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actually-safer-to-kiss · 6 months

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Girlfriend Interrupted

Summary: Reader had a bad day at work and Spencer's complaints are not the best timing.

Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader

Category: Hurt/comfort

Content warnings: Mentions of food, hunger, and prolonged time without eating

Word count: 887

The bus rumbles across the old asphalt and bricked crosswalks while hissing at stops. All you could do was lay your head against the window and try not to fall asleep or accidentally smash it into the glass after hitting a precarious pothole. You were three stops away from home and all you wanted to do was lock yourself in the apartment and gorge on the least healthy meal you could find.

You had a healthy meal planned for lunch today actually; a salad filled to the nines (the nines being roasted chicken, nuts, pomegranate, and honeydew). It was perfect. So perfect in fact that someone stole it from the fridge when you were in the middle of beating a deadline. And even after being successful in that, your boss still found time to yell at you for something another co-worker did. You weren’t sure which one, but it wasn’t you. You’ve been nibbling on a granola bar on the ride, but your mind is occupied by the leftover lasagna in the fridge.

And you find it there, waiting for you under the stark refrigerator light. You yank it from the bottom shelf and don’t even consider looking at the microwave. You barely looked at the dishes you left in the sink after breakfast this morning and remember how behind you were when getting ready for work, telling yourself you’d put them in the dishwasher before Spencer got home. You did say you’d do that. And Spencer doesn’t like dishes in the sink.

Instead, you grab the blanket from the back of the couch and settle in the dark, pulling up a YouTube video you’ve been meaning to watch. You rest your phone against the book spines Spencer had specifically picked out to be displayed for their guests (mainly your parents during the holidays and his co-workers). Most of them are about astronomy, nothing you’ve cared to pick up. They’re detailed enough to keep Spencer entertained and sturdy enough to keep your phone upright while you slurped up tomato sauce and ricotta cheese. And so you snuggled in like a kid watching Saturday cartoons, sugary cereal at the ready.

And it’s when you think of your boyfriend again that the door behind you opens with a creak. The thud of his cane echoes across the wood floor as that same door clicks as he shuts it. You manage to say ��Hey, Spence” through your glorious mouthful of a rushed dinner. But Spencer says nothing back. He’s been struggling not just with his knee acting up again after his previous surgery, but with being unable to travel with his team. The thud of Spencer’s cane trails from the entryway to the kitchen. It was a tough day for both of you, no doubt.

Your sympathies started to wane though when Spencer interrupted your video.

“Ugh, Y/N. I told you I don’t like dishes in the sink.”

“I know.” You tried to say without a mouthful. “And I’m sorry. I was running late for work and needed to get going before—”

“And you left the fridge door open, too. We talked about needing to cut back before our lease renewal. The National Weather Service expects an uptick in accumulation by late December.”

You pause your video and turn in your seat. “Sorry, I was going to do it when I got home, but I needed to eat because someone stole—”

“And you’re eating the lasagna from the tray? We have clean bowls. You could easily grab one from—”

“Let me talk!” You ended up shouting. It was sudden for both of you. You’re never one to raise your voice and Spencer has never been one to fuck up bad enough to witness it. It forces Spencer to freeze in place, like that accumulation he talked about just rushed through the apartment on your command. It would be funny if it was some sort of command if you already weren’t teetering on the edge of tears. The sting in your nose already started traveling to your eyes. They welled up and Spencer quickly became a blur as you started to sob, the trials of a bad day finally getting to you. You let your chest heave and tears streak down your cheeks, hoping at least a portion of the stress will subside afterward.

You didn’t expect Spencer to be right next to you. You didn’t hear his cane once on the floor. It was against the arm of the couch. And he was on the floor, resting on his knees. Of course, you’re too distressed to point out that is the last thing he should be doing if he wants to avoid more surgery so badly. Plus he’s busy with taking the meal off of your lap. “Come here,” he tells you. He’s holding your hands. His hands are just as frigid as the lasagna. But he pulls you up as he tries to stand, meeting you on (somewhat) equal footing to bring you into a hug. It’s warm, obviously. All of his hugs are warm. He wears cotton-only cardigans and wears layers of clothes even at the peak of summer. “I’m sorry.” He says. “Just let it out. I’m here.”

“Spence. Your knee.”

“It’s fine.”

“You need to—”

“Be here. Which I am.” And he holds you tighter.

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firesunflamed · 6 months

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give it to me

relationship: Frank Castle x Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: You come home after a terrible, frustrating day at work. Luckily, Matt and Frank give you exactly what you need

warnings: NSFW, porn without plot, no use of y/n, established relationship, pet names used for reader: sweetheart, good girl, good little slut, brat!reader, sex toys, oral (m and f receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, light bondage, light dom/sub, objectification kink, light praise kink, some aftercare, cum-eating. You and Frank are kind of mean to each other but some of it's consensual and you apologize for what's not.

word count: 4.8k

a/n: happy national genocide day to everyone who's forced to deal with their shitty family today. i hope this helps you decompress lmao.

read it on ao3

Your day had been shit, and when you walked into the door of the apartment you shared with your partners, you wanted nothing more than to relax, to forget your day and let the weekend sweep away your stress.

“Sweetheart?” Frank called as you entered, and you toed off your shoes next to Matt’s before walking deeper into the apartment.

“Hey,” you called, and your voice sounded exhausted even to you.

“Dinner’ll be ready in an hour or so,” he said as you walked into the living space. “Go ahead and get changed, yeah?”

You nodded, even though he was facing away from you, and went to drop your work bag on the kitchen table when you found it covered in guns.

You knew about their work, loved them for how they kept the city safe as possible at their own expense. You knew that cleaning and fixing his firearms was part of that work. But you’d made it a policy that all weaponry had to be cleared from the kitchen table by the time you got home from work, thanks to one night a year ago when you’d gotten home and almost immediately sat down to dinner, only to pick up your napkin from the table and find gunpowder on it.

Frank was typically good at remembering. Still, seeing this now, after your already shitty day, turned frustration to anger. You meant to tell him, kindly, to please clean off the table before you sat down to dinner. Instead, what came out of your mouth was, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Frank put something in the oven then turned around to face you, face only just betraying his surprise. “What?”

You gestured angrily at the mess on the table. “What’s my rule? What’s my one fucking rule?”

“Yeah, I know, I was gonna clear it off once I got food in the oven. Got started a little late, and the lasagna takes an hour.”

“Dinner’s not even for another hour? Great!” you said rudely, already so hungry. “What were you even doing all day?” Frank didn’t work, not in the same sense as you and Matt. Though you’d never discussed it formally, he typically took care of most of the household tasks, and you were so grateful that it didn’t all fall to you. Now, though, you were pissed.

“Lost track of time,” he said, slowly, looking at you in confusion. “What, you want a snack?”

And you knew it was an apology, and a genuine offer. Still, all you heard in his voice was the condescension you’d just been subject to at work.

“Oh fuck off,” you snapped. “I’m not a child.”

He held up his hands in defense. “Never said you were, sweetheart.” He moved a step closer. “You alright?”

“Fine.” You turned to go to the bedroom to change, but Matt walked out at the same time, already out of his work clothes.

He walked closer to you, stopping a few feet away, head tilting. You knew he’d heard everything you’d just said, knew he’d clocked your mood just as well as Frank. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said gently. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Yeah?” he said, moving close enough to touch. His eyebrows were knit, mouth slightly open, and you knew he was trying to use every sign your body was giving to figure out what was wrong. “How was work?”

You didn’t want to think about work. You didn’t want to think.

“Fuck off,” you said, trying to find a way around him, but he reached out and grasped your upper arms, stopping you.

“I don’t think you want that,” he said, voice as gentle as his grasp.

You set your jaw, looked up at him. You could only imagine your expression was what Frank had once joked could scare off the people he and Matt went after before they got close enough to land a hit. You had the same rage under your skin as they did, just didn’t have the training or pain tolerance necessary to be a vigilante alongside them. It was part of what made your relationship work.

Matt stepped closer when you didn’t push him away, until your bodies brushed. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he said. “Tell me you don’t want this. We can go to the gym, and you can hit something until you feel better. Hit me, if you want.”

You stayed silent, still watching him, the soft hazel of his eyes, the pretty red of his lips. He reached up to cradle your cheek in his hand, thumb brushing across your lips. Then he leaned in, close enough to kiss. “Color?”

“Green,” you said, all certainty, and pulled him in. Your lips moved together as you pushed your body flush against his.

He tried to reach out to unzip your dress, but you were impatient, pushing down his sweatpants and his boxers, then pushing him to sit on the couch behind you both. You straddled him, pushing up the skirt of your dress as you did, grinding against his half-hard cock.

“Sweetheart,” he said against your mouth, breaths already coming fast. “How do you want this, tonight?”

“I don’t want to think anymore,” you said, trying to keep that anger in the face of the pleasure that shot through you at his touch. “Make it so I can’t think anymore.”

“Fuck,” Frank muttered from somewhere behind you, and you were only just aware of him moving to lean against the table and watch you both.

Matt agreed with him, groaning. “Okay,” Matt said. “Alright. I have to take off your underwear. Lean back on the couch.”

You didn’t want to, didn’t want to lose the skin contact, the feeling of his now fully-erect cock against your cunt. “Make me,” you said, and he grabbed your hips and half-pushed, half-lifted you so you lay on your back on the couch, him looming above you. He pulled off your panties, tipped you on your side to unzip and pull off your dress, then rid himself of his clothes before bracing one arm on the armrest behind you, another on the back of the couch, and positioning the head of his cock at your entrance.

He pushed it against you a few times, wanting to make sure you were wet enough. You hadn’t taken so much as a finger inside of you yet, and you knew that he didn’t want to hurt you. Not like this. Not without you asking for it. “Sweetheart, is it-”

“What are you waiting for?” you snapped. “Hurry up and fuck me.” The position made it hard, but you wrapped your legs around his waist, used them as leverage to bring him closer.

“Okay, okay,” he gasped, then sunk in with a groan, face going loose in pleasure. Typically, seeing how good you made him feel would’ve gotten you halfway to orgasm, but now it wasn’t enough, wasn’t near enough. You moved your hips against him, taking him in until he filled you.

Your mind went blessedly blank for a moment, but it didn’t last nearly long enough. You began moving against him again, angling your hips so his cock brushed along your g-spot with every thrust.

The feeling forced a low oh out of you, and Matt murmured, “you sound so pretty, sweetheart. Love hearing how good I make you feel.” But it was nice, and good, and not at all what you wanted. You wrapped your hands around his biceps, feeling the corded muscle there, and sped up your pace.

“Hey,” Frank said, and you looked around Matt’s lithe frame to see him watching you. The only indication that he was affected by the scene before him was the erection prominent against his jeans. “Don’t be a brat. You’ll take what you’re given.”

“I wouldn’t have to be a brat if Matt fucked me properly,” you said, and Matt seemed to remember himself and your request at both your words, picking up his pace, with deep, harsh thrusts, grunting with each movement. You moaned and moved your hands from his biceps, no longer needing the leverage it gave you, and dug your nails into his powerful back muscles. It chased the thoughts to the back of your head only temporarily, and then they came creeping back in, telling you that you were useless, powerless, not even capable of taking charge in the bedroom, much less a boardroom.

You used the leverage of your legs to try to bring Matt down, try to flip him onto his back. He let you move him so you were on top, let you brace your hands against his shoulders and ride him with abandon. “Guess I have to take care of everything myself,” you said. You grabbed one of Matt’s hands and put it on your clit. “Get me off,” you ordered, and he began playing with it, knowing in the way he always did that this was what you needed. You rarely took the reins in the bedroom, but he admitted once that he loved when you did. Obediently, he played with your clit, finding the rhythm that had you moaning, and you fucked yourself on his cock like it was a toy until you felt your orgasm cresting. “Fill- me-“ you gasped, and came with a low noise. He kept up the movements of his hips and his fingers through your aftershocks, spilling within you with a pretty moan.

You rested against him for a moment, eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of completeness as you both caught your breath.

Then arms reached for you, dragging you off of him. “You’re too nice to her, Red,” Frank said as he threw you over his shoulder and walked you to the bedroom. “Good sluts need to be ordered around, yeah?”

Typically, you would’ve said yes in an instant, would’ve let him take charge. You liked being the one to control Matt every now and then, but that was easy, with how pretty he was, the way he so rarely let his rage loose with you. Frank was different. Outside of the bedroom, he would never try to control you, rarely even raised his voice. It was only when you were naked beneath him that he let the need to possess, to claim, run loose.

But now, you were still tired from the day and overstimulated from how hard you had just fucked Matt. “Wait, Frank…”

He dropped you roughly on the bed. “If you’re talking, you’re thinking, yeah? Said you didn’t want that.” He unbuttoned his pants, pushing them off, and you moved up to your elbows to watch his erection spring free, head already pink and tip weeping. You felt that telltale dip of attraction in your stomach. Still, you couldn’t let go of control that easily.

“I don’t see how you think you’re gonna be able to fuck me any better than Matt,” you snipped, and he pulled back from where he had begun to crawl on the bed. “We both know he’s better than you.”

His expression turned hard, and when he spoke next it was low, angry. You had him right where you wanted him. “Get up,” he said, and you pushed yourself off the bed to stand next to him. He pointed at his feet. “Get on your knees.”

“No.”

He let lose an angry breath. “Come home, giving me shit. Ask for us to fuck you, still giving me shit. You need a fucking attitude adjustment.”

“I need another orgasm. Sucking you off isn’t going to do it.”

“You get what I’m giving you. You want to come again, stop misbehaving.” He spun you around by the hips, wrapped an arm around your waist then kicked your legs out from beneath you. He set you on your knees, and you steadied yourself on the edge of the bed. He moved to sit down on the bed and buried a hand in your hair before moving your mouth closer to the tip, pushing it against your lips and then inside.

You did your best to glare at him through the stretch of it, through the way his eyes went half-closed in pleasure, through his grunts. It was hard to stay mad when you had to focus on relaxing your jaw, on breathing around the thick length of him. It was even harder staying mad, knowing that you were making him feel this good. Feeling your own body react to being used like this, a tool for his pleasure.

Still, after a minute or so you pulled back, sucking and licking just on the head of his cock before letting him go altogether. His eyes snapped back open, and he glared at you. “What’re you doin’?” he said. “Didn’ say you were done.”

You began to stand. “I said I’m done.”

He pushed you back down by your shoulders. “Red,” he said, and you turned, realized that Matt must’ve stepped into the bedroom while you’d been going down on Frank. He now sat, still naked, on the extra chair in the corner of the room. “Grab me the ties. Guess she needs some extra encouragement to do as she’s told tonight.”

You watched from your knees as Matt smiled, then walked over to the top drawer of your dresser and pulled out the silk ties. “And grab me the vibrator, too,” Frank said. “The pink one.”

Matt threw an unimpressed look over his shoulder. “Which one?”

“C’mon. You know. The one for her clit that she likes.”

Your breath caught as you realized what Frank was planning, and Matt chuckled. “Oh, she liked that,” Matt said, and walked over to you. He set the vibrator on the bed then knelt, tying your wrists together behind you. You glanced between the vibrator and Frank’s cock. You didn’t use toys often but kept a small handful for when life got in the way, and for moments like this. The one Matt had grabbed was your favorite, capable of making you come in ninety seconds flat.

Matt grabbed the vibrator off the bed, and you spread your legs a bit to let him position it at your clit. You closed your legs again to keep it in place. He kept a finger on the bottom button to power it on, and you tensed, ready for the vibrations. “Frank’s going to fuck your mouth the way he wants,” Matt said, that velvet tone so different from Frank’s rough timbre, and you found yourself nodding in agreement before you’d even processed his words. “And you’re going to come, just like you want.” He dropped his other hand to your bound ones, tapped once against your skin. Green?

“Fuck you,” you said, trying desperately to keep that anger when the only thought in your head was how good they were about to make you feel. Matt put his hand against your fingers and you tapped once, clearly. Green.

He turned on the toy, and a moan ripped out from you before Frank pushed his cock into your mouth, fucking into it so fast and so deep that you couldn’t keep up, drool spilling from your lips. You moaned at the endless sensation against your clit, against the feeling of being used by him, and then he pushed far enough into your throat that you lost your air supply and your thoughts with it. You came so hard your vision whited out, your body going loose against him.

Frank slowed his pace, but the toy didn’t stop. “This what you wanted, sweetheart?” Frank said, half a grunt. “My cock in your mouth. Coming all over yourself.” You whimpered around him. It was too much. You never wanted it to stop. “Yeah. You’re a good little slut. ‘Course you want it.”

Frank pulled your mouth off his cock, but you quickly came again from the vibrations and his words. The world had gone soft around the edges, just as you wanted it. “Fran’… Ma’…” you slurred, not quite able to make the consonants. “Feel so goo’…”

You felt a hand between your legs, then a second later the toy turned off and was pulled away from you. “Wai…”

A pair of hands grabbed your upper arms and pulled you up, and you were too far gone to stop the moan that came as you rubbed your thighs together, feeling your slick and Matt’s cum coating them. You were pulled onto the bed, and moved around like a doll until you were on your back, hands unbound, muscles too weak to move.

Then, a form covered your own, a large hand grabbed your jaw, and you opened your eyes hazily to find Frank staring down at you. “Gonna come inside you now. S’what you want, yeah?”

You tried at a yes, and he pushed inside you with the same force he’d just taken your mouth. You were already so overstimulated, but he kept his hands off your clit, instead thrusting inside you desperately. You realized that he hadn’t come yet. “Fran’- please- inside me-” you begged. “Wan’ your cum. Please.”

He managed a few more thrusts before he moaned, his seed spilling inside of you. You closed your eyes and hummed in delight at the feeling. He collapsed half on you, not pulling out as he started to soften.

“Frank.” Matt’s voice came, and you looked up to see him kneeling beside you, a hand on Frank’s shoulder. “Let me taste her. Please.”

Frank nodded against you, then pulled away. Matt took his place, broad shoulders holding your legs apart. His hot breath brushed over the sensitive skin of your upper thighs. “You smell so good, sweetheart. Smell like him, like me. Love how you trust us to use you like this.”

“Ma’-“ you gasped, tried rutting your hips, but he moved his arm to hold them down, the pressure only increasing your arousal. “Please.”

“You’re insatiable,” he murmured, moving from your upper thighs to your cunt, lips brushing against your skin. “How many times do we have to get you off before you’re satisfied?”

That cut through the haze enough to reignite the anger. “Until I say so,” you snapped, and buried your hands in his hair to move him closer to your pussy.

He laughed, the feeling shooting through you, and then began to lap at the cum spilling from you. You moaned, eyes falling shut, and let him taste you as he wanted. You knew Matt loved this, would go down on both you and Frank without either of you even asking for it. It was one of his favorite things to do when you and Frank started a movie or a TV show marathon, seeing how long he could go down on you without making you come, or seeing how many times he could get Frank off in a short amount of time. You could never say no to him, not for this.

His tongue pushed inside you, the feeling and the obscene sounds that came with it enough to bring you close to another orgasm. His tongue slid out, and then he wrapped his lips around your opening and sucked, your back arching off the bed at the sudden, unfamiliar sensation. It took you a second to realize that he was sucking both of their cum out of you, tasting the three of you together. Based on the way he was grinding against the mattress, he must like it.

Matt went back to lapping at your cunt, and your body dropped with him, panting. A hand suddenly cupped your breast, rolling your nipple between two fingers. You opened your eyes to find Frank sitting next to you, hungrily watching the bud darken with his touch. “Fran’-k” you managed.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Feel goo’,” you sighed, eyes slipping closed.

You could hear the smile in his voice. “Yeah, yeah I know. There’s my good girl. Just needed my cock, and she calmed right down, huh?”

That was a challenge if you’d ever heard one. You opened your eyes again, pushed Matt’s face deeper in your cunt, taking control again. “Like hell it was. You’re lucky Matt’s so good with his mouth.”

For the first time since he’d started going down on you, Matt moved up to suck on your clit. Hard.

Frank kissed you, tongue sweeping into your mouth as both his hands cupped your breast, pinched your nipples, and your body contracted against him, his weight keeping you down as another orgasm rolled through you. Matt didn’t stop his motions through it, eagerly cleaning up your juices.

Your mind had gone blank again, the challenge Frank had thrown down forgotten. There was more movement around you, the loss of Matt’s mouth from your cunt, Frank’s body lifting from away. You wanted them to stay but couldn’t so much as whimper.

“On your hands and knees, sweetheart,” Matt’s voice came, and you felt hands turn you over onto your stomach. You tried lifting yourself up, got one hand underneath yourself, but fell back onto the mattress. “I want to fuck you again. Do you want that?”

Yes yes yes yes. You couldn’t form the words, couldn’t make a noise.

There was movement, and your breath caught in anticipation, but it was only one of their fingers, tapping once against your shoulder. Green?

An arm found its way beneath one of your hands, and you tapped once. Green.

The arm beneath your hands disappeared, and then another wrapped around your waist and pulled you up. You managed to get your knees and hands beneath you, wanting to feel them inside you again.

A hand steadied you on your hip, and you recognized it as Matt’s, thanks to the scar on the tip of his forefinger. He pushed inside, fast and rough. It shook loose a moan from your chest, a “yes” following it.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” Frank rumbled, and it took you a moment to follow the order. He sat in front of you, pushing your sweaty hair away from your face. He tipped your chin up, forced you to make eye contact. “You should see her, Red. Looks so pretty when she’s ruined like this. Not a single fucking thought in her head, just our good little slut.”

That got another noise out of you, eyes slipping closed again. “Hey, did I say you could do that?” Frank said, and you opened your eyes again. All your anger, all your desire to take control, had fled with your last orgasm. You were fully theirs, now. Theirs to use. “Good girl,” he praised, and you moaned, gasping as Matt continued to fill you roughly, cruelly, through the overstimulation they’d caused. “So fucking pretty. Keep your mouth open, yeah. Just like that.”

Out of your peripheral vision, you could see Frank beginning to stroke himself, cock proud against his stomach, and you felt yourself begin to drool, imagining him filling your mouth again, this time as Matt fucked you from behind. You couldn’t find the words to ask.

Frank reached up a hand to cup your cheek, thumb pressing into your mouth, and you took what you could get, sucking at it eagerly. He tasted like sex, like his cum, like you.

You moaned, keeping your eyes on Frank as you sucked his finger, Matt rutting into you. One of Matt’s hand’s reached around to stroke your cunt, and you began moving your hips against him as another orgasm crested, his pace faltering until he came inside you again. You followed him a moment later.

Frank moved his thumb from your mouth and stood, disappearing behind you, and you closed your eyes, reveling in the pleasure of your peak. Matt pulled out, and you hummed happily, until you felt the head of Frank’s cock pushing at your entrance.

And it was so much, too much, you’d just come, you couldn’t- couldn’t-. You whimpered and tried crawling up the bed, away from the pressure, but his hands grabbed your hips and dragged you back to him. You thrashed in his grip. “No no no, Frank- can’t please no-“

His form caged yours in, voice rough in your ear. “You don’t have a choice, you hear me? Don’t have a single goddamn choice. Were bad earlier. Gotta be reminded who’s in charge here, yeah? Now be a good little slut and take my cock.”

You whimpered as he mounted you, the overstimulation painful.

“Wait, Frank-” Matt suddenly said, and Frank stilled. “Color, sweetheart.”

“Gree-!“ you gasped, and Frank grunted and pounded into you with deep, quick thrusts, hands holding your hips in place. The overstimulation quickly went from painful to pleasurable, and your hands dropped out from under you, face against the mattress. You were powerless against the waves of sensation, against his control.

Finally, your brain went quiet. It was what you’d been chasing since you came home, and you let it wash over and through you, taking you away.

When you came back to yourself, you were on your side between them. You blinked open your eyes, finding Frank looking at you. “Mm.”

He smiled. “Hey.”

You closed your eyes and nuzzled into his chest. “How long was I gone?”

“Not long.”

“You came again?”

“Yeah.” They’d cleaned you off at least, that much you could tell.

“Was that what you needed?” Matt asked from behind you.

“Yeah,” you sighed happily. “Thank you. Both of you.” You pressed a gentle kiss to Frank’s lips, then rolled over to give one to Matt as well.

You were all quiet for a long minute, enjoying the others’ presence. Matt finally said, “Are you ready to talk to us about work now?”

You sighed, kept your eyes closed. “It’s stupid.”

Matt hummed. “That’s the fifth time you’ve bratted in the three years we’ve been together. It’s not stupid.”

It took you a second to find the words. “Remember how I had that big presentation? That I had to give to the CEO of my company?” You’d been working on this project for several months, and you were so proud of it. It could change the way your company did business, and your research suggested that it might increase your revenue fivefold. Even being a lower-level worker in the company, your manager had been so impressed she’d passed it up the chain, and it’d gone all the way to land you in front of the e-suite. You’d put on the dress and heels that made you feel powerful, and walked in ready to wow.

“I walked into that presentation, and everyone ignored me. They didn’t realize I was who they were hearing from. The CEO asked me to get them coffee.”

Matt’s hand moved to your waist, thumb brushing against your skin to comfort. Frank gave a quiet, angry, “shit.”

“I gave them my name, explained why I was there, and they let me give my presentation.” The entire time, they’d seemed to be looking at your body more than your slideshow. When they weren’t checking their phones, that was. “And then afterwards, he said he would ‘think about it,’” you said, impersonating his tone. They’d made it clear that it was a no, that your idea wasn’t worth shit to them. All that stress, those months of work, for nothing.

Frank said, “do you want me to kill them?”

And you knew if you said yes, Frank would do it in a heartbeat. You also knew that Matt would never forgive you for it. “No, sweetheart.” you said. “I don’t want them dead, I just wish they hadn’t… hadn’t made me feel so useless.”

“You’re not useless,” Matt said, with conviction. “Sweetheart, if you were useless, Frank and I would’ve been dead fifteen times over. If they make you feel that way, then you don’t have to stay with them. We have the savings if you want to quit and find a new job.”

And you laughed, blinked back your grateful tears. He meant it, every word. You stitched them together night after night, watched them hurt themselves for other’s peace. You didn’t ask them for that, so they gave you this instead: unconditional support. Endless love. “I think I need to calm down, a bit. I’ll see how I feel on Monday.” You hesitated, then said, “thank you.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Matt said. You smiled again, eyes slipping shut, and then an alarm went off.

You all startled, and Frank pulled away from you, standing. “Fuck, that’s the timer for the lasagna.” You’d forgotten about dinner. “I’m gonna go set the table. I’ll make sure to wipe it down, sweetheart.”

You rolled over to look at him. “I’m sorry I yelled, Frank. I was angry at them, and I took it out on you, and I’m sorry.”

He smiled at you. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

#frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #frank castle smut #matt murdock x frank castle x reader #reader insert #my fic

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glittter-vamp · 1 year

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Buns |J.B

Warning/AN: Mentions of butts. Bit Raunchy. Some minor vulgar language. Fluffy-ish. Just something to quickly enjoy.

You couldn't help but to laugh at the tweets you were reading on your phone. Last night your boyfriend Joe, that just so happens to be the star QB of the Cincinnati Bengals had a bit of a wardrobe mishap. It was LSU all over again. One of the players had accidentally held onto his pants trying to stop him from making it to the end-zone with the ball. Which meant, he showed his amazing butt cheeks on national TV...once again. You could only imagine how much the guys on the team were making fun of him. The internet was having a complete field day and many of the jokes were actually funny and you couldn't help but laugh and enjoy them.

"Full moon in Miami last night even though the forecast said rain showers." One of the tweets said.

"Awesome game last night, but totally got blinded by some surprise QB buns. Joe shiesty could use a tan." Another said. They were a bit mean but yet quite funny.

"This just in, NFL is releasing a line of hotdog bread called Burrow's Buns, Joe burrow sold separately " Said the next. You just couldn't get enough.

You didn't know how long you had been scrolling down the memes and jokes on social media before you heard the garage door open. You quickly put your phone down and paid attention to whatever show was on the tv that you had drowned out in the time you were laughing at the jokes and memes. Joe walked into the house saying a soft 'Hey' and came up to you giving you a sweet kiss. He looked exhausted. "Hey baby, I made lasagna. Want me to heat it up for you?" You ask. "Please, I'm gonna go shower really quick." He says heading upstairs. You went into the kitchen heating up the food for him in the oven. As you wait, you were reading the memes your best friend had sent you about Joe. They had you laughing so hard you didn't realize Joe had came back down. "Whatcha laughing at?" he asks raising an eyebrow. "Hm?" You hum putting your phone face down. "Oh nothing, Taylor sent me some stupid tiktoks." You say checking on the food. "About?" He asks. "Just some dogs being funny." You shrug. You didn't want to lie to him but you didn't want to also add to the fire. I'm sure he got enough shit from the team and the internet for the past 16 hours.

"Mom wants to know if we can make it to dinner tomorrow? I should be able to get out of practice at 4." He says going to the fridge to grab a water bottle. "Yeah that sounds fun, I work from home tomorrow so I can take you and pick you up at practice." You nod. As you take out the lasagna your phone dings. You make eye contact with Joe before he quickly grabs it and looks at the message. "I knew it! Not you too, What the hell Y/N!" he whines and you giggle. "Baby I'm sorry! but you have to admit...it's a little funny." You say holding in a laugh. "Is not!" He says like a child.

"Hey look on the bright side, everyone knows you have an amazing ass. Not many guys can say that." You say and he gives you a look. "I thought my own girlfriend would be nice enough to not partake in the conversation and jokes about my butt, but here we are" He shakes his head and you snort. "You said but." You giggle and he gives you a look. "I'm just going to eat my meal in peace, okay?" He says turning to get a plate and you decide you pinch one of his cheeks. "Boop!" You say and he quickly turns around and towers over you looking down trying to hold in a laugh himself. "Okay, okay... I'm sorry! I'm done, it's over." You say trying to stop laughing. He slowly turns around to get a plate and you slowly grab your phone making your way out of the kitchen. "Okay but quick question, have you at least tried making it clap?" You ask and he quickly grabs the paper towel roll and throws it at you like her would a football but you were just quick enough to have it graze your back as you run away laughing.

#joe burrow fic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow #joey b #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fluff #Joe shiesty

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writing-mlm · 6 months

Text

Right here

Druig x male!eternals!reader

wc: 2.8k

summary: dinner with the Avengers gets unexpectedly cut short

“Uh… Mr. Corpus, sir?” Peter looks up from where he’s working on his homework, watching as you swirl his LEGOS in the air. They click into place, quickly forming some version of the Titanic but the colors are off. They release from their form and swirl in the air again as you look at him, your fingers held in a cupping motion. He looks away for a second, fiddling with his pencil. “Do you know what happened on July 14th, 1789?”

“Storming of the Bastille,” You answer without thinking too much about it. “Very important moment in the French Revolution; Bastille was a prison that many aristocrats preferred to go to because it was a very… relaxed prison. Almost a thousand people surrounded the prisons, cannons, and gunpowder ready. They were afraid the King was going to arrest the new National Assembly. They were also wanting to fortify the prison, crime was horrid those days.” As you speak, Peter writes it down. He has no use for fact-checking you, you’re the Avengers history nerd.

“Thank you,” He smiled and flipped to the next page. You nod, returning to your LEGOS and recreating the prison. It spins around and you look into the box of loose legos, using random pieces to create canons around it.

Living with the Avengers was far from the plan you had set in your head when you finally broke away from your family. You didn’t want nor need a team of people to boss you around again but this was the easiest way to ensure the world was safe. At the top of the world, nothing was hidden.

At least to you.

You look at the other Avengers who’d found themselves a spot in the common area, blissfully unaware of the truth. They think they know it all, there’s nothing they don’t know. Anything and everything that happens on Earth— they’ll know it. And they’ll stop it.

God, they were so fucking wrong.

Sinking into your seat, your eyes drift off to the woods that surround the compound. They’re smaller but denser than the forest you’re used to back home, which reminds you that you ought to visit soon. It’s been almost a year since you’ve last been there and you’re sure you’re being missed day and night.

And you miss it, too, of course. The dreams cannot replace reality.

“Hey, Chronicle,” Tony calls and you look over to him. He lifts his cup to point towards the TV and you see you’re up for the next match of Mortal Kombat. Pulling yourself to sit next to Sam, you take the controller from Natasha and pick your character. Sam picks his and the round begins, you end up winning but that’s almost entirely due to the fact that for some odd reason, Sam could not have a steady grip on his controller.

“He always cheats!” Sam points to you as you hand the controller to Tony. “Nah- nah, get the power blockers! I want a rematch!” He demands but everyone knows that for some stupid reason, it doesn’t work on you.

“It’s okay, butterfingers,” You tell him, patting his shoulder as you return to your spot creating LEGOS. “I know you're getting all hot and bothered around me.” Sam closes his eyes, telling Bucky that he’s about to send you away and you offer an amused smile.

The place settles down after that, you end up losing in the game because you had a long-standing promise with Bucky that you wouldn’t use your powers on him unless it was necessary. Some type of PTSD you didn’t care to dive into. All that mattered was that Bucky absolutely murked your character and Sam was cheering the entire time.

Dinner rolls around and you agree to make something quick, but with how much everyone eats even a quick meal takes an hour with how much needs to be made. Thankfully, the kitchen has four ovens for that exact reason. Seven lasagna and garlic breads later, dinner is served and everyone is eating around a table.

Thor, Steve, Bucky, and Peter each got their own pans. Although, Thor needed another and you’re glad you made seven because the remaining two were just enough for the rest of you with normal appetites.

Midway through your slice, you feel a certain tug in your mind and smile, doing your best to not look away from your food. It’s a tug you’ve grown to love and adore, and it’s more than welcome to invade your mind.

What’re you eatin’ tonight? Druig asked, his soft voice mulling over the voices around you.

Lasagna, the recipe I showed you. You answer, grabbing your cup of juice to hide your smile. You?

Soup. He replies. Arishem, I miss your cooking. You laugh, although you manage to keep it silent.

I’m planning my next return, just have to make sure there’s nothing coming up here.

Good, I cannot go another month without you, my love.

Neither can I. You look up, seeing everyone is looking at you. One moment, darling. Like a phone call, you put the connection on hold and clear your throat.

“Sorry, what did you say?” You ask, setting your cup down.

“Peter was asking for the recipe,” Wanda says, offering the kid a smile when you look at him.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” You nod. “Remind me later.” He nods and everyone slowly goes back to their conversations and you take Druig off of hold.

You have to stop letting your mind wander. He teases and you roll your eyes, finishing up the last of your food.

Only to thoughts of you. You reply and he makes an ohh sound. Not in that way. You add, leaving the table with a simple see you later.

One amazing thing about the compound is the fucking dishwasher, it’s honestly a lifesaver.

I do not need a dishwasher. Druig says as you close the door to the washer.

You don’t have electricity, you cannot have one. He takes the reminder with a grain of salt and your conversation continues well into the night. Eventually, he falls asleep and you allow yourself to as well.

—

One thing you absolutely dread about living with the others is the fact that whenever someone who’s not Tony or Peter is there, they insist on working out at the crack of dawn.

You’re awake at four in the morning, several hours before you normally do, and have only managed to get two hours of sleep so you’re more than annoyed when Thor makes an announcement over every single speaker in the house.

Begrudgingly, you get prepared for the workout and join Sam for the pre-workout smoothie. He makes the best ones, Steve just eats it dry and Bucky cannot make it taste good for the life of him. The others don’t take any before their workouts so it’s just the four of you drinking (and eating scoops of protein powder) before you head up to the gym.

Workouts with the Avengers last for hours, although Tony taps out two hours in, Peter had to get ready for school, and Clint wanted to finally go home soon after. Sam is the next to go, he’s beyond tired three hours in and chooses to watch everyone instead.

You’re on your ass as Natasha flips you over, the wind knocks out your chest as you land on the padding. She stands over you, her weapon tossed to the ground and you twitch your fingers. It flies through the air and knocks her backward as you pull yourself up.

“Cheater,” She teases as you twirl her stick in the air with a shrug. “Mama never taught you to play nice with friends?” Dropping the stick into your hands, you swing and she ducks. This continues for a while until you have her pinned down— albeit using your powers but it was getting a little tiring using your arms.

Training ends with five laps around the compound— which only Thor, Steve, and Bucky actually completed. You gave up after two and Natasha got through three and a half. You were many things, a try hard was not one of them.

Cleaning up, you head to the common area to find something to watch.

There’s a lot to which, with Tony having every single streaming service possible, but you eventually settle on some show Peter had recommended.

“Dinner is ready!” Tony calls and for the first time since you started the show, you look away from the screen. It’s dark outside and you were well into the show… that's a little embarrassing. “C’mon, Matilda!” He calls when you’re not moving fast enough.

“Shut up, white man,” You grumble, pausing the show and heading to the others. Peter is back for the weekend but Clint stayed with his family.

Dinner is a large order of pizza, boxes piled up on the table and the super eaters take theirs before everyone else takes their slices. Tonight you’re able to engage with them completely uninterrupted and come to think of it, you’d gone the entire day without talking to Druig.

You couldn’t feel him in your mind, either. Normally there’s a small feeling when you focus, letting you know he was there but today he wasn’t.

Sighing, you decide not to dwell on it just yet. He’s gone through periods where he doesn’t want to talk before, the longest being a week. You’d give him two days before you stole a jet to go and see him.

“Unknown subjects approaching the compound,” FRIDAY says midway through dinner. “Unknown mass in the air approaching at rapid speeds, engage?” He’s basically buzzing to use the systems defense system.

“Describe the mass,” Tony says, afraid FRIDAY is alerting them of another bird. It’s happened at least six times already.

“A large black triangle with unknown carvings on it, approaching in approximately five seconds,” FRIDAY says and you take that time to think about it. It sounds familiar and as you’re rushing out with the others to find out what the fuck it is, it clicks. The Domo.

“Holy shit!” Peter gasps when he sees the Domo hovering above the field in front of the compound. There’s a couple flashes of light and you rush over to where they’re going to be landing while the others remain a good distance away. You’re glad for their sake that they aren’t a shoot-first ask-questions-later type of group.

“(Y/n), do not engage!” Tony shouts, stopping the others from going after you. You ignore him, stopping exactly two steps ahead of where you know they will land in a couple of seconds. The others are calling for you to get back— Sam is sure it’s some type of alien and he tells Bucky he’s always right about the people they have to fight. You tune them out, watching as the light shoots down completely from the Domo and as it falls to the ground.

Druig is the first to land and wastes no time in his arms wrapping around your waist and you hold his face. He looks at you with these puppy dog eyes, a smile creeping up on his face and you dip your head down.

Kissing him, one of his hands grabs the back of your neck, deepening it. You move one of your hands down to his belt loops and hold him. He laughs into the kiss but neither of you pulls away. You hear a gag but it’s clearly from Sprite so you ignore it.

“I didn’t need to see that!” Sprite groans as she lands. “They’re worse than you and Dane.” She tells Sersi as you pull away from the kiss. But just slightly, you can still feel his lips on yours and you carefully rub his cheek.

“Hello, beautiful,” He mutters against your lips.

“Hey,” You mutter back, going in for another kiss but Phastos pulls the two of you away.

“Dude!” You whine as he holds your collar and drags you across the lawn until you’re more than an arm's distance from Druig. “Let me kiss my fuckin’ husband!” Druig smiles and you wink, finally getting put back on your feet.

“Did he say, husband?” Natasha whispers to Tony who blankly nods.

“You can kiss when we’re done here,” Ikaris says, floating down from the Domo.

“You’re not the only one who can fly, asshole,” You tease, rising to his level. “But yeah; whatever. Why're all— most of you here?” You correct yourself, seeing that Ajak and Gilgamesh aren’t with the others.

“Aren’t you and Gilg a package dead?” You ask Thena and that seems to be the wrong question to as everyone looks sad. Lowering yourself to the ground, you look between everyone. “What’s going on?” You slowly ask, looking at Druig as he walks up to you.

“Ajak and Gilgamesh are dead,” He says as he holds your hand. “Killed by deviants; they're back.” He softly adds.

“There’s some more stuff,” Sersi steps forward, her hand on Thena’s shoulder. “We’ll explain everything in the Domo but we need to go now.”

“Now— like, right this second now?” You ask and she nods. Looking at your team, you sigh and look back to the others. “Give me a second.” They nod and you rush over to the others.

“I’ll be back, I just— I’ll explain when I get back.” You tell them, giving everyone a once over. “Um… yeah, see you!”

“No way,” Tony says as he grabs your arm before you can go too far. “You aren’t just up and leaving like that! Where are you going? Who are they?”

“We’re on a bit of a time crunch!” Kingo shouts and you sigh, apologizing to Tony before removing his hand with your powers.

“I’ll explain when I get back, I promise!”

—

Sitting on the beach, you look over at Druig who’s already looking at you rather than the very large golden hand sticking out from the sea.

“I should’ve stayed with you,” You whisper, a frown forming on your face. “If I hadn’t been with the Avengers Gilgamesh would be alive, I could’ve stopped Ikarus long before this became such an issue.” Looking back to the water, you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Don't think like tha’,” Druig replies in the same whisper, brushing hair from your face. “You were doin’ your best, you joined that stupid team to help people. No one could’ve seen this comin’, darlin.” He wraps his arm around you and lays his head on top of yours. He glances at your red and gold suit, tracing the shapes that he’s traced for centuries before as the waves roll in.

You stare at the crashing waves, your eyes drifting to and from the head and hand every so often. There are so many thoughts running through your mind. You’ve lost three friends, you look at Sprite and while the others might be able to forgive her you can’t.

Sure, she looks like a child but she was… born at the same time everyone else was. She grew as everyone else grew, despite how it looked from the outside. You can’t look past the betrayal, no matter the reason.

Then there’s Kingo, who you weren’t too sure about either. You’d always fought, no matter how dire the situation seemed. You fought and you fought together. And he ran. It left a bitter taste in your mouth.

“I can still hear your thoughts,” Druig whispers. “Mind if I change those thoughts?” You hum, and move your head from his shoulder. His head moves back before it moves forward, his lips finding a home between yours. They’re dry, but you don’t doubt yours are either. And probably taste of sand just as his taste like volcanic ash. He smiles, glad your mind has drifted to other topics and you pull him on top of you.

“Do not fuck on the beach,” Phastos grumbles. You pull away and tilt your head back to grin at him. Druig doesn’t pay him much mind, letting his eyes and hands wander your body. Although that’s probably to just annoy Phastos even more.

“You’re such a cockblock, y’know that right?” He rolls his eyes and joins the others several yards away.

“We should head back, though.” You tell Druig, squeezing his arms. He looks at your face, and you stare at his blue eyes. God, they’re really fucking blue.

“They’ve always been blue,” His lips quirked into a smile and you shove his face away from you before bringing the two of you to your feet.

“I know you want to go to space and like… save the others out there…” You start as the two of you walk back to the group.

“But you don’t?” He finishes and you sigh. “Can I ask why?”

“I like it here,” You shrug. “I’ve built a life and I get to play with LEGOS and cheat during game night…”

“You’re afraid of space.”

“I’m afraid of space.” You concede and he lets out a small laugh before his face softens.

“We don’t have to go anywhere, darling. Right here is perfect.”

#x male reader #druig x reader #druig x eternal!reader #druig x male reader #druig imagine #druig x you #barry keoghan #x reader

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bagopucks · 1 year

Text

A. Matthews - Father’s Day

✄————————————

Auston Matthews x Reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 1.3k

Warning(s): mention’s of sex

Bear with me. This is a recovery fic lol. I have so much medicine in my system it’s amusing 😭

—————————————

“Ohh you’ll never guess what I did today!”

Auston and I could barely contain our smiles in the front seat of his car, glancing at each other while Hudson kicked his feet and giggled in the back. It was no special occasion, but for a single mother one special day in June was like a national holiday after finding a man. Especially a few weeks after he finally proposed. Auston and I had spent our day naked in bed, passionate and loving, laughing and joyous. We needed it, quite honestly. And it felt good to know Auston felt appreciated and happy on such a day. After all the hard work he put in, and the amount of time he spent with Hudson when the summer began, I didn’t take no for an answer when he said he didn’t want to celebrate Father’s Day.

“What did you do today, Hudsy?” Auston asked curiously.

“I can’t tell you! It ruins the surprise!” Hudson’s complaint made us both snicker.

With school out, and myself still working, Auston was usually on Hudson duty from day to day. When he brought up the idea of Hudson attending a summer day camp three days a week, we discussed it for a while before bringing it up to the kid. He seemed completely on board with a little encouragement, and we definitely couldn’t have made a better decision. His days were only four hours long, so we still had an abundance of time with him, and it also gave Auston a break when he needed it, and time for us to spend alone on my days off.

“So there’s a surprise?” I asked, glancing toward the road as Auston drove us back to my place. I had a hunch as to what kind of surprise it was, but I kept it to myself.

“Yes! I have the biggest surprise!”

“It wouldn’t happen to be in the bag, would it?” Auston asked, peeking in the rear view mirror at the brown paper bag Hudson held.

“Don’t look, dude!”

Auston was still patiently waiting for ‘dude’ to turn to ‘dad.’ He and Hudson had a few conversations discussing the fact that he would be Hudson’s dad, but Hudson had yet to actually call him anything but Auston.

“Well when can we see it?” Auston laughed.

“When I’m ready.”

And sure enough, Hudson took his sweet old time. Once we got home, he bounced off to his bedroom while I got started on dinner. Auston joined me to help, but he was more or less a distraction. After I had placed the lasagna in the oven, I couldn’t help but wrap my arms around his shoulders and smile.

“Happy Father’s Day.” I whispered between chaste kisses. Auston pressed my back gently against the countertop. I giggled.

“That still sounds weird.” Auston spoke quietly in return.

“Don’t tell Hudson it sounds weird when he decides to start calling you dad.” I advised playfully. Auston pressed another kiss to my lips.

“You know I won’t.” He smirked, his hands traveling to my hips. “You wouldn’t happen to know when that’s coming, would you?”

“That kid is unpredictable. Just be patient, Aus. He loves you. Baby steps.”

“Right.” Auston sighed quietly.

“Right, what?” I was swift to pick up on his mood change.

“Right, nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Auston flashed me a feigned smile and pressed a kiss to my head.

“Auston.” I was quick to scold, watching as his eyes fell to the floor in consideration.

“I don’t know, it’s just-“ I pulled away to open the fridge. “I see all my friends with kids and.. they get called dad all the time and.. I don’t know.”

“Makes you a little jealous?”

“Sad, actually.”

I turned back to him, raising a brow.

“I do everything they do. Am I doing something wrong?”

“Auston.” I smiled, in both understanding and reassurance. Every parent questioned their methods, he was no exception. “You’re not doing anything wrong. Look at it from his perspective. Hudson never knew his first dad. He’s never had a guy to call dad. Or a father figure. And now he has a man in his life who takes care of him and his mom. His first proper example of a father. He’s still understanding that this is what a father is.” I reached out to cup his cheek. “You are his dad, I have no doubt about it. Just give it time.” I flashed him a quick smile.

“Baby steps.” Auston repeated my previous words.

“Baby steps.” I affirmed, leaning in once again to kiss him. Auston managed a smile against my lips. When I pulled back, I spotted a little figure in the doorway, startling me.

“Go ahead.” Hudson waved us on, carrying the little paper bag to the table and climbing up into his seat. Auston and I both smiled as we watched him, turning to keep our eyes on the boy as he got situated.

“Do we get to see this surprise now?” Auston asked, suspicious and excited.

“In a few minutes.”

“Damn.” Auston muttered, and I was swift to backhand his arm.

“You know better.” I scolded softly.

“Auston you shouldn’t curse.” Hudson piped up, and I had to stifle a laugh as Auston looked wide eyed at my child.

“Hudson,” I scolded. Despite the situation being amusing, I still had the motherly role to play. “You shouldn’t tell Auston what to do.”

“But you say it’s bad.” Hudson defended himself.

“For grownups it’s a little different.” I tried to reason, but sometimes a simple, ‘because I said so’ was easier to say.

“I guess so.” Hudson shrugged, lifting his eyes to peek at Auston. “Okay.” He breathed out a sigh, placing his hands dramatically on the table. “It’s surprise time.”

“Finally?” Auston smirked, quickly leaving the kitchen to join Hudson at the table.

“Is it for both of us?” I questioned.

“No… sorry mom. It’s just for Auston.”

I glanced at Auston to see the cheeky smirk on his lips, and I rolled my eyes.

“Today at day camp. The girl asked the kids if they celebrated Father’s Day. And a lot of them raised their hands.” Hudson peeked down at the table. “I didn’t.. and later she asked me why. And I told her ‘cause I didn’t have a dad before. And she said that’s okay. That sometimes it’s okay to celebrate your pap or great grandpap.. or nobody at all, and I told her that there was this one guy.”

I folded my arms across my chest and watched as Hudson drew shapes into the wooden table with his finger.

“I told her that he takes care of me when I’m sick. And that he tells me he loves me before he drops me off.. that he sings for me sometimes even if he sucks at singing.. and that he’s marrying my mom.” I considered grabbing my phone to film, but I wanted to live in this moment while it happened.

“Yeah?” Auston prompted him on. “He sounds pretty cool.” I immediately rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, he is pretty cool.” Hudson nodded in response, barely registering the joke Auston had made. “The girl said, that sounds an awful lot like a dad to me.. and then she helped me make this thingy.” Hudson finally opened the brown bag, rummaging through it until he snatched up the item inside.

“It’s not a lot.. but I wanted to celebrate Father’s Day with you.” Hudson’s cheeks turned red as he set his hands on the table and presented a little threaded bracelet. “It says dad.” He explained, and I could only assume there were beads on the one side I couldn’t see. I clasped a hand over my mouth, watching as Auston’s lips turned upward into a huge smile.

“Hudson.” Auston reached out to take the bracelet. “This is awesome, Buddy!” I could barely contain my smile at the sight of tears in Auston’s eyes. I would have loved to butt in, but it wasn’t my moment to share.

“I’m really, really happy you stayed.” Hudson watched Auston slip the bracelet on. “And I’m happy you’re marrying my momma.”

“Well ya know what, bud?” Auston leaned forward to ruffled Hudson’s hair. “I’m happy I’m gonna have the coolest and best kid in the whole universe.”

“I’ll be- technically your step kid though.. right?” My brow shot up in surprise.

“Nope.” Auston shook his head. “You’re just my kid. My son. No steps, no anything. You’re my son.”

“And you’re my dad?”

“Hell yeah, I’m your dad.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #auston matthews blurb #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews #singlereaderfic

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ellephlox · 10 months

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Anchor

Summary: Matt helps you when you're overstimulated at a party.

Pairing: Matt x fem!reader on the autism spectrum

Warnings: Description of panic attack, overstimulation, brief and very indirect reference to sexual assault, profanity.

A/N: I apologize in advance if this doesn't fit with your experience of autism! I just used my own tendencies as inspiration to write this. Thank you so much for the request, anon!

Foggy warned you that his family could be... intense. Not just rambunctious, or extraverted, but more like a crowd of drunken mega-fans when their favorite team won the Super Bowl.

"So I get it if you don't want to come," he said, speaking through a mouthful of poutine. "No pressure at all. It's just a summer barbecue. But the only food there will be lasagna, just so you know."

"Why lasagna?" You sat across from him and Karen at a small, quiet diner after work, with Matt to your left. Sometimes you went to Josie's, purely because it was Matt and Foggy's favorite bar, but on busy days you'd go to this smaller eatery instead. Matt never made a big deal of it, and never said specifically to Karen and Foggy why he always suggested the quieter restaurant on the days when Josie's was brimming with patrons and music, but you knew why, and you'd told him a thousand times how grateful you were.

"Why lasagna?" Foggy repeated. "Uh, because July 29th is none other than the very important holiday, National Lasagna Day?"

"I have a feeling your definition of 'very important' differs ever so slightly from mine," you said. "Sorry. Haven't heard of it. So, you celebrate this because...?"

"Because my dad thought it would be funny and then it kinda stuck. So now it's an official Nelson Family Tradition."

"He's dragged me to some really weird traditions over the years," Matt said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. You liked the feeling of being in a cubby of his arms, and you subconsciously leaned in closer to him. There weren't many people you could lean into comfortably, but Matt was one of them. "Careful. Once you go to one, he invites you to all of them. I'm still recovering from the Hammock Olympics."

"What's—"

"Don't ask," Foggy cut in. "It's a long story. But think about it, okay? We'd love to have you."

You weren't keen on going to a lasagna party — or any party, for that matter — but you agreed. Foggy had been your friend for a long time, and you felt that you owned it to him; besides, as much as he claimed his family was rowdy, they couldn't be that unruly.

But nothing could have prepared you for the swarm of Nelsons that spilled out of the house and onto the lawn. They were everywhere: Dancing to music that pumped from a speaker with far too much bass that made you wince. Shooting hoops in the short driveway and bodily ramming into one another, sweat visible under their arms. Hovering over the drinks, pouring from the array of alcohol that was stacked on a folding table.

"How many family members does Foggy even have?" you asked, under your breath, as you slowed slightly. Matt was leisurely tapping his cane next to you, his hand loosely around your arm.

"Based on memory? A few dozen. But..." Matt's brow crinkled. "There's definitely more than five dozen heartbeats here right now."

"More than sixty? How are there so many Nelsons? How are they all even able to attend? Don't some of them have other obligations to go to?"

"If it gets really packed in there, and you want to leave, we can go anytime."

"It's okay. I'll be fine."

"Really, sweetheart." Matt tugged at your arm slightly. "Just showing up is a huge deal for Foggy. We can leave at anytime, and no one will judge us."

You smiled at him. "You're the coolest guy ever, you know that?"

Walking up the Nelsons' driveway, you hoped that you and Matt would just melt into the crowd, but instead Foggy caught a glimpse of you and waved wildly. Wonderful. You put a wide smile on your face, though, and waved back stiffly. Awkwardly. Maybe no more waving for me.

To distract yourself from the heat already rising in your face, you began to narrate to Matt. "Foggy's up ahead of us. Drinks are all on the left. Lemonade, I think, apple cider, vodka, wine. And... what looks like a cheese board? There's also a lot of chalk all over the driveway. Hop scotch, body outlines, and genitalia, I think."

"Hopefully the last isn't courtesy of Foggy."

"I don't think so. Foggy is—"

"Behind you, and delighted that you came," Foggy said, coming up from behind and hugging you. You stiffened, unprepared for the embrace, but he bounced back quickly, his face flushed with the heat of the day. "Happy National Lasagna Day! I'd recommend getting in there before the Twisted Teas are gone."

In the corner of your eye, you could see someone reaching over to turn up the volume on the music. The bass thumped out of the speakers with even more force, and simultaneously a baby started wailing only ten feet away from you. You tensed slightly, resisting the urge to simply turn around and walk away from this party. For Foggy. For Foggy, I'll stay here and enjoy myself as much as I can.

Matt must have sensed it, because his hand crept to yours and squeezed. "Drinks nearby?"

"Yeah, about five feet to your left," Foggy said. "I'll read you the options. Hey, Y/N — my mom wants to meet you." At your bewildered look, Foggy raised his hands. "I don't know why. I'm just the messenger. She's inside, in the kitchen right now, and all she said was she wants to talk to you once you get here."

"She wants to talk to me?" The prospect was alarming. So was the idea of leaving Matt's side in a swarm of people like this. But you had no choice, because Mrs. Nelson suddenly waved from the front door, as though she'd sensed your arrival, beckoning you inside.

"She's waving me in," you said, panicking slightly. "Foggy, are you sure she meant me?"

"Positive. Sorry. She's going to pry, but don't feel obligated to tell her your darkest secrets. I think she likes the idea of having a girl to chat with about Matt and me."

Dear God. Please let this not last long. You reluctantly parted from Matt, and made your way into the brightly lit, maximist-style interior of the Nelson home. Knick-knacks and assorted tchotchkes surrounded you as though you were in an antique shop.

"Y/N!" Mrs. Nelson appeared again, her face round like Foggy's. You started to extend a hand, but she went right in for a hug — so that's where Foggy gets it from — and squeezed you. Limply you stood there, awkwardly reaching to hug back with one arm.

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Nelson," you said. "Can I help with anything in the kitchen?"

"Don't be silly, that's not why I asked you in here. I want you to give me intel."

"Intel?"

"On Matthew! You're dating him, aren't you?"

"Oh — I—"

"We've known Matthew since he was a first year in law school," she went on, picking up a knife and chopping at a carrot with dextrous agility. "That boy doesn't ever settle down. But now he's met you, and I want details!"

"Um..." You averted your gaze. She hardly blinked at all, and it was unnerving. Instead you focused on the dripping faucet, and then the picture frames to your left. Foggy in college, Foggy with his siblings, a family portrait outside of Acadia National Park. You finally compromised and settled your gaze to the corner of her left eye. Close enough. "Well, we met about a year ago. Matt's always just understood me, and I guess we got along well with conversation, so here we are."

"You thinking of getting married?"

I barely know this woman, and she wants to know about my relationship. Your stomach was clenching at what you'd say, and it didn't help knowing that Matt was certainly listening to every word of the conversation. "I don't — I mean, I'm not really... I can't say. Not because I don't know, but because that's between me and Matt, mostly." Shit. Was that too harsh? You assumed it wasn't, because Mrs. Nelson went right on smiling.

The door slammed as someone else came in. You whirled around, hoping desperately it was Matt, but it was some unnamed relative who had the distinct Nelson features and a cigarette in his hand. He lit it, breathing in deeply, and exhaling smoke into the air.

"You know I don't like you smoking inside, Ben," Mrs. Nelson said, shooing at him.

"Sorry." Ben didn't stop smoking. You winced as the smell of cigarette smoke wafted up to you, and glanced at the closed window. That air Ben was exhaling — it was now in your lungs, and you could feel it tickling your throat. The more you thought about the fact that you were inhaling his air, the more restless you felt. The smoke curled through the air, and breezed against you as he sucked on the cigarette again. Surely it was now going to cling to your clothes for the rest of the day. You'd be able to smell it, you knew. And Matt would be able to smell it too, which would make it a hundred times worse because now you felt bad—

"Y/N?"

Your head snapped back to Mrs. Nelson. "Sorry?"

"I wondered if you'd like to hold the baby. She's fourteen weeks old today. I can ask Susan to bring her in for you."

That's the very last thing I want to do, actually.

You struggled for an answer, and finally landed on an excuse. "That's very kind of you to offer. But I think I've got to go back out," you said, jabbing a thumb over your shoulder and plastering a gracious look on your face. "I want to find Matt and... introduce him to someone."

Please don't ask who.

Fortunately, Mrs. Nelson didn't question you at all. "Oh, of course! I won't keep you."

Yes, please don't.

You hurried out of the kitchen, not realizing you were holding in a breath until you were in the mercifully clean, smoke-free air outside. The downside was that in the time you had been indoors, the sun had emerged from behind the clouds, and metamorphosed the already humid day into a blistering sauna.

You found Matt standing in the direct sunlight with some of Foggy's brothers. There was no shade to be found, and you mourned your decision to not put on sunscreen today as you joined his side and resisted the urge to hoist the back of your cardigan over your head like a parasol. The sweltering sunshine was so intense that you felt as though you could feel your skin burning second by second.

They all laughed — at what, you weren't sure — but it rang in your ears, nearly making you screw up your face. How was Matt handling this? Surely it was bothering him more than it bothered you. Yet he had a placid expression on his face, holding his cane loosely with one hand and sipping on a beer with the other.

"Last call for the cheese board," Foggy said suddenly. "And Mom says it'll be another two hours until supper, so grab some Swiss and Muenster now or forever hold your hunger."

Your stomach felt as though it were curdling. Two hours? It was already an hour past when you usually had lunch. Two more hours was frankly terrifying. And the only thing standing between you and the two-hours-out-lasagna was... cheese.

"Want to make our way over there, then?" you asked Matt, as casually as you could. There was no sense in letting him know you were stressed. He was having a good time, that much you could tell, and the last thing you wanted was for your discomfort to bring down his day.

Matt went with you to the table, and only when you were out of earshot of Foggy and his brothers did he speak. "Hey. You doing okay?"

"I've been better. I've been worse." There was no sense in trying to lie to him. "Let's just grab some cheese. I didn't realize lunch would be so late, or I would've had something at home."

But just before you reached the table, a girl of about eight or nine years ran in front of you, and dug both hands — both hands, two hands with chalk and dirty visibly staining them — into the platter of cheese, scooping out a handful for herself.

"Ella!" her mother snapped, a few feet away. "You've had enough. No more cheese."

The girl obeyed, tossing all the cheese slices back into the platter and running away cheerfully. You stood stock still, frozen in your spot.

Matt cocked his head slightly. "Still hungry for cheese?"

"Why?" you managed. "Why, why, why? Who just touches all the food then dumps it back in?" The cheese was too tainted now. Wistfully you looked at it, then at your watch. One hour, fifty-six minutes left. And that was if Mrs. Nelson served the lasagnas on time.

"I think that the Nelson household is your new nemesis," Matt said, pulling you in towards him. "Anything I can do?"

"No," you said, fighting to keep yourself optimistic. For Matt, for Foggy. "Thank you, though."

"We can imagine we're in a version of the Hunger Games. Except instead of bloodthirsty teens, we're surrounded by small talk and cigarette smoke."

"You knew?"

"Smelled it right away." Matt took your arm again as you made your way back to the circle of Nelson brothers. "And figured you were having the time of your life in there."

"Ha."

"If it makes you feel any better, all their stomachs have rumbled in the past half an hour," Matt said softly, nodding his head in the direction of Foggy's brothers. "You're not the only one who's disappointed that lunch is two hours out. And..." He shifted so that his right ear was facing Foggy. "It sounds like Foggy really, really needs to pee right now."

You let out a laugh. "Information I didn't need to have."

Matt only smiled as you both rejoined the circle.

You thought you'd make it until lunch. It was only two hours, you kept telling yourself, it wasn't long. Not much longer in the sun. Not much longer you'd have to stand there while Ben lit another cigarette nearby and the wind carried the smoke right into your face. Not much longer that the Nelsons would keep getting drunker and drunker and their laughs more raucous. And, certainly, it wouldn't be much longer that the music was blaring, pumping through your ears to rattle your very bones.

And then everyone grouped together, for one large family conversation, and you found yourself being jostled into the middle of a massive, warm crowd of Nelsons, shoulder-to-shoulder with people you'd never met before. The panic you had kept at bay so far began to swell like a tsunami under the surface of tranquil waters, thudding in your heart and moving up to your face. Too warm. The sun beat down, not a cloud in sight. All of the little kids were next to you now, singing and jumping up and down, and—

One of them sneezed, and with horror you felt droplets of mucus land on your right arm.

"I have to go," you gasped to Matt, slipping backwards out of the crowd and making a beeline for the house. Bathroom. You needed a bathroom.

But the final straw was the bathroom itself. Another speaker sat in the windowsill, projecting music loudly to the backyard, and it smelled like someone took a shit in there, making you gag and turn around—

Straight into Matt.

"Matt," you whispered. "I can't. I can't do this."

"Sweetheart—"

"It's too much. I've tried, but I can't, they're sneezing and laughing and dancing and I just can't do it anymore. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"What do you have to be sorry for?"

"Because I'm ruining your day!" You crossed into the hallway and sat on the bottom of the stairs, rubbing your hands over your face and hair, again and again, as though to get the sound off. Only then did you realize with horror that you hadn't yet washed your arm, so you leapt up to run to the sink. Matt followed you, nimbly stepping over the clutter that was strewn on the floor. "If you didn't have me at your side, being a leech, you'd still be out there, laughing with them and sipping a beer. And — and you've got the hearing of a fucking bat, but you're able to tolerate everything, while I just throw a tantrum like a two year old." You were near tears, the truth of your own statement ringing into the kitchen. Because it was ridiculous, wasn't it? Matt's hearing was incomprehensibly better than yours, and so was his sensitivity to the sun and the cigarette smoke, and yet it didn't seem to touch him at all.

He reached out, and you thought he was going to shut off the faucet, but instead he ran his hand under the water, took the soap, and began to rub at your arm slowly, up and down. You stood still, your own hands dripping, and allowed him to remove whatever snot might still be on your skin. Finally he lowered his fingers, and took a clean washcloth from the cupboard under the sink. Starting with the top of your arm he dried off every last bit of water, working his way downward.

"Last night, out in the suit, I came across a frat party," he said, finally drying off your hands and setting the cloth on the edge of the sink. "Over seventy people were there. And there were roofies being handed out, like hors d'oeuvres, so that the guys could take advantage of whoever they wanted. I went in, shut it down. Went into the bedrooms and stopped a couple of them in the act. But the whole time, they had this heavy metal music blasting, and the house was filled with the smell of weed. It was dusty in there, too. Every breath I drew in, I could taste it, and feel the grit of it."

You remained silent and let him do the talking. His voice was low, pleasant; a welcome distraction from the voices and radio outside.

"It set me off," he continued. "And even afterwards, I could still hear it ringing in my ears, and could still feel the layer of dust on my skin. You know what helped me to snap out of it?" He raised his hand and gently cupped your face. "You."

You vaguely remembered Matt crawling into bed with you the previous night, and pulling you in close, but as far as you remembered, you hadn't even said a word. "Me? But how—?"

"You're my anchor." Matt's hand dropped. "You. When everything is too loud, I listen to your steady inhales and exhales. Your heartbeat. When the scents are too much, all I have to do is breathe in your shampoo and detergent. Your skin, your hair, your body... it's the only thing that I want to always be with. You're always my anchor. And I know you're strong enough to do all this on your own, but if you ever need me to be, I'll be your anchor, too. Just say the word, and we can leave this party. We can stay in all weekend and do nothing but order in takeout and watch movies. We can drive twenty hours north and stay in a remote cottage for a week. And if you need a break from me, I'll take off until you're ready. I'll always be your anchor, always, if you want me to be."

You closed your eyes, your heartbeat slowing; it was as though someone had dialed down the music outside. Matt seemed to notice the relaxing of your posture, because he tilted his head against yours, and breathed, "That's my girl."

"Thank you," you whispered, wrapping your arms tentatively around him. "And I never want a break from you. Never you." At your motion, his own arms embraced you tightly, as though he'd been waiting for the indication that you wanted to hug.

"And something else," Matt said, after you pulled apart. Without looking he reached behind him towards the fruit basket and plucked out two bananas. "I'll pay Mrs. Nelson back for these."

You broke out in a smile and took one of the bananas. "Keep guard so no one walks in on us chowing down alone in here like two bizarre monkeys?"

He leaned against the counter next to you as you peeled the banana. "Always."

#daredevil #matt murdock #marvel #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #reader insert #mcu #reader #x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x autistic!reader #fluff #autistic!reader #autism #neurodivergent #neurodivergent!reader #overstimulation

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sgiandubh · 4 months

Note

It's been so many years, but I think the driver who called fans c*nts was Cait's driver Finnie. All while reaping the very generous rewards of said fans. He was reprimanded soundly for some heinous transgressions from him and that (Italian?) woman he was having an affair with. The things that have happened in this fandom would make a fascinating case study of some kind.

Dear Generous Rewards Anon,

I am not very sure it was so, but definitely stand corrected. As far as I remember, it was that horrible little man, who was brought by people like Lasagna to NYC. I may be completely wrong, again, but in my mind this is somehow connected to S being Grand Marshal for that Tartan Day Parade, or something.

If there is one part of my job I hate (HATE, HATE, HATE) is to see our driver acting like he was our Permanent Representative to the United Nations or something. You cannot imagine the degree of entitlement and insolence technical staff sometimes displays. And you would be wise not to say a word - these people are the first to gladly snitch on us. So S trying to make friends with him was not a surprise: I did the same, but never let my guard down.

Again, if I am wrong, please someone correct me. I will edit this post immediately. Thank you!

#anon #fandom #shitshow

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doctorfriend79 · 2 years

Photo

😋 Happy National Lasagna Day! 😋

#National Lasagna Day #Lasagna #Photography

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queengiuliettafirstlady · 9 months

Text

Taste of Home

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Pairing: Leonardo Da Vinci x Le Comte de Saint-Germaine

Tag: Established relationship Cooking Kisses Spicy lines Fluff

Word Count 991

Author’s Note: The song is La donna è mobile from Rigoletto written by Giuseppe Verdi.

A little something to celebrate Italy with Leonardo and his lover, in a ordinary day with a normal amount of dishes prepared from our italian chef, much to the delight of the residents, with some sweet and spicy adding, I very much hope will be of your taste like this little dish I prepared myself take a seat and enjoy the feast. 🥰

Tag list

@kissmetwicekissmedeadly @lordsisterxotome @aquagirl1978 @violettduchess @atelieredux @klutzyroses @randonauticrap @thewitchofbooks @princess-pray-a @itsjudesfault

You can find me on AO3 as QueenJuliet 😊

Thank you for everyone who will like, reblog, or comment please be gentle with me english is not my first language so please do not leave rude comments I apologise for eventual errors I hope you will like it 😊

It was a summer day at the mansion, the whole nation simmered with perfumes and sounds he never heard of more pleasant, except the ones of his native country, an heavy sigh escaped from his lips at the thought as he shifted around the table, filled to the brim with his skillful hands creations.

La donna è mobile

Qual piuma al vento,

Muta d'accento - e di pensiero.

Sempre un amabile,

Leggiadro viso,

In pianto o in riso, è menzognero.

The fragrant perfume of white bread still warm from the oven placed in a plate next to the baci di dama, the unmistakable aroma of gianduia melted well with the bitter scent of coffee of the tiramisu, the yellow color of the polenta stalked in contrast with the red cover of the lasagna placed next to it, on a side of the candid tablecloth stretched a feast of pasta of any kind and pizza with various filling, enough to satisfy every taste, everything rigorously handmade following the recipes he known by heart. Amidst its chaos stood the improvised cook who do not even remotely cared about any intruder immersed in the task of stirring the red tomato sauce in the pot, carefully blowing air on it before savouring its taste rolling on his tongue as he hummed in delight, his fingers from time to time threw some ingredients in one of the pan like a magician practising his magic in broad daylight, bathing everything in sight in its warm hues.

È sempre misero

Chi a lei s'affida,

Chi le confida - mal cauto il core!

Pur mai non sentesi

Felice appieno

Chi su quel seno - non liba amore!

He let out a chuckle, laughing at the irony of singing about the love for a woman, his parents words ringed still clear in his ear.

-Do not show us your face unless you have took a wife.-

-Ah if only they knew.

“What are you preparing today ?”

The arms of his husband wrapped around his torso, like the sun brushing away all his dark thoughts, smiling at the soft kiss he left on his neck

“Geez there are people watching us ya know ?” his low chuckle reverberated in his chest, a tone of defiance in his voice he loved so much hearing sing for him in the bed

“Who ?”

“Someone will surely come out of this frat house you create.”

a soft giggle escaped his lips as he pulled away, he leaned against the counter to face him as he spoke.

“I see you have given Sebastian the day off.”

“He deserved it that poor guy acting all up as he is our maid and butler at once.”

He dipped the spoon in the tomato sauce pot once more, bringing the point to his lips, it tasted like home, like the country he could not come back to if not as outsider or traveller, the one he still felt to belong, both italian and french at once even though he far preferred to call himself citizen of the world, inhabitant of the earth, belonging anywhere and nowhere at once, but when the light goes down and he had to find a shelter he knew exactly where to go, the same place he would have kept coming back to over and over again, the one and only he would have chosen in every universe in every timeline even after thousand years he would have still come back home to him, the only man who intrigued him, he felt to know everything and nothing of every time they talked, a mystery he would have gladly spend all eternity discovering, each side of him a precious treasure he collected in his heart.

Before he could do anything he moved to block him against the counter, a cat like smirk on his lips as he stared in his husband’s golden eyes sensual and alluring, leaning over to press a soft kiss on his nose, his gesture made him smile at his boldness, he never was good at masking his own desire, at least not like le Comte taught from a young age to conceal every emotion and so he took action cupping his face in his hands melting his own lips on his, lacing his own hands on his husband’s hips to steady him.

Their kiss was sweet and deep, intoxicating and exhilarating pervading each and every one of his sense leaving him speechless and astounded, butterflies swirling inside his heart, fluttering with all the love he felt for his husband, the sweetest of flavour invading his tongue spreading on his palate, it was the most delicious meal he had ever had in all his life and it was only the first course he though smiling to himself, for the even sweeter dessert that waited for them both in bed, late at night when all the others were asleep and the clock struck midnight signing the start of the time for lover.

Reluctantly they pulled away panting for air, lost in each other's gaze so much to not notice their butler peeking from the doorframe, sliding noiselessly away once he witnessed that forbidden view.

He kissed his forehead tenderly, revelling in the astoundment glimmering in his golden eyes

“I love you so my ferret.” a smile so bright like the sun itself brightened his gorgeous features

“I love my cat too.” he smiled softly to him, feeling his lips leave a little kiss on his nose making him chuckle, he really did puzzled him one minute he was bold and the other shy, but he knew that despite all their bicker and banter their love was genuine, hidden deep in their hearts only for one another.

Their love confessed countless time with each moan and groan escaping their lips, with every kiss sealing their soul together and that night would have been not exception, basking in the soft alluring gleaming in his eyes at his heartfelt words murmured tenderly on his skin as they laid on their sides looking at one another with only the aster as guardian of their love, because it did not matter how much times they kissed or made love or how many refined dishes they tasted, he always had and always would have been his favourite flavour of them all, because to him his husband tasted like home.

#ikemen vampire #ikemen vampire comte #ikevamp comte #ikemen vampire leonardo #ikevamp leonardo #my writing #ikevamp

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