all mine.’’ His thrusts speeded up again, until you could feel him filling you up with his seed like he promised. A moan escaped your lips while your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation. He pulled out. Fixing himself and then putting your panties on your legs again, helping them to their original spot, smiling when he saw a little wet patch forming. He helped you to sit again on the table and fix yourself. Then, he planted a peck on your forehead with a smirk. 

‘’Now, you are free to go, sweetheart. I think i made my point very clear, to you and to everyone who heard you.’’ 

‘’You are unbelievable.’’ You shook your head a little hoping from the table, your legs, still a little shaky. 

‘’Maybe, but i’m also amazing at fucking you, and that you love about me.’’ Proud as always. 

@bumblingbee1 hope you like it:) 

[pascalpanic]

Miller Morales Mechanic Shop (Frankie Morales x f!Reader)

Part One of Miller Morales Mechanic Shop

Summary: Something is wrong with your car. What, exactly? You have no clue. So you bring it in to some professionals- who also have a toddler running around the shop.

W/C: 2.3k

Warnings: language, Frankie is a dad, brief mention of divorce and trauma bc poor Frankie, there is a child heavily involved in this so if you don’t like kids this isn’t for you :)

A/N: WELCOME TO PART ONE EVERYONE! This is such a cute AU and I’m BEYOND excited to start sharing it with you all! I don’t know how many parts this will be or anything but I can’t wait to take it and run with it.

Marisol Morales behaves for very few people. One of those is Ben Miller. Unfortunately, she has decided to break her own rules today.

Frankie loves summer. He loves his little girl playing outside in her baby pool, taking her for walks around the neighborhood with their three-legged dog, all of the fun parts. The hard part is when the nanny goes on a vacation and Mari has to come to work with him.

Benny and Frankie, ever since the chaos that was the Lorea mission, run a small mechanic shop together. Miller Morales Mechanic Shop isn’t necessarily the busiest place in town, but they make enough to get by and have some disposable income too. Mari loves to hang around the shop with her daddy and uncle. She’s there more than Frankie would like, but he supposes it’s not the worst thing in the world. When Frankie and Jules split and Frankie won full custody, he’d hoped a nanny would take care of most everything when Mari is home all day in summer. Sadly, he was in for a rude awakening when no Mary Poppins showed up on his doorstep.

It’s normally not too bad; Benny hung the moon in Mari’s eyes. If she won’t do something for her daddy, which is still somewhat rare, she’ll always do it for her Uncle Benny. That makes the day run much smoother. Mari has a whole host of quiet-time activities and toys to play with, and the men generally trade off periods of either working on the cars or being with the little girl.

Her favorite activities at the shop include drawing on the concrete with thick sticks of chalk and playing with her toy helicopters and planes. Benny insists tanks are cooler, but Mari prefers flying her Polly Pockets in the chopper, running through the garage and making flight noises. She’s a smart little thing; for her age, she’s picked up big words and can make sentences out of three words, which is quite a stretch for a baby just over two years of age. She calls for Benny and Daddy and knows the names of his tools: wench, scu-dwive, and her favorite, win-seeled wipe fwuid. She loves to babble at customers while they get their oil changed.

-

Being shit with cars is no fun. It only increases the anxiety when some light flashes on your dashboard. The lights can mean so many things that you find it ridiculous; “check engine”? Check it for what? To save yourself the anxiety, you find your nearest mechanic and pay them to deal with it.

Today, as you pull over into a gas station, you check your phone and find that the nearest shop is a place you haven’t heard of. It must be new. Miller Morales Mechanic Shop, 0.6 miles away. The name implies something more local and homegrown. You’re more than willing to support a place like that, so you start up the engine, pray you don’t explode, and make your way over to the shop.

It’s nearby, like the map indicated. The outside is a quaint little place, tucked in a strip mall next to a coffee shop, a dentist, and an insurance agency. The three car bays are empty, and knowing next to nothing about how these shops work, you pull inside and park your car, letting it run as you wait for an employee. The bell dinged to let them know you were here, so you stay patient and listen idly to the hum of the talk radio show from your car’s speakers.

After a minute or two pass, you realize that maybe this wasn’t the right place to be. Maybe you were supposed to go in the front or something. Concluding that you probably aren’t where you’re supposed to be, you turn off the car and get out only to be greeted by the sound of buzzing lips.

You can hear a baby’s voice, mimicking some kind of vehicle’s sound, and for a second you’re worried this place must have you hearing things. Then, from a swinging door to the front comes a little girl, running and babbling to herself about her toy helicopter.

She has a head full of dark brown curls, tied back into two puffs with pink scrunchies, and matching pink leggings and a t-shirt far too big for her, the back emblazoned with the shop’s logo. She’s barefoot, tiny feet slapping against the cold cement.

“I told you I had to piss, Fish!” A man’s voice shouts from one end of the garage.

“No you didn’t, dipshit!” Another man shouts back. Being caught in the middle of their argument is quite comical, if you’re being honest with yourself. “She’s fucking two! You can’t leave her alone like that, man!”

The first voice is matched to a person as a tall blonde man emerges from the customer service side of the shop. “Marisol Morales, come here,” he insists sternly as he rolls up the sleeves of his jumpsuit. “Come on, you’re gonna trip.” Ben is embroidered on a patch over his heart.

She pouts at him before stumbling forward and continuing to run, stopping as she sees you and looking up in confusion. Her lower lip sticks out in a pout as her eyes scan your face, as if she’s trying to remember if she knows who you are. “Hi,” she finally concedes as you bend to her level.

“Hi there,” you smile and hold out a hand. “What’s your name?” You pick her up, holding her on your hip so that she doesn’t trip, like Ben so desperately feared.

The second, unknown voice shouts for the little girl again before boots clunk on concrete up to you, rounding your car and stopping. This must be the girl’s father, you realize, as you rake your eyes up his body. He wears the same navy blue jumpsuit as the other man, though it’s unsnapped over his chest, exposing the white t-shirt beneath. The patch on his chest reads Catfish. He wears a ball cap and warm brown curls peek out from under it. He has scruff and a hooked nose that perfectly matches the one on the little girl. “I Mari,” she introduces herself proudly.

“Hey, leave her alone, Mar,” the man shakes his head as he hoists her up to hold her on his hip. “I’m so sorry about that,” he says with an embarrassed smile, showing a dimple beneath the scruff on his chin.

“No, it’s not a problem,” you laugh then set her down and tell the little girl your name. “Aren’t you just the cutest?” You chuckle as she looks at you. She blushes and buries her face in the man’s chest, giggling shyly.

He looks down at the little girl then up at you again. “Well, uh, hi. I’m Frankie, and you’ve met Mari already.”

“Your daughter?” you ask as you look at the pudgy little girl, who now stares at you in awe.

Frankie nods and adjusts his ball cap, pushing his hair back with it. “Yep. Our nanny is on vacation, so she gets to hang out around here,” he chuckles and kisses her head, setting her down. “Go see Benny, yeah?” He asks her. She happily waddles off towards the blonde man, who gives you a wave then heads into the back. “What brings you in?”

“Would you laugh if I told you I don’t really know?” You admit with a shy smile. “My check engine light came on while I was on the highway. I don’t know the first thing about cars, so I was hoping you’d figure out what that meant.”

“Nah, no laughing here,” he nods and gives you a genuine smile before looking over at your car. “Shouldn’t be too much of a problem. I’ll have you pop the hood for me and I’ll give it a look?” He asks.

“That would be great. Thank you,” you tell him, the desperation for his help in your voice. Now that you get the chance to really look at him, he’s quite attractive. His eyes are deep set and a beautiful brown, and they crinkle when he smiles. Facial expressions only accentuate the lines in his face, but he’s certainly not old. His eyes still hold his youth.

“No problem.” He leads you to the car and you pop the hood open before getting out. “Could I take your keys?” he asks you. “Just so I can turn it on and off and all that good stuff.”

“Yeah, of course,” you nod frantically and hand them over to him. “I’ll… be in the waiting room?”

“That’s how we usually do it,” he chuckles as he takes the keys from you. “Just shout for Benny if Mari annoys you again.”

That makes you frown. “She’s not annoying at all. She’s adorable,” you smile as you look over your shoulder and see her and the blonde man playing together.

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive,” he laughs and points his wrench at you as he walks to the hood of the car.

Shaking your head, you can’t help but laugh as you head back to the waiting room. You walk in and Mari perks up, turning to look at you. “Hi! Playing helicopter,” she tells you in her stunted speech as she holds up the toy.

“You sure are,” you nod and sit next to her. “Can I play?” You ask, looking up at Benny, silently asking him the question too.

He nods and Mari squeals happily. “Friend!” She shrieks and hands you another helicopter. “Go pew pew, okay?” She drags them across the toy mat like they’re cars, and you follow suit.

“Okay,” you laugh. Looking up at the blonde man, you extend a smile his way and introduce yourself. He’s busy repairing a Barbie dollhouse with a screwdriver.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Ben, Benny, whatever you wanna call me.”

Driving your helicopter around the ground, following Mari’s lead, you chuckle. “No preference?”

“Fish calls me Benny.”

“Fish?” You ask and tip your head.

“Frankie, whatever. We’re buddies from the service. His code name was Catfish,” the man explains with a shrug, testing the hinges of the plastic door.

That makes you smile down at Frankie’s daughter. “Really, just buddies? Could’ve sworn you’d be brothers,” you tease the blonde, blue-eyed man. “Does Frankie know how to do his daughter’s hair?” You ask and fiddle with her two pigtails.

“Yes, he does,” Frankie insists as he walks out to the front, cleaning a wrench. “But just barely.”

You look up at him, embarrassed. “Her pigtails just look a little messy. Then again, she was running around like crazy,” you laugh and watch her rush over to Frankie, insisting he pick her up.

Bending down to grab her, Frankie groans at the ache in his joints. “She was. I could use some pointers, if you’ve got ‘em.”

“Of course,” you nod and stand too, brushing the dust from the concrete floor off on your pants. “What’s the verdict on the car?” You ask.

Frankie turned, watching as Benny walks out to the shop, but he turns back to face you. “Oh, right. The engine was misfiring, and unburned fuel was being put into the exhaust system, and that damaged the catalytic converter.”

You nod as you listen to him, really staring at his face more than anything. He’s just so damn pretty, you note as you admire the curve of his nose, his slightly sunken and dark eyes. His lips look beautiful and soft, even though they seem a little chapped. When he stops talking, it takes you a second to process it. “I don’t know what that means,” you admit with a shy smile. “I told you. I don’t know shit about cars,” you laugh, playing it off like you were lost when you were really lost in his eyes.

He shakes his head and laughs, bouncing Mari on his hip. “Your car is gonna need some work. Couple hours,” he shrugs. “If Benny and I get to working on it together, an hour and a half, maybe?” He admits.

“Yeah, that’s great. I can watch Mari,” you offer.

Frankie would never be this trusting normally. You’re a straight-up stranger, but your demeanor is good enough for him. Besides, you’re right here. He can check on the two of you every so often, and Mari seems to love you. “That would be great,” he smiles. “You really don’t have to.”

“No, I have nothing better to do,” you chuckle and look at the little girl. “You wanna play?”

Mari nods excitedly and Frankie sets her down. She rushes back to her toy mat and you watch her go. “Thank you, again, for fixing all this.”

“Just doing my job,” he nods. This time, it’s his turn to admire you. He stares at your face, examining the curves and angles that make you up. Your eyes are kind and warm as they follow the little girl, and he can see that he’s making a good choice here.

When you sit down, Mari comes and sits cross-legged across from you. “What are we gonna play?” You ask her, looking at her wide variety of toys. Her pile includes dinosaurs, Matchbox cars, lots of toy helicopters and planes, Barbie dolls, and a plastic tea set.

“Tea party!” She says and hands you a tiny plastic cup and a felt muffin.

“Oh my goodness,” you gasp in a fake accent. “How delightful!”

Frankie peeks over his shoulder at the two of you. He could really get used to that sight.

-

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