#only pink or orange for the closest

[nyxypoo]

i feel high

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent-ish life pictures and etc.

[gallusrostromegalus]

My housemate reminded me of a flashbulb memory I have that I really wish I had a photograph of because it would be a magnificent image to inflict on the internet at large with Zero Context, but I'll try to describe it here, and then draw it after dinner.

Image Description:

As seen from about three feet off the ground: Interior, the den of an american suburban house built at the height of the atomic age and still decorated like it years later. There's dark wood paneling about halfway up the walls that offsets the almost neon pink-orange light of late sunset visible through the large window. Every object in the room is highlighted by the last of the sunlight. The only other light in the room is a TV set that was manufactured the same year Howdy Doody debuted on air, now broadcasting PBS Newshour in black and white.

Closest to the viewer, there is a small end table with a Nearly Full Martini glass, and a Half-empty glass Martini Pitcher, indicating that two of the five martinis it holds have been poured out.

Just behind it, an old man sits in a chair that was bright green and yellow when it was new but is now more Grellow. The man is in his mid-sixites, somewhat heavyset, with a full head of snow-white hair and thick glasses. He's wearing a dark brown tweed suit with leather elbow patches, and a white cotton button-up. He's watching the news with a calm and dispassionate demeanor. Tired, but still engrossed with the world's events. He's wearing dark brown penny loafers and garish argyle socks.

Behind him is a couch that is a matched set with the armchair, with the same Grellow chevron pattern, but there is a very large crochet afghan that has been spread out over the back to be decorative and maybe protect the couch from it's current occupant: a 120lb Wolf Hybrid.

She's seated lengthwise on the couch, like she had also been watching PBS Newshour, posed like a sphynx. She's close in wieght to the man, and definitely taller than him if she stands up, with a dark gray agouti coat and a bit of white countershading from the trace of domestic dog in her. She's turned her head to the viewer, bright yellow eyes focused on them, and the fur of her head and neck haloed with the sunset. She is pleased to see the veiwer, which means most of the teeth in her lower jaw are visible in her canine grin. The effect is very menacing if you don't know her.

Clutched rather neatly between her front paws is a second, identical martini glass, only not nearly quite so full as the old man's.

Title: "Oh, I didn't think you'd be back for another hour/GODDAMIT EDWIN"

[say-al0e]

Cling

Rating: M | This is smut! Minors, DNI! No one under 18!

Summary: For as long as you could remember, you and Steve have been close. What others see as clingy, Steve sees as comforting, right? Or, you fell in love with your best friend and suddenly, everything is too much. Warnings: Unprotected PinV, oral (f!receiving), blink and you'll miss it angst. Pairing: Steve x fem!Reader Words: 5.5k

Though the sun had long disappeared, dipped below the horizon in a blaze of oranges and reds hours ago, the scent of artificial coconut and chlorine lingered as you lounged beside the Harrington pool.

The kids disappeared with Eddie the moment the sky tinted pink, off to finish a campaign they spent much of the day discussing, and Robin followed soon after with a weak excuse designed to hide her true destination of Vicky’s house - despite the fact that you all knew.

That left you and Steve, always the last two standing.

Steve stretched out on a lounge chair to your left - sunglasses resting atop his head, t-shirt forgotten somewhere in the backyard, garishly patterned swim trunks resting low on his hips. His eyes were closed, chest rising and falling evenly, though you knew he was far from sleep.

Regardless, you took the chance to study him in the rare moment of silence.

The apples of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose were tinted pink, not burned enough to cause concern but clearly effected by his time in the sun. His hair was wild and beginning to curl, free of gel and still a little damp from his last dip in the pool. The weeks of swimming, back in the pool where he spent so much time growing up, had toned his arms - his shoulders, his stomach, his thighs - and you could see the result of his resumed habits so clearly.

A swath of hair covered his chest, tapered into a faint line that disappeared into the band of his trunks, and you were struck by just how many times you’d been here - sitting to his right, smelling of chlorine and coconut. Over a decade of friendship, more than half your life, and you’d witnessed Steve go from a lanky boy to a confident twenty-something. 

Moments like this reminded you of why your best friend was one of the most sought-after bachelors in Hawkins and why, somewhere along the line, you joined the long list of those desperate for him to give you the time of day.

Only, you were lucky enough to be one of the few that had Steve’s full attention. There was little question that he knew everything - nearly everything, not this, never this - there was to know about you. Even less of a question that you would be sharing his bed later on, though not in the way you’d secretly started to want.

“Quit starin’ at me, creep.” Steve’s voice came then, before you could begin to spiral and question whether you could handle another night of sleeping beside him - wrapped in his embrace, his sheets, his scent - and you hummed.

“Just seeing if I need to get the aloe,” you teased, hoping it sounded as light as you meant it. “Should’ve listened to me, when I told you to put on sunscreen.”

Steve laughed. “You mean I should’ve sat still while you attacked me with it. I would’ve, if you’d given me some warning. Not nice to just start mauling a guy.”

“I know you dream about me mauling you.” The deflection was easy, reflexive, and accompanied by a laugh that rang a touch hollow in your own ears but Steve huffed, good-natured, anyway.

“Hm. Think that’s the other way around.” He cracked open an eye, then, and turned his head to glance at you while you reached for his half-empty beer in an effort to avoid meeting his eyes.

“Please,” you scoffed, though it was weaker than you intended. “I can’t get you to stop touching me.”

Despite his upbringing - or, really, because of it - Steve sought physical affection in those closest to him. It was true that he hadn’t stopped touching you over the course of your friendship, hugs and holding hands and cuddling on the couch. There was never any hesitation, never any awkward shuffling or adjusting. It was as natural as breathing, comfortable, and lately, you savored every brush of his skin against yours.

Still, Steve waved a dismissive hand and reached for the pack of cigarettes he discarded on the table after the kids left. “Sure.” He lit one, fixed you with a teasing grin as he took a drag. “Easy for you to say when you’re the clingiest person I know.”

The observation was not unkind. If anything, it was soft - fond. It was a joke he’d made before, once or twice, but the label ‘clingy’ struck a nerve that he likely had no idea even existed. One that hadn’t existed until recently.

There was a conversation that you weren’t supposed to hear. It was Eddie, asking the kids if he had a chance - whether you and Steve were, you know, a thing - and their varying responses. He only asked because of how close you were, he explained, how often Steve had an arm around you or you clasped his hand in yours.

Someone, you didn’t catch who because the words rang harsh in your ears, dismissed his concerns with the dreaded refusal, “Just friends.” Though another followed it with, “I’d be annoyed if I were Steve. She’s always all over him and they’re not even dating. So clingy.”

Eddie laughed, as did the others, and you waited just beyond the door for a few moments to pretend that you hadn’t heard.

After, you tried to distance yourself, if only a little, without arousing Steve’s suspicions. Despite being called clueless, unobservant or even stupid, despite his difficulty connecting the dots, there was little about you that escaped his notice. It was difficult to create space when none had existed since you were children and, clearly, you hadn’t done a very good job, anyway.

“Yeah, well, I’ll unstick myself from your side.” You intended the quip to be teasing, a joke that earned you a laugh or a soft swat as you passed him by, but it came out wrong. The words were acidic, tasted bitter in the back of your throat as they rolled off your tongue, and you could see him wince from the sting of them as you stood from your chair. “I’m gonna go shower,” you deflected, unable to look at him. “Chlorine’s burning my eyes.”

Steve sat upright as you gathered your towel and discarded clothes, your empty soda can and the tube of tropical sunscreen. He stubbed out his cigarette and reached out, hand searching for yours and coming up empty for the first time in a long time.

“Wait,” he urged, rising to his feet as you busied yourself with removing any trace of your presence from the immediate vicinity. “Did I… what did I say? Whatever it was, I didn’t -“ His brows furrowed as he lifted the hand you avoided and carded it through his hair, sighing when you winced at the sound of his sunglasses clattering to the ground.

“You didn’t - it’s nothing.” Steve tipped his head, an attempt to catch your eye as you blinked back the stinging sensation - chlorine, really, and overwhelmed, traitorous tears. “Just tired.”

From the corner of your eye, you caught sight of his face. He wore a concerned frown, warm eyes raking over your form as he recounted the last few moments, before he winced. “Oh. Shit. Hey, you know I’m joking,” he insisted, taking a half-step closer. And when you took a full step back, he frozen, uncertain - unused to the distance. “I didn’t mean it like that. You know I love it when you’re close to me. It’s nice. I’m not - that was a shitty thing to say.”

“It’s okay.” You waved him off, a dismissive hand held aloft for a moment before dropping to hold your towel close to your chest, and hoped he believed the crack in your voice was from the yelling you’d done earlier in the day. “It’s true, ’s’what everyone thinks, anyway.”

“What?” He looked confused, frown deepening as he tried again. He took a cautious step to close some of the distance and lifted a hand to reach out for you before thinking better of it. His hand fell to his side and you clutched the material in your arms tight to your chest to keep from reaching out yourself. “No one thinks that.”

“They do,” you confessed, finally lifting your head to meet his gaze as you forced a laugh. “They think it’s weird and sad and annoying that I’m, like, all over you. They think I’m, like, obsessed or something.” The admission was uttered casually, as easily as you could manage when your heart felt as if it might beat out of your chest, and Steve took another tentative step forward.

“Who said that?”

Though it was phrased as a question, it came out a demand. His expression shifted, flickered from soft concern to annoyance - not at you, very rarely at you - as he waited.

“I overheard the kids joking about it,” you told him with a sigh. “And back when you were dating Nancy, Tommy and Carol said something. So did Billy. It didn’t bother me then ‘cause Tommy and Carol and Billy were morons, but now, well… Maybe they were right. I - I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so… attached.”

Steve stepped closer then, insistent despite your feeble attempt to keep the distance, and reached out for you. One warm, large hand fell to your waist, fingers finding bare skin still warm from the sun while the other cupped your cheek. He was patient, soft, as he encouraged you to meet his eyes once more.

“They were total morons. I’m honestly surprised they paid enough attention to someone else to notice,” he huffed, rolling his eyes at the memory of your former friends. “And the kids, they’re just kids. They don’t - don’t listen to them, alright. I don’t think you’re clingy or annoying or sad or anything else. I think you’re my best friend and I like being close to you.”

Though it brought you comfort to hear how adamantly he denied thinking you were clingy - how adamantly he denied finding your constant presence annoying - the reminder that he only saw you as a friend did little to ease the roiling in the pit of your stomach. 

A fresh wave of traitorous tears stung at the backs of your eyes and you did your best to blink them away as you nodded. “Yeah,” you nodded, acknowledging him with a watery half-smile. “Okay.”

“Hey, I’m serious,” he asserted, dipping his head to search your face for the answer to a question he had yet to ask. “I want you close to me, like, all the time. Robin laughs at me but I don’t really know what to do when you’re not there. I like it when you hold my hand or sit on my lap. It… it makes me feel like you want me with you as much as I want to be with you.”

Though the lump in your throat persisted, though the tears still threatened to fall, you immediately reassured him. “Of course I want you to be with me. I love spending time with you.” You sighed, allowing yourself to melt into Steve’s touch. “It’s always been us.”

“Always has been, always will be,” he confirmed, smile soft but still a touch concerned. He hesitated for a moment, seeming to weigh his words for the first time in a long time, before he settled on asking, “What’s up, babe? Why’d it bother you so much?”

“It’s stupid.”

Immediately, Steve shook his head. He refused to allow you to wave it off, to dismiss the tease that clearly hurt your feelings, as his thumb stroked your cheek. “It’s not, not if it’s bothering you.”

“I just…” You inhaled sharply, eyes closing as you attempted to gather your thoughts. Though Steve’s closeness would’ve brought you comfort under ordinary circumstances, it made it difficult for you to concentrate as your heart began to beat a touch too fast. “Just been thinking,” you finally began, choosing your words carefully. “It was fine when we were kids but, I mean, we’re adults now. What happens when one of your dates pays off and you find someone to fall in love with? Don’t think she’ll be too happy with, you know, this. It’s not like we can cuddle on the couch or have sleepovers for the rest of our lives.”

Steve remained quiet for a long moment - a silence that stretched on forever, thick and suffocating - and you swallowed the emotion clumping in the back of your throat before opening your eyes. You were met with his warm gaze, soft brown eyes flickering with an emotion you couldn’t quite read as he took a half-step closer.

“What if… I mean, we could.” Two words, and you felt frozen in uncertainty. Everything around you, everything outside of Steve, ceased to exist. You could feel your heart thudding heavily in your chest, your breath caught in your throat as you waited for him to elaborate. “The dates,” he began, now looking as nervous as you felt, “none of them have felt right. They don’t feel like this, like us. They don’t make me feel like you do.”

For months, you’d dreamt that Steve felt the same way. You imagined that somewhere, beneath the fond smiles and teasing jabs lingered the same nerves, the same butterflies, the same all-encompassing love. You imagined that his head was full of the same ‘what-if’s’ as you shared his bed, the same hope that you’d share the same bed for the rest of your life. You dreamt that he would one day confess his love and end your hopeless attempt at getting over him.

But now that it seemed within your grasp, so close you could practically feel his heart beating just as erratically as your own, it felt too good to be true.

“What does that mean?”

The question came as a whisper, afraid that if you spoke too loud you might break whatever spell had been cast over the backyard, but Steve heard it clearly. He met it with a half-smile as the hand on your hip began to trace nonsensical patterns across your skin - a nervous habit that made you feel as if your skin was on fire.

“Means that I want to keep holding your hand and having sleepovers,” he elaborated, voice soft in the still of the night. “Means that I… I don’t want to keep going on dates with anyone but you. Every time I think about the future, it changes - what I’m doing, where I live. But you’re always there and that’s all I want. I’ve been trying to pretend like I’m not in love with you but I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Steve’s confession rang in your ears, crashed over you like a tidal wave, and left you unable to speak - unable to breathe. He waited, patient, understanding, as your racing thoughts scrambled in search of something coherent. But when you failed to gather anything resembling a complete sentence, you decided to allow your actions to speak for you.

In the way that you’d started to imagine as you drifted off to sleep, you dropped the items in your arms and lifted your hands to tangle in his hair to pull him in close. He smelled of summer - cigarettes, cheap beer, artificial coconut and chlorine - and something so unerringly Steve that you suddenly couldn’t imagine being this close to anyone else.

The hand on your cheek was encouraging, soft and warm as he tipped your chin, and you gave in to the urge you’d been fighting. With one step, you pressed yourself close - your chest meeting his, the warmth of his bare skin setting your nerve endings alight - and pressed your mouth to his.

Despite your expectations, there were no fireworks, no sparks or heavenly choirs, but there was an instant sense of comfort. Kissing Steve felt like coming home, warm and easy, as if you’d done it a thousand times before. 

There was no awkward shuffling, no tentative brushes of uncertain lips. Instead, you moved together seamlessly. His body slotted against yours perfectly, fit exactly as if you belonged there - together, intertwined. His lips were soft, as plush as you’d imagined, and his skin was so warm that you wondered if you would be branded with his touch before the night was over.

Though your fantasies varied - desperate kisses, eager to make up for lost time; filthy ones, a mess of lips and tongues and teeth, as you swapped spit and stumbled down a dark hallway toward his bedroom; soft kisses, designed to convey years of unspoken feelings - this kiss destroyed them all.

It was soft, slow and eager as you sought to become acquainted with the taste of one another, and laced with the underlying promise of a beautiful future.

Steve’s touch was eager, unrestrained and achingly familiar, as he held you close and swallowed the soft noises you made. Every breathless gasp and quiet sigh of pleasure, was met with a hum of his own as he slipped the hand on your cheek to the back of your neck.

Neither of you wanted the kiss to end, content to breathe in one another until your lungs collapsed, but the lack of oxygen and the reality of the situation had you feeling dizzy enough to break away. But as close as you’d always been, Steve kept you pressed tight to his body and rested his forehead against yours.

“Taking that to mean you’re in love with me, too,” he teased, breathless as he searched your face for any sign of regret, of hesitance. When he found none, he smiled - bright, happy, easy. “Totally not cool of me to admit, but I’ve wanted to do that forever.”

“You’ve never been cool, Stevie,” you returned, giggling as he pinched your side.

“Was gonna be nice,” he huffed, pretending to be put out though his grin never faltered as he shifted his head, brushed his nose against yours. “Tell you how pretty I think you are, how I want to spend the rest of my life with you; all that mushy stuff. But since you wanna be mean…”

Before you could blink, giggle out a teasing apology for your perceived slight, Steve’s arms fell to your waist. He held you close, lifted easily, and carried you the few steps to the edge of the pool. The moment you realized his intentions, the moment you opened your mouth to squeal out a plea for him to stop, Steve stepped over the edge and plunged you both into the water.

Even as you fell, sinking into the deep end, Steve kept you close. He hauled you both back up above the water, laughing as you huffed - thankfully used to this, almost expecting it as he attempted it every year.

“Steve!”

“What?” He grinned, dark hair dripping into his eyes as he guided you both into a more manageable depth and encouraged you to wrap your legs around his waist. “All this could’ve been avoided if you’d just been nice to me,” he reasoned.

“I’m always nice to you, Stevie.” You weren’t - your friendship was an equal mixture of soft encouragement, soft words and even softer touches, and teasing jabs - but Steve hummed, just the same. “But I can be even nicer.”

“Know what would be really nice?” When you hummed, Steve returned a hand to cup your cheek - tipping your head to meet your eyes, only a hint of insecurity swirling amongst the warm, soft brown. “Telling me I’m not getting all this wrong. I… I know I don’t always get it,” he acknowledged, swallowing thickly, “but I… I get this, right?”

“Oh, Steve. The reason I got so freaked out about the clingy thing,” you began, lifting your hands to brush the damp hair from his forehead, “was because I was afraid you’d see it, how in love I am. I… I’ve been in love with you for a while. You’re it for me, Harrington.”

Steve grinned, then, relieved - elated, clearly brimming with joy at the revelation - and leaned forward to close the gap. The press of his mouth to yours was eager, firm, and relieved some of the ache in your chest, the fear that this was something you’d dreamt up, too good to be true. He crowded you against the wall, body caging you in as his tongue traced the seam of your lips, and you sighed as you tangled your fingers in his hair.

Though the pool water was cool, the press of Steve’s body against yours had you melting. He always ran warm, left you blistering in the wake of his hands exploring your skin, and you felt your heart hammering in your chest as his fingers mapped the slivers of skin he’d only held through fabric.

“Babe,” he breathed, mouth barely parted from yours as you shifted your hips, “don’t wanna do this in the pool. Not the first time. Let me take you inside.”

The urgency in his tone drew a soft moan from you, eager to feel his touch and touch him in return. “Please. Waited so long, don’t wanna wait anymore.”

Desperation, eager and hurried, that had lingered beneath the surface of the entire encounter - a desire to give in, finally, after waiting for so long - showed clearly as you both rushed out of the pool. Steve remained close to you, one hand on your hip even as you both roughly toweled off, and ushered you into the house.

The Harrington house was as familiar to you as your own. It was a space you could navigate with your eyes closed, under the worst circumstances, and you were grateful for the knowledge as you and Steve rushed up the stairs to his bedroom without pause.

As many times as you’d stepped foot in Steve’s room, as many nights as you’d spent wrapped in his sheets, there was an understandable difference in this moment. The tension was palpable and, despite how eager you both were, you both faltered for a moment as the door clicked shut behind you.

“This… we don’t have to do anything,” he began, stepping close, his palm warm against your waist. “We can just shower, maybe watch a movie or something before bed.”

Again, rather than fumbling for a coherent sentence - attempting to make sense of the thoughts that remained scrambled in your brain - you reached out for him. Steve sighed as your fingers tangled in his hair and tugged, eyes blazing with a heat that made your head spin, and you almost hated to lose the sight of his parted lips and lust blown eyes as your mouth pressed to his.

Steve’s hands began to wander, fingers mapping your skin in a desperate bid to commit it all to memory, as he walked you backwards. The plush of his bed hit the back of your knees, duvet soft, and he followed you down easily. With a knee pressed into the mattress beside your hip, a hand beside your head, Steve hovered above you, mouth never leaving yours.

While his fingers traced the skin of your stomach, your hips, your shoulders, your thighs, you brought your own to his chest. You raked your nails over his exposed skin, committing the warmth of him to memory, as he broke the kiss to lavish your neck with attention.

As he nosed at your jaw, lips pressing fleeting kisses to your skin, his hand fell to your breast, eagerly cupping the soft flesh over the damp material of your swimsuit.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he breathed, reverence lacing his tone as his hand flexed. “So warm, so soft. Smell nice.”

“It’s the sunscreen,” you gasped, words pitching higher as his lips latched onto the spot just beneath your ear. “You should try it.”

“Mm. You can put some on me tomorrow,” he offered, tongue darting out to soothe spot he’d nipped.

The promise was laced with an eager desire that had your hands wandering, nails raking over the trail of hair dipping into the band of his trunks, and you could feel the contraction of his stomach as he inhaled sharply. You knew that you tasted of chlorine and chemicals, of summer, but Steve didn’t seem to mind as he continued pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin.

Eagerly, he began to dip lower, his lips exploring your heated skin and leaving a trail of fire in his wake. Every touch was electric, sent a shockwave through your system and left your chest aching with a warmth that you hoped would never cool. You could feel the arousal pooling in the pit of your stomach, gathering slick between your thighs, as Steve nipped at the skin of your chest.

Skilled hands made quick work of the fabric covering your chest, easily ridding you of the damp suit without lifting his head from your skin, and you felt your breath catch in your throat as Steve began to make his way down. He nipped at the delicate skin of your chest, stubble scraping your skin in the most delicious way as he shifted to free his hands.

As Steve’s hands shifted, cupped your breasts and hummed, your own hand dipped beneath the band of his trunks. Your fingers brushed the warm skin, reveling in the stuttering breath Steve released, even as his own hands began to trail downward.

“Always pretty,” he complimented, voice rough as he began to follow the path blazed by his hands, pressing kisses down your chest and stomach.  “But this,” he hummed, grinning when you whined as he moved out of reach, “too fuckin’ pretty. Not fair.”

“You’re one to talk.” It was breathless, a gasp that escaped as his lips latched onto a patch of skin near your hip, and Steve grinned. “You’re so beautiful, Stevie. ’S’distracting.”

Steve continued to sink lower, mouth blazing a devastating path across your skin, as his hands fell to the plush of your thighs. He spread them easily, settled between them, and glanced up at you from near the foot of his bed with a devilish smirk that reminded you of the days of King Steve - handsome, flirty, charming.

“How’ve we never done this before?” His hands drifted closer to your aching cunt, so close to where you desperately wanted him yet so far away as his mouth pressed to your inner thigh. “Wanna spend the rest of my life here.”

“Haven’t even got my bathing suit off,” you teased, though it was weak - wrecked, already so entirely destroyed for him. But Steve took it as a challenge.

Almost immediately, Steve’s hands slipped beneath the band of your bottoms and tugged, easily working the damp fabric down your thighs. The moment they were gone, tossed across the room to be found later, he settled back between them and grinned.

Before you could tease, make a joke about him being eager, Steve’s hands shifted exactly where you wanted them. Warm fingers swiped at your slick folds, gathered the evidence of your arousal easily, before they lifted to his waiting mouth. Your lungs constricted and breathing felt impossible as you watched him lap at the slick, an exaggerated moan leaving his lips as he pulled them free with a wink.

“Knew you’d taste amazing,” he complimented, dipping his head to nip at your inner thigh.

Steve nosed at the juncture of your thigh as his fingers returned to your folds and you could feel his triumphant grin when you gasped as his thumb found your clit. But he didn’t allow you time to speak as he dipped his head and licked a stripe along your slit.

Large hands found your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin to keep you spread open as he lapped at you. There was no tentative tasting, no hesitant swipe of his tongue; Steve ate you like a man starved.

Those plush lips wrapped around your clit, eagerly tasting all you had to give, as his fingers returned to your puffy folds. He swiped them through your slick, gathered it on his fingers, before pressing them into you and working to open you up. 

“You’re,” a gasp interrupted you, stole your breathe as Steve glanced up at you from between your thighs - his shoulders keeping you spread open, hair caught between your fingers. “Fuck, Stevie, you’re good at that.”

Steve preened under the praise, lashes fluttering at that and the combination of your fingers yanking at his hair, as his fingers - longer, thicker than yours; easily pressing into the spaces you could never quite reach - sank deeper into you. 

As desperate as you were to feel him, to have him push you over the edge, this wasn’t the way you wanted to go. You wanted to feel him, to feel his weight pressing you into the mattress as his lips met yours, and you told him as much as you tugged at his hair.

“Wanna feel you, Stevie, please,” you begged, stomach tight and chest aching as you desperately sought to catch your breath. 

“Fuck.” Steve’s forehead pressed to your thigh, warm breath fanning over your sticky skin. “Wanted to hear you say that forever,” he admitted, eagerly clambering up to shove his trunks down his hips.

As Steve shoved his swim trunks down, you tipped your head - eager to see if the rumors were true. And just as you’d heard, Steve was larger than you ever could’ve imagined. He was bigger than anyone you’d been with, bigger than anything you’d seen, and you couldn’t help yourself as you reached out to touch him.

The tip was an angry red, dripping precum, and Steve swore as your thumb brushed at the pearly bead. “Fuck, you’re so big,” you whined, wondering how he would fit - eagerly anticipating the stretch of him.

“Can’t say shit like that,” he huffed, laughing - pink cheeks blazing, embarrassed and secretly pleased at the attention - as he settled above you. “Ego’s already too big,” he teased.

“Not the only thing,” you returned, grinning when he laughed, fingers dipping between your thighs. “Fuck me, Stevie, please.”

“Anything you want,” he promised, hand wrapping around the base of his cock and guiding it to your puffy folds. He dragged the head through the slick, both of you moaning at the contact, before he notched the head at your entrance and pressed forward.

The stretch of him was delicious, too much and not enough all at once, and you swore you could feel him in the back of your throat as he sank into you. He went slow, careful, eager not to hurt you, but with every inch he sank forward, you were desperate to feel him fully.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Steve was pressed fully into you. It was overwhelming, being so impossibly close to him - completely intertwined, bodies as one - and all you could do was pull him into a searing kiss.

The kiss was a mess, a clash of tongue and teeth, uncoordinated but so satisfying as his hand gripped your hip. You could feel him surrounding you, all-encompassing, and you never wanted the moment to end.

Even as his hips began to snap, his rhythm steady, deep, you struggled to catch your breath - to care about anything other than the warmth of his skin against yours, the scent of him, the weight of him over you. The only thing you could say was his name, repeated like a prayer as his thumb found your clit and his lips remained just inches from your own.

Steve was all that existed, all that had ever existed, and suddenly the future was bright. There was hope, an eager desire to spend the rest of your life here - in this moment, with Steve pressed close - and you couldn’t help but whimper out a desperate, “I love you,” as you felt yourself barreling toward the edge.

The words were returned in a reverent chant, equally desperate, as you felt his hips begin to stutter. You were both nearly there, just a few presses of his hips - another swipe of his thumb, another press of his mouth to your heated skin - and you were careening over the edge with Steve following shortly after.

Warmth flooded your veins, his spend filling you so completely, and his lips sought yours despite your shared inability to regain your breath. It didn’t matter, not when all that existed was this moment, and you didn’t care that Steve’s weight had fallen to press you deeper into the mattress.

For a few long moments, you both lay there - gasping, fighting to catch your breath and return to the moment at hand - before Steve pulled away just enough to settle at your side. There was no distance left between you, slick skin pressed together, and you would’ve been content to lie there forever.

Steve, it seemed, felt the same as he settled into the pillow and leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead.

Though the afternoon began with a fear that Steve would see you as clingy, that he would never love you in the way you loved him, you were ending the night in the only place you wanted to be; clinging to your boyfriend, sated and happy and looking forward to the future for the first time in a long time.

______________________________________________________

Author's Note: This was inspired by a sunscreen, believe it or not. Don't know how we got here but it was a fun journey.

Taglist: @x-avantgarde-x, @thisisparadisemylove, @eddiesprincess, @slvdsjjk, @munsonlover, @tasmbestspdrman, @urofficial-cyberslut, @jxngwhore, @hopelesslylosttheway, @meaganjm, @lazuli-leenabride, @deiondraaa, @piscesmesss, @glowyskiess, @kiszkathecook, @missryerye, @solarrexplosion, @ofherscarlettwitchways, @lovedandleft-haunted, @trappedinlimbo15, @sweetiekitten, @bookfrog242, @gwendolynmary, @sage-bun, @zealouslibrariesparadiselight, @castiels-lilass, @tojis-little-brat, @emmah787, @theworldsendxx, @asuperconfusedgirl, @flores-and-sunshine, @passi0np1t, @laurathefahrradsattel, @hellf1reclub, @slut4yourmom, @niko-04, @hannirose-loves-you, @mrs-eddie-munson, @screambabe, @vllowe, @ryswritingrecord, @cheriebondy, @ryswritingrecord, @thewitchofthewilds140, @bootlegmothman420, @maruushkka, @honeymoonpython, @keenesbeans, @jess-bonn, @sammysinger04, @khaoticken21, @denkis-slut, @spiderman-berries, @lotus-es, @amortiff, @stardust-galaxies, @ure-a-sunflower, @1-800-ch3rry, @ladybeewritethings, @ynbutbetter, @hunnybunimdun, @breathinfive, @s-u-t, @s4ntacarlal0stk1d, @rae-iin, @pennamesgame, @stefans-wife, @voldieshorts, @frankie-mercury, @bbymochi1, @serendiipty, @saturnsworld01, @eddiemunson1sstuff​, @valthevalkyrie-main​, @crying-caro​, @inglourious-imagines​

[ink-the-artist]

hi! hope you’re having a good day/night. wondering if you had any tip for achieving phosphorescence/fluorescence with colored pencils? i’ve been getting back into drawing after a long art block and wanted to draw some glow in the dark toys but i’ve been struggling to give a good actual green glow on a dark background. thought i’d ask since you’re incredible with colored pencil!

oh prismacolor neon colored pencils are perfect for this, they only have 3 colors (orange, yellow, and pink) but i think this is the closest thing to what ur describing that ive used in my own art

some of these are more subdued than others, i blend the neon color and a regular color (the neon pencils also have harder lead so are good for blending with) it creates this really nice underglow that i cant achieve with the regular colors. the more subtle ones have less of the neon color blended in and the brighter ones have more. the neon colors are really bright and vibrant it surprised me the first time i used one. my scanner does not pick up neon colors tho (idk if all scanners are like that) so I have to photograph the art instead whenever i use neon colors

im sure other brands have neon colors u can do this with (and other mediums too) this is just what i do

[joeyfranchise]

𝟙𝟚 𝕕𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕗𝕚𝕔-𝕞𝕒𝕤: 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕖

secret santa

boyfriend!joe x fem!reader

NSFW! MDNI! bulleted blurb about going to a christmas party & playing secret santa with joe and his friends… but he has to give you his best gift at home ;) (warnings included unprotected p in v, the usual shebang.)

you had to ask joe THREE TIMES if the party you were meant to be attending for christmas was playing white elephant or secret santa

he assured you it was secret santa but you were confused because you didn’t know who you’d be shopping for

AND CHRISTMAS WAS ONLY A WEEK AWAY???

sure, they were his friends & yours… but a little extra time might’ve been nice…

although, gift giving was one of your outward love languages

FINALLLY you met up with everyone and drew names

but now you only had FOUR DAYS to shop ?? FOUR. ??

alright. you’ve got this though, right??

luckily you got one of your closest friends, so buying for her would be a piece of cake

OR SO YOU THOUGHT

now of course, so close to the holiday… every storE WAS PACKED

but you were on a mission

you knew your girl like the back of your hand sO

this was gonna be easy

at the first store you visited you got her a candle, palo santo and orange scented

cuz she needed cleansing energy in her life rn

at the second store you grabbed her some comfy socks, a thick knitted blanket, and some cute sparkly pink lipgloss

you had to REALLY TRY not to go overboard

the last few things you got her were

2 new books, a new travel mug, some packets of hot chocolate, and FINALLY

a dainty silver paperclip bracelet

you fixed it all up in a basket and you were SO EXCITED to give it to her at the party

the only thing bothering you now was

you didn’t know who joe got

and he WOULD NOT tell you

and you couldn’t find anything around the house

OR IN HIS CAR

and you were afraid that 1. he wasn’t getting anyone anything

or 2. HE GOT YOU and he was being super sneaky

it bothered you for DAYS

literally up until the party

because here you and joe are, headed to the party, your gift is loaded up and

joe has nothing

he didn’t bring a SINGLE thing with him

you tried to play it cool, you knew he was watching you squirm over it

whatever. it’s okay. right?? RIGHT??

anyways. you made it to the party and joe came around the car to let you out like the gentleman he is

“you look beautiful, baby.” he says, kissing your cheek

and you’re like THAT’S RICH

cuz on top of him apparently not having a present

he also hasn’t BEEN PRESENT really all week

not in a bad way… just a little distant. there’s a lot going on but… you just missed him

you thanked him softly and he grabbed your gift, heading in to the party

inside it was decorated so beautifully from top to bottom, you were in awe of what your friends had put together

you placed your gift in the designated area and then eagerly jumped into the festivities

joe started talking to the guys as you and the girls finished plating food and decorating baked goods

you all ate and then played a few games, you were happy the party was pretty low-key

and then FINALLY

it was time for the secret santa reveal

you watched everyone with joy as they all loved their gifts and you were even MORE ecstatic when your bestie opened hers

she gave you the worlds BIGGEST HUG and peck on the cheek when she thanked you

but

there was one problem

you didn’t get a gift

i mean it tracks right??? if joe got you then

maybe he was waiting? because he’s your boyfriend so like. he got you gifts anyways

you searched the room until you found his eyes, locking yours with his

he cocked his head, nodding over his right shoulder in a “come on, let’s go” gesture

you excused yourself from your friends and met him by the doorway

he led you to the kitchen and out the sliding glass doors

the backyard was decorated beautifully as well, fairy lights hung from the tiny gazebo and the patio even had a miniature christmas tree

joe closed the door behind you and you hugged yourself in your sweater as the cold air bit at you

he was sTARING you down

“you okay, joe?” you question, watching as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth

“i’m okay. are you?”

you nod your head yes but - you know joe knows you better than anyone

“are you upset? obviously you know by now i was your secret santa.” he says, taking a step toward you

his gaze on you was soft, but still commanding

your knees were weAK

“yeah, but it’s okay joey. i mean, i figured you already had gifts for me or something so… i’m not worried about it.”

but you were lying

AND HE KNEW IT

because really you just wanted to open gifts with all your friends

and you knew joe wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt you on purpose but

it was kinda giving you fomo and that sucked the most

joe took another step toward you, his hand reaching out to caress the back of your arm

“do you think i’m a jerk?” he asks, smiling softly

“no, of course not!” you tell him. you were a little sad but

nothing detrimental

“i have a gift for you.”

your eyes widen at his confession and the gap between you is finally closed as he takes the last step toward you

and then he kiSSES YOU

oh shIT

joe pulls away slowly and tells you to close your eyes

when he tells you to open them—

he’s. on his knee

in front of you

oh fuck is he—

OH FUCK IS HE????

“y/n, since i met you, my life has changed for the better in so many ways. i couldn’t ask for someone better in my corner, and i wouldn’t want anyone else to be there for me in the hard moments. you’ve sacrificed so much for me and for this relationship and for that i can never truly repay you.”

yOU’RE CRYING

FULL ON UGLY CRY

“there’s nobody on this planet i’d rather spend the rest of my life with and i don’t wanna waste another second. will you marry me?”

WILL YOU!?

OF COURSE YOU WILL OF COURSE YOU WILL OF COURSE YOU WILL

wait use your words .. hE can’t read your mind

choking back a sob you answer him… “yes, joe. i’ll marry you. i can’t wait to be by your side for the rest of our lives.”

meanwhile you’re full on sobbing and sniffling while speaking to him

joe slips the beautiful ring on your finger before kissing it

he stands and pulls you into a tight hug and oH

is… is he crying too? a lil?

you both pull back slightly so you can see each others faces and you both wipe your tears away before sharing a sweet kiss

“we should go back in for a sec.” joe says

but you’re… SUSPICIOUS

and for good reason apparently

when you get back in EVERYONE CHEERS

THEY’RE POPPING CHAMPAGNE

and you’re crying again because joe did such a great job planning this and WOW

everyone hugs you and wishes you love and happiness and

you are OVERWHELMED??? in a good way

joe grabs his gift that he received before coming over to you and getting your attention

he leans down and whispers in your ear, “let’s leave a lil early. i have one more surprise at home.”

and SMIRKS

oh you know what the surprise is

you say your goodbyes to everyone and practically RUN to the car, buckling up and waiting eagerly for joe to get in and take you home

you and joe are both so giddy in the car, you can’t stop bouncing your leg

he reaches over and grabs your thigh, giving it a soft squeeze

at the stoplight he leans over and kisses you tenderly

and you’re like joE FLOOR IT I NEED YOU

when you get home you aren’t sure if the car or garage are locked or anything and you don’T CARE

as soon as you’re inside joe’s mouth is on yours, your back is pressed to the wall

you can’t take your hands or mouths off each other

he trails open mouthed kisses down your neck and over your collarbones as he pulls your sweater off

then he unclasps your bra, leaving your chest exposed to his mouths teasing attack

you start taking his shirt off as well, scratching your nails over his shoulder blades as his mouth continues to roam over your body

his lips find yours again soon and tHEN

SUDDENLY

you’re being carried to the bedroom and tOSSED onto the bed

joe quickly undresses himself, his cock springing up against his stomach immediately

he then pulls your pants and panties off in one quick motion before crawling on the bed over you

you’re soaked at this point, you need him so bad

he slides his hand between your legs and uses the pads of his fingers to spread your wetness around

“this all for me?” he asks, pulling his hand away and admiring how your slick glistens on his fingers

“yes, joe, fuck.” you mutter, ready for him to fill you

luckily tonight isn’t about teasing or dragging it out

the pure unadulterated need between you both already has you panting as joe strokes himself a few times before finally spreading your legs more and entering you

you’d think by now you’d be used to the size but —

after a few seconds of adjusting he slowly pulls back before thrusting back in

so. tantalizingly. slowly.

you can see his plan is to completely unravel you

iT’S WORKING

your nails scratch at his head and his lips find yours again

you make no attempt to cover your moans as joe continues to fuck into you slowly

he’s moaning too, the hand that isn’t holding him up is roaming the expanse of your exposed skin

the calloused pads of his fingers explore your skin and every brush over your sensitive areas causes you chills

his name falls from your lips like a mantra

all you know is joe, all you ever want to know is joe

he’s moaning your name too, blissed out expressions take over his features

you know you aren’t far from your orgasm, you can feel it sparking over over your skin, the pleasure rolls off you in waves

“joe… i’m—“ you warn, but he knows

“me too.”

you come at the same time. gasps and moans and the sounds of your breathing fill the room as your orgasm rolls over your body

it feels like an ocean wave the way it sucks you under, like tide is throwing you around

pleasure overrides all your senses in the best way

“you with me, baby?” joe asks, concerned eyes raking over your features

“i’m here.” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss

he pulls out of you and rolls over, pulling your body into his

“that was amazing, you’re amazing. that you for today.” you tell him, burying your head into his chest

“you’re amazing, baby.” he assures, kissing your forehead gently

“i can’t wait to make you mrs. burrow.”

all photos and dividers used are not mine. cred to owners.

taglist: @slimshiesty @starsinthesky5 @kykysinlovewithafairytale @burrowdarling @joeyb1989 @loveyatopluto @toterry @unhingedfangirl @superheroprincess22 @burreauxsworld @definitelynotdomanique @samanthamark5 @superstarshitblog @fa1ry03 @wickedfun9 @xbriexx @venic-bxtch @burrowdarling @angels555 @idbe-theman @yelenasbraid @ladyluvduv @joeburrowshaircurl @joeybisbootiful @livinobx @blairsworld22 @jarring-behavior @joeyburrrow @yomamaslays4lyfe @gazebotori

[heartfullofleeches]

One fact about each murder clown because I lobe them.

Green Murder Clown has plushies of all of their partners hidden in their dungeon of a bedroom. When they are mad at one of them, they will carry the plush around and talk to it instead of the clown in question. They have chewed eyes and limbs off these doll before. Each one is assigned a scent that brings Green comfort and reminds them of their lovers - Mime Reader's doll is licorice scented.

Orange works part time at a pizzeria in an upper scale section of the city. They eavesdrop on parents getting drunk at the bar for the next best locations for the crew to hit up if they're ever in need of cash. They hate every second of working there, but their boss lets them take home whatever food is made that wasn't purchased so they can't complain too much.

Purple is glued to an old lighter they own. Eats fuel like a motherfucker, but it's the most important thing to them besides the crew. It's the last thing they possess from their previous life. Sometimes they write all the sappy garbage they want to tell Mime and the rest of the crew down only to burn them once they've finished. It's easier than saying "I love you." for them. Being insatiably horny for their partners is the closest they can get to being romantic most days. Let me hit it raw = "I love you and want to be with you for the rest of my days"

Pink is extremely protective of their hair. They wear extravagant wigs because they are pretty and because they are what Pink cannot obtain easily. Pink has short, damaged hair as a result of chemicals put in their hair over the years to make the perfect by those around them. They have too much trauma from this time to see a stylist for help, but they tend to it on their own and feels at peace when their lovers comb or brush it for them.

Red has Cataplexy - triggered mainly by laughter. It is incredibly hard to make them laugh as is and episodes can be far in between, but when they do occur Red may be unable to move or talk. Bouts of silence they have during times the gang are all relaxing together have sometimes been due to this. By now, the remaining clowns can detect when these spells happen and are quick to step in. This is also why they do not drink alcohol.

Blue has back/neck problems from slouching their whole life. They've always been the tallest person in a room and hates stigmas that come with their height. One source for their endless tears is the aches they feel when they stand up straight for too long. Massages or someone sitting on their back relieves some of the pain. They offer to carry Mime often because they love the Mime and they act as a back brace for them.

💛(yellow) is the only murder clown to have work professionally as a clown in the past. It is why they struggle with being around everyone else for long periods of time. It's hard to face genuine, loving smiles when all they've known were fakes. They also feel they do not deserve love despite everyone in the gang having blood on their hands as well. They sleep in vents or under the others' bed because all they ever had to sleep in was an old sleeping bag and as they grew up, it shrank, but the tightness brought them peace. Some days when they're in a manic state, the only thing that can keep them going is being buried beneath the bodies of their lovers in a cuddle pile.

They bail as soon as they're feeling better because touchy is icky unless they say it isn't.

[mystellenia]

romantic tension with abby

summary: in the warm glow of abby's bedroom, after a day of shared hobbies, you contemplate your deepening feelings for her and hope that perhaps she feels the same

content: friends (to lovers???), sfw, literally nothing else

notes: wrote a part two :p i need to write more fluff bc there is such a shortage AND especially with abby. this is like so domestic like in the way that there's no extra interactions. like this is literally how me and a friend would act after a day of painting!! just sleepy and tired zzzzz

(wc 0.7k)

the setting sun cast an orange glow on abby's bedroom where the two of you lay on her floor, bathing in the heat radiating from her large window. you'd just finished painting birdhouses for the married pair of sparrows that frequented the birdseed abby had set out. they would dance around each other and sing their chirpy harmonies and then take turns pecking at the various seeds from the feeder, so abby thought it necessary to handmake them houses in her shop. 

this was one of your many duet activities of abby's "grandma hobbies," as you called them. you two had fed the ducks down at the lake, gone through an entire coloring book, built lego sets, and done nearly a dozen puzzles—one of which was glued and framed in abby's kitchen. 

you guys spent every free moment of time together, and counted down the time until you could when one was busy. you were the closest of friends, but lately you found yourself wanting more—or at least thinking about how it would be if you were more. coming home to each other instead of making the fifteen-minute drive any time you wanted to see her. being able to actually tell her when she looked so pretty it made you hold your breath instead of chewing on your lip. 

she shifted next to you, bending her legs at the knees and pulling you out of your thoughts. "i should probably wash the brushes before the paint dries on them, right?" 

you almost tell her she shouldn't so that you could lay with her a little while longer, but you give in. "yeah, you should." 

she sits up to stand, grunting as she lifts her body weight and moving to the crafting cloth where your birdhouses currently sat drying. you sat up and leaned against the foot of her bed, watching as she so delicately readjusts the cloth so that it doesn't smudge your paint job. 

scrubbing your hands down your face, you push up off the bed and move to grab a sweatshirt of hers to change into, taking your paint-covered tank off and slipping the sweatshirt over your head. it sat baggy on your body with her being bigger than you are just about everywhere, and you threw the hood over your head and dropped onto the right side of her bed. 

she returns with her hands patting on her sweats to dry them off. seeing you in the bed, she comes to sit next to you, with you on your back and her laying on her side to face you. 

"you wanna just stay the night?" she says, her voice lifting at the end as if it were a question and not a declaration. "it's too late to go home alone." 

"yeah, i think i will," you respond. you remember the origami book she bought at the farmer's market last saturday. "only if we make paper cranes until our fingers bleed from paper cuts tomorrow," you grin, turning to look at her and see she's already looking back at you. 

"okay. i have lots of band-aids," she jokes. 

you chuckle, and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence, sheepishly smiling at the other while holding eye contact. 

"can we also get those berry pastries from the cafe? and make those butterflies we saw on pinterest?" you ask, your cheeks still kissing your eyes. 

"yeah, i'll wake up early to get them for breakfast," she nods. "and i only got that book so we can make things together—we can make whatever you want." 

in place of a response, you slip your fingers between hers and tightly squeeze her hand, ignoring your frustration with the uncertainty of her feelings for you. 

the tip of her nose pinks a bit before she opens her mouth. "good night. we need brain power for making cranes." 

you turn onto your side as well to face her, your noses nearly touching. "good night, abby," you grin, high on the feel of her skin on yours and the way she's looking at you.  

you fall asleep with a smile on your face because your close friend, abby, may just like you, too. 

@picklesarenice69 @abbyandersonsrightbuttcheek

yayyy i’m back :3

click here!! oh and here too!! ˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶

[fadingdaggerr]

creatus sanguine (18+, mdni)

pairing: agatha harkness x gn!witch!reader

summary: part two of effuso sanguine | 5.3k

includes: blood magick reader, (not even) borderline obsession tbh

warnings: blood, description of injury, smut, afab reader (no chest description), oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), thigh riding (a receiving)

note: blood magick differs from the show’s definition of a “blood witch.” rather than coming from a magical family line, blood mages are more aligned with the physical body and use of what billy would call “analog magick” (sacrifice, blood letting, etc), as well as incantation/spells

April 1749

Your back aches as you rise from your leaf-made mattress, thin blankets falling off like the thin rags they’d become. Heading pounding, you move to pour the last of your water into the small pot over the fire. It had been nearly three weeks since you’d been able to stop to get more food. You’d managed to forage wild flowers for more tea and tree sap to chew on, but the traps you’d set hadn’t proved fruitful.

As the tea steeps, you roll your blankets and shove them into your bag. Transferring the drink to your cup, you throw the pot into the bag as well. Smothering the fire under your boots, you head southeast.

Morning gusts caress your skin as you pass through the forest. The birds chirped through the trees, flying from branch to branch above your head. Rolling up your sleeves, you embrace the warm air. Raised and faded scars litter your skin, some healed cleaner from your growing experience. You made sure none would be as jarring as the one painted across your ribs. It’s taken years for you to be unbothered by their appearance, though the same cannot be said by those you meet.

Removing your attention from your skin, you look to the ground instead. Scanning the grass and leaves, you see impressions of foot prints. Recent enough that the ground still held their mark. Someone has to be close.

Slowing your pace, you try to focus on the sounds around you. Closing your eyes, you hear the birds, squirrels, your own breathing, and the faintest sound of multiple heartbeats. The sound grows, clearer by the moment. Five heartbeats, resting rates sounding human. They are so close, you immediately speed up your pace.

Within minutes, you hear the faint sound of feminine voices. A sigh of relief passes your lips, feeling immediate safety. The crunch of your steps makes all five turn and face you, defensive in stance and expression.

“Good day,” you speak up.

The oldest of the group steps forward, and you match her step. Her hand rises, stopping you from getting closer. Amber eyes scan over you, “only we may enter this space.”

“I meant no offense,” you take a step back, “I only hoped you may know the way to the closest settlement.” Your eyes shift from the woman to the meat on the cutting board behind her. Seeing your stare, the one with an orange skirt moves to stand in front of it.

“And you found us how?” The amber-eyed woman refuses to lose your attention, keeping you from the group. At your silence she speaks again, stressing each word, “how did you find us?”

“I was heading this way before I saw you. I promise I would not harm you, nor your sisters,” you affirm, trying to maintain a calm demeanor. Her brow furrows in disbelief, and you know you cannot pretend with her. You know what she is, she knows what you are. “I am alone, covenless, and entirely out of food. All I require are directions, then I will leave you and yours alone.”

She nods with a hum, eyes moving to partially look behind her. The woman with a soft pink overcoat reaches out, hand grasping your wrist lightly, and tugging you into the protection circle. Forcing you to sit, you watch as they carry on how they were before you arrived. A small plate of turkey and apple slices is placed in your lap.

“This is all we have to spare,” the pink witch says. “I’m Marjorie.”

You give her a soft smile in thanks and your name in return. Listening to their idle conversation, you eat slowly to avoid stomach pains. The ease of their conversation, the way they lean on each other, it’s simply lovely. They speak so surely about their lives and their abilities, even as young as most of them are. With them distracted by one another, you finally take in the space around you.

The protection circle, as even as it was, did little in stopping you. Your fingers twitch with the knowledge that it would never have worked. Despite their efforts, you heard them without their voices. Only the leader knew this, that much was apparent by her apprehension, never trusting the glow of the stones.

You feel the hairs on your neck stand up, eyes going to the source. Eudora, you now know, stares you down with a ferocity. You glance to the stones, then back to her. She nods slowly, warning held within. Nodding back, you eat the last apple slice, standing quickly.

“I thank you kindly for this meal and your generosity,” you never take your eyes off the head witch. “I wish you safety, and may our paths cross again.”

“Perhaps they shouldn’t,” Eudora says strictly. From beside her, Marjorie goes to protest but is silenced by a raised hand, “misery follows one who searches.”

Your brow furrows, confusion and anger twirling on your tongue. Keeping quiet, you back out past their barrier. Nodding one again, thankful to the other members of the coven, you turn away. The hard, angry heartbeat fades as you walk away. Their fates with their leader are nothing, desperation for a coven gave them false security. Misery follows, you think to yourself, amused.

Their green witch, Abigail, had told you of the Plymouth settlement, the best option if you found yourself needing to nab something to eat. If any of them survive that imbecile, you hope it’s her and Marjorie. Following the path given, you hope to get there before sunset.

—⛤—

The sun becomes golden as you finally break the trees to a road. Tracks lead south, and now you do too. Promise of a real bed was so close, perhaps if you had enough, even a drink. Food feels futile now, rest is the real virtue. The entire trek back from the settlements in Rhode Island had been on beds of moss, tree bark, and leaves. A thin pad and blanket without tears will likely make you cry with joy.

Closing in, you finally see the town. Houses, market stalls, and various other buildings cover the area. You rush on sore feet towards what you pray is an inn, the largest structure in the center. 

Almost falling in the door, you’re greeted by an elderly woman at the counter.

“Hello, sweetheart. I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” she chirps.

You smile, “I’m just here for a few days, hopefully. Is there a chance you’ve got a vacancy?”

“Do you have a way to pay?” She retorts with a cocked brow. You smile at her, digging into the bottom of your satchel. A secret pocket holds coins you’d found in a tavern weeks ago. Offering up most, you look at her with pleading eyes. The woman counts visually, peeking back at you, then counting again. She clears her throat, “this here, this is barely a night. But, I know downtrodden when I see it, so I’ll give you three. But no food, that’s on you. I don’t care how you do it, but no guests here.”

You blink at her incredulously at the insinuation, but thank her anyways. The last room at the end of the hall, tiny with a small bed. A bed. Tears spring to your eyes as you drop onto it, the padded plank feeling like a cloud. Hunger creeps in, but is wholly ignored as you fall into a deep slumber.

When your eyes open, the room is still dark. Sore muscles ache less than the day before as you rise from the bed. Grabbing your things, you step into the hall and go into town. The sunlight nearly blinds your sensitive eyes, glare becoming tolerable as you navigate the space. If careful, you could stretch your money to last these few days. If you are even more careful, you could find something without pinching pennies.

Slumping against a tree, you slice an apple from your bag. Of the many they had, you surely took the only good ones. If the kids hadn’t run back home, you would’ve given them some as a thanks for their distracting of the vendor.

Walking back into the center of town, you hear different speakers going on long rants. Preachers about sin, mothers about sin, a hog farmer about sin, it’s all quite repetitive. Everything sounds like one long drone, it always has. Nearly sixty years and all they had taken out was the focus on witches. Being closer to home than you have been in years felt sickening.

The speeches of hellish sins to be avoided becomes nothing but a monotonous hum behind the rest of the world. The air through the trees, the carts moving over dirt roads, the animals chittering in the pens, it all falls away. Behind it all, a beating. Strong, steady, and there. Your heart starts to beat in time with it, eyes beginning to scan the streets.

Walking quickly, you try to follow the sound. The closer you get, the clearer it becomes. The more familiar it becomes. Moving as fast as you can without drawing attention to yourself, all you can hear is the rhythmic beating. Passing a tavern, you immediately reverse yourself, looking in the open door.

At the counter, a deep purple cloak around her shoulders, sits a woman. Finger resting on her chin, she waits for whatever she ordered. She scans the room, and you feel your face drop, all warmth draining from you.

Angelite eyes land on you, squinting as she feels your stare, but her confident demeanor drops. Scrambling from her seat, she runs from the tavern and crashes into your stiff body. Wordlessly, you stand with your arms at your side, stuck in shock. Leaning back, she looks at you confused.

Prying yourself from her, you grab her arm and drag her towards the inn. Rounding the outside, you find the windows to your room, pushing open the shutters. Climbing over the ledge, you motion for her to follow.

Straightening in front of you, she smiles. It drops at your words, “you are alive.”

“So are you,” she scans you quickly, “and as you were. How?”

“I imagine similarly to your reason,” you answer. “I have spent a near lifetime looking for you. Do not tell me you’ve been here this whole time?”

“Of course not, I only arrived this morning,” she says. Careful hands grab yours, “had I known you were still out here, I would have looked for you.”

You grip her hands tightly, “I was where I told you I would be. Home.”

“Yet you knew I was gone?” She asks, almost knowing.

You pause. It is not the time. “You never showed, it was worrisome. But you were gone, and there they were. I knew what they had done,” you tell her. “I had to find you.”

“And so you did,” she smiles, leaning into you. Her forehead comes to rest on yours, eyes closing. She whispers into the small space between you, “I should never have ran. I should’ve come home to you, my love.”

“Agatha…” you sigh, nose rubbing against hers, “my heart.”

Lips brush against yours softly, testing if she’s still allowed. Pushing into her harder, you press a bruising kiss to her lips. Warm hands side to grasp her face, keeping her as close as possible. Greedily, you run your tongue over her bottom lip, and she quickly lets you in. The moment she does, her hands tighten around your waist, shoving you back into the wall.

Your nails dig into the skin of her neck, letting her take control of the kiss. Fifty-six years of searching, of not knowing, of longing, done with each pass of a masterful tongue. Moaning into you, Agatha’s teeth bare down on your lip. A groan mixed with slight pain and arousal topples into her mouth, body desperate for more of her than you’ll ever get.

Running out of breath, she moves to press wet kisses against the expanse of your throat. The thrumming of your pulse beneath her lips matches her own, each beat falling in tandem.

A shaky breath passes your lips, “Ag-Agatha we can’t, not here at least.”

“I missed you,” she attempts to reason, soundly awfully close to her excuse all those years ago. Then, she spoke for the future, that much is clear now. At this moment, she means it for the present, for the accumulation of time apart.

You gently pull her from her place in your neck, “and I you, more than I’ll ever be able to verbalize. But we are not safe here, you know this.”

“Then we leave. We will find where we may be at peace,” she says, forehead back against yours, “we will make it so, if we must.”

You press your lips against hers, a promise to go with her. All the time you spent, the first ten years, was pure ache. All of it melts away, feeling her with you once again. She feels different, stronger in a way, but time has done the same for you. You’re almost strangers like the day you’d first met in the woods.

—⛤—

December 1749

The candles on the windowsill flicker wildly as you reshelf the books in hand. Sighing, you put the stack back on the table, going to the window to see what the flames do. Out the window, you see the grass parting, a figure racing through. A torch illuminates her face, grinning wide with satisfaction.

Moving to the door, to open it to lean against the frame. Cupping your hands around your mouth, you shout, “Agatha Harkness, it is too cold for this! Hurry it up!”

Shooting through the door, she doubles over in panting breaths, shaking dustings of snow from her hair. Hands on her hips, she stands back up, mouth open to the ceiling as she recovers.

“You best not have anyone behind you,” you say, shutting the door and barring it.

She chuckles, “you know me better than that, my sweet.”

You hum, looking her over. The back of your hand brushes her cheeks, shifting to cup her neck. Shutting your eyes, you feel her heartbeat, quick from her running, but what catches your attention is another sensation.

Eyes shooting open, you rip the thick cloak from her shoulders, tugging the torn material of her dress to the side to expose her shoulder. A long cut across her skin, stretching from the point of her shoulder to just above her breast. Running your finger over the edge, you assess how bad it really is.

“Not too deep,” you murmur, “uneven. Serrated blade?”

Agatha hums, eyes having never left your face since you first touched her, “I hadn’t planned for them to come with weapons over their powers.”

“Perhaps you are too conspicuous, lover.”

She gives you a faux-shocked expression, “why I never! I am nothing if not reserved.”

You try to keep a straight face, but a smile breaks as you break away from her to get a cloth. Knowing the routine by now, she settles on a stool to await your attention. Appearing in front of her, you stand between her legs. Warm water soaks the cloth in your hand, touching it carefully to her wound.

Agatha’s hands creep up your legs, gripping here and there. Trailing up, a hand finds the strings of your shirt, tugging them loose. Your gaze shifts from her shoulder to her face, looking at her through your lashes. Shaking your head, you continue to clean the cut, ever gentle.

Wandering, her other hand slides underneath your loose shirt. Ever so gently, she grazes her fingertips across your skin, feeling every raised mark that you’d healed on your own. It always bothered her how you refused to heal them properly, poultice and bandage, but by your hand. Each mark prominent instead of completely vanished.

Blunt nails pass over your ribs, tracing the harsh, jagged mark there. She pried many times about where it had come from, but you always gave the same answer. They all just blur together.

Agatha is pulled from her mind when you press a kiss to the junction of her neck. Lingering, slow kisses spread, crawling up towards her lips. Finger under your chin, she pulls you into her kiss, short and heavy.

“Never come home hurt again. Do you hear me?” You ask, forehead pressing against hers.

She huffs, “a fluke.”

“Agatha,” you stress, hand curling in her hair, gripping. Pulling her back, you look her in the eye, “I do not make light of harm coming to you. Promise me. I will not allow you to endanger yourself, my heart.”

The hand in her hair holds tighter, forcing her to keep her eyes on you, as if they’d ever looked away. Intensity flickers like fire in your eyes, and Agatha feels frozen in place. A tingling sensation spreads from her shoulder, feeling like hands holding her down.

A heated gleam crosses her eyes, tilting towards you again, “understood, my love.”

“Good,” you whisper, lips falling to hers with intensity. The weight on her shoulders fell, dissipating into a warmth wrapping around her. Free to move again, Agatha stands, tugging you back with her to the bed. Following her, you allow her to take control, sated in your wish to be heard.

Hurried hands work to undress you, lips coming back to yours in bursts as layers fall. Shoving you down on the bed, Agatha tries to straddle your hips, but is stopped by your sitting up. Grabbing her hips, you tug her between your legs, unlacing the front of her dress. Fingers skim over each inch of freshly exposed skin, no matter the rush they are in to take everything off. Before her garments even hit the floor, you’re pulling her on top of you.

Energy twinged every one of her nerves, power absorbed mixing with the molten adoration radiating from you. Your hands drift over her back, attempting to feel every inch of you. Lips drag from your mouth down your chin, nipping as Agatha takes purchase at your neck. Wet, open-mouthed kisses turn to suckling of your skin, teeth grazing over every mark.

Hearing your breaths deepen, she continues down your body. Strong hands take hold of your legs, settling between them. Her pupils dilate at the sight, you glistening before her. A hand buries itself in her hair, scratching her scalp gently. Pressing a kiss to your thigh, Agatha looks up at you through her lashes.

“You don’t know how I adore you,” she says quietly. There’s no second to respond before her mouth descends on you, flat tongue licking up your folds. Small gasps encourage her, stroking more strongly, taking in your taste. Her skillful tongue slides in your entrance, moaning into you as her fingers dig into your thighs. Your free hand goes to your clit, but she smacks you away.

Her tongue slips from you, wrapping her mouth around your bundle of nerves. Moans fall from your mouth, the hand in her hair tugs, the other claws into the blankets. Bucking into her mouth, you try to ride her face, but she anchors you down. Her tongue alternates between suckling and making hard circles against your clit. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer, wetter and wetter.

Unclasping a hand from your thigh, it comes to take the place of her tongue on your pearl, harsh, tight circles making you squirm. Her mouth drags down to your slit, tongue making figure-eights through your folds, burying back inside you. With the slightest freedom of only one hand holding you down, you grind against her tongue, desperate for as much of her as possible.

“A… Agatha,” you moan out, gripping tighter in her curls, “please.”

The pressure against your clit grows, tight circles wind the coil in your core more and more. Her tongue greedily takes you in, suckling and stroking, unrelenting in pace. Your hips rut against her, feeling her deeper, feeling her moan. Her own thighs press together, wetness decorating her thighs as she brings you closer to the edge.

Releasing the blanket, your hand grasps her shoulder, keeping her against you. The forceful grip burns, reopening her wound, but it does nothing to deter Agatha. If anything, it makes her work harder, devouring you with a new sense of purpose. More and more, the tightness in your core builds, a single thread still tethering you.

“C’mon, my sweet,” she murmurs, smiling against you, “give me a taste.”

Her words are your undoing, your back arches, warmth spreading through your body as Agatha eagerly licks up your essence. The grip on her hair and shoulder loosen, still holding on to ground yourself. Relaxing back down, you whimper as her tongue still dances against you.

“Lover,” you breathe out, “come here.” Climbing up your body, Agatha’s lips press against your skin. Bringing your hand to her neck, you pull her into your kiss. Wandering, you feel something against your hand, warm, wet. Pulling back from her lips, you see red painting your palm.

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself. You look to blue eyes, barely visible from dilated pupils, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorr-”

“Don’t be,” she says, pressing her lips against yours shortly. Then again. And again, longer, more sound. Her thighs straddle you, hands pressing down on your chest, holding you in place. You can’t help yourself, clinging to her, hand grasping her face. Blood smears across her skin, soaking into yours, hearts beating in time with one another.

Agatha’s hips grind against you, desperate for friction that she can’t find. Shifting slightly, you press your thigh into her, feeling her arousal coating your skin. Whining into your mouth, she grinds more steadily. Your hands slide down to guide her, pushing her harder against the muscle of your thigh. Moans fall from her mouth, kisses growing sloppy and desperate.

You press her harder against you, wanting to feel her, needing to see her fall apart. Husky moans come from her, eyes screwed shut as she grinds needily against you. One hand slides to her back, pulling her closer to lavish her chest. Your lips wrap around her nipple, tongue swirling around the pebbly peak. Every sound she makes is heaven to your ears, the beat of her heart under your touch an addictive sensation.

Her wet cunt against you makes your own arousal pool again, wanting more of her. Always so irresistible. Hauling her closer, you feel her knee press against your heat, moaning against her chest. The hands gripping your shoulders pull you from her breasts, bringing your lips to her own. Her knee moves away, making your whimper, but is replaced by her fingers, toying with your entrance.

One finger, then two, pump into you, matching the tempo of her riding your thigh. A pitchy whine falls from your lips, walls gripping her fingers, the hand on her waist digging in. Teeth bare against your lip as Agatha feels the shockwaves rolling through her, a metallic taste coating her tongue. Pulling back, droplets of blood appear on your bottom lip. The grinding of her hips slows, thumb brushing over, eyes utterly entranced.

You tug her back to your mouth, hand on her waist guiding her faster, chest rattling with both your moans. The fingers inside you curl, thumb pressing to your clit. The pleasure becomes too much, stealing the air from your lungs with every pump of Agatha’s long fingers. Pulling from her lips, you tuck your face into her neck, licking and biting at the expanse of skin.

Agatha’s head lulls back, songs of pleasure falling into open air. Every sound from her, every motion of her fingers, her arousal on your skin– the tight cord snaps. A strangled groan passes your lips as you cum, fingers inside you slowly, but not leaving. Your head rises from her neck, taking in view above you.

Chest heaving, hair stuck to her forehead, brows knitted together in pleasure, Agatha Harkness is a sight to behold. The slice on her shoulder catches your eye, red and aggravated, drops of ichor gliding down pale skin. Leaning forward, you let your tongue drag up, collecting red, until you meet her tender wound. Lapping over it, you feel Agatha grind harder, husky moans turning whiny.

All you can think of is adoring her. Every inch of you, body, mind, and soul, exists for her. She is your life, your purpose. A tingle spreads down from her shoulder to her core, feeling her skin prickle. The sensation isn’t entirely new, but it has never felt like this before. All-consuming, electric, and hot, but underneath it all, it seems to pulse.

The movement of her hips begins to grow sloppy, almost entirely your own effort than hers now. Her breath stutters as your tongue swipes over raw skin, soft lips passing over tenderly. Unadulterated affection mixes with the pleasure that you can’t help but give her, and she crumbles against you. Lazy motions of her hips continue as she comes down, face buried in your neck.

Panting, she pulls back, retracting her fingers from you. Hand splaying over your thigh, she finally looks at you. Your appearances are one in the same. Sweaty, breathless, and littered in marks and your shared blood. A smile stretches across her face, settling in your lap.

“You are everything, my love,” she says quietly, thumb wiping a rogue red drop from your chin.

Your forehead presses to hers, “you, my heart, are the very reason I live.”

Lips press to yours, soft and loving, silent words passing through her actions. Agatha has never been one for her words, always hiding in her riddles. But here, with you, it’s impossible to pretend. You know her, her heartbeat, her mind. Her power never sparks fear in you, unlike every other in her path. They blast her, try to kill her, to deceive her– but not you. Nothing but devotion has ever come from you. Pure and strong, like there was so much love for her inside of you, that it was always moments away from bubbling over.

Laying down, you bring Agatha with you, letting her curl around you. Tracing up and down your ribs, her nails glide over your scars. Circling the prominent one between your ribs, she props her chin on your chest.

Peering down at her, you brush her hair off to one side. Once angry, red, and bloody, the cut down her shoulder was now a fading scar, as if it had been there for years. A small smile crosses your face, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. Blue eyes watch your expression, almost reading your mind.

“One scar will not kill me,” she says, a coy grin playing on her lips, “hasn’t killed you.”

Your brows jump, averting your gaze shortly, “I will heal regardless of what I do, I am simply impatient.” Your hand cups her cheek, “any injury to you is an insult. The memory of it is mockery.”

“Dramatic,” she chuckles, pressing a kiss to your chest before laying her head down.

Your arms wrap around her, keeping her snug to your body, “you do not understand how I love you. I would dismantle every natural law in order to keep you safe, to give you everything.”

There’s a sureness in your tone, something that tells Agatha you meant this. That you will do this, have done this. Her nose bumps against your jaw, “more with you is all I require, my love.”

—⛤—

January 1750

A cool breeze passes over the river, making a chill creep up your spine. Wiping off red hands in the snow, you stand from the riverside. For the first time in a week, your traps worked. Fortunate for you, however unfortunate for the deer that crossed your path.

Home is so close, you can feel it, but the weight on your shoulders makes time slow.  You can see the candles in the window, calling you home to her. The stiffness of your joints means nothing as you finally reach the packed down path. Releasing the ropes of the sled, you abandon your game in preference of the fire inside.

Head resting in her hands, Agatha sits with a blanket wrapped around her. Her head falls back at the sound of the door opening, eyes watching you. Toeing off your boots and shrugging your coat, you make your way behind the chair. Leaning over her, you take in her appearance.

Dark circles under her eyes worry you, sleep has been avoiding her for weeks. The weak smile on her face does nothing to soothe the worry in your chest.

Rounding the chair, you kneel before her. Your hands go to her thighs, squeezing gently, “how are you feeling?”

“Better than this morning,” she murmurs, “the tea helps.”

A little smile crosses your lips, “that’s good. I’ll make more.”

Pressing a kiss to her knee, you try to stand, but she holds you down, “not now. I just want you.”

Sitting up, you press yourself into her. Arms wrap around her hips, head settling against her stomach. Her own hands come to rest on your back, body practically folding over you. Her heartbeat is strong, breathing steady, she feels healthy. You don’t understand what is wrong, why you can’t see, why you can’t fix it. Burying yourself against her, you just breathe her in, comforted by her presence alone.

Your heart beats in time with hers, always the same. Each beat is a reminder of why you live. Relaxing against her, you close your eyes, just wanting to take her in.

As you stay there, you feel your pulse quicken. You stiffen, listening to Agatha, but hers hasn’t changed. Feeling the tension beneath her hands, she squeezes you in silent question, but is ignored.

“My lo-” she attempts to speak, but you shush her, ear pressing more intently against her abdomen. “What are you doi-” Your hand rises to cover her mouth.

Beneath the familiar beat of your lover’s heart, is a second. Quiet, rapid, but there. Your brows scrunch, listening closer. Your own heart matches the beat, almost aching with its speed. Head rising, you look at Agatha, tears welling. Blue eyes dart between yours, mouth open in disbelief at your reaction.

“My sweet, what is it?”

Blinking rapidly, you just stare at her, “two.”

“Two?” She says confused, brows furrowing, “my love, what is wrong? You are worrying me.”

A watery smile grows across your face, “you have two heartbeats.”

Agatha’s eyes rapidly blink, taking in your words. Staring into you, she silently asks you to help her understand. You move one hand to her stomach, the other going to cup her face. Closing your eyes, you focus on the little heartbeat, letting her hear it too.

A shaky smile appears on her face, lashing fluttering as she pushes back tears. Her hand covers yours on her cheek, “how?”

“If only I knew,” you breath out, “I’ve never known a spell or incantation that allows this.”

Leaning down, Agatha’s lips press to yours, slow, hungry. All the love that bubbled within you pours into her, the feeling overwhelming as you listen to two hearts. Tugging you up, she places you on her lap, knees on either side of her hips. Hands bury themselves in her hair, gently scratching her scalp.

Pulling back, you look into her eyes. All you are, all you have been, has amounted to this. Your love for one another becoming personified, beyond order and law. A second piece of your soul, born from love.

title translation: creatus sanguine, latin - the blood made

as always, feedback is soooo appreciated <3 this is very different from what i’ve written previously and would love to hear from you about continuing this. love u my babies

[lv9su]

K. Bakugo x reader.

Reader has a quirk called chaos control. Your quirk and storyline is based off the character shadow from the sonic universe but ofc not the exact same.

PART 1, DESCRIPTION AND BACKGROUND UNTIL PRESENT TIME.

Y/n can teleport, fly, fire bolts of energy - chaos spears, and blast giant explosions - chaos blasts. Because of the strength of the quirk you also have enhanced speed, strength, stamina, durability and combat. When I say enhanced speed, I don’t mean it lightly either.

Y/e/c eyes turn red when you activate your chaos energy, so they glow red a lot of the time. And y/h/c hair has natural red highlights in them.

You have to wear limiter rings around your wrists and ankles to control the chaos energy, and your shoes were specifically built for you, air gliders.

For 50 years you were frozen in time. Too strong to kill but also to valuable.

This was before quirks were common, you were kept as a science experiment. And your only friend, another guy with a quirk, you never knew his real name, you were both given names there, he was named sonic. You were named shadow. You never forgot your real name, y/n, but he decided he didn’t want to have the name given to him by a family who didn’t want to fight for him.

His quirk was enhanced speed, you were fast but he was the fastest being in the world.

The were brothers who frequented at the lab too, you never knew why but the younger one - yoichi shigaraki and his older brother, his older brother only went by shigaraki, and they were related somehow to the doctor, you never knew if it was because they also had powers or because they wanted to work in the same field, but you never cared to ask.

Yoichi was nice to you and sonic, he took you out of experiments when he could, snuck you food, played music. He became someone you could trust.

One day, tests were being run on you and your built up energy caused an explosion in the lab, taking multiple lives, the military immediately shut it down, sonic was killed before you, just like everyone else.

For 50 years you were trapped in stasis. Every single day replaying the memory of your only friends being shot.

When you woke up, you fought every military guard who came at you and escaped the prison to the closest city. Meanwhile, in the new surroundings, cars crashed around you as you stood in the middle of the road taking in the city, being cooped up in the lab most of your life you never realised how bright cities were.. how different they looked to the movies you watched.

A group of ..heroes? Came to the area. They looked abround your age, 16/17 with two older guys, one with long black hair and a long scarf around his neck, the other with blonde hair sticking up like a bunny. But they were with the military, they wanted to put you away again. You began to hover above ground and your eyes glowed red,

“Who are you? Why are you destroying this city young lady?” The blonde bunny hair man shouted up, his extremely muscular arms now resting on his hips. The ones your age stood behind him.

“The ultimate life form.” You tilted your head, examining the people before you, their faces twist in shock hearing what you said.

“What does that mean?” The older man with black hair asked.

One had green hair and a green costume, one with spiky blonde hair and a black and orange costume, one girl with pink skin, and one boy with yellow hair and a black lighting strike through it.

“Your a colourful bunch.” You glare down at them.

“..you don’t know who we are?” The pink one cocked her head.

“Your just wasting my time. Walk away, before you get hurt.” You clenched your fists, feeling your energy begin to build up.

“Easy there young lady! We don’t want to fight you.” This man raised his arms, seeing how you were just a kid, you didn’t know where you were or who anyone was, you just had a lot of ..anger.

“Yeah speak for yourself.” The spiky blonde one grumbled,

“Not now young bakugo.” He whispered.

“Why don’t you stop throwing cars for a second and come down to talk.” The man with long black hair shouted up,

“You all came here to hand me back to the same people who trapped me. There’s nothing to talk about.” You turned around,

“I’ve had enough of this angsty bullshit. How about we talk with our fists.” The boy referred to as ‘bakugo’ leaped up using explosions, his companions shouting for him to stop..

You teleported in front of him, grabbed the hand he’d brought forward to attack and twisted it. He practically growled, then, while still in the air you teleported everywhere around him punching and kicking him about before blasting him to the ground, you threw him so hard the ground broke when he collided with it.

“No way..” the green one muttered,

“Looks like bakugos met his match.” The yellow one with the black stripe added with wide eyes,

“She’s kinda cool” the pink one whispered, so the pros wouldn’t her her.

The green one and the teacher with long hair ran to him, clearly beaten.

You hovered in the air for a moment before blipping to the ground.

“Who is this girl..” the green one muttered again,

“Hey, you can’t take us all at once.” The yellow one smirked, charging lighting around his arms.

Soon enough him, the pink girl and the buff man were all in the ground the same way ‘bakugo’ was.

“Okay she took us all at once.” He spoke almost slurring and fell back down.

Beginning to hover again you look behind you “don’t try to follow me.”

—

Hours later back at UA, the pro heroes were having a conference.

You were a threat to Japan yet no one knew who you were, what your motive was and you were confused about everything around you.

“With her powers of teleportation, her speed, and those blasts.. she seems to be invincible. We need to get her on our side and make her realise all for one is lying to her.” All might says at a conference.

“That could be used for good. This is the first we’ve ever heard of her, yet we don’t even know her name.” Midnight mumbled.

“I’ll try to see if I can find anything out about her tonight and I’ll report back tomorrow.” Aizawa mumbled,

—

“You should have seen the way she handled bakugo, all might, Mina and Kaminari… it was like they meant nothing to her. It was insane.” Izuku rambled to the others in his class.

“What did she look like?” Ochako asked,

“She had y/h/c hair but with red streaks here and there, and whenever she used her quirk her eyes went red. It was strange. But she was really pretty.. and looked about the same age as us so I don’t know how she ended up the was she did. But she didn’t even know all might..” he rambled on again,

“Wait what do you mean she didn’t know all might? Everyone in the world does, has she been like ..living under a rock or something?” Sero asked,

“She didn’t know any of us. She didn’t recognise the city, nothing. But she hits hard that’s for sure.. I felt kinda bad though, she was dark and broody ..it was sad.” Mina pouted.

You were the talk of Japan. But nobody knew who you were. Except for AFO. Now he could use this to his advantage, and only the wielded of one for all could tell the truth about yoishi, and who really started the attack.

—

[luveline]

please can i request a night in with prince!steve ? something like them missing a ball due to a storm but they’re secretly very happy for the time away!! thank u <333

ty for requesting <3 prince!steve soulmate au

The palace silks are softer than anything you’ve ever touched, like the very inside of a baby’s palm, or the fluff of a fledgling bird. You savour the feeling of it on your naked legs, heat from the fireplace warring with the chill emanating from the windows. 

“Will it be a hurricane?” you ask. 

Steve sits on the floor beside the bed closest to the fire. He has one of his books. To your surprise, your new husband is a big reader, so long as the novel is trashy adventure or not so tasteful romance fiction. He reads more than he bothers with the holos, but that’s only because the storm is messing with the city’s thermoelectrics. Heir to a kingdom and obsessed with tales of pirates and bandits. 

“Steve?” 

He looks up from his book apologetically. “Yes.” 

“Did you hear what I said?” 

“Yeah, I heard you. I think it’ll be worse than a hurricane toward the coast, but we won’t see that here.” 

“So we’ll be fine?” 

“Yeah, and we won’t have to go anywhere for weeks.” 

Just this morning a ball you and Steve were meant to attend as part of your wedding tour was cancelled. You’ve been allowed the time you’d have spent there as your own, and you’re thrilled to find that Steve wants to share it with you. He seems to really like you (which you’d hope for, considering your soulbond), raising his head in question with his hand creeping across silk to touch your knee. 

You lean down carefully and kiss him. 

To tell yourself that a few months ago you hadn’t known him, hadn’t thought for a moment your soulmate would be him, and hadn’t ever pictured yourself in the selenite palace kissing him like this. 

“Do you wanna get married?” he murmurs.

“Steve…” 

He smiles, takes your face into his hand, and gives you a long lovely kiss. Pressure of his lips to yours, his thumb rubbing the apple of your cheek with unquestionable adoring, Steve grins into your kissing and fights his way up, and up, kneeling and then standing, taking the lead. He kisses you until your lips are thrumming and you’re breathless, kissing down to your jaw and just under your ear. That kiss is sweetest. His hands smooth down your arms and hold you still. “Oh,” he says, his smugness palpable, “right. We already did that.” 

“You’re tickling me,” you mumble. 

“It’s on purpose, yeah.” 

Steve wraps his arms behind your head and promptly drops down on top of you. You laugh like a hyena, you’ve been careful since you met him to be you’re most attractive self, but you’re starting to wonder if it matter, considering you’re in pyjamas too big for you and you’d gotten bored taking your hair out of pins, and yet he still wants to sandwich you to the bed and kiss your neck with nipping lips. 

“Let’s never leave our room again,” he says. 

“This isn’t a very princely way to touch me,” you say back. 

“And this isn’t a very princess appropriate position you’re in–”

“You’ve put me in–”

“Are you warm enough?” he asks, his face pressed to the curve of your neck, and his hands on your tummy. “You feel cold.” 

You pull him from the soft of you and encourage his face back to look at one another clearly. His face flickers a sweet pink from the light of your soul mark, that ever hovering reminder that you and he were destined to be together, and to be in love. 

His own flickers a soft orange. 

“Warm me up,” you suggest, half-joking, lest he not want to do that and you’ve embarrassed yourself. 

Steve glares at you playfully. “Of course I will. Let’s go sit by the fire.”

“Noooo.” 

He wedges himself against you, your left leg and his right hanging off of the bed, the sheets slippery on your back. “This is perfect,” he murmurs, stroking your face as he gets comfortable atop you. “So happy. Let’s get married twice, please.” 

[pervertedreams]

with farleigh there’s always some sort of competition between the two of you, regardless if it’s subconscious or not. regardless if it’s childish and petty or not, and you always know around summer time when the two of you return to saltburn the games are on.

the fight to see who will break first and when is always thrilling to the both of you, restraining from each other sexually until the end of summer is usually the challenges goal. and you’ll do anything to make him crack, but he’s stubborn. usually he’s the first one to initiate, you can hear the soles of his bare feet slapping harshly against the buffed marbled floors. you’re slump on your bed nearly naked with just your bra and a loose pair of shorts. and you pray they cut the ac on eventually.

you stare at your open doorway, wait for farleigh to arrive in your line of vision. and when he does you nearly roll your eyes, he’s so obvious.

sporting a bare chest and a tight pair of swim trunks, when all this week his trunks have been noticeably loose. at least to you.

you can tell he’s been in the sun a while, complexion deeper than usual. there’s still water droplets running and curving down his chest and to his v-line. he watches your eyes follow it with a knowing smirk. “they aren’t turning on the conditioner.” his voice is flat, and you silently watch how his lips wrap around his cigarette. you scan his bare frame one more time, watching his chest rise and fall, and how the soaked trunks he wears strains around his bulge. you lift yourself up slowly to rest on your forearms, “is there something you wanna tell me?”

his smirk widens as he strides across your bedroom, standing directly in front of you so his bulge is eye level with you, “is there something you’re expecting me to ask?” and he nearly twitches when you look up at him from this angle, this specific view very familiar to him.

other times it’s you, this time you and the rest of the family outside laying by the pool. the loud summer sun burning new complexions into everyone, of course you need sunscreen. so it’d only be right to ask oliver to do it. farleigh’s closest friend of course. you arch against oliver’s palms, hands slowly working the white substance into your skin. you tilt your head back, little moans escaping your throat. making sure to let oliver know how good he is with his hands, all while making eye contact with farleigh. and you can see his lips tighten and thin around his ciggie.

sometimes it’s more subtle, maybe you’re eating a popsicle not even realizing farleigh was looking but of course when he does, you delightfully put on a show. he’s looking intensely, how the sweet treat creates a temporary bulge in your cheek much how his cock has in the past. the way your lips circle and pull around the orange treat, you purposely hollowing your cheeks. you wanna giggle when you watch him readjust in his seat, the book he was reading conveniently covering his hard on.

the sounds of you slurping and swallowing whatever juices melted on your tongue, while the rest dribbles down your throat and disappears into your chest. eventually you pull the popsicle out with a lewd pop, this time looking at him when your tongue licks a bold stripe up the chilled dessert. you lick your lips pointing the popsicle towards him, “d’you wanna taste?”

other times it’s him with a lollipop, maybe you’re sitting on his lap, bodies sticking together from the heat. the two of you watch a movie with felix and venetia. pretty pink lips wrapping and slurping around the red candy, and making eye contact was the worse thing you’ve could’ve done cause now it’s nearly a staring contest. he steadily pulls the lolli out, and you catch a glimpse of a small string of saliva that connects between the lollipop and his bottom lip before snapping. he licks his bottom lip, a sweet layer of sugar stains his taste buds. “when the last time you wore lip gloss?” his question is almost startling, you’ve been so focused on him. unforgivable images playing in your head.

“what?” your voice is hoarse and dry, he gives a low chuckle, bringing his spit slick lollipop pop to the bottom of your lips and circling it around your mouth like its lip balm. your lips are wet and stained and you nearly moan when he presses an open, wet kiss to your chin. “don’t break, baby.” is all he whispers before returning back to the movie like it’s nothing, leaving you irritated with wet lips, not the ones on your face.

idek if this makes sense you know it’s brainrot. feedback is ALWAYS encouraging

[megamindsecretlair]

I See Red

Pairing: Black Noir x Black!Fem!reader/plus size reader

Warnings: 18+ only. MINORS DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. Primal dom Black Noir, Dark elements. Cursing, PIV, SMUT, fingering (fem receiving), bratty reader. Black Noir and reader is aroused by hunting/being hunted. Sorry if I missed others. No spoilers for Season 4.

Summary: You filled in for your friend, working as a server during a party featuring Vought leadership and Supes. All night, you've been playing with Black Noir. Who's hunting who when you lure him out into the garden maze? 

AO3 Link

Word count: 2,664k

A/N: WHEW, sometimes when the feral hounds get to howling, I must answer that call. My fam was in rare form tonight so I'll take it as my sign to chill out lol. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, reblog, or unhinged ask.

Taglist: @chaos-4baby @00aijia00 @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide @browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @twocentuar @umber-cinders @planetblaque

God, your feet hurt. You had been working the party all night, working hard to keep Supe’s drowning in liquor and drugs and the Vought leadership blissfully in lust chasing after them. This was your last fucking party. Your friend could keep this gig. You didn’t need money that badly.

You’ll miss exploring rich mansions, though. This was the closest you’d ever get to knowing how the other half lived. They took all of this acreage for granted. It was an everyday sight to them. They looked at the lush gardens and intricate pathways and saw the money they hemorrhaged trying to keep it afloat. To impress other rich pricks who had too much money and time on their hands. You’d love to have their problems. 

You snagged a glass of champagne from the kitchen, intending to take your break out in the gardens in the back of the mansion. The lighting was softer out here, muted in such a way to give it a hazy, dreamlike look. 

The gardens out here boasted rich purples, bright pinks, and summery oranges. There were still some people out here, giggling and glasses clinking somewhere in the distance. The air was chilly, near frigid, but felt amazing on your overheated skin. 

The soft, shimmery cherry red dress you wore tickled your thick thighs as you took off your heels and padded down the stone steps towards the maze. You discarded your empty glass on the pillar at the bottom of the steps. The maze had instantly grabbed your attention as you received the “don’t fuck up” talk from the manager, Elliot. He was an ass, thought himself more important than God, but all you did was tune him out as you looked towards the maze.

You took the last step and then hopped quickly onto the grassy knoll, the ground too cold for your aching feet. You sighed as your toes squished in the grass, a light mist making your feet wet. But that was okay. The dew added to the atmosphere and if you closed your eyes, you’d swear that you stepped into another world.

The maze loomed above you, hedges taller than ten feet. Perhaps bigger. You looked behind you to check for anyone nearby. Your eyes snagged on Black Noir standing outside the doors you just exited. 

Your heart skipped a beat, drinking him in. He was so mysterious. But with an obvious, dangerous swagger like he could snap your neck in half and then carry about his day like it didn’t faze him. All night, you felt like he was watching you. All night, you dodged from room to room just to see what he’d do.

He’d stalk from room to room right after you. Sometimes you let him catch you. He’d sidle up next to you and tilt his head, never saying anything. It was his whole thing. But you wondered what his voice sounded like. Or what he looked like. He could be horrendous underneath the stretch of black across his face. 

No one with that much presence could be ugly right? You blamed your mask kink as you waited for Black Noir to zero in on you before taking off into the maze. You turned and turned, scurrying down pathways whether they lead somewhere or not. You weren’t sure how big the maze was, but that made it more exciting.

Clouds of breath escaped you as your imagination took off. You knew Black Noir was behind you somewhere. When would he catch you? What would you let him do if he did? 

You ducked down a few more pathways, nothing but the stars and moon to guide you overhead. This was nuts. This was one of the wildest things you’d ever done. But when would you ever get the chance to do this? Since this was the last party you covered for your friend, you intended to go out with a bang. 

You giggled to yourself at your wild thoughts before covering your mouth with your hand. This was a supe you were up against. You weren’t quite sure about his powers and that only added to the thrill. 

Did your red dress give you away? A twig snapped behind you and you whirled around, expecting to see Black Noir. There was nothing. Nothing but hedges surrounding you. The light hoot of an owl. A breeze ruffled your flyaway hairs, a sheen of sweat settling between your breasts and on the back of your legs. 

A rustling noise made you duck down a nearby pathway, spurned to fleeing at the prospect of being hunted by Black Noir. He was usually quiet as a church mouse. Were these sounds due to natural critters in the maze? Or was Black Noir playing with you? 

Your thighs tingled and your pussy throbbed. You thought you took enough turns, you were completely lost. You weren’t sure how he could find you in this. You controlled your breathing, stepped quietly, and you kept your eyes pricked for any sign of movement. 

You turned down one final path that led to the middle of the maze. Set in a wide square, the middle had a few benches and a fountain. There was a statue in the middle of the fountain, a young naked maiden pouring water from a giant pot in her hands. Her hair flowed down the middle of her back, inlaid with stone flowers. 

Shit like this was wasted on the rich. You could spend eternity here just cataloging all of the details on the statue. Was it Greek inspired? You stepped closer, momentarily forgetting that you were trying to entice Black Noir. 

Remembering that, you inched closer to the entrance. You looked both ways and then turned to the fountain. The water trickled and the breeze turned biting. 

You sighed. Maybe he wasn’t interested. Maybe he was tired of the chase. Maybe you played hard to get for one minute too long and Black Noir found someone more willing. You pouted and gave one final look at the fountain.

The cool smell of leather wafted to your nose as a gloved hand clamped down over your mouth. You tried screaming, but it was muffled by his hand. You struggled, fighting, clawing to get free but the solid mountain behind you was unforgiving. 

You looked up and back, into the visor of Black Noir. You still struggled, more excited than scared this time. Black Noir wrapped a large arm around your middle and yanked you from the ground. Your feet kicked, trying to connect with his legs but he was an expert. He held you far enough away where you couldn’t touch him.

Black Noir suddenly let you go. You dropped to your feet with a huff before turning around and backing away from him. Black Noir tilted his head and stalked forward. 

“Found me,” you said and smiled, holding up a hand to ward him off. 

Black Noir nodded.

“I was hoping you would,” you said. You felt silly, like you were talking to yourself. But Black Noir tilted his head again, like he was questioning your statement. You bit your lip, not answering him. 

You really wanted to hear his voice. But then again, half the fun would be gone. Once you knew who was underneath, it’d ruin the mystery and the intrigue. You backed away all the way to the fountain. The edge of the fountain hit the back of your thighs and you stopped. No more room. 

Not unless you wanted to try running around him. You looked past him and Black Noir stepped into your line of sight. You giggled. “Not gonna let me get away again?” You asked.

Black Noir shook his head. 

“How will you get me to stay?” You asked.

Black Noir cracked his neck, rolling it, before stepping to the side in a wide stance, somehow making himself look bigger. More intimidating. Your heartbeat was loud in your ears, thumping harshly in your veins. 

You feinted to the left and Black Noir jerked to the side. You giggled, doing the same thing on your right and Black Noir cut off your escape. You grinned as you pretended to run to the right, turning at the last minute, and dodging Noir’s outstretched hands. You did it! You were free!

That feeling was short-lived as Noir scooped you up by your middle, lifting you and walking backwards until you were right back where you started. He dropped you at the edge of the fountain, grabbing a fistful of hair and yanked you back.

The moan escaped you way too fast. You wanted to be coy. Wanted to drag this out and be a smoking hot target. Instead, you were just too damn needy. 

Noir put his face close to yours. Not a word. He nudged your exposed neck with his nose while his free hand ghosted across your chest. You stuck your boobs out, wanting him to do more than this. 

He ignored you, moving his hand to grab a handful of your tummy and squeeze. You moaned again, rubbing your backside against his front. 

Noir moved his hand to lift up your dress, cupping your mound and squeezing. “Fuck!” You moaned out. No mercy. He squeezed to the point of pain, savoring your cries, before rubbing your pussy over your panties. 

“More, more, please,” you cried out. 

Noir pushed your panties down your legs, only giving you enough slack on your hair to let you kick them off. Your skin was on fire. Blood boiling. Pussy throbbing. 

Noir pushed you forward and the palms of your hands stung from the rough stone of the fountain. Your breaths came out in shuddering waves as you were bent over the railing. Noir kept his hold on your hair while you heard his zipper ripping through the night air. 

Noir breathed harshly. A sound! It should not thrill you this much to get a hint of a sound out of him, but fuck. This was going to fuel your fantasies for months. Possibly even years. 

Noir gasped as he removed his glove. You couldn’t see his hand. It was too dark. But you did feel as he moved his fingers through your dripping folds. You moaned, legs giving out. Noir pulled your hair until you stood up straighter and you cried out. 

He wasn’t pulling hard enough to do any real damage. Just a little sting. Just enough force to show you that he was in control. 

Noir continued to play with your pussy, rubbing his fingers around your clit and inside your entrance. You leaked all over him, creating a neat little river that began to leak down your legs. 

Noir pulled your hair. “Oh god, feels so good. So good. So damn good,” you chattered, not sure what you were saying and not truly giving a fuck. This was the most fun you’d ever had during sex. You wished that you could freeze this moment. Or expand it, stretch time as long as you need to in order to experience this for as long as possible. 

You were racing towards an orgasm in no time, screaming into the night like a wild banshee. Who cared who was around at the moment? They were all getting their rocks off, it was only fitting that you did as well. 

Noir continued to finger you, continued pumping his long, thick fingers inside and drawing out another orgasm. 

“Please, please,” you whimpered, not sure what you were begging for. Each orgasm was too quick, too short. Not enough, not nearly enough. You rubbed onto Noir like a purring cat, rubbed your ass against his armor clad groin. 

Another harsh gasp from him. He pushed you forward until you were fully bent over the fountain. He grabbed your hip and pulled you against him. He worked his pants down low enough, slapping a big dick against your wet pussy.

The wet slapping sounds were loud. You had so much slick dripping out of you. He rubbed his dick back and forth, getting the tip wet with your juices. “Fuck me, fuck me,” you begged. Enough with the teasing. You felt ready to jump out of your skin. You were needy. And feral. 

Noir’s hold on your hair tightened as he slapped your ass hard enough to make you hiss with pain. You shook with raw need, pussy clenching around open air. He smacked you again for good measure and you moaned, sticking your ass out.

“I’m sorry, I’ll behave,” you whimpered.

Noir continued with coating his dick in your juices before finally breaching your entrance. He stopped short of entering you fully, waiting. For what you weren’t sure. You pushed against him with a deep groan, pushed your ass backwards in an attempt to slip him inside. 

It wasn’t until you stopped, until you grew still enough, that Noir slammed inside in one savage thrust. “Oh god!” You screamed, legs shaking on his dick. He was so big, a delicious stretch spearing you. 

He drew back until just the tip was inside and then slammed back in. He continued this savage push and pull, driving you insane. You couldn’t pay attention to the rhythm he tried to set. It only felt like not enough. 

You tried to slam him back faster, trying to get that lethal recoil going. Noir stopped and yanked your head back far enough to earn him a cry. You bit your lip and looked at him with a sweet smile. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll behave,” you said. 

Noir hovered over your back, using his size to cage you in. He nudged your neck with his nose, shuddering breaths quiet in your ear. You moaned as he slid back in, increasing his strokes, hitting a spot deep inside.

“Don’t stop! Don’t stop! That’s my spot! Right there!” You moaned and cried. He hit a spot so deep you started to see stars. 

Noir obliged you, hitting that spot over and over until you were an incoherent mess, dribbling, and mumbling as a powerful orgasm ripped through you. The edges of your vision turned blurry, as you surrendered to the ecstasy. 

As you came down, Noir’s hold didn’t lessen as he snapped his hips against yours. Soft, panting grunts in your ear that made your pussy clench onto him tighter, hold him in deeper. He let out a muffled groan and finally spilled himself inside you.

His hot, pulsing cum squelched as it mixed with your own essence. He continued snapping his hips like he couldn’t help it. Like he couldn’t stop. You gripped onto his warm thigh, throwing that ass right back on him so you could milk him for every drop. 

Your panting breaths were louder than his as he softened. He pulled out and adjusted himself. You remained faced forward to allow him time to zip himself back up. When you heard the zipper go back up, you dared a glance behind you.

He was right back to the stoic, monolith of a man as he stared in your direction. “Fuck, that was amazing,” you giggled, feeling drunk just off the strength of his fucking. You had enough moonlight to spot your red lace panties on the ground.

Noir was faster, snatching it before your fingers could close around the cloth. You grinned at Noir as he put a finger against his mask and tucked your panties into his pocket. 

“You really gonna leave me here like this?” You asked. 

Noir nodded slowly. “Asshole,” you smirked. 

You walked around him and Noir followed the movement, twisting his body all the way around. You backed away, heading for the entrance. You were thoroughly tired, legs aching, but still, you found that you wanted more. The night was still young-ish.

You blew a kiss at Noir. “Catch me if you can,” you sang as you danced out of the maze, picking up speed when you heard Noir scramble after you.

There will be more! The Secret Black Noir Files

[keerysfreckles]

OKAY BUUT IF ITS NOT TO MUCH CAN U DO A LUKE CASTELLAN X APOLLO READER AND LIKE IF U EVER HEARD pure as the driven snow (hunger games song) I CAN TOTALLY SEE APOLLO READER SINGING THIS TO HIM INFRONT OF PEOPLE

(Sorry for typing in caps I got excited 😰 but it’s okay if u don’t this request 🫶🫶🫶)

mamma mia — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x apollo fem!reader

warnings: none!

a/n: i did twist this request only with the song, i used lay all your love on me by abba :) i hope you still like it!

masterlist !

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

saturday's were y/n's favorite day. not only because it was a free day throughout the whole camp, but also because of the apollo singalong at the bonfire.

every weekend a camper or two from apollo's cabin would take turns performing to start off the night. this weekend it was y/n's turn.

herself, and her two closest friends from the cabin were all getting ready. abigail, a tall brunette, was wearing a blue and purple 70s inspired jumpsuit. they were flared at the bottom of the legs and elbows of the sleeves. she finished the look with her hair straightened with a matching purple scarf acting as a headband.

stephanie, a shorter blonde, was wearing a green and silver two piece 70s set. it was a halter styled top, paired with bell bottom pants. she wore the same white boots abigail had, and had her platinum blonde hair in a ponytail, with her bangs covering her forehead.

stephanie and abigail were currently setting up their mini stage for their performance. the other campers were starting to file in the area, filling the empty seats of the amphitheatre fairly quickly. stephanie noticed hermes' cabin was front and center. both girls knew y/n would love the fact her boyfriend was right in front of the stage.

abigail and stephanie finished setting the stage, and went to get y/n from the cabin as chiron and mr. d started to announce tonight's events.

"will you hurry up? lover boy is out there waiting," stephanie walks into the cabin, before looking over her outfit once more in the mirror.

"what steph means to say, is the stage is set, and camp is waiting for you," abigail stands behind y/n at the shared vanity, and places her hands on her shoulders.

y/n continues fiddling with her hair, which was teased slightly, with a white headband, with a few front pieces framing her face. she had a similar 70s inspired outfit like abigails. hers was pink and orange, and the top was cropped. her bottoms were the same colors and they had five layers of ruffles adorning the bottom. of course, she had matching white boots just like her sisters.

"what if i mess up?" y/n asks no one in particular.

abigail continues rubbing her shoulders, "you've never messed up one of our performances, why is this one so different?"

y/n shrugs, "maybe the fact luke and i are dating now? and i guess i still want to impress him."

"he's impressed with anything you do," stephanie speaks up from the other side of the cabin, "this can just be another thing he brags about to his friends. how cool his girlfriend, and her friends, are."

y/n stands from the vanity, and simply holds her arms out, "group hug before we go out there."

stephanie and abigail happily oblige before the trio start walking towards the amphitheatre. the three girls grab their matching white microphones and get into their very stereotypical stances on stage, just as chiron finishes his speech.

the music starts, which makes all the campers quit their side conversations.

abigail, y/n and stephanie who were in a line, were now in a triangle, as abigail starts singing.

"i wasn't jealous before we met. now every woman i see is a potential threat. and i'm possessive it isn't nice. you've heard me saying that smoking was my only vice."

abigail continues to sing the second verse, when y/n takes the center of the stage as abigail and stephanie stand behind her.

"don't go wasting your emotion, lay all your love on me."

as soon as y/n met luke's eyes as she sang her line, she could've sworn she saw hearts in his eyes.

stephanie sang the next two verses, as y/n and abigail had choreography while they were behind the blonde.

y/n moved to the middle again, and the trio all began dancing with the same choreography. she started singing thr chorus again.

"don't go wasting your emotion, lay all your love on me. don't go sharing your devotion, lay all your love on me."

the campers had started clapping along and moving to the rhythm of the song, as the girls on stage sang another verse and the chorus a few more times.

as the song came to a close, y/n brought both of her friends into a hug, before chiron instructed for the ares cabin to gather the firewood for the bonfire.

y/n was talking with abigail and stephanie on stage, and shrieked when she felt a pair of arms pick her up and spin her around. her feet land on the marble ground instead of the stage. she turns in the stranger's arms and her smile grows once she sees luke.

"you look like you walked right out of an abba music video," he laughs.

"that was kinda the point babe," she leans up and kisses his cheek. "did you like the song?"

luke nods quickly, "you all were amazing, but you," he paused to kiss y/n's forehead, "i couldn't keep my eyes of you."

"it was meant for you, if you couldn't put that together," y/n giggles.

"oh i was hoping it was meant for me. if it was for any other camper i wouldn't hesitate to share a few words with you missy," he tries to sound affirmative with y/n, but it only makes the girl laugh more. the couple and the rest of the campers who were standing were all instructed to sit by chiron, as the ares' kids all came back with firewood.

luke kissed y/n's cheek once more before he dragged her to sit with him for the rest of the night.

[archangeldyke-all]

https://www.tumblr.com/archangeldyke-all/752853003646746624/are-you-still-writing-ceo-sev-requests

Yesss so with Sevika’s work suits she wears those button up shirts you know, and one morning reader decides to just throw on one that Sev left on the floor before going to start breakfast.

When Sev sees reader in her shirt that is completely huge on her she basically folds and jumps on her right then and there in the kitchen. You can add smut if you want 😭

GOD fuck

men and minors dni

yesterday was friday. most fridays, you and sevika manage to sneak out of work an hour early-- you purposely scheduling her to be free by the end of the day-- so you can get a head start on your weekend.

but yesterday, both of you were at the office 'til 10 pm, renewing contracts for the upcoming year and making international calls with investors just waking up on the other side of the world.

so when you got home instead of your usual split bottle of wine and friday movie night, you both just stripped down, too tired to even crawl in your pajamas, and flopped into bed.

you blink awake now as the sun rises on a beautiful summer saturday, and turn over in your bed to admire your snoring wife.

she's adorable. you reach out and gently swipe up the trail of drool sliding down her cheek, and her face twitches a bit at your touch.

while you were there by her side all night last night-- she was the one actually reading and filling out the paperwork; and talking in the meetings. you spent your time on her couch, occasionally taking a note for her, but mostly just scrolling through vacation destinations for your upcoming anniversary. so sevika was a lot more tired than you were last night.

so now, you sneak carefully out of bed, not wanting to wake her before she's well rested. you pull the covers up over her chest and kiss her forehead, and her lips twitch in a subconscious smile before she returns to her loud snores.

you grab the closest thing you can find to cover yourself-- the pink and white pinstriped linen button up she'd worn under her suit yesterday-- and button a few buttons to keep it closed around you as you walk to the kitchen, mentally planning a nice weekend breakfast for your wife.

you flick on the radio, quiet soft jazz filling the air as you examine your cabinets and fridge shelves, checking the ingredients you have to work with.

you pull out butter, flour, eggs and sausage, setting them on the counter before gathering all the bowls and measuring spoons you'll need.

sevika sleeps close 'til noon on the weekends, so you can take your time, soaking in the rising sun as it filters through the penthouse, dancing and swaying to the music of sevika's favorite radio channel.

you start by frying up the sausages. once you're done, you transfer the cooked meat onto a plate, throw it in the microwave to keep it warm, and start a roux in the sausage-grease pan.

from there, it's just a matter of stirring in the milk and spices, making sure to add more pepper than you normally would-- though you're certain sevika will still ask for the shaker.

as the gravy thickens, you start making some simple biscuts-- just flour butter and milk kneaded into little clumps and thrown into the oven.

you're scrambling eggs when sevika wakes up. you can hear her huff and shuffle out of bed into the en-suite from the kitchen, and you grin as you listen to her start her morning routine.

it's these little domestic moments that make all the late nights worth it. listening to the sound of sevika brushing her teeth as you fix her a plate of biscuts, eggs, and sausage-- pouring the gravy over it all, just like she likes it.

and then, when two plates are ready and waiting on the table, you get to work cutting up orange slices to give your plates at least a little color. you look up in time to watch sevika stumble out of the bedroom clad only in her boxers and rubbing her eyes.

you choke back a giggle at her crazy bed-head, and then laugh anyways when sevika finally opens her eyes and they nearly bug out of her head at the sight in front of her.

"goodmorning, baby." you greet. sevika grins. pride swells in your chest at the sight. "go ahead, sit and start, i'll be right there with fruit and coffee." you say.

sevika doesn't head toward the table, though. instead, she rounds the counter and wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you into her chest. you grin up at her.

"i haven't brushed my teeth yet." you warn her. she huffs, then swoops in to kiss you anyways. you hum against her lips, giggling when her hands start to bunch up her shirt over your hips to grope your ass.

"you're in my shirt." she mumbles against your lips.

you chuckle. "your food's on the table." you remind her.

"you're in my shirt." she whines, kissing your neck. you laugh.

sevika's possessiveness isn't exactly subtle. usually it manifests as one of her hands on you at in public, or her matching the colors of her outfit to match yours. sometimes, it comes out like this too.

you're surprised to find that she finds you in her shirt more exciting than breakfast. white gravy and biscuits is her favorite.

"food's gonna get cold." you whimper as she turns you around and backs you up against the counter.

sevika chuckles and shrugs, shoving a leg between your. "thank god we gotta microwave." she mumbles. you giggle, threading your fingers through her hair. "fuck, you look so fuckin' good in my clothes." she grunts as she starts pulling your hips back and forth on her thigh. she's rock hard against your hip, her tits pressed your chest as she kisses you.

"s-sevika..." you whine.

"cum on my thigh, baby, lemme make you feel good. 's my thank you for breakfast." she mumbles. you giggle-moan, then lean forward to press your lips to your wife's as she continues to slide your wet cunt on her bare thigh. "you're so fuckin' wet." she groans.

"s-sev--" you gasp.

"give it to me baby. then we can eat, then i can fuck you while you do the dishes in my shirt."

you whimper. "y-you do the d-dishes." you grunt. sevika snorts.

"fine. you can wear my shirt 'n fuck me while i do the dishes." she offers. you nod and then cum to seal the deal. sevika laughs, peppering kisses all over your face and neck as you shiver apart in her arms. "there you go, baby."

sevika holds you until you catch your breath, but once she's sure you can stand on your own she gives you a breath taking kiss and then sprints to the table-- a grin on her face as she digs into her food. you burst into laughter.

"'s so fuckin' good, tha'k y' s'much." sevika mumbles around her bite.

"don't choke." you plea. she shoots you a wink, and you roll your eyes fondly before you go back to cutting orange slices.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352 @artinvain

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 5]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to protect his new family from not only Hell's Kitchen but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

words: 4.4k

It has been one week since you saw Matt Murdock on the evening news, and it feels like it has been a complete whirlwind. First, you reintroduced yourself to him and let him know he was a father, then you had a nice little outing, and to tie it all up, a trip to the doctors to confirm what you already knew. 

Matthew Murdock is the father of your daughter.

It is nice to have an official statement from a doctor and now you can start the process of changing Minnie's paperwork to include his name. You have to go to the courthouse to file for an updated birth certificate. Matt has very kindly offered to take that task on for you - he goes to the courthouse often for his job and he knows the ins-and-outs of navigating legal paperwork. You just have to go and drop off the right documentation. 

You had a brief call last night, after Minnie had been put down, and decided that you would visit his office today to do just that. You are going to kill two birds with one stone - hand over what needs to be filed and give Matt more time with his daughter. 

To your great surprise, your timid little Mouse absolutely adores him. She was not happy to have to be at the doctor's office yesterday and was on the verge of tears before he showed up. Her whole mood shifted, and she had spent the brief time you were in the waiting room and exam room telling Matt about different things around them. 

You have a feeling, when you sit down and tell her the truth, she is going to be thrilled. 

You told her that you are going to visit Matt at work today, and all morning she has been hunched over her sketchbook making pictures for him while you try to get in some hours at work. Try being the key word, as you've been thoroughly distracted by today's news cycle. 

You were half listening to a puff piece about something or other when breaking news flashed across the screen. A neighborhood in Connecticut has been leveled by some sort of explosion, killing hundreds. They don't know if it was an accident or some sort of attack - the epicenter of the blast was a school, so it could potentially be either. You pray it was a freak accident, some faulty pipeline or a weird meteor, because the world doesn't need any more horribleness in it. 

The idea that it might have been an attack makes you nervous. You've been through two horrible attacks on New York, and you didn't realize another big event so close to home would shake you so hard. 

It scares you that you have to raise Minnie in such a harsh world, where monsters of all kinds are very very real and you don't know who you can rely on. The police and government have been shown to be all kinds of corrupt and people who can shoot laser beams fight each other in the skies. 

You end up clocking out and going to sit with Minnie to get yourself to stop your doom-listening. She's got a few drawings scattered around the table and you pick up the one closest to you, smiling at her handy work. 

You recognize the shapes as her interpretation of people - oblongs with stick arms and noodle legs. Unknowingly, she's made her first new family portrait. There are three blob-people all holding hands: you suspect you're the big orange one with a smile, Minnie is the little pink one in the middle with what you guess are pigtails, and Matt is the black one with red eyes, who is also holding a stick. To confirm, you ask her.

"Is this one Mister Matt?"

Her head shoots up and a big grin spreads across her face, "Yeah!  And that's you and that's me and we're gonna go to the zoo!" There is a little flurry of motion and suddenly you are getting a picture show. She holds up the paper she was working on - there's another family drawing, but this time there's green scribbles all around you and a blue square with zig zags all over it. You guess that is some sort of animal. 

"You want to go to the zoo with Mister Matt?" You ask, examining her masterpiece.

"Yeah!" She says, pulling over another picture that you know are her versions of flowers, even if they are all different colors. "And the park!"

"And the park? Wow, that's a lot of things to do. Do you want to ask him if he wants to go to the zoo with us when we see him today?" Minnie eagerly nods at the question and that makes you smile. "Okay, we can invite him to the zoo. When are we going to the zoo?"

The question makes her bounce in excitement, "My birthday!" 

You laugh at her enthusiasm and give her a little back rub, "Exactly. We're going to go for your birthday. And get a big cake with whatever you want on it." That makes her a giggly mess and you temporarily forget all the bad things in the world. 

You hand her back her drawing before kissing the top of her hair, "How about you finish this one up and we get ready to go see Mister Matt? We can only visit for a little bit, because he's working, but I bet he'll love everything you made him."

Greedy little hands take back the paper and instantly Mouse is hunched back over her zoo scene, purple crayon in hand. You get up and go to make sure that you have everything you need to bring to Matt in order. You are extremely lucky that the doctor has the ability to print out things in Braille, so you don't need to make an extra stop to get things translated. 

You debate bringing Matt lunch, but ultimately decide against it. You don't want to push too much too fast, and you think it might be a little weird for his coworkers, to see a random person bring him homemade lunch. You know he hasn't told anyone yet about yourself and Minnie - he had shyly admitted it didn't feel real until the test results were given and you completely get it. 

You tidy up until you spy Mouse dropping her crayons into her bucket and cleaning up her drawing area. You let her do her thing, then approach, "Let's put your drawings with the other things we need to give Mister Matt. That way they won't get lost or wrinkled."

She nods like you've just said something very wise and gathers up her stack of papers before handing them over. There's five in total; the three she showed you and two more full of colorful lines. You decide you'll listen in on her explanation to Matt on those two, as you're curious as to what goes on in her little mind. 

Once everything is safe and ready to go, it's just a matter of getting shoes on. You go with your sensible sneakers while Minnie opts for her frog themed Wellingtons. The plan is for both of you to walk to the office, and after one final wallet-keys-phone check in your purse, you head out hand-in-hand.

It's mid-morning, so foot traffic is decent, but not heavy - nothing that makes Minnie too uncomfortable. Dark clouds are gathering on the horizon, and it makes you wonder if the rain that has been promised in the forecast will be coming sooner than expected and you are glad this outing is the only one you have planned. Taking Minnie around in the rain is never fun. It always seems like everything becomes more bustling in the rain and trying to navigate that with a crying toddler just makes you want to cry as well. 

But the promise of her new favorite person and mild weather has her walking like the born and bred New Yorker she is - a determined little pout with no nonsense steps. No one will be trying to sell her things on the sidewalks once she gets bigger. If she had a different personality, you'd want to teach her to say "Hey, I'm walking here" just to hear a toddler say it. 

As you spy the building Matt's office is in, you realize you should have sent him a text to say you were on your way. You did let him know vaguely what time you planned to stop by and he had assured you that they had no appointments - it was catch up on paperwork day - but that didn't mean walk-in clients hadn't come by. You're so close to already being there that you think the gesture is pointless, so you just keep walking until you get to the building.

"This is where we are going," you tell Minnie as you approach. You scoop her up to show her the business directory on the outside of the building. There aren't very many plaques to begin with, so it's easy to find the Nelson, Murdock, and Page one. "That is where Mister Matt works with his friends."

She leans out and feels over the embossed sign, running her fingers over the different letters. "'M'! For Minnie!" She says, pointing out the letter with a big smile. 

"Exactly. Mister Matt's last name starts with M, too. That word is his last name - Murdock."

That gets her to turn back to the sign, fingers dancing over the letters, brows knitting with curiosity, "How is it spelled?"

You spell out Murdock for her and Minnie repeats each letter after you. You do this a few times until she's able to say it out loud on her own. You don't know how long she'll retain the information, as spelling isn't really on the board yet, but you're happy she's interested. You set her back down and she makes a beeline up the steps, grabbing and pulling at the door with all her three-year-old strength. 

The lobby to the building is sparse, with basically only an elevator and staircase, with a door to what you suspect is a supply closet. "We're going up two staircases," you tell your daughter. 

"Two!" She confirms before taking off towards the stairs. You have a brief moment of panic that she's going to zip up both sets faster than you can catch her, but to your great amusement, she grabs a hold of the banister with both hands and pretends to use it like a mountaineering rope to climb the stairs. She even adds little fake huffs and puffs. You follow behind her, ready to catch her if she slips. She doesn't, and when you get to the floor Matt's office is on, she turns to beam at you, clearly proud of herself, "We did it!"

"We did it," you parrot, offering out your hand again. She takes it and you lead her to the correct door. The same plaque that was on the exterior of the building also hangs beside their door and Minnie astutely points to it.

"Murdock!" 

"That's right, it says Nelson, Murdock, and Page."

"Can I knock?" Mouse asks, raising her fist to do just that.

You hum, then gently explain, "This is business, which means work. For work, we don't have to knock. We can go in if it is open."

As soon as you say that she's opening the door and marching inside and you quickly follow her. 

Matt's law partners, Foggy and Karen, are in the reception area with a man you assume is a client of theirs, talking in hushed annoyed sounding whispers. He radiates intimidation, with a huge black eye and what looks to be a makeshift cast made of duct tape around his right wrist. The three of them turn to look at you and you get the sense Minnie had the right idea in asking if she should knock first. 

Your little one quickly latches onto your leg, turning timid in the space of a second and you can't really blame her. Part of you wants to turn and run. 

Karen recovers first, breaking away from the two exasperated men to step towards you and going into receptionist mode, "Hi. You were here last week to meet with Matt, right?" 

"Uh, yes, that's right. Is he, uh, available?" You ask, feeling like you no longer know how to speak English. The energy in the room is not a pleasant one and you very much feel like you've interrupted something important.

"He's on a call currently but I'll let him know you are here," Karen replies in a voice far kinder than what she uses to address the men behind her a beat later. She turns to them and points to the office you know is not Matt's. "In there. Now."

Foggy throws up his hands, like he's frustrated with whatever is going on and disappears into the other room. The man you don't know doesn't follow, eyes on you and your daughter as Karen crosses the room to knock on Matt's door before opening it and slipping into the office. You quickly decide you are not going to make eye contact with him, instead ducking your head and putting a comforting hand on Minnie's head. She's practically hidden herself behind your legs, clinging to your pants so tightly you fear they might rip.

"I like your boots," the man says into the quietness. You expect him to sound like gravel, but his gruff voice is rather soft, and you get the feeling he understands how to talk to children "My daughter used to have boots like those."

 Part of you wants to tell the man to not talk to your daughter, but that would be rude and just because he looks like he's been through the ringer doesn't mean he's a bad man. You decide to let her determine how she wants to proceed.

You feel Minnie poke her head out from where she's hidden herself. At first, you don't think she's going to reply, as you know how she is, but she surprises you yet again by mumbling out, "They're froggies." 

"Yeah? You like frogs?"

Mouse somehow tightens her grip, "I like animals." She presses her face against your leg, then admits, a little louder, "we're gonna to the zoo for my birthday."

That makes the man smile, and that changes his whole demeanor. Suddenly he looks friendly and kind and not like he's likely to stab you, "That's a good place to go for your birthday. How old are you gonna be?"

Before she can respond, the door to Matt's office swings open and Karen stalks out, followed by Matt, who seems much less agitated than everyone else. The blonde points to the unknown man, a little scowl on her face, "What did I say?"

The man holds up his hands defensively, stepping away from Karen and towards the office he was previously told to go in, "Alright, alright, I'm going. I'm going." That doesn't seem to help soothe her at all, as she grabs the man by the bicep and frog-marches him to join Foggy, closing the door behind them. 

"They didn't make you wait long, did they?" Matt asks, bringing your attention back to him. There is a cut on his lip that wasn't there the last time you saw him, and your instinct is to ask if he is okay, but you don't know if you are at that level with him yet.

So instead, you address his question, "No, no, we just got here."

He motions back to his office, a smile spreading across his face, and you almost forget about the cut, "Come on back and we can review everything." 

Minnie lets go of your pants only to take your hand again and you lead her into the other room. As you pass Matt, she looks up at him and gives a tiny wave.

"Hi, Mister Matt."

Matt's shoulders visibly relax at her greeting, and you can't help but start to smile, "Hi, sweetheart. How are you doing today?"

"Good! I maded you pictures," she says proudly. That causes him to pause as he starts to follow you into his office. You can tell he is surprised by the news - his voice gets a little choked up when he responds.

"You made me some pictures?"

"They are very good pictures," you advise, squeezing Minnie's hand slightly before letting go, "Do you want to tell Mister Matt what you drew for him?" She nods eagerly, so you point to one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Go sit like a big girl and you can tell him."

She makes a dash for the chair, and you take the time to address Matt, "I'm sorry, I should have called ahead."

He shakes his head, and as he walks past you to go behind the desk, he reaches out and brushes his hand along your arm. A little shiver runs up your spine at the touch and you tell yourself the action was so he could orient himself. "Not a problem, I knew you were coming. How is everything?"

"Everything is good," you reply, a little shyer than you intend to. "I, uh, have everything for you. Is there anything else I need to fill out?"

Matt shakes his head, "Just a signature and date. You've done all the work for me already. I don't think I've ever had to file where I don't need to actually do anything but sign the document. It's a refreshing change."

"Do you know how long it will take to process?" You ask as you move to join Minnie in sitting. "The website gave multiple timelines and I just want to be realistic."

Matt takes his seat with a cocky grin, "Not long at all, I know a few judges I can ask to push it through."

You flush at the idea of him asking a favor to a judge on your account, "That's not necessary, Matt, I don't mind waiting."

He shakes his head, getting that soft look again, "I don't want to wait. I want it to be official in the eyes of the government."  

His words make you feel even warmer, and you distract yourself by pulling the file with all the paperwork out of your purse and pass it over to him. "Minnie's additions are at the bottom of the stack. The last five pages"

His fingers twitch slightly, and you wonder if he wants to flip right to those. You get your answer quickly.

"Minnie, is it okay if I go over the paperwork with your mom before you tell me about your pictures?"

"It's okay!" She replies, her voice much more cheerful now that you are alone with Matt. "Do you needs help?"

Her sweetness makes Matt smile more and he shakes his head, "Not right now, sweetheart. I need to read, and I can do that with my fingers, but after that you can help with some other things."

"Okay," she says happily, kicking her feet a little bit.

You catch her attention and motion to your purse, "Do you want a toy while you wait?" 

She shakes her head and beams up at you, "No thank you, I'm a big girl!"

Both you and Matt chuckle at her declaration and he moves to open the file. 

"There's multiple copies of everything," you tell him as you move onto business, "One printed text and one in Braille for the courts and the same for you. I have the same at home, as well. They are bundled in packets. The court papers are on top, Braille first."

He thanks you then begins to read the forms. Mouse sits up straighter in her chair to try and see what he is doing. She can just peek over the edge, and she watches in fascination as his fingers move over the pages. You wait quietly, not wanting to distract in any way. 

"Everything appears to be in order. We will just need a signature," Matt says after a minute. 

"Should I do that now?" You ask. The response is him offering you a pen, so you lean in to sign the various forms. As you set each document aside, Matt adds his own signature. It is silly how giddy you feel just having the forms finally completed. You don't know how long you've had just blank copies, waiting to be filed. 

"And done," Matt says with a final flick of his pen on the last page. "I'm going to the courthouse on Tuesday, so I'll get it processed then. I'll push to get an updated certificate as quickly as possible."

You have to bite your lip to keep from smiling like a crazy person. This isn't some dream or far off fantasy. Matt isn't just saying he wants to be Minnie's father. He is following through, with urgency. This is something he wants and it's almost surreal for you - you are so used to promises being broken and no one being on the same page as you in your desires. Even if this is all for Minnie and not for you, it is still on the edge of overwhelming for you. 

You never thought you'd be so happy over paperwork. 

"Thank you, Matt," you whisper, leaning back into your seat to sit properly.

Immediately, Minnie parrots you, thanking Matt even though she has no idea what is going on.

"No, thank you. Thank you both," he says, and you wonder if he is also holding back from smiling. He gathers the papers and sets them aside before running his fingers over the folder you gave him and addressing his daughter. "Okay, sweetheart. Do you want to come tell me what you drew?" 

You expect Minnie to stand on the chair and even prepare yourself to balance her, but that does not happen. She hops down and scurries around the desk to be at Matt's side and a moment later, he is pushing his chair back and she is climbing up into his lap. Embarrassment rushes through you - she's only ever behaved like this with you. She actually used to fuss and cry if anyone else tried to hold her. You haven't seen her sit in anyone else's lap since she had a say in who gets to hold her.

"Minnie!" You scold but Matt quickly shakes his head as he helps her up.

"It's okay, I don't mind," he tells you even though he looks completely shocked. If he wasn't her father, you wouldn't allow this, especially with someone so new to her, but he is her father, even if she doesn't know, so you don't tell her to get down.

Instead, you give a stern frown, "Minnie, you still need to ask before climbing on anyone, okay? Can you apologize?" 

Your little girl nods, then looks up at him, "I'm sorry, Mister Matt."

"It's okay, sweetheart. Like I said, I don't mind, but your Mommy is right, and you should ask so I know you are there. Next time, you'll know. Now, your Mommy said there were five pictures. Which do you want to start with?" He asks, scooting his chair back to the desk while wrapping one arm around Minnie's waist to keep her secure. 

Once she's able to, she leans in and picks up the first drawing in the stack. It is the family portrait, and you quickly get your phone out so you can record this interaction as Minnie lays out the picture. She then takes Matt's free hand and guides it to the paper before letting go to point at the circle that represents him.

"This is you," she tells him. He quickly finds where she is pointing and begins to trace the figure. 

"That's me?" And there is definitely more than a little bit of emotion in his voice. 

"Uh-huh, and that is me and Mommy and we're gonna go to see the duckies. Mommy said we can go again. But we're gonna get ice cream too. And a balloon," she says, moving her little finger all over the page. 

You watch Matt's finger follow hers - first over the doodle of himself, then Minnie's, and finally yours. Then, he traces back to the center figure. "We're holding hands?" He asks tentatively.

"Yup!" She answers, popping the p. "Mommy says we gotta hold hands if we go outside." 

Matt licks his lips a little and you see his muscles flex under his jacket as he holds Minnie a little more firmly to his chest, like he doesn't want to let go of her. "That's a good rule." 

"Mommy makes good rules," your little one replies wisely. That makes your ego sing a little. Mouse has always been good at doing what she's told, and you are proud that she understands your rules keep her safe.

Before she moves onto the next picture, you gently prompt her. "Sweetie, was there something you wanted to ask Mister Matt?"

Matt's head jerks up at that, looking right to you with brows slightly knit. Minnie bounces in his lap just a little, squirming so she can turn to look up at him, "I'm gonna go to the zoo! For my birthday! Do you wanna go?"

His lips part in surprise at the question and before you know it, he has both his arms wrapped around Mouse, hugging her to him. She instantly responds, looping her little arms around his neck and squeezing back. He rests his cheek against her head, and you see him slightly rock her from side to side. "I would love to go with you to the zoo, sweetheart."

Minnie giggles into his neck and you one hundred percent know that the transition to suddenly having two parents is not going to be hard for her at all. It might be confusing because Matt won't be living with you, but you have never seen her so comfortable with someone who isn't you. You know it's not just because he gave her a toy. They just click together so well.

You switch from video to your camera so you can sneak as many pictures as you can of Matt and Minnie hugging. They've completely forgotten about you and that is a-okay. 

In this moment, nothing else matters to you - not the strange man in the other office or the devastation a few states over or all the other trivial things that nag you and make your stomach turn. 

Your world is right in front of you and for the first time in a very, very long time, you really, truly believe everything is going to be just fine. 

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare @mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets 

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment