#I plan to take it easy this weekend but man will I be glad to not have my mouth and throat be so sore anymore

[hollenka99]

Highlights of my time getting surgery under general anaesthetic because yesterday was A Day for me:

There was just something inherently funny about my nurse, anaesthetist and surgeon all trying to speak to me one after the other then getting abandoned by everyone for 3 hours.

Won't say the day surgery name for privacy reasons but it sounds like 'half 11' so when I tried to tell my mum on Wednesday that 'oh btw we are now going to [Day Centre] for 8' it started an impromptu comedy routine that Abbott and Costello would be proud of.

While waiting to be called onto the ward, Mum kept trying to tell me all the gory details about getting the anaesthetic since she's seen it countless times as an interpreter, at which point I told her 'can you Not?'

Like obviously there were other patients to tend to and the doctors have their jobs to do but the '15 minutes of activity vs hours of nothing' is kinda funny in retrospect.

My mum complimented the anaesthetist on his prominent hand veins.

The nurse and I were talking about being certain about those mandatory pregnancy tests coming back negative and she told me about how one of her patients had just finished her period, therefore understandably believing there was no way she'd conceived, yet happened to get a positive test back. So uh congratulations to that woman then? Or my condolences idk.

Compression socks. Just compression socks. Bastards to put on but I now want more of my socks to have grips on the soles.

That high stakes pee because you don't want to get a bad grade in being a patient.

There was an amendment to my procedure because my condition deteriorated since my pre-assessment 10 months ago. As such, I was made to sign consent on these changes.

This in itself wouldn't be an issue if my surgeon didn't make me sign in a cluttered patch of his notes on the side of the page. This unconventional location would have Consequences multiple times throughout the day because none of my other care providers could find my signature.

When I finally got wheeled to the operating theatre, my porter got chatting with another porter about a recent match our local team played while I lay there like🧍‍♀️or I guess more like 🛌.

To be fair to him, it only lasted a couple minutes and he apologised as soon as we got moving again but I was still going 'uhhh...' in my head.

I know it's standard procedure but it will never not be funny to me that to find a vein, you have to slap the shit out of someone's hand while another person has a death grip on the arm.

Two things I remember from this part is being told what the scientific name for the elbow pit is (immediately forgot it) and being told I should take up powerlifting for a couple years so my veins wouldn't stay hidden.

I was kinda hoping that I'd recall passing out/feeling the drugs kick in but all I do remember is wishing someone would fix the oxygen mask that had moved up my face to an awkward position then gradually waking up elsewhere.

I never thought a presumably plastic tube would leave a woody aftertaste.

They also put a towel around my head in the recovery room for some reason? I don't think I was at risk of losing a ton of body heat through my head so who knows what that was about because I can't think of any other potential reason.

My body started acting like it wanted to kin a Victorian who dramatically realises they have tuberculosis as soon as I fully regained consciousness which was Fun. Thankfully no blood was involved, just tons of coughing.

"Why do you keep saying 24? It's the 11th today." "You're 24, aren't you?" "...Oh."

I sat there for an hour, not because of any issues I had but instead because literally every computer was capable of showing my discharge papers except the one by my bed.

And then when the lady looking after me finally tried another computer, my already prolonged stay was delayed further by there seemingly being no porters available for nearly 30 minutes.

Spent the hour fidgeting with my pulse monitor in a way that wouldn't get me in trouble and getting constantly annoyed at them activating my blood pressure cuff every few minutes.

I was completely useless at drinking water through a straw because my lips were swollen. How I managed to actually drink anything during that first hour of being awake is a miracle.

Not much happened after I finally got brought back to my mum downstairs. It was mostly hanging around, wishing they'd let me start the process of preparing to go home already.

Mum expressed surprise at how quickly I ate my yoghurt but my response was along the lines of "Shh, just because I can't feel the hunger at the moment doesn't mean I haven't eaten in around 20 hours. Let me have this."

If I had a nickel for every time I got complimented on how my blood was clotting-

When it came to removing the cannula, I was expecting it to hurt but honestly, I didn't feel the needle leave which was a nice surprise.

Also sidenote but, while I'm certainly not disputing that dehydration was one of the main causes of my borderline headache, you sure can't rule out 'getting bright lights shone in my face' playing its part in that.

What did hurt though was all the tape getting peeled off. Because ouch. At least when Mum ripped off my shoulder nodes as I got changed into my regular clothes, it was instant and only lasted a second.

Speaking of nodes, we both missed the one on the side of my torso which I didn't discover until about 5 hours after returning home. Didn't feel it at all until my hand happened to brush past it.

Got worried some kind of liquid was leaking from it because I couldn't figure out whether the glue just felt weird or not.

Generally just chilled for the evening then stayed awake way past what I would normally call a night.

Oh yeah and I learnt about OJ Simpson's death on the ride home which was Something.

#holly talks #long post #honestly I was just so mentally exhausted by the time I got home #the hours of just sitting around and feeling exposed without realising it all caught up with me by the evening #there's obviously the physical exhaustion too which I'm still feeling a day and a half later #I plan to take it easy this weekend but man will I be glad to not have my mouth and throat be so sore anymore

[suashii]

— 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 ౨ৎ

bakugo katsuki x reader. 1k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ just a short lil somethin' for the birthday boy!

“i can’t believe you’re choosing to work on your birthday.” the sun is just beginning to rise, its rays spilling past your sheer curtains. you haven’t left the warm comfort of your bed yet, but bakugo is busy getting ready for the day ahead. the weather is getting warmer which means he’s traded out his winter costume for his usual sleeveless tank. you prefer it over the jacket he wears during the cold months—being able to see his arms, that is. the effort he puts into his workouts doesn’t go unnoticed. “who does that?”

he’s putting his belt on now, ruby irises focused on the task at hand rather than you. still, he offers  an explanation to your curiosity. “it’s just another day on the calendar.”

“nuh-uh.” you shake your head and sit up. leave it to katsuki to downplay his birthday. “it’s another rotation around the sun—another year of life! you of all people should be celebrating that.”

bakugo has never placed much importance on his birthday, not as a child and certainly not as a teenager, so he doesn’t see the point in changing that now. he isn’t much of the celebrating type either, at least, not when it comes to himself. he’s content living this day just like any other and he tells you as much.

“i’m just saying,” you shrug, “the world can go one day without dynamight.”

you’re adamant about making your point and such unwavering persistence from anyone else would annoy bakugo beyond belief, but since it's you, he decided to let it slide. he’s even willing to entertain you—it’s clear that you’re skirting around what you really want to say. “and what would you suggest i do with my day instead of spending it at work?”

you smile. “i’m glad you asked. the most obvious answer is get back in bed and go back to sleep.”

“that’s what weekends are for,” he argues. you huff at how easily he dismisses you and cross your arms as you watch him continue getting dressed for the day. the thought would have been enough to seal the deal for you but you suppose bakugo will need something a little sweeter to convince him to take it easy for a day.

“um, you could do something with kirishima and denki?” he may try to deny it, but he likes his friends more than he lets on. even if it’s later, you’re sure they wouldn’t mind stopping by and taking him out to have some fun. “it’s been a while since all of you have hung out.”

he frowns, picking up all of the equipment he’d rather not put on until he makes it to his agency. “no thanks. i don’t need those guys making an even bigger deal out of me than they usually do.”

you’re about to ask what’s so wrong with being the center of attention on his birthday when you realize he’s on his way out of the bedroom. “woah, wait! where are you going?”

“to make my lunch,” he tells you over his shoulder.

you hadn't planned on getting out of bed so soon but you find yourself scrambling to throw the blanket aside so that you can follow him to the kitchen. the man’s gauntlets and neck brace make a home on the dining table while bakugo picks out everything he needs from the fridge. it’s chilly—a combination of leaving your duvet and the cold air from the appliance. you cling to bakugo’s back, arms tightening around his waist in an attempt to leech off of his warmth.

he navigates the kitchen with you hanging off of him, not once bothering to complain or try to pry you off. the lack of resistance on his end allows you time to think up another reason he should forgo his duties for the day.

“ooh! you could go to the spa!” you’re sure this should do the trick. what’s better than taking some time to rest and loosen your muscles? “i’m sure a massage would do you some good.”

he shoots you a quick glance and you already know his reply before it even passes his lips. “do i look like someone who goes to spas?”

you press your forehead against his back and groan into his shirt. the vibrations must tickle because he squirms beneath you. there’s no winning with him, it seems.

“fine,” you sigh, turning your head so that your cheek rests against him. “i accept defeat. i’ll celebrate your birthday by myself… all alone… without you.”

you can’t see it, but a crease forms between bakugo’s eyebrows as he shapes the rice balls into neat triangles. “what are you talking about?”

“it’s nothing,” you tell him with a small pinch to his abdomen. “i just thought you’d be more excited to celebrate. i was, anyway.”

that’s it—that’s what you’ve been trying to get at since you started pestering him half an hour ago. it’s unlike you to dance around your words and he wonders if you did so because you thought he’d turn you down, thought that he’d choose work over you. 

bakugo turns around in your hold so he’s facing you. your head is tipped up to meet his gaze. he leans down to press his lips against your hairline and lets them linger there with his next words. “if you wanted to spend the day with me, you should have just said so, dummy.”

you pout at the name but it doesn’t last for long and is quickly replaced with a smile. “you caught me. but i promise i’ll make it worth your while.”

“you better.” his hands make a home on your waist, gently, lovingly squeezing them. “because if you had told me that to begin with, i wouldn’t have wasted precious time getting ready for work.”

thanks for reading! pls consider reblogging if you enjoyed :3

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: my hero academia #bakugo x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugo fluff #mha fluff #bakugo drabble #mha drabbles

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Kinktober Day 16

Day Fifteen | 🌹Kinktober Masterlist🌹 | Day Seventeen

Pairing: Indiana Jones x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked

Warnings: Role reversal; period-typical attitudes toward sex; vaginal sex; riding unsafe sex; creampie

He starts to turn up to your classes midway through October. You’ve seen his picture in the paper, heard the conspiratorial whispers of the enamored co-eds across campus, but you’ve never met the man. 

You notice him right off the bat—it’s impossible not to. If it hadn’t been for the way most of the female students were twisting in their seats to get a look at him, his countenance would’ve given him away. He was dressed far more professionally than your students, and watching you far more closely than any of them were as well. The afternoon sun glinted off of his glasses as he tracked your movement, from walking into the lecture hall, to setting down your briefcase as you greeted your students.

-- 

You’ve nearly forgotten him by the lecture’s end, as your students pack up their things and file out. You focus on getting your scattered notes and attendance sheets together, certain that Jones will trail out with the rest of them. You feel someone watching you as you tuck your notes and attendance into a folder. You glance up, expecting one of your students, but finding him standing there instead. 

“Dr. Jones,” You greet, turning your attention back to your bag. “Is there something that I can help you with?” 

“Brody told me that he’d hired someone else in the history department, but I haven’t had the time to come and get acquainted.” 

“Well, that probably had something to do with your recent excursion to Guatemala.” 

He chuckles softly. “I see my reputation precedes me.” 

“It certainly does.” 

“I just wanted to stop by, say hello…Get a look at the professor that’s been poaching my students.” 

“They probably wouldn’t be so easy to poach if you turned up to more than a third of your lectures during a given semester.” 

You close your satchel, lifting the strap onto your shoulder and straightening up. He searches your face, eyes narrowing slightly behind his frames. 

“Are you headed back to your office?” He asked. “I’d be happy to walk you.”

“Home, actually. I’m done for the day.” 

“Could I drive you?” 

“That’s quite alright, I drove myself here this morning.” 

Jones nods slowly, gaze sweeping curiously over you. 

“Perhaps I could drop by one of your lectures again.” 

“What for?” 

“Fun. I enjoyed it.” 

“Well, I’m glad to hear it. Maybe I could teach you a thing or two about a thing or two.” 

Jones’ lips curled with a smile as he nodded. 

“We’ll see about that.” 

--  

“What was that crack about me missing classes?” 

You throw a surly glare over your shoulder at Indiana as he grins up at you. This was not the plan. 

After a week, Dr. Jones had made it a point to visit at least one of your classes. After a month, you were planning a lecture series together over dinners and drinks. After two months, Jones had managed to talk you into taking a little weekend trip with him—for the sake of the lecture series, of course.

“I'll go on one condition,” You’d warned, pointing firmly at him. 

“I’m listening.” 

“I need to be back by noon on Monday at the latest. I have a lecture at three and I despise missing classes.” 

“...I will do my best.”

“Jones.” 

“Cross my heart, honey.” 

He’d raised his hand and crossed his heart, then raised his right hand and gestured, “Scout’s honor.” 

You’d wanted to be grated by all of it—the smile, the crossing of his heart, his scout’s honor, the way he’d called you honey. But you’d gone into the weekend with a curious new feeling. You didn’t think that Indiana really wanted to get together for lecture notes, you thought that he wanted to, well…

Well, you’d gotten the impression that Indiana may be interested in you—romantically. It was rare that a man like that asked you to drinks just to talk about the legacy of Alexander the Great, or insisted on walking you to your door afterward. 

A weekend away had seemed perfectly in order to kick off the far-less-than-professional side of your relationship. You’d packed your cutest clothes—you'd been excited.

And now rather than snuggling up, you’re following an artifact fencer into a cave in the middle of the Grand Canyon at 3pm on a Monday, dirtying your second favorite outfit, and fighting the urge to sock the grinning fool squarely in the jaw.

“Stifle it, Jones.” 

-- 

You throw the door to your hotel room open, stomping irritatedly inside and reaching back to shove the door shut again. You don’t hear it close, but you do hear the thud of Indiana’s feet behind you. 

“What’s the matter with you?” He asks, shutting the door behind himself. 

“You promised, Jones. Crossed your damn heart, if you even have one.” 

“Wouldya quit pouting? We did a good thing,” Jones argues. “So you missed a class, so what?” 

“It’s the principle of the thing!” You argue, whirling around on him. He’s stunningly close, his brows raised as he watches you. You scowl as he grins amusedly. 

“Why did you invite me out here, anyway, Jones?” You add. Something flickers in his gaze just enough for you to seize on. 

“For the lecture series,” He insists. “Obviously.” 

“Obviously?” You narrow your eyes, stepping toe-to-toe with him. “That’s all?” 

“Why else would I have invited you?” 

“For something like this, perhaps?” You reach out, grasping his cheeks and draw him in. He flails a bit for balance as your lips crash together. He steadies himself as he rests his hands on your hips, sighing softly against them as he uses his grasp to pull you closer. You let him steer you back toward the bed, but before he can push you down, you turn and give Indiana a push. He bounces back onto the mattresses, eyes wide as he peers up at you, his kiss-plumped lips parted in surprise. You smile, straddling his lap as he propped himself up on his elbows. 

“What do you think you’re doing, huh?” He asks, sliding his hands over your thighs. 

“You’ve been giving me orders all afternoon, Jones. It’s time to let me steer.” 

-- 

You watched Indiana’s adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly. He’d hardly taken his eyes off of you as you’d undressed, hardly been able to keep still as you’d climbed onto his lap. Now, his eyelids lowered as you slowly rolled your hips, sliding down onto his cock. 

“C’mon,” He groans. 

“Shut up.” 

“You wanted to steer, but don't know how to drive.”

“We don’t need to floor it. Besides,” You give your hips a little swivel. “I’ve already got the key in the ignition.” 

Indiana growls low in his chest, his head falling back against the pillows as you cast him a wicked grin. You brace your hands on either side of his head, bowing down over him. 

“You’re really not used to this, are you?” You murmurs.

“Don’t get a big head, honey. I’m so used to this it’d make a Parisian courtesan blush.” 

“Not this,” You chuckled, tightening up around him, and grinning as he grips your hips more tightly. “I meant not being in charge.” 

Indiana glares up at you with muted wrath, a deep breath drawing in through his nose. You giggle, leaning back and giving a showy bite to your lip as your hips meet Indiana’s. 

“You aren’t,” You insist as you set a punishingly slow pace. “It’s driving you crazy. Look at that little tick jumping in your jaw.” 

Indiana’s hands raise to grasp your breasts, but you catch hold of his hands, intertwining your fingers and using your full force to pin them up over his head. His arms flex as he presses up against your grip, and you know that Indiana could easily throw you over. You brush your lips against his, then dip closer for a deeper kiss as you begin to grind your hips unhurriedly. Indiana’s lips part beneath yours, his tongue swiping out to brush and tease against yours.

He loses himself in your kisses, letting his straining muscles go slack against the mattress as you screw your hips down against his.  You finally draw back from the kiss, shivering as Indiana leans up, swiping his tongue against your peaked nipple. You sigh, pressing your hips back against his and arching your back to push your breasts into his face. He turns his head, nuzzling the valley of breasts before sucking your other breast between his lips. You reach down, playing with your tingling clit and brushing against the slick base of Indiana’s shaft. 

Your pace begins to falter as your attention is torn between the press of Indiana’s cock and the practiced swipe of your fingers against your own flesh. You gasp softly as the familiar sensation of your orgasm begins sneaking up on you. You let go of Indiana’s other hand and push yourself up, resting your hand on his chest as you pick up your pace. You look down at Indiana and find him watching you closely as you use him for your own pleasure. You curl your fingers, nails digging into Indiana’s chest. He groans, grasping your hips and using the grip to take control of the pace. 

You don’t bother to stop him. You just tip your head back and thumb one of your nipples, cursing as you finally cum. Indiana pushes himself up against you, his chest pressed against yours. His arm hooks around your waist, pulling you closer. You can hear the grunts and groans beneath his breath, feel the harsh pants as he grows closer and closer beneath you. Indiana draws you down on top of him again, using his grip on your hips to fuck you through your orgasm. You watch his eyes roll back into his head, his groan choked out as he fills you. your cunt still twitching around him. You sigh softly, snuggling against Indiana’s chest as he calms. You smile as Indiana’s arms curl around your back, keeping you close. 

“...Tell you what,” He mumbles after a moment. “You’re not such a bad driver.” 

You chuckle, rolling off of Indiana and onto your back. 

“I’m flattered.” 

You gaze up at the ceiling as you feel Indiana roll onto your side, watching you closely. He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

“How long can I convince you to stay here?” He murmurs.

“In bed?” 

“In Arizona.”

You scoff, turning to look at indiana. 

“You’re kidding.” 

“I’m not.” 

“I’ve got classes tomorrow, Jones.”

“Skip ‘em.” 

You roll your eyes, looking up at the ceiling again. 

“Ridiculous.” 

Indiana reaches out, stroking gently along your arm. 

“You really give a damn,” He comments. His voice is soft, almost stunned. 

“Making fun of me?” 

“No,” Indiana insists. “Hell, I like it.”

"Maybe I could teach you a thing or two about it."

"Giving a damn?"

"Mhm. Teach you how to keep your promises, next."

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#Indiana Jones x Reader #Indiana Jones x You #Indiana Jones/Reader #Indiana Jones/You #Indiana Jones fic #Indiana Jones imagine #Kinktober #Kinktober 2023

[mynameismckenziemae]

She’s a Fire-Chapter XVII

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x OFC/

Reader (no use of y/n)

Burning right through my mind

(previous chapter here, next chapter here)

Warnings: girl on girl and boy on boy kissing, p in v, etc.

The days pass quickly and January turns to February.

Sunny and Bob planned their engagement party the weekend before Valentine’s Day at a local, fancy-ish brewery.

You help decorate while the guys pick up the flowers and cupcakes and change with Sunny in the private bathroom before the guests arrive.

“Great minds think alike,” Sunny smiles as you pull on the black lingerie you bought with her that day the guys were deployed. You laugh when you turn and see she’s wearing the white set.

You pull on your black jumpsuit and help her zip the back of her dress as she sighs.

“As much as I love my parents and am so glad they’re here, I need a break after this.” Her parents were in town, staying in her and Bob’s guest room.

“Understandable. Why don’t you come over after? We can have a little after-party? I’ve got a bottle of Don Julio I’ve been wanting to open…”

“Have I ever turned down tequila?”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

A large calloused hand brushes over your ass and you smile as you smell Bradley’s familiar cologne. He stands beside you as you people watch.

“You look stunning,” he murmurs. “No underwear?”

“Thank you, you do too,” and he does, charcoal gray slacks and a black button-down. “And yes actually, I am. The set from the pictures.”

He sucks in a breath. “Sunny’s handprint there too? I saw you two come out of the bathroom together.”

“You know it.” You tease.

“Stop, you’re making me hard,” he chuckles. You think he’s joking but he moves behind you, pulling you against his front to prove it.

“You are insatiable. I love it and you.” You say, leaning your head back against his chest.

“I love you too, Row.” He kisses the top of your head.

“I invited Bob and Sunny back to the house for an after-party, I hope that’s okay. Sunny needs a break from her parents.”

“Yeah, of course.”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The majority of the guests leave by 8 and you’re back to your place by 9. Bob and Sun pull in behind you.

You lead everyone to the living room and start to ask about the wedding but Sunny interrupts.

“Enough wedding talk for tonight. Where’s that tequila?” Sunny asks with a grin.

Bradley gets the bottle from the kitchen brings it back with a few beers for everyone and hands them out. He pops the top and takes a swig before handing it to Sunny, who passes it to Bob and then you.

Sunny’s perched on Bob’s lap in the recliner across from where your legs are draped over Bradley on the couch.

Bradley turns on music for some background noise and soon the energy shifts, everyone’s feeling buzzed.

“Let’s take it back. Bradley, truth or dare?” Sunny asks.

“Oh, Sunny-girl…truth.” He says and takes a swig from the bottle.

“I gotta know. Your callsign. What’s the story?”

“You’re never gonna let it go, are you?” He asks, and she shakes her head with a grin.

Bob snorts, he was told the reason shortly after he joined the squad.

“It’s a nod to my dad…” he starts and Sunny groans—the same thing he always tells her when she’s asked, “and, you know” his eyes flick to his groin and he flushes.

“I fucking knew it!” Sunny throws her head back and laughs, “That wasn’t so hard now was it?”

Bradley rolls his eyes. “Bob, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he replies.

Even though he’s comfortable around you both now, Bradley goes easy on him. “Where’s the riskiest place you’ve had sex?”

Sweet, shy Bob blushes, but surprises you with his answer. “Probably the first time Sunny gave me roadhead. It doesn’t sound that risky but a cop stopped behind us at a red light and she uh…kept going.”

Sunny shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“Jesus Sun, you’re gonna give the man a heart attack” Bradley laughs. She smiles and takes a swig.

“Row?” Bob asks.

“Truth” you reply, not yet ready for a dare.

“I hear you have quite the collection… what’s your favorite sex toy?

You smile, and cup Bradley, who grunts. “This one, second would be the bullet vibe.”

“Sunny, truth or dare?” You ask.

“Hmm I’ll keep it going, truth.”

“Have you ever kissed another woman, besides me?” You wink at her.

The guys look at each other. “When did you guys kiss?” Bradley asks.

“Just you, Row” Sunny replies to you and then answers Bradley. “In college, we made out at a frat party for some contest they were doing. We won though.”

Bradley’s cock twitches under your thighs.

“Easiest $100 I ever made,” you laugh.

“Agreed and you’re a great kisser. Bradley, your turn again.”

“I’m not gonna be the first dare, not from you,” he chuckles, “Truth.”

“Pussy, fine. Have you ever kissed a guy? Would you?” Sunny asks.

“That’s two. But no I haven’t, and yeah I’d try anything once,” he takes another swig from the bottle.

“That’s really hot,” you blurt out, your filter apparently gone from the tequila.

Sunny nods eagerly.

“Bob?” Bradley questions.

“Truth,” he replies, his focus on his fingers that are playing with Sunny’s curls.

“How ‘bout you? Ever done anything with a guy? Ever want to?” Bradley asks, his hand not holding his beer kneads your legs on his lap.

“Nah, I haven’t either. I’d be willing to try it, to see how different it’d be than kissing a girl…” he trails off as Sun turns and gives him a look. You can’t see her face, but Bob flushes and smiles before he takes a drink of his beer.

“Rowan?” Bob asks.

“Someone’s gotta go first,” you sigh. “Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss Sunny,” Bob says without hesitation, like he’s been waiting for it.

You look to Bradley to gauge his reaction.

“Go ‘head. Let’s see how you two won that contest.” He approves, his cock fully erect now under your thighs.

Your eyes turn to Sunny. She smiles and rises den Bob’s lap.

You meet halfway, both kneeling on the cushioned ottoman between the furniture. Sunny brushes her lips over yours before leaning in by your ear, “Wanna give them a show?”

You nod imperceptibly, hands trailing up her arms.

“Follow my lead, you can stop anytime.”

You answer by weaving your hands into her curls and bringing her lips to yours.

You hear Bob inhale sharply while Bradley curses under his breath. It’s so much different than kissing Bradley; her lips are soft and gentle, less demanding. Bradley’s kisses consume you. She licks into your mouth and you sigh.

Her hand reaches under your hair and unsnaps the button of your jumpsuit at the nape of your neck, pulling it down your arms. You step over it on your knees after it’s past your butt and it hits the floor.

You unzip her dress and her out of it too, Bob reaching out to help it past her knees.

Sunny’s hands find your ass and squeeze; you gasp when her hand disappears only to spank you a second later. You smile against her lips when you hear Bradley’s strained “fuck”.

Your left hand untangles from her hair and finds her lace-clad breast, while your right pulls her head back to kiss her neck. She moans as you pinch her nipple.

“Christ,” Bob mutters and you hear him shift.

You continue your ministrations on her nipple as you guide her lips back to yours.

You and Sunny continue kissing, teasing each other and the boys. When you finally pull back, you’re both breathing hard.

Your eyes flick to Bradley. He’s leaning back, one arm over the back of the couch, the other on his erection; simultaneously trying to relieve the pressure and conceal it; eyes are half-lidded and full of lust.

“I can see why you won,” Bob murmurs. His shy demeanor is gone, replaced by a quiet, confident dominance.

“Your turn,” Sunny giggles.

Bob surprises you again and stands, grasping Sunny’s chin and kissing her deeply before pulling away and rubbing his thumb over her lower lip.

He steps halfway around the ottoman and looks at Bradley with a slight quirk in his brow.

Bradley stands and walks over. You hold your breath as his eyes dip to Bob’s lips. You’re not sure who moves first but your heart starts to race as their mouths meet.

Their kiss starts off hesitant, and curious.

“Holy shit,” Sunny breathes, and you nod.

Holy shit, indeed.

Bob’s hands reach up and start to unbutton Bradley’s shirt, pushing it off his shoulders before doing the same to his own. Bradley’s hand goes to the back of Bob’s neck, his thumb pressing into the hinge of his jaw. In turn, Bob tugs Bradley closer by his belt loop.

It’s so much hotter than you could’ve imagined. Thick biceps and forearms trail over each other’s toned abdomens. Bob’s leaner compared to Bradley’s bulk; they complement each other perfectly.

A groan slips from Bradley as their hard-ons brush and another wave of arousal rushes through you, settling between your thighs.

They pull apart, chests heaving as they turn to you and Sunny.

“We had a lot to drink tonight. Why don’t you guys stay in the guest room down here? I, uh…think we might go to bed.” You say to Sunny, but your eyes are on Bradley.

“Yeah, I agree,” Bob says, holding his hand out for Sunny.

Bradley doesn’t even try to be discrete, he just throws you over your shoulder and carries you to the stairs. “Bradley! I can walk, put me down! Hey!” You yelp as he swats your ass, climbing the steps.

Sunny laughs but Bob says, “I wouldn’t laugh, or you’ll be next.”

She backs away, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Watch me,” he says lowly.

“Run, Sunny!” You call, laughing as you lose sight of them.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Bradley tosses you on the bed and shucks his pants and boxer briefs as you pull your panties off.

He leans down to for a kiss and pushes into you; the last hour was all the foreplay you both need.

“Oh God,” he groans hoarsely, as you dig your nails into his ass when he bottoms out.

“Shhhh, baby. They’ll hear us,” you murmur in his ear, and feel his cock twitch inside you. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Should we invite them up here? Let them watch as you fuck me?”

He shakes his head, but his hips move faster.

You slip your hand between the two of you to circle your clit. “Or…they could watch as I fuck you.”

“Fuck, Row. You gotta stop or you’ll make me cum,” he grits out.

“No,” you sigh, your release in sight. “You’ll wait for me.”

“Yes ma’am,” he pants.

You torture him a little longer, pulling desperate whines, whimpers, and groans from him as you edge yourself.

“Please, Row. Pleasepleaseplease, I don’t-I can’t….” He whines against your shoulder, the rhythm in his hips beginning to falter.

You decide to put him out of his misery. You press a little harder, circle a little tighter and you’re there. A strangled moan leaves you before you bite his shoulder, trying to muffle the sounds of your release. He follows, pumping you full of his cum as he groans quietly into your neck.

Bradley tucks you into his side and the effects of the alcohol pull you both under, but not before the muted sounds of pleasure and the rhythmic banging of the guest bed rise to a crescendo.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

A/N: this week was incredibly exhausting.

I’m sorry. As much as I tried, I could not figure out a way to include Nat and Jake without it being too out there. I also wasn’t sure how to have Bradley and Bob doing stuff together when it was both if their first times kissing another guy.

I hope you guys still like it!

Tagging;

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@mrsrobertfloyd

@charmedkim

@k-k0129

@bellaireland1981

@ingoaliesitrust

@hookslove1592

@amiets2

@nero4te

@eli2447

#bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #robert bob floyd #top gun smut #bob floyd #she’s a fire

[meanwaffle]

Safety (Tsukishima x Reader)

Warning: alcohol, hu culture

Notes: college party moment

You sipped on your drink as you couldn’t take your eyes off the tall, handsome, blonde man across the room. He was chatting with some guys, but he had a bored expression you couldn’t take your eyes off of. He obviously wasn’t enjoying himself very much and it made you wonder why he’d come to a college party if he wasn’t someone who liked them. Maybe his friend made him come. Or he was trying to get laid. Who knows?

What a fucking jerk.

His name was Tsukishima. You sorta knew him already. It was a month or two ago when you both matched on tinder. Tinder was your best friend after all. It was an easy way to find hot and willing guys to keep you company on those lonely nights. The best part was there were usually no strings attached. You didn’t have to shield your heart from getting hurt, you just gotta have fun and spend your young adulthood partying and vibing. You didn’t have to worry about being vulnerable because it was a quick fuck and done.

Oddly enough when you matched with him and started talking to Tsukishima a bit… you got too vulnerable. It wasn't like you at all.

You found yourself blushing when he complimented you. His blunt charm offered a sense of relief. When he said you were beautiful, easy to talk to, how he felt comfortable with you, this bluntness made you truly believe he was being genuine. Over time, his messages started to become short and dull. When that would happen with other guys you’d just roll your eyes and move on to the next. Stupidly enough you kept sending him messages and continuing conversations or starting new ones. You would hold onto each convo starter like it was a life line.

“You look very pretty.” he told you once in response to a selfie you sent of him.

Ah… you wanted him to praise you more.

You wanted to meet him. You didn’t even care about getting laid, you just wanted to see him in person and maybe… hold his hand or something. Like they do in those romcoms! He was so tall after all, you’re so sure if he embraced you that you would melt into his touch.

“When are you free? Let’s go out to dinner.” You’d ask him. 

“I’m free on weekends! But if you have plans, my classes end at three!” You’d tell him.

“Shoot me a message whenever you’re available.” You’d messaged him.

Nothing.

After talking nonstop for two weeks, the moment you invited him out he changed. Shorter messages. He took longer to respond. Baseless excuses one after another about how he’s busy, that he’ll let you know the second he’s free. Responding to you obviously became less of a priority as you got left on delivered for hours and hours and hours, until finally you remembered why you originally were just sleeping around.

Men really suck.

You’re glad you remembered before you got too attached. 

Enough with all that. Sure it was only a little bit ago, but that was all in the past! Tonight was about having fun! You downed the rest of your drink and mingled in with the crowd once again. Striking conversations left and right, you danced a bit to the music, sang along to the popular songs that got everyone hype. You were having a good time and soon lost yourself in the fun. The alcohol was finally hitting and your confidence skyrocketed.

And there's nothing more powerful than a confident woman with a mission.

“Crap!” You blurted out as you felt yourself back up into someone. You quickly turned around to face whoever it was to apologize. “So sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Oh, that’s alright! No worries.” A fresh, freckled face greeted you. It was a guy, a cute guy. The dark and grayish hair of his went against your usual type, you had a soft spot for blondes, yet his vibe was so oddly kind. At first you wondered what a guy like this was doing at some random shit college party. Though, when his large eyes met yours paired together with a dorky smile all the reasonable thoughts washed away and only one idea filled your brain. 

He was your mission.

With a grin, you tilted your head to the side just a tiny bit to subtly emphasize your good side. You fluttered your eyes in that cute manner that's always gotten the guys to take interest. “I don’t think I’ve met you! Do you go to parties a lot?”

You heard him suck in a breath and held back a giggle. The cute eye technique still hasn’t failed you. He was nervous, huh? “Ah, no, I came with a friend just cuz… I don’t know where he is right now actually. Uh! But I’m Yamaguchi.” A tint of red glowed on his cheeks.

You introduced yourself back and quickly started up small talk. At first he was hesitant, fumbling over his words a bit and avoiding direct eye contact with you. Once you got him on the topic of his hobbies, however, he started to go on and on about volleyball. You had to hold back a cringe when the subject of volleyball took place. You had no problem with sports! But, icky enough, Tsukishima also danced on the topic a bunch of times. You were positive he mentioned how he was on the team at school, maybe Yamaguchi was too. Maybe they were teammates? If that's the case, part of you wants to just run away from this guy.

Hm, well…. Doesn’t matter. It’s just a hookup. Besides after geeking out a bit he got comfortable enough to just… let go. You both were swaying to the music and laughing, you felt up on his arm and stroked his ego as you showered him in compliments and praises. He denied them, of course, he was shy and humble. Following every praise of yours with something along the lines of “I’m not all that.” or “I bet you know much cooler guys.” 

After some time passed the party was still at full blast. Slowly, you intertwined your fingers with his and glanced up at him with big doey eyes. His expression turned to one of surprise and his entire face was heated. You could even see him biting his lip from nerves alone. “Hey…” you said with a breathy tone. “why don’t we go somewhere quieter?”

Yamaguchi flinched and you watched him nervously gulp. “I, um, l-like where? I mean… you know… my friend is still here and if I’m leaving I should let him know-”

With an air headed smile, you tugged at his arm in the direction of the stairs. “We won’t leave! I know the people who rent this place, we can just go up to her room for a bit. She won’t mind.”

“This isn’t your place t? Shouldn’t we uh, ask then?”

“It’s fine! I’ve done this before.” With that said and done, you made your way over to the stairs. Yamaguchi followed close behind, but as you both were climbing up you were so focused on your gleeful success in getting a cutie in bed that you didn’t hear his hesitant mutters, questioning what you meant by “done this before.”

You pulled him into an empty bedroom and didn’t waste any time. You attached your lips to his and passionately threw your arms around him, pulling him even closer so your tits pressed against him. Internally, he was panicking. He’s never had anyone interested in him in this sort of way, especially someone who would act on it so quickly. It was all happening so fast for him, however, he let himself fall into the moment. Yamaguchi’s thoughts were racing. He couldn’t believe a girl like you would want to be intimate with him. The heat in his cheeks got hotter. Your tongue’s dancing together.

Skillfully using some interesting angles, you managed to get both of you close enough to the bed for you to slowly push him onto the springy mattress. A cute yelp escaped his lips with a subtle panic as you climbed on top of him without detaching yourself from his rosy lips. However, instead of him continuing with the sexy thrill of fucking at a party, he pulled back. You were surprised he’d do that, but the concerned look on his face made you question if you were pushing him into something he didn’t actually want to do. “Are you okay?”

Yamaguchi chewed at his lip. Crazy enough, you’ve only known him for a couple hours and even you could tell he does that when he’s nervous. He wouldn’t make eye contact with you, which was another indicator. His body language told you enough. You rolled off him and sat up on the edge of the bed. You bent down forward and softly smiled in an attempt to ease the tension “Not in the mood?”

Like a lightning bolt, he shot up with a worried expression.” No! I mean yes, I mean, I’m nervous, that’s all. You’re really pretty and It’s just a lot-”

“He’s a virgin.”

Both of you two whipped your heads towards the doorway which was suddenly open with a tall figure leaning against the frame. Tall, blonde, glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, you couldn’t stop your mouth from opening a bit in shock as you witnessed none other than Tsukishma there with a sharp glare of disappointment.

“Oh god, Kei! How long have you been standing there?!” Yamaguchi, obviously very flustered, spoke first because you were still stupidly sitting on the end of the bed with your mouth still agape from a lack of knowledge to even know what to say to this guy.

With a glance over at you, then back to his friend, he spoke more. “First of all you should’ve locked the door if you’re going to mess around. And I have been standing here ever since you fumbled the whole making out part.” His eyebrow furrowed, which was odd to you. He seemed to be annoyed with his friend. Was he annoyed that his homie was getting laid and he wasn’t? You certainly couldn’t think of another reason. A logical one for sure.

“I was looking for you so we could finally leave, though I saw her chatting you up and then going up the stairs.” He shot another quick glance over at you. “I could connect the dots.” His tone was irritating to hear. It was like he was talking down to you.

You shoved down any desire to stay quiet and spoke up. “That’s so weird, Tsukishima! And what if we kept going. You were just gonna stand there and watch? You’re such a pervert-”

“Wait, do you two know each other?” Yamaguchi asked, surprised.

“You’re hooking up with someone you met a few hours ago.”

You threw your hands in the air. “It’s college! This is what we do!”

Both of you were huffing and pouting like the drunk idiots you were. 

Yamaguchi had no clue what to make of the situation. He was shifting his weight back and forth as he fiddled with his fingers. He kept trying to get a word in, but despite his efforts everything he said fell on deaf ears as both you and Tsukishima kept going back and forth. One petty thing after the other. Tsukishima finally let out a giant scoff and went to turn to his friend. “Let’s just go.” He was thrown back when he realized the friend he was talking to was no longer there. There was just an empty space “Huh? Where did he go?”

“He walked off maybe five minutes ago.”

His nose scrunched up. “And you didn’t think to say anything?”

“I thought the wave goodbye would’ve been enough but I guess I didn’t take into account your lack of awareness.” You responded with yet another eye roll. 

He sharply turned towards the door. “Whatever, I’m out of here.” 

“I bet, ghosting is your best talent.”

Tsukishima stopped dead in his tracks. His hawk eyes gleamed into you with an emotion you couldn’t quite describe. Even so, you could tell he was offended by what you said. “I didn’t ghost you, you ghosted me.”

Your mouth fell agape for the second time tonight. Was he trying to set a record of how many times can he make you gawk at him like this? Who did he think he was accusing you like that! “Are you being for real right now? You started taking hours to respond to me! Yet your snap score was still going up. You were ignoring me and stopped talking to me. That’s ghosting!”

He turned on his heel to face you again. “But I still responded! Every time! Even if it took me a while to get back to you. You were the one who unadded me out of nowhere!”

“That’s my point, it wasn’t out of nowhere! I had a reason. I wasn’t going to waste my time with a guy who didn’t prioritize me.” You crossed your arms. This was not how you wanted to spend your time at this party. You came here for mindless fun, not a confrontation with some ex situationship.

Unbeknownst to you, Tsukishima’s heart rate was increasing at those words. The idea that you wanted him to prioritize you plagued his thoughts. “I thought we were just going to hook up.”

“Huh, yeah, but…”

“But?” You both were maintaining eye contact. It was weird that the guy you thought was just another fail basically interrupted you from fucking another guy for meaningless sex. And now you were both standing here, facing off from each other. One sharp response to the next, even though Yamaguchi left you were still at each other's throat. Truly, one of you should just go separate ways. 

You huffed. “Nothing.”

“You wanted more than just sex?”

“No, geez, I said it was nothing.”

His hand snapped to yours, snatching it roughly enough for you to break eye contact and stumble backwards with a shy gasp. “If it’s nothing then lets hookup, right now.”

You visibly flinched at his words. “Huh? Are you drunk?

“We’re both drunk. That’s why we’re stumbling around.” His grip on you loosened. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s fool around. You were trying to get fucked weren’t you?”

“God, Tsukishima.” You pulled away from him and plopped yourself on the edge of the bed. Tilting your head as you looked at him. “It’d be weird to have sex with you after all this.”

Tsukishima’s mouth curled into a cocky grin. “It’s college, it’s what we do.” You couldn’t hold back an eye roll at his mocking tone. “It’s the time for casual sex. Didn’t you say that?” He leaned back and turned the lock on the door. “See, I can remember to lock the door at least.”

Tsukishima was so seductive and it made your tummy turn as he looked at you with lustful eyes. It felt like he could see through you to your very soul, knowing how at one point you craved for him to embrace you and kiss you gently. You’d fantasized about him inviting you over to his apartment, with a candle lit dinner and red wine poured into those cute fancy glass cups. Then, after you two were done eating, he’d scoop you into his arms and carry you to the bed. Stripping you and leaving trails of love marks to brand his romance into your very flesh. 

But, you didn’t care about that anymore. Yeah, there's no doubt that you are completely over that. You were completely fine with a casual hookup in some random bedroom. This was fine, so you have no reason to disagree with him. 

You exhaled and glanced over at him with your lips puckered. “Alright, it is a party…” a hint of embarrassment sparkled in your eyes “Let’s do it.”

Tsukishima didn’t hesitate. He climbed right on top of you and pushed you onto your back. His hands were placed on each side of your head. You could feel his body heat as he leaned down closer, his lips almost right against yours. “Can I get an enthusiastic yes?”

You were nervous and he could tell. A sheer crimson enveloped your cheeks and flowers bloomed in the depths of your core. You never felt like this with your other hookups, but for some reason the thought of him seeing you naked… even the thought of seeing him naked made your tummy twist and turn.

That’s why this was weird!

But you would sooner die than admit it. “...I want you to fuck me.”

The cocky blonde smiled at you. It was different however, the spiteful and argumentative man you were yelling at earlier was nowhere to be seen, replaced by someone much gentler. It was an emotion you’ve never seen on a man. Usually when you spread your legs for whoever will give you attention they look down on you. They treat each encounter as some sort of game. They were the players and you were a side quest for them to complete. It was a common misconception with most of the men you surrounded yourself with that the harder they fuck you, the better they are at sex. Even when it hurts and you want it to stop, you don’t say anything. After all, fucking you rough gave them power. If you took away their power they’d want nothing to do with you. Men thrived on the idea that they were the dominant one, they were the ones in charge, and you were mercy under their touch. In reality, your fake moaning and exaggerated expressions was nothing more than a manipulation tactic that a single man has yet to see through.

You were nothing but an object.  You let yourself become an object.

You’re so lonely.

Tsukishima’s smile didn’t host any intensity or wrath, because he didn’t perceive you as just something to fuck. Seeing you waiting for him to pleasure you, he wanted nothing more than to please you to the point you’d never sleep with another guy again. This was the only moment he might have to prove to you that he can earn your approval.

He never thought he ghosted you. Henever wanted to ghost you and to this day he remembers the devastation he had when he woke up and saw an X next to your username. He had to play it cool, after all he was on tinder for meaningless sex and a way to kill his boredom. You didn’t simply kill it, you cured it. Talking to you made him flushed. He wasn’t supposed to be like that. He likes to believe it was his pride that got in the way of you two actually working out, but in reality it was his undeniable shyness. When he saw you had sent him a message, an internal panic plagued his thoughts. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t admit he was shy around you, even to himself he never realized that he was just scared to meet up with you or that he’d say something stupid. If he made himself out to be a fool the facade he worked so hard to keep  up with would crumble and he’d be left with nothing.

That’s why his messages became dull and his response time plummeted. 

Tsukishima dove between your thighs. With a free hand, he flipped your skirt up and settled his face right in front of your clothed pussy. You gasped at the realization that he was going to give you oral. Usually, it was the other way around. You didn’t dislike sucking dick and in fact you think you're pretty good at it. “H-hey, you know, you don’t have to do that.” you whispered, a flash of heat filling your body.

Confused, he lifted himself out from beneath your skirt. “You don’t like being eaten out?”

“Well, of course I do, but we don’t have to do all this foreplay stuff. I know men say it can be a hassle-”

“Oh my god.” He huffed and for a split second you were about to snap back at him, yet a warmth spread across your cunt. You squealed, hips twitching. He was licking you over your underwear. No one has ever done that to you before. It was thrilling. You had no idea how something as simple as eating you out was able to make your core explode like fireworks in a dark sky, but Tsukishima was succeeding in it. Hollowing out his cheeks, he applied suction as the wet spot drenching your panties only grew. “Ask me to take off your panties and I will.”

Fuck.

“Take off my panties…”

You’ve never had to ask for anything during sex before. Previous men you have been with just do what they want. Even the shy guys, you give them head and they’re so eager to fuck you that they rush into slipping it in without a second thought of your desires. You couldn’t count the amount of times you had to shout out “Don’t cum inside me!” as the guy would groan in your ear that they were about to cum. Despite that, a good chunk would still cum inside.

You knew it. Tsukishima was different.

You’ve just been surrounding yourself with the wrong people.

You did not want to admit that right now, however. If you did, you’d probably start crying as you accepted that you have been using sex as a self harm tactic to combat the internal hatred you harbor for yourself. At this moment you just wanted to be held and cherished by the sharp witted man about to ravish you. You liked feeling special. He liked making you feel special more. He wanted to pleasure you in a way no man could ever live up to. Plague your mind so that even if you were swooped into the arms of another your thoughts would be full of him. 

Hooking his fingers under your panties, he slid them off. 

He teased you by swiping his tongue up your damp slit. The whimper that flew out only encouraged him to tease you more. A little on the rough side, he started to apply suction to your deprived clit. Electricity bolted up to your brain and then all the way back down to your toes. How does it feel so good? You were confused. Why did it feel so pleasurable? It wasn’t supposed to feel this good, was it?

Your thoughts were drowned out by the sound of your own moans.

Your voice fueled his desire to hear more. Out of nowhere, he began to attack your pussy like he was nothing more than a starved man in the wild. He pushed his tongue inside you which caused you to unintentionally grind your hips against his tongue. More, you wanted more. His tongue slithered around your walls, ripping another cry from your throat. You couldn’t believe you were making such embarrassing noises. You never knew you were capable of such whimpers.

His nose bumped into your clit as he tongue fucked you even deeper. The wetness of his saliva mixed with your slick. His mouth was devouring your pussy and you could tell he was quite experienced. Tsukishima succeeded in his goal, because no man will ever live up to the skill he had with his tongue. 

Tsukishima’s pace never slowed. Up until an intense feeling of ecstasy washed over your entire desperate body, he didn’t let up one bit. You didn’t realize that you were whimpering his name softly under your breath. His dick twitched at the sound and he couldn’t wait to be inside you. It was hard for him not to just take you there and then, but he had an personal obligation to make you cum with his tongue. Strings of curses escaped your lips and he had a front row seat to you cumming on his face.

Not only cumming, however, you were squirting.

Tsukishima lifted his head up from beneath your thighs. You stayed on your back, huffing with wide eyes.  “Was that good?” He asked, the desire for praise more than apparent enough.

You blinked a few times, processing that irresistible new feeling you just experienced. You could see Tsukishima staring at you with a perplexed eyebrow raise. Using your elbows to sit yourself up, you awkwardly smiled. “It was good, really good, I mean I’ve never done that before…”

“You’ve never cum before? Oh wow, you need to pick better gu-”

“No!” You interrupted his misconception. “I never squirted, like that, It’s embarrassing and geez, it’s all over your lips!”

Tsukishima placed his hand against his mouth and rubbed at it with little to no effort. “Oh.” He chuckled at himself, making you smile. “I had a suspicion maybe you liked virgins or something and that’s why you couldn’t cum. You tried to sleep with Yamaguchi afterall.”

“Nothing wrong with virgins.” You retorted. 

He raised his hands in defense. “Sorry, sorry, you fuck a lot of virgins or something?”

You pressed your lips into a thin line. “I fuck a lot of people in general.”

“Oh yeah?” He smirked, climbing back on top of you and hooking his arm under your leg. “What’s your body count?”

“Only polite of you to answer first.”

“It’s high.”

“Same.”

After some silence both of you started to smile, trying to hold back laughter. Tsukishima was the first one to break the quiet. “We’re both sluts then.”

Not the first time you’ve been called a slut and it probably won’t be the last, but somehow this charming man said it in a way that was able to turn you on. Happily, you wrapped your arm around his neck and pulled him closer to your blushed face. You scooted downwards just so he had a better angle to lift up your leg even more. “Fuck me like a slut then.”

You did not need to say that twice.

Desperately with his free hand, he tugged his zipper down and let his cock out into the open. You quickly peeked at it, long enough to get a good look at it but not too long for Tsukishima to notice you staring. You wanted to play it cool. 

It was thick. Precum oozed at the tip of his cockhead, twitching with excitement to sink itself into your wet cunt.

He positioned his cock right against your soaking wet hole. Your pretty pussy was fluttering at the anticipation of finally getting fucked by the one guy you had an attraction to outside just his dick. He sunk into you slowly, biting his lip while doing it. You threw your head back with a moan. Your pussy stretched around his hard member. He started to fuck you with a steady pace. He didn’t just start pounding into you, no, instead he kept a stable rhythm allowing you to get used to the thick cock inside you. 

Still, with every buck of his hips that amazing dick of his hit the sweet, spongy spot deep inside your velvet walls. You whimpered and moaned, embarrassingly still trying to keep quiet in case anyone was nearby to hear you. Your shirt was suddenly pulled upwards along with your bra. You looked up to see Tsukishima practically drooling at the sight of your bouncing boobs. It was a sexy sight, they bounced along with the rhythm of his thrusts. He kept a steady arm around your leg and began to speed up his pace. “What a sight.” He groaned, yet the compliment fell on deaf ears as the volume of your cries filled the air.

He rolled his hips, pushing his cock deeper inside you. His heavy balls slapped against you, only adding to the lewd noises your bodies were making. Your pussy was clenching around him. The burning sensation of delight warmed up your cunt and the nerves surrounding your puffy clit were sparkling. However, none of it compared to how intense the pleasure was in your core. His cock was filling you. The friction was nothing less than addicting. 

You let your arms fall from around his neck onto the blanket. You gripped the fabric into a tight fist. The pleasure he was giving you was purely euphoric and you didn’t know how to handle it. Every cry that was ripped from your throat couldn’t be stopped even if you wanted it to. Even now, when his thrusts were getting sloppier and his groans filled your ears. His cock was twitching against your wet walls and the words “I’m gonna cum.” repeated out of his mouth.

You were too into it that the thought of telling him not to finish inside you wasn’t a concern.

Truly, you wanted him to cum inside you.

Thick, hot semen was pumped into the depths of your delicates. Tsukishima’s head rolled back and he let your leg fall against the bed. Your cunt was milking him perfectly that he could swear up and down that his eyes rolled to the back of his head. After he finished cumming, you both took a moment to catch your breaths and process how that was the best sex either of you have ever had. Hoping that the other was thinking the same thing.

Tsukishima clicked his tongue. “Shit, is there a towel, oh crap, it got on the bed.” He looked around trying to find something suitable to clean up the cum leaking from your cunt. You half sat up, fixing your bra and shirt with one hand then pointed to a side drawer next to the bed. “There's a washcloth in the bedside table there.”

He listened to you and reached over, opening the drawer and taking out the washcloth you knew was there. “How did you know that?” He tossed it over to you and zipped his pants back up. You cleaned yourself and pulled your panties back into place. “I’m friends with the people who rent this house. I’ve fucked many guys on that bed.” Standing up, you patted the wrinkles in your skirt flat. 

Tsukishima wasn’t sure what to say.

You could tell you created an awkward moment, so quickly you added onto it. “And out of all those guys you were the best. So, you were right, it wasn’t that weird.”

He smiled. His smile was contagious and you found yourself grinning along with him. “Good to hear. Are you heading back to your dorm? Sounds like the party died down.”

You nodded. “Yep. Gotta sleep this drunk off.”

“I should walk you home. It’s dark.”

Your heart fluttered. You metaphorically slapped yourself and gulped air down your dry throat, desperately making sure to hide any excitement from him. “That would be the safe thing to do. We’ve both been drinking, maybe you should spend the night. You know, for safety, walking home alone in the dark drunk is dangerous for men too.”

Stars twinkled in Tsukishima’s chest. He began to approach you and at first you weren’t sure what he was doing exactly, though without another moment passing he intertwined his fingers with yours. Pulling you closer to his shoulder and squeezing your hand tightly. It made you feel safe just as he intended.

“You wanna hold my hand?” 

A hint of red tinted his cheeks which went against the demeanor he made sure to force all these years. Maybe both of your auras are attracted to each other. The fear of commitment and stubborn pride caused you both to push away, but in this moment reality felt raw. It made sense.

“Just to be safe, of course.”

#haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyū!! #haikyu smut #tsukishima smut #tsukishima kei #yamaguchi tadashi #anime #manga #reader insert #smut

[pedrito-friskito]

the domestication of steven grant rogers - a study in red, white, and blue

summary: when Steve came out of the ice, you were one of the first people he met outside of S.H.I.E.L.D., and quickly became the only thing that made sense to him.

warning: smut, fluff, my heartache over steve rogers, explicit sex, canon-typical violence

a/n: I wrote this last year (DAMN) in honour of my favourite star-spangled man with a plan’s bday, and since it’s been a whole year and I haven’t posted a steve fic on here yet, here ya go!

| main masterlist | ao3 |

2012

Steve Rogers has gone to the same cafe every day, sat at the same table, drank the same black coffee, since he came out of the ice. When the weather’s nice, he takes the table in the middle, with the clear view of the clock above Grand Central Station. If not, then the one just inside the cafe, right beside the front door. Sitting at the table, he fills journals with notes about what he’s learned, general musings, sketches in the corners of the pages.

He’s spent every night sifting through the files S.H.I.E.LD. provided him with, catching up on some of what he’s missed. His head spins over something new every day, and so he’s kept up some sort of routine. Same cafe, same table, same coffee. Something, anything to keep him tied to the earth, make him feel some sort of normalcy once more.

He learns the staff rotation of the cafe pretty quickly. During the week, there’s an older woman named Dolores who brings him his order without a word. She introduced herself the first day he went to the cafe, quickly understood Steve wasn’t one to talk, and kept the coffee coming. On the weekends, a tall, lanky guy named Eric who doesn’t have the same social radar Dolores does, and will talk Steve’s ear off for an hour before finally leaving him in peace.

And then, a few months into his routine, something changes, and it throws him through a loop.

He shows up Monday morning, a fresh journal tucked under his arm and a perfectly sunny day ahead of him. He takes his normal table outside, cranes his neck towards the cafe entrance, but instead of Dolores’s familiar figure, he sees you.

And damn it all if you don’t take his breath away.

He catches himself. His feelings for Peggy Carter are still fresh, the thought of what they could have had if he had survived hanging around the back of his head like an unwelcome shadow. He knows she moved on, that she married, had kids and built a life with her husband, and he can’t fault her for it. Knowing what he does, he’s glad, in a way, that she did, that she didn’t let the loss of him get in her way. Peggy’s still alive, he knows. He hasn’t been able to bring himself to go visit her in Washington, not yet. 

You walk towards his table, steaming cup of coffee balanced on the tray in your hand, an easy smile on his face. Y/N your name tag reads, and he commits it to memory. There’s a uniform for the cafe, a light yellow button up and a black skirt, and you wear it well, the shirt tied up at your waist, red chucks on your feet, hair piled atop your head in a messy bun. The skirt clings to your curves in a way that has Steve stifling the blush that creeps up the back of his neck, and his mouth goes dry when you come to stop in front of him, lifting the coffee cup from his tray and setting it in front of him.

“You must be Steve,” you say, and your voice is melodic in a way that makes Steve want to ask you a million questions, if only to hear you talk more. In an instant, he’s hooked.

He’s staring, he realizes after a moment, his mouth apparently forgetting how to stay shut and his palms going sweaty. “I…uh…yes.”

The smile you give him makes his heart stutter in his chest. “Dolores told me about you. You were her favourite regular. She told me to take good care of you.”

“What happened to her?”

You spin the tray once in your hand and then tuck it under your arm, pulling an order pad from the apron around your waist. “She retired. Her and her husband are moving to Florida, right on the beach.”

“Sounds peaceful,” he says.

You hum in agreement. “It does, doesn’t it? But I’ve got her shifts now, so you’ll have to settle for me instead.” Across the tables, towards the cafe entrance, someone calls your name, and your head turns toward it. Steve is still staring. “I gotta go, but let me know if you need anything, okay? Table’s yours as long as you want.”

He watches you go, until you’ve disappeared into the cafe once more, and an elderly man at the table beside him pipes up, leaning back over his chair. “Ask for her number, you moron.”

Steve spends the rest of the day hunched over his journal, pencil in hand, sketching. He’s never been great at faces, but you make enough appearances outside that he gets all the angles he needs. You catch him staring a few times, winking when his gaze meets yours, and he blushes every time.

The sketch is rough, and the paper is filled with a few different versions, but it’s still your face. He’s pretty pleased with himself, and tears the page from the journal. He scribbles a note beneath his sketches, and leaves the page folded beneath his empty coffee cup, a ten dollar bill along with it.

See you tomorrow.

+

When Dolores announced her retirement, and your boss at the cafe asked if you were willing to pick up the extra shifts, you were more than happy to oblige. You were bouncing between two jobs, the cafe at Grand Central, and some retail shop on Broadway, but you liked the cafe better. The atmosphere was nicer, the pay was better, and people tended to tip heavier when they were in a hurry to catch a train.

So you said yes, altered your schedule, and gave your two weeks at the other place. Dolores gave you the rundown of her day-to-day, when she’d come in, what she’d get done before the cafe opened. She also filled you in on all of her regulars; where they sat, their orders, how long they usually stayed. She had it down to a science, nearly, and supplied you with detailed notes in a tiny red book. 

Steve was the latest entry on the list, his details specific enough: table in the middle (outside unless it’s raining - right by the door if it is), black coffee (keep it coming), he’ll stay as long as he needs, handsome.

The last word was underlined three times, so hard the mark had scratched through the page, and it made you laugh.

She was right, he was handsome. However, she’d failed to mention who he was, though part of you wondered if she knew.

Captain America. 

Captain America was now one of your regulars. Captain America had spent the day drawing sketches of you from his spot outside, and had left you the evidence with a promise scrawled along the bottom of the page: See you tomorrow.

You certainly hoped so.

The history was common knowledge. You’d read the books in high school, listened to the lectures in the history elective you’d taken in college. You knew the story, at least what was shared with the public: the experiment that had turned him into the super-soldier he still was, all the lives he’d saved crashing a plane carrying enough explosives to level the state. They’d searched the world over for his body, but if they’d ever found him, you didn’t know about it.

Until you stepped out of the cafe with a black coffee on your tray and realized you were delivering it to Captain America himself. He’s just as handsome in real life as he’d been in the photographs you’d seen, maybe even more so. The same floppy blonde hair, combed to the side in true forties fashion, piercing baby blues that would make the ocean jealous, broad shoulders that were definitely something to write home about. He was…Captain America. Steve Rogers.

Your interaction had gone smoothly enough, and you’d kept an eye on him through your shift. You didn’t press him; he looked…spooked, in a way, like a deer in the headlights, and you didn’t want to make it worse. He didn’t once move from his table, only asked for a refill after you pressed him, and spent most of the day hunched over his journal. Towards the end of your shift, you’d stepped outside to find his seat empty, and gone to clear the table, only to find a folded piece of paper beneath his empty cup, with a ten dollar bill.

It was you. He’d drawn you. Over and over again.

It occurs to you that in another circumstance, maybe you’d maybe find it creepy, but the detail is so good that you find it almost…endearing? He even managed to sketch the clover-shaped necklace at your throat, a gift from your parents when you graduated.

You put the paper in your purse, hang up your apron, and head out of the cafe. The night shift has arrived, and you bid everyone a goodnight before stepping outside.

And straight into Steve Rogers’s chest.

“Oh!” you cry out, startled and nearly tripping over your own shoes. Steve catches your wrist easily, his grip warm and his skin soft on yours. “I thought you went home.”

“I did,” he replies, “did some thinking, decided to come back and ask if you’d like to have dinner with me?” His voice hitches at the end with the question, and you can feel a grin pulling at your mouth. He starts talking again before you can answer, dropping your wrist and taking a step back, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck and staring down at his shoes. “I’m sorry, if that’s too forward, I just…well, you’re very nice. And beautiful, and I…” He trails off, finally looking back up at you. “I am not very good at this.”

You wave him off. “No such thing. I like the forwardness. Dinner sounds great.” You look down at your shirt, stained with coffee from a rogue pot and your skirt dusted with flour from the pastries you’d helped bake earlier in the day. “But if we’re going to go to a restaurant, I need to change first.”

“Of course,” Steve says, gesturing with a hand in a way that makes you giggle. “I should have just asked for your phone number, like a normal person, made plans for another day when you haven’t been on your feet for eight hours.”

He pauses for a breath, but then opens his mouth to keep talking, and you lift a quick hand, pressing your finger to his lips. There’s something so endearing about him, you can’t get past it. The whole man-out-of-time thing is working, not to mention those blue eyes make you want to roll over and die. “Steve,” you say, laughing, “it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and you drop your hand. “It’s been a long time since I asked a dame on a date.”

You scoff a laugh. “Dame?”

He blushes. “Sorry. Girl. Woman?”

He’s got you laughing again, and you shake your head at him. “I live a few blocks over. I’ll change, and then we can go to this little Italian place on the other side of the park.”

Steve doesn’t say anything more, but just nods. He offers you his elbow, bending slightly, and you slip your hand into the crook of his arm and lead him away from the cafe.

+

Half an hour later, Steve is standing outside your apartment building, leaning against the fence on the sidewalk. You’d asked if he wanted to come up with you, but he’d declined. Was that appropriate now? To be alone in an apartment with a girl you barely know? Woman? Dame? His head is spinning, but he’s hooked onto one thing: you said yes. If he’s honest, it’s the best thing that’s happened to him since he came out of the ice.

The door opens again and you step outside, yanking it shut behind you, and for the second time that day, you take his breath away. Gone is the coffee-stained uniform, replaced with dark pants that cling to you, and a white top made of flowing material that makes Steve think of fairies from stories he read a long time ago. 

You’re beautiful, and he’s struck by it. Again.

“Ready?” you ask, your lips painted a deep pink colour. He wants to kiss you. Is that appropriate? Damn it.

“Uh, yes,” he replies, and offers you his elbow once more.

He lets you lead as you walk through the streets of the city. It’s familiar to him in a strange way; the streets themselves haven’t changed much from what he remembers, but the buildings that line either side are completely different in some places, identical to his memory in others.

You both talk as you walk. You more than him, but you don’t seem to mind. He asks more about you. Did you grow up in the city? No, you’re from the South originally, but your parents had moved a lot when you were a teenager and you’d ended up in New York for school. Any siblings? Only child. What did you go to school for? You were a history major in Columbia, graduated a few years back with a minor in creative writing as well.

Learning what you studied answers his next question, the one he’s been dying to ask. “So you know who I am.”

You pause, seemingly choosing your words before you reply. “I do. The second World War was one of my focuses in senior year. I wrote my final thesis paper on Allied experimentation.”

Steve’s brows lift. “Impressive. I might know a thing or two about that.”

The easy smile returns to your face, and Steve’s gut clenches when you bite your bottom lip gently. “Your name came up once or twice. I did a lot of research, and I’ll tell you, I don’t usually know my dates this well before meeting them.” 

“I’m assuming you don’t usually date men from your history books.”

Something changes in your expression then, you brows pulling down. “We don’t have to talk about it, you know. What happened to you. I mean, if you want to, then I’m all ears. It must be…shocking, I don’t know.” You pause, put your hand on his arm, stopping you both. You’re in the middle of Central Park now, the streetlights just starting to come on. “Are you okay?”

Steve balks for a second at your question. The truth of it is no, he’s not okay. 

It’s been a strange few months to say the least, and he doesn’t know the last time someone asked him if he was okay. They’ve poked and prodded him enough to know he’s healthy, but save for Fury, few have had the courage to speak to him, let alone look him in the eye. Most people he’s encountered in public have either resorted to whispers behind their hands, or snapping pictures from afar.

And yet here you are. 

“I’m fine,” is what comes out of his mouth instead, hands clenching into fists at his sides and continuing on down the pathway. After a moment, he feels your hand around his wrist, your skin warm against his. He lets you unfurl his fingers, and your hand slips into his.

“I could try and help, if you’d like,” you offer, double-stepping to get a little closer to him. “Answer whatever questions you have, try and catch you up on the world. I know my history pretty well, and I’m a master of reality television.”

His brow lifts. “You’d do that? I’ve got a lot of questions. Lot of stupid ones, probably. Like, what’s a selfie?”

You let out a laugh, and Steve’s gut twists. Your laugh is just as pretty as your face, and he wants to drown in it, wants to hear it again as soon as it stops.

“Come here,” you say, your grip tightening on his hand and pulling him closer to you. You angle yourself in front of him, pulling something rectangular and metallic out of your pocket. Your finger swipes across a blank screen, illuminating it, and it takes Steve to realize that it’s a phone. The screen is covered in tiny icons of all different colours, and you press down on one. A moment later, the screen changes, and he can see the two of you reflected back on the screen.

You hold the phone at an arm’s length, reaching back with one hand to pull at his shoulder. He crouches slightly, positions his face close to yours.

“Now, smile!”

You press a button on the screen, there’s a strange sound from the phone, and you pull it close to you again, swiping at the screen again and pulling up the photograph. It’s the two of you, a beaming smile on your face, a toothy grin on Steve’s. He’s in awe, shocked that you can see the picture right away.

The confusion must be clear as day on his face, because you slip the phone back into your pocket and take his hand again. “Okay, maybe we need to start a little smaller. Do you have a cell phone?”

S.H.I.E.L.D. had given him some sort of phone when they’d released him into the world, with a quick tutorial on how to use it. He still didn’t totally understand it, but he didn’t have anyone to talk to, so he hadn’t investigated it further.

He reaches into his pocket, pulls out the silver flip phone, and hands it to you. You flip it open, start tapping away at the keypad, and then hand it back to him. “There. Now you have my number. Number two on your speed dial.”

“My what?”

“Press the two,” you say around a smile, “and it’ll call me.”

“Huh.”

He slips the phone back into his pocket and takes your hand again. “It’s a start,” you say, lifting a shoulder.

You go a few more steps before he asks another question. “What about the internet?”

“Oh.” You blow out a breath, shaking your head. “Food first, Captain. Then we can get into that.”

+

Dinner is lovely, and Steve Rogers is nothing short of a gentleman.

You sit out on the terrace, the whole patio covered in little twinkly lights that are cliche as anything, but still put a smile on your face. The food is delicious, as it always is, and the expression on Steve’s face when he tries your gnocchi keeps the smile in place. You share a bottle of wine, and he’s quick to offer you his jacket when he catches you shivering at the slight chill in the air.

He has a lot of questions, but you didn’t expect anything less, and you’d meant it when you offered your help. The internet probably takes the longest time to explain - and admittedly, there are parts of it you still don’t understand - but he has a decent grasp by the end of it.

By the time dinner and dessert are done, you’ve covered the important parts of 2012, best that you can think of. You’re sure you’re missing something, and you can tell by Steve’s expression that he has more questions, but you’re both tired with the information overload, yawning around your wine glasses when the waiter brings the check.

You reach for your wallet, but Steve waves you off, pulling a surprisingly thick money clip from his pocket and pulling out enough bills to cover the check and a decent tip. “Apparently whatever money I had back in the forties just sat in the bank collecting interest for seventy years,” he tells you, tucking the clip away. “I’d buy you breakfast too, if you’d let me.”

Your brows raise. There’s an innuendo there, and you know he doesn’t mean it that way, but to say your mind hasn’t wandered in that direction a few times over the course of the evening would be a lie. “I start work at eight,” you reply, “but before that, I’m all yours. If you’re willing to get up that early.”

The waiter returns to collect the cash, thanks Steve for the tip, and he waits for the waiter to disappear before responding, leaning his elbows onto the table. “I slept for seventy years, Y/N. I’ve had my fill. Besides, I’d rather spend my time with a beautiful girl than dreaming of a life that isn’t mine anymore.”

The words are both sincere and sad, and it pulls at something in your chest. Before you can think any better of it, you lean forward, reaching for the collar of his shirt. Your fingers curl in the fabric, thumb pressing against a button, and you bend across the table, your lips meeting Steve’s in a sweet kiss that tastes like wine and tiramisu.

When you pull back, he’s flushed as anything, and you sink back into your seat slowly. “I’m sorry,” you mumble out, chewing your lip, “if that was too forward.”

His gaze goes far off for a moment, and then focuses on you again. “I like the forwardness.”

“Was that your first kiss since 1945?” you ask.

He swallows hard. “…yes.”

You nod, reaching for your wineglass and draining it to it’s dregs. “Not bad.”

Steve just starts to laugh, a low chuckle that shakes his shoulders. His laugh is infectious, and it’s half a second before you’re following suit, laughing along with him. After a second, he gets to his feet, offers you his hand, and leads you off the patio and back towards the park. You’re both quieter on the way back, full of food and wine and information.

All too soon, you’re standing outside your apartment again. You give him back his jacket, thank him for dinner, and ask Steve if he wants to come up for a cup of coffee, but he politely declines. “I’ll see you for breakfast?”

You nod. “Pick me up at six thirty?”

“It’s a date,” he replies, and you go to turn away, stepping up towards the door that leads into your apartment. He reaches for your wrist before you can reach for the door, and spins you backwards, your feet slipping on the step. You all but fall into his arms, and he catches you easily, his arms around your waist, yours around your shoulders. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you murmur, and this time, he’s the one that kisses you.

It’s different than the soft kiss you’d shared at the restaurant, which was quick and gentle and over before it had even begun. This is much different, his lips moulding against yours in a way that has your toes curling in your shoes, your fingers twisting in the fabric at his collar. Your bodies press together, heat sparking deep in you, and you can feel his palm pressed against the small of your back.

He makes a noise when your teeth glance across his bottom lip, and you pull back, nearly stumbling out of his grip. He follows you up the step, crowding you into the corner beside the doorway, his arms finding your waist once more. You fist both hands in the front of his jacket, pulling him closer, your mouth on his. It’s…intoxicating.

You pull away before he does, and Steve’s lips are a perfect shade of pink, his cheeks flushed in a way that makes you want to kiss him some more. “Are you sure you don’t want to come upstairs?”

He chuckles again, and takes a step back, stuffing his hands in his pocket. “I should go home. To my apartment. Where I live.” There’s a pause, and he leans forward, kissing your lips once more before pulling back again. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You smile, the taste of him still on your mouth. “Goodnight, Steve.”

You watch as he heads down the sidewalk, waiting until his figure completely disappears from view before you head inside yourself.

+

Steve doesn’t get much sleep. Not that he’s really been getting any; since he came out of the ice, it’s like everything is constantly on high alert, and his body doesn’t want to stop. He can’t stop.

And then there’s you. You, who have completely turned the world on it’s head, before he could even recover from the first flip. You, with your pretty eyes and your voice like a song he’s never heard before, but somehow known all his life. With your laugh and your questions and answers. He could have sat on that patio forever, listening to you talk, watching you move.

It’s a miracle he didn’t stand outside your apartment and kiss you until the sun came up.

He spends the night as he normally does, sifting through the piles of information S.H.I.E.L.D. had given him, flipping through his journals. He finds himself sketching faces; Bucky Barnes, Peggy Carter, Howard Stark, the Howling Commandos. Faces he remembers, faces he’ll never see again.

But then, just as he had at the cafe, he draws you.

The sketches are different than what he’d drawn earlier in the day. You’d worn your hair down to the restaurant, the ends curling around your shoulders. He’d wanted to run his fingers through it, and cursed himself for not doing so when he kissed you outside your apartment.

By the time the sun comes up, his pencils are dulled and one of his journals is full. He changes quickly, swapping his button up for a white t-shirt and his leather jacket. Is it awful that part of him hopes it’s cold outside, just so he can see you wearing his jacket again?

The subway is bustling for six in the morning, and he hangs around the doorway, waiting for his stop with his hands stuffed in his pocket, foot tapping impatiently.

Bucky would give him hell, to see him all doe-eyed and anxious over a girl like this, but things are different now. Everything is different now.

You step onto the sidewalk as he’s approaching your building, dressed in your cafe uniform once again, a denim jacket tucked under your arm. You spot him quickly, stepping off the porch and heading for him. Steve’s not sure what to do with his hands, not sure how to greet you, but you beat him to the punch, a beaming smile on your face as your hand settles on his chest and you lean up on your toes, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Good morning,” you murmur, and when you pull back, he can see your eyes are a little droopy with sleep, that infectious smile still on you lips. Your hair is tied up again, a stray strand curling around your cheek, and before Steve can stop himself, he reaches up and tucks it behind your ear.

“Morning,” he replies, then offers you his elbow. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” you say, your hand slipping into the crook of his arm. He lets you lead again, and to his surprise, you don’t take him to a restaurant, instead to a bagel cart a few blocks down from Central Park. You order two everything bagels, bacon and cheddar cheese, and two coffees, one black, one with cream and sugar. He reaches for his money clip again but this time it’s you waving him off. “Put it away,” you say over your shoulder. “I got this one.”

Bagels and coffee in hand, you lead him through the park, down a few pathways he hasn’t ventured through yet, and come upon a mostly empty stretch with benches lining either side. You take the closest one, sitting down, tucking one leg up underneath you. Steve sits down beside you, and you hand him his bagel and coffee.

You eat in silence for a while, but Steve can’t help the groan that escapes him when he takes a bite of the bagel. You let out a little giggle, smiling at him around yours. “They’re good, huh? Best bagel in the city, I swear.”

“I think this is the best bagel I’ve ever had.” His knee knocks against yours. “Although, the company definitely makes it better.”

Your eyes light up in a way that makes his heart leap in his chest. “Are you flirting with me, Captain Rogers?”

Surprising both you and himself, Steve leans in and plants a kiss on your lips. You make a little startled noise that makes him smile against your mouth, and you taste mostly of coffee. A little bit like bagel, but he doesn’t mind. 

For a moment, he thinks, everything else can wait. It can all wait. For a moment, just a moment, he just wants to be this. He just wants to sit on this bench and kiss a beautiful girl until he forgets his own name.

It can all wait.

He’s been so tired. He’s the kind of tired that sleep won’t fix. The kind of tired that seventy years in limbo couldn’t fix. The man out of time, the super soldier, the good man. And he’s trying. He’s trying so hard, trying to feel like he has a place in this world that chewed him up nearly a century ago and spit him back out into a future he doesn’t understand.

And then there’s you. Bright-eyed and gorgeous and somehow knowing just the right things to say. He talks to you, and he feels…light. Like maybe things won’t be so bad. He’s getting ahead of himself, he knows, but he can’t bring himself to care.

So he sits on that bench beside you, one hand cupping your cheek, keeping your face tilted towards his, and kisses you until the coffee goes cold.

+

The weeks that follow are the same routine for Steve, only you have now implanted yourself into his daily life. And he’s grateful for it.

He still goes to the cafe everyday, you always waiting with a fresh cup at his table. You even put a little reserved sign on it, so no one else will snag it from him. Most nights, he has dinner with you, exploring the different restaurants New York City has to offer. Your favourite places, mostly, but he doesn’t mind in the slightest. 

You’re off work from the cafe on the Fridays and Saturdays, and those days are for adventures, you decide. The Met, the Museum of Natural History, the Guggenheim, everywhere. You have to physically drag him into a Yankees game, but Steve doesn’t really mind it that much - especially when the two of you get caught on the jumbo-tron and you plant one on him.

You help him find a boxing gym, and Steve’s quick to get a membership. He’ll spend a few hours everyday there, practicing his kicks and punches until you’re off the clock or his body is too tired to carry on. It takes his mind off of everything, off the sneaking feeling he’s been having lately that something is coming, but he can’t put his finger on what it is.

His phone starts to ring more often. You always call him when you’re grocery shopping, talking his ear off while browsing the produce. You show him how to text, and it takes some getting used to, but he gets the hang of it pretty quickly.

There’s a number he doesn’t recognize that keeps calling as well, but those calls he declines without a second thought.

Whatever it is, it can wait. It can all wait.

Things between the two of you…escalate. He’d be a fool to try and deny his attraction to you, and there’s more than a few nights spent at your apartment that you end up straddling his lap, your hands in his hair, the two of you breathing the same air. He’s quickly become addicted to the feeling of your body in his grip. Your hips fill his hands perfectly, and more than once he’s slipped a hand up the back of your shirt, feeling the notches of your spine. It’s heat and longing and seventy years creeping up on him in an instant.

He wants to. There’s no question about that. On more than one occasion, he’s…taken care of himself once he got home from your apartment, images of you flashing through his mind. He’s not shocked at how quickly he finds a release, but he also wishes you were there to share it with him.

But Steve Rogers is a gentleman, through and through.

Nearly a month into your romance - is that what he’s supposed to call it? - Steve finds himself alone one Friday night. A few of your girlfriends from college had dragged you out to a bar to celebrate somebody’s birthday. You’d extended an invitation, but he’d declined. He wasn’t there…not yet.

However, when his phone rings at three in the morning, and he sees your name flashing on the screen, he answers in an instant. “Y/N?”

“Can you come get me?” Steve can barely make out your voice over the loud music in the background. You’re practically shouting into the phone, and repeat your request. “Please?”

“Where are you?”

You rattle off a street name, telling him you’ll text him directions once you hang up. He’s out of bed the moment you hang up, changing quickly and heading out the door without a second thought. He stops in the 24-hour bodega around the corner from his building, and the clerk gives him quicker directions than the mess you’d texted to him as he was leaving.

Twenty minutes later, he’s jogging up to the front of a club, a large man standing by the door, neon lights flashing and painting pictures on the sidewalk. He spots you, leaning against the window, teetering on heels that look sharp enough to kill a man. You have your face in your hands, and you’re swaying slightly. As he steps up to you, the large man by the door lifts a hand. “Hey.”

Your head snaps up, and your face is streaked with makeup, black smudges beneath your eyes. “Steve.” You turn to the man. “It’s okay. I know him.”

The man gives Steve a look, but lowers his hand. You step towards him, teetering like a newborn deer, and Steve grabs your elbows, keeping you steady and leading you away from the building.

“Are you okay?” he asks. Your arms wrap through his, fingers tightening around his forearms.

“My friends are assholes,” you say, and your voice is so sad that he just wants to hug you.

Before he gets the chance to, you wrench yourself out of his grip, and empty your stomach into the trash can beside you. Steve flinches, but reaches for you, pulling your hair back and keeping it out of the puke. It takes a while - he doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone throw up that much, not even when Bucky dragged him on the roller coaster at Coney Island - but when you’re done, you stumble back away from the garbage can, and Steve pulls a tissue from his pocket, offering it to you. You wipe your mouth, smearing your lipstick in the process, and before you can say - or do - anything else, he scoops you into his arms, heels and all, and starts walking back in the direction of his apartment.

He has to stop once a few blocks in, you scrambling down from his arms to toss your cookies once more into a trash can. After that, he picks you up again, and you settle against his chest, your head on his shoulder.

Someone is walking out of his building as you two approach, and blessedly holds the door open so Steve can carry you straight up. It takes a little bit of manoeuvring to get his keys out of his pocket while you’re nearly comatose in his arms, but he manages. He nudges the door shut with his foot, flicking the lock before carrying you into his bedroom.

You mumble something unintelligible as he sets you on the bed, rubbing a hand across your face as you do. Steve just chuckles to himself, and reaches for your feet, undoing the multiple buckles on each of your shoes and pulling them off your feet. He sets them on the ground at the foot of his bed, but then freezes. You’re sweaty, your dress stained with what he assumes is alcohol (thankfully no vomit), and while the dress is pretty, he can only imagine it’s not the most comfortable thing.

As he’s sitting there contemplating what he should do next, if it’s appropriate to change you out of your dress or not, you sit up, mumbling again and smudging the makeup under your eyes further. Steve just watches as you shimmy off the end of the bed, grab the hem of your dress in both hands and yank it up over your head.

He definitely doesn’t miss the black lace panties and matching bra, and needless to say has to pick his jaw up off the floor before he crosses the room, reaching into his closet for a t-shirt and tossing it onto the bed. “I’ll get you some water.”

“Hm?” you mumble in response, but see the t-shirt on the bed and reach for it. He heads for the door, but out of the corner of his eye, sees you hold the shirt to your nose, inhaling heavily and breathing out his name. He all but sprints for the kitchen, pours you a glass of water, then retreats.

He doesn’t expect to find you sitting in the middle of his bed, your bare legs crossed beneath you, and his compass in your hands.

Your eyes go wide when you see him in the doorway, looking back at him like a little kid that got caught with her hands in the cookie jar. But you make no move to put the compass away, and say, “She’s very pretty.”

Steve inhales. “She is.”

“Peggy Carter,” you say, and his brows lift. “Right?”

“Right.”

“She’s very pretty,” you say again, your voice hitching a little. You snap the compass closed, and put it back in it’s place on his night stand. Your eyes meet his after a moment, and there’s something in them that makes his chest go tight. “I really like you, Steve.”

He steps towards the bed, hands you the glass of water, and then sinks onto the edge of the mattress. You sip the water, and he toys with his hands, staring down at his knotted fingers. “I really like you, too.” You give him one of your signature beaming smiles, and down the rest of the water. You reach for his hands, fingers twining easily between his. “Wanna tell me what happened at the bar?”

You just lift a shoulder, but your eyes go glassy. “I told you. My friends are assholes. They’re not even good friends, not really.” You shake your head. “I should have just spent the night with you, like we usually do. You’re a much better friend than they are.”

“Friend?” Steve asks. Somehow, the words feel like a punch to his stomach. “Is that what I am?”

Your brows shoot up, and you cover your mouth with your hands. “No! I didn’t…shit. I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant…” You groan, push your palms against your eyes and lean back on the bed. “I just meant I have a better time with you than anyone else. That’s all.” After a moment, you move your hands from your face and your eyes lock with his. “You’re not just my friend, Steve. I don’t know what we are, but you’re not just my friend.”

“I don’t know either,” he agrees, feeling the tightness in his gut ease, “but I know I like you. And…how I feel about you, I can’t just be your friend.”

You stare at him for a long moment, a smile tugging at your lips. “You know, if I wasn’t still kind of drunk, and hadn’t thrown up in front of you less than ten minutes ago, I’d probably have sex with you right now.”

“What?” He swears his heart skips a beat, and instantly his cheeks are on fire.

You, on the other hand, dissolve into giggles which quickly turn into a yawn you can barely stifle. Steve stands, trying his best to ignore the zap of heat that your words sent straight to his core, and goes to get you another glass of water. When he returns, you’re curled up on your side, your head on his pillow, eyes shut.

He sets the water on the nightstand beside the compass, goes to get a damp cloth from his bathroom, and then perches beside you, moving you gently and wiping the makeup from your face as best as he can. You don’t open your eyes, sound asleep in his grasp, eyelids fluttering as you dream.

Once he’s done, he goes to leave the room, content to sleep on the couch and give you some privacy, but before he can even get off the edge of the bed, your hand curls in the front of his shirt. “Stay.”

So he does, toeing off his shoes and settling on the bed beside you. You adjust yourself against him, one arm slinging across his waist, your head on his chest. The ends of your hair tickle his nose, but he doesn’t mind. He runs his fingers through it over and over, listening to the steady in and out of your breathing, and finds himself falling asleep with you.

+

You wake the next morning feeling surprisingly okay, despite the copious amounts of alcohol your so-called friends had shoved at you all night. You suspect your multiple puking sessions and all the water Steve had given you aided you some, and your head throbs slightly, but it’s not unbearable.

It’s early, the clock on the nightstand reading half past six, and your mind starts to race as you realize where exactly you are. And that you’re alone.

You’re sprawled in the bed, still in Steve’s t-shirt, pillow bunched beneath your head. Stretching your back and hearing a symphony of cracks and pops as your body moves, you reach for the empty space beside you, the whole bed still smelling of Steve. Your hand lifts to the pillow, and your fingers brush paper, spotting a note with your name scrawled across the front.

It’s a sketch of you, your hair tumbled across the pillow, arm slung around your face, peaceful and asleep, and below, Steve’s familiar chicken scratch.

Gone to the gym for a bit. Will return with bagels and coffee. There’s aspirin on the nightstand, and a towel for you in the bathroom. - Steve xo

You can’t hide the grin that breaks across your face, nor could you stop it. You smooth your hand over the note, fold it back up carefully, and set it on the nightstand, swiping the two aspirin and the glass of water waiting for you.

Sitting up, you toss back the aspirin and chase it with water, rubbing sleep from your eyes and peering around the room. Steve had brought you straight to the bedroom last night, and you hadn’t seen much of it before you’d passed out.

The bedroom is basic, his closet filled with neatly hung clothes and all the furniture matching. There’s a small stack of books on the dresser, and you recognize a few titles. The Hobbit. To Kill a Mockingbird. Fahrenheit 451. There’s a pile of papers beside the books, file folders all stamped with a strange logo you don’t recognize, CONFIDENTIAL stamped in big red letters across the top.

You leave those well enough alone, and head for the bathroom.

It’s hard, not having your shampoo and conditioner like you do at your own place, but the hot water is exactly what you need, and the pine-scented body wash is good enough. It smells like Steve, and you inhale deeply, letting the steam fill the bathroom.

The apartment is still empty when you’re done, and you pad around the rest of the space, curiosity getting the better of you. The living room is sparse, and the kitchen even more so, both rooms filled with the basics - a sofa and television, dishes and mugs and a coffee maker that looks like it’s seen better days -  but something in the corner of the living room catches your eye, tucked behind the small table and chairs.

It’s an army uniform. You recognize it; your grandfather had been a WWII vet, and you’d seen the old pictures of him and your grandmother on their wedding day, him in his dress uniform and her in a white dress.

There’s a number of badges on the lapel, most of which you don’t know the meaning of, but you recognize the Purple Heart, awarded to soldiers wounded or killed while serving in the military.

Your fingers are hovering over the badges, and a voice from behind you makes you flinch. “It’s on loan from the Smithsonian, apparently,” Steve says, and you whirl to find him standing behind you, a brown paper bag in one hand and two coffees balanced atop one another in his other. You take them from him quickly, setting them on the coffee table in front of the sofa. He drops the bag beside them, shrugging out of his jacket, and you watch him carefully. There’s something about the expression on his face, something in his tone that has you on edge. Then he takes a step towards you, reaching for your wrist. “I gotta tell you something.”

Your brow furrows, and you pull him towards the sofa, sinking down onto it and settling close to him. He holds your hand between both of his, and your free hand goes to his shoulder, then his face, pushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “Steve, it’s okay,” you murmur, and there’s a slight waver in your voice, but you hope he doesn’t notice. “You can tell me anything.”

“I have to leave,” he tells you, and your heart sinks into your stomach. “I have to go, and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone for. I don’t want to leave you, but…” He won’t meet your eyes, his gaze hard and far away. “But I have to do this.”

Slowly, you nod. “Does this have anything to do with those files in your bedroom?”

His brows raise, and he finally looks at you. “You didn’t…?”

“Read them? No. I know better than to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

He doesn’t say anything, just nods, and his gaze goes far off again. You’re both quiet for a long while, and right when you feel that swell of anxiety starting to crest, he opens his mouth. “I meant what I said last night, Y/N. I like you. A lot. And I don’t know what…this is, between us, and I know I don’t want it to stop. But I won’t ask you to wait for me.”

“You don’t have to ask,” you tell him, shaking your head slightly, “and you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

His eyes go wide. “I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant-”

You crack a smile, and reach for his chin, turning his head and cutting him off with a soft kiss. “Go save the world, Cap,” you whisper, “I’ll be right here when you get back.”

+

He takes you back to your apartment in the late afternoon, after you’ve eaten your bagels and spent some time kissing on his couch. Steve feels bad, having no other clothes to offer you except a grey sweatshirt, and almost laughs when you pull your dress back on and the sweater overtop. It’s comically large, the hem touching the tops of your thighs, but to put it simply, you look adorable. More so than usual.

He wasn’t sure what you’d say at the news of his departure, but he hadn’t been anticipating the kind words and gentle touches. He’s grateful for them. Grateful for you. For all of you. You’ve made things feel…normal in a way he hasn’t experienced since coming out of the ice. Things feel clearer, more concise, like a fog has been lifted. He doesn’t know what’s coming next, but he’s ready for it. He has you.

He’s falling for you, he thinks suddenly, you falling into step beside him in the sidewalk, one hand threaded through his. He’s falling for you hard.

If anything, it only motivates him further. Work with S.H.I.E.L.D., get the Tesseract back, do his duty.

And then come back to you.

You ask him if he wants to come up with you, but he declines. Fury had called him shortly after he’d walked out of the gym, confirming that he was actually onboard or not. When Steve had said yes, Fury had informed him there would be a group of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents at his apartment to pick him up later in the evening.

“I should…pack, I guess,” he says, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “I wish I could tell you more, but I-”

You press a finger to his lips, standing a step above him outside your apartment. “Don’t. Just tell me what I need to know, and promise me something.” You don’t move your finger from his mouth, so he nods. “Keep yourself safe.”

There’s a glimmer of tears in your eyes, and it makes Steve’s chest ache. “I will,” he says against your fingers, and you throw your arms around his neck a second later, pulling him to you. “I promise.”

“And don’t get yourself killed,” you mumble in his ear, your voice a little thick, “cuz that would really suck.”

He chuckles at your choice of words, but hugs you back tightly, pressing his face into the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. Your scent is a strange mix of his body wash, coffee, and something he has no name for, but it intoxicates him all the same. He waits for you to pull back slightly, then reaches for your face with one hand, his lips finding yours easily in a sweet kiss.

It’s a good few minutes before either of you break away, but Steve is the first. He needs to go home, needs to get ready, needs to disentangle himself from you before he changes his mind and stays with you instead.

+

The days that follow blow past you in a blur. You work double shifts, keep yourself busy at the cafe, mainly to keep yourself from worrying about Steve.

Your phone is too quiet, and you understand it, you do, but you wish you knew that he was okay.

You find yourself mulling over what happened between you and Steve, both of you admitting that you felt…something for the other, but still not entirely sure what it was, what it meant.

It’s insane, in the grand scheme of things. Captain America carried you home drunk from a club, made sure you were okay, made sure you drank enough water and left aspirin by the bed for you. Captain America kissed you goodbye.

The nights are spent on the couch, wrapped in the sweatshirt Steve had given you, your bed suddenly feeling too empty. True, you’d only spent one night together. You hadn’t slept in the same bed until that night, and yes, you’d woken up a little heavy-headed, but the truth of it was it was the best sleep you’d had in a long time. Steve makes you feel…safe. Content.

Happy.

The cafe is busy, even without your favourite regular taking up the middle table, and the steady stream of patrons keeps you distracted enough.

You’re standing inside the cafe when the bright beam of blue erupts from the top of Stark Tower, and you stumble through the doors as every head in the vicinity turns in it’s direction. The portal opens in the sky a moment later, and when the monsters start pouring through, people start to scream.

There’s a strange whoosh overhead, and then the explosions begin. Stone and brick are thrown through the air, the patio furniture outside the cafe turning into twisted heaps of metal in an instant. People start running, yelling, screaming as they push past you. Debris scrapes at your bare arms and legs, and you rush back towards the cafe, darting inside as one of your co-workers holds the door opened for the panicked public running inside.

“What are those things?” someone asks, and you shake your head in disbelief. This can’t be happening…

…can it?

+

The moment they land in the city, Steve’s mind drifts to you. He’s worried, and can only pray you’re somewhere safe, that you finished work and went home before the hole in the sky appeared.

You’ve been in the back of his mind the entire time, from the moment he set foot on the Quinjet. Agent Coulson was kind, and the conversation kept him focused on the task at hand. The debriefings and meetings were tolerable, even when Stark gave him a hard time, but Steve knew what needed to be done, so he did it.

He fights his way through the streets, through the ugly alien creatures and piles of debris. Anytime he catches a glimpse of someone running past, someone with your hair colour or about your height, his head turns and he has to see if it’s you or not. It gets him hit a few times, and he has to focus harder, a little voice repeating in the back of his mind that you’re fine, you’re alive, you’re safe.

He doesn’t know what he’s gonna do if you’re not.

When Clint tells him the Chitauri have cornered civilians in the bank on Madison, he rushes in that direction, his heart sinking into his boots when he sees that the cafe has been reduced to a pile of rubble outside Grand Central.

Steve sprints inside, brandishing the shield, and when he tosses one of the Chitauri over the railing of the upper floor, he sees you in the crowd below. Relief washes through him, despite it all. You’re alive. A little dirty, your uniform streaked with dirt and your face smudged with dust. He can see a few marks on your cheeks and arms, but you’re alive.

The bomb the Chitauri had detonated goes off, and he’s blown backward, the shield taking most of the impact, and he sees the look on your face go from happy to terrified in a split second.

He’s thrown through the window, and collapses hard onto an already-crushed policy cruiser, groaning as the metal creaks beneath him. Cops swarm forwards, trying to get to the civilians inside, and Steve struggles to his feet, turning to head back inside. He has to get to you. He needs to get you somewhere safe.

“Steve!” he hears, and his head turns in the direction of your voice, seeing you sprinting from the bank, pushing past people as you run for him.

He catches you with a quiet oomph when you launch yourself at him, your arms going around his neck. He’s got the shield in one hand, you in the other.

“Are you okay?” you cry, breathless, pulling back only to take his face in your hands, your thumbs swiping across his dirty cheeks, eyes darting across him, trying to find any injuries. “What’s going on? Why is this happening?”

He wishes he had an easy answer for you, and God only knows he can’t explain the whole thing to you right there on the street. “It doesn’t matter right now,” he tells you, his arm still holding you against him. “I want you to go to my apartment, okay? It’s far enough away that you should be safe there. You can get in through the fire escape. If the fighting gets closer, you leave, but if it doesn’t, you stay and wait for me to come get you. Understood?”

There are tears in your eyes, fears he knows he can’t ease right now, and you nod. “Understood.”

He kisses you hard, holding you as close as he possibly can before he sets you back on your feet. You almost don’t let go of him, and he has to give you a little nudge. You lean up on your toes and kiss him again before turning on your heel and sprinting down the road, dodging debris and heading in the direction of his apartment building.

There’s a wolf-whistle in his earpiece, and Stark’s smug tone. “She’s very pretty, Cap. Shoulda known you had something sweet waiting for you in the city.”

Steve rolls his eyes, readjusts the shield in his grip, and heads back into the fray. “Let’s finish this.”

+

The noise stops about an hour after you reach Steve’s apartment.

You’d gotten in through the fire escape, just like he’d said, squeezing your way in through an unlocked window. You’d landed on the floor in a heap, and just stayed in place, your eyes glued to the window, watching carefully in case anything came close.

You’re still shaking, your limbs caked in dirt and dust and your left ankle aching something fierce. You suspect it’ll be a while before the shaking stops, and your nerves don’t cease, your gut clenched hard, until, nearly four hours after that, there’s a careful knock at the door.

You rush for it, flicking the locks and yanking the door open to see a very tired-looking Steve Rogers on the other side. He’s still in his uniform, the shield held in one hand, a white plastic takeout bag in the other. His face is as dirty as you feel, and his hair is sweat-soaked, hanging over his forehead in a way that’s frustratingly endearing. You could have died - he could have died - and your first thought it how cute he looks.

“Left my keys in my other pants,” he jokes, stepping over the threshold. He hands you the bag. “Brought you some food.”

It’s the adrenaline, you think, and you set the bag down carefully, then take the shield from Steve’s hand and lean it against the wall beside the door. The door is shut, the locks slid back into place, and then you take his hand, pulling him down the hallway and into the bathroom without a word.

He’s just watching you, his brow slightly furrowed as he watches you move towards the tub, cranking the water on and moving the shower curtain into place.

Then you start undoing the buttons of your shirt, and you can see the wheels turning in his head, his mouth opening slightly as he finally catches on.

“Oh. Oh.”

Your shirt hits the ground, skirt, socks, and shoes joining the pile a moment later. Steve flushes red when you step towards him, clad only in your underwear, and reach for his belt. It takes some time and a bit of manoeuvring to figure out all the clasps and buttons keeping the uniform in place, but you manage, and soon enough, he’s just as naked as you are, only wearing a pair of tight black boxers that leave little to the imagination.

You’d turned the water hot, and there’s steam filling the bathroom. You’re still silent as you give him a quick once over, concern filling you when you see the series of bruises and marks that travel from his left hip and up around his rib cage. It looks painful, but as you look at it, you can almost see the bruises starting to fade, the super soldier healing from the inside out.

Steve catches the worry in your features, and his hand lifts to your cheek. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, and his thumb swipes across your skin. “It’s over. You’re safe.”

Your heart is rioting in your chest, and you just nod. Your brain is still processing everything that’s happened, and the only thing that seems to make sense is the man standing in front of you.

Still without a word, you step out of his reach, moving the shower curtain and stepping inside, still in your underwear. Steve follows, reaching for your waist as he crowds up behind you. You both hiss at the temperature, Steve reaching around to adjust it slightly before you both step under the spray. You reach for a washcloth and his body wash, lathering the cloth and then reaching up, dragging it slowly across his chest, cleaning the dirt and blood from his skin.

He just watches as you do, and you feel both his hands settling on your hips, fingers twisting in the wet fabric covering you. Once you’ve cleaned him as thoroughly as you can, he takes the cloth from you, and it’s your turn. Then he moves onto your hair, and you return the favour.

You both move slow and languid, the hot water making both of you feel infinitely better, easing sore muscles and tense bodies. Steve barely takes his hands off of you, and the water is still hot when he crowds you against the tile, one hand slipping up your back, and puts his mouth on yours.

It’s a desperate kiss, an oh god we almost died kiss, and you can’t get enough, your hands plunging into his wet hair, holding him as close as you can. It’s not long before he’s hiking your leg around his hip, his body rolling against yours, pulling a noise from your throat that makes you both blush.

He pulls at your underwear, and the wet fabric slides down your hips a little awkwardly, pooling at your feet. His head dips, mouth skimming along the swell of your breast, and you make that noise again, unable to hold it back. Your bra is slipping from your shoulders, and you groan when you feel Steve’s fingers along the inside of your thigh.

“Do you want this?” he asks suddenly, lifting his head and staring you dead in the eye. “Do you want me?”

You nod, enthusiastic. “I do.”

“Are you sure?” His voice is low and husky, and it sends a zip of electricity through you.

You kiss him hard, your hips canting towards his hand, gasping when his fingers brush against your core. “I’m sure.”

He captures your lips again, his kiss searing it’s way into your brain, and then reaches around you to shut the water off.

+

Steve carries you to his bedroom, both of you dripping water the whole way, but he doesn’t care.

When he lays you out on his bed, almost completely nude except for the bra that’s leaving little to his imagination at this point, he knows he’s the luckiest man in the world.

He’s not a virgin - God knows Bucky had called in a favour or two and made sure he wasn’t back in the forties - and the attention he’d received after he’d debuted as Captain America had been enthusiastic. There’d been a few dames back then, a sweet redhead who’d caught his attention and held it for a while.

And then, of course, there was Peggy. Not that they’d…fondue-d, but the notion still stands.

You, however, are uncharted territory. An island he wants to explore every inch of. He wants to know how your body reacts, where he should touch, kiss, bite. Wants to feel every part of you, memorize it until he’s an expert on you.

He hovers over you on the bed, plants an elbow beside your head and finds your lips again. Your hands are soft along his jaw, your skin still damp under his touch, and his free hand skirts along your body, travelling over your ribs and down over your hip. The pads of his fingers skim the silky-soft skin at the inside of your thigh, and when he brushes over your core, finds you wet and ready, every instinct he has seems to heighten.

Your back bows off the bed when he pushes one finger inside, crooking it just so as you moan into his mouth. One becomes two, and one of your hands falls from his face and reaches for his waist, pushing the wet boxers over his hip, fingers dipping past the elastic and closing around him.

It’s been a long time since he’s been touched by a woman, and it’s a miracle he doesn’t come on the spot when your hand strokes him, your thumb swiping over his tip. You swallow each other’s moans, your other hand going to his waist to push his boxers down further. He thrusts his fingers once, twice, three times more before you’re gasping his name, your lips parted in a perfect o.

“Steve, please,” you whisper out.

He detaches himself from you long enough to kick his boxers off the rest of the way, and while he’s gone, you rid yourself of your bra, tossing it to the side and scrambling a little further up the bed. He follows, stretches out beside you, and you reach for his hip, pulling him back on top of you easily. Your hands skim up and down his ribs, your nails catching on his skin every so often, and he drops his face into  the crook of your neck, lips closing around his pulse.

“I don’t have a condom,” he says suddenly, pulling back, and you let out a quiet giggle, your hands tightening at his sides.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “I’m on the pill.”

He nods once. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, Steve, I’m sure,” you whisper, pulling him back down to you and kissing him hard.

Your legs widen around his hips, your body rolling against his as he ruts against you. He feels flushed and out of breath and everything is almost too much, but it feels so good he can’t stop. Your mouth moves along his jaw, teeth nipping at his skin, and he thrusts into you, sliding home, and it’s like the world stops for a moment. There’s only you, your breath against his ear and your skin against his. Your nails digging in ever so slightly, keeping him grounded to the earth, and your low gasp when he starts to move, pulls out almost all the way and then slides in again. “Oh god.”

It’s all the encouragement he needs, and he reaches up with one hand, using the headboard as leverage. His other hand plants itself beside your head, and he groans out, eyes almost rolling back when you clench around him.

With each slam of his hips, there’s a coil in his stomach growing tighter and tighter, and he feels your hands slide down his back, one grabbing a handful of his ass, the other pressing against the dip at the base of spine. He’s losing his mind, losing himself in you. “You feel so good,” he manages to say, unable to hold it back.

You moan, your head tipping back against the pillow, and then a second later, you’re reaching for his shoulders, tipping him sideways and rolling until you’re on top of him. He’s still inside you, and the new angle makes his jaw drop, his vision going nearly white when you plant your hands on his chest and grind your hips against his.

He thrusts up into you, and it catches you off guard. You collapse against his chest, your hair a curtain around the two of you and his arms go around your waist, holding you tight against him. His name stutters from your mouth, your eyes screwing shut, your hands flexing wide on the mattress on either side of him. “Oh god,” you say again, your voice hitching. “Steve, please.”

He can’t stop, won’t stop moving, and plants his feet, giving himself more leverage as you move against him. You gasp again, a moan following quickly after, and he knows you’re there because he can feel it. Your whole body goes tight in his grip, your insides clenching around his cock, and his own pleasure only grows. You go limp a second later, and he still can’t stop, the coil going completely taut before his entire body floods with warmth, hands tightening on you before his grip goes slack. Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, and you both heave out a breath.

It’s a long moment before either of you says anything, and you’re the first to speak, propping your head up on your hand and looking down at him. “We should have done that a long time ago.”

Steve chuckles, one hand trailing it’s way up and down your spine. Your skin is still damp, from the shower and with sweat, and his fingers catch slightly. “Guess an alien invasion is all it took,” he replies, laughing.

You purse your lips at him, shaking your head. “Remember what I said before, about you only telling me what I need to know?”

He nods. “I remember.”

“I think I need more than that.” He opens his mouth to say more, but you put a finger to his lips. “Not now. Now, I just want to lie here, and be happy you’re alive.”

+

A few days later, Steve has business in Central Park. You’ve been at his apartment since the invasion, barely getting out of bed - except for food and water - trapped in a perfect bubble of love-making and heavy petting. You don’t want to leave the bubble, but Steve also informs you that he has something planned once his business is finished with, and you find yourself stopping at your own apartment to pack an overnight bag before getting on the back of his motorcycle and heading for Central Park.

He’d filled you in, for the most part. The story had taken a while to process, and parts of it still made no sense to you, but Steve had done his best. You had some common ground, something that made no sense to either of you.

You hang back as Steve approaches the rest of the group that had saved the city - the Avengers. Their faces had been all over the news since the day of the Battle, and you already know who Tony Stark is.

Some words are exchanged, Stark saying something to Steve before gesturing to you. Steve turns to look at you, gives you a broad grin, and you lift your hand to wave. Tony waves back.

There’s a bright blue cube - Steve had called it the Tesseract - given to the man you know to be Thor. Then there’s a flash of rainbow-hued light, and Thor and Loki - who you now know orchestrated the attack on the city - disappear.

Steve says his goodbyes, then jogs back to where you are, still sitting on his motorcycle. He doesn’t say anything at first, but takes your face in his hands and kisses you softly. “You ready?” he asks when he pulls away, a giant grin on his face and a slight flush to his cheeks. You nod in response, and he swings his leg over the bike, kicking the stand up. You scoot closer on the seat, putting your arms around his middle.

The engine revs and you bury your face in the back of his leather jacket. The bike zooms forward, and you disappear down the road, holding on as tight as you can.

—————

steve rogers tags: @ancientbeing10 @woomen23 @itwasthereaminuteago @williamjzanders @enchantingqueenkitten @a-zterisk @i-simp-much @loonymagizoologist @pariahsparadise @greeneyedblondie44 @dead-pool-simp @ruhro7 @thevoiceinyourheadx @alyona-romanova

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#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fluff #marvel #a study in red white and blue #my fics

[jupipedia]

one. awkwardness.

previous. next.

y/n knew that the first meeting between him and shoto would be a little awkward due to neither of them being familiar with the other, but he found that he greatly underestimated how awkward it would truly be as he sat across from shoto, pretending to be typing on his laptop. shoto had arrived before y/n did and was quick to formally greet him before going back to his laptop. y/n didn’t want to assume that shoto was avoiding conversation similarly to he was so he didn’t interrupt shoto’s typing in case he truly was setting up for their meeting.

“sorry if this is awkward for you. i know we don’t know each other beyond our names, but i hope that we can use this project to become friends. i assume that is the professor’s end goal, at least,” shoto broke the silence, prompting y/n to halt in his feigned typing and look up at the man.

“no! i mean— not no to the friends part but to the awkward part. no as in it’s fine and i’m definitely making this more awkward than it truly is,” y/n sputtered, embarrassed at the crack in his voice as he almost choked on his words.

“i got what you meant. no worries,” shoto gave a toothless smile before glancing back at his screen. “it says that we are expected to meet up at least three times a week including one day of the weekend. for every first meeting, we choose an emotion and that is the emotion we have to incorporate into some form of writing for the week. along with our writing, he wants a visual representation. hmm, sounds easy enough to me,” shoto explained, muttering the last part to himself.

“well, i’m not sure how much help i’ll be with the written proportion, but i am a design major, so i don’t mind doing the brunt of the visual representation. i was reading over the rubric earlier and i have a few ideas already,” y/n said, opening the draft with his ideas in writing.

“i’m so glad that you said that because i am a political literature major and i cannot draw or anything to save my life. i can however do the majority of the written portion, as long as we can come up with a general outline for what it should contain,” y/n nodded along to shoto’s words before turning his laptop to the bi-coloured boy.

“i actually have an idea that i really wanted to do for the project and wanted to run it by you. i was thinking that we could do a calendar layout, but with week numbers rather than months. i think it’ll earn us the bonus points for creativity and it would be way more enjoyable than doing the standard slide show with a company generated theme.”

“i like that. yeah, we should do that,” shoto easily agreed, having been impressed with y/n’s demo of the calendar inspired layout. “it’s really well done for it to be just a demo. it’ll look great as we continue to add to it every week.”

“yeah, thanks,” y/n responded, cringing to himself at his short response before talking again. “what days are you free during the week and which day do you want to meet during the weekend?”

“i’m free after 3 p.m. on mondays, wednesdays, and fridays and on tuesdays and thursdays, i have a free block from 12 p.m. to about 6 p.m. since i do track. i was also hoping that we could make our weekend meet up on a saturday? i usually spend sunday with my friends from highschool.”

“saturday would be best for me, too, but it would have to be a brunch thing as i usually take studio trips in the evenings. but i can do mondays and wednesdays after 4 p.m. so we could meet up before, during, or after dinner if you want.”

“sounds like a plan. i’ll add that to the document,” shoto nodded, going back to his computer without another word.

and the awkward silence was back.

y/n groaned silently as they held their head in their hand behind the computer screen.

it was difficult for y/n to sit in the silence without wanting to bring up anything that the two could possibly talk about, but he didn’t want to annoy shoto with his constant spiels and rambling. y/n could talk for hours if he was asked to, but his throat dries all the way up when he has to talk to shoto.

he asked kamya what she knew about his partner from the assignment and all she knew was that he was friends with her partner, having seen the two on campus together before. she didn’t know any club affiliations nor did she know his past relationships or better yet, his current status. it came as a shock to him as kamya usually knew everyone's business before they had the chance to tell her themselves.

“so, since our first week is probably going to be the most awkward, i was thinking we should make that this week's emotion. i mean, it’s fitting, no?” todoroki’s voice brought y/n out of his thoughts and back to the cafe table.

“yeah, i think that would be the best course of action. it’ll probably help break the tension. awk-awkward tension, that is,” y/n said, stumbling over his word after realizing the accidental implication that he potentially made.

“okay, i’ll email you with drafts for the week and you can do the same if you like, but i doubt that i’ll be able to give any artistic assistance,” shoto joked, earning a slight giggle from the dark skinned male across from him.

“no worries, i’ll still send you updates in case picasso’s ghost whispers anything in your ear,” y/n joked back, packing up his things with the intention of leaving soon.

“i’ll see you monday at 5 for dinner and planning,” shoto said, watching as the boy stood from his seat.

“monday at 5. i’ll be there. wherever there is. see you.”

y/n walked away from the table after receiving a wave from shoto. y/n didn’t make it more than 10 steps away from the cafe before he loudly exhaled and held his hand to his chest.

fuck, he’s even prettier when he smiles.

the first meeting didn’t change anything between the two outside of meeting times. y/n even began to make the extra effort to not see shoto before they met for the second time as he allowed himself to reflect and cringe at his departing joke, deeming himself too nervous to calmly interact with him on a daily basis.

the second meeting definitely went better than the first as there was a lot more material to cover with their ideas. y/n’s forced his eyes to stay on his ipad rather than letting them trail over to the boy across from him. he spent most of the meeting working on a general template that could be edited to fit each week of their project, only looking up from it to show shoto his work or to listening to whatever comment todoroki made on his own work.

“you did a really nice job with the written portion. there are no typos or wordy sentences and i’ve never been so glad to have someone as a partner. i usually feel bad about being so unhelpful with the written parts but i know that i would not have been any help to you,” y/n said as he read the text that todoroki provided for their project during their final weekly meeting.

y/n wasn’t just exaggerating for the sake of fawning over his crush, he truly admired the word choice of the written portion. he wasn’t expecting something so polished and eloquent to be produced for a mere draft that would be updated later.

“it’s still not perfect, but i’m glad you are impressed with my contribution. and it’s only fair that we have a well-written entry to match your artwork. i mean, the draft was good, but this is coming along beautifully,” shoto zoomed in on parts of the design y/n made.

“i’m planning to make it interactive so i’ll at least contribute something other than a few drawings. i hope that’s okay with you,” y/n turned his attention back to his ipad as his face grew warm from the praise.

“perfect. i am all for it.”

the two parted ways after finishing their final draft, todoroki excusing himself to meet up with his friends and y/n planning to go to kamya’s dorm to rant about whatever was on his mind.

so, shoto todoroki.

“...mya, i’m telling you, he’s so fucking attractive without even trying. and he’s naturally charming. he gives the nicest feedback which feeds my ego in the best ways. i’m losing my mind,” y/n ranted, pushing his head into the throw pillow on kamya’s bed.

“you are one of the most delusional people i know. he’s being nice because you are good at art. not because he’s falling for you, stupid. get a grip,” kamya said, not sparing the boy a glance as she continued to type on her laptop.

y/n stared at kamya for a few seconds before speaking. “i hope you fail your econ exam.”

“because i won’t feed into your delusions?!” kamya laughed at her friend as he started to hit her with the pillow in his hands. “my bad, you right. he’s madly in love with you and wants you so bad.”

“now was that so hard to say?”

© jupipedia—do not repost, plagiarized, or falsely claim my work. likes, comments, and reblogs are welcome!

#— (jupipedia.) #anime x black!reader #anime x male reader #mha x black reader #mha x reader #my hero academia fanfic #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x black reader #shoto todoroki x male reader #mha x male reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki x male reader #todoroki x black!reader #*ੈ✩‧₊˚❕*∘∘˙˚༄💨 ( a jupiter production. )

[bellewintersroe]

James ‘Moe’ Alley x nurse Jenny OC- Headcannons - Part 1.

You guys this boy is SO criminally underrated, I love him so I’m gonna dedicate a bunch of these headcannons / scenarios for him. If anybody has any requests for Alley then let me know!

just doing a spin off from the Easy boys x nurse headcannons, I feel like I need to delve further into underrated characters! And the OC being a nurse feels a lot more realistic for me to write about! I can explore more things than I could with a civilian OC.

This is going to be divided into parts just so it’s not insanely long- and I can write about specific events without having to skip past anything.

Also Jenny/ Jen is my go to OC name atm, that and Missy or Maggie- don’t ask me why, they’re just easier to remember 😭😭

I can see Moe being on the shyer / sensitive side. I’ll get more into the sensitive thing further on, but rn let’s talk about him pre war.

I think he’s kinda experienced with girls? Maybe had one or two relationships, but I think his body count is probably around 3/4? Nothing too wild, most of them have been when he’s drunk because I feel like he was maybe a little insecure as a teenager?

by the age of 22 he’s filled out, tall, muscular, super duper handsome, but I feel like he’d still be a little awkward? Especially around girls, around the guys he’s a lot more chill and he’s one of the more popular guys in Easy.

so when a bunch of nurses, attached to Easy company are introduced to the men, 99.9% of them are swarming around them, super happy to have such lovely ladies working alongside of them. But there’s this one particular blonde haired, blue eyed girl which Moe watched from afar. She’s petite, shorter than the rest, with lots and lots of hair and the most perfect face Moe had ever seen.

Moe thinks she looks stunning in her uniform, Angel like, so he can’t even imagine how drop dead gorgeous she is in her normal clothes.

Jenny is similar to Moe, slightly more on the sensitive side, and a little shy. She, however, once she gets to know people warms up super quick and has the most bubbliest personality. She’s chatty and has a laugh that’s contagious, there’s a light spread of freckles lingering across her cheeks and nose which only comes out in the summer, and despite army regulations, she loves wearing makeup and painting her nails.

anyway, back too it, Alley is pretty good friends with Liebgott and Christenson already, and they scored the best seats in the house with this Angel in particular sat right between them.

Moe finds an opportunity that’s not too demanding, nor would it be awkward with his buddies and makes a B line for the table. In the process, Jenny would glance up and see the most gorgeous man walking her way.

He’s tall dark and handsome, she has to take a double take at the baby face to make sure he’s actually walking over to her and not somebody else.

this is cute short when Skinny Sisk plants his ass firmly on the chair, stealing both Jenny’s attention and Alley’s plan. Alley mentally curses, borderline shooting daggers into Skinny’s head before playing it off as going to get another drink.

Every now and then the two of them would glance over in each others directions, curious to know more about each other.

unfortunately neither of them catch each others eyes at the same time and Alley would be under the impression that Jenny’s into Joe Liebgott, seeing as they’re chatting so much.

Anyway, a little time jump, training in Toccoa is fun and all- well, it’s really not. The only fun parts are the occasional weekend pass in which Jenny usually goes home to visit family and friends.

however there’s one particular weekend when she stays on sight, it’s a Sunday evening and shes walking to where there’s a cinema set up inside the hall. Some old movie is playing that’s played 10x over but she doesn’t care.

anyway, she walks in and despite it meant to be quiet in there, people are all like ‘Aw hey, Jenny!’ Glad to see her, and Moe, sat next to Liebgott finally learns her name.

‘Jenny’ Moe mutters out loud, smiling to himself like a dork, swivelled in his seat to face her like many of the other men and women are.

‘Yeah?’ Oh Shit- she heard and Moe’s breathless, and she’s breathless, waiting to find out why this random guy just said her name. Only when Jenny’s eyes narrowed did she recognise it to be the same handsome stranger from the pub that first time.

Moe is PANICKING, Liebgott is smirking, one of Jenny’s friend hooked under his arm as they watch him FREAK.

‘Oh- I just didn’t- know your name. That’s all, I’m Moe by the way.’ He’s springing up out of his seat, standing almost a foot taller than Jenny. She’s borderline blown away by his height, but his nervous rambling makes her feel somewhat at ease.

‘Hi, Moe, it’s nice to meet you.’ Then they shake hands? Kinda awkward, ik. But her voice is so sweet and has the slightest rasp, Moe truly believes she’s an Angel.

‘Well, it’s actually James but… nobody calls me that, anyway d’ya wanna sit here?’ Before he can think he’s offering his chair up and she giggles making him turn a vibrant red. It’s lucky it’s dark in there.

‘No, but, I’ll sit next to you.’ She’s shrugging casually, taking a seat right besides him. They slightly knock shoulders and she’s smiling to himself whilst he’s a sweating mess.

‘What an introduction Moe. Or is it James?’ Liebgott immediately starts teasing, embarrassing his friend further.

Jenny stands up for Moe, thinking his introduction was cute, when she leans over him he gets even more fidgety. ‘Shut your fly trap Joe… Is it Moe or is it James thought?’

conversation kinda flows from there between the four of them sat together, but the movie starting cuts any chance Moe thinks he has to redeem himself, short.

he’d be tense the whole time, and Jenny would be fidgety as hell. He’s stiffened, trying not to do the same, but there’s some kinda happiness inside of him that even if she’s moving around in her chair every 30 seconds, she still chose to sit next to him.

that evening he’d be BEGGING Joe to get you guys all out together, on some kinda four way date as he’s too nervous to approach Jenny alone. Jenny on the other hand drops all the hints possible that she’s into Moe, but she’s too flustered and he’s too flustered to notice.

‘I dunno man, I’m not really into the chick I was with earlier-“ ‘Liebgott, you’ve gotta do me just this one favour, man’.

the next thing Liebgott knows he’s acting very reluctantly as Cupid / matchmaker. But hey, if it makes his buddy happy, and Jenny is a total doll, so he wants to do it for his buddy.

Jenny would be sighing to her best friend Alice, saying how this guys a total dreamboat, all whilst Alice is complaining about how annoying the skinny dude was who she was on a date with. (Liebgott).

anyway I think their initial attraction would be super cute and innocent, but obviously things don’t always run smoothly so stay tuned for part two 😏

#band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers headcannons #james moe alley #james moe alley x reader #moe alley #sergeant alley

[ssahotstuff]

Lie To Me

An Aaron Hotchner x Reader series

Aaron Hotchner/Ozark crossover

THE END

Part 17 can be found here

Warnings: smut of all types, choking, edging, orgasm denial, implied squirting, a bit of Dom!Hotch--there's a bit of drama but the ending is a happy one.

Word Count: 11k

Moving in came easier than expected. Charlotte was staying behind, taking over the lease on the old house so she could have her own privacy, which meant you and Aaron would live alone for the first time in months. The day you moved in, you were both giddy like school children, waking up at the crack of dawn to start packing the last of your things.

Everything was situated at the house, you'd taken the weekend to make sure of it, organizing everything where you wanted it within reason, because there was still work left to do on the inside. The plumbing in the kitchen had to be finished, but now that it was complete, you were set to be able to live in your home.

"I'm so glad we've been able to get the majority of our stuff moved. It'll make for such an easy day," Aaron was wearing a gray t-shirt and jeans, something you always loved to see. He was already loading things into his SUV when you came outside with the last box, shutting the door behind you.

"This is everything," you told him, following him in your car to the house. It was a short drive, so Charlotte could come visit whenever she wanted, Jonah too. You were actually closer to Marty's house now that you'd moved. You were still in the woods by yourself, but Marty was one of your closest neighbors.

When you arrived, it felt surreal. You walked the property dozens of times in the past, but you never expected to own a home with the man you loved, perfecting and choosing every single detail with him. This time, it felt like you were coming home to stay, and your life could finally begin. It hadn't truly started until you fell in love with Aaron, and then things all came together and started to make sense. He'd been put on Earth just for you, and you were lucky to have found him when you did; otherwise, life would be really lonely without him.

"It's perfect!" Aaron exclaimed as you went inside to check everything out. Every single aspect of your new home had been personally crafted by the two of you, but even though someone else built it, it was your design, and you'd done everything together. You found him in the attic, your bedroom, which was gigantic compared to your old one. There were twin closets, since you both had a ton of clothes, one on either side of the door, all connected to the master bathroom. The entire top floor of your home was your bedroom, spacious and roomy as you looked around. Aaron was sprawled out on the new bed, waiting for you to come and join him.

"I love it," you told him, and he was quick to nod, opening his arms so he could gesture to the room.

"It's incredible. Even with the bed in here, we still have so much room," he pointed out, and he was right. It was more than spacious, and the two of you planned on filling the rooms with babies, as soon as you were ready to start trying. You were taking things slow, still on birth control for now, but you'd both made plans to try in a couple of months when things were slower, and you had more time to think about expanding your family. For now, you were content, and so was he. You'd both been willing to take the baby, but when things ended up not working out, you had made the decision to just try for your own baby further down the road. Aaron was happy with the way your life was progressing, and even now as you looked at him, eyes closed and resting on the pillow behind him, you weren't sure how things could get any better. Life seemed to be panning out for the two of you; you were eager to see what was in store for you both.

"So, I've been thinking," his eyes were still closed; he didn't bother looking at you, but he knew you were listening.

"About?"

He sighed happily, finally turning to meet your gaze. His hand cupped your face as he rolled onto his side so he could look at you.

"Marrying you. I know you still need a dress, but what if we went today? We could go to the court house, no one would know until we told them," he was profiling you, something you begged him not to do, but he did it anyway. It came too naturally, judging your every move and trying to figure out what it meant.

"Well, I don't have any plans," you told him, making him smile wide as he sat up, pulling you along with him. You were going as you were, in your jeans and a t-shirt, but Aaron didn't care--all that mattered to him is that you were a Hotchner by the end of the day.

An hour later, you were his wife.

It was simple; you'd signed papers in front of an officiant, and he pronounced you husband and wife after he made sure your paperwork looked good. You'd given him the ring you'd gotten for him the last time you went shopping, since he needed one too, the gold band on his finger radiating heat throughout your entire body. He was officially your husband, and you'd do everything together--even more so than before. Once you got back to the car, he leaned across the console and kissed you hard, his fingertips holding your chin in place.

"My gorgeous wife--I've been waiting forever to be able to call you that," he mumbled against your lips, momentarily forgetting where you were so he could kiss you feverishly, his hand moving to the back of your neck as he deepened the kiss, making you moan into his mouth. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, massaging his against yours as he moved closer, lifting the console so there was nothing separating you now, and he could wrap his arms around you.

"Want to take me home?" You said a bit breathlessly, peering into his gorgeous brown eyes, the same eyes you'd gaze adoringly into for the rest of your life.

"Not yet. Call Jonah, see if he and Marty want to meet us at the Blue Cat. Charlotte's working; we'll tell them," he couldn't wipe the smile from his face as he started the car. You knew it wouldn't be long until he was ready to spill the news, unable to wait any longer. Marty and Jonah agreed to meet you, so you slid inside a booth and waited on them, Charlotte instantly spying the ring on Aaron's hand.

"That's new," she nodded to his hand, and he held it up for her to see before she made the connection, her eyes narrowing at the two of you.

"You just couldn't wait, could you?" She questioned with a laugh, and he shook his head, taking your hand from across the table.

"I had to make sure I had her forever. I couldn't risk waiting," he teased, shooting you a wink from across the table. Marty and Jonah came in, and Marty took a seat next to Aaron, Jonah sitting beside you.

"I already know what I want," Jonah said, putting his menu down. You knew he and Aaron would get the same exact thing, down to the drink.

"I brought some papers for you guys to sign before we leave," Marty said, eyeing you suspiciously because you couldn't stop smiling no matter how hard you tried.

"What's going on? She's awfully happy," Marty commented, looking between the two of you. Jonah was the first to notice Aaron's ring, pointing it out for everyone to see.

"When did you start wearing a ring?"

The table went quiet for a moment as Marty put the pieces together, the corners of his mouth slowly turning upwards in a smile.

"When?"

Aaron told him, and they couldn't have been happier. Charlotte finished up and Kay came in, so Charlotte joined you at the table, pulling up a chair so she could ask questions.

"Can we have a party, Dad? We've got to celebrate," she said in her best, most convincing voice, and that was enough to get Kay's attention. She came around using the ruse of refills, but you knew she had other intentions just by the look on her face.

"What are y'all celebrating?" She asked sweetly, and even though you didn't like her, you had to admit she was quite pretty. She had long, golden hair and a perfect body, something like a model. She was young, barely through her first year of college, and the amount of attention she paid Aaron was enough to make you blind with rage.

"They got married!" Charlotte said excitedly, and you felt yourself beaming, you wondered if they could see it too.

"You pregnant or something?" She blurted, and even though you were a bit shocked, you shook your head, narrowing your eyes at her.

"Not pregnant. Just married," you said sweetly, flashing her a smile that could kill. Marty and Aaron went to the office to do paperwork so they could get it out of the way, leaving you to deal with Kay. You could feel your clenched jaw, the frustration in your brows.

"I'm sorry, that's so great for y'all. Just--where I'm from, you don't get married that quick unless you're knocked up," she explained, but you assured her this was different.

"I just know he's the one. I don't know how to explain it."

Kay excused herself, disappearing to the kitchen, and you had assumed she went to get your food. You talked to Charlotte; she was going to come see the house really quick after work, but she wanted to let you start on your honeymoon, so she was going to wait for another day. She offered to work for you the following day so you could be with Aaron, and you agreed to let her--as long as she'd let you get her back for it. You did that often, if you could tell the other was getting burnt out. It was part of the reason you were such good friends; you worked well together and didn't mind helping one another out.

Jonah told you that he and his dad had been spending a lot of time together. Wendy was really busy lately but Marty was always around, and they'd been fishing, boating, spending the summer the way a teenage boy should. You were happy they were finally getting the ending they deserved, and when Marty came back to the table, you gave him a look, just to let him know you were proud of him. He returned it; you had that type of bond, no words were needed.

Aaron

The last way I expected my wedding day to be spent was in Y/n's office with Kay on her knees in front of me, offering to blow me.

"I can't help it--I just love married men," she spat, her words like venom. I was furious--the disrespect had gone too far and I'd had enough of it. Y/n would be furious--I half hoped she'd walk in and stop Kay herself so I didn't have to, but she was nowhere to be found. She was probably seated at the table, oblivious to her worker being vile; I'd always known she'd try something like this, but I thought once we were married, Kay would get the hint. It only made her want me more--I couldn't find anything attractive about the woman that so desperately wanted my attention. She wasn't my wife; and there wasn't a woman alive that could excite me the way she did, not even Kay.

"You need to get up off the floor and finish your shift so my wife doesn't have to,"I said firmly, backing away from her, trying to maneuver a way to the door so I could make my escape.

"I'm--I'm so sorry. I really thought you were just playing hard to get...I can't lose my job, please--" she stood up, tears in her eyes as she stood in front of me, blocking my exit.

"She won't fire you. She's just going to make your life miserable."

I told Kay to get her shit together and go do her job and returned to the table, trying to keep a level head. I couldn't say anything in front of the kids, and as long as Kay acted normal, I'd be able to get Y/n home before I said anything, avoiding the meltdown that would surely come for at least a little while.

Our food was at the table so I sat down, taking her hand briefly, long enough to brush her knuckles, shooting her what felt like a smile across the table.

She knew something was wrong.

It was something I'd noticed early on. We called them tics, but as soon as she sensed something was off, she'd sit up a little straighter, and roll her neck. I watched her do this and pick at her food, barely touching her meal. Kay didn't seem suspicious at all, checking on us a couple of times, avoiding my eyes at all costs.

"So, a party. This weekend," Marty said, looking to me to make sure I was okay with the idea.

"It gives you an excuse to buy a new dress," I pointed out, but she was already nodding, thrilled with the idea. I was just ready to leave--I wanted to get the fiasco over with so I could enjoy the time with my wife that I'd been wanting since we started building our home. Once Marty and Jonah left, we said our goodbyes too, climbing in the car. She didn't even let the door close before she was asking me what was going on, so I told her to buckle up and I pulled out of the parking lot.

"Kay cornered me in your office. She--it doesn't matter what she wanted, only that she wanted to hurt you, and I had to wait until we were gone to tell you so you didn't say something," I said quickly, and just as I suspected, she demanded I turn the car around.

"I'll work myself, Aaron. Just turn the damn car around," she begged, but I shook my head.

"We just got married. Besides, you can't fire her. You and Charlotte are already stretched thin, baby. I told her you'd make her life miserable if she stayed. Those were my exact words."

"More than that. I will make her life a living hell. I can't believe her, on today, of all days," she was fighting the urge to cry, but we were pulling into the driveway already. As soon as we parked, I lifted the console and slid over, not bothering to wait until we were inside.

"I wanted to tell you, but I didn't want to ruin our today. This is about us, celebrating our relationship and that we've finally got a home of our own. I know you're upset and you have every right to be, but no one in the world compares to you, baby. You'll never have to worry about me looking at anyone else the way I always want to look at you," she smiled softly, leaning up to kiss me, her hands in my hair. She let out a sweet little whimper that had me dying to get her inside and undressed as quickly as I could.

"Take me inside, Aaron. I don't want to think about anything but you," we separated long enough for me to walk around to her side of the car, scooping her up bridal style to carry her into the house. She took my keys and unlocked the door, letting me carry her up the stairs and to our room, until I had her on the bed.

"I'm so glad we're married now; I'm going to love you forever, baby," she looked up at me, beckoning me to come get on the bed with her. I sat in front of her, letting her climb into my lap, her hands finding their way into my hair.

"You promise? I don't ever want to lose you," I could hear the love in her precious voice, giving me more than enough reasons to stay--I'd never been so happy in my life.

"You're everything I could ever want. I knew it the moment I met you, you know. You smiled at me and you had me then," she'd captured my heart that very first day, and the feeling had never gone away, it grew stronger, my need for her, every single day.

✨✨✨

"I thought about you so much, I couldn't wait to see you again," he hovered over you, his fingertips swiftly undoing the button and zipper of your pants so he could pull them off of you. He kept your panties on for now, lifting your shirt over your head before he leaned back to admire you, his bottom lip between his teeth.

"You're the sun in my sky, baby. I couldn't do anything without you," he said as he left a trail of kisses from your collar bone to your neck, sucking gently at your skin before lightly sinking his teeth into you. You let out a soft hiss, prompting him to do it again, with a little more pressure this time. The sensation was new and welcome, making every hair on your body stand up.

"You and me forever, right?" He nodded back at you, meeting your mouth urgently, tongue making its way into your mouth as quickly as you could blink. There was something different about him now though; he seemed even more determined than usual, on a mission to make you the happiest woman alive. His hands were behind your back, unclasping your bra so he could take your breasts in his hands, swirling his tongue around each nipple until he was pleased with himself and he was leaning you against the new headboard, putting pillows behind your back.

"Get comfy, you're not moving for a while," his voice had dropped to a dangerously low octave, sending shivers down your spine as he parted you open at your thighs, hastily shedding his own clothes as he looked at you.

"You're so sexy," you had the hottest husband in the world-- from his towering frame to his uncanny ability to make you feel like you were at the top of the world, you loved everything about him, and you were proud to finally carry his last name.

"Not as sexy as you, Mrs. Hotchner," he purred, lowering himself between your legs, his lashes dark and dramatic against his skin.

"I'll never get tired of hearing that," he finally tugged your panties down your legs, tossing them behind him as he got comfortable on his stomach, draping your leg over his shoulder so he could open you up completely. You were a mess, having anticipated the moment where you were finally making love as husband and wife, and the sheer joy you felt was almost overwhelming.

His thumbs pressed into your thighs as he kissed them, letting his tongue glide over your hips bones, looking up at you one last time before his tongue met your center, latching onto your clit; the heat of his mouth alone had you writhing, panting for breath as his fingers parted your swollen folds so he could focus all of his attention on your sweet bundle of nerves. It was almost as if he'd perfected the way he touched you, tailored to satisfy your every need with a fluid swipe of his tongue or pressure from his long, thick fingers. He slipped one digit inside of you, slow and precise against your g-spot, his lips sucking furiously at your throbbing clit.

"I love you so much," he breathed, peering up at you long enough to make sure you'd heard him, and then his focus was back on your center, his tongue delving between your folds, causing your legs to shake uncontrollably as you came.

"I love you more," you squeaked, stunned momentarily as you came down from your high. He chuckled lowly as he brought you over the edge again, his mouth and fingers never ceasing to bring you more than you'd ever bargained for--something about you sent the man into a frenzy, and he couldn't be stopped. You watched the minutes turn into an hour spent between your legs, never tiring, aching to give you all that he could.

"Aaron, I need you, baby. Will you please come here?" You hated to stop him but you were longing for more of him. He brought himself upright before trapping your body with his, his cock pulsing wildly against your thigh as he started to line up with you.

"Gonna stay just like this so I can look at you, gorgeous girl; you drive me absolutely wild," he pushed into you slowly, letting you stretch out around him before he began to move. It was the perfect angle to keep eye contact with him, making the experience much more personal. You could kiss him, and you did, peppering his face lovingly as he tried to control his hips.

"I'm obsessed with you," you felt a little silly admitting it, but it was true. You'd never been so enthralled by another human, wanting to know each and everything you could about him. You were convinced that you were tied by the soul, bonded forever in more than just matrimony--but as something much bigger and greater than either of you could put a label on.

"I hope you always feel that way. Having your love makes my life feel complete," he kissed your cheek, his arms on either side of your body, your hands in search of his. You held him tight, letting your orgasm rattle through you as you shook beneath him, his lips on your ear murmuring sweet words of praise as you came undone.

"So beautiful, baby. You're unlike anyone I've ever seen before. I'll always want you, no matter what," it was endearing and intimate, the soft exchange of vows to one another--that's what you considered it, since you hadn't said any at the court house. Now it was nothing but little truths whispered back and forth, and everything about it was perfect.

"Always, Aaron. You're my best friend; I'm so glad you stuck it out with me. I promise life together is going to be so good," you could feel it with every fiber of your being--you two were destined for great things, starting with making a name of yourself in the Ozarks. You two were on your way to becoming serious entrepreneurs, with plans to buy a second riverboat and turn it into a hotel for guests. Marty had found a killer deal on the boat and it was in great condition, just as big as the Missouri Belle, with 30 giant rooms and a massive kitchen. Aaron had been signing the paperwork to start construction on everything at lunch, so plans were officially underway.

"Baby, I mean it when I say I would do anything for you, anything to make you happy. All you have to do is say the word and it's yours."

You kissed him hard, feeling the sudden release of his own orgasm is he sighed heavily.

"Just love me forever, that's all I need."

✨✨✨

You were scheduled to work with Kay until 5, knowing it would be hard to keep your mouth shut. Aaron promised to stop by at some point during the day so you had something to look forward to, but other than that, you'd been dreading it since Monday. It was Friday, and the last time you'd have to see her for the week, thankfully; you had to get through 6 and a half hours of torture first.

She came in the front door, her head down so she didn't attract too much attention. You decided not to say anything yet, but she approached the bar, looking to you with her big blue eyes.

"I'm real sorry. I know you could've fired me and I'm glad you didn't," she said softly, and you gave her a nod and turned around to finish what you were doing, offering her nothing further. She was on your bad side and would be forever--you'd always worry about if she was out for your man or not, but hopefully she'd learned her lesson this time.

The day went smooth, and Aaron came by as promised, kissing you over the bar as he took a seat. Kay didn't even glance in his direction, which was a pleasant change from her usual staring.

"So, I might've bought you a dress for tomorrow," he said carefully, and you were immediately intrigued, wondering what he bought; he must've really wanted to see you in it if he went out of his way to buy it.

"You didn't have to do that," you told him, putting in an order for his burger and grabbing him a beer.

"But I couldn't help myself. It's going to look so good on you; I saw it and knew you needed it."

He stayed until time for you to go, following you home so he could show you what he'd gotten for you. It was certainly your taste, silver and short, shimmery in the light. The neckline was low cut and there was a slit at the hip, giving Aaron the perfect view of your legs. He made you try it on, sitting on the bed while you adjusted it to your body, taking a look in the mirror. It was flattering, showcasing your curves and accentuating all of your features well; he'd done a good job.

"Fuck, baby. Turn around for me," you did a spin for him, his hand in yours, twirling you around the bedroom floor. His hands fell to your hips, pulling you closer to him as his eyes raked over you.

"You have such good taste," you complimented, kissing him quickly while his hands roamed your body, sneaking under your dress to grab your ass.

"Selfishly, I just wanted to see you wearing it. I bought a gray shirt today that'll match it perfectly; I know you have silver shoes," you were already going to rummage through the closet for them, laying them  out so they'd be ready for later. You weren't supposed to be at the casino until 8, so you had a little time to spare.

"Did you get the paint swatches for the rooms on the boat? We have to make a decision this weekend so the painters can start Monday," you reminded him, the hotel taking up most of Aaron's time when he wasn't at the casino. He loved being in charge, overseeing the executive decisions of the way things were progressing. He was good at handling it, learning quickly and adapting even faster.

"They're in your office, we'll pick one tonight while we're at the casino," Aaron had given you your own office on the riverboat even though you wanted to share his. He'd surprised you with it, and it was perfect, with a big oak desk and your loveseat from the old house on the far wall.

"You make my life so much easier," you hugged him, letting him kiss your neck until he found your mouth, his grip on your waist tight and possessive.

"I'll always be here to help," he assured you, letting you go to the bathroom so you could get ready. He'd wait until you were finished since it took him less time, so you did your hair and makeup and when you finally emerged, you were grabbed as soon as the door opened.

"We'll never get out of the house with you looking like that," he was already trying to unzip your dress, but you stopped him with a kiss.

"We can't miss our own party. You can take it off later," you promised, and with one last kiss he was off to get ready. It took every bit of your strength not to unbutton his shirt and ravage him when he came out of the bathroom, your eyes lingering on his broad chest, and long arms.

"You look so good, Aaron. Come here," you kissed him, your arms snaking around his neck to pull him closer. Your backside hit the bed and that was all it took for him to undo his belt and let his pants fall to the floor, turning you around so you could bend over the bed.

"You and I both know we can't wait until later," he hissed, pulling your underwear down in one swift motion, spreading your legs slightly so he could tease your already slick folds.

"We can't be late," you chided, looking over your shoulder, back at him as he slid into you, groaning from above.

"We won't be, baby. I promise. We still have half an hour," he began to slam into you, making you grip the comforter tight as his hips met yours. It wasn't long until you were hurdling over the edge, your eyes shut tight.

"That's it, baby. One more and we can go, okay? Be a good girl and come for me," you loved it every time he said it, making you a silly mess for him. It spread warmth throughout your entire body, giving you a wholesome sense of satisfaction that you'd not expected from something so simple.

"Fuck, Aaron, don't stop, please," he loved to hear you beg, making a light humming sound from above you to let you know there was no way he'd be stopping--he knew you were close and denying you of pleasure was something he'd never be able to do; he was too eager to make you happy, the thought of you unable to come when he was perfectly capable of making you didn't register with him.

You saw stars, arching your back as he came too, filling you up in the most delicious way. He cleaned you off before pulling up your panties and tugging you upright, offering you his arm.

"We didn't even mess up your hair."

✨✨✨

Aaron

Watching her have the time of her life with her closest friends was something I always enjoyed to see. It wasn't often she slowed down enough to see them regularly, but when we all got together, she was filled with glee, happy to have her favorite people in one place.

She stood talking to Charlotte and Jonah, who she missed terribly even if she was happy they had their lives back. She talked about them often and she and Charlotte still made time to hang out together, but we missed having them around.

Living with her was everything I hoped it would be.

She was the perfect wife, the most supportive and kind partner. I knew everyday when I woke up that if the entire world was against me, she was on my side, and I loved her more for it everyday.

I'd just wrapped my arms around her waist when Marty took a microphone, the crowd going quiet as he stood near the podium.

"We're here today because two of the most deserving people in the world are married now," everyone knew there was going to be a party, but no one knew why. They came to celebrate regardless, even Ruth and Frank Jr. were here.

"Y/n, Hotch, I want to wish you both all the joy and happiness in the world. I think I speak for everyone when I say, we all saw this coming. You two are simply meant to be together, and I couldn't imagine either of you with anyone else. Let's toast to the happy couple, and wish them many more years of love and laughter along the way. We love you guys," I clinked glasses with my bride and anyone else around, smiling like a fool the whole time.

Marty had surprised me.

As much as I'd hated him--more than that. I loathed Marty Byrde, but now that he was on my side, he wasn't so bad. He might not have been so bad to begin with if he hadn't gotten caught up with the cartel, but that didn't matter now. He was a good guy now--one of us.

Marty and the kids had become like family. We didn't see much of Wendy, she didn't even show up tonight, however she'd texted Y/n to congratulate her on getting married. She was busy with the Foundation, keeping things legal, and keeping her kids safe from any more heartache.

Marty was quickly rushing to my side, pulling me into his old office where it was quiet.

"You really shocked me," he said, pouring us both a drink from the bottle he kept behind his desk.

"In what way?"

He handed me my glass, nodding to the hand I held it with.

"I wasn't sure you were going to be good for her. I was afraid you were going to hurt one of the last genuine people left. She's different, Hotch. She deserves a good life and I have no doubt now that you can give it to her."

He clinked his glass with mine before patting me on the back, a typical Marty gesture. He was awkward when it came to being sentimental, but he was trying his best now.

"You don't have to worry. I'll always make sure she's taken care of," I promised him, and he nodded before we joined the others. She found me instantly, her arms around my waist from behind.

"Where'd you go?"

I kissed her forehead and told her I was talking to Marty, and she nodded, leading me to the bar so she could get another drink. She got clingy after one too many, but I didn't mind at all. She was always cuddly, but when she was drinking, she'd get affectionate in front of everyone, no matter who was around. She always wanted to kiss me, put her hands on me; it was cute, and I loved every second of it.

"C'mere," she beckoned, pulling me to meet her lips; she tasted sweet, like something fruity and delicious. I could practically see the mischievous gleam in her eyes as she leaned closer, so only I could hear her.

"Wasn't there something we were supposed to do in my office?" She was already sneaking off around the corner, willing me to follow her. I did so blindly, not caring about who noticed our absence; she needed me and I'd never say no to her, ever.

I locked the door behind me, making my way to the desk where she stood waiting. Our mouths collided harshly, but I needed so desperately to taste her, swirling my tongue around in her mouth while my hands groped her body. Her tiny hands worked on my belt and button, shoving my pasts past my knees.

"Impatient girl, going to fuck you over the desk and then take you home and fuck you in the bed," her night was far from over, and she was off work the following day, so I'd be keeping her up as late as I could; the way I was feeling, I'd fuck her until the sun came up.

"Is that a promise?" She bent over, her panties around her ankles, letting me pull her dress up past her hips.

"It's a guarantee, baby. You know I'm yours whenever you need me," I could hear the commotion of the party continuing without us--they didn't need us to have a good time.

"Please, Aaron. I can't wait any longer, baby," the neediness in her voice had me sliding into her with haste, gripping her hips to keep myself steady--with her heels she was at the perfect height to bend over and let me fuck her from behind.

"Is this what you wanted, sweetheart? Me filling you up?" She nodded, spreading her legs a little, her ass in the air for me. Her hands were folded under her cheek, a pleased smile on her face as I started to move my hips.

"I needed you so bad, it's all I've been thinking about since you disappeared with Marty," she sighed, content as I fucked her, careful not to tear her dress.

"I'm here now, baby. Let me take care of you."

In no time she was letting go, giving her orgasm over to me as her legs shook. She looked back at me, the smile on her face clear as day; it never got old, being the one to make her happy. I hoped she'd always let me be the one to make her smile; everything was a little happier with her around though, there was no reason to frown.

"You always know what I need, baby. I love you so much," she whimpered, letting me press my fingertips into her skin harshly enough to leave bruises. She didn't care, she let me slam into her until we were moving the desk--she managed to stay put through it all, moaning my name, her eyes half closed.

"I love you, sweetheart. Can I take you home soon? You're wearing too much," I knew the dress would look perfect on her when I spied it on the hanger. It left little to the imagination, and she wore it with such confidence that she had me pining for her all night long, adjusting my slacks every few minutes, trying not to focus too long on the curve of her ass or the swell of her breasts. It was a nearly impossible task, which is why I'd wanted to steal her away sooner. I'd never expected her to be the one to pull me aside--sometimes she just knew when I needed her, even if I couldn't tell her.

With a final thrust I poured into her, deep and hard enough to make my legs shake beneath me. We got dressed quickly, and I agreed to go out before her and go to the bar and she'd follow me. I had no sooner made it to a barstool when Marty came to stand next to me, grinning wide.

"You're acting like it's your honeymoon or something, Hotchner," he whispered, shooting me a wink before walking away. We'd been caught--which only made it that much better. She was at my side in an instant, wrapping her arms around me, kissing my cheek.

"I'm ready to go," she whispered, going to tell Marty and the kids bye before I could stop her. I waved them goodbye, letting her join me by the door, ready to get her home so we could make a mess of our new bed.

She was especially handsy in the car, palming me through my slacks, making me force myself to keep my eyes on the road. Once we hit the driveway, she was unbuckling her seatbelt to come suck at my neck, her hand still on my lap, my dick already hard and needy for her. I'd no sooner parked the car when she straddled my lap, making me hit the lever so the seat would go back and there was room for both of us.

"You look so good, baby," she mumbled against my skin, the heat rising to my cheeks; I could always feel how much she loved me in her words, her actions, the way she carried herself. She gave me every piece of her, giving me so much more of her to appreciate.

"I've got to get you inside, sweetheart. I need to see this dress on the floor in the next 60 seconds or I may just lose my mind," her dress rode up her hips as I carried her to the door, her legs around my middle and my hand under her to keep her in place. I got the door unlocked and sat her down, promptly unzipping her dress so she could step out of it.

"Now we'll never make it upstairs," she chided, biting her lip as she looked up at me, hands behind her back so she could take off her bra.

"You're right, we're going to the couch," I was thankful for the lounger end of the sectional, so I could lay her down, bringing her panties down her thighs as I parted her legs. Taking my time was difficult in situations like this, when I just wanted to dive headfirst into her, but making her wait was more fun. I loved to watch her wiggle around until she couldn't take anymore. Right now, it was taking everything in me to resist the urge, occupying my mouth with her thighs instead, kissing them and massaging them with my hands until she was whimpering for me to stop teasing.

"Aaron--please baby, don't make me beg," she choked, sitting up on her elbows so she could watch me. I finally gave in, although it didn't take much. She smelled so sweet and I knew she'd taste even better, so I let my tongue slip through her folds, watching as she went flat against the couch; her hands fell to my hair and she went rigid. There was no greater feeling than to be the one able to be in control of her body, finding new ways to touch her and make her lose control. The trust was an overpowering sensation, giving us both a sense of comfort and familiarity that I'd never known with another lover.

She knew about my relationship with Haley, and how my job caused it to crumble. She loved me just the same, and she definitely didn't hold it against me. She never let my job come between us when she could have, and I'd always be grateful that she was able to tough it out for me, for us and our relationship. It was no secret that being in the FBI was incredibly challenging and my job made a relationship nearly impossible before, but she sealed the deal on my official retirement when I realized how badly I needed to settle down and experience something new. She was the perfect person to start fresh with, to create a new life together so we could enjoy it to the best of our ability.

"Feels perfect, Aaron," she could barely choke out the words, they were strangled syllables as her head melted into the cushions and she gave herself over to me, letting her orgasm take over her body. I held her close, keeping her legs pinned to the couch with my arms so she couldn't move far and I didn't have to stop--as long as she'd let me, I'd stay between her legs, content and as happy as ever.

"Let's forget the bed and stay here all night," I mumbled, so focused on pleasing her that I didn't want to move if I didn't have to; I was perfectly happy hanging halfway off the couch as I laid between her thighs.

"Anything you want," she shot back, willing to do anything I said--she had no clue how much power she held with me sexually; I'd do things for her I'd never even mentioned to my ex wife. She was always happy to let me experiment with her, trying new things that we could both benefit from.

"Anything? You don't know what you're saying, sweet girl," I tried to warn her that we were about to enter uncharted territory and there was no way to go back once we'd started, but she seemed to want to go full speed ahead with me, and the thought excited me to no end.

"I mean it, Aaron. I'd do anything--if it makes you happy, I'd do it," she breathed, gazing down at me as I rested my head on her pillowy soft thigh. I was in the mood to have some fun with her, make her work harder than she ever had for her orgasm, that way it was more powerful. I grabbed her hand and brought it to her sex, sitting up slightly on the end of the lounger so I could watch.

"Touch yourself for me, but don't even think about coming," I freed myself from my boxers so I could stroke myself to the sight of her touching herself, her fingers slick with arousal as she spread herself open for me and teased her clit with a single digit.

"So sexy, baby. I love watching you," her brows were knitted tightly together as she concentrated on me, watching the flick of my wrist, occasionally scanning my face to make sure I was watching. I'd never miss a second of the show, already dangerously close and she hadn't even came yet. I slowed down drastically so I could control myself, trying to focus on the slick sound of her fingers, trained on her bundle of nerves.

"It feels too good, I can't--" I watched her eyes begin to flutter shut, on the brink of her orgasm but she refused to let it come, even though I could tell she was struggling.

"Not yet. I won't touch you for the rest of the night if you cum right now," I told her, watching her eyebrows raise in curiosity as she looked back at me. I was waiting to make sure she was okay with what I was doing, and from the smile on her face, she was.

"Been wondering when you were going to show me how bossy you could be," she teased, her bottom lip between her teeth, a sly grin forming on her face as she slowed down to match my pace, reaching for my free hand so she could lace her fingers with mine.

"I'll show you right now if that's what you want, baby," just like her, I'd do anything to make her happy, especially if it meant getting to be in charge at the same time.

"Please," her voice was strained, hoarse, as if there was nothing she wanted more.

✨✨✨

When he opted to carry you to the bedroom and toss you on the bed, you were wondering what could possibly be in store for you. Aroused didn't begin to describe how you were feeling--you were aching with desire, your thighs soaked as you looked up at him, so broad and lean, solid and so sexy you could hardly stand it.

"Come here," his tone was different--low and erotic but rough and demanding at the same time, exciting you to the core.

"Yes sir," you chided, a small gasp leaving your lips when he tilted your chin to look at him.

"What was that, baby?" From the upturned corners of his lips, he'd liked what he heard, and he couldn't wait for you to say it again. You sat on your knees in front of him on the bed; he was still standing, your face in his hand.

"Yes sir," you repeated, a bit more sultry this time, making his eyes close for a second, a low grown emitting from his throat.

"I love that," he confirmed, his dick in his free hand, stroking lightly as he looked at you.

"You gonna let me show you how much fun we can have together?" You teased, eyes on his member, hands folded neatly in your lap.

"As long as you promise to tell me if it's too much. You will, right? I want you to enjoy yourself baby," he was always so considerate, making sure you were comfortable and equally as eager as he was. The anticipation was driving you wild--you couldn't wait to see a new side of him, and maybe show him a thing or two in the process.

"I promise, Aaron. Don't hold back, you aren't going to scare me," you assured him, and he nodded, his eyes dark and mysterious as his grip on your cheeks made your face form a slight pout, his eyes lighting up at the sight. His entire demeanor was rapidly shifting; he stood up a bit straighter, his shoulders back as he guided your face towards his cock.

"Let's put that pretty little mouth of yours to good use," he growled, your mouth opening wide so he could slip his member past your teeth, your lips closing around him. His hand fell to the top of your head, rooting in your hair as his mouth fell open. You took things a step further, pressing further until he was in your throat, tears welling in your eyes as his hips took over for your mouth, holding your face still as he rocked back and forth, slipping into your warm, wet mouth with ease.

"Going to fuck your throat, sweetheart. Be a good girl and stay still," his hips began to move a bit faster, your hands on the foot board of the bed to keep yourself upright as he used your mouth, his hand tugging at your hair. You let out a whimper that had him peeking down to check on you, but once he saw the smile on your face, he didn't dare stop. You were enjoying every second of how rough he could get, and you hoped there was more in store.

You brought your hand to your dripping core, desperate to relieve some of the pressure that had been building when Aaron stopped you, grabbing your arm and bringing your hand back to the bed.

"Patience, baby. I promise the wait will be worth it," he said as he gave your head a gentle pat before slipping into your throat entirely as you tagged around him. It was almost instantaneous, his release into the back of your throat as he moaned loudly, making you shiver all over.

"So sexy," you cooed up at him as he regained his senses and caught his breath.

"Lay down," he commanded breathlessly, coming to sit between your legs, his own legs crossed his as he let his eyes fall to your center.

"You did so good, baby. Can you handle more?" His eyebrow raised, he looked to you for the green light and you nodded as his hand fell to your core, his thumb pressed gently to your clit.

"Yes sir, I can take it," you told him, earning a cheeky grin in response as his cock started to get hard again, twitching against his thigh.

"I knew you could, sweet girl. You're doing so good," he administered a slight bit of pressure, making your eyes shut tight, the sensation already beginning to form between your legs, which were shaky and unreliable. Right before you felt yourself go over the brink, he withdrew his hand, leaving you a writhing mess on the bed.

"Aaron!" You couldn't help the shocked tone of your voice, but the mischievous way he was looking at you told you that if you could just be patient, he was going to make everything worth it in the end.

"Can't make it too easy for you, baby. What's the fun in that?" You propped up on your elbows so you could watch him tease your slick folds with his long, thick fingers, your slick coating his digits as he played with you. He had no intentions of making you cum yet--he was going to see how much you could take before that.

"Your fingers feel so good," him making you wait until he allowed you to orgasm had your head spiraling; he'd never denied you before but you couldn't complain, not when it was so fucking hot to see this new side of him.

"You're soaked, sweetheart. I can only imagine how badly you want to cum," he was in heaven, loving every second of this new game you were playing.

"I'm so close," you squeaked, his fingers falling from your core to your thigh, giving you a moment to gather your thoughts before he continued. You let a string of profanity fall from your lips, making him lick his before lowering himself between your thighs.

"Does my sweet girl need my tongue? Tell me baby, how desperate are you?" He licked a stripe up your center that had you gripping the sheets as you tried to form a thought, but you kept drawing a blank that only got worse as he began to circle your clit with his tongue.

"Aaron, please. Can't you see how badly I need you?" Your pussy lips were swollen and dripping, clit pulsing wildly under his tongue as you let your hands fall to his head, directing his mouth to where you needed him most.

"Your shaking baby--such a needy little thing, aren't you, sweetheart?" He looked up to you, waiting for a response before he went any further.

"Yes sir, always need you baby. Right now more than ever," you admitted, so turned on that you were hypersensitive to his every move, the lightest flick of his tongue driving you wild.

"I know baby, but the longer we wait, the bigger mess you'll make, and don't you want to ruin these sheets with me? I think that if you'll be patient, you'll be surprised at how good it'll feel," he told you, and you nodded, letting him continue to bring you close but never letting you cum. Every time you were close, he'd pull away, making you whine and whimper until tears pricked your eyes. It was infuriating but so satisfying at the same time; on one hand, you were beyond ready to cum, but at the same time, the teasing, the waiting--it was perfect, driving you mad in the best way.

"Aaron--" you were dangerously close, you could feel it all over your body. He knew you wouldn't be able to stop yourself this time, so he brought his fingers to your clit and rubbed furiously, watching with wide eyes as you drenched his fingers and shook uncontrollably, your legs held down by Aaron, your thighs a sticky mess. He was thoroughly pleased, admiring the wet patch between your thighs as if he'd never seen anything like you before.

"I could watch you all day, gorgeous," he praised, his mouth inches from your sex as you tried to settle yourself.

"That felt incredible," he'd been right, of course, making you see stars with his talented tongue, and already eager to give you more.

"I knew it would, baby. Thank you for trusting me. Can I fuck you silly now, sweetheart? I've been so patient but I don't think I can wait any longer," he was hastily moving off the bed and dragging you to the edge before he tucked your legs together, placing them against his chest. His hand found yours before he used the other to line up with you, sighing as he let himself grow accustomed to the way you felt. You weren't sure you'd ever get used to the wholesome sensation of him filling you up, each time seemed better than before.

"Don't make me wait, please," you urged, his hands moving to your hips so he could use your body to keep himself grounded as he started to slam into you. He'd been rough before, but this was completely different. It was primal and possessive, and you didn't dare close your eyes because you didn't want to miss a second of it. You were coming undone in no time, squeezing him like a vice as he pounded mercilessly, his fingertips digging into your skin.

"Fuck baby, look at me," you met his eyes, misty and amazed as he slowed down drastically, parting your legs so he could lean forward and kiss you hard on the mouth.

"I love you so much," you whispered, more enthralled by him than ever as his body found yet another way to become connected with yours, your bond deeper now than it had ever been.

"And I love you, sweetheart. I want you to know no one has ever been more beautiful than you are right now," you felt yourself blush heavily, still smitten with him after so many months; his words could still reduce you to mush.

"You're perfect, Aaron. No one has ever made me so happy," what started off at full speed ahead had turned into something sensual and sweet--his hand cupped your face tenderly as he admired all of your features, giving you a chance to look at him and truly appreciate what a strong, gorgeous man you'd married. In your eyes, no one held a candle to him. He got more handsome as the days passed, his dark hair and striking eyes mesmerizing; you'd never seen anyone that could stop you in your tracks like he could. It was incredible, how he could stop the room with his intimidating persona and tall, long frame that made him look much more menacing than he actually was. You never would have thought the man you met that first night who wouldn't even give you a smirk was always smiling at you; you'd been pleasantly surprised at how sweet and soft he could be given his ruthless reputation.

"Then keep me forever, baby. You know, you still give me butterflies. Every time I look at your gorgeous face I fall in love all over again," he whispered, coming to hover over you so he could be closer; somehow even with his chest pressed against yours, you needed him closer--you couldn't get enough of him.

"Forever is the plan. I could never love anyone the way I love you," you replied, earning a dazzling smile from him before his lips met yours. Neither of you were focused on an orgasm rather than you were so wrapped up in one another that you didn't want to stop.

"You'll never have to worry about me ever wanting anyone else; you're the sun in my sky, sweet girl. I've never--fuck-- no one has ever loved me as much as you do. You've got me addicted," you loved the way he spoke to you, it lit a fire inside of you that warmed every inch of your body, making you feel more loved and secure than ever.

"I'll always love you, Aaron. I swear. I always want you by my side, through everything,"I promised him, reaching up to brush his hair back. He leaned into your touch, kissing your palm lovingly. There was something about the way he made you feel that was incomparable to any other man--he kept you hungry for more of him every second of the day, making you smile more than you ever had in your life. It was a welcome change from the way you'd felt before him--alone, misguided. Now you had a husband and a future, something to keep the two of you busy. Aaron was financially able to provide for you but with the casino and The Blue Cat, you were bringing in more money than you ever thought possible thanks to Marty. You were grateful Aaron was willing to help you run things after retiring, but he enjoyed it just as much as you.

"I love my life with you. I wouldn't want things any other way," you'd never expected to take on the casino but it had proven more than profitable. Aaron was showing you how much you were projected to make over the next year and you'd never imagined having that kind of money. You'd be using it to secure your futures, eventually expanding your family and having children together. Both of you were enjoying the flow of things for now, but you did look forward to becoming parents when the timing was right. Now, you wanted to be selfish with him and keep him for yourself as long as you could.

His hips rolled into you at such a slow pace that your orgasm had been building for some time, finally washing over you as you shuddered and moaned his name, one of his favorite sounds to hear.

"That's it, sweetheart. You look so sweet right now. Wish you could see yourself. We should get a mirror for the ceiling," he suggested, and the thought instantly made you groan; the idea of watching him from above as he fucked you like this sounded heavenly.

"We can do that tomorrow," you giggled, more than thrilled with the idea. He kissed your cheek before spilling into you, his body tensing up as he filled you. Instead of grabbing a towel, he let his cum spill out of you before gathering it on the tip of his cock and pushing it deep inside of you, biting his bottom lip harshly as he watched.

"Consider this practice, for when you decide you want to be pregnant," he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your lips before he eased out of you. You were taken aback by the way he was acting, a man starved for your love, but you didn't mind. You loved how much he adored you and the way he exerted love in every form he could. It left you feeling complete, like everything in your life had been leading up to meeting Aaron so he could change your life.

"We can keep practicing for now. I'm not ready to share you yet," you told him, pulling him to lay next to you on the bed so he could hold you. One of his favorite things to do after sex was cuddle up and just be close to one another--you loved it too.

"I'm not in any rush either. We have all the time in the world to become parents," he said against your cheek before kissing it, snuggling in close to you. He pulled the sheet up around the two of you, tugging you further up on the bed so you could be on the pillows. It was getting late, you could feel your body beginning to relax and Aaron melting in at your side made you sleepy, yawning lightly as he came a little closer.

"Tired, baby? We can get some sleep," you knew it would come eventually whether you wanted it to or not, but for now, you were busy focusing on how it felt to be wrapped up in his arms, your back against his chest so you could feel his deep breathing. His hand wrapped yours up, and the other was tossed behind his head lazily as he let his eyes close.

"Just wanna cuddle with you," you mumbled, his chuckled rumbling through you as he rolled to his side, draping his arm over your middle and pulling you in closer.

"Sweet dreams, baby," you whispered as he began to drift off, and you heard him mutter it back sleepily as he succumbed to slumber.  You stayed up for a while longer, looking at how peaceful he was, every line on his face smooth, his eyebrows relaxed and a soft smile on his usually stern face. You had no doubt that he was happy with you; it was clear even in his sleep how truly glad he was to be with you. He'd hold onto you all night long, even if you made him sweat and kept him uncomfortable, he'd never let you go. It was true in all aspects, not just in your sleep schedules. You'd picked the most supportive, caring partner you could have asked for, and his love made you feel like a better woman. You'd grown and learned so much with him that the months had felt like a lifetime, and the two of you had grown so close it had been like you'd known him much longer.

You brushed his hair back, his nose wrinkling slightly before he settled once more, taking a deep breath, his lips meeting your cheek even as he slept. It was impossible to miss the way he got a little more upbeat when you stepped in the room, or how he'd cross the floor just to be wherever you were. His eyes didn't wander to other women; he was pleased with one, and it was you.

You deserved the good ending.

You deserved someone strong but sensitive to see you through your darkest days, and a way to pave the future for your children that would come eventually. You most of all deserved the love that you'd always given and never received. Aaron had came along to show you what you'd been missing and gave it back to you tenfold. You'd always be thankful for such an incredible man--he was more than that. He was your partner in life and through the worst and best of times, he would always have your back no matter what. It was enough for you to roll over, your back pressed against him as he cozied into you, and you fell fast asleep dreaming of what the future could hold for the two of you.

Master tags: @wheelsupkels @periodtcevans @hausofwhores @criminallyobsessedcm @tojithesourcerkiller @fireworksinthesky @realdirectionx

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #ssa aaron hotchner #ssa hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #thomas gibson #ssa aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner au #aaron hotchner x reader smut #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader #jason bateman ozark #Ozark

[aconflagrationofmyown]

Sweet Marina, it is so nice to be back. I was forced to go on an Internet break due to the blackouts in Buenos Aires, recently (Argentina is nothing but entertaining). I was meaning to write to you, not about my dear Rosey and her Captain but about your newest creation "Sarge and lil Mama". I had come across the story about "their beginnings" in AO3 (where, if not mistaken, I left some comments) and I became quite interested in this world. I was eager to see your take on E within his "real life". What can I say? It's absolutely magical. I had a little time this weekend so I was able to read a few of the installments and you continue to amaze me. I know I've said it many times but your grasp on E's personality and your ability to maintain it truthful throughout any fictional creation is nothing short of divine. I absolutely adored the idea of E being the one completely in love and Elaine (love that she is an original character, wonderful choice) is not. Although she cares about him and is physically attracted to him (who wouldn't?), she remains holding the reins, if you will. She wants to be a mother, a caregiver and if Elvis is the one to make sure that happens, then so be it. I cannot wait to read more about her falling in love with him, her coming to terms with it and being like "oh! this is also how you feel?" It is so easy to picture him with someone like her, someone whose gift in this life is to care for others, someone who would be able to match the love that we know Elvis had in his heart. Someone that could have taken care of him when the bright light of the stage was off and only a shy, talented, complicated, kindhearted, wonderful man stood. The fact that they have so many kids is wonderful. I know E had some ideas about women post-birth but it is also so easy to picture Elaine knocking some sense into him! One of the things that I love the most about this little world is that it is so organized. If I'm gonna immerse myself into this universe, I need to know dates, names and places! I also adore the visual aspect of your work, the images that you find for each chapter or for different post are wonderful. I did have some questions about it though (feel free to ignore them if I'm spoiling something): I've seen that you plan to continue their story throughout the decades (please do!) so have you decided how you're gonna tackle E's infamous taste for his costars? Will it be just good old E being a flirt or will there be a story there? In the seventies, his health does begin to deteriorate, will Elaine and their older kids be the supportive force against those who continued to bleed him dry? And lastly, will the timeline remain truthful to E's life, that is, horrible 1977? I know that this review is not as thorough as my usual ones but I just wanted to give this little family some love. This world brings me a lot of joy and I find it utterly interesting. The ultimate "what could have been". PD: I've read the wonderful Norah's "No one walks out on Big Daddy", which I saw you had mentioned. Thank you very much for that, I absolutely loved it. Love and more love, Cami!

My goodness, glad you’re back and have some access. Always a treat to hear from you -and regarding this lil world? Oh, such a sweet surprise and I’m chuffed you’re enjoying it so much.

The whole premise of him marrying someone who was capable and single-mindedly focused towards caregiving (I hate how we moderns often make that sound unsexy when it’s such a vital role) instead of someone who wanted to compete in show business or be his dolly or all the other possibilities, intrigues me greatly. Wether or not that dear, complicated fella would have had the self preservation to marry someone like that….I can dream. Ha.

Which, leads us to your questions. I cannot visualize a world where this man, no matter how well set up domestically or even healthwise, doesn’t love women a lil too much, trust his colonel at least for a devastatingly damaging amount of time, or struggle in some degree with wearing himself to the bone while entertaining and touring; his health was genetically predisposed towards failing. So, all these elements will still have some affect and be their own stories, yes. But, but, this is about what could have changed and what can’t be altered with a staunch family and a ferociously loyal wife, right? So, I do have the dreaded ‘77 being a all time low in his personal life but it’s a rock bottom to be hit and then rise from to even better connection and success in his life.

Can you imagine E in the 80’s? Yes? Maybe? Sorta? I’m gonna give ya that

Love ya, Cami, always a delight to hear from you

#regarding sarge #love notes

[ladylooch]

Awe, that makes me feel better. I'm glad that people are liking.

Oooh, I can't wait to see you explore more about that.

Also, miles realizing that he's lacking on the taking care of you part. You take care of him and your baby, and yet doesn't ask anything in return.

Yeah, that man is everything. You know he's the one, but you're so scared, and if he didn't think that you were the one before the baby. You don't want him to think that you're now.

Miles is dying to propose, but he knows that you're not going to accept. So what does he do? He plans for everything. Maybe a couple of months from now, all the star weekend, you agree to go with him somewhere. You told him the places that you wanted to go and visit.

He prepares everything. He's so glad when you agree. You lowkey get mad at him because he's playing too much golf, but in fact, he's preparing the surprise. He has everything ready. He knows you want private and small but also want pictures.

So when he finally decides to spend time with you and asks if you want to go on a hike. You're jumping with joy yeah you want that.

Miles takes you to an easy hike, but with a killer view. You're looking around, being in awe of everything. And you look over to him, there he is in one knee with the box open.

-👢

I LOVE THIS!!!!

but do you say yes!? 😨

Oh man, I can see you being quiet for a moment and he's sweating. He's thinking, 'maybe I should ask again incase she didn't hear me.'

And then your tears start.... and, oh my god are you going to say no? Right here in paradise? Where he's putting his whole entire heart into an expensive diamond ring and big grand gesture. Is your life not enough? Do you not want this anymore? Things have been different since the baby....

#👢 anon #miles wood x reader #our little family

[thetarttfuldickhead]

A Jamie-centric pre-OT3 Christmas story told in 25 short chapters.

Masterpost / AO3

24.

Due to lucky timing or – more likely – a long-honed sense for when Jamie and Georgie were ready to be interrupted, Simon stepped into the sitting room to announced that dinner was ready about half a minute after the hour-long, and occasionally weepy, talk was winding down to general cuddles.

Jamie got up to greet him with genuine enthusiasm. He’d already moved out by the time Simon moved in, but he liked the man well enough. He’d been dead good for Mummy, and Simon had always been decent about giving her and Jamie space, never seeming to mind that Georgie tended to focus all of her attention on Jamie whenever he was around. Which was only natural, given that Jamie was her only son and a fucking great one at that, but some men might have been pissy about it, so Jamie was still glad Simon wasn’t one of those.

“Tried to make a few extra sides that won’t mess with your meal plan, I know you’ve got a game tomorrow,” Simon said as he ushered them towards the carefully set table.

They’d gotten a new cloth since the last time Jamie was here for Christmas, a rustic looking light grey number, but the pink plates with a pattern of golden Christmas trees around the edge were the same ones Jamie had given her when he was 17. Simon had matched them with green napkins, intricately folded around small golden sprigs of plastic mistletoe, and pink and gold ornaments scattered across the table.

“That’s nice, that,” Jamie said, because it was, and Simon beamed at him.

The dinner was nice, too, the traditional turkey and trimmings complemented, for Jamie’s benefit, with a French omelette with smoked haddock, a large salad, and a small bowl of liberally spiced brown rice. It took Mummy most of the meal to fill Jamie in on all the latest neighbourhood gossip, but there was a fair bit of chatter about football as well, and a couple of minutes devoted to Simon’s new knife set. It was fun, and easy, and by the time Simon got up to put the kettle on and Jamie went out into the hall to collect the bag of gifts he’d brought, Jamie was feeling more relaxed (and fuller) than he could remember doing in… well. A fucking long time.

As they settled on the couch with their tea cups, small glasses of mulled cherry wine and a frankly shocking array of sweets (of which Jamie allowed himself exactly one small slice of candied orange dipped in chocolate and sprinkled with sea salt), Mummy fretted slightly over not having any proper gifts for him there. “We had them sent over your place, since we didn’t think you were coming. I’m sorry, love.”

“No, yeah, I know, got them last night. Haven’t opened them yet, though, ‘cause, uh, I wanted to see you first.”

She smiled, and pulled him close to smack her lips against the top of his hair. “Do it first thing when you get home, and every last one of them will be a kiss from me.”

“I will, Mummy.” He’d be getting home after midnight, and by rights should head straight for bed to make sure he was in good shape for tomorrow’s game, but knew he would take the time to unpack the carefully wrapped parcels. Knew his mum would likely be up and ready to respond to any excited reaction texts he might send.

Jamie apologised for the randomness of the gifts, sheepishly admitting that he’d spent too much time getting Roy stuff to think much about anyone else; they waved away his regrets and oooh:ed and aaah:ed enthusiastically at the blanket (Georgie), the cookbook (Simon), the weekend getaway in Cornwall (both of them), and the other things Jamie had picked up rather hurriedly yesterday.

Merry Christmas (I don’t want to fight tonight) came on. Grinning cheekily, Mummy got to her feet, pulling Jamie up with her as she went, and then they were dancing all across the sitting room, laughing and loudly singing along, the way they’d always done when Jamie was a kid.

“Oh, baby, you’ve gotten dead good at this,” Mummy said a little breathlessly after Jamie had spun her round in a complicated twirl, and he nodded, pleased that she’d noticed his mad moves. “I’m a footballer, ain’t I. Gotta be quick on me feet.”

The song ended and the far slower Have yourself a merry little Christmas began to play. Jamie released his mum to Simon, and as the two of them swayed slowly to Judy Garland’s soft crooning, Jamie took the opportunity to sneak away for a bit, going up the stairs to his old room. It looked pretty much exactly the way he’d left it when he moved into the Academy residence. Mummy (or Simon, probably) kept it clean, but hadn’t moved any of his stuff or done anything about the general messiness of the room. Only the Keeley poster had been a later addition, and only because having semi-nudes up at his academy room had been frowned upon and he’d still been minding the rules back then.

Mad, to think that he’d ended up dating her. Mad, that he’d played with Roy Kent, the one player whose poster he’d never taken down (although he’d come close, the first time he was back home after joining Richmond and Roy had proved to be a massive cunt, but it had felt like letting Roy win somehow, so it had stayed up).

Madder still, that only two nights ago he’d been curled up with both of them on a couch in Roy Kent’s house.

Grinning, he pulled out his phone and called Keeley. Yes, it was late and it was Christmas and it might be a prick thing to do, interrupting whatever celebration they had going, but as much as he was trying to be better, Jamie hadn’t gotten to where he was by not going after what he wanted. Besides, they’d want to know how things had gone, wouldn’t they? Keeley would, at any rate.

His assumption turned out to be correct because Keeley not only picked up, but smiled like she couldn’t be happier to hear from him. “Jamie, hi! You doing all right? Are you up in Manchester?”

“Hi, Keeley. Yeah, I am, yeah.” He paused, taking a moment to just look at her, taking in the loveliness of her face, before adding, “Talked to me mum. It went great. I mean, I was a bit nervous, but it went great, yeah, so it’s all good now.”

“Yeah?” Her smile softened. “That’s amazing, Jamie. Really glad to hear that.”

“Yeah. So, uh, I just wanted to call to tell you and, and, say thanks, I guess. For, you know, telling me I needed to go here. And, uh, merry Christmas.”

“You’re welcome, Jamie. Merry Christmas.”

“Oi!” Roy’s voice, off-camera and sounding unusually high over the speakers. “Keeley, do— Oh, sorry, didn’t realise you were on the phone.” A pause. “That Jamie?”

“Yeah. He’s up in Manchester, come say hi.” Keeley shifted a bit, angling her phone to include Roy in the picture.

Jamie raised an eyebrow. Roy must really be into Christmas, because he was actually wearing a patterned tie with his black shirt and black suit jacket. A dark patterned tie, admittedly, but it had got little golden dots on it, which was far more festive than Jamie would have thought Roy could ever manage.

Then again, he’d had to rethink a lot of his thoughts on Roy in the past two days.

“Hi,” Roy said, sounding… not unsure, exactly, but… not not unsure either. A little reserved, but in a way Jamie, canny reader of people that he was, suspected had more to do with uncertainty over their new relationship status, rather than any real desire to be an arse.

Jamie didn’t blame him. He was feeling a little uncertain himself (which was still a new and not particularly fun experience). Things had changed between them since Roy rushed in to find him crumpled on the floor—but how exactly, and into what?

He guessed they’d find out, and fuck, wasn’t that an interesting thought?

“Hi,” he said. “Merry Christmas. You enjoying the holiday, yeah?” He nodded towards the tie, smirking just a little. (It was a decent tie. Roy looked well fit in it. But if the man didn’t want people taking the piss when he donned a bit of colour he shouldn’t make such a point of always wearing black then, should he?)

Roy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m loving it. Spent the afternoon knocking on random doors looking for a dentist for my niece, that was a fucking riot. And,” he continued before Jamie had the chance to ask what the hell he was on about, “some nitwit had this John Case box set delivered to my door this morning, because apparently some people have no idea when to fucking quit.”

“Yeah?” Jamie asked, unable to hold back a grin, because while Roy’s word had been gruff, there was a small smile in his eyes that said that they weren’t really. “Think that sounds like great gift, mate. Real thoughtful, like.”

Roy just snorted, but Keeley was clearly holding back a laugh, her eyes shining as they wandered between Jamie on her screen and Roy.

“It’s the last of them,” Jamie promised, just in case Roy actually thought he’d be keeping this up forever from now on. “But I’d already gotten it, so… “ He shrugged.

“It’s fine,” Roy said, then added off Keeley’s not at all discreet elbow to his side, “I mean, thank you.”

Jamie was about to tell him not to overdo it or he’d burst vessel or something, but was interrupted by his mum calling his name from downstairs. “Sorry,” he said. “Gotta go. Be heading back in thirty minutes, so I wanna make the most of it, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Keeley immediately said (almost covering Roy’s muttered we’re really not stopping you). “Go. And good luck with the game tomorrow, yeah? I’ll be in the box with Rebecca, cheering you on.”

“Decent, yeah. Um, thanks again. Merry Christmas.”

As he moved to end the call, Roy suddenly said, “Jamie, wait.”

Jamie waited. And waited, because whatever it was that Roy had on his mind, he apparently had a hard fucking time getting it out of his mouth.

Eventually, Jamie’s patience wore thin. “Mate, I’m not being funny, yeah. I really gotta go. You maybe wanna send me a fax instead?”

“Oh, that’s very funny,” Roy growled. “The fuck happened to you not being a prick, huh?” Then he made a face, looking pained. “Actually, and I can’t fucking believe I’m about to say this, but maybe sometimes you need to be a prick. Not to people,” he added with narrowed eyes, having apparently caught the way Jamie lit up at that, “but on the fucking pitch. I mean, sometimes. Not all the time. But sometimes, being selfish and going for the shot and getting in the other players heads by being an utter cunt like only you fucking can is better than passing the ball.”

Jamie gaped at him, but before he had time to say anything or ask how the hell he was supposed to know when it was the right time to be a prick, Roy muttered a curt, “That’s it. Bye,” and ended the call.

“Um, rude,” Jamie told the black screen. He was half tempted to call Keeley again, just to tell her bye properly (and maybe tell Roy… something, Jamie wasn’t totally clear on what, because Roy had been rude, but he’d also told Jamie to be a prick sometimes, and had almost smiled at him several times, and that was all just a bit confusing), but he hadn’t lied when he said he wanted to make the most of his time with Mummy before he needed to leave for London again.

“We’re not done, mate,” he told poster-Roy sternly, before adding a far softer, “Good night, Keeley,” to poster-Keeley

And then he headed downstairs, back to Mummy and the rest of his Christmas, and then – when he’d hugged her ten times or a hundred – he headed to London, back to his team and the rest of his life, and it came to him as he sat on the train with the midwinter night speeding past him, that he was travelling both from home and to home and that it was well fucking mint.

#this isn't late it's still december 24:th in loads of places #and i haven't gone to bed so it's a new day for me either #merry christmas dear ones #god jul #only the epilogue left #i am now all christmases out and will collapse into bed #jamie's christmas carol #royjamiekeeley

[pretty-face-breaker]

Falling

( @whumpmasinjuly​ Day 9)

CW. Whumpees on the run, creepy phone call, overall creepy atmosphere, graphic threats of torture, very creepy/obsessive whumper, freeze response

—

They were supposed to leave the next morning. Himself and Vladimir had sat down the night before, scratching off the to-do list mechanically, adding new potential, and planning an efficient enough morning that they would be out of the state before the weekend. 

Early rising, continental breakfast, and loading the car - an easy checklist. It had been far from a perfect trip but Hayko had been glad of how it had been progressing and that it was relatively bump-free. His nightmares, though persistent, had kept him on his toes, never allowing him to relax on the off chance that it became his undoing.

He had pretended to relax for two years.

Now it was time to run.

The clock read a blurry midnight. Hayko sat on the bed, picking at his nails, staring at the crumpled form of the curtain a few metres away from their bed. The minutes ticked by but his head couldn’t care less.

He was only glad that neither could his friend’s. 

Vladimir lay beside him, blanket tucked to his chin, with an original of Crime and Punishment tilted on its side and it must have been the periodic shlick of the pages turning that kept Hayko from another midnight freakout. Only an hour ago, he had jokingly asked the man to read him a chapter but had made him stop halfway through. 

Power is given only to him who dares to stoop and take it. That had been the line. 

Hayko swallowed hard and pried off another cuticle, waiting for the next page to turn so he could exhale and try to convince himself that Dostoevsky was on his side this time. Both of their sides.

As the page turned, Hayko sighed and glanced at Vlad, breaking from the curtain. “You’ll mess up your eyes.” 

“I have glasses already,” the man mumbled back after a second. “I have the privilege of reading on my side.” His voice rang into the near-black of the room and the curtain soaked it up. 

Before Hayko could patronise him back and regain a little security, Vlad had pushed himself up and stretched. Setting the book down, he hopped out of the bed and disappeared into the bathroom, mentioning something about a shower that went right through Hayko’s ears. 

He figured he should sleep while Vlad was gone.

Until something buzzed on his desk.

At first, Hayko thought, or hoped, it had been a nearby fly but that train of thought choked when he realised it was his phone. He stared at it for a moment, summoning the courage to pick it up. 

He couldn’t.

It went on for another agonising minute, almost buzzing off his desk before the noise finally stopped.

Hayko exhaled in bursts and pretended it had never happened.

I’ll check the number in the morning and text back. Probably just the staff. 

But the clock read 12:26 am now, and there couldn’t have been a soul at that front desk.

Not that Hayko cared to acknowledge that, as he fixed his eyes on the balcony and let them defocus. It had become his penultimate method of falling asleep whilst staying alert. He would let himself relax and his surroundings blur until-

Buzz buzz. Buzz buzz. 

He began to tremble.

But something in his mind supplied that the hiss of the shower in the bathroom would cover his voice, at least for a few minutes. It would cover the tremble. 

So, Hayko picked it up. 

Unknown caller. 

Taking a deep breath, he clicked the green Accept button with a shaking thumb and held it to his ear. He felt his ear burn on contact. Nothing could be heard on the other side except a deceptively gentle rumble of an engine and what could almost pass as breathing. 

“Hello?...” 

Please be the front desk.

“I assume you’re alone?” 

Every muscle in his body went taut, the instant he heard the voice, not that he could have guessed it wasn’t him. But a small sliver of devotion in him had held that it could have been somebody else. “Y-Yes.”

“Yes, what?” the voice asked patiently. 

His entire throat was on fire. His fingers were numb. “I’m alone.” 

“Yes,” Nick said simply. “You are alone.” 

Hayko knew he had to hold his breath to dim his mind or he would start hyperventilating right there. And eventually, the shower hiss would stop and everything would be audible again.

And then, neither of them would sleep.

Something like a sigh came from the other end. 

“I’m g-going to hang up now.” 

Nick hesitated before laughing low and sighing almost wistfully. “Oh, relax. You know I can’t trace a call that quickly, love.”

He felt tears springing to his eyes and could only thank the gods that he couldn’t see that. 

“What do you want?” 

“To talk to you. I’ve missed that gorgeous voice of yours,” Nick lilted. “God, it’s divine to hear it again, my darling.” 

Suddenly, Hayko realised that Nick was talking to him while driving. His heart went from pittering to slamming heartily against his ribcage. “Do you know where I am?” 

“No. But I will, soon.” 

Was he lying? He couldn’t tell if he was lying. 

Oh, God. Please, be telling the truth for once.

Nick cleared his throat, breaking the petrified silence. “It’s a shame I’ll have to clip your vocal chords once I find you.” 

Hayko couldn’t stop himself from gasping for air. He screwed his eyes shut and as if it were glued to his ear, he couldn’t put the phone down.

When Nick laughed again, that deep, rolling chuckle laced with pity and want, Hayko only grabbed the sheets and desperately sank his nails into it to keep from screaming. 

“You’re not having another panic attack, are you?” 

“I-I’m hanging up-” 

“You’re not doing shit.” 

Hayko jumped as the loving drawl from the other end melted into a sneer. He felt the fabric of the sheets tear, the further he pulled them up to his chin and, somehow, couldn’t put the phone down. Even when the man wasn't physically there, he didn't have the willpower to flee from him.

And that's why you stayed for two years.

“Your friend gave me quite the headache and honestly, Hayko, you should worry more about what I’m going to do to him than to you.”

Hang up hang up hang up.

“You should worry about the psychological fucking scars I’m going to give you when I find you and sever each one of Vladimir’s fingers and make you watch.” 

Hayko couldn’t hear the sob escaping his mouth between the blood pounding in his skull. He couldn’t hear the hiss of the shower being choked off as Nick poured his venom into his ear and-

He couldn’t put the phone down.

“I thought we understood each other, my love.” 

“Y-You won’t find me,” he finally managed to gasp out. 

“Oh, you can convince yourself of that but you won’t convince me,” Nick replied flatly. Suddenly, his tone changed and the best Hayko could describe it was... grief. “God, we… we had something going, you know?” 

He gasped sobs into the blanket, too terrified to respond.

“We had something and it worked. And you fucked it up, Hayko.” And his voice was back to that matter-of-fact way with which he had greeted him. “We had an understanding. It didn’t have to be predator and prey again, love, and now, you’re falling again.”

“Y-You-” 

“Yes, you’re falling but don’t think you’ll land as gently this time,” Nick finished with a timber that Hayko knew he had never ever heard before in the man’s voice. “You could have stayed with me.” 

“No, I-... I couldn’t have,” he whispered into the phone, not realising the pair of wide eyes on him, watching from the dark in disbelief and horror. 

Silence. 

“...You should have stayed with me.”  

Click.

Silence.

“...Hayko?...” 

The man sat almost immobile, the phone now resting at his side. His eyes were fixed on the curtain, so far away from Vladimir’s own shaking voice. They stayed still like that, frozen in time, until Vlad sprung to action.

But even as the man rushed over to their pile of suitcases and began splaying them on the ground in a panic, wiping over desks and tossing in every item he saw, Hayko didn’t come back for a few more moments.

—

@doveotions @heathenville @thewhumpstuff @thatsthewhump @adamantem-rose @lonesome–hunter @whumpsorbet @whumpasaurus101 @lektricfergus @downrivergirl914 @burtlederp @redwingedwhump @nicolepascaline @ifbtnna @oh-so-skeletal @whumperfully​​ 

#whump #whump writing #whump drabble #whumpmasinjuly #whumpmas in july no.9 #wij22day9 #wij2022 #escaped whumpee #crying #creepy whumper #sadistic whumper #dissociation #freeze response #nick and hayko #oh boy oh man #threat #referenced torture #stockholm syndrome

[parcequecestnotreprojeeeet]

Dear EMT, I have incorporated your wish. 😉 Your strawberry

The gift

For weeks he had been thinking about what to get her for her birthday. What do you give a woman who seemed to have everything? He had been trying to find out if she wished for something. But he had acted clumsily and she knew immediately what he was getting at. So she explained to him that he didn't have to give her anything because she was perfectly happy. The only thing she would really be happy about is spending time with him.

Of course, time together was precious. But since they usually met at her place, it always happened that she took care of everything. He came to her and was treated like a guest. For example, she cooked for him and he enjoyed watching her and then eating with her. He loved this time with her, but it was inappropriate for her birthday.

As he pondered, an idea came to him and when he thought about it more closely, he even came up with a wish that he could fulfill for her. In order to implement his plan, however, he needed the help of her daughter…

She didn't like celebrating her birthday, but she was still looking forward to this Friday evening. Friday would always be a special day for them as their story together began on that day.

She had suggested that they celebrate their birthday together, and above all alone, in their holiday home by the sea. Her daughter gave her the idea. She said that you could then invite the relatives over at the weekend and celebrate afterwards. That was a really good idea.

So that she could prepare everything in peace, she arrived a little earlier. But when she unlocked the front door, she stopped short, startled. Someone was in the house. She heard the noises coming from the kitchen. She crept there quietly. She stopped short when she realized who the supposed burglar was. He she wanted to wait for was already there, cooking. At least he tried, because the kitchen looked terrible. But she didn't care right now. Seeing him fumbling around like that made her heart soar. This was sure to come as a surprise to her and her daughter was in on it. Besides, his sight was hot.. He was wearing jeans, a black t-shirt and was barefoot.

She hadn't been in the door long before he noticed her. "Oh no. You came way too early,” he threw at her. "I think I came in just the right time to help you," she laughed. "This should come as a surprise to you," he admitted. But, he wasn't a whining man, so he walked up to her, took her face in his hands, smiled at her and said, "Happy birthday, mon coeur." With pleading eyes, he added, "Please help me, so that it will be a nice evening.”

He was brilliant at many things, but he wasn't a chef. However, he had been intelligent enough to try something easy and let her help. This is how the food was saved. He was glad that she still had no idea of ​​his actual surprise. When dinner was ready, he sent her upstairs to change.

Smiling at the beginning of this evening, she walked down the stairs and experienced the next surprise. He was standing at the bottom of the stairs in a black suit with a white shirt and black skinny tie, holding a single red rose in his hands. She hadn't expected that, and especially not that he looked so damn sexy in that suit. She had never seen him in a suit, so she was overwhelmed. But he too was touched. She looked beautiful in her dress. How much he loved this woman. When she finally reached him, he had to kiss her. "I hope you like my present for you," he whispered to her, taking her hand and pulling her with him.

Her breath caught again because there was a piano in the living area. It was right in the middle and rose petals were scattered around it. Next to an armchair on a small table was a vase with the same red roses as the one in his hand. He led her to the armchair and asked her to sit down. He kissed her lips again and handed her the rose. "For you," he whispered to her, turned around and sat down in front of the piano.

Spellbound, she looked at his profile and heard him play the piano for her for the first time. It was a revelation to watch and listen to him. He had his eyes closed and was playing with so much emotion that tears came to her eyes. She had never heard anything so beautiful and nobody had played just for her until now. He didn't seem to be able to cook, but playing the piano was his passion. When the last note had died away, he stopped and looked at her. She didn't have to say anything because her face showed him her feelings. "I really wanted that. That was my wish. I wanted to hear how you play," she said. He nodded, got up, came to her and pulled her out of the chair into his arms. "Happy Birthday. I love you”, he breathed towards her and kissed her. The food had to wait for her for a while, because she had to thank him for this nice surprise first.

Helloooo, sweet 🍓! ❤️

Oh my heart! You just killed! The piano!!! I would actually give body parts to see a video of him playing the piano 🤧 I screamed when I read it and I’m literally in the middle of the street lol

Hahahaha thank you for fulfilling my wish of him in the kitchen with jeans, black t shirt and barefoot. Oh it’s getting hot in here just with the thought of it 🥵🤤🤤 Don’t know why the idea of him trying to cook and messing all around seems pretty hot too hahaha

Damn, the all birthday surprise was soooo adorable 🤧 And thank God for microwaves hahaha that food is going to need to be eaten up again 🤭😈

Thank you so much Strawberry, for this piece and the lovely and touchy details! ❤️❤️❤️

#fanfic #strawberry

[khaleesiofalicante]

Hola Dani 😊 ¿como te va? ¿Sigues de viaje? I hope you're having a good time and drinking enough water or tea or both!!

I'm going the farm this weekend because apparently Cocoa is sick, I've been assure that is not serious but I still want to go and see my fluffy girl 😌

The One with the Seashell

I'll try to keep this one short so Tumblr doesn't go 🤯

Maxwell needs to take a chill pill but also I would be the same!! I WANT MY MAVID BACK!!

Nicolas remains grounded!! 😒

Numeri sounds cool but also fuck math 😒

My son has been trying to use warlock math to grow up... Nicolas you are ungrounded 😭😭😭

Yes, I am that easy, so what??

“Helping someone doesn’t mean you have to make yourself uncomfortable,” bapak said softly.

I needed this today 🙌🏼🙌🏼🙌🏼

Does Magnus have super smell?? He cannot possibly know that Max was practicing warlock math just by the smell of magic... or maybe my son's magic has a very particular smell 🤔

Answers I need answers!!!

“The wards are only for shadowhunters. It detects them by their runes. You don’t have runes, right? You’ll be okay. I promise.”

Maybe Roman and Gigi shouldn't go to Devlin Corp!!! I don't think their plan is going to work!!

Holy shit it worked!!

There was something about him. She couldn’t put her finger on it.

It was a circle with a red border and there were two smaller black circles, one on either side.

I have SO many questions!!!!

She fought the urge to set the whole damn place on fire.

Stop fighting and let it BURN!!!

Georgia looked at him. “Roman. We have to take it with us.”

TAKE IT!!! Take the seashell and RUN!!!

“It’s very rude to steal someone else’s property,” the boy told her.

First of all... OH FUCK!!! Second of all... that seashell is not yours so shut the fuck up!!!

The tiny device pulsed bluer and louder and harder than Gigi had seen before.

Oh no!! Oh no!!! I feel like this is going to backfire!!

What was that??? What fuck just happened???

“So, we’re not gonna tell him his brother died?”

I HATE THEM!!! I don't really care about the evil twins but that is shitty AF!!

“Stick to the plan. I want you to find Alec Lightwood.”

Dani no!! That was how my nightmare started 🥺🥺

“I will not let your delusional relationship ruin my legacy,” Marcus hissed.

But I am enjoying their fight, go ahead destroy each other!! Muahahaha

This bitch really thinks that Maxwell is going to forget about David... I need a stronger word than delusional!!

You are both delusional you evil bitch!!!

Oh Max 😭😭😭 this entire scene is hard, I'm glad this is from Mallory's POV and not Max’s because I want scream and cry 😭😭😭 my poor angel!!

M for Mallory.

No! Is an M for Malvada which you are!!

Yay LEXI!!! My twins always make me feel better!!

“Marcus and Mallory?” Lexi asked. “Look, man, I seriously think we should just, you know, be done with it.”

I agree!!!

Ok Achilles has a point but...

Achilles laughed at that. “I understand this must all be frustrating for you.”

Yes, it is very much!!!

“Too impulsive,” Mallory tutted. “And too arrogant.”

This bitch better not hurt my precious twin or else!!!!

The rings wrapped around Lexi’s ankles and locked her to the ground.

See!!! This why sometimes murder IS the answer!!!

“Daddy!” Lexi screamed and fell to the ground and clutched at her father. “Daddy, no!”

NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! Danielaaaaaa!!! Why? Why????

"Play time's over," Uncle Magnus said and then looked at the blonde man. "Jonathan, get off the ground. You are ruining a good shirt."

Oh yes!!! Our savior!!

But Mallory pulled the warlock closer by his shirt. “You fucking idiot.”

NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

“You dumb bitch,” she said. “Alec Lightwood is going to kill you with his bare hands.”

That he will!! And I will help him!!

Dani... this chapter!! OMG!!! The amount of times I screamed!!!! You are amazing!!!

I tried to keep this short and organized but once again I have failed 😬

Thank youuuu!!! I am love you most 💚💚💚💚

okay now thanks to you i am 11% curse and say terms of endearment in spanish hehe.

today's word: mi preciosa ;)

And oh no! I also have the fucking flu since Sunday and i hate being sick! I hope Cocoa is okay and you get to visit her soon x

also if tumblr fucks with us again, i will sue!!!

I am love you the mostest 💚💚

#lbaf

[surgerodriguez]

Boiling Point

Setting: Weekly Rodriguez Family Dinner, 1/29/2023 Mentions: @nichelleyoung  Triggers: Toxic Masculinity, Street Fighting, Incarceration, Anger Management Issues, Death Mention  Word Count: 1307 words  Note: Italics are Spanish

It was pretty common for Surge to wallflower whenever the entire family was together. Yes, he would occasionally join the conversation, or play whatever game his brother tried to get him into. But every week was loud, competitive, and being the lone introvert in a family of extroverts was exhausting. 

Well not the only one, Surge knew that his father was one. But the two of them had the tendency to wallflower on opposite sides of the room - if not opposite sides of the house. It was easy to forget within the crowd, the overlapping conversations, the kids all running around, the fact that there were 29 people all in this house that always seemed to small for the amount people that came over. 

But despite how exhausting his family was, he was actually glad to come to family dinner this week. Considering that his mom has insisted that Nichelle come (to which Surge only agreed to extend the invitation if his mother promised not to ask about when they would be having more kids), and this was her official introduction to the family that she hadn’t met at the restaurant, he was just glad that it was going well. That throughout all the craziness she seemed to fit. 

Pilar had taken it upon herself to introduce Nichelle to everyone, and Surge just watched with a smile on his face. He had his phone out, planning on sneaking a picture of the two of them while they were distracted, when a voice from behind him surprised him. 

“She seems nice,” the deep gruffness of Fernando’s voice was quiet, in a way that almost seemed like a contradiction. 

“She is,” Surge nodded to his father, “Didn’t exactly realize how nice it would be to have someone around until I met her.” 

“And Pilar?” Fernando asked, in a way that Surge could tell that his father was trying to get to something, but he wasn’t entirely sure what. 

“Pilar adores her,” Surge admitted, despite being wary of the conversation, a smile still came to his face, “the two of them have really bonded.” 

“Good,” Fernando nodded, “It’s about time you found the girl a mother.” 

The words caught Surge off-guard, his brows instantly furrowing as he took in his father’s words. His hand clasped around his phone, the picture that he was trying to take forgotten as he gripped. While his father had been full of critiques since he had gotten out of jail, it was almost as if Fernando didn’t even realize how insulting the words were. To him, to Pilar, to Nichelle, even to Sarai’s memory. 

“What exactly do you mean by that?” Surge asked, his words measured, hoping that his father has misspoke - but knowing the man well enough to know that hope was probably misplaced. 

“Pilar needs a gentle touch,” Fernando said, matter-of-factly, as if he still didn’t see the problem, “and you seem determined to raise that child surrounded by violence. Someone needs to shield her from that.” 

“You know, Nichelle and her father are both giant boxing fans, right? Oh wait, no you wouldn’t know that because apparently all you think Nichelle is good for is being a replacement Mom for Pilar,” Surge snapped, not realizing that his voice had gotten louder and that everyone had started watching. “But I didn’t start dating Nichelle in order to force her to be a housewife, I’m dating her because I like her. Actually, I love her. But I guess that doesn’t matter to you.” 

“You know as well as I that if Sarai were here...” the older man warned, his voice rising to match his son’s as her was interrupted. 

“You don’t get to say her name,” Surge yelled, “and you don’t get to act as if you knew her. That you knew what our family would be like, how we would have parented Pilar. You didn’t even know her!”

“She would have had the girl, and you barely would have seen her. Every other weekend until you lost interest or Sarai decided she had enough. We both know that you’re a horrible example for her, Sergio. Pilar deserves more than a lifetime of watching her father get injured over and over again. She deserves to have a normal childhood with a mother who can help her thrive.”  

“What, like we had a normal childhood?” Surge accused, his eyes narrowing, “Because you sure as fuck made sure we wouldn’t have that.” 

“You don’t know how much I tried. You don’t know what I did for this family,” Fernando warned, his voice growing angrier. 

“Everyone fucking knows what you did,” Surge countered, annoyed at the same excuse that Fernando had given time and time again. “because you were gone. Josue, Maria, and Anita all dropped out of high school the moment that they could to help support this family. I almost got arrested street fighting because nobody would let me drop out and get a job. But that violence that you hate - it’s what made sure that Mom could keep the restaurant. It bought the house that we’re in right now. It made sure that you didn’t have to go back to work after you got out of prison. It has made sure that Angel got to go to college and grad school without any fucking student loans, and has made sure that I’ll be able to do the same for my daughter. And it won me two Olympic medals. So maybe you should finally admit that I’ve done more for this fucking family than you have. And it’s my money that’s keeping us together now.” 

“Your blood money,” Fernando spat with disgust. 

“That you happily take,” Surge snapped back. 

“That. Is. Enough!” Sofia’s voice managed to be louder than the two of theirs, quieting them enough for Surge to realize that everyone was watching - that somewhere in his anger his phone had left his hand and shattered against the wall. And he could feel his father using that as another reason as to why he wasn’t a good person, why his boxing wasn’t an honorable career like everyone else, why he was a terrible father. 

This has been the worst of their fights, and it felt like all the work in his anger management therapy sessions had managed to go down the drain. 

But the worst of it was the moment that he noticed Pilar’s face - scared, crying, confused. Surge had always tried to hide his temper from his daughter, and here it was out in the open. Going over to the girl, Surge scooped her up and Pilar held onto him tight. 

“Why is abuelo so angry?” she cried into his shoulder, her words a whisper in his ear. And Surge didn’t have an answer, not one that he could give a toddler, especially when Pilar was just starting to understand that her mom wasn’t there like the other kids in her preschool had. 

“He’s just having a bad day,” Surge lied to try and comfort the child, wishing that he had something better to say - knowing that Pilar would probably have questions that he was going to have to answer, but figuring that he could at least get her home before she started asking. After saying his goodbyes and letting Nichelle do the same, Surge was still boiling, knowing that he needed to get out before it all started erupting again. 

“You keep treating him like this, and one day he won’t come back. Is that what you want? To lose our son and granddaughter?” Surge overheard his mother angrily lecture his father. 

But he was already out the door before he heard the answer. Because he didn’t want to know the answer. 

He was scared that he already knew it. And that the answer was yes. 

#sp #boiling point #tw death #tw toxic masculinity #tw incarceration #tw street fighting #tw anger management issues