#man this is not my best work but it's whatever

[thinkinginpen]

Unexpected Company Part 2

a/n: It may not be the holidays yet but who doesn't love some good Christmas spirit in the fall? And two in one hour? Damn. pairing: old!logan x reader w/c: 3.6k warnings: romance, hinting, love, fake dating, age gap, etc. summary: You went to Logan's house, your grumpy old neighbor, to bring him cookies and get away from the Christmas party. Little did you know this grumpy old man would take a turn. Next thing you knew he was lecturing your ex on how to treat a girl right.

You reluctantly followed your ex as he led you away from the others. He steered you to a quiet corner of the room, out of earshot of the rest of the party. His expression was cold and unforgiving.

"What the hell is going on here?" he hissed.

"What do you mean?" you asked, feigning ignorance. You knew what he was talking about, but playing dumb seemed like your best bet at this point.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about!" he snapped. "You show up with some old dude in tow and act like he's your boyfriend? Don't try to play dumb with me, I know it's bullshit!"

"It's not bullshit," you said defensively. "He really is my boyfriend."

Your ex rolled his eyes, scoffing. "Yeah, right. You expect me to believe that you're dating some old geezer?"

"Yes, I do," you retorted. "What, are you jealous or something?"

He sneered, clearly unconvinced. "Jealous? Of a fossil? Fat chance. No, I just want to know what kind of game you're playing here."

You gritted your teeth, frustrated by his tone. "I'm not playing any game. I'm dating him, and that's it."

He let out a hollow laugh. "Okay, fine. Say I believe you. How did that even happen? How'd you end up with some old man instead of me?"

You hesitated, not sure how to answer that. There was no way in hell you were going to tell him the truth - that the only reason you were pretending to be in a relationship with Logan was to get under his skin.

You took a deep breath and decided to stick with the same cover story you'd used earlier. "It just happened, I guess. We clicked."

He snorted, still not buying it. "Yeah, right. You expect me to believe that you just randomly met this guy and started dating him? I don't buy it."

Your frustration was growing. How dare he question the validity of your relationship, even if he was right?

"Believe whatever you want," you said, crossing your arms. "But it doesn't change the fact that I'm dating him, and he's better than you in every way."

Your ex's expression darkened at your words, his fists clenching. "Oh, so now you're gonna pull that crap? You honestly think this guy is better than me?"

He stepped closer to you, looming over you. "You're really gonna choose an old man over me?"

You didn't back down, meeting his angry gaze defiantly. "Yes, I am. He's more mature than you, and treats me a lot better."

Your ex scoffed. "Yeah, maybe because he's been alive longer than my grandparents. You think he'll be able to keep up with you in a couple years?"

"Better than you can," you shot back. "At least he's still active. He works out, he can do stuff. What've you been doing every day since we broke up? Playing video games and eating pizza rolls?"

He bristled, clearly insulted. "That's not all I do!"

"Oh really? What else do you do?" you asked, feigning curiosity. "I mean, you spend a lot of time on the couch. I'm sure you got up from there at some point."

He clenched his jaw, clearly getting more and more frustrated. "That's not the point!" he snapped. "The point is that there's no way you're really dating this old dude. You're just trying to make me jealous, right? That's it, isn't it?"

You felt a flicker of satisfaction as he grew more agitated. "No, I'm really dating him."

He gritted his teeth. "No way. Prove it."

"Prove it?" you repeated, surprised by the request. "How am I supposed to prove it to you?"

Your ex rolled his eyes. "I don't know, kiss him or something."

You nearly choked at the sudden request. "Wh-what? You want me to kiss him? Right here, in front of everyone?"

"Why not?" he sneered. "If you're really dating him, it should be easy, right?"

You felt a pang of panic mixed with irritation as he challenged you. You glanced over at Logan, who was still standing calmly across the room, mingling with other people at the party.

Your ex chuckled, noticing your hesitation. "See, you can't do it. You're bluffing, and you know it. You're just using this old guy as a prop to make me jealous, and I'm not falling for it."

You gritted your teeth, feeling a wave of anger and determination wash over you. He was right about one thing - you weren't really dating Logan, at least not in the way he meant. But the way he was demeaning Logan… no matter his age, he deserved better than that.

Logan was listening intently to a conversation with one of the nearby families when he suddenly heard the heated argument between you and your ex. His eyebrows rose, and he subtly moved to listen in.

He was surprised to hear your ex tell you to prove your relationship, but his expression darkened as he heard the other man's mocking tone.

He quickly made his way over to the pair of you, his expression stormy. As he got closer, he made himself known by grabbing your ex by the front of his shirt.

Your ex was suddenly yanked backwards, his shirt crumpling as Logan's fist closed tightly around a fistful of fabric.

He sputtered as he lost his balance, staring up at the much larger man in shock. "What the hell-"

Logan towered over him, leaning down to speak directly in his face. His tone was low and dangerous.

"I'm only going to say this once, boy. Leave the girl alone."

Your ex's expression flickered from surprise to anger. "Excuse me? You can't just-"

But before he could finish, Logan pulled him closer, his grip still tight on his shirt.

"I can do whatever I damn well please," he growled. "And right now, what I'm doing is telling you to leave her alone. Understand?"

Your ex floundered, clearly stunned by the unexpected intervention. But he wasn't cowed, and he tried to pull away from Logan's grip.

"And who are you, her guardian or something?" he snapped. "You got no right to tell me what to do, old man. You don't love her-"

Logan's expression darkened further. He had clearly heard enough.

"I don't love her, huh?" he said gruffly.

Before your ex could react, he tightened his grip on his shirt and slammed him against the nearest wall, pinning him there with one arm.

Your ex's eyes widened in shock and fear as he found himself slammed against the wall. The wall shook from the impact, and several people nearby turned to see what was going on.

Logan leaned in closer, his face mere inches from your ex's. "You little bastard," he growled. "You don't have any idea what it means to love her."

Your ex tried to struggle, but Logan's hold on him was too strong. He was trapped, completely at the mercy of the older man's grip.

"Let- let go of me!" he gasped, his bravado faded as he stared up at Logan's angry face.

Logan's expression was stony, his eyes boring into your ex's. "Not until I'm done talking to you," he said gruffly.

He leaned in even closer, his tone low and dangerous. "You think just because you're young that you know better than anyone else? You think you know her better than I do?"

Your ex was visibly shaken, his cocky demeanor gone in the face of Logan's angry glare.

"I- I do know her better than you," he protested weakly. "I was dating her before you came around."

"Yeah, you were," Logan said gruffly. "And you blew it. Now she's with me, and you need to learn to live with that."

He paused, then suddenly pulled your ex closer, his face a mere inch away. "You're never going to touch her again, boy. Not as long as I'm around."

Your ex's expression wavered, caught between fear and anger.

"You can't just-" he started to say, but Logan cut him off with a glare.

"Dare me," he said gruffly. "Go on, boy. Say what you were gonna say."

Your ex swallowed, clearly intimidated. He tried to pull away from Logan, but he was still pinned in place. After a moment of hesitation, he finally spoke up.

"You can't just take her away from me," he muttered resentfully. "She was mine first."

"You don't own her, boy," Logan snapped, his voice hard as steel. "She's not something you can just claim like a damn trophy. She's her own damn person, and she can make her own damn decisions."

He leaned in closer, his face almost touching your ex's. "And she made the decision to ditch your sorry ass for me."

Your ex's expression darkened at the insult. "And why would she choose some old guy like you?" he shot back, his tone bitter. "What can you give her that I can't?"

Logan's glare hardened, his eyes narrowing into slits. "I can give her a hell of a lot more than you ever did," he said gruffly.

He leaned in even closer, his voice a low growl. "I can give her stability, and respect, and loyalty. Things that you clearly didn't know how to provide."

Your ex tried again to struggle, but he was still trapped in Logan's grip. His expression darkened even further as he spat back.

"What, you think you're some kind of saint, just because you're older? You don't know me. You don't know what I can do for her."

"Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea," Logan said. "And from what I can tell, you're a damn coward who couldn't even keep her happy when you had the chance."

He leaned in so close that his chest was practically pressed against your ex's. "And you think for a second that you could do better than me?"

Your ex was clearly flustered, his expression torn between anger and fear.

"I- I could give her-" he started to say, but Logan cut him off with a scoff.

"Yeah? What, like you could give her a future? What's your plan for the future? Keep working a minimum wage job and play video games in your mom's basement all day?"

Logan chuckled, but he was seething.

"You wanna know what it's like to treat a girl right? First rule: You take care of her. I don't just mean buy her gifts and open doors for her. I mean really take care of her. Be there for her, listen to her, show her respect and loyalty and all the other things you seem to be completely incapable of."

He looked your ex over, his expression still disapproving. "Rule two: don't act like a damn child. Don't throw temper tantrums every time something doesn't go your way, don't blame her for your problems. Have some damn respect and act like you're actually worthy of her."

Logan's expression darkened further. "And rule three: Be a damn man. Don't let the people around you walk all over you, don't let people who don't matter to you drag you down. And for the love of God, don't try to cheat on her just because you can't keep it in your damn pants."

He leaned in closer, his voice low and fierce. "And if by some chance you've managed to follow all three of those rules, then maybe - MAYBE - you might be worthy of someone like her. But let's be honest, boy. We both know you haven't managed to follow a single one."

Your ex was caught between anger and fear, his expression shifting as Logan listed off the rules for treating a girl right. He opened his mouth to argue, but was cut off by another scoff from Logan.

"Don't try to deny it, boy. We both know you've failed at all three. You're a damn child, pretending to be a man. And until you grow the hell up, you will never be worthy of a woman like her."

With that, he finally released his hold on your ex. The younger man stumbled backwards, clearly shaken.

Logan glanced over his shoulder at you, his expression softening. "Come here, darling," he said, his tone suddenly gentle.

You approached the pair, your heart racing after witnessing the intense encounter. You could sense your ex's glower as you stepped up next to Logan, who wrapped a protective arm around your shoulders.

He pulled you close, his presence warm and reassuring. He kept his gaze locked on your ex, his expression still stern.

"He won't be bothering you again, baby," he said gruffly.

Logan led you over to a nearby couch, his arm still around your shoulders. Most of the party seemed to have started minding their own business again, though a few people were still shooting curious glances your way.

He sat down on the couch, pulling you down next to him.

He put his other arm around you so that you were essentially squished between his broad frame and the couch cushions. He could tell that you were still a little shaken up, and he squeezed you gently, trying to reassure you.

"You alright, baby?" he asked gruffly, his voice low so that the other guests couldn't overhear.

"You can stop the act now Mr. Logan."

Logan raised an eyebrow at the sudden change in tone. He continued to hold onto you, but turned to get a better look at your expression.

"What do you mean, hun?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

You could tell that he was playing dumb, probably to save face in front of the other guests. Your expression became a mixture of exhaustion and irritation.

"You know exactly what I mean, Logan," you said. "We can stop. I think we've sold the act enough by now."

Logan's expression softened, and he let out a low chuckle. He glanced around and confirmed that most of the party had gone back to their own conversations.

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice even further. "You sure about that, baby?" he asked, his tone suggestive.

You rolled your eyes, though a slight smile tugged at your lips. "Yes, I'm sure," you reassured him. "I think we've put on enough of a show. No need to keep this going any longer."

He chuckled again, tightening his grip on you. "Well, I don't mind keeping it going a little longer," he said, his voice low and suggestive. "I'm enjoying having you like this."

You sighed, but couldn't help the tingle of heat that ran through you at his words. "Stop it," you said, trying to sound stern despite your growing arousal. "We're in a room full of people, remember?"

Logan chuckled at your protests, clearly enjoying the way you squirmed in his grip.

"C'mon pretty girl, for Christmas' sake please can we keep this going?" he pleaded, his voice low and coaxing.

You fought to keep a straight face, trying not to let his words get to you. But it was difficult, especially with the heat rising in your cheeks.

"I thought the point of this was to make my ex jealous," you reminded him, trying to sound more stern than you felt.

He squeezed you tighter, his expression turning smug. "Yeah, it was," he said, his voice a low rumble. "and we've done a damn good job of that. But now that I've got you all to myself, I'm not ready to let go just yet."

Logan loosened his embrace slightly, allowing you a bit more breathing room.

"Honey," he said, his tone suddenly more polite. "Would you mind grabbing us some food?"

You blinked, a bit taken aback by the unexpected change in tone. But you composed yourself quickly and nodded.

"Sure, I can do that," you said, rising from the couch. "What do you want me to bring back?"

Logan smiled, pleased by your response. "Surprise me," he said. "Oh and how about some of those cookies you and your mother baked?"

You chuckled, amused by his request. "You've got a sweet tooth, huh?" you teased, as you made your way towards the buffet table.

Logan watched you as you walked away, his gaze lingering on your figure. His eyes stayed fixed on you until you disappeared among the crowd, at which point he settled back against the couch, a satisfied smile on his face.

The party continued around him, but his thoughts were focused on you. He couldn't help but feel a stirring of possessiveness. He had played the role of your boyfriend for the evening, and it seemed like he had done a pretty damn good job of it.

As Logan sat on the couch, waiting for you to return, he couldn't help but reflect on how the evening had started. He thought back to just hours earlier when he had been sitting alone, feeling grumpy and wishing he was anywhere else.

Then you had appeared, bringing him a plate of cookies that you had baked yourself. He had been hesitant at first, but the delicious treats had quickly won him over.

He recalled the conversations you had had once you had sat down. He had initially intended to brush you off and get back to his brooding, but he had found that he couldn't bring himself to shoo you away. Instead, he had ended up engaged in a surprisingly enjoyable conversation, and before he knew it, the hour was getting late.

You returned to the couch, your arms laden with food for both of you. You noticed that Logan was deep in thought, and he was visibly startled when you put the food down on the coffee table.

"You spaced out there, old man," you teased, gesturing for him to grab some food.

He chuckled, still slightly disoriented from his musings. "Sorry baby, got lost in thought there," he said, shaking his head.

He perked up when he saw the cookies you had brought back, a smile spreading across his face. "Hey, you remembered."

You chuckled, watching as he eagerly reached for the cookies. "Of course I did," you said, taking a seat on the couch next to him.

"I figured you could use a little comfort food after dealing with my ex," you added, taking a bite of your own food.

Logan grunted in agreement, already stuffing a cookie into his mouth. "Your ex's a damn fool," he said, his voice muffled through the food. "He'll never be good enough for you."

You raised an eyebrow at his assessment. "And you are?" you asked teasingly, poking him in the side.

Logan chuckled, swatting at your hand. "Hey now, watch it. You're gonna make me choke."

He finished his bite of cookie, then turned to look at you dead in the eye. "And to answer your question, hell yes I'd be good enough for you," he said, his tone serious.

You were surprised by his sudden shift in tone, and you found yourself momentarily speechless. You fumbled for a response for a few seconds before finally managing to gather your thoughts.

"You're awfully confident, old man," you said, trying to mask the flutter in your chest.

Logan chuckled at your response, clearly amused by your attempts to hide your reaction to his declaration. He continued to eat his food and the cookies, glancing over at you between bites.

You did the same, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach as you silently ate.

The room was filled with the sounds of the ongoing party, but the two of you were mostly silent as you ate. Every so often, Logan would steal a glance at you, his eyes fixed on your lips as you chewed.

You glanced over at Logan, noticing a small spot of food stuck in his beard. It was a bit distracting, and you couldn't help but giggle at the sight.

"You've got something on your face," you said, reaching over and gently swiping the food from his beard.

Logan froze as your fingers touched his beard, and for a moment the two of you just sat there, frozen in the intimate moment. Your fingers lingered in his beard, tracing the length of it and feeling the coarse texture.

And then, almost against his will, Logan found himself tipping his head closer to yours. His eyes met yours, and his expression darkened with desire.

You became aware of his lips drawing ever closer to yours, your breath catching in your throat. Your fingers were still in his beard, as if frozen in place. Your whole world seemed to have narrowed to the two of you in that instant, the sounds of the party fading into the background.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, your lips met. The kiss was gentle at first, a tentative exploration. But then something seemed to snap, and the kiss deepened. Logan reached up to cup your face in his hands, pulling you closer as he claimed your mouth in a hungry kiss.

You found yourself responding eagerly, your fingers tangling in his beard. The kiss was intense, and it felt like the whole world had vanished around you, leaving just the two of you. Your heart raced as his hands held your face in place, his tongue slipping past your lips to deepen the kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as you got lost in the kiss. His beard tickled your skin, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body as he pulled you even closer. Your hands moved up to his shoulders, gripping the material of his shirt as you kissed deeper.

Logan reluctantly pulled back, breaking the kiss as he sucked in a gulp of air. He was breathing heavily, and his expression was still darkened with desire.

He nodded towards your ex, who was watching and seething from across the room.

He leaned in and whispered in your ear, "Merry Christmas, bubba."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Part 1 Part 2

🏷️: @princessleah94 @littlbitch69

[lotuseye]

better call higuruma!

he left her his number for emergencies. getting arrested was an emergency, right?

word   count:   8,534.

genre:   one-shot.

characters:   hiromi higuruma & paralegal assistant.

notes:  this is it, the most voted request from the poll. higuruma gets called by his sweet assistant in three in the morning from a police station. pwp. kind of an age gap, considering higuruma is in his late thirties and the reader is in mid twenties. smut smut smut. hiromi is a sweetheart. long fic. office spice. if you liked it please let me know in the replies, likes and reblogs are always welcome <3

good lord, it had to have been a crime, to be that goddamn electric.

the man, the myth, the legend. the empty office next to his has been the precious prize that decorated the ambitious dreams of all the seniors, all the fresh graduates - not because it had the reputation of being the most humane working conditions alongside the fattest paycheck in the midst of the firms who even refused to pay at all ( paying with experience unfortunately didn't cover anybodies rent, these days ) but because hiromi higuruma was all their aspirations and their dreams combined. standing for justice, standing for what was fair and right, standing for the wrongfully convicted, he was a breath of fresh air to the small group in the law school that really came for ideals bigger than an overflowing wallet or wearing sharp suits to pretend they are harvey specter.

all that, and also he was so fucking hot, there wasn't a single person that would manage to sit on that desk without daydreaming about being bent over it.

“ girl, that boss of yours, i'm telling you - if i was you i'd suck that man dry. ”

“ honestly, what are you even doing in that office? go drop a pencil in front of him or something! this is embarrassing. you are embarrassing. ”

“ shut up, ” she grumbles, managing to hit both of her friends with the same pillow as her face burns red. she had been muttering the same thirsty, unhinged comments with them under her breath a month ago but she wasn't his assistant back then and there had been no reality to it whatsoever. now, the depth of the water had risen. the stakes were simply not the same. “ it's easy for you to talk, you don't look him in the eye all day. ” she reminds them, to which they reply with a series of groans and rolled eyes, disappointment and disbelief clear on beautiful features. “ besides, ” she continues. “ i'm not stupid enough to fuck my boss and lose the best assistant paycheck in town. do you know how much electricity costs? water? heating? ”

“ fine, fine. don't fuck him then. ” one of them relents eventually, to lay on her stomach on the bed with a devilish grin, hands tucked under her chin. “ head don't count, though... ”

“ girl! ”

****

she only wishes she was blessed with enough fortitude to keep her thoughts on the same track, because as higuruma tries to explain the concept of an appeal to an agitated client of his, all she can do is watch him from her desk with her cheek rested atop her palm, every single task of the day flees from her, but how could it be her fault when he was standing with his hip rested against the edge of his oak desk, sleeves of his expensive shirt rolled up to his elbows, revealing toned forearms. so unabashed, she feels like a victorian man seeing the ankles of a woman for the first time and nearing comatose for it.

“ hey, ” like he heard her thoughts, he calls, head tilting to catch the glimpse of the poor new grad that sits idle in her desk, who almost jumps in the office chair with how caught off guard she is, immediately fixing her posture. currently not paying any attention to the way she stumbles on her response, he makes the gesture of a pen and paper as he continues nod alongside to whatever the client is saying at the other end of the line. “ mhm, i see. the thing is, an appeal does not guarantee the withdrawal of the verdict... ”

she grabs the first pen she could get her hands on on her desk, half running to his office across the narrow hallway that separates them with open doors, thin heels clicking sharply against white polished marble. he presses the receiver of the phone to his shoulder when as she delivers the pen, offering a small smile & mouthing a thank you as he quickly returns to noting whatever he was trying to explain to the client. she attempts to return to her own working quarters, but he stops her with the simple motion of raising a hand, then gesturing kindly to the leather chair in front of his desk. she fixes the hem of her pencil skirt, clearing her throat as she sits down. higuruma remains on the phone, and she quietly glances around his office.

she's been here very briefly a few times, but as she started around a month ago she still hadn't found the chance to get familiar with her work space. this seemed like a good opportunity, a pastime as she waited for him to finish up. his office was neater than the rest of the spaces she's seen so far, paperwork kept neatly tucked in folders that had tags on them, books cleaned and tasteful desk spotless. it was old-school, everything about it, from the rust color of the walls to the choice of chairs & coffee table, but it had a certain vibe to it.

“ sorry about that, ” she doesn't realize that he hangs up until he speaks, snapping her gaze back to find him settling back on his cream colored chair with a kind smile plastered on his face. “ i just wanted to check in with you for the next week. have i told you that i won't be here yet? i'm entrusting you with the office, you don't gotta cover everything - just delay clients till' my return and keep at your daily tasks, alright? ”

he won't be here the next week, and she's blinking, slightly panicking over the fact that she is in the stage of her new job where she relies on him to teach her the way he operates. “ of course, sir, " she says still, unwilling to be a monument of failure in front of the only man she so desperately wishes to impress, so desperately admires. “ i'll make sure it all runs smoothly. ”

“ you'll do great, sweetheart. fix the long face. ” he says with a bantering gleam in his storm of eyes, and she nods, attempting not to sigh like she wants to every time he calls her one of the things he seems to like to call her - sweetheart or doll, mostly, and she knows he doesn't have an ounce of ill intention behind it, he is just trying to be polite to her and ease her anxieties like a good boss would but her stupid crush on him makes her ironically think that she would be less stressed out if he was a bully, or an asshole. at least she wouldn't be blushing like an idiot, unable to string a coherent sentence together. he reaches over his desk, grab one of the small note cards and scrabble something on it with the pen that she's brought him minutes ago. “ this is my personal number. call me if there is a situation you can't get out of or if you get confused, okay? ”

the card is carefully folded in her palm, and she manages a “ thank you, sir. ” before she slowly stands up again, thinking they are done. “ is there anything else i should know about? ”

“ yes, there is one thing. ” he says, and she watches his smile get a bit bigger, a bit softer. “ you don't need to call me sir. just call me hiromi. we're a team, now. i don't do the hierarchy thing. ”

hiromi. she shifts her weight from one foot to another without even realizing, unaware of the way her own lips curl in the corners with how sweet she finds the whole sentiment, dimples on her smile lines deepening. “ okay... hiromi. " she gives it a shot, hesitant, but she knows she's hit jackpot when he breaks out into a full grin, pleased and proud. “ atta' girl. ”

****

a situation she could not get out of.

he probably did not fucking meant being stuck in the police station with a bloody gauze wrapped around her hand.

“ i swear to god, i'm going to kill you one of these days, ” she murmurs to her roommate who indirectly was the culprit of the fact that they had been sitting in plastic chairs, with the not so kind implication that they could not leave because the guy she had broken a vase on the head of was hell-bent on pressing charges and she couldn't even bring herself to think about the terror of what happened, too engulfed in the embarrassment of being here and the fear of losing her job stuck in her throat like a lump that wouldn't go away. higuruma was so, so firing her on the spot.

but still, there isn't anyone else she can think about calling when they call her that she has a one phone call right, the wrinkled paper he wrote his number on still bunched in her palm as she stares at it endlessly. “ isn't your boss a big shot lawyer? ” her roommate tries to help but she doesn't, the sound of her voice only providing further frustration. “ please call him, please - i don't know how else to get you out of here. ”

“ maybe i wouldn't be here when you didn't bring a fucking thief home straight from the street, ” she nearly spits out with anger, still angry, even if she doesn't meant to be. her roommate is probably even more scared, thinking she brought a thief home who pretended to be there for a one night stand, waking up in the middle of the night to half her jewelry gone and the guy trying to sneak away. she doesn't know how she rolled out of bed with the scream, how she gathered the strength to grab the vase that sat idle in the dresser in the dark and swung it with such precision a head was split open. the guy needed eight stitches, they told her. “ don't you ever think? ”

“ you'll have all the time in the world to scold me, ” her roommate pleads, pulling the phone out of its box and handing it over with begging eyes. “ just call him first, please. ”

she almost secretly hopes that he doesn't pick up, but she's not that lucky.

“ hello? who am i speaking to? ” voice hoarse, drowsy, but still having answered his phone, she loses every single syllable she's ever learned before she manages to utter out a meek greeting and her name. “ i need your help. ”

“ what's wrong? ” now not so drowsy, his tone sharpens with worry, considering it is two in the morning. she hears a shuffle of the sheets, and the most embarrassing part of it all - this guy was her boss. not a friend, not someone she was close enough to call in a situation like this, not even someone she wanted to make a witness of this god-awful situation. this truly was not her best night. “ i'm so sorry, ” she apologizes profoundly, shaking her head, rubbing her temple. “ i- i shouldn't have called this late, i'm so sorry... ”

“ tell me what's wrong, ” he repeats, cutting her apologies in half. “ where are you? ”

teeth sinking into her cheek, she tugs on a loose string of her sweatshirt. “ in a police station, ” she confesses. “ my... my roommate brought home someone, the guy tried to rob us and i hit him with a vase and now they won't let me go. ” how idiotic the entire thing sounds. how she's ruined it all even before it's begun. an assault charge on her background, what a pretty look. it wouldn't matter, that he was a thief or who was right or wrong - she had more to lose. “ i don't know what to do, ” she exhales harsh, gaze rapidly growing blurrier by the second. “ would it burn my career, if the charges came through? ”

“ are you okay? are you hurt? " he rarely answers any of her questions, too calm in the face of her panic but not nonchalant. still, she is not in the head-space to find the words, trying her best not to burst into tears. “ 'm talking to you, doll. take a deep breath, okay? let's try again. are you hurt? ”

“ no, ” she manages to mutter out, but even that sounds like a lie with the way her hand keeps throbbing with a shrill pain. “ i don't know, my hand hurts, but it's not bleeding anymore. ”

“ good fucking lord, ” he exhales harshly, then she hears the sound of a door shutting close in the background, the beep of car keys. “ i just got out of the house, alright? tell me which station you're in, i'll be there in fifteen. don't panic, you're not staying there. i'm coming to get you. ”

it's not until she sees him that she lets go, honestly. the serenity his words brought her was beyond comforting, but the way his presence brought her such relief was inexplicable. hiromi walks inside the station with a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt he's barely managed to put on and she is lingering on the edge of losing it all. he is explaining to an officer that he is her lawyer when his gaze finds her, closing the distance with a few steps. “ ssh, it's okay, sweetheart - you're okay. lemme' see your hand, ” he gently grasps her bloody hand makes her wince with pain, but watching his heavenly visage contort with anguish is not any better. “ let me deal with this, then we'll take care of this. ” he glances over her, gaze searching for the same officer. “ wait here. ” he mumbles for her to sit again on the chair, and disappears from her line of sight.

he returns around half an hour later, her roommate having left to go back home and see what was taken and what could be mended for the report. “ come on, we're leaving. ” he holds her coat in his hands, waiting patiently to put it on. she glances between him and the officer he came back with, her head pounding with a migraine caused by the stress and the florescent lights that killed every last one of her braincells. “ wait, how, he said he was going to press charges- ”

“ he's not pressing shit, ” hiromi exhales, clearly frustrated with the whole thing and she immediately feels the guilt swallow her whole. ” come on, let's take you to a hospital. your hand is not looking good and i'm not letting you go home like this. ”

so she finds herself in the passenger seat of his audi, as guilty and shameful as a human being possibly could be as they sit in the parking lot of the hospital after a quick rush into the ER. they had taken a look at the heel of her palm and stated that it wasn't as deep as to require stitches, but still to be cautious they had properly dressed it and bandaged it with the advice that she should change it every few days to avoid infections. it was a lucky call, really, that she managed to get away with something as small as a cut. things could have been a lot worse.

“ i'm sorry, ” she apologizes again, glancing over at hiromi hesitantly, her fear having petrified in her face. they are settled in the car in silence, just taking a moment to register it all before he eventually starts the engine. somehow, he manages to look worse than she does with the dark bags under his eyes and that stern expression. she has a terrible habit of assuming she is the one to blame for whatever unfortunate incident. “ i didn't mean to stress you or frustrate you, i panicked and didn't know who else to call. ”

“ oh, doll, who else would you call? ” he glances back, to meet her gaze, and the tenderness in it feels like the very proof of her ruination, trying real fucking hard not to burst into tears. she hasn't shed a single tear yet, which had been eerie on its own. “ i wish you'd call earlier, i wouldn't have even let them take you in the first place. you haven't done anything wrong, okay? what you've been through is terrifying. and even if it doesn't feel like that right now, you were really brave. ” he reaches to collect the tear at the corner of her lash with his thumb. “ you've got nothing to apologize for. you were brave. ” 

yeah, that does it. a blink later, she is sobbing her lungs out in a car that probably cost more than an entire year's rent of hers, shoulders trembling next to a man that simply has no business being as caring as he is with her. “ c’mere, it’s okay. ” the toned arms she had been busy admiring a few days ago now wrap her in an embrace that warms her inside out, her face pressing flush against his sternum, tears soaking through the navy blue cotton. his palm cradling the nape of her neck, his chin tucked atop the crown of her head as he just hushes her gracefully. it soothes her, the steady beat of his heart, the scent of his cologne in her nostrils, the slight vibrations that echo through his ribs, the soft rub of his fingertips against the pressure points in the columns of her throat. “ i know you feel guilty, ” he murmurs, half muffled against her hair. “ but there is no need to be. did your best, yeah? i’m proud of you. ”

is it really necessary, for him to be like that when she’s like this? scared of how truly comfortable she is in his arms, she withdraws slowly, but lacks the strength to detach from him completely - her forehead falls on his shoulder and he keeps her like that, still cradled against his chest, still safe & secure. her stomach is churning. he was the sweetest man she’d ever known, trying to be caring at the expense of himself, and she spent most of her time daydreaming about him. it feels vile, it feels misleading. “ i think you should just fire me. please just fire me. ” she confesses eventually with a plead, hiccuping once, uninjured hand coming up to rub at her face, tears wetting the entirety of her cheeks now.

“ what are you talking about? ” hiromi asks, confused, sliding a knuckle underneath her chin to tilt her head up so he can see the flushed cheeks and the avoidant gaze. she doesn’t like the frown on his face, more concerned than offended. “ fire you for what, honey? for getting robbed? for almost getting hurt? ” he shakes his head, rubbing her chin with a tsk tsk sound. “ don’t be ridiculous. when i said to call me for an emergency, i meant it. fix the long face, now, i hate seeing you like this. ”

she doesn’t mean it.

when he stares at her for a second too long and he consumes every single sense from her sight to her hearing, invading her lungs & her veins, her nails already pressing into his biceps through the thick material of his sweatshirt. she doesn’t mean it, when he holds her chin and looks at her with those heavy lidded rust brown eyes, burdened with the beautiful curse of thick lashes and she is tilting her head alright - until her mouth brushes against his, and every single cell in her body explodes with the trembling anticipation of the taste of him, of what it feels like to be held by him.

the worst part is that it’s not her, that pushes all the ethics out the door- it's him that kisses her like he wants to devour her - with a sigh so heavy it forces her to gasp alongside, eyes fluttering shut and entirety of her easing like a ragdoll in his hands. the adrenaline of the night pumps still strong in her veins, senses dialed up to eleven for a newfound breath as she relishes with the taste of him on her tongue, lingering of coffee. he pushes his tongue inside her mouth, demanding the same access he has given her, and her hands dive into the short raven strands, groaning into his mouth, and it truly is so fucking shameful how she’s imagining the strong hands that keep her close to slide down to her hips, yank her atop his thighs -

“ oh my god, ” instead he withdraws, wide-eyed.

“ i’m so sorry, fuck, ” he gasps, one hand reaching to wipe the saliva that had wet his chin from how sloppy the kiss was, lips red-kissed and swollen as she stares at him like a deer caught in the headlights. he’s never looked so baffled and terrified before, and her stomach is churning with the way he trips over his own words, now completely pulling away from her, reaching over her without ever meeting her gaze to grab the seatbelt and buckle her in, indirectly making sure she would remain away from him. is this happening? she can’t tell, everything registering too late as she just blinks, watching him with unfocused eyes as he starts the engine. “ i shouldn’t - i shouldn’t have done that, i’m so sorry. i’ll drop you home. ” then the engine roars, and she remains in the large seat unable to think of a single thing except for wondering how it was possible for her to feel even worse after everything. hiromi is dead silent, with eyes not leaving the road once, and she feels her world slowly collapse around her.

what the fuck was that?

****

he was not seeing the pearly gates.

what kind of a sick, twisted man would be fisting himself beyond the locked doors of his office with the imagination of his assistant between his parted legs, looking up at him with those doe eyes of hers as she bobbed her head up & down, choking on the thick girth until her eyes watered-

“ oh, god, ” he gasps hard, empty hand flying to tuck the knuckle of his index fingers between his teeth, eyes rolling to the back of his skull as the warmth of even the imagination of her spreads through his limbs, shifting in the chair to ease his hips, slowly easing onto the comfortable leather. his head falling against the back of the chair, eyes fluttering shut with heavy breaths he is trying so, so hard to keep steady, beads of sweat trickling down the corner of his thick brow, the thousand dollar dress pants unzipped and loose around his waist. he can almost imagine her there, feel the soft strands of her hair sliding between his fingers, hear the sweet moans. what a cliche, what an overused trope - the man that wants to fuck his assistant stupid on his desk, it feels like a cheap porn, it feels humiliating.

but it’s the truth, and he knows it in the marrow of his bones. was it the final succumb to the teasings of his colleagues, when they kept teasing him endlessly about the sweet girl with arms filled with the folders he’s asked for and cute little heels clicking against his tiles? how endearingly she called him sir and how he loved the dimples that indented the corner of her smile lines? how he looked forward to heading out to the office every day, how he longed to hear her chime a good morning to him as soon as he walked through the doors. no, he didn’t just want to fuck her-

he was so smitten with her, he was beyond saving.

“ ‘m sorry, ” he gasps, both to the memory of her and himself, how unable he is to stop his fingers from tightening around his cock, angry red tip swollen and leaking on his lap with how fucking close he is. “ ‘m sorry, baby, i can’t- i can’t help it, ” he is whispering apology after apology, like she’d hear it, like he’d be forgiven for being so wanton, for being absolutely irredeemable. she had no idea, just across the hall, probably reading the files he’s given her this morning without being able to look her in the eye- it was horrid, to see how much the newfound tension and awkwardness between them hurt her but how could he maintain the same closeness, when he didn’t trust himself not to push her on the armchairs in front of his desk and bury his face in her sweet cunt until she couldn’t remember anything but his name-

that does it, the pure imagination of her arching beneath him into his nose & his mouth, desperately tugging on his hair as she called his name over and over again - hiromi, hiromi, hiromi! he’s spilling in his own lap without being ready to take care of it, breath getting knocked out of his lungs with a toe-curling tsunami cascading down on him. he cums for what feels like minutes, fisting himself through it, seizing on the chair in euphoria, as stiff as a rock before he rides it out eventually, a soft warmth embracing him inside out as it renders him limbless in his seat. he doesn’t want to look down at the mess he’s made, his shirt & pants beyond saving, his cum dripping from his fingers and palm. “ fuck, ” he breathes out, lips pressing into a thin line of shame as he grabs the box of tissues from his desk, sighing as he cleans himself up, face still flushed red and skin slick with sweat.

he needs to figure this out, one way or another.

****

she’s so fired, she doesn’t even have the inkling of hope in her as she silently awaits for him to hand her the resignation papers for her to sign for a clean break. she’d sign them without word, even having prepared a small apology talk in her head about how he was a wonderful man and a brilliant lawyer that deserved every good thing that were to come his way- and she was just an idiot who blew it all up by not being the first dumbass who returned a favor with a kiss but by being the first moron that lost the best job opportunity they could have ever found. this is why she couldn’t have good things- because she was simply incapable of not ruining it by blowing it to pieces.

it didn’t help that he barely even looked at her after that night. the quick banters and the shared chuckles in the safety of their offices and hallway were reduced to avoided eye contact and simple, short sentences regarding the work they had to do. she had arrived to the work the morning after the incident fully prepared to be called into his room and demanded a conversation about what happened, but instead, hiromi conveniently said his polite good morning to her and passed her office like he didn’t back out of a kiss he devoured her with. without an ounce of acknowledgement, he moves forward like the night had never taken place and it rattles her to the point of paranoia. days chase days, a day or two become a full month that’s passed with waking to every morning asking herself if today is the day. it burdens her nerves, her smile growing more & more strained with each hour, each day. the dream job of dozens now her arch nemesis, dragging her feet each day like an ostrich that wants to bury her head in the sand.

until she grows reckless and restless with it, until the strain on her sanity reaches to its brink and forces her to knock on his door with delirium ( yeah, they were closing doors and all, now) and yanks on the handle without waiting for a response, too agitated & frustrated.

“ hello? ” hiromi asks, half confused and half demanding an explanation for the sudden intrusion, his hands on the file he had been reading, his glasses tucked neatly on the bridge of his nose. “ what can i do for you? ” he asks, lacking every bit of warmth, and the cold it leaves her with is unbearable. the roof of her mouth aches with the taste of him, not having slept one night in rest since she knew what it was like to be in his arms. her sigh is exasperated, shifting her weight from one foot to another as she near damn slams the piece of paper she had brought with herself on his desk, atop his work. “ what is this? ” hiromi asks, an eyebrow arched as he reads the header- letter of resignation.

“ you won’t fire me, fine, but i can’t do this. ” she explains, standing in front of his desk, chewing on the inside of her cheek. there is no fear, having abandoned all her hesitations by the door as she walked in, knowing she wouldn’t be in this room again. it had been a nice opportunity to have, but dragging the dead weight of something that didn’t belong to her didn’t feel right. didn’t feel good or fair, and she couldn’t keep fighting the feeling that she was somewhere she wasn’t wanted in. “ i am so, so deeply sorry i kissed you- i shouldn’t have done that, it was insane, ” she shakes her head vigorously, stammering as her hands raise in surrender. “ i was truly going through it and i lost it for a second. it was horrible of me, and i can never regret it enough. but i can’t keep working here when you refuse to talk to me or even look me in the eye. so…” she breathes out, shoulders trembling. “ please just sign my resignation and free us both. i think we both suffered enough. ”

he stares at her, expressionless, blinking between his assistant and the paper that had been presented to him. it feels like the silence stretches for minutes, before he slowly leans back. he finds her gaze, thoughtful. “ do you, really? ” he asks, curious more than anything. “ regret it, i mean. ”

he just knows where to hit, which bone to twist to get the most visceral reaction out of her. she thinks back on it, the way he gripped the nape of her neck, how he pushed his tongue into her mouth and let his teeth graze her lower lip, sloppy & desperate. he is sitting in front of with the same dark pupils, with the same poker face, and she can’t lie. “ no. ” she corrects her lie, figuring she owed him that much. “ not really. i’m sorry i lost this all and i’m sorry i made you uncomfortable, but i don’t regret what… what that felt like. ” the roots of her hair is burning, and he nods slowly, like there is anything to consider at all with her confession.

“ and what did it feel like? ” he pries further, and she groans in protest, nearly squirming in her place with the pressure that overwhelms her. “ you’re being impossible, ” she tells him, now taking her frustration out on him, not knowing any better, not knowing how to handle the situation at all. “ why are you trying to humiliate me, like i’m not embarrassed enough? is it funny to you? ”

“ no, sweetheart. ” he rises out of his desk, reaching to his full height, and even the mere gesture is enough to have her jaw close right back up, shutting up immediately. he travels around his desk, nearing her but not quite closing the distance. “ do you think it was funny for me, to be locking that door and fucking my hand here thinking of you on your knees? do you think it was funny for me to not being able to look you in the eye without thinking of kissing the breath out of your lungs? ”

was she truly hallucinating now, or was this a fever dream? because there was no way it was true. she blinks once, twice, trying to register what she hears. hiromi takes a slow step, reaching to cup his chin between his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger, and the memories keep flooding back. a beautiful dejavu that ended in such heartbreak, but her she’s already feeling how her knees are failing her, forgetting how to breathe when he stares her down without an ounce of reservation. it was all abandoned now, abandoned the moment she kissed him and he kissed her back. “ do you understand how fucked up is that? ” he asks, no louder than a hoarse murmuring, gaze trailing her features. “ i’ve never laid a hand on anyone in this office before, let alone my assistant. let alone a girl like you. do you understand the position you’ve put me in? do you understand how wrong this whole thing is? ”

she’s dizzy, and there is nowhere to go from his hold, except to tilt her head up, wide-eyed and breathless. her mouth feels so, so dry, her tongue heavy in her mouth. “ i won’t tell anyone. ” is so pathetic if she could see herself from an outside perspective she would be jumping straight out the window with the second hand embarrassment. that’s how much she wants this man, enough to mutter a pathetic plea just to be the girl who got railed by her boss in his office, just to be the girl she had nightmares becoming. she will have to forgive herself, sometime in the future, because this is not something she can resist- hiromi is an obsession she wouldn’t be able to satiate herself with if she’d tried, especially when he stands chest to chest with her, when his thumb brushes her lower lip. he stares at her mouth endlessly, but this time she knows better than to kiss him first, this time she knows better than to come on too strong and terrify him away.

coming on too strong she fears, but it is his hands that slide underneath the back of her plush thighs to turn her and push her flush against the edge of his desk, forcing her on top of the polished wood. “ hiromi, ” she gasps, but it’s futile- he kisses her so fast the world tilts on its axis, whining with the last remaining braincell that her pencil skirt is too stubborn to let him settle between her legs, to which hiromi responds by sliding his rough palms across her thighs and hike up, until it is bunched around her waist. ever the problem solver, ever the crisis manager- he’s barely even touched her and she is already a puddle of limbs in his arms, wide-eyed and overwhelmed and confused. “ hiromi, ” she pleads again, unsure what she’s asking for, man’s mouth having trailed down her jugular, teeth grazing against the column of her throat.

“ ssh, ” he is so tender with the hush, she can’t even be frustrated at how inherently mean it is. her hands travel the broad, sinewy shoulders of his, trying to hold on without collapsing, not trusting herself to carry her own weight but hiromi doesn’t even allow her that, reaching to grasp her hands and pin them on the desk behind her. “ i’mma need you to hold out for me, yeah? ” he’s moving downward before she can even register the request, barely being able to plant her hands back and arch for support, gaining a groan from hiromi who is already on his knees, skilled fingers impatiently tugging on the buttons of her slim fit indigo dress shirt. “ so fucking beautiful, ” he murmurs but there is no telling if he’s talking to her or to himself, nuzzling his face into her navel when he reveals the creamy soft skin. “ you’re so fucking beautiful, sweetheart, god, you have no idea what you’re doing to me, ” he teeths at her hipbone, drags his tongue across her abdomen, leaving a cold trail in its wake, still sloppy. veiny hands grasp her thighs to move them over his shoulders, fingers carefully bunching the linen fabric at her waist, revealing the blue pair of underwear she’s already soaked through.

she wants to say something, do something, but there is no focusing when he stares at her clothed wetness as intently as he does, instinctively trying to shut her legs to which he replies with a “ uh-uh, keep ‘em open, ” he mumbles, pressing an experimental thumb right to her clit, drawing a groan and a jolt out of her. bingo. “ oh, baby… ” he murmurs, dazzled and mesmerized as she squirms on his desk, breathless and whimpering with hands grasping the edge of his desk, hips rutting into his hand desperately as he starts to draw tight circles, making her shudder. “ hiromi, ” she repeats his name for the thousandth time, chest heaving. “ please, please. ”

“ i know, i know, ” he trails, nosing at her through her underwear, then hooking his middle finger to the side of her panties to pull them aside, reveal the glistening folds & throbbing clit, moaning with the bare sight of it. “ oh, sweetheart, you’re drenched, ” he stares truly enamored, and she’s speechless, face scrunched up in overwhelm. he forces her to tilt her hips, manhandling without shame as his mouth hovers over her quivering cunt, warm breath tingling without ever closing the distance. she’s about to beg once more, beg him to do something, anything, but he’s too good for that- when his admiration is done, her leans over to spread her open with two fingers & lap at her like a man starved and she forgets every thought she’s ever had, breath knocked out of her chest, seizing on the desk. hiromi couldn’t care less, so goddamn happy to be between her soft thighs, pressing his tongue flat against her swollen bud and rub the pulsating hole with his thumb, eyes closed shut, moaning on cloud nine and letting each sound vibrate in her stomach. he is eating to his heart’s content, downright messy, and there is nothing to do but for her to take. “ taste so good, ” he mumbles against her, worrying her clit between his teeth, changing his thumb for a middle finger as she trembles on top of him. one hand flying to grasp onto his hair, raven strands bunched in her fist as she grinds shamelessly onto his mouth, onto his nose. “ oh my god, ” he whimpers, tongue licking at her dry lips, trying to protect her sanity. “ oh my god! ”

“ there you go, jus’ like that. fuck my face, baby. ” he encourages her to grind, using the opportunity to slide his finger inside her and feel it get swallowed whole by the gummy walls, exhaling so hard with the feeling she suddenly remembers that they are in his office and the door is unlocked. “ the door! ” she whisper-screams, eye-widened as she tries to fight inescapable surrendering to how good his finger feels nestled inside her, how well it stretches her out. “ the door, hir- oof, ” there is no finishing her sentence, because he’s curling it against the soft spongy spot inside her and her eyes are rolling back to the back of her head, almost drooling on her shirt. “ don’ care, ” he grumbles with the focus and effort it takes him not to pound her on the spot, worrying another finger inside her instead, sucking on her clit lazily. “ you’re not getting off this desk until you’ve cum on my fingers, ” so unabashed, he grips her hips even tighter as if to prove that he means his point. “ scared people will see you like this, doll? ” he kisses her clit lovingly, and at the same time curls and bullies that one spot inside her she’s clenching around the thick fingers on the spot, shaking violently. “ then you better cum. ”

she doesn’t need to tell him, he can probably tell by the way she squeezes onto his fingers like a vice, seizing on top of him as her hips violently rut into his face, cumming endlessly as he moans alongside her, still pumping his fingers inside her leisurely to help her ride it out but having released her clit to leave wet kisses on the inside of her thighs. “ there it is, good girl, such a good girl, well done, honey. ” he keeps uttering nonsense, but fuck if they don’t feel good, leaving her as a sweaty mess on top of his desk with mascara on her cheeks & flushed cheeks. it takes her a moment, laying on top of the desk, eyes fluttering shut as she tries to catch her breath. holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck. she doesn’t remember the last time she came that hard, doesn’t remember the last time someone made her feel that good. hiromi sounds pleased, humming contently as he slowly withdraws his fingers out of her and she barely catches the way he places them atop his tongue, licking them clean.

“ you’re trying to kill me, ” she concludes, dead serious, and he offers her the sweetest smile known to mankind before he disappears out of her vision, then she hears the sound of a key turning in its lock, as promised. “ i can’t have people seeing my baby like this, no? ” he hums, sultry as his fingertips trace her thighs, lodging himself between her legs once more, staring at her through half lidded eyes, pleased with what he sees. and all she’s thinking about is that he’s called her his baby. his. “ you left me alone, ” she doesn’t know where it comes from, the choked out confession, with the bottled emotions spilling between them, his fingers coated in her release. “ you didn’t- you didn’t speak to me for weeks…”

his expression changes, lips pursing into a thin line. “ i thought… ” he breathes out, unsure how to word anything at all. “ i thought it was the best thing to do. it’s not fair, doll, you don’t understand- i’m your boss. ” he sighs with exasperation, that excuse having long left the office by now. “ you would have hated me, you would have thought i was a creep, you would have… ” he shrugs, not wanting to talk about it any further. “ i can’t abuse my power. not ever, and especially not with you. you’re fucking brilliant, do you hear me? ” he tilts her chin to himself. “ you’re brilliant, you are the best that i’ve ever seen at your job- and you are not going to lose it or feel like you didn’t earn it because i can’t keep my hands off of you, alright? ”

oh. oh. rendered speechless, she just stares at him, vision blurring with a single blink. he had been trying to save her from him the entire time she thought that he was leaving her behind. “ i love you, ” she confesses, and it sounds wrong the moment it leaves her mouth- like it’s something she said in the heat of the moment, or something she said randomly without emotion, but the world hadn’t heard something truer than that. “ i think i’m in love with you, hiromi. i know ‘t sounds stupid and i know you don’t believe me, but i really do. ”

now it’s his time to be left devoid of words, frozen in his place, and as she thinks she’s said the wrong thing again, he leans down to gather her up in his arms. “ c’mere, ” she goes as she pleads, letting him pull her flush against his chest and lift her off the desk, to settle on the comfortable armchair with her spread out on his lap. he shifts them, until he slides further down, in a position where he can comfortably roll her hips up into hers without strain, his face nuzzled in the crook of her neck. “ want to hold you just like this, ” he murmurs, large hands kneading her ass to force her into a languid movement alongside him, leaving her wide-eyed on top of him, with the way he sits so, so heavy & hard between her legs, the button of his dress pants catching at her sensitive bud with each movement and making her jolt. “ hiromi! ” she keens, nails digging into his shoulders through the thin shirt. “ i know, baby, i know, ” he coos in her ear, muffled against her collarbone, skin slick with sweat. “ ‘t feels good, lemme have this for a second, i promise i’ll make it up to you. ”

it’s way too much, and he is way too merciless, she is gushing all over his pants, expensive black linen soaked underneath her, hiding her embarrassment by forcing her face against his neck, hiding there with lazy moans spilling out of her with each roll of his hips. “ you’re making a mess, doll, ” he murmurs, kissing the shell of her ear, holding her still by the large palm on her ass, cock strained against her through layers & layers. “ does it feel that good? you wanna cum again? ” her nod is so pathetic, it’s an abomination at that point, clenching and convulsing around nothing. it feels so good, the slight burn and the way that her rubs against her clit in the best angle possible. “ can you cum like this, baby? can you do that f’ me? i know you can do it, ” he encourages her. “ make me proud, atta’ girl. ”

make him proud she does, her hips stuttering and jerking on top of him, eyes rolling as she whimpers, hiromi thrusting slowly underneath her. “ look at you, so perfect, so perfect f’ me, ” he praises, and it goes to where all the precious things go in her heart, mewling with exhaustion on top of him. her face is peppered with endless kisses, his hand cradling her head and brushing through her now mess of a hair. her arms go around his neck, nuzzling into him tiredly, still riding out the aftershocks of her second orgasm. “ oh, i’ll never get enough of you, ” he confesses to himself. “ i’ll never get enough of this, how are you even real? how is this even real? ”

“ you promised, ” she whines, grinding into him once, and he breathes out an airy chuckle. “ i did, haven’t i? ” his sly hands reaches between them, unbuckling his belt in one swift motion, pulling himself out of his pants and he barely even needs to pull before he springs out, rock hard, leaking. she is unaware that she’s been staring, dazed at how mouth-watering it looks, how much she wants to get on her knees and get a taste of it until she hears hiromi sing for her. he’d look beautiful, with his head tipped back, face contorted with pleasure. but the man has different plans, it seems, because it takes him less than a second to grasp the base of his cock, drag it alongside her soaked folds leisurely before he lets his tip catch at the throbbing entrance. “ i’ll do all the work, okay? ” he speaks, tired but content, holding her steady. “ you just relax against me and let me take care of you, yeah? you’ve been so good to me, let me care for you, honey. ”

and who is she to say no to that? laying herself on his chest, she shifts her hips, and that same second hiromi gives it an experimental push, both of them groaning at the same time when he pops inside her with a quick suction, walls clenching around him, unsure if they want to suck the pressure in or push it all out. she gives out a low cry on top of him, hiromi swearing underneath his breath, giving it a few more inches, feeling the way she envelopes him. “ oh my god, ” he gasps out, hands on her hips, and she can feel him trembling with how much he tries not to bury himself to the hilt inside her, how much he’s trying to keep himself in check. “ oh, what the fuck, t’s so good, t’s too good, ” he slurs his words, head tipping back as he slowly pulls out to push right back in, her keeling on his chest. “ hiromi, fuck, ” she cries out, trying to adjust to the size of him but it feels impossible- not when he holds her the way he does, when he fucks her the way he does, slow and steady, without ever truly bottoming out, still considering her first.

“ you feel amazing, ” he says in disbelief, feeding her poor cunt one more inch every time he thrusts back inside, and she’s trying to keep herself from passing out on his lap, arms around his neck, holding on for dear life as he splits her open without a care in the world. “ wanna’- need to go faster, sweetheart, ” he frantically whispers in her ear, hips stuttering. “ i can’t like this, need more, can you take it? ” can she take it? “ yes, yes, yes, ” she’s babbling with a high-pitched whimper and before she knows it he pries her hands from his neck, grasping both her wrists in one hand and bounding them behind her back as she uses them as leverage before he-

oh, so this is what he meant- hips shift and the very next thrust buries him balls deep inside her and she chokes on her air, near damn screaming his name, especially with the way he starts to fuck her with reckless abandon, his empty hand flying to press his palm over her mouth to keep her quiet. her cries are muffled in the soft, sweaty skin, eyes rolling back and sopping cunt clenching each time he hits that spot inside her that makes her see stars, a constant mewling as she turns limbless in his lap as he praises her without end, a plethora of “ you’re being so good f’ me, ” and “ good girl, you’re so beautiful, ” ringing in her ear as he makes sure that no one will ever make her feel the way he does. she’s crying his name by the time she’s spasming around him, her third orgasm ripping through her like a bullet train as hiromi keeps pounding her without pause. “ keep cumming on my cock, jus’ like that, doll, don’t stop cumming, ” and she can’t, not when he doesn’t let her, doomed to take it all without a single complaint.

then he starts falling out of rhythm, as well, letting go of her mouth but not of her hands . “ oh, i’m so close, ” he grunts against her hair, thrusts getting more erratic, hips jerking. “ i’ll figure it out, ” is the first thing she says when she gets her ability to speak again, damp strands of hair stuck in the sides of her face, a total mess on top of him, gaze half-lidded. he glances up at her, searching for the truth in her eyes, to make sure she isn’t saying something she’ll regret in a second, asking if she’s sure. she responds with a meek “ please, ” and that’s all it takes for hiromi to slam his hips into her ass one more time, spilling inside her and letting them both moan with the feeling of it. it feels warm, it feels wet. she is viscerally shaking on top of him, collapsing with weak knees, and hiromi catches her in his arms, already having released her hands. “ good god, ” he exhales, head rested against the back of his chair.

they stay like that, nestled against each other, as a pile of dead limbs and long inhales, him still twitching inside her. her head remains rested against his chest, comfortable in his lap, comfortable not having to look at him in the face, knowing she wouldn’t be able to take the weight of his gaze at the moment. he’s everything to her, he’s so vital to her, it aches.

but he does something even harder, even more difficult. arms wrapped around her shoulders, tenderly rubbing her back, he rests his mouth against the shell of her ear and whispers an “ i love you, too. ” she stops dead in her tracks. his breath hitches in his throat, but he doesn’t back down. “ i do. there’s no helping it. i’ve tried. ” he lets all the air out of his lungs, fingertips tracing her spine. “ there’s no getting over you. there’s no one else like you. ‘m sorry i was an ass to you. you just really had me whipped, didn’ know what to do with it. ” she chuckles heartily at the confession that gets a bit adorable at the end, and when she pulls back just enough to see his face, she sees the smile she’s adored for the first time in weeks. it feels like seeing the sun after a hurricane, seeing a rainbow. “ there you go, ” she whispers, pleased, tracing his mouth with her fingertips. “ i’ve missed this smile. ”

“ are you ripping that resignation, or should i set it on fire? ” hiromi murmurs, grinning lazily at her, taking the sight of her in, seemingly pleased with his masterpiece. she drapes herself on his chest. “ dunno’. are you doing the honors of explaining this to the HR or should i? ”

he loses the grin so fast, exchanging it for a roll of his eyes and a groan instead. “ too soon to go back to all that, ” he murmurs, placing a loving kiss on the crook of her neck, holding her close. “ lemme’ go a second round, then we’ll consider. ”

“ hiromi! ”

[alley-cc]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Plus-Sized Reader

Notes: F!Reader, 18+ MDNI

Mandatory Attendance. Two words that Simon hates. He can tolerate a lot of things. He can endure the type of pain that would break the toughest soldiers in the world. He can endure sleep deprivation, dehydration and starvation. He's been trained to do so. After all, he's one of the best.

However, a large downside to being one of the best meant he was expected to make appearances. The government had a knack for throwing extravagant parties and celebrations over the smallest achievements. Celebrations that he, for whatever stupid reason, had to attend.

To his luck, all of his teammates were occupied on the field. Price and Gaz had been sent away to Russia. Johnny had volunteered to assist the first-year cadets with their basic training out on the field. He knows Johnny volunteered to help out so he can chase around the broad he has his eye on. He has to admit, she's a looker. She's another highly respected sergeant who follows protocol to the letter. Another pretty girl who Johnny will ruin in the best way.

His eyes flicker around the venue. He resists the urge to pull at his shirt collar and loosen the tie that threatens to cut off his air supply. It's another thing he finds himself hating. His ceremonial uniform. The thick fabric makes his skin itch uncomfortably, he pushes the feelings of claustrophobia from his mind. It's a later problem to deal with. The only thing that gives him some sort of relief is the fact that free booze is supplied.

He notes that he can slip out the side door and the venue. Easy and simple. A cigarette is already in his fingertips as he makes his way towards his escape route. He pushes himself past a man he never bothered to remember the name of, just the fact that He couldn't stand the bloke.

His attention is drawn away from his self-set mission when he catches a flash of light in his peripherals. His head immediately swivels towards the source of his distraction. Bloody photographers. You.

Your face is hidden away behind a camera, his eyes immediately drifting down your plush body. A modest black dress hides most of your form from him, leaving everything to his imagination. He can imagine how you'd react to him slipping his hand under that dress, following the curve of your body to find your sweet spots. He wants to hear you squeak, mewl and come undone for him. What a soft sweet thing you are.

He finally catches your gaze when you lower the camera. Eyes wide and round cheeks crimson red, you know you've been caught by him. "Didn't think I'd have to avoid getting shot at here," Simon grunts out. You let out an uneasy laugh, sputtering words to explain yourself, "I'm working with the organiser, I can delete it if you want.".

Oh, you sweet soft thing. So quick to accommodate his wants. He wants you, that is one thing for certain. He already knows he's going to do whatever he needs to in order to have you. You'd done your makeup so nicely too, pity to ruin it before the night ends. But god, the idea of the sight of you with mascara running down your cheeks and the sounds of your pleasure excites him.

Your cheeks burn a bright red as you struggle to explain yourself. He shakes his head "Don't bother." he orders. He can practically see the anxiousness coming off you. Eyes darting around the room as you look for your own escape route like he had done just before.

"You new?" Simon asks, he hadn't seen you at one of these events before. God knows he'd remember that pretty face if he did. You nod your head, the camera now resting at your hip and fingers fidgeting together. What he would do to see his baby on your hip instead. "It's my first paid event." you admit shyly.

He steps closer to you causing you to shink into yourself. You're clearly intimidated by him. Good. You should be. He really is a bad man at the end of the day. "I should go..." You mumble sweetly. He lets out a soft Tsk, "Stay." he commands. He can feel your uneasiness, but you do as he says. Obedient thing. He tilts his head to the side, hand ghosting over your hip as he takes the camera. He tugs on the camera strap draped across your body causing you to stumble towards him. Your face is only inches away from his chest now.

He presses all the buttons until he finds the one to show the images you've taken. His photo immediately appears on the screen. "Should know better than to take photos of people without consent." He scolds. You glance to the side, avoiding his eye contact. He lifts the camera, your own flash bliding you. You blink a few times, the cute look of surprise now immortalised on the screen in front of him. "Now we're even." He nods towards the image.

His gaze stays fixed on the image, it's slightly out of focus "I'm a better shot with a gun." he concludes with a shrug as he turns the screen towards you. You're quick to snatch the camera from him. Scrambling to compose yourself, half-finished sentences spilling from your lips. Your flustered state amuses him. He can tell you're more comfortable behind the camera instead of in front. He could help with that problem.

Ideas already forming in his mind of the nefarious things he wants to do to you in front of the lens. Your pleasure being forever encapsulated in pixels for him to enjoy over and over again. He could print them out for the missions that would keep him away for months. For nights he needed moral support. Really, you'd be doing a civic duty in his eyes. Supporting the troops in your own special way. Give him a reason to keep coming home. He knows his teammates would enjoy the view too.

He slips a business card that John had made him get for networking events into your hand. "Should consider shooting boudoir. We'd make an alright photo."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This probs doesn't make sense but it was fun to write hehe

[daydreamerwoah]

Family Tree (Chapter 4)

tw: awkwardness; drinking

Simon x Y/n <3

When you walked back toward the booth, you could see three additional bodies sitting with Ella. Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself to put on a face to meet her boyfriend and his friends. God, why didn't you just leave when you had the chance? Maybe you could sneak back to the bathroom so you could have more time to calm your nerves. You cursed yourself for not bringing your bag; maybe then you could have just left the place entirely and told Ella you had to leave when you saw her the next day at work. 

But no. You didn't have the chance to think of a grand escape plan. 

Ella's eyes found yours and an excited grin found its way on her lips, making the guy sitting beside her glance your way.

Shit. 

"Guys," she said as you made it to the table, "this is Y/n." she gestured to the three men sitting there.

Your eyes first landed on the brown-skinned man who was next to her. "Kyle," he introduced himself, sticking his hand out to shake yours. "This is my fella," your friend sweetly said before kissing his cheek playfully. Somehow, seeing them next to each other, you could instantly tell how they fit perfectly for one another. 

"Steamin' Christ," the guy sitting across from Kyle said, catching your attention "These two," he playfully rolled his eyes, "Name's John, but you can call me Johnny lass," he joked, making the couple laugh. 

"He's just jealous his bird is deployed right now," Kyle shot back. 

You wanted to ask what the hell bird meant, but from how you were just talking about Ella and Kyle, you thought it had something to do with a girl he was with. At least you hope that's what it was.

Johnny scoffed, "Yeah whatever."

"Scoot," Ella told Kyle, making room for you to sit next to her in the booth. You smiled before squeezing your way in, "And this-" she said, making your eyes look at the body that was now sitting across from you, "- is Simon."

Your heart dropped five flights of stairs down to your stomach the moment you saw the man. The dark brown eyes, the black surgical mask, the hood that covered the rest of his head. It was the guy you'd seen in the cafe twice; the guy you hastily backed up into, and fuck did you want to hide under the table. Your eyes widened, and you gulped, embarrassingly obvious. Ella subtly glanced at Johnny and Kyle, who both had a curious look in their eyes but remained quiet. It was amazing how the three of them had come to the same conclusion that you had to have known him somehow.

"Uh hi," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt, "Nice to meet you guys," you glanced around the table. 

A waitress brought each one of them drinks, giving a thankful distraction to the table as she set down the glasses. But it wasn't a good enough distraction for Simon Riley. The moment you walked back to the table and he glanced at you, his eyes narrowed slightly. From the side of your face, he thought you looked familiar but couldn't place where he'd seen you before. It wasn't like he remembered a lot of things when it came to his civilian life - especially people - but it was something about you that screamed I've seen you. It wasn't until you sat down across from him that he was indeed correct; he had seen you before... in the cafe. And by the look on your face, you had remembered him too. The slight furrow of his eyebrows was slightly covered by the hood, but you saw it. 

You wanted to believe that he wouldn't recognize you. I mean, he probably saw a lot of people during the day like you did. Surely some girl who bumped into him weeks ago would spark anything for him to think about that moment... would it?

Wrong.

You tried your best to keep your focus on everything else going on at the table; Kyle and Johnny discussing a little bit about their last mission - the pieces that weren't confidential; each time one of them raised their glass to take a sip of their drink; anything.

While Ella asked Kyle and Johnny about what all happened earlier in the day, Simon's eyes subtly remained on you. Maybe this time you'd catch him staring, and then you'd feel slightly better about catching him. But he was quick... each time you found yourself glancing his way, his eyes would already be on the couple. He was a soldier, after all. Everything he did was silent and quick… Except for his intimate moments, but that rarely was shown to anyone. Even the one night stands he had, they had never even seen his face before, so there was no way they'd see anything more.

But hell, this was awkward as fuck. So awkward you found your leg slightly bouncing under the table. 

"So lass," Johnny said as he took a sip of his drink, "America?" You slightly raised your eyebrow at his quick conclusion, making him smirk, "The accent." 

Oh.

You nodded, quickly looking at Simon before going back to Johnny, "Yeah."

I mean, it was hella obvious that you weren't from anywhere except across the pond. 

"What made you move here?" Kyle chimed in. 

A beat went by before, "Family," your short answer came out. But Ella, already proving herself the best bestie there was, switched topics immediately.

"I was thinking about cooking a big dinner on Friday. You all should come over yeah?"

Bless her heart. You didn't even know if she really was going to cook or not, but it definitely got their attention changed to food and how good Ella's cooking was. You slightly lowered your head, thankful for the change in topics, but this didn't go unnoticed by the quiet man sitting across from you. He was no stranger to avoiding anything that remotely talked about family, considering he didn't like to talk about his either. But he didn't like the feeling that crossed his mind about why you didn't like to talk about yours. Were they back in the States? Were you close to them? Were they dead? All those questions ran through his mind as he looked at you for a moment. 

Feeling his gaze, you briefly glanced up meeting his eyes, before cutting them away to pay attention to Ella talk about everything she was going to cook. 

"Oh you should join us," she said, looking at you. 

And risk running into the man - erm, Simon - again? 

"I can't... have to take care of some things," you declined, once again coming up with an excuse.

Well, it wasn't an excuse. You did have something to do. Continue fixing up the damn townhome. 

Her famous pout formed on her lips, making you give her a sad smile. If she convinced you to do anything else today, your head was going to spin. 

"Fine," she playfully rolled her eyes, "But one day you have to. Deal?" You nodded. She glanced down at your empty glass from earlier, "Want another bourbon?" she asked, making the table go silent for like... three seconds. Although it felt like an eternity.

"Y'drink bourbon?" Johnny asked, with a look on his face that was unknown to you, it made you slightly blush sheepishly. But Ella and Kyle, that look made their lips turn upward before simultaneously glancing at Simon. He, however, felt his eyebrow raise at hearing her ask you that question. Another thing that made him curious about you. 

You nodded, "Yeah," you answered him before looking at Ella once more, "But no. Think I'm gonna head out."

She groaned before a thought popped in her head, "Wait. Come to the restroom with me," she pleaded and all but gently shoved you out of the booth before grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the restroom. You didn't even have time to protest before you were walking behind her toward the back of the pub. The moment the two of you stepped inside the restroom, she faced you with a big, toothy grin, "Alright spill. How do you know Ghost?"

Your eyebrows drew closer together, "Ghost?"

Rolling her eyes, "Simon. We call him Ghost cause that's what he usually goes by - his callsign. But whatever. How do you know him?" she smiled. 

"I don't know him."

"Bollocks. When you looked at him, your eyes got so big I thought they were gonna pop out ya head," she teased. 

You wanted to laugh, but the fact that she saw the way you looked at him made you freeze a little. You weren't that obvious were you? You had two choices: brush her and the topic off like it never even happened, or tell her. The thought that she'd bug the shit out of you forever if you didn't say anything made you cringe a little. You glanced around the restroom, feeling silly about why you even felt awkward about the guy.

"I just-it's a cafe I went to a few weeks ago. I was in a hurry to get to work and accidentally bumped into him after I ordered my latte. It was embarrassing, to say the least," you said, remembering that day vividly for some reason, "And then I saw him again the other day. I wasn't-wasn't staring or anything, but he caught me looking at him. Talk about being a weirdo. Just didn't think I'd see him again," you finished, somehow zoning out a little at the memory of how you embarrassed yourself in front of a man what was now three times. 

And god was Ella beaming inside.

The same thing could be said for Johnny and Kyle back at the table. 

"Seems like she likes ya L.T.," Johnny teased, nudging Simon's shoulder, making the large man huff, "She likes bourbon too."

Kyle chuckled, taking a sip of his drink, "You've seen her before?" 

Simon was a man who never talked about his personal life, not even to his teammates. What little they knew about him was snippets of his past and that he enjoyed a good Kentucky bourbon any day of the week. There were bits of pieces that he sometimes indulged them in, but for the most part, what he did when he wasn't at work was any of their guesses. So knowing that you had seen a girl - Ella's coworker at that - intrigued them like small boys learning about something their big brother was doing. 

"Wouldn't ya like to know," he responded, the cockiness of his personality coming a bit. 

Although he was quiet - ghostly quiet - Simon was playfully cocky, and every now and again, his friends would catch a moment. This made the two other men chuckle, teasing him more about where he probably met you.

After a minute or two, you and Ella had made it back to the table, her taking a seat next to her boyfriend again while you grabbed your bag. 

"It was nice meeting you guys," you said, bidding farewell to them. Before you left, Ella made you - more like demanded with a laugh - that you put your number in her phone. You couldn't help but slightly grin as you did. Handing it back to her, you took one last look at the three men sitting in the booth as well, eyes lingering a bit longer on Simon. He didn't even hide that he was looking at you too. It made your stomach flip at the silent interaction. "Bye," you said before leaving the pub. 

If you were lucky, you probably wouldn't have to see him again and further embarrass yourself. 

I feel like this wasn't awkward enough but I was having a hard time putting thoughts into the writing lol!! I might rewrite this What yall think?

Taglist: @simp-4-masked-men @dayrin085 @jessicab1991 @kylies-love-letter @kalypsoox @brownlee-22 @firefoxkairan

[fic-over-cannon]

Hi Sunnie!! Congrats on hitting a milestone! Ah, this event is so cool, I know everything you cook this weekend is going to be delicious! If it inspires you, can I get a pumpkin carving where Jason meets the reader during his time with the League of Assassins? Thank you! 🧡

jany you must really be reading my mind or something because i’ve been tossing around a league of assassins au in my mind for a while now (keeping in mind I have very little idea of how the league canonically works)

talia picks you up a few years before jason, a stray puppy with no one to miss you and a burning desire to belong to someone. she thinks it’ll be good to have a person so deeply indebted to her their loyalty will never be in question.

you’re older than the standard age for child recruits but younger than the adults, and so you are forced to push yourself past your limits in already brutal conditions. it makes you hard, this life, but you excel at it. talia raises you to the position of Damian’s protector, underestimated and always to be in the background.

this is how you meet jason todd. talia brings him home, a silent cracked thing with no memory or voice. you are hesitant at first, wary of the possible threat he poses to your ward. but even unconscious jason is kind, holds out shaking hands to stop damian from falling over, careful not to grip too tight.

he is kind, and then he is angry. the pit brings back a man so alive, so vibrant with it. he doesn’t remember you or the days you spent in quiet company, but you ask him not to let the league’s training change him. the warning doesn’t take.

you fall in love with him, his passion and heart, even as you know the league will never allow for such softness. sometimes you think that jason feels the same way too, in the way his eyes crinkle and his posture relaxes around you but whatever it is goes unsaid.

talia approaches you with a mission, one that will likely end in your death, and swears you to secrecy. she is apologetic, has tried to do her best by her protege, but all of her maternal instincts have been spent on her boy and her beloved’s son.

with heart in your mouth, you ask jason if he would ever leave this all behind, the violence and vengeance. he gives you a pretty speech about making Batman atone, about making Gotham better for all those victimized by her, and your heart turns to ash in your sweaty palms. he will not run away with you.

you go off to your death and jason thinks you are just another in a long line to abandon him. it hardens him. he goes off to find fury in the streets and leaves the league behind with talia’s blessing. you survive, much to your surprise, but jason is gone. the rope tying you to your mistress is invisible but it will not let you leave to find him.

a few years later you show up on the bat’s doorstep with damian on your hip and a hastily scribbled letter from talia. jason won’t look at you anymore.

you can request more headcanons as part of sunnie’s soft autumn

[ilovepapahet]

James Hetfield HeadCanons

Im doing hc’s on my favourite eras of James (they are going to come up a lot in story’s and fanfics) Im starting off with 1986 or MOP I hope you like them

————————————————————————

SFW

He’s so silly

He loves to tease you when ever he gets the chance he can be mean too but in a good way

he’ll teach you how to play guitar (but I feel like he’d do it whatever the era) you’d be sitting on his lap as he’ll place his fingers on the frets and you’d follow suit

he loves kissing you all over showing you how much he really loves you

he’ll take you to band practices too he loves showing you off because he thinks he’s the luckiest man alive to be dating you

If your laying down on your bed or couch on your stomach he’s lay his head on your ass and tell you about his day

sometimes he’ll tickle you to just to hear you laugh because he thinks you have the sweetest laugh ever (he’ll tell you that every time you laugh)

if you go out to a bar or just out in general he’s a fuckin guard dog and will never leave your side making sure no ones bugging you or flirting with you

he’ll take pictures of you when you least expect it and there the most foul photos ever and he’ll tell you your adorable (the photos are horrible)

he has his hands on you at all times cuddling the fuck out of you

he loves to cook with you (or at least try his best) but you also wouldn’t consider him cooking it’s just him following you around the kitchen

sometimes when your in your room working he’ll just walk in stand there for a few seconds making you very confused before he farts and walks out and you’d yell at him (he thinks it’s so funny)

NSFW

he can’t stay serious at all sure there are times when he’s being all loving and passionate but half of the time he’s making you laugh while being balls deep inside you

he’d say something stupid and it make you laugh

but when he is being loving he’s the sweetest praising you and literally worshiping you

I feel like he’s more soft in the 80s than in the 90s like he can definitely be rough but not as rough

he’ll play with your tits taking one into his mouth as he slowly thrust into you

he’ll leave hickeys on your tits and thighs where no one can see them and he’s so proud of himself because he’s marking you as his and he lets you know all the time

I feel like he loves and I mean LOVES to eat pussy out in this era (as well as two others I will mention later on) he’d ether eat you out like a mad man or lazily lick and kiss your pussy

He just loves to be in between your legs

Same with you giving him head he’d let out sounds only your ears have the grace of hearing (you don’t complain at all) he’d buck his hips up into your mouth when he’s close and praise you when you swallow all his cum

and to be honest he’s not that great at after care (he’s still learning don’t worry) he’d flop down on the bed wrap his arms around you and call it a night

————————————————————————

I hope you guys liked this one, there are still 8 more to come

[hotvintagepoll]

Ernest Torrence (Steamboat Bill Jr., Fighting Caravans, The Hunchback of Notre Dame)—Ernest Torrence was, by no means, a "little" guy - he was a quite towering 1.93 m tall - but he most certainly was scrungly. He was often cast as brooding and imposing villains, thanks to his somewhat intimidating physical appearance, where his height and sharp, stern-looking facial features certainly played a part. He started doing silent movies, where he was noted for, among others, his role as Clopin, the leader of the thieves, in The Hunchback of Notre Dame. He didn't only portray villains, though. In the Buster Keaton-movie, Steamboat Bill, Jr, he showed off his comedic skills as the father of Buster Keaton's main character (the age difference was merely seventeen years, but what with Keaton's youthful visage, and Torrence looking slightly older than his age, nobody would think "that's a young father right there",) and the two truly shone together, what with Keaton's deadpan slapstick, and Torrence's serious, yet slightly choleric sidekick. Another non-villanous part was the role of Peter the Apostle in The King of Kings (1927,) where he channels the energy that is called "pious yet slightly alarmed." He played in both silent movies and talkies, and managed that transition very well. Unfortunately, he died quite young - at the age of 55, in 1933 - and didn't get much time showing off his talents further in that era. Watching his movies, I often see something sinister... but I always sees something fun, too. A man having the time of his life portraying these roles, villains or not. There is always an aura of delight surrounding him. Charm, charisma, and some serious acting chops. I wish this competition took place a few decades ago (by post perhaps? I'm an old woman.) Then I would have "gone ham" with this. Young and energetic me had such a platonic crush on this man. I loved the way he wasn't traditionally handsome. I loved that large snout of his. The wicked eyebrows. The intelligent yet sinister gaze. I wrote poems about him. I drew his portrait. I had a portrait of him above my bed (which I still own, by have moved a few times since then.) I knew so much about him, his life, and his works back then, but now, even though I love him as much as back then, a lot of information has escaped me with age. Whatever happens, Ernest Torrence will always and forever be the scrungligest of scrungly little big guys for me.

Fats Waller (Stormy Weather)—Submitting fats waller because i looove his little cameo spot in Stormy Weather (1943). He has the best facial expressions and he just seems like a silly fella!

This is round 1 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you're confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Ernest Torrence

Fats Waller:

[qatheauthoress74]

Transformers One Spoiler Review

There are so many spoliers in this review. I am not kidding when I saw go watch the film (five times at least) before reading this. Okay? Good.

I’m gonna be honest here. Growing up I wasn’t all that invested in the Transformers franchise as other kids were. I ocasionally watched a random episode of Transformers Animated or Prime whenever they were on TV back in the day but I wasn’t what you’d call a fan. All that changed after I watched Bumblebee (2018) on a whim and it changed my brain chemistry in the best way. Seriously, that film is still one of my comfort movies and I love it so much that I even began to write fanfiction again with several TF fics, including my Riding A Sunset story (https://archiveofourown.org/works/17648414/chapters/41617823).

But before Bumblebee, theatrical Live Action Transformer films had the infamous status of being bad to downright terrible for overusing bland human characters over the Autobots or Decepticons as well as being very inconsistent with their own established continuity. Not to mention making some characters act very out of character. Seeing a film like Bumblebee helped me believe that filmmakers are capable of telling a story that not only respects the lore but also genuinely cares about substance over spectacle outside of the well-made fight scenes. That was why I wanted to give Rise of the Beasts a chance when it came out but I was sadly a little underwhelmed. It is still better than any of the Transformer films Micheal Bay directed, but personally, that’s like saying the Eukrea 7 film “Pocket Full of Rainbows” is better than E7: Ao and the follow-up film trilogy, which isn’t saying much. Again, that’s just me and my biased opinion. Which is the whole point of this review.

But believe me when I say I did want to give Transformers One a chance. I was hopeful after learning it was going to be fully animated and would actually focus on the Transformers instead of some random humans. So, what kind of plot would the film be about it’s a prequel set on Cybertron?

Well…

Plot: The premise is the origin of the mighty leaders of the Autobots and Decepticons, Optimus Prime and Megatron, and how the two factions would eventually fight over control of their home planet, Cybertron. Both started as lowly miners unable to transform into vehicles like the other half of their race can and so are forced to work day in and day out in their underground home of Iacon City to collect the fuel source known as Energon. The reason they need to do so is because 50 cycles before the events of the story the leaders of Cybertron, The Primes, died in a war against an alien race called the Quintessons. After they were killed an important relic known as the Matrix of Leadership disappeared and it led to the Energon dwindling until it could only be found deep under the planet’s surface. Without Energon, the Cybertronians would perish, which is why Orion Pax (Optimus Prime’s identity before he became a Prime) wants to find out what happened to the Matrix of Leadership. The current leader of the Cybertronians, Sentinel Prime, is trying to find it out on the surface but has been unable to do so. D-16 (Megatron’s original name) would rather keep his head down but constantly gets dragged into whatever zany scheme Orion has come up with at the moment. Thanks to unintentionally antagonizing a Cybertronian named Darkwing the two get dumped into the lowest place imaginable and meet an overly talkative but friendly bot called B-127 (aka Bumblebee). There they discover a warped message from one of the fallen Primes, Alpha Trion, calling for aid. Orion sees this as an opportunity to find a clue to where the Matrix might be and convinces D and Bee to help him reach the surface and inadvertently brings along Elita-1, Pax and D’s former boss, who recently lost her job thanks to them breaking protocol to save another miner’s life. The four bots end up discovering Alpha Trion’s unconscious body and manage to wake him up. He reveals to them that Sentinel is not what he seems and tells them a horrible truth:

Sentinel was never a Prime and was the one responsible for killing the original Primes with help from the Quintessons.

And all of the Energon the Cybertronians have been mining was being given to the Quintessons by Sentinel as a form of hush money to keep them from revealing his true colors to the Cybertronians. The heroes later learn that he was also the one responsible for taking their cogs as newborns so they could never have the freedom to be anything else but miners. The story then goes to show how Orion, Elita, and Bee want to bring Sentinel to justice while D (who gets slowly consumed by his deeply suppressed anger) wants to seek vengeance against Sentinel for what he has done and kill him for his crimes. The story gradually unfolds as lines are drawn, and tragically, the beautiful friendship between Orion and D ends with them becoming bitter enemies under their new personas, Optimus and Megatron. The story ends bittersweetly with Optimus inspiring his former fellow miners into becoming Autobots and bringing Energon back to the planet as soon as he was given the Matrix after he sacrificed himself trying to save Sentinel from D/Megatron’s wrath. He also gave the miners their T-Cogs back, restoring their freedom and autonomy in the process. The story ends with Optimus sending out a message to the Quintessons, telling them he and the Autobots will be ready to face them when they return. Meanwhile, Megatron forms a new faction consisting of the previous members of the dead Prime’s honor guard and calls them Decepticons to remind themselves to never be deceived by anyone again.

Characters/Voices: The film even leans heavily on established lore from pretty much all of the comics, the Aligned Continuity, some Live Action stuff, and Transformers Animated. I wasn’t even that bothered by the celebrity voice cast. Don’t get me wrong, I will always choose professional VAs over celebrities anytime, but I genuinely thought everyone did a great job, especially Chris Hemsworth as Orion/Optimus and Brian Tyree Henry as D-16/Megatron. Henry said in interviews he was using his experience as an activist in college as inspiration for how resentful and angry D-16/Megatron sounded in wanting to change things and I say he succeeded. Hemsworth had done his homework by consulting with THE Optimus Prime himself, Peter Cullen. I personally like to believe Cullen shared his “how I became Optimus Prime story” which is summed up by how Optimus should “Be Strong Enough To Be Gentle.” I The reason I think that is because I felt it in Hemsworth’s performance, especially at the end of the film. I loved how they gradually sounded more like Optimus and Megatron as the story progressed. Which is both amazing and heartbreaking at the same time because you could see from the start how close Orion and D-16 were to each other before learning about the truth.

Other standouts include Laurence Fishburne as Alpha Trion. He gave the Prime a grand presence that almost reminds me of James Earl Jones as Mufasa from The Lion King. RIP.

Scarlett Johansen was great as Elita-1, but I already had zero doubts since she had experienced voice acting before this film.

Vanessa Liguori did a great job of giving Airachnid a sinister personality. And I have no idea who this “Jon Bailey” is, but he certainly gave Soundwave an “Epic” voice that I liked. ;)

Steven Buscemi as Starscream was a delightful surprise, even if I learned way more about Starscream’s kinks in this film than I would like, but hey, if he likes getting hit and choked, I won’t kink shame him.

Jon Hamm made me hate Sentinel so much. Give him an Oscar, please.

Now, the one actor who I was a bit wary of was Keegan-Michael Key as B-127/Bee. Bee has quickly become one of my favorite Transformers thanks to Bumblebee (2018), and I was worried Key would make him unbearable to sit through. But as I said earlier, the script (and possibly the voice director) made Bee come off as annoying in a “doesn’t know better” kind of way that almost leans to obnoxious but more akin to a hyperactive young adult who’s happy to have friends. Heck, the film even knows his voice could get annoying and made several funny jokes surrounding it. Also, the film knew to only have Bee talk too much during scenes that were supposed to be funny. When it came to the more quiet moments Bee was about to take things seriously as well as the rest of the characters. And yes, I noticed Steve Blum was the racer announcer and archive guard. He did amazing as per usual. No notes.

Animation: I can’t stress enough how beautiful the animation for this film is. Industrial Light & Magic did an excellent job with the animation and I hope to see them do another Transformers film like this again. I loved the way Iacon City was designed.

The director, Josh Cooley, said the filmmakers were inspired by the Art Deco movement and you can see it from how the buildings look. It gives off a Metropolis meets Blade Runner in the best way. I also liked the way the roads and rail tracks would “magically” appear when someone was driving on them. And the way the planet’s mountains moved was also nice to look at.

And this is something that my mom liked while she watched the film was how Alpha Trion used sand to show the past and what happened to the Primes. (Who knew Alpha Trion was an Earthbender? XD)

One touch that I really like was when after the quartet learns of Sentinel’s alliance when the Quintessons you can see D-16 is sitting further away from the others and has his back facing them. A subtle sign showing the growing distance between him and the heroes. And the way his optics gradually changed from gold, orange, and finally to red was done very well. Also, when Orion reunited with the miners he made sure to kneel so he wasn’t towering over them. It’s a nice way that show how humble he truly is compared to Sentinel and later Megatron. And I didn’t expect this film to get violent, but the shot of Megatron killing Sentinel by pulling him apart was brutal. The film did not kid around with its PG rating.

Nitpicks:

If I could complain about a few things I would say that I wished the film had a slightly longer runtime. At least 10-15 more minutes in the third act. I would’ve loved to see more of the final battle with the miners fighting Sentinel’s soldiers and Optimus vs. Megatron. I did mean it when I said Hemsworth and Henry killed it as Optimus and Megatron. But hey, if their performances were that good it definitely convinced me to go see the next film with them in it.

I would’ve liked to have seen other animals on Cybertron’s surface besides those metal deer but that’s just me.

Also, this is just a me thing again, but I kinda wished the miner characters (or minors XD) had more distinct voices. It’s just that since the Generation 1 cartoon, all of the Autobots were known for having unique accents like Ironhide’s southern drawl, Wheeljack’s Brooklyn accent, or Jazz’s smooth way of speaking. I mean, if the High Guard/Decepticons were allowed to have voices based on their original counterparts the Autobots should’ve had the same thing, ya know?

And how dare they tease me with namedropping “Medic Ratchet” but not actually have him appear in the film. I want my grumpy doc-bot. And Drift. I don’t think I saw Deadlock with the High Guard. Did anyone? I think I mostly just saw Seekers and Coneheads in the crowd shots.

HC/Theories:

The reason mining Energon was so dangerous had to do with Primus himself deliberately trying to halt it as much as possible. Think about it, Primus sent the Matrix of Leadership away before Sentinel could use it. I bet Primus didn’t want Sentinel to give Energon to the Quintessons which Sentinel ended up doing by making Cybertronians mine for it. Primus also probably made the mountains move while the group was on the train because we later learn it was full of Energon and not waste like Elita initially thought. Primus has been trying to undermine Sentinel’s plans all this time but probably couldn’t do too much damage as he didn’t want to hurt innocent Cybertronians in the process. And another thing to add is the fact that it looks like the planet itself is moving after Orion was dropped by D-16/Megatron so that Primus himself would bring him to the planet’s core and bring him to life as Optimus Prime because he knew the young miner was worthy of the Matrix.

I’m pretty sure Jazz became one of the first Autobots because he wanted to show his appreciation to Optimus for saving his life earlier in the film.

I like to think the reason why B talked so much in One was probably to make up for the fact that he barely talked at all in previous TF films. Though, there is another theory going around that in the next movie, the filmmakers are planning to make him mute which is why he talks alot in One. I seriously hope that WON’T happen because I’m sick and tired of Bee losing his voice so often. I know some later shows have avoided this, namely Robots in Disguise (2015) and EarthSpark, but I would seriously love the films to follow the same example.

Overall: I love this movie a lot. I’m pretty sure if this was my first time seeing it instead of Bumblebee (2018) I think this would’ve altered my brain chemistry as much as that film did. If you haven’t seen this movie go watch it and if you have, go see it again. I WANT this movie to do well in theaters and not be a failure. The fact that it took us this long to get a film that captures the Spark of Transformers and be something both fans and newcomers can enjoy is nothing short of a miracle. We need Hasbro and Paramount to know this and Bumblebee are the kind of content we want to keep seeing and not the same movie with “Bayhem” over and over again.

Thank you. I’m already writing another blog about this movie soon. It’s going to be about why TF: One is a better Wish movie than Wish (2023). Trust me, it’ll make sense once I post it. XD

Keep on Writin’ and Rockin’

[mendeshoney]

this close isn't close enough

a/n: happy thirsty thurday fellow harlots ^_^

this is a small little part 3 ish/sequel to take me back to eden (you can find part one here and part two here) that just popped into my head and i figured i'd jot it down for you all to enjoy. it does discuss wanting and trying for a child, so if that's not something you're comfortable with, this may not be for you, so read with caution. this is for @pyotrkochetkov and @smileysvech because without them this fictional andrei wouldn't exist! title is from "melt" by kehlani

warnings/tags: nine year age gap, older man x younger woman, slice of married life, baby fever, fluff, lots of smut, shower sex, hotel sex (semi-public, against the window), oral sex, unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy/impregnation

word count: 12,163

“Almaznyy?” Andrei calls out, removing his reading glasses with one hand as he shuts his laptop with the other, then rubs the bridge of his nose.

He counts to ten in his head, waiting for your response, but it doesn’t come. The soft and familiar whrrrrr of a machine echoes back at him instead, and he sighs, a small smile stretching across his face as he gets up from his desk to wander down the hall.

When he makes it down the hall and to the threshold that leads to you, he's not surprised in the slightest to find you at your pottery wheel. Your back is to him as you sit on your stool, headphones on as your body lightly moves along to the music playing, hands firm and shaping the clay in front of you into what he knows is the makings of a teapot.

Beside you, on the work table, Andrei sees two mugs newly finished with their handles attached, two finished matching saucer plates that need to be painted with glaze and fired, and two little spoons, already fired and glazed, probably newly taken out of the kiln. Beyond that, he also spots two jars - one for honey and one for sugar cubes, you had told him - and three brand new jars of glaze.

He takes a second to himself to just silently admire you, his beautiful wife of nearly two years, and lets his heart beat wild and content in his chest.

Andrei had converted one of his guest rooms into your own little art studio not long after you moved in with him, and by converted, he means he took out all the furniture, stripped the carpet, and let you decorate and furnish it how you saw fit.

He tried his best to learn as much as he could about what kinds of art you liked creating, the tools you used, but in truth, a lot of it was lost on him, and you had more mediums of art you were interested in than you cared to admit. Andrei had ended up giving you his card instead, telling you to buy whatever it was you needed or wanted, so that the space became exactly what you had always dreamed of.

You had been meticulous about it, too, and Andrei adored every second of watching you design the space back then. The flooring was first - you insisted on water and stain proof vinyl floors - followed by shelves, storage drawers, a small desk, your massive work table, and other organizing things. Then, once you had a place and space for everything, you bought canvases, a pottery wheel, clay, easels, paints, a sketchbook, pencils, pens, markers, and more.

You’d bought a kiln, too, which had its own place in a little shed he bought and had built for you outside. Since you'd gotten back into pottery and started making pieces, you'd been able to sell some to a few of the wives, girlfriends, and partners of players on the team, as well as some of Andrei's co-workers in the Canes' front office. You had even put a few up of your paintings and drawings you'd done on your larger canvases in their charity auctions over the last couple of years, which had given you a significant amount of your own money.

Andrei encouraged you to go legit and open up a shop, which was an idea you'd been slowly getting used to. You'd set up a website so far, and had sold your first collection a couple of months ago - planters and vases and hanging planters and such - which had done extremely well, but you insisted you wanted to still be able to find fun in doing it again instead of allowing it to feel like an obligation.

To help with that as of late, had been your project of a tea set for his mom's birthday, which was still months away. You'd been using the kiln a lot more because of it, for test pieces as well as the actual pieces themselves, so more often than not lately, your art studio is where he found you.

"If you call for me and I don't respond to you in ten seconds," you'd told him when you first started on the set, "I'm either in here, or at the kiln out back."

Quietly, he observes as you shape the lump of clay in the center of your wheel into a sphere, then, unhappy with the roundness, you carefully squeeze at it until it's back into another lump, before shaping it out once more. The rise of your shoulders before they tense as you start to create a hole in the middle of the clay, and the fall of them again when you start to pinch at the walls until it forms into the exact shape you want.

Only when you stop the wheel and dip your hands into the bowl of water beside you to get rid of the excess clay does Andrei approach, carefully placing his hands on your shoulders to give you a gentle squeeze.

You tilt your head back, bumping it into his abdomen gently as you gaze up at him with his favorite dazzling smile. He carefully removes your headphones, putting it on the work table and smoothing your hair down.

"Hi baby," he murmurs, bending down to press a kiss to your forehead, the tip of your nose, and then to your lips.

You hum softly before sitting up, turning yourself around on the stool to face him. "Hi handsome," you return, grabbing a towel from the work table and wiping your hands before settling them on his waist, fingers playing with the belt loops of his jeans. "Did you call for me a lot?"

"Just once," he says, unable to resist bending down to kiss you again.

He loves looking at you like this, soft in the mid morning light, a blissful smile on your face with dots of clay and glaze over your cheeks and on the little apron you have covering your clothes. He loves how he can smell the vanilla of your body wash among the earthen scents in the art studio, and how it makes him feel like he's completely at peace.

Andrei loves you. His almaznyy. His beautiful diamond. His wife.

"What's going on?" You ask him, those beautiful eyes crinkling at the edges in another one of his favorite smiles when his hands descend into your hair, carding the strands between his fingers.

"I bought the tickets for us to go and visit Evgeny and Sara." He says.

"Oh good," you say with a nod before leaning into his touch. "When do we leave?"

"Next week," he says, tugging playfully on a strand of your hair and chuckling softly when you pout at him for it. "Is that okay?"

You wrap your arms around his waist, rubbing your face into his clothed abdomen, your verbal response muffled in the fabric. Andrei laughs, scratching gently at your scalp. "What was that, almaznyy?"

"Da," you say, leaning back to look at him again but keeping your arms secured around his waist. "That's fine with me."

He smirks when he spots a familiar glint in your eyes, watching the way your pupils dilate then blow out a little wide when he cups your face in his hands, thumbs caressing at your jaw. "My busy little almaznyy, you've been working hard lately, haven't you?"

You nod, humming in agreement. He nods too, letting one of his hands trail down and to the back of your neck, deftly undoing the knots at the top of your apron. "So diligent," he praises, "What did I do to deserve you?"

Your eyes track him as he removes his hands from your body, lowering himself to his knees so he can wrap his arms around your waist to get at the ties behind you. He buries his face into your neck as he does so, adoring the way your head immediately tilts to allow him the room. He ghosts his lips across the skin as he undoes the ties around your waist, ignoring your little whines of protest when he pulls the apron off of you and tosses it to the side.

He sits back on his haunches, looking up at you with a Cheshire grin of his own. "You got clay on your clothes too, almaznyy." He playfully chastises, gesturing towards the little flecks of clay on the black shirt you're wearing - which is most definitely his - and to the miniscule spots on your sweatpants. "Think we should probably get you cleaned up in that case, shouldn't we?"

A small smirk crosses your lips as you nod, and Andrei smiles, surging up to wrap you in his arms. You go easily, both your bodies on muscle memory as you wrap your arms around his neck and legs around his waist, and he lifts you into his hold easily, standing with you and carrying you off down the hall to your bedroom.

~

The warm spray of the shower cascades down his bare back as Andrei fucks you slow and deep against the tiles, his arms settled into the space behind your knees as he holds you up and open for him.

Your cries echo around the bathroom, your arms wrapped around his neck and fingers tangled in his hair, grasping at the strands desperately, his name a repeated plea on your lips.

"More," you beg sweetly, and he smiles, eyes locked on your face. He lowers you a little bit, and on the next push in, your eyes flutter shut as your mouth falls open in a beautiful cry, pussy squeezing around his cock in a way that makes him so fucking dizzy.

"Come on baby," he coaxes, pressing you impossibly closer against the tiles and against himself, burying his face in your neck to suck a bruise into the skin. With every press of his hips forward, your clit grinds against his abs, and he can feel the way your body begins to tense up and shake in his hold, your nails disappearing from his scalp to dig into his shoulders instead.

His name leaves your lips in another desperate plea, and he chuckles, nipping playfully at the skin of your neck, your jaw, before capturing your lips in a filthy kiss. He licks into your mouth, massaging his tongue with yours before he pulls away just slightly, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth as he goes.

"Is my pretty wife going to come on her husband's cock?" He taunts, and he sees the way the words go straight through you, your eyes glazing over, body going almost lax in his grip.

(He'd gotten much filthier and practically insane with his dirty talk over time. It started not long after you'd left Eden and began officially dating nearly seven months after meeting, and had only gotten more intense during the three month time span that you'd been engaged. It didn't help the fact that he noticed you particularly loved when he called you his wife, regardless of the situation.)

"Andrei," you plead. "Please."

"Please what, pretty baby?" He murmurs, dragging his lips against yours lazily, "What is it my pretty wife wants, hm?"

Your pussy squeezes down again and he groans, stealing another filthy kiss from you. "'M so close," you say between kisses, dragging your nails across his shoulders again.

He keeps your legs hooked over his bent arms, reaching his hands down to squeeze at your waist, thumb rubbing gently over where he knows a little diamond tattoo sits at your side, fucking you onto his cock in deep, sharp thrusts that steal your breath from you, and your eyes squeeze shut as your body shakes even more in his hold.

Andrei latches his lips to that sensitive spot on your neck, pressing his body tight against yours. That, and the added friction as your clit rubs against his abs, your sensitive nipples brushing against his chiseled chest, has you coming around him with a loud cry. Your pussy clamps down, pulsing around him and Andrei groans, holding you tight as he fucks past the grip, chasing after his own orgasm.

He groans low and deep, electricity shooting up his spine as he comes, filling you from where he's buried deep. It sends your body into a second orgasm almost immediately, and Andrei curses, muttering a string of Russian in your ear at the unexpected sensation.

You both take a blissful, fucked out moment to calm down, heartbeats slowing and breathing returning to normal.

"Okay?" He murmurs after a few minutes, and you nod, sighing happily in his hold. He taps your hips, and you nod again. An unhappy sounding noise leaves you when he gently pulls out, and his heart aches a little bit, thinking you’re probably sore. He’s immediately pressing apologetic kisses to your forehead while lowering you to the ground. His hands stay on your body, keeping you steady until you manage to stand on your own.

When his eyes finally get back to your face, there's an expression there he hasn't seen before, one he can't quite place. There's a tinge of disappointment there, and longing, and it brings a frown to his face too.

He cups your face in his hands, tilting your head up to look at him. When your eyes lock, the expression fades, and the smile that takes over your face is so brightly it almost knocks him off of his feet.

"What's wrong, almaznyy?" He says, thumb brushing against your cheeks.

You lean into his touch, hands circling around his wrists. "Nothing, Drei." You promise, "I'm perfectly happy."

There's nothing in your voice or in your face now that tells him that you're lying, or that you're hiding anything from him, so he has no reason to not believe you.

Still, he stores the expression he saw away for later, keeping it in mind just in case.

He takes his time washing you both off after that, enjoying the content noises you make as he shampoos your hair and wraps you up in a fluffy towel when you're all done, pressing gentle kisses all over your face before seizing your mouth in a kiss he hopes tells you "I'm so in love with you I think my heart might burst without you."

~

Andrei quickly darts out of the way as a little boy zooms past him, his father chasing after him and tossing a “sorry!” over his shoulder as he goes.

He laughs a little, calling out a “it’s okay!” in their way as he double checks that he still has a hold on your drinks and food before he keeps walking. 

He heads back into the airport lounge and straight for you, handing you a cup of hot chocolate and a warmed up croissant from one of the bistros in the terminal. You accept it with a happy smile and a murmured ‘thank you’ before he snuggles up next to you on the little couch you’ve both managed to commandeer for yourselves.

He glances over at your airport outfit once more, mostly because he can’t help but appreciate how cozy you look.

Admittedly, he’s still got a small habit of dressing up when he flies, so he’s his standard in black pants and a white shirt, and you insisted on matching with him when you got dressed this morning. You’re in black lounge pants, a white shirt, and you have a gray sweater tied and resting around your shoulders.

Andrei figured out that when you fly you prefer to have your own blanket with you, which you have curled around your shoulders right now as you take a sip of your hot chocolate.

You look more ready for a cozy winter than you do for a week-long vacation during the summer in San Jose.

“Is it good baby?” He asks, taking a sip of his own coffee. You nod, holding the cup to your cheek. Another thing he learned - you get cold easily, but especially in airports.

“Very,” you nod, leaning your head to rest on his shoulder. “Spasibo, malysh.”

“You’re welcome, almaznyy.” 

He’s content to relax like that with you, and when he takes his phone out once you’ve finished your drinks, you help him with the crossword puzzle game he became addicted to once he saw you playing it yourself.

The two of you are engrossed in trying to figure out a six letter word for the clue “tough” when there’s a blur of pale yellow accompanied by a flurry of giggles that crashes into your legs, and it makes both of you jump up a little in surprise.

It’s a baby boy, Andrei realizes, one who’s most likely just learned what running is given the delighted and mischievous expression on his face, and when he turns to check if you’re okay, he’s surprised to find you out of your seat, blanket abandoned, and kneeling on the floor in front of the child to see if they’re okay.

The baby looks like he’s seconds from crying, but then you’re smiling, speaking at him quietly and gently, and to Andrei’s amazement, the baby stops, looks at you, and then bursts into a fit of giggles.

You laugh, happy that you could make him feel better, and continue to speak to him while he babbles away at you. He’s seen you do it with Luka, coaxing him away from a tantrum he’d been seconds away from, and calming Mila down when she scraped her knee while learning to ride her bike that first time, and it still amazes him how good you are with kids. Something warm and fuzzy starts to grow in his heart, and it stops short when a woman who Andrei can only assume is the baby’s mother approaches.

“I’m so sorry!” She says, jogging toward where you and the baby are on the ground. “Leo’s just discovered how fast he can move but we’re still working on finding his brakes.”

“It’s alright,” you reassure her through a laugh. “My nephew Luka was the same.”

My nephew - Andrei still loved that you thought that way.

“He probably had places to be and we were just in the way, weren’t we Leo?” You tease, pulling a funny face at Leo. His mom laughs when Leo bursts into giggles, picking Leo up into her arms.

“He’s fast,” Andrei notes when you stand with her, “How old is he?”

“He just turned one,” his mom gushes. 

You make a little cooing sound. “Is he your first?”

Leo’s mother shakes her head with a laugh. “You’d think so, but I have a three year old too. His name’s Sky, he’s with my husband over there, we finally just got him to settle down but then this little guy decided it was time to sprint.”

You and Andrei look over to where Leo’s mom gestured, finding the three year old who almost ran him over earlier eating snacks while his dad watches over him, all the while looking over at his wife and smiling when he sees her.

Andrei knows that smile, he probably sends that same smile your way about a hundred times a day. 

Ulybka vlyublennogo muzhchiny. His mom had said. The smile of a man in love.

“You should think about getting them into sports soon.” Andrei says when he turns back toward the mom, “Sky almost tackled me in the terminal earlier-”

“-And Leo barely flinched when he ran into me!” You tease, making another funny face at the baby. He giggles, suddenly growing shy as he hides in his mom’s shoulders.

She laughs, “Everyone’s been saying that to me. I might just have to consider it.”

Andrei reaches into his pocket, grabbing his business card from his wallet and hands it to the mother with a small smile. “If you ever think they’re interested in hockey, give me a call or send me an email. I’d be happy to get them set up.”

The mother takes Andrei’s card with a curious look, and when she reads his name, her eyes light up in recognition, and she smiles, laughing a little to herself.

“I knew you looked familiar! My husband and I are big fans. We were there for your last cup winning game. It’s so nice to meet you!”

Andrei catches the glance you shoot at him from the corner of his eye, can see the tense line of your shoulders in his peripheral, but he gives the mother an easy smile, and your body relaxes.

Now that he has you, that time in his life isn’t so painful anymore.

“Thank you,” he says genuinely. “I’m glad that you were there, it felt good to have home crowd support.”

“I appreciate your offer, I’ll definitely reach out.” She says, then looks at both of you. “It was nice meeting you both, you’re such a lovely couple!”

You both say your goodbyes, you waving at baby Leo, who waves back shyly, then looks at Andrei. Andrei waves too, and to his surprise, baby Leo waves back to him too, before burying his face in his mother’s shoulder.

You finally return to your seat on the couch next to Andrei, wrapping both of your arms around his, resting your chin on his shoulder as you smile brightly up at him.

“That was hot of you.” You say, which has Andrei laughing in surprise.

“What was, almaznyy?”

“You and your business cards.” You say, scrunching your nose a little. “I liked it, it was very authoritative.”

Andrei shakes his head, booping your nose with his finger. “Calm yourself down, almaznyy. I’m still not interested in being part of the mile high club.”

You roll your eyes with a shrug, but relax fully against his side. “Offer still stands.”

~

You're laying on the floor of Sara and Evgeny's living room, laughing as you bounce eight month old baby Alexei up and down against your belly, watching as his little legs kick back and forth and he babbles his joy. From beside you, three year old Luka lays on his belly as he plays with the train set Andrei had bought him last Christmas, and five year old Mila rests on your other side, coloring diligently in the sketchbook you'd bought her for her birthday.

She'd seen you drawing in one of your journals and had become both enraptured and amazed as she observed you, and then had been overjoyed when you handed her the book and pencil so she could create her own drawings as she pleased.

Her parents had been worried that she might accidentally press the pencil too tight and ruin one of your other drawings, or accidentally draw over something you had done, but either way, you would have cared less. "It's good for her to do it this way," you had told them, "so she knows what she makes is important, too."

On the couch above you, Sara's feeding a bottle to Alexei's twin brother Aleksander, watching you and her children. She smiles, nudging you gently in the side with her socked feet.

"You're a natural at this," she praises. "The kids always seem to behave better when you're here."

You scoff a little, making nonsensical noises at Alexei as he babbles back at you. "Hardly," you say. "I think it's because Andrei wears them out first."

When you and Andrei come around, he tends to round up his niece and nephews, tiring the older ones out by running around while you and Sara or Evgeny or Andrei's parents help with the twins.

Sara shakes her head. "No, he might wear them out, but they still have plenty of room to be crazy. You settle them down. This is the quietest they've been all day."

You look at your nieces and nephews at where they each are, peaceful and happy and content, and you shrug, smiling a little to yourself. "I guess so."

Sara laughs, nudging you again. "So, when are you gonna have some little ones of your own? We're outnumbered by boys here and it's your turn to pop a baby out for once."

You falter slightly, almost dropping baby Alexei straight on your face before you catch him effortlessly, trying to ignore the wave of dizziness when you launch yourself upright into a sitting position. Luka and Mila barely spare either of you a glance, too focused on what they're doing. You gaze at Sara, holding Alexei tight with one hand while shushing her with the other.

"Not so loud!" You half whisper, half yell.

Andrei and Evgeny were just in the kitchen not too far away, and while they were probably distracted by shop talk, you couldn't risk him hearing like this.

Sara narrows her eyes at you, frowning, whisper-yelling right back. "You told me on the phone last week that you were going to talk to him about it! And the week before that, and two weeks before that!"

You groan, shaking your head and beginning to bounce Alexei again when he starts to fuss. Sara shakes her head right back at you, gesturing for you to follow her as she heads toward the twins' nursery, instructing Mila and Luka to "wait right here while mommy talks to your aunt."

As you head to the nursery, you pass Andrei and Evgeny who are, as expected, engrossed in their conversation, but it doesn't stop Andrei from tossing a wink at you as you pass by.

You pointedly ignore the way it makes butterflies swarm and swoop in your stomach, smiling softly in return before ducking out of sight and into the nursery. Sara shuts the door behind you, giving you a pointed look as she does so.

You'd had best friends before, obviously, but never an older sister figure, and none quite like Sara. When Andrei had introduced you two, she'd been nothing but welcoming, friendly, and someone you'd come to rely on quite a lot since then.

When she announced she was pregnant with twins last year, you'd been overjoyed for her, and often traveled back and forth between San Jose and Raleigh to help her with the babies, especially since it had been Evgeny's first year working with the coaching staff of the Sharks, having previously been in the front office.

Maybe it was the excitement you got in helping her decorate the nursery, even though most of it was taken care of since they had things from Luka and Mila, or maybe it was just all the preparation you helped her with, but it had given you severe baby fever.

Like...severe.

Severe enough that you were practically ready to be pregnant that very same day until reality kicked in and knocked some serious sense into you.

You'd asked her how she and Evgeny had approached the topic of having kids, if she had advice on how you should broach the subject with Andrei, and she had only one thing to say.

"They're pretty direct people," she had said. "It's best to rip the bandaid off with something like that."

A couple of months ago, she texted you a picture of the twins in the matching pajama set you'd bought, and something in it made you want to finally talk to Andrei about it. So you told Sara that you would.

But...

The second you'd gone to Andrei in his office about it, you suddenly got cold feet. Realistically, you two hadn't actually talked about having kids before. Things with the two of you had been unconventional and fast from the start, so granted, you both had done things a little messily and quite backwards.

Still, the worst he could say to you was "no" or "not right now baby," but despite your past mess you two had always been on the same page, so the idea of hearing a "not right now" was okay, but hearing "no"?

Yeah, not something you had exactly prepared yourself for.

So instead of allowing there to be room for a "no" or "not right now," you just...didn't say a word.

Which Sara was definitely going to yell at you for.

Or at least, whisper yell, what with the twins going down for their nap and all.

Sara lays a droopy Aleksander into his crib, and he falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow. She takes Alexei from you next, sitting in the rocking chair set up in the corner of the room to start to feed him his bottle while you sit on the floor, gazing at baby Aleksander through the bars of his crib.

"What in the world are you waiting for?" Sara asks you, voice soft but firm in the nursery. 

You groan a little to yourself. "I just haven't gotten around to it, okay?"

"Yes, but why?" She presses. "You know he won't say no to you."

"I actually don't know that. He might not be able to say no when I ask for help, or ask for something, but children are not things to ask for. It's an entire human being you're bringing into the world, you know!"

Sara gives you a deadpan expression. "Of course I know, I've brought four of them into existence."

"Then you know that it's a lot to ask. Even if I want a child, even if I want to be a mom and raise my kids and bring them up, that doesn't guarantee that Andrei wants the same."

"He'll want them with you." Sara insists. "He'll want them because you'll be their mother and he's in love with you and those kids will be half of you and he'll be so proud to say that they're your children."

The idea fills you with hope, but you tamp it down. You have to be realistic about this. You know your husband, and you know that while Sara's right and he will do anything for you, he also probably won't handle this being sprung on him as a surprise, or appreciate being confronted with it out of the blue.

"Just get rid of your birth control and tell him you want a kid." Sara insists, and your eyes bug out of your head.

"Are you insane?" You whisper yell. "That would definitely give him a heart attack."

"Don't be so dramatic," she says, rolling her eyes. "He's too young to have those."

"I'll talk to him," you promise, more to yourself than to Sara. "But I'm not using any of your suggestions."

Sara shrugs. "Fine by me, but there'd better be a new baby next Christmas, and it won't be mine."

~

In the kitchen, Andrei watches with fond eyes as you disappear into the nursery with Sara and the twins. He's listening to what Evgeny's talking about, he really is, but his eyes are locked on the silent screen of the baby monitor, showing you handing Alexei off to Sara after Sara's put Aleksander down.

Watching you with his niece and nephews all day had filled his heart with something warm and fuzzy, something he couldn't quite place.

The way that you cared for his family since he introduced you to them was something that made Andrei incredibly happy, and he could tell that the way that they cared for you in turn made you just as happy.

He often caught you speaking with his mother on the phone, trying your best to only stick to Russian as best as possible to make her comfortable. His father didn't reach out often, but when he did, you did your best to converse with him too. Sometimes, when you thought Andrei wasn't looking, he'd see you reading through a Russian textbook in your art studio, brushing up on the language.

You talked to Sara almost every week, the two of you growing to be as close as sisters, and that made Andrei happy considering the only real sibling relationship you had was still pretty strained. Even after Andrei married you, your brother Joshua still wasn't his favorite person, which was unfortunate, considering his husband Sam was an angel and one of your favorite people.

Evgeny had also grown closer to you a little, considering how much you helped him and Sara prepare for the arrival of the twins. There were times he'd reach out to you if he couldn't reach Andrei for any reason, and Evgeny often teased Andrei about how more often than not, it seemed like a freak accident that he'd managed to find someone like you to be his wife.

"Believe me," Andrei had told his brother. "I know."

He listens intently to his brother as he discusses what's going on with the Sharks, clearly seeking Andrei's advice, but all the while, Andrei keeps his eyes on you, watches you through the baby monitor as you sit with Sara and the twins.

Everything about your body language screams comfort, like there's nowhere in the world you'd rather be, and it brings a smile to his face unconsciously.

Evgeny pauses in his ranting, glancing to the baby monitor and rolling his eyes, shoving at Andrei. "Obrashchat' vnimaniye," he scolds. Pay attention.

"I am!" Andrei insists, turning his full attention back to his brother. "You were saying?"

Evgeny opens his mouth, then closes it, a curious expression crossing his features. "Have you thought about it?"

"About what?" Andrei asks, moving his brother so he can go into the fridge and steal one of those obnoxious glass bottles of water Evgeny insists on buying.

"About what comes after marriage," Evgeny says. "About having kids."

Andrei almost drops the water bottle on the kitchen floor, can hear it shatter in his ears, but he's pretty sure that's his brain doing that. "About what?" He asks, voice practically an echo in his head.

Evgeny shakes his head. "Ty takoy idiot."

Andrei turns to face him, frowning. "I am not an idiot."

"You are, actually. Have you two not talked about having kids?"

Andrei opens his mouth, then shuts it.

You two actually hadn't. Not really. Not at all, now that he thought about it.

Evgeny shakes his head. "Listen, I know you're enjoying your never ending honeymoon phase, but it wouldn't hurt to ask."

Andrei takes a swig from his water, glancing at you on the monitor.

You've got Alexei in your arms now, feeding him the rest of his bottle while Sara rests on the rocking chair, eyes on Aleksander.

His heart does a little flip, imagining you holding a little baby that's got your nose and his eyes, and it brings back the warm and fuzzy feeling he'd felt earlier.

Maybe...maybe it was worth a discussion.

~

Since Evgeny's house had gotten crowded with all the kids, Andrei had booked a suite for the two of you at the Marriott.

It had a lovely view of the city, especially at night, and Andrei enjoyed it even more with your naked body pressed against one of the many floor to ceiling windows, watching the way your face twisted with pleasure in the reflection of the glass.

The lights were off in the hotel room, so there wasn't a single chance of anyone seeing what the two of you were up to, but the thrill was there all the same. He wanted to show you off, show off his beautiful little wife, the only diamond he ever needed.

Your palm prints littered the window as you pushed back against him, and Andrei groaned, tightening the grip on your hips, fingers pressing against where he knew that little diamond tattoo rested beneath the waistband of your thong.

He could barely wait, barely think by the time you both got back to the hotel. The second your jeans were off, he pulled your thong to the side and slid in to the hilt, burying himself inside of you and making you come all over him in seconds.

It wasn't often that Andrei took you from behind. More often than not, he preferred looking at you, preferred watching the beautiful faces you made and watching the way your body reacted to his own. But in times like these, where there was something that could help him watch you, he couldn't exactly complain.

He releases his hold on one of your hips, letting his hands wander up your torso, bringing you upright against him as he bends his knees a little, adjusting for your height difference so he can cage you against him as he fucks into you.

Pleasant and happy noises leave you as he plays with one of your nipples, then the other, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses on your neck. His nails gently scratch at the valley between your breasts, making you shiver, before trailing his hand down your stomach.

He had every intention of putting his fingers to your clit, rubbing gently there the way you liked when he took you like this, but instead, his hands lingered on your stomach, on where he could feel the slight bulge of where his cock fucked in and out of you, and he found his hands resting there instead.

A shiver ran through your body, your pussy pushing back on his cock again as if on impulse, and a deep, pleased noise rumbled through Andrei's chest.

"Almaznyy?" He murmured against your neck, finding the sensitive spot below your ear and sucking against it gently.

You gasped in his hold, shaking a little, and he chuckled, pressing his hand against the little bulge of your stomach, the hand he still had on your waist tightening its grip, pressing his fingers a little more into the diamond tattoo.

"Can you feel me here, moya krasivaya zhena?" He asks you, cock throbbing when you squeeze against him in excitement. You loved it when he called you ‘my pretty wife.’ "Can you feel me fucking you?"

You nod, frantic, hands gripping onto his arms. "Please, malysh, wanna come."

"You wanna come already?" He taunts. "Gonna come for me in front of the whole city?"

A soft whine leaves your lips as he thrusts in particularly hard, emphasizing his question.

"Yes," you answer, nearly breathless.

“And what about me?” He teases, pressing his hand against your stomach a little more. "You want me to come inside, almaznyy? Want me to come right here?"

In the reflection of the window, he catches the way your eyes slam shut before you throw your head back against his shoulder, mouth open in a silent cry and body seizing as your orgasm claims you. Your pussy clenches impossibly tight, and it sends Andrei over the edge in seconds, pushing down on your waist to bury himself inside of you, cock throbbing almost painfully as he comes.

The two of you shake silently for a second, and Andrei holds you both upright as best as he can until he can feel your body as it calms down. He pulls out gently, not wasting a second before he scoops you up, walking you over to the bed to lay you on it gently before he climbs on beside you.

You go to him almost immediately, and his arms open on instinct, welcoming you in his embrace as you bury your nose in his chest.

He wants to say something, anything. He wants to ask you if what just happened was okay, if you're okay, if he didn't cross a line, if you maybe wanted to try that again sometime soon or maybe if you want to try it in a different position.

But then he hears your breathing start to even out, feels the way your body goes lax in his hold, and he resigns himself to discussing it another time.

~

The following day, you and Andrei head back over to Sara and Evgeny’s for lunch. You help Sara put the kids down for their naps after you all eat, and Andrei and Evgeny handle the dishes.

When you and Sara come out of the kids’ rooms, you’re met with a chorus of laughter from Andrei, Evgeny, and then their mother’s voice echoes through the living room.

Peeking around the corner, you can see Andrei and Evegny crowded around Evgeny’s laptop, definitely on FaceTime with their mother.

She signals to you to hang back, and you nod. You’re more than happy to give Andrei and his brother the alone time they need to speak with their mom, so you lean back against the wall, Sara against the one opposite you, and you smile at each other when you hear the brother excitedly converse with their mother in Russian.

Your fluency has gotten better, but it’s not one hundred percent - same with Sara’s - so the two of you can only really pick up on bits and pieces here and there, catching tidbits of their mother’s praises for her boys along with her normal chastising.

You two are looking fit!

Still, you both need to eat more. 

You’re working too hard.

Are you ready for the upcoming season?

Oh my brilliant boys!

How are my daughters?

How are the grandkids?

Evgeny, you’d better bring them by soon so I can babysit.

Andrei, how are you doing?

Are you and my favorite girl happy?

When are you two going to give me more grandchildren?!

That last part sends a shock through your body, and Sara nudges you with her foot at the same time Andrei begins to stutter and stammer in the living room.

Their mom starts to say something else when her voice gets quieter, and you realize Andrei’s turned the volume down. His voice gets a little quieter, and Evgeny’s loud laughter drowns out whatever Andrei says in return to their mother.

Sara gives you another pointed look, as if to say “So you still didn’t talk to him about it.”

You roll your eyes, and she nudges your foot again before dragging you down the hall and into her and Evgeny’s bedroom. 

“For the love of God,” she says. “I know you said you’re not taking my suggestions, but you are going to have to take this one, specifically with the promise that you’ll at least save it until you get back to Raleigh.”

You answer her with a deadpan stare, and she sighs, exasperated, before gesturing to you. 

“You have to seduce him.” She says plainly. “It’s how I did it with Evgeny, and it’s how you’re going to have to do it with Andrei instead of tiptoeing around.”

You’re slightly dumbfounded, so all you can manage is a weak “What?”

“Remember when I told you to rip the bandaid off?” She asks, and you nod. She waves a hand around, “Well, that’s what I meant by that. Seduce him. Rip the bandaid off.”

“Seduce him…” You say, and it sounds more like a question than a statement.

Sara grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you a bit. “You know he loves you, you know he thinks you’re hot. Use it.”

Sara doesn’t know how you and Andrei met, no one does except Lottie, Oli, Mason, Eli, and you and Andrei. She has no idea about your past.

Which means she has no idea that if there is anything you know how to do, it’s seduce Andrei.

~

You try your best to clear your mind, focusing on exfoliating your skin as you shower and the things you’re planning on doing once this shower is done.

It had been a week since you’d returned from visiting with Sara and Evgeny, and this morning, you’d gone to see your OBGYN doctor to discuss…well, a possible game plan.

You agreed that after you finished this round of birth control pills and had your period, you and Andrei would probably start trying.

And well, after you spoke to Andrei about all of this, of course. 

But Sara was right, seduction might have to come first. You were too out of sorts to wait any longer.

He had been gone this morning when you went to your appointment, having to be at the practice rink to watch the team’s morning skate, and when you had returned home after running some errands, he’d been in his office for a string of phone calls, which he said he’d be in and out of till about two this afternoon.

It was about noon, then. So you’d gone on a run, had a little pep talk with yourself to prepare for the impending conversation, and strategized.

The pep talk you had was simple - if during said conversation, Andrei voiced that he didn’t want kids, that was that. You would not be forcing him into anything he didn’t want or trying to convince him, and the two of you would likely talk things out from there.

If he did want kids, perfect, you could talk about that, but, you could also give him a bit of extra motivation.

Which brought you to the seduction strategy you’d developed so carefully on the way back from your run.

It was about one in the afternoon when you got back, so you threw together a quick lunch for you and Andrei to have - once he was done with his phone calls and you - and it was about one thirty when you hopped into the shower.

You’d gone for a wax right after your doctor’s appointment, as part of the errands you ran, along with a mani pedi, but a little extra gentle exfoliation on the legs never hurt anyone.

Once you finished in the shower, you toweled off and applied the vanilla lotion Andrei loved the most on you, before slipping on one of your favorite sundresses. It was also one Andrei liked on you, particularly because it was just the right side of see through. 

Hence, why it was a key part to your strategy.

It might be devious, and it’s definitely playing dirty, but you need a little ammunition on your side, if not for the sake of a small confidence boost to get you through the conversation.

You did this for a living, for a time. You did this specifically for Andrei before, it shouldn’t be too hard to do it for him again. Sure, the way that you seduced him now looked different, the way that you were together now had changed drastically, but Sara was right. At the very least, Andrei loved you, and he never failed to remind you how attractive you were to him.

So hopefully, this worked.

You checked the time on the clock on your nightstand - one fifty five. A quick glance in the mirror assured you this was the best option outfit wise, and your nerves reminded you that you’d both probably need a little bit of liquid courage for this next bit. Heading back out to the kitchen, you make yourself a quick margarita and pour Andrei a shot of his favorite whisky. 

If there was anything you knew about your husband, sometimes he just needed a little something to take the edge off before he could plow forward with whatever it was he needed to do. He was bound to be nervous once you brought up the idea of having a baby, especially if you were going to be playing just a little bit dirty about it. 

You grabbed both glasses and headed back down the hall to Andrei’s office. Just as you crossed the threshold, he was bidding whoever was on the other line goodbye, and you took a deep breath to steel yourself.

Andrei is your husband. You love each other. You reminded yourself. He is your husband. You can get through anything together.

Andrei smiles when you hand him his glass, his reading glasses perched on his nose making him look both hot, authoritative, and innocent all at once. “Now how did you know I needed this, moya zhena?”

You shrug, playing innocent. “A lucky guess.”

You both toast, clinking your glasses before each taking a sip of your respective drinks. You try to hide your smile behind your glass as you do, but you should’ve known better.

Andrei’s almost always looking at you, so nothing ever could get past your loving and doting husband.

“What’s that smile doing there?” He teases, and it’s then that he seems to finally take in what you’re wearing.

And that you’re wearing nothing underneath it.

You try another innocent smile, but Andrei raises a brow in suspicion, quirking his finger and summoning you to his side of the desk.

Placing your glass down on the mahogany, you round the desk to his side, obeying when he taps the desk and jumping up, taking a seat but keeping your legs crossed.

You don’t want him distracted.

“Are you about to ask me for something expensive, almaznyy? Because if you are, you’re off to a good start.”

You never actually needed to do anything if it was expensive, including asking him for anything, since you did have your own income, and you both knew that. But still, every now and again you liked to pretend like you did, liked the way it made Andrei nervous and pliant, like he didn’t meet you the way he actually did, like he wasn’t familiar with the concept. 

But that wasn’t what you were going for here.

“Well,” you start, “it’s sort of expensive. An…investment, if you will.”

He frowns slightly. “Don’t tell me Jarvy’s wife actually talked you into wanting to buy that monstrosity of a beach house.”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of you, having almost completely forgotten Tessa’s attempt to expand her real estate portfolio by tempting you with an even bigger sunroom than the one you and Andrei had now.

You shake your head. “No no, I don’t want that house.”

“But you do want a house?” Andrei inquires.

You shake your head, nerves suddenly racing through your veins. It makes your hands shake, so you reach out for him, cupping his jaw with your hand, leaving the other resting in your lap. You thumb over the stubble along his jaw, humming to yourself, trying to gather the right words.

It makes Andrei nervous. “Listen, almaznyy, whatever it is, we-”

“I want this house, Bubby,” you interrupt, wanting to be out with it but also not sure if you were remotely prepared for the rest of his sentence. At the pet name, Andrei’s eyes get brighter, his entire demeanor softening. “I want this house, with you and I in it, and maybe…maybe a little one running around in it, too.”

There. You said it…kind of.

But it was out there now. 

And Andrei…

There’s surprise in his face, definitely, and you’d been expecting that. But there’s also no…opposition. Nothing that says he doesn’t want to have this conversation, nothing that screams disagreement, nothing that says he doesn’t like the idea.

There are nerves there, like yours, but amongst the nerves and surprise is…hope? Something wistful. 

You lean into it, trailing your hand from his face to his arm, then down to the desk where his hand rests beside your legs. You take it, intertwining your fingers, playing with his hand a little.

“Bubby,” you continue. And that time you’re definitely playing dirty, saying one of his favorite pet names like that, like you want something - which you do, no question - and it makes Andrei’s whole body relax. “I want a baby,” you say, this time, plainly, so there’s no question and no doubt. “I want to have a baby with you.” You glance up at him, finding his intense gaze already on you. “What do you think?”

He’s quiet for a moment, and if you didn’t already know your husband, his lack of a response might concern you. But the look on his face tells you that he’s thinking, and so you wait, giving him enough space and time to collect his thoughts.

Finally, he squeezes your hand, a little sigh of relief mixed with a laugh leaving his chest, eyes crinkling at the corners as a brilliant smile takes over his features. He says nothing, just maneuvers you to part your legs so he can haul you off the desk and into his lap. You go to him easily, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face into his neck, breathing him in. One of his arms bands itself across your waist, the other across your back so he can cradle the back of your head in his hands.

“I didn’t know how to ask you.” He says softly into your ear. “I’ve been thinking about it, too. How to ask…how to tell you…”

“Ya tozhe,” you tell him. Me too. “I didn’t know if it was something you wanted.”

“We never talked about it,” he agrees. “And we should have, and I’m sorry we didn’t.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, malysh. We’re talking about it now, aren’t we?” You say, pressing a small kiss to his jaw.

He tightens his grip on you. “Because you were brave enough to do it. You’ve always been the brave one of the two of us, almaznyy.”

“You were the one who brought us together, Andrei.” You remind him, “I couldn’t have done that. Only you could have, and you did.”

“I would do it again.” He swears, leaning back a little to press a kiss to your forehead. 

You pull back a little, puckering your lips, and he laughs, leaning down to kiss you softly, gently, and like he has all the time in the world. You love when he kisses you like this, like he’s afraid you’ll break or disappear into thin air. It makes you feel precious, like the very diamond he continues to call you.

“Bubby,” you murmur between kisses, “how many babies do you want?”

There’s a choked noise that bubbles in his throat, so you pull back, looking at him in concern. He reaches for his scotch, but you bat his hand away, handing him the bottle of water he always keeps on his desk instead.

He takes a couple of grateful swigs, and much to his disappointment, you climb off of him and climb back to your perch on his desk, giving him some room to breathe. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. “Didn’t mean to take you by surprise there.”

Andrei shakes his head, putting the closed water bottle down and reaches for his glass, downing the rest of its contents. When it's empty, you take it back from him, putting it on a far enough corner of his desk before reaching for your glass, taking down the rest of your margarita, then set the empty glass next to Andrei’s. Once those are out of the way, you lean back on your hands, your attention solely on Andrei once more.

He’s got a little glint in his eye as he considers you, letting one of his hands come up to rest on your legs, caressing your skin. “You know me, almaznyy. I’m not picky.” He starts. “I’ll be satisfied with as many babies as you’re willing to give me.”

You smile, pleased with his answer. In reward, you nudge the hand he has on your leg a little, and Andrei beams, gently grabbing your calf so he can part your legs, this time, to take in the sight of your bare pussy.

Carefully, you pull up the hem of your dress and push yourself to the edge of his desk, and Andrei takes your ankles, gently placing one on the armrest of his chair, putting the other over his shoulder. He scoots his chair in closer, your leg sliding down his back a little and allowing his hands to rest on your hips.

“We should…” he starts, swallowing. “We should probably talk about this a little more.”

You smirk. “We are talking, though.”

“In depth,” he clarifies. “Get into specifics, and things.”

But even as he says it, you can see in his face you probably wouldn’t get further than the next five minutes. “We can still talk about it after, too, okay? We’ll sit and have a real conversation about it.”

He blinks, nodding, then glances down at where you know he wants to bury his face.

“If you wanted a baby, almaznyy,” he says, warm breath fanning over your lower abdomen, “you didn’t have to play dirty.”

“Dirty?” You ask, innocent as ever. “What do you mean?”

Andrei narrows his eyes at you. “The first time you walked into this office on a mission, you were dressed just like this.”

“You mean when I used to be your assistant?” You tease, and he pinches your thigh playfully.

“Moya zhena,” he warns. He may be playful, but it seems you’ve pushed a few too many buttons in that area today.

Shame, you think. Maybe I can try again after dinner. 

You roll your eyes playfully, pouting a little. “I was nervous and needed some confidence, alright?”

“You look plenty confident to me,” he reassures you with a slight nod, then he’s bunching up the fabric of your dress and pressing against your stomach, his nice way of saying ‘lay back moya zhena, let me take care of you.’

The first swipe of his tongue in your folds takes you by surprise, a pleasant squeal leaving your lips and echoing around his office. His second taste of you is slower, his tongue laying flat against you and dragging from your entrance to your clit, his lips circling around the bud and sucking in a way that elicits a pleasant moan from you.

Andrei’s hands crawl up your body to the neckline of your dress, and you help him a little, slipping the straps off so he can pull the neckline down, cupping your tits in his hands and squeezing.

He’d been particularly fond of the first time you’d had sex in this house together. Had cherished the memory of you in that light pink sundress and on this desk in a similar fashion. It was probably why you’d chosen to approach him this way, he thinks absentmindedly, lips and mouth settling into the familiar pace you love when he’s got his face between your thighs.

Andrei can feel his pants get a little tighter the wetter you get, his chin coated in your slick and nose nudging against your clit as his lips and tongue work you open. He’s so perfectly at peace here, totally content to just lick at you and taste you for hours at a time that he nearly forgets why you’re sprawled out on his desk like this.

You tugging at his hair serves as a gentle reminder that kicks him into gear, and he smiles against your skin, pressing kisses to the junction of your thighs and nipping at you a little.

“Andrei,” you say, breathless. “Potoropites', pozhaluysta.” Hurry up, please.

He shakes his head, gently letting your legs fall to the side as he sits up in his chair, draping his body over yours. “Not this time, almaznyy,” he says, wrapping your arms around his neck before he wraps his own arms around your back, cupping your ass in his hands.

Your brain kicks into gear just in time for you to wrap your legs around his waist, and then he’s lifting you up, pressing filthy open mouth kisses to your neck as he navigates the hallway carefully, taking the measured and familiar steps to your bedroom.

He lays you gently on the mattress, placing you delicately among the pillows before he’s shedding his shirt and pants, kicking his boxer briefs off to the side and then settling back between your legs.

This time, your thighs squeeze at his head when he sucks your pussy into his mouth particularly hard, tongue dipping inside of you, and your fingers fly into his hair, scratching at his scalp in warning.

“Behave, moy muzh.” you hiss through gritted teeth, even if the way you writhe against his face tells him you like it. 

“You started it,” he reminds you, tugging on the dress resting around your middle. You huff, grabbing the bottom and peeling it off, tossing it in the direction of Andrei’s pile of clothes. 

Your eyes sparkle with mischief when you watch the way he takes in the sight of your naked body. No matter how many times the two of you do this, Andrei always looks at you the same way.

Like he’s in love, like it’s the first time, like for all he wants to take you apart, the way he’ll put you back together will be well worth it, and if it isn’t, he’ll work for it until it is.

“Pridi ko mne, lyubov' moya,” you beckon him. Come to me, my love.

His bottom lip drags against your clit as he rises from his position, tongue darting out to lick at your arousal still coating his lips, and the sight alone licks at the flame of arousal sparking low in your belly.

When he crawls up your body to kiss you, he props himself up on his arms, not wanting to rest his full weight on you, his delicate little almaznyy. Normally, you love it, but right now, you need something a little different. 

Your arms wrap around his neck as you seize his mouth in a bruising, desperate kiss, pulling him down to you and taking him by surprise as you manage to flip him onto his back on the way down. You take full advantage of his surprise by making your way down his body to settle between his legs, wrapping your fist around his cock and taking him into your mouth.

Andrei groans, sitting up on his elbows to watch you.

“I don’t know if we’ll be able to make a baby if you keep doing that,” he warns, cock throbbing against your tongue as if to emphasize his point. 

You bat your eyelashes at him, sucking at the head of his cock and using your hands to stroke at him at the same time. He hisses, one of his hands flying to rest in your hair, the other resting behind his head and emphasizing the chiseled muscles of his arms, chest, and abdomen.

Sometimes, you couldn’t believe this man was your husband.

“Almaznyy,” he warns when you take him down your throat, swallowing around him. You’re slow to come off his cock, letting him leave your lips with a dramatic ‘pop.’

“I’m still on birth control,” you tell him. “So we can’t make a baby tonight anyway, probably not for another month, at least.”

His brows furrow, both from your statement and the way you twist your wrist, stroking his cock the way you know he likes. “Then what - ah yebat’ - what are we doing?” He asks, trying to focus on the conversation as you take him back in your throat. You hum a little, and he tugs on the strands of your hair again in warning.

You pull off of him, gently stroking your hand up and down, squeezing as you go. “Practicing, of course.”

He lets his arms fall out beside him, collapsing against the pillows and dragging his hands over his eyes. “Almaznyy,” he huffs, hips stuttering when you squeeze him at the base.

“Hmm?” You hum, ready to take him in your mouth again, but Andrei moves quickly, hauling you up his body and cradling you close as he flips you over again. He positions you among the pillows, placing one under your waist so you’re practically propped up for him. He positions himself so his arms rest in the crook of your knees, your ankles near his head as he folds his body over yours.

He takes his cock in his hand, running the head through your folds. “Practice?” 

You nod, “Practice, for now.” You reach out, pushing his hand out of the way so you can line his cock up with your entrance. “Which is why the desk was perfectly good, and-”

The rest of your words are stolen from you when Andrei bats your hand away gently and slides inside of you, slow but precise, bottoming out and nestling his body close to yours. Your eyes flutter shut when you squeeze around him, and his hands come up, cradling the sides of your face as he murmurs encouraging words to you, staying still until you’ve adjusted to his size.

“Almaznyy,” he calls, and your eyes blink open, glazed over and hazy and you’ve barely even started. “Good?”

You nod, tilting your hips a little, trying to fuck yourself on his cock. He laughs a little, shaking his head. “So damn impatient.” 

He raises his body off of yours a little, angling his hips and setting a steady pace, one that has you whining in protest almost immediately, grabbing at the muscles of his ass and trying to drag him closer.

“I won’t break Andrei-” you start, but he cuts you off with a particularly hard thrust that has your eyes rolling back into your head.

“I don’t care if it’s just practice, almaznyy.” He tells you, “and I don’t care how many times we have to practice. I’m going to make it last, and I’m going to make sure that you remember all the ways I fuck you and make love to you until I put a baby in you.”

You gasp a little, and Andrei smiles to himself, thoroughly pleased. He sits up, placing his hands on the backs of your thighs and settling in to fuck you just the way you like. He fucks you in deep, strong strokes, the head of his cock brushing up against that sensitive spot in your pussy every single time.

It steals your breath from you, and all the telltale signs of an orgasm approaching signal to Andrei like a beacon. The way your breathing catches in your throat, the way you can’t keep your eyes open, how your legs start to shake.

He takes his thumb and rests it on your clit, rubbing in lazy circles until your back arches off the bed, a satisfied cry echoing out of your throat and into the pillows beside your head when you come. Your pussy squeezes down in a way that makes Andrei’s head go dizzy, and then he’s coming with a groan, pushing your hips down onto him as he buries himself to the hilt, his orgasm sudden and a shock to his system.

It takes him a second to catch his breath, and moves your legs off of his shoulders to make it easier to pull out of you and give you reprieve, but a noise of protest leaves your throat, and your ankles lock at the base of his spine. 

He pauses, glancing at you curiously when he notices the look on your face.

Andrei thinks back to before you left for San Jose, the day he took you in the shower, and how upset you’d been when he set you down on your feet.

It clicks in his head, then. What you’d been upset about.

He’s still hard - he’s practically always hard when he’s around you - so he moves his hips, slowly pulling back an inch before pushing back inside. You throw your head back, his name leaving your lips in relief, and he smirks. 

Fucking you in shallow thrusts, thumb circling your clit, Andrei watches in fascination as he pushes his come back inside of you with his cock, watches the way your pretty face twists in pleasure, and hums satisfactorily to himself. 

“Is this what you’ve been needing, moya zhena?” He asks, eyes on yours the whole time. “How long have you wanted this?”

You can barely answer him, your head thrown back against the pillows, eyes squeezed shut, brows furrowed, back still arched and pushing those beautiful tits of yours up. Andrei takes them in his hands, massaging them, and you keen, pushing into his hands and pussy trying to retreat from his cock with nowhere to go.

The sensation feels different for him. He’s hypersensitive now, all too away of the slick slide of his cock, of your mixed come leaking out of you before he pushes back in, feels heat begin to prick at his skin when your pussy continues to flutter and squeeze, like it’s trying to keep him inside of you. With every brush of his finger over your nipples, your pussy squeezes and you try to pull off of him, but in the next breath you’re winding your hips, pushing back down until he’s buried to the hilt.

Andrei pushes your legs up again before he rests his weight on you gently, his shoulders under your knees, burying his face in your neck and placing his hands under your ass, cradling you closer to him as he starts to fuck you in deeper strokes, drowning in the pleased little noises leaving your lips.

“Ty chuvstvuyesh' sebya tak khorosho, dorogaya,” he murmurs against your neck. You feel so good, darling. 

“Andrei,” you finally manage to breathe out, and relief floods through his veins. There were times when you two made love that you got so lost in the pleasure that you couldn’t speak to him, and it worried Andrei to no end. But you always came back to him, always called for him, and the same calm washes over his body, a shiver running up his spine.

Your arms come up, wrapping around his neck and arching your back, giving him more access to you. Andrei hums, pleased, sucking a bruise into your skin while his cock starts to throb from where he’s fucking you, can feel a second orgasm creeping up when he bites down gently, raking his teeth over the sensitive skin and you start to squeeze and clench around him.

“Gonna come again, almaznyy?” He asks, nosing along your jaw. “Want me to come again, too?”

You nod, turning your head and Andrei meets you, slotting your lips together and swallowing your moans down when you shake gently beneath him, back arching and pushing your body closer to his. His eyes squeeze shut, electricity zipping up his spine when your orgasm tips him over the edge and he’s spilling into you again, groaning against your jaw.

His arms come out from under you and he gently eases your legs back down against the bed, massaging the muscles as he does. Instead of resting them against the bed though, you wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles at his lower back, and Andrei laughs. 

Gently, he rolls you both until he’s laying underneath you instead, careful to keep himself nestled inside of you, and he smiles to himself when you do a half cat-like stretch before sprawling across his chest. 

A pleased little exhale greets his ears after a moment, and his hand comes up, rubbing gentle circles in your back. “Made you lunch,” you tell him, voice hoarse. “‘S in the kitchen.”

“Spasibo, almaznyy.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We should go eat it then, it’s probably cold by now.”

“It’s the chicken caesar salad wraps you like.” You say, lips dragging across his chest as you speak. “And I made strawberry lemonade this morning, should be ready by now.”

He nods, tapping your flank gently. “We should get up, malyshka. Get cleaned up.”

You nod, but you’ve got that look in your eye like before, like you’re disappointed as you carefully lift yourself off of him and roll onto the mattress beside him. Andrei rolls onto his side, cradling your face in his hands. “What’s wrong, moya zhena?” 

You shake your head, a small smile gracing your lips. “Nothing’s wrong, just…excited, is all.”

“Excited?”

“To start a family with you,” you clarify. 

“Then why do you look so sad?” He wonders, thumbing at the pout in your bottom lip.

You laugh, nose scrunching a little before cuddling into him. “It’s silly - I just wanted to start now.”

“It’s only a month, right?” He asks. You nod, nose rubbing at his pec, and he smiles to himself. “That’s good - plenty of time for us to practice, then? Wanna make sure we get it right on the first try.”

You snort. “Perfektsionist.” Perfectionist.

“Only the best for you, moya zhena.” Andrei says, teasing. Underneath it though, you both know that he’s serious. Because if anything, even as he rises from the bed and lifts you in his arms, carrying you into the bathroom, you know he never does anything half assed. 

Now that you’re both on the same page, he’s going to do everything he can to ensure you’re well looked after from beginning to end, and when your little baby eventually comes, he’s going to work twice as hard to make sure the both of you are taken care of, and that you’ll want for nothing.

You, his almaznyy, and your future child, his malen'kaya rubin. His little ruby.

[raleighrador]

Most fics I have read - even/especially the very good ones - that include Anakin having a relationship with Obi-Wan after Mustafar (or AUs where something similar to Mustafar occurred) are almost always frustrating to me. At least unsatisfying.

Anakin having any kind of positive relationship with Obi-Wan post Mustafar always seems to rely on a level of introspection and self awareness that frankly my head canon of Anakin is totally incapable of.

Anakin is not a forgiving person, even at his best. He is kind and generous but not forgiving. He remembers every slight (real or imagined). He holds onto those memories and lets them fester.

He also remembers all the good. He never forgets them. He cherishes them and polishes them and places them on a pedestal.

It's why (and a symptom of) he's so fucked in the head when it comes to his most important relationships.

He has no synthesised view of Obi-Wan or Padme or Palpatine or Luke. They are all of the things they have ever done to or been to Anakin.

What changes is the weighting Anakin gives to each of these things, with a massive recency bias.

I don't see how Anakin, in the full knowledge that Obi-Wan is the man who cut off his limbs, set him on fire, left him to burn, left him for Sidious to find, and then stole and separated his children before Padme's body was cold...

Could ever forgive him.

The why's and the intentions and who deserved what just wouldn't matter to (my head canon) of Anakin.

In lieu of self-awareness many fics give Anakin basically limitless self loathing. So instead of dealing with Obi-Wan or Padme or whatever he just hates himself so much that he doesn't have time to hate Obi-Wan anymore.

There is a lot I like about this (narratively/as entertainment) but I think the thing it misses is that is how Anakin worked prior to Mustafar anyway. He already hated himself almost limitlessly and he still found the time and energy to hate Obi-Wan.

After Mustafar he would have so much more justification for that hatred and resentment. So why would his self loathing get in the way?

The longer the timeline of these stories aligns to canon the more true this becomes.

I think by the time you get to Ghost Anakin at the end of ROTJ the things he would regret most are (in no particular order): choking Padme, handing Luke to the Emperor, torturing Leia, chopping off Luke's hand. MAYBE he regrets Alderaan but only in as much as it made Leia sad and means she hates him.

And he would likely blame everyone and anyone but especially Obi-Wan for this.

If Leia's surname was Skywalker, if they weren't separated, if Luke wasn't lied to about who Vader/Anakin was, if the Jedi hadn't filled Luke's head with lies and trained him as a weapon etc.

The rest of it? I just don't know that Anakin would really regret that much of it. I don't think he would see much difference - even with hindsight - between what he did as Vader in service of the Empire and what he did as Anakin in service of the Republic.

Killing the Jedi younglings probably sits in its own category. However, I maintain that Anakin would believe this was an acceptable price to save Padem IF it worked.

That might be his biggest regret - that none of it worked, that he lost Padme and his children anyway.

But any time travel force shenanigans where Vader uses the dark side to yeet himself into the past such that he can save Padme etc.

He would think that was a good deal.

There is the final (meta) element to all of this which is that Anakin's eventual forgiveness of Obi-Wan seems to generally function more as a narrative tool to assuage Obi-Wan's guilt, rather than some kind of real character development for Anakin.

And TBH I just want Obi-Wan to suffer/don't cate about him but that is another post.

I do however have sympathy for this - because I think Anakin is really, really hard to write.

A "redeemed" Anakin in my mind isn't one who suddenly becomes some kind of virtuous rules based utilitarian like the Jedi aspire to be, like Obi-Wan is.

A redeemed Anakin is one who chose his son, chose his family. A redeemed Anakin is one who was finally put in a position where choosing his family WAS the greater good. Anakin chose to save Luke - and kill Sidious - for the exact same reason and applying the exact same logic he applied to every other major choice he ever made.

And I don't see that Anakin as ever getting over what Obi-Wan did to him and his family. At best I see him not killing Obi-Wan because it would make Luke sad.

[kokushibosbestie]

ok so idk if u do like x reader stuff but if you do, can u do like a Sally face fic or headcannons with Sal and Larry. I wanted to request what it would be like for them to have like a very busy s/o. Like I do marching band and outside of school I do volleyball and lessons for trombone and piano. Along with that I take AP classes and student council which give me more work to do so I feel pretty drained by the end of the day

♡~ Sal and Larry w/ busy S/O HCs ~♡

A/N: Yes, I take requests and do (Character) x reader headcannons! AND I'M SO SORRY IF THIS WASN'T GOOD AND I KNOW LARRY'S PART ISN'T LONG I HOPE YOU CAN FORGIVE ME ANON. ALSO IM SORRY THAT IT TOOK SO LONG, I'VE BEEN REALLY BUSY WITH SCHOOL AND I HAD WRITERS BLOCK FOR LIKE 3 WEEKS 😭🙏

Warnings: None, just pure fluffiness and love. GN!reader.

-------------------------

♪ Sal Fisher ♪

· HE'S JUST A FKN SWEETHEART 😭😭 · I will say that he is going to make sure to make your life easier no matter what · like doing chores, helping you with projects and assignments, and planning out your week · I don't think many realize this, but he is not the "badass player" people portray him as. 😔 · So, he will make you sit down with him on the weekend and ask how things are going. · And this is with everything. Work, school, family life, your relationship with him, your mental health, etc. · He is serious about it too. 😅 He cares a lot and he doesn't like to see you stressed. · So when you come home tired and worn out, he will not be happy. · he knows it's not your fault and you can't help it "Love, please stop doing this to yourself. You know this isn't good." · Like I said, he loves you 🥰 · istg this man HAS and WILL beg you to take a break · so when you come home, he'll already have a bath ready for you · once you're done taking a bath, he'll make you sit down on the floor in front of the couch so he can brush / comb your hair · and I honestly think he's not the best cook, but he will cook your favorite food no he won't, it's going to be takeout because he failed · your room is already cleaned and he bought you squishmellows to add to your collection · he'll cuddle you to sleep while playing with your hair · definitely the big spoon on nights like this "Relax baby, you need to get sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up, okay?"

-------------------------

☆ Larry Johnson ☆

· I'ma be fr with you, he would NOT notice at first · Not until Ashley said something but after she brings it to his attention that you need a little bit more attention, he will do exactly that · and istg, he WILL pick you up bridal style and carry you away from whatever you were doing 👀 · If you protest, he will glare at you and ignore it. · Any kind of work you do is "overworking yourself" to him · so beware · Imma be completely honest, this man CANNOT keep up with you · Your ship dynamic is literally "busy mastermind and their assistant who worships them but can't keep up." 😭💞 · larry is the one worshiping you "Look, I know you have a lot going on, so don't try to convince me that you aren't. I might be stupid in school but I'm not stupid with you." · he will say shit that doesn't make sense WHATSOEVER. 😔 · Ofc, he won't admit that he's trying to take care of you · or keep up with you · obvi 🙄 · I have my own hc that he actually does know how to cook nicely, so I think he'd make you food you'd watch a movie together and talk · once your social battery is completely out, he'll offer you to sleep on his chest. 🥰 · and when you wake up, he's gunna make you breakfast. "Don't try to keep yourself up babe. You've had a long day, so just rest."

DISCLAIMER: THE HEADER IS MINE, THOUGH THE FANART IS NOT. THE DIVIDERS ARE NOT MINE, ONCE AGAIN, THEY ARE NOT MINE. ALL CREDITS GO TO ORIGINAL POSTERS / CREATORS!!! ALL WRITING BELONGS TO ME!!!

[metranart]

"She's the fuckin' blood running through my veins, the air filling my lungs-" Hawks admitted unashamedly, giving one last long lick to Dabi's twitching cock before standing on his feet, proudly. "She's irreplaceable to me and I came here to fuck HER…. Not the other way around…."

ft. Hawks centered, Hawks x reader, Heavy! Dabi x Hawks, Slight! Bakugo x reader, Slight! Dabi x reader, sexual content

Yesterday's incident

A few days after the Nomu attack, everyone began to prepare for the sport’s festival, and between that, the classes and training, you felt more exhausted every day. Physically and mentally exhausted, so vulnerable and confused, unable to swallow the bitter pill of what had happened, it was a mix of emotions too complicated to deal with.

And the boy with the crimson stare who was constantly watching you without your knowledge, noticed it too.

"(Y/N), you didn't even try to dodge my last attack," Bakugo's body plopped down next to yours, unconcerned with how close he was, a viciously rough push bumping your shoulder to get your scarce attention. "Earth to (Y/N)."

You grinned tiredly, and returned the push as hard as you could, not even moving him.

"Is that the best you can do?" Bakugo teased with a growl, "I thought you called yourself a hero." He was as friendly as he could be, even so, witnessed your features darken.

The champagne-haired man clenched his jaw, dammit! His body tensed next to yours and a trace of guilt forced your mouth to open, but you were silenced from whatever you were going to say by Bakugo's soft fingers suddenly pressing against your lips.

"Let me start," he asked, and you waited, his thumb caressing your bottom lip with a tenderness almost alien for someone like him and a long sigh, followed. "I know what it feels like to feel vulnerable and incompetent-"

"Jeez, thanks man-"

"Zip it, I’m not done," his fingers squeezed your lobe as he usually did when he wanted to be serious with you, you had a secret language since pups, so, immediately fell silent. "What I mean is, I've been attacked and unable to defend myself twice already," your breath caught in your lungs, it was true. The first time he was saved by All Might and the second time by you and your classmates, "...I know how you feel after the Nomu's attack," his hand slid like a snake that coiled between your fingers, making your heart rant pleasantly, not scared and confused like some other Hero did, "...I know how you feel, that powerlessness that makes you rage inside and leaves you exhausted," every word was hitting home, only it wasn't the Nomu you resented, "you have to let it out somehow, shortie...” you loved his nickname for you, a simple mock of how massive he was compare to you, “or you're going to go crazy," he smirked gloomy, "trust me, I know. It's a nasty thing."

"What does ‘King Explosion Murder’ suggest to letting it out?" Your attempt to tease him worked.

Bakugo chuckled low before set to think, for a moment, "I train non-stop, but I know your quirk isn't the fighting type-"

"For me, training non-stop would be making out with every living boy I can get my hands on," you shared bitterly amused, your brow furrowing at your few options.

"Or-" his fingers played around yours and something in the air thickened, "…... just kiss me."

You couldn't hide the growing blush on your cheeks quickly enough, one very similar to what your best friend sported. Bakugo cleared his throat. "We've been intimate before, we've kissed,"

"Only when drunk-"

Bakugo shrugged. "You gave me head once after training." He reminded you without the slightest care at been surrounded by your classmates. 

"Keep it down, Kat. That was more than three months ago-"

"-I returned the favor almost immediately." He licked his lips, knowing you were watching, and you looked away so fast, your neck cracked.

"Bakugo, cut it out, someone is going to hear." You muttered low.

The explosion boy just shrugged again, uncaringly, highly amused by all the range of emotions he could muster out of you by mere teasing. He just hated when you were gloomy.

"Let them know that I ate you-"

Your hand slapped at his mouth to silence him. "You have no filter, silly boy." You scolded him goodheartedly and felt him smile under your palm. His tongue coming out to lick you, just for the fun of the fireworks he knew he’d unleash inside you. Your skin bristled and you released him as if his wet tongue, burned you.

"If you want, we can," he offered again, watching closely how you cleaned your palm on your uniform sweatpants. Cheeks showing that he was embarrassed but his eyes showing the contrary, shining with implacable determination. "Just say the word, and I'll be your boy toy."

It was your time to giggle, openly laughing at the term; it was the last term you would expect to come out of his brash mouth.

You stayed silent, and for the first time since he started talking, he felt nervous. Were you going to reject him? Would he be able to handle it? ...was there anyone else? Bakugo refused to find out.

"It's for training purposes, (Y/N)," he added, sensing your refusal, pushing for his secret agenda. He just needed time alone with you, not as friends, so that you could see him in another more favorable and less innocent light, "Don’t duel too much about the implications, you have to improve your Quirk control. Who better than me as a test subject?"

Your lips pursed.

"I'm discreet," you raised an accusing eyebrow, "when I want to be."

"We've known each other for a long time," he continued to push as discreetly as his desperation to have you would allow, "not to mention that I have excellent tongue play, you are fervent proof of that." He showed off, sticking out his long, fat tongue and moving it up and down, imitating his latest exploits on your more intimate parts.

You buried your elbow in his ribs this time, hard and he chuckled. 

"I know, what you fear but it won’t happen,” sometimes you forget that he could read your mind, “our friendship is indomitable," he stated suddenly, proud of his fancy use of pompous vocabulary.

“Indomitable, huh?... Pride and Prejudice?” Bakugo sneered a snicker. You, being the only other creature alive who knew his embarrassing and well-hidden, weakness, for period novels. 

“Wuthering Heights. You, illiterate monkey.” Your giggle tasted wonderful to him and seeing his opening, took advantage of the fact that Deku had just broken a training machine, and everyone was distracted by it. 

"Let’s give it a try."

“And, if doesn’t work?”

Without warning, Bakugo yanked you by the collar of your uniform, dragging your whole body to his without even breaking a sweat, to whisper against your lips. “Then, we give it another try.”

His minty lips smashed yours, and your breath caught in your breast while being crushed against the strong pecs of your best friend, his massive frame devouring your petite one. His hand with a mind of its own circled your lower back, sliding around your waist to end up sitting you on his lap, where his two hands gave itself the task of manipulate your head at will, bending you a little to submerge his tongue better, now a little to the other side to suck and nibble at your lips, he wanted to hear you moan, he wanted you to do it for him... he wanted-

A crack was heard, viciously loud as a gym window exploded like a grenade.

Bakugo abandoned the sweet and addictive taste of your lips to cover you with his body and protect you from the rain of sharp glass. Good luck to everyone, it was just the impact of the noise since the rain of shrapnel didn't hurt anyone. Not even you, who were the closest.

"Are you guys, okay?" Deku appeared next to you in seconds, searching with his eyes for injuries.

"We're fine, nerd." Bakugo replied, gruffly. Damn timing! when everything was going so well. Izuku offered you his hand to pull you up and Bakugo could only growl at how frustrated he felt, he was seeing red.

"What the hell was that?!"

The kind green-haired boy shook off the remains of glass he could find off of you, and you quickly found yourselves surrounded by all of your worried classmates.

Professor Aizawa immediately sent everyone to the classroom…. and Hawks couldn’t feel more pleased.

The ever-watching, winged Hero’s aim as perfect as ever. He even managed to break the shield of the UA Academy from the outside, which was a huge red alert but for now, it served a purpose. The blonde’s lips pull into a nasty snarl, if anyone saw him at that moment, they would swear that he was a villain and not the number two hero of the country.

He had felt sorely tempted to barge in and pummel down that Bakugo with his own fists until he was nothing more than a disgusting, bloody pulp of meddling asshole.... but he had promised you a month, and a month he would give you.

“Enjoy your month, baby bird.” He phrased in repressed wrath. “Things are going to change big time, after.” 

-

Dabi couldn't stop laughing and cackling at Hawks, and how offended he looked as he almost ripped off his own Hero costume, his mouth ranting about some boy - apparently a friend of yours - who had the audacity to kiss you... Dabi loved the hypocrisy that his oldest acquaintance could show so carelessly. Hadn't he, himself raped you not less than a week ago without the slightest cordiality or permission? He still treasured that naughty set of photos. This bird was undoubtedly a born narcissist and a real, drama queen.

“Calm the fuck down, birdie.” Dabi suggested, airily, lazily passing his shirt over his head, “What did you expect? The girl hates you-”

“Nah-ha!” Hawks complained, shaking his head brazenly, his hand yanking sharply on the arsonist's belt to get him naked quicker, desperation clear in every pull. “My mate doesn’t hate me,” he stated in pent-up frustration, “…she’s just young—”

“—Too young if you ask me.”

Dabi let himself be bossed around, his belt slipping like a whip from his pants, his boxers pooled around his ankles next, the blonde already on his knees in front of him.

“I didn’t.” Keigo replied, tasting the shin of sweet from Dabi’s hardened cock. Wet tongue licking a fat stripe from his balls, up through the glorious shaft to then envelop the mushroom head in between his lips, kissing and lightly nipping the sensitive tip with noisy, lewd sounds.

“Fuck-birdie!” Dabi growled low in his throat, jauntily. The smallest of smirks twisting his scarred lips, his hands burying in the golden locks of his occasional lover, “Ho—fuck, like that.”

Takami Keigo smirked against the swollen piece of pierced, palpitating meat on his lips, eyes shut tight while he repeated the motion over and over again, teasing and enticing his receptor to the point of almost a sexual assault.

“Sit on it.” came that dark, gritted baritone through ragged breaths, losing all sense of composure and frankly loving it, shoving Hawks handsome face against his pubic hair forcing him to swallow him whole in one gulp. 

Keigo didn't even resist, the tip of Dabi's cock bottoming down to the back of his tight throat as if it were putting on a glove.

No gag reflex, no struggling from the doting Hero who didn't even get teary-eyed, he was a true professional. After doing it more than he liked to admit, his throat, no doubt, had already been well trained to withstand the brutal thrusts of his oldest, inclement friend. 

"Sit on it?" Hawks repeated amused, releasing his lips from the shaft with a smear of saliva and a wet pop.

His smut features got Dabi smirking just a little, his pierced tongue peeking out to wet dried lips as he slowly panted. The fire-bender cocked his head down, playfully.

“Worried you loved it so much that you'll forget about your mate?”

Keigo snorted loud, this time chuckling, blatantly. “You? replacing my mate?" he snickered darkly, "Nah—”

Dabi's thin eyebrows raised, quizzically.

"She's the fuckin' blood running through my veins, the air filling my lungs-" The birdman admitted unashamedly, giving one last long lick to Dabi's twitching cock before standing on his feet, proudly. "She's irreplaceable to me and I came here to fuck HER…. Not the other way around…."

The blond motioned his finger in circles, indicating Dabi to turn around and take it like a good, little cumdump. Just a warm replacement for the Pro Hero to play make-believe while that long month passes, and he is welcomed into your warm embrace again. 

Dabi found himself pleasantly surprised by this Hawks, had been a while since someone put him in his place. This promised to be fun.

"Why don't you make me, Number Two Hero of the Country?" The black-haired teased, and Hawks turned methodical.

Roughly yanking the Todoroki who, even putting up some playful resistance, ended up face first against the mattress, his bare butt being lifted into the air by merciless hands, spread like a whore for his tight ring of flesh to be presented and soon eaten by the nation's Golden Boy before being destroyed by his monstrous cock.

"You are going to shut the fuck up," Hawks ordered between twirls of his tongue, "and you are going to let me blow my load inside you," his voice sounded beyond aroused, a breathless snarl. "I don't want to see your fuckin' face while I imagine that you are HER, got it?"

COMING SOON PART 16....

➡️ NSFW Artwork of this story

@wtvbabes @dreamlessnight @naomi1247e @alicecil87 @geniejunn @justanerd1 @bakugosgirl01 @toxicxmindsposts @kezybear

[catboygirljoker]

fun writing tip: you can justify making your blorbos as good at sex as you want if you also make it depressing

i will try not to be too graphic or horny and keep it mostly to character study analysis themes core motivations plot conflicts etc type discussion. still, id really prefer that folks under 18 do not interact with me on this post or about this topic in general, thanks!

for obvious reasons this post is gonna have a cut

UNLIKE HIS DIIIIICK [EXTREMELY LOUD AIRHORNS]

. sorry i just feel like hed appreciate that joke. uh anyway

Brief discussions of: BDSM, including sadomasochism; edgeplay; derealization/dysphoria; self-destructive recklessness in a sexual context.

ok. so there's this fictional guy. and i kiiiiiiind of have a crush on him. and i'm a basic bitch, so, like, obviously, when i think about him hornystyle, i want to imagine him being good at sex.

the thing is, "good at sex" is not always a particularly interesting trait to give a character! it can often be an eyerolling power fantasy trait. like "this is my oc Chuck Dongburger he has a ten pound cock and can make a babe cum just by lookin at her" yknow. it's a trait that, handled incorrectly, is more likely to flatten conflict than create it—more likely to make stories more boring than to make them more interesting.

also, "being good at sex" isnt a magical blessing that descends upon someone by chance. it is a quality that stems from a set of experiences and traits. it is a skill that one develops, or fails to develop.

so the question is, how do i justify him being good at sex? how do i make it feel believable and interesting?

the answer is simple! make it depressing! (that is, relate it directly to the character's central themes and conflicts, and therefore make it a natural part of/inclusion in their story)

in canon, xigbar has had multiple bodies, lost his heart multiple times, allowed himself to be a vessel for darkness on multiple occasions. he has endured all of this to carry out the will of his masters. every social role we've ever seen him take has been subservient to someone else, even if it has usually also involved social power over others, too.

here are the sex/relationship headcanons i have that expand on this:

related to: gender/sexuality

bisexual. for starters. obviously. his transness i have Deep Headcanons about, but his bisexuality is just "idk im bi so hes bi hee hee"

luxu is a binary trans man who experienced severe dysphoria in his original body and never felt like that body really belonged to him in the first place. to the best of his ability he has only chosen cis male vessels, including braig. in those cases he feels extreme disconnect from his body but not [very noticeable] gender dysphoria. the only thing connecting him to his cis male bodies is his sexual characteristics. theres this great art piece that has never left my brain that conveys the idea im going for. his face his hair his bones none of those are his, none of thise feel real, none of those feel right. but what does feel right is his dick.

related to: him being Good at Sex™

he is Very Experienced. he's tried a lot of shit and had a lot of bodies and largely had nothing better to do than be a horndog and kill time suckin and fuckin. he is down for just about anything with just about anybody. he knows how bodies work and knows how to deal with the exceptions and roll with awkwardness and uncomfortableness.

he is pretty good at reading people—it's a skill he has had to develop over his lifetime. he is sometimes wrong, but usually right, and reading people, understanding them, lets him feel like he has some kind of control or power over them. this is relevant because this is part of what makes him Good at Sex. he is shockingly responsive and attentive; not completely unselfish as a lover, but he won't blindly exert his will onto the other person and expect them to respond just because he has a big dick or is going faster or harder or whatever.

related to: his backstory as luxu

sex for him is a means of exerting control over the world, proving his own competence and worth to himself and another person, gaining some simulacrum of human connection, distracting himself from his derealization, grounding himself in his body, expressing and claiming his masculinity. all things, i headcanon, he also achieves (or seeks/has sought to achieve) from keyblade mastery.

he views his bodies as disposable, and knowing that he can just jump ship if he totals a body means that he processes pain differently than most people. not in a "all pain makes him horny" way*—it's more that pain doesn't make his self-preservation kick in the same way it does for other people. in bdsm/kink settings he is a masochist [as well as a sadist] and more reckless with edgeplay (when it comes to himself) than he really ought to be.

obviously i have specific personal motivation for wanting to headcanon this (he and his body are both Significantly Older Than Me) but i don't think he's too bothered by an age gap. some people it makes sense to me to imagine that they'd really want to date within their age and maturity range, but i think xigbar's chill as long as the person he's dating is a self-posessed adult. considering how long he's been alive, he's gonna have a significant gap in experience with ANYBODY; there isn't that much of a difference between him dating a 25 year old vs a 45 or 85 year old.

he has told close romantic partners about his Whole Deal before. it has never gone well. ("what do you mean youve been moving into random people's bodies in order to stay alive long enough to bring back a guy who intentionally manipulated his students into killing all of their students via senseless war??") they never understand and he doesn't know why they don't understand (i also headcanon him having severe cognitive dissonance vis a vis the MoM but that's a different post). his instinct is to put up a wall and go "well theyre just naive and stupid and haven't seen what i've seen, theyre too sentimental to understand this". he still keeps trying (if with less frequency) because he is desperate for someone to understand.

*i want to make this crystal clear: i do not headcanon xigbar as being automatically turned on by receiving or causing pain in every context, because he is a boss in a video game franchise where he fights teenagers. i am not comfortable sexualizing those fights!

(i do however think there are contexts where he might indulge in some "battle sadomasochism" when fighting another adult—maybe he makes it weird for them on purpose to fuck with them, maybe they're both into it and it's all foreplay, etc)

related to: him being subservient

youd think that when i talked about him being subservient to others, i was building up to a headcanon about him being a sub. however it feels most correct [and fun] to me to imagine him being a dom-leaning switch vers (doesnt get dysphoria from bottoming because. prostate). social role and personal dynamics dont necessarily correspond to sexual dynamics!

the headcanon i was actually building up to was that he craves affirmation in specific ways from specific people. he is desperate for someone else to give him worth. he wants to do a good job serving an authority he deems worthy of respect. he wants to be useful, he wants to serve a purpose and have a role. he hates feeling like he needs something from someone else, and feels much more comfortable if they need something from him.

he doesn't have a praise kink in a traditional sense, but he does really get his rocks off from being Good At Sex and from his lovers clearly and obviously enjoying themselves. he doesn't wanna be told hes done a good job, he wants to know, to tell from experience that he's blown someone's mind.

furthermore, in romance, he becomes a massive simp. if he likes someone enough to fall for them then they hang the fucking moon for him. he is outside in the rain crying throwing up begging for a sniff. absolutely pathetic. its not a total transformation of personality, i think he'd really hide it and really want to hide it. but i think in most situations it'd be subtle but observable. every joke he makes is directed to them and checked against their reaction; he stands at a middle distance outside of conversation kinda watching them, observing every move, memorizing their gestures and tics and quirks. he feels i love you before the first date but won't say it until five years into the relationship.

related to: i couldnt put it in the other sections and i really only made these section headers so it wasnt just big walls of text oops

he's a low empathy emotionally constipated bitch at the best of times, so he substitutes emotional intimacy with physical intimacy. picking up people at bars or dances or what have you for one night stands, satisfying them thoroughly, and then immediately dropping out of their lives.

he actively avoids romance (and any emotional closeness, including the completely platonic kind). but he hasn't always been this way. i think Dark Road was the most recent in a long long string of experiences where he lost people he was close to. he's tired of hurting people and getting hurt.

. im not gonna get into it because im trying not to be like too too horny in this post but hes So fucking brat tamer coded to me. i think you will understand at least the surface level reasons for this. i guess if i wanted to relate it to Themes i'd say something like "there is a specific romantic and sexual fantasy in being an asshole and even hurting someone and them still wanting you and trusting you and loving you and even enjoying it" but. well we dont need to go there do we

these are just the Depressing / Character-Related / Themes-y headcanons. some of my headcanons are just like "i think this would be funny and/or in character and/or hot" but you see how long this list is anyway. if i started in on all of that then we'd be here forever.

also, these are just headcanons! they're informed by analysis but shaped heavily by what appeals to me personally, what i find hot, what i find compelling about his character. if your headcanons for him differ from mine in any way, i don't think you're Wrong, because we're talking about the sexuality of a guy who comes from a video game franchise where characters are barely allowed to hold hands. this is all just toys and playing

anyway thank you for reading this post lmao its so long

JUST LIKE HIS DIIIIIIIIIIII—

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is: @lady-lostmind! lady_lostmind has 84 works in the Stranger Things fandom and 55 of them are in the Steddie tag!

@oh-stars recommends the following works by @lady-lostmind:

This Is The Coin I Had In My Pocket The First Time We Kissed, And I Always Have It.

Transfixed (under your spell)

Fuck

You know what to do, when it gets hold of you.

The Wall

"Mack is one of the best writers in this ship and I am so very lucky to read their work early on. Her Eddie voice is unmatched to me!! Every time I read a new fic of hers, I'm always shocked at how she can outdo herself with creating my next favorite fic. She's fearless in trying new tropes and genres, exploring super serious topics and she has some of the hottest scenes I've read. Every opportunity I have to read or reread her work is an absolute pleasure and I am so honored to get to see her flourish!" -- @oh-stars

Below the cut, @lady-lostmind answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I’ve been reading fanfic since I was a teenager but I never felt the urge to write my own until watching these two together. I think we can all agree there was some undeniable chemistry between the two on screen and they have such a fun dynamic to work with. I’ve always enjoyed creative writing in some shape or form whether it be for a class or writing lyrics for the band I was in, or the half abandoned novel I have in my docs. I decided to give fanfic a shot and then really loved getting to actually be a part of the community instead of lurking on the edges and leaving kudos anonymously like I had for years. But there is something so special about Steddie in particular and I’m especially drawn to writing Eddie in particular. His character has so many layers to explore and different directions to go and I love making him fall in love with his golden retriever of a man over and over again.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I am a sucker for a good slow burn, especially with some hurt/comfort thrown in. Please rip my heart out, stomp on it, pick it back up, and hand it back to me wrapped in a pretty little bow.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Honestly, the same as what I read. As much as I love a good fluffy one shot there’s nothing quite like the sweet torture of dragging your characters through hell before they get their happy ending. It’s so fun trying to navigate what they would do in difficult situations, and how that affects the story overall.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

This is such a hard question. There are so many good fics out there. We’re truly well fed in this community. I think some of my absolute favorites have to be You’re Divine by oonionchiver, and The most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway is that it’s you by greatunironic. Both of them inspired me to do a lot of fanart including a bind and cover art for You’re Divine, and drawing all the album covers in TMRTAYSITDITIY.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I never really know what I’m going to write next until it smacks me in the face. But I’m definitely open to whatever that might be. I will say I’ve never ventured into the omegaverse in my writing but it does seem like a fun one to play around with.

What is your writing process like?

Chaotic. I love writing but have a hard time actually sitting down and focusing on it. I either write a huge chunk all at once, or I write a sentence at a time while watching tv or something. I do really enjoy writing with other people though whether that’s in a sprint or word game.

Do you have any writing quirks?

If I have music on while writing it can’t have any lyrics in it or I get too distracted.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Oh, a schedule is generous, I’d say. But I do prefer posting chapter by chapter. I feel like people engage a little more as they read each one and I love getting the feedback as I go.

Which fic are you most proud of?

And you may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife. I think my writing grew a lot during that fic and I’m really proud of the work I put into it. AYMFYIABHWABW was also the first thing I ever wrote for an event and was a big step for me to actually put myself out there and talk with other authors and artists. I made some amazing connections through that event and am so glad I pushed through any self consciousness to ask for a beta reader because I found an amazing one in oh-stars and gained a great friendship through that. They introduced me to karadanverss when the two of them were looking for some help modding the Stranger Things Reverse Big Bang and I not only gained another friend, but got to dip my toe into being a mod, something I never would have even considered doing before, but have had so much fun being a part of as we set up other events together. So I think because of all that, AYMFYIABHWABW will always hold a special place in my heart.

How did you get the idea for This Is The Coin I Had In My Pocket The First Time We Kissed, And I Always Have It.?

During a rewatch of New Girl. Nick Miller is honestly such a mash up of Eddie and Steve, and I could not get the idea out of my head to Steddiefy the scene in the hall where Nick says “Not like this.” It screams hopeless romantic Steve to me, and the title is a line Nick says to Jess way later and it never fails to make me cry. So, I started with that. Just wanting to do a similar situation with Steddie, and it morphed into something much bigger than I intended.

When writing You know what to do, when it gets hold of you., what was something you didn’t expect?

I thought I would have a harder time with Steve’s POV in this one than I did. I really wanted to show a side of him that I feel gets overlooked a lot since he’s always throwing himself in front of everyone else when there’s danger. But what happens when that danger isn’t there anymore? What does he do with that? It’s a side I hadn’t explored much before and I was really happy with where that took me. I really liked getting to see where Steve’s mind would go when the group is seemingly safe.

What inspired Transfixed (under your spell)?

Transfixed was written for the Steddie Summer Exchange! So I actually had this prompt: ‘Popstar Steve and rockstar Eddie having a secret relationship whilst the public and their own band mates think they hate each other.’ to go off of for it. This prompt screamed angsty, hurt/comfort so I was really excited I snagged it in claims.

What was your favorite part to write from You know what to do, when it gets hold of you.?

I think it has to be the scene where Steve finally breaks down. When Eddie figures out what has been going on and Steve just lets it all out. If there is one thing Steve Harrington deserves, it’s a good fucking cry.

How do/did you feel writing The Wall?

The Wall was written for Steddie Love Month with the prompt: Love is letting yourself be loved and if that didn’t scream insecure Steve I don’t know what does. I remember feeling very bittersweet while writing The Wall because I know what it’s like to be afraid to let someone in again when you’ve been hurt, and how good it feels when you finally let that wall down and accept that risk because it’s worth it. I tried to capture that feeling as best as I could.

What was the most difficult part of writing Fuck?

Fuck was another Steddie Love Month prompt. The hardest part of writing this one was just trying not to cackle to myself about how ridiculous Eddie was being. This one was a lot of fun to write.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

Oh my. I think it either has to be the first scene I wrote for AYMFYIABHWABW that sparked the entire thing: Steve is staring at him, eyes wide and rocking a little on his heels like he’s so nervous he can’t stay still. Eddie’s stomach drops, his mind spiraling through a million worst case scenarios all at once. “What’s wrong? Is Wayne– Are the kids okay? Is it–” Steve holds his hands out in front of him and shakes his head. “Fuck, no. Sorry. No. It’s not–” Steve sucks in a deep breath, his hands shooting up into his hair before dropping to hovering in the space between the two of them. “Eds. I fucked up. I so massively fucked up. I can’t even begin to–[...] This feels like a fucking fever dream. Like something he’s imagined a million times over. Awake and asleep, In every possible scenario and position. All the times he fucked men in bathroom stalls and or pressed them against a wall in a dirty alley, this is what he wanted. And he was right. None of it even comes close to being this. This is…it’s everything. Fuck– it’s everything." Or this scene from You know what to do, when it gets hold of you where Steve finally gets to breakdown: Steve shakes against him, his tears wetting the shoulder of Eddie’s shirt. “I’m sorry.” Eddie shakes his head. “It’s okay.” He rubs his hand up and down Steve’s back. “Hey, you’re okay. We’re going to figure this out, okay?” Steve sobs, his hands fisting into Eddie’s shirt a broken “Sorry” slipping out of him again. Eddie’s arms tighten around Steve, and he struggles to swallow the lump forming in his throat, tears welling in his eyes. Can’t help the way his heart breaks a little at the sorrow in Steve’s voice. How vulnerable he sounds. Because Steve Harrington isn’t vulnerable. Steve Harrington dives into lakes with portals to another world at the bottom without a second thought. Steve Harrington rips other dimensional beasts apart with his teeth. Steve Harrington marched into battle calmly, and confidently. Steve Harrington carried Eddie out of a hellscape on his fucking back. Steve Harrington is the rock. He is the one everyone leans on. And Eddie knew. He knew something was wrong. He knew something was going on. But it’s one thing to know it, and another to see your hero crack and crumble in your arms.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

The Eddie Munson Big Bang! Definitely keep an eye on our tumblr (@eddiemunsonbigbang) to see all the amazing fics and art that will be coming out. I’m one of the mods over there, and I’m working on a fic for it that I’m really excited about. If this is posed before the end of September…we’re still looking for artists!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

I’d just really like to thank anyone who has ever taken the time to read my fics, or like any of the fanart I’ve made. I never expected anyone to really see any of it when I first started all this and have really loved finding a community to be a part of. I never had any friends who were really into fandoms or fanfiction, and up until I started engaging in Steddie content no one in my life even knew I read it. Getting to talk to, and make friends in this community gave me the confidence to talk more about what I’m interested in and connect more with the people in my life. So, thank you all for showing me how to be loud about the things I love and that I don’t have to hide parts of myself away!

Thank you to our author, @lady-lostmind, and our nominator, @oh-stars! See more of lady_lostmind's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[kurishiri]

16 . . . alfons main story (with letter)

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— by the way, if you want “alfons’ side” of this chapter, i would recommend giving the ecb story from roger’s past records a read! i copied and pasted some lines from there in this chapter as well.

— cw: mentions of child labor or abuse.

Roger: Even after getting hurt by that villain of a man, you just never learn, do you, lil lady?

Roger’s face was right there before me, so close I could feel his breath.

He was honestly a wonderful person, and I was sure if we had met at the bar, without knowing the circumstances, I would have happily gone along with his slightly rough invitation.

(But...)

Kate: I’m really sorry... but right now I’m not in a headspace where I can humor your jokes...

K: Besides, I thought you mentioned you choose your partners?

Thankfully, Roger withdrew his hand from my shoulders, albeit not without a wry laugh.

Roger: You’re right, I did mention that, but I would absolutely take a woman like you any day.

(Could it be he came here to cheer me up?)

My heart, having felt cold and hollow, now felt a tad bit of warmth.

(Oh, come to think of it...)

Kate: ...If I remember, you are doing research on the Cursed ones, right?

Roger: That I am, but what of it?

Kate: If it’s not too much trouble, could you tell me what Alfons’ tragic fate is...?

When I asked Roger what had been occupying my mind since before he came, he shrugged his shoulders, his movements stiff.

Roger: If he knew I was the one to tell you, he’d hate me more than he already does.

Kate: Then whatever you say here will stay between the two of us.

Roger: I mean, sure, but I’m pretty sure he’d still catch on even if you didn’t say a word.

R: Well, despite what I said, I’m more than convinced he couldn’t hate me any more at this point, so I don’t really mind.

(Now that we’re on this topic...)

I remembered I couldn’t help but feel the way Alfons acted toward Roger made me a bit uncomfortable.

[1] So you two go way back. (+4 / +4)

[2] Does he hate you?

[3] Which one of you is older?

Kate: So, I take it you two go way back?

Roger: And what makes you think that?

Kate: Well, I guess when you two were speaking, it looked like you weren’t pulling any punches on each other, so to speak... but also I felt you two were a bit distant...

K: So I thought something might’ve happened that made it that way, perhaps.

Roger: Well well? Look at you and your keen eye. But as for the reason he holds some deep-seated grudges against me——

R: ...It was because the one who had told him what his ‘tragic fate’ was so casually, was none other than me.

R: His life had always been a bit twisted, so to speak, but then I came in and wrung it more.

(Wha...)

Roger: You want in on it?

(If I nod here...)

The story that Roger was about to tell——

Surely, it would cover a part of Alfons that he would never let me so much as step in.

(...I wonder, will knowing more about him really do much?)

(Perhaps, knowing would actually make it harder to forget.)

I bit my lip slightly.

(But, even so——)

Even if it was just a tiny fragment, I wanted to grasp at his true form, however much of a mirage he may be.

Kate: ...Yes, please tell me more.

—— Flashback ——

The story I’m about to tell is neither a dream nor illusion.

It is nothing but the ‘truth’ that one can’t escape from——

Once, there was a boy who bore ashy gray eyes: an orphan from the East End.

And ever since the time he was aware of what was going on around him, he had been subjected to harsh labor at the orphanage.

The work environment was poor at best, and even a slightest mistake would result in corporal punishment.

However, this boy held a certain skill as well.

He knew the art of escaping from the reality that dealt him with hardships and rendered him famished and in pain by dreaming.

‘This isn’t me’——such were the chants of the boy who looked into his own reflection in the muddied water.

Whenever he did this, his consciousness would distance itself from him, going somewhere outside. And so, even if he was being punished, he felt nothing.

Not to mention, there were countless children who died as well.

...Children whose names he could no longer remember. And when the time came, it would surely be the same for him as well.

——But even so, there was but a single thing he had held dear in his heart.

Gray-eyed boy: Come here, won’t you?

Out in the alleyway, there was a trembling kitten.

He never had much bread in the first place, but nonetheless he split it with the kitten; he would fall asleep while hugging it to his chest on colder days; and he would pet it on the back of its neck.

Whenever he did so, his heart would calm down.

(That’s right, I’m different from those adults. Because unlike them, I have love in me.)

(And I’m different from those nameless kids too, because I’ve got this fella here.)

(This cat knows me, if no one else. It remembers me too.)

Thinking this helped keep his sense of self.

Gray-eyed boy: I love you... so that’s why, if no one else, you have to remember me, okay?

The kitten’s warmth, the feeling of its soft fur, and the small meows...

Surrounded by bricks that were on the verge of falling apart, that very place was the ‘reality’ he lived in.

—— End flashback ——

—— Flashback ——

Roger: Huh. A cat...

One fateful day, the young boy met another named Roger in the East End.

Roger appeared slightly older than the boy who was polishing shoes out on the streets.

And judging from his attire, he was probably not a noble, but more likely than not he had come from a relatively more well-to-do family.

‘I heard some rumors about the orphanage, so here I am,’ Roger had said, wanting in on the boy’s story, almost to an excessive extent for some odd reason.

Roger: So? What’s that cat doing now? After all, the fact you’re polishing shoes out here now is because you got kicked out from the orphanage, right?

When talking about the cat, the boy’s ashy gray eyes seemed to soften ever so slightly.

Gray-eyed boy: That fella’s still at the orphanage. Someone there’s probably looking after it, maybe?

Roger: .........And you? What’s your name?

His name——that young boy had an inkling that he had forgotten he even had such a thing in the first place.

Gray-eyed boy: ...Alfons, I think.

Roger: You think?

Alfons: Well, I heard it was written on the box I was in.

That alone was enough to hit home the fact that he had been abandoned the moment he was born.

He had no memory of the time before he found himself at the orphanage.

And that orphanage was the very one he had been recently driven out of.

Roger: Do you really not know the reason you were kicked out of the orphanage?

Alfons: How could I? It was so sudden, so...

—— End flashback ——

When the needle on the clocks overlapped, I found myself back in the present time.

Roger: I had heard a certain rumor circulating around at the time, so that’s why I tried to get in touch with him.

Kate: A rumor...?

Roger: Yeah. A rumor where ‘the director of the orphanage was made into a cat.’

(Did he just say... he was ‘made into a cat’...?)

Kate: What in the world does that mean...?

Roger: At the time, I already knew I was Cursed, and I had already begun researching about Curses at that point.

R: Through my father, who was a town doctor, I searched around for any documents about patients who could possibly be Cursed.

R: And it was among those I found something particularly strange, that being rumors of a person who could ‘overwrite other people’s perceptions’——

R: And there were strange cases of amnesia where that came from.

(Am...nesia...)

When I thought of Alfons’ face, I stifled a breath.

Roger: White could be perceived as black, and vice versa——there are a great many who experienced that firsthand, thinking such things were reality.

R: But interestingly enough, none of them could remember who had made it that way. Their name, what they looked like, where they lived, everything.

R: And when I checked the registry of that area and any records... I was confident there was some unnatural ‘white space’ there.

R: It was clear as night and day that there was a single person who had just up and disappeared to thin air from both memories and records. ...Strange, isn’t it?

R: I was more than sure that person who held such an ability was a ‘Cursed one.’

At that moment, I had a bad feeling.

But nonetheless, I simply swallowed my breath and continued to listen.

Roger: So when I first heard the rumor that there was a ‘human who had turned into a cat,’ I thought he would be Cursed.

R: And at the time, I was hoping to find a Cursed one aside from myself in earnest.

R: ...That’s why I ended up doing something rash.

—— Flashback ——

Roger: You’ve got some strange ability, don’t you?

All of a sudden, Roger had asked this with a serious expression, causing Alfons to back away with slow steps.

Alfons: What do you mean, ‘strange ability’...?

Roger: You know, like by touching somewhere and whatnot, you can make people think any lie as the truth. Something like that.

Alfons: ...Any lie... as the truth...

Roger figured that since Alfons hadn’t asked what he was talking about, he probably was at least somewhat in the know.

Believing this without question, Roger took a step back before spreading both his arms.

Roger: So try something on me, won’t you? Anything’s fine.

Alfons: ...

After staring at Roger closely for a while...

Alfons: ...If you pay me, I could do it.

He made a proposal to the well-dressed Roger.

And from there, the two did this and that to test his ‘ability.’

After all, Alfons himself didn’t know how to activate it.

Roger: Looks like just throwing words out won’t do it.

Alfons: So then I’d have to touch you somewhere too or something?

And then, Alfons held Roger’s hand, touched his forehead and whatnot, and after a lot of trial and error——

Alfons: “This isn’t shoe polish, but your most favorite food.”

—— End flashback ——

Roger: When he touched the back of my neck, his ability activated.

Kate: ...And how did you know that?

Roger: Well, by the time I came to, I realized I was eating shoe polish, and he was there on the side laughing and pointing his finger at me.

(Gosh...)

Roger, laughing it off, continued the story.

—— Flashback ——

Roger: I knew it, you really are Cursed.

Alfons: Cursed?

A: What in the world are you saying, mister [1]? Just hurry up and pay me, will you?

Alfons’ eyes grew cold, and he extended his head, waving it.

And Roger grabbed both of his shoulders.

Roger: You have the ability to distort the minds of other people. You saw it yourself before, didn’t you?

R: And those who are Cursed will have to face a tragic fate as a price for their abilities.

Alfons: Wh... what’re getting all excited for?

There are those who were cast with a Curse since the moment they were born——such people are known as ‘Cursed ones.’

And at this point in time, Alfons still didn’t grasp such a meaning.

Roger: I mean the Cursed ones are born “to commit sins and meet a tragic fate.”

Alfons: ...Are you sure you shouldn’t go to a hospital, mister? There can’t be such a thing as a tragic fate and all.

Roger: I know it sounds like a lie, but it really is true! And I think in your case, it would probably be——“to die without leaving your mark on anyone’s memories.”

R: That’s the fate you bear.

Alfons: ——!

In exchange for an ability a normal person could never have, they were dealt the hands of a ‘tragic fate.’

Roger: But, I’m sure these fates can be changed. In fact, I’ll do just that.

R: After all, I was finally able to meet someone other than myself who’s Cursed! Hey, do you——

Alfons: .........get out.

All of a sudden, Alfons pushed Roger on his chest. Hard.

Roger: ...? What’s up with you? Looking pale as a sheet like that.

Alfons: Whatever, just get out of my sight!

Pushing Roger so hard he was almost sent flying, Alfons ran away——

never to return there again.

—— End flashback ——

Roger: ...And then a little while after that,

R: I heard a rumor around that ‘there was a kid who could show weird illusions over at the slums.’

I was reminded of how I had seen Alfons in the warehouse that had long become ruins, showing illusions to the people there.

—— Flashback ——

Alfons: I have been doing these things even prior to joining Crown, you see.

A: So I see no reason to stop, simply because I’ve been told to, or it’s a supposed ‘national secret’ and what have you.

—— End flashback ——

Roger: At the time, I was hoping he could work with me on my research...

R: But if I had to say, I got too caught up in talking about his fate, and as a result I had ended up pushing on him a reality he could never go back from again.

Just like that, I felt as though a hole had opened up beneath my feet.

The past I didn’t know of,

the day I had first understood what his ability entailed, and... the ‘Curse’ his body had ended up bearing.

(“To die without leaving his mark on anyone’s memories”——such was Alfons’ tragic fate.)

to be continued…

Acceptance is important, you know

Good day to you. How have you been faring?

...So I do ask, though I couldn’t really care less, if I had to be honest. But even so, do make sure to eat and sleep properly, alright?

After all, would you not agree that destroying your body and suffering because you had been pulled by the whims of some irresponsible hedonist is nothing short of a ludicrous tale?

The quickest way to overcome a lost love would be liquor and food, along with the discovery of your next love. Such is usually the case.

If you indulge in a delicious liquor, I imagine you will come to realize this love was naught but some silly affair. In fact, I’m more than certain of it.

Should you seek out a pleasure no deeper than the surface, then I will be more than happy to play together with you once more.

Well then, until next time.

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masterlist🪞 ╱ ko-fi ☕️

NOTES:

[1] Here, Alfons refers to Roger as [お兄さん] (onī-san), which literally means “big brother,” and it could be used to refer to someone else’s older brother, but here it’s used more in the context that Roger is a guy a little older than Alfons, so it’s just like a casual way to call someone you’re not super close with or don’t know the name of, not because they are blood-related in any way. Think of it kinda like “bro” in modern terms maybe?

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ tags🏷️ ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ @drachonia @.comment, send an ask off anon, or dm to be added or removed!

[raticalshoez]

I scrambled to make this because this part from Martyn's POV literally just lives in my brain