#kitchen nook cushion

[thatssewcustom]

[hellosaidthemoonisafangirl]

Kitchen Dining - Transitional Dining Room Idea for a mid-sized transitional kitchen/dining room combination with a medium tone wood floor and a brown floor, green walls, and no fireplace

[hiro6plus]

Kitchen Dining Dining Room in Grand Rapids Example of a mid-sized trendy kitchen/dining room combo design

[leoppii]

Kitchen Dining Dining Room

Example of a mid-sized trendy kitchen/dining room combo design

[frothandbubble]

Kitchen - Farmhouse Kitchen Remodeling ideas for a farmhouse-style eat-in kitchen with a light wood floor, an island, white countertops, a farmhouse sink, and shaker cabinets.

[cimmanonrowl]

Eat Your Young pt.1

Part Two | Masterlist

It was a blessing when you were offered a job to look after a kid named Jack. He is a good one– smart, funny, a little cheeky but obeys you nonetheless. His father was all the same— Mr. Hotchner. He pays really well and on time, and made sure that after his arrival from Pakistan, you finally learn to accept your hidden desires.

Pairing: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader

Theme: smut heaven

Contents: age gap, oral fixation, oral (f) receiving, cum play, overstimulation, squirting, creampie, unprotected, rough sex, dom!aaron, daddy kink, powerplay: boss/employee dynamic, pussy-eater bearded aaron.

You were supposed to find Jack in ten minutes. 

Ten minutes maximum, you told yourself. That is the only reason why you confidently agreed to play hide and seek with that hyperactive, sugar-high of a child. Just ten minutes.

Now you couldn’t breathe in panic.

“Jack!” your trembling voice echoed down the hallway as you peered through rooms you had ransacked just three minutes ago. “Jack, please. Where are you, honey?”

Nothing.

The heavy sound of your frantic steps pierced the silence as you bolted downstairs, feeling even more lightheaded as the gnawing anxiety grew harshly and clawed at your insides. The silence reverberating through every corner of the house felt extremely taunting. Yet, with the rush of worry you feel for the kid, you couldn’t bring yourself to think of anything else.

Your chest hurts, your mind racing with every horrid scenario, each thud echoing in your ears as you rush to the kitchen. Shortly after you were hired and joined their little family, Jessica told you everything she felt you needed to be aware of. And you knew what Jack had to go through as a kid. He and his father had gone through terrible things you weren’t even sure it was possible to handle.

Warm tears now flooded your eyes as you desperately scanned every nook and cranny— he was not under the table, not inside the empty kitchen cabinet, nor behind the dining room curtains.

“Jack Hotchner!” you tried keeping the tremor out of your voice, making yourself sound assertive and annoyed as an attempt to scare him, yet your panic still found a way to lace at each word. “This isn’t funny anymore, Jack! I’m telling your dad!” 

You darted to the living room, ripping aside the couch cushions and peeking behind and under every piece of furniture. Now your breath comes in shallow gasps. With each movement, the very memory of his mischievous giggle haunted you, ringing inside your brain.

When you realized the kid wasn’t there, you sprinted again upstairs, taking two steps at a time. Your mind continuously raced with possibilities. Did he sneak out? Is he hiding in the attic? The basement? Jesus Christ, did you even lock the front door?

You throw open the closet in the hallway, pushing aside winter coats and a pile of boxes. “Jack! I’m serious! Come out!” 

Desperation edged even closer.

The bathroom door swung open with a creak as you pushed through the room. But to your horror, it was all empty, too.

You staggered back to his bedroom with quick steps. Your very last hope. You flung open the toy chest, rummaging through the chaos of plastic dinosaurs, action figures, and Lego blocks. Still nothing. It didn’t even cross your mind that a kid as old as Jack wouldn’t fit in a small wooden toy box; your mind was too frantic to think logically.

“Jack! Where are you?” you dropped to your knees, peering under his bed, your vision blurring with unshed tears. “Please, Jack, come out!” 

You stood by the window and started biting on your nails— a habit you developed when you’re too anxious to function. You clutched your phone tightly as you hugged yourself, fingers trembling, contemplating to finally dial for help. From the window you observed that the garden looked empty as always, the back shed had always been locked, and you couldn’t see anyone behind the bushes— Jack was nowhere to be found. 

The dread is almost paralyzing, a heavy weight pressing firmly on your chest.

And just as you made up your mind to go outside and check properly, your phone vibrated on your hand. Blood drained on your face as you glanced at the screen and read the familiar name on the caller’s I.D.

Mr. Hotchner.

Jack’s father. Your employer— who also happens to be a big shot FBI agent. If he learned that you lost his son in a hide-and-seek game, no matter how warmhearted, accommodating, and considerate that man is of your needs and well-being, you get this nagging feeling that you might end up floating on a river somewhere with no leads of any kind or prime suspect to consider.

You rubbed your eyes as you accepted the call, your doom at the same time. “H-hello?”

“Hey,” Aaron’s voice crackles through the line, distant yet filled with warmth. “Just wanted to check in. How’s Jack doing?”

Your throat tightened as you listened. 

“Mr. Hotchner…”

“Yes?”

“Mr. Hotchner…” your fingers gripped the phone tightly as you let out a strangled sob. “I... I can’t find Jack. We– we were playing hide and seek, and now he’s gone. I’ve looked everywhere,” warm tears flowed down your cheeks as you continued, your voice trembling. “I’m sorry. I’ve been l-looking… I swear. I’m really sorry.”

There’s a moment of silence on the other end, and you can almost hear Aaron’s heartbeat sync with your frantic pulse. You braced for the incoming screams, expecting him to ridicule your incompetence. After all, you’ve always thought of Mr. Hotchner as someone who never hesitates to pinpoint someone’s inefficiency. Maybe today you’ll have enough luck to prove your theory.

But in a calm voice, Aaron Hotchner said softly instead, “Alright, I need you to stay calm for me, sweetheart. Are you sure you checked everywhere?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you sniffed quietly in relief, rubbing your nose and the tears streaming down your face. “Everywhere. The cabinets, the cupboards, h-his toy box…”

A brief silence fell with that, and you bit your lip in embarrassment. “His toy box? You don’t suppose he’s gonna fit in there, do you?” Aaron sounded like he was trying not to laugh. What a silly, little girl.

“T-that’s not the point, sir!”

“Did you check the front door? Is the back door locked?”

“Yes. I always make sure to lock it.”

“Have you checked my office then?”

“N-no…” you drawled in confusion, frowning as you went back to biting the edge of your nail. “Should I?”

What kind of question is that? Why would you even go there? That’s the only room in his house that you don’t welcome yourself. Mr. Hotchner may have never told you so but you’re fully aware of all the confidential documents he’s storing inside. You can’t afford to be thrown in jail for obstructing a case because you have mistaken a case file as trash and thrown it out.

“It’s worth a look. Jack likes playing in there when I’m working,” Aaron’s tone suddenly shifted, his voice turning quiet as he started with his order. “There’s a wooden crate beside my desk, check that first.”

You hesitated. “But, I don—”

“Just check, sweetheart, please,” Aaron interrupted, gently but firmly as always. “I trust you.”

The sincerity in his words cut through your anxiety. Aaron trusts you. So you took a deep breath and nodded to yourself before stepping out of his son’s room.

“Jack, you really scared her. You know you’re supposed to come out when you’re called, right?” Aaron’s firm voice filled the kitchen moments later.

Jack glanced at you as if feigning confusion. As you know him well, he was obviously thrilled with the chaos he caused. You sat beside him at the kitchen table, eyeing the little devil while you prepare your own food, listening to his father’s reprimand. Jack’s legs swung back and forth under the table, excitedly munching on a sandwich wrap you made for his lunch.

“I was just hiding, Dad. It’s hide and seek, that’s what I’m supposed to do.” Jack’s small brows furrowed like his father’s as he looked down at his plate.

“Yes, I know, buddy,” A soft sigh rang audible through the line. “But it’s just a game, you can’t hide so well that no one can find you. It’s important to keep everyone safe, especially when I’m not there.”

Jack’s lower lip jutted out even further. “But that’s the point of the game, Dad. Players need to hide well.”

“Yes, buddy, but what I’m saying is…” Aaron sighed again, struggling to weave a perfect explanation for his son. “Everything fun should be done in moderation. You scared her, and me, because we thought something bad happened to you.”

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Thank you, buddy, but I don’t think I’m the one you should be apologizing to. You made her worry.”

“I...” Jack stopped chewing, looking at you with wide, innocent eyes. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to win.”

The scolding seemed to have hit its mark, and you reached over, ruffling the little guy’s hair. “It’s okay, honey. Just don’t hide so well next time, alright?”

Jack stared at you and nodded solemnly, but then his pout deepened. “Dad grew his beard. I don’t like it.”

You suppressed a smile, glancing at the phone where you could see Aaron’s face on the screen. Despite the grainy connection, you can see the dark shadow of a beard on his jawline. 

Aaron chuckled at what he heard, the sound of his deep voice humorous. “I had to, buddy. It’s hard to shave here every day.”

Jack shrugged as he took a big bite of his food. “You look like a bear.”

“What?!” Aaron said incredulously.

“You should shave, Dad. We’re gonna look like Masha and the Bear when you come home.”

You bit your lip to hold back a laugh, shaking your head.

Only if you were asked, you’d say how the full beard really absolutely suited Aaron. Now he looked rugged— a stark contrast to his usually neat and well-kept appearance. Regardless, he seemed to look even more handsome and manly. And God, he looks so fucking hot he should be put behind the bar.

But well, it’s a good thing no one bothered asking your opinion; how are you supposed to answer in front of a kid, anyway?  

You’ve always admired this man, that’s for sure. He and his neatly ironed suits, clean-cut hair, and authoritative nature had always been an incredible sight to look at— but this new look?

This.

This makes you think of lewd things in broad daylight.

“Well, buddy your best friend doesn’t seem to mind it,” Aaron caught your eye through the screen, a small smile playing on his lips. 

Crimson red dusted on your cheeks with the teasing, but you managed to smile back. “Uhuh, it’s not so bad, Jack. Maybe you’ll get used to it.”

Jack scrunched his nose but didn’t argue any further. Instead, he picked up his sandwich again and took a big bite. You shook your head in amusement, holding Aaron’s gaze on the screen briefly before you had to look away because...

That damn fucking beard.

“Alright, I also have to grab some dinner now,” Aaron said after a few beats of silence. “Jack, be good for her, okay? She might run away if you continue scaring her. We don’t want that, do we?”

Jack nodded, still chewing. “Okay, Dad. No more.”

“I love you, buddy.”

“I love you, too, Dad.”

“And you,” Aaron’s voice softened even more as he addressed you, a soft crinkle present in his eyes. “Thank you. For everything.”

You could only nod, and smile, and look away as your heart pounded against your chest. “No worries. Keep safe, Mr. Hotchner.”

He gave you one last look, his eyes filled with warmth and something you couldn’t decipher, before the call disconnected. With a sigh, you looked back at Jack, who was already reaching for a second sandwich wrap, mumbling about how his father would soon end up like Hagrid.

The soft click echoed in the quiet house as you closed the door behind you. You slipped off your high heels, groaning and wincing in pain, before dropping your keys into the bowl on the console table. The house feels emptier than usual, with Jack spending the night at his Aunt Jessica’s. It was a setup that she and Aaron agreed on before; to let Jack stay overnight every Friday and go home by the afternoon the next day.

As you make your way down the hallway, it doesn’t escape your notice that the kitchen lights are open. You weren’t expecting anyone to be home, not at this late hour anyway, and the sight stopped you in your tracks. Burglar was your first thought.

So naturally, you took several tentative steps closer, peeking around the corner.

Surprise flickered across Aaron’s features as he noticed you, quickly masking it with a strained smile. He was standing by the kitchen island, a half-finished bottle of brandy open.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice rougher than how you remembered months ago, “I didn’t know you’d be back so soon.”

“I should say the same to you.”

You had no idea he’s coming home today. His travel-worn face was illuminated by the warm kitchen light; a glass of amber liquid swirls in the rock glass in his hand. While his eyes were shadowed with something unreadable, never leaving yours. 

You manage a small smile in return, though it feels heavy. “But yeah, the date ended earlier than expected.”

Not just the date but your entire evening hadn’t gone as planned, and you can still feel the weight of disappointment tugging at your shoulders.

Aaron nodded but didn’t say anything about it.

Silence settled between the two of you. His eyes flickered to the drink in his hand, while he took a slow sip, as if buying time. You didn’t dare glance away as you stepped further into the kitchen, leaning against the counter in front of him.

“I didn’t know you’d be home today. How was your trip?” you asked, genuinely curious but also eager to fill the void.

He shrugged, setting the glass down with a soft clink. “Busy. Tiring. The usual.” His gaze returned to you, lingering a moment too long. “You okay?”

The concern in his voice was unmistakable. You nodded, but the gesture also felt hollow. “Yeah, just... you know, one of those nights.”

Aaron’s jaw tightened slightly, and he looked away, staring into his glass. “Want to talk about it?”

You hesitated, not sure if you’re ready to unpack the disappointment just yet, and also considering the fact that he must be tired from his flight. But there’s something in Aaron’s presence that you always found comforting, you just had to go on.

“Maybe later,” you said softly, wandering your eyes around until it landed on the wine shelf. “Can I join you?”

He nodded without hesitation, watching you in silence as you grab a bottle of wine from the rack. Aaron’s eyes met yours again as you settled back, and for a moment, something flickered in their depths— something that makes your heart skip a beat.

Aaron’s eyes were focused on you as you set the bottle on the counter and reach for the corkscrew. The maroon silk of your dress catches the light; it was a simple one, nothing too flashy nor revealing. Just enough to accentuate your figure and compliment your skin well. You don’t understand why heat licked your neck as you became aware of Aaron’s eyes lingering on you.

With a soft pop, the cork comes free, and you pour yourself a generous amount. You took your own seat on the barstool. And with your slow movements, the maroon dress clings to your form, highlighting your curves in a way that makes Aaron’s breath catch.

He tried to look away, but his apprehensive eyes kept returning to you.

“There’s a practice game this Sunday. Jack will be happy to know you’ll be watching,” you cleared your throat, eyes focused on the alcohol swirling around the clear glass.

Aaron took a slow sip of his drink, trying to collect his thoughts, but his gaze kept drifting back to you. The dress, with its silky sheen and soft drape, made you look not just elegant but breathtakingly sexy- a fact that Aaron is finding increasingly hard to ignore.

“Yeah, I’m planning to surprise him tomorrow. Maybe we can pick him up early from Jess? Then we can grab a lunch outside.”

You gave him a smile. “Sure, sounds nice.”

As you settled deeper into the conversation, your attention narrowed down to Aaron. He’s leaning against the marble counter, the soft kitchen light casting a warm glow on him. His beard was slightly thicker than you remember, giving him an almost roguish look that you couldn’t help but find incredibly attractive. And hot.

He’s so hot.

He was clad in one of his work shirts, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms. The shirt fits him well, emphasizing his broad shoulders and the hint of muscle underneath. Even the veins running through the surface of his arm were visible. 

The sight makes your heart flutter, and you found yourself admiring the way he looked tonight, with a brandy glass cradled in his big, calloused hand. You wonder how it would feel to have those strong hands grip you tightly, his fingers playing with your pussy, his lips on your neck.

“So,” Aaron’s voice snapped you out of your reverie, “how was the date?”

You took a sip of your drink, the question making your chest tighten again, but you answered lightly. “It was... okay, I guess? Not what I anticipated, though.”

His eyes are on your face, but they keep flickering to your dress, tracing the line of your collarbone, the soft curve of your shoulder. “What happened?”

“He was nice and all… but I don’t know…” Aaron nodded as you struggled recalling the events of evening, and you can tell he wants more details. “It’s just awkward, as always.”

“Did you go anywhere special?”

“We went to that new Italian place downtown. Dave said the food was great so I wanted to try…” you swirl the wine in your glass, watching the dark liquid catch the light. The movement makes the dress shimmer, and Aaron’s gaze follows the motion, almost mesmerized. “I just thought it’d be better, you know? It’s our third date, anyway.”

Aaron’s gaze softened, and he took a sip of his drink. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks. Well, that’s what happens, I guess,” You smiled, feeling a bit more at ease.

“Yeah,” his eyes traveled from your eyes to your lips, then back to your eyes. “But it doesn’t make it any easier.”

You both fall into a comfortable silence, the tension from earlier slowly dissipating. Aaron’s eyes lingered on you before finally, he spoke again, his tone light but his curiosity evident. 

“Did he at least appreciate the dress? You look... incredible tonight.”

A blush warmed your cheeks, making you giggle to yourself. “He did compliment it, but I don’t think he noticed much beyond that.”

“He’s an idiot then,” Aaron said quickly, the words slipping out before he could stop them. Then he looked down, a hint of embarrassment coloring his features. “I mean, it’s a beautiful dress, and it suits you really well.”

The compliment made your smile grow wider.

“You’re looking pretty good yourself,” your cheeks heat up as quickly as you realize what you’ve just said, but you don’t think you have to take it back. “Pakistan’s that rough?”

“You could say that,” Aaron’s eyes flickered with surprise and a touch of pleasure. He straightened slightly, a small, almost bashful yet equally beautiful smile playing on his lips. “I’m pretty sure Jack will volunteer to shave this beard off.”

“But it suits you…” you murmured mostly to yourself, your eyes tracing the line of his jaw and the way the beard added a certain depth to his features. “He’s just teasing you.”

Aaron chuckled, running a hand through his hair, a gesture that draws your attention to the subtle flex of his muscle. “Yeah? I wasn’t sure if it was too much.”

“No, it’s perfect,” you replied, your voice softening. “Makes you look... distinguished.”

He took a slow sip of his brandy, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of his gaze makes your pulse quicken, and you find yourself caught in the moment, drowning in his presence and the wetness slowly pooling in between your thighs.

“So you like it?”

Oh, you love it. “Yes.”

Aaron stepped a little closer, settling beside you as you glanced up at him from your seat. The scent of his perfume, mixed with the subtle hint of brandy, filled your senses. His eyes flickered down to your lips, then back up to your eyes.

“Tell me about your date,” he said, his tone teasing, but there was an edge of something more in his eyes.

“There’s not much to tell,” you said with a laugh, your voice catching slightly. “It was just... dull and boring.”

“Dull? How so?”

“Just…” you bit your lip lightly, shaking your head as you smiled up at him. “You know.”

“I can’t say I know, doll. Use your words.”

Your heart raced but you didn’t look away. Instead, you stared back at him with the same intensity, blinking through your eyelashes almost innocently. “He… he doesn’t make me feel like you do.”

A beat.

Your heart drummed wildly against your ears.

And Aaron’s eyes darkened with the invitation.

“And how do I make you feel, angel?” he whispered softly.

“Like you actually want me.”

“Which I fucking do,” he leaned in, his breath slowly mingling with yours. “More than you know.”

Aaron’s hand moved to your waist, his touch light but possessive. Your heart pounded wildly as you stared into his eyes.

“Show me then,” you whispered back, your voice trembling with anticipation.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” you breathed, your lips just a hair’s breadth away from his.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tantalizingly slow and deliberately teasing way.

“Aaron...” you whined, your voice heavy with need. “Please...”

“What do you want?”

“I don’t k-know…”

His grip tightened on your hips, his voice rough and demanding. “I think you’re lying, pretty girl.”

“Aaron...”

“I said,” he asked again, gruffly this time. “What do you want?”

“Want your m-mouth on me, Aaron, please...”

A quick swipe of his tongue wetted his lower lip, and a satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Good girl.”

His hand tightened on your waist, drawing you even closer. And all you knew from that second is the feeling of his hot breath against your skin.

“Aaron-” a low growl rumbled from his chest as your fingers tangled through his hair, pushing him even closer to your dripping cunt. “Tha- God, that feels good…”

Aaron hummed lightly, running the calloused pad of his palm on the soft surface of your thighs, feeling the bumps rising on your skin along with your pleasure. He darted his eyes to your face with his mouth still on your cunt, his lips nibbling your clit, watching you breathe heavily while containing the whine caught right in your throat.

When you propped onto your elbow and met his gaze, you could barely register the drunk look on his eyes.

“I’m c-close…” you whispered, pleadingly so. “Aaron… please…”

You didn’t have to say anything else. The contrast between the softness of his lips and the coarseness of his beard creates a heady, intoxicating burn. The rough graze of his beard against your inner thigh sent shivers down your spine, making you arch your back, forcing yourself closer to his mouth, to his touch; even closer to his heat.

You have never been treated this way– never had a partner who takes pleasure in pleasuring you. The warmth of Aaron’s breath fanned through your clit as he licked and prod his tongue on your entrance, feeling the burning scrape of his stubble with every movement. It’s both gentle and painful, enough to make your skin tingle and your heart race; chasing the heightening pleasure and your incoming orgasm.

“So good, doll…” he whispered roughly, encouragingly, his attention focused only at you. “Fuck, it’s so hot.”

He leaned away only for a moment, straightening his back as he quickly unbuttoned his shirt. In the blink of an eye, the sight of his muscular chest and soft stomach salivated you. You’ve known he’s hairy, but now that you saw the dark trail of hair on his abdomen down to his…

Aaron looked smug.

“Dirty girl, like what you’re seeing?”

You hummed hoarsely. “Want you, please. D-daddy?”

Aaron groaned at your words. And you noticed how his palm flew to the obvious bulge on his pants, squeezing his aching cock as if your words hurt him. Or pleased him, you don’t know. All you registered was the faint satisfaction in his smile and the glint of hunger in his piercing eyes.

He ran his palm on your thighs lovingly. “Cum on Daddy’s mouth first. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

Although he posed that as a question, you knew it was an order. And who are you to defy him when he generously licked through your folds and sucked on your clit like a starved man? He’s not devouring you like relinquishing his final meal; instead, like you are the very first meal he ever tasted and cannot get enough of. He eats you like someone will take you away from him. But even if they do, he wants to make sure it’s his mouth and big cock you’ll crawl back to.

The world seemed so far away as you let yourself drown in the pleasure, all while Aaron occasionally fucks his tongue in and out of your needy cunt.

“Close, angel?” he asked before spitting on your pussy and swirling his tongue on your clit. “You taste like heaven, baby.”

You nodded dumbly.

“You’ve no idea how many nights I fucked my fist to this thought.”

Your release inched closer, roused by his deep groans and heavy breathing. You were not even past the vulgar image of him spitting on your cunt when you felt one of his fingers gently swiping through your wetness, his touch light as a ghost, and you shuddered as you realized what will come next.

You gasped and moaned, and grabbed a fistful of his hair on both of your hands. “Need you n-now, please… enough…”

“Just one, angel. Just give me one on my tongue,” he demanded, his eyes dark with need. “You can do that for Daddy, right baby? I’ll fuck you good later, I promise.”

You clenched around his finger as he slowly slid into you, then out, slowly gaining rhythm and speed that reflected your racing heart. He thrust in and out, and in and out, until he decided you could take another finger, then another one. You’ve never felt so full, but good God if you say you didn’t fantasize about getting fingerfucked by your boss, you’d be sent to hell for lying.

He nibbled. He sucked. He licked. His fingers never once stopped assaulting your wet, squelching cunt. With every drag of his fingers and swipe of his tongue, you could hear a deep growl rumbling through his chest. And his eyes watched you, taking in the way you writhe in pleasure, the way your thighs tremble, and how your eyes welled in tears.

“Please… p-please…” you whimpered pathetically, your fingers tightening on his hair. “C-close, ‘m so close… daddy…”

“Cum for me, sweetheart. Come on, be a good girl.”

“D-daddy!” you screamed loudly when his teeth grazed your now sensitive clit.

“Fucking cum for me. Make me proud, angel.”

Your eyes rolled at the back of your head as your orgasm ripped through you. His words grew distant as it happened, showering you still with lewd praises: how good you taste, how warm and tight your cunt would be, and how he expects you to take his big cock.

“S-stop… A-” you trashed away from his grip. “Too m-much. D-daddy, no! Stop! S-stop! Too much!”

His fingers continued abusing the sensitive nerves deep inside you, groaning loudly as your walls tightened around him. “A little more, sweet girl. One more for Daddy…”

“N-no–” Tears slid down your cheeks in overstimulation, feeling the rough drag of his fingers inside your tight cunt and his lips on your clit. “Oh, g-god! I’m close again… D-daddy! Don’t s-stop, p-please!”

“Good girl, angel. Look at you... that’s it, baby.”

He trailed wet kisses along your skin as he moved upward, kneading your tits, lingering a bit longer on your hardened nipples. You haven’t gone down from your last orgasm when you already felt the tip of his cock prodding at your pulsating cunt.

You whimpered weakly, not fully aware of your surrounding anymore.

“Hey, hey…” you heard Aaron whisper, his voice soft and gentle, caressing your face lovingly as he observed your expression. “Good? Do you want to stop, sweetheart?”

You shook your head. “I will kill you if you stop.”

“Ah,” he let out a hoarse chuckle. “Yes, Ma’am.”

His pace was slow at first, achingly so and deliberate. But it didn’t last long. From laying on your back on the cold, marble kitchen counter, you found yourself bent over on the kitchen table, with Aaron’s girthy cock ramming in and out of your cunt. And all you could do was take it, moaning loudly to Aaron’s satisfaction.

“Fucking hell. Should’ve fucked this pussy long before–” he rambled deeply from behind, pistoling his hips at a brutal pace. “You like this, huh? You like Daddy fucking your tight pussy?”

You bit your thumb as your legs trembled, but you didn’t answer.

And that’s when you felt it.

A harsh slap on your ass.

“Answer me, you fucking slut,” he drawled in between heavy breaths. “Did I fuck you dumb, huh?”

“Y-yes–” you struggled to say, trying to keep your legs steady amidst the intense waves of pleasure. “G-good… so much…”

Aaron barked an amused laugh. “Fuck. You sound so cockdrunk.”

With each thrust, you felt the familiar coil tightening on your stomach. Your words were muffled as you tried to warn him, and all that came out of your lips was a high-pitched whimper. 

Aaron’s grip on your hips hardened. “I’m c-close. Where should I cum, angel? Inside? Should I cum inside?”

“C-close…” you echoed mindlessly, not understanding a word he said.

“Do you want me to fuck a baby inside you?”

“Yes… y-yes… inside, Daddy, please....”

Tears streamed down your cheeks when you felt Aaron’s hot cum spill inside you, his thick cock throbbing. You trembled against him as you reached your own climax, your lips drawn to a silent scream as he expertly rubbed your clit through your orgasm.

“One more. Can you give Daddy one more, sweet girl?” you heard him whisper encouragingly.

With a strained moan and eyes shut tight, you finally let out a gush of release. The force was so sudden Aaron had to pull out and watch his own cum drip down your thighs. His eyes widened a fraction as he stared at the pool of wetness glistening on his kitchen floor.

And fucking hell, that felt so good.

Aaron didn’t waste a second and quickly knelt behind you, separating your weak and trembling legs carefully before running his tongue on your spent and dripping cunt. You shivered at the feeling of his beard scratching the back of your thigh but you let him, enjoying the feeling of his tongue following the trail of his own release that drips down your legs.

“Too m-much, Aaron. Please…” you plead softly, sighing as you felt his fingers spread out your pussy.

“Just a taste, angel. Can you push out more of my cum?”

He keened and hummed as he gathered his own release on his tongue. And before you even know it, he was already kissing you, watching his own cum and spit reach your waiting tongue as you innocently glanced up at him, a far-gone look on your face.

“You’re such a sweet girl,” he whispered later on as he gently laid you down on his warm bed, now wrapped in his old, oversized t-shirt and newly bathed.

He placed a chaste kiss on your forehead, and cheeks, then nose, before kissing you lovingly on the lips. “Rest now, sweetheart. I’ll take you on a proper date tomorrow.”

For tag list request, here.

Your girl finally got her energy back after taking 4 pills of Vitamin B. LOL. Sorry for the long wait! Anyway, as always, likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated. Hope you're having an incredible day and drink your water! (PS. Do you guys know I just realized I can reblog your reblogs with comments? I'm so dumb.)

Tags: @kimstills @readergf @downbad4reid @gghostwriter @elhotchner @pastelpinkflowerlife @the1boss @roseydoesypoesy @khxna @hangmanscoming @apollolynx98 @its-just-me-chey

[ram-ma-lamb-ma]

Denver Midcentury Dining Room Inspiration for a mid-sized mid-century modern dark wood floor enclosed dining room remodel with beige walls and no fireplace

[heich0e]

the itadori house always smells faintly of clean laundry.

it's not because the two boys who live there are particularly diligent about staying on top of their housework—the towering pile of recyclables in the corner of the kitchen is proof enough of that—but it's because the first time yuuji had tried to do his own laundry, he used way too much detergent. the ensuing tsunami of soap suds had flooded nearly half-way across the tiny apartment—coating the floors, the baseboards, and anything else in its path, in a slippery (though pleasantly fragranced) froth that took DAYS for the two brothers to clean up. it must have sunk in to the floorboards, or there must still be traces of it lingering in nooks and crannies that they couldn't reach, because even now, years after the catastrophe, the scent still lingers.

even though the mere mention of the incident still makes a vein of irritation throb in sukuna's forehead, and makes yuuji hang his head in shame, you don't mind the smell. it's familiar after all these years. it reminds you of this place.

you burrow your face down into the cushion of the living room sofa. it's raining today, and a bit humid, so the scent of detergent is particularly strong.

you're nearly asleep when a voice interrupts your quiet moment of relaxation.

"i should start charging you rent, y'know."

you don't open your eyes, even once you hear the words that come from above you. even without looking, you can picture the scene: sukuna leaning over the back of the sofa that you're sprawled across, his weight resting on his elbows as he peers down at you with his usual scowl. it's not the same scowl he shows to everyone else—the one that makes people shrink back under his gaze—this is a softer version of the same expression, dulled by familiarity. if you were more optimistic you might even say it was blunted by affection.

"stop pretending to sleep, kid." you feel his hand grasp your hip, shaking you lightly. "i know you're faking."

you feel a smile threatening to pull at your lips so you turn your face towards the pillow—the one you bought for the sofa, since the itadori brothers' idea of home decor is limited to creased posters for old mafia movies nobody's ever heard of and women with their tits out taped to the wall—and you burrow down to hide your expression from view.

"you're such a nuisance," sukuna groans, and then you feel the sofa dip. you figure he's pulled himself over the back of it now, based on how you feel him kneeling overtop of you with your legs straddled between his own. you're on your belly, but you can feel him rest back on his haunches, trapping your feet underneath him as he sits. "can't you nap at your own house?"

"too tired," you finally rasp out, daring to peek at him over your shoulder.

"and i'm not?" he scoffs, lifting his hand and pushing his hair back from his face. he's still half-dressed in his work uniform—a pair of slacks from the security company he's been working at part-time for the past few weeks, and a white t-shirt that he usually wears underneath the short sleeved button down that matches the trousers. "i just worked a double—been up since 4."

he does look tired, now that you have the chance to look at him. his hair is a bit dishevelled and he's got dark circles under his eyes. sukuna always looks a bit exhausted—and has since grandpa passed away and he took on the responsibility of raising yuuji. but it's particularly noticeable right now.

"and i can't even come home and take a nap on my own couch because there's a freeloader here."

you bite the inside of your cheek, wiggling around a bit underneath him so you can lay on your back.

"charge me rent then," you parry back to his complaint, and he cocks an eyebrow at your challenge. "i want a bed though. s'only fair."

"we'll get bunkbeds for yuuji's room, then," sukuna quips.

"don't wanna bunk with yuuji," you counter again, "he snores."

sukuna pauses, staring down at you. he leans forward slowly, his hands pressing into the couch cushion on either side of your waist as he dips towards you. "only one other bedroom in this place, y'know—"

you do know. it's why you said it.

"—and i have no plans to give up my bed."

sukuna is close to you now. too close, in any other circumstance, but this is one entirely of your own creation. a circumstance that feels more like an inevitability than anything, given the tension that's been crackling between the two of you lately, ever since he rescued you that night at the bar.

"didn't ask you to give it up," you say quietly, your eyes flickering across his features until they eventually settle on his lips.

sukuna makes a little noise in the back of his throat, close to annoyance, but not quite. distinctly tortured in nature.

"you really, really are a nuisance, y'know that?"

his hands are on your hips now. not like when he'd shaken you awake—this touch is greedier, needier than that passing graze. his fingertips slip up underneath the hem of your shirt until they brush against your bare skin, and the contact makes your body flush with heat.

"yuuji's gonna be back from class soon," you murmur softly, your gaze flickering back up to sukuna's heavy-lidded eyes. his nose twitches a little in annoyance, knowing you're right.

sukuna backs away a little, his hands slipping back out from underneath your shirt.

you sit up and catch his wrist in your hand, and his eyes widen in surprise. your faces are close together now—so close you can smell the cinnamon gum on his breath. he stole a pack from you a few days ago, and clearly he's still chewing it.

you can't smell the laundry detergent anymore.

"i didn't tell you to stop," you remark lightly, leaning back so you're splayed out against the sofa once more. you stare up at him, waiting for him to process what you've said—watching the thoughts play out across his uncharacteristically shocked face. "i just meant that you should hurry up and do it already."

[mapis-putellas]

𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆’𝒔 𝑭𝒓𝒆𝒅?

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x reader

Words: 1300

Warnings: none

Summary: Alexia’s loses her beloved Fred, a stuffed giraffe you’d given her on your one year anniversary.

Notes: Changed my writing style up a little. Hope it’s somewhat okay

You stepped into the house, expecting to find Alexia in her usual spot on the couch or in the kitchen. Instead, the sight that greeted you was an absolute mess��blankets strewn about, pillows tossed to the floor, and Alexia standing in the middle of it all, looking utterly defeated. Her face was blotchy, her eyes red from crying, and when she saw you, her expression crumpled even further.

"Ale, what happened?" you asked, quickly dropping your bag and stepping over the clutter to reach her.

Her bottom lip wobbled as she tried to speak, her voice choked with emotion. "Fred... he's... he's gone," she managed, her accent thick with distress.

You blinked, a mix of confusion and amusement flickering over your face. "Fred?"

She looked up at you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "The... giraffe. You know," she said, sniffling, her voice trembling. "You gave him... one year ago. Anniversary."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as the memory surfaced. For your first anniversary, you'd found a little stuffed giraffe and gifted it to her, joking that it reminded you of her—tall, unique, and utterly adorable. To your surprise, she'd taken to it immediately, naming him Fred and declaring him her "little amigo." Since then, Fred had become a surprising constant in Alexia's life, stashed in her training bag, sitting on her bedside table, and even sometimes making the journey to the locker room with her.

You hadn't realized how much he meant to her until now.

"Fred is... gone?" you echoed, trying to sound sympathetic despite the amusement bubbling up inside you. It was a little stuffed giraffe, after all.

"Yes!" she practically wailed, burying her face into her hands. "I... I looked everywhere. Todo la casa. Todo," she said, her voice muffled.

Your heart softened as you wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a gentle hug. "Hey, hey. We'll find him, I promise."

She looked up at you, a spark of hope in her teary eyes. "Really?"

"Really," you said, squeezing her shoulder. "You know, Fred can't have gotten far.”

She sniffed, managing a small smile. "Sí... maybe he just... he went to explore."

You started searching the house together, combing through every room. Alexia seemed to be calming down a little with each room you checked, though her anxiety was still palpable as she checked every possible nook and cranny. You turned over cushions, looked under the couch, peeked in closets—even checked the fridge, though that one earned you a puzzled glance from Alexia.

"Just in case Fred got hungry," you said, grinning, and she rolled her eyes, finally laughing a little through her worry.

But after nearly an hour of searching, there was still no sign of Fred. Alexia sat down on the couch, fresh tears pooling in her eyes as she looked up at you. "I... I think he's... gone," she whispered.

You knelt in front of her, brushing a thumb across her cheek to wipe away a tear. "Hey, don't say that. We'll find him, okay? Fred's just... probably hiding somewhere you haven't thought of yet."

She nodded, looking down at her lap. "I just... I feel silly," she mumbled, her accent thick as she tried to explain herself. "He's... only a giraffe. But he... means much."

You felt a pang in your chest at her vulnerability. "He's more than just a giraffe to you, though. He's special."

Her eyes met yours, and she nodded, a shy smile playing on her lips. "Sí. You... gave him to me. He's my... little Fred."

"Let's keep looking," you said, standing and offering her your hand. "One more sweep, and if we still can't find him, we'll retrace your steps. Maybe he got left somewhere."

She took your hand, squeezing it gratefully. "Thank you.”

After combing through the house once more with no luck, you decided to check her car. It was the last place Alexia could remember seeing him, though she was adamant that she'd brought him inside the previous day.

As you opened the passenger side door, you felt a small thrill of victory. There, tucked neatly into the seatbelt, sat Fred, looking perfectly content.

"Oh my God," you whispered, trying to stifle your laughter as you reached in to grab the stuffed giraffe. "Alexia, I found him!"

She hurried over, her eyes widening as she saw Fred safely buckled into the passenger seat. A mixture of relief and embarrassment washed over her face as she reached out, taking him into her arms and hugging him tightly.

"You... you were in the car?" she murmured to the toy, her voice soft, as if she were scolding him. She looked up at you, cheeks flushed. "I... I forgot him there?"

You grinned, unable to resist teasing her just a little. "Looks like he decided he wanted a front-row seat for the drive."

She huffed, but there was a glint of laughter in her eyes. "Don't... make fun of me," she muttered, clutching Fred protectively to her chest.

You leaned in, brushing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I'm not. I'm just glad we found him. And that he's safe and sound."

Alexia's expression softened as she looked down at Fred, giving him one last squeeze before she turned back to you. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice full of gratitude.

"Anytime," you replied, wrapping an arm around her as the two of you headed back inside. "Fred is practically part of the family, after all."

She gave you a warm smile, resting her head on your shoulder as you walked back into the house together.

That evening, after dinner and a movie, you found yourselves curled up in bed. Alexia lay beside you, Fred tucked under one arm, nestled against her chest as she settled comfortably into your side. You couldn't help but smile at the sight, brushing a hand through her hair as she closed her eyes, clearly exhausted from the day's events.

"Going to sleep with him tonight?" you teased gently, running your fingers up and down her arm.

She nodded, a shy smile playing on her lips as she glanced at you. "Yes. Just... in case. No more... lost Fred."

You chuckled, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. "Sounds like a good plan.”

For a while, you lay there in comfortable silence, the soft rhythm of her breathing mingling with the quiet sounds of the night. She shifted closer, her body warm against yours as she nestled further into your embrace.

"You know," you whispered, breaking the silence, "it was really sweet how much you cared about finding him. It just shows how much love you have in your heart.

She looked up at you, a small blush coloring her cheeks. "It's... because of you. You give him to me, so... he's special."

You smiled, gently rubbing her back as you held her close. "Well, I'm glad Fred means so much to you. And I promise I'll always help you find him if he ever gets lost again."

She laughed softly, shaking her head. "I'll... keep better eye," she promised, a determined glint in her eyes. "No more... lost Fred."

"Good," you murmured, resting your forehead against hers. "Because I don't like seeing you sad."

She sighed contentedly, her fingers tracing soft patterns on your shoulder as she relaxed into your hold. "Thank you," she whispered again, her voice filled with quiet affection.

"Anytime, mi amor," you replied, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

As you lay there, holding Alexia and her little stuffed giraffe close, you felt a profound sense of contentment wash over you. In that moment, everything felt perfect—your heart full with the knowledge that you'd do anything to keep her and her cherished Fred safe and happy.

Eventually, her breathing evened out, and you knew she'd fallen asleep, Fred clutched securely in her arms. You pressed one last gentle kiss to her forehead before settling in beside her, knowing that she'd wake up with a smile, her precious giraffe safely by her side.

**

Tags:

@codiemarin @girlgenius1111 @marysfics @ceesimz @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

[thoughtssvt]

you know what's actually unmatched?

aizawa shouta chronic-dry-eye-by-quirk x reader chronic-dry-eye-worsened-by-chronic-crying

costco trips are only to buy packs and packs of multipack eye drops, a comfortable quiet silence draping over the two of you when you get home. the two of you meticulously wrapping stickers around the bottles to easily differentiate between yours and his. every nook and cranny of your house hides two bottles of eyedrops. both your night stand, a cabinet in your kitchen- and just to be sure, a few bottles in your junk drawer-- under a specific corner of the couch cushions. you find them anywhere and everywhere, always having to double check if there aren't any strays in your pockets before doing laundry. there are countless bottles in your personal bags, a pocket sewn into his sleeping bag just for his eyedrops, they fill his desk at work. you'd think it was a bit overkill but those bottles run empty in two months at the latest.

even though he hates seeing you in tears for whatever small reason like a coming-home-reunion video, what makes it better is the way you let him hook a finger under your chin, tilting your face to the ceiling as he gently drops artificial tears into your water line. the gasp of relief slipping through your lips as the cool water cascades over your eyes, flushing your salty tears away.

"better?" he hums, voice rumbling in his chest, slyly slipping your phone out of your fingers because that's enough social media for the day.

he loves finding you sitting at his desk in UA's teachers' shared office at the end of the school day. the way you cup his cheek, fingers running over the scruff as you notice the way his blinks seem forced. his hands lovingly running up and down your sides as you bring life back to his eyes.

it's gotten to the point that no matter the situation taking a moment to drip saline was as natural as breathing. it didn't disturb the momentum, there was never any pause. just you and him, love and dry eyes.

-

A/N : this was lowkey stupid but this is what came to mind because guys the eyedrops felt so good today. i was like "damn this is how aizawa must feel" probably first and last aizawa x reader thing though

[thatssewcustom]

[marauroon]

congrats on another new blog for a new fandom 🤭

as a blog-warming request, can we add another fic to the best friend James with no boundaries pile???

HYPOTHERMIC - J.POTTER

you are the only feasible solution that james can think of to warm up his frozen extremities

cw — james and reader have an unconventional friendship, james and sirius being brothers as per, swearing, typical teenage antics

james potter x fem!reader || fluff || 1.8k || requests open!!

a/n: another new blog has spawned for another fandom (the marauders are encapsulating all of my thoughts rn)🤭 thanks for the ‘blog-warming’ request ml 🫶🫶

It’s a crime James thinks, to have snow in April. It never snows in April back down in England, hell they’re not likely to have snow at all.

But apparently living up north in Scotland spelled different news.

It was even more of a crime that he had to go out in the snow. Quidditch was great, but no one should have to be flying in -2° weather.

It was April, it was snowing, and James was cold.

By the time the team hit the showers he swore his fingers were going to fall off from hypothermia, a sentiment shared by most of his teammates as they spent a collective ten extra minutes under the hot water.

The trudge back to the Gryffindor common room was almost as treacherous as the training itself, the stone walls of the castle doing absolutely nothing to block the chill that ran through it’s corridors.

Sirius swears to him that he sees some of the paintings shaking, and honestly he can’t blame them, he’s practically shivering himself and he had a long-sleeved t-shirt and a jumper on.

He has one singular plan. Sit in front of the fire and stay there until he was sure that all of his organs had defrosted, even if that meant missing dinner. That was a lie, he would definitely leave the embering comfort of the fireplace for dinner.

Now he was thinking about it, he was starving. Maybe he could convince Sirius or Peter to go down to the kitchens early with him to sneak something back up.

There’s an almost unanimous sigh of relief as the team walk through the fat lady’s portrait, like their muscles relax just from seeing the familiar red and gold decor and decide to just give up right then and there.

It’s a sight to be seen for sure, a majority of the student’s who’d taken up the lounge sofas and chairs for the afternoon looking on at the group with raised eyebrows and small muttered chuckles at their collective state.

“Have fun then?” There’s a decided smirk on Remus’ face as James and Sirius drag themselves over to the nook that you and him had curled yourselves into over the last few hours, and the two boys share a glance before turning it in your paired direction with a dissatisfied glare of jealousy.

You could not look comfier if you tried, tucked in either corner of one of the long sofas right next to the fire with blankets over your laps and flushed cheeks from the warmth of the room.

James is the one to give up on his seething anger first, practically collapsing himself onto the unoccupied space between you and Remus and flopping over until he’s got his face firmly planted across your knees, a loud defeated groan rumbling from his throat and vibrating through the blanket to meet your skin.

“I’ll take that as a no—” You can’t help the small chuckle that leaves your mouth at the display, unperturbed by the side eye you gain as James adjusts himself so that he can lie on you without suffocating himself or crushing his glasses.

“I swear my organs were freezing over out there,”

“That’s a little dramatic,” Remus shakes his head from behind the book propped up against his knees, amused smirk still lining his features.

“It is not dramatic Moony, we were getting hypothermic out there, seriously,” Sirius gives a tug to James’ legs so that he can sit down with his head over the back of the cushion, and it leaves James sat on the floor as a result.

“Oi, first come first served—” James tugs one of the decorative pillows you have tucked under your arm from you so that he can throw it at Sirius’ head, and it is promptly returned by Sirius with a middle finger and a triumphant look to go with it.

James lets out a sharp scoff of indignation as he rears the pillow for another throw, but its plucked from his, stiff, frozen hands before he has the chance to.

“That’s enough both of you, we were trying to have a calm afternoon here,” You scold the two with no real malice as you tuck the pillow back into it’s spot underneath your arm, and James sighs heavily as he slings his arms over your legs to rest his chin on top of them.

“It’s not my fault Sirius doesn’t understand sofa etiquette,”

“You were hogging the whole thing,” Sirius scrunches up his face in exasperation, gesturing outwards widely with his hand and almost knocking the book right out of Remus’ lap. “Sorry-”

Remus sighs, and the two of you share a glance and a silent shake of your heads.

You loved the boys to death, but my god did they not know the concept of sitting still for more than five minutes.

That point was only further proven as James gets up from the floor to wedge himself between you and Sirius, giving his leg a deft kick in the process for payback as he tried to worm himself in between your side and the back of the sofa.

“James—” The movement laves you lost for balance, and you almost tumble right off the edge of the sofa as he invades your spot, one of your legs falling from the seat to brace against the floor.

“What? I’m cold, and you’re right next to the fire,” His invasion continues as he tugs the blanket you have draped over you towards himself until it’s covering his lower body entirely and leaving you half-uncovered.

“You can’t just kick me out of my spot—” You huff, more than a little miffed at being forcibly removed from the position you’d spent almost ten minutes perfectly arranging to make you as comfortable as possible for the afternoon.

“I’m not, I’m not,” There’s a strong grasp around your torso, and then you’re being tugged backwards until your half situated on top of him with your back to his chest. “I’m sharing your spot,” His words are emphasised by his chin landing against your shoulder and his arms encircling your waist like you’re a soft toy a child would take to bed.

It wouldn’t be too bad of a position if you couldn’t literally feel how cold James was through your clothes, like a human ice pack attached to your back.

“You’re freezing James—”

“I know,” He takes your words as an affirmation to bury his face against your shoulder, curling up his legs under the blanket and in turn forcing you to do the same. “I’m warming myself up,”

“The fire’s over there mate,” Remus and Sirius share an incredulous look at the two of you. “She’s not a heating pad,”

You have half the mind to agree with them, and James can feel the way you nod at the observation, responding with a dissatisfied grumble and his hands pulling up the hem of the jumper you’re wearing to warm his icy extremities against your skin.

“James—” The temperature makes you physically jolt, your back shooting up straight and forcing his head from it’s position against your shoulder.

“What?” He tugs you back against his chest with false innocence dripping from his vocal chords, his hands using your stomach as his own hot water bottle. “You’ll get used it it, it’ll be fine,”

“It is not fine, your hands are practically ice,”

“I was playing Quidditch in the snow,” He wastes no time in reclaiming his place with his head hidden against the crook of your neck. “Of course they are,”

“Ugh, you two make me sick,” Sirius puts his index finger inside his mouth in a mock gagging motion as he shifts to stuff his feet underneath Remus’ thighs in his own attempt at warming up.

“Sounds like jealousy to me,” James shrugs, and it jostles you slightly in his arms. “You don��t have to project Pads, we all know you’re sad because Moony won’t give you a cuddle,”

“That is not true,” Sirius huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, though his gaze turns to Remus nonetheless, and he is immediately met with a shake of Remus’ head. “Whatever,” He scoffs, raking a hand through his curls with an almost unnoticeable pout on his face. “Just get a room already will you? You’re disturbing everyone with your PDA,”

“Why don’t you just shut your mouth already?” James tilts his head with an annoyingly cocky smile, lifting his face just far enough off your shoulder so Sirius can get a good look at his expression. “I can smell your breath from over here,”

“You little—” Sirius rips one of the decorative pillows from underneath Remus to launch it at James’ head, but considering your position as a literal human shield it misses him completely, hitting you square in the face.

“Hey—” Your arms aren’t raised quick enough to block his assault, but they do return fire the minute the pillow is in your vicinity.

“Sorry sorry,” Sirius is more successful than you at blocking the projectiles pillow, laughing in the process. “Collateral damage, it’s what you get for pairing up with him,” Sirius scrunches up his nose in exaggerated disgust, and James responds by sticking one of his hands out of the blanket to flip him off.

You take the opportunity of James’ loosened grip to slip out of his arms and onto your feet, and his pettiness towards Sirius immediately turns into betrayal towards you. “Where are you going?”

“Somewhere actually quiet?” You roll your eyes at him in feigned indignation, a small chuckle bubbling in your throat. “I love you guys but you are ruining my cozy afternoon,”

“No no I’m sorry I won’t fight with Pads anymore don’t leave,” He reaches his arm out to grasp at your wrist, giving it a small tug. “Stay c’mon, please?”

You raise your eyebrow at him, clearly not believing a single word coming out of the boy’s mouth.

“I promise,” He extends his hand out with his pinky finger raised.

You give him a narrowed gaze, but upon a prompting of his hand as he waved it in your direction you linked your finger with his, and he used it as leverage to pull you right back into his grasp.

“See? It’s very cozy,” James ignores the way Sirius rolls his eyes as he shifts you around in his lap until you’re both comfortable.

It was going to be a long afternoon.

[danikamariewrites]

Heist

Mob!Azriel x reader AU

Note: another day another Mob!Az fic for you all to think about teehee.

Warnings: mentions of violence and blood

You giggled as Azriel lightly nipped at your cheek, his hand trying to sneak into the bowl of cookie dough. “Az,” you laugh out, smacking his hand away. “You can have some later when the rest of the Boy Scouts show up.”

Azriel rolls his eyes at the nickname. “I’ve told you, we are not Boy Scouts, we are-”

“A highly trained and dangerous group of powerful families that are allied.” You say, mimicking the overused statement. “Yes, yes I know Azzy, geez.” You tease, bumping him with your hip.

Moving from his grasp you bustle around the kitchen grabbing ingredients and plates. Azriel’s kitchen was gorgeous, and criminally under utilized. When you moved in it was all black and white, barely any ingredients or extra appliances.

“Oh this won’t do.” You had told Azriel, demanding you go shopping for every and anything you’d ever need for a kitchen. You gave the place a complete makeover, painting the walls and cabinets a lovely sage green and replacing the countertops. Adding an island and dark wood table and cushions to the breakfast nook the room was complete.

Coming back to stand between Azriel and the island you start scooping out the cookies. “You really don’t have to do this, you know.” You shrug, a generous scoop of dough and chocolate chips falling from your spoon. “I want to. Plus, I never really got to bake since work took up too much time. And your meetings go on forever, you guys absolutely need snacks.”

Leaning down Azriel presses a kiss to the back of your head. “You’re amazing, my love.” He says softly. You lean back into his chest, tilting your head back to stare at his pretty face. Turning, you hold up a finger with dough on it. Azriel’s eyes light up at the treat, licking it from your finger. Pushing up on your toes you peck his lips, murmuring, “I love you.”

Before Azriel could pull you to him and go for a more heated kiss, Rhys walks in, clearing his throat. “They’re here Az.” He nods at his brother, signaling Rhys’s dismissal.

A heavy sigh leaves his nose. Holding your face, Azriel gives you one last kiss. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

An hour later you were balancing a tea tray laden with chocolate chip cookies in your hands. The guard at the door smiles at you, knocking and opening one of the double doors for you. You nod in thanks as you quietly make your way to the occupied half of the table.

It was a small group today. Only Helion, Eris, Kal and their second and third in commands, along with a few other key members of their organizations. Reaching between Helion and Rhysand, you gently place the tray in the middle of the table.

The men looked hesitant to reach for the snack at first, but also didn’t want to be rude. “Thank you, my love.” Azriel says, giving you a small smile from his place at the head of the table. “Of course,” you whisper.

Azriel leads the conversation back to their plans, “Now, we can’t stand for this. The Molina family made us look like fools and trust me gentleman, that will not happen again. This robbery has to be big.” Odd, you thought to yourself, Azriel’s MO isn’t home robberies.

The pictures of the mansion in question spread across the table caught your eye. It’s familiarity had you titling your head, wracking your brain for where you’d seen it before.

then it hit you. The paintings on the wall! You knew them because you delivered them! Your lips parted slightly in surprise at your memory.

You felt Helion’s attention on you as he asked, “What’s wrong?” Your eyes snap to his deep brown ones, cheeks tinting red in embarrassment. Azriel takes his tone as rude but you brush it off, knowing he’s just curious about what you’re seeing.

You look to Azriel, not knowing if you have the right to give your input in a meeting. You didn’t want to make Azriel seem less in charge or something.

Azriel gives you a soft, encouraging look. “Go ahead, y/n. Tell us what you see.” You nod at him, dragging the picture of the paintings toward you. “These paintings are fakes.” A confusion spreads over the room as a few huh’s sound around the table.

“My boss got his hands on the real ones somehow, these are like rare pieces, hell museums would kill for these. Before he sold them I honestly thought they were in the Louvre. But he sold them to Molina Jr. who also requested fakes to display, since he bragged so much about buying them. They aren’t very good fakes if you ask me though.”

Helion brought the image closer to his face, attempting his untrained eye to see the falsity of the paintings. Kal snatched it from him, giving him a you-don’t-know-shit-about-art look.

Conversation bubbles around Azriel but all he can focus on is you. You and your beautiful, passionate, intelligent mind.

“Where would he keep the real ones?” Eris asks, breaking up the conversations and Azriel’s concentration on you. Though that didn’t last long. As soon as you opened your mouth Azriel was laser focused on you.

You give Eris a knowing smirk, “His vault, where I helped deliver the paintings.” Cassian and Kal let out laughs or triumph as the others gave you approving looks. Rhysand unrolls the blueprints to the mansion in front of you. “Alright y/n, point us in the right direction.”

Two hours later the heist was planned perfectly thanks to you. You waited in Azriel’s office as he bid his guests goodbye. Kicked back, sitting in his kingly leather chair, your feet propped up on the desk.

Hearing the door click shut you perk up. Azriel grins, strutting over to you. Crossing his arms he leans against the desk in front of you. “I don’t think I could’ve planned that without you.” You shrug at the praise. “Eh, you would’ve gotten by.”

Azriel nudges your feet off the polished wood, chuckling at you. Lifting you up and pulling you into his lap you immediately lean against his chest, playing with the buttons on his shirt.

“You’re too modest, my love. Everyone was telling me how brilliant you are.” You giggle, burying your face deeper into Azriel’s chest at the compliment. Hooking his fingers under your chin, Az tilts your face up to meet his shimmering hazel gaze.

“My clever girl.” He hums, pressing his lips to yours. You slip your arms around his neck pulling him closer. Azriel stands, gently placing you on his desk. He nudges your thighs apart to stand between your legs, deepening the kiss. “I think you deserve a reward,” his voice had taken on a deep and seductive tone. That smirk promises a very pleasurable reward. Tugging on Azriel’s dark locks he pulls away from you, dropping to his knees.

——

Tonight is the big heist. When Azriel had kissed you goodbye you plastered a convincing smile on your face, trying to ignore your heart pounding so hard against your chest you thought it was trying to escape.

You were always nervous when Azriel went out with his men for a job. Pacing the TV room, more like a theater, you dug your toes into the carpet to focus on something other than Azriel. You had lots to keep you distracted like a book, your favorite show cued up, your phone. However, moving around was a necessity right this very second.

The first time Azriel went on a job after you moved in was a disaster. You had a panic attack so bad not even Baxian, your bodyguard, could calm you down. Baxian was on the verge of calling Azriel as he walked through the front door. It made him contemplate never leaving you again.

You still can’t decide if you’d rather Az not tell you and just be blissfully ignorant. Or if you would still worry if he was out until all hours of the night. You’d probably still worry but worse.

In the silence you paused at any creaking or popping that sounded in the house. About to settle on the couch to pick an activity, the unmistakable sound of the front door opening.

Staring at the doorway to the TV room you held your breath. You didn’t want to see Azriel if he was hurt. You didn’t think you could stomach the sight of his blood.

Footsteps grew louder and louder until Azriel was staring at you. He was unscathed. Safe. And home.

You let out a cry of relief, running into his open arms. Azriel pulls you flush to his body, tucking your head under his chin. You revel in his warm touch. A smile spreads across your lips at having him back home.

Pulling away, you stare up into his tired eyes. “Everything went ok?” You ask softly. Azriel nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “It went perfectly, all thanks to you my love.” He says, exhaustion lacing his voice.

“Come on you,” you squeeze him around the middle. “Let’s get you to bed, baby.” You move to his side, pulling him along. “Sounds perfect, my love.”

Tucking into bed you couldn’t shake this feeling in the pit of your stomach. Watching Az sleep peacefully you snuggle into his side, holding on to him. Just in case.

[fuctacles]

@stevesbipanic you can be greedy in this house, don't worry 💚 here's a 500 of CCLS as well

<<😺😺😺 || 😺😺😺😺😺>>

There's no reason for someone living alone to change that for someone younger than them, a music and fantasy nerd with nothing to offer. 

Unless she's into casual...

He vows to himself to never think about it again. To not even consider his nice neighbor in such light. She's gorgeous and nice but he's not in her age range.

His uncle, of course, makes him break this vow as soon as the door slams shut behind him. He goes back to his coffee, putting Steph's empty mug in the sink, while Wayne sips on his sugary black nightmare, observing him.

"Are you interested in Stephanie?"

Eddie gulps down the mouthful of coffee before it can come back out. His throat constricts painfully and he coughs. 

"Straight to the point, huh?" He glares at his uncle, who shrugs his shoulders innocently. Eddie huffs. "I mean, she's pretty, I have eyes. But I'm too young for her anyway."

"It's maybe ten years difference." Wayne waves his hand. "It's not that much."

"Well..."

Wayne rolls his eyes.

"You're both adults, don't give me that shit."

"Maybe don't set me up with all the single hot ladies in the building?" Eddie asks dryly, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh, you want all the numbers? I can make that happen."

Eddie groans, throwing his head back. Wayne smiles wide, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 

"I'm going to my room," he grumbles, standing up. He refills his mug before leaving the kitchen. "Don't break your other leg in the meantime," he adds on his way out. 

"It's not broken!" Wayne protests, but Eddie ignores him. He has a steampunk pirate novel to dive into and forget about mundane shit. Like Stephanie's big brown eyes and beauty marks on her cheek.

The cats are way worse to deal with without their owner. He can't find a single one of them until he crinkles the food satchels and suddenly he's nearly trampled over by the starved creatures.

"Jesus, it's like you haven't eaten in a week," he mutters, pushing Garfield away for the fifth time so he can actually put the food in his bowl. "Give me a fucking second man, stop it."

It's an uneven fight of shielding the bowls from them and he's surprisingly exhausted when he finally stops to watch them munch on their food. He sighs, wandering away from the little cat nook in the corner between the kitchen and the living room, and settles on the couch. He bounces lightly on the cushions. It's either new or on the more expensive side because it's soft and bouncy. A perfect place to take an afternoon nap. Wayne's couch is old and gives him neck cramps whenever he falls asleep on it. He wonders if it would be overstepping if he just laid there and turned the TV on. He'd still technically be supervising the cats.

If it was someone he didn't care about, he wouldn't hesitate, but he wants to be on Stephanie's good side.

[archangeldyke-all]

in my mind sev is such a bookworm so what about her and a reader who’s a baker and they live in the apartment above this really cute bookshop/bakery/cafe that they run and it’s like really cute and really gay and like i can see sev getting so excited whenever someone buys a book she likes and like youve got to stop her from spoiling the whole plot to the poor customer and she so steals all the pastries and cookies and cakes like no sev that’s for the cafe tomorrow and idk how bookshops work but i’d imagine they get books shipped in a few days before they release so they can stock them on release day so sevvy would be so excited to get to read whatever sequel or new book she’s looking forward to early idk this idea just feels really cute to me

just so fucking cute.

men and minors dni

sevika really tries to hate you.

when you move in to the vacant store next to hers and open your bakery, (when you move into the apartment next to hers upstairs) sevika decides on night one that she's going to hate you.

because, unlike a bookstore owner who can flop out of bed and open the store in her pajamas at ten, a baker has to be up at the crack of dawn to prepare for the day ahead.

which means at three in the morning, sevika wakes up to the sound of you showering on the opposite side of the thin wall separating your apartments, and then she's woken up again at four when a delivery truck full of flour and sugar stops outside your shops.

her grudge doesn't last long, though.

she doesn't even manage to hold it for a solid twelve hours, because during lunch, you close your bakery for thirty minutes and pop in to her little bookstore, asking for a recommendation from her-- 'something easy to read when there's a lull.'

sevika can never help herself from gushing about a good book. so you crack her grumpy facade a bit with that.

and when you offer to pay in fresh baked chocolate chip cookies-- sevika falls head over heels in love with you-- grudge completely forgotten.

it doesn't take long for the two of you to make it official. and it doesn't take long for you to turn your two separate businesses into one.

now, people can come into your bakery for a treat, grab a book, and find a cozy nook in the vast store of winding shelves and fluffy cushions to read and snack in.

now, sevika's most loyal customers can grab a snack while they sit at her little check out desk and discuss plot points with her in hushed, excited tones.

now, sevika can trudge downstairs with you when you wake up in the early morning and sleep on one of the couches near your kitchen, keeping you company with her snores as you knead dough and scoop muffins. (she can also send you up to take a nap when you inevitably crash around two in the afternoon after all your pastries are baked. 'you already cooked 'em babe, i can't burn 'em now. i know how to use a cash register-- go rest.')

and i can just imagine that as time passes and your seperate apartments upstairs turn into one home-- the backyards of your little shops would turn into one big garden, where sevika can sit and read to you in the evenings as you both sip on tea and share a new recipe you're experimenting with. (you grow all the berries you use in your pastries right there, all the herbs you need for your teas, a bunch of edible flowers for fancy displays and for your bees-- where you get your honey. you grow some veggies for sevika too-- she loves making you dinner after you've been in the kitchen all day.)

ugh. imagine how many store-cats you'd have. SO CUTE.

so cute. omg.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @claude999 @nhaaauyen

[joelalorian]

neighborhood watch

neighbor!frankie morales x f!reader | wc: 5.7k | masterlist

Summary: When someone - or something - starts causing mischief around your new neighborhood, you and your neighbor Frankie are paired up for the new neighborhood watch.

Warnings: Not much, just cursing. Though this fic is rated T for Tame, this blog as a whole is 18+ mdni. Fluff and humor. Reader is a blank slate. No use of y/n.

A/N: This is my contribution to @punkshort's AU August Challenge to celebrate Shortie's 1-year tumblrversary. I was given the AU prompt neighbor!Frankie and ran with it. Hope you enjoy!

Palm trees lined both sides of the road, fronds gently swaying in the sea breeze as you drove through the picturesque neighborhood of bungalows to your new home. After a long and winding journey nearly halfway across the country to get there, you sighed in relief when you pulled your Wrangler into the small driveway. With all your – admittedly limited – worldly possessions shoved into the backseat, truck, and every other available crevice; you couldn’t wait to get out of the cramped space.

An old Florida 2/1 painted the color of green sea glass, the bungalow greeted you with a charming porch and two large windows bisected by the front door. The gabled roof offered taller ceilings and the wood flooring was original. By far, your favorite feature was the reading nook nestled into the living room with built-in shelves for books and the comfiest cushion to lounge on while reading or simply staring out the bay window.

Yeah, everything about this place beat what you left behind. Shitty apartment in a shitty part of a shitty town and an even shittier ex-boyfriend. Not that you were bitter about that or anything. You were still in awe that you managed to dig yourself out of that toxic situation before it completely destroyed you and scrounge up the money for this place. Thankfully, it came furnished. You didn’t have much money left for anything else.

You spent the afternoon unloading your belongings, organizing, and rearranging the place to your liking, blinds open to let the natural light in – anything to save on electric when the AC unit would be running nonstop. With the router and wifi connected, you curled up in the reading nook and watched as your new neighbors started coming home from work or set about walking dogs and mowing their small yards. A few glanced curiously at the sight of a vehicle in your driveway, no doubt wondering about the new resident.

Was this the type of neighborhood where neighbors would bring you casseroles to introduce themselves? Surely that was something only done in television shows and cheesy movies, right?

No less than an hour later, a kindly looking older woman knocked on your door, a covered dish in her hands. She greeted you with aged eyes and a toothy smile when you opened the door.

“Well, hello dear. I’m Stella and just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.” Stella casually peeked into the house as she spoke, not bothering to hide the blatant snooping, and you shook your head in amusement.

“Nice to meet you, Stella,” you replied, offering your name. “Would you like to come in?” The woman practically craned her neck to get a look, how could you not invite her in.

“Oh! That would be lovely, dear. As long as you don’t mind. Maybe we could snack on this key lime pie I made for you?” She bustled right in, making herself at home at your tiny dining table and you shut the door to follow her, grabbing plates and forks along the way.

“Would you like something to drink, Stella?” you asked from the kitchen. “I don’t have much yet, but I made lemonade.”

“Lemonade is great, thank you.” After a moment, she added, “Will anyone else be joining us?”

“Unless there’s a ghost hiding out in this place, I doubt it,” you replied, taking a seat across the table from her.

For the next hour, Stella grilled you for information – where were you from, what brought you to this particular neighborhood, were you single. The list of questions went on and on, but she was so kind and friendly about it that it didn’t feel intrusive. Still, relief washed over you when she changed topics from you to sharing information about the other neighbors. Much of it went in one ear and out the other until she got to someone who piqued your interest. Stella talked A LOT.

“There are two men about your age a few doors down. They are the nicest boys, always offering a hand when they can. Benny and Frankie are their names and they have been friends since they served in the military together. Quite handsome, too.”

Stella watched you as she spoke, keen eyes gauging your reaction, and she smiled when you perked up.

“Oh?” you said wanting to hear more.

“Mmhmm, thought those two might get your attention,” the older woman chuckled merrily. “Frankie is the one with dark hair and soulful eyes. He’d run into some sort of trouble a bit ago, which is why he lives with Benny while getting back on his feet.”

You hummed. “I know how that goes.” You wondered what kind of trouble he got into, but you didn’t ask Stella. That was something you’d want to hear firsthand from Frankie, if he ever wanted to share, not the rumor mill.

“Don’t we all,” Stella agreed. “Benny is the blonde one, a little younger and full of energy. Comes home with a bruised face a lot. I think he boxes or something. I’ll never understand young men and their desire to beat each other up.”

You smiled dreamily, mind wandering as Stella continued talking. While all the neighbors sounded normal, you looked forward to meeting Benny and Frankie from just the little Stella shared. They seemed most like your kind of people. The broken souls just trying to make it through life one day at a time.

It took a week to fully settle in and meet most of the neighbors. Stella lived right next door with another older couple, Ann and John, next to her. Benny and Frankie lived next door to them. One the other side of you lived a young couple, Kara and Matt, newlyweds who moved in not too long ago, followed by a quiet woman by the name of Lynn, and a busy couple in their 30s with two small children, who you referred to as “The Kellys”, finger quotes included. They scurried to and from their house like cockroaches afraid of the sun, never stopping to interact with the neighbors. You found it oddly amusing.

Across from you was another eclectic bunch of neighbors – an artist, two retired teachers, a retired cop, an insurance agent and housewife, and a variety of others whose names you were still learning.

You met Benny pretty quickly, crossing paths one morning while going for a run. Stella hadn’t lied, he was cute, but in like a golden retriever kind of way that made you want to scratch his head and throw him a ball to fetch. He was just not your type, if you even had a type. Given your track record… nah, you weren’t going down that road.

Frankie, on the other hand, was an elusive creature. He tended to work a lot if the hours were available, Benny told you. It took an extra week to meet him, and it happened completely by accident while going to check your mail. A collective mailbox area sat next to the small clubhouse, and you started swinging by at the end of your morning runs to check your mail. It gave you some time to cool down and get rid of the junk mail before you got home.

Eagerly awaiting the severance package from your last job, you excitedly rushed around the corner after that morning’s run to get to your mailbox. The collision with a hard chest knocked you right off your feet, leg muscles too fatigued from your three-mile run to stabilize after the impact.

“Oomph,” you grunted at the initial impact, quickly followed by, “Oh, shit!” as you fell backwards on your ass.

“Fucking hell! I’m so sorry!” came the rushed, masculine reply as strong arms shot out to catch you just a moment too late.

You stared up, wide-eyed, from your seated position on the grass – at least you didn’t crash down on the sidewalk – to meet the prettiest pair of baby cow eyes you’d ever seen, the irises a shade of coffee brown you could just drink in for days. Your eyes roved the man’s face, meeting tanned skin flecked with stubble and pouty lips, dark locks curled out beneath a ball cap, twisting around the backs of his ears and along the absolutely kissable stretch of skin on the back of his neck.

One large hand moved to rub along that exact expanse of skin, a nervous tic perhaps, as the other reached out to help you back to your feet.

“Are you alright? I’m really sorry ‘bout that. Wasn’t watching where I was going,” the man said once you stood before him.

Brushing the grass off your ass and the back of your thighs, you waved him off. “No, no, I’m fine and it was completely my fault. I charged around the corner like a bull in a China shop.”

The man laughed in relief, blush still visible on his pinchable cheeks. “Yeah, you kinda did. Almost knocked me off my feet, too.”

Eyeing his exceptionally broad form doubtfully, you shook your head. “I’m your new neighbor, by the way,” you said, reaching out a hand and giving him your name.

“Oh! I’ve heard about the pretty addition to the neighborhood,” he winked at you, taking your hand in a firm grip. “I’m Francisco Morales, but everyone calls me Frankie. I think you met my roommate Benny already. He’s the one who said you were pretty. He wasn’t lying.”

Heat rushed your face at the rambled compliments. Frankie was a delightful mix of flirty, nervous, and shy which you found incredibly endearing. He was also gorgeous.

Flustered and overheated, the need to flee overwhelmed you. “Well, it was nice to finally meet you, Frankie. I’m sure I’ll see you around,” you called over your shoulder as you moved to your mailbox in the back corner of the space.

“You can count on it,” he called back before departing. He didn’t notice you peek around the corner to check out his backside as he walked away. His jeans hugged his ass in a pleasing way and his shirt stretched across his shoulders, the seams hanging on for dear life.

Frankie was going to be trouble; you could feel it. The best kind of trouble, yes, but trouble none the less.

Working from home allowed you to keep a great schedule. No more long commutes to the office, getting caught in traffic on the interstate, spending too much money on gas, or racking up the mileage on your car. You loved the Wrangler, but fuel economy was not its best quality. Instead, you could sleep until a respectable hour, still get a morning run or walk in, and have time for a shower and breakfast before plopping down at your desk for the workday.

And you loved your new job. Not only did you get to work from home, but you were paid to learn and develop learning programs for corporate trainings all day. The nerd in you danced with joy every time you learned something new or received feedback on something you put together.

The only downfall to this new life of yours?

Loneliness.

Sure, video calls with clients and colleagues peppered your days and you occasionally ran into a neighbor on your morning runs. But real human connection? No, there was none of that. Aside from talking to the plants or yourself, you didn’t even have a pet to provide companionship.

Three weeks after settling in, you found yourself at the shelter browsing adoptable animals. Growing up loving animals but never allowed to have pets – even your asshole ex was adamant about not having any in the house, which you should have seen as a giant red flag much sooner – you were finally able to add a furry little being to your family. You weren’t picky either, going in completely open-minded and letting the universe choose a fur friend for you.

The universe delivered ten minutes after arriving at the shelter when a big-eared, blue-eyed, black and white shepherd looking dog bounded up to you excitedly, darting directly between your legs and goosing you so hard it felt like your soul left your body with the yelp that burst from your lips.

“Joshua! No!” a harried volunteer called out, rushing over to you and the overly eager four-legged fiend. “I am so sorry! He loves people and picks out his favorites with a little too much zest.”

The woman wrangled the dog, which was no easy feat. Bigger than a breadbox but smaller than a German Shepherd, Joshua was a sturdy boy – and strong, based on the visible muscles in his hind legs – presenting a challenge when he put his mind to it.

Right then, his mind focused on you, and he refused to leave your side, licking at your hands with his pink tongue, booping you with his snout until you scratched his head, ears perked up as he gazed at you with those ice blue eyes.

You fell in love instantly. Plopping down on the ground, right there in the middle of the kennel walkway, you ruffled Joshua’s short-haired fur. He practically smiled in delight and melted into you as you pet him, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he presented his belly.

A pile of paperwork and a small fee later, you and Joshua the two-year-old McNab Shepherd headed to the pet store for goodies to start your adventure together. Joshua herded you around the store with single-minded determination, choosing his toys and treats while you spoke to the staff about the best food to feed him. Hundreds of dollars later, a gangly teenager helped you load a large dog bed, 50-pound bag of dry food, and two bags full of toys and treats into the Wrangler. Joshua sat shotgun, head hanging out the window as you drove home.

Joshua settled right in with minimal fuss, spending his days laying under your desk while you worked, booping you with his snout when he needed attention or walkies, and – worst part – chomping on your right ass cheek when you weren’t going in the direction he wanted. That was a habit you needed to break, asap. With Joshua at your side, you found yourself outside more, stopping to talk to all the neighbors and being recruited to join the new neighborhood watch. Suddenly, you no longer felt lonely or left out.

Tim, the retired cop who lived across the street, started the neighborhood watch out of boredom, you reckoned. He served the public in larger cities for much of his law enforcement career, and the small-town life took a while for him to get used to. Thus, Tim liked to patrol the neighborhood, self-identifying as the Sheriff of Paradise, keeping an eye out for mischief.

Recently, Tim noticed evidence of some mischief in the form of knocked over garbage cans and missing or broken lawn ornaments. Minor things that could potentially be explained away by blaming the occasional trash panda searching for a midnight snack. Like a dog with a bone, Tim was unwilling to chalk it up to mischievous racoons and began recruiting neighbors to join him in keeping an eye on the neighborhood.

That’s how you found yourself seated on a couch in Tim’s living room, squeezed between the broad shouldered forms of Benny and Frankie, with other neighbors scattered around room. Tim stood in front of the small group with a dry erase marker in hand; a large whiteboard perched on a chair next to him.

“Thank you all for your interest in keeping this neighborhood safe. There have been several concerning things happening lately and I would like for us to make a collective effort in heading them off before things escalate,” Tim began.

His speech continued and the sudden vision of Scruff McGruff the Crime Dog popped into your head. You barely managed to stifle your laughter.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Benny flashing Frankie an incredulous look and mouthing “Is this guy for real?”

You wondered the same thing but kept those thoughts to yourself and listened as Tim continued.

“I took the liberty of assigning teams of two and setting patrol schedules,” he said, turning to the whiteboard. The sound of the dry erase marker squeaking across the board was the only noise in the room for a solid five minutes as you all stared at Tim’s back.

This dude was intense.

Frankie’s knee started bouncing next to you, jostling the cushion a little. Smiling warmly, you reached out a hand, placing it just above his knee to get him to stop. The warmth of his skin flowed through his jeans, igniting a fire inside your belly as his wide eyes shot to you, a hesitant smile on his face as he mouthed “Sorry”.

Tim spun around and called out the pairings then, breaking the eye contact between you and Frankie. Your breath caught when he announced your name and Frankie’s as the third team. Frankie beamed at you and bumped your shoulder.

“Looks like we’re a team,” he said, dark eyes shooting to frown at Benny over your shoulder for a moment. You turned to see what Benny did, but the man just grinned and winked at you.

“Yeah,” you replied, still a little flustered from the heat bubbling in your core. Jesus, could you not think of anything witty to say?

Tim called the meeting to an end ten minutes later – thank the fucking Lord above! – and you followed Frankie outside. He and Benny basically walked you to your door just to say hi to Joshua.

Your happy fur baby bounded down the front steps to say hi the moment you opened the door, tail wagging so hard his whole booty shook with the effort.

“No jumping, Joshua!” you called with a laugh as Benny practically fell to the ground to play with him.

After getting a few pets in, Frankie left the rambunctious pup to wrestle with Benny while he moved closer to you. “He’s really just a big kid,” he said with a chuckle.

“I can see that,” you replied, meeting Frankie’s chocolate eyes as a smile spread across your lips. Damn, he was gorgeous, and you could easily get lost in those eyes.

“So, uh, looks like our first neighborhood watch shift is tomorrow night from 9 ‘til midnight,” Frankie said as you both watched the makeshift WWE match happening in your little front yard.

“Yeah, that’s past my normal bedtime so it will be your job to keep me awake,” you responded with a laugh and a shrug of the shoulders. “Sad, but true.”

“Not a night owl? Me either. I’m sure I can come up with a few ways to keep you awake,” Frankie replied boldly, though a blush crept up his neck into his face.

You shot him a mock scandalized look before collapsing into laughter. “Yeah, I’m sure you could.” After a beat, you steered the conversation back to the neighborhood watch. “What do we need to do on this shift? I’ve never been part of something like this and, to be honest, I tuned out half of what Tim droned on about.”

Frankie’s smile widened until the dimple in his cheek popped, drawing your eyes. “That guy sure could talk, huh?” When you nodded, he added, “I guess we just walk around and make sure nothing’s happening. I’ll meet you here tomorrow night with flashlights in case we need them, feel free to bring Joshua. Nothing will get past the three of us.”

True to his word, Frankie stood at the base of your walkway at five minutes to 9 pm with a backpack containing bug spray, water, snacks, and flashlights. Joshua bounded towards him the moment you opened the door – you should have known to put his leash on first, but you were just as eager as the pup to see the handsome man waiting for you.

After handing you a flashlight, Frankie gestured for Joshua’s leash, clipping it to the dog’s collar and gripping it tightly in his right hand. You let Joshua lead the way, stopping every so often so he could sniff at something interesting.

You weren’t nervous, per say, but you did have some concerns about how awkward these three hours might be. Those concerns were all for naught as conversation flowed easy and free between the two of you as you both asked and answered questions about each other.

Frankie told you a little about his time in the military and how he met Benny and his other friends. He shared about his current job working on helicopters and trying to get his pilot’s license back after some misunderstandings. You told him about ditching your old life to start fresh, how your ex turned out to be controlling and isolated you from your friends. You told him about your new job and how happy you were to be in control of your own life again.

“Sounds like that guy was a real asshole. Me and the boys could go kick his ass for you, if you wanted.”

You appreciated the offer but turned it down. Instead, you asked about his love life. “You mean my complete lack of one?” Frankie replied teasingly.

“Hmmm,” you hummed distractedly. Something seemed off about Stella’s front garden. Your eyes narrowed, searching the shadows from the streetlights and Frankie followed your gaze, brows furrowed.

“That wasn’t like that when we passed by on our last lap,” he said as you both took in the destruction. Potted plants toppled over, some clay pots shattered, leaves ripped from shrubs, flowers crushed, and sporadic holes dug in the topsoil.

In a word, it was a mess.

“No, it most definitely was not,” you replied and immediately glanced around searching for the culprit. The street was empty save for the two of you. “I don’t see anyone. Whoever did this is hiding or long gone.”

“We better write this down in our notepad for Tim. He’ll want full documentation, so we can’t leave out a single detail.” Frankie pulled the small, spiral bound notepad and a pen from the front pocket of his backpack, handing them to you. At your raised brow, he shrugged with a boyish grin and added, “I’m holding a flashlight and your dog’s leash. Besides, you probably have much neater handwriting.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” Rolling your eyes, you accepted the items and flipped the notepad open to the first page. Noting the date, time, and location, you wrote a few notes about the destruction in Stella’s garden. After a moment, you pulled your phone from your back pocket and snapped a few pictures. Tim would appreciate the effort.

“You think I’m cute?” Frankie teased once you finished, sounding pleased as punch at the idea. You ignored him.

The rest of the night passed with no further incidents, and you waved to Frankie as he walked back to his house after handing you Joshua’s leash. Despite the exhaustion plaguing your body, your mind fixated on thoughts of Frankie for two more hours before you finally fell asleep with Joshua snuggled against your side.

Things only got stranger the next two nights you patrolled the neighborhood with Frankie.

“So, what do you do for fun, Frankie?” you asked, making conversation as you walked along the sidewalk.

“The usual, I guess. Hanging with friends, listening to music, playing the occasional video game, and having a few beers. Mostly just hang with the boys and reminisce about the old service days. Oh! And flying, of course. Can’t wait to get my license reinstated.” Frankie ran a hand along the back of his neck, a little embarrassed about how boring he sounded. “How about you?”

“Oh, you know, the same stuff,” you laughed. “I lead a very exciting life. I read, lounge on the couch watching reality tv shows, run in the mornings. Stuff all the cool kids do.”

“We’re an exciting pair, huh?”

“It only goes downhill from here.”

You bantered back and forth as you worked your way through the neighborhood, keeping an eye out for signs of mischief. Frankie was the first to spot the trouble in the mail area. A few mailboxes were wrenched open with envelopes and magazines ripped and scattered across the ground. Joshua sniffed at them unhelpfully.

“How’d someone even get these open?” you questioned. “They need a key.”

Frankie shrugged. “Must’ve pried them open with something. Wouldn’t be too hard, actually. These aren’t the best locking mechanisms. Here, write it down while I take some pictures.” He fished the notepad from the backpack and handed it to you, snapping photos of the mess while you jotted down observations.

“How long have you lived here?” you asked Frankie once you tidied up the mess into a small pile for the other residents to sort through in the morning.

“A few years. You?” He froze, realizing the stupidity of the question, and grimaced. “I clearly have foot in mouth disease. Forget I said that. Please.”

Waving him off with a chuckle, you told him not to fret. “Have you noticed anything like these shenanigans happening before?”

Silent for a few moments, Frankie thought about it. “Not that I recall, but I’m not too sure I paid much attention.”

“It’s weird though, right? Like all of this seems like something a couple of middle school kids would do but they wouldn’t be out this late. Shit, I haven’t even seen kids that age in this neighborhood.”

Frankie nodded. “Come to think of it, we haven’t seen any footprints or litter either. Kids always leave a mess, right? Like candy wrappers and soda cans and shit.”

The next night, things got more bizarre. Joshua stayed at home, exhausted after visiting the vet that afternoon and getting a few shots, leaving you and Frankie on your own.

Frankie spotted a light on in the detached single-car garage at Kara and Matt’s house after a few laps through the neighborhood. Both of you swore the light had been off the other times you passed by. It wouldn’t be so odd if it was a weekend night. But you knew the couple got up really early for work and there was no way one of them would be tinkering in the garage after 11 pm on a worknight.

The pair of you approached the garage warily, sounds of rummaging and glass breaking coming from inside the wooden structure. You looked to Frankie for direction. He gestured for you to stay put a couple yards back, shrugging the backpack from his shoulders, and pulled a handgun from the front pocket.

Your eyes widened at the sight of the weapon. “What are you gonna do with that?” you whispered as he handed you the bag.

“Nothing unless I have to,” Frankie replied quietly and edged closer to the garage. He crept up to the garage door, trying to peek through the dirt smudged windows, but it was impossible to see anything. Instead, he slowly made his way around toward the side of the garage.

A few steps from the corner, his foot caught on a stray cinderblock, causing him to trip with a yelp. The sound within the garage ceased, immediately followed by a scramble and rustling in the wooded area behind the garage. By the time Frankie righted himself and turned the corner, who- or whatever it had been in the garage was gone. A small window on the side of the garage sat open and Frankie peered inside, finding utter destruction within the garage.

“Well?” you inquired from your position. “Anything?”

“Nothing but a mess. I didn’t see anyone and there was nowhere for someone to hide.” He motioned you over now that it was clear. Slipping the weapon back into the bag, Frankie pulled out his phone and took photos through the window.

Gazing at the window, you said, “I can’t imagine they leave this open like this. It must be a person, right? How would an animal get a window like this open? Or turn on the light?”

Frankie shrugged. “I have no fucking clue. We should let Tim know about this. He’ll want to talk to Kara and Matt in the morning.”

Sliding the window shut, Frankie led you from the property.

“This is just getting ridiculous,” Benny muttered from the backseat. “I can’t believe that dickhead has us on a fuckin’ stakeout on a Friday night. Who died and made him Sheriff of fuckin’ Palmingham.”

“Sheriff of Palmingham,” you repeated with a guffaw. “Good one, Benny boy.”

You, Benny, and Frankie were parked at one end of the street in Frankie’s truck, with a few other neighbors stationed at the other end. A stakeout was Tim’s brilliant idea to finally catch the culprit terrorizing the otherwise quiet neighborhood. He created a few teams and stationed them at the end of the two main streets of the small neighborhood. Tim wanted the culprit caught tonight.

The first thing you learned about stakeouts was they were boring as fuck. If not for the company of two handsome men, you’d have been banging your head against the dashboard after the first fifteen minutes. After the first hour of staring through the windows, you and Frankie resorted to playing a variation of twenty questions.

“What is your favorite food?”

“To make or to order out?” you questioned. When Frankie rolled his eyes playfully, you added, “What? There’s a big difference!”

Nodding his head, Frankie laughed. “Ok, if you say so. Tell me both then.”

Sitting back in your seat, you tapped your chin with a finger. “Salmon to cook and beef wellington or scallops to order out. What about you?”

Benny watched from the backseat as the two of you went on and on. “For fuck’s sake, I feel like a third wheel on a first date,” he complained. “Will you just ask her out already?”

“Damnit, Benny,” Frankie growled. Enjoying the conversation with you so much, he almost forgot his friend was even there.

“You want some cheese to go with that whine, Ben Ben?” you teased. “I know little girls who whine less than you.”

“You want some cheese with that whine,” Benny mocked in a high-pitched voice. Leaning forward in his seat, Benny perched his chin on the back of the front bench seat, a shit-eating grin playing across his lips. “You know, if you like Salmon for the omega 3 fatty acids, my boy Fish here has some mega D fatty acid for you. It’s a lot better, or so I’ve heard.”

“What the fuck, Benny?!” Frankie exclaimed as your mouth dropped open in shocked amusement. He glared over his shoulder at the younger man before looking at you with dark, pleading eyes. “Please ignore this fucking idiot.”

“Come on, man. That shit was funny!” Benny insisted, broad shoulders shaking with laughter.

You patted Frankie’s thigh reassuringly. “I mean, it is pretty freaking hilarious, I’ll give him that. And Fish? Is that your nickname or something?”

“At least your girl has a sense of humor.” Benny slumped back in his seat at Frankie’s scowl.

Still staring down his friend in the rearview mirror, Frankie explained the call signs from their army days. Movement down the block drew his attention mid-sentence and he drifted to a stop. “Can you guys see that?”

You reached for the binoculars sitting on the dash, raising them to your eyes to peer into the distance. Something darted from the shadows into an area of the street brightened by a streetlight, and you gasped.

 “It’s a fucking monkey!”

The rest of the night turned into a shitshow as the three of you chased a small monkey – a capuchin, you guessed – around the neighborhood. After a quick call to Tim, the other neighbors on stakeout joined you in the effort to capture the mischievous little bugger. Shortly before dawn, someone found the monkey asleep on a low-hanging tree limb and scooped the thing up, quickly containing him in a travel pet crate.

Exhausted yet exhilarated, you walked toward your house when a sudden commotion sounded a couple doors down. Ann and John rushed from their home, frantically searching for something in the yard.

“Where could he have gone?” Ann called out to John.

“How did he even get out?” John yelled back, moving to search the backyard.

Pausing mid-step, you turned toward where Frankie stood talking to Tim. The capuchin monkey sat in a pet crate at the former cop’s feet as they talked about what to do with it. Eyes narrowing, you looked back at the older couple scouring their yard.

The pieces clicked into place, and you rushed over to Frankie. “Hey, uh, I think this little cutie belongs to Ann and John,” you said, pointing over your shoulder. “They’re searching for a missing pet, and it seems awfully coincidental.”

Sure enough, the older couple were searching for the little monkey named Cosmo, who they were pet sitting for their grandson. The little rascal had been sneaking out each night to wreak havoc on the neighborhood out of boredom. Cosmo was used to a much higher level of activity than the older couple could offer. Thankfully, the grandson was coming later that day to take Cosmo home.

“Hey, you wanna come over for some brunch?” you asked Frankie once all the drama wrapped up, not wanting to part from him just yet. You really enjoyed his company and wanted to get to know him even more. “I’m thinking pancakes and mimosas. What do you think?”

“I, uh, think that sounds like a perfect first date,” he replied with a shy smile, one hand lifting his cap as the other combed through his curls.

“Oh yeah? I think this might count as a third date given all the time we’ve spent alone together this week.”

Frankie’s lips spread until his smile split his face and his dark eyes burned with want. “Third date, huh? Do you have a rule about third dates?”

“Why don’t you come in and find out?” Grasping his large hand in yours, you led him inside.