#yes i moved it all to the freezer

[kai-ni]

The literal DAY I get groceries. It storms, the power goes out. It's been out for over five hours now, everything in my fridge is ruined. 150 dollars worth of groceries. THAT I JUST BOUGHT TODAY. And I 100% cannot replace any of it bc I'm jobless. Like I've had nothing for over a week and the DAY I GET GROCERIES. I'm livid. The universe hates me

[girlokwhatever]

late nights,,

paige bueckers x fem!reader

“paige move. my arm fell asleep.”

you can see her dimly from the streetlights shining through the window, not missing the way she rolls her eyes. you know she heard you, yet chooses to pretend like she didn’t. at her response, or lack thereof, you roll your eyes as well.

“paige i literally saw you roll your eyes..” when she doesn’t answer again, you start pushing on her shoulder in attempt to break your arm free. you catch a glimpse of the time on her bedside table,

1:33 am.

your girlfriend starts to groan, not happy with the new method. instead of sitting up like you want her to, she just rolls on top of you. you let out a huff at her weight fully resting on the entirety of your body. paige is a solid few inches taller than you and very, very muscular, which only adds to her weight. though you’re always happy to be close to her, her antics weren’t amusing.

“aw thanks paigey, now i just can’t breathe.”

“you’re welcome honey.”

she lifts her head, probably just so you can see the smug grin on her face. she pecks your lips and puts her head right back down into the crevice between your neck and shoulder.

you begin to feel the pins and needles in your arms from the new blood flow. it only makes you wince, and as if all the stars aligned for you tonight, paige decides to roll back to her previous spot. right on top of your arm.

“paige! get off or i swear-“ she huffs and sits up, side-eyeing you from her position.

though she’s getting on your absolute last nerve, she does look beautiful. her black sports bra and pajama pants, hair in a bun, and her skin glowing so nice in the orange from the streetlight outside.

“why do you hate me?” her tone is laced with attitude, fronting a persona you and kk like to call “snarky and sassy.” and boy, does she live up to the name.

“i don’t hate you paige.”

“oh really? but you don’t want to cuddle me”

“i do, c’mere. you were just-“ when she lays back down, intertwining your bodies together, you feel the pressure of her knee against your crotch. you don’t know if she did it on purpose or not, but it makes your face grow hot and you thank the lord above you’re facing away from the light. if she saw, she’d definitely tease you about it.

“um.. baby..”

“hm?” you feel her breath hot against your neck, which only adds to your new found body heat.

“your leg is in my vagina right now.”

“s’okay.”

“alright. just jam your knee into my crotch. it’s fine.” she lets out a loud huff, sitting up again. even through her huff, you don’t miss the way her stomach growls.

“hey babe?”

“yes paige?” you already know what she’s gonna say, and you also know how you’re going to respond. she’s interrupted your sleep for too long.

“i’m really hungry-“

“i’m not getting up.”

she stops for a minute, contemplating her options. she stands up, and for a second you believe she might just let you sleep,

but no.

she circles to the end of the bed, grabbing your feet and yanking you towards her. without hesitation, she wraps her arms around your back and lifts you up. you know your fate now, so you opt for wrapping your legs around her and accepting it.

“’m takin you with me.”

she carries you with ease through the darkness and into the kitchen. setting you down on the counter, she moves to the freezer and grabs the box of frozen sausage biscuits. she plops two on a plate and into the microwave and then quickly returns to the space between your parted legs.

“y’know.. i could’ve eaten you instead and we wouldn’t’ve had to get up” she says it with a smug little smirk, the one she has when she knows what she’s doing. she knows the affect she has on you.

her hands are on your thighs now, inching up under her shirt that you’re wearing and her fingers trail the line of your underwear. you’re so entrapped by her tactics that you realize you’ve been holding your breath. her whole hand is almost buried in your panties when the microwave beeps. she slowly pulls away and leaves you sitting there, burning alive. surely now she can see you blushing.

she sets the plate down beside you on the counter once she returns. still smirking, she runs her hands up your sides and they settle on your hips, pulling you closer to her and towards the edge of the counter. her fingers trace shapes on you, you think she’s drawing hearts but you’re honestly too tired to know.

she thinks to herself how beautiful you are and how lucky she is to have you. your skin is soft under her fingertips and she admires the scent of your body wash. she loves everything about you, can’t ever get enough. her skin tingles when you wrap your hands around her neck, playing with the loose hairs on the back of her neck.

she’s so entranced by you she almost forgets the biscuits growing cold. she motions the plate to you, a silent question ‘do you want one?’ but you shake your head no. deep down she’s sorry for making you lose sleep, but she remembers if she didn’t then she wouldn’t get to see you like this, so the thought leaves as quickly as it came.

when shes washing her plate, she almost misses your little “love you.”

her heart pounds, her stomach flutters, and she swears no one has ever made her feel this way before. she wants to crawl under your skin so she never has to be without you.

“i love you too”

now she’s carrying you back to bed, tucking you in and fighting the urge to keep you awake so she can hear your voice all night. but you’re both tired now, so there’s no point.

your back is facing her and she pulls you into her chest, wrapping her arms around you so she knows you’re safe. and you are. with paige you’ll always be safe. the last thing you remember before drifting off is her lips kissing behind your ear and her nose nuzzling into your hair.

“goodnight pretty girl.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:**ੈ✩‧₊˚☽｡⋆🀥⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

FIRST FIC WHATTTT

you know i had to hop on the paige train

i hope it’s bearable

[pastorpresent]

tw: abuse, eating disorders, mentions of alcoholism

One of Wade's earliest memories was being four years old, sat at the half rotten kitchen table, sobbing hysterically over the food on his plate - all while his parents screamed at each other in the background.

"He needs to fucking learn, we're too poor for his fussy ass to waste food!"

His dad, getting in his mother's face, hands curled into fists as a warning, or a threat.

"I know, but he's not gonna fucking eat otherwise, and you heard that doctor. He's underweight as it is! I've got his chicken nuggets in the freezer-"

A smack, and the reverberating sound didn't even make Wade flinch anymore. He was kicking his tiny feet, trying to lift the fork to his mouth to end all of this, but it's like his body just... couldn't do it.

He was trying to be a good boy. He really was. He didn't want mommy getting hurt because he couldn't be good. It wasn't fair.

"Eat, Wade. Now," and that was definitely a threat, the words growled in his face, and Wade let out a sob as he quickly shoved the forkful past his quivering lips.

"You don't move from this fucking seat until this plate is empty. We clear?"

The grip on his arm hurt, but he knew if he tried to squirm away it would only tighten.

"Y-yes sir," he hiccuped, and his dad smirked, triumphant. As if he'd won, and his tiny self couldn't explain it but it made him feel like crying harder.

It took two hours, and tiny bites, but he finished the meal.

He didn't feel right the rest of the night. It was gone and done, but he felt utterly sick, like he needed the food and the taste out of him, and it didn't matter how many times he scrubbed his teeth with his spongebob toothbrush, up on his tippy-toes to reach the sink, the taste wouldn't fade.

He'd ended up spewing the meal back up a few hours later. He hated throwing up because of how shaky and weak it made him feel, and yet that night? He'd been practically giddy to have the food out of him.

It was the first time, but it wasn't the last. It may of been his earliest memory, but he had hundreds more exactly like it as a kid. Sat at that stupid table. The plate in front of him. Tears in his eyes.

Half the time, he'd just take the beating. At least he could settle after that, and not agonise for hours over the foods presence in his stomach until he was able to get it the fuck out.

He expected to grow out of it, as he hit his teens. He did start actually trying new foods, to usually poor results. His grandmother had scoffed, labeled him 'fussy', her eyes as disapproving as her sons. Wade had accepted the label, wore it with a twinge of embarrassment- because while he was good at not taking himself seriously, it still sucked ass not to be able to order off the adult menu in most restaurants and to turn down completely normal adult snacks because he couldn't stand certain textures or tastes.

He never grew out of it, in the end, but the list of foods he deemed as 'safe' did expand just a little.

It wasn't until he was older and they learnt about neurodivergence in health class that he ever heard a description accurate to his relationship with food. Avoidant restrictive food intake disorder. ARFID.

Wade had scribbled it down in his textbook, and ended up being late home from school that day because he was busy looking it up in the school library.

He could've cried with relief, honestly. A word. A diagnosis, even if he'd never get an official one. He wasn't some unique, one person freak show. It was a disorder. A disorder a lot of people suffered with.

He still struggled, but it was nice to have that layer of understanding.

His mutation made it worse. Changed the texture of his mouth, his tongue, and so things that had once been safe no longer were. He was practically starting from scratch, but he managed.

He got his ramen. His chicken nuggets. His boxed mac and cheese.

It was all fine and dandy and hey - on the plus side, the nutrionless crap he was eating couldn't kill him now! Unless heart disease could beat out regenerative healing, but when he considered how often Logan must've destroyed his liver by now - he figured he'd be fine.

Well, it was all fine until Logan moved in.

Him and Al never really 'cooked". They'd get take out, where Wade could get exactly as he wanted, or if not they didn't really eat together. Al would have whatever she was having, and Wade would knock himself up something of his own, and other than an occasional lighthearted comment about Wade having the dietary choices of a toddler, not much else was said. Al's comments didn't bother him anyway, because he knew they weren't insults. Didn't sting like his father's words.

He did their grocery shop too, so it all worked out fine.

When Logan moved in, he wanted to be helpful. He was struggling to find a job that would take him without a social security number or any form of identification that didn't technically belong to a man everyone knew to be dead. It meant he couldn't contribute to the rent and bills, and Wade knew he felt guilty about that even if he'd told him a million times over that it didn't matter.

He loved having Logan around. He'd pulled him from his own universe to be here. Giving him a roof over his head and sharing his bed while Al took the pullout really wasn't a big deal, and absolutely not something Logan had to repay him for.

He started taking on the domestic duties around the house as a way of payment anyway. The apartment had never been cleaner, that's for sure, and he took Mary Puppins on all of her walks.

It was fine. Everything was fine. Until Wade had came home from work one day and found that Logan had took it upon himself to go stock up on groceries, and cook dinner.

Wade hated how nervous seeing someone standing over a fucking stove made him. He knew a psychiatrist would probably give some dumb spiel about PTSD and unresolved trauma, but Wade just felt like a fucking idiot, freezing up in his own kitchen at the sight of Logan cooking and humming along to their old, shitty radio.

"Hey, how was work?" Logan glanced up from the steaks sizzling in the pan.

Wade needed to get it the fuck together. He couldn't let Logan realise how pathetic he truly was.

"Fine, dull," he replied with a shrug, hanging up his jacket and trying to quell the rising panic, but the smell alone was a lot and he could already feel his body tensing up, his fight or flight kicking in, and he wanted to scream and rip his own skin off because it was so fucking dumb.

"You alright, bub?" Logan asked, pulling Wade from his thoughts.

He nodded.

"Yeah I- need to shower," he excused, figuring it was a good enough reason to dip out and try to get a fucking grip.

"Alright," Logan said, eyebrow raised, "well dinners probably gonna be ready in twenty minutes or so."

Wade nodded, plastering on his best grin, "can't wait, peanut," he said, before quickly rushing out the room.

//

He felt like he was walking into the lions den, entering the kitchen. The shower and ten minute self pep talk did very little to fill him with confidence. Logan and Al were already sat at the table. Mary Puppins waited eagerly at their feet.

"There, the fuckers here. Can we eat now?" Al demanded, and Logan rolled his eyes but he was wearing one of those almost fond smiles, "go ahead."

Wade took his usual seat next to Logan, between him and Al, and picked up his knife and fork, staring down at the plate. Steak, mashed potatoes and green beans.

A normal fucking meal for an adult, and yet Wade felt his stomach tying itself into intricate knots just looking at it.

Al and Logan were chatting about the movie they'd watched last night, but their voices were muffled and distant. He scooped up a tiny bit of the potatoes, shoving it in before he could change his mind, forcing his throat to work and swallow it quickly. He could still taste it, could feel the texture imprinted onto his tastebuds.

He could do this. He could. Just get through one measly meal, and it would be fine. He already knew how strange he came across, and it was an honest to God miracle that Logan had stuck around - what if this was the final straw? Watching Wade waste the perfectly good meal he'd stood and cooked for him in favour of something beige and cooked in the microwave?

If he was going to lose Logan, it would have to be for a hell of a better reason than that.

He kept going, so focused on getting the food down that he missed the worried glances Logan was throwing his way.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but his thoughts were interrupted by the clattering of silverware.

"That was delicious. Who knew your dumbass could actually cook a meal?" Al commented, and when Wade looked up both of their plates were clear. He looked back to his own. At the single missing green bean, and pitiful dint in the mashed potatoes. The hardly distinguishable sliver of missing steak.

"I'm two hundred years old, picking up some hobbies here and there becomes a necessity to maintaining sanity," Logan shrugged, smiling, but it didn't feel like it was fully a joke and it only made Wade feel that much more guilty.

"Well, it's Wade's turn for dishes so I'm off to bingo. Don't wait up," Al left the table, barely side stepping Mary Puppins, and Wade could feel Logan's eyes on him now.

He didn't dare meet his gaze, forcing a bite of steak past his lips.

"What's up with you? You not into steak?"

There was no bite behind the words, and yet they made his breathing pick up all the same.

"I- I am, it's- good, honest. Thank you," he said, taking another bite, ignoring his body's protests, suppressing the shiver.

"Wade. Look at me," his head snapped to Logan. He was already in trouble. If he started being bad and not listening, it would hurt more, and he couldn't-

"Hey," Logan's voice was oddly soft when he spoke, but firm enough to get his attention. He reached over, pushed Wade's hands down gently, uncurled his fingers from their white knuckled grip around the cutlery.

Wade watched him do it, utterly confused.

"I'll eat it. I will, I'm trying," he hated the childlike panic that had taken over his brain. He felt like that four year old again, staring at his plate with a wobbling lip and damp eyes.

But he felt helpless to stop it.

"Do you not like it?" Logan asked.

Wade was biting his lip hard enough that he tasted blood, "it's... thank you. For making it for me."

"That's not an answer bub," Logan hummed, "do you like it or no?"

Wade chewed the torn skin of his bottom lip. Shook his head once. Tried to get his body to calm the fuck down.

Logan reached over. Wade flinched, cringing in on himself, eyes squeezed shut, bracing for an impact that never came. Instead he just used his thumb to release the lip Wade was using as a chew toy from between his teeth.

"Ok, that's alright. No worries, yeah? You want me to make you some of that ramen stuff you like instead?"

"I- I have food, you cooked me it, I shouldn't..." he trailed off when his throat felt tight.

"And you don't like it, which is completely fine. I'll clean up, you go sit on the couch and I'll bring you some ramen in soon."

"Logan-"

"Wasn't a request, bub. Go pick us a movie to watch," Logan stood, piling up all three plates, and Wade could've cried with relief honestly.

He got up and went to the couch, picking out Shaun of the Dead and sticking it in the pink Hello Kitty DVD player he'd scored years ago at the thrift store. He sat down, but his leg was bouncing like crazy and he couldn't get his eyes to focus.

Logan said it was fine, he reminded himself. He wasn't angry. But what if he was lying? What if he was just trying to lure him into a false sense of security? Make that first hit hurt even harder?

His dad had done that, in the past. Wade never understood why. Boredom, maybe? The same cycle of screaming at him, beating him bloody, rinse and repeat probably got old he supposed.

By the time Logan came over, bowl of noodles in hand, Wade was struggling through a fully fledged panic attack.

"I'm sorry, sorry, I'll- been bad, I'm sorry," he couldn't stop shaking, his breath punched out of him as he curled in on himself, burying his head in his knees which he pulled up tightly to his chest.

'You're a little pussy, no fucking son of mine. Stop hiding, boy!'

"Wade, Wade no. I'm not angry, you didn't do anything bad," he felt the couch dip next to him, and an arm wrapped around his back, pulling him against the solid warmth and familiar scent of Logan.

"I'm sorry," he didn't feel capable of saying anything else, and Logan shushed him softly, reaching out to grasp his hand, "it's fine, really. Look at me, sweetheart."

Wade reluctantly lifted his head, looking over at the older man who's face was filled with a genuine concern.

He hated that. Hated that he was so much of a fucking freak, making Logan worry about him because he couldn't get a damn grip on his own thoughts. He knew comforting people wasn't something that Logan necessarily enjoyed, and it was ridiculous and unfair for him to have to do it over something so small and dumb.

"I-"

"Shhh, just breathe. In and out. Slowly," Logan guided, emphasising his own, his thumb rubbing gentle circles around Wade's shoulder.

Wade copied. Eventually, he felt his body relaxing somewhat. He didn't realise he was leaning so heavily against him, eyes slipping closed, until one of Logan's arms wrapped around his waist.

His cheeks burned, but Logan wasn't pushing him off, and there was something soothing about his body heat and listening to the beat of his heart, even if it was muffled by the metal binded to his ribcage.

He wasn't sure how long he lay snuggled into Logan's side, but eventually he felt able to speak a bit more, his throat not so tight and brain not so crowded.

"My dad used to... get mad, if I didn't eat what I was given. Used to beat me for it," he said quietly.

Logan was silent for a long moment, and Wade almost pulled back just to see if he could read his expression. The hand on his waist tightened, fingers slipping beneath his shirt to run patterns over his hip bones.

"Dad's fucking suck. Hell, I killed mine. I wish I could kill yours, for doing that to you."

A sick, deeply twisted part of him wanted Logan to do it. Wanted to watch as his dad squirmed on the floor, covered in blood and bruises, all while he begged for mercy from an angry man who was so much bigger and stronger than him. Poetic justice really, but...

"He's already dead, sadly. Heart attack a few years ago."

"I'd say sorry for your loss, but I'm not," Logan commented, and Wade snorted against him, "yeah, me neither."

The silence returned. Wade hated silence, usually. Would say any dumb shit to fill it. Except it felt kind of... nice, right now. Comfortable. He didn't mind stewing in it for a few minutes.

"You know I'd never..." Logan trailed off, struggling with his words for a moment, which was odd. Wade had never heard him do that.

"I'd never hurt you like that. I know that sounds dumb, given the fact we fought each other a million times in the void, but I wouldn't..." he trailed off again, grunting in frustration.

Wade finally lifted up enough to look at him.

"I know. It's different when we fight, anyway. I'm immortal. You're immortal. I get my own hits in, and I fight dirty. It's a level playing field. With my dad... he started when I was four. I didn't have much of a chance," he shrugged, ignoring the flash of anger on Logan's face at the number, "I kind of like our fights. They keep me on my game, and I know I can't actually hurt you permanently. It's more like..."

"Play fighting?" Logan finished, his tone teasing but Wade knew he was serious, knew it was probably the only accurate word for what they did, "yeah," he grinned, and Logan chuckled.

Silence returned, their gazes locked. Logan's eyes went impossibly soft, "you alright now, bub?"

Wade nodded, leaning into the touch of his hip, bringing his own hand to rest on Logan's chest, "yeah, thank you."

"You want your ramen?" Logan asked softly, hurriedly adding, "if not that's okay, you don't have to. Just don't want you going hungry."

Wade nodded, and separated reluctantly from Logan to grab the bowl. He immediately felt a brief shock of that familiar panic and dread, but forced himself to remember that Logan wasn't mad, hadn't left him, he was right there.

He started eating, and Logan's arm returned to his waist, tugging him back in against his chest so he was situated between the older mans legs.

He looked up with a small smile, but Logan was pointedly watching the TV, even if the corners of his lips twitched upwards.

Eating the noodles was easy, and Wade didn't realise how hungry he'd been until it was gone.

"Can I ask you something? You don't gotta answer if you don't want to," Logan asked, taking the empty bowl from his hands and putting it on the coffee table.

"Sure," Wade shrugged, getting comfortable against him.

"It's... safe foods and stuff, right? You can only eat certain things? It's got a name, an annogram... starts with an A, I think?"

Wade sat up fully, brows furrowing as he looked over at Logan.

"ARFID. How do you know about that?" He asked, head tilting to the side. It's not something he had even knew where to start explaining to somebody like Logan. He worried he'd have the same outdated 'kids are just brats these days' kind of outlook on it that his dad did, but he scolded himself for that. Ever since they'd met, Logan had proved his stance on most topics was oddly forward thinking. Wade remembered one particularly impassioned rant about gay rights one night when some old trump clip had played on the news.

He just didn't expect Logan to know what it was at all, nevermind identify the behaviours as such.

"I never taught at the mansion, but I was around a lot. Charles said the kids liked me, for some reason, and I sort of became... not a counsellor, because I'm too fucked up for that, but just someone who the kids knew they could come to. Few of 'em struggled at meal times. Would come see me and I'd make chicken nuggets or whatever they felt able to eat. Sit with them while they did," Logan had that sort of glossy distant look in his eyes, the same one he always seemed to adopt whenever he'd reflect on his past.

Wade felt ready to melt into the damn couch cushions, his love for Logan increasing tenfold. There was a niggling sense of envy, too, just below the surface. He was glad the kids Logan cared for weren't abused for something out of their hands. That they were understood, even if only during their stay at the mansion.

But it didn't stop the jealousy from burning low and ugly inside of him. He never got that, never had an ounce of understanding from anyone. He was punished instead. Not starved, because he was always offered food technically, but in a way...

"I'm glad they had someone like you to support them. I'm sure that meant a lot," Wade said, no jokes, his face serious.

Logan looked away. That look grew more haunted, and he shook his head, "very little consolation considering most of them died because of me in the end."

"Lo, you didn't-"

"I know," Logan interrupted, his face completely unconvinced, "I know you disagree, that's fine. We don't... let's not talk about it again," he said, and Wade didn't want to drop it, wanted to argue until he lost his voice that what those people did wasn't Logan's fault - but it's an argument they'd had a million times over, and he never made any headway.

It always ended with Logan storming out to a bar to get pissed, likely in some dumb effort to prove how 'terrible' he was, and then they wouldn't speak for a few days until they both missed the other's company enough to put the debate and their pride aside.

So as much as Wade wanted to argue his point, he let it be done for now.

"Do need you to do me a favour though, bub."

"Hm?" Wade hummed.

"A list - all your safe foods. Bit pointless me shopping and cooking if I don't know what you can eat," Logan said, and Wade's throat went completely dry.

He'd wrote a list once. Only once. When he was nine, when he'd convinced himself his parents didn't hate him - they just didn't understand, and he could help. He wrote a list in his wobbly handwriting, the foods he liked - the foods he wouldn't need to expel from his body. He'd drew pictures next to each one. He'd gave it to his dad with a smile.

The smile had been slapped off his face. The list had been hung on the fridge, the only piece of his artwork to ever feature there, as a warning to his mother about what not to buy on their grocery trip.

And now here Logan was. Asking for one, so he could make sure he could stock those things, cook them for him.

He all but threw himself against Logan, who merely grunted at the impact, wrapping him easily in a hug while Wade practically squeezed the life out of him.

"Thank you," he mumbled against his neck.

"Don't mention it."

[kairoot]

hii! i saw your "s/o who is always cold" with enha. could u maybe do the same with s/o who is always warm

͘ ࣭⸰ ✬ ͙ HOTTER, HOTTER „ 

‧₊˚ 𝓼𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: s/o who is always warm 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 : enha x 𝑔𝑛．𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲 : fluff , crack 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 : yes ! 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : pet names, physical touch, lmk if i missed anything

— ( 𝓂𝑖𝑙𝑎𝑛’𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 ) : lowk embarrassing cause that was one of my first fics 😭 pls leave reblogs, they are much appreciated !! ♡︎

֪︶︶֪︶︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶ིྀ︶︶֪︶︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪

⊹ 𝓁ℎ𝑠．

heeseung doesn’t understand why you’re always warm but he does what he can in order to cool you down

if it means you both have to sleep without the duvet at night, so be it

or if you have to move to the living room/another room where it’s cooler, he’s going with you

doesn’t care if he’s cold or not

you threw the comforter off of your body, shifting for the fourth time that night. heeseung was sound asleep next to you until you sat up, ready to get out of bed.

“baby?” he sat up, hair fluffy from his pillow. his arm remained around you as he pulled you back into the bed.

“where are you going?”

“to the living room.” you whispered.

“are you warm again?” he opened his eyes all the way, now looking at you with concern.

you nod, throwing the rest of the thick blanket off of you.

without a word, heeseung rolled out of his side of the bed, walking to the door.

“come on,” he held out his hand for you to take. your bows furrowed in confusion but you got up, grabbing his hand and following him.

you both walked downstairs, the breeze from just walking giving you a bit of relief. heeseung guided you into the cool living room, letting go of your hand as he settled on one of the couches across from the first one.

“hee, are you sure you aren’t cold?” you chuckled, almost feeling bad for him coming down there with you.

“i’m good as long as you’re good, honey.” he mumbled, his eyes closing once his head hit the sofa’s pillow.

⊹ 𝓅𝑗𝑠．

he’s kinda concerned

but he takes care of you nonetheless

he adjusts his living for you

meaning, since you’ve moved in together, your apartment’s ac is always blasting

even if it’s in the middle of winter, he’ll buy snacks that cool you down like ice pops and what-not.

overall, he just wants you to feel comfortable

“jeez, why is it so chilly in here?” you shivered at the sudden temperature change as you and jay entered your apartment, setting the groceries on the counter.

“didn’t you say it was too warm for you last night?” he asked, putting some things in the freezer.

“well yeah, but i didn’t realize you would turn it into an icebox in here..”

jay chuckled, turning to face you, “do you want me to change it then?”

“no no, it’s fine, but aren’t you cold?”

he shrugged, “feels great to me.”

yes, he was freezing but he wasn’t going to tell you that.

⊹ 𝓈𝑗𝑦．

jake is so caring when it comes to you

even if you can yourself the slightest, he’ll drop what he’s doing and do anything he can to cool you down (like jay)

he even buys you one of those small handheld fans

he keeps ice packs too, especially on a hot summer day

he buys you a lot of tank tops or any clothes that keep you cool

you sat next to jake while he played one of his games as he occasionally spoke through the mic to his friends. every few minutes, he would turn and check if you were okay or if you needed anything.

but when he saw the thin layer of sweat on your forehead and your hand come up to wave air into your face, he quickly removed his headset.

“you okay, love?” he asked, brows knitted together.

you nodded, still fanning yourself slightly.

“just a little warm, that’s all..”

he said something into his mic before standing up and leaving the room.

he came back with the white fan he bought you and a change of clothes.

“change and then use this, alright? let me know if you want a glass of water or anything.” he kissed your head as you thanked him, turning to head to the bathroom to change.

⊹ 𝓅𝑠ℎ．

once again, hoonie knows when you’re bothered by something

whether you’re someone who’s always warm or always cold, he knows when you are and when you aren’t

you don’t have to say anything

like jake, even if you fan yourself once, he’s already at your side with an ice pop and the ac turned all the way up LMAO

im ngl, he gets concerned too and he may ask you about it

does his research so he can know how to help keep your surroundings just right; not too warm, but not too cold

and if you like it, he might run you a cool shower or bath

also, he often takes you to the skating rink where it’s absolutely freezing

“hoon, what are you doing..?” you watched him from the sofa as he stood by the wall, clicking buttons on the thermostat.

“setting the temperature.” he said plainly.

“i thought it was already set?”

“it was, but i’m fixing it for you.” sunghoon responded as he continued to lower the temperature.

“for me..?”

“yeah. you’re always warm.” he had finally set the thermostat to a reasonable temperature, now joining you back on the sofa to start the movie you wanted to watch.

you smiled as he wrapped his arm around you, absolutely enamored by his thoughtfulness.

⊹ 𝓀𝑠𝑤．

sunoo is someone who’s definitely concerned for you

he takes care of you but also reminds you to take care of yourself, especially when he’s not there to do so

he buys a lot of water for you and keeps fans all over your house

he insists on you drinking it even when you’re not hot

he teases you sometimes, calling you his sunshine since you’re always warm

he likes to make homemade popsicles with you

“hey sunshine, did you drink anything today?” sunoo asks, kissing your cheek before sitting next to you in your shared bed.

“yeah, only water.”

“how much?”

“about.. 7 bottles.”

“hm.. that’s not enough.” he sulked, poking your side.

“sunoo, i literally peed like 11 times today. i’m pretty sure it was more than enough.” you giggled, remembering how you had to pee almost every 30 minutes.

“well, google says—“

“my bladder is telling me something different. if i drink another bottle, i think i’ll piss myself.”

⊹ 𝓎𝑗𝑤．

jungwon takes you on walks to cool you down

even during summer, he’ll wait til the evening or night when it’s cooler and he’ll take you walking

he’s very considerate of you and always making sure you’re not overheating or anything

he also likes to make sure your room is cool before the two of you go to bed

“you okay, baby?” he glances at you as you both walked through your neighborhood. you nod, shuffling closer to him and holding his hand tighter.

“this is nice.”

“the air or the walk?”

“both.” you responded, smiling at him. the air relieved you, cooling down your warm body.

“and being with you. thank you for caring so much.”

“no need to thank me, love. it’s what i’m supposed to do.” he kissed the top of your head. “are you thirsty? still warm?”

you shook your head, “no, i’m okay. the walk is really helping actually.”

he nodded, smiling slightly, continuing your stroll in a comfortable silence.

⊹ 𝓃𝑟𝑘．

ki tends to find this amusing (?) since he tends to get cold easily (idk if this is true it’s just for the hc guys 😢)

he’ll tease you, calling you his “personal heater”

he always puts his hands under your shirt to cool you down and to warm him up

all joking aside, he does try his best to keep you cool even when it’s freezing to him

he’ll surprise you with cold treats like slushies or frozen yogurt

and if it’s a summer day, he might even buy water guns/balloons or visit a pool

“riki, get off of me,” you whined for the third time, trying to push the boy off of you.

“it’s way too hot.”

“you’re warm, though.. aren’t my hands making it better? i’m freezing..” he sulked, his cool hand rubbing circles on your belly.

“i guess..”

“exactly, so stop your whining.” he grumbled, turning to watch the show that played on the tv screen.

“but you’re heavy! and i feel like i’m suffocating.”

he sighed, lifting himself up, “stay here.”

he walked out of the room for a second, coming back a few minutes later with a blue slushy drink in hand.

your eyes lit up as you happily took the drink from his hands, immediately taking sips from the straw.

“thank you, babe.” you smiled.

“yeah, yeah.” he answered playfully, climbing back on top of you.

︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨୧ ︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

TAGLIST: @haechansbbg @contyynishimura @sasfransisco @kgneptun @jungwonderz @enha-stars @dioll @jakesangel @cupidscourt @violetwitchmcu @haohaoshoe @randomgirl02228 @wonsdoll @powerpuffstuts @elysianiki — send an ask to join.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hii congrats on 5k!! i love your writing ! if you’re still celebrating could i request a carmy blurb where maybe you’re syd’s besite and carmy has this biggggest crush on you (im talking this mf is Yearning) and she gets on him sooo hard about it like teasing him and reader and him end up together ? TIA <3

Not So Secret.

carmen berzatto x female reader

warnings - cursing.

written for my 5k celebration- post here, masterlist here, inbox here.

“You’re gonna stare a hole through her fuckin’ head.”

“Shut up.”

Richie laughs, following Carmens eyeline to where it’s fixed on you.

You’re stood in the restaurant with Sydney, both of you giggling at something she’s showing you on her phone. When you look up, you smile at Carmy, all soft and sweet and like butter wouldn’t melt. He almost melts, a puddle of yearning on the kitchen floor.

Sugar appears next to the two of you, holding out a piece of paper.

“This is a really rough draft of what we kind of want them to look like. Obviously you have full control, but this is kind of the vibe?”

When Carmen mentioned wanting a more personal touch on the menus, Sydney quickly offered your services. You’re the most artistic person she knows, gifted with naturally gorgeous handwriting that almost looks like calligraphy. Plus, she knows how much everyone at The Bear likes you, having been a part of their transformation. It’s a win - win.

“Yeah, I get you. So you want the title words like Dessert in more of a cursive, and then the actual dishes and descriptions in a typeface?”

“Yes! Do your thing. We trust you.”

She gives you a side hug, careful not to hit you with her bump.

“I’m gonna need some nice paper, and probably a new calligraphy pen so I can start from scratch. I’m gonna head to the craft store, and I’ll be back.”

“Carmy will go with you!”

Richie shouts it from the doorway, where he’s been not so subtly watching the conversation. Carmy blushes, clearly caught off guard.

“He needs to go to the craft store too, right Cousin? Good. Go. Bye!”

Carmy’s practically being pushed out the door, uncomfortable and flustered. You smile reassuringly, grabbing your bag and walking over to your car.

“You’re okay with me driving?”

“Course. Shouldn’t I be?”

You laugh, and he can’t help but grin, the sound settling nicely into his ribcage to warm him up.

“I’m a good driver, I promise. Despite what Sydney might say.”

He looks worried but gets in anyway, ever trusting you and anything you do.

He can’t help but sneak glances at you as you drive. You’re completely focused on the road in front, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you concentrate. Carmy feels heat bloom across his chest at the action, wishing he could reach out and release it for you before you draw blood.

A text chimes through the air, startling you both. You press the button on your steering wheel so your car can read the message out loud.

From Sydney: Carmy. Tell her immediately or I’ll lock you in the walk in freezer. Sick of you acting like a lovesick puppy. This is your chance. Don’t blow it, asshole. We’re all tired.

Both of you freeze, your hands tightening on the wheel. Carmy wants to throw himself out of the moving car, but decides against it at the last minute.

You pull the car into the craft store parking lot, choosing a space and yanking the handbrake on. You turn to him, looking at him for the first time since the bombshell.

He’s blushed all over, chest heaving and bottom lip pulled between his teeth. You almost want to reach out and release it for him, before he draws blood.

“Carmy.”

“I think, uh, yeah, I just - that was clearly sent to the wrong person. Not meant for you.”

You laugh, suddenly, and it spooks Carmy so much that he jumps out of his skin.

“Yeah, Carm. That I figured.”

He laughs with you then, unsure and nervous. You reach out and place a hand on his knee, trying to calm him down. It just makes his heart lurch.

“What’s Syd talking about? Tell me what?”

He looks down at his lap, hands knotted together.

“I think you know.”

“Wanna hear you say it,” you whisper.

He finds the courage to meet your gaze, taking a deep breath.

“I like you. So much. I can’t stop talking about you to anyone and everyone that’ll listen - to the point that everyone at The Bear gives me so much shit for it. Sydney won’t get off my back, either. She says I’m ‘yearning’.”

You chuckle, rubbing patterns into the material of his jeans with your thumb.

“They’ve all made bets,” he continues, “about if I’ll ever tell you or not.”

“Who bet on you? And who against?”

“Syd and Richie against me. Marcus too. Tina and Sugar are on my side. Not sure why.”

“Wanna make Tina and Sugar some money?”

He quirks a brow questioningly, eyes going wide when you lean over the centre console and plant your hands on either side of his face. You’re so close to him that your breaths tangle together, one set of lungs working overtime.

“Kiss me, Carm.”

He doesn’t think twice, closing the gap and pressing his lips to yours. You tangle your fingers in his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer. His hands find your back, tugging you into him as much as the limited space allows.

You whine when he bites at your lip gently, and he has to pull away to take a steadying breath before he passes out.

“You should get your eyes checked.”

He tries to process for a moment.

“Huh?”

“You must be blind if you can’t see how much I like you, Carm. How much I’ve always liked you.”

He grins at you, bright and white, and you shake your head before leaning in to kiss him again.

When you don’t make it back into the restaurant that day, everyone has never been happier to not see the both you.

[cjlouwho]

prompt: silly or angry sex? idk!

how about silly and angry sex? also, I don't write smut often so please forgive me.

“I really, shit, really don't wanna fight with you while your, oh yeah, fingers are in my ass.”

“Finger,” Tommy corrected, slowly and deliberately massaging over Buck's prostate. “Just the one right now.”

“God, you’re so annoying,” Buck huffed, his back arching slightly as Tommy's other hand rested over his stomach.

“Would you like me to stop?” Tommy asked. The way he was keeping his voice so calm and casual made Buck want to wring his neck a little bit.

“Stop being annoying?” he replied. “Yes.”

“Stop fucking you,” Tommy clarified, pouring a bit more lube on his fingers and adding a second along with the first, “so you can fight with me?”

Buck sucked in a breath, then let out a long moan. “Oh fuck no, don't stop.”

“Mm,” Tommy hummed. He ran his hand up Buck's chest, dragging it back down slowly. His fingernails scraping over Buck's nipple on the way. “So fighting while fucking it is.”

“Fuck. S'not fair,” he said with a glare, fucking himself on Tommy's fingers. One of his hands flailed out until it found Tommy's thigh, gripping it for dear life. “Kiss me.”

Tommy shook his head. “Tell me why you're angry first, Evan.”

“Mmm,” Buck's head lolled to the side, his eyes drifting shut in pleasure. “Don't remember.”

Tommy twisted his fingers, driving in with a particularly hard thrust.

Buck's eyes shot back open and up at Tommy, his hand squeezing tighter on his thigh. Tommy would have bruises in the morning, which sent chills up his spine.

“Yes you do,” Tommy said, staring back at Buck. “Now why are you mad?”

“Be- Because, oh right there, because you forgot to take the meat out of the freezer again.”

“And?”

“And I reminded you, uh, uh, uh, you like five times while I was at work.” He smacked at Tommy's thigh. “Add another finger, Tommy, please.”

Tommy obliged. He removed his fingers and added more lube, warming it up before pressing three against Buck's hole. “Deep breath in and-”

“Let it out slow, yeah yeah, I know. Not my first rodeo.” He rolled his eyes but drew in a deep breath, slowly releasing it as Tommy worked three fingers into him. “You feel so fucking good,” he said, sounding more annoyed about that fact than anything. He couldn't handle it anymore. He reached up and pulled Tommy down over him in a messy, angry kiss. He bit down on Tommy's bottom lip, causing him to hiss ever so slightly. He took that opportunity to practically stick his tongue down Tommy's throat, tasting his fresh mint mouthwash that he always gargled after dinner.

A dinner which was take out tonight.

Because he forgot to take the meat out of the freezer.

For like the fourth time in a month.

Tommy's fingers were moving inside him earnestly now, Buck meeting every thrust. “I know you, mhm, apologized but I really, uh, don't understand, yes, yeah, how you could f- forget like that, faster, Tommy, fuck me.”

“You feel so good around my fingers, Evan, God.” Tommy moaned into Buck's mouth as Buck reached down and took both of their cocks in his hand.

Their bodies were at awkward angles, with Tommy not able to move as deeply into Buck with each thrust. But, judging by the sounds coming out of his mouth, Tommy was still hitting all the right spots.

“Fuck, I'm close, Evan.”

“Me too, Tommy. S- so close. Just, oh shit yeah!” Buck came with a shout, Tommy following closely behind him.

They laid there for a few seconds in silence, their sweaty bodies pressed together as they caught their breath.

Eventually, Tommy pulled his fingers out of Buck and plopped down beside him in the bed.

“Shit, I love angry sex,” Buck admitted, rolling over to press himself against Tommy's side.

Tommy laughed, his arm wrapping around Buck's back as he pressed a kiss to his temple. “Why do you think I keep forgetting to take the meat out of the freezer?”

“I knew you did it on purpose!” he exclaimed, leaning up just enough to look at Tommy.

“Well, after the aggressive blowjob you gave me the last time it happened, I had to test my theory. I do, however, promise not to use this knowledge against you in the future. No matter how tempting.”

Buck's eyes darkened as he pulled Tommy in for a kiss. “You're incredible,” he said. “You can use it against me anytime.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow at that and Buck continued. “Well, not any time. Like, if people are coming over for dinner, or if I have a special meal planned. Actually, I could make a detailed list of exact times where it would be appropriate to-”

“Evan?”

“Yeah?”

“You know there are other things I could do besides not take food out of the freezer, right?”

“Like... Like what?” Buck asked, shivering a little as Tommy's hand ran up and down his spine.

“I could occasionally leave my laundry on the bathroom floor.”

“E- Even your gym clothes?”

“If you wanted.”

Buck could feel his heartbeat speeding up. He'd be a little concerned about what this literal dirty talk was doing to him if he didn't currently find it so damn hot. “What else?” he asked.

“I could not take out the trash on trash day. It'd have to sit there another whole week before it got picked up.”

Buck pressed a kiss against Tommy's jaw, then started working his way down, ghosting his lips over Tommy's pec. “I would be livid,” he said before giving the skin there a little bite.

“I know. I could forget to pay a bill. Make you deal with a late fee.”

Buck was on top of Tommy in a second, his thighs straddling Tommy's hips. He was mad at the mere thought of that happening. But so fucking turned on he was already hard again. It wasn't just the idea of more angry sex that made him horny, it was the fact that Tommy was so competent with his forced incompetence that Buck needed him inside of him immediately. It was all very confusing, and Buck made a mental note to dwell on it later.

But for now. “Tommy?”

“Yes, Dear?” Tommy asked with a grin, his hands coming to rest on Buck's waist.

“I'm gonna need you to fuck me.”

Tommy gripped Buck tight, flipping them over quickly so he was back on top. He pressed a chaste kiss to Buck's lips before reaching for the lube. “Yes, Dear.”

[steddieas-shegoes]

undead or tired?

for @steddie-spooktober prompt ‘zombies’

rated t | 970 words | no cw | tags: established relationship, Steve has migraines, hurt/comfort, fluff, Eddie is a good boyfriend | also on ao3

🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟

“He’s been grumpy all day.”

“And his hair’s all greasy.”

“He told me I was being too loud and then stuck his head in the freezer.”

Eddie nods along to the kids’ complaints, but he already knows what the problem is. He sensed it earlier this morning when he stopped by Family Video to bring him the makeup for his Halloween costume.

Steve rounds the corner before Eddie can say anything else and he…

Well, he looks like a zombie.

“Is that the makeup?” Eddie asks, already knowing the answer.

“No,” Steve walks past him and sticks his head in the freezer. He sighs with relief and the kids look between him and Eddie.

“Everyone out,” Eddie waves his hands to shoo them away, hoping they’ll take the opportunity to leave the house altogether and go about their Halloween plans.

Eddie walks over and places his hand on Steve’s neck, squeezing the points of tension he knows are the root cause of the migraine. Steve’s knees nearly buckle as he groans in relief.

“When I said we should be zombies, I didn’t mean literally,” Eddie says softly, rubbing his fingers against the knots in Steve’s shoulders now. “You wanna get in bed?”

Steve shakes his head once. “Promised the kids.”

“I’ll take them, sweetheart. You should rest.”

“But I promised,” Steve turns his head, leaning his cheek against the edge of the freezer. His eyes are dull, bloodshot from the strain of keeping them open when he’s clearly exhausted. “S my job.”

“As long as the job gets done, you didn’t break your promise,” Eddie soothes. “C’mon.”

Eddie guides him back upstairs to his bed, tucking him in with a kiss on the forehead.

“Maybe next year we can be zombies?” Steve asks.

“You accomplished it just fine this year, baby. I’ll think of something better for next year.”

Steve’s asleep before Eddie even leaves the room. The moment he closes the door, El and Will are standing there in their costumes: the twins from The Shining. It’s creepy and a little too on the nose for Eddie.

“Jesus Christ!” He jumps, holding a hand over his heart. “You’re supposed to be…not here.”

“Is Steve okay?” Will asks.

“He’ll be fine. But he needs to sleep off the migraine so I’m in charge tonight.”

Will nods and makes his way downstairs, but El stays. She looks like she’s deep in thought, but she always kind of looks that way.

“Does he get migraines from being too tired?” She asks.

“Sometimes. Or stress. Or just because he’s had a lot of head injuries.”

El nods. “I think I can help.”

“How?” Eddie’s not doubting her, but sometimes she misjudges her powers a bit, thinks she’s capable of things she just isn’t.

El doesn’t answer, just brushes past him into the room. Steve’s asleep, doesn’t even budge at the sound of them coming in, so Eddie knows he’s exhausted. He’s usually a light sleeper, always ready to fight the moment he hears a bump in the night.

Eddie doesn’t stop her because he trusts her and he’s curious. She’d never hurt Steve, so whatever her plan is is worth a shot.

Her hand hovers over Steve’s forehead, then his neck, then his chest. Eddie watches with fascination as El’s brows wrinkle in concentration.

“Do they always start in his neck and shoulders?” She asks.

Eddie nods, then realizes she isn’t watching him. “Yes, yeah. Usually.”

She continues moving her hand until it rests on his shoulder.

And then she smiles and turns to Eddie.

“All better.”

She leaves the room without another word or even glance their direction.

Eddie looks between the door and Steve, still asleep in bed, but now without the crease in his forehead and tense jaw. He’s tempted to wake him up and ask, but there’s still dark circles under his eyes. He’s still tired regardless of the migraine.

He leaves the room as quietly as he can.

When he gets downstairs, the kids are all ready to go, waiting surprisingly patiently.

“Alright, I don’t have time to do my makeup, so we’re just gonna pretend I’m rockstar Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin fame. Top of the charts for the last year and guitar hero for all of eternity.” Eddie gestures to the front door. “My limo awaits.”

Max snorts, but doesn’t make a comment. They all shuffle to the door to head to the Hopper home, where Joyce has been preparing “the best Halloween party in Hawkins” for two days now. It probably will be the best, but the bar is pretty low. None of them would ever say that to Joyce, though.

“Wait!” Steve is running down the stairs, holding the bag of makeup he’d had in his room. “Someone do my makeup!”

“I thought you had a migraine?” Dustin asks.

“It’s better. C’mon, we’re gonna be late.”

Eddie rushes to grab the bag from him, not commenting on the fact that the makeup was only a small part of the costume. He applies the green and purple heavily, knows it’s not the best he can do. Steve’s still got natural dark circles under his eyes, so he’ll let that speak for itself.

“Scary enough?” Steve asks the kids as they watch Eddie put all the makeup away.

“You were scary enough before,” Mike jokes.

Will nudges him and shakes his head once.

“Alright, good enough answer. Let’s go!” Steve leads them to the front door, opens it, and scoots them out. “Eddie, c’mon!”

Eddie leans in to kiss him, his lips barely brushing against Steve’s painted lips.

“Better?”

“Mhm. Don’t know how it went away so fast,” Steve shrugs.

Eddie decides now probably isn’t the time to explain that El can apparently manipulate his migraines. Plenty of time tomorrow when he’s no longer a zombie.

[terastalungrad]

I'm reading Life in Code by Ellen Ullman, writings on tech and philosophy.

I love the chapter "Is Sadie the Cat a Trick?", where Ullman talks of the 19 years she had with her cat Sadie, and - while reflecting on Artificially Intelligence - wonders whether the relationship between them was an illusion.

Was Sadie merely behaving according to her "programming"? Was Ullman merely imagining sentience?

Ullman considers various aspects of her relationship with Sadie. First, companionship. Second, familiarity:

[H]er coming to meet me at the door (even when her bowl was full, so it was not in the hope of getting dinner). There was mutual recognition of ritual: I knew the time of day when she moved to her favourite chair to take the sun, so I anticipated it and raised the shade. She knew I wrote in the morning, and, before I got to the desk, she was lying on her pillow by the heater, which had not yet been turned on. If it were just warmth she'd wanted, she could have stayed in bed with Elliot, who was living with me by then. Instead, she decided she would wait for me by a cold heater.

I love this paragraph very much. This reflection on the familiar behaviour of a pet, ostensibly to work out if there's a difference between a pet and sufficiently advanced AI. But also, it seems to me that this is an investigation into love itself.

Did Ullman's cat love her? Do any of our pets love us?

Instinctively, we think "yes". Ullman has applied a programmer's mind - and a philosopher's mind - to the question:

Companionship, familiarity, expectation, mutual recognition, bodily comfort: if this is not a definition of love between aging creatures, I don't know what is.

I'm away from home for a few days, with gigs in London and Birmingham. I always miss my wife when I'm away, and this essay hasn't helped at all thank you.

It makes me think of our own rituals. Sometimes - not often - I'm awake before Elanor. I know what time her alarm will go off, so I join her in bed a minute before, so she wakes up gently to a cuddle before the cold brutality of the alarm. When I'm working in the study, Elanor will sometimes open the door a crack, and wait to be invited in.

This is the difference between love and programming. Last time I was away, Elanor defrosted the freezer - an accomplishment of immense bravery and determination. She didn't tell me this, but when I came home she challenged me to work out what chore she'd done while I was away - knowing that, letting me discover this action by opening the freezer would be the best possible way for me to find out she'd done this.

How did Elanor know this? We've been together 20 years this month. Perhaps she reflected on the fact that I'm delighted by surprise, and by playfulness. Maybe she thought about the way I like stories - and that investigating the house, searching for new jobs completed, would give me the thrill of an adventure. It's possible she considered my love of novelty and shared experiences - and came up with this way of presenting her accomplishment according to these principles; these techniques for controlling the reveal.

All of this *could* be true. That Elanor consciously processed, analysed the data. Her understanding of me. Maybe, perhaps, possibly.

But I think she just knew.

Familiarity. Expectation. Recognition. Love between aging creatures!

People are so excited that generative AI can produce ugly pictures and bland copy. But I don't think it would curl up in front of a cold heater in an empty study.

Because any relationship with a program is an illusion. It isn't love. Because love isn't defrosting the freezer. Love is defrosting the freezer while your partner's away, anticipating their response, looking forward to their joy.

[moremaybank]

overstimulation & squirting with rafe

warnings (18+), fingering, overstimulation, dacryphilia, squirting, language

author's note did i melt while writing this and have to throw myself into the freezer to become a solid form again? yes. yes i did.

rafe masterlist

imagine rafe lying beside you while you're all spread out for him on the bed. he's been fingering you for almost an hour now, constantly stuffing your cum back inside of you after each release. you're a mess, crying and crying as the overwhelming pleasure consumes your entire body. you're limp against the bed, begging for him to give you a break. he shushes you almost mockingly, his lips moving against your cheek as he watched your reactions up close. "i can't understand what you're saying through those pretty tears, mama." he pumps his fingers into you faster, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing the swollen bud in time with his thrusts, "did you say you wanted more?" your hips writhe around furiously, your thighs moving to clamp together but unable to find the strength to keep them there. "uh, uh," rafe says, "you know better than that, baby. you take what i give you, and you don't complain." he spreads your thighs once again, resuming the fast pace he was forced to slow down earlier. "r— rafe. ple— please," you cry incoherently, your hands now covering your face as you sob into them. "c'mon, baby. you can give me one more. it'll feel so fucking good when you do," he promises, thumb applying more pressure to your clit. "just one more. soak the sheets like i know you can, princess." your walls flutter yet again at his words, and you feel the wave fast approaching you. your breath hitches, your sobs pausing as you feel your orgasm hitting you like a freight train. "there we go, princess. there we go. let it all out," rafe encourages as you cum loudly. your juices erupt out of you, and rafe keeps up his motions, letting you ride out the high for as long as possible. "o—okay. no more," you gasp, trying to gain control of your breathing. but rafe doesn't listen. he straight up ignores you, instead quickening his actions and overstimulating you. the coil in your lower belly was burning profusely, your pussy sore from rafe's rough movements and your clit aching. he curls his fingers inside of you, stroking against your sweet spot quickly. your exhausted walls quiver and you fell over the edge again. with each curl of his digits rafe pulled more and more of your juices from you. it’s never-ending, and his wish of you soaking the sheets definitely comes true. "keep going, baby. fuck, just like that. look at you. can you hear how fucking wet you are?" he says as you continue to drench his hand. "i'm so fucking proud of you."

[ellabsbb]

⋰˚☆ barista ellie headcannons ☕️

.⋆ first of all she looks SO hot in the uniform im drooling. okay sorry moving on

.⋆ wears the work hat backwards daily even though she gets yelled at by management for it every time

.⋆ you know what they say about gay baristas 🫡 she’s putting her whole ellussy into those drinks

.⋆ tries to flirt with a older lady and gets laughed at by her coworkers bc it goes so bad 😭 and she’s so embarrassed she has to go do some laps in the freezer

.⋆ literally is starstruck when she first sees you

.⋆ she stutters through the “how can i help you today” lmao

.⋆ gives you a pastry “on the house” which she immediately got in trouble for and it came out of her paycheck but she didn’t care because it was so worth it to see you smile like that

.⋆ has your order memorized by heart

.⋆ writes goofy lame pick up lines on your cup everyday

.⋆ “know what’s next on the menu? me n u” “are you wifi? because i feel a connection” “i lost my phone #, can i borrow yours?”

.⋆ acts sooo chill and nonchalant when you finally give her your number … only to start doing like. jumping jacks and dancing when you walk out of the shop LOL

.⋆ blushes sooo hard when you tell her you love the way she smells like coffee beans

.⋆ and then she stupidly smells her own armpit or something

.⋆ dresses up real nice for your first date and even asks joel if she looks good. (the real nice in question being a baby blue button up and jeans) (joel says yes) (and she totally calls him after and squeals in excitement to him that you said she looked good)

[stardusksx]

ೀ⋆｡ ˚ ALWAYS COME HOME. aaron hotchner x bau!reader

summary: hotch seems to be doing everything in his power to get hurt, and that scares you. ( takes places directly after the events of 5x02 )

not my gif! credits to creator <3

warnings: angst, fluff, bau!reader, established relationship, reader is a touch insecure in the relationship but hotch reassures, f*yet, no use of y/n, mentions of self-destructive/suicidal behaviour, arguments, happy ending because i’m not self-destructive :) ( word count: 1.85k )

You didn’t know how late it was, just that the sky had long since darkened and your body ached from the seemingly endless day. But it wasn’t the twilight hour that had drained you— it was watching your boyfriend carelessly stride into a hostage situation like he was simply going to get some groceries.

He hadn’t said anything to you about his plan. Hadn’t said anything to anyone. Instead, you had to stare at his back— devoid of a bullet vest— in disbelief as he disappeared into a house occupied by a child serial killer and his son, the unsub who had been profiled as mentally unwell and unstable. It had been too late to stop him, too late to ask him just what in the hell he was thinking.

You could ask him now. But you didn’t have the energy to argue, so instead you said nothing. You quietly shrugged off your coat as he followed you into the shared apartment, hanging it on one of the pegs.

“It’s a bit late to cook anything, do you want to order in?” he asks, lingering in the doorway.

You hummed noncommittally, placing your bag on the table and unpacking a few items you’d need to put back in the safe later.

He paused. You tried to act like there was nothing amiss. “Or we could get the lasagne out of the freezer that Jessica brought over last week?”

“Whatever you want.” You respond, and the silence lingers for a few contemplative beats. You don’t glance up at him.

“Are you angry at me?”

You inhale, hands halting in their movements. You hadn’t expect him to bring it up— he’d been one track minded lately, so consumed by foyet that you’d started to think something trivial like you giving him the cold shoulder would fly under his radar. And even if he had noticed it, you didn’t think he’d care. With losing his son, being taunted by a serial killer, you wouldn’t blame him for having little capacity for anything else.

You look at him. His brows are furrowed. You look away.

“I’m fine. ” You answer simply, going back to racking through your bag for something— what, you weren’t even sure now, but some insecure part of you didn’t want to have this conversation. Like he had bigger things to be concerned about than your feelings, and you could already see how it was going to go down. He was hard to reason with when he was like this.

But he also wasn’t one to let things go unresolved. He spoke your name pointedly. When you glanced at him, he hadn’t moved from his position near the door, briefcase discarded by his feet.

“Fine. Yes, i’m angry, Aaron.” You continue rooting around your bag, “What you did was reckless, and you could have been hurt or—” you could have been killed. It hangs in the air between you, unsaid but obvious. Over a month had elapsed since he’d been hospitalised after the foyet’s attack, and you hadn’t really had an outlet for all of the fear that had flooded you over those days. It hadn’t been about you— he was the one who needed the comfort, or, well, as close to comfort as Hotch would accept. In reality, he’d been so focused in on finding Foyet from the minute he woken up that you hadn’t even had a moment to express it to him. And that was okay. Really, it hadn’t been about you. But god, when there was a moment you didn’t know if he’d ever wake up, it was the worst you had ever felt in your life.

He was quiet for a moment before he said, in that blasé way of his, “But i wasn’t.”

The words infuriated you. A sharp burst of anger clawed it’s way through your veins, you whipped around to face him. And there he stood— arms folded, brows furrowed in that assessing way of his. Sometimes, just a little bit, you hated how stoic he could be.

“But you could have been!” You snapped, “Obviously, seeing you walk in there like you have nothing to loose is a fucking problem to me, Aaron. It's like you’re trying to get killed. So i’m not just angry, i’m terrified. As if worrying about Foyet being after you isn’t enough, you're purposely putting yourself in harm's way.”

He watched you for a moment, giving away nothing. But you’d learned him over the years, know the way that he thinks. Even when he isn’t talking, isn’t blinking, you could tell what was going on in his head. Yet, sometimes, you needed him to show you. It was exhausting always having to infer. “I made a call,” He spoke your name like he was reasoning with you, “It’s what i thought was best in the situation, and i’ll admit that the outcome wasn’t what i’d hoped for. But I stand by it— someone needed to try and get through to the unsub.”

“I don't think you gave it much thought at all, actually.” You bit back sharply, taking a step towards him, “No vest, no conferring with the team, no communication about your choice of actions. Tell me, what is best about that? Because i’m god damn sure that a couple of months ago you would have never done something so erratic.”

And there it was— the topic you’d been tiptoeing around, what this was really about. No one wanted to dictate how he was navigating everything with Foyet, but as time ticked by, his actions were starting to become more and more worrying. Of course, all of it was going to affect him. But this was a path of self destruction.

“Well a couple months ago I made calls that led to a bus full of people being murdered and Morgan knocked out cold while a psychopathic serial killer could have quite easily ended him. So, excuse me if I had to make some adjustments.”

“So that’s it? You expect me to just watch you put yourself in harm's way and pat you on the back afterwards? Great. That’s just perfect, Aaron. It’s not like I love you or anything. It’s not like it makes me physically sick at the thought of you…” Your hands fly up in exasperation. He watches and watches and watches. He’s always so, unbelievably, calm.

There’s one brief flicker, a barely noticeable swallow in his throat. But his stoicism does not fracture. “All of those lives are not worth the price of mine. If I have to put myself in harm's way, then so be it.”

You blink at him incredulously. He stares back.

“Unbelievable.” You mutter, a scoff leaving your lips. You step away, wishing to look at anything but him. “I’m going to get changed.”

You don’t wait for him to reply. He probably doesn't anyways. The bedroom door shuts behind you, frustrated tears that had been building up finally flowing freely. You kicked off shoes and items of clothing, stepping under the shower head and letting ribbons of hot water cascade down your skin. It felt, for a moment, like you could relax.

But then you remembered how he might not have come home. How he could have been in some morgue instead of the next room. The water became too hot, suffocating, and you hastily shut off the tap and stepped away from the lingering steam.

You’re exhausted, and part of you just wanted him to fold you into his arms and tell you that it would all be okay. But you couldn’t expect that of him now. It was Aaron who needed the support. And you could be that— tomorrow, when the freshness of your frustrations had time to dim and you could look at him without thinking about how close you’d been to losing him. Now, you need to sleep.

Stepping out into the bedroom, you expect it to be vacant. But instead he sits on the edge of the bed, quickly looking up when he hears the door crack open. You avoid his eyes as they watch you rummage through draws for your clothes.

He says your name. You pretend not to hear. He says it louder. You pause, but do not turn to him, and the soft sound of his feet against the carpet precedes the feeling of his presence behind you. His hands slide up your forearms, and suddenly a sob was trapping itself in your throat.

“Honey…” He whispers, willing you to face him. Reluctantly, you turn around, avoiding his gaze. His hands engulfed your face anyway and coaxed your eyes to his.

“You could be the only thing left in my life and that would be all the reasons in the world to make sure I came back home.” His thumbs wiped away tears you hadn’t realised had been shed, “I’m sorry that I scared you. If it was the other way around I'd—” He shook his head, “I don’t know what I'd do. If i’m honest, all i’ve been for the past month is afraid. Of losing Jack, of losing you. I don’t know which way is worse— that Jack is away from me and I can't be the one who protects him, or that you’re right here and I still might fail to protect you. I don’t know how to think about anything else.”

He pushed away damp strands of your hair, “I don’t want to die. I don’t. I just suppose that all I'm thinking about is catching Foyet that every second I spend away from searching for leads is another second I could be too late in saving someone I love. I think it’s why I rushed into that house, i just wanted the case over with so I could get back to Foyet. But I shouldn't have done it. You’re right.” He inhaled, “I want this all over with. I want us to be able to spend the weekend taking Jack to the park, and I want to tuck him into bed at night knowing I'll be making him pancakes in the morning. And I want to wake up next to you for the rest of my life knowing that nothing could take you away.“

“I want that too,” You said softly, “And we’ll get there, I know it. But please, I need you to take care of yourself. I can’t lose you, Aaron.”

“You won’t. I promise.” He assured, conviction laced in his words. Then, “I love you.”

One hand still on your face, the other reached down to pull you into him by the small of the back. It had been so long since your kisses had been anything but fleeting that the feverishness in which he pressed his lips to yours caught you by surprise for a moment. But, god, it was everything that you needed.

Arms wrapping around his neck, you melted into him like it was the easiest thing since the beginning of time. And even if he had doubts about his ability to protect you, there would never be a place in the world where you felt more safe than in his embrace.

[arieslost]

hi love! hope you’re having a great day. could you write something where the reader is oscar sisters best friend? thanks for reading my message!

anon YES! i loved writing this.

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

best friend���s brother | op81

your best friend never told you that her older brother was off limits, but she never said he wasn’t, either.

that still didn’t stop you from catching feelings for him, and you’d rather die than go up to her and say, “hey, i’m in love with oscar, is it okay if we date?” mostly because now you know oscar wants you too, and to be honest, it’s kind of fun keeping it a secret.

you saw him about as much as his family did— most of the time he was away for work, but the next race was his home one, and he arrived a week early. you, of course, being his sister’s best friend, practically lived at the piastri house half the time, and ended up being there for his homecoming. the side hug he’d given you was expected, but the wink he sent your way when he started climbing the stairs to his room was not.

you replayed that moment over and over in your head for the rest of the day, until eventually you found yourself struggling to sleep and decided to go down to the kitchen for some water.

silently slipping out of the guest room, you were careful to tread lightly down the stairwell, avoiding all the creaky spots with practiced ease. you didn’t want to wake anyone up, most of all the object of all the thoughts that were keeping you awake.

though, all your effort was for naught when you saw that the overhead sink light was on in the kitchen, and none other than oscar himself was quietly getting ice out of the freezer. his hair looked unbelievably soft and slightly messy, like he was running his hands through it. he was wearing an older looking pair of gray joggers, and worst of all, he wasn’t wearing a shirt. you’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times, but one look was all it took to notice that he had most definitely filled out since you last saw him.

your mind was screaming at you to abort mission, abort mission, because you couldn’t be alone with him when he’s half naked like this, but when you shifted to make your retreat, you stepped on the wrong floorboard. it groaned obnoxiously loudly, and your eyes met oscar’s.

“can’t sleep?”

you shook your head. “uh-uh. figured i’d get a drink and see if that helps.”

“ah, we had the same idea then.” he smiled softly. “sit down, i’ll get it for you.”

“thanks, oz.” the childhood nickname slipped easily from your lips as you crossed the kitchen and lifted yourself up onto the counter nearest to him. “having a good season so far?”

“yeah, pretty good. good progression with the car, almost got a podium last race.”

“i know,” you said, looking down at your lap when he raised his eyebrows at you. “i watched.”

he hummed, handing you a glass and holding his own up. “cheers.”

you clinked your glass against his and took a sip before putting it to the side. “no teasing remarks?”

“nah, i think it’s cute.” he grinned, taking another drink and setting his own glass down. “my number one fangirl.”

“and there it is,” you rolled your eyes, though his quiet laughter was infectious and you couldn’t help joining in. “i’m your sister’s best friend, obviously i’m gonna watch.”

“and it has nothing to do with me?” he asked with a faux pout, flattening a palm right next to you on the counter so he could lean a bit closer.

“do you want it to?” you rested your hand inches away from his and closed the gap between the two of you a little.

“i think it already does.” his other hand slid between your thighs and forced them apart so he could move into the new space and effectively cage you to where you sat on the counter. “y’know, i almost kissed you in front of everyone earlier.”

“why didn’t you?” you whispered, eyes fluttering when his nose brushed yours.

“wanted it to happen when we were alone.” you could practically feel his lips against your own when he spoke, but you also really wanted him to make the first move.

running on the pure adrenaline stemming from your close proximity to the man you want more than anything in the world, you ran your palms over the back of his hands, up his forearms, past his biceps, and settled them on his bare shoulders. “oz…”

“yeah,” he replied, like he knew everything you were trying to say, before he finally closed the distance between you.

immediately, you knew you were addicted to kissing him. the way his mouth moved against yours, the way he wrapped your legs around his hips and held your knees to keep them there, the way he sighed when your fingers slid into his hair. you no longer wanted anything more than you wanted to keep kissing him even after all the breath left your lungs.

he took his time kissing you, keeping everything slow, soft, and gentle. there was no tongue, no teeth, no desperation. if either of you felt anything, it was relief.

finally.

it’s the first thing you said when you broke apart, causing him to smile before pulling you right back in. he kissed you again, and again, until your lips were swollen and you heard someone move around upstairs, breaking you out of your lovestruck trance.

“i’ll see you in the morning,” he whispered as you slid off the counter, reaching down and tangling your fingers with his and giving your hand a squeeze.

a squeeze that promises subtle glances across the table at breakfast, fleeting touches in the stairwell, and many more late night kisses.

word count: 957

masterlist — join my tag list here!

note: i got very creative with the title (not). i can’t believe i’ve never thought to write this before!!! omg this was so delicious.

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever

[fullofgutsndopamine]

i’m half doomed (and you’re semi sweet)

tw: mention of fighting, flashback of fighting,hasan is kind of a dick, angst if you squint, unspecific fighting, mention of break up

more here

there’s loud giggling coming from deep in the house.

honestly you didn’t realize how much you missed it until just now, just realizing how lacking it was, how quiet the house was without hasan’s loud footsteps and constant bumping around.

“Aurora-“

you call gently, just as hasan rounds the corner, his hair a million different ways and a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Speak of the devil.”

you say lowly, hoping that the only person who heard it was hasan and not his twin that is two steps behind him, constantly colliding with the back of his legs.

“Mama,” she buries her face into your legs until you kneel down, moving the mop of curly hair out of her eyes when she speaks again. “Can Papa stay?”

it’s a question, not a demand.

“Oh,” hasan says quickly, panic evident in his eyes. this is definitely not something he was prepared for, “baby-“

“Baby,” you coo, the spoon resting on the oven, “We have an early morning tomorrow-“

“and-“ hasan’s knees crack as he kneels on the tile of the kitchen, his hands a claw as he tickles her belly, “someone has to get some good sleep because someone has a birthday tomorrow. I wonder who that could be-“

she giggles, her hands go into hasan’s hair as she gently pulls at it and he continues to tease her:

“who’s birthday is it tomorrow? Hm, I can not for the life of me remember-“

she giggles, climbs onto his knee and pulls at the corner of his eyes, pulls at the corner of his lips until he’s smiling:

“it’s mine, Papa!”

he gasps:

“it’s yours?!” he shakes his head, “absolutely not. you’re my baby you aren’t allowed to get older-“

you have to turn away. it’s too sweet, reminds you of when things were briefly okay-when hasan was home and didn’t have dark bags under his eyes, when he would actually come around and help-those long nights out when he came home reeking of cigarettes and in stained clothes, how your voice cracked as you begged to not be a single parent (or at least, what felt like one)

hasan’s eyes flash to yours as he stands, Aurora thrown over his shoulder. his voice drops as he leans in, and you try to ignore how you can feel his hot breath against your ear:

“i’ll leave soon. i’m sorry-“

suddenly meek and mild, not the hasan who made himself known, had no problem with that-

“Papa,” Aurora sticks her head out from behind his back, “Stay for supper? it’s just me and mama-“

his eyes snap to yours. his, wide with worry and like a deer in headlights, trying to not fuck up this co parent thing.

“Baby-“

“Mama,” Aurora pleads, “Please?”

her eyes are wide and sad and they suddenly look very much like hasan’s

“Well,” your eyes shoot to wilbur’s, “If Papa doesn’t have any plans-“

Aurora doesn’t hear that part. hears exclusively the yes that she got and squeals as hasan tries to steady her on his shoulder.

“hope you weren’t busy.” you smirk. you’re teasing, obviously, as you stir the pasta on the stove.

“Go wash your hands, babe.” hasan says gently, sets her on the floor and watches as she runs towards the restroom, still squeaking.

“Nah.” He shrugs, leaning over the stove now, finally answering. “i had a frozen pizza with my name on it but honestly-“

his hand dips into the pan on the stove, where there’s some sauce the chicken lays in. his finger connects, drags through it and brings it to his mouth with a happy sigh before you can smack his hand away:

“no, no.” he finally says, wipes his finger on his worn jeans, “this was much better, anyways.”

“what, freezer burned pizza doesn’t cut it these days?” you tease back against your better judgment, “you’ve changed.”

He laughs and the side of his eyes crinkle and the bags under his eyes are more evident and you try to shake it off before you can over think it.

“Look-“

Aurora comes back into the kitchen, all but stomping as she gets to the table:

“Mama,” She pulls her chair back, “Papa can sit next to me. I’ll get him a plate!”

You turn the flame off the stove and reach over, grabbing a plate and handing it off to Aurora, who tangled her hand into her father’s and drags him to the table with his plate.

dinner isn’t even as uncomfortable as you imagined. you imagined him clearing his throat, desperately looking for something to say, or having to take an emergency phone call to try and make himself leave early-

instead, he listens contently to every word aurora says. gasps at the appropriate times when she tells stories, knows when to gently remind her to focus on trying to eat; he falls back into the routine you two had like no time had passed. it was comforting, in a way, but knew the familiar ache would come back when he left

instead, you ignore it for your daughter. try to push it down and make it a problem for tonight-already knowing sleep won’t be on the agenda anyways, so this is something you can overthink again and again until your forced to pace in your kitchen by the light of the stove-

“I mean,” hasan clears his throat, “it depends on what your mama thinks-“

“Hm?”

you try to not make it obvious you weren’t listening, lost in your own thoughts.

“I said,” Aurora huffs, “Papa should stay and read me a bedtime story! for my birthday, mama!”

hasan looks sad in his seat. like it hit him that he’s doomed to a lifetime of day before or day after, always belated birthdays with his daughter, always an excuse or a reason-

“babe-“

you can tell by the way hasan speaks he’s setting it up to gently let her down, to try and slowly pull the dagger out of her back

“that sounds like a good idea to me,” you stay instead, “I think you have a new book Papa would like too-“

hasan’s head snaps up so quick at your voice you’re briefly afraid he’s going to break his own neck.

“M-me?”

his finger is hard against his own chest, his voice borders on shock or disgusted, you aren’t sure which one yet-

“Put your plate in the sink, Rory.” you say gently instead, “And then you can show papa your book.”

she squeals as she hops off the chair, drops the plate and goes back to hasan, where her fingers tangled into his and she pulls him away.

enough time has passed and the house is quiet enough you can hear the sinks steady stream of water fall from the faucet, a leak you can never remember to fix, that you finally figure you should check to see why it’s so quiet.

your hands play with the bottom of the old shirt you wear, suddenly aware of the old clothing and how dirty and stained it is-how for a while, hasan would be dressed up when he got home, when things were briefly okay-white button ups untucked out of jeans after a long shift, the buttons undone on the sleeve and how they were crookedly shoved up to his elbows-

a deep breath, insisting the worst-a toddler meltdown, hasan frustrated and near tears or him just gone, somehow escaped through the front door as you devoured the silence of a dinner you haven’t had in years

instead as you nudgethe bright yellow door open, you find hasan-

the bed is far too small for him; his feet dangle off the edge of them and you know his neck and back are going to hurt the next day now-but instead of a meltdown he lays on his back in the too small bed and on his chest, a little head curled under his chin with the blanket drawn up to her own neck, eyes closed and fast asleep but hasan still gently flips through the book, his voice low and steady as he reads gently in her ear-

“you’ve always had some special talent for being able to put her right to sleep.”

he laughs, closes the book and sets it on the nightstand where a picture of the three of them at a pumpkin patch years ago lays-Aurora on your hip, hasan’s face pressed against yours and silly smiles on your faces, cheeks pink from the wind blowing-

“i’ve always said i was boring,” he sighs, ruffles Aurora’s hair gently, “Guess that confirms it.”

“come on,” you roll your eyes, “I have coffee for the road for you. Just how you like it.”

he hesitates for a second. a careful kiss to the crown of auroras head, before he starts the gentle dance of untangling himself from her. limbs appears slowly; an arm, a leg, a torso-Aurora never stirs; a heavy sleeper like her father as he ducks out of the room.

in the kitchen you carefully pour black coffee into a to go cup, making sure the temperature is right before putting half a packet of splenda (the yellow package only, the one you keep far in the back of the cabinet for him, for these rare visits, in hopes he’ll come back) before securing the lid and handing it over.

hasan takes a sip, savors it as he groans and closes his eyes, really enjoying every sip.

“I needed that, princess,” he sighs, “thank you.”

princess hangs in the air and you try to not let it overpower you. try to not let him see the pink that climbs up your face with the old familiar name

i miss you, you think. the bed is too big without you. instead it comes out; “Any plans for the night?”

he takes another long sip of coffee before answering: “nah.” and he leaves it at that.

you snort, “i have a pack of 25 multi colored balloons that need to be blown up if you’re bored.”

you’re teasing. it’s obvious, at least you think. previous birthdays where hasan would be poured over the scratched up table in the front room, slowly, carefully, blowing up balloons until he collapsed back in the seat always insists this is the last year he would be doing this. you tried to bite back the sting when you think that time actually was the last time.

“Yeah,” hasan nods, locks his lips: “sure, i’ll do those real quick-“

“hasan,” you scoff, “you don’t have to-“

he throws back the last of the coffee, shakes his head: “it’s the least i can do. always your least favorite part. i’ll be quick, and then i’ll leave, i promise.”

out of habit when he says promise your pinky goes in the air and as if he’s never left, hasn’t stopped doing it, his pinky immediately wraps around yours, shakes once, falls

“where the usually are, yeah?”

hasan asks but doesn’t give you time to answer before he digs through the drawer, comes out with his victory, the small plastic bag of balloons.

hasan sits on the couch, gently blows them up, acts like he doesn’t hate it as you carefully unfold the banner of letters that read out happy birthday in various pastel colors as you struggle you hang it over the picture window.

“why don’t you let me do this?”

you feel hasan’s hand on the small of your back before you can even register his voice.

“remember,” he said gently, his voice low like he’s afraid he’s overdoing it, “before-you’d wrap the presents and i’d hang the banner-“

“because i could never reach the top-“

you both finish at the same time.

your hand is still in the air as you turn to face him: “and you always insisted on playing the beatles version of happy birthday as we did it. again and again-“

“i know,” he smiles, “and you’d always swear you couldn’t sleep the next three nights because it was stuck in your head.”

“that’s right.” you’re finally laughing, leaving out how you haven’t listened to that song in years now, “again and again-“

gently, he grabs the side of the banner out of your hands and has a hand on your hip as he gently supervisors you walking off the ladder before he takes your spot.

when he turns around you’re back and he knows from the old box in your hands immediately what’s next:

“the usual place?” he says gently, instead of the old comments he’d usually spit out; ‘again?’ or ‘this is so fucking stupid. she doesn’t want these pictures out’

you pass him the first photo, the frame half broken and super glued back together,permanent fingerprint stains on it that you can’t get out no matter how long you scrub or soak it-

“she was so fucking tiny.”

if you didn’t doubt yourself, you’d think hasan’s voice cracked, bordered on a whimper as his fingers danced over the silhouette of her in the frame. the day you brought her back from the hospital; hasan’s clothes are wrinkled and the bags under his eyes are big, even though his eyes are downcast and he’s looking at the tiny pink bundle of blankets in his hand with such a proud smile

“you were so afraid you were going to drop her,” you finally say as you set the final photo out, “i’m surprised i got you to take that picture.”

he carefully sets it on the table like he’s afraid it’ll break, but you realize it’s angled towards him as he sits back in the chair and brings a balloon to his mouth

“you can help me bake the cake,” you say gently as you sit on the armrest of what use to be his chair, “if you aren’t busy.”

your hand rests on his shoulder, plays with the tip of his collared shirt that’s wrinkled:

“might as well stay.” you try again. “p-please. Aurora”you shake your head, “aurora would be thrilled to see you.” you get out.

stay you think let’s get this right i can get this right

he nods slowly: “i’m here.”

and you recognize the weight in it, how you waited for this, as his hand drops into yours and follows you to the kitchen.

[pitchsidestories]

familia II Irene Paredes/Barça Femeni x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1991

a/n: based off this lovely request here. Thank you for sending us so many great requests !

You loved training camps with the FC Barcelona. They were always loads of fun. The players seemed happy and the weather was great. But this time, you were also painfully reminded how exhausting camp life could be. As the team doctor, you had to be there for their medical needs at all times and the past few days, the players had kept you quite busy. So busy, in fact, that you barely had time for your girlfriend.

In a quiet moment during your lunch break, your girlfriend snaked her arm around your waist and whispered into your ear: “Let’s do something tonight. Only us two.“

There was something impatient in her eyes as you turned towards her. You were glad to hear that she missed your alone-time as much as you did.

“Yes, that sounds great.“, you smiled.

The two of you did not even have the time for a quick kiss as another stumbled into the treatment room.

Patri stopped right in front of you and heaved an annoyed sigh: “Hey, Doc. We need an ice pack.“

“An ice pack? Patri, tell me quickly what happened.“, you urged her sternly.

As a response, the young midfielder rolled her eyes: “Claudias finger got trapped in the door. Nothing happened but she is pouting.“

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that.“, you promised and took an ice pack out of the freezer.

“Thanks.“, Patri said while leading you and Irene to the injured player.

Claudia stood in front of the dressing room, holding her finger. Her brows were furrowed and for some reason, she reminded you of an oversized toddler.

“Claudia. I heard about the accident with your finger.“, you started and held out your hand so she would show you her finger.

While you examined her hand, she complained: “That was Patris fault.“

The older player took a deep breath in an attempt to protest but one look from Irene made her close her mouth immediately.

Her finger seemed fine but still, you could not stop yourself from hugging her: “Oh, Claudia. Do you need some ice?“

She nodded, her big blue eyes widened: “Yes.“

You handed her the ice pack: “You’re welcome.“

“I told you it wasn’t that bad.“, Patri scoffed, slightly annoyed.

“It’ll be alright.“, you promised them both before the two players disappeared into the dressing room.

Irene should have followed but instead her arms wrapped around your body once again. With a fond smile, she said: “Can’t wait for tonight.“

“Me neither.“, you replied happily but someone else quickly caught your attention.

Mapi was on the pitch and tried to do some tricks with the football. One of her knees was still in a brace after her meniscus injury.

Your heart sank for a moment, watching her rather reckless moves: “Mapi, be careful!“

“I’m fine.“, she answered nonchalantly, keeping her focus on the ball.

“Think of your knee, Maria!“, you yelled back at her.

As you had suspected, this got her attention. She stopped and grimaced at you: “Maria?!“

“So, you know I’m serious about it.”, you crossed your arms in front of your chest.

With a smirk on her face the defender tried to reassure you:” Calm down, I’m fine.”

“Please be careful with your knee, okay? It needs a bit more resting time to properly heal.”, you sighed.

She couldn’t help but to roll her eyes at your protectiveness:” Yeah, mum.”

“Don’t mum me, Maria. We’re only two years apart!”, you reminded her.

“Then stop acting like a mum.”, Mapi countered.

Quickly you corrected the football player: “I’m not, it’s my advice to you as a doctor.”

“Sure, mum.”, Mapi responded in a teasingly tone.

You groaned and demanded from her to stop it.

Grinning Irene who you haven’t noticed while having your talk with the younger player joined the conversation:” But our children would behave better.”

“Lies. They would do the same.”, the heavily tattooed Spaniard disagreed.

“I strongly believe they wouldn’t be as annoying.”, you joked as you exchanged knowingly looks with your girlfriend. You were able to communicate with each other without words which was helpful on and off the pitch.

The peaceful moment between you two was interrupted once again by a player, this time it was Mapi: “Yeah, they would.”

Afterwards she promised to be more careful with her knee. You knew how much you asked of her, as an athlete all they want to do is play with a ball at their feet. Every injury was a reminder that their time as football players was short and could end at any moment.

A bit later the rest of her teammates arrived in their training clothes. Watching Keira, you gasped out loud:” Oh my god, Keira. Have you forgot your sunscreen again?”

“Why? What do you mean?”, Keira frowned at you.

Frustratedly you pointed to the sky, the sun was still intense even in the afternoon:” It’s so sunny outside, you need to protect your skin.”

“Your nose is already getting sunburned.” Lucy stated matter-of-factly.

“You English always underestimate the sun here.”, you chuckled before handing Keira the sunscreen which has been in your bag for emergency cases like this.

The dark-haired defender who was half Portuguese protested smiling:” Hey, leave me out of this.”

“You need that sun protection too, Lucia.”, you remarked.

“Here, take it before you get in trouble.”, Keira whispered.

“Ugh fine.”, the older of the English players mumbled.

Satisfied you turned around only to be face to face to Barcelona’s captain who smirked at you:” Happy madre happy life.”

“Alexia not you too.”

“Just here to steal your girlfriend for the gym session.”, she winked at you.

“Alright, I’ll see you both at dinner. Time for me to look at the injured players.”, you announced.

With a warm smile Irene said:” Have fun.”

“You too.”, you answered. Although fun was a difficult wish to fulfil considering you had to take care of the women who were currently out of the game and they needed  extra care physically as well as mentally.

“Come on, Irene, you need to work on your muscles!“, Alexia teased as they walked side by side to the gym.

Irenes jaw dropped open: “Excuse me?!“

Alexia grinned back at her: “You heard me.“

“Go work on your knee instead.“, Irene laughed and playfully pushed her teammate in the direction of the gym doors.

Alexia rolled her eyes: “You sound like your girlfriend.“

“Someone has to tell you.“, Irene shrugged while starting with her workout plan under the supervision of one of the physios.

Her teammate followed suit: “Yeah, I know.“

The two football players worked in silence for a while until Alexia gave Irene an inquisitive look: “Were you serious about the children earlier?“

Surprised by the question, Irene paused her exercise and laughed: “About actual children? We already have you.“

“And?“, Alexia shrugged.

The defender continued to feign cluelessness: “And what?“

“Just letting you know that we’d be there for you two when you decide to have actual children.“

“Thanks. We appreciate that.“, Irene replied casually.

Alexia just smiled knowingly and focused on her workout again: “You’re welcome.“

Dinner was one of the few regular moments in camp when you and Irene had some time for each other. Her hair was still damp from the shower when she sat down next to you. She had the same satisfied expression her face that she always had after a good workout.

“Hi, how was your gym session?“, you greeted her while filling her glass with water, making sure she was adequately hydrated.

Irene gratefully took a sip before answering: “Good, really. But Ale was weird.“

“Weirder than usual?“

She softly chuckled: “Yes.“

“What did she do?“, you asked curiously.

Irene lowered her voice so the other players on your table would not hear her: “She said something about supporting us if we’d actually wanted to have children one day.“

“Wait, that doesn’t sound like Ale at all.“, you joked.

“No, it doesn’t.“

“Strange.“, you commented. Subconsciously, you looked at Alexia on the neighbouring table. A tablet was propped up in front of her while she ate. You assumed that she once again looked at video footage of games and training sessions. “Ale?“

She looked up in surprise: “Huh?“

“It’s not a match day tomorrow. Take a break, you don’t need to overwork yourself.“, you gently reminded her.

“I’m not.“, she protested, her eyes darting back to the screen.

You raised an eyebrow: “Promise?“

She gave a you a small smile: “Promise.“

“Okay.“, you sighed and turned back to your dinner.

Irenes elbow bumped against yours just as you were about to finish eating. She pointed outside the dining room window: “Y/n, want to go to the beach now? The sun is about to set.“

You carefully put your fork down and again glanced over to Alexia who was still focused on her screen: “Sure.“

“Come on, she’ll be fine.“, Irene smiled comforting at you.

After one last look at the captain, you admitted:” You’re right.”

With that said your girlfriend stood up, holding her hand out for you take it:” Let’s go.”

“Coming.”, you reassured her.

Silently you walked to the beach, enjoying each other’s company after a long workday. The sand was still warm underneath your feet even though the sun was about to set. The sky was pink and purple shaded.

Irene was the first to speak again:” It’s nice here.”

“I agree, also the calmness feels nice after such an eventful day.”, you replied, admiring the scenery in front of you.

The defender smirked at you:” Quite busy with our children, right?”

“Yeah, but I’d not change a thing about it. I love them.”, you confessed smiling fondly while thinking about the players.

“Me too. Mostly.”, she responded.

Amused you lifted an eyebrow:” Mostly?”

“They can be annoying.”, Irene shrugged her shoulders.

Slowly you agreed:” Yes, sometimes.”

“But I’d not swap them for anything else.”, your girlfriend replied in an honest tone.

Thoughtfully you nodded to her remark:” Me neither, they are family.”

“They are.”

As the waves crashed to the shore your lips touched for a heartfelt kiss. Afterwards you two still leaned your foreheads together, eyes closed, enjoying the moment.

“If we ever have real children, we’re well prepared.”, Irene whispered.

Hearing her saying this out loud made you yearn for a family of your own:” Yes, they would welcome them in immediately, I’ve no doubt about that.”

“I’m sure.”, she sounded sincere.

“Are you thinking about starting to try for children?”, you cautiously asked her.

Nervously the defender licked her lips:” I mean it’s a nice thought to have children one day.” For a moment Irene paused before adding, would you want that too?”

“I do, yes.”

Your girlfriends face lit up with giddy excitement:” So we’re trying it?”

“Yeah, we’ll.” Suddenly you were interrupted by her teammates who were running towards you.

“What?”, startled Irene looked at them.

Equally confused you wanted to know from the other women:” Girls, what’s going on?”

“It’s time to celebrate.”, Patri declared grinning.

Curiously you continued: “To celebrate, what?”

“Just to celebrate.”, Alexia waved it off beaming.

Baffled Irene turned to the midfielder who she has been friends with for a very long time:” Ale, were you guys listening to us the whole time?!”

“Maybe.”, she answered with an innocent smile.”

“So, yes. God that’s so embarrassing.”, you groaned.

Empathically Marta padded your shoulders:” We especially loved the family part.”

“Agreed.”, Alexia said.

“It’s simply the truth.”, you told them, your cheeks burning red.

“Guys that was private.”, Irene huffed at her teammates.

This made Mapi roll her eyes:” Oh please, nothing stays private during training camp.”

“Maybe we hate you now.”, you teased her.

“No, you love us.”, Patri shook her head.

With a sigh you gave in:” Yeah, fine, we do.”

Because those women were more to you than just people you worked with, they were family.

[scarletemeraldpurple]

Kinktober Day 11: Stockholm (posted a day late)

Agatha x Reader

You’re walking home from work one night and a stranger decides she needs to take you home. At least, you think she’s a stranger.

CW: Kidnapping, implied brainwashing/hypnosis (to be expanded upon in day 16’s story)

Other notes: Mommy kink, magical bondage, reader is called pet, gender neutral pet names, penetration (could be hitting the g or the p spot), no other mention of genitals

It was a day like any other. You were on the closing shift at the restaurant you worked at. You took the shortcut through the alley to your apartment. You knew it wasn’t advisable but you were exhausted and just wanted to go home. You had made it home safely enough other times, your guard was down.

Then you heard footsteps behind you. You looked, and saw a woman, she smiled and waved. Trying to make herself seem non threatening.

It worked, you waved back and went on your way. She caught up to you.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing, walking alone in an alley this late at night?Don’t you know how dangerous it can be?”She asked.

You looked at her, you were met with sculpted features and gorgeous blue eyes. “I mean I could ask the same if you.”

“I’d be more worried if I were a young little thing like you.” She replied.

You gulped.

“C’mon, I’ll make sure you get home okay.” Without asking, she put her hand on the small of your back.

You were equal parts nervous…and intrigued by the woman. “What’s your name ma’am?”

“Agatha Harkness. Lovely to meet you dear.” Suddenly she pulled you in front of her, moving the arm that was guiding you to wrap around your waist. Her other hand covered your mouth with a rag. You halted your breath.

“You’re smarter than you look, dear. But don’t make this any harder for yourself, take a nice deep breath now.”

You started to struggle and tried to yell but it was muffled by the rag. You had to breathe now.

“There you go. Sshh, Sshh,Sshh. You just have to go to sleep sweetheart. I promise I’ll get you home.”

You felt her lips against your temple before you descended into darkness.

—

You woke up chained to a bed by your hands and feet. The chains at your hands were long enough that you could sit up comfortably, but your feet couldn’t really move.

“Hey sleepyhead. Let me check your circulation.” Agatha said, rising from her chair and walking over to you. She reached for your hands and you pulled back from her.

“Alright then, feet first I suppose.” She inspected your ankles and feet, checking for any discoloration. You could obviously still move as you tried your best to flinch your feet away from her.

“Alright, nothing to worry about there. I seem to have misplaced my leather cuffs, which I’d much prefer to use on you than these metal ones. I’ll swap everything out when I find them don’t worry. Can you hold your hands up for me?”

You did as she asked, why you did so was beyond you. “Good pet now wiggle your fingers.”

You obeyed.

“Do your hands look normal to you? Feel any numbness?”

“Yes a-and no.”

“Marvelous. Now, I’m sure you’re a bit confused by all this, and that’s to be expected. Let me reintroduce myself. Hi, I’m Agatha, but I’m sure soon you’ll be calling me Mommy.”

Was this woman insane? You thought to yourself.

“I heard that.” She said.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, yes! I’m a witch! Oh my, and I’m a bit of a silly one if you can believe it.”

You looked at her, bewildered.

She snapped her fingers and the cold metal was replaced by purple energy.

“There we go. I like this better don’t you?”

You didn’t answer. You felt like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I see you’re a ‘freezer’, when it comes to the four Fs. It’s okay baby. There’s nothing to worry about, you can relax.”

You struggled against your new binds, but they seemed to have a mind of their own. Now pinning your arms to your sides and wrapping all around you like rope. They had a rhythmic pulse to them, and they were warm. It was almost like a hug. A really sick and twisted hug.

“Feels nice doesn’t it? It’s okay to admit it. I won’t tell anyone. I know you’re not ready to touch me yet, that’s why I’m wrapping you up in a big hug with my magic.”

You didn’t respond. Trying to stay focused as the rhythm pulsed around you, forcing your body to relax.

“You’re so cute with that sleepy little face, baby.”

“Please let me go.”

Agatha looked hurt. “Oh baby. I’m afraid I can’t do that, I just love you too much sweetheart.”

“I don’t even know you.”

“That’s not true baby. I’m your neighbor from upstairs, you just know me as Agnes.”

“Agnes is at least 80, what do you mean you’re Agnes?”

“Oh, well, I mean this.” Suddenly Agatha’s face changed shape to that of your neighbor. The kind face of the old lady who always dropped off some snickerdoodles around the holidays.

“How—why—“

“When you’ve been around as long as me, you have to shake things up sometimes. You also get lonely. And I think you know something about loneliness don’t you sweet pea?”

Those words cut deep into you. Your 80 year old neighbor had been your only real friend.

“But that’s okay. Because now I have you. And you’ll never be lonely again.”

The hug of her binds drew tighter around you. The rhythm lulling you into some kind of trance.

“Mommy’s got you now sweetheart. I’ll let you sleep now. I’ll be back in the morning.”

As much as you tried to fight it, it didn’t take long for your body and mind to succumb to a deep slumber.

—

You woke up cradled by her magical binds, one of them stroking your face gently. It buzzed pleasantly against your skin. You smiled for a second before you remembered where you were.

Agatha walked in with a tray of food for you. “Good morning sweetheart. I made your favorite.”

You sat up and the binds dissipated a bit, letting you use your arms as the tray was set in front of you. Agatha had made chocolate chip pancakes and what looked like a latte.

She pulled a chair up beside the bed and watched you intently. Needing to ensure her baby got enough sustenance.

“How do I know you haven’t poisoned this?”

Agatha chuckled. “Now why would I do a thing like that? Here baby, would it help if I took a bite?”

You nodded. Agatha cut herself a small bite of pancake and ate it. Licking her lips dramatically when she was done.

“Go on love, they’re still warm, the chocolate chips are all melty.

Satisfied that they weren’t poisoned, you started eating. They were the best pancakes you’d ever had.

“Good job baby.” Agatha said when you were finished. “Oh looks like you got a little chocolate on your face.”

You went to grab a napkin.

“Let Mommy get it baby.” Her tone was gentle, but she wasn’t asking.

You closed her eyes as she gently wiped the spot of chocolate off of you. Then she brushed your cheek with her thumb, just wanting to feel how soft you were.

You screwed your eyes shut at her touch and tried to maintain even breaths.

“There’s a good pet, letting Mommy touch you. I want to be gentle with you baby, can you let me?”

You opened your eyes. There was a softness in her gaze.

“Hi baby.” She moved her thumb to rub against your bottom lip. She could sense the panic rise within you. “Sshh, it’s okay. Okay enough for today then. You did so good for me, Mommy’s good pet.”

Those words Did something to you. As much as you didn’t want to admit it. Something deep inside you felt like you’d heard her say them before.

Her magic crept back up, giving you that rhythmic, full body hug once again.

“I’ll be back baby, here I’ll leave the TV on for you. I think you’ll like this program.” She said with a devious grin.

—

Agatha thought you’d be tougher to crack, for once, she was delighted to be wrong.

A week had gone by since she had taken you home. You had been letting her touch you more and more. Gentle touches all of them. Stroking your face, brushing your hair, yesterday you had let her give you a back rub without panicking.

She knew eventually you would start asking for more, and she couldn’t wait.

She came to check in on you after lunch, and found you trying to buck your hips against nothing. You froze when you saw her, embarrassed.

“Needy little thing today hm?” Agatha said, taking a seat beside you on the bed.

You whined. She scratched your scalp. “Poor little pet. All bound up, can’t get any relief can you?” She wondered how much more she’d have to push you.

“Mm…Mommy?” You said tentatively.

Agatha’s eyes lit up. “Yes baby? You need Mommy?”

You nodded.

“Can you tell Mommy what you need baby?”

You thought for a second.

“Or should Mommy just decide for you?” You heard her voice in your head decide.

You looked at her with wide eyes. She wrapped her hand around the back of your head and pulled you in for a kiss. Gentle at first, but when you whimpered into her mouth she lost her composure, and soon you were sucking her tongue deeper into your mouth.

“Mommy’s good pet.” She murmured when she broke away. You felt pleasure at those words, you still didn’t know why but you also didn’t care. You needed her. You needed Mommy to touch you. To take care of you.

“I know baby, don’t you worry your cute little head. Mommy will take care of everything, and you just have to take it.”

She pulled up her skirt, revealing a big purple strap.

“Mommy, what if I can’t take it?”

“Sh sh, I said not to worry. Mommy will make it fit baby.”

She laid you down and kissed down your neck, down your chest, marking your body up. She spread your legs, taking in how eager your body was for her.

She summoned a bottle of lube over and spread some on your hole and over her long fingers. “Gotta warm my baby up, I’d never want to hurt you baby. Well, unless you needed to be punished, but I don’t think I have to worry about that.” She cooed as she worked a finger in, feeling around for your most sensitive spot.

You gasped when she found it. Your mouth hung open when she worked in a second finger.

“Awe look at you, loosing your words from just 2 fingers, pet?”

You whimpered. “Feels so good Mommy.”

She smiled at you. “I’m so glad baby. I can’t wait to see you stretched out on Mommy’s big cock.”

The head was thick, with a ridge around it, it kind of ‘popped’ into you, next was the relatively smooth shaft. You were grateful, not sure if you could have handled more texture at this size.

“Almost there baby, you’re doing so well for me.” Agatha assured you.

You let your eyes close as she fucked the rest of her length into you.

“Uh uh baby, look at me while I fuck you.” Agatha instructed.

You complied. She held both your hands down as she started to fuck you nice and slow.

“There’s Mommy’s good pet,taking me so well. You feel so good squeezing around my cock baby. Am I filling you up just right baby?”

“Yes Mommy, yes Mommy…”

“Awww, is it hard to think with Mommy’s cock in you sweet thing? That’s okay, pets don’t need to think. They just have to listen to Mommy, let Mommy take care of everything sweetheart.”

Agatha loved the fucked out look on your face. She let go of one of your hands to stroke your face. “I’ve been waiting so long to see you like this, but god it was worth it. This is where you belong, just Mommy’s good pet, a good little hole to store my cock. Isn’t that right?”

All you could do was moan, you were getting close and it was so hard to think.

“C’mon baby, just say ‘yes Mommy’ and you can cum all over my cock baby, you can do it.”

“Yyyessss Mommy…”

“Good pet,” Agatha groaned, “cum for me sweetheart.”

The noise you let out was primal and ragged as your orgasm racked through you. The sight and sound pushed Agatha over the edge. She remained hovered over you. Both of you panting, exhausted.

She brushed some hair away from your forehead. “You did so good for me baby. Maybe tomorrow I’ll let you in the living room and we can watch a movie together. Does that sound nice?”

“Yes Mommy.” You smiled softly. “Can I have a kiss?”

“Oh you’re so perfect. I knew you’d be just perfect for me.” Agatha said against your lips before kissing you tenderly.

It wasn’t long before you both were ready for round two.

[cjlouwho]

Uncle Eddie

(ao3 link)

Buck was going to rip his hair out. Every single hair on his head was going to come out and he was sure it would provide relief from the screaming that was currently happening in his ear.

Juniper was six months, teething, and screaming. Blood curdling screaming that had been nearly nonstop for the last five hours.

“I'll try the teether again,” Tommy said, hurrying into the kitchen to grab it from the freezer.

“She hates it,” Buck replied. “She hated it the last two times we tried it, she's gonna hate it this time.”

“Well, what would you like me to try, Evan?” And maybe the question came out a little more bitingly than he intended. “We've done a wet washcloth, a cold spoon, multiple teethers.”

A wail cut through his words.

“We could try the drops?”

Buck shot him a glare. “You mean those natural oil drops that lady convinced us to buy at the store?”

Tommy knew where this was going. “Yes, those are the ones.”

“The ones we bought instead of the infant ibuprofen?”

“Evan.”

“The drops we've tried two times that Juniper has thrown up with two times?”

“I'm really just running out of solutions here, Hun.”

“You can take those drops, find that lady, and shove them directly up her a-”

“Okay, no to the drops.”

“I need you to stop trying to find solutions,” Buck snapped, “and start helping me.”

“I'm trying to help by finding solutions, Evan, so our daughter will stop crying.”

“Well you're not doing a very good job.”

The crying, somehow, became even louder then. Juniper's tiny hands balled into fists on Buck's shirt. Her snot and tears soaking through the material.

Buck groaned. He could feel the tears stinging his own eyes. He was so overwhelmed. So exhausted. He just needed the crying to stop for a minute. Needed to know she was breathing properly and comfortable and safe.

Tommy closed his eyes, took a deep breath. He moved closer to Buck, placing a hand on his lower back. “Let me hold her,” he said, his voice calmer now, less defensive.

Buck stilled, then let himself melt into the touch. His head dropped down over Juniper's, holding onto her tightly. “I don't- don't know what to do,” he admitted, his lip trembling.

“I know. I don't either.” Tommy rubbed Buck's back soothingly. Let him cry, let Juniper cry, let himself feel the exhaustion of the day. And maybe this is what Buck meant when he asked Tommy to stop finding solutions- just help.

A knock on the door brought them out of their not-so-silent pity party. Juniper unlatched herself from Buck, so he handed her over to Tommy. “I'll get it,” he said, wiping the tears from his face.

He opened the door to Eddie, who's smile dropped almost immediately.

“You look terrible,” he said with a grimace.

“Hello to you too.”

“No, seriously, you look terrible.”

Buck couldn't even find it in him to be offended. He knew he looked terrible. Knew there was spit up and tears and snot all over his clothes. Knew he needed a shower and a shave. Knew he and Juniper had both taken turns pulling at his hair. Knew his face was red and a stray tear or two was probably still falling down his face.

“Why're you here, Eddie?”

Eddie stepped inside, moving around Buck to get in. “Can't a guy come visit his niece?” he asked.

“Not sure you want to today,” Tommy said as Eddie walked into the living room. He was bouncing her slightly, one hand on her head, the other under her butt as she wiggled and screamed.

“Phew. She's got a set of lungs on her.” Eddie moved in closer, taking Juniper's hand in his, “Don't ya, girl? Yeah, you're a strong girl.” He looked back up at Tommy. “Teething?”

He nodded.

“Mm.” Without another word, Eddie headed into the kitchen. He went to the sink and scrubbed his hands with soap before going back over to Tommy.

“Let me see her,” he said, holding out his hands.

“Eddie, she's just gonna scream-”

“Let me see her,” he repeated.

Tommy sighed, stared at him for a moment, then lifted Juniper off his chest. He gave her a kiss on her tear stained cheek before handing her over.

“Hey, Junie,” Eddie spoke softly, a smile on his face as he held the little girl in his arms, “it's Uncle Eddie.”

She stopped crying briefly, long enough to get a look at him, before it began again. Not as harsh this time, but still a cry.

Buck moved in take her, but Eddie put his pointer finger to her mouth. She latched onto it quickly, biting down to get pressure on her gums.

The crying stopped.

Both Buck and Tommy froze. Tommy counted to twenty in his head. That was as far as he had gotten since she'd woken up that morning.

“Oh my God,” Buck breathed out. He brought his hands to his head, running his fingers through his hair. He couldn't believe it. “Oh my God.”

“That's all we had to do?” Tommy asked. “Shove a finger in her mouth?”

Eddie shrugged. “Shannon used to tell me it was the only thing that worked for Christopher. She probably wouldn't have stopped crying for you guys though. Babies can tell when you're tense.”

Buck watched Juniper closely. “I'm going to ignore how utterly unsanitary this is-”

“I washed my hands!” Eddie interjected.

“and enjoy the silence.”

“You're never allowed to leave,” Tommy decided. “You have to quit your job or chop of your finger or something.”

Eddie let out a laugh, but stopped when he realized just how serious both Buck and Tommy looked. “Okay, you both have officially lost it.” He nodded toward the bedroom. “You two go get showers, take a nap, I don't wanna see either of you for at least three hours.”

“But-”

Eddie cut off Buck's protest. “I've watched her before, guys. I've got this. I know how to fix her formula, I've changed the diapers. We'll go for a walk, have tummy time, discuss using inside voices so we don't drive daddies to commit crimes like chopping friends fingers off.” He smiled down at Juniper, then back up at the boys. “We'll be fine. Plus, you'll be right here if I need you. Go.”

Both boys stared at him, like they weren't exactly sure what to do.

“Oh my God, go!” Eddie practically demanded this time.

“Just- Just a couple hours,” Buck decided.

“Three,” Eddie repeated. “I mean it.”

Buck was too tired to argue.

Tommy could already see himself sinking into the bed.

They both gave Juniper a little kiss to the top of her head before heading to the bedroom.

That's when Tommy remembered why Eddie actually came over. He turned around in the doorway, his eyes wide. “We were supposed to watch the match.”

Eddie shook his head, stopping Tommy from coming back out to the living room. “I've got my buddy for that already,” he said, peering down at Juniper, who was already starting to fall asleep in Eddie's arms. “You're never too young to learn about a proper uppercut.”

“Oh, she's already got that down,” Tommy replied, a tired smile on his face. “Thanks, Eddie.”

“Anytime. Go to bed.”

Eddie went to the couch as Tommy shut the bedroom door. He turned on the TV, keeping the volume low. Juniper's eyes began to close, snuggling close to Eddie. “I know we made a deal when you were born where you drive your daddies crazy and I get to watch,” he whispered to her, “but I thought you'd at least wait until you were two.”

It only took fifteen minutes for Juniper's little snores to match up with the loud ones coming from Tommy and Buck's room.