#i think they should be domestic and tease each other sometimes

[technically-human]

About a pet name

[petrichoravis]

love, written in the stars. | s.r.

summary: just a moment in the life you spend with Spencer.

what to expect: spencer reid x shy!reader, otherwise nondescript reader, domestic fluff, established relationship, lots of kissing, English is not my first language

word count: 1,3k (she's a cutie)

songs: ur so pretty - wasia project, falling in love - cigarettes after sex, kiss me - sixpence none the richer

a/n: little blurb as a thank you for all the love on bypros (lol that sounds like something medical) while I’m working on another project!!!

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Your lips connected with Spencer’s as you roll over on the bed, his hands find the dip of your waist where they fit like you were made for each other, one mould.

Soft music was playing on your vinyl player, the curtains were softly fluttering in the breeze coming through the window.

You and Spencer have been like this for a while—kissing, rolling around the bed. Your hair was slightly messy from Spencer’s hands running through it and your shirt was rising up were your right hip met his left one.

The quiet clicking sound of your lips connecting and disconnecting, the way his soft lips were sliding over yours with a dizzying ease were the only things you could focus on.

Ever since you had known him, Spencer had been a good kisser, he always knew when to kiss you were, with the exact right amount of fervour for that exact moment. But you have often been told (by Derek Morgan, no doubt) that Spencer hasn’t always been the man you know him as today.

Sure, Spencer was still an awkward nerd who liked to ramble, but he had an air of confidence that made your knees weak.

You’ve seen pictures of him from before you met and you seriously feel like you had missed out on a great time of a lot of teasing and making Spencer blush as much as he was making you flustered.

Spencer pulls you out of your reminiscences by rolling both of you over, his free hand finding the back of your neck, the other stabilising him next to your waist. He pulls back and you whine, lifting your head to chase his mouth.

His laugh is almost hoarse, but his lips stay (cruelly) far away from yours.

“What were you thinking about?” He asks softly, tracing his thumb along your cheek and nose.

“How much I think you should kiss me again—” you murmur, but your attempt stays fruitless.

He smiles fondly, because he’s cruel like that. “What were you thinking about before?”

“I…” you twist a curl of his around your finger, it’s an almost shy gesture, if Spencer didn’t know any better. “Do you ever wish we had met earlier?”

He thinks for a moment while his eyes trace your features like he hasn’t seen them before, like there was still a new treasure to find. “Is that what you’ve been thinking about?”

A nod confirms his suspicion, “Yeah. I just…sometimes I—Derek showed me a picture of you when you were twenty-four.” You blurt out.

Spencer rolls his eyes. “Of course he did.”

“He told me how shy you were…how easily you got flustered. I—I don’t know. I kind of wish I got to meet that version of you. Every version of you.” You’re picking on the bedsheet out of shyness.

He just smiles, tilting your head gently so your eyes could meet his. “There you are.”

“You’re just so…confident now. I wish I could fluster you like you can me.”

Oh. “Oh, that’s what this is about? You think you can’t fluster me?” His smile really only proves your point and you try to hide behind your hands, but he won’t let you.

“Love, you fluster me all the time and you don’t even know it. Sometimes I feel like that version of myself again.” He says honestly.

“But you’re so…you always know what you’re doing.”

His smile softens a little. “I have no idea what I’m doing half the time, this is my first time really feeling secure and comfortable with myself in a relationship. You make me feel like I know what I’m doing. But you especially make me nervous.”

“How?” You’re still frowning (but a soft smile hides behind the facade), Spencer’s thumb reaches out to smooth the lines. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Let me think…” he grins like he already knows the answers to that equation (spoiler, he does).

“You do these little things…” he places a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “when you’re trying to reach for something in the upper cabinet and your shirt rises up, or when you touch my hair, for example.” He places another kiss to the other corner of your mouth. “Or just the way you look in general. Your face is incredibly flustering.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling openly now, a barely suppressable, giddy smile. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“Those small things fluster you?”

“Uh-oh, I should not have told you all of that.”

“Absolutely you should have.” You grin, already thinking about all the ways to paint a soft red hue onto your boyfriend’s lovely face.

Speaking of, the man in question is looking down at you with a look that would make Jude Law look like he was glaring the entirety of The Holiday.

“What?” You laugh breathlessly, now back again with your attempt to get his mouth back on yours. You still can’t believe he just said that. Just like that.

“Nothing,” he says (the only way to describe his tone was lovingly). “You’re beautiful.”

“See? You’re doing it again.” You squint.

You obviously didn’t believe him. But he never did shy away from telling you his truths. So why would your beauty be different from the fact that the stars twinkle because their light passes through the atmosphere and is bent by varying temperatures and densities of the air? (Because it isn’t. Because it is just that, is what he would say if he wanted to stretch this into another argument about your beauty, a fact.)

But he decided that he wouldn’t fight you on it, he’d just simply know it enough for the both of you. He decided that he would rather keep kissing you breathless, until the stars in your eyes were twinkling because of a different reason. Because of him.

His lips connect back with yours before you can even think of protesting or—worse—reciprocating his compliment.

You smile against his lips as you finally get what you want (and truthfully, you were not going to protest, but he doesn’t need to know that if it means he’ll kiss you), burying your fingertips into the soft, brown mess that is his hair and your boyfriend sighs into your mouth.

The soft moment only lasts for a few seconds, though. The needle of your record player reaches the end, playing the last seconds of the song on repeat, signalling that needed to change discs.

The sound of a groan cuts through the air as you push against Spencer’s shoulders.

“Who invented this anyway? I’m sure they could have come up with something that automatically changes the sides.” You grumble as you push your boyfriend off of you, climbing out of the bed. (You make an extra big show of raising your arms to get the record sleeve from the shelf.)

“But that’s the charm, isn’t it?” He crosses his warms behind his head, watching you scurry around the room in his shirt and mismatched socks. One red with stripes, one purple, matching his.

You hold up two records. “Fleetwood or The Cranberries?”

He hums. “Your lips on mine?”

“I don’t think I know that band.”

“Smartass.”

“Mhm,” you reply as you start the record and climb back into Spencer’s arms. “My redeeming quality.”

Wrapping one arm around your back, settling in the dip, the other one cupping your jaw, he welcomes you back with a kiss on your forehead. “I don’t think there’s anything about you that needs redeeming, love.”

“That’s because you’re incredibly biased.” You don’t let him protest and kiss him again and he lets you, of course he does.

It would be a lie to tell you that your lips ever disconnected after that. You two stayed tangled up together until you became one with each other. And then with the many stars in the universe.

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[araybiaaa]

❝ home. ❞  ‎ annie x smoke

ooo. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔… domestic fluff, soft!smoke, edging, multiple orgasms, squirting, fingering, unprotected!sex, penetrative!sex, fluff, romance, handjobs, quiet sex, praising, dirty talk, brief use of the n-word. black!writer

ooo. 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔… smoke comes home to annie after a business trip.

ooo. 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔… wrote another one because i think writing for them is my niche lol. this is set before the movie but i incorporated some of the things that were in the movie (i only watched the movie once so far so i can’t remember if they said which twin was older but in this fic i made it smoke.) i didn’t go into any of the hoodoo practice because i’m not too educated on it. but what i did include was from google 💀 again, thanks for all of the love on all of the other fics i posted! i’m always so apprehensive about my writing sometimes especially if i get writers block. but anyway thanks for the constant support guys 🥺! oh this is very much inspired by someone who made a post that said annie cleanses smoke whenever he comes home and they spend the rest of the night making passionate love. (i tried looking for the post but i couldn’t find it but if anyone finds it lmk!) and as always likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated! ◡̈

smoke’s deep suspire of impatience accompanied with him looking down at the elgin watch that’s donned around his wrist has stack rolling his eyes at his brother.

“that’s your third time lookin’ down at your watch.” he acknowledges with an impish smirk as he brings the bottle of beer up to his mouth and takes a large swig. “you must got somewhere better to be?” he questions in a tease, wincing only slight at the potent taste that burned in the back of his throat.

smoke nods cursorily, “yeah, nigga i do. it’s gettin’ late and annie’s waitin’ for me.” he accents, already picturing his wife wide awake reading in bed instead of asleep like she should be. despite wearing the mojo bag that she created for him for his added protection; she still worried about him and would always be laid awake in bed waiting for his return. her worry grew heavier whenever he was with stack because she knew that even with smoke being older by a few spare minutes — he always found himself being persuaded into his younger brother’s impulsive ideas.

like tonight, instead of going out for drinks at the juke joint like stack claimed they were going to be doing, they found themselves at a burlesque house instead. stack had found amusement in looking at the women walking around bare dressed or in skirts that stopped just at their thighs, leaving absolutely nothing left for the imagination. the room was clouded with the stench of stale cigarette smoke. it was filled to the brim with men who just like his brother were indulging and salivating at the sight of the promiscuous women as they prowled around in their garters, corsets and dresses.

but smoke seemed to be the only man here that showed no interest in the women before him. instead of attraction he felt irritation; at himself for being talked into another one of stack’s ridiculous ideas and at the fact that the room was so crowded that perspiration stuck against his skin and was now drenching through the three-piece suit that he’d just bought.

stack nudged his elbow against smoke’s, clicking his teeth in a tsk-ing reprimand. “man we’re supposed to be celebratin’!” he enthused, his smirk curling deeper as he leaned in closer to (attempt to) whisper. “all the shit we just looted from that bank? we got enough money to open our own fuckin’ whorehouse and then some!”

smoke hurriedly looked around, wary of any bypassing eavesdroppers. the pungent smell of beer is fresh of stack’s breath, his eyes are red and glossy and smoke could see his cognition slowly dissipating with each swallow of beer that he took.

today’s job had been successful. through thorough days of planning, they’d managed to raid a bank a few towns over with nothing but their revolvers and masks for their discretion. it only took about five minutes for them load the $1,000 into their bags and make a stealth exit without any hassle. still on an adrenaline high, stack suggested that they go out to commentate their win. and smoke should’ve known that it wouldn’t just be a quiet night of drinking like it was supposed to be.

“we ain’t openin’ a damn whorehouse, stack. ain’t no real money in that.” smoke rebuttals, giving him an exasperated look. “and quiet your drunk ass down some!”

stack rolls his eyes, undaunted by his brother’s forewarning as he reached over and snagged the now lukewarm bottle of beer that smoke had been babysitting all night. “you know there’s money in it. you just don’t wanna do it ‘cause you know annie will skin your black ass alive!” he teases, his eyes distractedly avert towards the short woman that was approaching them.

stack whistles coquettishly at the sight of her; taking in the sight of the short length dress that accentuated her curvaceous physique. she gives them both a beguiled smile, her eyes curiously flint between the both of them in amusement like she’s trying to decide who she wants to hither to first — but smoke’s blatant expression of disinterest deters her and has her scurrying over to stack instead, gently nudging at his shoulders to make room so that she’s able to slide herself down onto his lap.

stack barred an arm around her waist while the other loosely held onto his beer. the woman’s piqued curiosity has her pointing a finger between them and inquiring, “y’all twins?”

smoke shakes his head, resisting the urge of rolling his eyes at the thickness of her question. “naw. we cousins,” he murmurs sarcastically, taking another look at the time to see that it was rolling dangerously close towards midnight already.

“ignore him darlin’,” stack avers, kicking his foot against smoke’s beneath the table as he gave him a pointed look at his dismissive attitude. “he’s just ready to get back home to his wife.”

“oh!” the woman exclaims in surprise, lowering her eyes to his hand. “you married?” smoke’s thumb brushes over the band of his ring, an instinctual gesture that’s become a habit of his whenever he thinks of annie.

he nods, pushing his chair back as he clambered to his feet. “yeah. come on stack, it’s late and we still got an hour drive back to town.”

“you go,” stack suggested with a shrug, leaning forward to bury his face in the woman’s neck as he pressed wet kisses against her skin. “i’m good right here,” he murmurs as the woman giggles and leaned closer into stack’s touch.

“if i leave you that means i gotta drive all the way back here tomorrow to come get you.”

“don’t worry, i’ll keep him safe.” the woman coos, though smoke doesn’t heed her attempted reassurance. he cut his eyes at her in a glowered expression; one that she easily interprets because she purses her mouth close and shifts against stack.

“i’m not leavin’ you.” smoke laments, folding his arms against his chest. “now we can keep standin’ here and you can tell annie why we got back so late or you can get your ass up and follow me outside to the car,” he shrugs defiantly as he knows the inevitable outcome of the bargain.

stack lifts his head from its nestled perch and sighs deeply. he imprints a kiss against the woman’s cheek before begrudgingly telling her to get up. her lips moue but she nods and stands to her feet; shifting her eyes confusedly between the two brothers. stack snatches his beer off of the table as tips back another swig before he’s petulantly brushing past smoke towards the door.

…

“i’m just sayin’ it was a cheap shot usin’ annie to threaten me!” stack complains from his perch in the passenger’s seat. “all’s i wanted to do was have a little bit of fun to celebrate.”

“you did enough celebratin’ tonight.” smoke countered, giving his brother a wayward look. his pursed lips pucker around the cigarette that’s hanging between his mouth and he inhales softly, holding the smoke in his mouth before blowing it into the air. “besides, you think mary would appreciate you steppin’ out on her like that?” smoke wasn’t close to her, but he cherished the beliefs of being faithful in relationships no matter what the extent of it was.

stack brushes a hand dismissively at him, though the tense pull of his jaw let’s smoke know that the mention of her had affected him more than he intended for it to. “i ain’t with mary no more. i can do whatever i want with whoever i want.” he mumbles, suddenly retreating at the mention of his ex girlfriend.

smoke takes another drag of his cigarette before flicking it onto the ground. he averts his eyes between the road and the petulant like frown pulled on his brother’s face. he knows that despite his brother’s feigned insouciance that he still cared about mary, but his stubbornness had prevented him from continuing their relationship.

“what should we do then?” stack asks. his question and subvert of the topic clefts through his brief moment of silence and as smoke furrowing a confused brow at him. “with the money,” he clarifies, recalling back on their earlier conversation.

he’s deflecting to avoid talking about mary anymore. and smoke decides to concede to his brother’s unasked request. smoke considers stack’s question before responding with a gestured shrug of his shoulders. “aside from a brothel, what else could bring in a lot of money?”

“a juke joint.” stack suggests, half drunk and half in a dazed stupor as the three beers that he’d chugged down earlier were now catching up to him. his head’s craned back in an uncomfortable position and his eyes are fluttering close as he fought against his exhaustion.

smoke considers it with a nod. “we gotta have entertainment and food though. and more money to pay for all that. the money we got right now ain’t enough.”

“we can loot more banks. and i heard you can get a lot from trains with the cargo they bring in,” he doesn’t know if stack’s serious, he’s drunk and a few blinks away from being completely conked out. regardless, it was a good idea. but there was one thing that had him reluctant on any further postulation.

“annie’ll kick my ass if she finds out i’m robbin’ banks and trains.” she wasn’t too keen on their lifestyle and would usually always have to cleanse him of his debauchery every time he came back home. he can only imagine her reaction if she found out that stack was suggesting them getting further involve in such corruption.

stack chuckles, shaking his head. “you one whipped ass nigga.”

…

just as predicted, annie’s wide awake when he arrives home. smoke retracts the keys from the car’s ignition as he pulls into the grass, looking through the bedroom window where he sees annie sprawled out across the bed with a book tucked against her thighs. he reaches over and nudges stack against his knees shaking him awake. “get up. we here.”

stack grouses as he stirs awake.

smoke clambers out of the car, tucking his keys into his pockets as he makes his way towards the front door. he hears the creak of the passenger door being pulled open and the sound of stack’s shoes walking on the pebbled ground as he follows behind him.

“elijah?” annie beckons upon their entry. he barely passed over the threshold before she alerts, almost like a sixth sense of knowing his presence.

he pushes the door further open as stack groggily saunters in behind him. “yeah, baby, it’s me.” they stand by the door waiting for her approach. he hears the soft patter of footsteps in her ascending gait. annie rounds the corner moments later, dressed comfortably in her nightgown and with her hair tied around in fabric.

“what mischief y’all get into tonight?” she questions, walking over to her shelf that was full of her hoodoo concoctions; oils, candles and herbs that she kept in stock.

smoke and stack share a look at her raised brow. “nothin’ too bad.” smoke ripostes, hearing the annie’s soft chuckle of disbelief.

she grabs a small bottle of her herbal mixture of sage, cedar, rosemary, lavender, and rue; and dispenses some of it in a white sage leaf and rolls it tightly until it’s in a bundle. “i can smell the negativity brewin’ off both you,” she lights the bundle and the potent smell of the burning herbs immediately invades their sinuses. she walks over to them and waves the sage stick over their bodies, reciting a hoodoo conjuring prayer as she continues her cleansing. she looks up and meets smoke’s gaze, shaking her head though there’s a small smile tugging at her lips.

“alright.” she says after she stubs out the fire and sets the bundle and the bottle of herbs back onto their respective place on her shelf. “y’all hungry? i can warm up the leftovers.”

“naw. i’m too tired to eat.” stack declines, his gait staggers as he makes his way into the living room. he falls forward haphazardly on the couch; groaning as his face squishes against the soft cushions.

“what about you, baby?” annie walks over to where he’s standing. smoke’s hands round to her waist; digging into the soft flesh before he’s gently tugging her closer to him. the small smile returns on annie’s face as she closes the distance between them. she wounds her arms around his neck — feeling the soft wisps of his breath brushing against her cheeks as smoke leaned in for a kiss.

“naw, i’m hungry for somethin’ else,” he murmurs, brushing his mouth against hers in a feverish kiss. it’s only been two days since he’s last seen her, but smoke always felt insatiable when it came to annie.

she giggles against his mouth, pushing gently at his shoulders before chancing a cautious look over at stack. “behave yourself, elijah. we got a guest.” she reprimands, but her words fall absentminded to his ears because the sight of her biting her lip distracts him completely.

she presses one last kiss against his mouth — teasing as she nips and sucks on his bottom until it swells. smoke groans softly, lowering his hands to her ass as he gives it a hard squeeze. he pulls her body closer to his; chafing his dick that was already swelling in his growing arousal against her thigh. he grinds against her torturously slow, allowing her to feel the outline of him as he prodded her thickly through his pants. she whimpers breathily at the friction, hurriedly releasing his swollen lip with a pop before looking over at stack’s sleeping figure again.

“come on to bed,” she murmurs, reaching for his hand before she’s turning around and retreating down the hallway to their bedroom.

he closes the door with his foot while his hands were preoccupied touching every inch of her body. they breathe softly; swallowing each other’s moan as they maneuvered through the room towards the bed. “missed you so fuckin’ much,” he murmurs, his greedy hands are groping her through her nightgown; he glides his fingers up the meat of her thighs and buried them between her molten crux — feeling the moistened stickiness of her arousal through the flimsy fabric.

he slides his thumb against her and circled at her clothed clit; rubbing deftly and with the right amount of friction to have her moaning loudly in response.

smoke slides his mouth over hers and silences her with a feverish kiss. “gotta be quiet, baby.” he says, though he feels himself slipping through his own resolve.

he slides through and against her slit; feeling the moisture thicken messily against his finger. annie makes a small noise of indignation, her chest heaves as she murmurs an pointed, “elijah!” that conveys her impatience at his continued edging.

he removes his finger from between her thighs and instead grabs the edges of her waistband and tugs them over her hips. the ruined underwear fall to the ground with a soft thud; pooling around her ankles. she absentmindedly kicked them aside then with hurried fingers, began to tug at his clothing.

they work in a frantic tandem; their mouths still heavy and slick against each other’s as they kissed — only momentarily breaking apart to shrug his shirt off of his body and remove his gun and its holster from around his waist. he shivers and groans when annie’s fingers slide down the chisel of muscles on his abs — stopping just before she reaches the waistband of his pants. she bites her lip at the sight of him and gives him this seductive look that has smoke’s dick twitching.

“fuck, i can’t wait to be inside of you.”

she smirks again. the expression’s caught between sexy and mischievous, because she knows the affect she has on him — how weak willed and submissive his body is when it comes to her. she shoves at his pants until they’re over his hips and in the same forgotten pile as his other articles of clothing and her underwear. he’s standing naked in front of her; his dick’s curled and painfully erect — throbbing and leaking rivulets of precum from the tip. he pulls her in for another kiss that’s filthier than the last — all teeth and their tongues sliding wetly in each other’s mouths.

annie reaches down and grabs ahold of his dick. her nimble fingers wrap around him and firms a gentle grip; the feeling of her fingers alone already had him swelling against her hand. she revels at the feeling of him — at the grunts and expletives that falls off of his lips as she pressed her finger against the engorged tip of his dick and squeezed softly until more milky spurts of precum spilled out of him, at the reflexive twitches she feels brushing against her palm when she oscillates her hand from base-to-tip, in one torturously slow drag. “fuck, annie.” he drawls out another stifled moan.

he bites on his lip, feeling his head loll back in pleasure as she continued to jerk him off. his brows furrow deeper, breathing hitches and dick lurches in her hand in forewarning. annie slides her hand against him; lubricating him with him precum and hastened the movements of her hands. his expression shifts as his jaw slacks and teeth dig deeper into his lip. he feels the thickness of his orgasm spill out of him like a tidal wave — the buildup of pressure releases from him all at once and skeets messily on annie’s hand.

his dick twitches again as her fingers brushed against his balls, holding him through his release. he shudders, looking down at her through the haziness of his vision. “i’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk tomorrow. gonna make you feel every inch of it.” he whispers filthily, barely fully recovered from his first orgasm but his dick was already swelling in anticipation at the thought of being inside her.

“take this off.” his hands tug at her nightgown as she raises her arms in the air and allowed him to remove the last barrier of clothing until she’s completely nude. “i wanna see every inch of you.” his eyes wandered appreciatively over her body — at the thickness of her, at the swelled cupping of her breast and the coiled bush of hair on her pussy, the stretch marks drawn across her hips and the cellulite on her ass and thighs — every inch of her was sculpted to perfection and he couldn’t wait to ravish her.

“so fuckin’ pretty and perfect.” he praises, his hands find her hips again as he draws her in for a slow kiss. their lips brush softly, teasing and nipping, relishing in the salty taste of each other. then it’s a slip of tongue — gliding over the cupping over her lower lip, begging for further entry. smoke continues to maneuver them backwards until the back of annie’s leg hits the bed. he holds a hand around her back, steadying her in his grip before gently easing her onto the mattress.

smoke follows her in the maneuver, his body hovers over hers as their mouths continued their ravenous feat. annie whimpers at the slightest tease of his dick brushing against her slit. “‘lijah,” she murmurs, breath caught in a hitch as she lifted her hips and chased after the friction.

“i got you, baby.” smoke avows, nudging her legs apart with his knees as he seats himself between her. he teases his forefinger against her cunt again, feeling the slickness gathered along her slippery folds. “this all for me?” he murmurs, breath brushing against her lips as he looked down at her awed at her dazed expression.

his scissors his fingers and uses her slick to fondle her clit. he quietly shushes her when she inadvertently yelps and squeezes around his fingers at the contact. “quiet, baby.” he reminds her and she purses her lips and twists her fingers so tightly around the sheets that it burns. he drags his finger from her vulva to her opening, marveling in the raunchy sounds of her slick dragging against her walls.

annie’s breathing quickens, the skin between her brows crease and her face furrows in pleasure. tension tugs in her belly, warmth spreads from her ears to her toes and she can feel her pussy gaping so tight around his fingers that it hurts. “s-smoke!” she whimpers shakily, tittering so close to the point of delirium.

“i feel it. let it go, annie. c’mon.” he coos, lowering his eyes to the slick that’s covering his hands from his fingers to knuckles.

it’s a beautiful mess between her thighs and he spreads her legs further to watch as he curls his fingers deeper, sliding and stretching until he’s knuckles deep into her g-spot. “elijah!” any restraint she attempted to maintain suddenly falls short; because she feels her orgasm pulling out of her almost immediately.

she spasms and writhes beneath him, tears fall wetly against her cheeks as she she clenches around the thickness of his fingers. “that’s it. fuck you look so pretty like this,” he slips his fingers out and used his thumb to lift her clitoris lip and teased the padding of his fingers against her sensitive nub. she whimpers again as she arched her hips and dragged her clit against his wet fingers. it’s a bit slippery and messy through his movements, but he still manages to implement enough friction to where she’s already feeling her second orgasm pulling through her body again.

“f-ffuck elijah.” her words are shaky and a few octaves shy of a whisper. she squeezes her eyes shut as she continued to thrust against his fingers. her chest constricts, pussy throbs achingly at his unrelenting onslaught. she cums again and this one it feels bigger than the first with watery liquid spilling out of her. she flutters her eyes open, blinking through the wetness that clung to her lashes and the bleariness that hindered her vision.

“you okay?” he questions, attentive in his aftercare as he gauged a look down at her.

she nods numbly, still dazed from the pleasure. smoke leans down and kisses her, allowing the taste of her arousal that he licked clean off of his fingers, to pass between their tongues. annie moans at the taste; feeling herself become wet at the filthiness of their intimacy.

smoke reached between his thighs and grabbed ahold of his dick; giving himself a few limp strokes until he’s fully rigid. he aligns himself at her entrance but instead of slipping inside of her, he teases himself against her — grinding his dick against her slicked folds.

he moans at the feeling of her cunt lapping repeatedly over his dick and how she leaves a sticky trail of residue of her arousal in her wake. “elijahhh!” she breathes ruggedly through a high whine, her eyes fluttering shut and her back bows at the delicious skin-to-skin contact. he rubbed the head of his dick against her swollen clitoris, dragging himself through her labia and against her entrance.

“i know.” he grunts in agreement. “just gettin’ you ready for me, baby.” smoke swipes his cockhead between her wet pussy lips and spams, choking on a guttural groan.

“yeah?” he asks as he rolled his hips against hers and nudged his dick against her clit again. her pussy throbs achingly, desperate to feel him inside of her. she nods vigorously, feeling tears prickle in her eyes again.

“yes.” she avers, hurried. desperate.

smoke nods at her plea and adjusts himself so that he’s angled at her entrance. he levels his pelvis and shifts his perched position between her thighs before slowly rolling his hips forward. annie’s eyes roll to the back of her head, her mouth slacks agape as she flutters tightly around his dick; still sensitive and swollen from her previous two orgasms.

smoke lowered his eyes and bit his lip as he watched his slow penetration — he’s mesmerized by the visual of how she stretches around the shape of him. she’s so wet that he slides in without any resistance. he rolls his hips against hers and slides through her slick — stuffing her full of his dick inch by inch. she trembles though her body easily adjusts to his intrusion. the pain is sharp but immediately dulls into unreciprocated pleasure that has her gripping at the sheets for support again.

smoke slides his hand over her pelvic bone and presses firmly against to hold her in place. then, in an agonizingly slow pace he’s thrusting himself inside of her again — choking on another groan as her pussy nearly suctions him in. he marvels at the sight of how she takes all eight inches of him without hesitation, at how full he feels being inside of her. he slides his hand over her stomach again; feeling the swell of his dick as it sits there buried deeply past her cervix. “you feel that?” he murmurs, pushing deeper until he’s buried so deeply that he’s pressed flush up against her thighs. “you take me so good, baby.” he praises, narrowing his eyes where he sees the bulge of his dick curved inside of her.

his dick twitches at the sight.

it always felt like annie’s body was made for his with how easily she accommodates to the stretch of him. she takes him without hesitation, filling herself full of his dick until she’s biting back another whimper. smoke holds himself there, pressing his hand deeper as he begins to slowly withdraw. “nnnggh,” she makes an incoherent noise in response, feeling the torturous drag of him sliding against her walls. “smoke!” he brushes another kiss against her lips, shaking through his own reprieve.

“shhh. it’s okay, i got you. fuck annie. so fuckin’ tight around my dick.” he mewls through clenched teeth, feeling the flutter of her chasing after his dick through his retraction. he pulls out halfway before he’s hurriedly brimming her to the hilt again and pressing down on her stomach. it’s such a lewd but pretty sight; his dick slipping out and reclaiming her in and out, in and out with the juices of her arousal drenching him every time he withdraws from the tightness of her swollen pussy. “been thinkin’ about this pussy for days. missed bein’ inside you. fuck, baby.”

she grinds into him meeting him thrust-for-thrusts, arching her hips off of the mattress as much as she could beneath smoke’s firm grip on her. it’s overwhelming — the feeling of him like this; in her belly, curved and brushing against her so perfectly that it has her eyes lining with tears again. he alters his pacing, now fucking himself into her with a hastened vigor.

“you take this dick like you made for it.” he says, rolling his hips against hers. their slick skin ricochets with every upthrust of his hips that meets hers, it’s suave and precise enough so that he’s perfectly hitting her hilt with every stroke. annie drew in a quick breath, her throat grows heavy, her teeth are gnawing at the plush skin on her bottom lip again. she could feel the ridges of his dick chafing against her cunt while he pressed heavily inside of her; he goes slower and drawls deeper, much to her delight, emphasizing his emotions with every downward circulation of his hips.

he reluctantly removes his hand from her stomach, in favor of reaching down to slide it beneath her calf. he hefts her right leg over his shoulder and leans forward a bit so the angle’s shifted. “you—f-feel so good!” he’s deeper than before and it’s almost primal at how he wants to feel her come undone for him. the sweat that’s gathered on his forehead is slick against her skin as he lowers his head and tucks his face in her neck. smoke rolls his hips and fucks into her with abandon, brushing his pelvis against hers until he’s seated inside of her again.

“right there!” annie cries in pleasure when he thrusts into her swiftly and lingered there for a bit. he felt her clench tightly around his dick at the movement.

“yeah, like that?”

“a-again!” she encourages, tossing her head back when he mimicked the move again, this time increasing the pleasure by pressing his thumb against her engorged clit. he’s nearly sprawled out across of her, hunched over in his position. his breathing is heavy and hot in her ear, his body’s shaking and burning against her.

“tell me this pussy is mine.” he rasps shakily, feeling every squeeze and tug that she warps around him. his muscles burn and ache from the exertion but his only focus is on making her cum.

“it’s yours, baby. only yours!” and annie swears she feels him get bigger at her praise; his dick twitches and swells in its girth and smoke curses filthily under his breath. he fucks her deeply into the mattress, the grip he’s got on her leg tightens as he rolls and thrusts his hips — fucking her deep and fast. “you’re the only one that makes me f-feel this good.”

she feels so damn good around him as she opens her body onto him. his jaw is slacked, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he watched himself prod deeper inside of her, penetrating her and filling her up to the brim.

then, she feels her breath catching and body seizing as she cums. the pressure erupts from her; fast and hard and she’s still throbbing through it as smoke’s dick continues its languid thrusts. he curses again, hand slips between her moist thighs finding her clit. he rubs attentively at the swollen nub and drags his hips against hers until he feels his orgasm following quickly behind hers. the pressure builds directly into his tip and he gives one last lazy thrust before he’s shuddering through his release.

he cums inside of her, thick and warm, still undulating his hips as he sees the fluid nearly spill out of her. smoke grunts as he fucks his cum back into her, watches it stretch and become almost frothy. his hips jerk again then he stills as his body nearly paralyzes from the overwhelming pleasure.

he breathes ruggedly as he pressed soft kisses against her sweaty skin. “i swear you gon’ be the death of me one day,” he says, rolling his hips lazily against her as the remnants of his orgasm milks out of him.

annie rolls her eyes fondly at him as she shakes her head. smoke kisses her thigh before reluctantly loosening his grip and lowering her leg back onto the bed. when his dick flaccids, he pulls out of her and falls beside her with a tired yawn. “i tire you out?” annie teases, shifting on the mattress so that she’s turned in his direction. he’s laid with his eyes closed and a lazy smirk curled on his lips.

he nods, “you always do.”

she smiles before shifting closer so that her head’s tucked on his shoulder. smoke maneuvers around so that he’s able to wrap his arm around her, pulling her closer into his embrace. “i missed you.”

smoke flutters his eyes open and looks down at her with a soft expression. “i missed you too, baby.” he murmurs, brushing his thumb over her cheek. he leans forward and kisses her, gently nudging his nose against hers.

“when you leavin’ again?” the question’s a soft whisper shared between them. her finger trails along his chest at the skin and muscle that’s there.

he shakes his head, sighing in a soft frustration. “i don’t know. we might have to go back up north to handle some left over business.” ever since him and stack had started running their schemes, they often split their time between here and up north as they acquired more business opportunities. sometimes the stretch of their journey took days, other times weeks and on occasions months. this last excursion was thankfully only a few days, but both of them had felt the longing of each other’s presence while smoke was gone.

“just make sure you’re safe and keep that mojo bag around your neck!”

he smiles as he nods his head. “yes ma’am.”

“i’m serious, elijah.” she remarks pointedly, though not moving away when he begins to kiss softly at her neck. “the shit you and stack been gettin’ into recently…it’s dangerous!”

“mhm…” he murmurs, now sucking at the spot of skin behind her ear as he brushes his thumb over her peaked nipple. he rolls his hips against hers, allowing her to feel the tautness of his dick that had seemingly erected again. “you feel what you do to me? just the thought of bein’ inside you again gets me fuckin’ hard.”

“you ain’t listenin’ to me.”

“i’m listenin’ baby, i promise.” he slides his mouth over hers in a deep kiss before he’s rolling onto his back. he bites his lip as he looked at her debauched appearance. she looked like she got fucked and smoke was getting more hard as he stared at creamy fluid of his cum slipping between her thighs and folds. he gestures a hand towards her. “c’mere.”

“elijah…”

“you ride and i’ll listen.”

she wants to scold him for not taking her warnings seriously, but he’s giving her that signature boyish smile of his and it has her shaking her head and rolling her eyes fondly as she sits upright and crawls over to him. she straddles his waist, bracketing her legs on the sides of him. her wetness drags up smoke’s thighs as she adjusts her perch.

annie arches her hips and back as she rolls her hips forward, catching smoke’s tip at her entrance. she’s then reaching in between their bodies and levitating herself off of his lap just enough so that she’s grabbing ahold of him. both of their eyes lower, watching in heed as she lined him at her entrance. she arches her hips again before lowering herself down onto him — refilling herself of his dick.

“oh, fuck!” smoke groaned, his hands steadying their grip on her waist. he’s buried in the heat of her again, trapped in that familiar warmth and tightness that already has him half dazed.

[lifeisyoung4everyone]

ZAYNE DOMESTIC HEADCANONS

PART 2

cw: suggestive +18 below cut!!!

Zayne who, when he doesn’t want to read research articles to get you asleep- due to how monotonous and tedious they get- instead reads ‘The Little Prince’ to you. Sometimes to tease you he turns the book and points to the picture like he’s reading it to a little kid or something. If you react with a warning paw to his arm he’ll respond with a breathy chuckle.

Zayne who always steals a sip of your drink with your straw when you’re out on a lunch date. Will tell you that a variety of liquids is good for the diet if you call him out.

Zayne who responds to the doodles you make on the calendar hung on his kitchen wall with his own snowman doodles. You can tell there’s a lot of love behind them but certainly also a lazily held pen (which you’ll allow since he does these very early in the morning before work). Other times he’ll just respond with comments like “oh really?” to the nonsense you write and graffiti on that thing.

Zayne who enjoys all kinds of sweet cold treats but always has some classic Magnum ice creams in his freezer drawer because it’s a reliable choice. He can’t nag you and will just give a touché happy sigh about any sort of snacks you store next to his beloved Magnums: it’s your checkmate.

Zayne who has a small potted plant in the desk of his office. He’s never really went too long without watering it, but ever since you’ve put a plant poke with a cute little character to give company to his plant, he’s never been more motivated to water it. It certainly adds a bit of you to his space, and he has the habit of stroking the little plant’s leaves in caress when he thinks of you during work.

Zayne who packs your bag for uni or work if he knows you’ll be too busy to attend to it until the morning or if you’ve dozed off already.

Zayne who readjusts your sleeping positions with the most gentle hands, otherwise he can’t be soothed to continue doing anything else. He gets prickles on his back just to think about you waking up with a hurting back.

Zayne who feels contentment he can’t describe when he slides his closet door open and opens the shallow little accessory drawer, and finds your jewellery in a specialised velvet tray and his prescription glasses on the other end.

Zayne who because of you, has a little egg timer resemblant of a chicken to help out when he cooks. He used to just use alarms on his phone, but ever since your silly little gift, he won’t use anything else. The first thing he did when he found the incongruous little chicken character was ask if you if it had a name.

Zayne who picked up your little habit of storing socks as little balls. When you’re both sat on the bed balling up his and your socks, he’ll grab one like a snowball and boop it to the side of your cheek.

Zayne who when he sees you really sluggish coming out the shower, will get you dressed and have you sit cross-legged on the edge of the bed mattress as he stands and dries your hair with the hairdryer.

Zayne who once put your soiled slippers in the washing machine while you slept before leaving for work in a really early dark winter morning. He kissed your hand and jotted down a little note on the bedside table for you to use his slippers instead, which were faced outwards from where you’d naturally put your feet to get up from bed.

Zayne who has a regime with you of cutting and peeling fruits for each other back and forth. Once outdid you by making his orange to you look like a water lily, knowing and having schemed that you couldn’t do anything more creative. The bastard. All your oranges from henceforth were like that, to rub it in your face with the excuse of vitamin D. Yeah right. You’ll get him.

Zayne who involuntarily (or voluntarily, who knows) flusters you when removing your underwear from the plastic peg rack. Upon meeting your dazzled face, holds the cloth almost touching the side of his cheek.“Should I not take this garment to face value?”

[6esiree]

𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠—𝐎𝐫 𝐈𝐬 𝐈𝐭?

“What are you thankful for?”

That question followed Alastor into the afterlife, pestering him, instilling a sense of bitterness in his soul that festered with each passing Thanksgiving. What did he have to express true, genuine thanks for? The unfathomable amount of souls at his complete and utter servitude? The fear and respect of thousands of sinners that he’d garnered with his own power? Those were merely things he derived satisfaction from and thus made his life in Hell more bearable.

But that satisfaction he felt when he managed to secure another soul through his manipulative and conniving nature, when he effortlessly contorted a random sinner’s joyous expression with fear through a meager flash of his razor-sharp teeth, was always short-lived. And so he couldn’t quite express his thanks over something he’d either grown accustomed to or temporarily pleased him, not when they mostly served to keep him occupied and sometimes even sane.

Alastor was lonely, but his pride refused to acknowledge that little fact, including the inherent desire he had to have a companion of some sorts, which his dear mother’s departure had unknowingly fostered in his lonely heart. And while he never craved the kind of love society prescribed as normal, the same one that left him feeling rather overwhelmed like a sickeningly sweet slice of pumpkin pie, he did unconsciously gravitate towards you.

You were almost a century apart, so the time, the generations separating you and Alastor, should have made you incompatible. But the captivating nature of your maternalistic tendencies allowed him to overcome that, to shrug off the senseless little comments or jokes you tossed his way, their meaning all but lost to the era he had strictly confined himself to because then, he could bask in what he had longed for since his sins sentenced him to an eternity away from his mother.

His favorite moments with you were soft and domestic, which was a strange revelation in itself. He usually thrived off of tormenting others, exacerbating their anger, misery, or whatever negative emotion was plaguing their minds. But when it came to you, the only thing he was able to muster was a teasing, sarcastic remark, or a mere jab at whatever you’d failed to do… only to assist you the moment the corners of your lips threatened to fall and spoil your angelic features.

“Come on, Al, I thought you were better than this,” You chided him as you shamelessly smoothened the creases on his dress shirt, but the playful glint behind your eyes communicated your true sentiments. “It’s Thanksgiving, we all have to look our absolute best!”

“Need I remind you that I could not care less about this holiday? It’s frivolous,” Alastor scoffed, his back stiffening as your palm inched closer to his heart, which was hammering away at his ribcage. “I’ve better things to do with my time than to indulge in senseless gluttony.”

You lowered your hand, a smile stretching across your face. You had managed to tame most of the creases on his dress shirt with a meager pat down, and while that satisfied you, so did the sight of Alastor wearing something that wasn’t overtly conservative for the first time since you came to the Hazbin Hotel. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and though his neck was still obscured by that ridiculously high collar of his, the sight of his skin did wonders to you.

But you only allowed yourself to appreciate his arms for a bit, your eyes flitting back up to meet that sharp gaze of his that most typically shied away from. It was cold, unnerving, and when he was feeling particularly ruffled, it could leave one cowering in fear, but the way he looked at you right now was entirely opposed to all of that. The subtle crinkling in the corners of his eyes reminded you of the affection he came to regard you with as you became friends.

“I think you’re just saying that because Charlie invited Lucifer to dinner,” You pointed out, and the sour look that overcame his sharp features confirmed your suspicions. “But if it helps you feel any better, you look… nice. Yeah, nice. I think you could even rival the King of Hell.”

“Well, I must say that it’s strange to see you in anything but oversized clothes,” Alastor hummed, his head falling slightly to the side as he pretended to scrutinize your outfit, but the snort he let out betrayed him. “You’re much smaller than I imagined you’d be.”

“Hey, I’m not small, you’re just freakishly tall!” You gasped as you put your hands on your hips, feigning offense, but he was unmoved by your act. “I was going to include you in my list of things I’m thankful for this year, but you know what? I take that back.”

“Oh, now that’s just cruel,” Alastor shook his head, placing a clawed-hand over his heart and pretending to be wounded. “I don’t believe you’re being quite fair—you don’t mean to exclude me from your thanks over a mere observation, do you? Come now, my dear, have mercy on me!”

A laugh seeped past your lips, one that was very much joyous and carefree that for the first time since his mother passed away, for the first time since he started what he thought would be an endless existence filled with death, destruction, and loneliness, a sense of gratitude flourished in his chest. The usually stiff smile on his face faltered as a strange mixture of affection and trepidation over the revelation that was unearthed by an innocent little sound overcame him.

Alastor stared down at you, struggling to maintain his composure, to keep his newfound feelings hidden beneath a facade of nonchalance, but the way your skin flared up only worsened the internal battle you had unconsciously waged against his heart. You were weak, powerless, your own affairs concerned with the well-being of those you held dearly to you rather than securing souls and climbing up Hell’s hierarchy, yet he still somehow managed to admire you.

“I guess you’re right,” You eventually said, dropping your hands from your hips to shrug, completely and utterly oblivious to his feelings. “But it’s common courtesy to say ‘thank you’ or return the compliment, you know—oh, and you can’t pull the ‘Well, back in my day,’ card.”

“As insulted as I feel right now, you’re correct,” Alastor huffed, but he clasped his hands behind his back and bent down to be at level with you. “But thank you! I, too, think I look quite nice. Though in my defense,” He continued with a wicked grin, “You are rather… fun-sized.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, pretending to be unamused by his comment. But you quickly found yourself turning away from him in an attempt to hide the overwhelming urge you had to laugh… including the twinge of disappointment you felt at his refusal to compliment you. He had done that intentionally, Alastor was no idiot. But you didn’t know that he had intentionally avoided to compliment you to not acknowledge how beautiful you truly looked tonight.

Alastor wasn’t one to admire others based on their physical appearances, but the relationship you had built overtime inspired an appreciation towards the little things that made you, well, you. The subtle dips that formed in the swell of your cheeks when you smiled, the way your lips pushed forward when you became absorbed in something—he grew hyperaware of everything and anything you did, and so he also became skilled in gauging what you truly felt.

Maybe one day he’d summon up the courage to appreciate you and your beauty, to express how thankful he was that whatever sins you’d committed, God deemed you worthy of an afterlife filled with misery and despair that he was able to meet you. But for now, he decided to reach for your elbow and stop you in your tracks, effortlessly maneuvering your smaller form so you were facing him. He placed his other hand on your cheek, urging you to meet his piercing gaze.

“I suppose you have every right to be unfair, my statement was uncalled for,” Alastor gently told you, his thumb affectionately swiping across your cheekbone. “But if it helps you feel any better, I will include you in the otherwise nonexistent list I had for that of which I’m thankful for.”

Your lashes fluttered against your cheek, surprised at the words he chose to offer you. And though that was not what you thought he would tell you upon snatching your arm, you were not disappointed. For two years straight, Alastor avoided the question Charlie asked each and every resident on Thanksgiving: ‘What are you thankful for?’ So, for him to tell you such a thing surely sent your heart in a flurry of excitement, and anticipation for the future, even.

“Well, if you say that at the table,” You started, your hand coming up to rest over his on your cheek. “I’ll consider being merciful.” Alastor’s breath hitched, but you couldn’t tell whether he was shocked at your statement or the way you intertwined your fingers with his.

[angelickks]

lion request where reader finally convinces him to stop fighting and let stan go and they end up opening that dry cleaning business tg 💔💔💔💔💔

PRESS  N'  FOLD                                       lion  kaminski

angel  talks               ugh  MY  SWEET  BOY.  yes  1000x  yes  bcuz  he  so  deserves  the  world.  just  smtn  short  n  sweet  and  all  fluff + like one swear word

#NAV.ᐟ jack o’connell mlist

THE SHOP SMELLED LIKE LAVENDER AND WARM COTTON BY NOON.

Lion was at the front counter, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, eyes squinting at the instruction manual for the new tagging machine. His brow was furrowed in that helpless, boyish way he got when something had more than two buttons.

You watched him from your perch atop the folding station, sipping your coffee and trying very hard not to swoon over the way his forearms flexed every time he fiddled with the machine.

“Sweetheart,” he said without looking up, “if you’re laughing at me, I will make you re-tag all the sports jackets.”

You smiled into your cup. “You’ve been reading the same page for ten minutes.”

“It’s a badly written manual. Not my fault.”

You set your drink down and hopped off the counter, walking over to him slowly, socked feet silent on the linoleum tile. Lion looked up just in time for you to tug the manual out of his hands and toss it gently onto the counter.

“I don’t need a manual,” you said, rising up onto your toes. “I’ve got you.”

Lion’s grin bloomed like something warm and syrupy. His big hands immediately settled on your waist, pulling you in close until your chest met his, your nose bumped his chin, and all the air between you tasted like dryer sheets and something sweeter.

“Yeah?” he murmured. “That why you keep me around?”

“Well, that and the fact you do the ironing like a total pro,” you teased.

“I take my wrinkles seriously.”

You hummed, fingers lazily brushing the nape of his neck. “Mmm. That’s not the only thing you take seriously.”

Lion leaned in, eyes fluttering closed as he pressed the softest kiss to your temple. “I take you seriously.”

You melted like fabric softener under hot water.

It still caught you off guard sometimes—how gentle he could be. For a man built like a brick wall with fists that used to end fights in minutes, he kissed like he had all the time in the world. Touched you like porcelain. Loved you like it was the only thing he’d ever been good at.

And maybe now, it was.

Because he’d done it. He’d left the ring. Let Stan go. Hung up his gloves and traded in his bruises for warm loads of laundry and a little dry-cleaning shop that only had one broken machine so far.

“Hey,” you whispered against his chest, “you ever think about how weird this all is?”

“What, us?”

“No,” you laughed. “I mean… yeah. Yes. Definitely us. But more like… this. Here. Now. You, me, this shop. Like—we own a steamer now. That’s unhinged.”

Lion chuckled, resting his chin on your head. “We also own fifty wire hangers and five boxes of starch.”

“Major business owner shit.”

“Undisputed champions of clean collars,” he agreed solemnly.

You giggled and pulled back just enough to look up at him, hands still looped behind his neck. His face was open, soft, completely unguarded. You could read everything in it—how much he adored you. How content he was. How settled.

“I love you, Lion.”

You never had to say it first, but you always wanted to.

He touched his forehead to yours. “Love you more, baby.”

You stayed there for a while, swaying slightly in each other’s arms to a song that wasn’t playing, the hum of a nearby dryer filling the silence like background music in a quiet domestic daydream.

Eventually, Lion kissed your nose and muttered, “We should probably finish that drop-off order. The one with all the silk scarves?”

You sighed dramatically. “You mean the mountain of delicate hand wash? The pile that haunts my dreams?”

“Exactly.”

You groaned, “You promised me donuts if I made it through.”

He grinned. “I’ve got Boston creams in the fridge. Bribery remains a foundational part of our relationship.”

“Thank god,” you said, already walking toward the back. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

From behind you, you heard: “You got with me for the discount detergent, admit it.”

“I got with you for the folded laundry, actually.”

“Even better.”

And there, in the middle of a shop that smelled like lavender and fresh starts, Lion Kaminski slipped a donut into your hand, kissed powdered sugar off your cheek, and smiled like a man who’d finally figured out what love was supposed to feel like.

It was this. Not a fight. Not the win.

It was clean sheets and sleepy mornings and someone to press your shirts. It was silk scarves and shared toothbrush cups. It was softness.

It was you.

[silentcryracha]

❍ ‗ Showering with Bang Chan ‗ ❍

Pairing : Bang Chan x f reader

Summary : chapter one of a cute standalone miniseries. It's what it says in the title

Genre/ Warnings : scenario/imagine/headcanon, drabble, nudity and suggestive themes involved but no smut fluff, literally ONE angst word, domestic!, channie best boyfriend idc

Word count : 500

A/n : none

ps: There could be grammar errors. Do NOT repost on other socials. Leave feedback if you feel like it, otherwise enjoy! ♡︎

masterlist

series masterpost

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Imagine showering with Chan. It could either go very chill or very *exciting*. Usually starts with the first and follows with the second BUT- just in general it would be such an intimate time. The possibilities are endless to be honest.

You came to a certain point in your relationship in which you were a hundred percent comfortable with each other. And most importantly loved doing things for each other!

"Can you massage in the conditioner for me?" "Of course baby"

You'd both help the other, moving your hands up and down each other's bodies, often giving small massages and relaxing the tense muscles. Chan especially just melts whenever you touch him, two of his favorite spots bing his neck and shoulders.

"Oh my Gosh that hurts so good" he whines as your fingers work his aching neck, basically turned marble from being bent over a laptop all day.

"It hurts or it's nice, which one is it?" you tease him, chuckling. He groans slightly, almost too gone to even answer.

"Shush. Mmh, both. I don't know, just keep going" his head first leaning forward then back, almost touching your shoulder.

You'd relax together, getting all soapy and wet under the hot water. Sometimes just lazily hugging and making out, losing track of time.

"We should get out, it's getting so hot I think I may pass out" you murmur against his swollen lips. He starts kissing your neck instead, humming.

"You flatter me too much" it takes you a second to let sink in what he just said, but when it did, you lightly slapped his naked shoulder, snorting a laugh.

"Stupid" he smiled, chuckling cheekily, and you could literally feel it on your skin.

Sometimes it was a matter of saving time instead of having fun, though. Maybe one morning you were both running late so while he was shaving you were also shaving, or washing your hair. Or vice versa honestly.

And other times again you even had small arguments while showering. Nothing really major because it wasn't exactly appropriate to pour out your feelings while being literally naked and wet, but a few times it did happen.

It usually either ended up being interrupted and finishing once you were both dry and ready to go at each other, or literally be the calming moment you needed to clear things up.

"I'm sorry if i was an asshole earlier" he rests his forehead on the nape of your neck, wrapping his arms around you. You sigh, placing your hands on his jointed ones.

"I know you're very stressed" you start, turning your head to the side searching for his, "But thanks for the apology nonetheless"

"I love you", he nuzzled his nose on your cheek.

"I love you too" you pecked him on the lips as a confirmation you forgave him.

Anyways lots of cuddles and massages and kisses and stuff!! Chan king of caring for his partner 100% <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[sxprot]

KISS ME, KISS ME WITH YOUR EYES CLOSED!!

Sprout X Toon!reader (romantic)

--> Also enjoy random hcs, may be ooc lol as we don't know much about their lore. Thanks to all the writers that wrote about Sprout, ily and you all are my biggest inspiration/p

TW: nothing, just fluff or full of lies, bad grammar since my first language aint english, Reader is gn, idk how to write. This is before the ichor infection

--------

At first, when you are created, you weren't known and never been paid attention by the children and adults. Much to say that you're quite a distant type, even though there's a lot of Toons that's wandering around.

And yet, when your popularity has risen, you haven't found yourself talking to any main cast for long. Any attempts of them trying to strike up a conversation with you, only to be left with disappointment as they received nothing but merely a small talk.

Though, you feel close to common Toons, often seen chatting with them and helping their problems, you were known for your friendliness, of course.

And that seems to catch a Toon's attention!

Now now, first of all, he already saw you! Yes, you are well-known by the audiences, everyone adores you, even bought your merchs, plushies.

But he didn't get a chance to talk to you properly, noticing the way you seem to withdraw from the limelight, even when others tried to talk, you just smile and help their problems, later to be found disappearing after you're done.

So honestly! After getting a chance to meet you, it wasn't any better, actually! Even with a simple baking lesson, Sprout feels a bit awkward. And you, already feeling the anxiety building up inside your chest, only to nod sheepishly when Cosmo asked you.

Exchanging around with many waves and small gesture, you found yourself staying until Sprout left(had to, since Cosmo asked him so). You even go and gasp about it, to which your swirl roll friend shrugs, patting your back as a way to comfort.

And yet, Cosmo insists on inviting you two again to taste out his cookies as a way to get along. Many things has happened, along with your feelings for him.

-----

Okay, onto hcs...

Yk, Cosmo do thinks that you needs to make more friends, actually more like getting along with other main characters. He also thinks this as a good opportunity to lets Sprout makes another friend!

I also thought of Sprout faling first, often asking his friend Cosmo for advices on how to impress you, to which he said that Sprout should focus on being himself. Or maybe starting off with cupcakes and cookies...

The strawberry toon sometimes finds himself in his own reverie, thinking about you accepting his confession...Oh, and some domestic moments as a couple as he took care of you...with his sweet, small little love.

That one time when he was chatting with Cosmo, he suddenly saw you with Boxten interacting with each other. If you noticed his gaze and wave at him, he'd be smiling and returning the gesture back! But sometimes, Sprout would trip and hit the wall when he didn't snap out of his daze.

Imagining him confessing his love with cupcakes. The way Sprout would spent his time decorating it, writing in red frosting about him loving you. And if you accept it, he would be surpised and so happy to see you—happily agreeing to be his partner. He was in cloud nine!

"Thank you." He would said, staring at you with such fondness.

Overprotective, really. Golly, even a small boo-boos could makes him a tad bit worried! How did you managed to get yourself in such state? He would ask and tend your wounds, gentle and slow, simply reminding you to be more careful.

Matching bracelets! You, Sprout and Cosmo would made a matching bracelet for each others, haha.

Of course, you are also the first one to taste his baking, and also the first to witness the chaos when he forgot to turns off the oven, leaving the scene for you both to clean.

I hc Sprout also likes to tease you, like imagining him holding a cookie, alright? He would ask you to open your mouth and say "Aaaaaa" as he slowly twirl(?) his hand like an airplane that's flying.

"Stop it, Sprout! I'm not a kid." "Oh, come on, it's fun!"

Also, like the feeling of him planting kisses on your face? After a long day, he would like to kiss you with a content smile on his face, then yapping about his day.

He is just happy that you're his, and that he's yours. He's forever grateful for have meeting you, for you that's always patient with him, for you that's always there with him. Mwah :)

Oml, sorry if it's too ooc. I'm not a professional at dating nor any romantic...gesture? So writing them out was hard.

[l1ndseyper3z]

Gallavich headcanons cause I'm tweaking out about them

- mickey loves bands (basically confirmed in 1-07 cause of the radiohead shirt) and the first time he heard I Love You by Fontaines all he could think about was ian so that's basically their song to him

- mickey runs cold, ian runs hot

- I kinda get the vibe that after a while Terry's death actually started fucking with Mickey kinda in the way Monica's death fucked with Ian. it made mickey get kinda clingy but Ian didn't mind

- in s5 when Ian broke up with Mickey. it was 100% self destruction, he'd seen Monica and didn't want to drag Mickey into what he thought he was destined to be

- ian calls mickey baby and anyone who teases mickey about it gets threatened cause mickeys a softie who will never admit it

- although Mama Milkovich canon is unclear, I think she died somewhere in season 1 after being ill for a while. it definitely fucked with mickey and I believe that's why he ended up hooking up with ian. he thought because she was gone he had no reason to live and was just winging life. he was definitely close with her

- some songs that make them think of each other are Arms Length - Sam Fender, Open Wide - Inhaler, The Craving - Twenty One Pilots.

- they're such girl dads this is not up for discussion

- I think they end up having one kid, a girl. mandys the surrogate and she basically ends up being mickey with red hair

- mickeys a big Eminem fan cause I said so and once he has his daughter mockingbird RUINS him

- I imagine the first time Mickey held his daughter he literally just sat there for hours in awe and all the Gallaghers were just like woah ian you've managed to break mickey what the hell

- they're such good dads

- if their kid ended up with bipolar they'd deal with it so well

- honestly they're the ones most likely to break the cycle

- ian is generally clingier but mickey doesn't mind. he actually quite likes it (although he'll never admit that out loud)

- ian fell first, mickey fell infinitely harder

- mickey gets quite emotional sometimes, I mean you saw how much he cried over ian. I think finally coming to terms with all the shit he went through hit him like a truck around the time terry died

- ian is big spoon

- cause they're little domestic bitches one of their favourite things is ian reading a book while mickey naps on him or next to him and ian messes with his hair with his free hand

- people act like they don't engage in pda but they TRADEMARKED pda

- mickeys too possessive to not like pda

- mickey and debbie plus ian and mandy. lethal

- ian loves seeing mickey fit into the family. family's a massive thing for the Gallaghers so seeing mickey blend right in makes ians heart melt

- ALSO seeing mickey do anything domestic like laundry or shit makes ian horny just saying

- mickeys scent 100% grounds ian. it's what he was around at the peak of his bipolar and it brings so much comfort to him

- hence why they share clothes so much

- mickey just likes robbing all ians shit cause why not and ian loves smelling mickey

- going back to if they had a bipolar teenage daughter mickeys literally the best dad ever

- needs a day off school cause shes struggling? absolutely let me call them.

- she feels like shit? come here we'll get comfy on the couch and watch a movie

- doesn't wanna take her medication? talk to me about it, tell me why and I'll explain why you should, we can try new stuff if you need it

- mickey hated ians black hair

- after they banged in prison for the first time they were lay there and mickey just went "why u not a redhead anymore? you look like a fucking idiot"

- part of him being such a good dad is because of terry but also because he's genuinely a gentle person deep down and it just took security and comfort to bring that out. plus he wants to make his mum proud

- everytime ian sees mickey with their daughter he just like falls into a puddle on the floor

- they visit Monica's grave every year. mickey doesn't really like her but he wants to make sure ian stays connected to her

- same with mickeys mum, they visit her a lot

- everytime they go into the Kash n Grab when they're in the southside they just giggle. it's so goofy to them now

- they see Jimmy Steve's dad out somewhere one time and they're both like 😦😦😦

- they're such bad influences

- always up to some dumb shit

- basically they're all of our parents and I love my sillies

[silverynight]

Perfect team

Izuku wakes up as he feels lips against the back of his neck, pressing lightly. He grins as the kisses move down towards his shoulders, lips making sure to press all over his freckles.

"Good morning, Izuku."

He can hear the smile on Katsuki's face, even if he's not looking at him at the moment. His boyfriend seems happier now; he was content before, but his eyes started shining the brightest after he gave Izuku the hero suit.

An expensive suit that has helped him fulfill his dream. Izuku is a pro hero now, after more than eight years of graduating from the UA, after the war. And all thanks to Katsuki's efforts.

He knows he won't be able to repay him for what he had done for him.

A couple of tears escape from his green eyes, as Katsuki gently turns him around with an adoring smile on his face.

"I know what you're thinking," the blond pro hero grins, rubbing their noses together as he wipes Izuku's tears off with his thumb. "You know the only thing I want in return is your happiness. I want you to be happy and I want you to stay by my side."

That's why they started dating really; Izuku was crying a couple of days after getting the suit, insisting he needed to give him something in return, despite Katsuki saying a couple of times he didn't want anything.

And then he had confessed, saying the only thing he wanted was a chance to court Izuku, to woo him, to make him fall in love with him.

But Izuku assured him he already did, and now they live together.

"You know I'd do anything for you," Katsuki whispers then, but the devotion in his voice and eyes is loud somehow, like he can't hide it, even if wanted to.

Izuku already knows this. The things that happened during the war and the eight years after have made it clear for him. For everyone.

Bakugo Katsuki is in love with him. But even those words don't sound like they're enough to describe what he feels.

"Yes, I do know, Kacchan," he giggles as his boyfriend kisses the scar on his right cheek and the freckles on the left. "I love you too."

The blond pro hero practically purrs, triumphant smirk quirking up the corners of his lips. Katsuki looks like it's the best day of his life, and Izuku can't help but smile fondly at him in return.

"I'll make breakfast."

"You don't have to..."

"I want to."

Izuku grins before kissing Katsuki's forehead; the blond rises from the bed before heading towards the bathroom.

They have early patrol... together, so they better hurry up.

He finds Katsuki in the kitchen almost an hour later; they're both ready. They're wearing civilian clothes now because they leave their suits in the agency.

They eat pancakes that morning as they talk about their friends and work; it's easy to be himself around Katsuki ever since he apologized back in high school, and Izuku has always been grateful for it.

They know each other better than anyone, that's why their relationship feels so natural and right.

They still argue, but they always know how to fix it. Besides, those "fights" are what keep helping them learn how to communicate better.

Katsuki grins a lot now; he smiles softly around Izuku and carries that expression on his face and that sentiment in his chest way after they start their shift. His friends tease him about it, and Izuku finds it absolutely endearing.

They all can tell how much Katsuki enjoys their domestic life; he likes to cook meals for the both of them and even enjoys when they stay home, cleaning their apartment.

Izuku does it too, although he sometimes finds it hard to believe.

He's living with Katsuki now, as his partner in more ways than one, and he's absolutely happy about it.

"I'm going to marry you."

Izuku blushes to the tip of his ears, even though Katsuki says that a lot lately. He doesn't ask and he doesn't hesitate; it's like he knows how this will end, or perhaps how it will start for the both of them.

Izuku wants that too, even though he has told him they should wait a bit anyway.

Katsuki doesn't mind waiting, he has said it a couple of times already.

"You'll be my husband."

"And you'll be mine, Kacchan."

Katsuki's eyes glimmer at that, because he knows it's different now and Izuku blushes in response again.

He knows Katsuki will propose to him soon, and he can't wait for that to happen.

They wash the dishes before getting out. And Katsuki reaches out to him before they walk towards his bike; he loves to hold Izuku's hand a lot now, and Izuku is really happy to indulge him.

They're a team now.

[notjustjavierpena]

The Making of Ellie - Part I: Baby-Making

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This DILF!Joel piece has rotted my brain for 24 hours straight. I have had absolutely no break from thinking about this, and it’s never been easier to write something.

Summary: A look into how you and Joel’s relationship is going two years in. Joel’s POV on his never-ending love for you and his extreme baby fever.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (MDNI!), Joel’s POV, domesticated Joel Miller, Sarah makes an appearance!!!, tooth-rotting love and fluff, they’re crazy about each other, talk about birth control and ovulation, pussy eating (joel is a cunning linguist), fingering, bit of praise kink, dirty talk, bit of body worship, breeding kink, daddy kink (if you squint real hard), slow and sensual piv sex, intense orgasms, creampie, God they are in love

Word count: 4k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49183051

Song inspiration(!!!): Too Lost In You by Sugababes

Baby-Making

Joel comes home from work around the same time each day now — and it’s never after dinner time. He has made it his mission to make time for Sarah and you, cut down work since you moved in, because two working adults living in the house means that he can slow things down. 

His health has improved, his mood too, his fatigue has practically gone and Sarah has had more time to just be a kid, started playing soccer again, and has even taken up coaching the little league team now that she’s 16. It’s good for him. You are good for him. For both of them. 

He loves it. He takes the afternoon post-work ritual very seriously. Always texts if he should pick something up from the grocery store. Sometimes brings you flowers too, remembering that one time you’d said that you didn’t actually mind the cheap cellophane-wrapped bouquets. 

It’s interesting to him how natural it feels for him to slip right into domestic bliss with you because he never thought that he would get there again after Sarah’s mother. On top of it, he never considered himself a gentle thing, but after you, it’s like you kiss the calluses of him away. He is nothing but gentle now, even in his roughness. 

He throws the keys onto the side table by the front door after arriving home, shrugs off his jacket, and bends down to take off his boots. The sound makes you appear in the doorway. Joel notices that you’ve changed into gray sweatpants and a tank top with a strawberry on it since arriving home, basically removed anything from you that is professional and uncomfortable. Joel loves you like this because he is the only one who gets to enjoy you like this; relaxed and beautiful, hair in a messy bun on top of your head and fuzzy socks on your always-cold feet. He smiles at your radiance, then pads across the floor to kiss you hello. 

There’s something in your eyes; a flicker of mischief as you grab his wrist to look at his watch. With a grin that nearly sets his heart into overdrive, you hold his hand up so he can look at the time too. 

“It’s five minutes past,” you tut.

“Right, but I got ya something,” he says, reluctantly turning away from you to rummage through his jacket pocket. He fishes out a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup and you immediately snatch it from his hands, holding it close to your chest.

“Gremlin,” he teases and you stick out your tongue at him, “No needa hide it. ‘S too sweet for me anyway.” 

“I shall save it for later then,” you walk to the kitchen and open the top cabinet that holds the mugs. You stand on your toes to reach into the very back, shirt riding up just a little, and stash the chocolate cup for later consumption.  

“Hidden from Sa-rah, the candy thief,” you purposely pronounce her name wrong for dramatic purposes. Then you lower yourself onto the soles of your feet again, not bothering to pull your top down again. Joel watches the slight reveal of the dimples on your back.

“Right,” he chuckles. 

Dear Lord, he loves you so much that it is ridiculous. In a way that makes the future look better than it ever has because it’s no longer filled with uncertainty. He knows what’s going to happen; he’ll build a house for the three of you, he’ll marry you in the Texan spring and he’ll give you as many babies as you want. He’d do it all today if he could. 

“How was work?” You interrupt his thoughts by wrapping your soft hands around the nape of his neck, resting them there. You have rosy cheeks, feel warm against his skin, with love radiating from your fingertips. 

“Good, told Tommy to handle the next few clients. Some hotshot guy comin’ into the office tomorrow,” Joel tells you, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you closer. He thinks that you don’t actually care about any of this, but there’s no indication of boredom on your face.

“He building a castle or something?” You ask. 

“Somethin’ like that. Guy’s filthy rich but not from his own doin’, looking at blueprints at the end of the week. Should be interesting,” he continues, “Not that you care about that.”

“I do actually like hearing about your job,” you kiss him on the lips, peck them repeatedly until he cannot help himself and lifts you up to hug you tight. His arms rest along your back and his hands on your sides, fingers sprawled out underneath where your bra had been in the morning. You must’ve taken it off too. He loves you comfortable. 

“You just love my hands,” he retorts, nose against your cheek, “Don’t deny it. I see right through ya.”

“It’s definitely not completely wrong,” you admit when he sets you down again.

You walk back to the kitchen, too tempted by the knowledge of what is in your kitchen cabinet. You only take half, proclaiming some bullshit that you have to watch out for your blood sugar since one can never know when it’s going to get you.

Joel rolls his eyes, following you, “I can give ya some sugar.”

“Joel Miller!” You pretend to look shocked. He tastes the peanut butter in your mouth, pushes you against the counter. 

“Gross,” a teenage girl’s voice says.

“Oh right, Sarah’s home,” you announce sheepishly.

Joel pulls away to look at his daughter, “Hey kiddo. How was school?”

“You don’t care about that,” she smirks, “But if you must know, it was fine. No homework.” 

“That don’t sound like Mrs. uhhh…”

“Green, it’s Ms. Green, Dad,” Sarah says dramatically as she moves across the floor to put on shoes. Her tone turns taunting, “Go ahead and make out with your girlfriend. I’m going to soccer practice.”

“Have fun, Sarah! We’ll have dinner ready,” you chime in. 

“See ya, honey.”

The door closes behind her. The house grows quiet for a moment, but then the mischief is back in your eyes, “She’s seeing a boy.”

Joel nearly gets whiplash, not sure why his pulse spikes. He trusts his daughter to make good decisions and has taught her how since she was just a baby, “Nah, she ain’t. Just said she’s going to soccer practice.”

“Joel,” you sigh loudly, “It’s Tuesday.”

“So?”

“She has practice on Thursdays.” 

“Christ,” he runs a hand over his stubble, tries to keep his composure, and ignores the urge to send her a text. 

“But you know what?” You’re back in his personal space, tugging at his arms to make him hold you close again, “Such a fun coincidence. I’m also seeing a boy.”

Joel can feel the tension seeping out of him in an instant.

“Really? ‘Cause I’m seein’ a girl. She’s real pretty,” he wishes that he could show his past self how tooth-rottingly sweet he is being with you because he’d hate it. Though if past-Joel found out who he was treating like this, he’d instantly become a goner just like present-Joel is now. 

“‘S her sweet tooth, unhinged behavior that I love the most though,” he continues. 

You whine in his arms, lean your head back and it earns you a kiss on your neck, “Don’t be like that. Not when I’m ovulating. I’ll climb you like a tree.”

Oh.

Oh.

It may seem innocent but Joel knows this is how you play dirty. It suddenly explains a lot. The sweatpants, the rosy cheeks, the way you glow, no bra, the cravings, why Joel wants you so bad.

Joel wouldn’t say that he is controlled by biology, and he hates the men trying to argue their way out of acting like cavemen. But looking at you right now in your stupid strawberry tank top, knowing that you’re horny and ready because your body wants to make him a daddy... Joel’s head swims. 

Something shifts in the air. You can see it on him, but Joel assumes that you wait for him to act on whatever is bubbling up in his chest and below his belt.

And act, he does. He distracts you with deep, long kisses until he can snatch you up from the ground and carry you upstairs. You squeak out a giggle but don’t fight back, enjoying the freedom of being alone with him.

“That’s why you’re so fucking sexy,” Joel says after placing you on your shared bed. He is already shedding himself of his shirt, undressing hurriedly to get close to your skin with his own as quickly as possible.

You crawl back on the bed, untying the strings of your sweatpants and yanking them down your legs. You match his urgency, but still decide to tease him, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Shut your mouth,” he yanks the rest of your pants off as soon as he is naked in front of you. He throws them in the pile of his own clothes, “You know exactly what I’m talking about, dirty girl.”

You’re just about to take your top off before Joel stops you with a hand curled around the hem. He knows you’re sensitive at this point in your cycle, but it’s not why he wants to keep it on, “I love how cute you are in this shirt. Keep it on like this.” 

He crawls properly onto the bed to demonstrate and tugs the shirt up over your tits so he can still see the stupid animated fruit on the front. Afterward, he tugs your panties down your legs and off your feet. He will swear to a higher power that he can even smell it on you, sweet like strawberries and honey between your legs and it makes him feel like an animal. 

He has had baby fever for a while now, even told you his plans on giving you a whole bunch of babies and you’ve merely giggled at him, especially when he told you that twins don’t run in his family, but he is sure that nature will give him a whole litter with you. 

“Want me to eat you out?” He asks to which you whimper and nod. He doesn’t give you what you want right then and there, instead climbs up to cradle your head in his hands and gives you a long, slow kiss. He sucks on your tongue, hums into your mouth, and gets you worked up and wet before he’ll treat you right. 

“Tell me,” he says when he breaks the kiss, nosing along the bunched-up fabric of his new favorite top of yours. He sucks at the skin between your breasts, places open-mouthed kisses along the swell of the left whilst cupping the right. 

“I want you to eat my pussy,” you moan softly, running a hand over his hair as he licks a nipple. You slide your fingers into it, but you don’t tug at it unless you feel like you need to hold onto it for dear life. 

“God, you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he growls before going further down your body, his spit leaving a shine where his mouth has been, “Can’t believe I own these tits.”

He goes further down, lets out a satisfied noise when he can see between your legs, “—and this pussy.” 

“Yes, it’s yours, fuck, baby,” you sound delirious already, happy and eager to be touched, on the verge of a giggle even, “Joel, need your mou—“

You gasp loudly into the quiet bedroom. Joel has covered you with his mouth, eyes almost rolling back into his skull at the taste of your ripe cunt. He is too lost in you, a complete idiot with how head over heels he is for you, and he shows it by devouring you like he is starved. 

“Baby!” You cry out, sensitive, “Fuuuck— just like that!”

He watches your thighs twitch in his peripheral, holds you down by placing a strong hand just below your belly button, and uses his thumb on said hand to pull the hood of your clit back. He sucks the little now-hard nub into his mouth, sending you into a state where he is unsure if you can even sense the sheets underneath you. If you had superpowers, he surely would’ve made you lift off the bed as if you were possessed. 

He bobs his head a little, probably looking obscene as he hums against your clit and wiggles his head too. He looks up at you through his lashes, sees the red flush on your chest, and knows that you are close. Christ, he hasn’t been this into someone before. 

“I’m gonna— you’re gonna make me—“ you say like always, announcing your departure from reality. He keeps going, feeling your stomach jump in a stuttering manner underneath his palm with how uneven your breathing has become. 

“Fuck, I’m coming!” You sob with a yank of Joel’s hair and suddenly your thighs are shaking violently without your control. Joel can feel you coming before you announce it, your cunt clenching rapidly against his lips and your clit pulsing in his mouth as he sucks your folds into his mouth. You taste so good as a gush on slick smears his lips and chin even more. He laps it up.

You push him away when he gets too much, and he turns his head to kiss your inner thigh. You finally release the giggle that you’ve been suppressing, drunk on dopamine and Joel falls in love with you a bit more. 

“You’re fucking incredible,” you say. The hand in his hair slides down so you can affectionately run your knuckles over his cheek. He responds by gently rubbing your thighs, soothing you on top of putting such strain on your heart and your breath. You hum, “I love you so much.”

Without warning, he smacks your thigh and you sit up straight. He grins, “Love ya too, sweetheart. Think you can give me one more before I fuck ya?”

“Jesus, what’s gotten into you?” You ask genuinely as you lower onto your back again. 

“Wanna fuck a baby into you,” he replies, voice an octave lower than normal. He senses your shiver without having to look at your face, “Please. Wanna get her red and puffy so it fucking sticks.” 

You let out an involuntary moan at the idea. You want this as much as him, he hopes, and he slides two fingers into your neglected pussy whilst he waits for the green light to fill you up. He crooks them upwards, fingers the spongy spot that only seems to have been discovered by him, “Lemme in. Lemme come in you.”

You’ve been off the pill for a while with the reasoning that it wasn’t doing any good for your body. Joel had stocked up on condoms since then, actually filled the top drawer of his nightstand to the brim because honey, we’re young and healthy, red-blooded Americans. But it had planted the idea in his mind that he could potentially knock you up, and suddenly the stash of condoms was being used rapidly. 

“Okay,” you say with a half-moan, “Fuck, okay.”

Joel immediately sits up on his knees, still fucking you open on his hand. You squirm underneath his touch, trying to get a hold of your breathing this time, holding eye contact with him as he drags another orgasm from you. 

It is much less hurried and a lot more intense, muscles clamping down on his digits rhythmically as you bite your lip and close your eyes with a soft gasp. He can’t decide if he finds this more sexy. 

“Did you mean it?” He asks as he trails kisses up your belly. He kneels between your legs and places an elbow on either side of your chest so he can hold both your breasts in his hands. He squeezes them together, sucks on a nipple until you sigh deeply, and then watches them bounce back into place. 

“Yes,” you say and your voice doesn’t sound unsure at all, “Fuck yes, I want your babies. Wanted them since I saw you. Want you to make me a mommy.”

“The prettiest momma out there,” he says, euphoria evident on his face. He slides his arms underneath you, rests his head on your breasts, and hugs you close to his chest, “Wanna fuck ya.”

“Please,” you say softly, spreading your legs open for him but he has other plans. He releases you from his arms to sit up again, spreading his knees a little. His hands wrap around your ankles to lift your legs up onto his shoulders, your feet behind his ears. He leans over you afterward and bends your flexible legs backward until the front of his thighs are against the back of yours. He can go deep like this, fill you up with his come how he has wanted to for months.

He takes hold of his cock, eases it inside of your spent and warm cunt inch by inch. You feel incredible around his dick without a piece of rubber separating the two of you. He can feel the head of his dick nudge at your cervix, moaning quietly as he is engulfed by your wet, pulsating heat. 

“How are you still so fucking tight?” He groans, resting his forehead against your calf as he gives you a moment to adjust to the stretch. He knows he is big, gets a thrill out of how well you take him each time as if you were made specifically for him. There had been one time where he’d called you a trooper, and you had laughed so hard with his dick inside you that it had made him come. 

“You feel so big like this,” you say as you look down between the two of you, already sounding out of breath. Joel kisses your calf repeatedly and softly, trying to soothe your overwhelmed body. 

“Goddamn. You’re so sexy,” he praises, placing both hands on the sides of your head so he is hovering above you. He finds your hazy eyes, “Look at you.” 

He gives an experimental roll of his hips that makes you whimper, both hands reaching for the backs of his knees. You hold onto him, staring up into his eyes with that siren-like look in them, and then you moan softly.

Joel starts fucking you desperately at that. He doesn’t hurry though, keeps his hips’ movements slow and sensual to have you moaning and gasping ever so slightly at the intensity. He knows he could just give in and fuck you rough and fast, but the heavy-lidded gaze that you are giving him with your mouth hanging open is too good to spoil. 

“Joel,” you cry but it’s barely audible compared to what he sometimes drags from you. He can feel your nails dig into the flexing muscles of his thighs, creating half-moon shapes in the flesh. He switches to a rocking motion, and it sends your eyes rolling into the back of your head. You moan with your bottom lip between your teeth, “Mhm—“

“I know, baby, let it out,” he can see your pulse jumping wildly underneath the sensitive skin of your neck, feeling the heat of his orgasm pool at the base of his spine. He needs to be closer to you. 

“Lift your legs down to the sides,” he tells you gently, thrusts coming to a halt and him realizing that you’ve heard absolutely nothing. He repeats himself, waits for you to follow his instructions, and then hooks his arms underneath your knees. 

Joel gets closer to you by resting his weight on his elbows, his own body on top of your slightly contorted one. You reach for him, grabby hands in the air until he allows himself to be pulled in for a kiss. You cradle his face, make him feel safe in your arms. 

“I love you, baby,” he breathes deeply. The new position gives him an opportunity to reach deeper inside of you, and it’s accompanied by each upward snap of his pelvis causing his cockhead to push into your g-spot. It makes it difficult for you to continue kissing him, eventually simply breathing into his mouth as he has you speared on his dick. Never once do you let go of his face, thumbs on his cheekbones, and tip of your nose against his. 

“I love you,” you whisper, unable to catch your breath. Joel can feel your walls flutter around his dick, threatening to pull his own climax from him too soon. You pant, eyes burning, “You— baby, shit… you’re gonna make me come.”

“Yeah?” He speeds up a little, carding a hand through your hair and gently tugging on the bun. He coaxes you, “Gonna milk my cock into you? Make me a daddy?”

“Yeah,” you whimper wantonly, tightening your legs into his sides as you try moving with him, “Yeah, baby. Gonna make you a daddy! Fuckfuckfuck. Ah— I’m, I—“

Joel doesn’t know if he’s ever made you come like this; without all the muscle and rough touches, without the fast-paced snaps of his hips and the foul taunting from his mouth of how dirty you are. But come you do, with your brows furrowed, gaze on his and a controlled breathing that suddenly becomes erratic and uneven after you let out a high-pitched cry. 

“That’s it,” he admires you, “So good f’me.”

You clamp down on his cock so hard that he sees stars, fucks you through each convulsion of your cunt. His mouth drips with filth as he works himself toward his own pleasure, “You make me so fucking horny, baby. Wanna knock— ngh, wanna knock this pretty pussy up all the time. Give ya a whole fuckin’ litter.”

He tips over the edge not long after, heart pounding in his chest and the sensation in his balls tightening. He releases with a groan, settles deep inside of you to make sure he doesn’t waste a single drop. His orgasm pulses through his cock, swirls in his belly, and warms the small of his back. 

“Fuuuck,” he pants. He carefully removes his arms from underneath your legs before he collapses, allowing you to stretch out underneath him. You look completely fucked out, gasping feebly as he teasingly gives you another thrust before pulling out. 

You wrap your arms around him as he falls onto you, nose against the shell of his ear. He can barely lift his head when you speak, humming into your neck that vibrates as you talk, “You think other people have sex this good?”

“Nah, ‘s why everyone is so fuckin’ miserable, why they gotta build mansions with their parents’ money,” he murmurs. 

“Stop thinking about the hotshot client in bed,” you tease as you cradle his head in your arms, lifting your legs to wrap them around his waist. It seems you cannot get close enough, “You should only think about sticky, sweaty me.”

Joel finds that he doesn’t care about sticky, sweaty skin and you feeling like a furnace after three orgasms. He lays with you like this for a while, sure that you’ve drifted off to sleep at one point, until you push at his shoulder, voice back to your normal pitch as the post-orgasmic bliss has faded slowly, “Gotta pee.” 

“Sure,” he rolls off of you. The sight of your waddle to the bathroom makes him smile, eyes following the way the fleshiest part of your ass and thighs jiggle with each step. 

When you’ve closed the door behind you, Joel finds the strength to rid the bed of the dirty sheets and start dressing again. He’ll have a shower before bed, he decides, ignoring the sensitivity of sliding on boxers and jeans again. 

Hurriedly, he bounces down the stairs to the kitchen. He gets the rest of your peanut butter cup, places it on the nightstand with your clothes right beside it. 

He checks the time. There’s no point in trying to cook something up for dinner if Sarah is home from ‘practice’ soon, so he goes down into the kitchen to order pizza, heart thrumming in his chest as he hears you shout a thank you from upstairs at the discovery of the other half of your favorite snack. He is happy. So so happy.

Especially as he writes ‘pregnancy test’ into his Notes app shopping list.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[darlingdaisyfarm]

okay so your boy genius in love fic you just posted??? HOTTTTT AUDGDHGSJS. covering my face and blushing. literally once i finished reading, i scrolled back up to re-read it two more times, i'm not even joking about that. your writing is so goodddd and i especially adore your smutfics <3<3<3<3.

and also. slams my hands on the table. YES stan pines. he's like my brother in law (in a silly way, because i'm just obsessed with ford >w<).

for non-smut, i really like when people write stan tired or taking naps and whatnot in a happy way. like when you find a warm spot and have no responsibilities and just sleep... that, but a loving stan x reader is seriously my favorite soft thing for him. (or even if it's x character, that's fine too, i'm not picky, you know?)

though truly my most favorite is when it's stan and ford (in a brotherly/sibling way), because in my head they're each others' favorite person. like, yes i can see them dating someone, but that someone has got to be comfortable with these two old farts just randomly taking naps with each other, too, XD. sometimes one of them just needs their brother.

BUT that dynamic can still be fun for x readers if you do a stan x reader x ford sort of thing! for some people, smut fics like that squick them out, which is understandable, but i personally enjoy them anyway🎀. but like, this with just domestic fluff🥺🥺🥺... i really enjoy it.

oh and you can also do halfway, too. ford x reader where you and him have to take care of stan, or maybe stan x reader where you have to take care of ford! which could develop into stan x reader x ford, but it doesn't have to do that.

anyway back to just stan lol. for mullet or just 18 and above i mostly just enjoy comforting him, because the fandom likes to put that man in so many situations XD. i want him to feel safe and cry on my shoulder, and then i want to feed him a bunch of pancakes and just give him a bath. cutesy comfort things<3.

as for smut stuff with him, i like when young to mullet stan is a top because he's so cheesy and used to being so fake, like a salesman, and i think it would be fun to see him gradually break into a horny mess while he's topping the reader X3.

as for older stan, especially sailing version of him, i LOVE when he bottoms, because it's like he's finally allowing himself to be vunerable<3. i imagine reader would tease him until he feels like crying, and then fuck him silly. but i understand if bottom stan isn't really your thing lol. i just think he should get pegged, as a treat<3.

- 🌊 anon i guess? i forget if you have people doing anon signatures or if i'm thinking of someone else lol. hopefully nobody else has signed off with that yet :3

AAAAAAAAA isn’t this such a TREAT?? all this delicious content about this old man?? anon you’re WONDERFUL. please. let me talk to you because THATS INSANE. UHGG let’s get into itttt, 🌊 anon is out here speaking MY LANGUAGE

and yes, the signature stuff, that’s me! hi. it was always me

nsfw topics under the cut

first off!!! TIRED Stan is peak serotonin. like, this grumbly, heavy-boned man finally letting himself rest? are you kidding me? there is nothing better. drooping eyes in front of the tv, grunting through yawns (my brain just imagined Alex Hirsch voicing this and it's both cute and funny), curling up somewhere he doesn’t belong and snoring before you even finish your sentence, gahahaha. i mean bro will knock out in the kitchen chair, on the porch, halfway through a conversation with you, he cultivated this talent in himself. and you just throw a blanket over him cuz “yeah. this is what he deserves”

and yes, yes, YES to reader being there to witness that softness<3 brushing back his hair when it falls over his eyes. watching his chest rise and fall. letting him fall asleep on YOUR THIGH and not daring to move for hours, getting sore and needing to stretch but NO DONT MOVE THIS PUPPY IS SLEEPING ON YOU. he’s a big worn-out bear and you’re the patch of moss he chose to crash into. stab me with a heart-shaped knife

now. STAN AND FORD BROTHERLY NAP..... you know, i almost tore my damn face apart from smiling when I saw that adorable illustration in journal 3 where Stan and Ford are sleeping, leaning on each other, like, why the hell didn’t they show that in the show, huh

those two old weirdos just finding each other in the middle of the day and being like “hey. y’wanna sit down for a second?”

“. . .yeah. guess i do.”

next thing you know they’re both snoring in unison on this old armchair. one of them with a hand on the other’s arm. or forehead-to-shoulder like two big dogs. DOMESTIC BROTHERS YESAAASS!!! i love stangst with all my heart, but there's nothing better than seeing these two twins just... fucking HAPPY, u know

and yes, whoever’s dating either of them better be prepared for this to happen at any moment. you cannot separate them. not anymore!

and NOW. ohhh you opened the floodgates—

“ford x reader where you and him have to take care of stan”

“stan x reader where you have to take care of ford”

“could develop into stan x reader x ford...but doesn’t have to”

anon, PLEASE HEAR ME OUT. my fanfic was ALREADY like this. it was mullet!Stan x reader taking care of Ford, literally. there was so much brotherhood moments. and now talking about this, there was this one moment in fic. Stanley meets Bill. and Bill’s doing his whole creepy manipulations, playing with his mind, like “oh Stanley Pines, don’t you wanna see what could’ve happened” and shows him the multiverse, every possible outcome of him being kicked out that night 10 years ago. and in ONE of them, Stan comes back, because his plan to earn millions fucked up. so he gave up quickly and comes all exhausted, worn down, very hungry. he knocks on Filbrick’s door because he’s got nothing left and Ford opens it.

and the second Ford sees his own twin, ALIVE and breathing, he SCREAMS, panic and hope all at once “pa! ma! IT'S STANLEY!! STANLEY IS HERE, HES ALIVE!” and everyone RUNS and it’s just. crying. hugging. sobbing. no words.

(in this universe, Ford got so sick and depressed after Stan got kicked out that he couldn't continue studying anywhere at all)

and this is just ONE universe. ONE possibility. and Bill showed him that. i am not okay about it still

but enough about that

YES PLEASE. give me that scenario where one of the boys gets sick or emotionally knocked down and the other two step in like the most mismatched nursing staff in the world! i want Ford carefully measuring out medicine while you’re spoon-feeding Stan some soup and trying not to laugh at his pouty frown<333 or Stan grumbling about being fine but secretly loving how Ford tucks the blanket around him hehebehehh or you being the one who gets sick and they both go into overprotective mode

OKAY NOW TO THE REAL JUICE

“but i understand if bottom Stan isn't really your thing” NONO HE IS EXACTLY MY THING. like you don’t even understand how much joy i get from big stubborn Stan finally letting someone take care of him, especially older Stan. him squirming under you, red-faced, trying to make a joke but you just press a little deeper, making him gasp and the words die in his throat

i also love this thing of reader riding him while he tries to keep that cocky smirk up, but his hands are shaking and he’s stammering<33 not so cocky now are we, Stanley??<33 that horny bastard wants to slap my ass? NO, I'LL DO IT FIRST

I. LOVE. SAILING STAN!!! all sun-baked and salt-bitten, face buried in a pillow while you ruin him slowly, teasing his sensitive cock until he’s whining<3 reader complimenting his slightly overgrown mullet!<33 and then tugging on it. uhgghhhhhggh, im sure he begs and doesn’t even know he’s begging

and if you peg him, he tries to act like he’s doing you a favor. rolling his eyes “sure i can take it, sweetheart” BUT HA, his fists are clenched and his voice cracking. i just love him finally being safe enough to fall apart, giving you all the fake bravado and letting you melt it down.

this man was raised on shame or “boys don't cry” shit, so every time you kiss his belly or touch him with reverence he looks like he’s gonna cry. and when you do tease him to tears, when you coo over him, call him good, beautiful, sexy, funny, etc, i think he'll explode tbh... thank you, Filbrick, for not loving your son. guess that’s my job now

so yeah, bottom Stan, that’s my free therapy!!

[billythesimp]

Yo! Your work has interested me very much. I'm also glad that the rules are detailed, it makes it easier to make a request.

Can I request Wise and Belle (separately) with reader who likes to cuddle? The reader literally becomes a koala ; on a walk he loves to hold hands or just be close. It is true happiness to be in the arms of a loved one~If you don't like the request, then feel free to skip it !

[Stares lovingly at a photo card]

Oh to cuddle the babies. But it is just a dream~

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎…

I always like to do the little domestic pieces with characters, you can really explore how they would act. Also love giving Wise and Belle some attention!

Wise /Belle x gn!reader

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡…⋙

tw: none

✦ Wise is the perfect height to be clinged on. I don’t think he’ll mind being pressed up against, if anything he’d pull you closer if in public. His excuse is so you don’t get lost or that other pedestrians can walk by without running into you both. But you don’t mind, in fact you’ll play with his fingers when he does this, clutching his sleeve or swinging his arm beside each other. The physical contact makes him happy, tightening his hold on you,afraid you’d grow cold if he lets you go.

✦ When cuddling, I find that Wise’s room is very relaxing and would probably have speakers around so while you both are laying together on his large bedding, you could play some relaxing ambience noise that help you both fall asleep. That or he plays his documentary on his Tv, allowing you to crawl up on his chest and wrap around his waist to stay close by.

✦ His slim fingers run through your hair, scratching at your scalp in a soothing rhythm before traveling down to your neck and back. Rubbing circles over your shirts before pressing kisses on your forehead and temples. You can’t see it but he’s just staring fondly at how peaceful you are, should you snore he chuckles to himself and wipes away any drool you might have. 

✦ When he’s the cuddler, he’s a grumpy riser so his defense is to groan in your ear and curl up around you so don’t have a chance to leave. He could pin you to his chest, your back to him so he can tickle your sides and wrap around your stomach, his hands warm on your exposed skin. Taking in your scent as he nuzzles into your neck, complaining about how it’s too early to get up and that he wants to stay like this a little longer.

✦ Sweet girl, she’s hold your hand as she drags you around to her favorite shops. Fingers intertwined before occasionally leaving kisses on your knuckles, a joyful smile on her face as you laugh at her mannerisms. Skipping side by side, whenever you want to go somewhere you’ll wrap an arm around her shoulder and gently lead her away, seeing how she’s shorter than you so she willingly follows your lead.

✦ Personally, I love Belle’s room as it’s a fun vibe all around. Though messy, with the two of you guys cuddling on the bed, she can’t help but think she’s constantly showing you memes on her phone or any news update on inter-knot. You both are wired in together, sometimes Eous joining the both of you on the bed for a mild recharge, Belle teasing his ears while you squish his little arms. 

✦Belle is a deep sleeper, so should she fall asleep on the couch while you both are watching a movie, you can carry her back to her bed. Though in her sleep, she’ll pull you in and have you sleep in with her, forcing herself into your chest as she feels secure in your arms and yawning loudly with a smile on her face. Sweet dreams for her, surrounded by your embrace and smell.

✦ Between the two of you, your both kinda starfish sleepers. The difference being that Belle will lay on top of you, your arms holding her like a plushie that breathes and is warm. She’s always the little spoon, trapped in your arms that you both always decide that you aren't getting up today. But she’ll never miss the opportunity to wake up beside you, lovingly starting as she tucks your hair back from your face.

[moonstruckme]

OK TALL!READER REQUEST W POLY!MARAUDERS SO MAYBE JUST SOME DOMESTIC FLUFF W READER TEASING THE BOYS ABOUT THEIR HEIGHTS AND STUFF? OR MAYBE LIKE SIRIUS AND READER BEING LIKE A CHAOTIC SHORT-TALL DUO?

Thanks for requesting!

poly!marauders x tall!reader ♡ 555 words

“Sirius,” you whisper loudly, leaning across the table and schooling your expression into one of concern, “do you want me to ask the waitress for a high chair? Can you read the menu alright from that angle?” 

Dark brows lower as Sirius glares at you. “I’m fine, thanks,” he says, voice dripping with malice that’s probably at least half feigned. That’s what you tell yourself, at least. “Hey, how’s the weather up there? I didn’t realize mountains could walk.” 

“It’s quite nice,” you reply, smiling at him, but James frowns. 

“Oi,” he says warningly. “This here is the prettiest mountain I’ve ever seen.”

Remus laughs quietly behind his menu, and you sigh even as James gives your hand a squeeze of solidarity. You’d tried to make a joke at his expense on the way into the cafe, but it had slipped right by him. When you’d asked if he needed you to hold his hand to cross the street, James insecurity-is-a-foreign-concept Potter had only said “Yes, please” and intertwined your fingers, not faltering even when you’d called him Junior. He’s still holding onto it, but at least his fingers waggling between yours makes a fine consolation prize for your failure. 

“So she gets to make fun of me,” Sirius objects, “but I don’t get to make fun of her back?” 

“Yes.” James bobs his head. “That’s exactly how it works. Way to keep up.” 

Sirius curls his lip at the both of you. “Fine. You can keep each other, and I’ll keep Moony.” He wraps a possessive arm around Remus’ waist, and the other boy only gives him a cursory glance as he’s tugged further down the booth and up against Sirius’ side. 

You give Sirius a pitying look. “Think you can kiss him if he doesn’t decide to lean down and let you?” you ask him. “You should have chosen James, at least you can sort of reach him.” 

Sirius' mouth puckers with an indignance that borders upon violent. “I’ll climb.” 

“Mmm, but some of us don’t have to.” You lean over the table, using your height to drop a kiss on Remus’ head where it’s bent over the menu. He looks up in surprise, and beside you, James' face breaks into a grin as pink spreads across the high points of your boyfriend’s cheeks. 

“I didn’t ask to be dragged into your quarrel,” Remus says, as sternly as he can while his shoulders are pulling slowly towards his ears. 

“Sorry,” you say, and you half mean it, both guilted and endeared by the bashful look in his eyes. 

“Oh, don’t be,” James tells you. “Maybe you’ll remind him he’s alive. Can I have one, lovie?” He beams, closing his eyes and angling his face up towards yours. 

You laugh, pecking his lips. James’ hand whips up, and you can forget how fast he is sometimes, your chin in his grasp before you can get more than a whisper of air between you. He kisses you three more times in rapid succession, only letting go once he’s fully convinced he’s got you dizzy with affection. And you are, blinking dumbfoundedly at your menu as Sirius snickers across the table. 

“Got nothing more to say, have you?” he asks, smug. 

“Shut up,” you mutter. “Or I’ll tell the waitress you’ve asked for a kids menu.”

[wtfsteveharrington]

can we please have something soft and domestic with sydney! we need more content with her

a/n: this is just a lil blurb while i continue working on my actual syd fic <3

contents: mentions of kissing and intimacy but this is just soft and fluffy and delicate is the best way i can describe it.

Sydney and Carmen have a system - She takes Monday off and he takes Tuesday off. That way there’s always at least one of them there in case of any major issues. It works well for them. Gives some sort of work/life balance… Even if they still spend part of their days off concerned for the restaurant. At least they aren’t physically there. 

So, in turn, every Monday night is date night for you and Sydney. 

Sometimes you two spend the whole day in bed. Getting food delivered from the never ending bucket list of restaurants around the city you both wanted to try followed by a grocery delivery to make dessert at home. It was an indulgent day to say the least.

Other days, like tonight, the two of you took the time to get dressed up. She always stood next to you by your shared vanity to help make sure your eyeliner was even, a mess of giggles each time one eye got away from the other. "Sisters not twins, right? I think it looks good either way. 'Sides, helps me if you go in public lookin' a little crazy. Keeps people away from hitting on you."

Sydney always liked to wonder around the house while you finished getting ready. Sure, she knew your closet. Knew the general idea of what you'd end up wearing. But there was something about the surprise of your final look coming together that always took her breath away. She grabs a hold of your hand, gently spinning you around to get a full look. "Damn! Maybe we should have kept your eyeliner looking wack because this is - You look gorgeous."

And the two of you have to be careful because compliments lead to kissing which leads to you to being late for reservations you certainly cannot be late for.

She's got an Uber pulling up to take the two of you down to the Gold Coast - Maple & Ash. You bounce between cheerful small talk with your driver and watching the shops on Rush street go by in a blur. Making a mental note that someone at your job had mentioned there being a bakery right around here and that you needed to check the hours to see if you could take Sydney tonight.

You know it's a cliche, but there's something about Sydney ordering for you that makes your heart flutter. She knows your palette, knows everything you love and what you hate. Some of the ingredients on the menu are lost on you so her taking control is so welcomed.

The two of you always share your plates. Sharing what you both consider to be the best bite of each meal, wanting the other to have that experience. Sometimes Sydney quizzes you to see what flavors you're picking up and she's getting a little too proud watching your taste buds grow the way they have since you got together.

No matter what, the nights always end the same. Sydney holds your hand tight during the car ride back to your apartment, her thumb trailing along your skin. Mindlessly and comfortingly. Even if you're wearing the most simple of shoes she always makes a show of taking them off for you. Letting her hands slide up once they're taken off and message your calves. Sometimes her touch doesn't stop, hands sliding all the way up and taking care of you in the ways only she knows how.

But tonight you're both tired and the relationship is settling into more of this cheesy domestic bliss all your friends tease the two of you about.

So Sydney takes off your shoes and helps you get undressed while you grab pieces for the both of you to wear. The two of you stand shoulder to shoulder in the bathroom while you clean your faces and apple skincare. You found this face mask last week you'd been waiting until tonight to try with her and Sydney realizes she forgot to get more floss and asks you to add it to the group grocery list note you guys keep together on your phone.

She sits between your legs on the couch, curled up on your chest as your fingers run a circuit along her arms, her sides, her hips and her thighs. Any inch of skin you can get a hold of. There's a movie playing in the background as you both stay embraced. And maybe the two of you miss the second act because you're too busy kissing. Maybe the major plot twist is getting spoiled in the background while you're whispering 'I love you' to one another.

Neither of you mind.

[fameandfiction]

IMAGINE PART I: “Drooling on the Star” — Reneé Rapp x Reader

— Post-concert domestic softness.

PART1 - PART2 - PART3 - PART4 - PART5

The lights of the arena had long since dimmed, leaving the afterglow of stardust and adrenaline clinging to Reneé’s skin like sequins she couldn’t peel off. Her body ached in ways that were familiar—knees tight, calves singing, her throat kissed raw by the night’s final note—but none of it felt heavier than the quiet weight currently sprawled across her chest.

You.

Dead asleep. Breathing slow and syrupy. Mouth partially open. The slightest trail of drool smudged against her hoodie.

Reneé blinked at the ceiling, unmoving.

Like one wrong breath might jolt the moment away.

You’d curled up beside her in the green room about an hour ago—post-show comedown, half-high on backstage energy and sugar-rushed from the gummy bears someone left in catering. At first you were just leaning. Then slouching. Then—before Reneé could do anything about it—you were full-on draped across her like she was a mattress, arm hooked loosely across her ribs, your face smushed just beneath her jaw.

And now…

Now you were drooling.

Like you had been the one carrying the weight of the crowd. Like you had just stomped through a sixteen-song set and paid the lighting crew with your blood and breath. Like you were the one bankrolling the damn tour.

Reneé should be annoyed.

She should be teasing you awake with a snarky “you good?” or something equally snide. She should be texting her group chat a selfie of the current scene with a caption like “so why is my unpaid intern dead on me rn” or “who gave her the right to slay harder than me without opening her mouth.”

But she’s not doing any of that.

Instead—she stays still.

Eyes on the ceiling. Your cheek pressed to her chest. Her hand... floating awkwardly midair, unsure if it’s allowed to settle on your back or not.

The warmth of your breath seeps through the fabric. It’s gentle, damp, honest. There's no pretense in unconsciousness, no filter. And that’s what makes it dangerous.

Reneé lets out a breath. Her own.

Quiet. Careful.

She’s hyper-aware of her body now. Of yours. Of the way your knee had ended up between her thighs somehow. Of the tickle of your lashes against her throat.

She thinks about how easy it would be to just rest her hand on the curve of your spine. Just enough to ground herself. To feel something real.

But she doesn’t.

Because this—whatever this is—doesn’t belong to her yet.

You aren’t dating. Not technically. You’re just... her person. Her comfort. Her crash pad. Her dopamine dose in human form.

Her best friend. Kind of.

Kind of, because—

Best friends don’t look at each other like she looks at you.

[An hour earlier.]

You’d yawned so hard mid-sentence backstage that she thought you were being dramatic. But you were tired. You’d followed her on tour for a few legs, calling it “the gay sabbatical” when your boss asked why you were out of office so long.

You didn’t perform. Didn’t manage. Didn’t film. You were just there. A presence. Her tether.

Sometimes the only quiet she had in a room of 20 people.

She liked that.

So when you flopped on the green room couch and patted the spot next to you without a word, Reneé had followed. Without thinking. Like muscle memory.

You didn’t talk much after that.

Just music in the background. The rustle of crew walking past the open door. You rubbing your face sleepily into her shoulder like a cat marking territory.

She’d chuckled.

You’d groaned, “I feel like I performed tonight.”

She laughed again. “You sat side-stage and cried to ‘Talk Too Much.’”

You yawned. “Emotional labor is still labor.”

“Who’s paying you for that?”

You blinked at her like it was obvious. “You.”

Then passed out within seven minutes.

[Now. The silence is deafening.]

Reneé swallows hard and dares to glance down at you.

You’re slack-mouthed. Eyelids twitching in REM. The drool situation has upgraded from dot to actual line.

“Oh my God,” she whispers.

You snore once—soft, like a sleepy exhale. And something about it makes Reneé’s chest ache.

It’s not the drool. It’s not even the weight.

It’s that she can’t remember the last time someone rested on her like this. Trusted her like this. Let their body sink into hers without expectation or fear.

And now that it’s happening—she feels like the guest in her own chest.

She thinks, I could kiss her right now.

But she doesn’t.

Not because she doesn’t want to. But because you look so safe. And she doesn’t want to be the one to ruin that. Not after everything she’s seen—industry poison, fake friends, lovers who only wanted a piece of the persona and not the person.

But you? You’re sleeping on her like she’s a couch. Like she’s a given.

Like you belong here.

And maybe you do.

[Eventually, you stir. Groggy. Disoriented.]

You blink, slow. Realize you’re drooling. Realize where you’re drooling.

“Oh my God!” you croak, jolting upward.

Reneé winces as your weight leaves her. The couch shifts.

“Was I?” You swipe your mouth, mortified.

Reneé sits up slower. Calm. Her voice dry:

“Drooling like you pay rent here? Like you own this tour?”

You groan and bury your face in your hands. “Kill me.”

She smirks. “Can’t. You’re the headliner, remember?”

You peek through your fingers. “I’m so embarrassed.”

But she’s already tossing a water bottle at you. “Don’t be. It was cute.”

You pause. “Cute?”

Reneé nods once. Shrugs. Like it’s nothing.

But her ears are pink.

And when your gaze lingers just a second longer than it should, she doesn’t look away.

[To be continued...]

PART1 - PART2 - PART3 - PART4 - PART5