#i want to put them in a box and shake them aggressively

[beeqisch]

yap yap yap

bad photo of the keychain ver ahehehehe (i dont have any other photos and they sold out... sobs....)

[cherrywade]

"Do you think Eddie likes me?" The question leaves Steve's mouth absently, like an afterthought. Wayne watches his shoulders tense as he holds the cabnet door up. His eyes are on the floor. His cheeks going red. Wayne hums genlty, trying not to laugh in Steve's face. If he only knew.

Instead he sits with the question for a moment, keeps working, tightening the screws till they're snug. He nods at Steve, he lets go. Wayne swings the door back and forth a few times. No squeaks. And it doesn't fall off into his hands. He and Steve both nod at the same time, satisfied, Steve's hands dropping to his hips.

"Does he bite you?" Wayne asks, trying to sound as thoughtful as Steve had with his question. Steve stares at him. Wayne raises his eyebrows.

"Eddie. Does he ever bite you?" He repeats, giving Steve a pointed look.

"Oh! Um.. he... yeah? S-sometimes." Steve stammers a bit, his brow furrowing as he rubs at the back of his neck. And then his hand falls to his shoulder. And then drops by his side and clenches. Wayne smiles.

"You ever heard'a cuteness aggression?" Wayne asks, putting his tools back into their box and stashing it on top of the fridge. Steve shakes his head and frowns again. Wayne nods, motions for the small table and sits, Steve following him and sitting across from him.

"Well what I understand of it, and I'm getting this information from Eddie so... take it as you will." Steve smiles, a knowing look passing his face as he nods, and yeah, this kid has it bad for his boy.

"It's when someone thinks something is so cute it makes them violent. And Ed's got it bad. Took him ages to get it under control. What do you think happened to Gilberts ear?" Wayne nods toward the couch where their chunky brown tabby cat is napping. He looks up at the mention of his name and meows inquisitively.

"Oh my god what?!" Steve gasps, his hand jumping to cover his mouth. Wayne snorts.

"I'm just messin with ya kid. He was like that when Ed found him." Wayne smiles. Steve looks at him, straight faced, unimpressed. One of Eddie's favorite looks to wax poetic about.

"Very funny." He says dryly. Wayne chuckles, taps his hand on the table and says,

"I thought so. Anyway, point is. If that boy's teeth have sunk into you at some point. Odds are he likes ya just fine." Wayne smiles warmly, watches the gears turning in Steve's head, his brow furrowing and then relaxing as his mouth drops open in a little "O".

"So he'd say yes. If I- I mean if I wanted to-" he watches Steve swallow nervously.

"If you asked him out. Yes. I believe he would say yes." Wayne just watches Steve, takes a sip of his coffee. Steve nods to himself.

"Okay. Okay cool. I can do this. Awesome. Thank you!" He'd stood, hands wiping at his thighs, patting down his pockets, looking for his keys, before startling and turning back to Wayne to thank him.

"They're on the table by the door. And you're welcome son." He took another sip.

"And Steve?" He calls as Steve's hand hits the door, the boy turns to look at him, wide eyed.

"Yeah?"

"He can be a little... dense. When it comes to these things. Best to be forward. To the point." Wayne nods again, gives Steve a knowing look. Watches as his head tilts like a puppy as he processes.

"Forward. To the point. Okay. I got this." Steve said, nodding, to himself really, before darting out the door.

Wayne shakes his head, smiles as he cleans out his coffee cup and hopes that he'd done right by his boy. He couldn't take much more of Eddie's love sick puppy eyes. And Steve had been doing them for a few months now as well, and it was all too much. It had to be done.

~*~

Three hours later the trailer door slams open and Eddie rushes in. Steve hot on his heels, hand locked in Eddie's as he drags him down the hall.

"Evening boys." Wayne says, nonchalant, from his place near the stove, leaning against the counter.

"Hi Wayne!" Steve calls, happy and polite.

"No!" Eddie says, points at Steve aggressively and then to Wayne.

"No more talking! You two have talked enough today!" He half yells, and then drags Steve into his room, both of them laughing. His door slams shut. And then promptly opens again. Eddie bounds into the little kitchen, right into Wayne's space, and nearly tackles him in a tight hug.

Wayne squeezes him back, feels Eddie's lips press gently against his shoulder and then he's gone. Twirling away from his uncle's hold.

"Thanks Wayne." He says, his eyes bright and shining, his cheeks dimpled with happiness, and, right along his jaw, the imprint of teeth. A bitemark. Right on his face.

Wayne nods, and smiles as Eddie disappears into his room again. He can hear them talking and laughing through the wall as he makes dinner. Dinner for three now. As it has been for months.

He cooks. And he thinks. Three hours later and Steve still had to bite him to get his point across. Wayne shakes his head, smiling as he breaks the noodles and tosses them into the water, happy that his boys were finally happy.

[brilium]

❥ K I N K T O B E R 2 0 2 3

Masterlist

➽──────────❥

❥ DAY 9. Aphrodisiac! with Nanami Kento

Summary. Nanami has been dealing with a lot of stress at the office lately, and you decided to buy him a naturalist tea that it supposed to help with the stress relief. It seems to help with stress in a very particular way...

Content Warning. Fem! reader, no use of Y/N, all characters are adults, smut, vaginal sex, overstimulation, oral sex (m. receiving), breeding. No proof read, might edit later.

Word count. 2,203.

MINORS OR AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT !!

You bought a package of natural tea bags for stress relief. Was it suspicious? Not really. You expected them to work? Also no.

Actually, it seemed pretty normal; a simple box with small bags filled with the usual content.

You gave them to Kento when he drank in the morning before going to work. He seemed like usual; tired, with no energy and half asleep.

That was pretty much the reason why you bought them.

The tea was supposed to help him relieve stress relief, that’s why you give it to him before his stressful routine. You didn’t expect to be one of those teas.

“Fuck! S–Stay still dear!” Nanami groans, holding the headboard of the bed with one hand while the other keeps your waist firmly against the mattress as his hips slam aggressively against yours.

You look at your clothes spreader around the floor, you can't even remember when Nanami got you rid of them in the rush of kisses and make out that he put you through.

The lady at the shop gently helped you to look for a tea that would help with the stress that your husband has been having, since you’re a bit worried about his lack of words and how he skips dinner and goes to sleep. You should have suspected of her smile.

It was a damn aphrodisiac.

You cry in the pillow while he keeps thrusting with an animal fiercely, holding the sheets between your fists as his hip bone spanks against your red ass. Nanami groans fill the bedroom with the skin slapping sounds that drive you crazy.

"God— You feel so good today. I couldn't stop thinking at work about you, dear!"

And, that's fucking true, Nanami felt a weird wave of arousal as soon as he landed on his desk. Suddenly remembering how tight that shirt suited you today, he remembered how your nipples poked out softly through the fabric; and that leaded him to remember your bare body, your thighs squeezing at his sides every time he pounded on you and your sweet blush when you announced that you were about to cum—

God, he lied saying that he was sick because he needed to fuck you. It felt like ages since the last time.

When he arrived sooner, you were happy that, maybe, his boss gave him a free day. But as soon as he started kissing you as rubbing his hard erection against your stomach you knew that you’ll be the tired one today.

“P–Please! K–Kento—” You rest your cheek on the pillow to get some air, even if it’s hard to do it with his weight above yours, thrusting hard. “S–Slow down! Fuck!”

Nanami doesn’t seem to listen, actually, he does the opposite, getting a quicker peace that wins a loud scream from you. Your eyes half opened don’t let you focus clearly, although your complaints since you’re used to doing it more gently with him, you love how his tip hits constantly on your cervix like he wants to leave his mark inside you.

When you start whining against the pillow, drooling on it and starting to dig hardly your nails on your palm, you let out a small whimper of pain that startles your husband.

“D–Do you— Shit! Do you want me to stop?”

The thrusts slow down gently until stopping with some shaking from him, he doesn’t sounds like he wants to stop, even his voice shakes in need of more but his delicacy with you stays even though the way he acts right now melts a warm feeling on your chest.

You shake your head with weakness, tightening your core muscles to keep him inside. Nanami lets out a broken moan when you do it, grabbing both sides of your hips firmly and taking a deep breath.

He caresses your back from top to bottom, trying to control his need to keep slamming on you.

“This is because of that damn tea…” He scolds, going inside again more slowly even it’s a higher pain for his body needing to let out all that contained energy. "I can't even feel tiredness."

“I notice it,” You whimper, tasting how sweetly it feels his length entering again, you push your hips back a little for more and Nanami responds by unintentionally digging his nails on your skin. “Fuck— D–Don’t hold back, please...”

Nanami growls in response, he tries his best to go slow for you but even though he slowed down his thrusts, he makes sure to hit every time with enough energy to make your insides clench around his swollen dick.

You start to love this new side of him, letting out his desires to ruin you and take everything he wants. He's a gentleman, and that's perfect, but remembering that that gentleman is turning you into a mess growls a pool on your aching cunt.

When Nanami’s thrusts start to get faster and harder, you start to taste a sweet electric wave around your body as you keep hearing the headboard slamming on the wall.

“K–Kento! I��m… I’m close!” You scream, moaning his name against the sheets and grabbing them between your fists.

Nanami nods behind you, keeping his peace as he starts to feel how the knot on his stomach is about to release. He pulls you closer to him in a harsh movement and starts hitting harder, when you start crying in pleasure is when you feel a whole shiver growing along your body in the high of your orgasm. He keeps moving his hips in a messier way until he moans sharply as you feel a warmth filling your cunt.

You are breathless on the mattress as you feel the cum running down your thighs, thinking that your husband is in the same state but it takes you by surprise when he grabs you by the shoulder to make you lie on your back to look at him towering you in the bed.

He just came, a lot.

And he’s still fucking hard.

“B–But you just came!” You whine, feeling him rubbing his length along your sensitive folds. Making you roll your eyes at the sensation and having to bite your lip to not moan in response. "Kento—"

“P–Please… Fuck, you feel so warm” Nanami moans quietly between his teeths, putting his tip right on your entrance and you feel a cold chill running through your spine. “If you are still tight maybe I’ll cum sooner and the effect of the tea goes away.”

You know that he's inventing all that, you both don't know how long that effect is going to last but you’re not complaining when his tip opens your walls again.

Nanami starts to push and you throw your head back on the pillow with a pained moan, you are still really wet from the previous orgasm, but also damn sensitive. He hasn't even fully entered but yet it already has you breathing hard and biting your lip.

He grabs your thighs to spread them and has a good entrance to you when he starts stroking again, but it doesn't seem to be enough for him. Nanami does the opposite by lifting your calves to put them on his shoulders as he starts to hit again.

This new position lifts your hips a little more and gives him a good angle to hit on your cunt and turn you into a mess of moans, feeling him hitting on the cervix in such a delicious way.

His eyes travel down along your body from your parted lips crying his name; your tits being squeezed between one of your hands, trying to keep them both stimulated; and fuck, the nice view of your cunt squeezing on his fat cock around the white ring of cum around it.

You squirm on the mattress, feeling like a rag doll in the hold of his strong body.

"F–Fuck! Fuck!" You bring one of your hands between your legs to rub your swollen clit to get closer to the second orgasm. Nanami groans at the feeling of your folds hugging him tightly.

Nanami lets go of your thighs on your sides to bend closer to you, but his hips keep slamming on you like he's just started while you already started to feel your body getting sore.

You thought that he leaned closer to kiss you through the thrusts, but he stopped right in front of your breasts to start  sucking on your nipples and let them go with a "Pop!". When his hard thrusts make it hard for him to reach the nipple, he just chooses to suck on the soft skin of your breasts, leaving a dark red mark on there.

His tongue drills on the tip of your sensitive bud, biting it softly between his teeths to make your back arch for more. It's when in one of those movements that your vision goes blurry as your hands fly to his back and start to scratch it with your nails. 

"K–Kento! Yes, yes!" You roll your eyes, feeling his dick strokes on the right spot between your walls "Right there! Yes!" 

Nanami hugs you back to keep you steady as he keeps hitting, feeling your cunt tightening around him. You cry his name repeatedly against his shoulder as he thrusts while you ride the second orgasm.

You spasm under him, trembling and feeling small tears on the border of your eyes as he calms down above you. Even your walls clench around his length at the sound of his hard breathing beside your ear.

"D–Dear… I—"

You interrupt Nanami, pushing him softly to lie on his back beside you. He opens his eyes wide when you use the last remains of your strength to straddle I'm front of his swollen dick, holding the base of it with one hand as you get closer to it.

"Gosh! You gave me two sweet orgasms and you haven't even cum once…" A pout grows in your face, holding his cock to hit it softly on your cheek, loving the way Nanami’s body jumps slightly at the touch.

"Am I that bad in bed?" You continue, passing slowly your tongue flatly from his base to his tip to taste his precum combined with the last of your fluids. "Is that so, Kento? You want me to stop?"

Nanami shakes his head, bringing a hand to your cheek, caressing sweetly as he bites his lip to not scream at the way you tease him with soft licks along his member. 

"No… Don’t stop."

You smirk, licking his tip in circles with your tongue before sliding it between your lips and pull back. You enjoy his cries and pleas until you finally decide to take the most that you can, swallowing with your cheeks as he throws his head back with a growl.

It's been a while since you gave him a blow job, so you forgot how fat his cock felt inside your mouth, struggling to take it all as you jerk the rest with your hand as you lick his tip in circles before taking it all again.

But he squirms so nicely on the bed…

You laugh against his dick, sending vibrations that make him cry softly, you keep going slowly until his hands push you down to take more. You gag around him and he growls pleased, thrusting up to hit the back of your throat, making you cry softly as the sound of his guttural moans fill your ears.

"Yes, yes! You take me so well, dear!" It doesn't take longer until Nanami pulls your head back by tangling his fingers on your hair, leaving a thin thread of drool from his tip to your lip.

You look at Nanami trying to get up on his knees in front of you with your flushed cheeks and fucked out gaze. He pumps along his swollen dick in front of you a few strokes until he throws the thick lines of cum around all your face, falling down along your cheeks, mouth and some drips on your tits.

Nanami groans relieved and fall on his knees in the mattress, looking at you cleaning the rest with your thumb to suck it.

"Don’t do that, let me clean you."

"Why? Is it gross for you?" You ask, genuinely. Stopping to look around for the tissues, but Nanami’s head weight on your lap, his broken breathing hits on your thighs, giving you tickles. 

"No… I'll get hard again if I see you doing it. I still feel some dizziness from that stupid tea."

You giggle, playing with his hair with one hand as you clean the last remains with the back of your hand, waiting for cleaning it properly later.

"Don’t call it stupid! You seem less stressed, actually."

Nanami groans annoyed, slapping softly on your bare thigh.

"Maybe, but I'm stressed on what medical excuse I'll have to create for my work."

"Just tell them that something in the morning hurt your tummy."

Nanami hums in response, about to fall asleep on your thighs and you smirk before leaning closer to his ear.

"Since you’re not going back to work… Do you want another tea?"

[writtenbymoonflower]

Hey! I love your writing! I swear I feel like I’ve read Avery thing because it is so good🫶 I absolutely love the way you write the boys and their personalities, truly my favourite!

I was also wondering if I could request a fic? Feel free to ignore. But can I request a poly! Marauders comfort fic kind of based on my day rn😭today I had to get glasses after sooo many years of not needing them. And I bough a pair but hate the way I look in them. Came straight home and cried about it, which turned to not feeling good enough in general.

Hi sweetheart! thank you for requesting! i'm so sorry that happened, i hate my glasses too. i hope you are feeling better, you're absolutely gorgeous and glasses can't change that. gn!reader x poly!marauders

cw: insecurity, swearing

1k words

You were staring into the mirror, switching between taking your new glasses off and putting them back on. When you took them off, your head began throbbing and your vision blurred. When they were back on you winced painfully at your appearance in the mirror. A mix of insecurity over the way the frames looked, and the new clarity you had in seeing your face. It was like putting the glasses on had opened a Pandora’s Box of insecurity. Now, no matter if they were on or off, you couldn’t stop picking apart your face. 

You set the glasses on the counter, scrubbing your watery eyes with the heel of your hand and wishing you never had to see yourself again. Remus found you in the bathroom, face pinched painfully and sniffling as you covered your eyes. 

“Dovey,” He said, fear creeping into his tone. “What’s happened, huh?” He shuffled over to your side, spinning you around to face him. His large hands were braced on your shaking shoulders as you hid your face in your hands and whined in a way that made his heart clench. He went to pull your wrists away from your face, which was when you spoke up.

“No, no.” You held fast, keeping your hands firmly in place. 

“Are you hurt? Why won’t you let me see you?” This whole situation was clearly making your usually calm boyfriend's head spin. He was at a loss, not wanting to become aggressive and scare you more, but also needing to get to the bottom of whatever was happening. He settled on tucking you into his chest and cradling the back of your head as you cried. You sniffled sadly into his knit sweater as two sets of feet padded across the carpet, stopping in the doorway of the bathroom. 

“Fuck,” Sirius said. Remus would’ve scolded him, if it hadn’t required him to pull away from you. “What’s going on?” He placed a hand in the middle of your back, eyes roving over you for a source of pain. James was equally distraught, but he handled this kind of thing best. He had a way of pulling guarded information out of people. 

“Baby, what’s got you crying so hard?” You lifted your face from Remus’ chest, still looking down to shield yourself. Remus tried to tilt your chin up, but you were being unusually stubborn. 

“Let me look at you.” Remus said, knocking his knuckles under your chin. You just shook your head. James turned you so all three of the boys were in front of you and tried to make you look up again, but you held fast and James was too scared of hurting you.

“Why won’t you let us see you, sweetheart?” James probed. Something in his gentle tone just broke you further, making you want to spill your guts. You relaxed enough for James to make you look up, red-rimmed eyes and glossy features making him want to cry as well. 

“Baby,” Sirius gasped. You breathed as deep as you could, trying not to cry worse as Remus used his sleeve to wipe at your wet cheeks. You were doing okay, until a wave of pain ripped through your head, making you grab your temples and whine. James cooed, familiar with the feeling and reached for your glasses. 

“No, I don’t want them.” You choked, miserably. 

“You’ve gotta wear them, lovely. Or your headache is jus’ gonna get worse.” He smoothed your hair away from your face, but you still wouldn’t let him put them on you. 

“Why don’t you wanna wear your glasses, baby?” Sirius questioned. 

“I hate them, they make me look so ugly. Like a fly or something.” You cringed wetly. Remus inhaled sharply, grabbing you to hold you again. 

“Is that what's made you so sad?” He whispered, kissing the top of your head as you nodded against his chest. James pouted, wanting to cry. 

“Wait,” Sirius cut in, sounding incredulous. “Is that why you wouldn’t let us look at you too?” James looked shell shocked and Remus’ face was pinched. You nodded again. 

“Sweetheart,” James pulled you from Remus’ grasp to have you look at them. He held your face, looking at you with too much love as we wiped your cheeks again. You were still wincing, uncomfortable from all the attention. Sirius turned your face to see him. 

“You’re breakin’ our hearts, sweet thing.” He smiled sadly at you. “Can’t believe you would think that.” He stroked your jaw with his thumb, pity covering his features. James let you go so that Sirius could have his turn loving on you. He held your gaze, letting his fingers roam over your features. “My baby, you’re so pretty. So, so fucking pretty. There’s nothing you could do to make us think otherwise. No reason to ever have to hide yourself from us.” He glanced over to Remus, wordlessly asking for the glasses. You tried to shrink away, but you were stopped by his hold on you. 

“You’re gonna hate them.” You warned, giving up on winning this battle. Remus scoffed. 

“You really think some glasses are gonna stop you from being gorgeous?” He asked like you were being silly. “Do you think that James is ugly? Do you think that we think James is ugly?” He looked at you accusatory. 

“No! Of course not!” You looked at James, floundering to make sure he wasn’t hurt. He just smiled at you reassuringly, placing a hand on your shoulder to placate you. 

“See, if you can love me with mine, then hopefully you can see that we love you with yours.” James rubbed your back as Sirius slid the frames onto your face, leaning forward to kiss your nose. 

“See? Absolutely gorgeous.” The pale boy praised. James turned you to face him, eyes swelling with fondness as he grabbed your face in his hands. 

“Holy shit!” He exclaimed. “I love them!” They had all known that you were getting glasses, but they hadn't seen them yet. You shied under his love. “You look so fucking precious.” He cooed, turning your face to let Remus see. “What do you think, Moons?” He leaned down to kiss your cheek. 

“Perfect.” Remus smiled softly, making your own spread across your face. 

Maybe they weren’t so bad.

[holylulusworld]

Indecent Proposal (5)

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.

Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of former shitty boyfriends, the reader doesn’t take shit from anyone, sexy mobsters, slow burn (kinda), fluff, first date, a hint of making out, please don’t put your cat into a tux 😉

Indecent Proposal (4)

Indecent Proposal masterlist

“8 pm, wear whatever you want,” you read the message coming along with the huge bouquet of roses out loud. “If you want to, you can wear the gift.”

You dip your head to glance at the box containing the most beautiful, and probably most expensive dress you ever saw. Sexy but classy, your mother would say.

They gifted you a rose solid one-shoulder cape bodycon dress. “It’s nice but…” You lick your lips.

Scott never put much effort into your dates. The only thing he ever bought for you was some ice cream. In the end, he ate it and you had to buy a new one.

“It’s really nice,” you dip your head to look at your cat. “What do you think, Alpine? Do you want mommy to wear the dress and get banged like never before or do we want to spend the night cuddling on the sofa?”

Alpine lifts his head, meows, and ignores you once again. He’s a lazy fluffy beast when you are alone. Your cat only ever got aggressive and loud when Scott was around.

“So…you want me to go and have some fun?” You question. “Come on, Alpine. I need your help to decide if it’s better to pack my shit and run or get whatever I desire from those sexy bastards.”

Alpine slowly gets up from the bed to walk toward the box with the dress. He steps inside with two paws, sniffing at the dress. “What?”

He meows loudly and jumps into the box to snuggle into the dress.

“Now that’s not nice of you! Alpine, you’ll ruin the dress. There will be hairs all over the dress, you sneaky bastard!”

You sigh and grab your phone. If you want to go out, you gotta tell them you cannot wear the dress.

“Hello doll,” Bucky immediately picks up the phone, taking you by surprise. You almost dropped the phone. “What can I do for you, pretty girl?”

“I-I can’t wear the dress, Mr. Barnes.”

“Why? Do you not like it? It’s the color, right?” Steve must’ve snatched the phone out of his husband’s hands. “I told Bucky so.”

“No…it’s nice…very nice….but Alpine just snuggled into the box and won’t let me grab the dress. He’s a bastard!”

“Let me handle this!” You hear a commotion, and then someone knocks at your door. “Doll! Y/N! It’s me Bucky. Lemme inside. I’ll take the bastard down.”

“What?” You walk a little faster when you hear his voice grow louder. “Mr. Barnes. What are you doing?” You scream as the door bursts open.

“Where is the bastard?” He rushes inside your apartment, gun aimed as you stumble back. “Where is he? Did he hurt you? Are you hurt?” Bucky looks you up and down while Steve follows him inside your apartment.

“No-no—” you stammer and point at your bedroom. “Please don’t shoot him. He’s an asshole but I like him.”

“I got it covered!” Bucky disappears inside your bedroom, and you worry he’ll shoot your cat. A heartbeat passes, and another until you hear him chuckle inside your bedroom.

“Please don’t shoot him!”

“Stevie, look at that little bastard!” Bucky walks out of the room, holding your cat in his arms. “The little furball snuggled into the dress I got for Y/N. I bet he smelled me on it. Look.”

You gasp as your cat rubs his head against Bucky’s chest. He purrs and allows Bucky to pat his head. “But…but he hates men.”

“Nah, he loves me,” Bucky ruffles Alpine’s fur. “Right buddy? You like your new daddy.”

“Buck, no!” Steve shakes his head. He already knows what his husband is about to say.

“Can we keep him? Let’s bring Y/N and the cat home,” Bucky hums as your cat jumps onto his shoulder. Alpine taps Bucky’s shoulder with his paws before getting comfortable. “Aw, look at the pretty boy.”

“You must excuse my husband,” Steve sighs again. “He just loves getting all the attention from pretty girls and boys.”

“As if you never tried to get some pretty guy’s attention,” Bucky grunts.

“Well, I got yours, didn’t I,” the blonde says. “I don’t have time for other boys. You give me a run for my money already.”

“Can we keep him?” Bucky pouts and points at your cat on his shoulder. “Doll, you wanna go home with us and take Alpine with you, right?”

“We were talking about a date,” you point out. They don’t need to know you imagined how it would be to live with them. “I can’t just move in with you. I got a job, and my cat…and all my stuff.”

Steve looks around your living room. “We can bring all your belongings to our home within three hours. No problem.”

You gape at them. “What? When I tried to get a mover, they told me I’d get an appointment in four months!”

“Oh, baby doll,” Steve cups your face with both hands (much to his husband’s chagrin) and presses a soft kiss on your lips. “Your wish is our command. Name it and it will happen.”

“I-“ You're overwhelmed once again. No one ever put so much effort into winning you over. Scott simply invited you for dinner (which you had to pay for in the end). “I wanted to have dinner first and wear the dress.”

“Hmmm…” Bucky nods thoughtfully. “How about we order the food you love from any restaurant in town? We can eat within an hour.”

“Let me guess,” you roll your eyes at Steve, “you want me to have dinner with you at your home.”

“Bucky is not wrong,” Steve gets cocky and steals another kiss, eagerly suckling at your tongue. “We would have you all to ourselves and you’d have our full attention. We promised to behave too.”

“I don’t believe you,” you cup the back of Steve’s back and dominate the next kiss, “but you broke my door. I’ll have dinner with you at your home and spend the night at your home with Alpine until you repair my door.”

“Woohoo!” Bucky whistles. “We will get lucky soon, Steve.”

“No sex!” You tut. “I want more than one date. If you want to have children with me, I’m going to be a mom, and you are going to be fathers. We should know more about each other than the size of your dicks and how my pussy tastes.”

“Oh, fuck me, Stevie! She’s going to be the death of us…”

“How did you do this?” You step inside the dining room, gasping loudly as there are roses on the table, and candles lit. You can smell the food you ordered and the two of them wait for you, wearing tuxedos.

“Magic,” Bucky smirks as you glance at Alpine sitting on one of the chairs. “See, Alpine is wearing a tux too.”

“How’d you get the beast inside the tux?”

“I made a few calls while Bucky dressed the cat,” Steve walks toward you to pull the chair for you. “He’s a little giddy tonight. Bucky is pumped up from the incident earlier. He didn’t listen to your words and believed you were in danger.”

“How’d you come to my place so fast?” You sit down and watch the men take a seat next to you. Steve to your right, and Bucky to your left. “Wouldn’t it be better if we can look each other in the eyes while having dinner?”

“We were watching your apartment to make sure you’re safe and sound,” Bucky blurs out before Steve can come up with a lie. “We care for you, baby doll.”

“Did you stalk me?” You cock a brow. “Bucky?”

He’s busy playing with your cat and doesn't answer.

“We call it keeping you safe, Y/N,” Steve answers before his husband can mess the night up even more. “Our kind of business is dangerous. We fear that people already know that you are our girl. Scott couldn’t keep you safe, but we can.”

“I don’t know if you want to scare me,” you lean closer to Steve to look him deep in the eyes, “or make me wet before I have had dinner…”

Part 6

Tags in reblog.

[writersblockedx]

Something Inappropriate: Chapter Two

Read Chapter One here

Pairing - Professor!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Summary - When Y/n's becomes endangered and has nowhere else to go, Spencer is the only one who can offer her the security she needs. Warnings - Panic attack, mentions of a past toxic relationship, stalking, some violence words - 2.3K

A/n - If you have any requests please put some in my ask box, I'm running out of ideas but I am obsessed with this man.

Masterlist

The morning after was one brought with embarrassment and regret. Y/n hadn't expected to get so drunk that her behavioural analysis professor was the one taking her back home, his hand at her waist, guiding her from his own car almost to her room. It was a memory she wished she could choose to forget. Alas, Monday morning rolled around quicker than she wanted.

Her first lecture was on victimology with the one and only Doctor Spencer Reid. And that morning was the first morning she didn't take one of the seats in the front row. Rather, she hid herself between fellow students and kept her head down. What she hadn't been aware of however, was the fact Spencer had been watching her from the moment she wandered into the lecture hall.

The truth was, the man had grown worrisome once he left the girl. She was an intoxicated young woman - there was a scary amount of danger which came with that. He knew so, he had seen it, he had seen so many bodies that were exactly like Y/n.

When an hour passed and students began filtering out of the lecture hall, Y/n found that the time to give the man an explanation - along with an array of apologises. Having her professor walk her home drunk certainly wasn't her finest moment.

The girl drew towards the desk where he was seated at the front, watching carefully at the other students who were paying no attention as they left. "Hi," Her voice was barely even a whisper.

But Spencer had offered her a smile which assured her that he hadn't any negative feelings from Friday night. He stood from his desk, "How are you feeling? I hope you had gotten enough sleep Friday."

She returned the smile. But her's was weak in comparison, "I certainly didn't wake up early Saturday." A moment passed and the man clocked the way she was checking the people around her as the very last students dawdled out the lecture hall. "I erm- thank you for what you did, you didn't have to but well, I'm glad you did."

"Any of your professors have a responsibility for your well-being and care, I'm sure any one of them would have done the same." But that was just it - they wouldn't have.

This was more than that. "It's not just that," She swallowed and double-checked they were alone. "I erm- I have this ex-boyfriend you see...scary, aggressive." Y/n's voice was beginning to shake; this wasn't a topic on which she was keen to speak about. "Even still, I mean it's been almost six months. He's determined to get to me, anyway he can. Friday night was my first night out since I left him. It's why I didn't go with the others to the club. He's well, risky and I have to be careful." Spencer had been listening ever so intently, his eyes pooling with sympathy from the moment she started opening up.

And then she shrugged as if what she had just said was nothing, "I guess what I'm trying to say is, had I walked home alone last night and he- he knew, well..." She didn't want to finish her sentence, nor did she have to.

Spencer understood. In the sense that he had hunted stalkers and resentful exes. He knew how they thought and more importantly, he knew how the victims felt. He knew exactly what she was going through. Now more than ever, he was relieved that he had taken her home. Before now, he wondered whether it had been inappropriate. But now he had reason for his actions.

"If anything ever happens, with him or anyone, anything, I'm always here." He assured with the tug of a grin.

She nodded, "Thank you, sir." She awkwardly crossed her arms over her stomach, barely able to meet the man's eyes. "You truly don't know the help you gave me that night."

"Always."

And them words echoed throughout her mind.

The professor was not only smart but kind. Far too kind. The way he spoke to her, the offer of support, it had made her heart weak. And for the rest of that month, she had spent it at the front row, asking for extra help on her essay, anything she could do. And maybe it wasn't just about needing support with her academics, but also finding security in someone. Something of which she had never really had. Especially after him.

It was just expected something was going to kick off. A week prior to the incident, Y/n had several facebook messages all from different accounts from her dreaded ex-boyfriend. All of which she had blocked. But they kept coming. Every morning she would grasp her phone, finding another request, another thread of messages. All of which were blocked, ignored, and tried to erase from her memory.

And then, on what seemed like the first day of Summer, it happened.

She was sat outside a bar with a couple of friends, drink in hand, giggling at something her male friend, Zack, had said. Everything was bliss. Drinks, conversation, friends. It was almost too perfect.

And then the ex-boyfriend wandered over. He had noticed Y/n from afar, storming over, yelling and anger forced from his lips. It had all happened in a flash. Zack stood to Y/n's defence. The next thing that happened, he had a bruised eye. Everyone was yelling. But he, the ex, he was yelling at her.

A punch.

A slap.

A scream.

It was all to quick for Y/n to keep up with. Things escalated and actions were chased. Not one of them were thinking things through. And when everything was all over, when one of the bartenders at the venue dragged the man away, Y/n could barely move. Tears were spilling from her eye line, pooling down her face. And when the chorus of 'are you okays' followed, she couldn't move her lips.

"I should walk you home," Offered one of close friends.

But even after the girl had registered her words, her head shook, "No, no I can't." One thing about this certain ex-boyfriend was that he hadn't never gone quietly. Too many times than she could keep count of, the man knocked on her door, found her in college, even a couple of times went knocking at her friend's houses and accommodation.

She couldn't go home - she couldn't go anywhere.

And then, her mind ran back to the most recent place in which she had felt safe: Doctor Spencer Reid. She swallowed and sniffled at her fallen tears, "I'll message you later," She told her group.

Zack, who had been nursing an early bruised eye, spoke first, "Where are you going to go?" He questioned as the concern for his friend was written over his tone.

"To get some help," She replied with the weakest smile she could muster. "I'll see you guys tomorrow," She gave them each a glance before turning her back. She didn't dare stay at that bar, she didn't dare go home, but she wanted somewhere safe. And that some place just happened to be a certain professor.

Y/n weaved through the college. Though with the time and the weather, it was practically empty. A few faculty members whom gave her a second glance when they caught the sight of her tears. And when she finally reached Doctor Spencer Reid's office, she didn't even bother knocking. Luckily, he was alone, grading papers and creating lesson plans. But at the sound of his door clicking open, his head lifted. Within a millisecond, his expression moulded into one of utter distress and worry.

He stood from his chair, watching as the flood gates opened from her pupils. "Y/n," He spoke her name like it was a prayer. "What- what happened?"A gentle hand reached out to her shoulder before he gestured for the girl to take a seat at the leather couch which faced his desk.

The girl followed him, not yet able to get breath out - never mind words. Her tears trailed down her cheeks as Spencer returned to the couch with her, a tissue in his hand, "Here," He gazed over her, attempting to try and find any suggestion to what might have happened. "Hey, you need to try slow down your breathing, in for four, out for six, okay?" He soothed, "I'll do it with you."

Y/n watched Spencer's chest a he gulped in a breath, holding it and then letting the air slowly exit his lungs. She followed along. And while it was a struggle at first, slowly, her breathing calmed and her tears dried. "That feel better?" The man questioned.

She nodded, "Yeah, yeah," The girl could only mumble. "Thank you."

"Of course, I used to have panic attacks at work sometimes," He admitted before standing, grasping a bottle of water from his wooden desk and handing it over to her. "You don't have to tell me, but if something happened, I'd like to know."

For a moment, her eyes fluttered away, finding the floor more interesting than he. She at least needed to explain to him why she had turned up at his office in such a state - it wasn't as if he didn't know the background anyway. "You remember that ex boyfriend I told you about?" Spencer nodded in understanding; it was almost like that was all he needed to know. "He spotted me in a beer garden with some friends and well...he snapped. I couldn't- I didn't-"

The man watched as her breath itched like she was unable to catch up with it once again, "It's okay," He calmed as his hand fell atop of her's. The girl's eyes shot up at the movement, to his skin falling over her own. It was supportive, she told herself. "Take your time."

And she did. A minute or so had passed and, when she felt ready, she continued to explain: "It happened so quick, I couldn't do anything but watch." She swallowed the lump which had grown harsh in her throat. "He knows where I live, he knows my friends, he knows everything." She wanted to point out how he didn't know Spencer but chose not to. "That's why I came here...I didn't have anywhere else." She explained.

Spencer was taking it all in. He glanced at her and he realised this sudden need to keep her safe, to protect her. The man tried to excuse that as his teaching duty, but this was more. She was more. "You know you can always come to me when you ever have any concerns." He reassured. "It's what I'm here for, and, personally, I believe you should talk to the student wellbeing team, they have the connections that will keep you safe." That's who should protect her - not him.

But Y/n's response suggested that wasn't an option, "Trust me I tried last year, they tried too, went to the police and anything - ironically enough." She scoffed ever so slightly as she leant back onto Spencer's couch, "They had a 'stern talking' to him, but it only made things stop for month." She went over, the memory of which still agitated her. And Spencer could tell such with the way her eyes were fighting to roll. "I don't know what to do now, I mean, I can't go home." If history had taught the girl anything, her ex-boyfriend would already be waiting for her at the accommodation hall.

"Y/n, I do hope you understand the severity of this," Spencer started, "This is text-book stalking. If the wellbeing team talking to the police didn't do anything, than maybe an FBI agent talking to them might." He offered.

Her brows raised, "You'd do that?"

"Only if you wanted me to."

Y/n thought it over but it was an easy answer; anything to get this to stop. "Please."

"Okay then, tomorrow, I'll go with you to the police station, we'll talk to them together and this time, i swear to you, they will put a stop to this." He seemed to promise. But this was no promise he should be making to a student - this sense of protection was one of which was questionable.

She offered him a smile and a, "Thank you." But a question still nagged at the both of them.

It was that desire to protect the girl which urged Spencer to speak, "Do you have somewhere safe you can stay tonight?"

Not her flat that was certain. Even a friend's house was out of the question. A motel...maybe. Y/n sound herself shrugging, "Not at mine no, he's been known to go to my friend's places too and my parents, they're travelling." They were always travelling - spending her inheritance money you see. "I've got some cash, I'll probably go stay at a motel for the night."

The thought of Y/n tossing and turning in a scratchy, stone-like mattress only made Spencer's heart ache. He didn't dare to let them thoughts consume him. So, instead, he offered an alternative solution. "I understand if you're not comfortable, but I have spare room, you're more than welcome if you need."

Her eyes shot up to his, almost like she didn't believe him, "Are you- are you sure?" Surely that wasn't allowed. Though, Y/n (and Spencer too), decided to tell themselves this was different. This situation was well...it had room for things that would otherwise seem inappropriate.

"Of course, you need to be safe and I won't let you sleep in a motel room." Spencer doubted she would even get any sleep at all.

And in that moment, in the aftermath of her panic attack, she accepted, "Okay then."

-

Taglist - @tonystankhere Let me know if you would like to be added for this little series / any future spencer fics :)

[2kverrr]

SAM GIDDINGS - Dating Headcanons

UNTIL DAWN || Sam Giddings x Reader

sam had 0 time for drama, especially including that of her own friends'. And being one of emily davis' closest friends basically encased your life in her drama.

you didn't feel as close with sam as you were with the group. but you felt most drawn to her, her maturity, her nurture, her kindness. more or less everything your friends lacked.

she's kickass, not scared to put someone in their place, something you never quite found the confidence to do.

she hates fishing, loves gardening, tolerates publicly accessible nature reserves, enjoys outdoor activities, despises zoos and you're not so sure how you know all of this.

you doubt she knows a single thing about you. it's weird - you can be friends with the top dogs and have some sort of silly superiority over people, yet nobody really knows you.

you and sam had spoken numerous times before, each you could remember were rather enjoyable. the two of you got on really well, but it was rare either of you could get any time alone

that was until you were approximately 4 weeks away from winter break.

"for fuck's sake em, just call him." you groan, your left hand massaging the bridge of your nose, but the girl straight out refused aggressively shoving her hands onto her hips and socking her head, yelling, "how many times do i have to tell you. i? am. not. wanting. i. am. wanted. a girl like me doesn't chase after people, they cha-""emily i'm going to leave you with your problem, since it is yours, not mine. see you at lunch." and with that, you head out of the girls' bathroom and out into the busy corridor.

you catch a glimpse of sam leaning against a locker, scrolling through her phone. There’s an ease in her posture that draws you in despite the weight of your worries - well emily's. “hey, everything okay?” sam looks up, her hazel eyes sharp and assessing. it’s both intimidating and comforting at the same time. you take a breath, trying to shake off the frustration of the last few minutes. “just another day in the life of emily,” you say with a half-hearted chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood. sam arches an eyebrow, not buying the attempt at humour.

"mike? is she still hung up over him?" she asks, her voice laced with understanding. you nod, with a deep sigh and an eye roll. "well, at least you're not like that, that's what I like about you." but you're too caught up in staring at her moving mouth to actually respond, before you know it she's waving her hand in front of your face, "huh- sorry, what were you saying?" she giggles, picking up the books from her locker and beginning to make her leave, "I'll see you around."

that interaction definitely stuck with you, or maybe it didn't, but the fact that you continued to think about it for the rest of the day is a big giveaway.

you're almost certain the corner of your eye spotted a suspicious emily briefly witness the interaction and watch you stare giddings down as she walked away, but that's a conversation for later.

after that talk with the blonde, you both found yourselves in more situations on your own, bumping into each other in the hallway, finding yourselves bored at parties, fixing your makeup in the bathroom mirror and seeing a certain hazel-eyes blonde behind you.

the week of receiving the message from josh, you and sam became really close, almost replacing emily in some way. besides, emily was now happily married off to matt, a sweet boy, not the sharpest tool in the box though.

you'd manage to persuade her to let you give her a lift to josh's mountain getaway, despite her refusal she ended up in your passenger seat feeding you mints as you drive.

you get out of your car and begin to lug bags out, placing them on the floor, sam is busy checking out her surroundings quite contently. but she swiftly turns around to face you, "hey, i wanted to tell you something," you raise your head curiously along with a quirked eyebrow, "i know we've been hanging out a lot lately," she continued, her voice dropping to a more conspiratorial tone. "but it feels different, doesn't it? like, we've really clicked, and I really like it - so please expect me to follow you around like a puppy dog... i still can't look at all the guys the same after last year." her eyebrows furrow. you sigh softly, the gears in your mind turning as you contemplated her words, "i get it sam, i like it too," you smirk, ", now am i taking both of our bags up or are you gonna' lend a hand?" she chuckles, her tension breaking as a playful glimmer replaces her earlier seriousness. "ugh - i really thought i'd get away with that." "i'll take them up for you. just lead the way," you nod, "this place really freaks me out."

settling in was a bit of a cofuffle, sam bagsied our rooms and had already called dibs on a bath.

you'd barely made it up the mountain with yours and her bags before she'd waltzed in, beckoning you to hurry up. don't even start on the wall you had to hop.

"guys, guys, hold your horses. we can't get comfy yet - generators, boilers and locks. i've sent mike and jess off to the generator outdoors, em and matt are... um- somewhere," josh takes a long scan for the couple that weren't present, ", right! sam's bath, boiler's downstairs, switch it on then you can have your beloved bath." she firmly places her hands on her hips and tilts her head, "you think i know how to work those kin-" you're quick to cut her off, "i'll go, can't be that hard." shrugging your shoulders. "that's the spirit, amigo!" the dark-haired boy cheers, fussing up your hair. of course sam's protests began, and again you managed to butt in. "look, i know what i'm doing, trust me.” you say, trying to keep the tension in the room from rising. “it should be pretty straightforward. i'll check for the spark plug first—if it’s clean, just give it a gentle pull. worst-case, i might have to troubleshoot a bit more," there's a bit of a silence, confusion mostly, "yeah, um- my dad's a plumber.” you didn't exactly understand half the words you'd just said but if it gave you a chance at impressing sam, it was so worth it. she slowly smiles, "impressive..." biting her lip, looking you up and down with newfound admiration. "who knew you had all these hidden talents?" she teases, eyes sparkling with mischief. "maybe you can teach me a thing or two about plumbing after this bath fiasco." the playful banter felt like a breath of fresh air amidst the clamour of everyone scurrying around and arguing, and you couldn’t help but swell with pride. “alright, let’s see if I can live up to the expectation,” you reply, trying to sound more confident than you felt. josh looks between the two of you, a devious grin slowly forming on my face, "is this- oh wow. this- this is great!" he turns around, presumably going to find chris and ash, you do the same, not at all looking forward to seeing this 20 year boiler in all it's glory.

fortunately, the boiler hadn't frozen over completely.

the basement was eerie enough, never mind all of the creepy shit happening around you: screams, shouts, smashes. something wasn't right.

like any stereotypical horror movie, you walk right into the danger to find out what was going on."

and as always, you were right. josh's basement was fucked up, led to some sort of mine, where you soon found a battered and bruised mike, stumbling his way through the caved area. his ankle didn't look so good, but he didn't complain

the next half hour you were trying to navigate your way, the poor guy was traumatised, jess had disappeared, dead or alive? not a single clue.

there's apparently somebody or something out there with her and they're in the mines, you're baffled to say the least, but you stayed put.

all until a scream was heard, female, it was far yet so close.

"mike! what was that noise?" the two of you pause your movements, and prick your heads up, faint cries could be heard and the occasional, "anyone! help!" you knew that voice, almost naturally you race over the source of the noise, struggling to find a door, "where's jess? is it her? oh, please say it's her." mike whiles up against the wall while you attempt to barge your way in. "sam! i'm here, mike too. i'm coming in." “almost there!” you shout back to mike, who is still positioned by the flimsy beam of light your flashlights provide. he looks torn between helping you and staying on guard, eyes darting nervously around the oppressive shadows. the urgency in your efforts intensifies, and you feel your fingers digging into the rough surface of the door. it shifts slightly, just enough to give you hope, and with one last shove, it creaks open. you stumble inside, breathless, and immediately the air feels thicker, charged with an unsettling energy. "fuck sam! what the fuck happened?" the girl was tied up in a chair, nothing but a towel. whoever did this must've been fucked in the head, sick. you take a cautious step forward, your eyes zeroing in on the girl’s wide, terrified gaze. “you’re alright now,” you whisper reassuringly, though your own insides are knotting up at the sight. "oh my god, you're here... i- he chased me! th- then-" the blonde leans forwards into you once you complete untying her ankle bounds, sore red marks forming over her pale skin. her arms completely wrap around you, she's freezing. sliding off your hoodie and body warmer, you begin to wrap them around the girl. "-sam, it's okay. you can explain everything later. you safe now we-" but before you can finish your sentence, the girl leans in, connecting your lips in a kiss, short and sweet due to their being a third presence in the room. as your lips part, you both freeze, momentarily caught off guard by the sudden surge of intimacy in the midst of chaos. sam's eyes are wide with surprise, glistening with unshed tears, but there’s a flicker of gratitude behind her fear. you clear your throat, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks, but the urgency of the situation quickly pulls you back to reality. "i thought you were dead, y/n.”

after all police interrogation had been completed, those who survived were wasting away. josh dead. matt dead. jess dead. sam and yourself isolated yourselves from the rest.

after sam almost sacrificed herself to save you, you made an oath to yourself that you're forever indebted to her.

you were in love - even amongst the sick and twisted events that you two had to go through.

you both didn't go out as much anymore, your previous party-girl lifestyle completely left behind.

instead you both settled on movie nights or cooking sessions.

you immediately expanded her music taste, she's a great girl but her music taste could definitely do with some improving.

rock climbing dates, kayaking, surfing (which you absolutely smashed - sam could barely stand up on the bored)

sam always managed to convince you to go camping with her, bribing you with all sorts, despite your hatred for bugs.

she's the most peaceful sleeper, she looks like and angel when fast asleep. you're both early birds, which meant you really enjoy spening the morning in bed just admiring one another.

every month or so you'll pay a visit to the friends you lost together, paying respects. hell even josh - sam calls him mentally ill, whereas you call him batshit crazy. but he was your friend, one of our closest, you're still unsure to this day why you were apart of his cruel game but you couldn't keep dwelling on the past so you came to forgive him.

it's even rare to see the friends that made it out alive, you knew chris and ash moved away together, forgetting all that had happened. the last you heard off of mike was "i'm igniting some old flames - definitely going for drinks soon?"

it'd been 3 months and you never went to see him.

you and sam assumed that old flame is emily, your once best friend who you hadn't spoken to since before the disaster.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Female Reader - Coworker AU

Content & Warnings: Coworker AU, Halloween Store AU, friends with benefits, oral sex (male & female receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, friends to eventual lovers, free use, overstimulation

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: For Kinktober 2024 (Free Use)

While working at a Halloween store, you make an agreement with your coworker, Kyle Garrick: free use of your body for covering shifts.

ao3 // main masterlist // kinktober 2024 masterlist

"Another shift? I'm starting to think you're only working here for my cock."

"Kyle Garrick," you hiss, smacking his arm.

Laughing, Kyle grabs your wrist, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “The deal still stands.

"I'm fully aware of the deal," you mutter with a smile, removing your hand from his grasp.

"Any place. Any time."

"I know."

Kyle grins and aggressively clicks the end of his pen until you roll your eyes. "Just do it you big idiot," you mutter.

Putting pen to paper, Kyle scratches out your scheduled time and moves the shift elsewhere.

This time, he clicks the end of the pen once. "Behind the changing rooms."

"Now?"

Kyle tilts his head to the side, a sly smirk on his face. Of course, now. He doesn't mean later. He never means later.

Within five minutes, you're leaning over a stack of delivery boxes with Kyle deep inside you.

All around you is the overflow of popular items. Couples have been coming in exclusively to purchase Scream masks, and it seems that every child that walks in with their parents wants to be a superhero. You're surrounded by masks, fake weapons, and numerous packaged costumes for every age.

You bite down on your bottom lip to stifle every rush of air that threatens to escape your lungs. Kyle's muted grunts are slowly turning into groans.

"Fucking hell, love,” he mutters, his thrusts quicken pace. The boxes beneath you shake and shift. They'll topple over, taking you with them if he isn't careful. Kyle exhales, his hips grinding against yours, holding there as his cum floods your pussy.

This is the agreement. The arrangement.

When you need a shift moved or covered, Kyle will happily do it. But he has free use of your body whenever he wants and at any time.

Kyle gently thrusts, pushing his cum deeper into you.

"We need to go back," you groan, attempting to catch your breath. "There's probably an insane line at the register."

Kyle chuckles. "There wasn't a soul in the store when we came back here."

You glance over your shoulder and scowl. "How long have we been gone?"

With a brief squeeze of your ass, Kyle eases his softening cock from your body. His cum follows him.

As you stand to adjust your clothes, Kyle's arms embrace you.

He kisses the top of your head. "Don't worry your pretty little head over it."

You groan and shove at him. "You're insufferable."

"But you like me," he teases as the two of you exit the small storage space, grabbing a box on the way out.

"On your knees."

You turn and almost scream.

Kyle is standing right behind you wearing one of those goddamn Scream masks. It's one of the red ones with horns.

"What are you doing? You scared me."

You're standing behind the counter at the very back of the store. The only customers are near the front, browsing and oblivious to your work in the back. Most don't even realize they can make a purchase back there.

"On your knees."

You blink. "The cameras, Kyle."

"They're off."

You cross your arms over your chest. "How did you—"

"I have my ways." He nods toward the floor. "On your knees."

You promptly fall. The counter is high enough to obscure at a distance but not if someone walks directly up to it. But you made an agreement with Kyle. If he tells you to get on your knees, you do it.

You present your mouth, and Kyle reaches for the front of his jeans. He opens them up, and then you take him into your mouth. With his hand on the back of your head, you suck and tease, swirling your tongue around the head before taking him all the way to the base.

Kyle starts to groan, and then clears his throat, head on a swivel as he watches the store. You keep at it, finding your own pleasure in the task of pleasing him. The mask certainly doesn't harm. You understand why it's so popular now.

One moment you're throating him, and the next you're pressed against the counter, Kyle quickly adjusting to lean forward, blocking any view of you. He pushes the mask up to reveal his face, grinning widely at whoever is standing there.

"How can I help you?" he asks, voice charming and smooth with zero indication that his cock is down your throat.

Inwardly grinning, you continue to suck him off. This is what he wanted after all. Why not give it to him?

"I'm looking for this," comes a woman's voice.

Kyle leans forward a bit like he's peering at a phone. "Those are in stock. Just over there."

"Over where?"

You take him down to the hilt and his hips jerk in response. "Front of the store. Left-hand side. Second row." He chokes on the last two words, barely getting them out.

You hear footsteps moving away, and then Kyle is glancing down at you, shaking his head softly.

"Swallow," he whispers. "Do it."

As he says it, his release hits your tongue. Relaxing your throat, you allow the cum to slide down as much as possible before you swallow the rest. When every drop is down your throat, he pops his cock from your mouth.

His pants are buttoned and back into place in seconds. You start to get up but his hand lands on your head, pushing you back down.

"Ready to check out?"

"Yes."

"I'll meet you up front."

You watch him go from your spot on the floor. You wait a full minute before checking to make sure it's clear.

"I—I can't. Kyle. Please."

The customers are gone. The registers have been counted. The front doors are locked and all the lights are off. Except one. The one on the desk in the back office.

That lamp is on, casting a soft glow over your naked body. Kyle kneels between your spread legs. All you can see are his eyes. His mouth is busy with other things.

A swipe of his tongue and you're gone. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, you moan loudly, fingers clinging to the edge of the desk. You're supposed to be in your car, driving home. Instead, Kyle is giving you your third orgasm.

"One more," he murmurs against your sex. "One more."

You can't do one more. You really can't.

There are a few second reprieve before Kyle returns to his work. Every limb is shaking, overstimulation thudding through you so hard it's bordering on pain. You finish quick and loud, screaming out into the tiny room.

Kyle is standing and sliding into you within a few brief moments. The old desk creaks under the sharp thrusting. Kyle has one hand on your inner thigh, keeping you wide while the other rests firmly next to your shoulder. He leans over you, panting just as hard as you are.

Kyle's eyes are heavy-lidded with lust. "Feel so good," he groans.

Pushing up onto one elbow, you reach out for him, hand grasping the back of his neck. Kyle grins as you tug, closing the distance. His lips meet yours and it is perfect bliss.

"Finish inside me,” you sigh. “I want to feel you."

Your little admission does something to him. Kyle's groan softens to a sound you've never heard from him before. He kisses you again, and there is deep possession in it.

The two of you might have an agreement. It's the same agreement you’ve had with him last year and the year before. In between the stores closure and opening, there are flirty texts and occasional fucks but nothing serious. Nothing that feels like...whatever the fuck this is.

With a loud groan, Kyle grinds his hips forward, sealing your bodies together. His lips part, and you dip your tongue inside to taste him. Together, your connected bodies feel as one. There is no beginning or end here. There is only simple knowledge of pleasure.

Kyle returns your kisses. Each softer than the last. His arms circle to your waist and then lift, bringing you to an upright position. Dragging you to the edge of the desk, Kyle keeps himself firmly inside you, as if unwilling to part just yet.

He goes in for another kiss. This one on your lips. The next, your cheek.

"Need another shift covered?" he asks.

His heat is nice. Comforting. "Not at the moment."

"Pity," he croons, seeking yet another.

This time it deepens, becoming hot and heavy all over again.

"We don't have to do this, Kyle."

He presses his lips to your exposed shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"We could just...do this. We don't have to do all the other stuff."

"All the other stuff?" he grins.

You punch his shoulder and his smile only widens. "You interested in that, love? In me?" There is a hint of hope in his voice.

"What if I am?" you counter, matching his smile.

taglist:

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@ash-tarte @enarien @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[luveline]

Eddie and Roan both catching a cold and the reader takes care of them 🥺?

thank you for your request! dad!eddie x (nearly)stepmom!reader <3 all the established relationship fluff and love i could fit into 6k cw suggestive scene (fade to black) ♥︎ eddie and roan

Eddie feels like shit when he finishes work. He's sweating so much he had to change his coveralls before getting in the car, and his head is pounding with an aggressive headache, but he pops two Tylenol with a rogue bottle of water and pulls out of the lot. He beeps at Wayne as he drives past him, and then he starts on the road that'll take him to Hawkins Elementary. 

Roan's one of the youngest in her class but she sure doesn't look small sitting on the floor of her classroom. The door to the class is open, and Eddie feels a hundred miles better than he had when she catches sight of him and smiles at him like he's the best thing sliced bread. It amazes him that she seems so happy to see him day after day, each time like it's a marvel. Almost as if she's surprised. 

"Hey," he says, bending down to catch her as she runs toward him, her cardigan soft under his hands.

"Hello," she says happily.

"Hey," he says again, and this isn't the time or place to cuddle but he does it anyway. 

He indulges himself. Hugs from his daughter always make him feel better, especially when she's ecstatic to see him. 

"Got all your stuff?" 

"Yes," she says heavily. 

"Even your water bottle?" 

She shakes her shoulders. The water bottle inside of her backpack knocks against her lunch box. "Yes!" 

"Okay– let's go home." 

She beams. Eddie puts her down on her own two feet, her new cornflower blue sneakers like flowers blooming over asphalt with each step she takes. Eddie wonders what you did with all your spare cash before you started spoiling him and his girl, and he'd asked you once. You'd been sitting on the floor of a changing room with Roan, he could see your knees in the gap under the door as he waited outside, and you'd opened the door to show off the fancy dress Roan had been trying on and said, "My savings account was much healthier, but I mostly spent it on takeout. Now I got my own private chef, I don't need to get pizza so often." 

Roan had heard the word pizza and that was it. Dress shopping was paused for the day, and the three of you shared a large Margherita in the car on the way home. 

"What do we want for dinner today?" Eddie asks, Roan's hand swinging in his. 

"What do we got?" 

"I have lots of different pasta. Or we could make chicken." There's a plastic tupperware full of wings about to go bad. "Or maybe one of Y/N's favourites?" 

Roan hops down off of the club and keeps close to Eddie's side as they cross the parking lot to his car. 

Eddie doesn't wanna tell Roan you've been having a bad week because you don't wanna tell her, and it's not fair to kids to drag them down with you, but Eddie's not going to do that. He won't tell her your problem, how work has been making you especially miserable, how your coworkers aren't exactly kind. He'll just… express that you need some extra love. 

"If we could make something for her together, that would make her so happy. She's been feeling real blue," he says tentatively. 

Roan looks up at him with a frown. "She doesn't look blue. She looks normal'd." 

"It's an expression," he says fondly. "It means she's been kinda sad." 

Roan looks up at him, thick lashes kissing the skin below her eyebrows as her eyes widen. The neck of her soft blue cardigan is falling down one of her small shoulders, and he nudges her out of the way of the car door so he can get her in it before the cold catches up with her.

"Why is she sad?" she asks. 

Her concern is clear. Eddie lifts her up under the armpits and proudly doesn't bump her head, stationing her in her car seat. She doesn't need his help getting in anymore, but old habits die hard. 

"It's like… remember when those girls were picking on Stacey K, and she wanted to stay home from school? Y/N wants to stay home from work sometimes, but she has to be a big girl just like Stacey was and keep her head up." 

"I shouted at the girls," Roan says. She sounds quizzical. 

Eddie clips her seat belt over her chest and straightens out her knitted cardigan. "You're my bravest girl, that's why. You were a really good friend for Stacey." He kisses her forehead with a sticky, "Mwah!" 

She's still giggling when Eddie closes her door and gets into the driver's seat. She tapers off as Eddie twists his key and starts the engine, and doesn't talk again until they're almost home. Eddie doesn't worry — she's listening to the kids cassette in the stereo, and she gets tired after school. Despite his best efforts he's exhausted himself. He'll ask her about school once he's in his pyjamas. 

"Could you go into her job?" 

"What?" Eddie asks, not really listening as he reverses backward into the driveway outside of your house. His house, your house together. You and him and Roan and Lucky the goldfish. 

"Could you go be brave for mom?" 

He smiles. He likes when she calls you mom more than he can put into words. "I could, but she won't let me. And it might make things worse, you know?" 

"Why would it make things worse?"

"Uh, because grown ups don't really like when you try to tell them off."

"I don't like it either." 

"I know you don't, babe." 

Eddie gets out, releases the rascal, and the two of them jog up the few gentle steps to the door. He unlocks it and Roan stands patiently by the mat for him to take off her shoes. She could do it herself, but again — old habits die hard. He loves taking care of her and doing things for her, the little things and the big. Taking her shoes off is fun for both of them. She strokes hair out of his face so he's not blind and he squeezes her sock-clad toes until she squeals. 

She makes for the living room for her after school cartoons. 

"Hey, wait, Ro! I thought you were gonna help me make dinner?" 

She grumbles but it's with a good-natured spirit, spinning on her heel but remaining in the living room. "I got to feed Lucky, daddy." 

"Oh, right. You feed the fish, I'll get some jammies." 

She nods, determined. 

"Just a pinch! We don't want him to get fat and explode!" 

"Ew!"

Eddie finishes work at 3PM to grab Roan when her elementary school ends at 3.30. You finish work at 5PM, and you don't get home most days until near 6PM. It's a big gap where they both miss you like crazy, but it usually means that dinners all done or getting there when you finally drag yourself inside. 

Eddie can't lie, he hadn't pictured himself with a business woman. Though business might be the wrong word. You work an office job, and you wear professional office clothes, and God, it gets him pretty much every day. He prefers you in your pyjamas or your day clothes, sure, but there's something about you in your little pencil skirts and your soft cashmere sweaters, make up all smudgy and wearing off, kicking your short kitten heels in a pile at the door. 

You peel out of your coat and Eddie watches from the kitchen doorway, arms scrubbed clean of grease and crossed against his chest. 

"Hi, handsome," you say, more quietly than usual. 

"Hey," he says. His throat aches a little. He puts it down to needing a drink. "Hey, sweet thing. You look tired. Want me to cheer you up?" 

"Gotta see my girl first, sorry." 

He pretends you've stabbed him, not the dramatic, fall-to-the-floor affair he might've pulled a couple of years ago, but a stabbing all the same. He rubs his heart and doesn't feel even slightly mad with you when he hears Roan's happy cry. 

"You're home!" 

"You didn't think I was coming home today?" 

"You took six years," she says severely. 

"Six!" Your cheerful laughter draws Eddie in like a moth to a light. He slides down the hall and around the stairs to watch you take Roan's face into your hands, her pale ones behind your back to keep her balance where she's standing on the couch cushions. "You don't look nearly twelve, bubby." 

Your hand climbs her face. You press it to her forehead and he can hear your frown, though he can't see your face. "Are you feeling okay, Ro?" 

Roan blinks. "I feel happy." 

"Oh, do you? That's good!" 

You pick her up, one hand behind her back and one under her butt, messy curls all in your face when Roan wraps her arms around your neck. You carry her to Eddie where he's lingering in the doorway, shifting her on your hip, a concerned tug to your brows. 

Eddie brings a hand to her forehead himself, feeling along the warm skin gently. She's hotter than she should be. 

"You're sure you feel okay?" he asks her. 

Roan is confused by the attention, but she doesn't hate it. "Yes?" 

"You feel super hot." 

"I am super hot!" she says. She throws back her shoulders and does a practised pout, a model expression, her thin eyebrows bobbing down as she tries to wink. 

You glow with love, Eddie can pretty much see it in the air as you laugh. "Super hot," you second, giggling and dropping sneaky kisses against her temple. 

"You're beautiful," Eddie says pointedly. 

"Super beautiful." 

"Where'd you even learn that?" Eddie asks. "'Hot'?" 

"You say to mom in the morning?" Roan says, like Eddie's an idiot as the three of you make you way to the kitchen. "She's so hot, and pretty, and you need to crack the window!" 

Eddie covers his mouth. "You heard that?" He meets your eyes and he knows how he looks, a rosy tint taking to his otherwise pale cheeks. 

"And when you were singing, too." 

"Oh, my god." 

You laugh like crazy, giggles bubbling out of you like a soda rocket and quickly turning to bigger, fuller peels that would usually make him laugh too. He'd serenaded you this morning, a bumpy and extremely sincere rendition of As Long As It's Not About Love. He'd been trying to convince you to come back to bed, pencil skirt and all, for one last kiss.

"Roanie, I didn't know you were awake, baby. You should come and say hi once you're up." A warning would be good.

"I was too tired to move, daddy, I already told you." 

"Yeah, dad," you say, "she already told you, so back off." 

Eddie waves his hand at both of you. "Who needs you guys? I'll just eat this delicious dinner we made by myself."

He doesn't eat dinner by himself. He pulls the tray from the oven he'd covered over and you set the table. Roan pours juice into a cup for herself and doesn't tip any of it onto the table, for which she receives a heaping mound of praise. Eddie cracks open a can of ginger ale and pours it into a darker glass so you won't spot that it isn't normal soda and worry. He'll be fine in the morning, he knows. 

When you find out they've made your favourite, you get all mushy. You wrap your arms around his neck and rub your cheeks together, and you smile around every mouthful. You eat dinner as a family, and afterwards, Eddie lets Roan fill the bath right to the top with bubbles and brushes out her curls, which hang straight with the weight of the water. He gets her out, wraps her up in a poncho, and laments the loss of her baby curls as you sidle past him to wash the bubbles out of the bath and climb in the shower.

"Her hair's not as curly as mine was when I was a kid," he says, calling to be heard over the sound of the water. He can see your silhouette behind the shower curtain, an underwater scene of dolphins and tropical fish. 

"You think it'll get straighter?" you ask between squeezes of the shampoo bottle. 

Eddie rubs Roan's cheeks dry with a face towel gently. The hot water has pretty much knocked her out, her eyes drooping. "Probably. It's already way less curly than when she was a baby." 

He picks her up. She's limp. "I'm gonna go get her dressed!" 

"Okay, handsome, I'll be right out. Make sure there's still some hot water for you." 

Eddie dresses Roan and dries her hair with a blow dryer, cold air fighting against the fatigue stealing her away. She shivers and he turns it up to the first heat, careful not to burn her scalp. Eddie could barely look after himself at nineteen, and just around seven years later he's an expert in taking care of someone else. Well, maybe not an expert. He's good, though, and he tries hard enough and with enough pure love to make up for any mistakes. 

"You're so tired, babe," he says softly, clicking off the hairdryer to rake his fingers through her still warm hair. It looks very straight now, only the ends remaining curled. "Are you sure you're okay?" 

She reminds him of the quieter girl she'd been. Roan had taken a little time to come out of her shell, tantrums aside, and meeting you had pretty much rocketed her into extrovertedness. It happened slowly and all at once — one day she was just loud, and cheerful, and so, so charming. He loves her now and he'd loved her then. Quiet Roan is like an adorable treat, but it also points to bad tidings. 

Roan is quiet when she's sick, sad, or confused. 

Eddie's betting it's the first. He presses his hand against her forehead but of course she's warm, she'd been in a warm bath only twenty minutes ago. 

She doesn't answer him. She looks small in her big princess bed, her sheer cherry pink curtains hanging down to compliment the brand new and puffy quilt he'd bought for winter. Her legs are crossed, one bare foot sticking out. Eddie crouches in front of her, scratching the sole of her foot with his pinky nail to make her smile. 

"There's my girl." He flicks her knee. "You want me to read you something, sweetheart? I don't think we're gonna make it to the couch tonight." 

"Can we have Bad Cat Saves the World?" she asks. 

Eddie drags her up to the huge pillows against the headboard and pushes her chest mildly. She tips back into the pillows with a pleased huff. Her lack of outrage clues him in. 

Roan is sick. 

"You can have anything you want if you drink some water before bed." 

"Wugh," she says. 

"That's almost a real word. Good job, babe." 

"Thank you." 

—

You step out of the shower and wrap a towel around yourself quickly. The bathroom is thick with heat, so you push open the window and stand in the cold breeze. The window must be open in Roan's room, you realise, when you hear the dulcet tones of Eddie's reading voice floating toward you. 

"And Bad Cat said, no, Mr. President, I'm the one flying the plane! He wiggled his whiskers and pushed the wheel left with one of his ginger paws, the aeroplane shooting through the sky at top speed. I'm going to save the world, Bad Cat cried." 

Eddie does the best voices, truly. He's high and low, scratchy and sweet. He takes all the right pauses and kicks it up a notch at the most exciting parts, reading line after line in a whirl. Your skin feels dry and chapped as his voice begins to quieten; you've listened for too long. 

You step into your shared bedroom, pull on some underwear but no bra, and try to lotion up before he comes in and sees you naked. You don't know if he'll have Roan with him. The door creaks open and you squeak, forcing yourself deeper into the wardrobe you'd been searching through. 

"I'm not dressed!" you say. 

It wouldn't really matter if Roan saw you naked, she's just a baby and you're a family, but there's nothing wrong with having the boundary there either. Luckily there's no Roan in tow with Eddie either way. 

"Is that a promise?" he asks, and his eyes light up when he enters. 

You cross your arm over your chest and dig for a t-shirt to wear. 

"Don't look, perv." 

"We're getting married," he says. "I've seen it all already." 

"I don't care, perv, stay back." You slip a loose t-shirt over your head and bend down again for some pyjama pants. 

It doesn't matter what you say. Eddie comes up behind you where you're bending over and leans into you, arms needling around your waist, one greedy hand under your shirt and squeezing the soft roll of your stomach. You shoot up and smile at him from over your shoulder. It's odd. Despite what you'd joked, you don't mind him seeing you undressed. How could you? You've loved one another for longer than you ever could've imagined, in ways you didn't know people did. You know Eddie thinks you're beautiful, and you don't look like someone from the magazines. They're two coinciding facts. 

"She's sleeping?" you ask. 

"She wiped out completely. I think she might be coming down with something." 

You frown. "Poor baby." 

"It's alright. We'll take care of it as it comes." 

"We will." You nudge the tip of his nose with yours, aware of how quiet the house is, and how much you've missed him all day. "Are we going to bed, too?" 

His hands come up. It's not not sexual, but it's more intimate than anything else as he grabs at the soft skin of your torso and then, tentatively, your chest. 

Your lips drift closer and closer, and when he kisses you it's achingly slow, close-lipped. He pulls your back to his front and your crane your neck, hands covering his hands, eyes shuttering as he gets a little more insistent. It can only be a couple of seconds, held-breath heart-pounding seconds that make your tummy roll with heat, before he's pulling away. 

"Baby, I think I might be coming down with something, too." 

It takes a second for his words to calibrate. "You're sick?"

"My head's been pounding all day. I want you, but– I don't wanna get you sick," he says. He sounds so torn. 

"You're sure it's not a one day thing?" you ask, frowning. 

He swallows a lump in his throat. "Regretfully." 

If he's sick, and Roan's sick, you can't get sick too. It would throw a huge spanner in the works. Eddie's immune system is a sinking ship on a normal day. When he gets sick, it's bad. 

You untangle yourself from Eddie's grasp and feel his disappointment. It's sweet that he wants to keep you from the same fate as him. 

You take his face into your hands. 

"Go take a shower, handsome, and then…" You stare straight into his eyes, brown honey ringed with light. "We won't kiss. Or, you won't kiss me on the lips. Yeah?" 

He pulls your hand from his cheek to squeeze your fingers, a tight bunching full of promise. "Yeah. It's gonna break my heart–" 

"I'm sure," you say. 

"–but I'll make it up." 

You walk backwards out of his arms and flop languidly into the clean white sheets on your bed, toying with the bottom of your t-shirt. "Whatever you say, bub." 

Eddie sets the record for world's quickest shower that night. 

—

Eddie wakes up. He's expecting that post-sex bonelessness, like every bit of tension has been pulled from him by your delicate fingers, but instead feels as if he'd been hit by a truck. Last night had been the total opposite of rough. It isn't the sex that's messed him up. 

He's sick. 

Shit, he thinks, rubbing his dry face with a hand warmed by your back. 

You lay over his chest, your lips to his heart, the dark tattoo covering it. One hand crushed under your side curls weakly by his hip, and the other is hidden pretty much inside his armpit. He snorts at you and your blank expression, but smiles when he remembers the sweet, soft way you'd looked at him last night, your eyelashes heavy with unshed happy tears, your arms tight around his shoulder blades like you'd worried he'd disappear. He hadn't been able to kiss you like he wanted to, lips on your lips and just a little too much tongue, but he'd found the next best thing on the slope of your shoulder. He nudges your shirt down so he can peer at the poor scandalization of skin, that purple-red mess of burst capillaries wrought by his eager nibbling. 

As much as Eddie would like to laze about with you in the afterglow at night, you're grown-ups. Which isn't to say he doesn't get his hugs in after, he does —he cuddles you, lays praise down thick, blushes without fail when you do the same— but he and you have a whole post-fuck routine; cleaning up, throwing the towel in the washing machine, changing the sheets if you need to. 

Eddie will peek his head into Roan's room to check she's still sleeping, and, exhausted, the two of you go back to bed and fall asleep yourselves. He doesn't enjoy getting back into his pyjamas afterward, missing your skin pretty much instantly, but it's necessary, and proves to be when Roan pushes into your room that morning unannounced.

Eddie sits up and tries not to disturb you, finger to his lips. 

"My stomach hurts," she says. 

He eases you off of his chest and into the cool sheets where you usually sleep. He swings his legs around and finds it takes a lot more effort than usual. 

"Yeah? Hungry hurts or like you need the bathroom hurts?" 

"Just hurts," she says insistently. 

Eddie stands, tucks you in as fast as he's able and turns to Roan. She stands at the end of the bed unsurely, hair at her neck curled up with sweat, her usually white face an unfortunate pink. He puts his arms out for her, groaning when he pulls her up his chest, her knees either side of his hip. She wants a hug and Eddie wants a second to digest what's happening, so he stops right there in the middle of the room and hugs her too his chest. 

"Think you might be sick, baby," he says gently. 

"Do I get the strawberry medicine?" she asks. 

"Depends. Can you stop when you want to?" 

"What?" 

He laughs to himself. He wishes you were awake to laugh too, but he lets you sleep. "Yeah, you can have the strawberry medicine. How bad is it hurting, huh? Does your throat hurt?" 

"Maybe." 

He frowns at her tearful voice. "Oh, no… and your toes, are they orange?" 

"Don't think so," Roan says, stretching one of her legs out and analysing her toes. 

"Good," he says, giving you one last glance before he moves to the stairs, carrying Roan down them one careful step at a time. He doesn't trust his heavy head. "I thought for a second you had Alienitis." 

"Alien-ites?" she asks. 

He nods sagely, flicking on the hallway light as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. "It starts with a bad tummy, and then you start to turn orange from the toes until all your skin is shiny and slimy like a pool toy, and then your throat hurts." 

He turns on the kitchen light and sets Roan down on the counter near the fridge. 

"But you already have a bad tummy and a sore throat, so you definitely don't have Alienitis." He beams at her relieved face. "Thank the heavens." 

He peels the thermometer off of the fridge. It's a magnet, made of paper, and you press it to your kids forehead and let it sit for a minute before you read it. He slaps it on her with a pretend aggression to make her laugh, and they both wait for it to warm up. Eddie looks down at her. She looks up. 

"Come here often?" he asks. 

"All the time. Do you?" 

"Sometimes, yeah. See the game last night?"

"Which game?" she asks, pert nose wrinkling in confusion. 

"Any of them?" 

"I saw you and Y/N do the dishes dance." 

"How'd you rate that? Out of ten?" 

"You dropped your bowl." 

"A five, then." 

Roan presses her lips together. "She's always better." 

"That's not fair, my hands get all soapy from the water." 

Roan's temperature is a solid 102. 

"It's official, you're sick." He rubs her cheek, her ear, her hair soft under his hand. "But I'm gonna fix you right up good as new, babe, so don't worry." 

Roan leans back against the microwave oven and huffs forlornly. 

"Hey, it'll be fine. It's gonna be better than fine, Ro. We'll make sure you have lots of yummy drinks and medicine and I'm sure if we ask really nicely your mom'll make her soup, and…" He loves how much Roan loves you, leaning in to emphasise the importance of what he's about to say. "She'll snuggle with you all. Day. Long." 

"She will?" 

Is she kidding? The second you find out Roan has a temperature, he'll have to pry you away from her with a crowbar. 

"She will." 

"Can we wake her up?" 

He thinks about it. You've had a really hard week. You deserve to rest and catch up with the sleep you've been missing out on, but Roan's the confessed light of your life and she wants you. If he doesn't wake you up, you'll only ask why not.

"How about I put you on the couch with some TV and I'll go wake her up, and see how she's feeling?" 

Roan pouts. "I want to." 

He'd hoped to sneak in a hug, considering how his legs and arms and head are aching. But he finds it hard to be selfish when Roan looks the way she does now, her eyes pleadingly wide, thin brows threaded together at the starts. She puts her hands together. 

"Okay, you can do it. But try to be nice. No shouting in her ears. This is strictly a hug operation." 

Roan screws her hands in his shirt and he sets her down. She tiptoes down the hall, up the stairs, and into the master bedroom, Eddie behind her all the while unbearably enamoured. 

He helps her climb into your bed. You've twisted onto your back now, and Roan carefully crawls to your side, snuggling up under the arm that isn't covered by blankets. You don't wake at first, but Roan rubs your tummy, whispers, "Please wake up, Y/N," and you rouse like magic. Your eyes remain closed by life flares into your limbs, arms wrapping around Roan, pulling her onto your stomach and chest automatically. 

"I got a tummy ache," Roan says, a hint of desperation in her voice.

Your eyes open. Eddie suspects you don't even know he's there, your gaze locking onto Roan's. 

"Yeah? What's the matter, princess, do you need me to pat your back?" 

"No… it's all twisty. We took my tempa-chure and I'm too hot." 

You look first to your side where Eddie usually lies. 

"Over here, sweetness." 

You push yourself into a sitting position with Roan locked to your front, pressing the back of your free hand to her head as you look to him for confirmation. 

"One oh two," he says. 

You sit her in your lap and flatten out her frizzy hair uselessly. Your frown melds to a put upon smile, a mom face. It says everything's going to be okay.

"Well, we better fix you up then, huh? We'll havta call Uncle Wayne for some of his tools," —you clear your throat, the tired scratchiness in your voice ebbing— "and tighten all your screws again. How's that sound?" 

"I'm not a car," she laughs. 

"What? Since when?" 

You're soft in the mornings. Your eyes are swollen and puffy still, your voice a quiet but earnest hum. You look up over her head and he knows what you're thinking. 

"I'm okay," he says easily. "I'll go get the phone." 

Roan laughs full-belly. "Guys! I am not a car!" 

"You beep like one," you say, pretending to honk her nose. "Beep beep." 

It's the calm before the storm. 

—

Roan cries and cries and cries. She's in your lap again, but this time you're downstairs on the couch with her softest throw blanket and a pillow, rubbing her poor tummy. You've spent the day waiting for her to throw up, but no dice yet. Eddie's trying very hard to help you out, though he's practically paralysed by a migraine in the armchair. Each rattle of Roan's sobbing makes him wince. 

You have her propped against your chest, her shoulders heaving. There's an empty bucket used for washing the dishes at your feet. Roan is adamant she won't be sick. 

"Do you want to go to the bathroom again?" you ask softly, rubbing her trembling arms in hopes of soothing her. 

"No, I don't need to," she insists, "just hurts. I want more medicine, mommy." 

You crumple like wet tissues. "I know, princess. Another hour and you can have more, I promise." 

"I want it now."

"It's okay, Roan," Eddie says, jaw clenched but not a hint of anger in his voice. "You're alright, bub, you just need to calm down. All this crying is gonna make it worse." 

You hum your agreement. "Your dad's right. Let's try to calm down, should we? Is there something we can do to calm down? Maybe we should drink some more of dad's ginger ale, that might be yummy." 

"Let me take her," Eddie says. His skin is pale and waxy, sweat shimmering in the light across his brow and top lip.

You nibble your cheek. "Sweetheart," you say, and mean it intensely, "you can go up to bed if you need to." 

"I'm fine. Come on, give me back my girl. I'm gonna fix her with a magic spell." 

You try to transfer Roan from your lap to his. You've seen Eddie's spells in action, how he whispers words you don't don't know from a game he plays with his friends every other week, or every other other week when life is busy, pressing raspberries into the nape of her neck and tickling her arms. They're a surefire way to cure an owie. 

Roan doesn't want a magic spell, she wants medicine. She sobs and turns in your arms, seeking your comfort. She buries her face in the soft fabric of your sleep shirt. 

Eddie stands up to help, stricken by her increasing volume, and abruptly has to sit back down. 

"Eddie," you say, more severely than you mean to. "Sit down." 

"Sitting," he mumbles, dropping his head down between his knees, hands in his hair. 

He quickly lifts it with a groan. 

"Shit," he says. 

You shush Roan gently, lips near her ear. Your hand rubs a steadfast line down the curve of her spine, and when it comes back up you take a deep breath. You don't know if Roan understands what you're doing or if her pain simply starts to lessen, but long, tense minutes unravel into half an hour and she thankfully calms down, dipping into sleep after you dot her damp forehead with kisses.

"Eddie," you say, when you're sure she's knocked out. "Baby, are you okay?" 

"I'm sorry," he says, lifting his sweaty face from his hand. He looks heartbreakingly ill. 

"That's okay, I don't want any sorrys." 

"I didn't mean to make you deal with that alone." 

"Well, I wasn't alone," you say. "You're sitting right there." 

He presses the backs of his hands to his eye sockets and breathes out hard. You can't reach him with your hands, so you extend your leg until your ankle rubs against his. 

"You have a stomach ache?" 

"I think I have everything," he says. 

You pull Teddy, Roan's one eared teddy bear, off of the seat beside you, and then move the pillows and bowl of food Roan hadn't managed to eat to the other side. 

"Come and sit by me," you coax gently. 

Eddie looks stiff as a board as he stands and walks to the couch. He sits down slow, leaning back slower. He looks at the ceiling before he turns his neck to face you, one eye screwed shut. You suspect his migraine is pretty much debilitating him at this point. 

"Okay?" you murmur. 

"I'll live. Hopefully." 

He chuckles but stops with another sore wince. 

You drop your hand onto his knee. He looks sad. He looks like he's gonna pass out.

"Baby, you gotta tell me how bad you're feeling," you say,  nearly singing the words, hoping to inject that little bit of lightness he's missing back onto his pretty lips. 

"It's just my head–" 

"Thought it was everything?" 

"–is gonna explode," he concludes, flopping his face into your arm, one of his hands cupping Roan's back beside yours. 

"I'm really sorry, my love," you murmur. 

He huffs. He knows, as you know, that you're not sorry in that you think you made him sick. You're sorry that he's sick, sorry he's in any pain at all, sorry that Roan's down for the count as well. 

He turns his lips to your shoulder and leaves them there. 

"Everything's gonna be fine." 

"I know it, sweet thing." His voice sounds like it's made of crushed glass. 

When Eddie finally falls asleep, Roan wakes. You're damp everywhere they touch you— they're like two huge hot water bottles. Roan scrunches awake and you're sorry to do it, but you push Eddie away from you and climb out from under his weight, taking his mini me to the kitchen where the strawberry medicine calls her name. You plop her down in her chair with the cushion on the seat and spoon medicine into her mouth. She's too tired to realise she doesn't really like it. 

You wet the corner of a hand towel and wipe the sticky dribble off of her chin. You're patting her clammy forehead when she looks up. 

"Thanks, mommy," she says.

You frame her face, hand towel pressed to the side of her head. 

"You're welcome." You lean forward, tap your nose into hers. "I love you." 

You say it stretchy and sweet, like taffy. She lights up at the sound.

"I love you more," she says.

"No way, madam. I love you more than anybody." 

"I love you to the moon," she tries. 

"To the moon! I love you to the sun, then." 

"Is that further away?" she questions. 

You stroke her hair back from her face with your free hand, wrists on her shoulders. You do it nicely, fingers tangling in the downy soft strands of her curls, no rush to be anywhere but here. 

"It's a million trillion miles away," you guess. 

"Woah. That much?" 

You nod, head bobbing, "That much and more." 

"That's a lot of love," she says. Like a kid standing at the precipice of the world's biggest candy store, staring out at a million different shelves, a rainbow of colour reflected on her feverish cheeks. But she's not in a candy store at all, she's looking at you. 

"So much," you say, smiling. 

"Mmm… Woah." 

"Girls?" comes Eddie's voice, calling from the living room. "Everything cool?"

"Dad!" Roan shouts. "Guess what? Y/N said she loves me to the sun and it is a million'd miles away! That's more than the moon away!" 

Eddie groans. "Wait a second, don't be lovely without me. I'm…" His voice drops to a mutter. "I'm a weak man."

You wait but don't hear any footsteps. 

"Think we better go kiss him better, Ro," you say. 

She goes all shy. "Will you carry me again?" 

"Hm, let me think." 

You swoop her up into your arms so fast she's immediately hysterical, giggling at the sudden vertigo. 

"Girls," Eddie whines. "I can't get up. Stop having fun without me." 

"We're on our way with Tylenol!" you call. 

"I don't want Tylenol, I want love to the sun, or whatever." 

You princess carry Roan into the living room and settle back down in your seat next to Eddie, who, despite desperately needing the Tylenol you've brought with you, takes the kisses you offer first, featherlight kisses, all over his cheek. 

"That definitely wasn't enough," he says. He looks at you from between his lashes, slamming them shut again when he notices you watching. "C'mon girls, I'm sick."

"So's Roan and she's not making demands."

"I never said I was a good person, you know? I'm desperate." 

You give him one last kiss. He waves his hand and Roan gives him another. 

He sighs through a happy, sleepy smile. "Thank you. Now that felt like love to the sun." 

—

Bad Cat is a character from Stephen Chbosky's novel Imaginary Friend that I borrowed, he isn’t mine! thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! if you did, please consider reblogging because it means so much to me <3<3<3<3

[wizardrousactivity]

Feel better now?

Warnings: Angst, mating press, mentions of self-harm, mentions of relapsing, Fem!reader

Pairings: König x fem!Reader

Note: I am not very proud of this one because of my STUPID WRITING!!! but I did end up spending 2-3 hours on this so I’m hoping some people would enjoy it. Mwah love you all 2.3k words! 

König felt his chest shrivel up once he saw your pouty lips and half-teary eyes, watching you storm out of the room while he was stumped.

Thinking of ways to apologize to his sweet girl flooded his noggin and he threw his hands out and fell back into his chair almost comically, grumbling and getting back to his paperwork while he tried to push away any other thoughts besides the box of his work. You shoved yourself into the bathroom, rubbing your hands all over your face to try to stop the tears that were making your face feel icky. Thrashing around to find your towel, the water running loudly in the background - the sounds couldn’t compare to how loud your thoughts were. 

The shower felt harder that day, the water burning the red lines you inflicted on yourself yesterday.

You sat down on the wet floor, head in your palms as you sobbed, the tears falling from your face entwined with the water and vanished along with it. On your knees you grabbed the shampoo - cleaning yourself should never feel this difficult, you’ve grown soft. 

Standing up, your body immediately planting itself onto the wall as your knees buckled. Nibbled lips, fingers clasped your mouth. Trying to suppress your gasps and whines. —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’ve managed to do your hair and apply lotion to your body, since you’ve fixed yourself - you find that you’re capable enough to make dinner, putting on clothes you just washed, they’re warm and make you feel a bit better. The harm is visible, and you try to forget about it. Too drained to change into other clothes that hide your pink and white scars, busy prodding at your pajama shorts to make them just a little longer, even if it wont make a difference. 

Leaving the bathroom you walk into the hallway hoping to see König doing paperwork in his office, or holding out his arms for you. Instead what's in front of you is a closed door, making the air catch in your throat.  

The descend down the stairs feels melancholy, you feel as if your brain is off, walking only as if you’re a zombie dedicated to pleasing others. You want to make him happy, make him forget about your previous interaction with the blessing of food. 

This week felt like the final straw, constantly trying to please people at your job - you’ve been trying so hard. Nobody was there for you, König looked at you with a face of anger, eyes narrowing yours. Going on about how he has helped you while you try to squeak out your words, and he yelled at you. Piercing and loud, making you tremble as you looked up at him like he had betrayed you. He screamed at himself in his head, scolding himself for lashing out on you. Years of aggression had changed him truly, down to his entire system - he doesn’t know how to respond now. 

As soon as your hands touch the stove, you begin shaking, tears running down your face. You couldn’t find the energy in yourself to cook and it made you feel all the more disappointed in yourself, the walls of discipline you’ve built come crashing down.

Nails snuggled firmly into your arms as you sink down onto the floor, hyperventilating in frustration. 

You cry into your skin for the umpteenth time, biting into your flesh so the man upstairs doesn’t hear you. Nothing has ever made you feel so useless, and you can't get over that. 

A heavy hand on your shoulder makes you jump, interrupting your thoughts. You turn your back slowly, only to see the kindest pair of sleepy eyes looking back at your manic ones. Your eyelids shut tight, hands finding his shirt and pulling him in. “M’ so sorry..”  It’s muffled into his shoulder and he pats your back, hands resting at your hips. He shushes you gently, eyes scanning over the numerous scars on your legs that looked almost too fresh - and he swore his heart paused for a second. König punches himself in the head mentally once again, biting his lip. “Not your fault..I shouldn’t have yelled. Shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you.” 

Your face digs itself into the small dip between his neck and shoulder, sobbing even harder - gasping for air between them. And he feels like a monster at this point.. “I’m sorry, mein Liebling, don’t waste all your tears on me.” König brings you in even closer, landing sloppy kisses to your forehead and cheeks. "I was wrong, never cry for me like that." He says, reassuring you in a stronger voice, yet it remains soft. König mumbles something under his breath, like he cursed himself forever, never to let you cry over something he failed to do - control his emotions around you.

You grab onto his jaw with need, locking lips with him in vast movements, and he lets it happen. Letting your tongue win the fight for dominance, hand gently resting  at the back of your skull, the salty tang of your lips stimulating his organ of taste. But he couldn't care less.

Hums vibrate into your mouth pleasantly, he taps your back to let you know when he needs to breathe.

The kiss is broken after only his lungs start to burn for air, you’re still hungry for more of it. His breathing is heavy as he claws at the soft skin under your shirt, massaging your lower back and pulling you even closer to his warmth, pleasantly surprised at your actions. “Need more-” You hiccupped, mouth-agape with feeble sounds. “Please.” 

“More of what? Tell me.”

“Want more of you- Need you.” You confess, and his heart cinches from its beat. Almost seizes to continue at the sight.

He simply nods, picking you up by your waist and putting you up against him - not where you're flat against his chest, holstered up enough so he can kiss your tummy, electrifying butterflies filling your abdomen. König plops you down on the bed, as gentle as he can possibly be - you look like glass to him right now as your legs hang off the side of the bed, you're sitting on the edge of it as he lowers himself.

He’s right in front of  you, crouched. He’s kissing your thighs all over, strings of apologies you can’t hear when he runs along one of your scars. “Can I please.. I want to show you how sorry I am.” You know what he’s implying when his eyes drift down to your pussy, clothed but getting absolutely drenched underneath. 

“Yes.. please.” A simple sniffle and he’s making snail work of your shorts with little kisses, pulling them off along with your panties. He’s purposely taking it slow with you, testing the waters. 

Successfully spreading your thighs, he salivates. One look at your perfekt swollen clit and he’s down on his knees, offering one long lick to the slick heavenly gates. “So good.” He groans, now flicking your bead with his tongue in vast motions - and you mewl out, high pitched and needy. He’s so good at eating your pussy, wrapping his lips around the whole thing once he made you sensitive for it. “König..” A pule of his name leaves your lips, sending blood straight to his cock once again. 

You gasp once you realize he’s rolling your hips onto his tongue, making you fuck yourself on his tongue with his hands. “Holy fuck-” Your toes curl, biting your bottom lip. The changes between flicking his tongue and sucking all feed into your upbuilding orgasm.

“König!” He stops abruptly at the last squeal of his name, right at the moment you felt yourself coming undone.

Standing at his full height you pout up at him. “I’m sorry- please, can’t let you cum yet. Need to show you.” He repeats, almost defeatedly, like he wants to fulfill your needs now.

König pulls down his pajama pants down to his ankles, before he positions himself in front of spread legs. Rubbing his tip against your clit, prodding against it deliberately. Making you sob, kick your feet against his back needily. “Uhuh. None of that, you’ll get what you want in a second.” Gentle, affirming.

“Gonna slip this in, slowly. You got that?” He affirms with you, and you're nodding your head urgently. It makes him chuckle, how pliant and needy you are. 

You throw your head back once you feel his stretch, a wince passing through your lips. "Er nimmt es so gut auf.." He praises with a moan, a hand gently caressing your collarbone from where he stands.

He’s trying to distract you from the feel of his cock spreading you open, you’ve tightened up so much since the last time. 

He finally gets the whole meat slab in with a plap, and you let out a sigh of relief. He finds it really cute, how you struggle beneath it. “You’ve got it.. Good girl, the best.” He dances his hips into yours, balls flat against your ass. “Made for my cock.” “So deep..” Your thighs tighten around him, begging him to start a pace already - the torture of slow, deep thrusts. “Hah- fuck.. Too slow Köni..” Ugh, you’re so fucking cute. Stop it. It’s taking enough of his willpower to not fuck you right into this bed. 

“H-Harder..” König chuckles, grinning at how feverish you are. “Dirty girl.” Your knees are then pressed next to your ears, he’s putting you in some sort of mating press - making you swallow in anticipation, a little fear maybe. This position makes him feel deeper than ever, you’re clenching around him.

 He swallows. “This is what you want? You can take it?” He doesn’t relent his rolls into you, like this is a casual interaction. “Yes- fuck- Please!” You beg and he immediately complies, making you jump up with every thrust of him into you, heavy balls slapping right against you. “You like this?” He doesn’t even need to have you answer, your mewls are speaking for you. 

As soon as he gets you where he wants, a hard thrust is battered into you - making you cry out at the sheer force of it. He’s not cruel though, bending down so you could hold onto his shoulders. He gulps, adams apple bobbing. “This is what you wanted? Tell me, please.” He needs to get confirmation from you, eyes scanning over your face for any signs of discomfort. “Keep going.” You take his breath away, good girl. Taking all of this cock. 

He bites his lip, denting your can roughly - the smacking of your skin is loud and sinful. His hands lay planted on your ankles, driving into you like a two dollar whore.

Broken moans escape your mouth as you constantly feel his dick ram against your cervix. ”Gonna show you how sorry I am.” Your body tensed up as you felt your orgasm approaching humiliatingly quick.  Your legs tried to kick at something, but that's impossible with them suspended in the air, unable to move.

He just wont stop thrusting either, watching you try to form a sentence underneath him. 

Waves of pleasure incinerate through your body, burning your insides with ecstasy and heat. The constant sliding of his shaft against your walls doesn't help it either, he's changed the angle which his dick hits to where its constantly drubbing your g-spot.

"Good- good pussy. I'm' hitting that pillowy spot." He laughs, orgasmic yet a little bit deranged in the middle of sex.

You gasp out, feeling a string in your stomach get unbearably thin. Your pussy clenches, it’s slightly nauseating from how tightly you’ve clamped. He moans, back arching from the feel of you squeezing him dangerously tight. “Fuck yeah, cum for me. Cum for me.. Ja..!” His head is thrown back, lost in just you completely. 

The coil finally snaps and you squeal, your juices coming out squelching and running down your ass. You’re drooling, lips coated in saliva. And he just wants to clean up all of that with his kisses, connect your saliva together. 

"Ah! König!" You yelp, vision turning white as overwhelming waves of bliss start hitting you like a truck.

Your toes uncurled once you’ve gotten off your high, signs of it still lingering around in your stomach - feels like your pussy is beating as fast and hard as your heart.

But you can’t forget, he’s looking for his release as well. Mouth open and panting above you like a mutt.  His moans announce his upcoming orgasm while rutting into your sensitive pussy like a bitch in heat. Your hand comes up to his chest to try and get his pace to relent - but it’s not possible to push past a brick wall. You’ve already started sobbing at this point from the overstimulation, mewls for König to be gentler goes in from one ear out from the other. Or if he can even hear you. 

With the clenching of your snatch he's throwing his head back with a broken moan. "Hng-auh..! It's been so long since he's had good pussy like yours, and you best believe he's enjoying himself.

A rumbling deep inside of him, lingers of an upcoming orgasm taking over his well-mannered self. Now his hands have moved up to your ankles, putting himself in a plank and pounding so hard you think you'd die.

König's trying to match your moans like an orchestral performance, seemingly like he's mocking you, yet it's full of honesty and neediness. "Close hmng- yes.. fuck m-" He announces before cutting himself off unplanned, spurting into your storage room with his buttocks clenched forwards to push semen further into you.

The mongrel of the house squeezing your ankles with a sob once he feels his high hit him like it did yours, keeping his shaft nestled in you while he finds himself in ecstasy - unknowing of your suffering from overstimulation beneath him. Beaten and battered pussy.

He doesn’t notice your trembling body underneath him till he hears you let out a feeble sound of his name. Looking down to your shaking legs, thighs covered in your splattered juices. And by god, are you a sight.

“No more..” You mumbled, unable to coherently speak to him anymore. He pulls out of you, a small squelch being heard from how good he's spread you out. "Ja, won't fuck you anymore." He gravely snickered, letting your legs down from the sore position they were in.

König practically purrs out his praises, running his hands up and down your body. “Let’s get you to the bathroom now, a bath?” He suggests, your ears perk up at the sound of a warm bath surrounding your achy body. 

Bonus ;)

[reveluving]

I have another ideaaaa 👀 I imagine Santi and Benny being very flamboyant when it comes to showing their admiration for someone. Imagine Rick bringing lunch to reader’s unexpectedly just to see Santi bringing her flowers and Benny giving her the heart eyes. My poor flag baby might have a stroke just from the scene in front of hiiimmm!!

a/n: Aria, baby. it’s been a long ass time ✋🏼😔 BUT THE FIXATION IS BACK (kinda. largely because I’ve been reading fics after fics of Oscar & Pedro chars. RAAAAAH). so we’re here baby, after 1 ½? 2 years later???? ENJOY

warnings: humour & fluff; poor Rick just wants to love you in peace.

j.k. m.list (series under 'rick flag vs the triple frontier boys'), or check out my full m.list!

Oh, you know Rick’s eyes are TWITCHING. The paper bag in his hand, packed with lunch from your favourite stop, crumpling in his grasp, almost tearing at the top. Not the food though, he’s not trying to ruin his wife’s favourite. 

But he’s chill. Absolutely chill. He swears. 

Benny and Santi just had to stop by the same time he came home from work, both leaning against the white porch railing while you sat prettily on the bench. 

Benny was expressive in whatever he was talking about, likely his last boxing match from the way he was holding the air in a headlock before the three of you shared a laugh. As much of a troublemaker they were, they were your friends, after all. He’d chase them off his property or warn them with a glare any day if it meant cutting off any form of ‘allegiances’ with that horrible past, both yours and his.

Just when you were about to reply to God knows what they asked, you noticed Rick lingering by the mailbox. Your eyes lit up, and it didn’t take the duo any other hints to know that he was home.

“Rick!” You enthusiastically waved at your husband, beckoning him to sit on the bench next to you. Rick couldn’t help but smile back at you, walking over and ignoring the two until he reached the top step of the stairs.

“Boys.” He greeted them, going over to shake Santiago’s hand before Benny’s, flexing his hands as they shook to see if the other would break. None did, as usual, pulling away and somewhat putting the tension on hold in favour of you. Rick took a seat next to you, passing you the bag of food and a soft ‘there y’go, baby’ (but not really, he made sure the two would hear it). 

It took a few seconds, making sure he greeted you with a kiss before stretching his arm to lay on the backrest behind you.

“So, what’s the occasion?”

“The boys just came over to say hi. Gave me these flowers from the flower shop nearby,” You raised the calla lilies that were resting on your lap. Now, Rick was no flower specialist, but he has been to the shop countless times to buy you your own fix. 

And if he remembered correctly, they generally represented beauty.

Well played.

“And Santi was just telling me about this new Cuban restaurant just outside the neighbourhood.” You continued, turning to Santiago with an encouraging smile so he could tell Rick about it.

“Cuban restaurant, huh?” 

Santiago curtly nodded to his curiosity. 

“The best. Might even be your new favourite once you both try it.” He explained, only to glance at the paper bag Rick was holding—a look that was almost… Judgemental? Critical? All of the above? All Rick knew that the man before him was silently scoffing at his choice. 

And, well, Santi wouldn’t exactly deny that claim, either. 

Rick didn’t hide the scoff, only to pair it with a faux smile so you could take it as nothing more than a harmless banter, “Gotta be real good then. ‘Cause this here,” He cocked his head in the paper bag’s direction, “Is my wife’s favourite place. Our favourite place.”

Rick not only had to watch out for the bold claim Santi was making, but he also had to bear in mind the sight of Benny openly looking at you like a lovestruck puppy. The promising boxer didn’t even care about the passive-aggressive argument going on around him. He was just appreciating the beaut in front of him.

(Man’s just doesn’t give a shit atm).

“Hey, I’m not here to burst your bubble,” Santi huffed in amusement, raising his hands in a defensive way, “But I’m not trying to give the pretty girl any mediocre recommendations either. C’mon Flag, you, of all people, should know that we want the best for her.”

“Aw, Santi, you’re too kind.” You were touched and it showed, and Rick couldn’t argue with the statement. Without a doubt, he wants what was best for you, be it food, comfortable clothes, gourmet treats for the fucking neighbourhood cat you adore—anything. 

In the midst of their silent argument, you reached for Rick’s hand, holding his larger ones in between yours, “I’m sure Rick and I will enjoy it,” He mirrored the warm smile as you stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, only to break when you addressed the two, “And if it’s as good as you said it is, we might as well have a get together.”

Oh. 

You were growing concerned of the two’s silence, eyes darting back and forth and almost—almost asking what was wrong until Benny, as if snapped out of his trance, finally, spoke up. 

“Absolutely.” Benny raised his hand in a manner that a believer would in church. 

Abso-fucking-lutely.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» gorgeous rose divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics ♡

[thekidsralright]

a love worth fighting for.

pairing: abby anderson x f!reader

synopsis: anderson is the name on everybody's lips when it comes to discussing the newest up-and-coming boxers of the season. with the help of her coach and you by her side, she's going for the world title. but what will she have to sacrifice to get there?

an: so, it's finally here. this is a big one for me folks - i'd go as far as to say the biggest fic i've ever worked on. ever. i'd love for this to be multi chapter, but that depends on the reception part 1 receives. if you like it, please reblog and let me know your thoughts. i'm proud of this, so be kind with your comments x

warnings: 18+ mdni. violence, swearing, references to smut (despite this chap not having any super explicit content, if i decide to continue this fic there will defo be heavy smut in the next upload - so don't even bother reading the first part if you're not of age).

The MC’s voice reverberates throughout the stadium, drowning out the cacophony of cheers, boos, and overarching buzz from the crowd. You could never predict who they would back until the night, usually finding that boxing fans are easily swayed depending on who gets the first punch in. You were hoping all support would be directed at her tonight, god she needed it. Trying to maintain a positive attitude is hard when your girlfriend's opponent is making his way into the ring, his impressive height and wide, muscular shoulders towering leagues above his teams; arms raised, working the crowd and hyping them up in anticipation for the fight to come. They’re already eating out of his hands, the bastards.

“Ladieeees and Gentlemaaan! Welcome to the main event. In the blue corner, weighing in at 188 pounds, undefeated in 48 fights; he needs no introduction folks - it’s the man, the beast, Zach ‘Thunderstorm’ Norriiiiiis!”

The crowd roars in excitement, slapping their hands together and pumping their fists in the air. Zach is one of the nation's favourites, as any undefeated boxer would be. The nickname ‘Thunderstorm’ came from the sound his opponent’s bodies would make when they hit the canvas, like the crack of lightning. You look ahead with a neutral expression, keeping your eyes focused on the empty archway ahead of you - trying not to zero in on just how big his arms were. How they could crush someone's airways, smash apart their ribs, do irreplaceable damage.

You inherently hated what your girl did as a profession, hated the way she put herself in harm's way time after time after time. But there was also a part of you that admired her for it, for the unbreakable determination that radiated from her - if she got beaten down, she would get right back up and come at you even harder. It’s what kept forcing you to show up. That, and also the tiny factor of being absolutely in love with the woman. But when she got hurt, which seemed to be every other day lately, you really wanted to grab a hold of her fucking head and shake the-

“Aaaaand coming into the red corner, Thunderstorm’s opponent, weighing in at 175 pounds. She hails from Salt Lake City, and is rising through the ranks quickly. With 30 wins, 24 of them coming by way of knockout, give it up for the new kid on the block -  it’s Abbyyyyyy Andersooooon!”

And here she comes, bowling out of that archway with Coach right on her tails; the hood of her red robe covering her plaited hair, matching red gloves already fastened and ready. Even from where you were waiting by the stalls, you could see the all-too-familiar expression that befalls her face before every fight. Eyes so dark they look black, focused, unwavering; brimming with unshed aggression that are preparing for the violence that is about to ensue. 

Frightening. Arousing. Another reason you’re still with her.

Abby ducks under the ropes of the ring, bouncing on her feet as she grounds herself on the canvas before moving over to her corner where Coach is now waiting. As you rush up to them, Coach gives you the look he always does before a fight - the type that screams, ‘you shouldn’t be here, girl.’ He thinks you’re a distraction, an irritating fly he’d rather swat away so he can make sure his prized money maker has the best chance at winning. You weren’t giving in that easily. Coach could go to hell for all you cared; you knew his real motivations when it came to all of this. Abby may regard him like a father, but you saw him for what he really was. A leech.

Coach shouts up into Abby’s ear, her head bent in concentration - “He’s a fucking showman. That, and a bit of muscle. You know you got the upper hand tactically; he has no fucking clue what’s about to hit him. Just stay focused Anderson, and this bout is yours.”

Abby nods resolutely, eyes trained on the canvas as she rolls her shoulders back and cracks her neck. Coach’s hands come up to grip the ropes between them.

“You gotta win this champ, you can win this. Just don’t. get. distracted.”

Both Coach’s and Abby’s eyes turn to you at the same time as you offer up a reassuring smile to your girlfriend, also now clutching at the ropes that separate you.

“You got this babe.”

She nods quickly and gives a tight smile, but you can tell from the tense line of her shoulders that she’s stressing out. Yes she’s fought before, but it was never on this big of a scale. Never against opponents like him. It was what Coach insisted was the next step –

“You wanna face off a load of wimps Anderson? Or do you wanna make it to champion status?... Yeah? Of course you fucking do. Then you gotta get in front of the crowds and beat the shit out of the favourites.” 

Easy for him to say, he’s not the one going up against an undefeated fighter. But you had faith in your girl. That was never going to change. You move closer to the ring as she crouches down into the corner, Coach double checking he has all the supplies that she would need between rounds. You take her face in your hands through the division of the ropes and pull her in for a quick kiss - before she can move away, you hold her there and take her chin in your grip, eyes lingering on hers.

“Win this…like I know you can, and then come home and fuck me like a champion.”

You don’t give her time to respond as you let her face go and back away, moving into the crowd as you cheer her name. That posture of stress has eased slightly, and a smug smile is planted on her face instead. Coach, of course, comes and wipes that smirk away as he puts her mouthguard in, holding her head still as he most likely shouts some type of bull at her once again. But of course, she’s listening to him like it’s gospel. Amped up and ready to fight, Abby raises herself to full height, bouncing on her feet and swinging her arms to the side. The crowd aren’t sure what to make of her, most of them never even hearing her name before. But there is the occasional cheer for “Anderson!” amongst the rally of support for Norris. After all, people do love an underdog.

The announcer calls Abby and Norris into the middle of the ring, a hand on both of their chests as he explains, “Now I want a nice, clean game. Nothing below the belt. Are we clear?”

Both nod, pressing against the MC’s outstretched hands in an act of intimidation towards the other. Abby’s face is like stone, never breaking eye contact and standing strong. Norris on the other hand, his smirk was the show of pure arrogance. She better fuck this dickhead up. Both back away from each other, getting into a southpaw stance as the MC’s voice rings out for the last time. 

“Are we readyyyyy…FIGHT!”

You forget about everything else when that bell rings; the crowd getting louder, Coach’s bellows erupting from her corner, the look on Norris’ face as he circles his prey. The toll of that bell ringing in your ears sounds like a death sentence, also signalling the start of round 1. 

____________

By round 4, the feeling of uneasiness settles in your stomach and your eyes continue to follow her quick-shifting form, matching her movements so that when she ducked or flinched back, so did you. Both fighters have been pretty level with one another so far, both sending out jabs and uppercuts - only for them to be warded off before any real damage could be inflicted. It’s not enough to win though, she needs a clear hit.

Abby goes in for a right hook, ever so slightly clipping Norris’ chin and the crowd ripples in response, hoping for the real fight to begin soon. Norris responds with a clinch to stop her from advancing too quickly, wrapping his arms around and over her. You hated seeing him touch her like that, your own fists clenching at your sides in response.

The bell tolls again signalling the end of the round, both fighters making their way to their respective posts - but not before you see Norris saying something in Abby’s ear. She doesn’t move for a second, eyes unwavering on Norris as he turns his back. For a second you think she might go for him, but she’s worked too hard to let her temper win now. With a shake of her head, she goes over to Coach and plunks down on the ground - tearing off her gloves with her teeth and ripping out her mouthpiece. Her focus is still sharply on Norris across the ring, most likely getting strategy tips and a pep talk in her ear from Coach, reminding her to channel all that anger back into the task at hand. 

You don’t move from your seat in the crowd, wanting to give her the space to fully zone in. She knows you’re here for her and only her, and you provided enough motivation at the beginning of the night to last the duration. You'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy the view at the moment either, and that those feelings of uneasiness were also coupled with an overwhelming tide of arousal.

The way sweat is dripping down her face and neck, trickling down her chest and onto her arms. How she runs her hands over the top of her head, dousing it in water and brushing through the roots with her fingers to cool off. Yeah… you really hoped she did win tonight, not just because she deserves it from how hard she’s been training, but selfishly a part of you really wants to get fucked good tonight. Especially after the show she’s putting on for you right now. And you know for a fact it’s only for you.

Abby’s let you know multiple times how much she loves you watching her fight, seeing her crush opponents to a pulp and looking absolutely glorious doing so. It’s upsetting that tonight, she isn’t doing so well. But this is what she and Coach wanted, to start moving up the leagues and facing off against better fighters - solidifying her name among the real competition. You try to stop the negative thoughts from creeping in, try to stay positive for your girl.

The rounds keep stacking up, neither Abby or Norris winning the upper hand for long. It’s evident that both fighters are getting aggravated by round 9, their punches falling on the side of reckless, their expressions displeased and downright pissed. You shout as loud as you can, “Come on baby, you can do this!” in the hopes that Abby can hear you over everyone else. And she must have done, as her head slightly turns in your direction on instinct, and Norris’ gloved fist takes the opportunity to make contact with the side of her face in response.

The crowd screams with excitement, satisfied with the fact that something is finally happening. But all you see is red as the blood sprays from Abby’s mouth on impact, her body crashing into the ropes that barely keep her form upright. You take a step forward as does Coach, you both now waiting for the bell to ring so you can meet her at the post. 12 seconds.

Come on, just stay out of his way for a bit longer…avoid the fucker for 12 seconds!

Abby’s so stunned from that first punch that as she tries to right herself on the canvas and pick up her stance, Norris is already waiting with another blow to the face - this time an uppercut that sends her head flying back and her legs out from under her.

No no no no, NO!

5 seconds.

You’re screaming for her to get up as the crowd counts how long she’s been down. 

1…2…3-

“Stand up! Abby stand the FUCK UP!”

A wave of an arm and a twitch of a leg has you screaming in relief, as Abby slowly gets back on her feet before a KO can be declared, just as the bell signals the end of the round.

Abby all but bolts for her corner, leaning her body and head back against the post - her eyes shut from exhaustion and pain. Coach partially moves out of the way for the cutman, who is trying to clean the blood from her face as best they can - the enswell pressing against the areas where Norris’ punches made impact.

You can see she’s starting to give up, that undeniable fire in her eyes has dulled to a mere glow. You can’t stand it. You try to move your head further into her corner to say “Baby, you can do this, you just gotta-”

Before you can finish, Coach has climbed through the ropes so he’s kneeling directly in front of Abby’s hunched figure, grabbing the back of her head so their foreheads are nearly touching.

“You listen to me Anderson. You’re jumping about this ring like a fuckin’ monkey on steroids. Calm the fuck down, focus in on the technique we’ve been working on for months and stop…getting…distracted.”

At this, both heads turn in your direction. Abby’s expression shows you she isn’t angry about being distracted from your support; she knew you were coming from a good place. Coach on the other hand is looking at you like you went up there and hit her yourself. He never liked when you were around, always insisting that partners were just unwanted emotional baggage that could wait until after the last punch was thrown. But Abby refuses to get in the ring if you aren’t watching from the sidelines.

“Not going out there without my girl, Coach - she’s my lucky charm.”

“Well your lucky charm has been making you late to training. Gotta get your head back to the task at hand. You can play housewives later.”

But tonight isn’t the night to bicker with Coach about things that won’t change. You will both always be here for Abby, and right now she needs you. You hold her gaze, giving a smile and a wink - “Are you seriously giving up this easy? You and me both know you’ve got it in you to bring this piece of shit down. Come on Abs…fucking finish it.”

Coach is clapping her shoulders in agreement, lifting Abby up so she can shake out the stiffness and get ready for the next round. What you hope to be the last round. You take your position back up in the crowd, and get ready to cheer for your, and her, life. The bell rings out. 

Round 10.

____________

She makes every punch count, unleashing herself at Norris like a fucking beast. He doesn't know how to respond to it at first, taken aback at how quickly Abby has switched up her fighting style. The renewed vigour in her movements only enrages Norris even further, the confidence that this fight was his now starting to crack under the weight of Abby’s rage.

He still manages to land some blows, but it’s almost as if she’s stopped feeling them - blinded by the sheer animalistic instinct to push through and keep punching. A flurry of blows to Norris’ face causes him to hunch down and over for relief, but what he doesn't realise is that he’s just given her the perfect head shot from above.

The blow comes fast, and hard. You wince as her gloved fist makes impact with the back of his bent head, forcing his body further beneath her.

Norris goes down, face first into the canvas at Abby’s feet. 

Knockout.

The volume of the crowd increases, if that’s even possible, counting along with the MC to ten to see if Norris has it in him to keep going. You’ve never been more relieved when he doesn't move a muscle.

8…9…10! KNOCKOUT!

You’re screaming, jumping with your arms in the air like a crazy person. She won. Abby won. The MC brings her to the centre of the ring, raising her arm with his to signal her victory. She’s shouting too, showing her black mouthguard mixed with the sight of fresh blood, unable to stand still as she takes a victor’s lap, celebrating her win.

Coach rushes up, gripping her in a bear tackle whilst you look on from the sidelines - still trying to come to terms with what you’ve just witnessed. She won. Against ‘Thunderstorm.’ This is what she’s been working towards for months, hoping for the chance to make her name known among the big leagues. Your girlfriend just put herself on the map, and it wasn’t about to go unnoticed…

____________

It takes a while for you all to make your way out of the stadium, fans constantly asking for autographs and pictures with the underdog-turned-champion of the night. It was nice to see. Finally, Abby was getting the recognition she deserves. Coach was eating that shit up, as expected, spreading the word to anyone that listened that we had a new heavyweight world champion in the making. Abby would get that glint in her eye at every mention of the ultimate title: world champion.

Her head might as well be made of glass, because you can see exactly what’s happening up in that brain of hers as she processes the weight of what’s happened tonight. She can see the prize that has never been in reach now that little bit closer. And she wants it. Bad. You go to remind her to take it one step at a time, but you know it would be received the wrong way.

A number of journalists and presenters were waiting by the entrance of the stadium as you emerged into the cold night. They rush you as soon as they spot Abby. You weren’t expecting so many people to come at you with cameras and microphones, reaching around, past, through you to get to her. A flurry of voices swarm the now enclosed space.

“Anderson, how do you feel after tonight’s knockout performance?”

“Who’s next on your kill list?”

“Are you staking your claim on the heavyweight belt?”

“How will you be celebrating tonight, Abby?”

Overwhelmed, you take a step back so Abby is ahead of you - Coach now placing his arm around her shoulders to also lean into the microphones held up against Abby’s mouth. 

“The next fight is coming sooner than you think. Anderson is ready to take on any of these amateurs and claim the title that is rightfully hers.”

The interviewers all look to Abby expectantly, hoping she seconds the statements made. Of course she does. It’s Abby.

“I’m ready for the next fight. This is what I’ve been training for and I'm not going to slow down now. Put any fighter in front of me and I’ll deal a knockout to whoever wants one.”

You hear this and let out a long breath. This was the flaw that irked you most about Abby. She never knows when to take a break - to step back and appreciate how much she’s already achieved. Once she gets something, it’s on to the next. You just worry that she’s going to burn herself out.

As expected, her comment only invited them to ask more, now wanting to hear the name of the next person she wants to challenge and when that would be. Coach begins to move you all forward again, giving that cheshire smile he’s perfected and a sly “you’ll have to wait and see” - most likely aiming to leave some suspense in the air so more articles are printed tomorrow. 

All three of you go to move through the reporters, making your way to a black SUV waiting just ahead. From where you took a step back, the crowd sees an opening and begins to slot themselves in between you and Abby, hot on her heels with more burning questions. When she turns her head to answer them, that signature smirk on her face is quickly replaced with alarm, then stone cold anger.

One reporter is physically elbowing you out of the way to get a better angle for his picture, the flash blinding you for a second, causing your head to snap the opposite direction. 

You hear her voice ring out over everyone.

“Get your hands off my girlfriend and back away. Now.”

She pushes through until she’s in front of elbow-camera guy, who is currently regretting his choices now Abby is towering over him, his mouth slightly open with a mixture of awe and fear.

“Do you think it’s ok to treat a woman like that? Do you think you can push my woman out of the way and expect me to pose for a photo?”

He’s frozen to the spot, and Abby only raises her eyebrows in response. Taking your hand and pulling you to her side, she turns you both around after muttering “watch yourself” to the wimp you leave behind. 

“Sorry baby” she whispers in your ear, thumb brushing down the side of your arm. Placing a hand on the small of your back, she leads you both through to the SUV and watches you get into the car before joining you. The voices now muffled; you finally release a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding in since the start of the night. She was fine. She’s safe. Everything’s ok again.

Now you finally have a chance to talk just the two of you - well, you and Abby and Coach - you want to make sure she isn’t serious about jumping straight into another fight. But when she turns to you, her eyes alight with pure happiness that you haven't seen in a long time, you decide to have that talk in the morning.

You have a champion to take home…

____________

The minute you get through the front door of your apartment, you’re leading her to the bathroom to get cleaned up. She’s got that dazed look in her eyes of someone in a dream. Only this dream is real, and you couldn't be happier for her. But God, does she look rough. Hot, always, but rough.

“Did you see how fast he went down when I threw that last punch, bubs? I felt like my chest was going to explode during those 10 seconds, it felt like a lifetime to wait. I need to start thinking about my next move with Coach and strategizing ‘cos I could never use exactly the same technique, these fighters are way smarter than any of those fuckin’ rookies I’ve fought before and-”

“Woah, Abs slow down.” You give a slight chuckle as she realises her rambling, holding her hands up in defeat - allowing you to lightly push at her shoulders so she can sit on the toilet. You grab the first aid bag in the cabinet, packed with the essentials that have come in handy many times through the years. The cutman at every fight has of course offered to clean Abby up, but you always took it upon yourself to take care of her wounds at the end of the night. You both liked it that way. You were gentler, caring.

Getting down on your knees in front of her, you get to work wiping the dried blood from her face, placing cold packs and plasters over her swollen cheek and jaw. She sits there in silence, patiently watching you do it all - her hands trailing over your face, neck, arms.

“ ‘m sorry for not noticing you got left behind…don’t want you to think I forgot about you or anything. I just get carried away with it all, ya know?” she mutters, cutting through the silence - cupping the side of your face with her hand as her fingers begin to brush through your hair. You close your eyes as you revel in the feel of it, nuzzling into her palm to give it a kiss.

“It wasn’t your fault, bubs. Besides, you came to my rescue in the end…like always” - you give another kiss to her open palm, reaching up to take her hand in both of yours so you can kiss her sore knuckles.

“Besides, it was kinda worth getting pushed just so I could see you make that guy absolutely shit himself.” You both burst out laughing, leaning in close to one another as if you were best friends sharing a secret. This was the Abby that only you saw. The one who didn’t have the weight of the world on her shoulders, who could just be and not think about the next move.

You whisper, “I’m so proud of you,” and she almost begins glowing with pleasure from your praise.

Abby pulls you in by your face, hands back to cupping either side, eyes turning mischievous. 

“I nearly forgot…I have one more thing I need to do tonight.”

You grin up at her, “oh yeah? And what’s that?”

She leans in further, her mouth stopping to hover just next to your ear, whispering “I need to fuck you like a champion.”

Her hand comes down to cup you through your jeans, squeezing ever so slightly. You’d be lying if you said you haven’t been waiting for this ever since they declared KO, getting wetter by the minute just thinking about the moment when she fucks you good and proper. 

“Come on baby…time for round 1.”

[cocomanga]

The Sweetest Beat - Set 1

Pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x Fem!Reader,

CW: JJK AU. Daddy Kink, Noncon, Dubcon, Praise Kink, Size Kink, Oral, BDSM, Unprotected Sex, Edging, Drunk Sex, Aggressive Sex, Overstimulation, NPD Abuse/Trauma

Note: please block me if my work is not your cup-o-tea. I do not own any of the character art Please respect my blog art.

Reader is encouraged to listen to music mentioned for context :)

WC : 5K

The Sweetest Beat - Set 2 >>

TSB - Masterlist ~ AO3 | Wattpad | Playlist

Synopsis: Megumi Fushiguro is the leader of a fresh new rock band. They're currently playing covers and gaining a following at an alarming rate, skyrocketing his career as an indie artist. But when his best friend introduces him to a beautiful someone and sparks fly, he's challenged to navigate her fear of loving freely.

..... Minors: You have no business here. Love you, but please don't ....

▶ SET 1 No One Knows - Queens of the Stone Age Heart Shaped Box - Nirvana Everlong - The Foo Fighters All My Life - Foo Fighters Smells Like Teen Spirit. - Nirvana

As you put the drink to your lips, the sensation of tiny bursting bubbles tickled your nose and the sharp aroma of fresh orange set a spark to your senses. The wildly refreshing contrast to the smell of cigarettes, old wood and alcohol spills seemed to rejuvenate you.

"Can I get another Blue Moon, please, Dori?"

"No problem." Itadori replied kindly as he leaned over the counter, turning back to Nobara, a flirtatious grin sprawled across his face despite her teasing him about his cocktail blending.

"Too much vermouth, man. What are you, an amateur?" she whined, a mock pout on her face as she rolled her eyes.

You glanced at them as you sat on the stool with your legs crossed and your back to the bar, shaking your head, smiling and snickering at their cute interaction.

It was pretty dark in the room, the colorful spotlights were off. A faint light shone over the bar, and one over the stage. You could see the glowing red neon exit signs, the track lighting lining the hall leading to the restrooms, and dark figures wandering about, chatting and waiting anxiously for what's next.

You loved going there. The place was quite well known, but relatively small. An intimate setting. Very "underground". The platform of the stage was set up about 4 feet high. When it was illuminated, you could see every detail of a performance from the bar seats. The room was normally peppered with small round tables that held 4-5 seats each, accommodating about 100 seated, but tonight it was standing room only and could easily fit over 3.

Most of the employees here knew you and Nobara as regulars. Itadori invited the two of you to see this performance by his best friend, who had apparently formed this band recently and it was gaining quite the following. Also probably because he wanted another excuse to see Nobara.

They were a cover band and, according to rave reviews, a pretty damn good one at that. A lot of the people who were already here, knew them from the city they hailed from.

You glanced at your smartwatch, the light piercing through the dark room, shining a bright blue glow on your face. You hoped they'd come on soon since you were already nearing your 3rd beer. "What time are they scheduled for, Dori?"

"8 o'clock."

7 minutes. Good.

"You in a hurry??" Nobara's head turned quickly towards you as she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Its not like you have to work in the morning."

"I know." you shrugged, "I'm just a little excited. I've heard good things.

"Yeah, like about how hot they are!" Nobara replied, this time quickly raising both eyebrows.

"Hey, calm down little one. You're already spoken for" Itadori snapped back at Nobara, with a grin on his face and a wrinkle between his brows.

You rolled your eyes, chuckling as you turned back to look at the stage. "Its been too long since I've heard some live music. I feel like I'm..." you frowned a little, "... neglecting my self-care routine or something."

Nobara takes the last sip of her obviously delicious martini. "Well if they're right about these guys, you'll definitely get what you need tonight."

As the curtain shrouding backstage parts, one of the members emerges. He sauntered across, twirling drumsticks in his hand. A few of the audience members begin to clap, whistling and wailing noises of approval. He appeared to have stood at about 5'11", with a slim, but athletic build, and a seemingly relaxed demeanor. 

He wore all black converse with white soles, and dark green loose fitting cargo pants that hung just a touch low, held up by a black leather belt with large black metal loop holes. His black graphic tee had an intricate design printed on the front, and was layered under a vintage leather jacket which he slipped off on his way to his seat. The tee accentuated his build, fitting loosely at the waist, yet snugly around his biceps and chest which were considerably toned, a must for a good drummer.

He wore a pretty stoic look on his face but he was, in fact, gorgeous. He had spiky, stark black hair, a few strands hanging low over his large dark eyes. He bit the bottom of his pouty lips, frowning as he sat on his stool adjusting his seat and microphones. If anything, he definitely looked "the part".

"Is that the one, Itadori?" Nobara inquired, nodding toward the stage.

Itadori looked up from the sink of soapy water behind the bar as he washed miscellaneous used glasses he'd gathered. "Yeah, that's him."

Both you and Nobara swiveled your stools back around to face the bar were Itadori stood as he explained.

"He's been playing since he was a kid. I used to hang out in his garage with him for hours while he and his cousin practiced." He broke from his chore for a moment, wiping his hands with a steaming cloth. "He even attended a prestigious art institute for a couple years."

"Really?" You inquired, considering how that must have contributed to the appearance of their success.

"Yeah" Itadori continued, "He and a couple of the members met at college".

Nobara nodded in approval, then leaned in toward you "Seems promising eh?" She chuckled into her martini, "He's definitely a hottie."

You nodded also as you returned a muffled laugh, taking the final sips of your 2nd beer. "Cute is fine and all, but they'd better be good".

"We do alright." A random voice chimes in, seemingly from out of nowhere. Startled, you turn to see the drummer standing right next to you. He leaned on his elbows against the bar propping a leg up on the frame as he stared directly at you. He turned to Itadori. "Lemme get two, Dori. I won't be able to come back down for a while." His voice was slightly monotone, deep and airy. He smelled like a light blend of soap and incense.

Suddenly a little nervous, you blushed slightly into your new beer as he turned toward you again, looking you up and down. You swiveled the other direction back to Nobara's wide-eyed stare as she attempted to suppress a huge smile.

Itadori hands him three bottles of Guinness. "Megz, this is Y/N and Nobara. They came to see you perform so yea, make it happen, bro." They give each other a quick dap.

Nobara peeks around you to see him, waving her hand.

As he pushes himself off the bar and grabs his offer from his friend, "Megz" turns toward you, his large, dark, slightly hooded eyes scan your silhouette quickly then lock with yours. He curls his long fingers on his left hand around the necks of two bottles of beer, then grabs the last with his right. He didn't seem to make a single readable expression, but gives you a quick upward nod and heads back up to the stage while the guitarist and other band members were tuning.

"Damn, girl" Nobara teases, seeing "Megz" give you a once-over. "What do you think that was about"?

You took a deep breath and shook your head as you turned back toward the stage. It looked like they were starting. You leaned your head over your shoulder at Itadori, yet kept your eyes locked up front, "I've never heard a guy called 'Meg'. That's different."

"Its Megumi. Really, only his family and friends call him Megz". Itadori explained.

"Oh." you replied, fixated.

Nobara and Itadori both look at you, then at each other, chuckling at the fact that Megumi seems to have left a lasting first impression on you.

With an unintentional critical eye, you observed the details of their setup. The band was 5 pieces with Megumi as the drummer. It included a bass, keys, lead guitarist and the vocalist, who also played guitar. "Wow. They have a female guitarist"?

"That's Maki." Itadori explained. "She's fuckin' crazy. Just wait, you'll see".

You watched their preparations. Maki tuned her guitar as she leaned in, conversing periodically with Megumi. The guy on keys kept his head down as he fidgeted with various knobs and buttons, which included a computer. The bassist's expression seemed a little detached, but he was very much in tune as he watched Maki and Megumi's conversation, and listened intently to Maki's instruction.

The lead singer wielded a gorgeous white guitar, currently strapped to his back. His presence almost as impressionable as Megumi's as he adjusted his microphone and his foot pedal. He wore black combat style laced boots and baggy camel-colored pants with the narrow hem stuffed inside his boots. His top was an exaggerated V-neck, sleeveless, black, and hung loose on his muscular build. His hairstyle was wild. Gathered in two sections on top of his head, and as spiky and dark as Megumi's. He also had a couple visible tattoos, one, a straight line across his face, one on his chest peeking from under his V-neck, and one on the outside of his chiseled bicep in a singular Japanese Kanji that read, "Blood".

It was exciting. They looked like the real deal, had plenty going on, and from here it appeared quite complex.

Suddenly the colorful spotlights illuminated the stage. At this point, quite a few more people had filed in, and the place was about half full. The crowd stirred up a mild roar of claps and whistles as they heard the first notes begin to fill the room.

You turned to Nobara, a wide grin spread across your face as you held your fists to your chest, shaking in excitement like a teenaged schoolgirl. She smiled back widely.

"They're looking really good up there" you said to Itadori, who was also checking them out.

"Mmm-hmm pay attention." Itadori smirked as he nodded toward the stage while sliding another drink toward you.

"By the way, you're looking pretty damn good yourself, honey" Nobara encouraged you with a wink, nodding toward your gorgeous legs stretching out from under your black pleated skirt, your feet dressed with calf-high black boots which had a silver buckle on the ankle and a sleek platform heel. 

Your top was a thin, black, loose fitted low-cut V-neck tee. you wore a deep red cage bralette underneath, the color peeked through the thin fabric of your tee. It had many visible straps, one which attached up to your choker, where your neck was also adorned with a gold necklace. 

"Very hot." she droned. 

You flashed her a warm smile "Thanks love. You, too".

The lead introduced the band, his voice crisp and clear, carrying beautifully across the room. The audience responded, and after a few clicks of Megumi's sticks, they started the first song:

Queens of the Stone Age - No One Knows.

Your jaw dropped as your eyes widened in fascination... your head whipped back towards Itadori, "Damn, he's takin' on Dave Grohl?!?!"

He smiled, as he faced the stage, looking at you out the corner of his eye with an I-told-you-so.

You watched intently as they finished the first and second verses. You sat in your stool bobbing your head to the beat, which they executed in beautifully patterned staccato, all members in perfect sync. The sound was remarkable and the vocals were spot on. You had lots of Dave Grohl in your meticulously curated music collection, and this track was among them. As you moved to the rhythm, a rush of adrenaline flooded you. You gripped the ledge of the bar, knowing the chorus was damn near impossible to pull off. After all, you've seen many bands try and fail miserably.

You stared at Megumi's kit as the lead sang the chorus.

He pounded out the first drum line so smoothly it gave you goosebumps. The next was just as good. The third, even more complex, was so beautifully executed that your eyes widened and you literally gasped. Your mouth hung open as he finished the last. You loosened your vice grip in the edge of the bar, turning to Nobara and Itadori with your brow furrowed, in complete shock.

Itadori mouthed the word, "DOPE!" through an enormous satisfied grin.

Nobara smiled with raised brows, raising her hands in the air and screaming, "Yeeeeah!"

Realizing your mouth was now gaped open, you covered it with your hand as you turned back toward the stage.

It was only the first song and they were already blowing everyone away. A smart move too, considering this was their first performance since coming back home. Best to grab your attention immediately so people hang around, or get drawn in. It also featured both Megumi and Maki quite a bit through the chorus.

Some of the notation for drums on this track were lightning fast and complex. This song in particular had patterns that an average drummer wouldn't dare touch unless he could actually execute. Megumi was fucking amazing. You were fascinated by his sheer precision, mesmerized by his passion. As you watched him allow himself to become immersed in the music, his nonchalant demeanor and seemingly indifferent attitude all but melted away when he was at the kit.

His emotional connection to the music was contagious. You sat at your stool, at times closing your eyes and swaying back and forth, while at other times, giggling openly while kicking your feet out in a flutter like a little girl who was just given her favorite flavor of ice cream. His performance was exhilarating. Their next song:

Heart Shaped Box - Nirvana.

Your gaze was attached to him. He dripped appeal, quite literally as you saw him work up a complete sweat as he played. Most of the time during the loud, rougher choruses, his eyes were closed. His head shook his hair around violently as he drowned in his role. He'd make pained faces, often times biting his lip, and at others parting them to grant his lungs more oxygen considering how hard he worked.

His strong calloused hands firmly gripped his sticks, as he continuously pounded away at the drums and hats. Any time the sounds lightened and the melodies became softer, he'd raise his head up as his body moved on beat, swaying as beads of sweat slid at random intervals down his face and neck, the light catching through them as they flailed outward in droplets all around him. His once spiked out hair style had now completely fallen into wet slicks.

You couldn't take your eyes off him.

He was unbelievably fucking sexy.

They played a few more songs, and at this point in the show you sat, frozen, like a stone, gazing as you leaned back against the bar, with your elbows propped up. You periodically pressed your thighs together unconsciously as his performance aroused and hypnotized you. On top of it all, your buzz was much heavier now, the effects of the 4 beers you finished had kicked in nicely and allowed you to enjoy the music and the view all the more.

Suddenly a hand, a couple inches from your face waved frantically in front of you, vying for your attention. It was Nobara.

You snapped out of the daze you were apparently in with a deep breath, turning to her and Itadori only to see them both giggling. "Girl I've been calling you for the past two minutes! … everything ok?"

As Itadori laughed, he dropped his head between his muscular arms as they propped him up at the bar.

"Uh... yea," you said, rolling your eyes at their silly teasing. "Guys 'c'mon! this is amazing!" you motioned toward the stage.

Nobara smirked at you. "Yeah... HE is!" she said, still giggling.

"Whatever." you childishly retorted as you waived them both off with your hand. You turned back to face the stage, and you could swear you saw Megumi looking directly at you.

As the show went on, he continued to wow everyone with songs that featured some of Dave's best performances, mainly because they were well known. They'd sprinkle other songs throughout by artists like Radiohead and Korn, which gave the guy on keys time in the spotlight since he was also responsible for the electronica aspects. It also gave Megumi a break since he was obviously working himself crazy.

The last song they ended the first set with:

Everlong - The Foo Fighters.

Seriously... Megumi was fucking insane to be able to play that so well.

The crowd erupted with rumbling applause. And rightfully so since they were absolutely astonishing.

Itadori grabbed some ice cold bottles of water from the fridge, lining them up on the bar. He raised a couple bottles up, waving them in the air, along with a towel getting Megumi's attention.

You looked up at the stage, realizing he could actually see clear back there to the bar. Made sense though, considering the bartenders needed a reasonable amount of light to see as well. The people seated there were fully visible from the stage.

As distracted as you were, you didn't really consider that. And somehow you were a little embarrassed by that revelation.

"Hey, give this to him will ya?" Itadori tossed a couple towels over to you, sliding 6 of the waters your direction as well.

"Huh? Wait wha-" … before you could protest, he'd disappeared over to make drinks for another customer. You turned to see Megumi sauntering over to the bar, pulling his pants up by his belt as he took a few steps. Every soul, mainly women, from the stairs of the stage to the bar seemed to eyeball him on his way over. A couple people attempted to stop him, but he politely spoke and kept moving.

You became increasingly uneasy the closer he got, nervously looking around to seek assistance of some sort from Nobara.

She laughed playfully and turned her back on you, leaving you alone to take care of business as the water girl.

"Really?" You protested, holding your hands out in front of you.

"Those for us"? His voice rising up again, quite close to you.

You paused for a split second, burying your lips inside your mouth as you attempted to mute your smile, slowly turning to look at him.

He was dripping sweat. His hair was matted in sleek strands down his face in all directions. His chest slowly rising and falling behind his now drenched black tee, which stuck to his biceps and pecs, hugging every curve. As he continued to catch his breath, biting his pouty bottom lip, he waited patiently for you to answer. His dark, hooded eyes locked on to yours.

You quickly averted your eyes down to your hands as you grabbed the towels, squeezing them first in an attempt to ground yourself. "Uh... yes..." you handed one over.

He grabbed it, his hand making contact with yours. "Thanks."

He took a couple seconds longer than necessary to take it from you as he watched you squirm slightly in your chair, avoiding his gaze. He whipped it around his neck, then opened a bottle of water, guzzling it at the bar where he stood, his gaze still fixed. He took his final gulp, then uttered with a perfectly straight poker face, "You like what you see"?

You frowned slightly then smirked, looking up at him, "Excuse me"?

He nodded toward the stage, then looked back at you, leaning against the bar as he turned his body your direction. Still no expression. Only piercing eyes.

You nodded, and raised your eyebrows, "Yes. Actually..." you managed to mutter, trying really, really hard not to stare.

"Oh yeah? What do you like?" His fragrance was even stronger now that he had sweat so much. It wafted toward you, blending in with the warmth of his breath, tickling your shoulder and neck. It was like a fucking pheromone. He took another large drink of his water, his eyes never leaving your face.

You took a deep breath to help clear your head, finally allowing your genuine interest to speak up. "I love that you play Grohl so well. You like his work, it seems".

His brow wrinkled a bit, appearing intrigued that you knew something about drumming. Finally, a readable expression. "Been following him since I was a kid. Might as well learn from the best, right? … I tend to prefer the older, more groundbreaking stuff."

"Hmm..." you cracked a smile. "Oh I definitely agree. I'm the same with my vocals."

"Oh, you sing?" another expression of surprise from Megumi.

"Yeah... for a long time. I love it. I write as well, but it's taken a back seat to other work at the moment..." you shrugged, a flash of disappointment washes over your face as you turn to look toward the stage.

He continued to observe you for a what seemed a prolonged period, still leaning against the bar before turning to look for Itadori. He waved him down, flashing a "peace" sign at him with his fingers. He looked back down at you, "take a shot with me".

"A shot?" you repeated, kinda surprised by the offer. "of what?"

"It's called a car bomb. You ok with Guinness?" the beer he had earlier.

"Sure." you shrugged and smiled, "Why not."

Nobara joins Itadori as he brings 4 of them over. You all grabbed your glasses. "To a fantastic night!" Itadori proclaimed.

You all drop the shots into the glasses.

Nobara wails "And after partaaaaay whoooo!!!"

You all slam your drinks. Megumi and Itadori finished their shots like pros. You and Nobara took a little longer.

As you guzzled it, the foam from the beer creeped out of the glass, drizzling down the side of your mouth as you made a valiant attempt to finish it off.

Megumi's eyes grew wide as he watched the liquid slide down your jaw, and creep down your neck, your throat moving up and down behind your choker with each gulp. As you reached the end, it became sweeter, almost pleasant as the Bailey's seemed to smooth out the rough bitterness of the beer.

You pulled the glass from your mouth, gasping for air as you muttered, "Damn that's strong!" through parted wet lips. "After party?" You said, frowning and licking the remnants of foam from your mouth.

"Yeah. Come." Megumi said as he grabbed your glass, stacking it on top of his then sliding it over to Itadori who was flashing a goofy smile at him.

"Maybe I will"... you wiped yourself up with a napkin from the bar as you turned back around toward the stage, propping your elbows up behind you, observing the band.

Megumi watched you carefully, noticing your tendency toward scrutiny. "Good."

You squinted tilting your head as you considered how good the music was. "This band is pretty damned exceptional." You turned back to meet his inquisitive stare, curious. "How did you manage to gather a group of that caliber? Where did you find them?"

The corner of his lip curled upward as he explained, "Choso, the singer, has been friends with Itadori and me for about 2 years now. Maki is actually my cousin. Yuta on the bass, and Toge on the keys went to college with me at the institute. Their work was … insane, so I recruited them."

"Wow" … "How long have you been together? I mean... the whole band?" you inquired further.

"About 4 years total since I started with Toge and Yuta. When I left the school I asked Maki to join, and Choso approached us 2 years ago. That's how we met."

You turned to him, shaking your head as you leaned back on the bar. "This is quite the accomplishment, Megumi. I hope you're proud of yourself. You're fantastic. Truly."

With genuine gratitude he replied, "Well, aren't you sweet. I appreciate that".

He picked up his water and took another sip as he glanced down at your boots. As the water bottle came down from his face, you watched him intently as his eyes traveled up your legs. You crossed them, for his sake of course, allowing your skirt to hike up your thigh just a touch. His slow scan continued steadily upward, pausing briefly at your chest, where your gold necklace cascaded gracefully between your breasts along with some strands of your hair. His eyes then traced your neckline up to your lips where he paused again, biting his bottom lip as he looked up into your eyes.

… Damn …

You sat perfectly still, watching him undress you with his eyes. A gaze so seductive, it was rendered tangible, and extremely erotic.

Entertained, a tiny smirk played at your lips as you considered his audacity. Nevertheless, it felt so fucking good, you allowed yourself to get quite lost in that moment.

Yeah. He's trouble.

"Megz!" Maki yells from the stage. "The water?"

"Aargh shit." He grabs all 6 from the bar in his arms, then flinches from the cold.

"Here." You grabbed another towel and laid it on the counter, placing the water bottles on top, rolling them up. "Have a great set. I'm excited to hear the second half". You flash him a sweet smile.

"Thanks. See you later." a small smile creeps into a curl at the corner of his mouth as he turns to make his way back toward the stage.

You watch him closely as he gets settled back in.

He sits at his kit, and looks immediately back over to the bar, locking eyes with you instantly.

"Wow... I really thought the stage lighting would make it tougher for him to see us from there." you look over to Nobara as she's walking back over to you.

"Nope... hehehe. Probably caught you gawking at him earlier, too." She teased.

"Girl bye." you whined, rolling your eyes.

Though she does have a point. You can practically feel your cheeks painting themselves red at the thought.

"I think we should go closer for the second half. I'm ready to dance!" She flashed a giddy smile.

You agreed, "Good idea, yeah. lets go."

You both grab a beer on the way, yours was a Guinness.

You squeeze through the crowd that had obviously gotten much thicker, possibly from people who could only make it to the second half, and some who wandered in off the street, lured by the amazing sound.

You made it to the front, slightly to the right of center stage. Megumi's line of sight was clear from there. He was guzzling another bottle of water.

They started the second set with another banger:

All My life - Foo Fighters.

Maki took the intro with the low vibrating heavy rock guitar riffs. Choso's voice was like butter, blending in smoothly with Maki as he stood at one with the microphone, gripping it firmly in place.

Your eyes moved to Megumi, since he was next. His eyes were closed as he listened to Maki and Choso complete the intro. As they opened slowly, aimed toward the bar, they glided across the room, then over to where you and Nobara stood. His gaze locked on to yours and the cutest smirk of pleasure spread across his face, complete with slightly pink cheeks.

So satisfying, you couldn't help but smile. It was adorable.

His eyes close again as he waits a portion of a measure for his entrance. He smashes his drums as he and Yuta hit their notes. Megumi hit his quick riffs with precision like a goddamn rock star every single time. Never missing a beat. It was insane. How can he be so good at such complicated work?

The crowd went wild. They loved every second if it, and this time you and Nobara worked up a great sweat dancing.

In the middle of the song, there was another solo with Maki then Choso ... a quiet bar... you stood there, keeping time with Megumi, he was starting to sweat already.

You stood there watching him. Your gazes met, as you bobbed your heads lightly on the same beat. A smirk formed on your lips as he played. Watching him was stimulating.

He'd slowly close his eyes, as he drummed, allowing himself to ride the vibrations of the moment as his face tilted up toward the rafters. He looked so satisfied, so euphoric. He'd then lower his face back down toward the kit, as beads of sweat to fell from his hair and nose, opening his eyes back up to exactly where you stood. It was so hot. Damn near orgasmic.

You and Nobara, on the verge of wasted, feeling your drinks and that crazy shot Itadori fed you, danced around next to the stage like a couple of crazed fans. They played through their set smoothly, the crowd completely submerged in the intensity of the atmosphere. Finally, it was time for the last song.

It was Maki again for 3 measures:

Smells Like Teen Spirit - Nirvana.

Of course they'd play this. Megumi beat the shit out of it, and Maki was on fire during her guitar solo. Throughout the course of the song, Megumi continued to look to you, smiling and smirking periodically. He seemed to enjoy seeing you dance, and you were more than happy to oblige. During the quiet verses, you bit your bottom lip, locking into sultry stares with him as he played, the song igniting a fire in which the flames were surely fanned by the alcohol.

With his head bowed as he pounded away, his body moving at a consistent, steady tempo. In the middle of it, he'd look at you out the corner of his eye and, if you didn't know any better, you'd swear he was getting off. The way he looked at you as he played was more than arousing. It was Seductive. Sensual. Lecherous.

And that … only excited you more.

Choso sang his damn heart out, and you and the entire audience all followed along on every word, and every beat, since every one of you knew it. You all clapped several times during the song, encouraging their brilliant work.

Megumi missed nothing. And frankly, neither did the rest of the band.

When they were done, the audience expressed how exhilarating their performance was, and that it felt so amazing.

And you still had an after party to go to.

You were on such a high after that experience, you knew you needed to calm the fuck down.

.

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Because you simply could not wait to get Megumi alone.

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TSB Masterlist | Set 2>>

Set 2 Preview: "... His kisses were absolutely fucking delicious. He massaged your tongue with his, sucking your lips in intervals. His lips were soft, and his tongue warm, gliding lusciously across your skin. You wanted him to do it. Whatever he was planning, you'd grant him vip access. The level of sensuality he's displayed to you is off the charts, and you wanted nothing more than to be his special, obedient little groupie..."

Thanks for reading! ✨🥰✨

Notes: As always, I welcome any and all critiques, suggestions, and comments regarding my work, since I truly feel all of those may make me a much better writer! I sincerely appreciate you taking the time to read my little stories, and if you'd like to be tagged in releases, don't hesitate to comment below! 😊💖🎶

©cocomanga 2024 | Please do not plagiarize, copy, or distribute my work.

Fanart Art: Courtesy of @Pinterest Ombre Caution/DNI & Animated lines: Courtesy of @cafekitsune

[scarnatlover]

The sweetest demigod

Summary: after coming back from a mission, Natasha is desperate of some touches from her girlfriend

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Demigod!Reader

Warnings: smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), cunniliingus, fingering, dirty talking (sort of), praise kink (sort of), pet names, mention of SH (briefly), scars.

If i missed any, let me know!

A/N: I'm sorry if anything is spelled incorrectly, but English is not my first language. I apologize in advance for my grammar and spelling

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Natasha POV

I had just returned from a week-long mission and the only thing I wanted to do was fall asleep in my bed with my girlfriend, Y/N, in my arms. 

I went to our room, expecting to see her sitting on the bed watching a movie, but surprisingly she wasn't there. I headed to the bathroom, to take a shower.

With the background of Taylor Swift's Wonderland, I focused on the feeling of water sliding down my back, shampoo pulling out of my hair, and the feeling of Y/N's hands all over my body. Just thinking about it, I could feel wet. It was at that moment that I decided that I wanted to tease Y/N a little bit.

I got out of the shower and dried quickly. Then I walked over to my closet, opened the underwear box and pulled out the sexiest lingerie I had.

As soon as I put it on, I also put on stiletto heels, her favourites and lay down on the bed. I could already feel her hands caressing her body, her mouth kissing delicate kisses in front of me on my breasts, belly, scars, thighs and finally where I wanted her most. I could smell it all over, which made me even more.

With shaking hands, I texted Y/N, telling her that I had come home and was waiting for her in our room. After less than thirty seconds she replied telling me that she would arrive immediately. I smiled to myself.

"Excuse me, love, I wanted to come and see you when you landed, but Wheelie managed to break his shock absorbers and I had to build more because they didn't get there-" she stopped suddenly, finally noticing the scene in front of her.

"Hello детка" I whispered to her, slowly and sensually getting out of bed, and going towards her. (baby)

"Do you know what it does to me when you wear this?" She asked, approaching the bed in turn.

Even though I wore heels, she continued to be taller than me. I took her face in my hands, thus crossing our eyes.

Her lips were ghosting mine, ready to kiss me. I gave her a smirk, lightly biting my lower lip sensually. This made her look down and I decided to take the reins and kiss her. The kiss was not aggressive or urgent, it was calm and flat of love. 

Without detaching herself, Y/N sat on the bed, while I sat on her, slowly continuing to kiss her, savouring the moment. With each kiss we had, I could feel the butterflies in my stomach, as if it were always our first time, our first kiss. 

Always very calmly, she began to leave a trail of kisses on my jaw, then continued to descend until she gave me kisses on the neck, leaving a few hickeys here and there. She then reached my pulse point lightly biting it, making me moan loudly.

I could feel the smirk on her face, but I saw it clearly when I put my hands on her cheeks and gently raised her head. I kissed her on the nose, looking into her eyes then gently. Contrary to what Tony jokes about, when we have sex it is not violent sex, with bondage and spanking; Of course, there are sometimes times that in the heat, a bit violent it is, but it rarely happens. Most of the time, ours is passionate sex, in which we take our time to better savour our feelings and give ourselves that moment of calm that we can not always find. 

I felt her hands descend, from my neck to my breasts, massaging and squeezing them gently, then caressing my stomach and with her fingers gently gazing at the scar above my hip bone. I could tell she was holding back. It wasn't the first time this had happened. She was always afraid of hurting me or being too violent. I always reassured her that everything we did was perfect and that she didn't have to worry about anything.

"Hey," I said, taking her face in my hands. "Look at me. You won't hurt me. Quite the opposite. You'll make me feel good like all the other times," I continued to reassure her and she nodded.

She turned, supporting me with one hand behind her back, and laid me on the bed gently. Then she resumed kissing me more confidently than before. Her kisses this time were more decisive and rough, enough to understand that she had the situation in hand. She swiped her tongue on my bottom lip, making me open my mouth to give her control of the kiss. 

After making out for a while, she let her kisses down my neck, leaving little soothers here and there. Her gentle kisses went down from my neck to my chest. Her hands lovingly caressed my hips, never putting too much pressure. She looked me in the eye for a few seconds, never stopping kissing my body.

"You're the only girl I have eyes for. If I ever look at someone else, take my eyes off," she said, staring at me as her hand moved from my side to my breasts, gently squeezing.

She sat on her heels, calmly taking off her shirt, and showing me all her tattoos. I could see my symbol on her right side, the lyrics of a song on her left side, the Italian flag on her sternum, the tribal on her entire right arm, from shoulder to hand, "We'll Be Alright" from Harry Styles' Fine Line on her left arm, over a scar she had made when she was going through a dark period, and the Joker's face high on her left arm. On the left forearm, however, there was the tattoo they made at the camp of the demigods for each year they were there. It consisted of the symbol of one's divine parent with lines below corresponding to each year of service. They stopped doing it to her when her brother resigned from the post of director, making way for her.

With a quick movement, she unfastened my bra and then threw it somewhere in the room. She looked at my tits like a child seeing them for the first time in her life. My nipples immediately erected in contact with the cold air in the room. She took my right nipple into her mouth, sucking gently, making me moan and putting my hands in her hair, stroking it as I pulled back my head in euphoria. The other hand made sure that my left breast had no less attention. She was teasing my nipple, rolling it between two of her fingers. Then she switched. 

I could feel the thong I was wearing getting wetter and wetter and sticking to my skin. Then she stopped paying attention to my tits and kept coming down, leaving wet kisses everywhere she could. She took her time to kiss my scars and traced them. 

"Y/N, please. Just get into it" I pleaded, signing, hoping it would pass that -pleasant- burning sensation I was experiencing.

"Patience, love, patience. In my own time, I get there," she replied in a teasing way, smirking at me.

She started kissing me again, but this time on the thighs. First, the right, leaving purple marks here and there, then the left, repeating the same action. She looked up to look at me and smiled at me as she kissed me over my panties, now soaked in my juice.

"Can you feel it Y/N? Do you feel how wet I am for you?" I asked her with a smile, as one of my hands peeled off her hair and positioned itself on my breasts, massaging them slowly.

She nodded, but it wasn't the answer I was looking for. I tugged at her hair to make her face me.

"I'll ask you another time," I warned, "Feel how wet I am for you, mhm?" 

"Yes Nat, I can feel it," she whispered, but she wasn't focused on my eyes this time but on my lips.

I pushed her head between my legs again and this time she didn't hesitate. Always staring into my eyes, she took off my panties and threw them across the room. Then, without even looking, she licked my pussy from bottom to top, circling my clit a few times. She then started to suck my bundle of nerves, making me pull my head back and moan. I could feel that she wanted to say something, probably a remark about me being desperate, but before she could say anything, I stopped her, tugging at her hair, removing her face from my pussy.

"If you want to fuck me tonight, you will do as I say. Or else, you'll be all tied up for me. You'll watch while I pleasure myself, knuckles deep in my tight and pretty pussy that you claim to own, moaning your name, while you can't do anything about it. Would you like that, sweetheart?" I said to her and she shook her head at the last question.

"My good little soldier. So obedient for me. So good for me. My good girl" I continued, pushing her head towards my sex again.

She started to suck my clit again, my moans and grunts the only thing that could be heard in the room. Honestly, I could have cum just by her mouth sucking and licking my clit. 

"Come on Y/N, make me cum. I want to paint your face with my juice. I want to see my cum on your lips and chin. Be a good girl and make me come." I said to her while moaning, grinding my pussy on her face, my abdomen contracting every time.

Suddenly, I felt her tongue entering me, making me scream of pure ecstasy. My thighs were shaking and wrapping around her head. As a result of this, she moaned, the vibration of her voice making more juice come out of me. My mouth made an O shape, my hands were clutching her hair. She lapped at my pussy like it was her last meal.

"God yes Y/N. Oh, you're such a good girl for me. Good Soldier" I praised her; I saw her grinding against the mattress to try and get some friction.

She finished cleaning me up and I tugged her up, kissing her lips softly. I could taste myself on her lips and I moaned into her mouth at that. 

"Do I taste good, my love?" I asked, tangling my hands in her hair. She nodded, but I wanted to hear her say it, so I pulled her hair slightly so, as not to hurt. "I want a verbal answer, кролик" I said to her as a warning. (bunny)

"Yes Nat, you taste very good" she said, her pupils dilatated.

"Good" I said. "Now, I want you to make me cum on your fingers" I continued, taking her hand, sucking on two of her fingers, making them wet for me even though I didn't think it would have been necessary. She made me so fucking wet.

She was watching me carefully, never taking her eyes off my movements. She was almost mesmerized by what I was doing. I pulled her fingers out of my mouth and she looked down, noticing a wisp of saliva attached to her fingers. I guided her hand down until I got to my pussy. She understood immediately. She started to rub circles on my clit, starting at a slow pace but going a bit faster after I shot her a warning look.

My hands sneaked behind her neck, pulling her down to connect our lips in a needy kiss. I could still taste myself, but I didn't care at that moment. I moaned louder in her mouth when she inserted a finger into me, pumping slowly into me. I whimpered in her mouth to add another finger and to start to go faster, assuring her I could take it. When she finally added a second finger to me and started to pump her digits with more force, I detached my mouth from hers and slowly and sensually started kissing her neck, leaving some hickeys.

When she curled her fingers, touching that spot inside me that made me go feral, I knew I was close to coming. And by her reaction she knew too, because, even if I didn’t ask her, she placed her thumb on my clit, rubbing my bud more roughly than before. My thighs started to shake violently. That was all it took me for screaming and cumming on her fingers while praising her for making me cum so good.

“God baby, you really do know how to use your fingers, mhm” I whispered in her ear, biting her earlobe, knowing it was one of her biggest turn-ons. I watched her face go red. I just pulled her down on me, letting her get comfortable on my chest. She just lay there for some time, cuddling with me.

"I love how sensible your ears are. I understand why you love them so much, кролик" I teased her, watching her face become a darker shade of red. 

Usually, when she is very anxious, which happens a lot of times, she starts to touch her ear. At first, she never wanted anyone to touch her ear or she would start to cry. Early on in our relationship, every time we cuddled or she laid her head on my lap, if I accidentally touched her ear while stroking her hair she would get up and run off somewhere else. Then she started to get more comfortable and now, when I touch her ear, she relaxes herself.

After some time, she stood up, offering her hand to me, and pulling me up to my feet. My legs started to shake again, but she supported me before I could fall on the floor. She carried me into the bathroom, putting me down on the counter. She went towards our bath and she started to fill it.

"Oh, my darling" I said and she turned around, watching me "You are the sweetest demigod on earth, aren't you? Look at you; the big bad Daughter of Zeus, preparing a bath for her girlfriend" I smiled at her and she smiled back, coming towards me and kissing me gently.

Yes, I made a good choice by starting a relationship with her.

[alexthetrashyracoon]

CW// None aside from the occasional cursing and the mistakes I made during writing. They come in pairs now, like sunflower seeds and enjoy the sun once in a while, just let them out.

Likes/Shares/Whatever you want to do with my writing aside from copying it (not that any of this is worth copying). Everything is very much appreciated by me <3

You should think that someone like Simon Riley has patience, not just a small amount but damn, this man should be the most patient guy on the planet. He was a trained sniper after all, it was his job to lay in one place for long without doing much. Right?

Ha, very, very, very wrong.

You learned that early in your relationship with him.

Simon Riley was everything but patient.

He wasn’t aggressive or anything with you, god forbid, he would never put his hands on you, you’re his reason to live, love, laugh.

But let this man out into the open, let Simon get into a car with the knowledge he has to be somewhere in time, it doesn’t matter if he has ten minute to be there or three hours, he turns his professional patience into some kind of road rage. Simon never did anything that could get anyone into danger, he was very responsible but he grumbled and complained a lot.

You always have the best time of your life, listening to him complaining about every single driver aside from him winning their drivers licenses in the lottery or getting it from the back of a cereal box.

He follows the traffic rules to a T, not wanting to put you, or anyone else in that matter, in danger even if he all he wanted to do was to push his foot down on the gas all the way through and just race off to your appointment.

“All of them, bloody stupid as hell. They all deserve to get send back into driving school.” He grunts and rolls his eyes at a young couple in the car next to them, that is more interested in making out than driving.

“You know, Simon.” You grin at him while scrolling through your social medias and switching the radio to something that soothes even Simon’s impatient nerves, “This whole traffic jam thing has a good thing to it.”

“And what would that be, darling?” He raises a brow before reaching for the pack of cigarettes in the middle console, pulling one out and lighting it with one hand, quickly putting the window down you didn’t drown in the smoke.

“Since you insisted on being overly early to our date night, now we’ll be right on time for it and won’t have to freeze our asses off, waiting for our table to be ready.” You grin and pat his hand on the joystick.

He remains quiet for a second before laughing softly and shaking his head. “Only you see the good thing in a damn traffic jam, darling. Good to know.”

And just as promised you made it to the restaurant right on time, well, you had a minute or two to spare but thanks to the bad traffic on the way there you wouldn’t freeze.

Oh and, don’t let Simon order food in.

He’s like a dog, sitting at the window, waiting for the poor delivery guy to show up on your front porch.

But otherwise, when it came to you, he had more patience than any other person on this planet and you love him for it. And his impatience.

And yeah, I headcanon Simon Riley as a very responsible drive, aside from his impatience. The driving scene we had in MW2 (don’t know about MW3, haven’t played it nor will I ever do so) is a stress reaction in my head at least, you do you of course, if I were being hunted by my former allies, I too would probably not be very caring about rules and regulations on the streets. Plus, if my mate were bleeding from a shot wound, I would make sure to be as fast as possible to get him the medical attention he needs.

[lokimobius]

💜 for Lokius, if you want!

This prompt coincided with both the kiss tag game and the hug tag game; therefore, you get both!!!! Please enjoy this pure fluff that is completely silly.

💜 unexpected hug / sweet gesture & 💜 surprise kiss / impulsive kiss

Pinky Promise (link to ao3 added)

Loki shifted on the sofa uncomfortably as he tried his best not to think about the mission they’d been on today.  

Beside him, Mobius flicked through the latest issue of his jet ski magazine. He tried to focus on the warmth radiating off Mobius’ arm and the way that the sound of the pages made him feel tingly and relaxed.  

On the way back to Mobius’ apartment, he’d burst into tears. He wasn’t sure why exactly—honestly, he was probably just tired. It definitely had nothing to do with the young boy that they’d helped get back to his father earlier, nor with the way that the boy’s father cried as he picked his son up, wrapping him in his arms protectively.  

Truthfully, it felt like a punch to the gut. He never had that kind of relationship with Odin. He felt left out suddenly, like he was a young child all over again, watching Thor get all of their father's attention while he sat on the sidelines.  

Mobius had jumped into action and ushered Loki into his apartment as quickly as he could. He fussed around for a short while, pouring him a glass of water and putting a box of tissues down on the coffee table in front of them.

He took a tissue out of the box and gently placed it in Loki’s hand. “Just in case.” He said, giving him his signature Mobius smile—the one that was so fond and so warm that it melted Loki’s heart.  

He looked down at the tissue in his hand and ran his thumb across it, focusing on the soft texture against his skin. To Loki, the tissue represented more than just a sweet gesture; it was Mobius letting him know that he was safe to express his emotions if he so wished. He held on to the tissue tighter, thankful that he had such a considerate friend.  

He sniffled to himself as quietly as he could and wiped a few stray tears away, allowing himself to mourn the childhood he never had but always wanted.  

Mobius turned a page slightly too aggressively, and the sharp sound of the paper whipping made him jump.  

“Loki?”  

He turned his head sharply and watched as Mobius readjusted himself on the sofa so that he was looking at Loki face-on. 

“You wanna tell me what’s going on in that big brain of yours?” He smiled, placing his hand on top of Loki’s shaking hand.  

He wasn’t ready to speak yet, and he knew Mobius would never force him to open up, but he was feeling rather vulnerable, so he resorted to something that had worked perfectly fine for him his entire life: defensiveness.  

“If you tell anyone about my show of emotions earlier today, I’ll—”  

“You’ll what?” Mobius interrupted, raising his eyebrow in a challenge.  

He felt the fight leave his body as he made eye contact with Mobius. There was no point in lying to him. Instead, he pretended to look thoughtful, mulling over what he would or wouldn’t do to Mobius. Of course, he wouldn’t actually do anything—never to Mobius. 

“That's for me to know and for you to hopefully never find out.” He smirked.  

“Everyone has seen you cry before, Loki. You do it quite a lot, actually.”  

“I do not!” He scoffed.  

Mobius squeezed his hand and laughed. The sound of it was so delightful that he forgot to be offended further.  

“Okay, okay, your secret is safe with me—cross my heart and hope to die.” Mobius moved his finger over his heart in a cross-motion, and Loki caught his hand in his.  

He fixed him with a steely gaze. “No dying.”  

“It’s an idiom, Loki,” Mobius said.  

“No.” He replied firmly, “No dying.”  

“Okay, Loki, no dying.” He twisted their joined hands around so that their fingers were linked and smiled. “Pinky promise?”  

“I beg your pardon.”  

“Pinky promise,” Mobius repeated, tilting his head towards their hands as if that were supposed to make Loki understand what he meant. He began to move closer so he could touch their thumbs together. “Shall we seal it with a kiss?”  

Loki looked down at their joined hands and noted their proximity. “Oh. Now I understand.”  

He twisted their hands closer together, and Mobius grinned at him.  

“Hey! Now you got it.”  

Loki closed the distance between them and kissed Mobius gently. His lips were softer than he imagined, and his moustache tickled his upper lip. He couldn’t believe that this was the way that Mobius would ask for their first kiss, but he wasn’t complaining.  

He moved his hand up to touch Mobius' face, wanting to deepen the kiss, but as he did so, he realised that Mobius wasn’t kissing him back. Mortified, he pulled away, eyes wide in horror. Was this not what Mobius wanted? He did say kiss, didn’t he?  

Mobius stared back at him, mouth agape, eyes blinking rapidly, and a light flush spread across his cheeks.  

Oh, he’d messed up. Again.  

“Mobius, I’m so sorry, I–” He began, ready to apologise profusely for overstepping, but Mobius pulled their hands close to his chest and shushed him.  

"I didn’t–”  

“Hang on, Loki. Gimme a sec.” He breathed out.  

Loki waited as patiently as he could; his head spun. He was horrified at himself for misunderstanding Mobius, and he silently prayed for a time door to open up below him and transport him to some unknown planet where he’d never have to see anyone again.  

The grip Mobius had on his hand relaxed.  

“Mobius, I–”  

Mobius leant forward and wrapped his arms around Loki. Pulling him in close for a hug.  

“You kissed me.” He said as he buried his head in Loki’s neck.  

It was Loki’s turn to freeze. What was happening?  

“Yes, about that, I'm-”  

Mobius interrupted him by squeezing him tighter and repeating, “You kissed me.” Loki could feel him shake with laughter against him.  

“Mobius, not that this isn’t lovely, but I’m very confused right now.”  

Mobius unwrapped his arms from Loki’s body and brought his hands up to cup his face, squishing his cheeks between them in excitement.  

“You kissed me!” He laughed louder now, and Loki breathed out a sigh between his pursed lips.  

“Yes, you keep saying that, but you won’t let me finish what I–”  

Mobius just rolled his eyes and leaned in. He gasped as Mobius’ soft lips were back on his. His hands were cradling his face gently, and his heart began to beat quickly in the way it only knew how to when it came to Mobius.  

Before he could deepen the kiss, Mobius pulled away. The smile that he gave Loki was dazzling, and his heart stopped all over again. If Mobius kept this up, he’d have to take an embarrassing trip to the infirmary.  

Mobius licked his lips and looked at Loki so fondly. “I’ve wanted to do that for ages.” He said, letting his hands fall back into Loki’s lap.  

“As did I.”  

He smiled so hard that his cheeks hurt, and he took Mobius’ hand in his, lacing their fingers together tightly. He never wanted to let go.  

“Although I have to say, this was an interesting way to go about asking me.”  

Mobius threw his head back in laughter. “Did you seriously think that was how I’d ask you to kiss me?”  

He flinched and avoided looking into Mobius’ eyes. “Absolutely not!”  

Mobius giggled. “You did, didn’t you?” He pulled him in for a one-armed hug, seemingly not wanting to let go of Loki’s hand either.  

“I hardly think this is amusing, Mobius.” He could feel his face heat up, embarrassed to be read so well.  

“Oh, but it is.”