#tried to have some toast and it was Sour :(((((((((

[nexus-nebulae]

ough hate hate hate finding out a food has gone bad by biting into it

[itneverendshere]

pogue reader getting sick but she can’t call out, but rafes fr mad at you about it

changed it a bit just bc i want to show reader's progress regarding her hyper-independence, they're already dating and past the "i love you" phase, i felt like some progress had to be made by this point, especially bc this is after their big fight in this. hope you enjoy <3

don't want less, don't want more - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

The floor beneath you feels like it's tilting, moving under your feet like a boat rocking on rough water. You blink a couple of times, hoping that’ll shake the haze taking over your vision, but it doesn’t do much. 

The bar lights over your head are too bright, and the music thumping from the speakers makes your head feel like it’s trapped in a vice. The clink of glass, every laugh, every order shouted at you feels like a hammer driving nails straight into your skull.

You swallow hard, trying not to gag. Your throat’s raw, and your chest feels tight, but you’re powering through it because you don’t have much of a choice. Not a choice at all.

"Whiskey sour, extra sour!" some country club douchebag yells from the other side of the bar.

His voice is like nails on a chalkboard. You force a smile and nod, reaching for the bottle, but your hands are shaky. You catch yourself on the edge of the bar before you can drop it.

This morning, you could barely get out of bed. Fever burning through you like you were standing too close to a bonfire, throat too sore to talk, and your head pounding so hard you thought you were going to pass out just brushing your teeth. 

You tried calling in. Tried. Told your manager, Greg, that you were sick as hell, couldn’t make it, but the guy just grunted like he always does. "Can’t afford anyone calling out today," he said. Like the world was going to end if you didn’t show up to sling drinks for a bunch of rich assholes.

So here you are.

You rub the back of your neck, trying to loosen up some of the tension building there, but it doesn’t help. Nothing really does at this point.

"Hey!" The guy who ordered the whiskey sour snaps his fingers in your face. "You deaf or something? Whiskey. Sour."

"Got it," You mutter, trying not to let your voice crack as you finally pour his drink. 

Your vision swims a little as you set it down in front of him, and for a second, you think you might actually faint right here at the bar.

That’d be something. Faceplant into a bunch of overpriced cocktails in front of half of the Kooks on this island. Greg would probably just step over you and ask you to get back to work.

You lean against the bar for a second. Your stomach rolls, threatening to revolt, but you choke it back. You can’t afford to be sick here. Not when you’re already in trouble with your manager for barely making it on time. You think back to the half-assed breakfast you tried to eat—if you can call a slice of toast breakfast—and how your stomach rejected it like poison.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Rafe coming in. And suddenly, you’re even more aware of how wrecked you are.

You know he still struggles with how independent you are sometimes. You’ve always been the kind of girl who handles things on her own, and Rafe has this tendency to think that means you don’t need him.

Today, though? You need him more than ever, but you couldn’t bring yourself to call for help.

You immediately know it’s gonna be a thing.

His eyes lock onto you from across the bar, and even through the fog in your head, you can see that look on his face. He’s pissed. Of course, he’s pissed. His jaw’s clenched like he’s biting back whatever rant he’s about to drop on you, and you can already feel the tension creeping up your neck.

Great, as if you didn’t feel bad enough already.

You try to stand a little straighter, look a little less like you're one second from collapsing, but your legs are jelly, and the room’s still spinning like you’re on some messed-up carnival ride.

You don’t want him to see how bad you’re hurting right now. But today? You’re too out of it to even try and explain.

He strides up to the bar, looking sharp, as usual. Meanwhile, you probably look like death warmed over. His eyes are scanning you, taking in the pale face, the way you’re gripping the edge of the bar like you’re about to keel over. You see his lips tighten, and yeah, he’s definitely about to lay into you.

“You didn’t call,” he says, voice low but definitely annoyed. He leans in, trying to keep this between just the two of you, but with how loud the bar is, it still feels like a confrontation.

“I’m fine,” you lie, forcing a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. 

Rafe’s eyes narrow. He’s not buying it. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Why didn’t you call me?”

You hate that you feel guilty.

“Because I’m handling it,” you say, voice softer now. But even you can hear how weak you sound.

It’s not convincing. Hell, you’re not even convinced.

He crosses his arms, looking down at you like you’re a puzzle he can’t figure out. “Handling it? Baby, you can barely stand.”

You let out a sigh, trying not to let it turn into a cough.

"I’m fine," you repeat, but even you know it sounds pathetic at this point. Your head feels like it's full of cotton, you’re not sure if you’ll make it through the next few minutes, let alone your entire shift.

But pride’s a bitch.

Rafe just stands there, arms crossed, staring at you like he’s waiting for you to come clean. You can feel his frustration, but there’s something else, too. Worry. It’s in the way his eyes keep flicking over your face, how his fingers are tapping against his arm like he’s holding himself back from just scooping you up and carrying you out of here.

"I heard from Topper," he finally says, like he’s been holding that card in his back pocket. You blink, trying to keep up. "He saw you at the club earlier, said you didn’t look right."

Great. Freaking Topper. Of course, idiot couldn’t mind his own business. You can almost picture him, all dressed up in some preppy golf outfit, spotting you from across the course and making a note to text Rafe the second he saw something off.

Rafe’s still watching you, waiting for a reaction.

You open your mouth, trying to come up with some excuse, some way to brush it off, but your brain’s too foggy, and all you manage is a weak, "I was fine then."

He raises an eyebrow. "Yeah? 'Cause Top said you looked like you were about to hurl on the 9th hole." He’s trying to keep his voice low, but you can tell he’s annoyed. Not at Topper, not even really at you—just at the whole situation.

You want to snap back, tell him you’re fine, that you’ve got it under control. But instead, all that comes out is another tired sigh. “Greg wouldn’t let me call out. Said they needed me.”

“You serious?”

“Dead-serious.”

Rafe’s jaw clenches so tight you think you hear his teeth grind. His hands come out of his pockets, flexing like he’s about to hit something—or someone. He runs a hand through his hair like he’s trying to calm himself down before he says something he’ll regret.

But you know him—he’s never been great at holding back when he’s pissed. And right now? He’s definitely pissed.

“Greg said that?” His voice is low, but there’s this dangerous edge to it, like he’s two seconds away from losing it, “You should’ve called me. I would’ve come down here, I would’ve—”

“I know.” You cut him off because you do know.

He would’ve dropped everything and come running. That’s exactly why you didn’t call. You didn’t want to be the a burden again. Like you said, you’re still working on yourself.

Rafe leans against the bar, his whole body radiating this intensity that makes you feel both comforted and nervous.

“So, let me get this straight,” he says, voice louder now, not even bothering to keep it low-key anymore. “You’re sick as hell, and that asshole wouldn’t let you stay home?”

You wince. He’s drawing attention now, people at the bar starting to glance over. You hate seeing him like this, but you don’t have the energy to smooth things over.

“Rafe, please—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“No, seriously. What kind of fucking manager forces someone to come in when they’re this sick?” His voice carries, and a couple of the other bartenders are giving you looks, like they can’t decide if they’re more surprised or impressed by Rafe’s audacity, "You’re killing yourself for this job, and he doesn’t give a fuck.”

You glance toward the back, hoping Greg’s still in the office and not witnessing this meltdown. The last thing you need right now is more heat from him. But of course, your luck sucks, because just as Rafe’s ramping up, Greg strides out from the back, clipboard in hand, that same stupid scowl on his face like he’s already annoyed at everything.

Rafe spots him instantly, and if you thought he was mad before, now he’s on a whole other level.

"Greg!" Rafe calls out, loud enough that half the bar turns to look. Your stomach sinks. This is about to get ugly.

Greg stops dead in his tracks, his eyes flicking to Rafe and then back to you. He knows. He knows exactly what’s about to happen, and he’s already losing the upper hand.

“Yeah, Rafe?” Greg’s voice is weak, almost shaky. Like he’s trying to keep it together, but he knows he’s got no chance. Rafe’s family literally owns half the island—Greg’s just some middle manager with too much attitude.

Your boyfriend steps forward, slow and deliberate, closing the space between them like he’s already won this thing.

“You made her come in today?” His voice is calm, but it’s that scary kind of calm that’s worse than yelling. The kind that makes your stomach drop because you know the person holding it together is barely holding back.

Greg opens his mouth to respond, but all that comes out is this pathetic mumble. “We… we were short-staffed.”

Rafe raises an eyebrow, his lips pulling into this cold, humorless smile. “Short-staffed?” He glances at you, and you feel the heat rising in your cheeks. You really didn’t want this to turn into a scene, but here you are. “You see how she looks right now? You made her come in like this?”

Greg’s eyes flick back and forth between you and Rafe, and you can see the panic starting to set in. He’s sweating now, probably realizing that this little power trip he’s on is about to bite him in the ass. “She didn’t… uh… say she couldn’t work…”

“She told you she was sick,” Rafe cuts him off, voice like steel. “You’re the manager, right? Thought that meant taking care of your staff. Guess I was wrong.”

Greg’s mouth opens and closes like he’s trying to think of something to say, but nothing’s coming. He looks like a deer caught in headlights, knowing any move he makes right now could get him fired. Hell, maybe even blacklisted from every job on the island. The Cameron’s have that kind of pull.

“I-I didn’t realize how bad it was,” Greg finally stammers, but even he doesn’t sound convinced by his own excuse.

Rafe takes another step forward, practically towering over Greg now. “You didn’t realize?” He laughs, but there’s no warmth in it. “Look at her, man. How could you not realize?”

You wince as the room seems to get quieter, everyone watching this power struggle unfold. You’d rather be anywhere but here right now, but you also know that Rafe’s not letting this slide.

Greg takes a step back, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. 

“I-I was just trying to keep things running. We… we were slammed.”

Rafe’s smile drops, and now it’s just pure ice. “You think that’s a good enough reason to put my girlfriend’s health at risk?”

Greg looks like he’s about to pass out himself at this point, but he manages to mutter, “No… no, I—I didn’t mean…”

“Here’s the deal, Greg,” Rafe says, voice low but dangerous. “You’re gonna back off. Let her finish this shift if she wants. If she doesn’t? She’s out, no questions asked. And next time, when she says she’s sick, you listen.”

Greg nods so fast it’s like his head’s on a swivel. “Of course, of course, Rafe. I didn’t mean any disrespect. I just—”

“Good,” Rafe interrupts, already turning away like he’s done with this conversation. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

Greg just stands there, wide-eyed and frozen, clearly too scared to even argue. He stammers some half-hearted apology, but Rafe’s already turning back to you, brushing the whole thing off like it was nothing.

You look up at him, still in shock at how quickly Greg folded. “You really didn’t need to do that.”

He shrugs, leaning back against the bar with that easy confidence he always has. “Yeah, I did,” he says, his tone softening now that it’s just the two of you. “I’m not gonna let some nobody push you around like that.”

You sigh, feeling both relieved and slightly embarrassed. “You know he’s probably gonna hate me even more now.”

Rafe smirks, like that’s the least of his concerns. “Who cares? He won’t say a fuckin’ thing. Trust me.”

“Everyone’s going to say a thing, baby. They’re gonna think I have some kind of privilege because I’m dating you.”

Rafe’s smirk softens. He steps a little closer, lowering his voice so only you can hear him over the dull roar of the bar.

“Let them think whatever they want,” he says, his hand brushing against yours. “You’ve been busting your ass here long before I ever stepped in. Nobody can take that from you.”

You bite your lip, feeling everyone’s eyes on you, judgment and curiosity. He’s right in a way—you’ve been working extra hard. But still, it’s hard to ignore the feeling that now, everyone’s going to assume you’ve got some special treatment just because of Rafe’s name.

“It’s not about that,” you murmur, “I just—don’t want people thinking I can’t stand on my own. I don’t want to be the girl who hides behind her boyfriend’s power.”

Rafe tilts his head, studying you with that look he always gives when he knows you're holding back.

“You think that’s what this is?” His voice is steady, his tone a little softer now. “This wasn’t about power, baby. This was about someone treating you like you didn’t matter. And I’m not letting anyone—anyone—do that to you.”

He’s not wrong.

Greg didn’t give a damn about how sick you were, only about keeping the bar running, like you were replaceable. And you hate how right Rafe is, how much you needed someone to step in, even if it makes you feel a little helpless. You swallow hard, the tightness in your chest easing slightly, though your body still feels like it’s been run over by a truck.

“And you’re not working anymore today, or the next week for that matter. You’re gonna get your ass in my car and we’re going to the doctor.”

You nod, knowing there’s no arguing with Rafe when he’s like this, but part of you still feels guilty.

Not for needing help exactly, but for not being able to handle it all on your own. You've always been the girl who grits her teeth and gets through it, but today? Your body is screaming at you that you just can’t. Not anymore.

Rafe’s watching you closely, like he’s waiting for you to argue, but you don’t. You’re too drained. The adrenaline from the confrontation with Greg is wearing off, and now all you feel is this bone-deep exhaustion.

“I’m not going to a doctor,” you say, even though you know you probably should. “Just home. I just need to sleep.”

He narrows his eyes like he’s trying to read between the lines of what you’re saying, but then he just nods. “Fine. But if you’re not better by tomorrow, I’m dragging you to urgent care. No arguments.”

You give him a weak smile, trying to show you appreciate it even though you feel like crap.

“Deal.”

Without another word, he moves around the bar, ignoring Greg’s gawking and the way everyone’s still sneaking glances at you two. He gently takes the towel out of your hand, sets it on the counter, and slips an arm around your waist.

It’s the first time you’ve felt stable all day, leaning into him like you might actually make it to the car without collapsing.

“I don’t think I can afford an appointment.”

He looks at you like you’ve just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. His arm tightens around your waist, steadying you as you start to sway a little on your feet.

"Not worried about the money.”

You try to shake your head, but the movement makes you dizzy, and you stop, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

"I just don’t want to be that person, you know? Relying on you for everything."

He gives you a side glance, eyebrows raised.

"Baby, you’re not relying on me for everything. You’re literally sick, and I’m not about to let you tough it out just because you’re too stubborn to ask for help. We’ve talked about this a million times.”

"I guess," you mumble, letting your head rest against his shoulder as you walk towards the door.

"No guessing about it," he says, softer now, his fingers brushing your arm in a way that makes you feel more grounded. "You’ve been holding down the fort for too long. Let me take care of you for once."

The air outside hits you like a slap, but Rafe keeps you close, leading you toward his car. Your legs are weak, the fever still simmering under your skin, but his body warmth keeps you upright.

"Thanks," you whisper, even though it feels weird to say. You’re not used to thanking people for basic care, but with Rafe, it feels different.

He pauses, opening the passenger door for you.

"You don’t gotta thank me, okay? I’m just doing what anyone who loves you would do."

Your heart skips at that. You’re still not used to how easily he says stuff like that, like it’s no big deal. But he’s rubbing off on you, because you can say it just as easily now.

“I love you too, sorry for being a pain in your ass.”

Rafe chuckles as he helps you into the car, leaning down to make sure you’re settled before he shuts the door. He bends down and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"You're always a pain in my ass," he murmurs against your skin, grinning as he pulls back just enough to look at you. "But you’re my pain in the ass, and that’s what matters."

You can’t help but roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips despite how wrecked you feel. The fever, the headache, the exhaustion—it all takes a backseat, at least for a moment. 

Knowing Rafe’s always got your back? That makes it a little easier to breathe.

[thecharacterchronicler]

District Girl (Part 3) || (Peacekeeper) Coriolanus Snow x Reader || Smut

Outline: Coriolanus meets you again and, as a bad thunderstorm approaches, you invite him to take shelter in your cabin…

Word count: 3’686

Warnings: obsessive and possessive behavior, power imbalance, virgin female (implied) and rough explicit sex.

Author’s note: I tried to fulfill a request I received while sticking to the original idea I had for this part 3, so I hope whoever (anon) asked for it will be okay with this one being a bit rough. I promise I’ll try to write a much sweeter, more romantic, one shot of the reader losing her virginity to Coriolanus for you soon. Thanks for inspiring me with your request! 🖤 (Though I’m not sure I’ll know how to write sweet and romantic Coryo…)

((Part 1 )) - ((Part 2 ))

It had been cloudy since morning, causing the humidity in the air to rise above what Coriolanus usually deemed acceptable. It was still warm, even without a trace of sunshine, hidden behind menacing black clouds. Far in the distance, he could hear the distinctive roar of a thunderstorm approaching from the mountains, electricity almost palpable in the air.

Coriolanus didn’t enjoy sunny days either, mostly because he couldn’t get used to the uncomfortable climate of District 12, but standing between broken shacks, on a dirt road that would probably flood and turn into mud as soon as rain would start falling was a whole new kind of hell to him.

Hopefully, the party he was supposed to keep in check would end soon. It had barely started, with the two newlyweds couples returning from the justice building, gathering with their guests in a narrow space of grass between two cabins. Music was playing, but he didn’t like how wrong it sounded in his ears. People were joyfully chatting, trying to ignore the presence of peacekeepers nearby, watching them in search of an excuse to break out this gathering before it could turn sour because it somehow always turned sour in district 12… But maybe it would be the approaching storm that would put an end to the festivities first, allowing Coriolanus to go back to the barracks and have the rest of the afternoon to rest.

Standing tall, stoic, with a hand on his weapon, he watched the party unfold as some kids ran off to gather branches and burnt grass. He didn’t know the traditions for a wedding in this district but it sure seemed kind of pathetic to him. If it was his wedding, he would have made sure that it was a special day, he would have worn his best outfit and he would have made sure that his guests did too… Unlike most of the ones present today, still in their mining clothes and covered in dust. He also would have made sure that he had a proper venue where to celebrate his wedding, not a small patch of burnt grass near a row of sad cabins. And surely, he would have made sure that no storm was threatening to ruin it all.

“Hurry up or we won’t have enough time to get the fire going for the toasting.” You instructed a group of kids, as they placed a few fragile branches in your hands before running off again. You looked worried, your eyes on the black clouds in the horizon.

Coriolanus’ entire body reacted to your voice, briefly breaking his steady posture. He gazed at you, an irrepressible smirk appearing on his lips at the sight. You looked lovely. Even better than usual. Of course, you - out of all the other people - had had enough respect for the newlyweds to show up to their party wearing a nice and clean dress. The color brought out your eyes, making it all he could see for a moment. Until he lowered his gaze to your silhouette, noticing how it hugged and highlighted your lines and curves in the best way possible. It was as if the dress had been tailored for your body. Flawless.

Even if he wasn’t invited to the party and was instructed to keep his distances unless anything important occurred, he was happy to see you. He could watch you from where he kept guard, admire your beauty and make sure he memorized the contours of your body in that dress to entertain him later, when he’ll be alone in the showers. It wasn’t so bad after all.

The kids brought back another batch of branches to you and you placed them in a pile on the ground, taking a step back as a couple leaned down to light them on fire. All the guests applauded when red flames appeared, you included, as if lighting a fire was some kind of victory… Maybe it was after all, in such a humid climate.

A second couple did the same thing, starting a smaller fire next to the one slowly gaining strength and it pleased the guests just as much. Coriolanus held his breath when he saw you step up again, expecting you to follow suit on the odd tradition with a man that wouldn’t be him. You were dressed so nicely, your hair so beautifully arranged, that it finally occurred to him that it could be your wedding too.

No, he wouldn’t allow it. You were his. You had tasted him and he had tasted you, you knew each other intimately, you couldn’t belong to another man. Not anymore. Not when you could have him.

Instead of lighting a third fire, you handed both brides a loaf of bread and they proceeded to impale it on a branch, the grooms held it above the dancing flame and everyone watched as the bread slowly cooked. In the Capitol, cakes and desserts were served at weddings not… Toasts ?

He shook off his grimace of disgust. He wasn’t sure if it was because he kept being surprised by everyone’s lack of dignity in this district or if he was still slightly unsettled by the idea of you, marrying someone else.

A louder bang resounded through the street, bringing everyone’s attention to the mountains from which menacing clouds were quickly approaching. It was brief, everyone preffering to focus their attention back on the darkening bread held above the fire rather than on the weather, except for you. Coriolanus locked eyes with you, his heart strangely racing in his chest. He wanted you to notice him, but the possibility you might ignore him again, like you had a few days ago at the Hob, made him uneasy. He had showed you how good he could be to you. How lucky you should feel that you had somehow managed to catch his interest. But maybe you would provoke him again, just so that he could show you who you belong to once more.

A few very explicit images bloomed in his mind, he could be pretty creative when thinking about all the ways he could mark you as his. And as usual, it made him hard and desperate for attention.

But it seemed you weren’t going to need a reminder of his claim on you after all. You had stepped away from the party and were now walking in his direction, your pretty dress caressing the dirt road in the wake of your steps. He couldn’t help but smile at the way you grinned at him, as if you were happy to see him too.

“Are you keeping an eye on me, Coriolanus Snow ?” You asked him, playfully, stopping in front of him just slightly closer than what he would have expected.

His whole body buzzed at the sound of his name coming out of your lips. He had never told you so it must mean you had asked around about him. Maybe you had been obsessing over him as much as he obsessed over you, trying to find out who he was and how you could keep being the object of his desires.

“Always since I know how good you are at sneaking around.” He replied, with a grin. He didn’t know your name, but he would eventually. He simply couldn’t ask anyone about you, not when it might bring negative attention on him from his superiors. And what about his colleagues ? They might think that you’re an easy girl, or at least one who isn’t bothered by the peacekeepers’ uniforms and try to flirt with you - very much like Junius had - if they knew. It was better if he kept it that way for now, you’d be his little secret. “You look lovely in that dress.”

“Thank you.” You replied, seemingly a bit surprised by such a compliment. “My friends got married today.”

He nodded. That much he had gathered, even though wedding celebrations definitely looked nothing like the ones he had seen in The Capitol. He glanced to the sad party, where one couple was now eating their toasted piece of bread while others looked at them with emotion in their eyes. You followed his gaze back to where you came from.

“I’m sorry, I can’t invite you it wouldn’t be…” You started, but stopped yourself as he shook his head.

“It wouldn’t be appropriate, of course.” He finished for you, with a smile meant to reassure you that he had absolutely no desire to be invited to such events anyway.

A moment of silence went by, a bit awkwardly. He couldn’t force you on your knees and get you to suck him off right there, in front of everyone, even though there wasn’t anything he wanted more at this very moment and you couldn’t bring a peacekeeper back to the party with you, so you were both frozen with indecision, unsure of what else to do when you couldn’t put your hands - and mouths - on each other.

Despite daylight, an orange lightning illuminated the sky, fracturing the black clouds over your heads. A few seconds later, a loud bang resonated against the wooden walls of the nearby cabins, making the road under your feet tremble. Rain instantly poured down from the clouds, cold drops of water mixed with icy hail, piercing through the leaves of the trees and bouncing off of the roofs and ground.

Coriolanus left out a curse as the wedding party he was meant to keep in check dissolved, people hurrying in different directions to take shelter from the hail. If anything happened now, it would be his fault because he wouldn’t be able to tell if everyone went back to their cabins or if anything illegal took place afterwards…

You pulled him out of his thoughts by taking his hand in yours and guiding him to the nearest shack on the road, just as another lightning hit the ground, a lot closer than where the previous one did. You opened the door and pushed the peacekeeper in, closing it just as the roaring thunder reverberated through the street.

Coriolanus took in the modest house he was standing in, the few pieces of furniture and the broken window above the kitchen sink. It was about the size of his dormitory, but contained everything a house should, there even was a bed in the far corner of the room.

“You can stay here until the storm passes… If you want.” You suggested, the confidence you had been able to display during your previous encounters with him suddenly gone. Maybe because you felt awfully more vulnerable having him standing in your home rather than in a more public place. “Your clothes are wet, maybe I could hang them to dry ?”

A smirk appeared on his lips at your words and you smiled back at him, slightly blushing. He fixed his pale blue eyes on you as he slowly began unbuttoning his vest, you followed the movement of his fingers with eager eyes. He remembered how it felt when it wasn’t his buttons he was so deftly working on but you, pumping his finger deep inside the warmth his cock was so desperate to be buried in too.

He removed his vest, carefully placed his gun on the kitchen table and took off his shirt, revealing his chiseled chest and broad shoulders. He saw the way your eyes widened at the sight and liked how you couldn’t help but stare at his muscles, gaze lowering at the same speed your cheeks were gaining colors.

He opened his pants, lowered his underwear and left his erection proudly stand up from the fabric. He was hard for you, so hard it was almost unbearable, and you had barely done anything yet, apart from wearing a dress that hugged your silhouette and smile at him. It was kind of pathetic, how he probably could have come undone simply from closing his eyes and imagining his cum shooting out of his spent cock inside of you… Either buried deep in your wet pussy, either lodged down your throat while you gagged on his length, or even painting your face and chest with his cum again, the lovely sight it had been the first time still burned in his memory.

There were so many ways he wanted you. If he could have it his way, he’d probably lock you up in his dorm so that he could come back to you and fuck you mercilessly every time he felt the need to. Having you at his disposal would be such a relief for his cock - and hand. Maybe he’d finally manage to get you out of his mind if he could indulge in every fantasy he had about you, act out every scenario, test out everything he thought of, until he no longer had anything to think about to bring his cock to life at the most inconvenient times.

Although you seemed a bit more reserved this time, you still had the courage to reach behind your back to unzip your pretty dress, the fabric instantly falling and pooling around your feet.

Coriolanus’ blood changed course and flew to his already stretched cock, making it even harder and twitching with impatience. What a perfect sight you were, standing in front of him in nothing but your underwear. It wasn’t a fancy set of lingerie like the girls from The Capitol usually wore but maybe it was because you weren’t a girl from The Capitol that he was so obsessed with you. You were a district girl, and he had never seen a body more beautiful than yours, even in plain underwear that didn’t even match. It was as if he had designed you himself, the shape of you perfectly tailored to his preferences, with curves and dips that drove him crazy and plump, soft, skin that haunted his sleepless nights. It left him unable to decide between his desires to ravage you or worship you.

He stepped forward and carefully pulled the straps of your bra down your shoulders. He unclasped the hooks in your back, a bit less assured than he wanted you to believe he was and, once he was able to pull your bra off, he took a step back to admire your bare chest. Perfect.

He pressed a hand to your tender flesh, excitement buzzing in his veins when he felt the soft malleability of your breast. His hands weren’t calloused like the ones of the miners you probably knew, they were soft and delicate, a clear sign of his luckier upbringing.

He leaned down to place a kiss against your neck, just so he could press his body against yours, feel your heat, the warmth of your skin radiating against his. It was the most intimate he had ever been, with you and with anyone else. He couldn’t say he disliked how it felt, but it was also terrifying. He couldn’t let himself be too vulnerable with you, not when it risked leading to feelings he really didn’t want to have for a district girl like you. He already barely could manage how badly he wanted you, how much he thought about you, day and night… What if he fell in love now ? Surely, it would ruin his life.

No, there wouldn’t be any feelings, not on his side and not on yours either. It was just sex. Really good sex. But just that.

He didn’t have to be soft with you so that you’d like him, he could just take what he needed and give you what you wanted too and call it quits. Yeah, it was a good plan. Flawless even.

He pulled your panties down with a rough motion, taking you by surprise. You barely had time to kick the crumpled fabric off of your feet when he reached for the back of your knees, lifting you up into his arms with your legs closing around his hips for support.

He took a few steps until your back was pressed against the wall. Your face was so close to his, your wet lips making it so hard for him to resist kissing them with all the depth of his passion for you.

No feelings. He reminded himself.

He pushed his hips forward, his hard cock easily gliding through your arousal. You were so ready for him. Just like you had been the other day. And this time he wasn’t going to deny himself the pleasure of being inside you. He pressed himself all the way up to your entrance, finding an unexpected resistance on the way. He heard your breath catch in your throat as he attempted to pass it, noticing the grimace on your face but since you didn’t ask him to stop, he kept trying to dive into the surprising tightness of your pussy.

He felt your hands clasping his shoulders for stability, your body writhing with discomfort at the invasion. He knew he was fairly big - bigger than the fingers he had put inside you at least - but he didn’t expect you to be so incredibly tight around him. The pressure of your walls clenching on him almost making him dizzy with the intensity of the pleasure it built in his abdomen.

Then, without a warning, you suddenly relaxed and your pussy seemed to swallow him whole, finally allowing him to fully bury himself inside of your wetness. He cursed at the sensation and you quietly cried out when he hit the deepest point possible.

You still felt tight, but you were finally giving him permission to move. He gently rocked himself, getting his cock to slide back and forth as a way to loosen you up. He was molding you to fit him. Him, and no one else.

No feelings.

He closed his eyes. He could come just from this but he wasn’t going to be selfish. Not when he wanted you to keep wanting him as much as he did. So he focused, keeping his movements slow and wide despite how fast and rough his brain urged him to go.

Suddenly, you came, digging your nails in his shoulders and whimpering against his neck, your pussy contracting around his cock, forcing him to stop his movements inside you again and stand completely still while you moaned in bliss. He was good at this, it was his second time making you reach your climax and it gave him an unreasonable amount of pride each time he achieved this. This time especially, had merely felt like work at all, you simply couldn’t take that many slow thrusts inside you. And now your cunt was contracting around him, trying to milk cum out of him like the only thing missing from your orgasm was a load of his release inside you. But he wasn’t going to give it to you, not yet. No matter how limp your body suddenly felt in his arms and how you cried out as soon as he resumed his thrusts, he was going to fuck you until he was satisfied this time.

He adjusted his grip on your body and carried you to the bed, lying you down and immediately placing himself on top of you, putting his dick back exactly where it belonged, buried deep inside you. His hands behind both of your knees, he held your legs against his hips as he pushed himself back and forth in you, on his knees while you were lying down with your head resting on your pillow. He could feel the pleasure bubbling inside him, demanding more to finally explode and allow him some relief. He was so desperate to finish, he needed to fill you up with his seed, make sure you would be his from now on. Hell, he wanted to spill everything he could inside you until he was bone dry and then, feed you every drop that might escape from your folds so that none of his release would go to waste.

He leaned forward, the weight of his body shifting and pressing yours deeper into the mattress. The bed was creaking loudly with each of his violent thrusts, menacing to break, while your cries of agonizing pleasure escaped through the broken window, mixing with the splatter of the heavy rain outside and the low rumble of thunder.

It wasnt so much the way he drove himself in and out of you, fast and without mercy, that pushed him off of the edge but the sight of you, gasping for air like you couldn’t take him anymore, crying out his name with half of your face buried in your pillow, your pretty lips forming a perfect oval as he finally groaned and released himself inside you, making you climax once more, in unison with him this time.

He filled you up, waiting until his cock was done twitching, the very last drops of cum dripping from his tip before he took it out. He needed to catch his breath now but the way you were still shaking with pleasure in front of him, beautiful as ever and claimed by him made his heart race.

Rain and hail crashed noisily on the roof of the cabin, covering the sound of your panting breaths, lightning illuminating the darkness that had filled the room every once in a while. He knew that his friends were probably waiting for him back at the barracks, that his superiors might start wondering where he was since he wasn’t on permission yet, but he couldn’t get himself to leave. Not yet. He had been dreaming, imagining, fantasizing about this moment for too long to cut it short. The way you had felt, how your body looked without any clothes on, your face when he poured his release inside you, everything had exceeded his expectations. You were truly perfect for him. And he no longer could resist kissing your lips, making sure you’d understand how obsessed he was with you.

No feelings.

[howmanyholesinswisscheese]

Sherlock & Co Headcanons

This list got SO LONG, SO QUICKLY, but here y'all are. Nobody asked, but I sure as hell will deliver.

Sherlock comes into John's room at night sometimes when he can't sleep. John lets him snuggle up in bed and wraps his arms around him like a koala, and - as long as John's breathing is acceptable - Sherlock falls swiftly asleep to the rise and fall of his chest. After a few times, Sherlock observes a notable decrease in John's nightmares and starts joining him in bed more often, even when he's not tired.

Mariana is one of those rare people who Microsoft Excel gets along with. She has magic powers for sure.

YOU GET A QPR, YOU GET A QPR, EVERYBODY GETS A QPR

On the topic of google docs in the latest episode, Sherlock's gmail is a random string of numbers like a default wifi password because "sholmes@gmail.com" was taken and that was obviously the next possible option. Mariana's job is infinitely harder because of this.

They have movie nights.

John tried once to get the others into football. Neither of them saw the appeal of it but they watched a game with him anyway out of some strange obligation and a hefty amount of coercion. Also there was popcorn. The joy John radiated when Swindon Town scored a goal was absolutely worth it all.

Carol Watson ships it.

CANE USER JOHN CANE USER JOHN CANE USER JOHN

John hates using his cane, like genuinely loathes it. He's convinced he'll get looks for it or seem like he's faking. And what would Mariana and Sherlock think about him as a colleague?? One morning, though, after a particularly physically taxing case, he woke to an awful flare up. When he reluctantly swiped the cane from the corner where it had been gathering dust so far and made his way into the kitchen for breakfast, Mariana and Sherlock didn't even bat an eye - Mariana did ask if he'd like to sit down while she made him toast, which he gratefully accepted. Archie did try to gnaw on it, though. He uses the cane a bit more often, now.

John and Mariana learned BSL for Sherlock's bad days. They have intricate and heated discussions from across the room entirely in sign language when others are around and nobody can understand them. It's hilarious to watch - well, hilarious from their perspective, at least.

They fall asleep on the couch an inordinate number of times.

One time, Sherlock made John and Mariana breakfast. The two of them spent a very long time trying to figure out whether he was high, delusional, or both.

Clients are generally confused by the whole trio's relationship dynamic. Slay. That's exactly what they're going for.

Honestly I'm 100% vibing with the poly hcs going around. Consider: poly qpr???

Short king John. You agree. Reblog.

Mariana consistently steps out of the flat looking drop down gorgeous because she's awesome like that, whereas Sherlock looks like he's just been dragged out of bed (he probably has been) and John exclaims in pleasant amusement whenever he finds bits of his breakfast in his stubble. They make the perfect trio.

Sherlock is tall enough to rest his chin on top of John's head. He does it like some sort of clingy cat whenever he's tired and John's back is turned. It's adorable. He's recently been experimenting with slinking his arms around John's waist as he does so, yielding gentle chuckles that he feels rather than hears. The results have been a smashing success.

Mariana was school captain.

John drinks juice straight from the carton like a heathen (which is fine because Sherlock hates the stuff - the pulp gets stuck in his teeth - and Mariana has her own food downstairs).

Sherlock really does play the violin at horrific hours. The neighbors hate him, but it actually puts John to sleep when he's not playing the violent, jerky melodies of a tricky case.

Sherlock and Victor Trevor. I'm surprised this isn't already canon. They happened. Whatever "happened" means is irrelevant - they happened.

Sherlock really likes rainbow sour straps.

MORE TO COME PROBABLY

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I am currently in Vilnius! Lithuania is fantastic. You really can't beat old eastern European cities for having urban sections called Old Town that are the most stunning and picturesque places you've ever seen in your life, and Vilnius combines this with apparently about fifty trillion urban trees and parks. Fucking gorgeous place.

Eastern Europe is also incredible for food. Today we had a Lithuanian delicacy where they take rye bread and cut it into sticks and toast/fry it and then you have it with a sort of cheesy garlicky sauce and it is fucking incredible holy shit. Also a dish of finely grated potato over a layer of pork leg and topped with bacon bits and sour cream, sort of like a Lithuanian lasagne. Exquisite. Divine. Ambrosia of the gods.

Anyway my excellent Lithuanian friend Gabs has insisted on buying us a shit ton of Lithuanian snacks to try over the next few days, and I have promised him I shall keep a spreadsheet of my reactions to each. So! I'm recording them here:

Surelis: sweet curds covered in a chocolate layer, flavoured. So far we have tried the raspberry. It tasted like a bar of Petit Filou yoghurt and it was fucking gorgeous. 12/10.

Sula: a soft drink made from birch sap. We have tried one that is fruit flavoured, but Gabs didn't know the English word for said fruit. Super clear and refreshing tasting. 8/10

Grybukai: a mushroom shaped biscuit/cake flavoured with ginger and... something sharp. Citrus maybe? Super fun, super tasty. 10/10

Sakotis: cake made on a spit in a pleasing tree shape. A bit like a firmer dry pancake. Gabs recommended them with tea, I tried it with some chocolate butter. Very nice tea time treat, not too sweet, delicate flavour. 7/10

Having a whale of a time, Lithuania is gr8

[petermorwood]

More food and cooking of the Middle Kingdoms, though in this instance with photos only since the recipe hasn't yet been written up.

It's Lamb in Sour Blackberry Sauce, from "The Door Into Sunset", and this form involves lamb chops, both marinated and not, a sauce made from the marinade, and (since the Middle Kingdoms have no PO-TAY-TOES) a simple accompaniment of Arlene Roasted Root Vegetables, in this case parsnips.

The marinade is made from blackberries macerated in balsamic vinegar (red wine vinegar is another possibility, but we - and to our surprise the shop - were both out of it) and, for a bit more fruity complexity, some Kriek, a Belgian lambic beer brewed with sour cherries.

This was the drinking accompaniment as well. It's a very attractive colour, and its dry finish contrasted well with the lamb.

*****

Step one, take a bowl, add some of the beer and the macerating vinegar, then the chops.

Step two, add a layer of the macerated berries.

Step three, top off with the rest of the beer...

...then cover with clingfilm and put into the fridge.

We left ours for 72 hours, and here's the contrast between unmarinated chops and marinated ones.

That berry is to mark which was which, but it's really not needed. :->

*****

Sauce was made by reducing the marinade by about 50%, with some of the berries mashed into it and others left whole, then thickened with arrowroot.

Why not cornflour?

Fiction-wise, DD has decided that the Middle Kingdoms lack maize as well as potatoes, so there'll be no cornflour, sweetcorn or polenta;

Food-wise, arrowroot thickening keeps a sauce smooth and fluid rather than turning semi-solid or even solid when cold, because we were already thinking about other ways to eat this than over whole chops on a plate.

For example I got a couple of fondue forks and tried toasting some of the fatter bits of chop, then dipping them in the sauce.

It worked very well - understatement! - even with that little Instant BBQ tray. Barbecuing works wonderfully. We've also tried flash-frying, whose result different but just as good, for the last couple of chops we'll try grilling (US broiling) to see how that turns out.

*****

As for "does the sauce look and mouthfeel good when cold?", yes it does. We used it as a dip when finishing the leftovers later that night. The last couple of cooked chops were cut into pieces matching the parsnips, like the ones toasted on the BBQ, then everything was seared / re-crisped under the grill for a few minutes and eaten as finger-food.

There are no photos, because by the time either of us thought of a camera, there wasn't enough left to bother with - which by itself says how good this was!

*****

Also, instead of fingers, we used eating-picks.

If a diplomatic envoy is having a working snack while busy with documents, saucy-greasy fingerprint reminders of that snack on the documents will impress nobody.

And if diplomacy is a bit on edge, then no matter how much they really eat, the envoy can always tell superiors back home how they expressed silent disapproval by merely picking at their food.

It'll fool nobody, of course, especially if that diplomat is known to enjoy the pleasures of the table, but token gestures are what this sort of diplomacy is all about.

:->

[skauni]

Arranged Marriage: John Price x Fem!Reader

Part #3—New Beginnings, New Life.

Part #1, Part #2, Part #3(final)

After everyone ate and made their toasts to yours and John’s marriage, the time came for you and John to have your first dance. It was slow dance music, since you and him didn’t necessarily have a designated song since there never really was a first date. Once you and John finished your dance the DJ played the rest of the playlist for the rest of the guests to enjoy and dance to. When you got bored you snuck some of your food onto John’s plate every time he looked away, making him confused.

When he caught you doing it he grinned and gently grabbed your wrists. “Oh, so my wife’s a cheeky little prankster?” He’d say, jokingly scolding you as you laughed and tried to tug your hands out of his. Though his hold was soft enough to not hurt you he somehow managed to make it tight enough to make it so you couldn’t escape. After a while of gentle tugging you huffed in resignation. He chuckled and let your wrists go. “There you go lovie, y’get ya hand privileges back.” He said, you grumbled in mock sourness and said “Thanks, Hubby.” In response just to mess with him.

As the night went on you and John were called to the cake table to cut the cake. John cut one slice big enough for you and him to share. You both took a fork and, as per tradition, fed each other a piece. You jokingly put some frosting on his nose, making him chuckle. He ended up winning this round again because he fed you a big piece of the cake and it got all over your chin. He laughed at you as you tried not to spit it all out BECAUSE you were laughing. The two of you served the cake to the guests without bothering to clean your faces till afterwards. Safe to say almost everyone had video and photo evidence of you two messing around.

Eventually you saw one of your cousins from your mom’s younger sister get too close to the liquor table and try to reach the alcoholic punch bowl. “Jasper—HEY! YOU GET AWAY FROM THAT TA—JASPER!” Once you got ahold of him you scolded him. John chuckled at you when you came back and sat by him again. “I s’pose it’s safe to say you’d be a good mum if we have kids.” He’d tease you with a soft smile. You flushed red and stuffed more cake in his mouth to shut him up. He chuckled more.

The rest of the ceremony he held your hand as gently as he could like he’d break it if he applied any pressure. At the end of the ceremony you two opened the wedding gifts together and then the ceremony came to a slow end. You and John helped clean up a bit. Talking about what your favorite parts of the night were so far. When you got to his house, the both of you were tired. When he lead you to the room you noticed there was nothing special about it. So you asked. In the most innocent way he’d ever heard.

“Aren’t we supposed to… uhm… ‘close the deal’ on the wedding night?” You’d say quietly. He chuckled and gently ruffled your hair. “Not tonight. We can do that when you’re ready to do that…” he said softly, gently kissing your forehead as he showed you where you could change, you came out in a cute little nightgown and he was literally just in sweatpants when the two of you got into bed and fell asleep. Him holding you close by your waist throughout the night, the two of you spooning. You couldn’t help but feel lucky to have had this marriage contract with him, like you got a better bargain than most women in this situation might.

[heyiwrotesomethings]

DEMON SLAYER CUZ YESSSSSSSS.

shinobu x female reader

I wanna kick uzuis ass again soooooooo

Uzui is being a dick to everyone because he is in a mood and make fun of shinobu (u find the reason nth comes to mind rn) and the reader having an awful day herself kicks his ass and brings him to his wives "next time that disgrace you call a husband insults my soon to be wife again I'm gonna cut his tongue of and shove it so far up his ass it will come out of his mouth again 🙃

have a good day ladies oh and do keep him a check or I will 🙂 byeeeee"

gl finishing all of those rqst

Bad Morning

Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Reader

A/N: I don’t know what’s up with me, but this threat was a bit too descriptive for me and since this is like, at least the third time we’re beating Uzui up, this one is kind of lackluster, apologies! Hopefully I still got the message across lol. Hope you still like it! Word Count: ~1,220

Uzui Tengen woke up on the wrong side of the bed earlier that morning. Which was to say Suma had accidentally pushed Makio out of bed, which in turn lead to Makio dragging her out of said bed by the ankles in retaliation. Tengen tried his best to ignore them and focus on Hinatsuru’s cute mumblings as she turned to lay on her other side, but Makio’s growls and Suma’s cries made it downright impossible.

“Could you two keep it down, goddamnit! Why does this have to happen every morning?!”

“Maybe we should invest in a bigger bed.” Hinatsuru murmured, pressing a pillow over her head.

“Or we just make Suma sleep on the floor. She kicked me last night too and I have the bruise to prove it!” Makio pulled up the hem of her sleepware to show the bruise her thigh was sporting and Suma wailed.

“I’m sorry! Let me kiss it better! Don’t make me sleep on the floor Makio, please!”

“Nobody is sleeping on the floor!” Tengen groaned. “I’ll get a bigger bed, okay? Can I just get one more hour of sleep—“

“Caw!” Nijimaru came in through the window with flapping wings and rattling beads. A damn fine, flamboyant bird if Tengen did say so himself, but he couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather see less at the moment. “You’ll be late for the meeting if you stay in bed any longer, Uzui!”

“Damn it all, that’s today?” Tengen shot out of bed, jamming his toe against the bedside table. He cursed and limped his way to the bathroom, now even more pissed because he would have to skip his morning skin care routine if he was going to make it to Oyakata-sama’s mansion in time.

He barely had enough time to bathe and put on his makeup before heading out the door. No time to even eat breakfast. At least Suma ran him some toast at the door and jumped up to give him a quick peck on the cheek. It certainly made up for the rude awakening at least, sweet girl.

Still, all the toast and kisses in the world couldn’t make him shake off the sour mood he was in. His morning routine was sacred. When his routine was disturbed, it honestly felt like his whole day was ruined.

People have bad days. It’s normal to maybe ask for a little space, to tell people you aren’t really feeling yourself, but the moment you use your bad morning as an excuse to be shitty to other people, then expect your day to get much, much worse.

“Iguro, come on man. Can you get your scrawny ass outta my way? Shouldn’t you be sitting like a broody tree’d raccoon by now?”

“We’re talking, walk around. It’s a fucking garden.” Sanemi was quick to shoot back as Obanai glared.

“Nobody can make anything easy today, can they?” Tengen sighed loudly, bumping into Sanemi as he walked past the two fuming men.

He rested in his usual spot, hoping to maybe get a little bit more sleep in before the Master arrived. However, Mitsuri was talking up a storm with Shinobu and (Y/n) and the excitement in her voice as she spoke made it hard for Tengen to relax.

“She made me dango for helping me get her cat out of the tree! Isn’t that great? It was really good too! And then—!”

“Gods, Kanroji,” Tengen groaned, “would it kill you to take a page out of Tomioka’s book and be quite for once?”

“Hey! What the hell is your problem?” (Y/n) scowled.

“Just because you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, it doesn’t give you license to make everyone else around you feel miserable as well.” Shinobu chimed in, she put a reassuring hand on Mitsuri’s shoulder while she gave Tengen a disapproving look.

“I’m gonna kill that bastard.” Obanai growled, Kaburamaru hissed in agreement.

“Perhaps you should take a page out of Tomioka-san’s book and butt out of conversations that have nothing to do with you, hm? Contrary to what your ego may tell you, the world does not revolve around you.” Shinobu added for good measure.

“Big words for somebody so small. I could crush you like a grape between my fingers.”

“Uzui, my friend! You should stop talking before you say something you’ll really regret!” Rengoku advised.

“So disgruntled,” Shinobu tisked pityingly, “Given how out of sorts you are this morning, I doubt you could even brush me with those meaty, perpetually sweaty hands.

Tengen took a deep breath through clenched teeth, but (Y/n) spoke up before him, her voice low, warning,

“Uzui-san, I’d listen to Rengoku-san if I were you. Act like an adult and let it go. With any luck, the meeting will be over in an hour and you can sleep the rest of the day away.”

“Tch,“ Tengen sneered, “how about this, you tell your little, and I do mean shrimpy, puny, girlfriend to zip it, and then I will too.”

“I am not her keeper.” (Y/n) said through gritted teeth.

“Well if she can’t keep her mouth shut, why should I?!”

“Ah, my deepest apologies, Uzui-san,” Shinobu began, not looking very sorry at all, “(Y/n) and I had a rather late night in the lab ourselves. My mistake for trying to hold you to the same standards we hold ourselves to.”

Tengen was seeing red. He wanted to wipe that perfect little smile right off of Shinobu’s face and before he could think better of it, he had thought of something to say that would hit her where it would hurt.

“Wipe that fake-ass smile off your face, little Kanae wannabe. You want to imitate her so bad, start by acting like less of a bitch maybe.”

Well, that sure made the smile fall from Shinobu’s lips. Her expression became impassive, an eerie blankness, but no one took the time to really notice because (Y/n) was already leaping to her feet, kicking up pebbles that scattered over Tengen’s thighs as she got closer.

“The fuck did you just say?!” Sanemi growled, his head snapping towards Uzui.

“Uzui-san, I know you can be abrasive, but that kind of talk is unacceptable.” Gyomei spoke up for the first time that day and that was how Tengen knew he might have really fucked up.

“Okay, okay, you are a fucking dead man now! I don’t give a damn about you not getting your beauty sleep, you wanna play nasty, we’ll play nasty alright!”

(Y/n) knew Shinobu could take care of herself, but she also knew that Uzui had hit a nerve. Like Shinobu had said, they had a tough night, tougher than Uzui’s, she imagined. She had been helping Shinobu with her latest experiment on her journey to find a poison that could end an Upper Moon.

Despite all of the promising research, the experiment had fallen flat, or well, more accurately caused a small explosion that (Y/n) and Shinobu spent the next three hours cleaning up after. Thankfully they had been wearing the proper gear during the whole ordeal, but they still smelt overwhelmingly of wisteria.

(Y/n) got close enough to Uzui that he could smell it on her and the potency stung his nose. She grabbed him by the collar of his uniform and he engulfed her wrist with his hand—

“Oyakata-sama is coming!” Mitsuri squealed, noticing two of the Master’s children leading him around the building. It must have been one of his good days and he decided to take a stroll.

“I’m not done with you.” (Y/n) hissed, letting go of Uzui’s uniform with a shove before quickly dropping to the ground.

“You’re like a yappy little dog,” he sneered, “All I gotta say is, ‘boo!’ and you’ll be shaking in your sandals.”

“The first thing I’m gonna do is cut out your own tongue and feed it to you, asshole.”

Tengen grit his teeth together. The Master was much too close now to continue trading vulgarities.

Tengen started out the meeting boiling hot, but listening to the Master speak had its usual calming affects and before Tengen knew it, he was in a relaxed, meditative state. It was the closest thing to sleep one could have while awake. It was like magic. The Master bid them all farewell and Tengen inhaled deeply, then released a relaxed exhaled, tension leaving his shoulders. He felt so much better—

(Y/n)’s fist came sailing at him with all the force of a mantis shrimp and she decked him, making direct contact with his temple.

“Alright Uzui, how about you and me go for a little stroll?” (Y/n) grunted, heaving the hulking man to his feet was no simple task, especially now that he was having a hard time standing up himself after that vision spotting hit. She turned to look back at Shinobu with adoration and concern, “Would you like to come along, dear?”

“I suppose.” Shinobu shrugged before rising to her feet as well. Truthfully, she didn’t want to have to look at Uzui for another minute, but if (Y/n) accidentally killed him, that would be one less Hashira and they were already spread thin enough as it was.

The remaining Hashira, that cared enough to, watched on as (Y/n) pulled Tengen away from the mansion by his ear, very thankful they weren’t in his shoes at that moment.

Tengen shuffled down the path, bending with (Y/n)’s sharp pushes and pulls while the two women discussed what they should eat for lunch. Sadistic beings…

Though it was hard for his eyes to focus because of that sharp punch to his temple, he soon recognized the scenery and realized (Y/n) was taking him home, to what end, he was afraid to find out.

“Good afternoon, ladies.” He heard (Y/n)’s muffled voice through the ringing in his ears.

“Oh gods, what did he do this time?” Makio groaned.

“(Y/n)-san, I don’t know what he did, but please, be a little more gentle with him.” Hinatsuru requested hesitantly.

She was hesitant because she knew her husband had a track record of saying or doing stupid things. Even Suma, the most sympathetic of the bunch, could agree that sometimes getting slapped around a little bit was warranted when it came to their husband’s unfiltered words and uncouth actions.

“Don’t worry, I caught him off guard with the first punch, so I didn’t go any further. I probably nearly fractured his skull since he didn’t think to defend himself at all, don’t you think so, Shinobu?”

“Oh yes, given how he’s been wobbling, and that he threw up in the bushes on the way here, it’s safe to say he would have been in real trouble if you had decided to keep going.”

Makio, Hina and Suma paled, quickly taking possession of their loopy husband when (Y/n) offered him to them. It was difficult to keep all that muscle up right, so they could only imagine just how furious (Y/n) was to have been able to basically drag him all the way home.

“The next time your disgraceful, woefully un-flamboyant husband says or does anything that hurts my fiancée, intentionally or not, he may not make it back to you in one piece. Understand?”

“Yes, we’ll talk to him. I’m sorry.” Hinatsuru hung her head low.

“You have nothing to apologize for, but when your husband snaps out of it, you might suggest he start looking for ways to atone because I’m not quite so sure I could hold myself back if I see him again too soon. That single punch was not satisfying at all.”

“We’ll work on it.” Makio swore.

“We promise! Please don’t kill him!” Suma sobbed.

“I won’t kill him, too much paperwork.” (Y/n) promised, then after a pause added, “Well, I wouldn’t kill him on purpose anyway.”

“Here,” Shinobu stepped up to the three horrified looking wives and handed Hinatsuru a small paper bag, “I suspect he has a concussion. I have provided all instructions and materials needed to give him proper treatment.”

“Thank you…” the three answered in unison.

Shinobu gave them a short nod of acknowledgment before linking back up with (Y/n). The two strolled off like nothing had happened, smiling and gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes as they disappeared over the hill.

“We need that new bed stat!” Suma said with an exhausted sigh as the trio dragged Tengen into the house.

“I think our dumbass husband needs a personality check more.” Makio grunted.

[citrusandcyanide]

Can't Lost You | L.G.

Part 3 Final

Pairing: Lip Gallagher x f!Reader

an. This took so long to get out cause my classes almost broke me this semester lollll but also I had two possible ways to end this and it took a long time to decide how it would go. This is the last part. I appreciate all the love on the first two parts. I promise I'll write something happy next <333

Synopsis. Reader finally makes her decision to stay or leave for college.

words. 1.2k

Warnings. angst angst

Part 1 Part 2

You woke up in a half drunk daze in Lips bed. The events of last night were as blurry as your vision through the tears you knew clouded your vision at some point in the night. Snippets of your conversation came back to you slowly as you stared up at Lips ceiling. And then it comes back to you, the feeling of his lips against yours, and his hand against your cheek. Lip’s arms guiding you to lay down on the bed. Your hands immediately went to your chest, clinging onto the fabric that still clung to your body. You silently thanked God that meant the kissing was as far as you went. Sitting up, you looked around the room, finally noticing the empty space beside you. He wasn’t there which partially relieved and puzzled you. Slowly you stood up and made your way downstairs. 

Upstairs had been far quieter than you had ever remembered the gallagher house being. The silence was unsettling. Familiar voices filled the kitchen as you descended the back staircase. Lip stood at the counter with a plate of eggs in front of him. To your surprise Mandy was cooking the eggs. Upon your entrance, Mandy turned to you and smiled. 

“Rise and shine, princess,” Mandy greeted you with a quick hug before motioning you to sit down next to lip. Your hug was weaker than hers, but you hoped she would attribute it to having just woken up. You knew Mandy sometimes shows up early, but after last night the air in the room felt heavy. You couldn’t help but look over to Lip, who was not trying to hide avoiding your gaze. Mandy put down a cup of water and a mug of coffee on the counter for you.  “Lip told me you drank a little too much last night. I couldn’t help but check in with you when I got her. You were sleeping like a baby. I couldn’t wake you even if I tried.” 

“Yeah.. Yesterday was blurry,” you replied, picking up the cup of coffee and taking a seat next to Lip. Mandy’s laugh triggered a headache, bringing your attention to the hangover that was getting stronger as you woke up more. “Where did you sleep Lip?” 

“Couch,” He replied quick and quiet. You gave him a look out of the corner of your eye. He just kept eating his eggs. You were too tired and hungover to try to interrogate him on the events of last night. Mandy’s presence also made you want to avoid the subject. The guilt in your chest was slowly building up as Mandy proceeded to make you a plate of eggs and toast. But Lip’s silence was more concerning. Why did he sleep on the couch last night? And why did I fall asleep in his bed? 

“What were you guys doing? Y/n doesn’t drink unless its something big,” Mandy asked. You and Lip froze, waiting for the other to answer. You brought the mug to your lips, hoping he would break the silence and answer. 

His words from last night repeating in your head. 

‘Y/n if you stay, I’m yours.’ 

‘You’re keeping me here’ 

‘I love you’ 

The words “I’m yours” practically throbbing to the rhythm of your headache.

“Y/n’s going to Berkeley for College,” Lip Answered. Just before the coffee could make it out of the mug, you froze. You felt dizzy again. You must of misheard him. I’m going where? You placed your mug down with a deep breath and turned to look at Lip. His face was neutral. You had no idea what was going on in his head. He turned to face you, for the first time this morning looking directly at you.  “We were celebrating.” 

Your lips turned sour, hating the feeling of his that still lingered there. This was enough to make your decision clear. Last night you let your boundaries slip farther than you would ever allow again. Lip was at your feet begging you to stay and you just heard him say you were leaving. Announcing the opposite of what was decided when he kissed you. Who were you kidding? Nothing was decided. There was nothing promising you would stay. There was nothing promising he would be yours. It was just a kiss. You were drunk. It was blurry.  It wasn’t the alcohol that made you believe him, that you would be his that easily. You couldn’t blame it on that. You were waiting for him to say it, hoping he would tell you to stay. But here you are, in his kitchen hungover and delusional. His girlfriend is standing in front of you making you breakfast. And he is telling her, you are leaving. Lying and saying you were celebrating. You had to convince yourself it was all lies. This was enough. 

You heard Mandy cheer which snapped you out of your thoughts. “So you’re actually going?” She asked you with a big smile on her face. In that moment you knew your answer. You were going to erase everything that happened last night from your memory. And you were going to try to do the same for the years you wasted on Lip gallagher. 

“Yes,” You said firmly. “I’m going to Berkeley.” 

You quietly excused yourself from the table and thanked Mandy for the breakfast. You said your goodbyes to her, promising to see her at school. Lip kept quiet as you gave Mandy a hug. When you pulled away, your eyes locked with his. You weren’t going to waste anymore time on him. There was no use in a goodbye. Your silence said it all. 

Epologue: 

The next day you heard knocks on your front door. You didn’t answer him. There was not going to be an apology this time. You had nothing left to say to him. For the next few weeks, you’d get voicemails from Lip, asking where you were and if you’d speak to him. Everytime he called, you’d never reply. After awhile you stopped listening to the voicemails completely. Then they stopped. He didn’t try to approach you at school, even though you could feel his presence when he was around. Once you graduated, you stopped seeing him completely. He respected your distance and kept away. The rest of the Gallaghers seemed to respect that too. You attended Berkeley, moved across Chicago and left your hometown behind. You got the freedom you wanted, and life without Lip was just as pleasant as you imagined it. Lip, however, wouldn’t let go completely. He’d send you text messages every now and then asking you how you were. Sometimes the messages would contain apologies, begging for your forgiving, pleading for you to come back. You didn’t reply. Your silence said it all. 

[observeowl]

Unwanted Marriage | Chapter 2 - Getting to know each other

Series Masterlist

Other than your family and hers, it wasn't that bad of a wedding. However, there were lots of interactions and formalities to be done which made you feel drained out once you entered her home.

You waited for 3 years to marry Marcus, and in the end, you married someone else.

You sat on the bed, reflecting on what happened today. You got married to a woman you met barely a month ago and have little to no interaction with. "What are you thinking about?" Romanoff entered the room unannounced, making you jump. "Nothing, just family."

"Don't worry about them, I have already taken care of everything." She said it so easily like it's something she does often. "You don't like my family, why did you agree to help them?" You asked. You can't imagine he was going to marry Stephanie willingly. "This was arranged by my family. Not me. But, you're an exception."

Natasha Romanoff, the most powerful woman in the city, is now at the mercy of her family.

"You don't have to care about Romanoff's or Y/L/N's. All you need to do is to be yourself."

Rumour has it that she became more brutal and cold-blooded in the business world after becoming disabled. No one dared to be close to her. After becoming disabled, those rich and famous people are reluctant to marry her anymore... But her eyes... are very attractive.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts and said that you were going to take the first bath while anxiously leaving. Natasha only smirked, taking out her phone from her pockets and told her men to keep an eye on Y/L/N's family.

You told yourself you were going to take back that video from Stephanie no matter what. When you were done, you figured you might as well fill the tub for her so she could relax in it for a while. Seeing as she could handle herself, you went to settle the sleeping situation. There was only one bed in the room. You tried searching for some sleeping equipment and eventually found a cover you could use. However, it was at the topmost section and you were barely touching it when Natasha came out. "Are you afraid of cold?" You curse her ability to remain silent as the cover falls on you. "No. I'm going to the guest room." You said as she gathered everything. "We are already married. No need to be ashamed."

"That... that was an accident!" You couldn't even bear to look into her eyes as you remembered the embarrassing moment. "Brooke will clean up the room tomorrow. Just bear with me for tonight. Don't worry, I won't do anything to you."

===

You woke up the next morning and Natasha was already gone. Your phone rang in your bag and you rushed to get it before it hung up. "Y/N, do you wish to take back your video?" Just hearing her voice made your day turn sour. "Stephanie! What do you want do you mean? I have already married to Natasha Romanoff. What do you still want me to do?"

"Don't worry. Haven't I told you that I would give it to you? I'll send the original copy since the video has no meaning to me. Whether you believe it or not. I have already deleted the rest of the copies."

You checked the message she sent and you have no idea if both you and Romanoff were drugged when she got this video. How in the world did she get Natasha to have sex with you? "What are you looking at so focused?" Her voice came out of nowhere and your phone slipped out of your hands towards her. Naturally, she went to pick it up and you got it back just in time before she saw anything, hopefully.

"Good morning Mrs Romanoff." The kind-looking middle-aged lady whom you assume is Brooke, greeted you. "Just call me Y/N is fine."

"Alright. What do you like to eat? I can cook different things for you every day." There were already eggs and toast on the table as she brought your tea. "Thank you, Brooke. Has Natasha eaten?" You asked. "Miss has not eaten yet." She replied. "Then I will bring it to her later."

"We're so happy that Miss has married a beautiful and caring person." It made your cheeks flush and you stood up from the table. "Well... I'm full, I'll bring her food upstairs now."

You wondered why you were so initiative as you brought the tray up. You could have left her to her own device. There were people to serve her, why did you offer to do it? You knocked on the door before entering. "I heard you haven't eaten so I brought your food." You said as you set it on the table near her. There was an awkward silence as no one moved or said anything. "I'll- I'll head out first."

You rushed down the stairs past Brooke as you felt your heartbeat rising. She asked if there was anything wrong but you said there was nothing before running away. Brooke thought it was weird and went up to check on Miss Romanoff. But she was already dressed and ready for a day in the office.

Clint knocked on the door and entered, ready to collect Natasha and begin the journey. "Y/N has sent her resume to a magazine publisher owned by the Stark family and has an interview later." He reported. "Stark family?" She repeated. "Do I need to inform them first?" Clint asked. "No need, there's nothing to worry about."

Natasha, Clint and you were sharing a car when you asked about her knowledge of your interview at Stark News. "Brooke told me." She said casually as she was typing on her laptop. She wastes no time and continues to work even during travelling time. "Oh... Um... thank you for sending me."

"What did you say?" She finally turned and faced you. "Thank you... for sending me?" There has to be something within the sentence as she closed her laptop with a slam and told you to get out of the car. You question if you heard that correctly, but she only repeated what she said and told you to get there by yourself.

"Natasha Romanoff, you crazy woman!" You shouted as the car drove off and you were left at the sidewalk once again.

"There is no need to go this far Nat. Are you shy?" Clint teased as he looked into the rear mirror.

"Shut up!"

===

"Hello, I'm Y/N Y/L/N." You introduced yourself as you stepped into the Chief Editor's office, Tony Stark. And the first thing he asked was, "Am I handsome?" You were stunned for a moment. You had prepared yourself for some ideological questions, but not this. "Uh... yes..."

"It is you then!" You were shocked by the swiftness of his decision. "Actually, I am satisfied with your potential and experience, so this is just to test you."

Subsequently, someone showed you to your table and you were sitting there thinking that has to be the weirdest interview you've ever been in. That interviewer just now is a real narcissist. "Hello! Did you pass the interview?" Your tablemate moved her chair closer to you and asked. She has a long brunette hair with a cute smile. "I'm Wanda Maximoff. You can call me Wanda. We'll be colleagues then. How did you answer the question of the editor?"

"Did you also answer it? So what does the question mean?"

"Because the Chief Editor is so handsome, many people keep thinking about him. So he deliberately asks this question to determine those who are serious about work." You nodded your head as she explained. "How about you?" You asked. "Even though he is good-looking, I have my own admirer so I won't be affected by him. Besides, I don't swing that way. If you get what I mean." She winked at the end of the sentence.

"Newcomers, don't be lazy! Come and have these documents copied!" Someone with blonde hair gave us a file of documents without saying anything else. "She is the editor of group 1 which are all veteran employees. Those people like to bully newcomers." Wanda explained as she pointed towards the table they were gathered at. She took the documents from you, "You haven't officially started work yet, so I will go get this done!"

After saying goodbye to her, you received a call from Natasha. "I'm outside your company." She said and ended the call. You walked out and looked around but you didn't see her car anywhere. As you were looking, a car stops in front of you and winds down their window. And sure enough, it was Natasha with her few cold words. "Get in."

"This morning you chased me out of the car, why are you now so kind to pick me up? And in a secretive way?" You didn't wait for her reply and continued. "Forget it, to celebrate my success in the interview, I will treat you to a meal."

"Treat me to a meal?"

"Yes... why? Don't tell me you want to chase me out of the car again!"

"Y/N, it's not convenient for Natasha to go out, let's just-" Natasha cut Clint off. "It's okay. Let her treat me."

And so you were at one of the most prestigious restaurants and even managed to get one of their private dining rooms. Clint was telling the orders to the waiter when you waited and Natasha was typing away at her laptop. Suddenly, another waiter entered and whispered to the waiter's ears that Mr Lancaster was here and wanted to book the room you were currently in.

"This room is always reserved for Marcus! How come somebody is using it now?" You can clearly hear a woman's voice from out the door.

Without announcing, she opened the door and it was someone you recognised. "Ah, I thought who is the person blocking my way, it turns out to be you!" Natasha started analysing the situation.

"Maggie, long time no see. I never thought that you still love to follow behind Stephanie." Enraged by your remarks, she retaliated. "So what if I'm with her, we're doing great! Unlike you? Looks like you are living rather miserably, after being dumped by Marcus. You even dated someone disabled!"

"You!" Before you said any further, Stephanie stepped forward, covered her mouth and pulled her away. "Idiot, stop it! So sorry for Maggie's manners. Didn't think we would bump into each other here. Marcus, let's go."

"No need to apologise. This lady is just speaking the truth." You can bet that that was how Natasha charmed several men and women to swoon over her with her sweet and deceiving words.

"What are you stunned about? Where is the menu?" Maggie still didn't recognise who was in her presence and shouted at the waiter. "Sorry, I will prepare your room immediately, please come with me." He misunderstood her intention and replied with the wrong words. "What? Are we not better than this disabled?"

At this point, Stephanie had enough of her words and pulled her out of the room without saying anything. "What are you doing?!" She only managed to get one sentence in before getting slapped by her friend. "Stephanie Y/L/N! What are you doing?" She held her cheek and asked. "Do you even know who that person is? Natasha Romanoff! Do you think after what you did, he will let you off easily?"

"Na- Natasha Romanoff? I'm done for..."

You apologise for the commotion when they finally exited the room. "I've said it before. In my eyes, they are nothing."

===

Back at home, you changed into your sleeping gown and was looking through your laptop, someone knocked at your door and you automatically assumed it would be Natasha. "It's me, Clint." He said as he took one step into your room. "Maybe next time-"

"Next time we won't be eating out anymore. Don't worry." You understood where he was getting. "Thank you, Y/N."

Soon after, your phone started ringing and it was Stephanie calling you.

You: Hello?

S: Y/N, let's talk about what happened today!

You: Do we still have anything to talk about?

S: Today, Maggie was too anxious and she didn't know Natasha's identity (Behind the phone, Maggie was pleading Stephanie to help her.)

You: So what if she didn't know who she was? She's allowed to treat her that way?

S: ... Y/N, can you just let this incident slip, for my sake?

You: For your sake? Who do you think you are?

S: Y/N Y/L/N!

You: You don't have to be afraid what Natasha will do to you guys, cause in her eyes, you don't exist.

You hang up the phone once you said your piece. You were gradually learning to not be a pushover and stood your own ground.

Series Masterlist

[justanobodywriter]

Hate Sex

Katsuki Bakugo

Cw: female bodied reader (no pronouns used), reader does wear a dress, alcohol, use of doll, veginal fingering, degredation, penetration, dom/sub dynamics, rough sex, lots of hate mentioned but it's sexy hate, male and female orgasm, no protection used

1.5k words

It had been years since you had seen everyone again. You couldn't have been more excited... well, you could have if they didn't invite him.

"Come on, we're gonna miss the Uber," Mina whined at you.

With one final look in the mirror, you smoothed out your dress, and slid on your heels, "Ok, I'm coming."

She practically pulled you from the apartment and down to the street. She had the idea to get an Uber to and from the small bar that you all had decided to meet at. It wasn't often you all could get off and meet up. More or less on a day where everyone could have a couple drinks and let loose.

The car ride was short lived and filled with Mina making conversation with you about anything and everything. She lived next door to you, so she was just about the only one who you kept in touch with... well her and some of the boys who would frequent her apartment for movie night.

"Why don't you seem excited?" she asked suddenly, as the car halted.

You smiled, "It's just been so long since I've had to interact with him. Just a little worried he will bring his sour attitude with him today."

"He's not so bad," Mina giggled.

The two of you exited the car in style to be met with half the class outside standing and greeting one another. You both walked over to join them, giving hugs and telling everyone about how much you missed them all this time.

"Hey, I heard Tokoyami got us the VIP section reserved, let's get inside," Denki reminded everyone.

Tokoyami always was cooler than anyone gave him credit for back in the day.

"He must be inside," you groaned to Mina.

She just waved you off and continued catching up.

Sure enough, as soon as you entered the VIP section, he was sitting at a table with Kirishima and Izuku, looking uninterested as ever.

At least we have that in common you thought to yourself, as parties like this weren't really your thing.

You greeted everyone inside, stopping at Bakugo. You looked him up and down as he stood before you.

There always was an arrogant air that radiated off of him that seemed to not be as strong. However, he himself was very strong. He was large in the chest as he always had been, and much more muscular everywhere. You thought that the TV didn't do his physique justice.

You stretched out your hand which he scoffed and, yet still shook it.

"Been a while, Bakugo," you smiled.

"Sure has," he spoke, removing his hand from yours quite harshly.

"Who wants shots?" Mina asked, in a sing-song voice as she came walking to the table with two trays filled with shots.

You walked over and joined everyone in taking a celebratory shot. After the first shot and toast, everyone went to get drinks and more shots.

You got your signature drink and then plopped down with Momo, Ochaco, and Shoto to catch up. Everyone made their rounds to different tables to get to talk to one another. One drink became two that turned into three. One shot became two and three and then four.

The fourth shot, was a jello shot in a small cup. Everyone took them together.

You couldn't help but look over to Bakugo who effortlessly, pressed his tongue into the cup, sliding it around and then removing all of the jello in one fell swoop.

You practically choked when he looked at you to make eye contact as he chewed the jello and swallowed it. He rolled his eyes at you and then turned away to talk to everyone again.

Shit, why was that so hot?

You tried to move on with your night, but found it hard when all you could think about was his tongue and being down-

"Hey, whatcha drinkin'?" Izuku asked with a large smile plastered across his face.

You smiled up at him and gave him your drink order. He quickly went and retrieved you one, seeing as yours was empty.

You realized when he came back that you had been left at a table alone.

"Here, it's on me," he smiled.

"You didn't have to do that," you scolded.

"My treat," he shrugged.

You took a sip, enjoying a moment of comfortable silence between the two of you. It had been a busy and social night... more than you were used to... or liked.

"So, can I ask what you're doing after this?" Izuku asked. "Or is that too forward?"

You giggled, "My you sure did get confident in your old age. It isn't too forward. I'll be going home by myself to my nice empty apartment."

"M-maybe I could-cou-well maybe I could-" he stammered out, face turning a bright shade of red.

"Hey, you gonna dance with me?" Bakugo asked, shocking both you adn Izuku.

He had appeared out of nowhere, just being right next to you with an outstretched hand.

The situation was left awkward as you sat looking up at him, "Sure."

You took his hand and let him lead you off to the dance floor. There, he spun you to face him. His hands gripped tight around your waist. He moved the both of you to the beat.

Alcohol swirled through your veins allowing him to move you as he pleased.

"What's the deal?" you finally asked. "I thought you hated me."

"I do," he shrugged with a smirk. He leaned into your ear, and lightly bit your earlobe. "I hate how sexy you are. I hate how long you've made me wait to have your slutty little cunt. Gonna let me have it tonight?"

You were a bit shocked, but something about the way he was growling in your ear, sent a shock straight to your core.

You gripped the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him back to look at you, "Think you can handle me?"

He smirked, "Oh, doll, I don't think you can handle me."

Tongues and teeth fought for dominance as clothes were stripped and discarded around the apartment. It had taken too long to get there.

Bakugo had fingered you in the backseat of the Uber while you palmed him through his pants the whole way back. It was killing you both not to have each other now.

"Hate you so much," he breathed, while leading you to his bedroom. "Always hated you. You always walked around so pretty, in those little skirts. Always killing me. Always better than me. Can't take it. Gonna make a mess of you."

You let out a squeak as he pushed you back onto the bed. Your legs on either side of him spread wide. He was just looking down at you.

He pulled his boxers down, to reveal his large cock.

He didn't give any time or warning before pressing into you, quickly. He pounded his hips against yours. His pace was ungodly quick and eager.

"Fucking hate you," he grunted out.

It was too much, you couldn't take it anymore. You reached down to rub your clit, but a harsh smack was laid to it instead, by a hand that wasn't your own.

"Little slut can't even wait to cum?" Bakugo mocked. "You do as I say, got it?"

You nodded, biting your lip and whimpering.

You wanted to hate his words, but they just pressed you closer and closer to the edge.

"Yeah, that's right, take it, you slut," he spat.

Your head pressed back into the pillows impossibly hard. It was too much. You couldn't take it.

"Please, let me cum," you begged.

He chuckled as he brought his fingers down to pinch at your clit. He swirled around it and gave you the stimulation you needed to clench around him. Moans and profanities left your lips as you came undone over him, but he didn't let up. He kept going at a pace that was inhuman and continued to work at your clit.

"Give me another," he growled at you.

As if on command, you came undone again around him. It was all too much. There was a new pressure building up in you. Finally, a clear liquid covered his cock and lower half.

"That's it, cum all over my cock, slut," he grunted.

His hips began to falter as he leaned over you, attacking your neck and chest.

With only a few more thrusts, he came deep inside of you, coating your insides with his seed.

Without another word, he got up and cleaned you up, even taking the time to get a wet rag and clean you.

When he was done, you got up and began searching for your clothes.

"What are you doing?" Bakugo snapped, confused look plastered on his face.

You rolled your eyes, "Leaving."

Before you knew it, strong hands were pulling your clothes from you and throwing them across the room. He took your hand in his and lead you over to the bed and pressed you lightly down and in before climbing in after you.

"Just stay here," he spoke, cuddling up with you.

You giggled, "Bakugo, you don't have to do this."

"It's Katsuki," he said, disregarding your protests to stay.

You let yourself calm and cuddle back into him, letting out a content sigh.

"Besides, why leave when we can go for round two," you heard him snicker behind you, already feeling him get hard again.

You were in for a long night.

[ofc-vi-writes-too]

a continuation of things that i think happen in my favorite fucked up silly little city (gotham)

• In hosptials in Gotham there’s another wing dedicated to super villain attacks Like how theres the ED, NICU, L&D, ICU, etc., theres another branch called Excessive Villain Attack Department (for) Emergencies. Also known as EVADE for short. it’s a brag to say you work in EVADE for doctors/nurses because A. the pay is ridiculously good, and B. how much extra stuff you had to learn to work there. People who work in EVADE have to go through weekly psych evaluations as well as physical testing to make sure they are still fit for duty.

• there are EVADE pop ups all around gotham so it’s citizens ares never more than 5 minutes away from medical attention. You have to work at a pop up before you’re allowed to work in EVADE in a real hosptial. People say working the pop ups is a lot harder and a lot nore stressfull, because people can come to you in really any condition out there.

• Similar to how kids in some areas cant wear certain colors like red or blue to school because of gang affiliation, gothamite students cannot wear anything superhero, vigilante or villain adjacent. No birds, bats, clowns, etc. Its a way for schools to try and stop kids from being targetted by their peers/ crazy adults who will attack them for supporting a specific person or party. Hero or otherwise.

• A lot of mom and pop diners/townie bars have foods named after vigilantes and specialty drinks named after villains. Some examples are:

Red Hoods Hot Chicken and Mac: bufallo mac and chicken with house hot sauce, so hot and tasty it will bring tears to your eyes! (this is true. jason tried it and he literally couldn’t feel his face. He couldn’t tell if he was blinking or not. Dick swears up and down he wasn’t.)

Nightwings: boneless chicken wings with a honey barbecue dry rub, with bleu cheese dipping sauce and chips and a blue corn dip. Dick can and will order 4 and eat them all by himself in one sitting.

Robins Eggs Breakfast combo: 2 sunny side up eggs, strawberry french toast, vegetarian sausage, house salad and an OJ. They tried to make it vegan but no one in Gotham wants breakfast without eggs. Robin said he appreciates the thought anyway. He is very smug and protective of his meal and the restaurant that made it. When he has the day shft he stops by there for breakfast, which isn’t often but still.

Signal soup: a classic squash soup, house focaccia and a garden salad. Its a seasonal meal that comes around every fall, and sells out almost every day for the entire season.

The Scarecrow: literally a long island iced tea with black liqueur in a martini glass with 3 olives. It tastes fucking horrible but will get you beyond hammered

Poison Ivy: shot of pochteca lime liqueur and pink whitney. Very tasty.

Regulator: its a blue margarita with coconut milk in it. Its a little sweet but its yummy. It’s common to black out on these because you cant taste the alch and by the time it hits you its too late and its the next morning and your naked in a strangers bed. Darn those regulators for a night you wont remember! at least the guy is handsome…

• See also the Condiment King challenge: A pint size glass of equal parts ketchup, mustard, pickle relish, mayonnaise, hot sauce, soy sauce, honey mustard, sweet and sour, bbq, salsa, fish sauce, vinegar, ranch, and wasabi. Hell in a cup! If you can drink it within 10 minutes without throwing up, you eat free at the dinner for a month and you get a t shirt that says “I completed the Condiment King challenge at Jimbo’s Dinner!” With a poorly drawn picture of condiment king on it. There has only been one winner: Timothy Drake. Jason dared him to try it after he hadnt slept in 3 days. Tim didnt puke, but Jason did. There were threats of violence if Tim ever told anyone that. Tim didn’t believe him, told Dick and magically ended up with a broken finger. “No AlfredI have NOOOOOO idea how it happened! Must’ve had a bad fall on patrol :3”

• taxes in gotham are shit-your-pants-when-you-see-it-the-first-time high. Gotham has to be able to pay for all the damages somehow, despite Bruce Wayne paying for about 15% of those damages out of pocket, its still not enough to stop prices from skyrocketing. To try and combat this, there is a Gala held anually for the top 10% of Gotham to fundraise for emergency city repairs. It helps a lot but doesn’t solve the problem.

[replaycamera2]

Midnight Snacks with Redacted Characters

• For all the grief he gives Angel for it, David does keep a single pack of instant ramen on standby in a location he refuses to disclose. He’ll dress it up a bit with a soft boiled egg, some frozen veggies, tofu, leftover meat, whatever he can find.

• Asher isn’t much of a cook, but if Baaabe is hungry in the middle of the night he loves to make some Nutella on toast.

• Milo doesn’t like waking up in the middle of the night as he’s super groggy, but if he and Sweetheart are hungry he’ll throw together some yogurt, berries, and granola before flopping back down.

• Vincent and Lovely don’t need sleep or human food anymore, but occasionally they both get a hankering for a midnight McDonald’s run. They always get it to go and eat outside.

• Sam constantly has to deal with Darlin’ rummaging through the pantry in the middle of the night like a damn raccoon. He won’t let them gorge themselves on chips, instead making them a packet of instant oatmeal before dragging their nocturnal ass back to bed.

• Gavin will never say no to a late-night 7/11 run, though in the interest of keeping Freelancer alive during the day, he’ll rift there himself and come back with whatever snacks they want (provided they’re not too caffeine/sugar laced).

• Avior loves cuddling Starlight throughout the night, content to stay awake and watch them sleep. If they wake up hungry, he’ll magic up some scrambled eggs on toast before cuddling them back down and using just the tiniest bit of dreamwalking magic to help them get back to sleep.

• Lasko tries to make sure he’s not hungry before bed but if he or his partner wake up hungry he’ll make a big mug of hot chocolate (or chocolate milk).

• Hux has a seemingly bottomless supply of granola bars that he keeps for snacks. He keeps a box in his nightstand as well, “Just in case.”

• Damien has a horrific habit of making a protein shake if he’s hungry in the middle of the night. Hux is trying to help him break it.

• Ollie has an undying love for leftover midnight pizza. He swears up and down midnight pizza hits different in a Michelin star way; Babe is convinced it’s the sleep deprived delirium talking.

• Aaron hates getting woken up by Smartass in the middle of the night so they go ninja-mode lifting themselves off his chest. They’ll usually just munch on some dry cereal right out the box before heading back to bed. Aaron secretly does the same thing and has yet to be caught drinking milk straight from the carton.

• Ivan likes having chai and cookies if he and Baby are hungry in the middle of the night. He’s a firm believer that warm drinks and cuddles make a happy, sleepy Baby.

• Elliott is that bitch who makes an entire box poptarts at 1AM. He’s not sorry and he is sharing.

• James likes to have apples and peanut butter for a late night snack. He tries not to eat anything too heavy that’ll slow him down in the morning.

• Anton loves some warm pumpkin soup for a midnight snack. It’s always homemade and he always keeps a little on standby just in case his partner needs it.

• Guy will gorge himself on candy in the middle of the night. Honey keeps finding his stashes but Guy just keeps finding new places to hide his Sour Patch Kids. Honey’d check for secret compartments in the drawers if they thought Guy had the handyman-ness for it.

[nathandrakeisabottom]

Yesss please sam drake food/eating hcs?? Fave meals, hated meals, etc

It is with great joy and great belatedness that I post my first Uncharted piece in ages. Thank you for the lovely ask, anon. :)

⋆ Sam Drake - Eating Headcanons ⋆

Two words: scarcity mindset.

After running away from Saint Frances’s, to claim money was tight is to be telling some humorous bit, Money was borderline non-existent. And as such, came what the Drake boys do best: theft. 

Liquor stores were their easiest, and most consistent source. Sam still takes great pride in telling his many stories revolving around ‘cashier meet-cutes’ disguising their proudest heist to date: a 12-year-old Nathan smuggling canned goods under a moth-holed hoodie. 

Because of this, gas station snacks: twinkies, Lays chips, slurpees, etc. all tend to give him this simultaneous sense of nostalgia and nausea. Like when you’re eating eggs and all of a sudden, your body gags on the next bite.

But on an especially shitty day, expect him to be gobbling a Big Gulp and a half-frozen hot dog on the nearest street corner, with a half-smoked cigarette still sunken between his lips. It’s the way he wallows. 

Secretly wants you to tell him how bad that shit is for him so he has an excuse to snottily spat back “who the ‘ell cares?”. He finds pride in not caring about anything. (He cares about everything.)

Getting fast food at the drive-thru? Man waves you off a total of three times claiming he doesn’t want nothing before proceeding to eat half of your McNuggets without asking. He loves BBQ sauce and needs Tabasco on everything like it’s his will to live.

Big fan of spicy, sour, and tart, anything that makes your mouth pucker. Pretzels, salt and vinegar chips, cottage cheese, pickles, pineapple (😉). “What can I say? I admire a fruit that fights back!” — he snorts before taking a raw bite of a lemon, just to squirm you out.

Maybe a bit of the masochist in him. 

When he and Nate were able to get proper gigs (12-year-old Nathan: illegally, of course), they were able to progress to the simplest of grocery outlet options. Eggs, instant ramen packets, canned vegetables that were 9 out of 10 times eaten raw out of the can with a fork, and more nothing-but-toast-for-dinner than they’d want to admit).

Sam and Nate spent most of their childhood eating their dad’s scrambled eggs and microwaved peas. When their mom passed, and dad released them to the state, Sam decided he’d only ever eat over-easy again.

Nate still chooses scrambled. He asks for cheese and green onions to split the difference, but always ends up only eating half of it before the memories come too strong and he has to push his plate away. 

QUICK eater. MESSY eater. And I mean quick and messy. 

Will use as minimal cutlery as possible, and if disposable, even better.

A scooper. Tends to be a chronic careless spiller with how frequently he tries to funnel all the last crumbs into his mouth, how quickly he chugs even a glass of water. (Most shirts of his are stained as a result.)

Tends to wait till the last possible moment to eat or drink anything. Breakfast basically doesn’t exist to him. 

Spills more beverage down his chin and shirt than his mouth (but a wet t-shirt certainly isn’t the worst thing to happen. Especially not to Samuel Drake. ;)

Pizza order: Meat Lover’s with extra sausage. Maybe some green bell peppers when he finally compromises with Nate during movie night.

Never, ever orders (well, non-alcoholic) drinks when eating out. And only water when he finally lets himself cave. Otherwise, he’s stealing sips from the nearest patron’s Jarrito bottle (his favorite is Tamarind).

Doesn’t bother cleaning up his fruit peels or peanut shells, even around others. That shit’s going on the floor without a second look.

Surprisingly, a king and natural on the BBQ. Despite having so little in their childhood, Sam still tried to go hard on the holidays for Nathan’s sake. Fourth of July is still Nate’s favorite holiday exclusively because of Sam’s public park-smoked ribs and the long, bumpy motorcycle ride up the highest hill in whatever city they were currently loitering in, just to see the fireworks. 

A dive bar master. Nate always orders whatever grease-covered appetizer they got in the back. Sam purposely keeps his stomach empty so there’s more room for whiskey. (Since nobody asked, incredible at pool, and will offer any woman in a twenty foot circumference a lesson. Cue the leaning chest over back, cue stick fantasy.)

A love language that was a total surprise to him is his partner cooking/baking something just for him, especially if it’s from scratch. Gets that rare, soft look in his eyes as he watches them carefully place each steaming plate onto the table. And trust, he’s not looking at the food when it happens.

Loves his partner in an apron. Like… loves his partner in an apron.

Make him food, and as soon as it’s eaten, he’s eating you after. ;)

When he finally settles down post-Madagascar, it’s a fucking struggle to get him to go grocery shopping at all for the first few months. 

Self-punishment, maybe. 

Nathan buys them himself instead and leaves them on the porch of Sam’s trailer park home when he’s too depressed to answer the door. 

Basically has to be forced to eat actual meat and vegetables. For the first few months, he reverts and eats only familiar prison food. The same single pot of chili/beans for a whole week, half portions only for each meal. Uncooked canned carrots. Microwave popcorn when Nathan calls him asking if he’s eaten, and when Sam lies, it sounds more believable with the microwave droning in the background.

However, when he finally starts to pick himself back up, when he gets his first day job since prison, finally lets Nate buy him a used truck to get around, his first solo call from Sully, that’s when he finally starts to eat.

And when he finally feels like himself again, when he finally lets himself want to live again, the first hobby that Sam Drake takes up is cooking.

[demonsandmischief]

Cupcake

A Bucky Barnes Imagine

Biker! Bucky x Female Reader

900 Words

-Cupcake-

In which a certain biker wants the attention of a shy baker

-----

The bell over the door jingled, and you looked up from where you were wiping down the counter. The men that had entered was not what you were expecting in your very floral pink bakery. Their black leather stood out against the soft pastels.

The tall blonde was the one that came to the cash register.

"Can we get three coffees, please?" His politeness surprised you, so did his dimples. You ducked your head to hide the inevitable heat that rushed up your neck.

"Okay," you said softly. "Cream or sugar?"

"Neither." He shook his head. "How about some of those chocolate chip cookies as well?"

"Sure."

You turned away to pour the drinks. Your gaze was drawn to one of the other men who had taken a seat by the door. He had brown hair, and seemed incredibly unamused by whatever the third man was talking so animatedly about. He caught your eye, and you turned away.

You packaged the cookies, and took the blonde's card for payment.

He thanked you, and soon the trio was gone, followed by the gentle rumble of their motorcycles taking off down the street.

----

You wished you could say you had forgotten the encounter, but that wasn't true. The surly brown haired man had been locked firmly into your memory, and you didn't have any idea why.

On a particularly slow day, you were alerted to the familiar sound of a bike, and in walked the person who had yet to leave your mind.

"Hi," you greeted. "What can I get started for you?"

"How about the lunch special with a cup of coffee?" he asked.

"Okay." You tried really hard not to mumble under the gaze of his beautiful gray eyes. "What kind of bread did you want for that sandwich?"

"You pick," he responded, offering over his card.

Your fingers brushed against his as you accepted it. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

"I'll bring it right out," you whispered.

He thanked you, and you turned away to start on his food.

Your brain was a scrambled mess. Your hands were shaking, and you felt like you could feel his stare, except he was seated away from you near the window.

As the panini toasted, you took him his coffee. He had shed his leather jacket to reveal a tight-fitting long sleeve t-shirt that accentuated his bulky arms and broad chest.

"Here's your coffee..." you trailed off.

"Bucky," he said, his lips quirking up.

"Bucky." You repeated his name gently, locked in his magnetic gaze. You introduced yourself back, and you were frozen for a second until the panini press beeped, reminding you of where you were.

You blushed, moving away from him. Bucky. It was a nice name.

"Do you have a minute?" he asked when you brought over his plate. He gestured to the seat in front of him.

You stumbled over an answer. "I've got - I have cupcakes baking in the back."

He nodded, turning to his food.

----

Bucky quickly became a regular, and so did your ability to turn into a blundering mess.

"Which dessert is your favorite?" he asked a few days later.

"Our cinnamon rolls are a big seller-"

"Come on," he teased. "I said your favorite, not everyone else's."

You bit back a bit of a little smile. "Vanilla cupcakes."

He nodded, "I'll take one of those, and a cup of coffee. To-Go, today, please."

You were a bit disappointed that he wasn't sticking around. You considered the possibility that he was tired of you telling him no when he asked you to sit with him because he asked every time, except if you were busy. It's not that you didn't want to, it's just - what would someone like him want with someone like you?

Your train of thoughts turned your mood sour, and the day dragged on. You desperately wanted to go home and feel sorry for yourself and the great thing you probably messed up.

You had just locked the doors for the evening when a familiar bike pulled up.

He waved through the glass and you let him in. He had a bouquet of flowers in his hand, and the same vanilla cupcake he had bought from you earlier.

"These are for you," he said, handing them over. "I was hoping that you would come to dinner with me."

You were relieved to finally have the chance to get to know him.

"I'd love to," you murmured, feeling flushed and giddy. "Just let me finish up here."

It didn't take long, and soon you were locking the doors up behind you, with a certain handsome yet stoic man watching your every move.

He walked to his bike, and you faltered.

"You expect me to get on that thing?"

He smirked a bit, teasing. "Come on, cupcake. I brought you your very own helmet."

The nickname was corny, but it didn't stop the butterflies from fluttering around, wrecking havoc in your stomach.

"I promise to keep you safe." He said the words so sincerely, so honestly, that you couldn't help but give in.

He got on first, offering over the bulky helmet and his leather jacket that you pulled on. He helped you clamber on behind him, pressed intimately against his back. You struggled to breathe at the proximity.

"Hold on tight," he yelled over the engine. You wrapped your arms around his front, and soon you were speeding off down the street.

--------

As Requested ❤️ happy February my friends

•requests open

•join my permanent tags, linked in my masterlist

•wattpad

•i make marvel tik toks

•buy me a coffee?

@yokaisleep @leahnicole1219 @downbadforobiwan28 @ilovesebastianstan @5moremin @lilylovelyxo @fangirls94 @moonstruckbirdie @drayshadow @leyannrae @alexabarnes17 @bklynxbaby @g4dr33l @nyx2021

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part eighty-two: "The Overload"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Matt has an incredibly frustrating day that is further made worse when you aren't at his apartment after work.

Or Matt realizes how important you really are to him.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 3.3k

a/n: This is a light angst (hurt/comfort) piece entirely in Matt's POV with some fluff at the end! Figured it would be fun to see roles reversed and Reader is the one who brings the much needed comfort in here! The list of installments for this series can be found here and feedback is always appreciated!

Tag List: @ninacotte @mattkinsella @stilldreaming666 @murdocksclient @madscamp02 @1988-fiend @lina-mar @pinkratts @schneeflocky @acharliecoxedfan @yarrystyleeza @theetherealbloom @danzer8705

Today was one of those days for Matt. Everything felt like it was going wrong. He didn't have days like these often, but when he did, everything felt like it was intensified–including his senses. 

It had started off with him not being able to go out on patrol last night. He had been swamped with paperwork and he'd needed to stay in and get it done. But he'd needed that release scouring the streets for criminals last night to ease the tension that had already been building all day that day. Instead he'd had to ignore that part of himself and it had been absolutely frustrating. 

On top of that, you had unfortunately been unavailable to stop by and stay the night because you were getting a headstart on packing some of your things. There were only a couple more weeks left of your lease before you moved in with him. You'd been trying to pack up things you wouldn't need at your place to move to his place ahead of time in the hopes to make the final move smoother. 

The idea of you already packing your things had thrilled Matt–he wanted you at his apartment already, truthfully. He loved how excited you were becoming at the idea of being at his place with him–-of it becoming both of yours’ place. Your giddiness was beginning to overtake your nerves and that had excited him knowing how much you wanted to join your life with his. But he hated waking up alone this morning. It had only soured his mood not to feel your legs wrapped around his, or to hear the soft noises you made when you woke first thing with your face pressed into his chest. And he hadn't woken up with his nose buried in your hair like he often did, the scent of you being the first thing he smelled. Instead his bed had been noticeably colder, lacking the warmth of you in the sheets beside him, and the first thing he'd smelled was the burnt toast coming from the apartment below his.

It also meant he hadn't heard your voice at all today, which had for some reason only continued to worsen his mood. He'd had a terrible meeting this morning with a potential client who had been interested in hiring Nelson, Murdock, and Page, but they'd been very clearly hiding something about the case. Matt had picked up on the constant lies while he was talking to the man–over and over his heart had alerted him to something being off. The thought of representing him had Matt feeling sick to his stomach even as he politely refused to take the case. Afterwards he'd tried to call you during his lunch break to have your voice brighten his day, but all he'd gotten was your voicemail. 

Frustrated yet again, he'd gone to grab lunch at the sandwich shop nearby by himself. Foggy had a meeting with a client of his own and Karen was in court today so he’d had no one else for company. It also didn't help that today had been an unnaturally warm day for late May. Matt had been sweating in his dress shirt as he walked to the shop, uncomfortable and overwhelmed as he felt every bead of sweat rolling down his back and his forehead. When he’d gotten there, he’d discovered the air conditioning hadn't been working at the sandwich shop either. Which meant he'd waited in line sweating even more while trying to tune out just how irritatingly loud all of the grumbling, angry customers were. And when he'd finally gotten his food back to his desk at work, he'd managed to spill mayonnaise somewhere on his dress shirt. The smell had only progressively gotten worse to his nose the hotter the day had become and thus the hotter the office had gotten–because all they had were a handful of fans to cool the place down. Which only managed to further circulate that disgusting smell around the office.

Now he was on his way back home from work, teeth grinding against each other to the point that his jaw was sore. He was he white knuckling his cane and sweating, a headache steadily growing worse from all of the sounds and scents around the city as he made his way back to his apartment. Even the repetitive noise of his cane on the sidewalk was getting under his skin and he found himself internally cursing the fact that he had to use it right now.

But you were coming over tonight. He’d reminded himself of that repeatedly throughout the day today. Every time something went wrong, every time he wanted to push everything off of his desk and scream, he just reminded himself that you were staying at his place tonight–soon to be both of yours’ home. You were going to be there after you’d finished work, meaning you would be there when he walked in the door. He’d been looking forward to that moment all day–hearing your heartbeat the moment he neared his building. Maybe you’d be typing on your laptop when he showed up, finishing up something for work. All he wanted to do was open the door, drop his things in the hall, and have you wrap your arms around him. Maybe you wouldn’t even mind if he curled up on your lap along the couch for a bit, just to let him relax and decompress from this whole irritatingly bad day.

Which apparently only seemed to be getting worse, because when Matt turned the corner towards his building he couldn’t hear your heartbeat. And he was trying very hard to find it. His chest began to tighten instantly and he felt close to snapping the moment he realized you really weren’t here yet. Probably because something had come up with work, something entirely not your fault and reasonable, but all Matt could focus on was the fact that you weren’t here . And he so desperately needed you right now.

When he pulled the door open for his building, he’d admittedly tugged it harder than necessary. And when he’d struggled a moment to find the call button for the elevator because it was always difficult for him to find without being able to actually see it, he’d pushed it quite forcefully. Afterwards, when he’d made it up onto his floor, he’d certainly annoyed even himself with how heavy his angered footfalls had become. 

He knew he shouldn’t be mad at you even as he slammed his keys into the bowl on the table near his front door. It was ridiculous. You’d not actually done anything wrong, but somehow he was still so angry. He’d needed you to be here when he got back, he’d been expecting it all day. But you weren’t.

The scent of you had grown fainter in the apartment, too. It had been too many days since you’d last actually been here. That, too, irritated Matt. 

With a frustrated grunt, he slipped out of his shoes and made his way towards his bedroom. He thought maybe a shower might help calm him down. At the very least, it would hopefully wash off the stench of pungent mayonnaise that he couldn’t seem to shake from his nose.

He’d gathered the most comfortable clothes he had from his bedroom, discarding his work clothes in the laundry bin, and then set about getting the shower ready in the bathroom. By the time steam was filling the room he finally stepped into it–and then was immediately irritated by the spray of water. It felt like he was being repeatedly pelted by a plethora of tiny pebbles over and over instead of droplets of water. His teeth only ground together harder in exasperation. He tried to wash himself quickly, the noise of the spray hitting the tiles of the shower around him and only causing his headache to pound even more painfully in his head. 

Eventually it had all started to feel like too much. Matt exclaimed a curse that reverberated around the shower. Angry and overwhelmed, he slammed his fist into the shower wall in his frustration. The release had felt so good that he drew his fist back and hit the wall a second time, feeling his knuckles split open as he did. A faint trickle of blood spilled forth, Matt’s chest heaving as he contemplated releasing his frustration a third time, but then he heard the front door of the apartment open. His eyelids slowly lowered as he heard you call out his name. Some of the tension in his shoulders eased just a bit at the sound of your voice, his bleeding hand rising up and running down his face as he tried to take a calming breath. 

You would be the solution. Of course you would be.

He turned off the shower quickly, the absence of the spray already lessening the pressure building in his head. Sliding the glass door back, he reached out and grabbed his towel from off the hook nearby. He dried off in a hurry, trying to wipe off every irritating bead of water before he slipped on his boxers and a pair of sweatpants. He’d swiped his tee-shirt off the bathroom counter in one hand, running his fingers through his wet hair with the other. Then he quickly stepped out of the bathroom and made his way down the hall.

“Sweetheart?” he called out, pausing just in the entrance of the living room.

Focusing his senses, he heard you in the kitchen. You’d been plating food–it smelled like Thai from the restaurant nearby–but he heard the way your head spun in his direction, your hands pausing what they’d been doing. You expelled a soft sigh, your shoulders dropping a little bit as you must’ve taken in the sight of him.

“Oh, Matt,” you whispered softly. 

You were padding gently along the floor towards him, completely forgetting about the takeout you’d been getting ready as if the bad day was written plain across his face for you to see. And maybe it was. 

"What's wrong, Matty?" you asked, feet still padding towards him.

"I've had a really shitty day," he confessed, his voice strained. "And it’s–it’s just all feeling like too much."

“Your senses?” you asked him.

He curiously noted the way you paused a few feet before him, the sound of your feet moving against the floor no longer hitting his ears. He nodded slowly, his head canting to the side as he tried to understand why you’d stopped.

“Mostly, yes,” he answered hesitantly.

“Hold on,” you replied.

Matt frowned, hearing the way you’d raised a hand, the air shifting around his apartment at the gesture. And then he listened as your feet hurried away from him and his frown only stretched further across his lips. Why were you heading towards the front door? Were you going to leave? That wasn’t what he’d wanted. He wanted you . To stay here with you. To lose himself in just you and drown out everything else.

Seconds later he heard your hands rustling around in that bowl by his front door, his keys clinking against the glass. The sound made him wince. Shortly after, your feet were rushing back towards him across the apartment. Matt’s brows drew further together. What were you doing ?

He heard the air shift as your hands reached up, your fingers gently placing something in both of his ears. The moment the outside world noises muted, everything dulling to him outside of just his apartment, he realized you’d gotten those noise-reducing earbuds and put them in for him. The pounding in his head along with the frown on his face lessened a little.

Your soft hands were lightly cradling his face soon after, your smooth, warm skin easing the tension in his stiff muscles even further. His eyelids dropped closed as he nuzzled further into your affectionate touch. Even with the earbuds in he could hear the way your lips curled into a smile, the muscles moving almost instantly. 

“A little better?” you asked.

“Mmm,” he hummed, nodding.

“What else do you need, Matty?” you asked next.

His eyes opened, a small smile slipping onto his lips as he focused on you. He heard the way your heart fluttered in your chest instantly in response. That alone had his mood beginning to lift. Your body never failed to have a reaction to him and he would never grow tired of it. 

“You?” he asked.

Matt heard the way you bit your lip, your blood beginning to rush in a particular direction. Your hands had tightened their hold on his face so infinitesimally that he was sure you weren’t even aware of it. A slow smirk drew onto his face as you began to nervously sputter before him.

“Oh, uh, that’s–that’s what you–”

“Not like that,” he said with a deep chuckle. “Not right now, at least. I mean…can we just take a moment? I’ve missed you,” he admitted, the smirk quickly falling from his lips.

Your body slowly began to relax, your hands releasing his face to instead grab both of his, the shirt he was still holding on to in one hand. He felt the reassuring squeeze of your hands against his before you began to finally draw him into the living room. You led the both of you around the coffee table and towards the couch, sinking down onto it and pulling him down with you. Matt didn’t even hesitate; he tossed his shirt onto the coffee table before he wrapped you in his arms. He held you tight to him, burying his face into your hair and breathing in the scent of your shampoo. It always smelled like peaches. 

Your arms gradually wrapped around Matt’s back, your hands slowly rubbing soothing patterns onto his skin. His eyes closed, focusing on the feel of your gentle touch along his tired muscles. It felt so damn good that it was raising goosebumps along his torso, the prickling feeling of them pleasant because you were the cause of them. A moment later he felt your head shift against his chest, your lips coming to place a soft kiss against his collarbone. He shuddered at the feel of it, his arms squeezing you a bit tighter as your mouth lingered for a moment. 

“I missed you, too, Matty,” you whispered. “It feels like it’s never a good day if I don’t get to at least talk to you, you know?”

Matt eased further into you on the couch, his face still buried into your hair. “I know exactly what you mean, sweetheart,” he answered. “This is all I’ve been needing. Just you.”

“I’m glad I could be of some help,” you whispered.

You giggled in his arms as he nuzzled your hair with his nose, the sound drawing a smile to his mouth. God, you were the best damn thing that ever happened to him.

Something hit Matt hard as he sat there holding onto you. It felt like it was coming out of nowhere, just a wave of emotions building in his chest and suddenly crashing into him, abruptly overwhelming him in this very moment. 

Matt loved you. Loved everything about you. And while he’d been thinking about the prospect of marrying you off and on lately–the thought of it even having made him almost cry a handful of times now–the thought of having this with you was hitting him hard. There was just something about the idea of having your comforting touch in a quiet moment like this for the rest of his life–something so small and simple–that had him already wanting to sink to the floor on both of his knees and ask you to stay with him forever. To be his wife. To be his .

He never wanted another night of you sleeping away from him in another bed. He didn’t want another day where he didn’t hear the melodic sound of your voice at the very least just greeting him beside him in the mornings. He wanted to wake up with you wrapped around him every morning, every day, for forever. To hear the cute noises of discontent you always made when you stirred awake. To breathe you in first thing when he woke. To never kiss another mouth but yours, or feel the touch of anyone else on his skin. 

Matt could feel his lips trembling at the thoughts in his head, the intensity of his realization drawing forth a physical reaction he didn’t want you to witness. The possibility of all of that being a reality had tears filling his eyes behind closed lids and he further buried his face into your hair. He’d never felt this way for someone before–not even Elektra. 

You. You were it for him. He would fall on his knees at your feet and move the world for you if you only just asked him. 

“You doing okay, baby?” you asked.

Your voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the moment. Matt cleared his throat a couple of times, trying to swallow down the lump of emotions that had formed.

“Yeah, sorry,” he mumbled.

“I mean I’m content to cuddle with you half naked like this all night if you want,�� you said, tone light and teasing, “but I didn’t know if you were hungry yet? Otherwise I can put away the food and we can heat it up later.”

“No,” he said, finally drawing away from you. “We can eat.”

“You sure?” you asked.

You unwrapped your arms from around him and it sounded like maybe your eyes had narrowed at him, as if you were studying him closely. He smiled back at you, a genuine smile on his lips, those thoughts still swirling in his mind.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he answered. “I’m feeling much better now thanks to you.”

He heard the little snort as you laughed, his heart skipping at the sound. Matt knew you were still self-conscious about it, but goddamn he loved that sound every time he heard it. 

“I didn’t really do anything, but I’m glad you’re feeling better,” you replied. 

He heard you rise to your feet, reaching over and pulling his shirt from the coffee table. He accepted it when you handed it to him, a soft ‘thanks’ leaving him in response.

“I mean I’d much rather it stayed off, but I figured you wanted it,” you called back, already making your way into the kitchen. 

He balled the shirt up in his hands and tossed it back onto the coffee table as he rose to his feet, a smug smile on his lips as he made his way to the kitchen to help you. “I don’t really need a shirt to eat dinner,” he mused. “And it is hot out today.”

Your head darted up, a grin sliding onto your own mouth as your heart sped up. Matt relished the sound of it.

“Oh? I wasn’t expecting to have dinner and a view tonight,” you teased playfully.

Matt came up behind you in the kitchen, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your head instinctively turned to the side towards him, your lips finding his. It wasn’t a passionate, heated kiss, but something sweet and tender. And somehow it soothed the last bit of frustration right out of Matt. 

You pulled away with a smile, your focus back on the plates before you. Matt still remained at the back of you, unable to just let you go.

“Alright, Mr. Murdock,” you said, picking up a takeout container and plating more food, “I hope you’re hungry because I may have went overboard with dinner tonight. I wasn’t sure what you’d be feeling so I just…sort of went nuts. Ordered a few things”

He chuckled, his forehead coming to rest against your shoulder. You were too damn good to him.

Maybe it was time he started thinking about engagement rings.