#i made mashed potatoes from scratch too

[sga-owns-my-soul]

oh my god i made chilli for dinner and i had to improvise on the spices and it turned out SO GOOD and i'm so PROUD of myself AHHHHH

[mariatesstruther]

just made my first from scratch stuffing and yall… i put my mf foot in it

[bi-writes]

What if 👀 what if we see when john proposes to the missus (is it too soon 😭) 🤩 they also live in my mind 24/7 you’re 🫵🏻 gonna be drowning in my asks

the key turns in the lock, nice and smooth this time. john oiled it before he left—he wanted this when he came, some sort of reminder that his hand has been here, in this house, so branded into its integrity that even the hinges no longer creak because he's made his nest here. (18+)

when he swings open the door, he doesn't recognize the sight.

you're sitting at the kitchen table with a sour expression on your face. there's a candle lit in the center, only one since the other has melted, so much so the wax is pooled underneath it next to the roast that's long since cold on its serving platter. there's glass of wine in front of you that's nearly empty, and a bottle within reach just as light.

john sucks on teeth a little as he drops his duffel bag by the door. the sound makes you flinch, and when he drops heavily into the seat across from you, he doesn't even react at the velvet box that sits on the table.

instead, he picks up his fork and starts to serve himself.

your eyes flick up to look at him, but he's too busy piling up meat and potatoes onto his plate. he takes off his hat and tosses it onto the table, and you scowl at the sight—you complain over and over again about that filthy fucking hat, and he has the nerve to set it down on the table like he's the one that's been working all day on a roast, molten chocolate lava cake, and tender mashed potatoes.

"you're late," you say. your voice croaks, hitching with your swallowed-down emotion. john takes his gloves off, tossing them beside the hat, and when he starts to undo the latches on his tact vest, you pick up your steak knife and pierce it right through the oak table. "don't you dare put that shit on my table."

"our table."

"oh, now you wanna chime in?"

john runs a few hands over his face. he looks tired. his beard is scruffy, more than usual, and the darkness under his eyes is heavy. his eyes aren't as bright as they normally are around you, and you find the tension in his shoulders to be especially wound. you don't care what he's gone through to get back to this table. maybe he fell out of a helicopter. maybe a bullet whizzed past his head and nearly splattered his brains. you don't fucking care—john price is sitting in front of you and eating the food you made and pretending like everything is just fine.

he laughs. it's humorless, but it angers you anyway. he's condescending; it's in his nature. when you question the way of things, when you try to put your foot down—you would punch him, but he'd ease out of the way, effortless, and it would annoy you greatly. then he'd probably take your wrists and pin them behind your back with one hand, and he'd smile doing it, because he's so much bigger than you, so much stronger. he kills people for less, it takes no effort to stifle the woman that shares his bed. everything is funny to him—everything is cute.

asshole.

"where'd you find tha'?" john asks. he doesn't look at it, but you know what he's talking about. you pick up the velvet box and pop it open. the ring blinds you. it must be at least three carats, a gorgeous thing, surrounded by a halo of smaller diamonds around the band. it glitters, stunning, and if you were a stupider woman, you would've been wearing it already, but you're not.

"i found it when i was going through your shit," you spit at him. you tip your glass back and swallow down the rest of your wine. it goes down hot. "packing it for you."

"we goin' on a trip?"

"you certainly are."

john clicks his tongue and tilts his head to the side. he finally brings his eyes up to meet yours, and he brings a hand up to scratch at his beard.

"not leaving."

you laugh, too, smiling, bitter.

"i wasn't asking, john. but if you don't want your stuff, whatever. i'm sure it'll burn just fine."

john shoves his plate away from him, scooting his chair back. you expect him to get up, to come towards you. you expect him to grip you by the throat and bend you over the table so he can fuck you next to the extravagant meal you've made, but instead he huffs as you hear his belt buckle clink.

"what the fuck are you doing?" you scoff. john hums, grunting low, and then you watch with parted lips as he spits into the palm of his hand and lowers it. it's only a moment before he sighs deeply, a wet slick, slick, slick following the movement of his arm. "are you fucking serious?"

"mmm..." john clenches his jaw. "'s been awhile, love." he cracks his neck as he moves it from side to side, fixing his eyes on you as he moves his arm a little quicker. your lips tremble angrily, but you can't help the way you shift in your seat. your free hand plays with the hem of your skirt, and he rolls his shoulders back, licking his lips. "show me."

"fuck you."

"in a minute, love. show me."

you're shaking with anger. it's hot in your chest, making you buzz, but it doesn't stop your hands. it doesn't stop them from feeling over the collar of your blouse before you carefully undo the top buttons. john relaxes as he watches the fabric fall loose, and he hums knowingly when you drop the blouse and unclasp your bra.

your tits fall with a bounce. you're ashamed at how easy it is, to fall right back into the place you swore you would never go again. john groans, moving his chair back further, and you squeeze your thighs together as you watch his thick hand tug at his rigid cock with more and more of a chaotic rhythm.

"come 'ere."

"no."

"come here," john mutters. he says it in that way—that way you know that he won't ask again. he won't have to.

you stand on doe legs. they wobble, and you use the table as leverage, and when you make it in front of him, john pushes you until you're sitting on the edge of the table, right next to his half-eaten plate and his dirty gear. you flinch as he stands, stepping between your thighs, and you kiss as the tip of him presses against your drooling cunt. your legs rise, knees hooking around his hips, and john licks over his teeth as he keeps stroking himself.

"we've been over this," john growls. "haven't we, sweetheart?"

"i hate you."

"this is mine," john says into your ear. "your cunt. this house. this food—it's mine, and you know tha'. you love puttin' up a bloody brawl, i know tha', love, so i take it, but you won't be rid of me until i'm dead, y'hear tha'?"

"fuck you—"

"ugh—" john hisses. "gonna make me fuckin' come, love—"

john laughs through breathy moans when he feels you're wearing no knickers. sopping, pretty pussy just waiting for him—in his house, with his girl, the one that's about to have his name.

"john—"

his grip on your thighs is bruising as he pushes into you. just the tip, just enough to drive you insane, just in time for him to spill inside of you and fill you with a dizzying amount of cum. hot, sticky, messy—john's never been very good at cleaning up his messes. he seems to like it that way. he seems to like it ruined and overstimulated and begging.

he presses his forehead to yours, grunting as he pushes further inside of you. you'll ruin the wood underneath you being so wet, but john will fix it.

"when are y'gonna learn?" john murmurs. "hmm?"

"john..."

there is no john without you. you could run, but he'd find you. you could change the locks, but it wouldn't stop him from coming home. you could throw all of his things out, burn them, shred them, bury them, but he has no real ties to anything as trivial as things. john is a fixture in the air here. he lives in the wood that makes up the house. he's in your breaths that taste like cigar smoke. he's inside of you, hot, in the bruises that line your collarbone and your thighs and your hips. john is a rigid, immutable hook that is dug so far into your fleshy insides that it would be suicide to remove him from yourself.

he's a weed you cannot rid yourself of. you pick him out by the root, but he always comes back.

he kisses you like that—tits out, cunt drooling, engagement ring tossed aside just out of reach. you think he meant for you to find it. either as a result of your morbid curiosity or your temper tantrums—john probably figured whichever came first would be good enough.

he would never propose to you. you know this.

why the fuck would he ask you about something that's already a given?

in the morning, you're alone with your thoughts, watching the ring sparkle in the early sunlight. your hand is rested on his chest, moving with the gentle rise and fall of his breaths. you turn your hand over and stare at the thing—you aren't someone who's into material things so much. you appreciate them, but something about this new reality of yours makes you stare a little harder at the diamond, question the clarity just a little. you hope it made a huge dent in that wallet of his; you hope he gritted his teeth a little when he handed over his card.

you'll make his bank account weep. you're mrs. john fucking price.

[dckweed]

ROSIE!, alpha!simon riley x omega reader

in which captain price sends alpha simon on a much needed vacation to his secluded countryside cabin, but leaves out a most important detail- he has a live in omega caretaker to care for his little cabin when he’s away! and she’s the prettiest, sweetest little thing that simon ever did see..

warnings: alpha/omega universe, mentions/depictions of abuse, smut, pregnancy, kind of forced proximity?, ill add as i go...please note that i know NOTHING about COD but i am in love with the 141 guys and this has been rotting in my brain. absolute fucking filth. simon fucks us good and proper in the shower this time! PTSD flashbacks/hallucinations, panic attacks, mental health issues are heavy in this one pookies!

hello my silly little friends! when i tell you shit has been crazy, i mean shit as been CRAZY !! I MISSED Y'ALL THOUGH!! i struggled with this one because i wasnt sure if i wanted to add in another scene, or if i was ready to end it just like this.., obviously i decided to end it like this..next one will be alot of comfort and we finally meet johnny!

series masterlist here.

CHAPTER FIVE: retirement?

Simon stood by the bed, watching your sleeping form with a softness in his eyes that few had ever seen. The warm scent of freshly cooked food filled the air as he gently nudged your shoulder.

“C’mon, lovie, wake up,” he murmured, his voice low and tender. You stirred, your lashes fluttering as you blinked sleepily up at him. A slow, lazy smile spread across your lips as you inhaled the delicious aroma.

“Simon…” you sighed dreamily, stretching your limbs like a content cat.

“Made you some food,” he said, setting the plate on the bedside table. “Figured you’d be hungry after earlier.”

You sat up quickly, excitement lighting up your face as you reached for the plate. “You’re the best, Si’.” You took a bite, humming in satisfaction before beginning to chatter away as you eat, enjoying the food he put effort into making for you, even though it was clearly a bit burnt in places. “You know what I wanna make for dinner? Big, juicy burgers, the kind that drip when you bite into ‘em. And I want mac and cheese—real mac and cheese, not that boxed stuff. Oh! And mashed potatoes! The kind that’s so creamy you could eat it with a spoon like pudding. All from scratch.” You were absolutely ravenous, whether from the energy you’d exerted today or from the heat itself you’d never know. 

Simon watched you, utterly enamored. His wolf preened at how easily you envisioned your future, how you just assumed you would be together for these little moments. He wanted to put a ring on your finger immediately. Right now. Drag you to the nearest town and make it official before you could even blink. The thought had been lingering in his mind since the moment he first laid eyes on you, but now? Now it felt like an inevitability.

He smirked as he leaned against the headboard, watching you practically glow with excitement. “So, let me get this straight—” he began, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I fuck you into oblivion, and your idea of a thank you is homemade food?”

You gasped, your cheeks flushing a deep red before you burst into giggles, covering your face with your hands. “Simon!” you whined, shaking your head, but he only chuckled, loving how adorable you were when you got flustered.

“You’re too damn cute,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before rubbing your back soothingly. “Could eat you up myself, babygirl.”

Still smiling, he stood up and stretched, rolling his shoulders. “Gonna start us a shower,” he told you, running a hand through his short, messy hair as he walked toward the bathroom. He paused in the doorway. “Oh, while you’re cooking, I’ll get that broken bed frame picked up. Move the bed from the guest room in here instead. It’s bigger anyway.”

You blinked at him, tilting your head in confusion. “Where will you sleep?” you asked innocently.

Simon turned back to you, a slow, knowing smirk curling his lips. “With you, obviously.”

The realization dawned on you, your lips parting slightly, eyes wide. He wasn’t planning on sleeping in a different room. Not anymore. He wanted to be here, beside you, permanently. And just like that, he knew—he wasn’t just thinking about staying the night. He was already contemplating retirement, or at the very least, switching to a desk job at the base. Something that would allow him to be here. With you.

His little Omega. His mate. His future.

Steam curled around the bathroom as Simon turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature until it was just right. He turned back to see you stepping in behind him, your skin already flushed from the heat of the room. His hands found your waist, guiding you under the warm spray as he reached for the soap.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured, running his hands along your sides, smoothing suds over your skin. His touch was careful at first, reverent, but his fingers couldn’t help but linger over the spots that were still sensitive, still tender from before.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as he traced his hands lower, over your hips, down the curve of your thighs. He could smell it—your heat was calming, not gone entirely, but not as urgent as before. Still, you smelled so sweet, so utterly tempting.

“You’re irresistible, you know that?” he murmured, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as his hands roamed. His wolf rumbled with approval, his body reacting instinctively to yours.

You whimpered, leaning back into him, your body pliant under his touch. “Si’… you keep touching me like that…”

He smirked against your shoulder, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your peaked nipples. “Like what, lovie?” he teased, voice thick with amusement. “M’jus makin’ sure everything is clean for you..”

Your breath hitched, a needy whimper spilling from your lips. His body pressed against yours, firm and unyielding, the heat of him wrapping around you even more than the water cascading over both of you.

His mouth found your neck, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses down to the mark he’d left earlier. “You’re mine,” He says, voice filled with a hunger you’d never heard in anyone’s voice before when they talked to you. “Wanna take you again babygirl, but I know your body needs a break..” A sigh escapes your mouth, and you find yourself pressing yourself back against him, his cock already rock hard and pressing firmly into your lower back, right above your ass, you think he whimpers when you arch your back, pressing your tits against his hands and pushing your ass up against his length simultaneously. 

“you want me babygirl?” His voice is a whisper brushing against your skin, lips ghosting after it as his fingers worked, one leaving your breast and traveling along the plane of your soft belly, lovingly caressing as he ghosted to the top of your cunt, fingers just barely brushing you in your most sensitive of spots. “hm? know you’re tired sweet girl, sore, but I promise I’ll be quick..” You whine, leaning your head back against his shoulder as you feel his cockhead brush against your entrance. “you can take it right? such a good girl f’me huh, babygirl?” 

You cry out as you feel the stretch of him sliding into you, the warmth of his hand pressing you against his chest, back arched as you stood on your tip toes, ass bouncing with every slap of his hips against yours. He hit you in a way that made you cry from this angle, the drag of his cock causing immediate overstimulation, you took it like a champ though, his good girl, you just wanted to be good for him. 

“yeah, that’s it honey,” He coos, dropping his fingers to your clit, two of the massive things circling on long, languid strokes. A choked sob leaves your lips, your pussy quivering as yet another orgasm hits you, his filthy praises ringing in your ear as he pumps himself in and out of you a few more times, painting your insides in his cum once more..he was quick about it, just like he promised. 

You were beginning to realize that Simon was good at doing that, even in your fucked out sex haze you could comprehend that he had thus far not broken a single promise to you, in general and as he fucked you (although, you vaguely remember something about him not fucking you until your heat was over..but that was neither here nor there right now). An honest man, he was. 

That hadn’t always been a good thing in your life, honest men, and scared you more than anything else. The dream from the night before flashing through your mind as he pulled out of you, a whimper leaving your lips, from the loss or the thoughts you’re unsure. 

He’s so sweet to you, a stark contrast to the brute way he can talk and behave and you thrive in it, a part of you self satisfied at that small fact. He hums a soothing melody as he washes you, rubbing a body wash along your extremities, gently rubbing over your sensitive mound when he gets to it, knelt before you as he placed a small gentle kiss to your hip, your body pliant to his touch. 

You should be focused on him, you should be returning the favor, soaping his large, broad, war torn body, massaging his sore and achy muscles (you saw the way he cringed when he stood up from couch the other day, heel of his hand brushing gently against his lower back), peppering his skin with soft dainty kisses..it would be the least you could do, really. Instead, you stared through him, looking at him but seeing something else entirely. 

He has to notice, you realize when you see him looking down at you as he rinses out the shampoo from your hair, the way his eyes don’t leave your face as he rinsed his own. You hardly register when he wraps a towel around you and leads you out of the shower, setting you down right in the middle of the double vanity as if you are nothing to lift, as if he could do a hundred reps and never get tired or lose stamina. You hear his voice but you don’t comprehend his words when he leaves you sat there, hardly recognize that he’s even left the room, your mind caught in a revolving door of memories, of things that feel like an auditory hallucination when you hear your papas voice telling you that you’d never be more than a worthless omega, a stain smeared on the existence of his blood line, a tragedy to end all tragedies. what was that saying he had told you that time when he rocked his fist into your eye socket? an eye for an eye? nothing more than a karma laden tragedy sent by the goddess to test his limits..

“…-osie?” You’re jolted from your thought, two firm hands gripping your shoulders as they shake you. “there she is..” He sighed in a way that made your heart race, as if he’d been worried. “You with me, swee’art?” 

You nod, pressing your face into his chest as he rubs your back soothingly. “Thank you..” You whisper, eyes closing briefly as he gives you the smallest of squeezes, holding you to his chest for a moment. It’s sweet, and gentle, grounding you back down to earth, to the present, a reminder to breathe, to enjoy the time you have with this wonderful, beautiful man stood above you, wrapping his arms around you, welcoming you in with a kind of love and warmth that you’d rarely ever felt in your life. 

When you separate, you headed down the stairs to the kitchen, to make that big feast you were talking about, he to your room to dismantle the bed that he broke fucking you earlier, it’s with his shirt on your shoulders, hanging down your body, somehow like a dress on you despite your pudgy, your pussy bare as you clamber down, a load of laundry in your arms, basket laden with the sheets from your mattress, the shirt of his that he had tucked under you while he was sleeping, now stained with cum and drool.

You set the basket down at the door to the basement, where the washer and dryer are, and maybe its your imagination, maybe it’s your over productive thoughts warped from your heat, emotion running high, but you swear the door is talking to you. You swear its got his voice, swear that the gold, hand etched door knob turns into his fist, shaking at you in violent rage for..for god only knows what, you’d seen that thing shaking at you for something as small as taking too loud of a breath before, so really who knew what you’d done to set him off now. 

You leave it there, sitting in front of the door as you turn your back to it, letting out an uneasy breath as you grab your suddenly pain filled chest, heart racing. Your insides felt like they were being clinched, wrung out like wet laundry before being hung up to dry, felt tears well in your eyes as you heard his voice in your head, screaming, screaming, tearing you down with everything that he had, ripping your mind apart. It was as if the door had come alive and had grabbed you from behind, shown you exactly what happened down there, as if you didn’t relive the memories on a daily basis. 

“STOP IT!” You shout, throwing the closest thing to you at the door, a casserole dish you realize, left over from the morning your heat started. It shatters into what looks like a hundred different pieces, some of them bouncing back and scraping against the bare skin on your legs, lingering stinging wounds akin to the kind that you were so used to. Akin to the hours spent picking them out of your knees when you were younger, before you were saved. “LEAVE ME ALONE!” 

You don’t hear the thundering of the steps above you, don’t hear anything, don’t see anything but the man of your literal nightmares coming out of the basement door, large shards of glass sticking from his head as he grins at you, blood pouring into his mouth and staining his teeth red. You don’t want to see it anymore, you can’t bear the thought that even in your isolated little cabin, with your Alpha upstairs that the one who created you could torture you still. “STOP! STOP! STOP!” You don’t realize you’ve begun hitting yourself until it’s too late, don’t realize that the large form suddenly in front of you is Simon, not until after you’ve screamed bloody murder at him, until he’s got you tackled to the floor, damn near sitting on you as he pins your clenched fists to the floor, right above your head, you eyes still streaming with tears and your temples pounding from the pain you’d just inflicted upon yourself. 

You’re a crying spluttering mess, too out of your mind to realize that the man above you is nearly in hysterics, face red and eyes wide with panic as he watches you break down, watches you look wide eyed and horrified at some invisible force. Oh, you had scared him. Had made his heart stop beating for merely a moment with that first scream, with the sound of the shattering glass. 

It took everything in him to calm you down, to get your hands to unclench, to get you to stop trying to hurt yourself, him. 

“Eyes on me lovie,” He breathed, keeping your gaze locked on him so he could calm you down, he stroked the skin of your arms, where his hands were still locking them above your head. He needed you to calm, needed you to snap out of..whatever this was. He needed you to know that you were safe, that nothing and nobody would ever hurt you when he was around..especially him, because you were looking at him like he was somebody else entirely, like you were terrified to be near him. You shake your head, choking on air as you start to sob. “S’okay baby, keep those eyes on me, yeah? Can you do tha’” 

A nod, barely there. You couldn’t get your breath, couldn’t get your chest to stop feeling like it was being squeezed in a vice, like your heart was being sucked out of your body through your fucking throat. “I-h-u-rts-” You hiccup, finally stopping the wild bucking you were doing under him. “Mak-ke i-t s-toop” You were choking on words, on fear, on memories of a past life that shouldn’t haunt you anymore. “Pl-easee, c-ann’t br-e-ea-thee” 

Simon, for what it was worth, was doing everything he could. Everything he could possibly think of to help you, and as you started hiccuping some more, struggling to breathe, he recognized it for what it was: a PTSD Flashback. His body felt like caving in on him when he realized that something so horrible had happened to you that would cause you to suffer in the same way he often did. He wanted to rip the world apart at it’s fucking seams for doing this to you, wanted to make it feel the pain that you probably felt, wanted to bury the fucking person who put this intense of a fear into your brain, your body. He would piss on the grave too, if you would let him. 

“Rosie, baby, look at me..” He whispered, letting his voice soften. He switched his hands so that he was holding both of yours in one, still keeping them above your head, not quite trusting you to have free range, he didn’t care if you hit him, not one bit, he’d happily take the blows, but he was afraid you’d hit yourself some more, afraid that you’d knock yourself out somehow. “Shh, shh..just breathe babygirl, just breathe..know it hurts honey, but you gotta breathe if you want it to feel better..” What was it his therapist had told him? Focus? Focus and breathe…focus and breathe..your eyes were all over the place, pupils dilated from the adrenaline he assumed, looking everywhere but at him. He growled, trying to hold back his own tears as he gripped your face in his large hand, fingers squeezing your jaw as they held you still, making your lips pucker as he forced you to look at him, deep into his brown eyes. You were trembling under him, watching him with those big eyes. 

“alri’ lovie, you’re gonna do as I say, okay?” You nod, muffled hiccups coming from your mouth still. “You can keep your eyes open, or you can close ‘em, whatever helps better, baby, but you gotta fuckin’ breathe for me, righ’?” Another nod, breaths coming short and quick, your face turning red from what he presumes is lack of appropriate blood flow, or maybe from the strain of the struggle. You don’t close your eyes. A sign of trust, he hopes. “Breathe with me, baby, okay?” He’s so damn scared, he’s hoping you’re not about to pass out. How would he explain this to John? He’d think he broke his pretty little live in omega.. “In through your nose, right?” You do as he says, doing it with him even. “Breathe in all that fear and anger from whatever the fuck just happened, and then breathe it all out, let it all out into the world, okay? It belongs to the universe now..” Your eyes don’t waver from him, and fuck it all if he doesn’t fall somehow more in love with you for it, he see’s you visibly start to calm down, sees your eyes go from as wide as saucers to a normal size as you work with him. “Good girl..” He whispers, watching you inhale every time he does, exhale when he does. 

You go ten breaths before he feels your body start to relax, fifteen before he feels comfortable letting go of your face and hands, though he remains on top of you. He’s quite aside from the occasional whisper of praise, reminding you that you’re his good girl, that you’re doing so good for him right now. 

After a few long minutes, you finally feel like your chest isn't about to explode, like your lungs aren't on fire. You don’t see him anymore, dont hear him. He’s gone. He’s been gone from your life for almost a decade by this point, hadn’t bothered you like this in a long, long time. ‘And he won’t ever bother you again, little one..’ Ah, there she was, that sweet, sweet wolf. She had kept you safe back then, as safe a she could anyway without being allowed to shift into her true form. She had been the only maternal figure you had too, had nursed your wounds for you from the inside out, voice cooing at you in your head. Maybe that was why you put up with her cunty side..she deserved to feel her feelings in any way she saw fit after the hell you both went through, you both did. It was her who had saved you too, who had grunted up the strength to take over your mind long enough to get John’s attention that day, had known somehow that he would help you.. ‘And look at what it brought us too, a quiet life..an alpha of our own..you and I, we’ll have a good life with him, the goddess sent him to us..penance for the life she gave you before..’  Maybe she was right. Maybe this was the Goddess’s way of an apology for the shit she had birthed you into. “I’m sorry.” You whispered, tears streaming from your eyes. Your head hurt, your heart hurt..You could barely look up at him, he didn’t deserve a mate that was this messed up. That hallucinated and lost her mind. That was your scar to bear, no one else’s. ‘Don’t you realize that he’s just as messed up as we are? That he’s got just as many scars as us? We were meant for each other, little one..in more ways than one..’

taglist: @wise-owl @bingoz @astrxsee @gazsluckyhat @howlerwolfmax @thisbitch-6 @littlelovebug98 @ungodlydilf @madsothree @rosallels @brilliantbecca94 @jaxz21 @mk-kbtbb @silas-aeiou @kelbowmacaroni @kittygonap @eremika104

[pascalisnopunk]

The Things He Doesn’t Say - Joel Miller x reader

Hi everyone. I got a really bad cold, that inspired me to write this little piece on Joel today. I hope you enjoy reading it!

Also! I would be open to taking requests! So if you have an idea in mind, if I feel like it's something I could write I would love to make it come to life. So feel free to ask!

The Things He Doesn’t Say

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, illness, slow burn, mutual pining, age gap, Joel being emotionally constipated but deeply caring Word Count: ~2,100 Summary: You’re sick. Miserably so. And while no one else seems to notice, Joel Miller does. Not with words. Not with grand gestures. Just small things.

The Things He Doesn't Say

You’re not dying, technically. But it sure as hell feels close.

Your head is pounding, your sinuses are cement, and your nose is somewhere between faucet and faucet that’s been punched repeatedly in the face. You’ve been sneezing so much you’ve gone hoarse, and you’re pretty sure you haven’t felt your fingertips in hours. Still, you show up to your shift at the mess hall because Jackson doesn’t run on sympathy.

“Hey,” a voice calls low behind you, just as you’re lifting a pot of stew onto the warmer. “You look like hell.”

You blink slowly, turning.

Joel Miller.

You feel even worse all of a sudden.

Of course it’s him. Of all people to see you like this, hair frizzed under a beanie, red-nosed, puffy-eyed, wrapped in three layers and still shivering, it has to be the one man in town you wish would see you as something other than an acquaintance.

You sniff hard. “Charming as always, Miller.”

He just stares at you. Flat expression, arms crossed.

“You sick?”

You consider lying. Then cough. Wet and awful and completely unhideable.

“Maybe a little,” you rasp.

He eyes you. “Shouldn’t be workin’.”

You shrug. “Tell that to the mashed potatoes.”

Joel doesn’t reply. Just makes a small noise in his throat and walks away. You sigh. That’s the end of it, you figure.

It’s not.

Fifteen minutes later, you see him again. He doesn’t say anything. Just walks up beside you and sets something on the counter before stepping back.

It’s a thermos. Old, scratched metal. Still steaming.

You stare. “What’s this?”

“Tea.”

You blink. “You made me tea?”

Joel shrugs, eyes fixed on something a thousand yards behind your head. “Didn’t make it. Maria had some dried stuff. Said it’s good for fevers.”

You unscrew the cap. The scent hits you immediately, mint, maybe something floral. It burns your nose a little. You sip, and it’s scalding and sharp, but it’s the first thing you’ve been able to taste all day.

You look at him.

“Thank you.”

He shrugs again. “Just, don’t collapse on the stew. No one wants sick soup.”

You smile, faint. “I’ll try to aim for the rolls.”

Joel huffs. Not quite a laugh. But close.

Then he disappears again.

That night, you don’t eat in the mess hall. You barely make it back to your cabin without wheezing. You climb into bed fully clothed, burrito yourself in three quilts, and lie there trembling. Your fever is worse now. Your bones ache. Your teeth chatter. You’re in the kind of half sleep that doesn’t count, somewhere between consciousness and fever dream, when you hear it.

A knock.

You think maybe it’s in your head until it happens again. You groan, shove the covers off your face, and stumble to the door.

It’s Joel. Of course it’s Joel.

He’s holding a plastic container. Steam fogs the inside.

“I brought you soup,” he says.

You blink at him.

“Leftover. Not from the hall,” he adds, like you might turn him away over a ladle of reused stew. “It’s different.”

You don’t say anything for a moment.

Then: “You walked across town in the snow to bring me soup?”

Joel shifts. “Don’t make it a thing.”

Your voice is soft. “Too late.”

He watches you. The wind cuts between you both, cold enough to burn. And you see something in his face shift, like he’s weighing whether to leave you standing there.

Then: “Can I come in?”

You step aside.

You don’t sit across from him. You sit next to him. On the edge of your bed, curled up in a quilt, blowing on each spoonful as he watches you too closely. It’s good soup. Thicker than the stuff at the hall. Potatoes, bits of carrot. Maybe some kind of meat.

“You made this?” you ask between sips.

He nods once. “Taught Sarah how when she was little.”

Your throat aches, but not from the cold this time.

“I didn’t know you cooked.”

Joel shrugs, eyes on the mug in his hands. “Don’t anymore.”

You look at him. Quiet for a long time.

“I always thought you didn’t like me,” you admit.

Joel glances at you. “What?”

You laugh, weakly. “I don’t know. You barely talk. You act like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

His brow furrows. “I don’t talk to anyone.”

“Exactly.”

He shifts. Looks down at the mug again.

“Wasn’t about not likin’ you,” he says after a beat. “It’s about, not knowin’ how.”

You look at him, your voice soft. “How to like someone?”

“No,” Joel says. “How to show it.”

Something twists in your chest. You set the soup down carefully and pull your knees up, watching him over the blanket.

“You’re showing it now,” you say.

Joel doesn’t answer. But he doesn’t look away.

You reach out, fingers brushing his sleeve. His eyes flick down to the touch, then back up.

“Thank you,” you say again, quieter this time. “For the tea. The soup. For not letting me freeze alone in here.”

He lets out a long breath. “Didn’t feel right. You bein’ alone.”

You nod. “It didn’t feel right either.”

He looks at you, really looks at you. And for a second you think he might touch your hand. Might brush his fingers over yours. But he doesn’t. Instead, he stands. Gathers the dishes. Clears his throat.

“I should let you sleep.”

You nod, trying not to look disappointed. “Right.”

He walks to the door. Opens it. Then hesitates.

“You need anything tomorrow,” he says, not facing you, “just knock.”

“I will.”

He pauses again. “Even if it’s not about the cold."

You nod slowly. “Okay.”

Joel glances back at you once before leaving.

He doesn’t say goodnight. But you sleep easier anyway.

I realized that I have a tendency to make Joel a bit... hard and emotionally constipated in my fics. I'm not sure why, this is how I truly feel this man would act in these situations. I think he has long forgotten how it is to have a romantic partner, I mean he couldn't even do it with Tess. Soooo..... let me know how you feel about that

[jacksabbotts]

✧ and pie for desert — ❪ part two ❫

pairings .' dbf!jake seresin ( topgun ) x fem!artist!reader summary .' in which you ( the reader ) are ambushed once again by your parents ( your mother ) and it comes in the form of a family + jake dinner. tw .' lowercase intended!!! | age gap ( reader is late 23, jake is 38 ) | NO USE OF Y/N | dbf!jake | your mother is a literal piece work | disablities ( specifically hearing loss ) | verbal abuse from your mother | self isolation | very distorted self image | mentions of reader seeing a therapist notes .' i acc wanted to fight the mom while writing this. oh, she soooo gets on my nerves. i lowkey feel bad for the reader ( as if i am not the one who made it in to being lmao ). i am not responsible for your media consumption so read at your own discretion. ( mdi 18+ )

masterlist | series masterlist | dividers by @cafekitsune | join the taglist

you had no idea that he was going to be there.

scratch that—you should’ve known.

the scent of roasted chicken casserole hit you first as you walked down the stairs of your childhood home, then the low hum of your mother’s voice carried down the hall.

you hadn't changed out of your pajamas—and honestly why would you? this is your home so why would you even think to change. you had on pajama pants and threw on a tee so thin it probably counted as a health hazard—when you turned the corner into the dining room and froze.

jake seresin sat at the table.

smiling. relaxed. beer in hand. and for the second time in a week this man has seen you in near pajamas, messy hair and the glasses you only wore after 9 pm.

he grinned as he looked up, caught sight of you, and gave a slow, amused once-over that wasn’t leering, but something else entirely. like you were the moon and he was trying not to howl.

'evenin’,' he drawled, tipping his bottle.

you blinked. 'you’re here.' ( duh, of course he's here, he's your fathers best friend ). 'guilty.' his grin deepened. 'didn’t know i needed a dress code.'

your mother shot you a sharp, faux-sweet glance from where she was setting the mashed potatoes on the table.

'i did mention he was joining us, didn’t i?' she asked airily.

no. no, she absolutely had not. but of course she’d wait until it was too late for you to actually do anything about it. this was exactly the kind of thing your mother was best at. embarrassing you.

you bit the inside of your cheek and slid into the only open chair—only to pause when you saw where it was. next to your mother. diagonal from your dad.

jake caught your hesitation. or your disappointment, who knows. you sat down in the open spot across from your mother, your regular spot. your dad was uncorking a bottle of red wine and jake was standing. not sitting in the seat your mother had clearly set for him

he rounded until he was standing behind the chair to your right and in front of your mother, he leaned across the table, gathered up his place setting and plopped in on the open spot next to your plate.

you flushed.

your mother straightened, her voice sharp with sugar. 'jake, i had you next to me—'

jake, however, was already pulling out the chair to your right—your good side. 'hope you don’t mind, ma’am. figured i’d let you and your husband sit together. always nice to give married folks some alone time. especially now that you have your adult daughter just down the hall.'

your father let out a hearty laugh, but you grimaced. you did not come here to hear about your parents sex life. 'you hear that, honey? jake’s trying to set the mood.'

your mother’s smile tightened. 'mmm.'

jake dropped into the seat beside you with a little too much ease. his thigh brushed yours under the table as he leaned in slightly, whispering just for you, 'hope you don’t mind. i swapped seats.'

you shake your head no and fought the smile that wanted to rise. tried to ignore the way his voice dipped low—private, intimate, like a secret being unwrapped.

jake picked up his fork and pointed at the casserole. 'looks good,' he said to your mom. 'smells better than anything i’ve burned this week.'

your mother preened under the praise. 'it’s my mother’s recipe.'

jake nodded. 'must run in the family, then.' she beamed—until she realized he hadn’t even glanced at her when he said it. he was looking directly at you. 'artistry, i mean.'

you adjusted your glasses, suddenly hyper-aware of the way his knee bumped yours again, totally casual like he had no clue how warm he was.

the conversation moved on—your dad telling some story about the old firehouse—and Jake leaned in to whisper again, 'how’d i do? enough charm to keep her from smothering me with a church casserole?'

you tried not to giggle. you failed.

and across the table, your mother watched the two of you, jaw set. smile cracked and fork still.

jake didn’t seem to notice.

but you did.

and it made your stomach twist—in the best way.

jake waited until your fork hit the plate before leaning in slightly, elbow brushing yours.

'so…' he started casually, voice low and easy, 'city girl now, huh? what’s it like bein’ all fancy up in austin?”

you snorted and took a sip of water to buy yourself a second. 'i live above a vape shop and scream into a pillow every time my neighbor practices bluegrass at three in the morning. i don't think fancy is the right word.'

jake laughed—really laughed, head tipped back slightly. 'still a hell of a view, i bet.'

'only if you like watching college freshmen try to parallel park.'

'i don’t,” he said, smiling at you now, not even trying to hide it. 'i like a good driveway.'

you, yet again, tried not to smile, and yet again failed completely.

he shifted a little in his seat, still facing you. 'what’s the plan now, though? after the welcome parade and all.' he gestured vaguely toward your parents, toward the casserole dishes and too-many glasses of wine. 'gonna take the art world by storm?'

you shrugged, stabbing a green bean. 'not sure yet. i’ve got a couple commissions lined up. might teach, maybe freelance. i’m just… figuring it out.'

he nodded slowly, like he was really listening. 'nothin’ wrong with that. you’ve got time.'

his voice had dipped—softer, just for you—and something in your chest tugged hard.

'she’s always been like that,' your dad cut in from across the table, practically glowing. 'determined as hell. had a whole wall of drawings by the time she was ten. woke me up at two in the morning once ‘cause she ran out of paper. stole printer paper outta my office like it was contraband.'

you laughed under your breath, cheeks warming.

jake’s gaze didn’t move from yours. 'explains that little furrow you get when you’re thinkin’. Saw it earlier.'

you raised a brow. 'did you?'

'yeah. real intense,' he murmured. 'made me wonder what you were thinkin’ about.'

'i was imagining stabbing you with a fork,' you replied dryly, but your tone betrayed you.

he grinned. “oh, i knew it was somethin’ flattering.'

'not everyone has a grill spatula kink, jake.'

'well,' he said with a wink, 'first time for everything.'

that earned a soft laugh from your dad. but the warmth that had settled into your spine cooled the second your mother cut in.

'well,' she said with that tight, too-bright smile, 'i hope all that sketching turns into something practical. it’s not like the world needs more starving artists. we can’t all live above vape shops forever, can we?'

you barely blinked.

jake, however, turned toward her with a smile so slow and syrupy it almost seemed sweet. almost. 'i dunno, doesn’t seem like she’s starving to me,' he said smoothly. 'not with that kind of fire.'

your fork paused mid-bite.

your mother tilted her head. 'i just mean—there’s talent and then there’s stability. not everyone wants to be a wandering creative their whole life.'

'is she’s wandering?' jake said before you could, voice calm but deliberate. 'to me, sounds like she’s just getting started.'

and it was quiet. not for long—but long enough.

then your dad cleared his throat and said something about how the pie was probably burning, and your mother refilled her wine with a little more force than necessary. and you?

you looked down at your plate and fought the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. because jake seresin had just taken your side—again—and nobody even knew why.

the silverware clinked. conversation had settled into a gentle hum of anecdotes and questions. your father was in the middle of a story—something about jake helping him fix the gate out back—when your mother cut in with her signature, saccharine smile.

'you know,” she said, reaching across the table to top off your wine glass, 'i’m just so glad you’re back home, sweetheart. we were worried you’d forget how to participate in a conversation without subtitles.'

you froze, the stem of the glass trembling between your fingers. a particularly mean jab using the information that you had started using live captions on your weekly face time calls to your father.

your dad let out a confused little laugh—he hadn’t quite registered the jab.

jake had. his fork stopped midair.

you stared down at your plate. you didn’t say anything. you never did.

your mother, pleased with herself, kept talking. 'though i suppose art school in austin has its own language, doesn’t it?'

jake cleared his throat. 'well,' he said, voice slow and smooth like a poured drink, 'seems like she’s been keeping up just fine.'

your head snapped up. he was still looking at his plate—but the tone in his voice was deliberate. grounded. and your mother heard it.

she stiffened, her smile dimming just a touch.

jake didn’t look at her. he looked at you.

'besides,' he added, nudging your arm gently with his elbow, 'i wouldn’t mind if dinner came with subtitles. y’all speak real fast for a guy born and raised south of midland.'

your father chuckled. 'that’s because you’ve got city ears now, seresin.'

'what i’ve got is nothin’ but respect for country girls who can keep up,' jake said, voice pitched low, but there was something sharp under it. something aimed just left of the target.

your breath caught. you didn’t dare look at your mother—but you could feel her irritation radiating off her like heat off asphalt.

jake turned back to his food like nothing had happened.

but under the table, his knee was still pressed against yours for what felt like the hundredth time.

and that said more than words ever could.

the heat began to rise to your cheeks for what also felt like the hundredth time. you made it another five minutes.

five minutes of chewing too slowly and sipping too fast and pretending like your whole body wasn’t still humming from the heat of jake’s knee against yours.

you needed air.

'i’m just gonna…' you gestured vaguely, rising from the table and grabbing your empty glass. 'refill.'

jake glanced up, but didn’t say anything. just watched you go, the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth as you passed behind him.

in the kitchen, the hush was immediate. just the buzz of the ceiling light and the soft tick of the ancient wall clock. you leaned against the counter, trying to slow your heartbeat. you weren’t sure what was flustering you more—jake’s thigh or his voice, low and lazy, dropping compliments like molasses just for you.

you grinned to yourself.

he was charming. unfairly charming. and he didn’t look at you like he was humoring you—he looked like he saw you. you’d almost forgotten what that felt like.

you opened the fridge to hide your smile. poured a splash more wine. maybe just a minute in here to collect yourself before heading back out and pretending not to replay every brush of contact, every glance, every subtle deflection he made when your mother opened her mouth.

you were halfway through a sip when you heard it.

the rustle of her linen blouse. the sharp clip of her sandals on the tile.

'sweetheart.'

you flinched before she even spoke.

'just taking a breather,' you said quickly, turning around too fast. 'been a long day, you know.'

she didn’t smile. she didn’t approach the fridge. she just stood there, hands clasped neatly in front of her, like a queen assessing a mess her maid should’ve cleaned up hours ago.

'you were very… chatty during dinner.'

you blinked. 'i was answering questions.'

'with jake.'

you stared at her. 'he’s dad's new best friend. what, i’m not allowed to talk to him?' you weren't sure why you were feeling so defensively all the sudden. but it put a bite in your tone that you never had with your mother before.

you had never spoken to your mother like this before.

'that’s not what i’m saying,' she said, and her voice was already changing—that gentle, careful condescension that always came before the verbal blow.

you held your wine glass a little tighter.

'i’m just saying,' she continued, 'it’s a little inappropriate, don’t you think? The laughing, the… looks.'

'jesus christ, mom,' you said, already half-laughing, but there was no humor in it. 'we were talking about cities and art and grilled chicken. it wasn’t a fucking strip tease.'

her eyes narrowed. 'don’t be vulgar!'

'don’t be ridiculous.'

'don’t be naive.' she stepped closer. 'he’s a man, sweetheart. a grown man. with already broken career, with a reputation. he’s not going to ruin it further by slumming it with a girl who’s barely got her life together.'

you blinked. the glass in your hand felt heavier. 'and even if he was,' she said, tilting her head, 'it would reflect very poorly on you. can you imagine what people would say? what they’re probably already saying? i saw you two in the kitchen during the cookout.'

the words hit you like a cold splash of water.

'mom,' you said, trying to keep your voice level. 'he’s dad's friend.'

'yes he’s your father’s friend. and yes, he’s very nice to look at. which is exactly why you should be more careful. he’s too old for this nonsense. and frankly—so are you.'

you stared at her. speechless. not because you didn’t have things to say—but because if you started now, you weren’t sure you’d ever stop.

'i was just being polite,' you managed finally.

she arched a brow. 'with your tank top hanging off one shoulder and your bra nowhere in sight?'

your mouth opened. then closed.

she stepped forward, reaching out as if to adjust the neckline of your shirt. you flinched back. 'i’m not having this conversation,' you said.

'you already are.'

'i’m not doing anything wrong. you're the one who forgot to tell me he was coming. if'd i'd of known, i'd have worn something . . . well, i would have worn more.'

'you’re embarrassing yourself,' she said softly. 'and me. your father and i were gracious enough to let you stay here while you pine after that ridiculous job. do not ruin your second chance here.'

the silence that followed was crushing.

she didn’t apologize.

she never did.

and when she turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving her perfume and her poison behind, you were left standing alone. the wine glass trembled in your hand.

but even then, your mind wasn’t on her. not fully.

it was on him. jake. his knee brushing yours. the way he spoke to you like you were someone worth hearing. the way he said it didn’t matter. that you looked just fine.

and suddenly, you weren’t sure who you believed more.

the woman who raised you.

or the man who saw you.

and just like that, you were back to being the version of yourself she’d raised—quiet, proper, apologetic. even when you wanted to scream.

you came back with pie, sans your glasses ( and prayed you didn't run into something and embarrass yourself even more ).

not because you were hungry—your stomach had curled in on itself the moment your mother walked into that kitchen—but because you needed something to do with your hands. something to ground you, to keep your mind from spiraling back through every word she’d said, every veiled insult, every warning disguised as concern.

you slid into your seat with a soft 'excuse me,' placing the plate in front of you and picking up your fork without really looking at anyone.

the conversation had shifted in your absence. something about college football now—your dad, bless him, animated as ever, explaining the politics of a last-minute quarterback trade like it was foreign policy. jake was nodding along, half-listening, arms folded again.

his eyes found you the moment you sat down.

you didn’t meet them.

instead, you busied yourself with the pie—raspberry, or maybe cherry. you weren’t really tasting it. just chewing. swallowing. pretending like nothing had happened in the kitchen. like you hadn’t just been dressed down in full, every inch of you picked apart and dismissed in the same breath.

jake leaned toward you—barely, just a little shift of his weight in your direction—and said low, 'you alright?'

you nodded without looking at him. 'fine.'

he paused. like he didn’t believe you, but also like he knew better than to push.

the problem was, he’d seen you. a few moments ago before you'd run to the kitchen. a couple days ago, at the cookout. every little flinch. every pulled thread of your composure. and now, even with your smile back in place, you felt his gaze linger longer than it should have.

you didn’t say much after that.

not when jake asked about austin. not when your dad chimed in with something about your old apartment. you answered in short, clipped sentences. polite and measured, but nothing more.

you didn’t dare let your voice rise again. didn’t let yourself laugh at jake’s teasing. didn’t lean when he leaned, didn’t brush your knee against his, even though his was still right there, waiting. you folded in on yourself just enough to be safe. just enough to feel small again.

jake noticed. because of course he did.

you caught it in the way he looked at you—longer now, quieter. he laughed at something your father said but didn’t offer one of his own stories. just stayed there, arms folded, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

and still, you didn’t look at him.

because you weren’t sure what would happen if you did.

you didn’t know if the look in his eyes would make you feel better—or worse. didn’t know if you’d break open, right there at the table, pie fork in hand and your mother watching from across the linen cloth with a satisfied little smile, like she’d done you a favor by reeling you back in.

so you ate your pie.

you stayed quiet.

and jake didn’t touch your knee again. not once.

THE END

[r7leee]

holiday greetings | d.f.

first dom fic to quench the starving fandom 🎀🎀 christmas themed too cause i can’t help it

pairing: dominic fike x fem!reader

summary: dominic’s never been one for christmas. you try to change his mind over and over again

warnings: cursing, literally just tooth-rotting fluff

word count: 2,597, should take about 20 minutes to read

OCTOBER. HALLOWEEN TIME, right? not for you.

well, maybe not exactly. see, you loved halloween; you were a fan of the dressing up, the warm cider, the partying until you couldn’t think straight.

but you knew one thing, and that was that december was right around the corner. you needed to start preparing because you didn’t come to play.

your boyfriend, dominic, was on the couch, computer on the coffee table just a bit in front of him. meanwhile, you were leaning against the counter, a bag of chips in front of you. it was a couple weeks before a huge, killer halloween party (perks of dating a rockstar), and you were searching for your costume.

this year, you’d agreed to do a matching costume with dominic; a stereotypical angel and devil. you already had a couple things, like the perfect white mini skirt and a flowy top you knew he’d be drooling over. but, of course, you needed the wings, halo, maybe a set of press-ons that were sure to leave scratches on his back that night…

you were scrolling through amazon, crunching on a salty chip when you suddenly saw an ad for a set of earrings. they were all different colors and designs. something you knew dominic’s sister would love. but, just to be sure, you decided to ask him.

“what do you think apple would want for christmas?” you asked, your voice piercing the silence of the room. it was sudden.

your boyfriend took his headphones off, turning to look at you with a puzzled expression.

“christmas?”

“ya,” you replied simply, taking another chip from your bag and crunching on it. the idea to him seemed…too far-fetched.

“that’s like…in forever.”

“i know. doesn’t stop you from telling me what she might want, though.” he looked at you like you just sprouted an extra arm.

“jesus…i don’t know. clothes? jewelry? makeup? she’s not hard to please, you know that.” you really weren’t sure why he was so confused as he was letting on.

“wooooow, someone’s grumpy,” you snickered, ditching the bag of chips to walk to him on the couch. you walked slowly, elegantly before you sat down next to him, leaning against him.

“i’m not,” he protested, defensive. it’s just a little early, don’t you think?” he explained, wrapping an arm around your waist.

you shrugged and hummed. “if you fail to plan, you plan to fail,” you remarked, a slight edge of confidence in your tone. your mind made, you went back to finding your costume and placed the earrings in your cart.

that was the first sign of his displeasure for christmas.

as halloween passed (the party becoming a key memory between you two) and christmas got closer, you could tell he wasn’t exactly…inviting to the new season.

thanksgiving started to approach and you decided to have a friendsgiving at somebody else’s place. you two were on mashed potato duty.

of course, you two had procrastinated until the very last minute, and, of course, dominic would be busy working on a project the first half of thanksgiving day.

apologizing over and over again, he gave you money to buy the things for the mashed potatoes and promised he’d help you as soon as he was done. you smiled, thanked him, and pecked his lips before heading out.

earlier that week, you’d run out of body wash, so instead of heading to the grocery store, you decided to go to target.

big mistake.

like any major chain, instead of waiting until after thanksgiving, they’d already set up their christmas decorations. at this point, you’d already figured out what to get everyone, so looking at more stuff to buy was tempting.

you found yourself getting lost in the wrapping paper and pretty bows and gift bags that by the time you’d come home an hour later, you had three bags full of stuff.

and it was safe to say your boyfriend was’t ecstatic.

as you came into the living area, bags in tow, he sighed. he knew you always had a shopping addiction, but this was a new high.

he walked into the kitchen as you were setting down bags. wrapping his arms around your waist, he mumbled, “whatcha got there, baby?”

his soft breath tickled your neck, making you giggle. “just some…stuff.”

“ya? like what?” in reply, you opened a bag, revealing shiny, green ribbons. his expression immediately dropped.

“oh.” you broke out of his grip, turning to look at him.

“what?” you quirked a brow up. why was he so mad?

“i mean…you got some ribbons? really?”

“ya! can’t have my gifts looking ugly.” he snickered. he didn’t know how serious you were.

“wow. didn’t know i was dating such a perfectionist.”

“oh, but you did.” you leaned your head up, giving him a cocky smirk. he just scoffed, a smile on his face.

“you’re something else,” he said, walking away and back to the living room. “something fucking else…”

thanksgiving eventually passed and finally, december had come, marking the official start of christmas.

december 1st came, and instead of getting some well needed sleep on your day off, you were hauling your synthetic tree from your storage unit.

so, it brought dominic some surprise when he woke up to clanging only to find you wrestling up a tree. yes, it was smaller than average, but you were still having trouble.

“what the fuck…” you heard from the doorway where the bedroom was. when you saw him, he was stood completely still, shirtless in his sweatpants.

“oh. hey. morning,” you greeted before immediately going back to forcing the tree up. after a few seconds of you fighting with it without him making an effort to do anything, you turned to him. “are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna help?”

he stood still yet again for a few seconds while you stared at him. “i mean, i can try, just…never put one up before.” he was clearly still tired and a bit startled, wiping the sleep from his eyes. you weren’t happy.

“you’ve never put up a tree before?”

“no.” he shook his head. “i didn’t even have one until you moved in.”

you sighed. “ya, i kinda had a feeling.”

finally, now that the tree was standing, you started to fluff it, pulling the branches apart. you beckoned him over with your hand. “i’ll teach you. come on.”

“do i have to?” again, your head snapped to him.

“do you have to?” you repeated the question. it wasn’t like you were mad, just a little weirded out. he didn’t reply. “yes, you fucking have to. this is like, basic life skills.” he put his hands up in surrender, a small pout on his face.

“yes, ma’am.” your look of disbelief was replaced with a smile as he walked over to help you.

that definitely wasn’t the last time he showed his distaste.

every time you put on christmas music, he complained, asking “can we pleeeeeease listen to something else?” no christmas movies were played while he was there. when you would go out to buy presents, you’d ask if he wanted to come, perhaps to get his own stuff. he always said no. it made you wonder if he was even getting anything for anyone at all.

it was all strange.

a couple weeks before christmas, your group of friends and you had decided to drive up to oregon and stay there a couple days. you’d found it was snowing there and you all wanted to celebrate the holiday spirit by getting out of california and into somewhere that actually felt like winter.

the day of the drive approached and your group piled into two cars. you and dominic sat in the back of one, two of your friends in the passenger and driving. the drive would only be about 8 hours, so not horrible.

for the first bit of the drive, your boyfriend was zoned out, messing off on his phone as you leaned on his shoulder. he stayed silent the whole time, occasionally setting his phone down and wrapping a gentle arm around your waist and shutting his eyes.

his energy was depleted, you assumed from the past couple days of him cramming so he had time to take this trip.

and you were mostly right, because after a short nap and some food, he had his normal, charismatic self back. the rest of the drive was filled with blasting music and going a bit too far on the freeway as you all laughed and smoked.

you arrived at the cabins the group booked after a little while longer. they were relatively large, each housing about five people each. when you walked inside, there were two bedrooms, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a living room. there were also a couple hot tubs and picnic benches outside the cabins, but you assumed that was for the summer.

quickly, your friends determined dominic and you would be rooming together. you plopped your bag on the bed, wanting nothing more than to throw on your pajamas and go to sleep until afternoon the next day.

but, your friends, of course, had other plans.

the whole group of eight was in your cabin within a matter of minutes, taking out bottles of alcohol and plugging in speakers. and very quickly you learned these walls weren’t soundproof.

dominic watched you intently as he unpacked his clothes. your head was under the pillow, trying to block out the noises of laughing and music. he felt bad. he just wanted his sweet girl to get some rest.

as soon as his last shirt was in the dresser, dominic stepped foot in the living room. in the maybe fifteen minutes they’d been there, the room already reeked of booze, cigarette smoke, and reefer. it’s not like he didn’t like this normally, but you were tired. and you came first.

see, if this were a normal situation, he’d ask them to head in the other cabin and he’d be out in a few. but, as he walked out, he could hear the sounds of holiday tunes coming through the speakers. he wanted out.

from your bedroom, you heard your boyfriend shooing them out, saying something along the lines of “my poor girlfriend…she needs her sleep…y’all be out here fucking annoying her…” to which they responded “sorry…you love her too much…it’s not like you to ruin the fun…”

the group trailed out and into the cold night, shutting the door behind them. dominic sighed, the tension from his body letting go. he walked back to the room, shutting the door behind him. he didn’t say a word as he changed into his sleep clothes, shut off the light, then crawled into bed.

there was some kind of unease in the room. something you couldn’t shake.

“thank you. for doing that,” you said, your voice so soft it was almost a whisper. you couldn’t see it, but he smiled.

“ya. of course.”

THE NEXT MORNING, your wake up time was around 11:00 AM. you noticed dominic was asleep next to you, but thankfully, he was a very heavy sleeper, so crawling out of bed would mean nothing to him.

the cabin was cold and empty as you opened the door into the living area. you assumed everyone crashed at the other cabin and it looked very different over there.

you, being hungry and kind, decided to make breakfast for everyone. after rummaging in the bags of food you packed, you found a couple boxes of pancake mix.

you put on some soft music while you worked like a mom about to feed her children.

in the midst of scooping the batter on the pan, you heard the bedroom door jingle. out came dominic, his hair messy and a hoodie and sweatpants on his frame. “morning,” you said with a softness in your tone.

“hi,” he replied. slowly, he made his way to the kitchen to see what you were making. “what’s on the menu, ms.?” you grinned.

“pancakes. maybe some berries if i can find them.” you could hear him hum in approval as you flipped the pancake.

“that’s gonna take a while,” he stated like it was clearly obvious.

“go ahead and make yourself useful, then.” he gave you a little salute before finding another pan and prepping it.

the only sounds in the room were the sizzling of the pancake batter on oil and the music in the back. it was relaxing. until you thought of something “can i ask you something that’ll totally piss you off?” you asked, interrupting the quiet.

“you’re not gonna piss me off,” he reassured. you sighed before asking.

“you don’t like christmas. i know that much. but like…why?” the silence after your question made you scared. “you said i wouldn’t piss you off.”

“no, no, you didn’t,” he quickly let out. “i just…i don’t know.”

“you don’t know?”

“no. i do. i mean…when i was a kid, i didn’t have any big christmases. obviously. so growing older, i just…never saw appeal in it, i guess?” the smile fell from your face at his response.

you knew dominic’s childhood had been rough, but you never suspected it would cause him to lose love for a whole holiday. that made you sad. really, really sad.

after placing more batter on the pan, you walked over to lean against him. “i’m sorry, baby. really. i didn’t know.”

“it’s not your fault. what’s done is done, ya?” he looked at you with a half-smile. it made you smile. you kissed his cheek before going back to flipping pancakes.

once your corral of pancakes was done, you and dominic went to tell the others breakfast was ready.

you threw your jacket and shoes on to make the trek, even if it was just a few yards to the other cabin. dominic joined you, throwing his shoes on as well.

you threw open the door and you were shocked to see the entire ground covered in white powder. it snowed while you were asleep. dominic seemed to be more entranced than you. that’s what growing up in florida does to you, you supposed.

your boyfriend followed you as you walked to the cabin. that’s when you had an idea.

leaning down, you grabbed a clump of snow and packed it together to form a ball. then, when he wasn’t suspecting, you threw it at his torso.

he, in response, turned to you. he looked down at his shirt then back to you. “oh, you’re on.”

before you knew it, the two of you were engaged in a true fight. your hands and body grew cold from the constant snow hitting you. you laughed and ran around, trying to dodge but also hit your target.

you didn’t even notice as all the snow got in your shoes and made your feet wet. you were having too much fun.

little did you know, one of your friends was awake and heard you two screaming and laughing. they grabbed their phone and recorded you two throwing snowballs at each other.

after your shirt was soaked, you yelled, “okay, okay, truce! i’m done, i’m done!” for his first snowball fight ever, dominic had absolutely made a mess of you.

he nodded and motioned for you to come over to him. you were both still laughing as you walked into his embrace. his warm hug was a contrast from the coldness you were currently facing. suddenly, he whispered. “i love you.” it made your heart melt.

“i love you too.”

[charmnyu]

ᘏᘏ anything but yours ⤷ p. jackson

cw: i love percy and annabeth they’re both my babies and i’m craving angst and i can’t write anything in a good length but i try soo .. also implied fem reader but gn is alr too ✌🏼

you’ve had a crush percy since forever.

ever since you met him in the sandbox that likely carried a ton of diseases in the second grade. you can clearly remember how you stuffed nancy’s face into cold mashed potatoes and how the kid stared at you in awe and horror. you didn’t do that because she was one of your bullies, no, you did it for jackson.

the little girl cursed you out, huffed and stomped and ran out of the cafeteria, running to the bathroom to wash her face and to hide in there out of embarrassment.

you later got in school suspension for it. but it didn’t matter to you— it didn’t matter that your mother and father were furious at you, it didn’t matter that your mother and we’re in trouble— as long as percy was happy and smiling, then you were too.

after that incident, you and him were attached like glue. his mom couldn’t have thanked you enough for protecting her boy. (though, with her soft-spoken voice, she reminded you that violence wasn’t the right way to settle things.)

well, you and him were attached. before camp-half blood and miss annabeth chase from the athena cabin. It was no doubt that she probably didn’t even like him— only if you looked deep in those unbothered, calculating eyes. and of course, he liked her back. you even didn’t need to look nor glance to see how that kid followed her like a dog; clinging to her side like some sort of moth to a flame.

it made you jealous of her, evidently. why couldn’t percy be that way for you? especially after all the (not-so-well-thought-out) sacrifices you’ve made just to protect this kid. if anything, you were his protector before grover.

the gods must despise you to make the only boy you’ve ever loved to swoon over a girl who can rarely even decipher her own emotions with this kid. it just seemed that as he got more (quote unquote) popular around camp, he seemed to distance away from you. not from grover at all, though. not all.

and it made you question all the risky things you’ve ever done for him— why? why did you do that for him? you did it out of pure thought that it would slowly make him fall in love with you. oh, how naive you were when you were younger.

it had been the third time this week. percy had bailed on you. for the third time. for the same girl; annabeth. you were so sick and tired of it, but how could you even approach percy nowadays? he was always attached to the hip with annabeth. he wants annabeth, and not you. and it makes you more irritated when you think about it.

“sorry, y/n. ‘m gonna be busy with annabeth, so can we reschedule?” percy scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“are you serious, percy?” you ask, irritated already. you expect this answer like always, but it’s really getting annoying.

“yeah. sorry. she asked if i wanted to stay back and help bake cookies for those new kids. you know, i couldn’t say no to free sweet treats!”

this kid is utterly oblivious and it’s pissing you off but the minute. you hold your tongue, muttering curses under you breath and trying your hardest to not lash out at the kid.

“whatever. jus’ let me know when your even free.” you spat, letting out a deep, annoyed sigh before walking away from percy. you hate this kid but love him at the same time. and it’s killing you.

percy wants annabeth. does annabeth want him? it’s so unlikely that she does; her unbothered and rather annoyed attitude every time percy is following her like a lost golden retriever.

but all you want is percy jackson.

( 🎾 ) 6/24 notes ; erm i dont like this but i hope u guys do 🤓

[cupcraft]

Some easy cooking/meal tips as an adult grad student:

You dont need to chop amazingly perfectly and meticuously. At the end of the day chop safely and however. If it tastes good its good.

Instant things can make things 1000% easier for yourself. Instant mash/instant mac/instant rice/instant pasta/etc. Add Frozen things. Add premade things. Your dishes don't have to be from scratch at all aspects ever. Do what is easiest for you and delicious!

You can use pre-ground spices. I know, yes, whole spices and roasting them and grinding them and using a mortar/pestle yourself is delicious and wondrous. But you can use preground spices to save time. You can use a food processor to blend spices/garlic/etc. together.

If you struggle with making too much food (ie food waste concern), try to make dishes you know will freeze well that way you can have leftovers that store for a long time (ie potatoes dont necessarily freeze well imo, whereas rice freezes just fine!). I also recommend just halving recipes and try to shoot for as many portions is suitable for you.

Uh oh made too much rice? What do I do and i dont want to freeze it? 1-2 days in the fridge and you have rice that is going to make an excellent fried rice. You always want to use old rice! And you can put whatever you want in it!

Canned food is okay. Canned food is okay. Canned food is okay. Eat canned meats, fish, vegetables, etc. Imo some canned veggies arent my favorite flavor wise but if you like it and it works USE IT.

Add mayo to each side of your bread when making grilled cheese. It'll make a great brown crust in a buttered pan.

American/processed/velveeta like cheese is fine. Its delicious it melts well its totally fine. Stop demonizing processed foods and "preservatives". Velveeta/kraft cheeses are going to melt so perfectly for your grilled cheese the end.

Instant pots & slow cookers & air fryers can make your life a lot easier, and at least for instant pots/slow cookers I find them easier to clean!

Meal planning will really help you. Plan what you want to eat every week (or as far ahead as it helps you). Pre-cut vegetables. Buy meat in bulk and freeze/thaw as needed. Etc. Prepping/planning will make your life easier!

You can often buy shrimp that is pre-peeled & deveined, and even pre-cooked. This makes cooking time easier and faster.

It's okay to order takeout if you dont have the energy to cook. Its okay to order takeout if you do have the energy to cook. Enjoy and treat yourself.

Preboiling your potatoes (tender but not fully done) then baking them can make a crispier roasted potato.

[suugarbabe]

Hiii i really like your writing 💛.

Could you write something where reader doesnt have any date for Valentines day, and mattheo who happens to be readers crush, helps reader feel better about it . maybe mattheo confesses his feelings for reader ?

Thanks 💛💛

yum yum yum yum yum delicioso 😋 thank you babes for the request!

You hated february. Not only was it cold to the bone freezing, but everyone started pairing off. Everyone but you.

But it was fine. It was always fine. Because you never paired off. Not with anyone. Not necessarily on purpose; you suppose there’s been one or two suitors that’s have come your way. But none of them were him.

What made it worse this year was the special that the Three Broomsticks was having: two for one butter beers on Valentine’s day. This particular day also happened to fall on a Saturday this year. Which made for a very lonely dinner in the great hall.

Your table was sparse of people, and even most of those there were paired off. You rested your cheek against your fist, elbow on table. You tried your best to not sulk and appear too lonely as you pushed your carrots around your mash potatoes.

“This seat taken?” At the sound of Mattheo’s voice your posture straightened, slightly caught off guard. “What’re you doing here?” the question came off more accusatory than intended. Mattheo must have assumed sarcasm as he raised his eyebrows and let his mouth hang open as he playfully laid his hand on his chest, “So this seat is taken? And here I thought it’d be saved for muah.”

You shoved his shoulder in response, “Oh piss off.” you could feel your cheeks burning. You hoped he didn’t notice. “I just meant, erm…you could be at the Three Broomsticks right now. I’m sure plenty of people wanted to go with you..” Mattheo’s narrowed eyes held a glint to them that you couldn’t quite read, “I’m sure I could say the same about you.”

A light scoff left your throat, “Hardly. One, maybe two max. I’m sure you had dozens from all years ask.” The last of your sentence was lost to him, Matty choosing to focus on the beginning, “Yeah? Who were these two suitors of yours, hmm? Might have to talk with them.” Mattheo stood up, hand shielding his eyes and he glanced around the great hall, pretending to scour for the two people.

You grabbed hold of his shoulder, pulling him roughly down onto the bench with an embarrassed laugh, “Will you stop that! Why do you even care?” Your heart started racing slightly, unsure of how he’d respond to your light teasing. Unsure of what he’d say.

“Well because I care about you..” Mattheo wore a shy smile, his eyes having trouble keeping contact with yours, “You deserve someone who’s always going to give you the best…treat you the best because you’re the, erm…”

“best?” you finished for him. Mattheo breathed a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck, “Yeah. Something like that.” You swore you saw a dusting of pink over his cheek bones, your heart fluttering at the thought of Mattheo mirroring the feelings you’ve been harboring for over a year.

A small silence fell over the two of you. Matty picked nervously at his fingers while you went back to pretending to eat your food. You just had a feeling. Deep in your gut. it was gnawing at you, telling you that you might not get another opportunity if you didn’t use this one.

“Matty I-”

“Hey, I-”

You both spoke at once, smilingly awkwardly at the realization. “Y-you first,” you motioned towards Mattheo. He nodded, wringing his hands together and he looked off to the side. He almost seemed…nervous? “I-erm…Salazar’s sake, I don’t know why I’m so nervous. Okay, phew, I can do this,” You grabbed hold of Mattheos hand, stopping his nervous tick.

He looked at your hands together, taking a few breaths before looking up to meet your eyes, “I didn’t agree to go to the Broomsticks with anyone else because I didn’t want to go with someone else.” Your brows furrowed slightly as you shrugged, “Erm, okay..?”

Mattheo shook his head, running his hand that wasn’t held by yours through his hair and over his face with a groan, “No. Fuck, I mean. Merlin’s fucking beard I’m usually so good at this…What I mean is. If I was going to do anything today I wanted to be doing it with you.”

He let out a long breath, a satisfied grin spreading over his face. You couldn’t stop the smile that graced your features, “What are you saying Matty?” His eyes darted all over your face before landing on your lips. He looked at your eyes briefly before down to your lips again.

For a second, everything seemed to stop. You could hear your heart beat in your ears, eyes dipping down to Mattheo’s lips as well. Wondering what he was thinking about when he looked at yours, if he wondered how soft yours were like you do his.

And then, in the next moment all your internal ramblings were cut short as his lips met yours. Soft and unsure at first, the slightest of pressure like he was afraid if he moved at all you’d disappear. You shifted closer of the bench, putting more pressure in the kiss as a warmth spread through your body that just felt so..right.

What felt like far too soon he was pulling away, heavy breathing coming from the both of you. “M’sorry I..you just weren’t getting it,” Matty laughed somewhat shyly, now lacing his fingers with yours. “Oh I get it now. Read you loud and clear, Matty,” your bottom lip pulling between your teeth.

[rafeslittlepup]

https://www.tumblr.com/rafeslittlepup/783006552074354688/hihi-im-good-im-thinking-about-the-sexistrafe-au

i’m SO sorry for the spam and ignore if u want but following on from this i feel like the cameron household takes holidays sooo seriously. like for christmas reader is planning her colour scheme in july and preordering a 20-foot tree from norway and shit. they probably do family christmas cards and rafe and reader sit on the board of directors for the christmas fair or some pretentious shit

easter is the same and the grounds of tannyhill become the main hub for egg hunts and stuff, with topper and kelce and other rich kooks talking business and stuff while their wives run after their kids and help them find clues. it makes him feel like a proper family man.

i just know they go all out for 4th of july too

- 🗽xo

christmas and easter at tannyhill aren’t just holidays, they’re full-blown social events. rafe acts like he doesn’t care but he smirks every time someone compliments how perfect everything because he knows reader made it all.

christmas:

reader’s pinterest boards are insane. she’s been planning since summer, ordering monogrammed stockings, silk ribbons, and cute nutcrackers. tree decorated with hand-blown ornaments, gold ribbon, twinkle lights, and custom initial baubles for each family member.

rafe chops a second tree from the woods for the kids to decorate with tacky ornaments while she micromanages the formal one.

matching tartan pajamas on christmas eve for the whole family. even rafe, who swears he hates them but wears them anyway because she tilts her head and pouts “pretty please…”

the cameron family christmas card is shot by a professional photographer and is mailed in hand-calligraphed envelopes with wax seals.

reader make roasted goose, truffle mashed potatoes, plum pudding and yule log from scratch.

easter:

tannyhill becomes ground zero for the most elaborate easter egg hunt in figure eight. clues, golden eggs with money in them, and color-coded baskets for each family

reader makes a massive easter brunch buffet. carved ham, mimosas, deviled eggs, mini quiches… also she hand-presses the floral napkins with lavender.

of course they go to church. they sit front row, and the kids are in custom-made outfits. rafe uses it as an excuse to socialize with old money friends, talk deals, and subtly flex.

[lvmimis]

cw: self-indulgent. suggestive. baby/babymaking mention. reader and asta are married. child is named.

You’re not unused to Asta saying something outrageous the moment he walks into the door to your home, but today he’s quieter as he sets down his grimoire, soft and sweet with his hugs and kisses as he greets you, and even more calm during dinner after he’s washed up. Luna sits in his lap as he feeds her mashed potatoes and strained greens, clapping gleefully, and he’s extra tender as he handles her. He doesn’t have much to tell you of note as things are at peace currently, and as vice-captain of the Black Bulls, he would know if things were suspicious at the horizon.

Somehow, you can still tell he’s contemplating a new wrinkle of change in the fabric of your lives together.

You put Luna to sleep together, and the two year old drifts off quickly after the bedtime story the two of you deliver in tandem; Asta closes the door to her bedroom carefully, his gaze lingering on his formerly energetic, now still and pacified 2 year-old girl.

When you are both finally back in the sitting room, you leafing through a book of handy everyday spells while he occupies himself by writing letters to the many friends he’s made on his travels, the proverbial other shoe drops.

“Let’s have a baby.”

You blink, and turn in his direction, and he’s already set his parchment aside, now looking at you with expectant, hopeful eyes.

“A baby?” you repeat.

“Yeah.”

There’s a gentle tilt of his head, and now the green of his eyes seem a little bit brighter, glowing even in the low candlelight, and you can’t help but laugh suddenly, pushing your codex aside.

“Are we planning things now? Are you no longer content to just finish inside me and shrug your shoulders, letting Providence decide?”

Asta pouts but isn’t truly slighted by the implication of carelessness, instead drawing closer to you. There's a moment of pause as he contemplates and you gaze into each other’s eyes once more, then immediately he’s scooped you in his arms and you’re walking in one direction and one direction only.

The bedroom.

You don’t protest - rather, you let your arms wrap around him, as usual enamored by the very honest and direct approach he takes to any one of his actions. He’s thought about it, pored it over through his mind, the mental calculations of how to provide and how to nurture running constantly through his head. 

All he needs is you to be willing.

“I was just thinking about it earlier. I think Luna needs a sibling. She plays alone too much, plus Princess Moonbeam suddenly has three younger siblings that look up to her and follow her every move.”

Your legs wrap around his waist as he lays you down, foreheads just barely touching as you stay in an embrace. 

“Three huh? So are we planning triplets?” Your voice is a breathy rasp that scratches gently at his very soul. 

“If fate says so.”

“I thought you didn’t like whatever fate had to say.” 

Asta grins in response to your sly smile, dipping low to kiss you on the lips before rising and pulling his shirt over his head.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ask fate, I’ll tell it at this point.”

As much as you’re still giggling as he descends right back on you, the two of you playful, planting kisses all over each other’s bare skin, you pause to look up at him, breathing gently for a moment. Your husband is sweet but determined-looking, with cheeks gently flushed, and desire practically dripping from his lips but part of you is hesitant. Not because you don’t want him - never that - or want another baby, but because…

“I… I just don’t want us to keep you off track, Asta. You haven’t reached your goal yet, and I know…” you pause, the words slowing in your mouth for a moment. “... I just think we’ve probably distracted you.”

“Not at all! If anything, you spur me on,” he insists. Your heart warms, but still, you think of how hard he works to love and protect you and how much of the country depends on him, and-

“I don’t want you to look away from the kingdom,” you add. Your heart thumps as the words leave you mouth, but he kisses you tenderly, and pulls back, a smile on his lips.

“You are the kingdom to me, okay? You and Luna, both.”

He kisses you again.

“And whoever’s next, okay?"

Tears are prickling at the corner of your eyes and you nod, proceeding to do whatever you want with him, perhaps your love tonight producing much more.

“Star 1, Star 2 and Star 3, right?”

His eyes twinkle.

“Exactly.”

…

By the time coronation arrives, the bump in your gown is harder to hide, but your best friend and his both know, and it’s a good omen. 

The same day, your pregnancy was confirmed, and you took your time to break the news, he had wonderful news of his own. 

Blessings added to blessings.

Luna was your lovechild, and you know have your planned baby of ascension, but you love both just the same.

[jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear]

Little Spoon || Jonathan Crane x Reader Drabble

Inspired by an ask and dedicated to that person Please don't mind any errors, this was quick and unedited. Enjoy <3

---------

It had been a nice night with Jonathan, not only did he cook you his "in"famous fried chicken, but he made mash potatoes from scratch and they were so creamy and buttery!! After dinner the two of you watched a vintage horror flick from his collection. But what happened after, surprised you.

While the movie was great, albeit a bit corny for today's age, You and Jonathan still had a few good chuckles. Now you two had grown tired after a nice "date" at his farm house, and you simply thought he'd escort you home. Instead though, it seemed as if he couldn't let you go. He didn't say it, but you could tell he wasn't quite ready to say goodbye.

Jonathan looked at you, and held out his arm as if to usher you into his grasp. But you, well, you had other plans. You two have snuggled before but Jonathan was always the big spoon. Tonight, you wanted to change that.

You smiled coyly, and held out your arm in retaliation. "Why not let me hold you this time?" Jonathan looked at you, blinked slowly like a cat, and kind of turned uneasily in his expression. What you didn't know was that he was apprehensive to be seen as vulnerable or lesser. Jonathan spoke gently and tried to ask you if you could cuddle the same as always, but you weren't having it tonight

"Please, let me hold you. I promise you'll like it. I mean--I do, after all"

He signed at your words, but relented

"Just this once; if I hate it, never again."

But he didn't hate it. He laid into your arms and you rearranged it so he could be held with his legs dangling from the dusty old couch. For a few moments it seemed as though he was anxious, but you have him a comforting tightened hug and as soon as he felt your chin in his brow he seemed to relax. Maybe things would be okay.

And that's how you both ended up falling asleep shortly thereafter. And you didn't wake up til late morning the next day. It was nice, especially for Jonathan. He had never felt the love of another in such a way, so much so that maybe that night, he discovered that he too, is worthy of affection

[chamomiletealeaf]

Birthday Gifts

Simon Riley x afab!fem! reader

a/n: In honor of Simon's birthday on the 18th, I give you this 🤭 I also wrote this to Birthday by JP Cooper.

Warnings: sub! Simon, a real sloppy blowjob, riding Simon, pet names, reader is super touchy and sweet with Simon

taglist: @thatonepupkai

You turned the stove down as the steak in the pan sizzled. You had some music playing while you waited for Simon to come home and couldn't wait to surprise him with a nice steak dinner and some kisses. Not to mention the cute little baby blue satin slip dress lingerie you had on under his hoodie you wore.

It was Simon's birthday, and he had been on base all day since he refused to take the day off even when Price assured him it would be alright. What a stubborn man he was. The good thing is it gave you time to fix up this little surprise you had for your boyfriend and you knew the task force would take good care of your man on his special day.

Simon had a rough life, so you understood why he didn't enjoy reflecting back on it, like celebrating a birthday. You're surprised he even told you when it was. But you were determined to help change his outlook on his birthday, because without it, you wouldn't have him, and he wouldn't have you.

You set the table and lit a few candles with a smile humming along to the music, really wanting to set the mood for the special day.

You headed back to the stove to check the mashed potatoes and that's when you heard the key jiggle in the lock on the back door making you nearly jump with joy.

Simon trudges in with a sigh and you run up to him and throw yourself in his arms before he can even say hi to you.

You run up to him and throw your arms around his neck, placing little kisses all over his face while he regains his balance.

"Hi honey! Happy birthday baby!" You say between kisses.

Simon tries to hide his smile by biting the inside of his cheek but lets a light laugh out while he drops his hands to your hips.

You then grab his hand and lead him into the kitchen with you to show him what you've been cooking.

"C'mon I made you some dinner baby." You say, giddily skipping into the kitchen dragging Simon with you.

Simon looks at the stove and sees your pot of homemade mashed potatoes, pan seared steak, and seasoned green beans waiting to be eaten.

"Oh lovey, you did all this for me?" Simon says, taking note of the beautifully decorated dining table set for you and a little vase of flowers in the middle.

"Of course I did, it's your birthday." You say with a smile. while you dip a spoon into the potatoes and raise it to his lips with a hand underneath it so none of it goes to waste.

"Here try this baby, tell me if it's good." You say, and Simon leans forward to take the spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth and he makes an approving grunting noise.

"Mmm, damn love that's really good." He says, licking his lips.

You beam up at him wide eyed at his praise, glad that your surprise is at a good start so far.

"Really? It's not too salty? I don't need anything else?" You ask, ready to fix whatever it is he wants.

"No they're absolutely delicious. They're perfect. Just like you." Simon says, giving a little pinch to your cheek making you giggle.

"Go on and sit down honey, I'll get this all ready for you. I made everything just the way you like it." You say, and Simon doesn't know how to respond. He's never received affection like this before you, and he's not sure how to process it.

He stands there in the kitchen for a second looking at you getting ready to plate the food, deciding on what he should do next, but you smile at him and shoo him out the kitchen.

"Go on! Go sit, I'll be right there." You giggle, excited to spoil him.

Dinner was delicious. It's been so long since Simon or you have had a real home cooked meal like this. You were always too busy to cook from scratch like this and Simon was sick of the cold and bland mess hall food.

You two had spent dinner feeding each other bites off each other's forks, giggling, and bumping your feet against his legs while looking up at him through your eyelashes. You just looked so pretty.

When dinner was over, you had a little treat for him for dessert that you hid in the fridge.

"I have something else for you. Wait right here." You whispered to him before getting up to go to the kitchen.

You giggled as you took the red velvet cupcake out from the fridge and placed a candle in it, trying to mute the sound of the lighter as much as you could to not give away your surprise.

A few seconds later, you walked back into the dining room with the tiny cake on a saucer for him, which made him laugh.

"Happy birthday honey." You say again as you place it in front of him before kissing his cheek and taking your seat next to him.

"Go on, make a wish." You smile at him, and he smiles back.

"I've already got my wish right in front of me." He says and you push his chest with a laugh.

"No c'mon, seriously, make a wish. And you can't tell me what it is or it won't come true." You say, and he rolls his eyes, finally closing them and making a wish before blowing out the candle.

"Yay!" You clap your hands together and lean in to give him a kiss on his cheek, then his lips before you take the candle out of the cupcake and bring it to his lips.

"C'mon try it. It looked so good when I saw it in the store today." You said.

"Oh so you made dinner homemade but not this?" He jokes with a smirk and you act offended.

"Ok now you don't get it at all." You tease as you tug the cake away, and he grabs your wrist.

"No ok I'm sorry baby I'll try it." He says, but as he leans in to bite the cupcake from your hands you shove it into his nose making him grunt.

You erupt into laughter while he sputters with frosting all on his nose and mouth.

"Oh you little fuckin- tease." He says with a laugh, and you lean in to lick the frosting off the tip of his nose.

You're a giggling mess looking at Simon with frosting all on his mouth trying to wipe it off.

"Here, I have a better idea to clean you up." You say quietly, laughter dying down as you kiss him.

You kiss him through the sweet frosting on his lips and he moans. You climb into his lap straddling it while you lick your tongue into his mouth, really getting a taste of the cake you just shoved in his face.

"Mm.. How's the frosting lovey." Simon teases and you giggle.

"Tastes almost as good as you." You respond, deepening the kiss.

When all the frosting is off his lips, you continue making out with Simon as you grind your hips down into his lap making him moan.

He grips your hips and bucks up into you with a whine and you move to nibble on his ear.

You bite and lick at Simon's ear making his breathing get heavier as you whisper into it.

"I have one more surprise for you baby." You whisper, Simon's grip on your hips getting stronger as you continue to grind on him in the dining room chair.

You lean back and grip the hem of his hoodie you're wearing to pull it over your head, revealing your satin baby blue slip lingerie you had bought for tonight.

The lingerie was tiny and allowed your ass to peek out from under it as well as the matching cute little excuse for panties to go with it. The satin clung perfectly to your tits, your hardened nipples poking through it showing Simon how ready you were for him and the satin panties clung to your now dripping pussy.

"Fuck dovey. You look fuckin' stunning." Simon says breathlessly, pushing you back so he can get a look.

"Lemme see these little panties yeah?" He asks, and you life up the slip just enough for him to see the wet patch forming on them.

"Fuckin' 'ell." Simon moans through gritted teeth as he goes to massage your tits next, moving his gaze from your panties to your nipples. He palms at your tits through the satin and goes to suck on your nipples through the fabric.

You both moan and you grab his hair, pushing him deeper into your chest.

"Yeah, just like that baby, it's all for you." You coo at him and continue to grind into him as he sucks your tits through the satin lingerie.

After a few moments, you gently push Simon away and he looks at you with the sweetest, honey colored puppy eyes you've ever seen.

"Aw don't worry honey, We're not done. C'mon, follow me." You climb off Simon's lap and guide him by the hand to the couch and he follows like a lost pup.

"Go on baby sit down, want you to be nice and comfortable yeah?" You say, and Simon obeys, eyes never leaving yours.

He sits down and watches as you maneuver between his legs onto your knees while you run your hands up and down his thighs.

"Wanna make my birthday boy feel good. He deserves it doesn't he?" You ask him and he just gulps in response.

"Aw c'mon sweetie, tell me you deserve it." You demand softly and he relents.

"I- I deserve it." He mumbles out, staring at you with his big, tired, honey colored doe eyes.

"Deserve what?"

"To feel good."

"Good boy." You coo, and he swallows thickly again, your praise sending shocks down his spine straight to his cock.

You unbuckle his belt and pull his throbbing cock out before giving it a few pumps.

Simon hisses and throws his head back while you jerk him off lightly.

"Oh fuck." He murmurs, and you smile.

You lean down to lick from the base of his cock all the way up to his already leaking tip.

Simon was fucking thick and about 8 inches long. He was fucking big and it always made you drool at the mere thought of his pretty cock, let alone having it stuffed in your mouth or pussy.

You finally spit on his cock and take him into your mouth. You slowly push him down as far as you could take him, gagging a little more than halfway down, the contraction making Simon buck his hips.

You then start to speed up, lewd and wet noises coming from your mouth as you suck him off like your life depended on it.

"God, fuck. Such a perfect little mouth." Simon whines as his eyes roll to the back of his head as he bites his fist.

You giggle and start to bob your head up and down, twisting and pumping your fist around the rest of him you couldn't take into your mouth.

"Yeah just like that. Fuck." Simon moans again, watching you take his cock happily down your throat as saliva starts to spill out of your mouth and down your chin, some getting onto your chest and his thighs.

You pop him out of your mouth and lean forward to rest your tits on his thighs while you jerk him off, string of saliva connecting you to his cock.

Thick, wet squelching sounds fill the room as you jerk him off.

"Yeah? you like when I blow you like this? All nice and messy hm?" You coo at him and he nods, head going dumb to where all he can do is nod and babble.

He looked so pretty with his eyebrows furrowed and mouth wide open panting for air. His cheeks were the prettiest shade of pink and you couldn't help but smile at how cute he looked like this.

You take him back in your mouth as you jerk and suck him again, your saliva continuing to drip all over the two of you and spilling over your hand wrapped around his cock. This was probably the sloppiest blowjob you've ever given him and he was in absolute heaven.

"Fuck love I- I'm gonna cum-" Simon babbles out between whimpers.

But no matter how pretty he looked like this, this wasn't how you wanted him to cum.

You stop your movements right before he cums making him whine.

"Wh- why'd you stop?" He looks down at you with the sweetest and saddest eyes like a kicked puppy, and you can't help but sympathize with him.

"Oh I know baby, I know." You coo, rubbing your hands up and down his thighs.

"But I want you to cum inside me. My birthday boy deserves to cum in a nice, tight, wet little pussy hm?" You ask and he nods his head, eyebrows still furrowed.

"That's a good boy." You say with a smile, and stand up, seductively taking off your panties before you straddle him.

Normally you would have teased him a bit, rubbing his cock against your covered pussy, but today was about him and only him. You were gonna make your man feel the best he's ever felt on his special day.

You slowly sink down onto Simon's cock making him throw his head back and let out a choked moan as his hands fly to your hips.

You slowly rock back and forth, getting used to his size before you start properly riding him.

Once you've become accustomed to his size, you lean forward into his ear, resting your hands on his chest as you ride him.

"Yeah you like that? Like when I make you go dumb hm? Must be so tired being a big strong soldier all the time huh, just need to go dumb for a bit and not think don't you baby." You say into his ear and he whimpers in response.

"Yeah that's it, my baby deserves to be well fucked and fed. Especially on his special day hm?" You coo at him as you bounce your ass on his cock, the sounds of skin slapping and your squelching pussy fill the room as you fuck Simon on the couch.

Simon is a dumb fucking mess under you, not able to form a coherent sentence other than whimpers, babbles, and an occasional "fuck" that falls from his lips.

He grips your hips so hard that it hurts, but you love it. He drags his hands up to your waist, bringing the fabric of your slip dress up with his hands so he can watch you ride him. You lean back and place your hands on his knees to really give him a show as you start to bounce on him faster, making sure he sees your pretty body and face as you make him feel good.

"Fuck dovey I- mm fuck you're- hnnn- gonna cum- gonna fucking cum." Simon grunts out and you moan at his words, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you.

"Go on honey, cum for me, cum inside my little pussy, it's all yours baby." You moan.

Simon tightens his death grip on your hips and subconsciously tries to fuck up into you, but you quickly lean into him again and place your hands on his hips to keep him down and to use as leverage as you ride him so hard you're sure your thighs are gonna be sore for the next week.

You press your tits into Simon's chest and suck on his neck as you feel him twitch inside you. You grab his face and press your forehead to his as you look into his eyes, wanting to watch him as he cums.

"C'mon baby, that's it, take your birthday present honey." You coo in his ear, and that's all it takes.

Simon's eyes roll into the back of his head and his cheeks flush pink as he cums inside you with a choked whine, he bucks his hips up and you feel him throb inside of you, filling you up more than he ever has.

Feeling him throb inside you as he cums triggers your own orgasm and you pulse around his cock, milking him dry.

You moan as you slow your pace, riding him through his orgasm and you through yours.

"Fuck- I love you so much love." Simon says as he kisses you, and you kiss back.

"I love you too honey." You smile against him, hugging and kissing him all over.

"Thank you. I loved my gifts. This one was my favorite though." He says with a smirk, and you giggle.

"You're welcome baby. Glad they were a hit." You say back with a huge smile plastered across your face.

"Of course they were. Couldn't have asked for anything better." He says, big dumb smile also plastered across his flushed face.

"Now, can we finish that cupcake?" He asks, and you laugh.

"Whatever you want, it's your birthday." You say, and Simon leans in for another kiss before picking you up and bringing you back to the table to finish sharing the red velvet cupcake you had given him.

Simon never knew a love like this was possible, and every day it's proven to him through you, not just on his birthday, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

[repulsiveliquidation]

"I don't think you deserve gentle darling."

when i saw that gif i knew it was the PERFECT one.

Ona Batlle x Reader Smut 18+, read at your own risk.

word count: 3.3k. it’s just sex. all of it.

warnings: little bit of degradation, food kink, sub drop, aftercare.

8PM, Barcelona.

The smell of roasting beef and roasted vegetables fills the apartment. You continue to dice potatoes for a quick mash, boiling milk and butter on the stove at the same time. Ona is sleeping on the couch just in front of you, all tucked in with her favorite blanket and your sweatshirt on. She had a long day in training, the girls preparing for some tough games coming up. She looks peaceful when she sleeps, you reckon you could just watch her sleep and feel calm.

Dinner was ready in half an hour, you walked over and nudged her awake. “Sweet, it’s time for dinner. Sleep anymore and you won’t go to bed tonight hm?” She whined, rubbing her eyes reluctantly. You brushed her hair out of her face, leaning in and kissing her lips softly. “Come on, I’ve made your favorite.” “Eres lo mejor mi amor.” “It’s what I’m for!”

Making your plates in the kitchen, she sat at the dinner table and made herself useful by opening the bottle of wine you had chilled. A loud pop rang through the apartment, a grin settling on her face as she filled both glasses with the red liquid. She ate like she hadn’t had food in a week, stuffing her face full of meat and vegetables; she helped herself to seconds and thirds too. Nothing made you happier than seeing her eat so enthusiastically, sometimes you felt full just watching her enjoy her food.

An hour later you both were cuddled on the couch enjoying an old Barça game. She sat in your lap, your hands softly scratching her abdomen. It sent shivers down her spine as she leant back into you more. You were focused on the game, having the same love for the sport as your girlfriend just from a fan standpoint. Your hands however, were focused on her body and caressing her warm and soft skin. You could feel every shiver and squirm, calloused palms tracing her figure with practiced ease. You knew her body inside and out, exactly how she knew yours.

Ona was not focused on the game, she was more interested in figuring out what your hands were trying to achieve. They traced her delicately like she was made of glass. Fingers drumming against her toned stomach, counting the number of ridges and bumps it came across. Nails dragged themselves through each valley and canal, sending shocks of electricity no one else had ever even come close to giving her. She had had enough of the teasing and mocking nature of your nimble fingers. She wanted them all over her, inside her, where ever she could have them. She wanted them to assault her and make her cry; she wanted them to give her mind-numbing, leg trembling, soul-extracting orgasms.

Whatever Ona wanted, she knew you would give.

She turned in your lap, legs settling beside yours as her lips latched onto your neck. Your hands remained where they were, grasping her small waist as you did not push her away. Her lips smacked away noisily at your neck, her hips softly beginning to grind down on you. You knew she was testing the waters, seeing how much she could get away with before you broke. You also knew that this was heavily influenced by half the bottle of red wine she had had, your girlfriend having always been terrible at holding her alcohol.

“What are you doing, Ona?” you asked her teasingly, hands now moving lower to hold onto her grinding hips. You merely guided her, allowing her to continue her cheeky ministrations. “Just kissing my girlfriend.” “Making a mess in your pants while trying to bite my neck off isn’t just kissing your girlfriend, angel.” “B-But you haven’t-“ “Haven’t even touched your cunt yet but know you’ve made a mess? Oh doll, you underestimate the influence my body has on yours. You’re mine, I know you better than you do.”

“What does my disobedient little slut want hm?” you ask, hand grabbing her cheeks to look at you.

“Please be gentle with me.” She begs, eyes dilated and breath stuck in her throat.

“I don’t think you deserve gentle, darling.”

Her face flashes a look of panic, eyes searching for yours to be joking. She finds nothing, only eyes that have gone dark with dilated pupils. You pick her up suddenly, throwing her over your shoulder much to her protest. She yelps and tries to escape your hold but fails miserably. It’s one of the things that turns her on to be honest, she knows that she’s pretty much untouchable on the pitch as a defender but at home it makes her pussy throb in a way that does her head in at the sheer knowledge that you’d be able to overpower her with ungodly ease. (a/n have you SEEN this woman’s arms I mean the VEINS)

You throw her onto the bed, breathing heavily down at her. Her eyes roll into her head, sitting back on her elbows, legs opening wide. You haven’t even touched her and her head is already spinning. She loves the affect you have on her, the way your eyes can undress her and make her feel hot all over. The way your hands just know where to touch and where to trace, your lips knowing where to kiss and where to bite. You bring her out of her trance when you pull out the handcuffs, serious look on your face. You undress her with ease, pulling off her top and shorts, leaving her gorgeous two-piece that she forgot to mention on. She immediately puts her hands above her head, as you wordlessly cuff her to the bed. “I love you.” You suddenly say, leaning down to kiss her forehead with soft eyes. She’s sure her whole body is as red as a tomato, she responds with a soft “Love you too,” body relaxing into the soft bed. She trusts that you will be somewhat gentle with her even though you told her you wouldn’t be, feeling safe in your presence to have you fully be in control.

“I need your safe word darling. Which system are we using today?”

“Traffic lights por favor.”

“Good girl. I will only stop if you use the words, saying stop or don’t will not make me pull away, do you understand?”

She nods.

“I need words, bonita.”

“Yes, I understand.” She says quietly, eyes glossing over with sheer pleasure.

“Mmh, there’s my perfect obedient girl. Make no mistake, this is a punishment as well as a reward. Punishment for pushing my buttons, rewards will come only if you learn your lesson by the end of it, okay?”

“Okay.”

Your hands trace her body slowly, settling yourself between her muscular legs. She squirms, eyes closed with soft whimpers leaving her lips. Her waist is small, your hands can almost wrap around it fully. Her abs slightly more defined with all her movements, legs straining as your feather light touch makes her shiver in pleasure. You lean down and kiss the middle of her chest, your hands grasping her breasts gently. You had tossed her lingerie somewhere across the room. You squeeze her cute breasts, latching your lips to her left nipple and swirling your tongue around it.

One thing that everyone knew about the Spaniard is that she was a touchy person. She loved holding onto you any chance she got, she loved the feeling of your warm skin on hers. The handcuffs were the definition of torture for her; fingertips desperately needing to dig their nails into your thighs, fingers wanting so bad to tangle themselves in your thick locks. You smirked down at her because you knew what she was thinking. You knew that she wanted to touch, she wanted to squeeze, she wanted to graze.

“Naughty girls don’t get to touch either.”

“How’d you-“

“I told you darling, I know you before you do.”

She whined as the assault on her chest didn’t stop. You bite and sucked hard, dark red spots littering her skin like paint on a canvas. You kissed up her neck, head looking back to give you more space to take her in. You inhaled deeply, getting high off of her scent. She smelled like lavender and mint, with a hint of jasmine that you loved. “Fuck, you know jasmine is my favorite.” You tell her, she giggles and bites her lip, chest arching into yours. She hates that you’re still fully dressed, wanting to enjoy you too. “Please take your clothes off.” She asks in a soft whisper you almost didn’t hear. Her eyes hold so many emotions, their deep brown color begging for you in their own language. “No.” you answer, pushing yourself off the bed and leaving the room.

Her bottom lip starts to quiver, falling into subspace ever so slowly. You come back with ice-cream; her favorite. She takes in a deep breath at the sight of you, blinking away tears.

“What’s your color, gorgeous?”

“Yellow.”

You put the ice-cream to the side and sit beside her. With eyes full of concern, you caress her cheek. She’s got such beautiful freckles, you think, before leaning down and kissing her softly.

"¿Qué pasa, mi amor?”

“Feeling subby. I’m okay to continue, I want this.”

“Okay, color?”

“Green, so green.”

You sit on the bed with her, bending her legs up to sit between them. She smiles happily, you lean down and pepper her face with soft kisses. “Those freckles are the prettiest thing I’ve seen,” you tell her as a light blush creeps up her face. You go back to kissing her neck, darkening all those marks you had made before. She begins to whine louder, whimpering at each nibble and suck. Her chest is a dark purple, a reminder of who she belongs to.

You pull her legs apart, panties revealing a dark wet patch in the middle. She already smelled like sex, her arousal evident from all your touches and teases. It was intoxicating, just like she was. You ran your fingers over her clothed folds slowly, fingers cold from holding the ice cream earlier. Scooting down the bed, you were now face to face with her clothed sex, leaning in and kissing her softly. You pulled the fabric to the side slowly, her wetness making the soaked fabric stick to her. Soft kisses were left all the way up her folds, her hole practically leaking with how turned on she was. She was a mess below you, eyes screwed shut and bottom lip between teeth. You circled your tongue around her clit, her folds warm and sweet. Sucking on her clit was her favorite, you indulged her for a while as a little reward for being well-behaved so far.

You remembered the ice cream and reached for it, slipping a little spoonful of vanilla ice cream into your mouth before returning between her legs. You leaned in and ate her out enthusiastically, the change in temperature causing Ona to yelp and jump a little, hands desperately tugging at the restraints to let her grasp onto something. “Ah, joder!” she yelled, as your mouth never wavered till all the ice cream was slurped up. The temperature change gave Ona chills. Her chest heaved with her deep breaths, legs contorted as they struggled to keep themselves open for you. There was an unspoken rule; however, you positioned her, she was to stay that way.

Another scoop of sweet ice cream melted on your tongue as you devoured her syrupy folds. Your cold tongue darting its way into her, the varying sensations sending her towards orgasmic bliss…till it suddenly stopped.

“No!” she yelled, now fully realizing her punishment. No cumming till you let her.

“You didn’t think I was going to let you get away with your bratty behavior that easily did you? Do you know me at all, Pequeño?” you tell her with a wicked grin on your face and ice cream smudged all over.

You bent her in half, holding her legs up as another spoonful of creamy goodness sat on your tongue. This time you gently tongue-fucked her, the dollop of ice cream melting on her hot clit and dripping into her as you slurped noisily to clean her off. You didn’t let a drop of your new favorite ice cream flavor go to waste, finger dipping in and shoving itself into her agape mouth.

“You’re delicious aren’t you?” you ask her.

“Mmm, yes.” She answers, sucking pornographically on your single digit. You pulled it away and immediately plunged it into her, curling up into her sweet spot. Her legs trembled where they dangled over your shoulders, tears flowing down her cheeks hotly. She was so close, pussy clenching rhythmically around your finger. You slipped in a second digit, lips suctioning itself to her clit driving her crazy. She knew she couldn’t cum till you let her; she thought she would pass out from how hard she was holding back. You let her go though, you knew exactly when she would break.

She panted and a fresh set of tears flowed down her cheeks. You kissed her, caressing her burning thighs. “We’re just getting started darling.” You whisper in her ear, kissing the shell of it lightly. She whines again, begging already.

“No, no por favor. I’ve been good, I’m sorry!”

“I know, bebita. You’re being such a good girl.” You cooed. Your long fingers find themselves inside her again, assaulting her hole with vigor and practiced movements. Her eyes roll into her eyes, head becoming more and more fuzzy as she entered the world of submission. She loved it here, the weight of the world off her shoulders with you right beside her to take care of her. She trusted you; knowing she would be well-taken care of.

Fingertips pressed themselves hard on her sweet spot, tongue flicking wildly over her now swollen clit. She loved the way you ate her out, no other partner previously came close to how good you were at it. It was skilled and accurate with irregularities that excited her. It made her legs shake and just the memory of it made her legs jelly.

Your lips moving to a new spot on her body brought her back to reality, chest heaving once more as you worshipped her breasts. Suckling and nibbling made her nipples pebble up adorably, chest flushed from her neck down. Her abs were working overtime, contracting with every touch you gave her. You gently introduced another finger, kissing down her stomach as you felt the slight resistance her body showed you.

“That’s it baby, let me in. You’re doing so good princesa, taking your punishment so well.”

“Fuck, please don’t stop Y/N…”

Your fingers don’t stop. Actually, they speed up and press in deeper. It makes her see stars, mouth going dry from having her jaw open for so long. She writhed and was yelling at this point. You didn’t care about the neighbors, everyone should thank you that they get to enjoy her magnificent sounds.

“Scream for me, mi amor. Tell everyone in Barcelona who fucks you this good.”

“Yuh-you Y/N, only you!”

“That’s fucken’ right, angel. Go ahead, cum for me darling. You’ve been good.”

Oh boy does she cum. She gushes like a faucet. The force consumes her, orgasm making her entire being shudder and shake with delight. She blacks out for a second, your fingers pulling away and pulling her into a more comfortable position. You grab a bottle of water from the nightstand and feed it to her. She drinks thankfully, eyes looking up at you with a distant look. You caressed her cheeks, smiling fondly down at her.

“What’s your color, beautiful?”

“G-Green.”

“Ready for the star of the show, you think?”

“Y-Yes, I am.”

You pull out her favorite strap, slipping on the harness as she wiggles back into the middle of the bed. She looks so small, fragile and doll-like. You wanted to burn this image of her into your head so you stared at her, taking in all her beautiful features that your hands knew so well. Her hair was stuck to her forehead, sweat glistened on her body and every inch of skin had a mark or bite. Anyone that looked at her now would know who she belonged to and that made her heart skip a beat.

Lubing yourself up, you slid back between her legs. You suddenly felt pity for her, silently reaching over to the nightstand again to get the keys to the handcuffs. You released her, rubbing her aching wrists. You looked into her eyes, they were the most beautiful shade of brown.

 “I’ve let you go but that does not mean you can disobey me. I know you’re my good girl aren’t you?”

"Sí, soy tu buena chica".

“That’s what I like to hear.”

The tip of the strap pushed into her with ease as you held her legs back and caressed her calves. You gave her ankle a soft kiss before holding her legs on your shoulders. You thrusted deeper, the harness grazing your own clit perfectly. You could get off with her, which made the night even sweeter. On days like this, you usually accepted no pleasure. The act of getting Ona off was more than sufficient but when you could, you tried to make both of you feel special. She enjoyed making you cum but when she was in this headspace she found it difficult.

You fucked her into the mattress, her voice now hoarse from all her screams of pleasure. You knew you were going to get a noise complaint tomorrow but you couldn’t care less right now. Ona’s moans were music to your ears, your own voice now mixing into hers. You lent back and pounded up into her, the angle giving her the boost she needed to cum.

“P-Please, por favor, estoy tan cerca…please l-let me cum…please!”

“Wait for me darling, just a little longer.” You pant back at her, grinding down and fucking into her earnestly as you both dove head first towards your orgasms.

You don’t know who came first, but it was pure ecstasy. Both of you saw stars and your ears rang deafeningly as you rode out your highs. It was magnificent.

Pulling out and letting the strap fall to the floor you cradled her in your arms as she cried. She was overwhelmed like she normally was when a night like this was over, finding solace in your arms and your arms only. You shushed her and whispered sweet nothings in her ear, using Spanish and English as both of those languages soothed her. You kissed her with a passion like no other, lips swollen and red after she calmed down. You gave her the rest of the bottle of water, encouraging her to finish it when she began to protest.

“You need to finish it, princesa. Please?”

“Can I have a bath if I do?”

“You’re getting a bath regardless but it’d make me feel better if you had all the water please.”

“Okay.” She finished it and got her bubble bath with extra bubbles as requested.

12AM, Barcelona.

Now that you both were cleaned and sheets changed, you had a record playing as you both cuddled in bed. Ona insisted on lighting a candle, “we need to set the mood, bebé.” “isn’t it too late for that?” “Cállate.”

She turned over, scooting into your side of the bed and laying her head on your chest. You were now both naked as the day you were born, Ona again insisting that “naked cuddles are the best, Sí?”

“Are you okay?” you ask her after a while, hand rubbing her arm softly.

“Yes. I really needed that today. I’m sorry I pushed your buttons.”

“Don’t be, I love it when you’re a brat.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Ona.”

You sleep through the night with the cutest defender in the world and you felt like the luckiest woman in the world. She was perfect.

//

Tell me what you think down below!

[katnissandpeetamellark]

Thanksgiving Foods I’d give The Hunger Games characters:

Katniss:

Rolls. All of the rolls and bread. I know how to treat a queen.

Peeta:

Sweet Potato Casserole bc he’s so sweet 🫶

Haymitch:

Green bean casserole. I have no reason.

Effie:

Cranberry Sauce (but the fancy kind). She’d probably dress as Cranberry Sauce too

Cinna:

Pecan Pie. He just is so classy to me & pecan pie is classy and beautiful.

Rue:

The WHOLE damn turkey. Feed this child immediately.

Prim:

Stuffing. The good kind made from scratch with herbs and fancy bread. I think she’d like it

Gale:

Mashed potatoes. It will fill him up but he’s still on thin ice.

Lucy Gray:

Some sort of pretty salad. Maybe one with pears. I think she’d enjoy that.

Sejanus:

Cornbread. It’s comforting and sweet. And I bet Ma Plinth made it.

Marcus:

Mac n cheese. GOOD Mac n cheese.

Tigris:

Cranberry salad. It’s my favorite, she’s my favorite.

Reaper:

Pumpkin Pie. He deserves the best Thanksgiving dessert.

Coriolanus:

Air. Starve bitch.