#this is gonna go under: 'things i gave up my sleep for'

[nanaslutt]

Passing out in the middle of sex w/ the JJK men

Incl: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna, Choso

Contains: fem reader, stomach bulge (geto's), rough sex, teasing, dirty talk, fluff, comfort, oral (f!receiving), multiple positions, hair pulling, masturbation, sugar baby!Toji, Virgin!Choso

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Gojo:

"Fuck- take my fucking cock baby, take that shit-" Gojo groaned in your ear, his hands gripping your hair, right against your scalp, as he gave you the meanest fucking backshots, bullying his fat cock into your cunt.

Tears streamed down the sides of your flushed cheeks, soaking into the sheets your face was pressed into. Gojo's body was hunched over yours, his hand pressing into the sheets on the side of your body, giving him the perfect leverage to keep himself up while he fucked you nice and deep.

"Sa-toruuu-" You cried, your moans coming out strangled and choked from the way his cock was assaulting your sweet spot so deep inside you. "What is it? Talk to me, baby." Gojo cooed, sucking in a breath through his teeth when he felt your cunt clench tightly around him as his tip hit a particularly sensitive spot inside you.

"S-slow down p-pleasee~" You tried to beg, the words spilling from your lips being barely distinguishable from how slurred they were. Gojo giggled, followed by his hand gripping your hair tighter, making your scalp ache. "I dont think I will..." Gojo cooed, pretending to pout when you cried harder in response.

"You were rubbin' all up on me, interrupting my phone call with Nanamin because you wanted my cock so bad. Now you're cryin' about how it's too much?" Gojo said, scrunching his eyebrows at you in faux sympathy. "Nah, you're gonna take it, sorry mama I really am." He finished, emphasizing his words with a harsh thrust into your cunt.

Your hands dug into the pillow you were holding on to for dear life as he sped up his thrusts, rolling his hips just right so he was obliterating your g-spot, making you see stars in your vision. You tried to beg and cry for reprive, but Gojo was not listening at all, his hand shoving your face harder against the pillow instead as he silently told you to shut up and take it.

Gojo's cock always made you see stars and feel dizzy, but something was different this time. Your vision started to trickle more and more with those fuzzy black dots as he fucked you closer and closer to your orgasm, your eyes struggling to stay in their sockets as they rolled back continuously in your head.

"You cumming baby? You just got so much tighter, fuck!" Gojo groaned, his hand letting up on shoving your head down slightly so he could lean back and rub your clit with the hand that was holding you up. The sneaky thing slinking between your legs and rubbing quick circles against your bud caught you off guard, resulting in a loud cry being ripped from your lungs, making Gojo laugh as you spasmed on his cock, your orgasm taking you by surprise as it wracked your body with tremors.

You opened your mouth in a silent cry as you came, and before you knew it, you were out cold. Your arms going limp under the pillow, your eyes rolling back before they shut completely as you blacked out. "F-fuck-" Gojo hadn't noticed that you passed out, only seconds after he felt your cunt spasm around him, he released your head and placed his hand on your ass, gripping the fat as he pulled out of your pussy, his other hand immediately wrapping around his cock, jerking himself off hastily as he groaned through his orgasm, hot ropes of cum landing all over your ass and back, as Gojo decorated your skin so prettily with his seed.

Your body still trembled in your sleep, but your breathing had evened out. If not for Gojo's hand on your ass, you would've fallen on your side completely. "Shiiiiit, so fucking pretty." Gojo laughed through the last shocks of his orgasm, wringing his cock out over your ass as he made sure he painted your skin with every last drop of his cum.

"You're so quiet baby, you alright?" Gojo asked, tilting his head to the side as he tried to get a better look at your face. Usually, you whined or something when he came all over you, the sensation of his cum on your back making your body jolt in surprise--something. "Baby?" He started to get worried, tucking his cock into his sweats quickly he leaned over you, his hand sliding up your body.

The second Gojo wasn't holding you up anymore, you collapsed against the sheets, your chest rising and falling steadily as you slept. "Oh shit, came so hard you passed out?" Gojo smiled softly, scooping your body into his arms effortlessly. Gojo relaxed when your head tipped limply against his naked chest, your breath tickling his skin. "Maybe I did go too hard, sorry baby~" Gojo cooed, kissing your forehead.

"Alright~ Upsiedasiesy~ Let's go get you cleaned up you drama queen." Gojo smiled to himself, lifting you off the bed as he carried you to the bathroom to clean you up all nice so you didn't wake up a sticky mess in the morning. You were already going to beat his ass in the morning for not listening to you when you told him to slow down, it was the least he could do. Satoru listened to you during sex after that. For the most part.

Geto:

Geto had you in the meanest mating press, your legs over his shoulders, body folded over on itself as he leaned his large frame over yours, slowly but roughly fucking his massive cock into your cunt, stretching you out. Geto was obsessed with watching your eyes roll back in your head each time he thrust his dick to the hilt inside you, his ego swelling each time your face scrunched in painful pleasure from the sheer size of him.

"You feel me in there baby? Feel me in 'ur fuckin' stomach?" Geto groaned, his hand sliding between the two of you to press harshly against your stomach, feeling his cock through your pelvis. Your eyes shot open in alarm, the feeling of his cock being ten times more intense as your g-spot was now forced down to meet his cock.

"S-suguru d-dont press there!!" You tried to tell him, your hands around his neck digging into his skin, sure to leave angry red marks all over his back from your nails. "Su-suguuu!!" You cried. Each time he pulled his cock out and fucked it back inside you it felt like your guts were falling out, your body molding around him when he thrust back inside as he made room for his stupidly large cock.

"But it feels so fucking good-" He groaned, pulling his lip between his teeth as he felt his cock thrust inside you from the outside of your body. "Cmon sweet girl, look~" Geto grabbed your arm, pulling it off of his back, your nails scratching his skin in the process as he let up the pressure of his hand on your tummy, placing your hand where his once was before he pressed his over yours, returning the pressure as he made you feel his cock through your skin.

"You feel that? I'm so deep huh?" Geto cooed against your lips, feeling your rapid breaths tickle against them as you basically hyperventilated from how intense it felt. "Y-yes I feel it- fuck!" You whined, your head tipping back into the pillow, your eyes rolling back in your head, your lids following, shutting around them.

Geto kept your hand pressed there as he leaned forward, sucking hickeys into your neck, his hips fucking faster into you when he felt like your pussy was loosened enough. "Ah- ah- ah-" He fucked short, desperate cries from your lungs with each thrust, your fingers tangling in his long hair, gripping against the strands for dear life.

Your legs ached from the position as he pummeled your cunt, giving you deep thrusts as he pulled his cock out almost entirely before thrusting it back into you. "Sugu- It's too deep- too much-" You cried against his ear, your face only flushing redder and redder the longer he fucked into you.

"Shhh, you can take it, just let me give it to you princess, let me fuck you like this." He whispered back, his breath tickling your neck as he spoke, his lips going back to suck against your neck as he disregarded your words. You cried on his cock all the time, complaining about how it was 'too much' but you never meant it, always complaining and asking why he stopped when he actually did slow down, so why would it be any different this time?

"N-no Sugu reallyyy- t-too much-" You tried to whimper out, your eyes squeezing together tightly as the pressure in your stomach became too much. The pleasure was overwhelming, and his weight pressing against you was overbearing, your body couldn't take it anymore. Your jaw dropped in a gasp right before your body went limp, your mind going completely blank as you passed out, mid stroke.

Your hand loosening in his hair and falling limply against the sheets was all he needed to know something wasn't right. Within seconds of you passing out, Geto pulled his head back from your neck to look at your face, noticing how relaxed it was as your head laid to the side against his pillow. He stopped his thrusts completely, his eyebrows raising in surprise as he let your legs fall from his shoulders, his hand caressing your cheek.

"Baby?" Geto spoke, shaking your head softly, your head jostling limply in his hold. He pulled his cock out of you that instant, his thighs straddling your hips as he cradled your face in both of his hands, shaking a little harder as he tried to wake you up. "Cmon pretty, wake up for me." He mumbled to himself, tapping his fingers against your cheek.

He sighed in relief when you stired awake, gaining your consciousness. "There you are." He smiled, his cock still throbbing hard pointing upwards as he crawled off of you, sliding to the side of your body, running his hands over your cheeks. "You passed out on me baby." He explained when you looked at him slightly confused, your face instinctually leaning into his touch.

He lifted your body with ease from under your arms, making you sit on his thighs, facing him. You leaned forward onto his chest, your shaky body absorbing his body heat. "Asshole..." You mumbled into his skin, wrapping your arms under his, your hands resting on his back. His cock twitched when it was pressed against your stomach, but he did his best to ignore it. "I told you it was too much." You chastized, hiding your face in his chest as you blushed in embarrassment, you cant belive you actually just fucking passed out during sex.

"I'm sorry baby, I didn't know you were serious." He said, trying to hold back his giggles as he soothingly rubbed his hands over your back. "Asshole, asshole, asshole, asshole." You repeated, one of your hands sliding out from his arm to weakly slap at his naked chest, your blush only growing deeper. You wished you would pass out again to excape how embarrassing this was.

"I know, I know. I'm an asshole." He agreed, pressing his lips together as he looked down at you fondly as you took your anger out on him. He knew you were embarrassed, so if this is what made you feel better so be it. The fact that he was still hard only added to your irritation, your face feeling as hot as the sun as you smacked him harder, "Pervert, pervert, pervert, pervert." You groaned, your chant switching between the two.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it." He laughed, squeezing tightly around your body, pressing your arms flush to his body so you couldn't hit him anymore. You blushed furiously and helplessly against him as your body was restrained by his sheer strength. "Are you okay baby? Seriously." He asked, tipping his head to the side as he looked at you, his hand stroking over your head. "I-I'm fine." You blushed at his sudden demeanor change.

"Good, also I think we might want to establish a safeword from now on." He added, your eyes darting around the room as he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head. You hummed in agreement, still trying to recover from the massive hit to your pride passing out had done to it.

"Let's get you cleaned up, yeah? I'll run you a bath and make you some tea, okay? Sound good princess?" Geto asked, his large hands running over the expanse of your back, making your body relax against his unconsciously as you nodded against him, feeling your eyelids grow heavy with sleep.

Nanami:

"Mmm..." Nanami moaned against your clit, shaking his head back and forth along your folds while he sucked your clit between his lips, his tongue flicking against it in his mouth. "Fff-uck!!" You cried, your thighs squeezing around his head as he ate you out like a man starved.

Your hands dug into his hair tightly, your nails raking against his scalp to ground yourself, Nanami's long fingers curled right against your sweet spot inside you, his quick thrusts only adding to the already loud squelching coming from between your legs, making the tips of your ears turn red in embarrassment. You fought your head to stay down, looking at Nanami, you didn't want to miss the sight of your gorgeous husband eating you out.

It's not like it was a rare occurrence, Nanami ate you out every single time before the two of you had sex, but it was a sight to behold every single time. You never got tired of the sight of his lidded eyes staring at yours, the entire half of his lower face covered in your slick, his usually uniform hair being strewn in every direction as you ruffled the strands, your hands pushing his bangs out of his face to get a better view of him.

One of Nanami's hands was pressed between his body and the bedsheets as he jerked himself off while he ate you out, unable to ignore the throbbing pleasure in his cock he got from tasting you. He stroked his cock to the pace of his fingers inside you, trying to mimic the way your cunt felt around him.

"Oh fuck- Nanami right there-" You moaned, your jaw dropping in a small o when he sucked your clit just right, his fingers stabbing into your spot simultaneously, causing the most delicious pleasure to wrack through your body. Your back arched as you pressed Nanami's head agaisnt your pussy, keeping him in that exact spot that had you seeing stars. "Fuck don't stop- k-keep sucking my clit I'm gonna cum-" You gasped, your words coming out breathily as you threw your head back, your eyes screwed shut from the pleasure.

Nanami groaned into your folds, his hand jerking faster over his cock when he felt your cunt pulse faster around his fingers. "Nggghhhh-" You whined as the pleasure took over your body, your thighs snapping shut around your husbands head as he continued to suck your clit into his mouth, his fingers fucking into you as he worked your though your orgasm.

Your body jerked forward, hands digging into his hair as you cried out his name as you felt your release squirt into his mouth. Nanami drank up all of you hungrily, his tongue lapping at the base of his fingers when you started to come down from your high, his adam's apple bobbing as he greedily swallowed up all of your cum.

"Good girl, good fucking girl." Nanami groaned against your clit, his voice coming out hoarse. You whined as his fingers continued thrusting inside of you, his hand still jerking quickly over his cock. You thought he was going to stop after you came, but you quickly realized after trying to push his head away to no avail, that that was not the case. Nanami was in one of his moods, and he was not done eating your pussy quite yet.

"Fuck- Ken waitttt- It's sensitive Kento-" You cried, your hands pushing at his head harder, trying to get him to let up. His hand that was jerking himself off shot out from under him to grab at both of your wrists, pushing them off of his head as he gripped them over your pelvis, his eyes shooting daggers at you.

You whined, your body thrashing and jerking in oversensitivity as he kept fucking you, continuing the same rough pace as before, your poor clit being assaulted by his ruthless tongue as he battered at it. "Oh g-oddd-" You groaned, your face scrunched in the overwhelming pleasure as he fucked you quickly towards another orgasm.

You thought the black dots that started to speckle your vision were because of your impending orgasm, but you would be sorely mistaken. Your entire body tensed before it relaxed against the sheets, your head fell back against the pillow, your hands loosened in Nanami's hair, and your thighs relaxed with the rest of your body as you fell unconcious.

Nanami's eyes were screwed shut as he shook his head back and forth, but they peeled open when he noticed how your body relaxed at once. He was met with your peaceful-looking face as your body laid slack agaisnt the sheets. He quickly raised from between your thighs, wiping your cum from his mouth with the back of his hand he reached over you and caressed your face, calling your name repeatedly.

It didn't take much for you to come to, you were only out for maybe a total of thirty seconds. You awoke to Nanami's body hovering over yours, his flushed face staring at yours with concern. "Hey there." He smiled when you fully opened your eyes. The first thing you noticed was how sore you felt between your legs, your face scrunching in discomfort.

"I'm sorry, that was too much wasn't it?" Nanami immediately apologized, his face softening as he caressed your sleepy-looking face. "I- I didn't know I was going to pass out, I'm sorry." You replied, looking away from his gaze. Sure, it did feel intense, but nothing more than you haven't felt before.

"Don't apologize sweet thing, it was my fault, I should be more careful. I got carried away." Nanami said honestly. Your shaky hands reached up to wrap around his neck, pulling his face down to meet your own. His lips met yours in a soft kiss, full of love and compassion, before you pulled away, looking at him with a red face.

"I'm okay, It's alright Ken." You reassured, rubbing your fingers over his undercut, making him practically purr. He sighed in relief before his body was pressing against yours, his arms wrapping under your body. "You had me worried. Never passed out on me before." Nanami spoke into the crook of your neck, pressing light kisses into the skin there.

You giggled, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck, keeping him tightly against you. "Kento." You spoke after a couple seconds, making him hum into your neck. "You're really hard. I can feel it on my leg." You whispered, blushing at your own words. Nanami cleared his throat before he spoke, his head pulling up from your neck to look at your face, "Ah, sorry. Ignore that, I'll go take care of it." He said, the tips of his ears turning red.

You pulled him back down towards you when he tried to get up to take care of his little problem. "That's not what I meant." You said, looking into his eyes while you bit your lip. "I uh... I'm up to keep going if you want. You haven't even put it in yet." You said, running your fingers up the back of his head, sending goosebumps down his spine.

"I don't know if that's a good idea..." Nanami said softly, trying to ignore how hard his cock twitched in his sweats at the proposition. "Ken I'm okay I promise. Please? I want you inside me." You whispered, wrapping your legs around his hips. Those words were all he needed to hear. Looking between your bodies before he pressed his clothed cock agaisnt your cunt, he looked back up at you before he spoke, "Are you sure?"

You humped your hips up to meet his as you nodded, "I'm sure, please." You said once more, moaning softly when his tip bumped against your sensitive clit. With a sigh, Nanami leaned forward, hovering his lips right above yours, "Alright... I'll be careful."

Toji: cw: toji keeps going after you pass out, breeding kink

"Dirty fuckin' girl, pussy is fuckin' swallowing up my cock," Toji growled, yanking your hips back to meet his, his heavy balls slapping against your clit roughly, making you whine in painful pleasure. You arched your back, throwing your ass against him to meet his thrusts, your hands against the sheets holding yourself up giving you the perfect leverage to fuck yourself on his cock.

"Fuck Toji- Harder- give it to me harder-" You begged, biting your lip as your eyes crossed at his cock pounding against your g-spot, his fat tip absolutely obliterating it. "Anything for my favorite client~" Toji groaned, smirking at your shameless show of your need for him, his hips pulling back further as he fucked all 8 inches into you faster, pulling out to the tip before he bullied it back inside you.

"Ohmygoddd-" You whined, your cunt gushing around him as he fucked you just how you liked, his hands sneaking under your body to rub at your clit, adding to your pleasure. "How's that feel mama? Am I giving it to you good? You like when I fuck you hard like this?" Toji cooed, groaning through his words. You fucking loved how filthy his mouth was.

Toji wasn't quiet outside of the bedroom, but he wasn't exactly a man of many words. During sex, however--this beast of a man got pussy drunk on you quick every single time, the feeling of your familiar tight, wet walls around him never failing to make his lips loose, filth spilling from his lips without a second thought the second they popped into his fucked out head.

"Yes T-toji, feels so good- you're s-so deep-" You whined back, feeling tears start to well up in your eyes. Toji groaned at your words, his finger rubbing faster across your clit, his movements becoming sloppy as your words worked him up to no end. Toji would never admit it out loud, but he had a major praise kink. He could feel his cock leak pre-cum every time you told him how good his cock felt inside you.

"Yeah, pretty girl? Feels that good? You fucking love this dick huh?" He babbled, sucking air in through his teeth when you clenched around him. "Yes Tojiiii, love it so much- fucking love your dick- g'na make me cum-" You cried, your words coming out slurred. Toji loved how easy it was to make you cum, your body was so sensitive to his every touch it drove him up the fucking walls.

"Good girl, this fucking dick loves you too." Toji laughed through a groan. "'M gonna cum with you pretty girl, where do you want it, hm? Where do you want my c-cum? he added, feeling his cock twitch inside your cunt with his impending release.

"I-Inside inside please- cum inside me-" You babbled, the upper half of your body falling against the sheets as your arms gave out. Toji's body chased yours, his hands planting on the sides of your body on the bed as he humped his cock into you, his fingers not letting up on your clit as he rubbed small quick circles into the little bud.

You felt so dizzy with his cologne filling up your nose with his proximity. He hooked his fingers into your already open mouth as he gave you hard, deep thrusts, fucking you both toward your orgasms. "Yeah? Want me to fill you up? Cum deep inside your tight little cunt?" Toji groaned against the shell of your ear. "Might knock you up, bet you'd like that though huh? Bet it makes you feel all hot jus' thinkin' about it, can feel your pussy tryna' milk my cock right now." He babbled.

You didnt even have time to respond before you were gasping agaisnt his fingers, your eyes rolling back in your head as his cock fucked your orgasm out of you, his hips rolling into your ass, the tip of his cock massaging against your sweet spot so perfectly, making your eyes roll back in your head. "Oh shit- so fucking tight-" Toji groaned as you came around him, your pussy spasming around him.

You severely underestimated how hard your orgasm was. Barely three seconds into it and you were blacking out, your arch falling as you fell limply against the sheets, Toji's hips chasing yours as he continued fucking into you with reckless abandon. "Oh shit, did'ya pass out, pretty?" Toji groaned, his hands pressing into the sheets next to your body as he continued humping into your warm cunt, his eyes taking in the sight of your relaxed face.

"Shit-" Toji laughed, feeling a whole new wave of arousal wracks through him, "You don't mind if I finish right? 'M so fucking close~" He cooed at you as you breathed steadily against the sheets, your cunt still sucking him in as tightly as it was while you were awake. Toji smirked as he picked up his pace, his cock pistoning in and out of you with loud squelches. "Yeah, you don't mind. Such a good girl for me, always so fucking good." He praised, feeling himself on the edge.

"Fuck- I'm cumming princess, gonna fill you up just how you w-wanted. Sorry, you're not awake to f-feel it. There's gonna be so fucking much." He babbled, his hips losing their rhythm inside you right before he came. Your body jostled limply as he used your cunt to get himself off, his hips stilling agaisnt your ass as he shot rope after rope of his hot cum inside you, groaning loudly through his teeth as he did so.

"Yeah take that fucking load- goddd. Suck me so good even when you're out. Heh." he huffed out a laugh as he rolled his hips agaisnt your ass, making sure he gave you every last drop of his cum. He let himself relish in the feeling of your warm walls spasming around him for a few seconds longer before he pulled out, his cum chasing his cock as it dripped out of your tight hole, dribbling down your pussy.

Sitting back on his heels, he scooped his cum up with his fingers before he shoved them inside you, making sure his cum stayed nice and deep in your pussy. "Guess I gotta wake you up now, huh?" Toji said to himself, his eyes taking in how peaceful you looked. "Time to get up sleeping beauty. Daddy needs his payment." He said half joking as he crawled up your body and slapped your cheek softly before following it up with a gently rub, trying to wake you up.

Sukuna: cw: heian era true form sukuna, monsterfucking, rough sex, cervix fucking, degradation, stomach bulge, misogyny if you squint, squirting, semi-soft Sukuna at the end

"That's the best you can do? Your reputation does not precede you, I thought you could take cock with no problem, hm? Should I have chosen someone else?" Sukuna teased, pouting as you struggled to ride his massive cock, your hands jerking his second cock in tandem as you tried to bounce on the other.

Sukuna had never picked up a girl from a whorehouse before, but with your reputation running rampant across the village he resided in about how well you supposedly took cock, he decided to give it a shot. He was only teasing when he said he should've chosen someone else. You were easy on the eyes, and he would be lying if he said he didn't love watching a pretty girl struggle on his cock.

Usually, he would be fed up with this slow, weak pace, but he was in no rush today, so he decided to have a little fun with you. "I've n-never taken someone as big as you m-my lord." You whined, your hands squeezing around his tip harder when his cock hit your cervix painfully as you sat down on it.

"No? Is that why you're being such a crybaby?" He asked, tilting his head at you as he watched fat tears roll down your rosy cheeks, mixing with the sweat beading on your neck. His eyes watched how your tits bounced as you rode him, only taking in about half of his cock as the whole thing proved to be too painful.

"Fuckkk-" You groaned, ignoring his words as you tried to focus on taking his cock the best you could. Sukuna sat back agaisnt his throne, two inhuman arms spread over the armrests on his throne, two placed on your thighs, his long nails digging into your thighs as you rode him.

The slow pace was annoying, sure, but it was doing something for him to watch your face twist in painful pleasure as you fucked him. "L-lord Sukuna, P-please, a little help please-" You whined, feeling your legs start to ache from riding him for so long, your stomach starting to cramp from how deep he was inside you.

"How shameless." He tsked, "We just met, you fuck me at the pace of a snail, and now you dare to ask me for help? What terrible manners." He chastised before his strong hands pulled you down against him completely, his cock fucking into your cunt as deep as it could go, his tip knocking painfully against your cervix.

You cried out in pain, the sound sending blood rushing to his cock, a sinister smile spreading across his face as he watched you writhe on top of him, your hands leaving his second cock to press over the bulge in your tummy, your jaw dropped in awe. "It's deep huh? I can see it poking through your skin." Sukuna growled before his hands slit to your waist and used the leverage he had there to fuck you on his cock like his own personal cocksleve.

"S-sukunaa!! L-ord Sukuna p-please! It's too much!" You cried, your hands grabbing his thick wrists as he fucked you at an inhuman pace--fitting. Sukuna looked at you almost disgusted, confused, you couldn't tell through the tears blurring your vision. "What a selfish girl." He growls. "I thought you wanted help? But now it's too much? Make up your mind, dumb woman."

You could do nothing but cry and scream as he impaled you on his cock. You've never felt anything like how you were feeling right now, it was so intense. You swore the second you walked out of here, you were going to go straight to the infirmary to check if he had punctured your stomach open, because it sure as hell felt like it.

"And now she can't even talk, how pathetic." Sukuna tsked, looking at you with a face full of disappointment. You could barely register the small sinister smirk spreading across his face before you felt the reason for his demeanor change on your body. Looking down you saw a mouth the size of a small child had manifested on his stomach, and a thick tongue was poking out between the lips to lick at your pussy.

"H-huh!?" You yelped in surprise when the tongue battered harshly against you, sending sparks through your tummy. "Surely you'll be able to move your hips now, hm? This spot here makes women so sensitive." Sukuna cooed, watching how the tongue on his stomach emphasized his words by trying to focus on your clit. The attempt proved to be a little difficult from the size difference of your small clit to his tongue, but you seemed to be enjoying yourself nonetheless.

"Wait- w-wait please p-lease wait-" you cried, the feeling of his tongue quickly becoming overwhelming. The cock not inside you was dripping pre-cum all over the outside of your tummy, the appendage having a strong curve as his tip was being rubbed against your skin. Before Sukuna could spew more mean words, a clear liquid was being sprayed across his abdomen, making his eyes open in surprise.

Sukuna had never seen anything like it before. The liquid dripped down his cock, and all over his abdomen, some of it even landing on the stomach mouth as he lapped it up greedily, tasting the liquid. While Sukuna was still taking in this new sight, your body collapsed limply against his chest, his hands freezing in place as he looked down at your smaller frame agaisnt him, breathing peacefully unconscious as if you weren't currently tending to him.

"You're kidding me," Sukuna growled, the prominent vein in his forehead popping out as he ran his hand through his hair, sighing at the current predicament. "Human women are so weak." He sighed, continuing to rake his eyes over your frame as you slept without a care in the world against him. "I have no interest in fooling around with a sleeping person. So boring." He said, his lip raising in untinerest.

His cock was still hard inside of you, his mind still replaying what had happened moments before you passed out so selfishly. How could you expose him to something like that then pass out? He wanted to see it again. His eyes studied your face, and after some time he found himself thinking you looked almost cute.

He didn't recognize the feeling, chalking it up to amusement as one of his large hands rested on your lower back. his eyes finally looking away from your frame as he looked around the empty room around him. "You better wake up soon, girl. I'm not done with you." Sukuna growled, relaxing against his throne as he waited for his little plaything to awaken.

Choso:

"Fuck- oh god this feels so good-" Choso cried, humping his big cock desperately and sloppily inside your cunt. Choso was a virgin prior to your interaction now, and you had somehow convinced him to let you take his virginity from him. You had always been attracted to the half-curse, so you thought this was a brilliant idea.

What you hadn't accounted for, was the possibility that this innocent man had a horse cock between his thighs. Choso had thought there was something wrong with his equipment when you stared at his cock like it was something foreign after he pulled it out of his pants. "I-is there something wrong?" He had asked insecurely.

Your eyes merely dragged up to meet his eyes slowly, the awestruck look still on your face, your jaw dropped in a small o shape as you stared at him incredulously. When you told him his cock was the biggest you'd ever seen, he looked almost confused, proceeding to ask you if that was a good thing. Choso clearly had no idea how big he was, and he definitely had no idea how to use it.

He was so oblivious to how much damage his dick was currently doing to your pussy. You briefly taught him how to stretch you out on his fingers, but even as thick as they were--they did little to prepare you for the girth and length of his cock. You bit your bottom lip as you tried to conceal your moans, trying your best to instruct Choso how to fuck you correctly.

His reckless, sloppy thrusting did feel good nonetheless, but you knew with a cock his size--that it could feel even better if he fucked you with some sort of a technique. "C-choso- a-aim your hips up when you t-thrust inside me," You whined, your hands reaching down to grab his hips and pull them towards you, trying to give him some direction. "L-like this?" Choso asked, thrusting into you at a new angle, the tip of his cock pistoning straight into your sweet spot.

You sighed out in sweet relief at how good it felt. "Yes~ Fuck yes, right there Choso, keep fucking me right there, just like t-that," You praised, your eyes rolling back in your head as it fell back against the pillow. You allowed Choso to have his way with your body as your relaxed against the sheets.

It was a smart move on your end to suck Choso off and make him cum once before he fucked you, he was lasting longer than you thought he would for a virgin. "God- It's so tight. Is it always this tight?" He asked, staring between where the two of you were connected, beads of sweat rolling down the sides of his face.

"Mhmm- y-yeah." You answered, only half listening to his question as he fucked you just right, his fat cock hitting all the right spots inside you. "It's so warm too... I love this, I love fucking you like this. I- I don't want this to end." He babbled honestly, quickly becoming pussy drunk as his eyes searched for yours. You looked down at him, meeting his desperate, puppy-like gaze.

Smiling at his sweet face, you placed your hands on his cheeks and pulled him towards you, your lips grazing against his. "Me neither Choso, keep fucking me. Your cock feels s-so good inside me." You whispered against his lips, resulting in a whine from the dark-haired man before you pressed your lips to his, swallowing up all his gasps and whines.

He kissed you sloppily, but his beginner technique felt good as he tried to copy you, licking into your mouth, and tangling his tongue with yours. "This feels good," He pulled away to moan aginst your lips before leaning back in to continue making out with you.

His honesty made you hot all over, you don't think you've ever been with a guy as verbal and sweet as Choso. "So good Cho, you're doing so good." You groaned against his lips, seeing stars behind your eyes each time he fucked his cock inside you.

He pulled back from the kiss as he placed leaned back on his heels, pulling your thighs over his as he fucked into you in the new position. This position allowed his cock to fuck straight into your g-spot, making you cry out loudly for him. "Holy fuck-" You groaned, your eyes rolling back in your head at how intense it felt.

Choso groaned at your response, his face heating up at the feeling of your walls squeezing around him tighter at this new angle. While the curse took in how your body moved and bounced under him, his eyes latched onto a small pearl-looking thing right above the hole he was fucking into, the bead being covered slightly with a flap of skin.

The sudden urge to touch it came over him as he reached out for it, "Can I touch right here?" He asked. Before you were able to look down at what he was referring to, you felt his thumb on your clit, the pad of it rubbing along the nub with pinpoint accuracy. The added sensation of him touching your clit made you scream out for him.

The fact that this half-curse had manifested less than a year ago, was currently losing his virginity, and had found your clit with such ease, better than most people you've had who weren't virgins and had been alive for however many years-- sent you spiraling. "Fuck Cho w-wait-" You tried to warn him it was too much, but it was too late.

Your vision went blurry and your head spun as little black dots clouded your vision before you blacked out, falling unconscious in the middle of him fucking into you and harshly rubbing at your clit. "H-huh?" Choso stopped moving when he looked down and noticed your limp body. He called out you name, and to no avail, not even a twitch of response from your out-cold body.

He stayed inside of you, frozen in place as he tried to think of what to do. "A-are you okay?" He asked, his hand shaking the side of your body gently, your body jiggling with his touch. "I don't know what to do..." He mumbled, looking around the room like the walls would come to life and give him guidance.

"Hey, you okay?" He repeated again, leaning over your body to shake your face, his cock still snug inside you. You winced and groaned as you came to, your eyes cracking open once more. You were met with Choso smiling softly at you, looking relieved. "You fell asleep. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. Are you okay?" He asked, keeping his hand on your face, rubbing the sweat from your skin.

"Fuck... Choso I'm sorry, I bet I scared you huh?" You said apologetically, your hand cupping over his as you rubbed the back of his hand. Choso pouted before he responded, "Don't be sorry, I was a little startled, but I think that was my fault." He said, a light blush dusting across his cheeks. "Does that normally happen?" He asked, tipping his head at you.

You laughed, your hand caressing down his arm. "Not usually no, it's definitely never happened to me before, you're dick is just too good Cho." You giggled, watching how embarrassed he got when you said that. "I-I don't know." He said, looking away from your face in embarrassment--he really was oblivious.

"No?" You teased, purposefully squeezing your cunt around his cock, making him hiss at the sensation, his eyes fluttering shut. "Why don't you fuck me some more, hm? I'll tell you all about how good your cock makes me feel." You whisper teasingly, your hand coming up to stroke his cheek, pushing his stray hair away from his face.

"Is that okay?" He asked hesitantly, "What if you pass out again?" Choso swallowed all the saliva in his dry mouth, feeling himself throb inside your walls. He really did want to keep going, but he was afraid of you passing out again. "It's okay, just take it easy, and maybe don't touch my clit for now." You added, laughing, making him blush as he nodded in understanding.

[pagesfromthevoid]

So High School | r. r.

Robert "Bob" Reybnolds x Thunderbolts!reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Mentions of sex. Walker being an asshole. Heavy making out and hickeys. General discussion of Bob's mental health

Author's Note: The horny thoughts got turned into feelings because of therapy but alas

Bob Masterlist | Talk to Me! | AO3

It started as a joke.

Sort of.

None of it was technically a lie after the initial lie. 

It was more of a “get off my back” kind of situation but then it became a “let’s fuck with Walker” kind of deal because he wouldn’t drop it. And his reaction was…hilarious, honestly. Especially because Yelena and Ava immediately played along, no questions asked.

“How did you not notice?” Yelena asked, giving Walker a look that suggested he was an idiot. “The moment she saw him in the vault, she had heart eyes for him.”

“It was not the moment I saw him,” she argued back, pointing at the blonde. “It was like…ten minutes later, when he called Walker an asshole and laughed. Then it was definitely a ‘oh, okay. Hear me out,’ kind of moment.”

“Okay, fair,” Ava conceded, nodding. “Though, I think it stopped being a ‘hear me out’ bit pretty soon after.”

“Oh, immediately after,” she agreed, crossing her arms over her chest. “You know when it was?”

“I swear to God,” Yelena groaned, knowing absolutely what she was about to say. “It was when he was shot, wasn’t it?”

“Oh my god,” she practically moaned, covering her face with her hands. “Listen. I felt so bad. You don’t get it. This poor boy has been shot and he’s not dying and I’m sure he was scared as hell. But did you see him? Those abs? That look he gave those agents? Fuck me, dude. It’s not a ‘hear me out.’ It’s a ‘hold me back.’”

Walker, at that point, was flabbergasted. Yelena and Ava being privy to the whole thing was enough for him to believe it, but he was so confused. Her? And Bob? Of all people? Of all of them on the team?

Bob??

“Then why aren’t you with him now?” He asked, like he thought he could catch her in a lie.

“He’s asleep?” She pointed out, giving him a ‘duh’ kind of look. “He doesn’t sleep a lot. You think I’m going to go wake him up just because I’m horny?”

She paused. Considered what would happen if John were to go ask Bob himself about their “relationship.” Then she decided that she should probably loop Bob in on it –or at least make sure he was okay with fucking with Walker.

“Actually, you know what. That’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”

And that’s how she ends up in Bob’s room, sitting criss-crossed on the end of his bed, and him sitting mirror opposite of her, confused. 

“So you…told Walker that we’re dating…as a joke?” He asks, and she can’t tell if he’s upset by the whole thing.

“Yes. And I would super appreciate it if you played along because for some reason, he’s really confused by it and I really, truly find it funny. But it’s also totally okay if you don’t want to go along with it, and we can shut it down right now. I really –it’s not something you need to go along with at all.”

“I don’t…I don’t really understand, but I like the idea of messing with Walker so I guess I’m in,” he decides, grinning that boyish grin of his. The room relaxes significantly as she lets out a relieved breath. “So uh, what…what do we need to do to make it believable?”

She did not think this far ahead, honestly. She’s kind of surprised he agreed to play along, honestly. “I mean…I don’t know. He is under the impression I came in here to wake you up for, uh,” she pauses, feeling herself flush as she considers how to phrase it. “I told him I was going to wake you up because I was horny, so there’s that.”

Bob sits there for a second, and she briefly wonders if he’s okay. He kind of looks like he’s short circuiting; eyes blank for a moment as he stares at her. Then he drops one of his legs to the floor, sitting half on the bed. “I could give you a hickey.”

She sputters, completely thrown off by the suggestion. She opens her mouth once, then shuts it. Then opens it again and manages to say, “You –what?”

“I mean, I’ve never given one before. But that would be believable, right?”

She’s sort of stuck on the fact that he’s never given a hickey before and now she really wants to get one and give one. How high school –hickeys. Her mom always said they were gross but the idea of Bob putting his mouth anywhere on her is…enticing as hell. 

So she nods. That’s all she does, because she truly has no idea what she’s gotten herself into.

Bob’s going to give her a hickey, and she’s kind of…very excited about that.

“Okay, yeah. That’s…that’s definitely a good start,” she finally says, confirming the first step in a very stupid plan. 

But he doesn’t move, and she doesn’t either. Because suddenly this is not actually a joke to either of them it feels like. On the contrary, Bob looks like he’s about to have a panic attack.

“Actually, I just…Why was I…I just –I’m curious –,” he starts, stuttering his way through what he’s trying to say. He’s leaning forward some, and she can see the workings of his mind in his eyes. The tug of his brows as he’s thinking about something that’s going to cause him heartache of some kind. And she knows what it is. She just…she knows.

“I swear, I did it because he wouldn’t leave me alone about who I would date on the team. He really wanted me to say him, and I really would rather give myself a lobotomy than even consider dating him.”

“But that…I mean, that doesn’t explain…,” he points to himself, sort of tugging at his sweater. “Why was I the first person that came to mind?” He asks, shifting uncomfortably. She worries now that she’s hurt him with this whole thing.

“Well I –,” she pauses, and considers what she’s about to say. 

She could tell him the truth –after all, everything that followed the “Dude, I’m dating Bob. Where have you been?” comment was…well, it was true. She had absolutely thought he was cute in the vault. And she absolutely gawked when he was shot –not only because he was shot and alive and also flying but because of the abs and how he looked in that moment –confused, but confident. Alarmed, but ready to fight. But that is wholly embarrassing for her. The longer she sits there and considers it, however, the more he probably thinks she’s an asshole. 

So she confesses, and her face is burning because she really didn’t think she would be confessing any sort of crush on Bob tonight. “Because…It made sense,��� she tries to explain. But that sounds stupid so she backtracks some. “Listen…It makes sense because I would totally date you. In a heartbeat. If you were…in a place to do that. But I don’t expect you to feel the same or even want to do that.”

He looks even more confused now. But his cheeks are blooming with blush, and it’s spreading down his neck and just below his collar. And she’s now distracted, thinking that if she could see his chest, the blush would be spreading there too. And now she’s thinking about him shirtless, which is absolutely not the thing to do.

“Oh,” he says. Though that’s all he says as he shifts in the bed, moving to plant his feet on the floor. His hands are gripping the side of the mattress tight enough that his knuckles are turning white.

“I’m sorry, Bob,” she says, looking down at her hands. Trying to will her own blush away because now she’s humiliated and she’s an asshole. “I really wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable –I’ll go tell Walker I was lying. Seriously, it’s not –,”

“Why don’t we actually date then?” He interrupts, looking up at her.

“I don’t want you to feel obligated just because I told you I would,” she quickly counters, snapping her attention to him. “Just because I like you doesn’t mean I’ll stop being your friend if you don’t want to date me. God forbid, that would be horrible of me.”

“I don’t feel obligated,” he argues, taking a beat to calm himself down. His hands relax and the color returns to his knuckles. “I know I’m not…the best,” he says, and she’s about to argue but he continues before she can. “But I…I do really like you. And I’d…I’d like to try to take you out on a date. Probably have to take things slow or something, but if that’s okay with you…”

“‘Or something’ being giving me a hickey to freak out Walker?” She jokes, trying to ease the tension in the room.

He laughs. Actually laughs; not one of his uncomfortable ones. But a real laugh that’s soft and sweet and she can’t help but laugh as well when he nods. “Yeah, yeah…we can fast forward a little to that part, if you want.”

“Do you want to do that?”

He hesitates, and she’s about to tell him it's totally okay if he doesn’t want to. But he nods finally. “Yeah. Yeah, I do, actually. But uh,” he stops, and there’s this look on his face that suggests that he’s really considering his next question. At this point, he could ask her just about anything and she’d probably say yes, though. “Can we…maybe not fast forward through the making out part before the hickey?”

“Oh my god, you’re going to be the death of me,” she laughs, moving across the bed on her hands and knees towards him.

“I hope not,” he says, and he sounds genuinely concerned as she sits beside him.

She reaches up and brushes a lock of hair out of his face. “Metaphorically speaking,” she reassures. 

She doesn’t know what to do next, honestly. Not because she doesn’t have any experience, but because she feels nervous for the first time in years over a guy. Which is ridiculous, but at the same time…it’s a good feeling to have.

“Can I…can I kiss you, now?” He asks, but his voice is soft. Trembling. Like he’s afraid she’s going to suddenly change her mind and leave him there, embarrassed. 

“I’d really like that, yeah.”

He’s still timid –a little awkward, a little shaky –but he leans in closer, and she meets him in the middle. Their noses brush just slightly before the space between them is closed. It’s slow at first; testing the waters to make sure they both know what they’re doing. Truly, as high school as they could get without actually being in high school. But she presses forward slightly, resting one hand on his knee and the other hand on his chest. He mimics the motion, sort of, and one of his hands cups the back of neck, his fingers tangling in her hair. His other covers the hand resting on his knee, interlocking their fingers.

It’s her who pulls them backwards onto the bed, their legs still dangling off the side. Their entwined hands are up by her head now and the hand on his chest is grasping at the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer as she swipes her tongue across his bottom lip. Bob is half laying on her, the hand in her hair untangling itself to gently run down her ribcage through her shirt. She hums in response, and he tenses some but doesn’t stop. Instead, he pulls away from her mouth, and she sighs as his lips press against her jaw. 

The movement is just as awkward at first, but he finds a rhythm as he presses a kiss just below her ear then trails them down her throat. His stubble –barely there, but there enough to tickle –brushes her skin and she sighs in content as she loosens the grip on his shirt and tangles her fingers in his hair. Guiding him, carefully, kindly, to the spot on her throat that she wants to feel him mark. The pulse point that drums her heartbeat for this very moment. 

He hesitates again, and this time she’s pretty sure it’s because he actually doesn’t know how to give a hickey. So she forces herself to let go of his hair and taps just below his jaw to get his attention. When he pulls away, his cheeks are bright red and flushed, but he’s got a soft smile on his face.��

“Let me show you,” she offers, and he nods, letting her take the lead if only for a lesson. 

She pushes him onto his back and takes the same position he had been over her. One hand on his rib cage, deftly moving to run her fingers over his abs as she presses a soft kiss to his lips one more time. He tries to pull her back, but she nudges his cheek with her nose, pressing a light kiss there before trailing down his jaw and below his ear –mimicking the movements he had gotten correct. Then, she grazes just at his pulse –presses her tongue against his heartbeat, which spikes the moment her teeth touch his skin –not a bite. Just a little graze. Then she sucks and the sound that comes from his lips is soft but an obvious moan. 

When she pulls away, she admires the handiwork with a soft grin and a quick kiss to his jaw one more time. Then she’s looking down at him, hovering just high enough to see the glossy eyed smile on his face. She misses it, but his eyes shift some –gold flickering through as he returns to the original position and repeats the motions one more time. His mouth on hers in a soft but firm kiss. Then quick, soft kisses along her jaw and down her throat –on the opposite side now of where she left his. He follows her steps to the tee, like a lesson he wants to have perfected, and grazes his teeth along her pulse. When it quickens under his tongue, he hums in excitement, unable to help himself as he marks her as his.

He gets a little carried away, enjoying how she squirms under him as he presses kisses and soft bites to her neck. One hickey isn’t enough, and he leaves several before she’s littered in little bruises all over her throat. He’s about to push it a bit further, confident in his movements for the first in…ever, really, when the glass on his table suddenly explodes.

They yank apart, and she’s got a hand over her heart like she’s panicked. He’s staring at the puddle of water and glass that’s littering his nightstand, his eyes wide. She sees it before he does it –sees him pull away, shrink back behind the wall he’s put up to protect himself and anyone he thinks is in danger because of him. Behind the wall he thinks protects her from him.

“Bob,” she whispers, reaching up to try to get him to look at her, but he fights her, refusing to take his eyes from the splinters of glass. “Hey, it’s okay –we got a little carried away. It happens.”

He shakes his head though, and reaches up to wipe his eyes. It’s then that she realizes he’s started crying, and her heart breaks. She pulls her hands away and shifts, sitting up on her knees and wraps her arms around him from behind. Holds him close, and presses her cheek into his hair as she does so. His hands clutch at her arms, holding onto her like she’s the only thing tethering him to this world and the shadows. 

“It’s okay,” she promises. And she does mean that. It is okay. It will be, at least. “It’s okay –think of it this way –you broke a glass instead of a person, and that means you know how to direct it towards non-living things.” She’s not sure that’s actually reassuring, but she thinks it is, personally. There are worse things to have broken over a glass of water. 

“It could have been you,” he argues, voice shaking as he tries to calm down the tears. 

“But it wasn’t,” she reminds him, pulling him closer against her. “It wasn’t, and we don’t focus on the ‘what if’s’ because it’ll just make things worse. You didn’t hurt me. You didn’t hurt yourself. I would say that that’s a key marker of progress.”

He turns some, finally looking up at her with watery eyes. She pulls the sleeve of her shirt down and wipes the tears from his cheeks, smiling at him softly. Slowly, he wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her close, resting his cheek against her chest. She hugs him back just as tight, pressing a kiss into his hair. 

They sit there for a little while like this. Holding onto each other for dear life; grounding each other in the space they were sharing for the moment. Then Bob sniffles and pulls away, running his hands over his face. 

“It’s okay,” he repeats, though she’s certain he’s reassuring himself and not her. “I’m sorry I ruined –,”

“You didn’t ruin shit,” she interrupts, pointing at him in a scolding sort of way. But she’s smirking lightly. “You gave me a hickey. Everything else was just…a bonus.”

“I think I gave you more than one,” he points out, then gently pokes each mark on her throat and counts them. “Seven.”

“I suppose I owe you six more, some time then.”

*****

“Wait,” Walker says, slamming his hands on the table. Bob flinches, and she touches his leg gently under the table. “I just…I truly cannot believe this.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” she says, and Bob takes her hand in his. His attention is focused on the paper in front of him and the spirals he’s drawing. “I told you we were dating.”

Ava and Yelena are both still playing along, though they’re equally as confused. Not by the fact that she and Bob are a thing –but by the fact that they hadn’t actually picked up on it themselves. 

“I just –listen. I gotta know,” Walker starts and she’s so certain he’s about to say something stupid. “Isn’t…it’s gotta be weird just saying ‘Bob’ over and over when you’re bed. Like, c’mon. Do you say ‘Robert’? Or ‘Bobby’? Or is it just…literally ‘Bob’? Because honestly, that’s…weird to consider.”

She’s about to argue that it’s weird he’s even thinking about them having sex (which, not that it’s any of his business, but they hadn’t). But Bob speaks up first. 

“Her mouth is a little too preoccupied to say anything,” he says, though he’s definitely saying that more to himself than to anyone else. 

She chokes, covering her mouth. Everyone else is just…staring at him. He realizes a second too late that he said the inside thought outside. Then he flushes and tries to backtrack.

“I’m sorry, that’s not –I mean –,”

“Bob, you dog!” Alexei cackles, putting a hand on Bob’s shoulder and shaking it some. “Good for you!”

---

Bob Taglist: @ilovemarvel12 @withahappyrefrain (I'm tagging you specifically because you asked me to share with the class and ily)

[tojisteddy]

Tojis way of getting you to dream land was to give you a biiiiig dose of his fat cock.

It was a long day full of chores, walking around looking for the dumbbells he’d wanted, Toji just about cursing out the owner (if you squinted) because they tried to play him. And one thing was for certain, Toji wasn’t the one or the two. All while you ate away at the burger and milkshakes you got next door. (Toji enjoying the burger in the car whilst he complained about the little incident, ‘fuck that’s good baby’ ‘isn’t it? It’s a new spot.’)

Then after that, you had to grocery store, including arguing with Toji over which meats to get because all he wanted was pork and beef, great debate if he should change the dogs food, the never ending line because you couldn’t get in 15 items or less.

Then driving home, putting everything away, getting dinner started, shower, a much needed relaxing bath and, eating and now you were here.

Wide awake, watching some episode of Bad Girls Club (the og show from Oxygen). Toji had went to bed, and you gave him a ‘okay’ before turning down the tv not to disturb him.

Then circled back to he living room when you didnt follow him.

His eyebrows furrowed, he looks down at you he’s fully under the kotatsu, looking like a little muffin bundled up, “What are you doing?”

“What’d’you mean?”

“We’re supposed to sleep together.” Had you turned into Toji’s living, breathing, body pillow? Yes. He’d told you that. Which is why he had you on a schedule, you both got eight hours of rest that actually felt like eight hours that way.

“I’m comin, just give me ten minutes.”

Fine, whatever, ten minutes wouldn’t hurt the man. He got in bed, drifting in and out of sleep, waiting patiently for you to climb in his arms just as you usually did. But he’d felt off, he’d opened his eyes to the alarm clock that read ‘1:04’ and didn’t feel your weight on the bed.

He huffed, rolling himself out of bed and to the living room, irritated now because you should’ve been with him two hours ago.

“The fuck are you doing?”

Your eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights, you made yourself comfortable in the living room. Had a glass of milk, some oreos as you watched what was now reruns of Americas Next Top Model. It wasn’t that you were entraced in the show, you’d seen it before. Jaslene Gonzalez was gonna win season 8. You just couldn’t get your eyes to close. You tried turning the tv off and closing your eyes an hour ago and got nothing. Maybe a snack would help, which led you here.

You shrugged sipping the last of the milk and wiping your mouth, “can’t sleep.”

So you decided to torture your exhausted spouse instead?

Toji would force sleep down your throat if he had to.

The glass that was once on the table had now rolled onto the carpet (not breaking thank god). Repeated ‘mmph’ coming from your mouth with every harsh thrust of Toji’s leaking length gave you under the kotatsu. Toji was giving you the pounding of your life.

“Tojii,” you mewled, tapping his thigh, “ ‘s too much! I-I’ll go to sleep now!”

Toji snickered in your ear, grabbing your neck from behind and giving it a nice squeeze, “No, no, noooo, baby this is exactly what you needed. Keep those pretty eyes open and those legs straight f’me or we’ll be stayin up allll night.”

You moaned in annoyance, eyes rolling and gripping at the carpet. His balls getting wet from your sobbing cunt. Toji turned your head, just enough to fit your mouths together, sloppily intertwining your tongues and pulling away with a ‘smack.’

He groaned, “There you go mama, arch it a little more for me.”

“Oh fuck,” you were smacked upside the head with your orgasm right when he hit your spot, pink walls convulse around his cock. His hips moved faster.

You felt Toji shiver, quickly pulling out and cumming on your back, “Shiiiit, that’s my girl. Gooood job baby.”

You were out like a light, hushed snores leaking your slightly agape mouth. The bigger man hummed in satisfaction. Nothing his dick couldn’t solve.

“Nighty night sweet cheeks.”

a/n: i can never write some short shit, I always gotta set up plot, I’m irked. Anyway, toji drought kinda over!!

latest post masterlist more casual!toji

[bunny-jpeg]

better than home (kidnapper!simon) - you had seen enough horror movies to know that being kidnapped meant being on the news, being butchered, and being a cold case. but simon wasn't like that. except for the bruises he left when he took you, his touch had gentle. kind in a way that someone would brush their cat.

you flinched under his touch, but he just simply shushed you. "not gonna break a thing on ya, angel." that was his name for you. angel. he said that it was like you were given to him fro heaven, "if i do, i give ya the right to put a knife between my ribs."

it was unnerving to say the least. in the tiny home you both shared, locks on the windows, you had never seen a front door that needed a key to unlock from the outside. you tried getting out, but simon was simply so much bigger and stronger, that he didn't need to hurt you herd you back into a safer place.

"don't need to think about much anymore. safer here." he said in his gruff voice. you didn't know what kind of life this man had lived, but with the hunting knife on the coffee table, the well-used rifle over the fireplace and the old army formals in his closet. you knew that there was a story.

it didn't sink in till the first week, but you didn't have to worry about anything. you moved through the house on your own, when you scurried into rooms simon sometimes didn't follow. it was like he was bird-watching. keeping a close eye and admiring you. except you weren't exactly a free bird, rather a delicate beauty in a shiny cage.

you were surprised that simon had your favourite snacks in the pantry, even the same brand of plant-based milk you enjoyed. it was like he knew everything about you, and yet he was a total mystery.

"scary world out there." simon said, kept his distance from you in the recliner while you were curled up in the couch. you had taken a liking to a black and white checkered flannel blanket. it reminded you of the one back home, that you wondered if he just broke in a took it. he eyed you, which made it hard to read one of your many books, "pretty things like you need to be protected... bad men out there." as if this massive mountain of a man wasn't one of those so-called bad men.

you were in no place to argue. you still felt like you were in a spring locked trap and one wrong move would have it clamped down on you. that this was just some sick game before simon buried your body in the field behind the house.

"when can i go home?" you asked, finding your voice.

"this is better than home."

"are you going to kill me?" you asked before you swallowed the lump in your throat.

he shook his head, "no, ma'am. never." sounded like wedding vows rather than an answer. your curiosity only grew with each day. when you finished the books he brought you, he simply put them back in a bag and returned them from where they came from and came back with new ones.

"saw them on the shelf at the library, thought a woman like you would like them." he gave a curt nod as he dropped the canvas bag by your little nest of blankets on the floor by the television. you hadn't been able to watch television yet. primarily busied with sleeping, books, puzzles and notebooks where you had been writing.

and while it started a journal in the event the police found you. it had become more about fictional stories. for your personal pleasure. you thought about being a writer as a child, but the grind of corporate work in your adulthood seemed to dash that dream.

"next time." you said, feeling a little bold, "can you get some science fiction books too...." it felt uneasy to make any demands. he was your captor.

"well then, angel. be good for me then." he said, smiled under that mask. you looked over and made a face at him. you scampered off back into your nest of books and puzzles. maybe he was right, this was better than home. <3

a/n: this is unwell, i hope you enjoyed it. thank you!!

[backtothefanfiction]

Sleep Talking | Joaquin Torres

Summary; Joaquin could never keep a secret.

Warnings: none, this is all fluff

A/N: I couldn’t sleep until I’d put something out so yeah, this is just a real quick short before bed kind of story. I’ll get back on my asks/wips/part 2s of stuff tomorrow. For now, enjoy this. Also sorry I haven’t done tags it’s late and I’m tired so hope this finds you fine.

You woke unable to breathe. “Ouch, Joaquin,” you grumbled as your mind and body slowly dragged itself from sleep.

“Huh?” He grumbled sleepily.

“Baby, you’re squishing me.”

“What?” he groaned, but you could tell he was only half awake.

“Roll over. You’re squishing me. And you’re making me feel like I’m sleeping with a freaking radiator. Jeez.” you moaned as he shifted slightly and you truly felt how stifling it had become under the covers.

“It’s not me. It’s you,” he sleepily grumbled. You didn’t even have a chance to respond before he grumbled another response. “No.” he said with a sigh as he rolled back over onto his back on his pillow. “It was you. I know you ate my sandwich.” he mumbled.

Sandwich? What was he- ohhh, he’s sleep talking.

You chuckled to yourself as you rolled over onto your side to watch him sleep. Every now and again his lips would silently move to talk again, but it was mostly silent. You were just about to close your eyes and go back to sleep when you heard the words, “Because I’m going to marry her.”

There was a pause as if he was listening to someone else speak before he said, “What do you mean who? Y/N who else. I’ve already got the ring. I’ve been keeping it in my underwear drawer for weeks now.”

You were suddenly wide awake. You didn’t know if it was just the dream or if there was some actual truth to it and his subconscious was bleeding through. But there was one thing for sure, you weren’t going back to sleep until you knew for sure.

You tried to be as quiet as you possibly could as you crept out of bed, reaching for your phone and turning on the torch. Your feet padded quietly across the floor as Joaquin continued to let out small little murmurs. Every tiny shift you made to open the drawer sounded like thunder in your ears and you desperately hoped he wouldn’t wake up and catch you in the act. You gave one last quick tug on the old dresser drawer and there it was. Barely concealed by a pair of underpants, a square blue box.

You stood frozen in agony as you warred with yourself over what to do. Did you look and ruin the surprise completely or did you pretend you didn’t know it was there and climb back into bed. But you couldn’t help it. Now you knew of its existence, it was going to be burning a hole in the back of your head. You just wanted to be sure he picked a good ring, you tried to reason with yourself. You could be a good actress. You could still look surprised. You tried to rationalise as your fingers pulled out the velvet box. I mean he’s asleep, he’s not gonna know. You thought.

“Baby? What are you doing?” Joaquin asked, his voice hoarse with sleep. You looked at him guiltily. This was no sleep talking, he was well and truly awake now, sitting upright in bed as his eyes squinted, trying to adjust to the light of your torch in the dim room. That’s when he looked at your hands. “Oh shit!” he exclaimed. “Baby, I- wait, how did you-“ he paused as you continued to stand at the end of the bed frozen. Then he realised. “I was sleep talking.”

“Yes.” you finally said softly.

He groaned in frustration. “My mom said I could never keep a secret. I just wished for once I could have kept this one.”

“It’s alright,” you said.

“Did you look?” he asked.

“Not yet.” you replied. Your answer brought a soft smile to his face and he silently beckoned you over to sit with him.

“You know, I was waiting to do this on that trip to New York we were gonna take in a couple of weeks.” he began to explain, “but I guess this is good too.” Although it was dark in the room, you could tell he was beginning to blush as he took the box from your fingers.

“Y/N,” he said as his fingers deftly removed the ring from the box before he set it to one side. He tucked the ring into his fingers so you couldn’t see it just yet before he shuffled closer to you to continue his speech. “I have been in love with you from the minute I laid eyes on you. You can ask any of the boys, the second I saw you I said, that’s her, that’s the girl I’m going to marry. And of course they didn’t believe me, but I knew. You’ve been there with me for everything. Every hard day. Every promotion. You were always there to be my light and cheer me on.” he said, his voice shaking slightly with nerves. “You make every single day of my life, so much brighter and I don’t ever want to think of a day when you don’t wake up by my side. Y/N, will you do me, the greatest honour of my whole life,” he said, finally holding out the ring to you. “Will you marry me?”

It may have been 4am. It may have been in the dark of the night and extremely unconventional, but it was Joaquin. And you were always going to say yes to Joaquin.

[angelltheninth]

Do you think the Arcane lesbians tie their hair back when eating out?

Ya'll really trying to make me go feral with these eh?

Pairing: Vi, Caitlyn Kiramman, Maddie Nolen, Sevika, Ambessa Medarda x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, cunnilingus, hair-pulling, teasing, biting, being pinned down, praise, clit slapping

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: As far as I know Ambessa is a bisexual queen so I'm putting her in here.

Vi ran her hand through her buzzcut and sighed. "I mean, I can tie my hair back but I don't really see the point. It's just on the one side of my face, and my back." She shrugged as she leaned further down between your legs. "It doesn't bother me. What about you?"

"Not really. I thought you might wanna do it so I can see your eyes more clearly. Your hair has been getting a bit longer lately. Might need a haircut some time soon." You hooked your legs around Vi's shoulders and sighed heavily as her tongue prodded against your entrance.

As she licked into you your hands ran through her hair, seeing her point as your hands were enough to hold her hair back. She didn't need a hair tie. She looked perfect just like this, between your legs, about to eat you out like you were her last meal.

"If you wanna keep looking at me better keep those hands in place, sweet stuff." Her teasing words made you moan and tighten your grip. You didn't want her to stop, so you would do as you were told.

With your hands and your legs keeping her in pace Vi moved her tongue through your wet folds, savoring your sweet taste and the ever present tug you gave against her scalp every time her tongue played with your clit. The real reason why she enjoyed it is because she didn't mind the pain, when it mixed with pleasure.

If Caitlyn ties her hair back when you two have sex then you know she feels like giving rather than receiving that night. As soon as you saw her do it you knew you were for a really long night. "What are you smiling like that for darling?" Caitlyn asked as she leaned in for a kiss.

With a smirk and not breaking the kiss you pulled her on top of you and cupper her cheeks. "You know why. You tied your hair back. Just seeing you do that gets me wet." Caitlyn's eyebrows furrowed and she tilted her head. Her hands cupped over yours before she pushed them to your sides and kissed down your body. It seemed to make her conflicted that you knew what she was gonna do.

"Am I that predictable? Should I do something to spice things up?" There was something dangerous in her eyes as she asked. "Since you can see what I do, perhaps a nice blindfold, to keep you guessing."

"I-I wouldn't be opposed to that." You spread your legs open further and moved your panties to the side. "What else do you wanna do to me?"

Caitlyn looked up at you right as her tongue pressed against your clit and stayed there. She pulled away after a few seconds. "I'm sure I can think of a few things. After I make you come." You couldn't think of anything either as Caitlyn started mercilessly licking at your clit.

Maddie always wore her hair tied back except for when she was sleeping or taking a shower. It was no different when she was between your legs. Other might argue she's silly when she ties her hair back like that but they don't know how much easier it makes it to please her favorite girl.

"Do you not like it? You always said my ponytail was pretty cute. What changed?" The look on her face was an almost rejected pout.

"Nothing." You laughed at the idea that she thought you were rejecting her sense of style. "I love how you look with your hair tied up. Makes you look so damn cute. When you're under me like this."

In retaliation of you calling her cute Maddie bit your inner thigh, pretty hard too, which made you exhale sharply and brace yourself against the headboard of the bed. "Don't go calling me cute while I'm making you come all over my face." The fact that you were above her, pussy dripping on her wasn't enough to make her blush, but your praise sure did.

"Aww, but you are cute. My cute, sweet girl. Being so good for me right now yeah?" As if it could help her Maddie pressed her face between your legs again, her tongue licking at double speed. "See, you're going so good. Of course you are, using your tongue just the way I want you to."

"Sweetheart, fuck, hold on, stop for a moment." Sevika moved away from you, her chin dripping with your pussy juices. You groaned, tried to pull her back but she pushed you back. "I said hold on. I'm just getting something real quick. I'll be right back."

You licked your lips as you watched her make her way to one of the drawers. To your disappointment it wasn't the one where she kept her strap, but she did pull out a hair tie. The disappointment may have been on your face for a split second but Sevika saw it and it made her grin even wider.

"Don't look so let down. I'm about to eat your sweet cunt until you pass out. Now lay back and wait until I get this thing on." It was a bit of a challenge to do with one hand. You saw her struggle with it before.

You sighed and gave her a bit of encouragement. "I can do that for you. I'm really good with my fingers." You waived at her with one hand while cupping your pussy with the other. "So I've been told anyway."

Sevika's eyes widened when she saw your slick dripping onto the sheets. "Hey, hands off what's mine. You're being a real brat right now." She fumbled with the hair tie a few more times before she managed to get it on. Her hand grabbed your wrist. "Mine." She growled possessively as she pushed her tongue into your pussyhole.

Ambessa never ties her hair back unless she's on the battlefield. She has no reason to tie her hair when she's in bed with you, pinning you down by the hips and absolutely feasting, licking and sucking on your clit and keeping your pussy lips parted so she can see your hole clench around nothing.

"More, please, please, I want you inside." You begged, your voice strained as you tried to push her face further down.

"Hm, brave tonight. Aren't you, pet? Thinking you can order me around, grabbing my hair like that. Was I away for too long that you forgot yourself?" She pulled away, her rough palm delivering a hard slap on your clit. Then another, and another until you were a crying, drooling mess. "Behave yourself."

Unfortunately, or fortunately, you couldn't do that. Your nails dug into her hair further and you saw her roll her eyes. "I'm sorry. I missed you so much, I promise I'll behave next time. Just... please..."

"Fine, fine." Ambessa reached over to the nightstand and pulled her hair back into a bun. It wasn't nearly as neat as she usually wore it but she was in a hurry. "I'll spend all night reminding your body of who it belongs to." The look she gave you then was similar to how you saw her look at her targets across the battlefield, dark, cocky, a little amused, and very determined.

[hurtspideyparker]

Part 3 of if Civil War didn't end in divorce and everyone lived together

Part 1 Part 2

-

Mission debrief:

Thor: Don't feel bad Banner, I mean is there anyone at this table who hasn't killed somebody?

Peter: *slowly raises hand*

Natasha: Don't worry you're still young

Peter: 😟

-

Steve: Has anyone seen my shield?

Clint: *points outside*

*Peter, Thor, and Bucky playing frisbee with it*

Steve: I guess I'm not saving those orphans today :/

-

Clint: Tony I said seedless watermelon, are you trying to kill me?

Tony: You're a big boy, you aren't gonna choke

Clint: No but it might... grow

Tony: Oh please don't tell me you still think watermelon seeds grow inside your stomach if you swallow them

Clint:

Pietro: Bro got a licence to kill but still has a Jack and the Beanstock level of education

-

2:34 am

Tony: *leaving Steve's bedroom*

Sam: *leaving Bucky's bedroom*

Tony:

Sam:

Tony: Let's never speak of this?

Sam: Yep.

-

Steve: Tony, you're the smartest person I know. You understand anything you set out to study, your passion is remarkable, innovation beyond anyone on the planet, and an incredible memory

Tony: Thank you thank you

Steve: So why do you STILL NOT CLOSE THE KITCHEN CABINETS

Tony: Uh

Steve: SOME OF US ARE TALL TONY. SOME OF US HAVE BRUISES ON THEIR FOREHEADS BECAUSE OF THIS NEGLIGENCE

-

Tony: Goodnight kid *tucks Peter into bed and kisses his forehead*

*Clint, Vision, Thor, and Dum-E waiting outside the room*

Tony: Oh come on. All of you?

*nodding*

Tony: Vision you don't even sleep. Dum-E I am not kissing you again you gave me chemical burns last time

Dum-E: *lowers head and whirs sadly*

-

Bucky: Don't sit so close to me

Sam: Why, cause I'm black 🤨

Bucky: No because you smell like ass sweat

Sam:

Sam: Why, cause I'm bl-

-

During training:

Natasha: *flips Steve and slams him onto his back*

Peter: Woah! I wanna know how to do that

Natasha: *flips Peter and slams him onto his back*

Natasha: Seems like you already know how

-

Tony: Okay Merida, you and me, darts for a hundred bucks. My suit vs. your freak self

Clint: I'll take that bet

*7 minutes later*

Tony: I have advanced AI targetting technology. SUPER. SUIT. How did I lose?!

Clint: It can do a lot of things Tony but at the end of the day it can't super suck this di-

-

Bucky: Sam's in medical so I'll do the mission debrief with you

Natasha: That was fast, I thought you'd still be coddling your boyfriend the rest of the day

Bucky: What. How do you know about us.

Natasha: I don't, it was a joke...

Bucky:

Natasha:

Bucky: Damn you really are good at interrogation

-

Bruce: I've taken up puzzles as a hobby. It's actually really relaxing

*Box is missing the last piece*

Bruce: *sighs, erases the 61 under the 'Days Without Hulk Incident' sign*

-

Natasha: Kings

Bucky: Go fish. Sevens?

Natasha: Nada. Fives?

Bucky: Shit. Here

Sam: I thought y'all were playing poker, are you for real playing Go Fish?

Natasha: Our pockets got cleaned out so we quit. The poker game is over by Steve

Peter: HAHA SUCK IT OLD MAN, AMERICA JUST WENT BANKRUPT *pulls giant pile of animal crackers to himself*

-

Steve: Do you want to play catch?

Wanda: What?

Steve: Um. Do you want to watch Hannah Montana?

Wanda: I don't even know what you're talking about

Steve: Maybe I could show you how to brush your teeth?

Wanda: Steve you're really scaring me

Steve: The article said to do it together! *shows phone*

Wanda: Are you getting parenting advice from wikihow? Did you even read it or were you just skimming the pictures

Steve: ...Well why'd they put toothbrushing in the photo if it wasn't a good bonding activity?

-

Sam: Why are your titties so bouncy man. Is it to deflect bullets?

Steve: What did you just say about my chest...

Sam: Hey I call em as I see em, and they're staring right at me.

-

Peter: Yo Mr. Stark wanna see a backflip?

Peter: Oh Cap come see my front handsprings

Peter: Natasha watch this aerial cartwheel!

Tony: Why did you tell him you were in the circus. Now that the idea's in his head all he does is jump around and cause noise complaints from downstairs

Clint: C'mon it's cute! He's talented

Bucky: I'm gonna tell him it doesn't count because he has superpowers and that he's a cheat

Tony: But that'll ruin his confidence

Bucky: God I hope so

[squipa]

intertwined, sewn together

aka jason todd obligatory sickfic

———

you wake up earlier than you usually do, trickling beams of light from the sunrise basking over you through your window like some sort of natural alarm. you try and shut your eyes, to fall back into the warmth of your boyfriend, who has his arm hooked around your waist and his nose planted firmly against the back of your neck, but you just can’t seem to lull back into the warm, dark comfort of sleep.

gently, careful to let jason continue to catch up on some much needed sleep, you pick up his arm and place it at his side. you groggily slide out of bed and stand on two aching feet, a new wave of exhaustion hitting you once you’re completely upright. you groan, recognizing the unfortunate sensations forming while you trudge to the bathroom— you’re sick.

a quick look in the mirror confirms it. your eyes are bloodshot and puffy, and your cheeks are lightly dusted with a warm pink reminder that you are not immune to the flu that the kids you teach pass around. you grab a wad of toilet paper, blowing out the yellowish-greenish snot that prevented you from breathing through your nose. that motion lodges a cough in the back of your throat, which proves itself impossible to suppress.

“why are you up s’early?” jason slurs, wiping the sleep from his eyes while walking into the bathroom. you frown— you hadn’t even heard him get up. his arm finds it way right back to your waist, the warmth of his closeness a better medicine than you could ask for. he dips his head down to rest it atop yours, blearily looking down at you through the mirror.

you wad up the paper pressed into your hand, tossing it in the small wastebasket you keep on the counter to hold makeup remover for you mascara and sanitizer wipes for jason’s wounds. you sniffle, leaning into him, eternally grateful for his presence.

“i think i caught the flu.” you say, wincing at the way your voice sounds so deep and congested. “y’should probably go back to your place ‘n try not to catch it.”

jason pulls a face, sitting up straight and guiding you back towards the bedroom. you’ve spent countless hours kissing his bruises and sewing him back together after especially rough nights in the suit, and you really think he’s leaving you to fend for yourself? not a chance.

when he tells you this, you protest. “i’ll be fine, i don’t want you getting sick.” you counter, slipping back under the covers while he stands above you. he’s almost offended that you won’t let him take care of you, like he’s supposed to the only one getting pampered in this relationship. no way, absolutely not.

“i’ve got my flu shot baby, i’ll be fine.” he says, slipping on some decent clothes and sliding into the brown leather jacket you gave him for his birthday. you mumble something that sounds a lot like ‘so did i’ under your breath and jason pretends not to hear it while he laces up his boots.

“i’m just gonna run to cvs, get you some cold medicine.” he says, leaning down and pressing a kiss on your forehead. he frowns. “jesus, you’re burning up.” he mumbles as he pulls away.

you blink up at him, admittedly a little out of it. feverish aches nip at your joints, and without jason’s warmth you’re prone to shivers.

you wish you never got out of bed.

“i love you.” you mumble, closing your eyes. you don’t see it, but he smiles, his watchful eyes gazing over you. he wonders if you know how much you mean to him. if you know that you’re his word, that there’s a part of you intertwined with his very soul. when he says i love you too, pushing the words out slowly so you can hang onto every one, he hopes you know that he’s not just saying it because you did, he saying it because it’s the only thing on his mind.

he slips out through the bedroom door, lingering for a moment to watch you as you doze off. “i’ll be right back.” he says, his voice just above a whisper.

true to his word, he back in less than half an hour. he can hear you snoring from the living room, so he refrains from making his way back to you just yet. instead, he drops the bags gently on the countertop. he takes out two cans of soup (tomato rather than chicken noodle, because tomato’s the only kind of soup you’ll actually eat), a dayquil/nyquil duo pack, and a pint of your favorite flavor of ice cream.

jason puts the pint in the freezer and begins preparing the soup. he’s not much of a cook, especially compared to alfred, but he can handle heating up the stuff from the can. he even adds some of the seasonings you have in your cabinet to make it test a little less premade.

fifteen minutes pass and you wake up to him gently setting the soup on your bedside table. that’s how he did everything around you, gently. you honestly can’t believe he goes out and beats bad guys up every night, that the same hands that run through your hair and rub circles into your skin have killed people. sometimes he’s so gentle with you that you feel the need to remind him that you aren’t made of glass. he’ll give you a tight squeeze, but nevertheless, he remains gentle.

you blink the sleep out of your eyes, sniffling as you sit up. “what’s that?” you mumble, letting out a long yawn.

“tomato soup.” he says, smiling, sitting on your bedside, placing his hand against your forehead, his thumb messing with your hair. you smile, a sweet, loopy smile that he just loves. he loves that he made you smile, and he wishes he could keep you this happy forever. of course, your face drops when he pushes the cough medicine towards you, a mix of dread and disgust as you stare down the orange liquid. “medicine first.” he insists, as you take the cap from his hands.

“you suck.” you say, downing the dayquil like a shot. his head tilts back and he laughs, handing you a bottle of water when the syrup makes you gag. you pat the notably empty side of the bed beside you, gesturing for him to lay beside you.

and who is he to deny you? after setting the soup on your lap, he kicks off his boots and slides under the covers, wrapping his arms around your stomach and pulling you close as he rests his chin against your shoulder. you smile, softly, leaning into him (after the soup is finished; he worked so hard), letting his presence take away your ails. your head buries itself in his chest, and you doze off once more, letting yourself fall into him, letting him heal you in that way that only he can. in that way that means he loves you and you love him, that he’s part of you and that you’re part of him, sewn together with red string.

———

yes officer that’s my cutie pie

[sainns]

ㅤ 𓈒 𓈒　 WITH EASE, in which hyung line helps you with your kid.

( 형 ) fem ! r ㅤ ◦ ㅤ 1632wc fluff ㅤ──ㅤ w jake's reader has twins, sunghoon is a single dad, set kid names in jay and hoon's.

from anna. for fave @junislqve my biggest fan 💌 she gave me a lot of ideas for this ty

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ REBLOGS ´ ᯅ ` FEEDBACK.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ LEE HEESEUNG.

you walk into your apartment, dropping your keys onto the counter as you slip off your coat. your tired expression is replaced with a bright smile when you see heeseung watching tv on your couch. you sit down next to him, gaining just enough energy to ask if your son is asleep.

“yeah, he actually went to bed pretty early today,” he stands, “do you want something to eat? i saved some food for you, i just need to heat it up.”

you nod, watching him walk away before closing your eyes. the exhaustion of your job has finally caught up to you and you might’ve fallen asleep if not for heeseung’s updates about him and your son’s day.

lee heeseung is your own personal angel, you think. your neighbor turned babysitter turned weird situationship; at least in your perspective. he takes care of you almost as much as he takes care of your three year old son. he’s at your apartment more than he is his own (that’s mainly your fault) and you’ve grown used to coming home to him almost every day.

you hear him say your name and your eyes flutter open to see the sympathetic smile he has on his face and it’s so gorgeous, he might as well break your heart now before you fall for him any deeper.

“it’s okay if you sleep for a bit, you’re tired,” he says oh-so matter-of-factly, because he knows you now, “i’ll wake you up in an hour.”

it’s more than an hour later, when you feel heeseung’s hand on your cheek, rubbing under your eye. he notices you beginning to wake up and pulls his hand away, “you should go eat now, ‘kay? the food is on the counter. i’m gonna go ahead and go home."

you sit up, frowning, “sorry, but can you stay? just until i finish eating, i’m sorry.”

he stares at you, silent for what feels like hours, and it makes you regret opening your mouth. you blame it on your drowsiness—you know that if you were in your right mind you wouldn’t have asked him even if you really did want him to stay. to your surprise, however, he grins.

“yeah, i can stay.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ PARK JONGSEONG.

you send jay a text, apologizing for the fifth time this month for backing out on your date. he’s probably becoming more annoyed with you each time you cancel, but it’s really not your fault.

for the past few days you haven’t been able to find a babysitter for your daughter. her usual one, jaehyun, was out of town, and your back up sitters all had plans or ended up canceling last minute due to personal problems.

you rise from your position on your couch, deciding you should get dinner started for the two of you. before you’re able to, however, you hear a set of soft knocks on your door. you go to open it without bothering to look out the peephole, figuring it was one of your neighbors coming to ask for something.

“hello—oh. jay?” your eyes widen when you process the fact that it’s your boyfriend at the door. he was probably the last person you expected.

“hey,” he gives you that smile that never ceases to make your heart almost stop.

“why’re you here? wait, nevermind. i’m really sorry about canceling last minute, the babysitter couldn’t come,” while you’re talking, you gesture for jay to come inside, shutting the door once he slips off his shoes.

“i’m not mad, these things happen,” he places a kiss on your forehead, lifting up a bag of groceries, “i figured we could still have dinner together, just with an extra person.”

“jay, you didn’t have to. i feel bad.”

and he really didn’t, but he did.

“i was going to buy dinner anyway. a home cooked meal is better, no?” he walks further into your apartment, setting down the bag on the small counter. “where’s gen at?”

“oh, she’s in—”

genevieve cuts you off, all but squealing as she runs out of her room with a toothy grin, “mommy, jj’s here?”

you don’t have time to scold her for running in the house because she immediately throws herself into jay’s arms, the man picking her up with ease, “woah. hey, sweet girl. what are up to, huh?”

you smile as they have a conversation, acting like best friends who haven’t seen each other in months. it melts your heart—genevieve liked jay from the day that she met him all those months ago and you know that jay loves genevieve like she’s his own. he’s definitely someone you want to keep around for as long as possible, if not for you but for your daughter as well.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ SIM JAEYUN.

your two kids run up to your best friend, fighting each other for a spot in his arms. they don’t fight for long because he easily lifts the two children up. he says hi to them and asks them about their day before stepping inside your apartment and kicking the door shut. once his conversation with the kids dies out, he looks at you with a smug smile on his face.

“they like me more than you,” he says instead of a normal greeting.

“that’s because you spoil them every time they see you.”

“they like me because i’m me,” he sticks his tongue out at you, “huh, guys, you love me, don’t you? your mommy’s just jealous.”

“you’re actually annoying,” you reach up, taking advantage of his occupied hands, flicking his forehead and quickly escaping to your kitchen before he can even think to retaliate against you.

he immediately sets the twins down, telling them to go play while he goes to help you with whatever you’re doing. he waits until he hears the faint sound of them pulling out their toys to go towards your makeshift hideout.

he creeps up behind you, being as quiet as possible. you’re popping a bag of popcorn, thankfully too focused on that than him and his whereabouts. he stifles a laugh, poking your side hard enough for you to curl in on yourself.

“oh my fu—jake, what the heck?” you scold him, hitting his shoulder.

he laughs, holding his hands up in surrender, “sorry! i had to get you back. i think you gave me a concussion.”

he assumes you notice the popping slowing down and you turn away from him, taking the bag out of the microwave. he can’t see your face but he knows you’re rolling your eyes when you speak, “please, i barely touched you.”

“that’s what you think.”

you don’t give him the pleasure of the response, ignoring him to instead pour the bag of popcorn into a bowl.

“thank you,” you say suddenly, turning around once more, “i was thinking and, you know, i don’t really say it enough.”

“you don’t–” he starts to say, but you interrupt him by grabbing his hand and lacing your fingers together.

“i do. you’ve been really helpful lately. so, thank you.”

“um”, he hesitates, “i love them and i love you. ‘course i’m gonna help.”

you smile, dropping jake’s hand and going back to preparing for your weekly movie night. he misses the warmth of your hand almost instantly, and he has to resist the urge to pull you back against him in a hug.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ PARK SUNGHOON.

he can’t help but think that this is too crazy to be a coincidence. you, the pretty mom he gained a mini-crush on at the park a couple months ago, now at his house with your son who just so happens to be his son’s new best friend. maybe whatever divine being that’s up there finally took pity on him and decided to give his bleak love life some color.

he slides over a glass of cold water to where you’re sitting and the smile of gratitude you give him could probably cause car crashes from how dazzling it is. sunghoon can see your lips moving, but can make out no sound. he’s too dazed from being in your presence to process anything other than the fact that you’re sitting in his house.

“...live with you.”

he comes back to reality, only catching the end of your sentence and blinks, “what? sorry, i spaced out."

obviously, he’s going to need more context because logically he knows you aren’t saying what he thinks you are—you’ve only known each other for a month—but he can’t think of anything else that would make sense.

“theo said he wanted to come live with you and yejun,” you say, amusement dancing across your face.

“oh,” he takes in your words, “really?”

“yeah, he was begging me earlier. so..” you pause to take a drink and he has to look away, “if you’re okay with it, can he spend the night?”

he agrees to it with a little too much enthusiasm. of course, this is mainly for yejun and theo—strengthening their friendship, helping them gain a lasting relationship or whatever—but it gives him an excuse to see you again tomorrow.

around twenty minutes later, sunghoon walks you out, his hands in his pockets. you told the boys about the sleepover, said bye to the both of them, told theo to be good and that you love him.

“i have a spare toothbrush and he can wear some of yejun’s pajamas, so don’t worry about coming back.”

“okay, perfect. um, i’ll see you tomorrow?”

“yeah, tomorrow,” he watches you walk to your car, waving as you drive off.

sunghoon knows for a fact that he’s fucked—he already wants to hear you say that all of the time; that you’ll see him tomorrow and the next day and the next. he feels like a teenager all over again, already thinking about what he’s going to wear and say tomorrow morning.

[iamthatonefangirl]

What's your take on the winter soldier and cockwarming (your word is law btw)

pre-established relationship

oh u know he’s a horny motherfucker who loves to keep his cock in you all the time.

I’m talking he’s gonna pin you to the bed with all his body weight to feed it to your greedy cunt. he’s got you on your stomach, on the bed, wearing nothing but a t-shirt, having thrown your underwear somewhere over his shoulder, lost in the darkness of the bedroom.

“takin’ it good,” he’ll grunt if he’s feeling generous. you’re pretty much completely stuck under him and you can’t help but whine, sensitive from when he fucked you hours ago.

you know better than to beg for more. he’d probably make it twenty times worse, edging you and then not letting you come so you’d never be able to sleep.

when he’s convinced you’re done squirming he’ll turn you so you’re both laying on your side and he’s no longer crushing you. he’s already pushing both hands up against your abdomen to make you feel him buried in you, manually pressing his tip up against your g-spot. “fuck,” you hiss as he teases.

he gives you a soft slap on your thigh. “take it.”

he loves how warm you feel. he does it constantly because it puts him to sleep like nothing else can. it helps that it makes it easier to fuck you awake in the mornings.

if you gave him a hard time about it the night before then he’ll probably pin your head to the pillow and hold your legs together so he can fuck your thighs from behind. and you’ll whine and cry and beg and he’ll spank you for it because you don’t make the decisions around here, he does. and then he’ll eat you out from behind and probably fingerfuck your ass for good measure.

when he’s feeling mean he’ll absolutely make you keep him warm with your mouth. he loves to watch you gag as he works open your throat. he’ll keep you on your knees for hours, holding your head down so you can’t go anywhere. you already know you’re drooling everywhere, all over his skin, it’s everywhere. in that moment he thinks he’s gonna try 69ing you sometime.

anyways thank you for the ask 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶 send more i crave your thoughts.

~~~

masterlist

join my tag list

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@clavedelune @starfly-nicole @avengersfan25 @thewiselionessss @hextech-bros @a-book-lover-things @ruexj283 @mrsnikstan @sleepysongbirdsings @sapphirebarnes @bananababygirl10 @multiversefanfics @winchestert101 @andziabarnes @chrisevansleftnipple @daisydark @luckyhornet @maryevm @avengemepercy

[angelsuecult]

perfect places | s. crosby

warnings: none? maybe some language

summary: Sidney ends up helping you through the overwhelming world that is hockey gear what was once a shopping trip for your daughter leaves you with something more.

request: Would you be able to write a Sidney Crosby x mom!reader story? Like how she has a kid that maybe is on a little league hockey team and the Penguins go to like a practice or something to help out. Or maybe she out shopping for hockey gear for her kid because they want to do hockey and need the gear? She could maybe looking at equipment and looks a little lost and her comes over and helps.

word count: 9.3k

a/n: back with another for you guys! i hope you enjoy it and once again original requester please don't hesitate to reach out if you hate it or anything! requests remain open and i'm hoping to get a few more out this week!

—

You woke up to tiny feet climbing onto your bed. Not just climbing—launching, full-body flopping, elbow-first into your ribs like it was a wrestling match and she had a score to settle. You’d meant to wake up before her today, but apparently five-year-olds don’t care about alarms, or bones, or sleep-deprived parents.

“Mom,” she whispered, even though she was nose-to-nose with you. “Mommy. You awake?”

“I am now,” you groaned, half-laughing as you peeled one eye open. Her little curls were wild and pointing in five directions, cheeks flushed from sleep, a faint pillow line creasing one of them. She looked like a cartoon character and an angel at the same time.

“I had a dream I scored five goals.”

You blinked at her. “Oh yeah?”

“Yup. And they gave me a trophy and then—then everyone chanted my name. And guess what?”

“What?”

“They were chanting ‘the pink rocket.’”

You blinked again, slower this time. “The pink rocket?”

She nodded, dead serious. “That’s my hockey name.”

“Well,” you said, shifting to sit up and gather her into your lap, “I don’t know how many pink things they make for hockey but I guess we’re about to find out, huh?”

She gasped. “You’re going today? To get my stuff?”

You kissed her cheek, already halfway dragging both of you out from under the covers. “Yup. After I drop you off. I’ll go right after.”

She cheered and clapped, and then ran full-speed out of the bedroom with a yell of, “I gotta find my pink water bottle! I need it if I’m gonna be a rocket!”

Your apartment was small but cozy, lived-in. Art made of crayon and washable markers adorned the fridge, and a pair of tiny sneakers were tucked sideways by the door no matter how many times you straightened them. You got her dressed while she told you all about what a good hockey player does—“they skate fast and they don’t fall unless they do it on purpose”—and you helped tame her curls into two pigtails.

The morning ended up a mess of cereal crumbs, mismatched socks, and one very determined five-year-old girl who had insisted on packing her own backpack. You didn’t have the heart to repack it after she proudly zipped it up and hugged it to her chest like a treasure chest full of secrets—though you’d caught a glimpse of a doll leg, a half-used glue stick, and what looked suspiciously like the lid to your coffee thermos.

The car ride to school was full of questions you only half-knew how to answer.

“Do you think I’ll need a helmet? What if it has a visor like the cool ones? Can I pick pink tape for the stick? Do you know how to tie skates? Do you think I’ll be able to do the spinny move like the girl in the video?”

You answered what you could. 

Once you parked outside her school, she kicked her feet impatiently in the backseat while you unbuckled her. The air still had that early fall bite to it—sunny but not warm, brisk enough that you zipped your jacket up halfway as you lifted her from her booster seat. She was a little ball of energy this morning, bouncing as her sneakers hit the sidewalk, her little hand grabbing yours like always, sticky from syrup and too-warm from excitement.

“Okay, let’s go, let’s go,” she said, hopping down. You held her hand all the way up the sidewalk, her backpack bouncing behind her.

At the doors, she turned to you suddenly, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Don’t forget my hockey stuff!”

You cupped her cheeks. “I won’t, baby. I’m going straight to the store after this, I promise.”

Her whole face lit up like you'd just told her she could have candy for dinner. “You’re gonna go right now?”

“Mm-hmm. As soon as you go inside.”

“Look for pink things!” she reminded you. “Pink helmet. Pink gloves. And if they don’t have pink, purple is okay. So you can see me when I skate. ‘S important”

“Pink. Purple. Got it. Anything else?”

She thought hard. “Something that makes me go zoom.”

You smiled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

You bent down and kissed her forehead, then her cheek, then her nose, and she giggled so hard she snorted. Then she hugged you like she always did—tight and with her whole tiny body, fists balled in your jacket.

“Bye, Mommy. Love you big like the whole sky.”

Your chest ached in that soft, warm way. “I love you even bigger lovebug.”

She let go and ran into her classroom, waving once over her shoulder before disappearing into the crowd of other small kids with big dreams.

You were about to turn when a familiar voice called, “Morning!”

You looked up to see Miss Lillian, the teacher’s aide, walking toward you. She was in her usual bright-colored sweater and skirt combo, clipboard in hand, warm eyes squinting in the sunlight.

“Hey, good morning,” you said, smiling.

“I just had to catch you,” she said, pausing at your side. “Your daughter has not stopped talking about hockey since yesterday. I think we’ve heard every version of her ‘pink rocket’ speech. Twice.”

You groaned playfully. “Oh no. She’s gotten to you too.”

“Oh, it’s adorable,” Lillian laughed. “She told Mr. Peters that she’s gonna be the best skater—even though she’s never been on the ice. She said it with her chest. Like a tiny little boss.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, she’s got that confidence thing down.”

“I wish I had half of it. But really—she’s just so excited. It’s really sweet to see. And you know,” Lillian nudged your arm gently, “not every parent supports that kind of dream. It’s amazing that you’re doing this with her.”

That made you pause.

“I mean… I don’t know what I’m doing,” you admitted. “I’ve never even watched a full game of hockey. But she lit up when she saw those kids playing on the street. Then she tried it herself and came home covered in bruises but still smiling. And then she said ice hockey would be safer,” you added, rolling your eyes, “which I’m pretty sure is a lie.”

Lillian laughed. “That’s some logic, huh?”

“I guess I figured, if it makes her this happy…” You trailed off. “Well, we’ll try it. If it’s not for her, we’ll sell the gear or donate it.”

“I think you’re doing great,” Lillian said. “She talks about you all the time, by the way. Always telling the class how her mom can do anything. That you’re like a superhero.”

That gave you pause in a way nothing else had.

You cleared your throat and smiled. “Well. Don’t tell her I can’t tie skates.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

The two of you said goodbye, and you headed back to your car, heart fuller than it had been twenty minutes ago. The day was just starting, and already you felt like you’d run an emotional marathon. Now, you just had to survive your trip to the hockey store without looking like a complete idiot.

You climbed into the car and started the engine, your mental list already forming—helmet, stick, gloves... was there padding? Skates, obviously. Was there a difference between practice gear and game gear? Did five-year-olds even have games?

After drop-off and a fresh wave of mom-guilt turned motivation, you sat in the driver’s seat of your SUV and Googled: hockey gear for five-year-old Pittsburgh. You stared at the results, rubbed your forehead, and tapped the one that had the most stars and looked the least intimidating.

It was barely 9 a.m. when you pulled into the outdoor shopping complex, the kind of place with cobblestone walkways, faux streetlamps, and fountains that tried to make you forget you were in a strip mall. It was a little too early for it to be crowded yet, and the parking lot was mostly empty except for a few other weekday wanderers—retirees, moms with strollers, maybe someone ducking out of work. When you pulled in, wedging yourself between a massive black pickup truck and what looked like a teenage boy’s first car—dented, bumper stickered, windows covered in sports decals. 

You killed the engine and sat back for a second, staring out the windshield like maybe someone was going to pop out and tell you exactly what kind of skates you needed to buy for a five-year-old who claimed her destiny was to be the pink rocket.

But no one came. Just the pigeons. One strutted past the front of your car like he owned the place.

You stepped out into the cool morning air, shouldered your bag, and told yourself: You’ve done scarier things. Like kindergarten registration. And that one ER visit when she swallowed a Barbie shoe.

Pretzel first.

The pretzel stand was exactly where you remembered it, sandwiched between the upscale candle store and a clothing store that made too-expensive clothes. You ordered a hot soft pretzel with extra salt and a small lemonade, then stood off to the side of the kiosk while you ate, people-watching like it was a competitive sport.

Then you wandered for a bit, peeking into a few small shops near the entrance. A kids’ boutique caught your eye—wall-to-wall sports-themed onesies and toddler sweatpants. You picked up a pair of fuzzy black-and-gold leggings with tiny hockey sticks on them and held them up to your chest with a grin.

“She’d love these,” you murmured aloud, imagining her in them with her pink boots and that crooked little smile she gave when she felt cute.

You took your time. That was part of the luxury of the day: no schedule, no appointments, no other human being asking you to wipe something sticky. Just this.

“Okay,” you said out loud as you stepped back onto the walkway and stared down the main stretch of stores. “Let’s do this.”

The gear shop was tucked at the end of the row, right before a smoothie place. It didn’t look intimidating from the outside—just a wide front with a logo in clean, white lettering. But the second you stepped inside, it was clear: this place meant business.

You gave yourself a pep talk as you zipped your jacket higher. You’re a mom. You birthed a whole child. You’ve survived teething. You can survive shopping for hockey gear.

It was big. Bigger than you expected. Ceiling fans turned slowly above rows of merchandise. Hockey sticks were stacked upright like rows of bamboo, lining one side of the shop. Helmets, skates, and pads were displayed like military gear. You let your eyes drift over the walls, which were covered in team memorabilia. Penguins jerseys in every variation, from current players to legends. You recognized Crosby’s #87 and Malkin’s #71 without even needing to check the names. Your kid had already pointed them out on YouTube clips. There was a whole display in the corner dedicated to Mario Lemieux, complete with a signed photo and a stick in a glass case.

You made a noise in your throat. “Okay… wow.”

There were two adults behind the front counter, both looking mid-thirties—one was chatting with the other, who was scrolling something on a tablet. Nearby, two teenagers stood kind of awkwardly by a wall of gloves and elbow pads, looking like they didn’t quite know what to do with themselves.

First, you took a lap around the store. Not straight to the gear. That felt too overwhelming. Instead, you let yourself drift through the aisles, fingers brushing along soft sweatshirts and team scarves, scanning everything slowly. A few shoppers milled around, mostly adults—probably parents or weekend league players. A couple of them wore Penguins jackets like they were uniforms, heads down, hyper-focused.

You wandered through the adult section, noting sizes and prices, grateful you weren’t here for full pads or whatever gear adult men needed. Some of the gloves looked like medieval armor.

You passed the stick wall—intimidating and enormous—and casually avoided the skates. Not yet. Not today. You weren’t emotionally stable enough for that.

Okay. Helmet, skates, pads... stick. Gloves? Socks? What the hell do kids wear under this stuff? Pink. Sparkly. Maybe a bag? Definitely a water bottle? Did kids her age even wear mouthguards?

Eventually, you made your way to the kids’ section, tucked just beyond the display of goalie masks. You stopped short when you saw it.

Little jerseys. So many of them.

Little shirts, toddler-sized jerseys, beanies so small they could fit a doll. You stopped and ran your fingers over one of the sweatshirts on a low rack—it was gray with a soft fleece lining and a Penguins logo in a bubbly font across the front. You thumbed through them slowly, smiling to yourself as you passed Crosby, Malkin, Rust. And then—

“Oh my god,” you whispered, pulling out a Letang #58.

Your daughter had randomly pointed to Letang’s photo once and declared him her favorite because “his hair is like a princess.” The jersey was youth small. A little big, maybe, but she could grow into it.

You added it to your arm. Then picked up a black Penguins t-shirt with a glittery logo. Then a matching beanie, soft and warm and clearly made for kids who’d lose it within a week. She’d probably lose it too. You’d buy another. That was the cycle.

You stood there, your arm full of black and gold and fleece and tiny dreams, and just… took a breath.

You could picture her wearing this stuff. Picture her squealing when she saw it. Picture her running around the apartment pretending to be “the pink rocket,” yelling “GOAL!” at full volume and slapping invisible high-fives.

With the clothes over your arm you wandered deeper into the section, avoiding the gear wall for now. You weren't ready for shin guards and blade sizes. Not yet. First, let your brain ease into it. Maybe find something pink. Maybe a miracle.

A teenager behind you coughed into his elbow and said—loud enough to clearly be meant for your ears—“Uh, the youth sticks are along that back wall… if you need help with sizes or anything.”

You turned slightly, caught off guard, and smiled. “Thanks.”

He nodded like he’d done his part and resumed awkwardly re-aligning a row of mouthguards.

You wandered back toward the front counter. The older man looked up and offered a quick nod as you approached. “You find everything okay?”

You gave him a sheepish little smile. “Sort of. I was wondering if someone could help me with... the actual gear part?” You adjusted your grip on the sweatshirt and jersey. “My daughter’s attempting to start playing hockey. She’s five. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

That got a chuckle out of the person beside him. “We get that a lot,” she said, friendly enough. “You’re gonna want to check out the back left corner—youth gear section. We’ve got starter kits, different levels, and some sizing charts posted on the wall. One of the kids can help you if you need it.”

You glanced over your shoulder toward the two teenagers. One of them now had a helmet on sideways and was quoting something that sounded like a bad sports movie. You turned back. “Cool. I’ll... go take a look first.”

“Yell if you need us,” the man added, already turning back to the computer in front of him.

So you headed toward the corner of the store they’d mentioned.

And when you got there...

You stared.

Oh god.

It was just... a wall of black and white. Rows of identical looking gear—tiny shoulder pads that looked like robot armor, pants with layers of foam and plastic, shelves stacked with helmets that all looked vaguely like something you’d see in a futuristic prison. Not a speck of pink or sparkle in sight. Not even a pop of color.

Where were the pink things?

You hovered by the start of the wall for a moment, scanning everything. It felt a bit like wandering into an IKEA when you only needed batteries. You were overwhelmed already, and you hadn’t even touched a stick yet.

You picked up one of the smallest helmets, turning it over in your hands. Inside it was lined with foam, and there were sizing stickers all around the rim. You read one out loud under your breath. “Youth small. Fits 19 to 20.25 inches... okay.”

You had no idea what your daughter’s head circumference was.

You set it back down. Picked up a different one. Looked almost identical. Set it back down.

There were starter kits in bags, sure—some marked. You couldn’t remember what brand your friend had told you to look for when your daughter first brought up the idea of playing hockey. Something with an animal name? Maybe a bird? 

You spent the next twenty minutes slowly picking up items, flipping them over, putting them down, walking in small circles around the same display. At some point you realized you’d been holding a single elbow pad for five full minutes, just sort of rubbing your thumb over the seam like it would give you answers.

You picked things up, tried to guess sizes based on your daughter’s height and width (which wasn’t much of either), and gently put things back down when you realized you had no clue what the difference was between “youth small” and “toddler medium.” Every few minutes, you’d pull out your phone to look something up—How tight should youth hockey skates fit? What’s a cage versus a shield?—but the answers just made you more confused.

You found a pair of pink laces and held them like a victory trophy. One point for Mom.

You were squatting awkwardly by the gloves, holding one up to your own hand and trying to eyeball it, when someone walked past you and reached for a goalie mask off the rack above.

It took you a second to register how silly that was.

Because he was, like... a full-grown man. And that was a tiny-ass goalie mask.

You blinked, looked down at the mask in his hands, then back at him.

You turned your head slightly, curiosity piqued, and said without much thought, “I don’t know that that’ll fit you... but I’m definitely not an expert.”

The man turned, just a little, a soft smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. His voice was low, a little gravelly but warm. “Not for me. One of my teammate’s kids. I’m just the delivery guy today.”

“Ah,” you nodded, feeling your cheeks go warm. “I figured. Unless you were shrinking, and no one told us.”

He chuckled, glancing down at the tiny mask again. “Not yet, but never say never.”

He glanced at the gloves in your hand. “You doing gear shopping too?”

You nodded, eyes scanning the mask in his hand before flicking back to him. “Yeah. Trying. I’ve been here almost an hour and all I’ve really figured out is that everything is black and white and confusing as hell.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. It’s a lot when you’re just starting.”

You smiled, shifting the items in your arms, the jersey slipping and nearly falling. You caught it against your side.

He nodded toward it. “Good choice. That’s a popular one.”

You looked at the name again. “Yeah? Honestly, I heard her mention him once and it was because she liked his hair, so.”

He smiled again—this time with something a little more amused behind it. “Well, you’re in Pittsburgh, so yeah. Letang’s kind of a big deal. And he’s got great hair,” then offered his hand. “Sid, by the way.”

You reached out to shake his hand, your brain stuttering for half a second. Sid. Sid. Unassuming dark blue tee with faded black jeans. Penguins cap. Goalie mask for a teammate’s kid.

Wait a second.

“I’m... Y/N,” you said, still shaking his hand.

His smile lingered, and there was a subtle, almost imperceptible flicker of recognition in your eyes as the dots started connecting.

You didn’t say anything though. You didn’t blurt it out or ask for a picture or grill him with questions.

You just smiled.

“Well,” you said softly, “If you have any rookie shopping tips, I’m all ears. Because right now, I think I’m buying two left gloves and possibly an elbow pad meant for a squirrel.”

Sid chuckled, stepping a little closer, a comfortable distance, easy and unpressured. “Alright. Let’s see what you’ve got so far,” eyeing the pile in your arms like it was an unsolvable riddle, “why don’t we start from the top—literally. Helmet, shoulder pads, gloves, all that. Then work our way down.”

You shifted your items to one arm, then gave him a helpless glance. “Lead the way, Captain.”

That earned you another one of his quiet laughs. You followed him a few steps to the wall lined with youth helmets, most of them black, though a couple had red or blue detailing. The sizes were printed along the shelf edge—Youth Small, Youth Medium—and behind each, a row of boxed helmets waiting for homes.

“She’s how old?” he asked, already crouching to one of the lower shelves.

“Just turned five in March. She’s about... say, three-foot-eight? Thirty-eight pounds. She’s got this mess of curly hair, so the helmet can’t be too tight. But also—safety.”

He chuckled, glancing up at you. “Right, no decapitations. Got it.”

You snorted. “I’d like to keep her head attached, yeah.”

Sid picked up a small helmet and turned it over in his hands, fingers checking the inside padding. He handed it to you. “This one’s a good brand. Solid protection. Comes with the cage too, which is what she’ll need. Some of them don’t, so make sure it’s included if you go with a different one.”

You nodded slowly, already overwhelmed again. “Okay, yeah, that looks... safe?”

He grinned. “Very safe. Want to write it down?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You know,” he said, standing up and dusting his palms off like this was an outdoor project. “In your notes app. Like an old person. ‘One helmet, small, comes with cage.’”

You rolled your eyes. “Wow. Are you always this charming, or is it just for flustered moms trying to buy sports gear?”

“Flustered moms are my specialty,” he said dryly, but his smile gave him away.

Still, you pulled out your phone and opened the notes app, muttering under your breath. “Helmet, small, with a cage, don’t let Sid pick on you.”

He leaned over, trying to peek at your screen. “Did you really just write that?”

You snapped the phone shut. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

You moved on together, stopping at the shoulder pads next. He pulled a small pair off the rack and held it up in front of you.

“These’ll probably fit,” he said. “She’s little, but these are adjustable. You want the shoulder cups to line up obviously, but the important part is the chest plate—it should sit flat, not hanging off her.”

You nodded slowly, inspecting the pads like they were alien technology.

“And this is—what? For... falling?”

“Contact,” he said, grinning. “And yeah, falling too. Shoulder bumps, accidental checks. It keeps her chest protected if she takes a puck or a stick. Not that five-year-olds are slinging clappers yet.”

You blinked. “Slinging what now?”

He clarified. “Slapshots.”

You stared.

“Hard shots,” he clarified.

“Oh. See, you should just say that,” you said, squinting at the pads. “Why does everything in this sport sound like a 1950s insult?”

He laughed—this one louder than the others, deep and honest—and you found yourself smiling just from the sound of it.

“Okay, what’s next, smartass?” you asked.

He guided you through gloves next, letting you try a pair on so you could get a feel for the stiffness. “New ones are tough to move in,” he explained, “but they’ll break in after a few practices. You want her fingers to reach the tips, not swimming in there. And if you’re stuck between two sizes, go up. You can’t grow into small gear.”

You made another note in your phone and then paused. “Is this the part where I have to pick a stick?”

Sid turned to the bin of youth sticks and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, that’s the fun one.”

“Oh god.”

“No pressure,” he said. “It’s only the most important part.”

You gave him a look. “Really?”

He grinned. “No. Kind of. Sort of. But not at five.”

You sighed dramatically. “Okay. Here goes nothing.”

He stepped up beside you as you both peered down into the barrel of sticks, most of them barely reaching your waist.

“Does she shoot left or right?”

You frowned. “She writes with her right hand, brushes her teeth with it. But she kicks soccer balls with her left foot sometimes. Does that help?”

He winced. “Only a little.”

You watched him pick up one, then two different sticks, holding them out and comparing them against each other like a bartender choosing between bottles of wine.

“This one’s left,” he said, handing it to you. “More kids start left, even if they’re right-handed. It’s weird.”

You turned the stick over, testing the grip.

“Let her try both when you get home,” he added. “Don’t cut it until you know which one she prefers.”

“Cut it?”

He nodded. “You’ll probably need to trim a few inches. It should hit between her chin and nose when she’s in skates. Too long and she won’t be able to handle it.”

Your head was spinning again. “I’m writing that down.”

“Good call, Old Lady Notes.”

You flipped him off lightly without looking up from your phone.

You followed Sid over to the youth skates, where he walked you through sizing—tight but not painful, with room to wiggle toes—and pointed out which brands had better ankle support.

“This is a lot,” you said eventually, “Like... a lot.”

He smiled softly. “It is. But it gets easier.”

You nodded, watching him now more than the skates. “Did your parents do this for you?”

He leaned against the shelf beside you. “Yeah. My dad mostly. But my mom did her fair share of sitting in freezing rinks with coffee and a blanket.”

You smiled. “I should probably start investing in hand warmers now.”

“Oh, definitely.”

You let the silence sit for a moment before he glanced at the stuff in your arms again and pointed at the Letang jersey.

“Good pick,” he said. “But if you want your daughter to win games…”

You looked up at him, catching the little smirk on his face.

“Oh no.”

He shrugged, not even pretending to be modest. “I dunno. She might have better luck with a Crosby jersey. Not like I’m a professional or anything.”

You stared at him. “Cocky much?”

He chuckled. “What? I’m just saying.”

“You’re just saying you’re better than Letang?”

He tilted his head. “Tanger’s great.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“I’m just better.”

You laughed, full and loud, startling one of the teenagers walking past. “Okay, alright. I guess if I had to pick a role model, the guy personally helping me fit elbow pads isn’t the worst choice.”

“I do what I can,” he said with a wink.

You gave him a half-playful sigh and picked up the Letang jersey again. Then slowly, without looking at him, added a Crosby one to the pile. Two jerseys, she’ll be excited regardless. 

He didn’t say anything, just smiled a little to himself and helped you find the right size.

“You’re either really prepared,” he said, lips twitching, “or she’s about to be the best-dressed five-year-old in the entire league.”

You grinned. “Look, if she’s gonna throw elbows, she may as well look cute doing it.”

“Bulked up in pink elbow pads,” he said thoughtfully. “Terrifying.”

“Exactly.”

You made your way toward the checkout counter, arms full, the jerseys, sweatshirt, t-shirt, a beanie—and the mini stick Sidney insisted every hockey kid needed, sat on top like a cherry on a very expensive sundae, mentally ticking off the grocery list you still had to tackle after this. Apples, chicken, string cheese, enough pasta to keep your tiny enforcer fueled or pre-fueled. 

Sid followed a few steps behind, still holding the youth goalie mask you’d caught him with earlier. You glanced at it again now, curiosity tugging.

You smiled and nodded toward the youth goalie mask he was still holding, white and pristine and blank. “So, mystery solved yet? What’s that for?”

He held it up a little, letting it catch the light. “It’s for my godson. His birthday’s next month. He’s obsessed with goalies. Gonna get it customized—mask, pads, the whole nine yards.”

You raised an eyebrow, impressed. “That’s a pretty cool gift.”

Sid shrugged like it was nothing. “He’s a good kid. Deserves something cool.”

“You getting his name painted on it or something?” you asked, genuinely curious now.

“Thinking about it. His favorite goalie was Lundqvist, but he keeps pretending to be Fleury when he plays in the driveway. So maybe something between the two. We’ll see.”

You grinned at that, setting your items down gently on the counter as the clerk started scanning. “That’s sweet.”

He gave a small, sheepish shrug. “Trying. He’s already better in net than I am, so I gotta keep my rep somehow.”

You laughed. The older man behind the counter gave you a friendly nod as he started ringing up the items.

He hesitated for a second like he might say more, then cleared his throat. “Hey—have you ever heard of the Little Penguins program?”

You paused. “The what?”

“Little Penguins,” he repeated. “It’s this thing we run through the team. We usually do Winters but we added Fall on there too. Kids can sign up and get a full set of gear for free—well, technically a deposit, but you get it back—and they do learn-to-skate stuff, drills, scrimmages. They get to practice on the ice, even skate with a couple of us players.”

Your mouth parted slightly. “Wait—like with the Penguins Penguins?”

He nodded. “Yeah, the big guys. Usually a few of us show up. Just for fun, nothing formal. But it’s a good way for the kids to dip their toes in without it being overwhelming. Especially for parents who are still learning the ropes.”

You blinked. “That… actually sounds amazing. Why is this the first time I’m hearing about it?”

“Marketing’s not our strong suit,” he said with a crooked smile. “I think the sign-ups start late summer. July-ish.”

You imagined your daughter, pink helmet and jersey, oversized gloves bouncing at her sides, skating across the ice next to Penguins players like it was a totally normal Tuesday. “Okay, yeah. That’s... wow. I’ll definitely think about that.”

He smiled again, and it hit you that he was genuinely pleased you seemed interested. “You should. It’s fun. And your daughter sounds like the kind of kid who’d love it.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “It actually does sound like something she’d love. I mean, if there’s juice boxes involved, I’m sold.”

He grinned. “I’ll make sure they have the pink ones.”

“You better,” you said. “But yeah. She would lose her mind.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he said, lightly bumping your elbow with his.

“Just the apparel today?” The cashier asked.

“Yeah,” you said, glancing at Sid. “Apparently I need to go home and take measurements. Like an adult.”

Sid turned to the cashier with a grin. “She’s doing her homework. Proud of her.”

You swatted his arm lightly, but he just laughed and leaned casually against the edge of the counter.

As the man scanned the Crosby jersey—Sid gave a soft, smug hmm at the sound—as if he hadn’t practically forced you to grab it.

The cashier handed you a long receipt and bagged up your stuff, folding the jerseys carefully. You thanked them, then turned back to Sid one last time, tucking your phone back into your coat pocket.

“Well. I should let you get back to your godfatherly duties. And I’ve got to go buy protein-rich snacks for a child who thinks hockey is a personality trait now.”

He laughed. “You’ve got a good one on your hands.”

“I do,” you said, feeling your chest warm a little. “Thanks again, by the way. For the help. Seriously. You saved me from panic-buying a full adult-size goalie kit.”

“Glad to be of service,” he said, then added, “Hey—if you end up signing her up for Little Penguins, I’ll probably be there. Come say hi.”

Your hand tightened slightly on the bag handles. “Yeah. I just might.”

He gave you a little nod, “Keep me posted. If she joins the Little Pens, I wanna know.”

“I will,” you said, turning toward the door. “If she scores her first goal, I’ll even make her point to the sky and say it’s for you.”

Sid smiled, shifting the goalie mask to his other hand. “Hey, if she ends up falling in love with the game, I’d say this was a good use of a Saturday.”

You nodded.

You watched him for a second—just a second—then shook your head to yourself with a soft laugh and headed out into the parking lot, the automatic doors sliding shut behind you with a whoosh.

You had groceries to buy. You had gear to organize. You had a daughter to tell about “this thing called Little Penguins.”

A Few Months Later…

The rink was loud with the echo of blades scraping over ice, muffled thumps from little bodies falling down, and the hum of excited chatter from proud parents in the stands. The bleachers were fuller than you expected them to be this early on a Saturday morning—coffee cups cradled like precious gems, toddlers bundled in puffer coats and fleece hats, a chorus of “that’s my baby!” and “get up, you got it!” rippling through the space like music.

You sat midway up the stands, leaned forward with your elbows on your knees and your hands clasped under your chin, barely blinking as you tracked your little girl zooming across the ice in her baby pink skates—the ones you’d debated splurging on, only to be guilted into by her lip-quivering pout and an impassioned speech about how “pink skates make you faster.”

Apparently, she wasn’t wrong.

She was a blur of movement and energy, her tiny helmet bouncing slightly with every stride. Her white jersey was too big on her, practically swallowing her whole, with “Crosby” emblazoned across the back—his number 87 stitched proudly under it. Pink tape spiraled down the length of her stick, the edges fraying just a little from the constant use. It was a vision, the kind that made your chest squeeze so tightly it felt like your heart might burst from sheer joy.

You were smiling like an idiot as she collided softly with another kid, both of them toppling over like penguin-shaped dominoes.

A dad sitting nearby chuckled, following your line of sight. “Yours in the pink skates?”

You nodded, still smiling. “Yep. That’s my maniac.”

“She’s got good instincts. Keeps her head up, even when she’s down,” he said with a grin, nudging his own daughter, who was munching Goldfish crackers next to him.

“She’s obsessed,” you said with a little laugh, eyes never leaving the ice. “This morning she woke me up at 6:10—on the dot—in full gear. Elbow pads over her pajamas. Helmet on backwards.”

The dad laughed. “They don’t just fall in love. They jump in head first.”

“Tell me about it. I think I have about twelve hours of footage just from driveway practices,” you said, tapping your phone like proof.

Down on the ice, your daughter had popped back up, brushing the snow off of herself with those padded gloves that made her hands look like marshmallows. She took a wobbly step forward, then another. A coach—tall, in full gear himself—skated past and gave her an encouraging tap on the helmet. She giggled and tried to chase him, only to crash into the boards.

You winced a little, but she scrambled back up, laughing. Unfazed. Just like always.

“Did you grow up around hockey?” the dad asked, sipping from his thermos.

You shook your head. “No, not even a little. This whole world is new to me. First time I walked into a gear shop, I almost cried. It was like IKEA, but colder and meaner.”

“Ah. One of those,” he said knowingly. “So how’d she get into it?”

You smiled a little to yourself, watching her now attempt to scoop a puck with the toe of her stick like she was playing field hockey.

“It started with street hockey,” you said softly. “Some neighborhood kids were playing, and she just... joined in. She didn’t even ask. Just ran over and jumped into the game like she was born for it.”

“I know the type,” he said with a grin. “Future captain.”

You smiled at that—because part of you believed it. Knew it, even.

“Yeah,” you said. “Future something.”

A cheer erupted from the crowd as one of the kids—somehow—managed to score on one of the adult coaches in net. The coach fell dramatically backward, arms spread wide like he’d been defeated in battle. 

It was cold and it smelled like coffee and the unmistakable sweetness of childhood. The coaches were endlessly patient, calling out encouragement and clapping for every kid, no matter how awkward or uncoordinated they were. One coach—Sid, you realized—was crouched low near the boards now, tying the laces of a tiny skater who looked like she was upset or tired.

You watched him a moment, that same calm energy radiating off him that he’d had in the shop months ago. No helmet, just a cap pulled low over his hair. Still recognizable, though—especially to the row of moms sitting a little too upright on the lower bleachers, their giggles loud enough to rise above the noise of the rink.

You’d never said anything to your daughter about who he was. You liked keeping it simple. To her, he was just Coach. Of course, she knows him. But here he's just a nice guy who high-fived her when she got her skates on the right feet and always knew when she needed an extra push on the back.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you checked it quickly. A message from your best friend:

“How’s my niece doing?? Any goals?? Any falls??”

You snapped a quick picture—her mid-laugh, head thrown back—and sent it back with a caption:

“Living her best life.”

You tucked your phone away and leaned forward again, watching as your daughter bent her knees the way they’d shown her, arms stiff out in front, tongue sticking out in concentration. She was taking it all in—every second of it. From the cool air on her cheeks to the slap of the puck to the roar of imaginary crowds in her head.

There was something sacred in watching your kid find the thing they loved. Like watching a door open inside them you didn’t even know was there. Every spill, every grin, every wild, uncoordinated movement across the ice—each one carved that love deeper into her bones.

You clapped and cheered when she completed a clumsy turn, just barely staying upright. She turned toward your seat in the stands and grinned, giving you two very exaggerated thumbs up. Then she fell on her ass again.

You laughed, hand to your heart.

The mom next to you leaned over. “First season?”

“Yeah,” you said. “First everything.”

“Well, you’re in for it now,” she said, sipping from her thermos with a knowing smile. “There’s no going back once they get a taste of the ice.”

You looked down at your daughter—scraping her way back to her feet, cheeks flushed, still smiling—and you knew it was true.

There was no going back.

And you didn’t want to.

After nearly three hours of watching your daughter, it was over. The hallway just outside the locker room was chaos in a very specific, beautiful way—kids peeling off helmets and elbow pads, trailing behind coaches or sprinting toward waiting parents, little voices bouncing off the walls, squealing about scoring, or falling, or “that time Coach tripped on his own skate.” Everyone was coach apparently.

You’d waited in the designated spot outside until one of the assistants—some fresh-faced guy in a Penguins jacket—gave the okay for parents to head in.

“Y’all can head in now,” he said, stepping aside and trying not to get knocked over by a tornado of five-year-olds dragging their gear bags behind them.

Inside, the locker room was warm and bright, lined with benches and low cubbies that were already stuffed with half-shed gloves, little skates, jackets, and about seven different water bottles. The buzz of post-practice chatter filled the air instantly, like someone had turned the volume knob all the way up.

You barely had time to take it in before a flash of pink barreled toward you.

“MOMMMYYYYY!”

There she was. Wild curls matted from the helmet, cheeks flushed with effort, teeth bared in a wide grin as she ran, half-hopping in her skates, arms wide.

You bent down just in time to catch her.

“There you are, Speed Racer,” you grinned, crouching down and opening your arms as she barrelled into you. Her gear clunked against your chest—chest protector and all—but you didn’t care. You hugged her like you hadn’t just been watching her be wild on the ice.

“I FELL SIX TIMES!” she squealed, voice muffled against your shirt.

You ran a hand over her head, feeling the heat radiating from her scalp. “You fell six times and you still have that big ol’ smile on your face? Must’ve been a good time.”

“It was the funnest ever,” she said seriously, stepping back and immediately beginning to unfasten her chest protector with a kind of frenzied determination. “And guess what! Owen and me were on the same team, and I touched the puck with my stick! Like for real this time! I didn’t miss!”

You helped peel the Velcro from her shoulders, gently tugging the damp, slightly stinky gear off while she babbled on.

“Toootally touched it. Owen saw. Right, Owen?!”

A little boy with dark hair and dark eyes, Owen, turned toward you, a toothy grin spread across his face. His front teeth were at war—one was missing, the other wobbly and hanging on for dear life.

“Hi,” he said confidently.

“Hi, Owen,” you greeted, giving him a warm smile. “I hear you two had fun today.”

“We’re on the same team,” he said proudly, pointing to his white practice jersey. “White team’s faster than the black one.”

Your daughter nodded vigorously. “We’re the fastest. Way faster.”

“I believe it,” you nodded solemnly, ruffling her sweat-damp curls as you zipped the top layer of her jacket. “You guys looked awesome out there.”

“They were, weren’t they?” a voice chimed in to your right. Owen’s mom, dressed in a puffer vest over a Penguins hoodie, smiled as she peeled her son’s gloves off one by one. “Owen hasn’t stopped talking about it since he got off the ice.”

You smiled back, instantly comforted by the friendliness in her tone. “Mine either. I’m pretty sure she’s still skating in her head.”

“She’s adorable,” the mom said. “Pink skates and pink tape? That’s iconic.”

“She had to be pink,” you said, laughing softly. “Apparently, pink makes you faster.”

Owen's mom grinned. “Hey, she might be onto something.”

You all shared a laugh as the room buzzed louder—parents helping their kids wriggle out of gear, skate guards being snapped on, water bottles getting passed around. Owen sat down next to your daughter on the bench, pulling a juice box out of his small backpack. “We made up a game,” he told you while trying to stab the straw through the plastic film.

Your girl nodded. “You pretend the puck is a bumblebee and you gotta squash it with your stick before it stings someone.”

“That sounds very advanced,” you said seriously.

“We’re gonna play it next time too,” she added. “Owen said he’s really good at squashing bees.”

Owen nodded matter-of-factly, still struggling with the straw.

Owen’s mom bent down to help him, chuckling as she did. “He’s been trying to squash bees with sticks since he was three. I’m just glad he’s finally doing it on the ice and not in our backyard.”

You grinned and reached into your own bag to grab your daughter’s snack. She immediately tore into the applesauce pouch like she’d been starved for days, then leaned against your side, still warm from all her movement.

“They looked so cute skating next to each other,” Owen’s mom added with a soft smile. “I was telling my husband—it almost looked like a little date out there.”

You laughed at that. “I think they’ve bonded over their mutual chaos.”

She leaned in a little and lowered her voice. “He told me in the tunnel that he thinks your daughter’s hair is ‘like gold spaghetti.’”

You choked on your sip of coffee, covering your mouth. “Gold spaghetti?”

She nodded, snickering. “Crush territory. I’m calling it.”

You smiled, heart melting a little, and pulled your phone out from your coat pocket. “Alright, if they’re officially best friends-slash-future-spouses, we need a picture.”

Both kids were now on their snacks, Owen with his juice box and your girl halfway through a granola bar, crumbs smeared around her mouth. You lined them up on the bench—gear still half-on, cheeks still flushed—and snapped a picture.

It was absurdly cute.

“Alright, say cheese,” you said. “Or… say Penguins!”

“PENGUINS!” they both shouted.

Click.

You took a few more, some with funny faces, some with your daughter attempting to put her arm around Owen’s shoulders and nearly knocking his juice out of his hand. You were pretty sure your camera roll had hit triple digits by now, but you didn’t care.

Eventually, your daughter leaned into you again, resting her sticky hand on your leg. “Mama,” she said quietly. “I’m thirsty.”

You glanced down. “Didn’t you bring your water bottle?”

She blinked up at you sheepishly. “I left it on the bench. Where I sit. I think.”

“Oh no,” you said, sighing gently. “You silly goose.”

“I forgot!” she insisted, holding her hands up like that’d fix it. “Thirst to death mama.”

You reached up and tucked a curl behind her ear. “Alright, okay. I’ll go grab it. Can you hang here for a sec?”

She nodded. “I’ll stay with Owen.”

You turned toward his mom. “Mind keeping an eye on her real quick? I’ll be back in like a minute.”

“Of course,” she said warmly. “Take your time. These two are thick as thieves already.”

You smiled and stood, patting your daughter’s helmet-less head. “Be good,” you said.

“Always,” she grinned, already halfway through a whispered joke with Owen that involved a fart noise and something about the Zamboni.

You made your way out of the locker room, weaving around kids and parents and piles of equipment. The hallway was quieter. You passed by a few of the coaching staff and volunteers still lingering around, one of them wheeling a cart of extra equipment back toward storage.

You shifted your weight awkwardly near the tunnel toward the bench, one arm wrapped around yourself for warmth. You weren’t totally sure if you were allowed to just stroll out there in regular shoes. Like—was that frowned upon? A total rookie parent move?

Your eyes scanned the hallway for someone official-looking. After a few seconds, a man in a staff jacket with a clipboard walked past. You stepped forward quickly.

“Hi! Sorry—excuse me?”

He stopped and turned. “Yeah?”

“Um, I was wondering—my daughter left her water bottle out there on the bench,” you explained, nodding toward the rink. “It’s pink and glittery—shocking, I know—and it has a little flower keychain on the handle. Would it be possible for someone to grab it for me? I don’t wanna like... destroy the sanctity of the bench in my street shoes.”

The guy smiled, already turning to wave someone down. “Yeah, no problem. Hang tight. I’ll send one of the volunteers out.”

“Thank you, seriously.”

You leaned back against the wall, tugging your sweater sleeves down over your hands as you watched the lingering players on the ice, most of them part of the older age group now, finishing their drills. Some were still skating slow laps while a couple of the younger assistant coaches stood near the blue line laughing about something. You weren’t really paying attention—your mind was still back in the locker room with your daughter’s flushed cheeks and dramatics about “thirsting to death.”

Then you heard it.

“Called it. I thought that was your daughter out there.”

The voice, familiar in a way that shouldn’t have made your stomach do what it just did, made your head turn to the right.

Sidney.

You blinked once. Then again.

He was walking toward you casually, jersey still on but his skates had been swapped out for black Adidas slides and socks. His hair was damp, curls starting to appear at the ends, and he looked warm—flushed in the cheeks, a little sweaty, and way too comfortable for how good he looked.

You exhaled in something that bordered on a scoff. “What gave it away?”

He leaned a shoulder against the wall next to you, arms crossed as his eyes swept over the rink like he was still mentally coaching. “Let’s see... pink skates, pink laces, pink tape on the stick… Don’t think I forgot, Y/N.”

You grinned. “Wow, real detective work there.”

He smirked, slow and knowing, and turned to look at you instead. “Also? She’s got your eyes. It was game over after that.”

You looked away briefly, caught off guard by the way he said it—not teasing, not in passing. Just simple. Honest. The words made your chest tighten a little, in that soft, fluttery kind of way.

“She had the best time,” you said, your voice softening. “She’s been buzzing since we walked in this morning. Like... shaking with excitement.”

He smiled again, this time a little wider. “That’s what we want. Fun first.”

“She even made a friend,” you added. “Owen. They’re practically a duo now. He’s five. Missing a front tooth. Very committed to calling the puck ‘zoomy.’”

He chuckled under his breath, glancing down like he was picturing it. “Owen’s a good kid. He’s one of my favorites.”

“Wow. Already playing favorites?”

Sid shrugged. “Perks of being Coach Sidney. I can pretend I don’t, but come on—kid called me ‘Sir Puck’ once. I’m only human.”

You snorted.

There was a small lull between you, just a beat or two where you stood side-by-side, both facing the ice as the zamboni started circling again. His arm brushed yours once when he shifted his stance, just barely. The warmth of him so close made your skin feel hyper-aware, like it was begging for more contact.

“She, uh...” you started, glancing at him. “She left her water bottle on the bench. Swears she’s going to ‘thirst to death’ if I don’t bring it back.”

Sid raised an eyebrow. “Thirst to death? That serious, huh?”

You nodded solemnly. “She’s dramatic. I don’t know where she gets it from.”

“I’m shocked,” he deadpanned.

You shot him a side-eye, lips twitching. “Anyway, I asked one of the staff to grab it, but I think they forgot about me. Been standing here like a total newbie.”

“You want me to grab it?”

You blinked. “Wait—seriously?”

He was already pushing off the wall, waving a hand dismissively. “Yeah. I’ll be back in a sec. Pink glitter, right? With a flower keychain?”

“Yeah,” you said, still a little surprised. “That’s the one. Can’t miss it.”

He gave you a quick smirk. “Got it. I’m trained in the art of spotting glitter.”

You laughed, watching as he jogged down the short corridor, and stepped onto the bench in his slides like it was nothing. You bit your lip, just a little, arms crossed again as you watched him scan the bench, crouch, and retrieve the bottle from where it had rolled a few inches under one of the seats.

He came jogging back a minute later, bottle in hand, holding it up like a trophy.

“Coach of the Year,” he said with a grin, handing it over.

You took it gratefully. “Seriously. If there was a trophy, you’d be winning it.”

“You’re gonna make her think I’m her favorite now,” he said, mock-conspiratorial.

“She already called you ‘the guy with the funny whistle,’” you said, twisting the cap to check the water level. “So you’re basically a celebrity.”

“She’s not wrong,” he said, leaning back against the wall again. “It’s a very specific whistle. I’ve trained myself.”

You looked at him—really looked—and shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “You’re such a dork.”

“You keep saying that,” he said, tone low, amused. “But you’re smiling.”

There was a small pause after that—comfortable, but charged. A beat where neither of you spoke, but you could feel the static in the air, the unspoken familiarity that had somehow built over a single strange meeting. The gear shop.

“I’m guessing those notes I made you take all those months ago at the gear shop came in handy, huh?”

You groaned dramatically, rolling your eyes but smiling anyway. “Don’t remind me. I think I have PTSD from that trip. But yeah—God, they helped so much. I never would’ve figured out which stick flex to get her without your help. Or those elbow pads that didn’t slide down every two seconds.”

“You were so overwhelmed,” he teased. “Like I was speaking another language.”

“Because you were,” you fired back. “Half of it was just acronyms. I still don’t know what CCM stands for.”

“Honestly?” he leaned closer, voice dropping conspiratorially, “I don’t think anyone does. We just pretend.”

You laughed again, head tipping back. His eyes lingered on your face for a second longer than necessary, like he was cataloguing every shift in your expression, every laugh line he could coax out of you.

“How’d the goalie mask go?” you asked, shifting gears, “for your godson?”

“Great,” he said, and you noticed how his whole face softened when he talked about the kid. “He loved it. Said it made him look like a Transformer. His words, not mine.”

“That’s basically the highest praise possible.”

“Exactly,” he agreed. “He even slept with it beside his bed the first night. His mom texted me a picture.”

“That’s adorable.”

He glanced toward the rink doors, then back at you. “So… did you have fun?”

You lifted a shoulder, smiling again. “Oh yeah. Nothing more fun than watching my kid wipe out every five minutes while I try to pretend I’m not dying inside.”

His head tilted, a laugh bubbling up from him. “You looked like you were holding it together okay.”

“I was faking it,” you said. “But thanks.”

“Pretty well, I’d say.”

You rolled your eyes and turned back toward the hallway leading to the locker room. “Only ‘cause you saved me from a water bottle emergency.”

“I’ll see you around?” he asked, but there was something tentative in the way he said it, like he wasn’t sure if it was okay to hope.

You slowly turned to face him once again. “Yeah. You will.”

He smiled, something softer than before—less teasing, more sincere.

And then his voice came again. A little more certain. A little bolder.

“Actually—hold on.”

You stopped.

He was standing straighter now, hands in his pockets, one foot shifting over the other like even he wasn’t sure he was really doing this until the words were already coming out of his mouth.

“Would you wanna get a coffee sometime?” he asked. “Or... whatever. Something not surrounded by five-year-olds and hockey tape.”

You stared at him for a second, surprised—though you weren’t sure why. Maybe because he said it so... sincerely. Not flirty. Not presumptuous. Just... hopeful.

You found yourself smiling again.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice low. “I’d like that.”

—

[szatears]

☆ thinking about modernau!smoke coming home to you and your son...

obviously as a business man, he'd be away a lot, often for days at a time. but he always made sure not to stay away for too long, away from his family.

isaiah was your first born son with smoke. he was a tiny baby, his little body no longer than just over half your forearm when you first held him. that day was full of emotions for both you and smoke but in the end, it all paid off.

smoke was hesitant to leave you both when he got calls from his brother about something that had just come up. he'd try and make excuses, telling stack that he could go handled it and it would be fine, even though he knew when it came to handling business, stack was a little more loose than him.

it was you in the end who pushed him. smoke had been coddling you ever since you found out you were pregnant. wouldn't left you lift nothing heavy, touch anything that he could get for you. hell, you shouldn't even be breathing heavy around him if he could help it.

but you knew what his money meant to him. not more than you and his family, of course. but it was important to smoke that he was able to provide for you. "go, baby," you whispered one night as you lay close to him, your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat. "we'll be okay. plus i've been wanting some time alone with zai, can't have him growing up to be a daddy's boy now, can i?"

reluctantly, he listened to you. and the whole time be was away, all he could do was think about a quick way to do this is he could be back at home, his wife and son in his arms.

smoke couldn't believe he was a father now. it was something he'd dreams of, like a distant future he could never really grasp a hold of, until you came along. you changed his life, almost. gave him that sense of needing and being needed. you made sure that he could be elijah again without having the carry the burden of what he went through. sure, it was always gonna be with him. but with you, it was like he knew how to forget about that.

isaiah wasn't yet old enough to understand that his dad was away for days at a time, nor old enough to understand the reason why. he was just under a year old, gummy smile with two small teeth growing, barely learning how to stand up still for more than seconds at a time.

yet, when he heard the sound of the door opening followed by heavy footsteps, his head would turn, completely disregarding you handing him his toys.

he'd wait until his father walked into his view before he started squirming, a grin on his face as his legs kicked. it would've insulted you how much of a daddy's boy isaiah was if you didn't find it so heartwarming.

"there's my boy," smoke smiled as he picked him. another thing about welcoming a baby boy to the world — you've never seen smoke smile so much. even if he had a rough day, he never let it show around his son. he really was a saving grace to him.

smoke sat isaiah on his lap, leaning his body over towards you for a kiss. "hi, my love," you mumbled against his lips. smoke hummed, genuinely at peace, the day's events all forgotten.

"he been good for you, baby?" he asked, more so directed at isaiah, who only babbled as his dad gently tickled his stomach.

"he slept for most of the day," you yawned, using the arm that rested on the back of the sofa to support your head as you watched them. "wasn't too much trouble. though i'm beginning to think he's happier when you're around."

"yeah, that's my boy," smoke encouraged him, holding isaiah's hand for a high five. he looked over at you, trying to decode based on your body language and facial expressions if you had rested up like you told him you would.

"did you sleep today?" he asked.

"i slept enough last night," you shrugged.

"baby───"

"i'm fine, honestly," you fought a yawn that just so happened to want to be let out at that time.

"no you not. here, c'mon." smoke stood up with isaiah, holding his hand out for you. "it's almost tike for his bedtime, you can sleep too."

"elijah, i'm fine. plus i got a lot to do, i still have to prep for tomorrow───"

"stop making excuses, come on up," he had to speak firmly, you weren’t hearing him.

you stared at him and he stared right back. "woman, you know i'll put him to bed and come drag you up myself if i have to."

you did know. huffing, you walked in front of him, rolling your eyes when he slapped your ass.

whilst you washed your face, brushed your teeth and got ready for bed, smoke managed to put isaiah to sleep, grabbing the baby monitor with him as he came into the bedroom. you weren't in bed yet, at the vanity taking off your jewellery.

he came up behind you, his hands on your hips as he pulled your back into his chest. you caught a scent of the gel he used when he had a shower. "you showered before you came?" you asked.

"yeah, i stopped by stack's... stop changing the topic, c'mon," he tapped your side twice, and you let him lead you to the bed. before he got in though, you grabbed his arm. you had a frown on his face, making him frown to. "what's wrong."

"can i get a proper kiss?" you were already pulling him back towards you. smoke's face relaxed, a faint smirk on his lips.

he held one side of your face in his hand, pulling you towards his own. you smiled into the kiss, never ever getting tired of the feeling of his lips on yours. as he kissed you, his hands went trailing down your body. you knew what he was going to do so you helped him, lifting your leg up so in turn he could lift you up.

he carried you back to the bed, slowing setting you on it, never once breaking the kiss. you let out a light moan when he was on top of you, your hands raking over his toned body.

smoke groaned, pulling away from you to pull back the covers. "girl, you a damn distraction. get away from me," he joked, getting under the covers with you.

you laughed, settling underneath at the same time he did, letting him pull you close to him. his arm around your waist, you cuddled into his chest. just how you liked it.

taglist: @childishgambinaax @abriefnirvana @blackisy2k @chrisevansmentee @siasoup @amethyst09 @heauxtales @skywalker0809 @thelightknight21 @klssngss @atomicearthquakemusic7 @oc3anbxbyxoxo @honestlyurslol @simpingfor-wakasa

[mattscoquette]

dad!matt easter egg hunting with the girls

you and matt quietly tip toed around your two bedroom apartment, hiding pastel easter eggs filled with candy and chocolate all around the living room.

by the time you were done, the space was decked out in little hints of pastel in between couch cushions and bookshelves, complete with two matching purple easter baskets with a big bow, both sat on the coffee table.

“the girls are gonna love it,” matt murmured sleepily into your hair, planting a kiss to your head.

you nodded in agreement, shutting off the lights and heading back to your bedroom with matt.

the tiny sounds of foot steps pattering into your bedroom woke you up the following morning, lorelai and stella rushing into your room.

“happy easter!” lorelai cheered as she climbed up into the bed, stella following close behind. she plopped down in between you and matt, giving you a big squeeze.

“happy easter, lovebug,” you grinned as you kissed her cheek, doing the same to stella, “did the easter bunny come and visit?”

“yeah,” stella giggled, “me an’ lo saw the eggs.”

the three of you laughed as matt slowly awoke, shuffling around in the sheets as he turned to face his daughters.

“morning daddy,” stella grinned, nearly pouncing on top of his chest as she gave him a big hug. lorelai was quick to follow, the two girls curled up with matt as they got cozy under the covers.

“hey,” matt said slowly, sleep lacing his voice, “you girls wanna go look for eggs an’ see what the easter bunny left?”

the two of them shot up and nodded enthusiastically, clambering down off the bed and running into the hallway.

when you and matt reached the living room, you were both laughing as the girls were practically jump up and down in anticipation.

“can we start now mommy?” lorelai whined, her head whipping around as she saw some of the eggs that were hidden.

“lemme take a picture of my girls first,” matt mumbled, pulling his phone out of his pajama bottoms. the twins got together, smiling up at matt before he turned to you. “i said my girls, baby, you get in too.”

your cheeks heated up as you crouched down between lorelai and stella, grinning matt snapped a few photos, before telling the girls they could begin the egg hunt.

the two of them squealed, immediately going for the eggs they had seen already when peeking out in the living room this morning. their little arms were quickly piled up with various colored plastic eggs, handing you and matt the ones they couldn’t hold.

by the time they were done, the living room was messy, pillows strewn about and things pulled off the shelves. the twins giggled while they cracked open the eggs, dumping out the little trinkets and candy hidden in them.

“look!” stella yelped as she opened a purple egg, “i got a little ballerina!”

lorelai peered over at her sister, opening her own pile of eggs, looking through the assortment of chocolate and other candy. “hey, i don’t have one,” she whined.

matt laughed, shaking his head as he leaned forward to ruffle her hair playfully. “why don’t you and stel open your baskets, pumpkin?”

lorelai pouted, nodding as she scrambled over to the table with her sister where their baskets resided.

“that one yours, angel?” you asked softly as stella joined her sister at the table, watching as her face lit up at the cursive “s” stitched onto her basket.

she nodded excitedly. “yeah! mine’s got an ‘s’ for stella an’ lo got an ‘l’ for lorelai!”

you and matt both laughed, taking out your phones to video the twins open their baskets.

they both excitedly dug into their baskets, pulling out all sorts of new toys and clothes, and even more candy.

when they were done, the twins came stumbling over to you and matt, giving giggly hugs and kisses for all of their gifts.

the two girls hugged you at the same time, nearly knocking you over with the forcefulness of their hugs. unable to contain himself, matt was quick to pull you three into a group hug, tugging you all down onto the floor with him as you all laughed loudly.

“love you three so much,” matt smiled, planting kisses to all of your cheeks, “my favorite girls in the world.”

© mattscoquette | taglist

[queers-gambit]

God's Plan

prompt: your boyfriend carries the worst parts of his job home, bringing to life one of your deepest-seeded insecurities. or when Carmy calls you clingy.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader -> pairing: Carmy x Peach

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 3.3k+

note: she's short. she's to the point. author doesn't want to hear a GODDAMN THING about "glorifying" toxic relationships. shut the fuck up, eat your cereal, read the fic or just scroll away.

warnings: cursing, small angst, short fic, author mildly gave up, hurt with no real comfort, allusion to toxic family relationship, insecurity, not edited.

part two: Two to Tango

"Hey, what're you still doin' here?"

You glanced up from your computer, smiling at your coworker, "Just trying to get the study notes finished so they can be used for the analysis."

"Okay...? But you realize what time it is, right?"

You hummed, glancing at the analog clock, "Just about 7?"

"Yeah, so, go home," she chuckled. "Work's still gonna be here tomorrow."

"I'll see you then," you dismissed softly, watching her smile and turn away from your desk. You tried to get back into work, but the truth was, you felt overly burned out, but still wanted to work because it'd make you feel better being "good" at your job.

So, in reality, you didn't get home until 10:56 pm, yet still beat Carmy. You ate something simple, cleaned up, got a shower, and crashed into bed. You didn't know the time, but Carmy eventually came home; his arm heavy around you when settling for sleep.

You were the first up and out the door the next morning, just barely seeing Carmy when he got up for coffee. You managed a single kiss before rushing away, needing to get to work on time. When you got there, your entire morning was blocked for client meetings, then you took lunch, later, team meetings, and then the last hour or so of work was meant for individual recreation.

Another day of staying late, trying to finish work you thought was important. Another day of getting home late, missing your man, going to bed, and only seeing him the following morning.

However, this time at work, your boss told you that the analysis meetings were pushed back by a week... So, technically, you stayed late and busted your ass for no literal reason! And your coworker's entire cup of coffee spilled on you. And your Outlook email was under maintenance, so, you couldn't really work. And then, to top off a really shitty week, your car was hit in the parking lot and now had a huge fucking dent.

You were beat.

You were overwhelmed.

You were miserable, stressed, righteously confused.

You didn't stay late that night. Instead, you left at a normal hour and texted Carmy:

what time do you think you'll be off?

He replied when you got to your car:

maybe around 8?

You sniffled, nodding, answering:

okay, see you when you get home.

As you exited the parking lot, he replied:

what? you're off?

And you answered:

yeah, couldn't stand being there much longer. think you could get off a little early?

When you made three turns, he sent back:

i'll try, peach 💙

When you got home, you felt utterly defeated. Life felt like a never ending shitshow that refused to alleviate most of the stress you forced to endure. You were in tears by the time you got in the door, angrily stripping and getting a long, hot shower. You cried a little longer. When you got out, you got dressed in cozy shorts and one of Carmy's sweatshirts; going about a few household chores when you realized it was already past 9.

You didn't really want to, but you texted Carmy again,

hey, are you gonna be much later?

You made a simple meal, eating it in silence. When you were doing dishes, Carmy answered,

i don't know, going over menu items with syd. text you on my way home

You just went to bed, exhaustion from the week catching up to you.

Sometime later, you felt Carmy crawl into bed beside you. You were only half awake, but still turned over and nestled into his chest, hearing him sigh. "You're home late," you mumbled.

"Sorry f'wakin' you, Peach," he whispered, pecking your forehead. "You good, baby?"

"S'been a long fuckin' week," you squeezed him.

He sighed, "Sorry it was rough, Peach, but hey, hey, back up a little, 's kinda warm."

"But I haven't seen you."

"I know, but it's just warm. We'll cuddle in the morning, okay?" You only sighed and turned back over to face away from him. You resettled with your pillow, just settling when he asked in a hardened tone, "You mad?"

"No, Carmen, go to sleep."

"You sound mad."

"I'm not."

"I don't mean to piss you off, it's just been a long night f'me and I don't want to cuddle right now," he said in a sharp tone that made your stomach coil and churn.

"Shut up, I'm not mad, Carmen, go to sleep."

He scoffed, your irritation spiking. "You're really fucking mad 'cause I don't want you laying on me right now?"

"No, Carmen, Jesus - "

"Callin' me fuckin' Carmen doesn't help," he snapped.

You sat up and turned to him, "You want me to be mad? Maybe I'm a little pissed off that I've barely seen my boyfriend this week! Not like you've made an effort to speak to me, but I've had a pretty shitty time at work, too - so, excuse the fuck outta me for feeling disappointed!"

"Disappointed in fucking what, Peach? In not wanting t'cuddle right now?"

"Maybe, yeah! I'm upset, stressed out, maybe I just wanted some comfort, God! Now you're all up in arms, I just wanted to go to sleep - but no, you want to pick at me!"

"Oh, Jesus, fucking Christ! You couldn't just talk to me about you having a shitty week, you gotta be laid up on me? When the fuck did you get so Goddamn clingy and desperate for fucking attention? Huh? So fucking desperate for love? Sorry you had a shitty week, darling, but you're not alone in that. Sorry if it's fucking hot and I just want to sleep."

Feeling yourself fighting a losing battle because he wasn't listening, you just sighed, "Okay, Carmen."

He scoffed again, turning over to face away from you, "Know what? Fuck you, sweetheart."

You stared at his back for a long minute, feeling shocked by his words. "You can be such a fucking dick, you know that?" You snapped, standing from bed.

"And you can be a dramatic bitch."

"Yeah, that's me, the bitch you chose, huh!?" You rolled your eyes and nodded sarcastically; taking the blanket from the end of the bed, figuring he wouldn't miss it since he was so fucking hot. With only your phone and charger, you went out to the living room and crashed on the couch; covering up and crying quietly into a pillow from the overwhelming stress built in your chest. You felt guilt plunging your stomach, tearing it apart; feeling as if it were your fault for having physical touch as a love language.

Sleep evaded you that night. About an hour before your alarm, you called in sick and shut your phone off, resettling in misery as Carmy left the bedroom for work. You didn't move, never opened your eyes. However, they popped open in surprise when Carmen shoved your shoulder, "Hey."

"What?" You muttered.

"You're late for work."

"Called in."

He snorted, "Yeah, must be nice."

You didn't say anything else, feeling utterly defeated by his sharp words. The lack of response made Carmy pause and glance over at you from the kitchen, honest surprise coloring his system because he usually knew you to bite back. But you were quiet and still, the only indication you were even alive being the slow drag of your shoulders.

He let the door slam after he left for work, and you instantly sobbed. What you didn't know was that Carmy had come back, forgetting something mundane, and came to a halt outside the door when he heard you crying. He felt guilty, but Carmy wasn't usually one to confront problems; he instead ran away, like always.

After a night of exhaustion, you finally cry yourself to sleep.

When Carmy got home that night after work, he found you still huddled on the couch. After a look around, he realized you hadn't moved all day; nothing to eat, nothing to drink... He wanted to wake you but still felt so fucking irritated from his job that the idea of reconciling with you felt far fetched. So, he did what he did best and isolated himself by going to the gym for a few hours.

You still hadn't woken up when he got back.

So, he just went to bed; hating sleeping alone but hating his pride more because it refused to let him get up and go get you. Carry you to bed. Smother you in apologies. Beg for forgiveness. He was cold that night.

You were awake around 4 am.

The entire apartment felt as cold and aloof as your boyfriend. You felt so silly for still being there, knowing you paid for an apartment of your own, but liking that Carmy's place was closer to your work. And he never asked you to leave, in fact, the times you went home, he was calling you within hours to beg you to come back because he hated sleeping alone.

Whatever happened to that lad? The one who was so in-love with you that he would desperately ask you to come "home" to him? Who was this man now? Who called you clingy, desperate... A bitch.

You could only stand to make coffee, feeling powerless in this tension. You didn't want him to ignore you any longer, feeling like you'd drop to your knees for his forgiveness if it would end this feud; but you weren't so naïve. You spent several long minutes mentally prepping yourself for more anxiety, telling yourself you could handle the day if you just powered through it. Everything should be fine so long as you didn't do anything else to upset him, as long as you didn't do anything to warrant him yelling at you - again.

You finally decided on an emotion, since you could feel so many at any given point in time, and since this situation was one you've never encountered before. Carmy had brought forth one of your biggest insecurities and then smashed it in your face like punk-ass siblings did to your birthday cake. You decided you were hurt by his words, tone, and actions; you were hurt by the man you loved unconditionally, and that was a terrifying thought on its own. He was once a man you thought couldn't do any wrong, to now being a man you were unsure of how to even speak to; fearful, as you once were as a child, to upset him and create hostility directed at you.

Carmy often forgot he didn't have a monopoly on toxic, complicated family dynamics, but being that Mikey was still so fresh for him, you kept quiet about your own issues in an effort to be a loving, supportive girlfriend. Yet even while trying not to upset anyone, to create tension, you somehow managed to. You felt your heart and soul shrivel into a withered raisin when you remembered your family and how they constantly put you down; saying that nobody wanted a girl like you who tried, tried, and tried again only to fail. They thought you were damaged goods, treated you as such and always smeared your name in the mud whenever you thought you had found someone to love you and be loved by you.

All that trauma was rearing its ugly head now, making doubt sink into the cracks of your relationship. No matter how hard he tried, Carmy couldn't ever take those words back once they've been said, and he had to understand that going forward, this would strain your relationship. Taking anger and frustration out on you was inappropriate, putting a bad taste in your mouth; making you wonder how the hell you'd ever move past this when his words circled your head like water draining from the sink.

Sometime around 9 am, you were curled up on the couch with your coffee and a book; Saturday dragging by slowly to allow you the reprieve of being off work. The bedroom door opened and you held your breath; sweat breaking out on your brow; heart stammering in your chest. When he came out, Carmy didn't look at you, which allowed you to watch him. He made a to-go cup of coffee, then shouldered his backpack before heading for the door.

"Carmy?" You asked softly in confusion, "I thought you were off today?"

"I am," he replied stiffly, "but I gotta run errands."

You didn't have time to respond before he was storming out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. You blinked in shock, confusion plunging your heart to your feet as you realized he didn't ask you to join him, in fact, he didn't appear to want to tell you his plans until you had to ask directly when he was walking out the door. You felt terrible, more tears swelling in your eyes at the discord your boyfriend prolonged.

Something in your heart snapped and you stood from your seat. With anger coursing through your veins, you turned into a miniature tornado and quickly started gathering whatever you could get your hands on that belonged to you. You had enough, you felt hurt, yes, we established this, but then the disrespect started to overflow out of your heart to color your blood. Never linger where you're not wanted, you should never tear yourself down to that level. Never should have to second guess yourself, either - especially in a space where you're supposed to be safe.

You started to wonder: is it clingy if you made dinner and saved him a plate? Is it clingy if you did his laundry? What about cuddling? Is that clingy? Well, apparently! What else are you wrong about? If you texted him? Asked his opinion? What about if you held his hand - is that clingy, too? Probably!

Physical touch and quality time were your love languages, but after this reaction, you wondered if everything you'd do from now on would be judged? Would you be crucified for showing your love? For trying to participate in your relationship?

All day, you moved your stuff back to your apartment. All shoes, clothes, purses, make-up, haircare and skincare products - any and all period products, too. You left fucking nothing; going as far as to lay face-down the photo of your two on his bedside stand. You'd of taken it, too, but you felt sick at the thought so you left it for him. Sunday night, you didn't return to his apartment, and Carmy didn't call to say goodnight; both figuring the other was still pissed off. Your Monday was long and annoying, but once it was over, you had to admit, it was strange returning to an empty apartment, heat up leftovers, eat while watching some Netflix show, and then crashing into bed - moving mechanically.

Days passed uneventfully, albeit, a bit sluggishly. And then, Thursday arrived, and with it, the shit that would hit the fan.

You were enraptured in this book by Anne Tyler called "Dinner At The Homesick Restaurant," and couldn't stop reading it. You nursed a mug of tea, the outside darkening with an approaching thunderstorm that would talk to you in the silence and send bolts of lightning to illuminate the city. A shrill ringtone then played, making you jump slightly and glance at your phone only to see Carmy's contact name and photo.

You stare at your phone for a long moment, and then, after convincing yourself that ignoring him would only add fuel to the fire, answered quietly, "Hello?"

"Peach? Hey, uh... Are you, um, still at work?"

"No?"

"Where are you, then?"

"I'm home."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"I'm standing right here and you're not, baby, unless you got superpowers or something?" He chuckled nervously, hearing nothing on your end. "In fact, I, uh... I don't see any of your things. You move 'em?"

He'd never admit it, but your personal touch in his living space transformed it into a home; and now that they were all gone, he hated how cold, dreary, and grey the apartment felt.

"Carmy, I mean my home. You know? The apartment I still pay for?"

"Oh, well... Why're you there?"

"Why wouldn't I be? I had to bring my stuff back and leave it somewhere safe."

"It was safe here, Peach," he argued.

"Yeah, but it's your space and last thing I need is to be yelled at and insulted again for being clingy 'cause I left clothes at your apartment."

"Fuc'k's sake," You heard him hiss under his breath, bringing tears to your eyes. "You know I don't mind, I want you to leave shit here so it's easier on you to commute. Look, you know it's Thursday, right? Does our standing date night ring any bells?"

"Okay, but we haven't honored that in weeks? You know, 'cause you've been really busy."

"I thought we could get back into it tonight."

You sighed, turning the page in your book, "No, I don't think so, but thanks anyway."

He took a long pause, asking nervously, "What's wrong, Peach?"

"Nothing. Is there anything else, Carmen? I'm in the middle of shit."

"Oh, uh, n-no, I guess that's it. You comin' over tomorrow?"

"No. I told my brother I'd help him this weekend."

"But tomorrow's... Friday?"

"Yeah, that's how a calendar works. I have to travel to get to him," you scoffed.

"You didn't think to tell me?"

"Why would I?"

"You tell me everything! You don't think that's something I should know? That my girl's not even gonna be here this weekend?"

"Well, you're the one who said I was fucking clingy, remember!?" You finally snapped. "So, I'm giving you all that space you wanted!"

"Baby - "

"No, it's a great idea. We need space, Carmen; this isn't fair to either of us anymore," you spoke seriously, the line going quiet.

"What?"

"We need space from this relationship."

"I don't. I don't need space, Peach, baby, no, just listen, okay? I'm so sorry, I came home stressed out and I took it out on you. I'm sorry, I really am, this isn't what I want. Okay? I'm sorry. Just - come back home and we can - "

"No, you know what? I think I'm the one who needs this space," you snapped. "You said some pretty fucked up things, Carmen, that you can't ever take back, and now that I know, I can't un-know what you think about me. So, I need time to sort myself out."

"What're you saying? A-Are you breaking up with me?"

"Not yet, no."

"Baby, don't do this. C'mon, okay? I'm sorry, baby, I-I-I was wrong for what I said, I didn't - I didn't mean it! None of it, okay? Know I love you, baby, please, just come home, okay? I'm so sorry, I love that you wanna be close to me, I shouldn't've pushed you away. I'm sorry, okay? Please, baby, I'm so sorry. I need you, Peach, please. Just come home, we'll talk it through, I promise, no yelling - "

"I think you already said it all. Your words were 'clingy' and 'desperate'. Oh, and you also called me a 'bitch', so, I'd hate to be the bitch that makes your already stressful life all the harder."

"I didn't mean that - "

"I gotta go, Carmen, we'll talk later, okay? Goodnight."

He froze when he listened to those three distinct beeps that indicated you hung up on him. Confusion and hurt now seeped into the cracks of Carmy's heart; wondering when the hell he'd become so Goddamn self destructive to ruin the best thing he's ever had - you. The apartment might as well turned into ice with the way the light left, your departure suddenly haunting him.

When will these boys learn? The love of a good woman is rare, they'd only ever be so lucky as to think they deserve a woman like you. Nobody ever gets to guilt you for your love language(s) and then grovel for forgiveness. You deserve better, you deserve more; whether you could see that right now or not, you deserved to be loved in the best way for you. And sometimes, that means walking away from something you once thought was exactly what you wanted, but perhaps, never what you needed - call that God's Plan.

[ part two: ] Two to Tango

requesting rules and masterlist

The Bear masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

[asterafroditis]

hi!! i really like your works and i was wondering if i could request savannaclaw x a reader (sorry if if i worded this weirdly btw T-T) who likes sniffing them (ie like those cat owners who just stick their face into their cat’s stomach and smells them to destress)

𐔌 . ⋮ quiet comfort .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆ Leona, Ruggie, & Jack x gn! reader

𓏵 708 words

ᝰ.ᐟ headcanons, no pronouns used, fluff

Don't worry about it sounding weird, I found this quite cute actually (^o^)/ feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

You did it once—just once—when Leona was half-asleep under the sun and smelled like sun-warmed leather, sage, and something wild and soft. You’d leaned in and pressed your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply like a sigh.

He cracked an eye open.

“Tch. What, you gonna start kneadin’ my stomach next, herbivore?”

You froze. For a moment, you thought he might push you off or grumble himself into another nap, but then he didn’t move. He just closed his eyes again, letting you stay there, one arm thrown lazily over his eyes, the other conveniently draped behind your back.

“I ain’t a damn pillow,” he muttered.

But when you started to pull away, he exhaled through his nose.

“Didn’t say I minded.”

Since then, you’ve noticed him quietly making room for you whenever he settles down for a nap—like he’s leaving a space open just in case. He never asks for it. Never says anything. But if you hesitate, if you seem stressed or distant, you’ll find his tail curling subtly your way, his arm draping behind you without a word.

“Doin’ that sniff thing again?” he’ll grumble, eyes still closed.

You hum in reply, nose pressed against his collar.

“…Yeah. Alright.”

There’s something quiet and honest about how he lets you have this. Like he knows the world wears you down sometimes—and maybe, just maybe, he likes being your comfort more than he’ll ever admit.

And in those quiet moments, when the sun is warm and you’re nestled into his side, Leona doesn’t feel like a prince or a second son or someone always on the edge of sleep.

He just feels safe. And you do too.

─────────────────────────

The first time you nuzzled into his hoodie and took a big, stress-melting inhale, Ruggie nearly dropped the snack he was holding.

“Whoa there, what are ya—? Are you sniffin’ me?” He squawked, tail flicking in surprise.

You gave him a sheepish look and admitted that he smelled… comforting. Like toasted sugar, linen hung to dry in the sun, and a little like baked goods.

Ruggie flushed, ears twitching. “That’s seriously weird,” he mumbled—though his grin said otherwise. “But, uh… I guess I don’t mind. Long as you’re not plannin’ to charge me rent for bein’ your emotional support beastman.”

It became a quiet ritual. He’d pretend to act put-upon every time you leaned into him for a sniff, joking about how you owed him snacks or how he should be charging per cuddle. But then you’d catch him leaning a little closer, resting his chin on your head, his hoodie freshly washed with that same cozy smell.

And when you're overwhelmed or anxious, he’ll sigh and open his arms with a lopsided grin.

“C’mere, hyena therapy’s open for business. First sniff’s free.”

─────────────────────────

Jack turns into a stiff, flustered mess the first time it happens. He’s helping you study, you’re exhausted, and your brain is fried. You lean over and just… rest your face against his shoulder, taking a soft breath in.

“W-Wha—?!” he jolts, ears going straight up, cheeks red. “Did you just—sniff me?”

You mutter something about how he smells nice—like pine needles, fresh snow, and clean soap—and how it makes your head feel less heavy.

Jack is silent for a few seconds. Then: “...That’s not weird. I mean. I guess that’s kinda normal for wolves too.”

After that, he’s very aware of how close you are during study sessions. He keeps his uniforms extra clean. Sometimes he’ll subtly sit a little closer or keep his arm there just in case you need to de-stress again.

When you sniff him now, he stiffens for a moment but doesn’t pull away. In fact, he’ll glance to the side and say, “If it helps you feel better… then I don’t mind.”

Just don’t expect him to ever bring it up first. But he’s listening closely every time, ears flicking at even your tiniest sighs, and he’ll always make sure he’s there when you need him.

[wndaswife]

there’s no need to be brave | wanda maximoff & fem!reader

Sometimes things get to be too much, but you know you can always go to Wanda to feel safe and loved. She reminds you how important it is for you to be taken care of.

Word count: 3575

Tags: it’s all fluff, some humour, age gap, lightly implied age regression during one scene, wanda takes care of you and kisses you and is patient and loving and gentle

The front door rattled softly as you unlocked it. From the kitchen, Wanda looked up from her dinner preparation, anticipating your presence after coming from your afternoon classes. 

She gave you the keys to her place a month ago when your classes didn’t align as much with her work hours as it did for your last semester. Now that you had the keys, it was easier to see each other without your schedules aligning. 

You set down your bag in the living room, shedding your coat on top of it, before practically sliding your feet over to the kitchen lazily. You didn’t even lift your head; it was only the vague figure of Wanda that you needed in order to navigate around the counter and wrap your arms around her body. 

Her arms were trapped under yours, forcing her to wiggle them out of your hold so she could hug you. 

“Baby, are you alright?” she asked, her voice light but her tone concerned. 

You buried your face in her chest. You had meant to reply to her question, but as soon as you opened your mouth you no longer wanted to answer, so you mumbled incoherently into her soft breasts. 

“Sweetheart,” Wanda tried again, leaning back to get a look at you.

Finally, you lifted your head, squinting as you looked up at her in the light of the kitchen. She immediately cupped your face with both hands, brushing back your hair. 

“I hardly got any sleep last night,” you said, straightening so your face wasn’t in Wanda’s chest anymore but now facing her. 

Her eyes followed yours as you looked around the kitchen while you spoke. One hand dropped to your shoulder, her thumb stroking you softly while her other hand remained cupping your cheek. 

“Yesterday, I woke up at eight to study, then last night I slept for two hours before my nine a.m. class, then took an hour nap between classes, and my head hurts and I think I’m getting tunnel vision and I’m scared I’m gonna start hallucinating soon, because isn’t that a sign of sleep deprivation?”

Wanda opened her mouth to say something, but you continued. 

“At least I’ve eaten, but I don’t know if it’s enough, because I was still hungry while coming over here, and I can’t go home because they’re fixing the hydro so I don’t have running water until midnight — I don’t know why they scheduled the construction in the middle of the day — and I want to shower, and it was so cold outside–”

Suddenly the hand that had been cupping your cheek was over your mouth, and you finally looked at Wanda who was staring at you with a gentle gaze. Upon meeting her eyes she smiled at you, so subtly that the corners of her eyes crinkled just slightly. 

Slowly, she put down her hand then wrapped that arm around your waist, holding you against her. She dropped her other hand from your shoulder and held your hand. 

“You can shower here. My water is working just fine,” she said slowly. “I’m preparing dinner now, so stay over tonight and we can eat a proper meal together. If you’re hungry now, anything in the kitchen is yours.”

She watched your expression relax and your shoulders untense, and she smiled a little when you tried to shuffle closer although you were already standing against her. 

“Take another nap, baby. Shower in my room then sleep in my bed.”

You nodded wordlessly. 

As your face relaxed and when your mind seemed much less troubled, Wanda took a good look at you. She stroked your hand with her thumb. 

“You do look tired…” she said sympathetically. “Please go up to shower — it’ll relax you. Are you still hungry? I can make something for you before you have your nap. I’ll go up after you’ve finished showering.”

Internally, you felt like teasing her for how she was very much talking to you like you were her child. But oh, how badly you just wanted to be taken care of like a child. 

You nodded again, looking up at her. 

Then, at the sight of her face, her pretty face and her beautiful eyes, and her soft hair and the slope of her nose and the line and curl of her lips, you leaned in for a kiss. 

Wanda pulled back slightly, and your eyes darted up from her lips to her eyes. She let go of your hand, lifting her own in front of your face, wiggling her fingers a little. 

“Don’t lick your lips; I was handling raw meat before you came in and I touched your face,” she warned, smiling guiltily. 

You looked over to the counter and saw Wanda’s bowl of ground meat, and around it, her spices and other vegetables she had yet to prepare. 

At the sight of your to-be dinner and the idea of Wanda preparing it and cooking it all up, you laid your head on her shoulder and buried your face in her neck. 

“Oh, doll…” she whispered, cradling the back of your head as you tucked your face under her jaw. 

“Now you’ll have to shower, right? Because I rubbed raw meat on your neck?” 

Maybe you were imagining it, but you could hear Wanda’s grin forming even though your face was buried in her neck. When she spoke next, you were at least sure that she was speaking while grinning. 

“Is that what you were doing?” she asked. “You could’ve just asked.

Wanda tucked your hair back, exposing the side of your face. She kissed your temple. “Give me a few minutes to finish with the meat, so I can refrigerate it. Wait for me upstairs.”

After some minutes, Wanda found you sitting on the edge of the tub waiting for her. She smiled at the sight of you wrapped in a towel, looking up at her as she entered. 

Eagerly, you all but lept from your spot and turned to run the shower, testing it with your hand until it became warm while Wanda undressed behind you. 

When she had taken all her clothes off, she approached you and undid your towel before laying it on the sink. 

You turned, wrapping your arms around her, feeling her smooth bare skin immediately warming your own upon contact with her. 

“I washed my face,” you informed her before squeezing your eyes shut and puckering out your lips. 

A soft kiss was then pressed to your lips, your lips relaxing from its puckering. Wanda’s hand came to your cheek, her thumb brushing against your cheekbone tenderly. 

“My sweet girl…” she whispered softly as she parted from the kiss. 

In the shower, Wanda washed your hair with her shampoo instead of yours. 

“I’m… feeling kinda…” you started quietly, looking down and playing with your fingers. 

“Mmm?” Wanda hummed, busy with massaging her soapy fingers against your scalp. 

“Kinda… little.”

”I know, baby,” she replied softly. “Just let me take care of you.“

You wondered if Wanda, too, imagined that she heard your smile when it formed bashfully at her response, like you had in the kitchen when you heard her grin.

Earlier, you had been planning to tell Wanda about the other things which had made you feel upset, like how you were behind in your readings and how you were almost certain you did terribly on your midterm paper.

But in the shower, all those things just disappeared. 

A part of you worried for just a moment that Wanda might even think you were being silly or overly dramatic for being upset over only the things you mentioned earlier, so you figured you ought to tell her the whole story. 

But when Wanda turned around and let you wash her hair, you knew there was no way she’d ever think that about you. 

It made you feel like crying. 

Really, you didn’t know why you felt the urge. Maybe it was because it was just a touching sentiment, or because you were overcome with how safe and cared for you felt, in the steam and warmth of Wanda’s shower, her hair in your hands, and her bare body just a few inches from you — Wanda just a few inches from you. 

When she turned around to start washing your body after her hair was rinsed, her eyes fell upon your face for just a moment, and within that moment, you could tell that she noticed you looked like you were about to cry. 

And when you really were about to cry, you didn’t notice yourself; it was Wanda’s immediate comforting that made you realize you were. 

Then, at your soft hiccups, you knew for sure you were crying. 

Her arms surrounded you, and you buried your face in her neck. Your damp cheeks blended with the wet warmth of her skin, making your face feel flushed. 

“Shh, it’s okay now,” she spoke gently. Her arm wrapped around your waist had her warm palm against the middle of your back, her other cradling the back of your head. “I know it gets hard…” 

You sniffled and opened your eyes, watching the water drip from the ends of Wanda’s hair through your bleary eyes. 

“You’re tired and frustrated,” she said. “You just need to be taken care of, right?” She felt you nodding against her shoulder slightly.

“There we go. It’ll be alright, honey. All you need is a little bit of time.”

Your arms squeezed around her waist. 

“I need you,” you insisted. 

“I’m here, Y/N.”

Though you felt you didn’t need anything to eat until dinner, Wanda prepared a snack for you anyway, insisting that you eat something. You asked her to wake you up for dinner because you didn’t want it to get cold before you woke up.

You wanted to wear her pajamas too, so she picked out a comfy pair for you. You were practically beaming as you snuggled down into her neatly-made bed. 

After a few minutes, Wanda came up with some apple slices and some peanut butter on the side. She told you to get to sleep right after eating, and you weren’t even worried you’d accidentally keep yourself up.

With dinner being prepared and Wanda promising to wake you up once it was finished, you snuggled into her bed, promptly falling asleep in her pajamas after eating the snack she put together for you. 

Over dinner, now that you felt far more rested but still extremely eager to sleep cuddled up to Wanda soon, you spoke about her day, and very little about yours, since you didn’t want to think about it.

She sat beside you, touching you occasionally, her hand rubbing your shoulder as she spoke or playing with your fingers that were laying on your thigh.

She asked how you liked dinner, and scooted closer to you when you told her how much you liked it. 

“When was the last time you had a full meal, baby?”

“A full meal?” you asked, thinking about what qualified as a full meal, let alone a meal at all. 

She squeezed your hand as she took a drink from her glass. “One cooked in a kitchen, and warm.”

“Instant noodles in a pot, two evenings ago.”

“That’s not a meal, Y/N.”

“Then… A week and a half ago. When I went for dinner with my friends.”

Wanda let go of your hand and tucked your hair behind your ear. “You need to eat better, baby. Can you come over more often?”

“Can I sleep over more?”

The corners of Wanda’s eyes crinkled when a smile immediately formed on her face, the tips of her ears rising just a twitch. “Please do,” she answered. 

While you were brushing your teeth, Wanda came up after getting the dishes into the dishwasher. She insisted she do it herself while you got ready. 

She smiled at the sight of you still in her pajamas, brushing your teeth in her washroom. She approached you and pressed a kiss to your cheek, your mouth full of minty suds. 

When you had both finished getting ready, you crawled over the bed and laid your head down in Wanda’s lap and brought your knees to your stomach, like a puppy. She set her phone down and laid her hand on your head, massaging your scalp and forehead softly.

Satisfied and relaxed, you closed your eyes. 

“I miss you when you’re busy at school, baby…” she said softly, her voice gentle and a little sleepy. 

You opened your eyes and turned onto your back so you could look up at her. The lamp on her nightstand embraced her in a warm glowing outline around the crown of her head through her hair, making the soft glow look like a halo. 

“Really…?” you asked. 

Her warm hand cupped your cheek, her thumb stroking your skin. She nodded. “So much. I think of you all the time, Y/N. Our phone calls aren’t enough.”

You turned your body and pressed your face against her stomach. 

After a few silent moments of Wanda brushing her fingers through your hair, she asked, “Why don’t you take care of yourself? You need to eat and sleep properly, honey.”

You muffled indiscernible words into her stomach, not really trying to give an answer. 

“Are you listening, Y/N?”

You spoke, intelligibly this time, albeit still against her stomach. “Yes, I’m listening.”

“Let’s get into bed,” she said, taking your chin in her hand and making you look up at her. She smiled down at you and you turned your head to kiss her palm. 

You weren’t ready to stop clinging onto Wanda even after she turned off the lights and you got under the blankets together; your arms were wrapped around her waist snugly, your head tucked under her chin. Her hand gently stroked the back of your head.

Your breathing was in time with Wanda’s in a way that when her chest expanded as she inhaled, your shoulders relaxed as you exhaled, creating a subtle push and pull of your bodies’ contact.

“I think I might’ve done really badly on my midterm paper,” you said quietly, turning your head and opening your eyes, looking at the subtle shifting of her shoulders.

“Really?” she asked, continuing to stroke the back of your head. “Why?”

The heavy ache in your chest that arose when you normally thought about your terrible paper had somehow dissipated, and in its place a dull and hollowed out feeling where you expected to feel its weight. 

You tightened your arm around Wanda’s waist, pressing your chest against hers. 

“I knew it was terrible as I was writing it. I was just in such a rush. I didn’t take the time to plan it — nothing,” you explained. The words felt like a confession, finally releasing what you’d done without denying it to yourself and storing it deep within that ache that was presently missing.

“What happens if you get a bad mark?”

For the first time, you genuinely thought about a future that took place after receiving the paper’s grade. “I guess I’d have to talk to a teaching assistant about it… Or my professor.”

Wanda hummed in acknowledgment. “It’ll be alright, Y/N. It’s a midterm for a reason; it's not your final, and you’ll certainly have ways to make up for it.”

“But it’s just stupid…” you mumbled, hiding your face in Wanda’s chest again. 

She pulled her head back a bit and looked down at you. “What’s stupid, baby? Come on, look at me when you’re talking.”

“No, I don’t want to,” you replied childishly. 

Wanda gave in with an exhale through her nose and rested her chin on top of your head again. “Can you tell me what’s frustrating you?”

“I’m just stupid. I’m supposed to be able to do these things properly, and I can’t.”

“It’s not that you can’t, Y/N, it’s just that you couldn’t for that assignment. Don’t call yourself stupid.”

“It’s easy for you to say,” you insisted. “You weren’t there with me when I knew I could’ve done better.”

Above you, Wanda clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and sighed. She took your chin in her hand and forced you to lift your head from her chest. 

You looked up at her. 

“Why do you want me to scold you so badly, hm? You want me to agree with you and tell me you should’ve and could’ve done better, and that you’ve done a terrible thing?”

The suggestion wasn’t entirely far from what you had been trying to do, but the idea of Wanda actually doing it made you upset. You felt your bottom lip tremble a little. 

“Why won’t you just make me feel bad about things? Just make me feel bad about things I do.”

Pads of her fingers pressed against your cheeks and Wanda frowned as she looked down at you.

“I would never do that, Y/N,” she told you softly. 

You couldn’t tell if you felt more defiant and stubborn, or overwhelmed again by the realization of how much Wanda loved you. 

“Why not?” you asked. 

Her hand combed down your hair until she was holding the side of your face in her hand. “I love you. You’re loved when you’re with me. That’s why.”

You rubbed eyes with the back of your wrist, feeling an onset of tears. You didn’t want to cry — it wasn’t the time, and all you’d been doing since you arrived was cry and whine and want Wanda’s attention. 

“Oh, baby…” Wanda whispered, kissing your forehead and pulling your head against her chest again. “I know. You’re just feeling overwhelmed.”

You wrapped your arm tightly around her waist again, now feeling her shirt dampening against your cheeks. 

“I will always be proud of you, Y/N,” she spoke against the top of your head. Her hand rubbed your upper back. “I will never scold you for falling behind or making a mistake when you tried your best. And I know you did. You’re a hard worker and a good girl.” 

At her words, your silent tears grew into soft sobs and pathetic whimpers which you didn’t care enough to try and silence. 

Wanda asked with a sweet and patient tone, “You’re a good girl, right, sweetheart?” 

You nodded against her chest. 

She pulled away and lifted your face up with two hands. She wiped your tears away and craned her head down to kiss you softly. 

When she pulled away, you sniffled and immediately wrapped your arms around her neck to give her a hug. 

Several quick kisses were pressed to your cheek, and Wanda hugged you tighter. You knew that her arms were hugged around your torso, but it really felt like she was hugging you all over.

“You will always have somewhere to go to be loved and cared for, Y/N. I love you so much,” she said, her lips brushing against your temple. 

You were a mess of sniffles and whines. “But I can’t come over as much as I want. I wish I was with you all the time. I wish I didn’t have to go anywhere, ever.”

“I know, sweetheart. I wish you could stay here all the time and wake up with me every morning, and be here every time I get back from work. I wish neither of us had to do anything.”

Her fingers combed through your hair. “But I’ll always be here for you, Y/N. I’m not upset when you can’t visit. I know you get busy and I want you to do well in school. You’re a very smart girl.”

“I love you, Wanda,” you said. Your words were slightly muffled but your lips were close to her ear, so she could hear. “I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have you in my life. I love you so much.”

Wanda’s arms tightened slightly around your body. “I love you too. I don’t know what I’d do without you either. Talking and being with you is my favourite part of every day. You’re the most important thing in my life.”

For the rest of the night, you and Wanda talked about how you’d figure out having you come over more. Now that you had keys to her place, you could come whenever you wanted, even if she was at work, and stay until she got home. 

She suggested you come over just to eat between classes even if she was out, but you said you weren’t ready to be at her place without her yet; it would feel too lonely and you wanted to see her every time you came over. 

In the morning, Wanda made you breakfast while you brewed the coffee. You didn’t want to miss her when she left for work, so you woke up early and decided to study on campus before your first class, so you could leave with her and spend more time with her in the car. 

Everything in the world and in your life made so much sense when you were doing your daily tasks with Wanda, as if your ordinary life was meant to be aligned with hers. 

This was the woman you were supposed to spend your life with, and it was no wonder everything felt better when you were with her.