#someone hold me back. I don’t have the freezer space for this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kingkatsuki · 1 year ago

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— heatwave

I’m suffering through the heatwave over here, and Bakugou is the only thing that could make it better or worse.

Warnings: 18+, not proofread, Bakugou is your roommate, sweaty sex, dirty talk, spanking, creampie.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 3.8k.

“It’s too damn hot,” Bakugou growled as he lay the back of his head against the couch. Even the soft, worn fabric was uncomfortable against his back. Retaining more heat than necessary paired with his body temperature it had sweat pooling against his skin.

Life as an up and coming Pro-Hero had been rough. With long shifts, terrible hours and little pay he was stuck in this dingy, stuffy apartment. Waiting for the day he’d add an extra figure onto his paycheck to have enough to move out. Things like air conditioning were a lavish luxury that he couldn’t afford right now, so it meant suffering through the torridness with a small ice pack he’d grabbed from the freezer.

The only bonus was having a roommate like you.

Originally Bakugou had been adverse to living under the same roof as someone, unable to trust anyone living in close quarters with him. There was an entire cacophony of issues that could arise from picking the wrong person— from being kept up all night, the mess they could leave behind to having friends or hookups in his shared space.

But you had been a godsend, understanding of his unsocial work schedule and his house rules. You could even argue that you were a better roommate than he was, with his friends delighting in showing up unannounced and causing a mess in his apartment. Something that you were always so understanding of when you’d join them for movie nights or dinner.

You were a blessing. Or now that he thought about it, perhaps it was a curse. Now forced to watch you practically saunter around in the shortest short shorts known to man in a feeble attempt to try and deal with the extreme temperatures. Your top half not much better, the stringy vest top you wore— without a bra no less— exposed your midriff and the cute stiffened peaks of your nipples. Not that he was looking, and even if he was what did you expect him to do.

Rubbing sweat from his upper lip as he spreads his legs wide on the couch as you made your way into the kitchen, his crimson eyes roaming your figure as the shorts hugged the swell of your ass perfectly. Dipping in between the cheeks as he imagined pulling them apart to see what was hidden between them, the material dangerously close to revealing it to him anyway—

You were doing absolutely nothing to help quell the heat oozing through his body. In fact, Bakugou was certain you were making it worse. His cock jumping at the sight of you, pulsing beneath his shorts as his Adam’s apple bobbed. Praying that this sudden heatwave would cease and he could stop being tortured by the sight of you like this every damn day, it was bad enough when he’d catch peeks of you in a towel coming from the bathroom towards your bedroom, or forgotten panties left strewn around. But this? This was unbearable.

“I can’t deal with this heat,” The whiny tone to your voice had Bakugou silencing a growl deep in his chest, watching you hold the back of your hand to your forehead dramatically, “I wanna sit in the freezer.”

“Don’t you dare.” Bakugou knew from experience the heat alone would be enough to shut down the entire machine, and you both definitely didn’t have enough money to replace it if it did.

And that freezer was the only thing satiating the heat so far. Shoving his melting ice pack against his chest, the contents quickly changing form to liquid as he tried to make the most of it before it would have to go back inside the freezer.

“Let me feel,” You came around the couch to stand in front of him, his eyes set in a heavy glare as he tried to weigh up whether it was worth letting you feel how cold the pack was.

It was bad enough having you so scantily clad in such short proximity to him right now, certain he could now smell the saccharine of your perfume as you pulled the top of your vest down, exposing the swell of your breasts as you presented your sternum to him.

Bakugou pushes the pack to your chest and immediately regrets it when the sound you let out is downright sinful. You have to know what you’re doing to him, the way your lips curl into a delicious looking pout and your eyes roll to the back of your skull.

“Oh god, that feels so fucking good.” You moaned, eyes clenched shut to focus on the cool chill that slowly washed over your chest.

His cock jumps in his shorts as he tries to shift his hips to avoid you from noticing the now very evident bulge, the throb pounding through his veins as he feels a different kind of heat beginning to take over.

He should stop here, take his ice pack back and tell you to go and sit in front of your mini desk fan again. Get you out of the room and as far away as possible and save this for another day, a day when you’re both not delirious from the intense heat.

But his depraved thoughts have already consumed him, the thought of your plush body pressed against his while he slides his throbbing cock inside you now at the forefront of his mind as he presses the pack lower. Watching as you arch your back towards it, welcoming the cool chill as you lean forward to splay your sweaty palms against his thick thighs.

And whether he’s delirious from the heat, or it’s the desperate look in your eyes he doesn’t know. All he knows is he’s kissing you fiercely, the ice pack drops forgotten between your bodies in favour of grabbing your hips.

“Fuck,” You kiss him back, words swallowed by his chapped lips as you feel the bulge between his thighs press snug against your crotch.

Your hands reach up to card through messy blond spikes as your nails graze his damp scalp, your tongue swiped against his as he palms your ass. Calloused fingertips disappear beneath the flimsy fabric as he squeezes the fat of it, tugging you down against his hardness as he pulls more sultry sounds from your throat.

“It’s too hot for this, Katsuki.” You whine, breaking the kiss as you gasp for air in the humid room.

At this chance Bakugou’s lips venture lower, peppering kisses along your jawline towards your collarbones until he reaches the hem of your vest. Tugging the fabric down to reveal your round breasts, his tongue pokes out to wet his lips at the marvellous sight.

His nighttime fantasies can’t compare to the sight in front of him, crimson eyes shamelessly ogle your skin to commit the sight to memory as he leans forward.

“Shut up,” He rasps back gruffly while mouthing your breast.

You’re right, it’s entirely too hot for any kind of strenuous activity, especially when he’s sweating so much it already feels like he’s run a marathon. But the way your soft body feels pressed against his is too much to pass up. Especially when this is what he’s been dreaming about ever since he moved in with you, fisting his cock too. It’s too much to leave it to chance that he may get this opportunity again later. Bakugou’s always been a greedy man, and he wants to have you now.

“Fuck,” You cry out when his teeth graze your nipple, pushing your crotch against his with more urgency.

Certain you’ve leaked through the flimsy fabric, desire surges through you dense and fast. A stark contrast to your lethargic movements as you grind yourself down on his lap pathetically.

“Katsuki,” You whine.

His strong hands are doing all the work as he moves you how he pleases. Strong palms pick you up by the meat of your ass to drop you back down on his length. Grinding your puffy clit against his pelvis with each motion as he has you crying out in pleasure.

“Fuck, Katsu. S’too hot—”

You weren’t sure whether it was the humid air permeating the room or the way that Bakugou was looking at you with smouldering eyes that had your body aflame. Muggy, vapid air filling your lungs as clammy hands stroked along his bare torso. Mapping out a course of newly discovered territory as you let your thumbs brush against his pebbled nipples, his chest vibrating against your touch with more sultry groans.

“I know you are, sweetheart.” He hummed, his fingers brushing the crotch of your shorts, “Let me make you feel good.”

“Oh,” You gasped when you felt the calloused pads stroke your labia, involuntarily leaning forward to give him more space as Bakugou began to spread you apart for him. Fingers gliding through your messy folds, dragging your essence along your slit until he found your puffy clit.

The contact had you jolting forward, nails grazing his chest as he focused his attention on it. Circling it tentatively with the pad of his finger as you began to rock your hips back against him, uncaring about how debauched you looked as you began to seek your own pleasure.

“Yeah?” He rasped, and the gravelly husk did nothing but increase the desperation inside you, “You like that?”

“Fuck, please—“ You buried your head in the curve of his neck, your lips pressed against the slick skin as you tasted the saltiness of his sweat on your tongue.

“Please what, sweetheart,” He cooed.

“Please—“ You gasped when you felt his thumb press against your empty hole. He knew exactly what you wanted, he was toying with you.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Your fingers.” You were shameless, your hips grinding back against him as Bakugou finally took mercy on you and pushed his thumb into your sloppy entrance. The slightest penetration enough to drag a deep moan from your throat as he kept his focus against your clit, leaning his head back against the couch to try and see the blissful expression on your face as he worked you with precision.

“Got no damn idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this,” He husked against your ear, lips soft against the shell as you clenched around him in response, “Always walkin’ round in those fuckin’ short shorts got me wanting to bend you over every surface in this house.”

“Oh fuck,” You mewled, already feeling yourself teetering on the edge of your climax as he kept his pace constant against your clit, his thumb positioned to press against your spongy wall as his other hand tightened its grip on your ass. Spreading you open, as you found your bliss, “Katsuki.”

“That’s it, good girl.” He hummed, feeling your walls pulse around his digit as he kept his pace. Working you through your release as he pressed sloppy, wet kisses to your temple.

You’d lost count of the amount of times you’d wished the same, coming into the kitchen to see him still in full hero gear after work. Dirt and grime covering his body as his mask was pulled up over his forehead to show his blackened eyes, bending over to grab the carton of juice from the fridge as he held it up to his lips to chug it. Watching his Adam’s apple bob as the liquid flowed, giving you the perfect view of him as you tried to busy yourself to hide the fact you were blatantly staring.

Or the moments where he’d come out of the bathroom with a towel slung low on his hips to shout at you for using the taps in the kitchen while he was showering. The cheap apartment had one flow of hot water and it shut off that luxury whenever it was used elsewhere. The cold water catching him off guard as he glared at you, water droplets drooling down his perfect skin and making him look more like an ancient god or deity than your roommate.

“So why didn’t you?” You asked when you’d come down from your high.

“Huh?” Bakugou’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Why didn’t you tell me how you felt before.”

“I like livin’ with you,” He shrugged, “Didn’t wanna jeopardise that.”

“You wouldn’t have,” You smiled, pulling yourself back from his neck to meet his gaze, “I like you too.”

“That mean I can finally eat this pretty little pussy?” He groaned, shuffling his hips, “Been thinkin’ about it since the day I met you.”

“Later, please—” You pawed at the hard bulge between his thigh, his pre staining the fabric as you pressed against the tip.

“Fuck,” He grunted, shamelessly bringing his fingers to his lips to get a taste of you. His tongue sweeping against his digits to clean them of your slick, “Gonna take you over every damn surface in this house, princess.”

Your fingers curled into the hem of his shorts, Bakugou lifting his hips off the couch to help you drag them down just enough to free his heady cock— the sight of it better than you’d ever imagined in those nightly fantasies.

He was thick and long, bulging veins that forked along the length of him only made him seem that much more intimidating as his balls sat heavy at the base. Neatly trimmed blond hairs decorated his pelvis as they created a pretty trail along his abdomen, unable to resist running your hand along it as his stomach folded at the touch. A sharp hiss sucked sharp through his teeth as you wrapped your hand around him at the base, holding him steady so you could see the tip. The head a swollen pink as pre continued to bead at the slit, drooling down towards his frenulum as you moved to settle between his thighs. Wanting a taste of him yourself as you swiped your thumb over the leaky tip of his cock.

“Oi, I thought you said later,” He teased, rough hands steady on your hips to stop you from moving.

“Please,” You whined pathetically, “Wanna taste you.”

You brought your thumb to your lips as your tongue swiped at the surface, tasting him on your tongue as your lashes fluttered. Crimson eyes focused on your movements as his cock twitched in appreciation, tempted to let you do whatever you pleased. But he’d been waiting far too long for this moment, and there was no way he could wait any longer.

“You little minx,” He groaned as you sucked your thumb, “I promise later.” He groaned, tugging at your shorts, “Do you like these?”

“Yeah, they’re— what the fuck, Katsuki?”

You gasped when you heard the sharp sound of ripping fabric, “I said I liked them.”

“Sorry,” You could tell from the smug grin on his face that he was anything but as he positioned you above his leaky cock, “I gotta have you now.”

You held onto his shoulders as he wrapped a large fist around his cock, dragging the tip through your slick as he felt it catch against your tight entrance. His other hand on your hip slowly dropping you down onto his length as you felt the pleasurable ache of him stretching you open ebb through your pelvis.

“I got you, sweetheart,” He groaned, watching his cock slowly disappear inside you as he felt your warm walls wrap snugly around him, “Gonna take such good care of you.”

You felt hot, the heat radiating from your sex sweltering and yet you didn’t want to let go. The thick girth of his cock filled you perfectly as you felt him pressed against every ridge and groove of your cunt like he was made for you.

Your lips move together languidly, tasting the saltiness from his upper lip as you move together in tandem. Wet and sloppy while his tongue strokes yours, desperation evident by the way you try to deepen the kiss. As though you’re trying to melt into him, to feel him devour you whole.

“Oh, shit.” You choke back a cry when you feel the tip of his cock hit a spot deep inside you, certain you’ve never had something quite so big before.

You struggle to lift yourself up with your legs spread wide over his thick thighs as you grind yourself against his lap. Your clit catching against the trimmed hairs at his base as you roll your hips with desire, your chest pressed taut to his as you start a lazy pace. The scorching heat inside the apartment makes it difficult to breathe as you writhe in his lap, his warm breath fans against your skin almost feels cooler than the thick air clouding the room.

“Kats. It’s too hot.” You whine pathetically, your pace clumsy and sluggish as the desire inside you burns hot and heavy.

“You started this.” He retorts cockily with a smug smirk on his face.

“I did not.” You pout, “This is your fault.”

“Stop whinin’” He reaches back to bring his palm down on your ass in a rough smack, the sweatiness of his quirk has his skin tacking to you as it increases the sensation, clinging to your skin as you gasp in surprise. A painful pleasure courses through your veins as the skin prickles beneath his touch, your pliant walls clamping down around his girth in retaliation.

Without hesitating he reaches his large palms back to cup a cheek in each hand, lifting you up languidly as he marvels the glossy sheen your slick leaves on his cock.

“You just sit there and look pretty, let me do the work.” He spread is thighs wider, giving himself more air as he shifted your weight. Picking you up and dropping you down on his length as he listened to the pretty sounds that spilled from you like a siren, drawing him in and capturing his heart as you pulsed around him.

“Why couldn’t you have got an ice quirk?”

Clammy hands paw at his shoulders as Bakugou repeats the motion, skin tacking to skin as he bounces you on his cock. The kinetic energy builds heat swiftly and harsh as you feel the stickiness against your skin. Your wetness seeps out against his pelvis and matts the hair at his base, catching your clit with each drop of your hips.

“Shut the fuck up,” He scoffed, “You won’t be sayin’ that come winter.”

The thought of having his warm body to warm you during those cold winter months, still being with him then— had you clenching around him.

“Oh yeah? You like the sound of that?” He grinned, “Can feel this pussy clenchin’ around me.”

“Fuck, Katsuki.” The heat was becoming unbearable, radiating from your core as it burned molten lava. The coil inside you dangerously close to snapping as you danced on the crux of your release, gasping for air as he changed tact. Holding your hips tight under sweaty palms as he planted his feet flat on the ground, pistoning his hips up into your pliant sex, “There— oh, god. Right there—”

“That’s it,” He rasped, watching your tits bounce with each rapid thrust, “Fuckin’ beautiful.”

“‘m gonna cum,” You choked out between moans, feeling the curved tip of his cock drag against the spongy spot inside you with each thrust, “Oh shit—”

“Cum for me,” He growled, “Cum all over my cock.”

The tips of Bakugou’s thumbs pressed against your pelvis, tightening his grip as it only increased the pressure. Sweat trickling down your temples as he sent you vaulting over the edge into euphoria.

“Good girl,” He grunted, feeling your walls clamp down around his cock as you willed him to come with you, trying to milk him of his seed.

The pleasure was unlike anything you’d felt before, mind-numbingly intense as you cried out a jumbled mess of his name. Your nails digging crescent moons into his skin as he hissed beneath you, shamelessly searching for his own end as the heat radiated from your body. Sliding against each other from the sweat that now trickled down your skin, leaving a glossy sheen against you both as he used you for his own pleasure.

“I’m gonna cum,” Bakugou grunted, moving to lift you off his cock before you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, unbothered about the stifling heat in the room as you kept him tight against you.

“Cum inside me, Katsuki.” You gasped a he choked back a grunt, your words all it took to meet his own end.

His guttural moans are sinful, erotic as you cling to him with fervour. Committing the sensation to memory as though it’s the last time you’ll have him like this, as if the heat has him in this delirious state. And maybe it does—

You never thought Bakugou could look so pretty like this, completely vulnerable as he exposes his most intimate self to you. Thick, white spurts of cum spurt from his tip as he empties his balls inside you.

“Fuck, baby.” He breathes hot and heavy as you feel his chest rise and fall against yours.

Bodies slumped together on the couch as you feel the dampness of skin against skin, your vest that now sits useless around your waist is soaked and warm as the fabric clings to your body.

“I’m so sticky,” You whine childishly, making no attempt to move as Bakugou’s fingers trace absent-minded patterns along your exposed back.

“How the fuck dya think I feel?” He rasps, “My ass is stuck to the couch.”

“Eww,” You tease, running your nose along his collarbone as you take in the musky scent of him, “We’ll have to get another couch.”

He catches you by surprise as he presses the forgotten ice pack to the back of your neck, although it’s mostly melted it’s a stark contrast to your sweltering body as you flinch in surprise. Your cunt clenches around him at the sensation as Bakugou grunts from the attention.

“Oh shit, don’t do that sweetheart—“ He hisses, wrapping an arm around your back to hold you tight against him, “You’ll make me hard again.”

Something that you’re not sure you’d mind, even though your body is screaming out for a different kind of relief now. Desperate to cool your temperature down as you scrunch your nose in irritation.

“I feel so gross.” You complain as he gives your ass another playful spank as you barely move from the impact, your bodies stuck together with a mixture of heat and sweat.

“Got no one to blame but yourself, princess,” He groans, “I was just mindin’ my business until you came over in those little shorts.”

“You weren’t complaining when you were balls deep.” You moved your head back to glare at him.

“My balls feel like they’re on fire now,” He scoffs, leaning forward to peck your pouty lips, “Cold shower?” He asks, although he’s already decided he’s showering with you— he’s taking every moment he can with you now.

#Bakugou x reader #Bakugou smut #katsuki bakugou x reader #Katsuki bakugou smut

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iwritewhump · 2 months ago

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"I've done things I can't even think about anymore" (alt. 3)

day twenty-four of whumptember

773 words

warnings: vague discussions of past abusive situation, conditioned whumpee

part one

Living Weapon forces itself to get up from bed. Handler’s voice rings in its ears, “Wake up. You’ve been rotting for too long. It’s time you did something useful with your time.”

It shudders and rolls off the bed and onto the floor. Landing with a soft thudding sound, Living Weapon pulls its legs to its chest and lays its head on its knees.

There’s a knock on the door and Hero turns the handle, “Can I come in?”

Living Weapon looks at the door and frowns. What if it’s a trick and Hero will come in either way? What if he’s looking for an excuse to kick the door in? What if-

“Living Weapon?”

It doesn’t answer.

He lets go of the handle and exhales sharply, “Okay, well…I made breakfast burritos, there’s one outside your door. I hope everything’s alright.”

His footsteps recede and it leans its head back. Handler’s voice echoes in its mind, “Do you really think you’ve deserved that? What have you done today other than lay around?”

“Shut up,” it whispers, shaking its head sharply.

The floorboards creak when it stands up and the door groans when it opens, but Living Weapon pulls the plate into the room. Inhaling deeply, Living Weapon holds the plate up to its nose and wraps its arm around its growling stomach.

It takes a bite, savoring the flavor of the melty cheese and fluffy eggs. It finishes the burrito off in less than a minute and wipes its mouth with the bottom of its shirt. Its stomach growls and Living Weapon ignores Handler’s voice scolding it for wanting more.

Slowly, Living Weapon stands and pushes the door open. It carries the plate in one hand and finds the kitchen.

Hero’s leaning against the counter with a burrito in his hands. He smiles warmly at Living Weapon and scoots over, making space for it. Living Weapon looks at the counter and bites its cheek. “Are there more burritos?”

Hero smiles and nods, “I just put them in the freezer, feel free.”

It blinks and turns around to open the freezer door. Among the dozens of small aluminum dishes, there’s a freezer bag full of burritos. Living Weapon opens it and pulls two out. They’re still warm and it smiles softly.

Without missing a beat, it bites into one and finishes it as quickly as the last. Hero chuckles and Living Weapon looks up, cheeks turning red.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m so hungry.” it says, putting the other burrito down on the counter.

Hero shakes his head and covers his mouth. He puts the burrito back in Living Weapon’s hand.

“You haven’t eaten in four days, so it makes sense to me.” he says.

Living Weapon shakes its head, “It hasn’t been that long.”

Hero nods and points to the calendar, “You got here on Sunday night…” he slides his finger from Sunday to Friday, “And now it’s Friday. That’s over four days, really. And you haven’t eaten anything. So have as many burritos as you want, I have plenty.”

Living Weapon bites its cheek and leans against the counter next to Hero. Slowly, it eats the burrito and watches him out of the corner of its eye.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he says, tilting his head. “You know that, right?”

And sure, Living Weapon knows that logically he won’t. That it’s better for him if he has it on his side, that if he can get it to trust him, he can use it to fight his battles. Just like Handler did.

“Why not?” it whispers. It closes its eyes and exhales shakily. “Don’t you remember anything I’ve done to you?”

Hero sighs and shrugs, “Who has the energy to keep track of someone else?”

Its brows knit together and it turns to look at him. He stares at the ground and picks at the skin around his fingernails.

It chews on its cheek and looks at the ceiling.

Hero sputters and does the same, taking a half-step closer to it, “I’ve done things I can’t even think about anymore. I mean…really bad things. Things that I should’ve been killed for. But somehow I got away with all of it and now…I’m here.”

He gestures to his house, the cozy, well protected space he’s cultivated for himself. His hip bumps Living Weapon’s and it doesn’t pull away, so he leans against it, his head resting on its shoulder.

“Everyone will get over what you’ve done, it wasn’t your fault, they’ll see that.”

Living Weapon sighs and nods. It leans into Hero and closes its eyes. “I hope you’re right.”

#whumptember2024 #whumptember #whump #whumptember day twenty-four #i've done things I can't even think about anymore #whump fic #whump writing #my writing #living weapon whump #living weapon whumpee #hero caretaker #whumpee #caretaker

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thewintersoldierdisaster · 2 years ago

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a/n: more svech! just straight up fluff happening here. i loved writing this one so much! i was going to save this for svech’s birthday on sunday but i’m an adhd bitch and couldn’t wait lol so now we’re celebrating the canes clinching a playoff spot. (also fully exposing my mister svechnikov kink by adding it into every fic sorry not sorry)

word count: 7.2k (i am INCAPABLE of not blathering on about svech apparently)

tw: like super mild childbirth and more google-translate russian

summary: you and andrei welcome your first baby

“I don’t know,” Andrei’s hand is splayed flat over your stomach while he lies in bed next to you, “maybe I should talk to Rod. See if I can stay home until the baby’s here.” The baby rolls and kicks at his hand and Andrei’s lips turn up into a soft smile. His eyes are still a little cloudy and conflicted though.

You stretch out your legs, trying to ease the pain in your hip from having to lay on your side. “You’re only going to Nashville. It’s not far and I’m due in a week and a half. Plenty of time for you to get there and back without having to let your boys down.”

Andrei starts to protest, but you shake your head. “I know you don’t want to miss any games so close to the playoffs, Drei. And I also know that you’re not going to miss baby being born. We can do it all.”

He rubs at your stomach again, looking deep in thought. “Nashville is two days. To get there, to play, and to come back - more like three. What if you go into labor during the game?”

“Then,” you yawn, “I’ll have someone pull you off the ice and you can come straight to the hospital. Labor takes hours. Honestly, Drei, you’re not going to miss it.”

You know he wants to be there for you and for the team, especially coming down the home stretch of the regular season when the Canes are holding onto first in the Metro. You love that he’s so dedicated to his team and honestly, the thought of him sitting around and staring at you, waiting for you to pop, isn’t that relaxing. He’s attentive, but sometimes you need a bit of space.

Andrei rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. He huffs a sigh before rolling back onto his side to look at you. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” you reassure him. “Plus all four of our parents are going to be here in a couple of days. There’s no shortage of people who can get me to a hospital and call you, if we need it.”

He looks a little more reassured now, remembering that his parents are flying in on Tuesday, just hours after he flies out to Nashville. Your parents are only a forty-five minute drive away, so the second labor starts, if Andrei isn’t around, you can call them. You kick the blankets off your legs, too hot and uncomfortable in the unseasonably warm early spring weather. All you want to do is lie on your stomach and stretch out, but thanks to the giant belly bump, that’s a no-go. You’ve always been aware that Andrei was big and tall, but you hadn’t really thought about it until your baby was all squished up in your stomach, your skin stretched uncomfortably. It really does feel like you’re snuggling a watermelon around, and especially now that the baby’s dropped in the last few days, you’re really feeling uncomfortable.

Andrei’s hand rubs soft circles over the peak of your stomach, tapping the spots that the baby kicks in a little game. He props his head up on his palm and traces his fingers over your skin. “I can’t believe he’ll be here in a week,” he says.

“Or she,” you counter cheekily. “But yeah, it’s feeling a little scary now.”

The nursery’s been done for about two weeks now - painted and decorated around Andrei’s travel schedule. You have your hospital bag packed and ready in the front hall closet. The freezer is stocked full of meals your mom had made and delivered last week. All that’s left now is to wait for baby to make their appearance.

You shift on the bed, your lower back sore and stiff. “Drei…” you pout, “will you rub my back?” You blink wide eyes up at him and he smiles, needing no extra begging or encouragement to help you into a sitting position.

He opens his legs and settles you in between them, warm, large hands coming to rest on your lower back. “Here, solnyshka?” He asks, thumbs already digging into the stiff muscles. You hum an affirmative response, leaning forward as much as your stomach will allow and enjoying the pleasant stretch of your back. His hands work out the knots smoothly and you melt, finally getting a little relief.

“I can’t wait to finally not have to carry around this watermelon,” you sigh, hands cradling your stomach.

Andrei’s hands work up your back to your shoulders, “I can’t wait to hold the baby all the time, to make up for the nine months you did all the work.” He kisses behind your ear and digs his thumb into a particularly painful knot by your shoulder blade.

“Oh,” you gasp, going limp as the muscle releases. You sag back against his chest, trapping Andrei’s hands in between your bodies. “That felt so good. Forget hockey, become my personal masseuse.”

“Isn’t that already my side job?” He teases, fingers fluttering against your back where they’re stuck. You shift a little and he pulls his arms out and immediately rests them on the underside of your stomach, lifting gently so some of the pressure is off your pelvis.

A strangled noise of contentment escapes your throat and you lean further back against him. “Full time, I need back massages and bump lifting full time, Drei.”

“Whatever you want, solnyshka,” he tucks your head under his chin and sits still so you can relax. He’s so warm and solid you find your eyes closing, finally in a comfortable enough position to sleep a little.

A sharp jab to your bladder - a little foot or elbow, most likely - startles you awake with a wince. You shift, Andrei’s arms still encircling your body. He’s snoring softly in your ear and you realize that he fell asleep too, holding you against his chest. His head is tilted back against the headboard and it can’t be comfortable, but he’s out like a light, even when you wiggle a little to try and get off the bed. The need to use the bathroom is urgent.

“Mmm, solnyshka?” He mumbles, waking up a bit when you gently push his arms off of you.

“Go back to sleep,” you whisper into the dark. “I just have to pee.”

Andrei hums another response, but swings his legs off the bed and steadies you with a hand on your lower back and the other on your hip. His eyes are shut the entire time and he’s snoring again by the time you’re halfway to the bathroom. His legs are still dangling off the bed and you shake your head a little. Once you finish in the bathroom, you take a minute to look in the mirror, turning to the side and smoothing your shirt over your stomach. In a week or less, this bump is going to be a baby in your arms. You can’t wait to meet it, to see which of your features or Andrei’s are stronger.

“Just wait until Daddy is home, okay, baby?” You whisper, rubbing your palm over a spot low on you stomach where the baby’s jabbed a limb. “That better be a yes, mom, whatever you say.”

Andrei’s still half hanging off the bed when you waddle - god, you’re sick of the waddling! - back into the bedroom. He’s exhausted, between the travel, the actual playing, and being there for you, no matter what you need. You wish there were a way to let him keep sleeping while putting him back on the bed properly, but there really isn’t, so you carefully crawl back onto your side of the bed and situate yourself with the giant body pillows wrapped around your body and then reach out to nudge Andrei’s shoulder.

“Hey,” you whisper, “Drei, baby, get back into bed.”

He startles, blinking into the dark, and rubs a hand over his face. “Huh?” He looks around and seems to realize that his feet are on the floor while his upper body is in bed. “Oh,” he mutters, pulling his legs back up on the bed and under the covers. He reaches for you, still clearly half-asleep, and you let him pull you closer. The body pillow is entirely in the way and Andrei grumbles. “I hate this pillow,” he mutters, doing his best to wrap his body around yours.

“Just a little bit longer,” you mumble, fully knowing that you may never sleep without the body pillow again. It’s just so damn comfortable.

You wish you could sleep in the next morning, but even though Andrei is doing his best to be quiet while he gets ready, the baby is apparently dealing with hiccups. It’s like a little alien in your stomach and it’s both weirdly endearing and also freaking you out a little. You’re awake by 7:30, but you just stay in bed, smoothing your hand over your stomach, watching the way it jumps around.

“So freaky,” you mutter. Eventually Andrei wanders back into your room, holding a protein shake and already a little sweaty.

“Morning, milaya,” he drops a kiss on your lips and you squint at him.

“Did you already fit in a workout?”

He ruffles the hair on the back of his head, a little sheepish, “yeah. I woke up early. Ah, I’m getting a little nervous.” He sits down on the edge of the bed and you reach out for his hand. You stroke your thumb over the ridges of his knuckles. He squeezes your fingers gently.

“I’m nervous too,” you admit. “But we’re the ultimate team, right? I don’t know what I’m doing and you don’t either. But we’ll learn together.”

Andrei lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses the underside of your wrist. He rests his cheek against the back of your hand and you wiggle your fingers against his stubble, smiling slightly.

“You’re going to be the best dad,” you say, one-hundred percent confident in your statement.

He chews on his lower lip, absorbing your words, and nods. “If I’m half as good of a dad as you will be a mom, then I think the baby will be okay,” he says, leaning in to kiss you again. You sigh into his mouth.

“Glad we’re all on the same page,” you joke. “Now please help me up because I really can’t do it on my own anymore.”

Andrei obliges, pulling you to your feet and watching attentively as you go slowly about your morning routine. You shoo him out of the room after fifteen minutes, starting to get agitated with his hovering. “Drei, please, I’m fine. Just go shower and get ready to go to your skate,” you sigh, twisting your hair into a pair of messy braids and pinning them up into a milkmaid style so it’s off your neck.

“Okay, sorry, milaya,” he kisses the nape of your neck and ducks into the shower, leaving you time to change into a different lounge set and head for the kitchen. Nothing sounds appealing to you, mild nausea making your stomach roll. You settle for popping a slice of bread into the toaster and grabbing an avocado. You lean your elbow on the counter and prop your chin in the palm of your hand, yawning while you wait for your toast. Sleep quality really had declined the last few weeks.

Andrei’s back in the kitchen as you’re eating the avocado straight from its peel. He looks at you, raising an eyebrow and lips twitching in an effort to hide his amusement. You wrinkle your nose at him. “I didn’t want the toast,” you explain, gesturing at the butter smeared bread with your spoon. “You can have it, if you want.”

He snags the toast with two fingers and kisses the side of your head. “Spasibo. I’ll text you when I’m leaving the rink, if you need anything, okay?” He asks around a mouthful of bread.

You nod, “be careful. Love you.”

After he leaves, you tidy the kitchen and the living room, even though neither are all that dirty. You just mostly want to keep moving a bit - once you sit down, you’re basically not getting up for God or country.

By the time Andrei gets home for his pre-game nap and meal, he finds you curled up on the couch, sobbing at an episode of Bones. He’s immediately kneeling on the floor in front of you, running his hands over you thighs, “hey, what’s going on? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

“We’re fine,” you wave him off with a sniffle. “It’s just…Bones and Booth danced around their relationship for so long! And I forgot how unsatisfying it was when they finally got together.”

Andrei looks at you like you’re crazy before schooling his features into a more neutral expression. He sucks his upper lip in between his teeth, clearly trying not to laugh. He rubs at your knee soothingly, “how about you come nap with me? Take a break from the TV.”

You nod, rubbing at your damp eyes like an overtired toddler. The hormones are fluctuating wildly today. Andrei gently helps you get to your feel and trails after you to the bedroom. “How was morning skate?” You ask, climbing into bed. Andrei wraps his body around yours, the big spoon to your little, and buries his face in your hair.

“Good, it was nice to get a little energy flowing before the game,” he mumbles into your hair. His arms are a secure cocoon of warmth around you and the baby kicks where his palm is splayed flat over the side of your stomach. “Hello to you too, little one,” he says a little louder.

You snuggle into his embrace and fall asleep easily, the hour long nap passing faster than you had thought. Andrei gets up and starts getting dressed, while you watch. He’s in game mode now, more serious than before, more in his head. You know he’s thinking about the plays that were surely drawn up during morning skate. He steps into his suit pants - a new plaid number that is a mild assault on the eyes, but he’s so damn handsome he makes it work - and does a little hop in place when he does up the button and fly. You’re blatantly ogling him when he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it into the hamper.

“Creep,” he teases you, catching you looking.

“Don’t be so handsome then,” you shoot back, pointedly rubbing your stomach.

His smile turns a little feral and his eyes darken. “You look good like that, pregnant with my baby,” his voice is low and you press your thighs together.

You shake your finger at him, “no way, keep it in your pants, Mister Svechnikov, that’s how we ended up here in the first place.”

He laughs, eyes twinkling and dimple popping, finishing buttoning up his shirt. “I didn’t hear any complaints,” he says casually.

“Give it a week or so and I’m sure you’ll be hearing a few complaints,” you wince at a particularly strong kick lands somewhere in the vicinity of your ribs. “I know it’s cramped in there, but easy on the ribs,” you murmur to your stomach.

Andrei finishes getting ready, eats a quick meal, and is back on the road. He’ll be at the arena nearly three hours before the game, but you know it’s part of his routine. Besides, Brady likes to get there early too, so you know he won’t be alone. More likely, Brady will be alone while Andrei handles the puck by the boards before people start coming.

You send Andrei your usual pre-game text and make yourself a light dinner. The TV gets switched to the pre-game and you settle on the couch with your book and laptop. Your mom checks in with you, FaceTiming for a bit, and Elena is texting too, confusing you a little with the time difference, but she’s so excited to get into town tomorrow. The WAG group chat is buzzing too - asking how you are and sending pictures of the kids at the game. You doze off during the game, but wake up to a winning score for the Canes mid-way through the third. The score holds and Andrei comes home bouncy and full of energy.

“Four game point streak!” You grin, cheering for him as he comes into the house.

Andrei blushes and waves you off. “Team effort,” is all he says, even though he was a driving force on the ice. He drops to his knees next to the couch and rubs your stomach. “How’s baby?”

“Kicking away,” you card your fingers through Andrei’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. He leans into your touch like a cat. “I’m pretty sure she’s going to kick her way out, like in Alien.”

“Gross,” Andrei pulls a face and then ducks closer to your stomach, whispering to the bump. And in Russian too, so even though you can hear him, you can’t understand him.

You nudge his shoulder with a foot. “Secrets, secrets are no fun, unless you share them with everyone,” you tease.

He shakes his head, “it’s between a father and his child.”

“Rude,” you roll your eyes affectionately, pouting a bit. “Take me to bed, Mister Svechnikov, it’s past my bedtime and growing your child is making me sleepy.”

“Whatever you want, Mrs. Svechnikova,” he grins.

All of his post-game excitement is worn off by the next morning and he’s back to worrying about missing the baby’s birth. “Please, Drei, go to Nashville,” you sigh, rubbing at your lower back. “You’ll be back Thursday afternoon. Your mom and dad are coming in this afternoon. There’s nothing happening.”

“I just don’t want to miss anything,” he protests. His phone is on the counter and his fingers twitch, like he’s going to snatch it up and text Rod any second. You bat the phone away from him and scowl.

“Go to the game, Andrei,” you say firmly. “If anything happens, and it won’t, I’ll make sure someone gets the message to you and gets you on a plane back here, okay?”

“Okay,” he sighs, clearly wanting to argue with you more, but catches sight of the look on your face and wisely shuts his mouth. Eventually, he’s all packed up and is kissing you good-bye so he can head to the airport. “I love you, milaya,” he says against your temple.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, starting to feel a little emotional. Damn hormones. “I’m sorry I keep snapping at you.”

He chuckles a bit. “It’s okay, you’re allowed. I’ll see you in two days, okay?” His hands come up to cradle your belly. “Keep mama company, okay little one?”

You sniffle and laugh a little wetly. “I’ve got a foot wedged in my ribs, I’m never alone,” you joke.

With one more kiss, Andrei is off and you’re alone. It’s not like this is the first time he’s been gone during the last nine months, and there have been periods where he was gone even longer than two days, but maybe it’s because you’re so close to your due date that you’re feeling extra emotional.

To distract yourself, you make sharlotka - an apple cake from a recipe Elena sent you a few weeks ago when your main craving had been apples dipped in honey. She and Igor are already en route to Raleigh and you invited them over for dinner when they land, mostly to keep you company so you don’t go crazy.

Andrei’s in Nashville and has texted you about fifteen times by the time his parents Uber to your place. You click over onto FaceTime and grin at him, “you can relax, my love. The calvary is here.” You turn the camera and his parents wave at him.

“We will take good care of her, Andreyusha,” Elena blows him a kiss.

“But we will not save you any cake,” Igor teases, holding up his plate, having immediately beelined for the dessert.

Andrei looks a little put out about the cake, but relieved that you’re not alone. “I thought you were going to relax?”

“A girl has to eat,” you tease. “We’re good here, focus on the game and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Elena and Igor end up staying in the guest room, exhausted from the travel, and you reap the rewards when you wake up to a full breakfast spread. “I couldn’t sleep,” Elena shrugs, her smile just like Andrei’s. “Besides, I needed to make sure my doch and grandbaby are well-fed.”

She pats your cheek and sets a plate full of eggs, toast, fruit, and bacon in front of you. You blink at the amount of food, knowing you’re definitely not going to be able to eat it all, but thank her effusively.

“I didn’t even think we had bacon or all this fruit in the house,” you comment, nibbling at a corner of the toast.

“You didn’t,” Elena laughs. “I went to the grocery store.”

“Oh, gosh! Elena, you didn’t have to do that,” you say. “You’re supposed to be on vacation.”

She waves you off, bracelets clinking together on her wrist. “This is vacation. With family, waiting for the baby? My girl, this is exactly what I want to do.”

“Oh, okay,” you slump back in the chair, trying to stretch your back. “If you’re sure…”

“I am sure, now eat some eggs. The calcium is good for growing the baby.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you jokingly salute and dig into the eggs. They’re actually really good - soft and creamy and definitely hitting the spot. You’re finishing breakfast when Igor comes through the front door. You do a double-take - you thought he had been upstairs this whole time.

“Can’t have breakfast without pastries,” he winks at you, setting a bakery bag on the counter. His mischievous smile is just like Andrei’s. Elena pulls out a box stuffed full of croissants, muffins, turnovers, and doughnuts.

“Oh, wow,” you grin, reaching for a chocolate croissant. “A girl could definitely get used to this treatment.”

After breakfast, you try to help clean up but are forced back down into the chair. They ask if you and Andrei have picked a name and that’s a big fat no. Neither one of you can agree on a name you like. You have a little idea forming in the back of your head, but you don’t want to say anything to Andrei until the baby’s born.

It’s a beautiful April day in Raleigh, so Elena hustles you all outside for a walk in the fresh air. It’s slow going since you’re hauling around the giant baby bump, but the fresh air feels good and the walk is helping the stiffness in your lower back. You assume the stereotypical pregnant woman pose, with your hands bracing at your lower back while you walk.

A little cramp ripples over your stomach and you wince, pressing your fingers into the spot. You wait, but it doesn’t happen again, so you figure it was probably breakfast settling. But you’re on alert for the rest of the day, just in case. The only thing still bothering you at dinner time is your lower back, but that’s been sore and stiff for two weeks now, so you assume it’s just from the weight of carrying the baby.

At least, that’s what you assume until it’s thirty minutes to puck drop and you feel a slight popping sensation between your legs, accompanied by a trickle of liquid.

You stand stock still for a beat and then mutter, “oh, shit. Andrei’s going to kill me.”

Elena looks up from her book and frowns at you, “what’s going on?”

“I, ah, think my water broke,” you grip the countertop tightly. Liquid continues to drip down your thighs and there’s a little cramp like the one you felt earlier. “Oh, yeah, definitely my water breaking.”

Andrei’s parents jump up from their spots on the couch and from there it’s a flurry of action. You call your mom and she has your dad in the car before you can even get a word in beyond “hey, mom, I’m in labor.” They’ll be at your place within the hour.

A stronger cramp grips your stomach and now you realize that you’ve been feeling contractions for the last day or so. Andrei’s going to be so annoyed that you made him go to Nashville. Warm-ups have started and you know that Andrei’s unreachable by phone for the foreseeable future. You still text him anyway (“hi sorry i said nothing was gonna happen but i’m in labor 😅😬”) and when another contraction hits fifteen minutes after the last one, you figure it’s about time to head to the hospital.

While Igor drives, you text Heather Staal, wondering if she can get ahold of Jordan or Rod to let Andrei know before he gets on the ice. She promises to try and get the message across, reassuring you that you’ll be fine and Andrei won’t miss a thing. You really hope she’s right, because you’ll never hear the end of it otherwise.

You settle a bit once you get admitted and changed into the flimsy hospital gown. Your parents get to the hospital just a few minutes after you do and your mom immediately joins Elena in your room, making sure you have everything you need.

Right now, you just really need Andrei.

Your dad and Igor are in the waiting room watching, ironically, the Canes game. They pop back into the room every few minutes to offer an update.

“He’s still on the bench.”

“Took a shift, had an assist on a Brady goal.”

“Still on the ice.”

“First intermission and he’s going back to the room. No one looks like they’ve told him anything.”

You huff through increasing contractions while they update you, getting irritated.

“Start of the second, oh, he’s still on the bench.”

“What the fuck,” you mutter, grabbing your phone and texting Heather again. She’s sympathetic, but had texted Rod and wasn’t sure what was happening. You’re halfway ready to call Bridgestone’s main line and start screaming.

Your dad skids into the room while you’re gripping your mom’s hand through a contraction. “He’s off the ice! Looks like one of the assistant coaches told Rod something and then Andrei was yanked off the bench.”

You start crying, relieved that Andrei is finally going to be on his way.

Not even fifteen minutes later, he FaceTimes you.

“I’m on my way, solnyshka, I’ll be there soon,” the words burst out of his mouth. He’s half dressed, shirt buttoned all wrong and sweaty hair mussed over his forehead. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, it hurts, obviously, but I’m okay. Just get here in one piece, okay? I’m so sorry I made you go to the game,” you wipe at the tears on your face, pressing your lips together to smother a shout as another contraction hits.

Andrei’s face is pale on your phone’s screen. “It’s not your fault. I’m on my way now, just hold on for a little bit.” He tells you he loves you and hangs up as he runs out of the locker room.

While you suffer through the contractions, Andrei texts you with updates. He’s booked on a flight out of Nashville that doesn’t leave until 10 and he’s clearly annoyed about it - there’s not a single emoji in his messages. You try not to freak out that he’s going to miss anything. At your last check, you were only 3 centimeters dilated, so there’s still hours of labor ahead of you. You pace the hallways, holding the IV pole keeping you hydrated, with your mom and Elena at your back for support. When you walk past a TV, it’s turned to the post-game and Rod is fielding a question about Andrei’s abrupt departure during the second.

Rod smiles on screen, “well, I’ll tell you it wasn’t for anything bad. His wife’s in labor back home, so as soon as we heard that, Svechy took off. Don’t think any of us could’ve stopped him even if we wanted to. We’re wishing the both of them the best of luck and can’t wait to hear about the newest member of the Caniac family. Next question?”

You start crying again, overly tired and overly emotional. You just want Andrei.

The epidural is administered around 11:30 and you doze off for a bit, waking up confused when a particularly bad contraction hits. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to feel anything?” You whine, gripping the rails of the bed.

The nurse hums at you sympathetically, “they’re not totally 100% effective, hon.”

You glare at her, but she’s clearly used to worse, because it doesn’t phase her at all. She just continues taking your vitals and making her notes.

Once the contraction passes, you ask, “have you seen my parents and in-laws?”

“I think the dads left, saying something about the airport, and the moms are in the coffee shop downstairs,” she pats your hand. “Sounds like you might be getting your husband here soon.”

And you do.

Thankfully, Andrei’s flight was right on time and smooth, so he landed in Raleigh at midnight and with your dad breaking speed limits, is at the hospital and by your side before 1:30. He skids into the room, looking frazzled. “I’m sorry, mne zhal, I’m so sorry, my love,” he babbles, stopping at your side and stroking your hair off your forehead before leaning down to kiss you. “I’m here. I didn’t know, they didn’t tell me until the second…”

The tears flow easily and you grip Andrei’s hand like never before. “I don’t care, I’m just glad you’re here now,” you break off into a shout and curl up when the contraction hits. Stupid fucking epidural.

He keeps hold of your hand and strokes your hair, murmuring in Russian. With his other hand, he rakes his hair off his face. Once you let go, he takes off his suit jacket, tossing it on the spare chair, and rolls up the sleeves of his button down. “How long, do the doctors say?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “Last check, I was like 6 or 7 centimeters.”

All four of your parents are hovering at the doorway and you wave them in with a sigh. Elena hands Andrei a coffee and a sandwich, kissing his cheek when he leans down. “Eat up, you are going to have a long night,” she says, smiling and barely hiding her excitement.

“Spasibo, mama,” he sighs, taking a long drink of coffee. Half the cup is gone and you watch him enviously. Your mom sets another cup down on the little railing tray table.

“That’ll be cold before you get to it,” she says, “but I’m sure you’ll need it.”

Andrei thanks her too and thanks the dads for getting him to the hospital so quickly. They both shrug him off, also barely concealing their excitement. Andrei laughs, “now, I think we’d like a little privacy?” He looks over at you and you nod tiredly. The four parents are kind of a lot to deal with all at once. He grabs the tangle of keys from his pocket and passes them to his dad. “Can you bring me a change of clothes and my car?”

Of course, Igor agrees and all four parents follow him from the room, debating on who will go and which cars they’re going to switch around. You honestly don’t care what they do, just that they leave.

Once they’re all gone, Andrei sucks in a deep breath and sits on the edge of the bed. “Okay, just us now,” he says, sounding a little dazed.

“Just us and the kid,” you reply, exhausted.

“Just us and the kid,” he repeats, smiling slightly. “The timing on this kid,” he shakes his head.

“I know,” you laugh. “I really didn’t think anything was going to happen.”

“It’s all happening now though,” Andrei holds your hand, barely flinching when you squeeze.

Your labor stalls briefly and then it’s nearly 3 a.m. and you’re pushing. Andrei’s at your side, holding one of your legs up by the thigh. He has the other arm wrapped around your shoulders and you’re nearly bent in half. The doctor counts down from ten and then you’re allowed to slump back against the pillows for a few seconds of a break.

“It hurts,” you sob, grasping for Andrei’s hands. He wipes at your tears.

“I know, I know, but you’re doing so good,” he croons. “You’re doing so good and we’ll have a baby soon.”

You’re instructed to push again and Andrei cheers you on, murmuring encouragement in your ear. You shriek, your entire body too hot and too tight and then there’s a release and a different cry.

“Oh,” you drop back against the pillows, suddenly empty.

Andrei looks down at you in shock and then at the baby that’s held in the doctor’s hands, bloody and screaming. He laughs and kisses you deeply, “it’s a girl! A little girl, moya koroleva. You did it.” He bounces on the balls of his feet, vibrating with excitement.

“A girl?” You cry, laughing with joy when the baby’s held up and placed on your chest. “Oh my god, it’s a girl.” Your hands wrap around the baby instinctively, cradling her little head, sobbing as you look at her features.

Andrei’s crying too, his eyes red. He wipes the back of his wrist under his nose and presses her forehead against your temple. “She’s beautiful. Just like her mama.” His voice is hoarse and tears are dripping onto your bare shoulder.

“Drei,” you whisper, full of emotion, and he gets it, kissing you deeply.

“I am so proud of you, my love. My two girls. My best girls,” he laughs, disbelieving. He settles one hand on the baby’s back and she looks impossibly small under his touch.

Time seems to blur from there and you’re allowed to keep the baby on your chest while the nurses run their tests. You hear snippets - she’s 6 pounds, thirteen ounces, twenty-one inches long - but otherwise you have tunnel vision on the gorgeous little baby that’s all yours and Andrei’s. Andrei gets her for skin-to-skin time while they clean you up and you sob again, watching him cradle her on one forearm. He looks up at you, hair flopping over his forehead, exhausted dark circles under his eyes, and beams at you, full dimple and missing tooth showing.

“I love you,” he mouths and then he looks back down at the baby, his expression soft and awed.

Before you know it, you’ve managed to feed the baby and get in a little nap in your private room. Andrei’s stretched out on the little couch, feet dangling over the edge. He hasn’t changed, even though his dad brought back clothes hours ago, so he’s still in his suit pants and dress shoes, button down shirt half-buttoned. He’s dozing too, getting in a nap since he’s been awake for over 24 hours at this point. At some point you know the four parents are going to be bursting down the door to meet her, but for now, they’re respectfully staying at your house until you call to give the okay to come by. It’s nice that they’re letting you and Andrei have time to bond with her, although from the amount of crying when Andrei had called to tell them it was a girl, you don’t think they’ll be able to hold off too much longer.

The nurse brings in the baby in her little plastic bassinet, cheerfully transferring her to your arms so you can feed her again. “Does she have a name?” the nurse asks, getting you all situated. It’s the second time you’ve been asked about her name, but you haven’t had a chance to run your idea by Andrei.

Before you can answer, Andrei’s voice cuts in. “Yeah,” he yawns, “does she have a name?”

You laugh, “no, not yet. But I did have an idea.”

Andrei looks at you expectantly, but you wait until the nurse leaves to speak. Without looking at him, you trace your finger over the slope of the baby’s nose - your nose - and it twitches, like a little rabbit. Andrei smiles at the sight.

“A little zaychik,” he says, watching her nose twitch again while she sucks at your nipple. “What name did you have in mind?”

“I was thinking,” you start, looking up at him, “she needs a name that means something to us. I’d like to name her after someone that means a lot to us too. A name that can inspire her and well, what do you think of Evgenia? Evie for short.”

Andrei’s face freezes and his hand is still against the bottom of the baby’s foot where he’s been stroking with his index finger. He coughs, swallows. “For Geno?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, “since he’s your best friend. I thought it might be nice to honor him.”

Andrei’s eyes well up and he runs the back of his wrist under his nose again while nodding. “I…yeah, solnyshka, yeah. I like that. I think he’ll like it too.” He sniffles and kisses your forehead. Looking down at the baby, he strokes her little hand where it rests on the swell of your breast. “What do you think, Evgenia? Are you an Evie?”

Evie’s little nose twitches again and you press your lips together to muffle a little cry. Seems like that’s settled.

“Evie,” you murmur, heart bursting with love. “She’s going to be the best adventure, huh?”

“We’ll definitely have a good story to tell her about her birth,” he laughs a little wetly, taking her from your arms when she’s done eating. He burps her the way the nurse showed him earlier, looking like a natural. Evie sighs and settles, falling asleep in his arms, her little lips pursed in a pout.

While she’s sleeping, Andrei pulls his phone from his pocket and FaceTimes Geno, clicking the volume lower so his brother’s shouted greeting of excitement doesn’t wake the baby. It’s well after breakfast in San Jose and Geno is outside, sun shining brightly behind him.

“Well? My baby brother has a baby?” Geno grins. “Mama called, but wouldn’t tell me if it’s a boy or a girl or the name. Said you two wanted to share that news. Although you didn’t have a name picked when she called.”

Andrei settles on the mattress next to you and you wave at Geno, a tired smile on your face. “That’s because we just picked it like ten minutes ago,” you laugh.

“You look good, mladshaya sestra,” Geno says warmly. “Now don’t keep me waiting. Uncle Geno’s dying to hear.”

Andrei angles his phone down so Evie’s face fills the screen and you can hear Geno’s exclamation of excitement. “Meet your niece, Evgenia Svechnikova. Evie for short.”

Geno’s speechless for a moment and then he starts rambling in Russian, his voice hoarse and clearly emotional. Andrei’s crying again and then you’re crying and the only one not crying is the actual hours-old baby.

“Evie,” Geno repeats. “She’s beautiful.” He pauses and then jokes, “clearly takes after her namesake.”

Andrei shifts the phone back up so it’s just the adults on screen and you can see Geno wiping at his eyes. You lean your head against Andrei’s shoulder.

“I love you guys,” Geno says.

“We love you too, Uncle Geno,” you reply.

“I’m hanging up before you make me cry again,” he laughs, waving and ending the call. Andrei chuckles and sets his phone down on the mattress near his leg.

“That went well,” he deadpans, a smile playing at his lips.

“I can’t wait to tell your parents her name,” you smirk. “I don’t think there’s enough tissues in the greater-Raleigh area for the flood that’s gonna come out of your mom.”

Andrei looks down at Evie, “are you ready to meet your babushki and dedushki, zaychik?”

Evie continues to sleep soundly, her little face twitching as she dreams.

“I think the question is if we’re ready for the babushki and dedushki,” you tease, holding onto Andrei’s bicep with one hand and tracing the shell of Evie’s ear with the other. She’s just so perfect, you could stare at her forever.

The grandparents are invited to come by after dinner, after you’ve sent Andrei home to shower and eat a real meal. The nurses take Evie to the nursery and you get a solid chunk of sleep. Andrei’s back before you know it, holding a takeout bag in one hand and a little shopping bag in the other.

“What’s that?” You sit up, curious, and set aside your phone. It’s been blowing up with congratulations from your family members and the team.

He sets the takeout bag in front of you, “sushi, as requested.”

You moan happily, “oh thank God, I’ve been craving a spicy tuna roll.” You dig into the food while Andrei sets the other bag on the mattress. He looks a little embarrassed, ears pink, so you wait for him to share.

“I passed by that boutique you like,” he says, pulling out a tissue paper wrapped bundle. “And saw this.” He unwraps it and a little beige onesie spills out, softly ribbed fabric extending up into a hood with a pair of floppy bunny ears attached.

“Oh!” You gasp, all thoughts of sushi forgotten as you take the little outfit. “Drei!” You start crying again. “It’s so cute!”

“Evie needs to be dressed in her finest to meet the grandparents,” he laughs.

“Dressed as a little baby bunny,” you cry, wiping at your face. “Dammit, these hormones are killing me. Ugh, Drei, I love this. I love it and I love you and I love her and I…” You break off into a choking little sob-laugh. “I can’t believe she’s ours.”

He wraps you up in a hug and you cry into his shoulder - he smells like laundry detergent and home. “I can’t either,” he agrees, exhaling in disbelief. Yesterday you were a duo and now you’re a trio.

Andrei pulls back from the hug and looks down at you, eyes twinkling. “Should I go get the little zaychik? Get her all presentable for the grandparents?”

When he brings her back, Evie’s dressed in the little bunny onesie, waving her hands in the air and you promptly start sobbing again. Andrei patiently rubs your back while you blubber about how adorable she is.

He settles her in your arms, already a natural at holding her. You knew he was going to be an amazing dad, but you could never have imagined this.

“Your dada is the best man in the world, Evie,” you whisper to her, kissing a little baby fist when she waves it around. Andrei just looks at you like you’ve hung the moon, a sweet, tired smile on his face.

Considering the fact that your entire lives have just changed, you’ve never felt happier.

#andrei svechnikov x you #andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov imagine #carolina hurricanes

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eggcompany · 2 months ago

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Julian, On My Knees Part1

Young, broke, omega Julian Pankratz, Jaskier, finds a place to live. Sharing a nice little flat in the good part of town with a fit older alpha who's daughter just moved out. The room is perfect, his own bathroom, and his flatmate is probably the most gentle yet stern, buff and beautiful, and sweetest smelling alpha he's ever encountered. It's just perfect

At least he thought so. Stupid thin walls, stupid heat brain.

“Hi! You must be Mister Rivia! I’m Julian Alfred but everyone calls me Jaskier. It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance.” The young man said quickly, in a chirpy way as his hand stuck out as soon as the front door swung open. His eyes squinted with how widely he smiled, the picture of happiness and joy.

Geralt shook his hand, taking in the chipper man.

He was nearly as tall as the older alpha, which was surprising but welcomed. He’d be able to reach all the shelves, Geralt thought as he took stock. The boy had messy brown hair and a round baby face. Soft pink cheeks, sparkling blue eyes, smooth summer sun tinted skin, clean and nice. So much more beautiful than his profile picture.

Geralt nodded, turning to let the omega into the apartment, waving him in with a hand.

“Hmm, this is the flat. Bathroom’s over there. I have my own so that’s yours. That’s my room, you can knock if you need anything, I work from home mostly. There’s a mini fridge in your room, it’s older but if you want it out, I can remove it. The living room, the kitchen, I prep my food so please don’t mess with my containers. I split it down the middle with electric tape to make it easier but it’s not a strict line.” Geralt explained as he walked the other man around the house, pointing at doors. He couldn’t help but glance at the wide smile on the omega’s face.

He’d explained the apartment over text when the boy said he was interested. It didn’t take Geralt long to take the ad down and decide Julian Pankratz was the only applicant. He was young, only 22 years old, worked part time at a coffee shop and part time riding his bike around delivering food. He was an aspiring musician, liked staying in and watching movies, didn’t have many friends in the city, and most importantly, he was an unwed, unmated Omega. Someone who wouldn’t be bringing another alpha into the house at all hours of the night stinking up Geralt’s space.

Geralt knew another alpha in the house would only cause trouble. Betas didn’t like all the rules about scenting in Geralt’s building, and most of the Omegas interested so far were 18 year olds who wanted someone to look after them once they left their parents house.

Julian, Jaskier, was different. He’d said he wanted some freedom and space, just wanting one person to live with so he didn’t get lonely but would let him be his own person. Someone to have his back and talk to but wouldn’t smother him or try to parent him. Seemed like a good fit.

Geralt smiled a bit, amused, when Jaskier’s eyes widened and explored the kitchen, opening the fridge and cabinets. He almost forgot what it was like to be around someone with enthusiasm about everyday things, a youthful bounce in their step.

Jaskier couldn’t hold in his excitement. The space was big and open, cool grey flooring with a big rug in the living room and well loved black leather couch and matching recliner, the tv was huge, the kitchen was huge, the cabinets were spacious, the fridge was big and had a nice freezer, and it smelled amazing, like warmth and clean laundry and a little like leather shoes. It was so much bigger than what Jaskier was hoping for, and so much bigger than what it should be for the price they had agreed to.

“Wow this is nice! I’m so excited! The last flat I was in had two bedrooms and I lived with seven people. I’ll make sure to pay rent on time and keep my space clean, sir. But um… can I ask you something about the room?” Jaskier asked as they made their way to the slightly ajar door. He stopped short of it, not reaching for the doorknob but standing patiently.

Geralt waited a minute for the boy to continue but Jaskier was waiting for the Alpha’s permission. Geralt liked that, it was respectful and pet something ingrained in his mind.

“Yes?” Geralt asked as he stood beside the door he’d freshly painted, a nice light nearly white. He watched the omega look down at the floor, cheeks turning a cherry color. They had discussed house rules, rules for the complex, rent payments, but not quite the details of the actual. Apart from the contents and size.

“I'm an omega. I… have quite um veracious heats. Are the walls…?” Jaskier said in a timid way, embarrassment burning inside of him. He’d only told Mister Rivia that he was an omega, he’d felt it was inappropriate to talk about his heats and such over text. He wanted to make a good impression on the alpha, didn’t want him to think he was some floozy puppy looking for a mate and a free bed. He was a grown man, he wanted the alpha to see that. Even if he still had to ask about the ventilation and soundproofing.

Geralt understood immediately though, having had the room remodeled after Cirilla had presented. He wasn’t shy about omegan issues, he had an omegan daughter, and had dealt with her issues. Not much scared him anymore. Nothing is more exhausting than a thirteen year old omega who wasn’t scared to leave the house in her pajamas, barefoot, to walk two miles to McDonalds if you didn’t wake up fast enough.

Geralt wasn’t a blushing twenty year old alpha anymore, after all. He could handle having a screaming banshee in the house for a few days a month.

“Yes, soundproof and insulated. You have your own thermostat, the door has a seal around it, and there are extra ventilation vents that lead out and not to the rest of the apartment or building. I had it specially remodeled to be… as comfortable as possible for an omega.” Geralt explained and pushed the door open, welcoming Jaskier inside. He stood by the door, wanting to keep the separation of Omegan Space and General Space very stark.

Jaskier walked in, eyes looking at the ten foot ceiling, the calm blue walls, the plush grey carpet, and the still plastic wrapped mattress Mister Rivia said would be provided sitting on a black metal bed frame that had a spiral patterned head and footboard. It was bare but somehow he could already picture where he’d put his things, hang his posters and pictures.

He looked at the closet with its louvered doors and the big window overlooking the park that was spread out next to the building. He could open it and get good fresh air or the warm sun, and hear the rain at night.

“Wow… This is amazing, really. So much space and such soft carpeting… so plush. I'm really really happy. Thank you Mr. Rivia! I’ll go get the rest of my stuff, just a couple bags and my instruments and my ikea shelves.” Jaskier thanked graciously, and happily, nearly skipped, to the front door. The alpha was right behind him, grabbing some keys from the rings by the door.

“I’ll help you. I have your copy of the key in my truck anyway.” Geralt said and couldn’t help the small smile that smirked on his lips at the omega’s genuine response.

“Oh, thank you, dear.” Jaskier said as he slipped his shoes back on and opened the front door. He couldn’t help but feel giddy. He’d always dreamed of a place like this. So what if he had a smoking hot roommate who smelled so nice, it was only a bonus. He couldn’t wait to get the plastic off that bed and sleep alone for the first time in… since he moved out of his parent’s house.

It was like heaven already.

~~~~~

Geralt was surprised about how much he enjoyed another man’s presence in his home. He liked the sound of Jaskier cooking in the kitchen, he liked that the omega would leave his bathroom door open after he got a shower and his scented steam would waft out, all honey sweet and warm, he liked that Jaskier would come quietly sit down and watch TV with him if he heard a show come on.

He liked when Jaskier sat on the kitchen counters under the bright white lights to tweak and fix his old second hand instruments. He liked that Jaskier would talk and talk, about his job, customers, his music, anything in the world and not get offended when Geralt didn’t answer. The alpha found it soothing to have the chatter while eating dinner or breakfast. He liked that Jaskier hummed as he did laundry or washed dishes or swept, tunes that he’d hear on a guitar or keyboard after a few weeks. Geralt felt less lonely, like the hollow feeling he felt after Cirilla moved out was being filled, not in the same way his daughter’s presence did, no not at all, it was an all new feeling. It was nice.

Jaskier loved living in the apartment. He could open up his window and smoke when he got itchy for a cigarette, he could work late into the night and not worry about making too much noise, he could masturbate and not worry about the smell or his sounds, and Mister Rivia let him watch TV with him.

He loved that. He loved sitting by the older alpha, eating dinner with him, greeting him in the morning. He loved that Mister Rivia would ask him if he had a good day at work or if he was cold or if he got wet by the rain and then tell him to get a warm shower and put on some dry clothes before dinner. He liked that when he forgot his work apron and his name tag and his jacket, Mister Rivia caught him in the lobby of the building, all three in his hand and a gentle finger wag.

He loved being looked after. It wasn’t overbearing, it was sweet.

They were happy together, Geralt made sure Jaskier knew when to be out of the apartment when his daughter or ex-wife was visiting, sending Jaskier off with a few dollars to get coffee or a snack. Jaskier gave Geralt ample warning when he was going into heat, making sure the alpha was okay with him to heat in the apartment before locking himself away in his room for a few days.

There were a few hiccups. Geralt had a yelling match in his office which made Jaskier cry and hide away at his friend’s house till Geralt called him, and swore it wouldn’t happen again. Jaskier came home drunk, very drunk, and fell asleep half hung over his toilet, naked from the waist up, shoes left in the middle of the floor, front door left unlocked. Geralt had given him a strong talking to.

‘That is not safe Julian. If you ever get that drunk, where you can’t keep yourself on your own feet, you call me. At least then I can lock our front door.’ Jaskier had sniffled and nodded, making sure he had Geralt on speed dial.

And the one time they actually argued. Four months in and they had a fight. Jaskier wanted to hang up a new poster, a big framed thing. But he didn’t ask where the step ladder was and thought it was too rude to stand on a dining room chair. So he stood on his computer chair. And left his bedroom door open.

Geralt had come home from a meeting at the office, tired and uncomfortable in his tailored suit. He’d barely broken the entryway when he heard Jaskier scream out in fear. He found Jaskier crying, hand over his bloody knee. He was first concerned and scared but once he saw it was just carpet burn, and noticed the computer chair was tipped and the half hung poster, he was angry. He barely kept his voice from rising as Jaskier cried, yelling back.

‘I’m a grown man, I can do it by myself!’ Jaskier had shouted, shoving away Geralt's concerned hands.

‘Obviously, if you used the right things. You should never stand on a swivel chair, Julian, You can be as grown as you want as long as you use your head! Don’t be stupid Julian. Think.’ Geralt had reprimanded, leaving a hand to help Jaskier to his feet. Jaskier had pouted and stomped to the bathroom, slamming the door. Geralt had huffed and slammed his own door.

Jaskier apologized and looked like a dog, tail tucked between his legs.

‘I’m sorry. Just got scared.’

‘I forgive you. You know where the step ladder is, next time, use it. Please’

And all was set back to normal.

Month after month, five had passed, their few disagreements passed easily, and soon Jaskier had been there for Christmas.

They had exchanged small gifts. Jaskier got Geralt a pair of new blue slippers because ‘Geralt yours are ugly and old, look these have really good insoles!’, and Geralt got Jaskier a nesting bundle of music print blankets and pillows.

Jaskier had cried and told Geralt that it wasn’t fair and that he shouldn’t have spent so much money, ‘Jaskier would it make you feel better if I said it was on sale?’

‘Yeah, it would.’

‘It was clearance, cost me barely anything.’

‘Okay good, lie to me if it makes me feel better.’

‘I will’, Geralt had rubbed the omega’s back until he stopped crying. He’d made a note to himself to always tell Jaskier his gifts were cheap, even if they were $100 nesting bundles. In Geralt’s mind it was worth it, to see Jaskier tie the bundle to feel each piece, cotton, flannel, fuzzy material that Jaskier rubbed against his lips repeatedly until he hauled it all to his room with a big smile.

And then New Years and Jaskier sent Geralt a selfie, covered in glitter and glow sticks under a blanket of confetti and fireworks, right at 12:01. Geralt had saved the photo, he didn’t know why, but the big smile on the omega’s face and the way his cheeks were crimson red and eyes drunk dilated, it made Geralt’s heart jump. He didn’t mention it to Eskel or Lambert when they asked why he was smiling at his phone during their poker game.

Then Valentine’s Day which was the worst because Jaskier was supposed to be in heat but he’d just started new hormonal heat aids, which supposedly were supposed to keep his cramps at bay, and they were making him crazy. He sobbed into a gallon of ice cream on the couch, covered in piles of blankets, watching some disgustingly cheesy romance movie with Brad Pitt.

Geralt was trying to finish a spreadsheet but each time he heard the omega sob, it felt like his heart was being ripped out, making him hurt. So he was out on the couch soon enough, rubbing the omega’s back as he cried and babbled about how the medicine wasn’t working and his stomach hurt and his head hurt and he felt starving and he was getting fat and a million other things. Geralt just shushed him and didn’t say anything. Eventually Jaskier calmed down and fell asleep there on the sofa, leaving his empty tub of ice cream and spoon on the side table. Geralt put pillows behind his head, wiped his sticky face and hands with a damp paper towel, and turned the tv and lights off. It made Geralt feel better, even though he kept his door open, headphones half off. Just until Jaskier dragged himself to bed.

They liked living together, they liked having each other around. Just as roommates, as friends, as… whatever they were. They respected each other, never going into each other's bedrooms, Geralt never going into the omega’s nest and Jaskier never stepping foot in the alpha’s den. They didn’t talk about Yennefer or Jaskier’s heats.

They pretended to not hear each other’s personal dramatics. Jaskier pretending to never hear Geralt’s phone calls with Yennefer or the late night binges on the candy he had stashed above the fridge. And Geralt never hearing the noises that came from Jaskier’s bathroom at 3am.

It was easy, it was a silent arrangement that worked.

Until it changed.

#egg_company #fanfic #smut tag #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #geralt of rivia #geraskier #jaskier #geraskier fluff #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rvia #witcher geralt #geralt z rivii #omega jaskier #the witcher #geralt #julian alfred pankratz

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ladylooch · 6 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/ladylooch/750047240359428096/is-there-a-time-mack-needs-to-stop-and-uses-their?source=share

Yea, like can we see a lil snip of this. Like she changes her demeanour and David notices and checks in and they stop. Just fluffy as they communicate and then take care of eachother and cuddle 🥹

18+ content below

It’s been a rough week for both Mack and David. For the latter, a five game losing home stand has him and his teammates incredibly frustrated. For the previous, her article is not coming along like she has been hoping it would for the last few days, creating doubts and uncertinty for what to do next. After talking about their frustrations at dinner earlier, Mack and David knew exactly how they were going to end up in together later.

So it’s not a surprise that David has Mack smashed into the bed on all fours, railing into her from behind as he pins her wrists in place. The primal urge to fuck harder into her hits him and he snaps his hips tighter into her. Mack’s arms move slightly against his grip. He tightens down on her, stapling her arms in place at her sides so he can keep taking her the way they both want.

Mack grows still and quiet under him. David moans. Mack does not.

His eyes snap open and he takes in her form beneath him. She is rigid, eyes screwed shut tight with her cheek pressing into their comforter. David can feel her get tighter around him, but in a different way, almost unwelcome, compared to when she is right on the edge for him.

“Honey, you okay?” Mack shakes her head no.

David releases her immediately, sliding out of her gently. His hands glide up her arms, then down her back as he steps back off the bed, standing behind her as she curls into the fetal position. Her breathing is rushed, arms crossed over her chest. Patiently, David observes her.

“Can I hold you, honey?” He asks, laying next to her on his back, careful not to touch her until she moves for him.

“Yeah.” She sighs, uncrossing her arm and reaching for him. “I don’t know what just happened but all of a sudden I lost it.” She shudders as he pulls her into his side.

“Okay. Did I do something?” He asks seriously, wanting to know.

“No.” She shakes her head, then turns to kiss his lips. “Something in me shifted and I wasn’t in a mental space I could keep going.”

“Okay. We are good?”

“Yeah.” She nods, kissing him again. “Thank you for noticing.”

“Of course, baby.” He smoothes her hair back from her face then kisses her once again. Mack sighs, hooking her arms around his neck and turning so they are enclosed in a circle with their limbs. They settle into silence as they both rub each others backs, intimately connecting despite the bump in the road they just experienced. With other partners, this would be awkward and someone would be running from this apartment. But not with Mack and David. They’re leaning into each other further in this moment than if they were still curled up having sex like before.

“I’m hungry.” Mack says suddenly.

“I can make some pancakes? Or an omelet.”

“Can we split an omelet?”

“Sure.” He chuckles. What she really means is will he make one, so she can have three bites and then he will finish the rest while she grabs ice cream from the freezer. David waits a few more precious seconds, continuing to touch his girlfriend all over her shoulders, back, and thighs, making sure she is okay before he gently peels their naked skin apart. “Come help?” He asks, extending a hand out to her.

She takes it with a smile, slightly shy as he kisses her again.

“I’m trying really hard not to apologize.” She admits.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” He assures her.

“I know… I just… we really wanted this tonight.”

“Yeah, but not if you’re uncomfortable. I’m happy just being in the same room as you, babe.” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, then leans forward to kiss her forehead. “Ham and cheese?”

“Mhm.” She nods, biting her lip as she follows him to the closet for a quick change of clothes.

#mackdavid au

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sinnabarmoth · 2 years ago

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Safe Together

*I was thinking about the end of Season 4 and wanted a short fix it fic that just exuded warmth and safety and some levity. This is what happened. With some light Steddie in the mix.*

---

It had been a long day and what felt like an even longer night. They had defeated Vecna and by some miracle everyone had made it out with only some minor to moderate injuries. Nothing life threatening so any trips to the hospital were put on hold.

The entire team, Robin, Nancy, Steve, Eddie, Dustin, Lucas, Max and Erica sat in the van bandaging each other up in silence. There was no big celebration. Perhaps they would come to that later. Everything right now was just quiet as they breathed in the fact that they had made it out alive.

The most anyone spoke was Max telling everyone about El piggybacking into her possession and fighting off Vecna. Will, Johnathan, Mike, El, and their friend Argyle were on their way to Indiana. And no one had heard from Mrs.Byers.

The following days would be hard to get through. Jason was still out there causing panic in the streets and Eddie was still suspected of murder. But they were alive. They were alive and they had won yet again.

“Where do we go?” Dustin asked, “We can’t exactly let Eddie wander off on his own while we go home.”

“I don’t really wanna be away from anyone right now.” Max said. She was still shaking. “Can we...I don’t know. Stay at someone’s house? All of us?”

“We can go to my house.” Steve said. “My parents are still in France on vacation so the house is empty. Got plenty of space and no one will come looking for Eddie there.”

“Sounds good to me. Slumber party at Harrington’s.” Eddie winced as he sat forward. The bat bites probably hurt like a bitch.

They drove out to Steve’s house. He made a quick sweep of the house to double check that no one was there before ushering everyone inside. The moment they were in the house things became a little more lighthearted.

Everyone washed up and since no one wanted to be alone they dragged the mattresses from the bedrooms and the cushions off the couch to create a giant communal sleeping area in the living room.

Nancy, Dustin, and Erica were in the kitchen making whatever food they could find while Steve, Lucas, and Max set up the mattresses with pillows and blankets. Robin was rifling through the medicine cabinets for painkillers and Eddie was looking for movies or music or anything to keep them entertained and take their minds off of what they went through.

“Oh my god, Steve, why do you have zero snacks in this house?” Dustin groaned from the kitchen. “The most I can find are some stale crackers and those hard candies that every old person seems to own. What even are these?”

“Oh right, my dad hides the junk food so mom doesn’t yell at him about his cholesterol. Look in the far right back corner of the cabinet next to the sink.” Steve called back as he dropped another blanket onto the nest of cushions they had created. “If you go in the basement there’s another freezer where you can find ice cream and some frozen soft pretzels.”

“Oh thank god!” Dustin came back up with popcorn, cookies, chips, and even a few cups of pudding. He immediately went down to fetch the ice cream and pretzels. Nancy and Erica were at the stove making some instant mashed potatoes and frozen meatballs. It wasn’t much but it should fill everyone up.

“So,” Eddie came back with a few tapes in his hands. “We have our choice between Dumbo, Old Yeller, and Gone with the Wind. Harrington, why is it that the movies you own suck?”

“Cause, again, you guys are just going through the family stuff. I think I still have The Muppets Take Manhattan in my room. I haven’t returned it yet.”

“Muppets?” Robin looked at him. “You said your mom made you rent it.”

“Fine. You caught me! I like the Muppets. Sue me! I think we all could use something lighthearted after tonight!”

“Muppets it is.” Eddie walked off again. “I get to go snoop around Steve’s room!”

“What?” Steve blanched, “Oh hell no! Eddie! Eddie do not go in my room!”

For a man with abdominal wounds Eddie raced up the stairs with great speed. “Munson! I mean it!” Steve raced after him.

“What does he have up there that he doesn’t want anyone to see?” Max asked.

“His diary. Dirty underwear. Playgirls.” Robin shrugged. “That sort of thing.”

“Don’t you mean Playboys?” Lucas looked confused.

Robin went pale. “Ugh, right. Yes. I meant Playboys.” This was not going to be the way that everyone found out that Steve was into guys. That needed to be done in his own time.

“How do you know about Playboys, Lucas?” Max cocked her head at her...boyfriend? It was unclear if they were back together or not. Considering how much they kept near each other since leaving the Creele house the odds were looking good for a reconciliation.

“Ugh...hey, Nancy, you need help in the kitchen? I’m gonna come help you.”

“Oh no you don’t.” Max caught him by the collar.

There was a loud thump from upstairs and more pounding footsteps. Eddie came racing back down the steps with Steve on his heels. “He has an ewok plush!” Eddie held up the furry little toy. “Steve “The Hair” Harrington has an ewok plush!”

“Damn it Munson!” Steve tackled him and they landed in the living room. Everyone paused to watch the two young adult men with matching, fresh bat bite wounds, roll on the mattresses, fighting for a Star Wars toy.

Steve wrenched the toy out of Eddie’s hands and held it close to his chest. “Do not touch Gerald!” he shouted.

There was a long moment of heavy silence. The boys were breathing heavy and just staring at each other. Then, Eddie started laughing. Steve slumped and started laughing too. The laughter stretched through the house and hit everyone else. Soon everyone was doubled over laughing till they were red in the face.

Perhaps they had finally cracked. Maybe they were going mad. But damn if it just didn’t matter.

Everyone started gravitating towards each other, leaning on one another as they howled with laughter. Then slowly, the laughter grew louder and turned into wails. Everyone was now holding tight out of grief. Tears falling and heaving sobs.

All of the trauma, all of the horror they had seen and experienced. Not just today but, for some, three years now. It all came pouring out in this one moment where they knew they were safe.

Max especially couldn’t hold in the grief and guilt she had been feeling ever since Billy died. Lucas held her close, squeezing her tight.

The sobs quieted back into sniffling silence. Everyone wiped at their eyes and unclenched their hands from whoever they were holding. There was a deep breath and they all piled in together. They distributed the food and snacks as Steve put the vhs in the player.

The atmosphere eased and they let the horror and grief wander farther away as they watched the Muppets. By the time the movie ended most everyone had fallen asleep. Save Steve who was going around cleaning up wrappers and dirty plates and cups from the sleeping hub.

He set the dirty dishes in the sink and tossed the wrappers and boxes and bottles in the trash. He heard soft footsteps behind him and looked up to see Eddie tiptoeing around the others. He gingerly made his way over to the kitchen where Steve was.

“Hey man,” he whispered. “Need any help?”

“No. I got it.” Steve answered. “Why are you still up?”

“It’s been hard to sleep since...Chrissy.”

“I get it. I barely slept after the first time I saw the demogorgon. It takes time but you’ll find deep sleeps again.”

Eddie looked back at the others fast asleep in the living room. “It’s so messed up. All of this is fucked.”

“Yeah. But we gotta keep living or else what have we been fighting for this entire time?” Steve looked Eddie up and down still in his stained jeans and bloodied t-shirt. “You want some more comfortable clothes to sleep in? Everyone else already raided my wardrobe for clean clothes. There’s probably a pair of sweatpants still leftover somewhere.”

Eddie looked down at his soiled outfit and nodded. “Good call.”

Steve went back to his room and rifled through his drawers. He found a pair of pajama pants and a clean soft t-shirt that he tossed Eddie’s way. Eddie winced a little as he changed. It would take some time before those bites healed. Probably make for some sick scars though.

Neither of them were in a hurry to go back down to the others. They would not be sleeping for a while. So they remained in Steve’s room, sitting on the bed frame without a mattress and just talked. At first they were talking about all the messed up shit that had been happening since ‘83 and then the conversation shifted. They talked about school memories, funny stories, bad dates, and family drama.

Eddie hadn’t expected to relate to Steve so much and Steve could say the same. Turns out they had more in common then having kind of adopted Dustin as their little brother. There was even more they had in common that they didn’t talk about. Things that would take more time to come to terms with. More trust needing to be built to admit. And a great deal more of bravery needed to tell each other.

Yawns became heavier and Steve and Eddie returned to the living room. There was only a small space barely big enough for the both of them left amongst the pile of bodies. They nestled in, pulling one of the remaining blankets over them.

“Night Munson.” Steve mumbled as his eyes fell closed.

“Sweet dreams Harrington” Eddie yawned once more and followed him into a well deserved sleep.

Tomorrow would be a mess but tonight, tonight they were safe.

#these kids need a break #fix it fic #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #dustin henderson #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #nancy wheeler #robin buckley

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spookiifi · 1 year ago

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Tumblr is being stubborn with me, so I have a screenshot of @the-rocket-scientist ‘s ask. This can also be accessed on ao3 here!

Hiiiii!!! I had a lot of fun writing this <3

Hi kids! Do you like violence? Because this story is filled with it <3

I haven’t taken a single anatomy class when I was in high school/college so I apologize for any inaccuracies. This fic gets a bit bloody. For those that are squeamish I’d recommend reading something else.

You were the only human that had the guts to deal with Lucifer’s work. But he never turned, nor experimented on you. He never gave an explanation why.

You considered yourself a secretary of sorts, despite not having a front desk. You and the rest of the alternates’ work was highly confidential. A literal stack of papers had to be signed before you actually became his assistant. It felt like you were selling your soul to the company.

“Refusal to sign these forms or rejection will result in fatal consequences. Do you wish to proceed?”

Lucifer was so forward sometimes. Cold, yet organized in his work.

“…Yes?”

So why were you falling for this bastard of a scientist?

Your objective tonight was accompanying him during an autopsy. One of the human’s hearts filled with black blood mid transformation, sealing off the airways. This was both new and interesting to the rest of the lab. It would be studied greatly and a huge opportunity for larger discoveries.

“Bonesaw.” Lucifer held out his gloved hand, his eyes focused on the open corpse in front of him.

Clean instruments made for surgery were aligned on a tray between the two of you. Some looked as if they arrived straight from an operating room, while the rest mimicked torture devices from horror movies.

You didn’t hesitate on giving Lucifer the bonesaw. In the past, you watched him curl his hands around a ribcage and tear it open. The aftermath that day was…brutal to watch. Those plain white walls were splattered with blood. At least you weren’t the one chosen to clean it up.

Thank…someone for goggles and protective gear. OSHA?

“Tell me, what do you notice about this human’s lungs?” Lucifer turned towards you after successfully slicing through the ribs. You couldn’t tell how he was feeling through the protective mask covering his face.

The morgue was cramped with shelves, and there was little space to stand. The room was only meant for two or three people at a time.

Failed body parts were preserved in unknown substances, while a skeleton hung on display in the corner. You hoped it was made of plaster, but that intelligent mind of yours told you it was real.

The smell was the worst, taking a full week to get used to. You knew behind those freezer doors; other bodies lay motionless inside with tags on their ankles. In all honesty, they were the lucky ones.

Lucifer’s entire being was distracting if you were straight up truthful.

You wondered if he knew about your feelings towards him.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“The corpse, my dear assistant. What’s different?” Lucifer knew the answer, but he wanted you to figure it out. “We should practice on concentration next time.”

How in the hell were you supposed to focus when this fine of a mad doctor was staring you down?

You paused for a moment. “The lungs are dry, and the heart bleeds black instead of blue.”

He seemed satisfied. “Very good. Now hand me that seraded knife.”

Now was your chance. “So…I’ve been thinking. We’ve been working overtime the past week.” You said as you inspected his tools.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow at you as he carefully cut around the ventricles. “Yes? And?”

“Maybe we could spend one night off? Six and the rest of the alternates have this place on lockdown. We don’t even have to leave.” You shrugged as he placed the organ in a biohazard proof bag.

Lucifer stopped. “We spend time with each other every day. You are my assistant after all.”

You grit your teeth, trying to hold back the frustration in your voice. “I mean the other kind of time.”

He seemed to be catching on. “…I’m busy. Now, hand me the syringe. We need to dispose of-“

Fuck it.

“Busy with what?! Every other failed experiment that sits in this damn facility?!”

Lucifer dropped the threaded needle on the tray. He tore off the mask with one hand. “Our current subject is missing! Do you care at all about your career?! Did you even READ the forms you signed?!”

“Lucifer I didn’t mean-“

His face heated up. “We’re so close to reaching a perfect alternate! And you want to quit now?!”

Your eyes widened. Lucifer never yelled at you. Tear droplets formed in the corners of your eyes, and he realized his mistake.

“Oh, no…no please.”

You choked down a sob and turned away, not wanting him to see you like this. “Forget I asked. It’s nothing.” Quickly, you removed your gear and made a beeline for the door.

“Wait!”

“Goodnight, Lucifer. Until tomorrow.” You didn’t look back as you swiped your key card.

After a much-needed shower, you changed into comfy clothes and spent the rest of your night in your room. It was paid for by the Mandela Facility, resembling a college dorm so you were closer to work.

You missed your chance alright…It was a stupid idea in the first place. A bad decis-

Someone knocking at your door distracted you from your thoughts. The first sounded heavy, then grew softer.

“If Lucifer sent you, I’d rather-“

Until you heard a voice call your name.

“Please talk to me.”

You opened your door to find your boss standing in the hall. He wore the same outfit from earlier, besides any medical gear.

“Did I wake you?” Lucifer said, shifting awkwardly when you glared at him. “…Don’t answer that.”

You sighed. “Come in, and close the door behind you.” An uncomfortable silence filled the room as he followed you inside.

Getting comfy on your couch, he sat across from you. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I mean it! And maybe you’re right. We have been working overtime. I’m just…stressed.”

Your eyes narrowed. Was he showing weakness towards you? “Maybe, or I am right? Those are two huge differences, Lucifer.”

He sighed. “Yes, you are. Without the asset, we could lose so much- I mean-” He stopped when you glared daggers at him. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. I didn’t know I meant so much to you.”

You nearly dropped your drink at that last part. “Say that again.”

“I didn’t know I meant so much to you?”

This made you grin. “I forgive you, on one occasion.” This seemed to intrigue him. “We get to leave early tomorrow.”

Lucifer chuckled. “Fine, my little assistant. Do you prefer red or white wine?”

#gabriel x reader #alt gabriel x reader #tmc au #the-rocket-scientist #my fics

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jebtlark · 2 years ago

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Adrift

I woke up on the ship, I know it’s the bridge, but I don’t know why I know. The tech all around me was way more advanced then anything humans had, yet I knew every function. Why do I know every function I’m just a regular joe, wait, what’s my name? Joe feels right so we’ll stick with that. Where was I before I came here? Someone has to be looking for me, like… who would be looking for me? Thinking on it I don’t remember if I have any family, or friends, do I even have a job? Maybe the aliens gave me something to mess with my memory. Speaking of which where are the aliens? I have been on the bridge for 28 minutes and 36 seconds and no one had come in. Maybe they were sleeping? Hold up, why did I know how long I’ve been awake to the second. Questions for later, right now I have to find someone. Walking up to the door it automatically opened for me, fancy. As the doors parted in the middle I started to walk through the corridors. Pretty quickly I found out why no crew had noticed me. The occasional burn mark on the wall and splatter of dried blood told me whatever had happened wasn’t good. Moving much more slowly along the silence was ominous, as I followed the dried blood to the rear of the ship. There I saw the fate of the crew. Someone had piled the whole lot into the airlock and slowly drained atmosphere from it. I knew because if it had been fast they would have been sucked into space. As it was they were still floating inside. After I had a little freak out, gotta treat yourself right, I worked out to the best of my abilities what probably happened. The former crew got boarded by someone cruel, exact goal unclear, and they had done it slowly to make it fun. Just the thought made me almost sick, also absolutely livid. What kind of sentient creature enjoyed being this demented, not just to the crew, but by the looks of the smaller ones, their families as well. Speaking of the crew, despite how sad it was that they died it did give me a good chance to look ok at them. Believe it or not they looked like those ads for sea monkeys. A few differences, like the coloration is bright blue, but that might be due to the vacuum of space. There eyes were compound eyes and they only had the two of them, but they had about a dozen legs and 6 arms. Looking at them I wished they would stop floating around, and that’s when the door to space behind them closed and the gravity kicked back on. I hid immediately until whoever activated it showed up but no one did. Just as I thought it was safe to come out, and while I was here might as well move the body’s and clean the bloodstains out of the wall, I saw motion again thus time from a small square grate in the wall level with the floor. It opened up and out came several dozen small robotic lobster looking things. They scuttled over to the bodies and crawled under them. Picking up the bodies and securing them with their claws, they set off through the ship, me following at what I considered a safe distance. As we walked through the halls I saw much smaller robots, about the size of actual shrimp, crawling along the walls and floors cleaning up the bloodstains. Well that’s convenient I thought, now I don’t have to do it. As we finally arrived at the lobstertrons location they set the bodies one by one into something that wrapped it up in clingwrap looking stuff and then they were shoved into a freezer. Well I guess that was taken care of, guess I would explore the rest of the ship and see if I had anything around here.

#humansarespaceorcs

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authormahimistry · 30 days ago

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Tempting Rebel Princess

Zara

Hayden loosened his grip on my hands and stepped back. He didn’t say anything and raised his hand for me to accept it. I looked at him and his calloused strong hand, muscles and veins prominent all over his arm. He was giving me a choice and space to tell him no and go back to my home, the Golden Palace.

I didn’t want to be alone on my birthday, I wanted him.

I accepted his hand, relieved to see his expression soften when he led me to his suite. He opened the French double doors, inviting me in as I awed at the luxurious interior.

But I was more interested in him.

Hayden had just hung his suit, which I noticed was Tom Ford—the man has good taste, a hitman or not—on the wooden coat hanger and asked me if I wanted something to drink or eat. I shook my head, stepping towards him.

“I want you to kiss me,” I said, my tone more of a demand.

His dark eyes slid to me, his index finger tapping my nose. “Good things come to good girls who are patient, Princess,” Hayden said, his voice rumbling down my body.

Good girls. Princess. I was going to melt if he kept teasing me with his words.

I pouted and sat on the island, removing my heels, and watched him. His back was towards me as he looked into the fridge. I licked my lips, watching him as his deltoids and muscles move, his shirt stretching over his broad shoulder when he pulled out a water bottle and an icepack from the refrigerator.

“What’s that?” I asked, looking at the shiny wrapper inside the freezer.

“It’s a popsicle,” Hayden answered, turning towards me. His eyes narrowed to my clattered heels.

“You have a sweet tooth,” I smiled. “I want to eat it, can I?”

“No, you can’t,” he said, closing the fridge and pointed at my shoes. “Not until you keep these heels by the door and be nice. Then I might let you have it.”

“Are you serious?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“Very serious, Zara,” he said, holding my hand and putting icepack on the redness those fingerprints had left. “Be a good girl and put those shoes where they belong. I don’t like mess.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” I said, my voice fueled with annoyance because I didn’t understand how can someone be caring yet so… demanding at the same time.

“Still, let me. I didn’t like the way he held you.”

I watched his handsome face and bit my lip when he stepped back, pointing to my heels again. From what I knew, he liked to be in control and everything in place. Put together. Almost perfect.

I wanted to tease him and ruffle his feathers.

Shrugging my shoulders, I uncapped the bottle and said to him, “If it bothers you so much, you do it.”

I kept my eyes on him as I drank water, licking my lips and swaying my legs, trying to hide my smile.

Hayden crossed his arms and leaned back on the marble counter. “Stop being a fucking brat, Zara, and put those heels away. Don’t make me repeat.”

My thighs clenched, and blood pounded in my ears.

“Or what?”

He tilted his head. “Or I will spank your ass until I bruise it and you won’t be able to sit properly for two weeks.”

Spank my ass? My cheeks reddened. No one had ever talked to me or address me like that before.

“Maybe… I’d like that,” I heard myself say, surprising myself.

Since when did I enjoy being spanked? Since I met Hayden.

“Zara,” he said in a warning deeper tone that scared for a moment. Okay, he is not kidding about it.

I grumbled, “Fine, fine, I am doing it.” I slid down the island and picked up my shoes, stomping towards the double doors. “Don’t need to act like a fucking dad,” I said and kept them near his polished dark shoes.

I gasped when I felt him behind me, pushing me against the door, his face close to me. “Watch that pretty little mouth of yours before I fuck it, Princess,” he threatened, pressing his body against me so that I could feel every hard muscle on his toned chest.

Biting my lip, I squirmed, wanting to feel him more and touch him. His eyes read my emotion, the neediness in my eyes and body, how I was begging to be touched by him.

“What do you want, Princess?” Hayden asked, his voice softer.

“I want you to hurt me,” I breathed, staring into his eyes. They were a dark, sexy shade of blue. They compelled me to do terrible, dirty things to him and for him. Things I had never imagined I would ever want, but… there was something about him that made me want to be just Zara.

Not the Princess who had her own castle, who ate with a golden spoon every day, who was spoiled rotten from the day she was born.

No. With him, I just wanted to be Zara, a woman who wanted to be pleased and do the pleasing.

“Where do you want me to hurt you, Princess?” Hayden asked, a hint of a smirk on his lips as his eyes gleamed with unknown emotion.

My lips parted, but no words came out. He wants me to make the first move. He wanted to make sure I wanted this just as much as he wanted it, even though I was ten years younger than him.

The thought of this man, this handsome, sexy man wanting to hurt me because I told him to, scared and excited me.

It was thrilling.

“Here.” I placed his calloused hands on my breasts, still covered in the satin fabric of the beige dress. His eyes darkened, his face becoming sharper when he clenched his jaw. I licked my lips, sliding his hands to my waist. Lower. “Everywhere.”

His nose flared, pulling his hands away from my touch as he glared at me. I took a sharp breath when he pressed closer, my back against the closed doors of his hotel suite.

“Don’t mock me, Princess. I will bruise your lips, kissing them, fucking them until you cry,” he rumbled, swiping his thumb over my bottom lip. His hand lowered to my neck, wrapping it around my throat. My eyes widened when he pressed lightly, my pulse getting slower as anticipation and pleasure burned through my core. “I will choke your slender neck. Just. Like. This. Making you hold your breath until you cum for me.”

I gasped, tears blurring my vision when he lowered his hand to hold my breasts. I blinked at him, at the sight of his large palms holding me roughly.

No one has ever touched me like this before. As if they were claiming me with their touch, their words.

I never wanted him to stop.

“You like this, Princess?” He asked, his voice gruff with desire. He squeezed my breasts until a whimper tore out of my lips. As if satisfied with my answer, his hands lowered to my thighs, yanking the hem of my dress over my hips and between my legs.

I held my breath, staring at him through my half-lidded eyes, waiting for him to be rough with me.

But he didn’t.

Hayden ran a finger against my drenched underwear, from my slit to the pleasure nub, rolling the pad of his finger around it. He leaned closer, his musky scent wafting in my nose as he whispered, “I will spank you right here, Princess. Get your clit red and swollen before I stretch your pretty little cunt with my thick cock. I will fuck you hard and rough and won’t stop until you scream. You know why?”

“W-why?”

He pulled back, trailing his finger over the side of my cheek, the same finger he had between my legs. I could smell my feminine musk on it. My inner thighs clenched, wanting to rub against something. Anything.

“Because you begged me to hurt you, Princess.”

I gasped when his fingers clenched around my hair, tugging them back and pulling me closer. I felt the hardness of his length against my legs and I knew he wasn’t kidding about stretching me.

“You can leave right now, Zara, or stay here and allow me to hurt you.”

I didn’t even give it another thought.

“I want to stay.”

He tugged my hair harder until it hurt. His ocean eyes narrowing on my face, “Then for this night you belong to me.”

The dominating tone made something click inside of me. As if that was what I wanted for the longest time after being caged and coddled as a Princess. I could have whatever I wanted, but not… this. This pleasure, this need of getting hurt through pleasure, because who would ever hurt the Princess of Azmia? No one but him. Hayden.

He didn’t know I was a Princess.

He wanted to please me. Hurt me.

I wanted him to please me. Hurt me.

My stomach dipped as if I knew the answer even before he had asked me. I felt my pussy moisten when I sealed my fate and said, “My answer is yes, Hayden.”

His hold on my hair loosened, but he didn’t let me go. No, I didn’t think he would let me go until next morning. I didn’t think I would complain even if tied me up on his bed and held me captive.

Bringing his face closer, he crooned, “Such a pretty Princess.” He smiled and there was nothing sweet about it when he whispered, “I’m going to enjoy breaking you.”

Breaking me? He wanted to break me?

I licked my lips, not understanding why such words from him made me wet. There was definitely something wrong with me.

His lips closed around mine, and despite his tone and filthy words, the kiss was sweet. Caring. His large hands cupped my face, removing the diamond pins from my hair and running his hand through my hair. I relaxed and melted in his arms, humming and gasping into his sweet kiss when he held me up in his arms.

I didn’t realise we were in the master bedroom until he sat on the edge of the bed with me straddling his lap. My cheeks burned, and I wanted to hide my face when we pulled away.

“You’re so beautiful.” Hayden gazed at me as if he was in awe. His fingers tucking a strand of hair over my ear. “Like an angel.”

If it was possible, I flushed more, looking around his room because I couldn’t handle his sincere look.

“What is that?” I gasped, looking at the corner of the room, walking towards it and touching it.

“That’s my uniform.”

I gaped at him and the… uniform. The white soft fabric full with medals and the golden eagle trident.

“You’re in Navy?” I asked, trying to hide my nervousness. I was in a room with a stranger who was a soldier of another nation. If Zayed was here, he would laugh at me.

“Yes,” Hayden’s voice was much closer, his warm breath caressing my neck, his hands on my waist. “I am a Navy Seal Officer.”

Even better. I thought sarcastically.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and realized what he meant by killing people. “You’ve killed people because you are a soldier?” I asked, my voice soft as I dropped my hand from his uniform and turned around.

He nodded. His eyes had a lost look in them. The same look that I had seen in my brother Khalid’s eyes when he remembered the night he had killed our father.

I held Hayden’s hand and smiled up at him. “I am glad you are not a hitman, Hayden.” Leaning up on my toes, I kissed the corner of his lips, feeling the graze of his stubble.

“Hm,” he laid me down on the bed. The mattress dipped when he hovered above me. “You should be, Princess. Now tell me, what have you done before?”

I felt parched when he leaned back on his heels, unbuttoning his shirt. His light tan was beautiful, his muscles tensing and flexing when he unbuttoned the last button and kept it on while my eyes drank over the marvelous sight of his toned abs.

Hayden looked… delicious. With his sandy brown hair, his lean muscular frame, and those piercing eyes pinned on me, I would die of overheating.

“I asked you something, Zara.”

It took me a while to clear the hazy lust fog Hayden had put me under as I blinked at his face. “Huh?”

He smirked, knowing full well the reason behind my distraction. His hands glided over my legs, caressing them mindlessly, toying with the golden diamond chain on my thigh. Should I tell him it was worth over a million dollars with real diamonds? Nope, probably not the right time.

“You told me you are a virgin. I want to know what you have done so far.”

“Oh,” I bit my lip and felt shy. He seemed so experienced compared to me, yet wanted me to tell him what I had done.

Sensing my nervousness, he kissed my knee and said softly, “I want to know so that I can take care of you, Princess. Be gentle and not hurt you.”

I frowned at him and leaned up on my elbows, “But I don’t want you to be gentle.”

Hayden chuckled, pinching my thigh. “I know, you dirty girl. But I don’t want to hurt you in a way that causes emotional or physical damage.”

I didn’t understand what he was talking about, but I trusted him to take care of me.

I sat up on the bed and looked at my lap. “I have kissed and almost ended up having sex… but I stopped.”

“You said he was your age, right?” Hayden asked, putting a finger on my chin and making me look at him.

I nodded. A stable boy, the same person I had kissed.

“Can I ask why you stopped?”

I fumbled with my dress and answered quickly, “Because it hurt.”

His hand froze on my calf as he asked quietly, “Did he hurt you?”

I glanced at his face, at the anger in his eyes, and shook my hand. “Oh, god, no. No. Not like that. I… I stopped because it hurt during… uh, um, penetration.”

He sighed and nodded at me. “He must have skipped foreplay. Foolish boy.”

“Is that all you ever did?”

I nodded. “I want to try everything.”

He raised his brow, “Everything?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl. Remove your dress and get naked.”

Read today: https://www.mahimistry.com

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#tempting rebel princess #authors #book blog #book recommendations #bookblr #bookstagram #booktok #royal romance #indie romance #contemporary romance #romance books #romance novels #romance #romance author #patreon #smut #suggestive

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what-marsha-eats · 1 year ago

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The Great American Kitchen Myth

By Ruth Reichl

At the moment I’m standing in the gorgeous kitchen of the airb&b I’ve rented for a few weeks in Los Angeles. It has every imaginable bell and whistle: dark marble counters, computer-equipped stove, European dishwasher, a cool sculptural vent. There’s a huge refrigerator with freezer drawers that is so tastefully camouflaged by smooth wooden panels you’d never know it was there. Every nook and cranny of this kitchen has been carefully designed so that even the usually inaccessible corner spaces have pivoting shelves to hold the many machines -food processors, spice grinders, mixers – hidden beneath the counters. On top of that, it has a view of an immaculately groomed garden much loved by a neighboring cat who resembles a tiny tiger.

There is not one thing wrong with this kitchen…except for the fact that I hate it.

Despite its glamorous efficiency, this kitchen and I have yet to produce a delicious meal. I am not surprised: all the money that’s been poured into this room have made it cold, clinical and unwelcoming. “Go away!” it seems to shout each time I walk in the door.

It is living proof that the Great American Kitchen Myth is utter nonsense. You know, that one that says it’s impossible to produce a decent meal unless you have a battery of arcane appliances.New and supposedly necessary gadgets are constantly entering our lives. Last year it was a sous-vide machine, a rice cooker or an induction cooktop. This year it’s the Instapot. Next year it will probably be the anti-griddle (such an object really does exist; it is to cold what ordinary griddles are to heat). The people who produce these things want you to covet computerized refrigerators that warn you when you’re about to run out of milk, intelligent ovens that tell you when the roast is done, and countertop cookers eager to produce an entire meal at the flick of a button.

I’ve been breathlessly introduced to each of these items. But I don’t want them. I know that in real life I need none of these things. The truth is that, given a few excellent ingredients, a reliable source of heat, a sharp knife and a couple of pots anyone can produce a great meal. What she can’t do is cook that great meal in a kitchen that makes her (or him) miserable.

The first kitchen I could truly call my own occupied the corner of a bare bones loft on New York’s then ungentrified and fairly scary lower east side. We built our counters by scavenging wooden pallets that had been discarded by our industrial neighbors (back then downtown New York was still filled with factories). Our stove was a cranky old creature someone had discarded and left on the street. There was, of course, no dishwasher, which has left me with a lifelong appreciation for washing dishes. (I find creating order out of chaos extremely fulfilling.) And back then we were so poor that when I needed a rolling pin it made more sense to buy a bottle of cheap wine and use that to roll out my pastry. (The wine was terrible, but it went into a terrific stew.) And I’m convinced that I invented the microplane: when I needed to grate Parmesan I rifled through my husband’s tool box and borrowed his rasp.

That kitchen may have been shabby and small, but it was always filled with music and I danced joyfully around as I taught myself to make good meals out of cheap cuts, bake bread (in discarded ceramic flower pots), and feed the hungry friends who showed up whenever mealtime rolled around. I was so happy in that kitchen that I ended up writing a cookbook. (If you can find a copy of MMMMM: A Feastiary you will discover that it contains not a single recipe requiring anything as arcane as a food processor or stand mixer.)

I moved on to a communal house in Berkeley California where we rarely sat down to dinner with fewer than a dozen people. We still had no dishwasher and not a single fancy food machine, but that kitchen was always filled with people talking, chopping, drinking wine, rolling out pasta on an old-fashioned chittara, and stretching a single chicken to feed a crowd. I don’t think I’ve ever served better meals than during the ten years I lived in that house.

My next kitchen was in Los Angeles, in an old house with a scarred linoleum floor and a single electrical outlet. Once again, no dishwasher. But it was an airy space with a view of distant snow-capped hills and bougainvillea that came twining through the window. Despite the antique stove and scarce electricity I managed to cook Thanksgiving dinner for thirty people every year, and no one ever complained about the food.

For most of human history, feeding your family was backbreaking work. You had to raise the animals, tend the garden, butcher the meat. You had to fetch water, light fires and preserve enough of summer’s bounty to see your family through the winter.

But modern life has changed all that. Indoor plumbing, refrigeration and supermarkets (not to mention on-line shopping) have turned cooking into something that is no longer a chore. Today cooking can be – should be - pure pleasure. So here’s my advice: forget about all the appliances you think you need. Just turn your kitchen into a space you love; everything else will follow.

I can’t tell you what your dream kitchen should be: we all cook so differently that one kitchen couldn’t possibly please everyone. But I can tell you what makes me happy.

I prefer small kitchens. Standing in the middle of mine I can stretch out my arms and touch the sink on one side and the stove on the other. About that stove….. I invested in a very fancy one and I’m sorry I did. My previous stove was the cheapest 6-burner model on the market and I loved it. Unlike the behemoth I now possess, it shot up to temperature in a few minutes, while my top-of-the-line splurge takes almost half an hour to reach 450 degrees.

I like to bake pies (yes, I now own a rolling pin), so I covered my counters with a stone called serpentine which allows me to roll out dough anywhere I want. This material is not only beautiful, but so sturdy I can plop the hottest pots on top without giving it a thought.

I do have a dishwasher, but I kind of wish I didn’t; it takes up too much room, and if I had it to do over I’d put a central trash bin where the dishwasher now lives. It would be a major improvement.

I’m lucky: at five feet six inches I’m the average height for an American woman, and most standard kitchens are designed for me. But if you’re not, fix it; chopping at the wrong height is exhausting. If you’re short, put in layers of rubber mats; if you’re tall, add chopping blocks so you don’t have to bend over each time you pick up a knife. This is a small thing: it is also everything.

Visuals are equally important. Some people like their kitchens spare. I don’t. I prefer color and chaos, and I’ve covered my counters with bowls of fruits and jars of spices. I have a few antique appliances too; my favorite is an old juicer that reminds me of a friendly elephant. It cost $2 in a junk shop, but it makes me laugh every time I walk into the room.

My kitchen is so cheerful that I never want to leave. I have air and light and music. And although it’s small there’s plenty of room for any friend who wants to lend a hand. And that happens fairly often, because this room is an invitation to cook. The cats like it too, and they come in purring loudly as they twine around our ankles. But even when the room is empty, I am never lonely in the kitchen. When I stand at the stove the ghosts of all the women who taught me to cook are there too, cheering me on.

Most of all, each time I caramelize an onion in butter, or the kitchen fills with the fine yeasty scent of bread rising in the oven, I’m reminded of all the little things that make life worth living. Because that’s the real secret of a great kitchen: one you love is genuinely life changing. It not only makes you a better cook, it also makes you a happier person.

(Curious about my current kitchen? You can see it here.)

#ruth reichl #kitchen design

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purplequeen0 · 1 year ago

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I know everyone on this post most likely knows a bunch of ways to deal with extra food, but as a baker who also stress cooks and has

1. ADHD hyper-focus issues

2.Anxiety

and

3.A large family that likes to share food

Here are some of the ways I’ve learned to deal with extra food, if anyone wants or needs it.

Under the cut because this got... long.

(On freezing things:

1. Before you freeze anything for long-term storage, make sure it is cooled completely.

2.Do not refreeze anything after it has been thawed, it will leave you with a miserable texture.

3.I don’t recommend keeping anything in the freezer for more than 6 months to a year.

4.Lable everything, all of it, write down what it is, write down when it was made, and write down when it went into the freezer if it didn’t get frozen within like a week of being made.

For soups, stews, pot-roasts, and casseroles:

5.If you can freeze a small cup of water and keep it in the freezer with something like a coin on top. If the freezer stops working for whatever reason, you will have a decent estimate of how long it has been out, and if it cuts out for a while and then cuts back on you will have something to make sure you know.)

(Edit because I forgot to put this down before I posted it: For the aluminum pans, put a cookie sheet under them when they're in the oven or when you're moving them, they will fold themselves in half at the worst possible time.)

Freezing single servings-

1.If you can get them, silicone cupcake liners work great for portioning out stuff like this. The ones I use usually hold about a quarter cup (so depending on how much you eat at one time might be a serving or about half of a serving), but you can get jumbo ones that hold anywhere from half a cup to a full cup. Just put the liners in a muffin tin, add whatever you want to freeze (measuring spoons are my favorite way to do this for soup-like things), freeze, pop them out of the liners, and store them in a large container of choice (gallon sized plastic bags, big Tupperware containers, and disposable aluminum pans all work well for this). When you want some, just pop them in the microwave for small serving sizes, or, for more than 4ish servings of the same thing, put them in the oven in a covered baking dish (I like corning ware, but you can use whatever) on 250-300ish degrees Fahrenheit until heated through. You can also heat more soup-like things on the stove, just keep the temperature low and stir often until it's mostly thawed so you don’t burn it.

2.If you can’t find or don’t want to use the silicone liners, another easy way to save stuff is to just freeze it in microwave safe containers. I assume everyone knows how to do this, but just in case, and because I’m having fun with this: Put your choice amount of food in the container, put the lid on the container, freeze it. Whenever you want it, either crack the lid or take it off completely (so the steam doesn’t take the lid off for you and blow your food everywhere), stick it in microwave, and heat it until warm. This is also the best way to freeze stuff if you're going to be transporting it (either to take to like work for lunch or to share it with someone).

3.If the other two don’t work there’s one left, fair warning though, this one is my least favorite. Mainly because it can be messy, and it uses the most space. Get quart sized zip-top freezer bags (yes freezer bags, normally I'd say get whatever, but freezer bags are thicker, and you want that, trust me, nothing will make you want to cry like a quart of soup all over your floor), get a large cup and put the bag in it, pull the top of the bag down around the cup so it holds the bag open (if this doesn’t really help explain, and let's face it, it doesn’t, try looking up how to fill a piping bag with a cup, you just want to see how to hold it open) , add whatever you’re adding, and then close the bag while trying to get as much air out as possible (if you want an easy way to get the air out without making a mess- me to, but I haven't found one). Once the bag is closed lay it out flat on a sheet pan and freeze (you can do as many bags as you want like this as long as you can lay them out flat in a single layer). To reheat, the easiest way I've found is to let it thaw in the fridge (it’s best to have it in some sort of tray to catch any spills), then once its thawed, for soup-like things just snip off a corner of the bag and pour it into either a bowl to microwave or a pot to heat on the stove top, for more solid things just scoop out of the bag and heat it however you want.

(Note: 1 is best for things like soups or stews, 3 is best for pot-roast and casseroles, and 2 works well for both.)

Freezing large portions-

1.Disposable aluminum pans are great for freezing large amounts of casseroles and pot-roasts. For the pot-roast just put it in the pan after it's finished cooking and freeze it, to reheat it put the whole pan in the oven 250-300ish degrees Fahrenheit until heated through (That’s familiar isn’t it). For casserole just put it in the aluminum pan instead of your normal casserole dish and cook as you normally would, just heat it the same way you would the pot-roast. Alternatively, for the casserole, don’t cook it! You can just put the casserole in the pan and then freeze it without baking it, then, when you want to eat, just bake it the way you normally do (note: you might need to add 10-15 minutes to your cooking time).

(Note: While this does work okay-ish for thicker stews, chowders, chili, and things like that (just do the same thing you would for pot-roast), I do not recommend trying it with soup. (There is no good way to freeze one large portion of soup.)

Sharing is caring:

For casseroles and pot-roast: Disposable aluminum pans once again work best for these, even if you're not freezing them. Whoever you’re giving it to not need a whole pan of whatever? Fair enough, try half sized pans instead of standard. Receiver of snacks doesn’t have an oven? Microwave safe containers to the rescue.

For soups, stews, and other liquid-y things: You can get microwave safe containers that are meant to carry soup up to like 32oz (technically you can freeze stuff in these but reheating it from frozen is a nightmare). Don’t want or can’t afford to buy containers right now? Understandable, use old juice bottles that have a wide opening, just make sure the bottles are clean first.

(Note: most of the frozen single servings can just be given away as is, this section is more for larger amounts.)

For breads, cakes, muffins, and similar:

Freezing single servings:

1.Slice loaves of bread (yeasted or quick breads) and cakes into whatever size you deem a serving. Put them on a sheet pan lined with parchment paper. Freeze. Take off the sheet pan and put them in a zip-top bag. Small rolls, cupcakes, and muffins can just be put on a sheet pan and frozen as is. To thaw just take out and set on the counter or put them in the oven at a low temperature (seriously, low temp, like no more than 325f, dry bread or cake sucks), or microwave them for about a minute. Sliced bread and cake can also be toasted in a pan with a little bit of butter or other fat (plain bread can go in the toaster but I don’t recommend it for anything very crumbly or with a lot of sugar, burning toasters, despite sounding like the name of an obscure rock band, are very dangerous.)

(Note: Small here means small. As a good rule of thumb, if it’s bigger than, say, a baseball, it’s too big to freeze like this. So, most dinner rolls are okay, but the big bakery style muffins with domed tops? Those are too big.)

Freezing large portions:

1.For whole loaves of bread, cakes, and yes, the gigantic muffins, wrap them tightly once in plastic wrap, and then wrap them again in either aluminum foil or parchment paper (you might need to tape the parchment paper, so it stays). To thaw, unwrap (to cut down on condensation), then just leave them on the counter (you can cover them loosely with a kitchen towel if you want to, but it's not necessary). Loaves of plain bread can be put in the oven at 350f for a few minutes (like no more than 10) to toast them some after they thaw completely.

(Note: If you don’t want to leave them out on the counter, either because of pets, pests (ants, mice, siblings, etc.), or maybe you're cleaning and are afraid of accidentally getting cleaner on it or something, that’s fine. Put it in the oven or microwave, and let it thaw in there. Just don’t forget it and turn the oven on if you do, maybe put a sticky note or something over the controls.)

Sharing is caring:

For cakes and sweet breads (I.e., banana bread, pumpkin bread, zucchini bread, stuff like that.): Aluminum pans again, whatever size and shape you can find that fits your needs. For sturdier things like pound cake just wrap in parchment paper or foil. For smaller things like muffins or cupcakes put in containers so they don’t get squished- that’s it.

For bread: Do whatever as long as it’s clean, and food safe. Seriously, I have gift wrapped loaves of bread (I wrapped it in parchment paper first, gift wrap, while pretty, is not food safe.). Wrap whole loaves in brown paper and put rolls in brown paper bags. Get a wicker basket lined with clean tea towels and put the bread in there. It’s bread, it doesn't care.

(Note: These are all pretty obvious, but I wanted to go over them anyway.)

For cookies: Cookies are easy, you can either portion them out (or not, slice and bake cookies are great) and freeze them raw to bake later or bake them and freeze them. To thaw, put them in the microwave for like 15 seconds and you’re good.

For roast meat: Generally, any roast meat that’s left over is going to be made into the soups, stews, and casseroles, so I don’t really have advice here past saying that you can make a decent chicken broth out of a roast chicken carcass. Just add the carcass to a pot with some aromatics and a lot of water and then let simmer for some time, then strain (for more information look up how to make chicken broth out of a cooked chicken carcass).

Easy to store foods: A good way to deal with having to put up extra food is to make food that is easy to put up. Hand pies, granola, dried fruit, dried meat, fermented vegetables, pickles, jams, jellies, all of these are either easy to put up for later or are meant to be put up for later.

Items mentioned:

Silicone muffin cups: These can be found at target, you can undoubtedly find them online too.

Microwave safe containers: I like these for soup, and these for other stuff. I like these for a couple of reasons. 1. They are for restaurants so they're sturdy, microwave safe, freezer safe, and dishwasher safe. 2. They’re for restaurants, so you can get them in bulk for cheap (Like dirt cheap). 3. They are both BPA free and recyclable. 4. I don’t actually have to buy them 90% of the time- these are what the one of the restaurants I get takeout from use, so I just wash them and reuse them. Beyond that, just look for microwave safe takeout containers and you should be good. (Side-note: I also found these which are made of paper, I haven’t seen them before, but they look cool.)

To be honest I usually would have chickened out on posting this but I spent like 5 hours writing this so fuck that. (Remember that hyper-focus issue comment? Yeah.)

Do other Hearth Witches struggle with, like, wanting to cook ALL the time but also not wanting to be wasteful?

#Food #kitchen witch #I am going to have a panic attack about this in the morning #oh well

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cherievol6 · 2 years ago

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put a ring on it

HEY!!!! IM BACK!!! Not that anyone cares lmao. But I saw Harry these past two nights in my home city, and wow am I feeling empty. I miss him a lot so I decided to write a little blurb that just randomly came to me this morning. It’s short and kind of rubbish, but I was feeling the angst. Hope you enjoy and are keeping well !!!!

i’m working on a slightly longer one, hoping to get it up in the next few days!!!

harry is a bad listener and you’re not wearing your engagement ring…

word count: around 1.5k

warnings: a little tiny tiny bit of angst, some fluff, men being bad listeners, jealous harry, harry on his knees lmao

Harry wasn’t really a grumpy person. You found that nine times out of ten he was more than happy when you curled up into the space next to him and started talking his ear off about your day. He just liked to be in your presence; he was a man in love.

So it came as a surprise to you one day when he was seemingly quieter than usual, a noticeable pout on his lips as he manoeuvred around the kitchen with a kettle in hand, making you both a green tea. Now more than ever you expected him to be more than excited to see you; since you’d just gotten back from a work trip halfway up the country - but he greeted you without so much as a kiss on the cheek and retired to his office to make a phone call with Jeff.

Frowning, you move behind him as he places the kettle down and stirs the tea, arms looping around his middle. “Could I have honey, pretty please?”

He glances down at your hands for a moment. “Mhm,” He hums, “already done it.” He says, slipping out of your hold and giving you a side smile before stalking to the freezer and pulling out some food to thaw. You rack your brain as you watch his back ripple through his shirt whilst he rifles through the freezer drawers, trying to think of something you might’ve done to upset him but coming up blank.

“Everything okay, H?” Your voice is laced with suspicion. He spits out the most unconvincing ‘yep!’ you’ve ever heard, the kind of response you give when you’re not in the mood for something; or rather someone. You notice even in the way he walks as he leaves the kitchen and goes to sit on the patio that somethings wrong; a strange tenseness around his shoulders. You scrunch up your face with confusion but don’t question it, thinking he might need a bit of space before he wants to talk about it, so you stalk up to your shared bedroom and snap on your swimsuit; deciding you’ll shake off your own impending bad mood with a swim in the extortionate pool Harry insisted you had installed. It remained covered up for most of the year given England was your home, but a heatwave gave you all the encouragement you needed to strip back the cover.

Harry lies face down on one of the four sun beds beside the pool as you pad out, feet burning on the hot tiles as you dump your towel on the one farthest from him. He doesn’t flinch and remains with his head in his arms, completely unfazed by your presence even when you’re swimming up and down. It’s not until you climb out of the pool do you notice that he’s turned on his back with sunglasses on his nose, and you’re unsure from the tinted lenses if he’s watching you or sleeping.

“Like the view?” You grin, adjusting your bikini strap and ringing out your hair. His shoulders move in what you think is a laugh but his face doesn’t show much of it, and you sigh, padding over to where he’s laying and blocking the sun.

“Harry?” Your curt tone makes him move his glasses on top of his head.

“You’re getting water all over me.” He mumbles like a child, making a point of swiping the droplets off his torso and heaving a sigh.

“What’s going on with you? You’ve been acting off with me ever since I got back.” Your voice is stern but there’s a soft edge to it, an underlying concern that something serious is going on with him.

“I don’t know. How was the trip? Spend time with anyone special whilst you were traipsing around my home city?” He snaps. Your expression reads confusion as you try and understand where his anger was coming from. All you’d done was go to Manchester for a few days with your colleagues for a project you’d been working on, and now Harry was insinuating you were seeing someone you shouldn’t?

“No?”

“Not even that prat you work with? Henry is he called? Shit name.” He huffs, arms now crossed over his chest like a child. You roll your eyes.

“Believe it or not, I have male colleagues that are very much just that, male colleagues.” It’s your turn to snap this time, looking at him incredulously. Harry doesn’t say anything, shaking his head and looking out to the shrubbery that privatised his home just that little bit more.

“Fucking hell, Harry. I thought you trusted me a bit more than that, I’m supposed to be your fiancée.” You huff, feeling the hurt creep into your chest a bit at Harry thinking so lowly of you.

“That’s funny, because on all of the photos I’ve seen all over the Internet, there’s not a ring to be seen. And now every fucking news outlet is making up stupid stories that we’ve gone through some nasty breakup. So, wanna tell me where it is?” He looks almost upset now, and you finally click into place where the miscommunication has come around.

“Oh my God, H. Really?” You groan, slinking down to the sun bed opposite his and putting your head in your hands. The hands that still didn’t have your engagement ring on, but not for the reason Harry had thought. Harry looks confused and almost deflated as he takes your hands from your face and turns them over to make a point.

“Are you having second thoughts?” He says quietly, brushing his thumb over your ring finger. You swat at his hands.

“Don’t be daft. Honestly, Harry…I swear you never listen to a word I say. I told you before I was leaving that I’d taken the ring to the jeweller’s to get it adjusted. And that I’d pick it up when I got home?” You’re on your feet now, hands on hips as you tower over him. He looks confused at first but his face morphs into one of realisation and then guiltiness rapidly; you can almost see the relief seep into his body alongside it. He offers you a weak smile and you shake your head, flicking more water at him that remained on your body from the pool.

“I deserved that.” He sighs, wiping his eyes with finger, “S’pose I might not remember you saying it. When did you tell me, again?”

“The morning I left.” You deadpan. He racks his brain before shrugging.

“’Think we were a bit distracted that morning-” You give him a threatening glare to shut down the innuendo before it even begins and he snaps his mouth shut.

“I can’t believe you thought I’d do that to you, you pillock.” You’re mildly irritated now but the statement comes out as a half-laugh, partially in disbelief at his forgetfulness and apparent terrible listening skills. He rises from his seat and wipes the droplets of water trailing down your cheek from your hair.

“You’re right, I’m such an idiot. Please forgive me.” He climbs down to his knees with a cheeky look on his face, chuckling as you scoff. Although slightly irritated, it was difficult to stay angry with Harry for very long when he pulled the likes of begging out of the bag.

“Don’t try and kiss up, now. You’ve pissed me off.” You say the words through a smirk, still aware of the small flame of irritation still lingering in your body. He grins and stands up quickly, planting another kiss on your face and mumbling an apology.

“You’re still smiling though.” He muses, gripping your left hand and again feeling for the place of where the engagement ring should lie. You shake your head, gripping his hand tightly.

“Harry?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Listen to your fiancée when she speaks to you, yeah?” You say, gripping his arm even tighter and pulling him into the pool with you, a shrill ‘No!’ screeching from his lips as he falls in after you with a splash. He looks at you incredulously as you use the steps to climb from the pool, hand wrapping around your ankle before you can step out.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He laughs.

“I’m going to have a shower.” You giggle, shaking off his grip and grinning. You turn around and begin to stalk away, untying the back of your bikini strap for added effect. You think you can feel his stare on you.

“On your own?” He smirks when you look over your shoulder while holding the fabric to your chest.

“All by my self. You have a lot of making up to do.”

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry #boyfriendrry #harry styles angst #harry styles story #boyfriend!harry #harry styles husband #one direction #husbandrry #boyfriend harry

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moonlit-imagines · 3 years ago

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Headcanons for being Robby Keene’s coworker

Robby Keene x reader

warnings: minor claustrophobia warning??

a/n: olive i love u and im going nuts over coworker robby (somewhat based off of true events). also this is set before season 1

prompt: a spinoff idea from these headcanons by olive my love 🥰🥰🥰 @retvenkos

robby and you had started working this fast food job relatively close together

like within two weeks of each other

two high school hires, what could go wrong?

(a lot)

you two got scheduled for shifts together pretty often, but managed to hold down the fort

“robby?? oh, fuck. oh, no, no, no” -you in the back

“what?” -robby, turning the corner “how?”

*the floor drain clogging up*

“i dont know!!!” -you

“our shift ends in…twenty minutes. don’t even worry about it, it’s not there” -robby

“but—” -you

“nope, not our problem” -robby, pulling you away

always keeping an extra clean uniform in your bag in case robby couldn’t do laundry at home

which happened pretty often

ALWAYS covering for each other when the other needed it. no questions

big “fuck it” energy all of the time

goofing off when there aren’t any customers

and when there are

“will one of you just take my fucking order?” -rude customer

“why don’t we try that again, sir” -robby

“nevermind…i’ll be leaving a bad review on this place” -customer

“oh noooo, we’ll shut down for sure!” -you, sarcastically

robby walking you to your car, the bus, or home on late shifts

MAJOR shit talking the other staff members and management

“i mean, how hard is it to take out the trash every once in a while?! that’s their job!” -you

“you know, i asked how to ring up a ‘special request’ the other day and the manager told me ‘it’ll just do it itself.’ the fuck does that mean?! anyways i just didn’t charge them. whatever.” -robby

“dude! and he knew the mop bucket was broken and didn’t tell anyone! my feet were covered in mop water, i had to tape it back together!” -you

“how do we work for such idiots?” -robby

“well, it’s a good thing we work for these idiots or we never would have met” -you

singing in the back while you do the dishes

which robby sometimes joined in on when he felt like it

messing with each other when one of you goes into the walk-in fridge or freezer (enclosed space)

*light turns off* *screaming*

getting absolutely destroyed during rushes

shit talking customers

trash can trick shots

“watch this” -you, kicking a piece of food off your shoe and into the trash

“what?! no way, let me try” -robby

predictably who gets fired next

“i got ten bucks on peter by next week” -robby

occasionally snagging some food from work

“you’re really gonna eat that? after everything we see back here you’re gonna eat that?” -you

“food is food” -robby

“not what it poisons you” -you

sneaking pictures of robby whenever you get bored

they can be pretty funny sometimes

when you’re not working with him, you know you can talk shit about whoever you ARE working with

y/n l/n: i cannot live like this. they just made food without gloves on

Robby (work): you’re joking

y/n l/n: i really wish i was. please save me

threatening to quit at least twice a week

“if you quit, i’ll quit. we can quit together” -robby

never actually quitting

convincing robby to make dumb videos with you while it’s slow

definitely have a ton of “disappointed face” pics together

every once in a while a crackhead strolls through the store and you just roll with it

if they don’t bother you, you don’t bother them

robby argues with customers as time goes on

ESPECIALLY ones giving you a hard time

having that “look” at each other when you know you’re annoyed with something but cant say it out loud at that moment

“did someone…did someone throw a salt shaker at us?” -you after dodging a salt shaker during a rush

“we don’t get paid enough for this shit” -robby

finding the most insane messes

“someone squirt ketchup all over the window” -robby

“wanna look for new jobs together?” -you

eventually you guys get some pretty sketchy customers

“name for the order?” -you

“trey”

“cruz”

they start getting all buddy buddy with robby and offer him a “job”

“can that one come too?” -robby, pointing to you

“think they can keep up?” -trey

“they run circles around me, they’ll do just fine” -robby

quitting on the spot—together. just like you planned

the perfect end to the perfect beginning

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @retvenkos // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @an4aaa // @dindjarinsspouse // @summersimmerus // @xoxobabydolls // @sapphireplums // @petersgroupie // @ravenhood2792 // @mellowkingdombouquet // @itachisdangos // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon //

#robby keene imagine #robby keene x reader #robby keene #cobra kai #cobra kai x reader #cobra kai imagine

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hansensgirl · 4 years ago

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put me in a movie.

summary. | He knows you can’t make it on your own, so he’ll put you in his movie.

warnings. | Dubcon (reader doesn’t know what he’s doing but consents to it), smut, drinking, age gap (reader is legal), virginity loss, choking, spanking, dirty talk, degradation, corruption kink, innocence kink, cream pie kink, penetration, teasing, praise, filming, voyeurism, porn (the industry), fluff, yearning, Daddy kink, humiliation, overstimulation, dumbification kink, and more. SMUT, 18+ MINORS DNI.

word count. | 6.5k.

pairing. | Grey!Pornstar!Helmut Zemo x Innocent!Reader.

a/n. | please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (and i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know. inspired by wet, written by the talented @thewritingdoll! do not translate or repost my fics at all.

You don’t like the heat, but you love the summer. The way the days are seldom cold and cloudy, with that occasional breeze that your skin gracefully soaks up in the same way your beach towel soaks up the water on your bathing suit. Popsicles of different flavours dripping down your skin and onto the hot sidewalk. The sticky residue makes you cringe, and you’d use the damp side of your towel to wipe it away. It would work for a few seconds, maybe even a minute or two, before the feeling returns.

You hate the heat, but you love to see him. Those swim trunks of his sticking to his wet skin. They’re a blue colour that seems easy to describe at first glance, but you’ll soon realize just how many shades of navy blue there are, and suddenly you don't even know what colour they are. Maybe it’s the colour of the jeans the cameramen wear, or perhaps it’s the colour of the night sky at around six in the evening during the summertime.

They lug heavy equipment, and you just wonder if they’re filming a movie. If your friends and family members got word, they’d probably lose their minds before begging you to get them a part. Vying for fame runs through the family tree branches, and even you would want a small part in it as well. You give them empty promises, forgetting their words after a few minutes until the following text message or phone call.

You don’t spend much time at the beach anymore. Heck, you haven’t been there since June. Your friends have left with their boyfriends and girlfriends on a trip to Bali, and all you have are your family members to keep you company. Your white fence, magazine and lawn chair are all you know of now. You spend your days outdoors, knowing each one will be filled with the same things. The sunlight, bees buzzing, and seagulls having unwarranted ferociousness.

Your parents spend their days at work, and you stay home to hold your small fort down. You don’t water the grass or touch the garden because your father does it better than anyone. You don’t touch the paint meant for the walls or the furniture boxes that are strewn across the floors because your mother knows where to put them and how to paint. You just relax, and you don’t mind it at all.

That was until you saw him.

Curiosity is your closest friend other than the blue raspberry flavoured popsicles that take up more space in your freezer than anything else. So when the empty house next door suddenly filled up with around half a dozen people, you just couldn’t help but wonder what they were doing. So you peer over the fence, standing on the small two-step ladder that your dad stole from his previous job. Women and a few men are laughing, dressed down in both swimsuits and t-shirts. Their bodies are lovely, the pinnacle of beauty that you sometimes envy. Other times, you’d feel as though you’re the prettiest girl in the world, and that’s not far from the truth. They’ve got different brands of alcohol in their hands, White Claw cans littered on the ground, and you cringe at the mess.

They must be mentally younger than you’ll ever be again because no person older than you can act like this. Heavy, black cameras are resting nearby briefcases, and you hope to god that nothing illegal is going on. The last thing you need is the police questioning you at 1 in the morning. Some of the men ogle at the younger ladies, and they bask in the attention. You watch as their eyes rake up and down their shiny, sweaty bodies.

“Oh, please, the least you all can do is wait for me before you start the party,” a man snickers, stepping out of the house. You look over to him, and your breath is taken away. Water drips down his face, cascading down to his neck and onto his slightly hairy chest—a navy bluish-purple robe and those blue swim shorts that peek through underneath the cloth. The colour of the fabric goes oh so well with the blue of his eyes. They all laugh until they’re sighing and already cracking open another bottle of beer.

You admire him from afar, and you can’t help but be mesmerized by the way he moves: such grace, such elusiveness. The glass in his hand isn’t cheap beer or tequila; it’s whiskey that looks rich as fuck, and he swigs it back like it’s water. You remember the first time your father and mother brought whiskey home from the local liquor store. Your father didn’t enjoy it, and neither did your mother. It sat in a random cupboard until a year ago when your mother decided to throw it out.

He lets out an exhale as the amber liquid flows down his throat, and you watch in awe as he handles the burn like a champion. God, you can’t even handle beer if you try hard enough. He gently places the glass onto the table, far away from the men’s feet, as he knows that they can be quite clumsy. There must be a proper name for all feelings; you believe. Like that feeling when it dawns on you that you’ll never experience something like this ever again.

Or maybe the feeling that Helmut has right now. Not the excitement of finishing this film, and not the tiredness that is a result of working too hard. No, the feeling that he knows you’re watching him from over the fence. He sans his hand towards you, and you quickly duck down, letting out a whimper. You nearly fall from the small ladder, but it wouldn’t be so graceful if it did happen. “What’s wrong, Baron?” one of his co-stars teasingly asks.

“Nothing... Must’ve been the whiskey…”

You don’t hate the summer; you just don’t like the boredom. Even relaxation is something you can tire of, believe it or not. You’ve got nothing to do. Your friends are still out of town, and your parents are at work. You’ve cleaned the house not once, not twice, but three times. Your closet is as clean as it’ll ever be, and the pantry is now organized by most used to least used. The plants have been properly watered, even though it wasn’t necessary since the forecast said there’d be light rain.

You love the rain, especially during the summertime. The sky makes the surrounding world have an almost orange tone to it. The after smell––an earthy, oceanic scent that is so unique––is something you’ll forever look forward to. You’re excited for the day it’ll rain, but even meteorologists tend to be wrong, and Mother Nature has a thing for keeping her children on their toes. It’s one of the many reasons why you love her. So with your little red dress on, you spin around in the backyard.

You’re sensible. You know what creepy crawlers lie underneath the dirt, between the fluffy grass. So instead of being barefoot (just like in those Sofia Loren movies) and playing around, you grab that little latter once again. You’ve scrubbed the grooves and cleaned them of their plant stains––sloppily, of course. Your oversized slippers belong to your dad, and they struggle to stay on your feet, but it doesn’t matter.

You’re not going to be moving around much, anyway. You move the latter closer to where you last saw the group of men and women. You truly hope you don’t get caught and get into any trouble; the last thing you want is your parents scolding you and embarrassing you. You step up on the ladder carefully, grasping onto the wooden fence for support. The surface is hot to the touch, and you really want to let go, but you really shouldn’t. You whisper affirmations along the lines of ‘I won’t fall…’ over and over again, under your breath.

And you hope to God they work.

Admittedly, you also hope he’s wearing those blue swim shorts of his again. The look (and he) resides in your heart, amongst other tubes and canals that have learned to make room for friends, family and passions. But he’s not a friend, he’s not family, and he’s most certainly not a passion. ...He’s something else, that’s for sure. An enigma, really. He reminds you of that feeling––the one that has a name, temptation. Someone tells you not to do something you weren’t going to do in the first place, and now you want to do it.

Except the case is different. You shouldn’t be perving on strangers like this––sneaking up on them, spying on them––all because you just can’t help it. Your mind tells you to stop, but it’s just giving you all the more reason to continue doing it. So, until you nearly get caught one more time, you’ll continue to watch him. Desperate to figure out who he is and what he’s doing.

The cameras are no longer on the ground; a smart decision, given that there’s a pool that takes up more space than anything. The blue water of pools has always fooled you. You grew up believing that it was the true colour of water, not even knowing that it was, in fact, the tiles and not the water. There’s no mess there either, clean and tidy. Maybe professionally done, because the concrete has but not one dark spot or crease where grass grows out of it.

Laid perfectly, you know your mother and father would admire it for a few minutes. You squint your eyes and gaze at the glass sliding door. Inside is him. You let out one of those dreamy, love-filled sighs that only main characters do in romance movies. You watch him as he pours himself a cup of coffee, two spoonfuls of sugar, and a dash of what seems to be almond milk.

You wonder if he likes iced coffees, as they can be so nice during the summertime. He wears those lovely blue swim shorts once again, hair slightly damp (with a pretty curliness to a few strands) and a navy bathrobe. It’s that same outfit as the other time you saw him, and you realize that they’re probably filming a movie. He moves around the counter, putting away certain little ingredients and whatnot.

The most mundane actions ever, ones that even you did just this morning. But god, he just makes it all seem so unique. He cards his fingers through his brown, almost dirty blond hair. There are clumps of strands that stick together, wetness that’ll dry probably as soon as he steps outside. He faces the window, staring out towards the fence that has been freshly painted, and sighs.

His head lulls back, and his neck is exposed. He’s probably both an actor and a model, you think to yourself. His chest hair has grown a bit more, and you can’t find yourself complaining. Tingles run through your body and even down to your pussy. You rub your thighs together, trying to make the feeling go away, while still being careful about holding onto the fence. You hope that he doesn’t know you’re watching him because you’ll never be able to live that down.

And it’s just so unfortunate that Helmut is such a clever man. Heightened senses from when he used to camp a lot when he was younger; he just knows practically everything. He knows you’re watching him, squinting your eyes until they’re nearly shut close. The skin around them wrinkles in the most adorable way, just like the way your nose scrunches up out of instinct. God, he could kiss every crevice of your body, even if you don’t know who he is.

“Hey, Helmut, we have a few re-shoots to do. Do you want to start now?” one of the cameramen asks him, holding a microphone in his hand. “No… I’m tired; we’ll do it all tomorrow,” Helmut says, waving his hand. He’s no longer looking outside and instead at the man who he’s addressing. He nods and walks off before Helmut follows him. Common courtesy is to always escort your guests out, and Helmut was raised with manners. With a hand on the man’s lower back, and a smile on his face, Helmut gently pushes him out the door and locks it.

You watch him as he disappears, seemingly leading someone out of his home, and you think all is fine. That is until that little voice in your mind decides to be obnoxious. The slight possibility that you’ve been caught and he’s mad haunts you, and your breath hitches. Your eyeballs are wide open, as big as the eyes of an owl, and your hands shake a bit out of fear. They dampen up a bit, not enough to the point where you’d be disgusted, but they’re clammy nonetheless.

You make a move to jump off the latter, not caring about the possible risk of falling and scraping your pretty legs. Your hands begin to let go of the fence, but they’re stopped by someone grabbing you by your wrists. You let out a squeal of shock as they hold you tightly from over the barrier, and you’re screwed. “I’m sorry!” you quickly yell, squinting your eyes out of fear. You’re not sure what to expect, whether he would yell at you or threaten to call the cops.

“No, it’s okay. Calm down, I’m not mad. Come back,” Helmut tells you, and you calm down. Yet you’re still nervous, scared that he’s a liar and that you’ll be in deep shit with the law. You step back onto the latter and are wary of looking over the wood. His eyes meet yours, and you swallow thickly. “I’m not mad, okay? I think it’s kind of cute. You’re like a curious little bunny,” he smiles, and you giggle.

“Never been called that before, usually just a curious cat,” you share with him, and he laughs. “Well, that’s not wrong,” he adds. A brief silence intrudes, and you just stare at one another. Helmut’s eyes jump from feature to feature on your face, relishing in that unique gorgeousness of yours. Someone like you will never be found amongst models because you’re an absolute angel. You’re like a pretty rose amongst other flowers; all are beautiful in their own ways, but you always manage to stand out.

You wonder if Helmut is the wolf to your bunny. That dark look in his eyes that compliments his features and overall attitude. He carries himself in such a way that old Hollywood actors wish they were so graceful. He’s the polar opposite of you––seemingly. But from the few words you’ve exchanged with each other, he just might be a bunny friend to yours. “I- I saw that there were cameras and I heard people talking… Are you filming a movie?” you ask him.

“...Yes, we are, bunny. I apologize for being so loud. Do you forgive me?” Helmut questions with a smile on his face. You nod your head and bite on your bottom lip, watching as his eyes brighten up a bit. “What’s it about? Can I know? Are you the main protagonist? Or the antagonist? What genre is it?” you interrogate, flooding him with questions. “Shh, one at a time, bunny. It’s very, very special and secretive. I can’t tell you much. But I’m the main protagonist, and it’s a bit of a naughty movie, so I don’t think a little girl like you should know much,” he whispers to you.

You nod your head as you listen to him, so intrigued about the work of art being filmed next door. “I’ve always wanted to be in a movie! Especially in one of those old Hollywood ones, they’re so good,” you admit to him shyly, with a coy smirk on your face. “Really? I think you’d be an amazing actress. You’d be even more popular than Audrey Hepburn and Marilyn Monroe,” Helmut praises, and you giggle once again.

“T- Thank you so much! ...Can I be in your movie?” you politely request him, but he shakes his head. You frown, your bottom lip jutted out. “You wouldn’t want to be in this movie, bunny. Remember what I said? It’s a naughty movie, and you’re just a little girl,” he reminds you, but you’re still pouting. “Is it a violent movie? One with curse words and lots of scary stuff?” you innocently ask, not sure as to what he means.

Helmut laughs quite loudly. “No,” he stifles a chuckle, “but one day I’ll shoot a movie with you, and I’ll show you how it’s all done.” He promises, and you can just tell he’s honest. You’re elated, hoping that the day he’s talking about will come soon. “What is your name, bunny?” Helmut asks, and you tell him. He nods before repeating it, giving you a smile. He brings both of your hands close to his face. You go on the tip of your toes to properly watch him once more. He presses his lips to the back of your hands, kisses them one by one.

“Go get some rest, bunny, and come by my place tomorrow,” he tells you before letting go of your wrists. He walks off before you do anything else. Sliding the glass door behind him, he disappears somewhere, and you’re left all by yourself. You’re still standing there, sighing dreamily as you replay the moments that will surely turn into a broken record. You hope that he’ll wear those blue swim shorts again, even though he’s already worn them twice.

There’s a skip in your step—nothing new and nothing unusual. Your shoes scratch against the concrete of the sidewalk that connects to Helmut’s front door. The sun only rose an hour and a half ago. The sky is a bright blue, filled with a few clouds that compliment the colour. The sun beats down onto your skin, and you haven’t forgotten to put on sunscreen once you finish twirling around in your little sundress.

You’ve got a miniature backpack that is slung over both of your shoulders. It’s orange, a bright one, in fact. It reminds you of the tangerines you love to peel, and those creamsicle treats that can be quite rare to find at this time of the year. You climb up the two steps that lead to his grey door, and you rap the wood a few times. There’s a doorbell too, one of those high-tech ones that record everything in its view.

Nothing but silence echoes back. No cars driving by, no birds chirping, no insects buzzing. Nothing. You wonder if he’s woken up yet, or if he’s even home. But as the door suddenly swings open––without a squeak, mind you––you’re met with the smiling face that belongs to Helmut. “Good morning, early-bird, is everything alright?” he questions, not one ounce of sleep tainting his look.

“Good morning! Everything is alright… D- Do you remember what you told me yesterday? About coming by?” you ask him, almost thinking to yourself that you’re just insane and that conversation never really happened. “Oh, right! Sorry, I've been a bit forgetful lately. But come in, have you eaten already?” Helmut asks as he moves to the side for you to enter.

Hesitatingly, you step inside his home. You kick off your shoes and look around. It seems sleek and modern at first, quite… different from the familiar feel of your house. Now, there are no wild polygons or geometric shapes that make you feel like you’ve been placed on a spaceship. No, it’s something that even your mind can’t come up with. The walls are a cream colour, engraved with different patterns that make it resemble marble. The chairs and couches have clear plastic legs on them, adding to that newfound era feel.

The floors are a light brown colour; wood in the shape of long, skinny parallelograms fitting against each other perfectly. The lights hang down a bit, high ceilings that you can’t even fathom reaching. You spin around and look up at them as they shine down brightly on you. They stem down from a pretty grey bronze appliqué that is attached to the ceiling. It’s practically art, just like the portraits of half-naked ladies that hang on his walls. There’s a specific piece that is above the fireplace.

It’s a mirror, and your reflection is in it. So is Helmut’s. You’re in front of him, looking at him through the mirror. He’s behind you, staring at your reflection. You both stay like that for a bit before you look away and admire the windows. He has such a lovely view; you can’t help but envy him for it. “Now, bunny, I have to be honest with you. We wrapped the movie up last night, and it was very late. I didn’t call you over because of that, and I’m really sorry about that. Do you forgive me?” Helmut questions.

You nod your head eagerly, just sensing that he’ll lead on with some sort of good news. Your parents have done that far too many times for you not to know better. “But, if you want, I’ll put you in a movie. It’ll be just between you and me because it won’t be too professional, okay?” Helmut grabs your hands and looks you in the eyes, waiting for your answer. “Oh, yes, please! That sounds amazing. Thank you so much!” you cheer, wrapping your arms around him.

You hug him tightly, and he eventually hugs you back. “Now, I want to finish it as soon as possible. So set your bag right on this couch, and go sit on that one,” Helmut instructs, pointing at the biggest couch in the living room. You nod and do exactly as he tells you. He walks away, possibly to set something up or to get ready, but either way, you still sit on his couch, filled with pure excitement. You cross one leg over the other, your pretty white dress covering the upper half of your thighs.

Lace that is on top of the cotton, both the same colour, and you realize how much you love this dress. Helmut saunters back into the living room, holding a giant tripod in one hand and a small camera in the other. You gasp at the sight, and he chuckles. Setting them up from the other side of the small coffee table, you watch him in awe. “This is going to be… a big girl movie, okay? Just like the one I was in. But I don't think it will be visible to the public eye, might just be between you and I,” Helmut tells you.

You nod in understanding. “Are you fine with that, little bunny?” he asks you just for reassurance. “Mhm, you can do anything you want; I don’t mind!” you reassure him, with a giant smile on your face. He swallows thickly as blood rushes downwards to his cock from your words. You still grin gleefully, such innocence on your features that he almost feels bad for having feelings for you.

He presses the little power button on the camera and waits for a green light to come on. With a smirk, Helmut walks around the table and stands in front of you. You look up at him, waiting for him to do something. He bends down and grabs both sides of your face––gently, of course––and he makes you stand up. He tilts his head and leans forward, slotting his lips against yours.

Now, you’ve kissed someone before. His name started with something along the lines of ‘J’ or ‘L,’ but that doesn’t matter. But that kiss was nothing like Helmut’s kiss. His kiss is soft and passionate, something you struggle to match. His lips stay locked with yours before moving to push his tongue into your mouth. You’re not sure what to do, so you just give up and let him kiss you until you both run out of breath. His tongue runs against the wet skin of your mouth, and you gasp at the feeling.

He eventually pulls away, and he looks at you with his eyes blown out. Helmut sighs and smiles at you. “You gotta trust me, okay?” he tells you once more, and you nod. “Ok…” you trail off, not knowing what to follow up with. “You gotta call me by a nickname, bunny… Hmm, how about Daddy?” he exclaims, his accent becoming more prominent. You love it and how unique it is. “Okay! I like that one a lot, my friend calls her boyfriend that sometimes,” you share with him, and he laughs.

He sits you down on the couch again, and his hand inches up your dress, making you giddy. He smiles at you, and you can see from the corner of your eye how the camera is filming you both. Helmut just knows you’re wet already, but you probably don’t know it. And he’s not wrong. You feel slightly tingly, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary. Your panties slide down your legs, a wet patch on them, and Helmut throws them to the side. He lifts your dress over your head and tosses the fabric away, too.

He takes a step back and admires you. You still have your ankle socks on, but God, you’re so gorgeous he thinks he’s in heaven. “You’re so pretty, bunny. The prettiest bunny I’ve ever seen,” he compliments. You grow shy and smile before whispering a thank you. You smile at the camera, and he begins to undress. The first thing that goes is the robe, and his chest is now exposed.

Helmut hasn’t shaved his chest hair, and you’re glad. It looks nice on him––but to be fair––anything does. All he has on is those swim shorts. God, you love those shorts so much. They’re no longer wet, and yet they still cling to his thighs. He slowly pulls them down––and you feel as though you should look away and give him privacy––but you just can’t. His cock is hard, and it shows through the fabric, but you’re too busy staring at his hands to notice it.

His Adonis belt is slowly exposed, along with his pelvic bone, as he pulls down his boxers as well. There’s a small bush of hair right above his cock, and you find yourself wanting to tangle your fingers between the strands. Helmut’s cock bounces up––hard, red, and leaking––and the tip slaps right below his belly button. You let out a gasp, and he chuckles. His swim shorts lie on the floor, and you’re suddenly being urged to lay back.

Helmut climbs on top of you, caging you beneath his well-built body. Soft abs that are just perfect enough for you, and big hands that hold you so lovingly. He wants to feel his rough palms against your delicate skin, falling into every groove and curve there is. Like an artist admiring their artwork, he runs his hands along your body. From your thighs to your hips, over your stomach, between your breasts, all the way up to your neck. His hard cock is between your legs, nearly touching your sensitive little pussy.

You swallow nervously at the feeling. Helmut’s left hand wraps around your throat, and his right hand moves downwards to your legs. Gripping your calf, he places your right leg on the head of the couch and moves to position your left leg so that it hangs off the edge of the seat. You’re spread wide open for Helmut, not able to hide your naked body or close your legs. Your hands rest above your head, almost as though you’re pathetically shielding your hair from the rain.

Helmut’s hand still rests on your neck, but he doesn’t squeeze your throat or anything like that. You’re not sure if he’s playing the antagonist or not, but you decide to just go along with what he does. “You’re okay, right, bunny? You’re fine, I’m gonna treat you so good,” he promises, and you give him your best superstar smile. You have to admit that you’re nervous, but you trust him completely. Helmut would never do anything wrong to you.

“Has anyone ever touched you down here, bunny? Have you ever touched down here?” he questions you, walking his fingers up to your soaking wet pussy. “Hmm, uh, I touched it once, but I didn’t know what was happening, so I stopped,” you shyly explain to him, and he nods. “That’s okay, bunny. Can I touch you here? I won’t hurt you too badly, I promise,” Helmut assures you, and you nod. His index finger sticks out, and he watches as slick drips from your hole and coats the silky skin around it.

The digit becomes a bit shiny and quite sticky, and he traces your slit lightly. You shiver lightly from his touch, and sensitivity blooms in your core. “Uhm… Daddy?” you call out to him, a bit worried. “What’s wrong, bunny?” he asks, bringing his finger up to your clit. It throbs with want, just like the veins on his cock. “It feels very sensitive, almost too sensitive…” you admit to him, even though he continues to touch your clit.

“That’s okay, bunny, that’s how it’s supposed to feel. But if you want to stop, just tell me,” Helmut urges you. “Okay, Daddy.” He rubs your little nub in small, light circles. The muscles in your legs twitch, and you bite down on your bottom lip. He continues to touch your clit, and you begin to writhe from the overwhelming feeling. You let out a few whines, and Helmut watches as your cunt just gets wetter and wetter.

You try to shift his hands away from you in your weird position. It’s just too much at once, and you’re scared of what will happen next. The pornstar’s finger slips off your cunt, and he lets out a small gasp. The sound is mixed with displeasure, and you look him in the eyes with innocence. “Don’t do that again, bunny,” he warns, squeezing your neck a bit just to add to his threat. His index finger returns to your clit, and this time, he rubs your little pearl even harder. You see stars, ones that are dark and would be hidden in the blackness of outer space. Your eyes roll back into your skull, and you’ve never felt such pleasure in your life. Helmut’s digit touches the most sensitive part of your clit, and you jerk in response. Your legs try to shut close, but his body stops you from doing so.

When you open your eyes, you’re faced with a displeased superstar. Helmut lets out a shaky exhale, trying to compose himself. He knows he shouldn’t get mad at you, but he just doesn’t like it when he doesn’t have his way. His hand leaves your cunt and moves downwards. Suddenly, a harsh slap lands on your ass, making you cry out in pain. The skin stings and prickles, and you can feel slight tears beginning to form in your eyes.

Instead of staring at your pretty little face, Helmut squeezes your neck even tighter and watches as your little hole begins to leak with even more wetness. “Aww, bunny, did you enjoy Daddy hitting you? Hm? I bet you did; that’s you’re so wet,” he chuckles, and you grow shy. He’s not wrong, though. You enjoyed the pain quite a bit, even though you tend to avoid any and all activities that could leave you with a minor injury.

“Such a little slut for pain. But I bet you don’t like it when Daddy gets mean with you, right? Yeah, because you’re just a sensitive little bunny,” he coos, and you smile. You nod to him, and he grins down at you. Helmut’s cock is a furious red, almost purple if you really look closely. Beads of precum run down the sides of his cock, all the way to his thick base. He slaps your ass once more, enjoying the way you flinch and then smile from delight.

“I guess I’ve been a bit mean, just touching your little button without even letting you come…” he sighs before shifting onto his knees. Helmut looks over to the camera, just to make sure it’s still recording. And it is, so he smiles. He towers over you even more now, a few strands on his hair dangling downwards, and you find yourself wanting to play with them. The hand that was on your ass grasps the base of his cock, and he runs the head through your folds.

A quiet squelching sound echoes between the both of you, and you giggle. Your laughter is cut short when he bumps up against your clit, and you let out a moan. The sound is unexpected on your behalf, but Helmut just smirks. Your moans turn into a string of shallow pants, and he curses under his breath at the feeling. Dragging his head away from your clit, he brings himself down to your hole, and you let out an even louder gasp.

“Shh, just let Daddy in, okay? I know it’s your first time, but it’s okay. You’re fine, don’t worry,” Helmut reassures. You nod your head and let out a pained cry as he pushes into you slowly. You feel as though you’re being torn apart, split into two. He grips your throat even tighter, and you wrap your hand around his wrist in a panicked, fleeting moment.

Helmut sheathes himself inside you, with your mouth parted open in a silent scream and his eyebrows knitted together. He eventually bottoms out, and the stretch of his cock goes from a harsh burn to a pleasurable feeling. His swollen balls touch your aching ass, and he bends down to kiss your forehead lightly. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he questions. “Y- Yes, it feels really good, Daddy. Just a li’l uncomfortable, but it feels really good,” you tell him.

Your cunt squeezes him in a tight hug, your silky wet walls welcoming him in hesitantly. He wishes to stay inside you his whole life, and he would if he could convince you. Helmut pulls out until his head is the only thing inside you before roughly thrusting back inside. You cry out, and his hand loosens around your throat. “Such a good girl, letting me use your pussy for my pleasure. You like being recorded while I fuck you, right? Say it,” he demands, fucking into you roughly.

Your tits bounce with each and every movement. Helmut’s cock gets closer and closer to your sweet spot, and you moan loudly. “I- I like being recorded while you fuck me, Daddy,” you repeat to him. Helmut groans loudly, and you clench down on his cock tightly. “You feel so good, bunny, better than anyone else,” he compliments, feeling slick sweat beginning to build upon his back. “Uhm, Daddy? S- Something’s happening,” you whisper to him through your desperate cries of pleasure.

Searing heat grows hotter and hotter in your stomach, right above your pussy. You’ve never felt like this before, other than when Helmut was touching your pussy a few moments ago. “Let it happen, bunny, it’s okay, come all over Daddy’s big cock. I know you can do it, squeeze me, bunny,” Helmut urges, and you listen to him. The powerful feeling grows and grows, and so do your moans. And the elastic cord breaks eventually. It always does.

You cry out ‘Daddy’ as you come undone around his cock for the very first time. He continues to fuck you through your orgasm, even though you’re gripping him so tightly. You gush all over him, wetness coating his cock, and it makes him fuck you even quicker. The sound of skin on skin and loud moans fill the room, and Helmut hopes to God that the microphone is picking up on it all. The feeling in your body makes you lose all sense of reality, and you’re babbling like a little baby.

“Daddy- It’s too much,” you sob to him, digging your nails into your palms. “Shh, it’s okay, bunny,” he shushes gently, keeping his hand wrapped lazily around your neck. Helmut’s cock slams into your cunt, pounding into you ruthlessly, yet he’s somehow oh so gentle. Your eyes roll into the back of your head again, and you moan gently as you feel another climax being built up. Back to back, and you’re not sure how your body is going to handle it.

He’s close, too. He’s never had this happen before, and he’s not sure what to think of it.

“Awe, you’re going to come again, bunny? That’s okay, shh, Daddy’s here, bunny. We’ll do it together, and it’ll b- be good,” he tells you, and you nod. Helmut bends down and places his shiny forehead against yours. He stares you into your glassy eyes––they’re hazy––and he can tell you’re gone. You’ve gotten all stupid and dumb for his cock, and he loves the idea so much.

You both pant as he sloppily fucks into your cunt, his heavy balls slapping against your ass. “Fuck, I can’t wait to fill up your tight little pussy with my cum. Gonna watch it leak out, and I’m just gonna fill you up over and over again. Make you all mine because you belong to me. Right? Say it,” he growls, fucking you even faster. “I’m all yours, Daddy, I’m all yours,” you say to him, and you’re both pushed off the edge after one specific thrust.

“O- Oh my…” you choke out, squeezing your eyes shut. Helmut curses loudly, saying all kinds of sinful things that a nun would faint if she hears him. His cock twitches as he comes inside you, and your pussy squeezes him as you let go. Streaks of cum shoot out his tip and paint your inner walls, and it all begins to leak out already. Your cum mixes with his, and he can’t lie and say he doesn’t enjoy the sight of it.

He presses a kiss on your nose before slowly pulling out. Helmut’s cock is still hard, and he just knows the afternoon won’t end until he says so. You wince loudly at the feeling of emptiness and overwhelming sensitivity. “Sorry, bunny,” he frowns, reaching over for the camera. You watch him through droopy eyelids as he focuses it on your cunt, then to your body, and then to your face.

“Did I do good, Daddy?” you ask him excitedly.

“So good, bunny. You’re going to be sweeping up at the awards next year.”

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