#I’m about this close to passing out (fingertips lightly touching)

[urdreamydoodles]

X-Men x Reader (Part.2)

You smacks their ass as they walk past (Part.2)

Each X-Man reacts with a mix of surprise and playful teasing when you smacks their ass as they walk past, leading to affectionate and mischievous moments.

Characters: Ororo Munroe, Rogue, Emma Frost, Mystique, Kitty Pryde, Jubilee, Wanda Maximoff, Laura Kinney, Psylocke & Blink

Ororo Munroe (Storm):

Ororo stands by the large bay window, her presence always commanding yet graceful as she gazes out at the darkening sky. There’s a calmness about her, an ethereal quality that never fails to leave you in awe. As you pass behind her, unable to resist the temptation, you give her a playful smack on the ass and then continue walking as if nothing happened.

Ororo freezes for a moment, the shock evident in the way her body stiffens ever so slightly. Then, with a quiet chuckle, she turns her head, one elegant eyebrow raised in amusement as her striking blue eyes lock onto yours. “Y/N,” she says in that soft, velvety voice, though there’s a teasing tone underneath. “Did you just…?”

You try to play it off, shrugging innocently. “What? Just passing by,” you say, though the grin on your face betrays you.

Ororo smiles, shaking her head as she walks over to you, her every movement fluid and effortless, as if she’s floating rather than walking. “You’re lucky I find your mischief endearing,” she says with a light laugh. “But you should know better than to provoke someone who controls the weather.”

She reaches out, her fingertips lightly brushing your arm, and you feel a faint static charge beneath your skin, a subtle reminder of her power. “Next time, I might let a little thunder roll just to make my point clear,” she teases, though her tone is warm and playful.

Ororo’s presence is so strong, yet there’s always this underlying softness in her touch, the way she leans in, her lips brushing your cheek as she murmurs, “Just be glad the skies are clear today, love.” There’s a lightness in the air around her, and you can’t help but smile at the playful energy she exudes, even when she’s reminding you not to test your luck.

Rogue:

Rogue is lounging on the couch, flipping through a magazine, her southern drawl humming softly as she reads aloud to herself. You’ve always loved how at ease she looks in these quiet moments, her usual tough exterior softened when it’s just the two of you. As you walk by, you decide to break the silence with a cheeky smack on her ass.

Rogue’s eyes widen, and she lets out a surprised yelp, dropping the magazine as she twists around to look at you, her mouth hanging open in shock. “Well, I’ll be damned,” she says, her voice filled with laughter. “Did you just smack my ass?”

You grin, shrugging nonchalantly. “Maybe.”

Rogue narrows her eyes, though the smile playing at the corners of her lips betrays her amusement. She stands up, crossing her arms as she saunters toward you, a challenging glint in her eyes. “You’re really askin’ for it now, sugah,” she teases, her voice low and full of playful threat. “Y’know, I don’t take kindly to people sneakin’ up on me.”

She’s close now, so close you can feel the warmth radiating off her body, her green eyes flashing with mischief as she tilts her head. “What are you gonna do if I get payback?” she asks, her voice dropping into a sultry whisper, her southern accent drawing out every word in the most enticing way.

You smirk, meeting her gaze with confidence. “Maybe I’m counting on it.”

Rogue grins, stepping even closer, her gloved fingers tracing a light line down your arm. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” she murmurs, her lips hovering near yours, her breath warm against your skin. “But don’t think for a second I won’t get you back when you least expect it.”

She winks, pulling back with a laugh, but you know she’s already plotting her next move, and with Rogue, it’s never just a harmless game.

Emma Frost:

Emma sits at the dining table, her poise as perfect as ever, a glass of wine in her hand while she flips through a business report. There’s an aura of icy elegance about her, as always, but you know better than anyone how to get under that cool exterior. As you walk by, feeling a little mischievous, you reach out and give her a playful smack on the ass.

Emma doesn’t flinch, but her eyes flick up from her papers slowly, her lips curling into an amused smirk. “Darling,” she purrs, setting down her wine glass with deliberate precision. “Did you just lay your hands on me without permission?”

You grin, knowing exactly what game you’re playing with her. “Maybe,” you reply, feigning innocence.

Emma rises from her seat with the grace of a queen, her icy blue eyes never leaving yours as she glides over, each step measured and confident. She leans in, her lips brushing your ear as she whispers, “You forget who’s in charge here, don’t you, love?”

Her voice sends shivers down your spine, and before you can respond, she steps back, her hands brushing lightly across your chest, a faint smile playing on her lips. “You’ll pay for that little stunt,” she teases, her tone dangerously sweet. “But I do admire your audacity.”

Emma always manages to keep you on your toes, and as she walks back to her seat, she throws a look over her shoulder. “Next time you feel like testing boundaries, darling, remember—I’m far more dangerous than you give me credit for.” Her playful smirk leaves you both excited and just a little nervous about what she might have in store.

Mystique:

Mystique is leaning against the counter, her sharp eyes scanning the room as she absentmindedly fiddles with her gun. You’ve always loved her commanding presence, the way she takes charge of any situation without blinking an eye. As you walk by, you can’t help but playfully smack her ass, testing the waters with a woman who’s known for her lethal skills and quick temper.

She stiffens slightly, and before you even take another step, she’s shifted into someone else—her body changing shape with the speed only Mystique possesses. You turn around to find yourself staring at your own reflection, a mirror image of yourself standing there, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in amusement.

“Well, well,” she says in your voice, her lips curling into a smirk that looks disturbingly familiar. “Feeling brave, aren’t we?”

You chuckle, meeting her gaze. “Couldn’t resist.”

Mystique shifts back to her usual form, her golden eyes gleaming with both mischief and warning. She steps toward you, her finger trailing down your chest as she speaks. “You know, I could be anyone, at any time. You’d never see it coming.” Her voice is low, dangerous, but laced with that familiar seductive charm that always draws you in.

She leans in close, her lips brushing your ear as she whispers, “But don’t worry—I’ll let you live. This time.” There’s a teasing edge in her voice, but you know better than to push your luck too far with Mystique. She always has a plan, and you’re never quite sure what she’s capable of next.

Kitty Pryde:

Kitty is sprawled out on the couch, working on her laptop as she types away, her brow furrowed in concentration. She’s completely absorbed in her work, so naturally, you can’t resist the urge to tease her a little. As you walk by, you reach out and smack her ass, grinning as the sound catches her attention.

Kitty lets out a surprised yelp, her laptop nearly falling off her lap as she twists around to look at you, her cheeks flushing pink. “Y/N!” she exclaims, her eyes wide, though you can tell she’s trying not to laugh.

You lean against the arm of the couch, shrugging casually. “What? Just keeping you on your toes.”

Kitty narrows her eyes at you, clearly trying to come up with a witty comeback. “Oh, you think you’re funny, don’t you?” she says, but her smile is already starting to break through.

She stands up, facing you with her arms crossed, but there’s a playful glint in her eyes. “I could phase you through the floor, you know,” she teases, stepping closer. “Or maybe just leave you stuck halfway through the wall. How’d you like that?”

You chuckle, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll take my chances.”

Kitty rolls her eyes, though you can tell she’s enjoying the banter. She steps even closer, her hands finding your waist as she looks up at you with a mischievous smile. “You’re lucky I love you,” she says softly, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your lips. “But don’t think for a second I won’t get you back for that.”

She winks before turning back to her laptop, leaving you wondering just what kind of payback she has in mind.

Jubilee:

Jubilee is sitting on the kitchen counter, eating a bowl of cereal as her legs swing back and forth, her energy always infectious and bright. You love how her smile seems to light up the entire room, and as you walk by, you can’t help but be a little playful. So, with a quick flick of your wrist, you give her a light smack on the ass as you pass.

She nearly chokes on her cereal, eyes wide in surprise as she turns to look at you with a mock-offended expression. “Oh, no you didn’t!” she exclaims, her voice filled with that familiar spark of mischief.

You can’t help but laugh, shrugging innocently. “I’m just keeping you on your toes, Jubes.”

Jubilee sets her bowl down, hopping off the counter with her typical bounce, a smirk playing on her lips. “Oh, you think you’re funny, huh? Well, guess what, buddy—two can play at that game.”

Before you can respond, she raises her hands, and you’re momentarily blinded by a series of colorful fireworks that burst into the air. You blink away the spots in your vision as she stands there, arms crossed, a smug look on her face. “That’s what you get for messing with me,” she teases, though you can see the laughter dancing in her eyes.

She steps closer, her grin widening. “But you know, I like a little trouble now and then,” she says with a wink, leaning in to give you a quick kiss before darting back to her spot on the counter. “Just don’t be surprised if next time, the fireworks are a little bigger.”

Wanda Maximoff:

Wanda is sitting at the table, quietly flipping through one of her many old, leather-bound books, her fingers tracing the pages delicately. She’s always so focused when she’s studying, her concentration and grace mesmerizing. But as you walk by, you can’t resist the urge to inject a bit of playfulness into the moment, giving her a gentle smack on the ass as you pass.

Wanda’s eyes widen in shock, her hand freezing mid-turn of a page. She slowly lifts her gaze, her lips parting slightly in disbelief, though there’s a glimmer of amusement in her deep, mysterious eyes. “Y/N…” she says, her voice soft but carrying that hint of danger that sends a shiver down your spine. “Did you really just do that?”

You grin, leaning casually against the table. “Maybe. What are you going to do about it?”

Wanda closes her book carefully, setting it aside with deliberate slowness. She stands, her movements graceful and fluid as she steps toward you, her fingers lightly grazing your arm. “You do realize who you’re teasing, right?” she whispers, her voice smooth as silk.

Before you can respond, you feel a slight shift in the air, and suddenly you’re weightless, floating just a few inches off the ground. Wanda’s power surrounds you, holding you suspended in the air as she looks up at you, a smile playing on her lips. “Perhaps I’ll keep you like this for a while,” she teases, her fingers tracing your arm as you float. “Just to remind you who’s really in control.”

Her touch is warm, electric, and you feel your pulse quicken as she lowers you back down. “But,” she says softly, leaning in close, “I’ll let you off the hook this time.” She presses a light kiss to your lips, her magic still humming in the air between you. “Just remember—I always have the upper hand.”

X-23/Wolverine (Laura Kinney):

Laura is sharpening one of her many knives at the kitchen table, her expression focused and serious as she drags the blade across the whetstone. She’s always had that intensity about her, a fierce and determined energy that’s hard to break through. But as you walk by, you decide to try anyway, giving her a playful smack on the ass.

Laura immediately stiffens, her hand pausing mid-sharpen as her head snaps up to look at you. Her eyes narrow slightly, and for a moment, you wonder if maybe teasing a trained assassin wasn’t the best idea. “Did you just smack my ass?” she asks, her voice low and dangerously calm.

You hold up your hands in mock defense, grinning. “Maybe. What’s it to you?”

For a second, you think she might leap across the table and pin you to the floor, but then you see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “You’re lucky I like you,” she mutters, setting the knife down with a soft clink. “Otherwise, I’d be tempted to teach you a lesson.”

Laura stands up, walking toward you with that predatory grace that makes your heart race. She stops right in front of you, crossing her arms as she looks up into your eyes. “You know, not everyone gets away with something like that,” she says, her voice still holding that serious edge, though there’s a flicker of amusement in her gaze.

Before you can respond, she leans in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, “But I guess I’ll let you off the hook this time. Just don’t make a habit of it.” There’s a teasing note in her voice, and as she pulls back, you catch the slightest grin on her face before she returns to her sharpening, leaving you both relieved and intrigued by her reaction.

Psylocke (Betsy Braddock):

Betsy stands in the training room, her katana slicing through the air with deadly precision as she moves through her forms, each step graceful and controlled. Her concentration is razor-sharp, her purple hair swaying slightly with each movement. You watch her from the doorway, admiring her strength and elegance. Feeling a bit mischievous, you walk past her and, with a swift hand, give her a playful smack on the ass.

The reaction is immediate. Betsy’s katana comes to a halt mid-swing, and she turns to look at you, her eyes narrowed but not without a hint of amusement. "Y/N…" she says, her British accent soft but carrying a warning edge. "You have a death wish, don’t you?"

You chuckle, stepping closer. "Just trying to get your attention."

She raises an eyebrow, her gaze steady as she studies you, clearly deciding whether to indulge in this game. Slowly, she sheathes her katana, her movements deliberate as she steps toward you, her expression calm but mischievous. "If you wanted my attention, love, all you had to do was ask," she murmurs, her voice smooth as silk.

Betsy closes the distance between you, her fingers lightly trailing across your arm. "But you’re not getting away with that without a little…payback." Before you can react, you feel her telepathic presence in your mind, a light, teasing brush that makes your head spin. She smirks, clearly enjoying the effect she has on you. "Next time, be prepared for the consequences," she says, her voice low as she leans in and kisses you softly, a warning and a promise wrapped in one.

Blink (Clarice Ferguson):

Clarice sits cross-legged on the living room floor, her portal-creating daggers resting beside her as she meditates, her eyes closed in peaceful focus. You’ve always admired her calm nature, the way she can find serenity amidst the chaos of mutant life. But today, you feel like breaking that tranquility, if only for a moment. As you walk by, you give her a playful smack on the ass, grinning to yourself as you wait for her reaction.

Blink’s eyes shoot open, and in an instant, one of her pink, glowing daggers is in her hand. She turns her head to look at you, her expression caught between surprise and amusement. "Y/N!" she exclaims, her lips quirking into a smile despite herself. "What was that for?"

You shrug, feigning innocence. "Just wanted to see if I could get a rise out of you."

Clarice stands up, twirling her dagger effortlessly in her hand before making it disappear. She walks over to you, her green eyes shining with playful intent. "Well, you got your wish," she says, her voice soft and teasing. "But don’t think you can just get away with it."

She steps closer, her smile widening. "Maybe next time, I’ll open a portal and drop you somewhere far, far away," she jokes, though the glint in her eyes tells you she might just be serious. "Or maybe…" She leans in, her breath warm against your ear as she whispers, "I’ll let you wonder when I’ll get my revenge."

Before you can respond, she gives you a quick kiss on the cheek and phases through a nearby portal, leaving you to contemplate just how she might retaliate.

[daily-keisou]

Day 111: contagious

[daily-gressil]

Day 9: oh my god no, he got planted..

[eternalsunrise]

home, sweet home.

wolverine (logan howlett) x f!reader

wc: 980 (drabble)

tags! established relationship, no actual smut but super suggestive and gets graphic toward the end

notes! horny . but also v sweet. i pictured origins logan while writing this 💋

“if you keep moving i’m going to start slicing you up on purpose” your threat is empty, wrist away from his face completely, razor pointed the opposite direction. even with his regenerative abilities, you don’t want to hurt him, even if it’s just an accidental cut on his jaw.

logan was fully capable of doing this himself. after all, he’d been shaving his own face for decades upon decades. but there was no way he was going to pass up this opportunity.

he came through the front door after a two week long mission, scruffier than he was when he left. his mutton chops curling up at the tips of his jawline, mustache just long enough to tickle your face. he’d forgotten to pack his razor, and he’d rather use his own claws than use scott’s, or even worse, hank’s.

you were on him as soon as he walked in, leeched to his body, your hands everywhere. it had been too long since the wolverine breathed you in like this, his enhanced senses overstimulated in the best way. you ran your hand over his scratchy cheek, inquiring about his new look. he told you he was planning on cleaning it up but was exhausted. that’s when you offered.

now he’s sat on the toliet seat, and maybe he’s enjoying the view of you on his lap a little too much. he lifted his hips, bouncing you lightly on his legs.

“hm. relax princess, jus’ adjusting.” logan gives you a teasing smile, basking in the bliss he only feels in your presence. your eyes narrow in faux disdain, it’s hard to be frustrated at a guy with shaving cream covering his face. you grab one of his feline quips of hair, using it to tilt his head to finish the task at hand.

“i’m going with you next time, i can’t have you walking around like a caveman.” i missed you more than i can say.

ever the man, the image of you in an x-men suit pops into his brain, the leather hugging your body just right. the thought brings a smirk to his face, but it fades when he hears your sigh. right, no moving.

“yes ma’am. i’ll call the professor and let him know.” i missed you too. felt like i was never going to come back to you.

you lean your body over to rinse the razor off in the sink, logan’s large hands on your thighs keeping you steady. the metal clinks against the porcelain of the sink, shaving cream and dark hair going down the drain.

when you look back, you see your boyfriend in place of the lumberjack that walked in earlier. still scruffy and masculine, after all he is still the wolverine.

logan lifts his hips again, shifting backwards and forcing you to fall against him, razor clattering out of your hand. “whoops” his deep voice carries no sympathy, chocolate eyes locking with yours, giving you that love struck look that makes your stomach turn. the kind of look he saves just for you.

your chests are touching, the closeness sets your whole body ablaze. it’s been too long since you’ve got to soak him up like this. the smell of him makes your head swim; leather, cheap cigar smoke, and that cologne you bought him a few months back.

logan sneaks his hands under his brown flannel button up you’re wearing, delighted to be met by the bare skin of your hips. the metal of his belt buckle is cold against the bottom of your stomach, causing a gasp to leave you.

as he admires you now; sitting pretty in his lap in only his shirt, logan wonders how he had the strength to leave you in the first place.

hands wander over his freshly shaved face, stubble like soft needles against your fingertips. your head has a mind of its own, and suddenly your lips are brushing his. once. twice. a third time. soft and slow.

there’s something new in the air now. your heart is pounding, and you wonder if he can feel it beating through your chest and into his own. there’s a split second of silent eye contact before logan lurches forward.

there’s hunger behind his kiss. a certain lust behind his tongue making its way to yours. your hips swivel in search of friction. hands tangled in his hair, pulling in a way that’s so familiar it makes logan groan into your mouth; already aware of what tonight will bring.

his hands are traveling up your his shirt, rough fingers just barely making contact with your breasts. his touch lights you on fire, forcing you to break apart, head tilting back in a whimper.

logan takes that as his cue, and suddenly you’re in the air. one of his hands on your lower back securing you to him, the other cradling the underside of your knee.

you latch your other leg behind his waist as he walks out of the bathroom. your lips reconnected, eager to make up for the lost time.

you recognize the softness of your mattress against your back as logan lies you down gently. his mouth continues its assault, a trail of wet kisses down your jaw and side of your throat. he can feel your pulse drumming frantically under his lips, and he has to bite back a smirk at the effect he seemed to have on you.

your reaching your hands down to unclasp his belt when….ring. ring. ring. you feel the vibration against his pants and you think you might die if you have to stop right now.

you both pause in your actions. logan let out a gruff “you gotta be jokin’” as he stands up straight, leaving you lying on the bed.

he pulls his phone from his pocket, eyeing the caller id, scott summers. he’d been the third member of the x-men to try and get ahold of him. fuck can’t a guy have a day off?

he looks away from the phone, shifting his eyes to you. you’re sprawled beautifully on the bed. hair fanned around your head, cheeks flushed red with a devious smile to match. his eyes follow your body down to your legs. they’re spread wide for him, and he watches in shock as you let a hand slide between your thighs, swirling a couple slow circles on your clit through soaked panties.

you throw your head back and call his name, and that’s enough for him. logan tosses his phone over his shoulder, leaning down and crawling in between your legs.

“they’re gonna have to come pry me from this fucking bed, doll. i’m not goin’ nowhere.”

god it was good to be home.

[jobean12-blog]

Kiss to Kiss

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Word Count: 855

Summary: Joel is grumpier than usual and the only way to make it better is YOU.

Author's Note: This is a completely self-indulgent fic focused on his neck because not unknown to you all I'm obsessed with it and I could spend the rest of forever kissing his neck. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: soft and sweet fluff with LOTS of kisses, especially neck kiss

PS if you're looking for some yummy posts check out @iamasaddie post HERE. She has so many goodies! Thanks for the inspo sweets!

PPS I sprinkled a couple of yummy gifs in there too just bc 🫠

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

When the front door of your small house creaks open and then slams shut with a bang you turn off the oven and brush off your hands.

“Joel?”

The only response you get is in the form of an acknowledging grunt.

He’s standing in the hallway, one hand on his hip and the other rubbing his jaw. He looks lost in thought.

“What happened?” you ask quietly as you approach.

His brown eyes look up and you can see the lines on his forehead soften at the sight of you. He doesn’t answer and just tracks your movement until you reach him and press yourself closer.

Your fingertips lightly trace his jaw as you study his face.

“Come here,” you tell him before grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the couch.

He follows and promptly sits when you give him a little shove. Immediately, his legs spread wide and he places his elbows on his knees, massaging the bridge of his nose.

You stand between his legs and remove his fingers from his face, waiting until he sits back. Then you rest your hands on his broad shoulders and straddle his waist.

“You want to talk about why you’re so grumpy?”

As you ask the question you gently drag your fingers across his cheek and then the outline of his scruffy jaw. His gaze is trained on your face but when you lean in and press your lips to his neck you can feel him let out a deep exhale.

“Who said I’m grumpy?” he grumbles before his eyes close, dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks and his hands slowly slide up your thighs to settle on your waist.

You delicately drag your nose over his skin, stopping just below his ear to press another soft kiss there. Your lips linger on every inch of his neck and he sinks further into the couch, the tension sliding from his shoulders.

Your fingers toy with the already open collar of his shirt, dipping lower until you reach the first closed button. You pop it open and let your fingertips explore his newly exposed skin while keeping your lips on his neck. You find every little beauty mark and kiss it, nuzzling and breathing him in as you go.

He rests his head along the back of the couch and you take the opportunity to kiss along his collarbone and over the hollow of his throat, feeling the deep vibration of his satisfied hum.

When you reach the other side of his neck you start at his pulse point, nipping softly before trailing kisses all the way up to his other ear.

He slips his fingers under your shirt and digs them into your skin, holding you in place. Your lips graze his cheek until you find his mouth and press a feather light kiss there.

“Darlin’,” he murmurs, his eyes still closed. “More.”

You happily oblige and pepper his face with kisses. His forehead, his nose, his eyelids and every patch of gray that lines his cheeks. Without stopping you dip your head to his neck again and drag your mouth along his skin with light kisses.

Each time your lips pass his mouth he chases them.

He flattens his palms and slides his hands along the curve of your back then gently smooths them back down. You shiver from his touch and smile into his neck.

“That feels nice,” you whisper.

He does it again, keeping you close while you continue pressing your lips to the strong column of his neck. When you gently suck on his skin you can feel his hard swallow. His hands still and he moves you back so he can look you in the eyes.

“No more?” you ask.

“I always want more,” he answers.

“Do you want to tell me why you’re upset first?”

He slowly shakes his head no, tilting his face and gliding his hand up to your neck to bring your lips closer. His palm flattens against your cheek and he rubs his calloused thumb across your temple.

“Later,” he whispers against your mouth. “Talk later.”

His kiss is soft but still holds a desperation you’re all too familiar with and when he takes you in his arms and lays you on the couch, you welcome the comfortable and safe weight of him, wrapping you in his warmth and scent.

He cradles your cheek and brushes his lips across yours tenderly.

“I made cookies…” you tell him softly.

“Is that what I smell?”

His lips curve into a small smile and you quickly kiss them.

“Yep. You want some?”

He buries his face in your neck and runs his nose along your skin and when you feel his lips part to speak you answer for him before he has the chance.

“I know…later,” you say.

His gaze finds yours and he smiles again, his eyes closing when your fingers comb through his hair.

Your lips meet with a tug on his curls and he hums contentedly when you melt into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and forgetting about everything else but him.

@littleseasiren @hiddles-rose @lizette50 @lorilane33 @blackwidownat2814

[7ndipity]

Connected

Namjoon x Reader

Summary: Joon loves the way you take care of him and wants to be as close to you as possible.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: +18 mdni, smut, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, swearing, not proofread

A/N: She finally wrote another drabble! It only took 84 years!🙃(I know it was only like a month, but it was pissing me off) A big thanks to @coffeedepressionsoup for this request! Sorry it took me a while to get to, I hope you’ll still like it!

Masterlist

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The late evening light that filtered through the bedroom curtains was just bright enough for you to make out Namjoon’s features as you lay against his chest, waiting for your breathing to return to normal.

Two weeks apart hadn’t really seemed that long of a time until you were back in his arms, and suddenly it was like he hadn’t felt you in months. The cozy dinner you had planned together had long been forgotten, finding a far more fulfilling reunion instead in feverish touches and strangled cries of each other's names.

It might not have been the exact way you planned for the night to go, but as you looked up at him in the cool glow of midnight, you couldn’t imagine a more perfect evening.

“You okay?” You asked softly, noticing the still unsteady pace of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips.

“Yeah, that was…” He let out a deep breath. “I needed that.”

You caught the thin strain in his voice, the tone you knew he used when he was stressed but trying to hide it.

“Rough week?” You asked, reaching up to comb your fingers through his messy hair.

“Mhm.” He hummed, closing his eyes, leaning into your touch.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.” He laughed humorlessly. “Honestly, I’m so fucking tired, I don’t even wanna think right now,” He pulled you closer, letting his lips brush against yours as he spoke.”Just wanna be here with you.”

You connected your lips with his, parting them at the faintest probing of his tongue to grant him access to lazily explore your mouth.

As you rubbed his shoulders soothingly, he couldn’t help wincing into the kiss as you passed over a particularly sensitive spot.

Feeling him flinch, you pulled away, looking up at him with concern.

“Is something wrong?” You asked.

“I just twinged my shoulder earlier, it’s fine.” He said quickly, trying to brush it off.

“You want me to give you a massage? It might help?” You offered.

“I’ll be fine.” He tried again, leaning in to claim your lips once again, but you weren’t having it, dodging his lips and sitting up on your knees.

“Sit up.” You said, tugging his arm.

“Babe, I’m fine, really.” He argued, following your request anyway.

“Yes, but you could feel even better,” You said stubbornly. “Now let me take care of you.”

He sighed, caving easily to you. “Fine, but I want you here.” He patted his lap.

You straddled his lap without argument, letting him hold onto your hips out of habit, and giving him a quick peck on the lips before setting to work, trying to gently knead out the tension and soreness in his shoulder without causing him any more pain in the process.

You weren’t an expert by any means, but whatever you were doing seemed to feel good at least, earning soft, appreciative grunts from Joon as he let his head droop forward to rest against your chest.

You were always so good to him, so ready and willing to take care of him in any shape or form, whether that was making sure he slept and ate properly, or letting him use your body for his own pleasure. Even now, when normally he would be fussing over making sure you were okay, you managed to look after him as well.

He’d never felt so completely safe in someone’s arms before, so completely loved. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve you, but he was beyond thankful to whatever forces had led him to you.

Tilting his head up, he started peppering soft, lingering kisses across the expanse of your neck, sucking lightly at the still blooming marks left over from his earlier ministrations, making you squirm as his grip on your hips tightened.

“Joon.” You whined, feeling the growing weight of his hardening length against your core.

“Hmm?” He hummed, still focused on trailing kisses along your neck.

“I thought you were tired.” You said.

“Who said that?” He said, smirking against your neck.

“You did! Five minutes ago.” You giggled

“That was five minutes ago,” He said, coming back up to your lips. “You were right, I’m feeling much better now.”

He kissed you deeply, rolling you both over so that you were now caged in under him, your legs falling open naturally for him to settle between as his lips trailed down your front.

He loved you like this, all spread out and willing, any trace of shyness or hesitance completely absent from the way you whined out his name again as he latched onto one of your nipples, arching further up into his touch.

His fingers ghosted between your thighs, teasing your wet folds and making you shudder from sensitivity.

His gaze darted back up to your face, mirroring your earlier concern.

“Is this okay?” He asked, suddenly worried about pushing you too far.

“Joon,” You pulled him back down to you. “Stop thinking.”

You kissed him deeply, your hips up bucking against his hand all the encouragement he needed to continue.

He slipped his fingers between your folds again, his movements so soft and gentle as he spread your slick over your cunt, as if it was the first time he touched you.

“Fuck baby, how’re you always so wet?” He said, almost in disbelief. You were literally dripping, making a mess of the sheets beneath you as he toyed with your clit, pulling the sweetest little noises from your lips as he let two fingers sink into your wet heat, curling them inside of you to find the spot that made you see white.

He loved the way you fell apart for him, head thrown back as your eyes closed in bliss, clinging to him for stability as he pushed you towards your release.

He could feel his cock hanging heavy between his legs, twitching and begging for any sort of attention, but he chose to ignore it, focusing solely on the way you clenched around his fingers, your breath stuttering as your orgasm threatened to overtake you.

“Joon.” You tried to warn him.

“I know, Baby, it’s okay.” He breathed. “Let go.”

You let out a choked cry that faintly sounded like his name as you came, your back arching off the mattress and pressing you closer to him as your whole body shook from the intensity of your high.

"You did so good, baby.” He said softly, pressing a soothing kiss to your temple as you came down. “So fucking good."

“Joonie,” You whimpered in that soft tone that made him feel dizzy with need. “Want you inside, please.”

“Are you sure?” He asked gently. “It’s okay if you wanna tap out or take a break.”

You shook your head. “Need you, please.”

How could he deny you when you ask so sweetly?

He drew his fingers out slowly, letting out a deep groan as he wrapped the slick coated digits around his aching cock, jerking himself a few times to spread your wetness over the length as he stared down at the mess he’d made of you.

He guided the head of his cock between your puffy lips, tracing around the outside of your entrance teasingly, resisting the urge to slip in yet, loving the way he could feel you clenching around nothing.

“Joonie!” You whimpered, squirming impatiently.

He chuckled at your desperation, as if he wasn’t already nearly as gone as you were. “Alright, Sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

He repositioned himself, hovering over you as he eased himself into your weeping cunt, eyes shut tight as he felt your fluttering walls stretch to accommodate him. He was amazed at how you still managed to feel this tight even after he fucked you less then a half an hour ago.

He forced his eyes back open as he bottomed out, staring down you with complete adoration.

“I love you so fucking much.” He sighed, kissing you softly, your arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders, cradling him even closer to you.

If there was a way to preserve a singular moment to exist within for the rest of your life, this was where Namjoon would want to be; not a single thing in the world mattering other than you and him and the way you connected together so perfectly.

Eventually, he started to roll his hips into yours, earning a soft moan from you against his lips.

He kept his movements smooth and unrushed, not fully chasing his own high, just enjoying the feeling of you around him, the way you sucked him in with each thrust, the way you twitched in his arms when his cock brushed against that gummy spot inside of you just right.

Far sooner than he anticipated, he felt lower abdomen beginning to tense, his hips beginning to speed up as his release rapidly approached.

“Fuck, ‘m close.” He warned through clenched teeth.

“Cum for me, baby, please.” You whispered, clutching onto him even tighter.

Your words were the last thing he needed to push him over the edge, his hips slamming against yours with a sudden intensity as he thrusted as deep inside of you as he could manage before cumming, filling you to the brim and making you twitch with sensitivity.

He slowly fell down on top of you, his head coming to rest against your chest, your positions from earlier now switched, his eyes beginning to droop closed on their accord.

“Are you tired now?” You asked, grinning as you caught sight of his sleepy expression.

He chuckled drowsily. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good,” You kissed his forehead gently. “Go to sleep, Joonie-bear.”

“I love you.“ He mumbled, letting his eyes fully drift closed.

“I love you too.”

He slept better that night than he had in weeks, knowing he was back in the safety of your arms.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[ginkgo-phyta]

At elementary school I bent down next to an open window, when I stood up I hit my scalp with the "corner" (I don't know the exact word, English is not my first language), hurting myself (even though I didn't tell anyone because I was embarrassed about it). Since then, I pay more attention to edges, always covering them with my hand. So it got me thinking, Spencer Reid x Reader where Reader, during dinner with the team, drops something and crouches down to catch it, when they move their hand to cover the edge of the table (in order not to injure themselves) it touches Spencer's hand (I'm being delusional about that video of a man doing it for his gf while I do it for myself, because I'm lonel an independent woman). Thank you for reading this <33

A/N: ahh i’m so sorry that happened when you were younger! i love this prompt tho, reminds me of all those moments in kdramas ehehe i too would want spencer reid to do this for me *swoons* i hope you enjoy, my love!

Summary: Spencer notices you covering corners of sharp surfaces to stop yourself from getting hurt. One evening, he decides to do it for you.

fluff, gender neutral reader, no warnings(?), 1.8k words

It was normal for Spencer to pick up on others’ behaviors, completely in-line for him to observe his coworkers and mentally note their different habits or time how long it ordinarily takes them to complete a task. Usually, he finished his desk work quicker than his counterparts, granting him plenty of time in between to people-watch. For some reason, however, he observed you the most. At this point it had been five months, one week, three days, fourteen hours and thirty-six minutes since you were introduced to the team, since you were officially a part of the BAU family, and Spencer was acutely aware of your movements for every one of those seconds. 

I’m just being cautious, he’d try to reason with himself whenever he’d catch himself staring a little bit too intently at you, watching your every moment a bit too closely. The other profilers around him, however, knew the true reason. Unbeknownst to Spencer, hushed whispers, knowing looks, quirks of eyebrows, twitches of smiles all passed around him every time he’d observe you. You were none the wiser, simply too engrossed in whatever task lay at hand to be privy to any peering gazes.

There were a few of your quirks that struck Spencer the most: the way you lightly tapped your fingertips against the computer keyboard as you brainstormed what to type next; how you made sure to thoroughly wipe your shoes on entrance mats before stepping into any space- even deceased victims’ homes; your habit of humming random, seemingly made-up tunes as you ate your lunch; and lastly, yet most strikingly, the way you would diligently cover sharp corners with your hands, obviously incredibly wary of them. The way you maneuvered around certain tasks confused Spencer, at first, but he found out the cause of your behavior purely by luck. 

The first time he picked it up was watching you make coffee at the BAU kitchenette three weeks, two days, six hours, and fifty-five minutes into starting the job. Unlike Spencer- who would swing the cabinet open without a care in the world if it hit him in the head, too concerned about simply getting his caffeine fix- you would gingerly open the door at a forearm's distance. He noticed the way you’d wrap your palm over the bottom corner of the cabinet door, holding it that way while putting your coffee together with the other hand. The second time he noticed was five days, ten hours, and seventeen minutes after the first, when the two of you were looking over a crime scene nestled in the unsuspecting suburbs of Los Angeles. You and Spencer were combing over the murder site in the master-bedroom when something caught your eye. You had slowly approached the source of glinting on the baseboard below a window where the unsub was thought to have entered the home. Even though your eyes never left the mysterious material, your gloved hand came up to cushion the corner of the wooden blinds that had been left swung open as you crouched below them. 

Spencer had given this habit of yours much thought over the next week, three days, four hours, and forty-nine minutes until Derek had revealed the wizard behind the curtain. 

“What happened here, sugar?” the broad-shouldered profiler asked you from where he leaned against your desk, hand coming up to quickly and lightly tap your temple.

“Oh, this?” you breathe out, your own fingers replacing where the man’s had just grazed, pressing into the barely-noticeable scar. You chuckled at the memory, “When I was a kid, my head hit the corner of a window’s molding pretty hard…” your voice trails off a bit, zoning out as you massage the miniscule indent.

Derek audibly winces at the mental image, “Must’ve hurt like a bitch, huh?”

You nod in response, “I never told anyone, though. Now you know my deepest, darkest secret.” You shot him a playful grin before turning back to the case file on your desk where Morgan was helping you with a consult. 

Unbeknownst to the both of you, Spencer had overheard the whole thing. It all made sense now, the event clearly occurred at an impressionable age, leaving traces of trauma spurring your muscle memory. The young doctor made sure to file that information away in the recesses of his mind. He took a few minutes to think about it first, along with the other habits of yours he’d picked up on. Spencer’s mind began to wander, dreaming of the different possible backstories for each quirk. He wondered what other traits you might exhibit that he had yet to have seen. Was there anything you stopped yourself from doing, anything you were made to feel embarrassed about? He knew how cruel people could be. The prospect of someone humiliating you had him fisting his hands against his thighs, jaw clenching ever-so-slightly. That would be ridiculous, absurd even! All of your whimseys were just that; intriguing, charming, and…endearing. Wait, wait, no! Spencer shook the thought out of his head- that’s not what he meant! He turned back to his own work, deep in thought: Or…was it?

One month, one week, five hours, and twelve minutes after Spencer clued in on the lore behind your little habit, everyone was gathered at Rossi’s house for a team dinner. The eldest agent wanted to properly welcome you into the team, even though it had been quite some time since you started. Five months, one week, three days, fourteen hours and thirty-eight minutes. Everyone sat around David’s long, rectangular dinner table where he stood at the head, wine glass raised. He spoke your name, loud and welcoming. 

“Chiedo scusa, I’m so sorry it’s taken me this long to have you here. But, I want to quickly say how grateful we are to have you part of this team. People have come, people have gone, but you will always be part of the BAU family.” With a flourish, he urged everyone else to raise their glasses, “Salute!” 

“Salute!”

“Here, here!”

“Cheers!”

“We love you!”

The mix of happy voices and delicately dinging glasses praising you warmed your cheeks in delight. The job was tough, but having people like these to work beside made everything easier. The flush painted over your ears and tickled the back of your neck when you glimpsed over to Spencer who gazed back at you with fond and tender eyes. 

“Cheers,” he whispered, leaning in just a bit to clink his glass with yours, “We’re lucky to have you here.” 

All you could do was shake your head as you chuckled, sheepishly taking in the way Spencer’s soft oak eyes peered at you over the edge of his water glass. You went to pick your fork up from the table mat, but your hands felt weak and palmy from being so close to the fluffy haired genius, causing the utensil to fumble out of your fingers. No matter how hard you tried to deny it, you were forming a not-so-subtle crush on him. 

“Damn,” you whispered to yourself, craning your neck to see where the fork hard landed on the elegantly patterned rug. Quite a bit away from you under the table, unreachable by stretching foot. With a light groan you pushed out of your chair, settled on the idea of crawling under the table to get the fugitive cutlery. Out of reflex, your hand flew up to hold onto the edge of the dinner table to prevent any possibility of bumping your head against it. Instead of feeling smooth, rigid, temperate wood under your palm, you felt something soft and warm. Immediately, your hand flinched away and you looked up from the floor to see Spencer hands, large and steady, cupping the profile of the table. 

“Oh, sor-” 

Before you could even finish apologizing, his raspy timbre sang out, “Don’t worry, I got it.” 

Your heart swelled with an unplaceable emotion. The flush from earlier returned with greater heat, spreading over every square inch of your body. It took you a moment of just staring at him in shock before his voice pulled you out of your daze. 

“You can go, it’s okay,” his laugh was shy this time, eyes running from your gaze to focus on the conversation your tablemates were having. 

You snapped out of your bewilderment, crouching down and fetching your fork before emerging back into your seat. Spencer kept his hand in the same position the whole time, picking at his own food and laughing with the others who didn’t seem to notice what you were up to. 

“Thank you,” you said, all settled into your chair. Your words returned Spencer’s attention to you, a kind smile growing on his face. 

“It’s no problem,” his hand lingered for a split-second longer than necessary before sliding into his lap. It had been a reflexive action, his subconscious fearing you would hurt yourself, but as the seconds passed he started doubting himself. “I didn’t want you to get hurt. I know it’s happened before.” The unexpected confession caused Spencer to look away from you, fearing he’d made you uncomfortable. With a light cough, he brought his napkin up to his face to feign wiping his mouth when in actuality he was attempting to hide the blush creeping across his cheeks.

“How’d you know?” You were surprised, but Spencer was relieved to hear no hint of distaste in your voice.

“I, um…” Another small cough pierced his train of thought, “I heard you telling Morgan a while back.” His chip dipped down a bit as he gulped down his worries.

“Wha-” Surprised, yet again, you couldn’t find the right words, your eyes searching for them in the intricate motif etched around the china plate staring up at you. “But that was so long ago…” your hands lay unmoving on the table, fingers picking at the corners of the place mat.

“One month, one week, five hours, and twenty minutes ago.” Spencer mumbled, gently yet matter-of-factly, picking at the pasta slumped before him.

Your eyes whipped up to look at him, mouth slightly agape in surprise. Moments pass by as you take him in, absolutely floored at his memory. You’d seen him quote passing time before, that wasn’t shocking at this point, but the fact that he retained something so trivial about you left you dumbfounded. He sat there, chewing on the smallest pieces of pasta you’d ever see a person put in their mouth, acting as if his actions were embarrassing instead of…heart-warming.

“And you remembered?” Your voice was quiet, unbelieving and cheerful. It beckoned Spencer to you like minnow reels in trout. 

He peeled his eyes up from his meal to look at you; your face, benevolent and compassionate; your smile, small yet loving; your eyebrows pulled up by a slivered string of affection. The hand resting unsurely in his lap moves up to gently grasp his water class, his pinky grazing against yours. He left it there, your own inching over indiscernibly to gain just a fraction of a bit more comfort. 

Spencer smiled at you, balmy and adoring, his words widening the grin on your face.

“Of course I did.” 

A/N: okay okay OKAYYY ANONN how was this?? ugh i loved this prompt sm i wish i had spencer reid to look out for me…even tho i, too, am a lonely i mean independent woman

does this count as a belated valentine's day fic? teehee

[francixoxoxo]

˚✧ ₊Something ˚. ʚ

Billy the Kid x Reader

You’re pregnant with Billy’s baby, and it’s taking a bit of a toll on you. You have a breakdown, and Billy soothes you.

TW: reader is pregnant, weight insecurity, mentions of miscarriage

Basically pure angst and comfort, sorryyyyy (not sorry)

It was times like these that you wished God made you a man.

Not to say you weren’t in awe of yourself. You were carrying a human life— wasn’t that something? Your mother was insistent on specific teas and herbs to help the baby. Your friends were giddy with excitement, you being the first of them all to have a baby. Your husband? You didn’t think Billy could be more protective than if he locked you in a safe.

He argued his way into plenty of late-start workdays to take care of you when you felt sick. He was wary of you going out on particularly hot days, as if you’d melt. When he was with you, in public or not, he tucked you to his side and kept an iron grip on you. You were his sweetest girl, and now that you were pregnant? Oh, if he could hide you from every danger, he would. He certainly tried.

But Billy couldn’t keep you from every difficulty that came with pregnancy. He held your hair back from your face as you vomited, but he couldn’t keep your food down for you. He’d rub your feet before you fixed your lips to ask, as if to make up for not being able to carry you everywhere you needed.

“M’ sorry.” Billy cooed to you as you laid in bed one night, gently rubbing that spot in your hip you’d admitted was hurting. You shook your head, the dim moonlight filtering through the window gratefully letting him see your soft smile.

“Not your fault.” You murmured, nose-to-nose with him, your eyes flicking twixt his concerned blue ones. You couldn’t have found a better man’s baby to have.

Billy shook his head gently but with an adamant and dark expression. He pet some hair back from your face. “Well, I did this t’you, didn’t I?”

Your eyes smiled with your lips at his words. “And I’m glad you did.” You couldn’t resist moving in closer, your nose burying into his chest. His strong arms immediately wrapped around you to hold you close to him. Calloused fingertips lightly trailed along your ribs, you felt the faintest touch of his lips to your hairline.

It wasn’t a lie. You were happy to be a mother, really.

But that happiness tended to subside when you passed a mirror. Oh, you’d gained so much. You mentioned it once to Billy, but he shut it down quickly by assuring you how beautiful he found you. His words had stuck with you for perhaps a day before the self-hatred seeped in again.

Or when Billy came home late, a bassinet or a changing table in tow, grinning ear-to-ear, and you wouldn’t dare to but wanted to yell what a waste it would end up being. Self-hatred wasn’t simply for what was on the surface— you were certain your body would fail you, and more importantly that it would let down Billy. But you hadn’t dared breathe a word to him. Not when he smiled so brightly as he looked over his shoulder at you, setting the wooden cradle down in the small room dedicated as the nursery.

Billy had begged you to not go on horseback rides anymore, now that you were (according to him) fragile. You assured him you wouldn’t, soothing his already high-strung nerves over you.

Yet here you were, galloping about as fast as your horse could dash without his heart bursting a gasket. Tears were already stinging your eyes, the wind whipping your hair behind you. You were riding so furiously that you were standing on the stirrups, bent over and gripping the reins like a professional jockey.

Your mind was just swimming. You were seven months along by now, and you never felt worse. Perhaps it was just a day, or a week, or a month— but you couldn’t bottle it up. Billy wasn’t home, and you supposed it would be better to empty your rotten feelings in an empty field than onto your poor lover’s lap. Your heart clenched at the thought of what he’d say. Oh, you’d break his heart, surely.

And you weren’t keen on hurting Billy, not when he was the one thing holding you together. The thought of him now reminded you to breathe, you hadn’t realized the burn in your lungs. You even dared taking your hand off the reins to wipe the hot tears off your cheeks.

Eventually you found your spot. It’d been so long since you came here, just the sight of the sun-warmed rocks poking out from the river made your heart lighten. You tied your horse to a tree, discarding your boots at its roots. The grass was pleasantly warm under your bare feet, your eyes trained on the wildflowers blooming as the earth sloped down slightly to the riverbank. Here, tears slipped from you like nothing. You sank into the long grass, laying back and letting the fronds tickle the skin your chemise exposed.

If the river overflowed from the buckets of tears you cried, you would hardly be surprised. The breath was utterly stolen from your lungs as you wept, a hand over your heart and consequently the increased swell of your breast. Just the subtle reminder of the way your body had changed made you bawl harder. Oh, how you wanted it off you! You wanted it all to stop, for it all to go away. But that desperate want washed guilt over you.

How could you want your baby gone?

You didn’t! You didn’t, you told yourself, wiping at the tears that wouldn’t ebb. You loved this baby before you’d even met it. And now that fear was clawing at your heart again, threatening to rip it into strings, the fear that you never would meet it.

Perhaps it was your weeping that drew Billy to that creek, perhaps it pierced through to his heart like an arrow all the way from home. He hardly took a peek around your quaint house before hopping back on his horse. And at the perfect moment, when you thought you simply couldn’t bear such heavy feelings any longer, you heard the sound of boots on grass.

You lifted your head, catching your breath and peering over the overgrown, tall blades of glass to see Billy’s face looking back down at you. Wasn’t he the image of an angel? He immediately sunk to his knees beside you, that angelic face screwed up in concern as he cooed, “Oh, baby, my baby.. Hush, don’t cry, hon..”

Something about Billy’s strong arms practically scooping you up to lean against his broad chest had you sobbing mightily. You turned your cheek into him, wetting his work shirt and smelling deeply his musk, tinged with sweat. The low timbre of his voice willing you to calm down had mixed effects. In certain ways you felt safe. As though everything was suddenly all-right. And in other ways, you felt so unbelievably helpless.

Frankly? It terrified Billy. He clutched you tight, running his calloused palms up and down your arms, over the rise of your belly, stroking your wet cheeks. He can’t remember a time he’s seen you so distressed. It feels like years until your sobs delve into soft, shudders gasps and sighs, the skin ‘round your eyes rubbed raw. You’ve stopped trying to wipe the tears away, but Billy’s taken up the job, diligently swiping the wetness away from your pretty eyes and cheeks with his thumb.

after you calmed, you croaked a soft, “Sorry.” Billy shook his head adamantly, knitting his brows.

“Don’t apologize, baby. You ain’t done anything wrong.” He cooed gently, wrapping his arms around your front and pulling you even closer to his chest. Your heart was weary, your stomach heavy. But Billy made it all just a bit better. You could feel more than see his blue eyes flicking between your face and your belly. “What’s wrong?”

You pressed your lips nervously. You let your gaze fall on the running brook, the quiet rushing of water over rock soothing. Billy’s roughened hand came to lay over yours on your lap, giving to the strength to admit, “I’m miserable.”

Billy paused in nearly every way. You thought that his heart stopped a beat, and you were certain his breath hitched. “What d’you mean?” He squeezed your hand.

“I..” You caught yourself on the verge of admitting your darkest fear, silently reprimanding yourself and deciding to admit the less painful one. “I look so different. Not in a good way.. I’m so much fatter, Billy.” Your voice wavered as you spoke; even if it was vain, or the least of your problems, it still weighed on you. It still hurt.

“Oh, baby..” Billy sighed, nosing your hair and shaking his head a bit. “You aren’t fat. You’re so, so goddamn beautiful.”

Your lips pulled, threatening to part in a sob before you swallowed it down. Tears came back to your eyes. Why couldn’t you believe his words? “I’m not. Look at me! I’m a planet. I don’t know how you can stand to look at me.” Your voice cracked, much to your embarrassment. Your hands went to cover your eyes but Billy gently pulled them away. He tilted your chin to meet your eyes, his own peering at you like you were mad, or some poor creature. As if you’d offended him by talking so poorly about yourself.

Billy murmured your name and shook his head adamantly again. “You’re carryin’ a baby. My baby. A damn life.” He paused, eyes silently flicking twixt yours for a moment, trying to see if his words were sinking in. “Maybe your body’s a little different, but I think you look perfect. Might even be more attracted t’you, if that’s possible.” Billy cooed, his voice somehow gentle and firm at once. A smirk crept across his face at that last bit, only growing upon seeing your slight smile.

But his expression became concerned and serious again after a moment, he furrowed his brows. “Don’t talk bad ‘bout my girl like that, baby. You’re just as gorgeous as ever. Frankly, I like that you’re a little softer now. Just a little more of you t’hold.” Billy went on until your faint smile broadened, tightening his arms around you as he worked a blush out of you.

The insecurity didn’t leave you, but his words were enough to wash out the self-hatred. If Billy loved you, surely you could too. The way he was looking at you right now honestly had you believing he thought you an angel. Because he did, in every way. “Th-thank you..” You mumbled after a while, wiping your eyes and grimacing, nuzzling your cheek further against his chest. His warm, calloused palm rubbed up and down your arm. “I love you.”

“I love you more n’ anything.” Billy said it like it was the easiest thing. As if he was born knowing it, and you should’ve understood by now. Yet still, it eluded you just how he could adore you so much. Perhaps he could see that haze in your eyes as you averted your gaze to the grass, thinking on that. Would he still love you if your body killed his baby? Never mind the fact that it was your baby as well— it was Billy’s too, and he was so, so excited for it.. How would you live with yourself if Billy’s baby died?

“But that’s not the only thing, is it?” Billy murmured, snapping you out of your thoughts. When you looked up at him, you realized tears blurred his face. He wiped them away as you blinked them onto your cheeks.

You couldn’t keep a thing from him, not now. You shook your head, feeling a rock lodge in your throat when you opened your mouth to speak. He squeezed your arm gently, furrowing his brows and kissing your temple as reassurance. “Y’don’t have to—“

“—I’m afraid that I’ll kill the baby.”

Billy’s eyes went buggy, and that rock in your throat settled into your stomach. Your word lingered in the air for a few agonizingly long, painful moments, before your lover nodded slightly, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “You’re scared you’ll miscarry.” He rephrased, voice soft and subtly curious.

Tears flowed now like your body was dispelling every emotion it had ever experienced. Billy pulled you to him tighter, cooing soft words to you. “Hush, baby. You’re okay. You ain’t.. You’re healthy as a horse, sweetheart. What put that into your head?”

You’d been right. Your words broke his heart.

Your words came twixt sobs and needy gulps of air. “M-my momma— lost three, n’— Oh, I’m scared that—“ You were driving yourself hysterical. Billy hushed you, a hand on the back of your head pulling your face to his heartbeat. His lips were glued to your hair. “I know, baby, I know. I know.”

Oh, it felt like years ‘till you cried all the tears your eyes could make. You weren’t sure when Billy had pulled you more into his lap, your head tucked into his neck, his hand rubbing up and down your ribs while the other laid over your belly. He could feel subtle kicks now and then, but his heart was too heavy from seeing you so distraught that he couldn’t find it in him to be giddy at the feeling.

The fronds of long grass ticked your legs and bare feet, the sound of rushing water and Billy’s soothing voice filling your ears. “I feel like I’ll fail you.” You admitted softly, letting your eyes flutter closed as he smoothed a hand over your hair.

“Impossible.” Billy dismissed, his voice a firm murmur into your hair. “It wouldn’t happen. I won’t let y’entertain the idea.” His brows were pulled into a taught furrow, he blinked away the stinging in his eyes. “It wouldn’t be your fault.” He added. You nodded a bit, grimacing.

Whether it was the exhilarating lightness of simply having it off your chest or Billy’s loving assurance, your mind felt less murky. You felt ten tons lighter, tucked safely in your lovers arm, your skin tickled by warm grass and your eyes closed after a long bawl. “I’m sorry for all this fuss.” You mumble.

Billy pressed his slightly chapped lips to your hairline, his own eyes shutting. His stubble scratching your brow was a welcome reminder of his omnipresence. “Nothin’ to apologize for.”

The silence lingered a moment before you broke it again. “You’re my rock. Did I ever tell you that?” You lifted your face, craning your neck to look up at Billy. He was smiling sweetly, his lips just barely pulled over his teeth. His hand that wasn’t busy rubbing your belly was finding its way into your hair.

“You never had to.” Billy shook his head. his eyes dropped to your lips, which had found their way into a smile to mirror his, much to his delight. He pressed a kiss to them, relishing in your soft exhale. You hoped that he understood all your emotions as you out them into this kiss, all the love, the anguish, the appreciation.

He most definitely understood it all.

Billy held you for a long while after, in that sun-warmed clearing. Somehow you both came to lay in the grass on your backs, hands clasped in the gap twixt you. You stared up at the few clouds adorning the bright sky. Billy stared at you, bringing your clasped hands to your belly and flipping his to lay beside yours on the large expanse of it. His thumb brushed over the bump through the thin linen of your chemise.

Billy shook his head, smiling in that sweet way of his again and meeting your gaze. His own azure eyes glimmered with a kind of joy that you wouldn’t trade for anything.

“You’ll be a good mother.” He whispered, as if the brook wasn’t empty save for you two. “And you’re gonna make me a father, sweet thing.” Those words were breathed with reverence. Billy was simply in awe of you; of what your body was capable of. Of your soul, and your heart. Your sheer beauty, in every curve and edge. He made it clear to you with every move he made and every word he uttered. You couldn’t help a smile spreading over your cheeks, your swollen eyes turning into crescents along with your lips.

“I’m glad it’s you.” Your words were just as quiet and hushed as his. And they needed no explanation. Billy never needed one to understand you.

[thus-spoke-lo]

pairing: shanks x gn!reader cw: reader implied to be close to Shanks' age; suggestive flirting; alcohol. just a quick writing warm-up cuz i feel out of touch wc: 815

It’s late, later than you usually closed on a weeknight, but the crowd had been unusually pleasant and the tips unusually generous, so it couldn’t hurt to stay open for a just a little longer, til the moon rose high and the stars blanketed the sky in brilliant pinpricks that you could just barely see from the small window by the front door.

You chase out the last drunkard into the dimly lit streets, watching him totter off into the village square as you lock the door behind you, and turn to see you managed to miss one after all—a tall man, rosy-cheeked and scruffy, watches you from his barstool like a curious predator wondering if he was looking at prey. His crimson hair falls in his eyes as he sets his empty glass down on the bartop and wipes at his chin, a smile on his face you know all too well: the smile of a man who is about to try to scoot out of the bar without paying, or worse—the smile of a man who is about to try to barter his special brand of “goods and services” in exchange for his tab.

“Looks like it’s just you and me, kiddo,” he coos as he winks at you, slow and purposeful.

“Kiddo?” you scoff as you tuck your keys in your pocket, realizing he was about to attempt the latter brand of drink and ditch. “I’m no kid, pal.”

“Really?” He rests his chin in his hand, his tongue darting out to touch the corner of his mouth as he chuckles. “Could’ve fooled me. You look at least half my age but twice as dangerous.”

“You’re probably right about the back half of that.” You grip his shoulder when you walk by on your way behind the bar, giving it a firm, condescending squeeze and feeling the strong musculature underneath, letting your fingers drag across the plane of his back as you pass. “Compliments are nice, but they won’t pay for your drinks.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Hm.” He leans back a little on the stool and puts his hand on the back of his neck. “Too bad, I have a lot more.”

“Oh, I bet you do.”

“It’s a currency I always carry with me. It’s usually accepted anywhere, you know.”

You stand behind the bar and place your palms flat on the cool wood surface, steadying yourself; he’s charming, and certainly putting on a better show than the other drunkards that try to flirt their way into a free shot of whiskey or a mug of beer. But despite the heat that burns in your belly every time he glances at you through the fall of dark lashes, every time he tilts his head to move the salt-spray-styled hair out of his eyes, every time you wonder how he got that scar over his eyes that extends down to his chiseled cheekbones and what it would feel like under your fingertips—despite all of that, you are nothing if not someone of principle, and you weren’t about to set a precedent.

“The infamous Red-Haired Shanks might usually be able to pay with a wink and a smile and, well, something else”—your eyes flit downwards, as if you could see through the thick wood counter, right below his waist where you imagined your denial was beginning to pique his interest—“but not here. A good time doesn’t keep my lights on.”

“Ah, I see.” Shanks let out a low laugh. “So you know me, do you?”

“I know of you.” You fold your forearms on the bar, resting on them and leaning forward, your voice lowering to a quiet rasp. “Your reputation follows you.”

“Which reputation?” he grins as he moves a little closer, and you can feel the warmth of his whiskey-scented breath drift over your skin.

“I think you know the one.”

Shanks sets his wide, warm hand on yours, his calloused thumb stroking your skin lightly, light enough to make you shiver and a spark to light at the base of your spine. “So tell me then, gorgeous—do I have any chance with you?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“If you’re gonna settle up this tab or not,” you grin, returning the same slow, deliberate wink to him that he’d given you earlier.

“Aw, come on honey,” he groans, “you’re really gonna hold something like that over my head?”

“My till needs to balance before I can leave. So if you pay up, then I suppose I could close up for the night.” You lean close, lips almost brushing the shell of his ear. “I live just upstairs but I sure could use a strong, handsome man to walk me home. You know, with there being dangerous pirates around these parts and all.”

He practically purrs, smirking as he asks, “So how much do I owe you, then?”

[haddonfieldwhore]

sweet dreams - mike schmidt

mike schmidt x gn!reader

pt.1 here

warnings: a bit more angst, nightmares, brief mention of blood, i don’t know fnaf lore super well so if anything is inaccurate i apologize!! i’m trying my best

word count: 965

groaning as the alarm on your phone blared for the second time, you rubbed your eyes as you sat up in bed. reaching for the screaming device, you shut off the ringer and looked at the time - 5:45. shit, you thought, jumping up out of bed, nearly slipping as the covers tangled around your feet. mikes car was in the shop for a flat tire and you were going to be late to pick him up from work. sliding on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, you threw one of mikes hoodies over your torso and sorted out your hair quickly before grabbing you phone and bag and running out the door. the cold weather prickled at your skin and you pulled the sweater tighter around yourself, the faintest scent of mikes cologne wafting into your nose. it was only about a 10 minute drive to the pizzeria, but still you were cutting it close and didn’t want to leave your boyfriend standing outside. starting your car, you turned the heat up to keep the cold morning air off of your tired body.

as you pulled into the parking lot, you noticed mike already sitting against the building, and you checked the time - 6:01. you were relieved that you hadn’t kept him waiting outside, and pulled up next to him. he jumped slightly as the car stopped in front of him, as if he hadn’t been paying attention or had been too zoned out to see you pull up to the building. standing up and dusting off the seat of his pants, he opened the passenger door and got in.

“hey,” he sighed, giving you a small smile.

“hey mike,” you smiled warmly back, leaning over to kiss his cheek gently, the shirt stubble there tickling your face. “i mean this as someone who loves you, but you look terrible.” he laughed under his breath.

“just tired,” he brushed it off, but you took a closer look at his face. there were dark circles under his eyes, and you noticed a cut above his eyebrow that was still bleeding a little. you grabbed a tissue and gently dabbed at his temple. “what are you- ah,” he hissed and you muttered an apology.

“baby, you’re bleeding. what happened?” mike touched his fingertips lightly to the injury, inspecting the crimson stain left on his hand.

“i must’ve hit my head on something… i’m okay.” he gently held your wrist as you tried to wipe at the blood again. how could he tell you the truth; that an animatronic animal had clawed him while trying to get into his office to stuff him into a costume? “really, i’m fine. you worry too much.” you sighed, not satisfied with his answer, but nevertheless put the car back in drive and finally pulled away from the building. out of the corner of your eye you noticed your boyfriends shoulders relax slightly as you left the parking lot.

“mike you promised me if anything weird happened-“ you pleaded.

“i know i know baby. but it’s only been like 4 days since i started. i’m just … getting used to the sleep schedule still. that’s all,” he assured you, but the uncertainty in his voice wasn’t very convincing.

“you mean the not sleeping schedule? mikey you haven’t slept more than 2 hours without waking up in days.” mike shuddered, trying to cover it up with a cough, but he wasn’t fooling anyone.

“y…you’ve noticed?” he mumbled.

“of course i’ve noticed.” you sighed. “it’s hard not to when you sleep next to me.” you laughed softly.

“i’m sorry-“ he began to apologize but stopped when you gave him a sympathetic look.

“you don’t have to apologize for having nightmares.” he nodded slightly in response, before looking out the window at the passing surroundings. he leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. you focused your attention back on the road for a second before out of your peripheral vision you noticed mike drift off to sleep, his head falling over towards your side of the car before you caught him with your hand. the gentle impact shook him awake, and he looked around to figure out where he was, a scared look on his face.

“what-“

“mike you’re still in the car with me. we’re almost home,” you gently stroked his hair as he leaned into your touch again.

“sor-“ he began to apologize again. “right.”

arriving at the apartment, you parked the car and got out, walking arm in arm with mike into your flat, sliding your shoes off and dropping your bag on the floor. you locked the door behind you as mike, too tired to walk to the bedroom, flopped onto work out couch in the small living room. you checked the time on your phone - still having a few hours before you had to leave for work. you set an alarm on your phone before walking over to the couch and cuddling up next to mike, who’s arms wrapped around you tightly so you wouldn’t fall.

“don’t you have to go to work?” he mumbled in your ear, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

“hmm not for a while. and i think i might take a personal day anyway,” you sighed, nuzzling closer to him and you felt yourself drifting off to sleep. “if you have any nightmares just wake me up okay? anything that’s trying to get you has to go through me first,” you promised, and mike chuckle slightly, sending a vibration through his chest.

“okay, i will,” he mumbled, nearly asleep already as he kissed your neck innocently, although he felt a pang in his heart as he thought to himself

you have no idea what you’re signing up for

[notroosterbradshaw]

warm blood

about: a few drinks at everyone’s favourite bar. you’re home, it’s been a few very cold months at sea. he warms you to your bones each time you see him. but it’s sadly just not meant to be. 

word count: 5.6k

warnings: angst, language, vivid thots of smut if you have an over-active imagination.

The sound that escaped Rooster’s lips as you dragged your nails through his unruly sun-kissed curls had you cackling. A feral growl that started at his boots, so low that when released, he almost didn’t recognise himself. “Rooster Bradshaw, you need a girlfriend,” you decided.

His side-eye to you was legendary and he sighed dramatically. “I don’t need a girlfriend; I just need to get laid,” he clarified, realising just how pitiful he sounded and then adding softly when you ceased your ministrations, “Please don’t stop. That feels so fuckin’ good. It’s like the most physical contact I’ve had in...” he mumbled, his honey-coloured eyes fluttering closed and took a deep, satisfied pull of his beer. God, how long had it been? He didn’t want to admit to himself, let alone you, how long it’d been since someone had touched him like that.

You sighed and let go of him to scamper onto the bar. A quiet Tuesday night, if it were the weekend, the place would be pulsating, but you had plenty of space to lay some affection on Rooster without the bullshit that could generally come with it and it definitely seemed like he needed it…

You spread your legs modestly (as your jeans would allow) and held out your hands open in welcome. Without a question of hesitance, he stepped to you as you turned him away from you and continued to press your fingertips into his scalp with the added leverage of this new height. His strong shoulders dropped, completely melting with your touch.

“Jesus Christ, that’s good,” he murmured quietly, crossing his arms across his chest, his head lolling forward. “And you decided to be a naval aviator?” he teased. “Your hands could have been better used in much better ways.”

“Ha,” you muttered behind him. “Don’t get smart. I have generous fingers. You need me more than I need you right now.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he replied.

Whispered close to him, you said, “This must be the longest dry spell you’ve ever had,” you reckoned.

He nudged his ear closer to your breath and shrugged lightly. “Fuckin’ feels like it,” he said dismally.

“How long?” you dared ask.

“It’s goin’ with me to the grave, don’t ask stupid questions,” he muttered dryly in reply as you tried to hide your grin and reached for a sip of your own beer. He turned back to you, stepping out of your grasp and putting a respectful distance between your bodies, the moment passed. You crossed your legs at the ankles properly as he made a face; he’d let pretences lie and would never admit he hadn’t been satisfied sexually since... “Maybe you’re right, I just need a girlfriend.”

Sure, he’d had a lot of sex and lots recently, a healthy amount. Probably more than most. But these days, nothing was fulfilling him. He was desperate to find a connection with someone that just wasn’t happening. Women on platters, and he didn’t know how to strike out even on his worst night. Everyone would cum and have the time of their lives. But it was never enough for Rooster to want to see them again.

“Rooster, you have no trouble finding someone to fuck… why are you so off your game?”

“Dunno,” was his simple answer.

“Well, why don’t you go drag all the ladies in with a song or something?” you suggested, hoping to perk him up, ever his cheerleader, although it was fairly dead. He shook his head and honestly, he didn’t need to sit at the piano to have all eyes on him. At any point of the night, you’d look up and find some poor soul caught staring and trapped in the web of Lieutenant Commander Bradley Bradshaw and the authority he easily demanded.

“Naw,” he didn’t feel like the spectacle tonight.

“Want me to wing woman for you?” you offered in finality. “Babe on the other side of the bar. Pretty smile, curvy...” You chewed your own lip. “Very cute.”

“You’d do that?” he asked, following your gaze and kudos to you, you knew his type, all right.

“Of course. I can’t deal with you when you’re being a whiny little bitch. If it means you get your cock wet, I’m here for you, pal,” you roughly smacked his rosy cheek, and he laughed, clutching the sting as you asked him how you looked, propping yourself off the sticky bar and he steadied you.

He gave you a once over, a fond glance in his dark eyes. “Beautiful, but are you trying to get laid, or am I?” he pondered.

“I swore off your kind as a New Year’s resolution. I want the year to myself,” you grandstanded, and he chuckled.

“You’ll be begging for sex soon enough,” he straightened and took another long slug of his beer. “I know you. I know what you need,” his voice dropped a little lower, easing his lean frame against the bar.

Your eyes met his and honestly… he probably knew exactly what you needed, what you craved and deserved and as a few beats passed, his eyes daringly never left yours. His face remained passive, daring you to play his little game.

“You know what I let you know,” you weren’t sure how to play his words off so you finished your beer. But really? You hated how right he was. He’d been the only one to get a read on you when you first landed yourself in his seminar a year or so back. “I’ve got toys, I’ve got fingers,” you reminded him, reaching for him with jazz hands as he licked back his grin, growing wider by the second.

“You fuckin’ deviant,” he breathed. It was untrue, but he loved to goad you… and you loved when he teased you too. Just a little too much.

“Hey. If I want to find someone to share my time with, I won’t hesitate to break my resolution. They’re made to be broken, aren’t they?” you shrugged flippantly, blood searing under your skin.

He nodded, not disagreeing. “Yeah, well… I’m sick of my hands,” he admitted dismally as you took the hand that rested on his quad and cupped it on your own. He laughed quietly and gripped your palm back. “I just miss the warmth, you know?”

Pressing the back of his warm, strong hand to your cheek, he laughed again as you gave him the biggest doe eyes with the dreamiest, forced smile, and he sighed. Each touch, each glance, each comment was just another link to how fucking good your friendship was and although the Navy had an odd way to keep you separated, your friendship trumped responsibility.

“Don’t start. Knock it off immediately,” he told you sternly. He could fall for those eyes in a heartbeat so it was best you put them away. You prayed desperately for him one day to give in to the heat and make that move past that imaginary line you had drawn.

Moving back to your seat like a scorned child, you didn’t give up. It could be one of your worst qualities at the best of times. Never knowing when to just shut up. “No, tell me exactly what you miss. Tell me what you need.” You settled in. You would love to know what turned Rooster Bradshaw on. He wasn’t like the other guys – he kept his conquests quiet. Lowkey. Sure, you knew when he was in the game, he made no secret of his intentions. But gee, he always seemed more complicated than an easy fuck kinda guy. “I want to know.”

“You don’t need to hear about any of that stuff,” he rolled his eyes and retrieved his hand, stuffing it back in his jeans pocket where it was safe and sound. “Trust me, you’ll be just like me soon enough,” he warned.

“Look, if you get to a point you’re absolutely desperate, blue from top to toe, I’ll drop my standards for a night and give you a night you won’t forget, okay, big guy?” you tried to bite back the laugh that bubbled under the surface and you weren’t remotely surprised he gave you the bird in response. “You’re just lazy. Go drop a line on any woman in here, and I guarantee, she will be putty in your hands.” You’d know.

It seemed like such a nut-up or shut-up order, Rooster knew he had no choice but to follow through. Standing to his height and adjusting to his posture, he mumbled, “Fine,” he stole your fresh beer as you protested and wandered around the bar, stopping before the gorgeous woman, who if truth be told, was exactly his usual type, you’d pointed out only moments earlier. Well, what was expected to be his type - that glint in her eye that told him he wouldn’t have to work too hard to get her number either. 

“Hey hey, look who’s back on dry land!” Natasha grinned, giving you a gentle side hug and ordering a drink. “When you’d sneak in, partner?”

“About half an hour ago. Your buddy cornered me first,” you explained as Natasha replaced the beer in your palm. “How’s he been?” you asked softly.

“Okay,” she shrugged. “Usual. Broody.”

“He was telling me he was lonely,” the word didn’t roll off your tongue easily even if it was something so synonymous with Rooster’s character.

“Shit, really?” Natasha raised her bottle as you nodded. “Anything to be wary of?”

“Don’t think so. You know how he is,” you told her, and she knew. Only Bradley Bradshaw could be so lucky as to always have you and Natasha Trace in his corner. “Oh, look,” you said as he nodded to you gratefully across the bar, and you winked back. “There he is - back in the saddle with absolutely little to no effort on his behalf. Well done, Rooster,” you said bored and just the teeniest bit sarcastic. “Bra-vo.”

“Please, if you had the chance, you wouldn’t share him,” Natasha righted you, smirking behind the pull of her beer.

“What can I do?” you admitted, thinking the idea had crossed your mind once, twice or every night since you’d met him about what it might be like to be the object of Rooster Bradshaw’s affections. C’mon, you weren’t immune to him. In fact, it was anything but -

“Please, he almost came in his jeans as you played with his hair before.”

“What?” you and Natasha yelped as Jake sidled up to you, grinning.

“You were playing with his hair?” Natasha asked, raising a curious eyebrow. “Oh, wow,” her tone told her everything she was thinking and none of it was approving.

“Hold that thought,” you hissed at her as she raised her palms for mercy, a small smile burgeoning on her lips. “And, fuck off, Bagman. Isn’t there some pathetic 21-year-old looking to be treated like shit for a few weeks while you string her on?” you muttered. Jake made a face.

“I’m just sayin’… wouldn’t be the worst thing if you guys tested the waters. See if there’s any sexual chemistry. Might even make Rooster a tolerable human being but it is behaviour like that that’ll get you both kicked out of the Navy.” Jake added as you threw a few loose salted peanuts at him. “Hey, I’m allergic!” he feigned, dusting himself off as he wandered off with a snicker, pleased he’d managed to rile you up with, really, very little effort on his behalf.

“I’m only learning he’s allergic to peanuts now?” you muttered to yourself.

“He is so fuckin’ toxic,” Natasha sighed. Toxic, realistic, honest. There was a lot to be said about Jake Seresin and his perception of the world. But you also kind of loved his lack of filter and how he called it as he saw it. Bit like yourself, he just had his head shoved far further up his own ass than you did… mostly.

“It’s actually his most likeable attribute,” you reckoned with a tease, tossing more peanuts across the bar after him for good measure. He made a face but was completely unaffected.

“But he doesn’t make a terrible point…” she continued as you both looked towards the other side of the bar, watching Rooster and the ease he roped his conquest in. Lick of the lips, make sure those golden biceps were bulging, aviators sliding gently down his nose as he gazed down at her… wait, there you go. She easily took the bait and nervously pushed the glasses up as he huffed a small chuckle at her moxie. He pulled his phone from his pocket a few moments later and handed it to her, clearly asking for her number. You had to give her kudos – she resisted his charms for about 1.6 seconds.

“Don’t be like that,” you begged.

“Like what?”

“Trying to encourage this. I’m dumb enough for him as it is.”

Nat gave you a tight-lipped smile and apologised. She understood, dear lord, she understood how you felt and while she could tease you unmercifully about it, she knew this wasn’t a passing crush for you. She gave her attention back to Rooster and muttered, “It’s like a car accident but I can’t look away.”

“Good for him,” you muffled, wrapping your lips around the bottle and taking a deep slug as she nudged you.

“Remember why you swore off all sex and relationships this year,” she said softly. “The purge.”

“This purge is for good,” you reminded yourself, saying it a few times like a mantra. Pity you didn’t believe it in the slightest. “You’re remarkably light tonight.”

She shrugged modestly and went into the small, very necessary details about her afternoon delight. “Don’t you miss the intimacy though?”

“Natasha, I know I made my bed and have to sleep in it, but I miss everything. I just want to come home and fall into someone’s strong arms, ground me, remind me I’m safe again until the motion of the waves stops rocking me.”

Natasha looked at you fondly. “That is actually quite poetic.”

You sipped your beer, pushed out an exhale and added drily, “Then get absolutely pounded on every surface of the house until I’m weeping.”

She cackled. “That’s my girl.”

“I got off the boat today... had the biggest plans. Wine, new rose toy I was dreaming about for the last three months... motherfucker needed to be charged.”

“You got two hands,” Phoenix reminded you just as Rooster had.

“Every night at sea, Phoenix,” you reminded her. And she knew. Dear God, did Natasha Trace know. “Every night.”

“Penny, can we get a coupla rounds of tequila here, please? Our girl is going through it,” Natasha smiled at the pretty bar owner who winked in the affirmative. You away from Rooster although Natasha motioned in his direction. “So, how was he when he saw you?”

“That slow grin… ” you said low and only for her ears. “The way he moves to his feet is a fuckin’ sin. He looked so good, I think I probably stumbled,” you cursed yourself.

“Sea legs,” Natasha patted your wrist and tried to make you feel better.

“Sure,” you shrugged flippantly. “Three months away did absolutely nothing to shut this little crush down.”

“That’s what you’re going with? Little crush,” Natasha repeated with a snort as Penny put a series of shots before you and took one quickly with you and Natasha between patrons.

“Little crush?” Rooster’s hands were on your shoulders, his strong palms massaging your tense shoulders, thumbs pressing into the nape of your neck and every ounce of tension drained from your being as he poked his face into your intimate twosome, a curious grin on his face as you and she straightened up quickly, turning to face him and he released his grasp on you. “Who has a little crush?” he asked, remarkably perkier than he was ten minutes earlier.

“You’re still here?” you asked him. “Thought you’d be on your way to - ”

“Amelie’s,” he supplied.

“That’s quite sweet actually,” you noted as he nodded, amused, almost like you couldn’t imagine a more beautiful name being found in a place like The Hard Deck. “Amelie’s house…”

“We said we’d meet up a bit later,” he shrugged, catching Penny’s attention for another round. “Been a while since we were all together. We missed ya, kid,” he told you as he snuck a shot. Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Well, here I am,” you forced a grin as he mirrored yours and it spread as wide on his handsome features.

“Yep. You sure are. Back where you belong,” he said as the air around you changed, and Natasha would be lying to say she’d never felt more like a third wheel in her life. She watched you watch the other, it was almost like you were daring the other to look away first. She could feel whatever it was between the two of you and knew that it was much deeper than either of you would admit. Well, she knew exactly how you felt. With Bob back in Lemoore with his family and Natasha needing another partner, you had been brought in and the PR party the Navy had with you as an all-female team? Sheesh.

She also knew how much you would risk everything to be with him. She’d never outwardly encouraged it, but she could see how hard you both fought to keep your desire for the other in check. He did better at trying to conceal it, but it was written all over your face. You looked at him like he hung the moon.

“Wanna get really drunk tonight?” you asked him, wrapping an arm around Natasha’s shoulder.

“Hey, don’t rope me into your hangovers,” Natasha tried as you covered her mouth with your free hand.

“Hush, love,” you tutted her. “You’re either with us or against us.”

She pursed her lips as you and Rooster grinned widely at her. “…you two will be the death of me.”

Cheering together that you’d drawn her with such little effort on your behalf, Rooster laughed. “Yeah, kinda think it’s a good night to get messy.”

“Natasha Trace, line ‘em up,” you instructed as she begrudgingly nodded, and Rooster rubbed his hands with glee.

“I am not good,” you told Rooster a few hours later. Rooster could readily agree that neither was he. Natasha and the rest of the team had bailed a while ago, leaving you together at the bar. “I really have to go.”

“Yeah, I know,” he replied. “Getting drunk wasn’t going to help you get over any exhaustion.”

“I haven’t slept in…” you squinted at your watch. “Wow, 36 hours. My bed is going to be so good tonight,” Bed, bed, bed. “Oh shit, Amelie!” you exclaimed, sipping your ice water. “Wasn’t she waiting for you?”

He shrugged. “Five minutes of pleasure there, three hours here with you and our friends. I know where I’d rather be.”

“Five minutes, dude,” you giggled quietly. You didn’t believe it for a second.

“I didn’t exactly see forever with her, Jesus,” he muttered, licking back a smirk of his own.

“I would never believe that anyway.”

“Thank you,” he finally let a giggle bubble out. “And you shouldn’t.”

“Did you at least text her? You were interested three hours ago…”

“I think she put her number into my phone wrong,” he lied so easily it was almost disappointing.

“Rooooster,” you dragged out.

He shrugged. “So what? Changed my mind,” he said simply.

“Hey, you two,” Penny sniped, pulling your attention from each other. “You either get a cloth and start cleaning up or you think about getting outta here, so you don’t have numbers in your system in the morning,” she warned. The bar had long since rang the last call and you were the last patrons standing – but also, on the plus side for Penny, probably the evening’s highest paying.

“Sorry, Penny. Lemme pay,” Rooster said, getting his credit card from his wallet and tossing it on the gummed-up bench. She grinned and slid the card back across the bar as Rooster protested.

“Hangman took a chunk of the bill off earlier. I’ll let you two get away with a few freebies if you lock the door on the way out?”

“Oops,” you said, picking yourself up and stretching. “We will,” you said as you collected your belongings. “Sorry again.”

She gave a gentle nod as you headed for the door. “Someone will be,” she whispered to herself solemnly.

“I’d better walk you home, I guess,” Rooster said, waving goodnight and following you a careful distance away.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said as he opened the door for you and let you out into the cooler night air. The liquor in your system swept a series of goose pimples break out as the breeze off the ocean breeze hit your skin. You shivered instinctively.

“You good?” he asked.

“Yes, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw, I’m perfectly fine,” you answered, rolling your eyes and inhaling the sea air. “You think I’d get sick of it, right?” you asked with a grin.

He didn’t even need you to explain yourself. “Never,” because he understood the feeling implicitly.

“Never,” you repeated as he nodded towards the beach, following the path to your place.

You walked in a comfortable silence for a while and before you realised it, your villa was before you. “Here we are. I actually can’t wait to get to sleep in my own bed.”

He grinned. “One that doesn’t rock.”

“Not tonight it won’t,” you said glumly, taking his comment as a double entendre as he giggled quietly even though he was probably being purely innocent in his commentary, following you to the door. You struggled with the key for a few moments before he carefully nudged you aside and remedied the situation at hand.

The door opened and he sighed. Relieved, disappointed, he didn’t know. “I’ll see you tomorrow, huh?”

“I am off until next week,” you told him. God knows you needed it.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he reiterated with a gentle smile, but if he meant the bar, you couldn’t fathom backing up from the eventual hangover tomorrow was sure to bring. It filled you with dread.

“Yessir,” you mumbled as you stared at the other for a moment. So much to say that would always remain silent. For any other two people in the universe, right now you would be taking those last steps closer, lips tenderly brushing the others and seeing if the kiss was right. He would lay his strong, calloused palms on your hips, squeezing you closer to rest your body against his and you would willingly encourage the kiss -

Yet here you were, taking that next step in the other direction to go to bed alone, without even the slightest touch to say goodnight; no whisper of a whiskey-laced caress to dare cross your lips. And all you really wanted was to take his hand and guide him to your room that he’d never seen the inside of, strip him down, and explore the body he worked so hard on perfecting. Let him discover your body with his hands, with his lips, his tongue. Find out what made you call his name out in the dark.  

See what made the other make sounds that you only dreamed about, that you only thought he made in the throes of fucking, limited only to when the groans of pleasure he’d make when he found out how wet you really were for him and how well, til then, you’d hidden it from him.

How wild you willed him to be, reckless when he stopped holding himself back, the guttural, primal movements of his strong body as he slammed into you, touching every piece of naked skin within his grasp. How his tongue would devour yours and his kisses not missing a beat, working in perfect tandem with the rhythm of his hips –

“Where you at, sunshine?” he asked with a peaked dark brow, waving a palm in front of your face. Jesus Christ, how long had you been fantasising while he was standing right before you?! “Looks like it’s time for bed, kiddo.”

You huffed an embarrassed laugh. “Definitely,” you agreed, blame it on months at sea, blame it on the alcohol. Get you inside alone immediately if not sooner. Put this sexual frustration to bed once and for all. “Goodnight, Rooster. Thanks for walking me back.”

“Lieutenant,” he gave a gentle wave as you forced a smile and closed the door before you did something incredibly stupid… like drag your superior officer in and do things that would certainly dishonourably discharge you (or both of you), suspend your pay or worst, confinement for two years. You didn’t know which one scared you the most.

But you were pretty sure the feelings you had for Rooster were the worst of a bad bunch.

And you were whipping the door open again as you saw him heading back towards the street. “Rooster,” you said as he paused. “Bradley...” you repeated, a name you rarely called him, but Lieutenant Commander was certainly not how you wanted to get his attention at 2am in the middle of the street.

He looked at you and back to your house, confused. “You okay? What’s going on?” The concern in his voice was evident.

“No, no. I’m honestly fine,” you reassured him. “I just need you to know how stupid I am,” spit it out, your brain (and heart) screamed. He laughed quietly.

“What are you talking about?”

You stayed silent and you could tell he was growing uncomfortable. He was adorable and so terribly clueless. “Rooster, I was being honest before.”

He frowned and shrugged, nothing standing out to him that he was to recall. “I mean, I’d hope so. But what, exactly?”

You inhaled sharply. “Earlier tonight, I wasn’t kidding... I will be there for you anytime you need me. In any way...” you took in his face as it began to dawn on him what you were insinuating. “You need me. A friend, wingman, a confident... whatever.”

He swallowed roughly. “Oh.”

You let go of him. “It’s all so easy when we’re away from each other, but then I see you and all I can think about is how good we are together and how good we could be...”

“Jesus...” he muttered quietly, rubbing his tired face but his gaze remained hard on you, unbelieving. “How drunk are you?” he wanted to blame the alcohol now too.

“Sober enough to know this had to come out eventually. I can’t just be one of the boys anymore, not with the way you make me feel. I think about you all the time,” you took a breath and repeated, “All the time.”

He took your wrists and dragged you back to your front stoop. He trapped you against the door and caged you under his strong arms, hoping you’d go in and pretend what you were announcing wasn’t tangible. He drew in a shaky breath, but he didn’t dare touch you. You could feel the heat radiating off his golden skin and the way his tongue ran over his full lips. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because I can’t keep it in anymore. Because you need to know that if you want me, I’ll be waiting.”

“How long has this been going on?” he asked quietly. “How long have you felt like this?”

“Since my first seminar. Was this stupid moustache,” you confided as he flushed and laughed incredulously to himself, this couldn’t be real. “And I know I’ve probably ruined our friendship, completely tested the boundaries of professionalism and you probably hate me – ”

“Hate you?” he repeated, grimacing. “In no world could I ever hate you, kid.”

“Really?” you asked, a hopeful flutter in your heart. “I know this isn’t what you were expecting, and believe me… I didn’t want to feel this way, I just… I just can’t seem to stop,” the sheer frustration evident in your voice and he could viscerally feel your discontentment. “It’s supposed to go away when we’re on the job. I went away for fuckin’ months, and I see you tonight,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. “And in my fuckin’ brain was convinced I was over it.”

“Your heart?” he asked quietly.

“Didn’t agree,” you confided, embarrassed. Quiet. Ashamed. Tortured.

He sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping. Nothing you were saying made sense, not when he knew he felt exactly the same and every day did everything in his power to try and pretend his feelings for you didn’t exist. “Kid – ”

“I know I’ve ruined our friendship. I know I’m putting everything we have at stake, whether it’s personal or professional, and I’m sorry, but I’m about to burst,” you wanted to yell.

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, “Calm down. I know... I know,” he said softly. He desperately wanted to give just one reassuring nudge but knew every touch could be construed as something else, and Bradley Bradshaw had never felt so torn in two before.

“You know?” you asked, a spark of hope lurching in your heart.

“There is something here, you know there is,” his voice was so low. “But what way is there around it? It’s a lose-lose situation. I’m your superior.”

“Trust me, I’m well aware of that,” your sweet, pained voice was so sombre, it was haunting him. For so long, he’d denied how he’d felt; he had to. You were his direct report, he was your teacher, and you were his dutiful student. And it wasn’t intentional that he felt how he did because he did everything in his power to push any of the nonsensical feelings away, he begged to be sent OS, anything to resist the temptation… but the temptation of what you made him feel - alive - was the hardest to shake and he missed the feeling whenever you were away.

“I don’t know what else I can say - ” he tried.

“I think of you when I touch myself, Rooster,” you grasped his shirt and you saw him swallow roughly. You went for the big guns… you were spiralling and desperate. But it certainly was no word of a lie.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he took that step closer but dared not touch you in return, his palms almost pressing their indent into your front door. He feared if took another step and felt you were against him, he would give in and risk everything. “…tell me more,” he begged. “Please. What do you see?”

“Really?” you asked softly. 

“I need... I need to know,” his voice was so low, you felt it to your bones.

Your hands rose to his rest on his pecs, his muscles reacting under your touch, his head lolling closer, lips so close but like magnets, they kept a safe distance repelled. “It always comes back to me goin’ down on you. The sounds I imagine you make, hard and hot in my mouth. How you taste,” you felt the heat radiate through your body, but now you’d started you weren’t sure that you could stop… and you weren’t sure Rooster wanted you to either.

“Do you want to find out?” he said, voice gravelly, standing over you, millimetre by excruciating millimetre, he crept closer. He had never been so uncomfortable, but never so close to needing the relief you were placing right in his palms.

“Do you?” you challenged, your knuckles grazing his abs hard and tense under his shirt, coming to rest on his hips, your fingertips tracing the seams on his belt. His eyes drifted closed and tried to find his resolve. You must have been challenging him, there was no other recourse for this. Your banter together was notorious... but this was testing the limits of your friendship.

That imaginary line was non-existent now. There was no turning back.

“You’re bullshitin’ me, I know you are,” he said, and it hurt to admit, his breathing heavy and uncontrolled. Desire radiated through him and he now knew, he wouldn’t be able to go back to a place where this wasn’t happening.

“Rooster,” you took that step he couldn’t, bodies flush against the other. “That woman, Amelie, she won’t please you the way I will. Let me show you how good we can be together,” you pleaded softly.

“You're my friend...” his brain just couldn’t function; it couldn’t comprehend these words you were telling him. Words he’d wanted to hear you say since you shared that first small grin, seated proudly beside Phoenix. You’d share so many near misses together that actually getting to this made him wonder if he was dreaming. “I’m your commanding officer.” It all came down to this.

But you couldn’t hear his defences and asked, “Have you never thought of me the same way I think of you?”

His dark eyes burned deeply into yours and without a hint of a lie, he replied, “You know I have,” it was barely audible, when he added, “You know. You know I want you, kid… Everyone does.” And that was the problem for all involved. 

“Then don’t worry about the next notch in the bedpost… and let me show you what you’re missing.”

He breathed, the whiskey on his tongue swirling and you were desperate to taste it.

“Say it. Say what you’re thinking.”

He raised his eyes to yours, his strong hand reaching for the door handle behind you. “One night. No rules. Tomorrow, we will never speak of this again,” he turned the knob and the door opened. He gently grasped your wrist as he led you inside and at that moment, you knew every facet of your life was irrevocably changed.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

[diazsdimples]

Hi, so this is going to be a group order. I need

❄️❄️ 😴 😴 😴 🔥🔥 🩰 🩰 🩰 🩰 🩰 ⚕️ ⚕️ ⚕️ ⚕️ ⚕️👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

…and I think that’ll be all for today? Oh, and can I get a carrier for all that? Thx 😘💞🦛 (aka you’re the bestest husband ever and I’m feral for all the things)

I feel like a harried fast food worker completing this! Would you like a toy with your Happy Meal?

❄️ - Frostpunk AU

Buck catches him easily and pulls him against his chest. He rocks them from side to side, his cheek pressed against the back of Eddie’s head. Eddie shakes in his arms as his breaths come hard and fast, making Buck worry that he might pass out. “Hey,” Buck says, moving his hand so it’s pressed against Eddie’s chest. “Breathe with me, Eddie, you’re hyperventilating. Come on, in for 3 seconds, out for three seconds.”

😴 - Sleepy Mornings

Sleep had come much easier with Christopher in the room, bundled up in Buck’s arms. It was as though his subconscious knew the boy was safe, that Buck could rest. It was surprisingly bright when Buck finally woke. He blinked blearily as he pulled himself from the haze of sleep, rubbing his fists into his gritty eyes. At some point during the night, Christopher had scootched across the bed to Eddie’s side, and he lay with his back to his father’s chest, using Eddie’s arm as a pillow. Eddie’s hand stretched across the bed, his fingertips just barely grazing Buck’s shoulder. Buck swallowed down a rapidly rising lump in his throat at he took in the two Diazes in front of him. There was a graze over Christopher’s right cheekbone, the skin around it turning purple as a bruise formed, but that aside there was little evidence of the turmoil of the previous day. Every breath of Eddie’s ruffled Christopher’s curls, and there was a damp patch on Eddie’s sleeve, just under Christopher’s mouth.

🔥- Sauna Sex

Buck lets out a broken cry as Eddie sucks his nipple, hard. He scrabbles at Eddie’s shoulders, the skin slippery beneath his fingers as the water cascades over them. “G-god, Eddie, stop teasing,” he begs as Eddie grazes his teeth lightly over the sensitive flesh. He squirms in Eddie’s arms, and it has the desired outcome as his cock slips against Eddie’s thigh, granting him the friction he so desperately craves. He shamelessly ruts against Eddie’s thigh, breaths coming out as a quiet ah ah ah as the head of his cock catches against Eddie’s hip bone with each thrust. Eddie grabs Buck’s hips, his fingers pressing into Buck’s skin with a bruising touch, and he stills Buck’s movements with a warning nip to the soft skin of his neck. “Stop.”

🩰 - Ballet AU

“Hey, why don’t we introduce you to everyone?” Tommy suggests. He gestures to the steadily-filling room, small pockets of ballerinas scattered from one end of the barre to the other, with others stretching near the benches. Buck has always been reasonably good at making friends, with his boisterous personality and his ability to “fake it till you make it”, but he must admit that the sheer number of incredibly talented people is a little bit intimidating. However, Tommy and Eddie take him under their wing, as it were, and before long he’s been introduced to just about everyone. It’s hard to ignore the way Eddie and Tommy stay close to him the whole time. There’s always a hand on his arm or the small of his back, and at one point he turns to wave at someone who called out his name and he crashes straight into Tommy’s chest. It gets to the point where one of the ballerinas – Amy, he thinks her name is – asks how he knows Eddie and Tommy. He just laughs somewhat awkwardly and says he doesn’t, that they just met today. She gives him a bit of a weird look but before she can ask a follow up question, he’s whisked off towards a couple that have been watching him with great interest. “Buck, this is Hen and Chimney. They��re our resident physiotherapist and choreographer, and aside from Bobby will probably be the people you’ll see the most,” Eddie introduces. Chimney (he assumes Chimney is the lithe, Korean man he’s seen prancing around the room) gives him a scrutinising look, and starts circling Buck, poking and prodding at his biceps and abs. “How are your pliés? Can you lift well? How many times can you rotate during a pirouette?” Eddie leans close to Buck and whispers to him conspiratorially. “Ignore him, he’s like a pretentious chihuahua. His bark is worse than his bite.” Chimney digs his elbow into Eddie’s ribs in retaliation.

⚕️- Doctor's AU

It’s all hands on deck. Hen and Eddie push the bed down the corridor, heading towards the OR conveniently nestled in the middle of the delivery suite. Bobby holds Jessica’s hand as they power past the other rooms, reassuring her and taking her through the consent forms. Eddie can faintly hear him explaining their need to do a general anaesthetic, what that’ll mean for her and her baby, and Jessica just nods mutely. Her mascara has left back streaks down her face as tears quietly slip from her eyes, and there’s a hand gently cradling the faint swell of her abdomen. They pull in to the OR and the scrub nurses immediately get situated on the operating table. Eddie doesn’t quite run into the scrub area but it’s a near thing, especially when the blankets are pulled away and he sees the absorbent cloth beneath her legs slowing taking on more blood. Buck is right behind him, scrubbing so he can receive the baby when it’s born. “You okay?” he asks, bumping Eddie’s shoulder as Eddie scrubs under his nails. The yellow of the iodine flows down his arms, dripping off his elbows and into the sink with a dull plunk, plunk, plunk. Eddie resists the urge to rest his head against Buck’s shoulder. They’re not in their sterile gowns yet, so it wouldn’t be unsafe, as such, but they haven’t come forward with their relationship yet either. With all their friends only a flimsy glass door away, it would be too risky. “Yeah, this is going to be a fucking close one, I think. You’re going to be ready to take the baby as soon as it’s born?”

👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨 - Disaster Date Eddietommy Fic

Trying to get Eddie Diaz and Tommy Kinard to talk about their feelings is an exercise in extreme futility, according to Buck. The three of them have been together for five months now, and practically live with one another. They’re at Eddie’s house more often than not, and if they’re not there then they’re at Tommy’s apartment, or very rarely, at the loft. Two months ago, Buck told Eddie that he loved him, and Eddie said it back immediately. He repeats it through the day like a mantra. “I love you, Buck,” as he kisses his shoulder. “I love you, Buck,” as he hands Buck his coffee in the morning. “I love you, Buck,” as they throw their turnouts on before racing off to tend to a burning building. He told Tommy he loved him a week later, and although it had been a few days, Tommy took Buck in his arms and whispered, “I love you, Evan,” as he held him in the darkness of the kitchen.  Tommy and Eddie though? Absolutely fucking useless. Buck knows they love each other – he sees it in the way they get all gooey when Eddie makes Tommy coffee or when Tommy comes home to find Eddie covered in soap suds cause he’s washed Tommy’s truck. They just cannot fucking say it to each other.

[thegettingbyp2]

Yes, You Can

Requested by - @queenraptor2018

Part 2 of I Could Recognise You Anywhere

You noticed two things when you came around; 1) you were lying flat on your back and 2) there was a dull throbbing pain in the side of your neck. Bringing your hand up to lightly touch your neck, you couldn’t help the sharp gasp that left your throat when you pulled your hand away to reveal a couple dots of blood staining your fingertips.

‘You’re awake?’ a familiar voice spoke from your side, relief colouring the voice. You turned your head gingerly to see Jasper sitting on the floor, knees drawn to his chest and his hands tightly gripping his hair as he watched you cautiously. Looking at him made all the memories of before you passed out flood back to you and you sat up and quickly pressed your back against the wall opposite Jasper, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

‘You bit me?’ you said, your voice coming out as a question.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Jasper replied and even though you knew you should be scared, you couldn’t help your heart break a little at how broken he sounded. ‘You were bleeding and I still haven’t fully gotten control of myself yet and I thought about how you’re mine and the next thing I knew, you were passed out and I was terrified I’d killed you.’

‘What happened to you, Jas?’ you asked, watching as his eyes closed painfully as you used your old childhood nickname for him. You sat in rapt silence as Jasper explained to you about meeting Maria and what she did to him but you still couldn’t bring yourself to be scared. If anything, you’d felt a rush of heat between your legs when you heard him say that you were his.

‘Everything’s changed now, (Y/N),’ he whispered, his eyes staring into yours with a haunted expression. ‘Nothing can be the same anymore.’

‘That’s not true,’ you said, moving closer to him until you were practically seated in his lap. Your hand came up to cup his jaw, a shiver quickly running through you at the feel of his ice-cold skin against your palm. ‘Just like you said, I’m still yours, that’s never going to change.’

You leaned in slightly with the intention of pressing your lips against his, only to be stopped by Jasper’s hands holding you at arm’s length away. ‘(Y/N), I can’t. I want to, I really do, but I can’t,’ he whispered, his voice breaking slightly.

‘Yes, you can. I trust you,’ you whispered back before leaning in to gently brush your lips across his. Almost as if a switch flipped in him, the next thing you knew Jasper had you pressed up against the wall, his mouth pressing insistently against yours, his tongue snaking into your mouth, the both of you groaning into the others mouths.

‘I need you,’ Jasper moaned into your mouth, his fingers dancing along the waistband of your trousers.

‘Then take me,’ you replied simply, your own hands making quick work of his belt and pushing his trousers down enough to free his cock, a small whimper escaping your throat when you realised that he hadn’t been wearing any underwear.

Jasper pressed a gentle kiss to the bare skin of your shoulder before pressing his forehead against your skin as he slowly pushed into you, making sure that he wouldn’t hurt you, still not used to his new-found strength. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist as he began to slowly thrust.

‘Jasper, please,’ you whimpered brokenly, needing more, ‘I won’t break, I promise.’

That seemed to be all Jasper needed to hear because as soon as the words left your mouth, Jasper’s hips started to move at an inhuman pace against yours and your head hit the wall behind you with a heavy thunk as moans that were impossible to quieten erupted from your body.

Jasper’s head was buried in your neck and the shaking of his body against yours told you that he was using every bit of strength in his body to not bite you again. You slid your hands up his back until your fingers were tangled in his hair. ‘Bite me,’ you managed to speak through a moan, causing Jasper’s head to snap up to meet your eyes as his thrusts slowed.

‘What? No, (Y/N), I could lose control. I could kill you. I can’t.’ He said, fear written in his eyes.

‘Yes, Jasper you can, you’ll be fine. I trust you!’

Jasper’s hips began to snap into yours once again before you felt a sharp pain in your neck as his teeth sunk into your skin and that was all it took for the both of you to reach the end, falling into each other simultaneously as you let your orgasms wash over your body. Pulling away from your neck, you saw blood coating the corners of his lips and, not sure of what washed over you, you pressed your lips against his again.

The look on Jaspers face when you pulled away wore an expression that you could only describe as pure adoration and in that moment, you both knew that everything was going to be okay.

[buckyshairstylist]

Can I request morning cuddles with tony stark and fem reader? Sleepy tony is so cuteeee

Hi anon! Thank you so much for this request!! I love sleepy Tony. I hope you like it!

Sleepy Snuggles

Tony Stark x Fem!Reader

Summary: Tony wants cuddles the minute he wakes up. You gladly oblige.

CW: not proofread. none. fluff, mentions of Tony being an adventure, pet names

WC: 897

It was rare that you woke up with Tony still in bed. The rarest occasions were when you woke up with Tony still sleeping in your bed, but you never complained on the occasions you were blessed to witness sleepy Tony. It didn’t happen often, what with his nightmares and his incessant insistence that tinkering until he literally passed out helped, but when it did happen, you loved every second of it.

This morning happened to be one of those occasions. You’d managed to persuade Tony to go to bed at the same time you did the night before, mumbling an excuse about watching a movie with him. After you’d both changed into your pajamas and settled into bed, he put on a movie that you managed to watch half of before dozing off, your head comfortably pillowed on his bare chest.

You awoke on your side of the bed, facing away from him. It wasn’t shocking, really, as you had been known to toss and turn on occasion. Tony paid it no mind, as you dealt with him thrashing when he had a nightmare, and he usually just moved you to your side of the bed.

Turning over to face him, you found that he was still sleeping. You wished you could always see him as peaceful as he was while he slept, but you knew it wouldn’t happen. Not with him being Iron Man and an Avenger. No, his life simply wouldn’t allow it.

Tony groaned and stirred, somehow moving closer to you, his arm lazily draped over your waist. You couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped, running your fingers through his hair.

“Mm… baby?” he mumbled sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Right here, Tones.”

He scooted closer, shoving his face into the juncture where your neck and shoulder met.

“Stay?” Tony asked softly, his voice raspy and slightly deeper than usual.

“Always.”

“Y’ promise?”

It was odd to hear him so vulnerable. Tony was a lot of things, but vulnerable was not one of them.

“I promise, baby,” you assured him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Tony sighed in contentment, his arms wrapping around your middle and pulling you closer to him.

Resigning to your fate, you ran a hand up and down his back, the other lightly scratching his scalp. Tony hummed, tilting his head upward slightly.

“There’s those pretty brown eyes,” you smiled at him, using the hand that was rubbing his back to caress his face. Tony smiled sleepily, leaning into the touch. “Why are you up so early?”

He shrugged. He wasn’t even sure what time it was; all Tony knew was that you were still in bed and he wanted cuddles. He gently grasped your wrist, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand before releasing it.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his hand moving to cup your face. “My favorite person.”

“You’re so sappy when you’re sleepy,” you giggled, blushing.

“You’re deflecting. You’re beautiful, Y/N.”

The blush deepened. Tony grinned, happily pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Sap,” you mumbled, earning a giggle from Tony.

“Only for you, dear.”

Tony shifted, burying his face in your chest. You huffed a laugh, allowing him to get as close as humanly possible, your legs intertwined. He sighed contentedly, one hand resting on your hip while the other wrapped around you, lazily tracing his fingertips along your back. You hummed, tilting your head downward, letting your head rest against his hair.

“I could get used to this,” he mumbled. “I think I am.”

“Good.”

“Good?” His brows furrowed.

“Maybe you’ll sleep more if I promise to cuddle you first thing in the morning.”

Tony laughed. “I don’t know about that, honey. But I’m not opposed to cuddles every morning.”

You chuckled. Sure, Tony might have been a chronic insomniac that only slept after he collapsed from exhaustion, but he would never miss the opportunity for cuddles. If you could find a way to get him to sleep more while bribing him with cuddles, it would be a win-win situation.

“Stop thinking about how you can bribe me with cuddles.”

“Wha—I would do no such thing!” you spluttered, much to his amusement.

“You would. And while I’m flattered that you care so much you’re willing to bribe me, I am fine, honey.”

“You don’t sleep enough, Tony,” you sighed. “I worry about you.”

“And I worry about you, but I’m not gonna bribe you to sleep.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “No, you’d just create a protocol where Friday is required to tell you how much I sleep, and then you’d pester me about it until I started sleeping right.”

“I would do no such thing.”

“You definitely would.”

Tony giggled at the accusation, snuggling closer (if that was even possible). You said nothing as you played with his hair, basking in the comfortable silence that had fallen around you. Tony was happy — half-asleep, maybe, but he was happy, and that made you happy.

“Baby.” Tony murmured.

“Mm?”

“I love you.”

You smiled, planting a kiss on top of his head. “I love you, Tony.”

“Don’t move?” he requested, moving just enough that he could look up at you. “You don’t have anything to do?”

“Nothing,” you assured him.

“Mmm… good. Cuddle with me all day.”

You huffed in amusement, letting him snuggle close again.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

turns out im living in a horror film

pairing: ethan landry x gn!reader

WC: 2.4K

warnings: cursing, blood and stab mentions. should be it.

summary: im both the killer and the final girl

A/N: i think i like writing crazy reader🤔 anyway, once again inspired by a song, specifically the title line. dont think too hard about the killing, just enjoy the story.

any paragraphs written in bold and italic means thats what actually happened.

@alecmores​ my editor❤️

been in the drafts since may20

masterlist / ethan landry

🎧 always and forever and you first

the hospital was bustling with doctors and nurses, in groups talking or solo looking down at clipboards. families in the waiting room or cafeteria sitting at the small tables and eating the okay food. a few security guards posted at different entrances, your wary eyes watching them as you passed door after door until you came to the right one.

you couldn’t see anything due to the curtains wrapped around the bed. you did see a shadow moving about and then a nurse peeked out and her eyes widened just a bit when she spotted you. you froze, but forced a quick pull of your lips; even a weak wave which was just your hand going up and then down. her head disappeared behind the curtain and then she walked your way.

“are you here to see mr. landry?” sweet and simple. you nodded wordlessly, voice failing you. she stepped aside and cocked her head before walking away down the hall and a corner.

you clenched and unclenched your hands at your sides, palms slowly gaining moisture until you wiped them down your stained and ripped pants. feet moving on their own accord and you stopped at the foot of the hospital bed. a sigh of relief at the sight beholding you.

ethan laid on his back, dressed in the standard gown with his blanket pulled to his waist. an iv was poked into his hand with a gray device attached to his index finger, his hands resting over his stomach. his heart monitor was beating steady as you watched with every breath he took and how his chest rose and fell with ease. his eyes were closed, lashes fluttering over dark circles. his mouth slightly parted as he slept.

taking slow and quiet steps you rounded the frame and stood on his right side. fingers pressing lightly into the bed as you leaned closer to his resting face. his freckles that were spotted here or there stood a bit darker as his skin looked a bit paler. ethan’s head of unruly brown ringlets sat just a bit more deflated than the usual pillow of curls that you would run your fingers through. your eyes land on two bandages, one that sat high on his cheek and the other vertically on his bottom lip to his chin.

fingertips curled into the blue fabric as your blood got heated with rage. but your thoughts were cut short when you felt ethan shuffling and then heard the deep inhale telling you he was waking up. you took just a slight step back and softened your posture.

ethan rubbed a fist at his eye and when they opened again, his head moved against his pillow and faced you. a welcoming smile melted your insides as his honey-brown eyes pull you in. you gained that step back and reached for the hand close to you.

“hi.” that’s all you could say as your eyes watered. it seemed to please ethan. he flipped his hand and let his fingers curl with yours. “hi.” his voice cracked and you instantly searched for water. the hand with the iv took the offered cup and drained it with deep gulps.

you placed the cup on the nightstand and hesitantly moved your hand to touch ethan’s face. you saw how his eyes noticed and he led you the rest of the way until your palm was holding his uncut cheek and your thumb was rubbing his oily skin.

“how you feeling?” a stupid question, you know. but still, you had to ask.

ethan’s head tilted down and his lips turned into a frown, something you hate to see on his pretty face. “well, i’m still alive after being stabbed in the stomach. so… i would say physically okay, mentally terrified.” he closed his eyes and leaned further into your touch.

you licked your lips as your eyes kept a steady watch on ethan. “ethan…” he peeked an eye open at his name, “i have some… some bad news.” voice low and touch heavy.

ethan sat up and his head moved away causing you to drop it from the air and fall to his thigh. you needed a minute to formulate your words without sounding discombobulated or not making sense.

“what happened after the subway?” his heart monitor spiked. the green line shooting higher than it was a minute ago.

“well, me and mindy waited here until we got news on your stability. and then mindy got a text from chad about the plan. so she rushed out and said she was heading to help…”

“mindy, wait!”

you caught up to her quickly just outside the entrance. mindy stopped and turned around, her eyes narrowed as you got closer and then she put a hand up telling you to stop. you held your hands up in surrender and stopped just a few steps away.

“what are you doing?” her tone was accusing. “shouldn’t you be staying here? making sure ethan’s gonna live?”

“i… i can't just sit around while you and everyone else are at that theater waiting for ghostface.” you argued. “so i’m going so we have all hands on deck. six against, what, two ghostfaces? that’s easy.”

mindy regarded you for a moment and then she shrugged her shoulders, “okay, fine. let’s hurry.” and the two of you were rushing down the busy streets to the abandoned theater.

“we got to the theater and hurried up the elevator and that’s when we got a call from sam…”

you kept a steady pace with mindy seeing as both of you weren’t athletic. feet carried you down the hidden alleyway towards the front entrance. mindy was ahead of you and just as she was reaching for the handle-

“ah!” mindy screeched. her knees crumpled from underneath and she slammed into the door and slid down.

you yanked the knife from her back and plunged it into a different spot. out then in, out then in. you lost count of how many times the wet knife sunk into mindy's muscles. you only stopped once she stopped fighting and the yelling abruptly ended.

you wiped the signature blade clean on mindy’s jacket and walked through the door and into the elevator.

ethan’s heart rate was speeding up. “my love, calm down. please.” hands rushing to hold his face in your grasp, trying to provide a silver of comfort as you retell the horror you went through an hour ago. “why don’t i just wait until-“

“no. just- just get through it.” he insisted. you hesitate until he holds your wrist and nods his head.

you sigh, “when sam called us she told us to get out, that it was a trap. that kirby was ghostface.”

ethan’s brows furrowed, “why- why would she be- she got stabbed by her friend!” his eyes darted back and forth, trying to make sense of what you're telling him. trying to make the puzzle pieces fit.

“detective bailey said that kirby was fired over six months ago from the fbi. that she was showing major signs of ptsd and her anger would flare at times. she probably just…snapped.”

“y/n…this isn’t you! you’r- you’re not a killer!”

kirby struggled against your weight that kept her plastered to the floor. her gun kicked far away from sight as she kept your weapon-wielding hands away from her body. you didn’t want to stab her multiple times like mindy… maybe just once and then slice her throat.

“you don’t know anything about me, agent.” you hissed as you pushed down harder.

you pushed all your upper body strength into your arms and managed to inch the knife closer and closer to kirby’s waiting throat. you could almost see light bouncing off the silver…

“we stepped out of the elevator and kirby shot mindy in the head. and just before she could get to me, detective bailey appeared out of nowhere and shot her in the heart.”

ethan’s eyes watered instantaneously and his lips quivered. on instinct you crawled into the bed and pulled ethan’s head to your shoulder. he gripped your dirty shirt tight in his shaky hold as his salty tears dripped onto your skin.

“what- what- what about…the others?” he hiccuped.

you rolled your lips and looked to the ceiling. it was only going to get worse. you didn’t say anything as you dragged your fingers through his hair, which caused him to pull away. eyes starting to get red and puff, dried tear stains ruining his face.

“what… happened?” he restated sternly.

your hands fell to your lap and you looked down as you picked away at your skin and hangnails. flashes of blood on your hands cloud your vision but it’s gone in a blink. you cleared your throat.

“i… i think we were too late. i don’t know how, but… it was straight from a horror movie as me and bailey walked into the theater. i found chad… laying in a pool of his blood.”

it felt so exhilarating as you did the same tactic on chad as his twin. poetic or something shit, how they died the same way by the same knife and hand. his eyes screamed for mercy, but you didn’t care. the sound of blood and stabbing drowning your thoughts.

“then i heard a commotion somewhere so i went to make sure bailey was okay. I stumbled back into the main shrine area and saw sam wrestling with him…”

sam and bailey pushed and shoved each other into glass cases. bailey had more of the upper hand, but sam was holding her own. you hid in the shadows, crouching low and waiting for an opening to help your sudden accomplice.

“…sam managed to throw him to the ground and she had a knife ready to stab him. i didn’t think… i- i just ran at her and threw myself into her…”

both of you smacked into the bottom of a display, the breath knocked out of you for a minor two. sam pushed herself up and the look of disgust and disbelief that one of her friends-

“you’r- you’re helping him? you’re a ghostface?” she heaved as she stood up. you kept a close eye on her.

“not exactly… but that doesn’t matter. i’m only a ghostface in this case.”

with your guard down just a bit, she ran at you-

“- sam stabbed me in the thigh and then the shoulder.”

sam got a deep stab into your right thigh and swiftly pulled it out and sunk the blade into your shoulder near your collarbone. you screamed bloody murder from the pain and anger she flared up in you.

“i- i don’t know. it’s like she had a personality switch or something. maybe her dad’s genes kicked in and she and kirby planned this sick show. sam doing the first few and then when kirby came down they switched off. at least that’s the theory the police have come up with.”

ethan’s fingers ran over the wound on your thigh, that frown back on his face. once again you reached for his hand and waffled them together. you kissed the back of his hand then his knuckles and lastly each fingertip.

“is tara at least…” you heard the hesitancy as he asked about his friend. wondering if her sister would be sick enough to kill her off after showing such a protective front around others.

teeth sunk into your bottom lips as you shook your head. “her, uh, her throat was slashed. but no- no other wounds.”

“y/n, y/n. why- why are you doing this?”

tara was trying to plead with you or at least understand your reasoning for killing your friends. you took slow and menacing steps as you backed her further into a dark corner. twisting the knife handle like a toy as you just smirked at her.

“why does everyone think killers need a reason? well, in detective bailey’s case, he does have a reason. richie, his son, was killed at the hands of sam.”

tara’s face slackened further.

“now… i won’t reveal who was his main partner in crime. a promise i made so he would leave me and ethan be after-“

“you- you think ethan’s gonna wanna be with you? even when he finds out everything you did?”

your steps stopped as you kept a sharp eye on her, knife held high and steady. she didn’t understand the love the two of you share. and beside-

“ethan isn’t gonna know a thing. wanna know why?” your lips pulled into a sinister cheshire grin as your steps resumed. tara was pressed into the corner with no weapon to defend herself and no space to make a run for it. she was all yours.

you held the knife up under her chin, tip against her throat as she swallowed saliva. you leaned in closer, mouth near her ear, “ethan’s never gonna know about this, because you’ll all be dead.” you swiped the knife hard and fast against her throat.

“so… only you and bailey survived?” ethan’s voice was getting thick from emotion.

you hoped your story was convincing enough. maybe you’ll have bailey vouch for you if needed. maybe ethan’s mind won’t think too hard about everything with it clouded by grief and drugs pumping in his veins.

“i don’t think i would be if he didn’t show up. ethan-“ you held his cheeks once again, making sure his eyes looked deep within yours. “i was… so scared that i would never see you again.” tears came to the front without thought and you saw the way he melted.

ethan’s hands caressed your cheeks and wiped the fallen droplets away with ease. “i think you have a guardian angel watching you or something. whatever it was, i’m so relieved that you're back in my arms.”

and his lips met yours once again after hours of missing the feeling. it was like you claimed your first breath of clean air after only consuming pollution smog. and it felt like another reminder.

you pulled away, reluctantly, from ethan and leaned your forehead into his. fingers working to keep a smile and brightness to his face and eyes.

“you and me, ethan. always and forever. we’ll always be there for each other. and i’ll always protect you no matter what. you’re all that matters to me.”

you closed your eyes at the end of your declaration so you missed the slight crease in his eyes and how they took in every inch of skin. and how they spotted specks of dark red blood, but instead of causing his heart to spike he just closed his eyes as well and leaned in for another kiss.

always and forever

-

tags: @astrxq

[yes-divine-ruler]

My friend and I loooove your writing!!😘👌🏻❤️

Would you be able to write a smut about having a threesome with Kai and tate!!! 😍

The smuttiest the better!!😍

Kai Anderson x Tate Langdon x Fem!Reader Smut - “Ghosts Aren’t Real” (18+)

You ask and you shall receive, you and ur friend horny as hell and I’m living for it

CW: double penetration, a little boy on boy action, not proofread properly, I will soon

Taglist: @v-love @evanpetersfav @demxnicprxncess @kitwalkersgfff

Word count: 2205

"You ready?"

You lean forward and push open the rusted gates of the famous, but severely neglected, Murder House. Kai follows behind you, unfazed by the supernatural and not a believer like you were.

"Y/N, this is fucking dumb," Kai scoffs, following you through what once was the front garden and up to the grandiose front door. It was slightly ajar, so you invited yourself in, taking ahold of Kai's hand and pulling him in with you.

Your mouth opened in awe at the inside, seemingly untouched after the last owners. It almost looked like someone still lived there.

"So where's these ghosts you speak of?" Kai retorted beside you and you ascend the staircase to the first floor.

"How fucking cool is it in here?" you ask Kai, your hand still in his as you make it to the first floor, touching your fingertips to the stained glass window on the way up.

"Yeah, I mean, it's pretty cool," Kai agrees behind you, his hand coming loose from yours as he begins to walk in the opposite direction.

You were too caught up in the bedroom on the first floor to notice a man in a gimp suit staring at you through the doorway. Your fingers continued to draw trails across dust-covered surfaces as you circled the room, taking a moment to look out the window onto the street.

"Kai!" You called, turning suddenly and leaving the bedroom, venturing back into the hallway.

"Down here! Checking out the basement!" Kai called back from down the stairs.

You retreat down the stairs, heading towards an opened door passed the main-storey stairs and treading lightly down another dark staircase. Your hand held onto the wall on the way down, the dimly lit basement cold and dingy.

"Kai?" You ask again, your eyes gazing over at the shelving on the back wall, that seemed to be filled with jars upon jars. It peaked your curiosity, your body pacing towards them before you were stopped by an object on the ground.

A red ball.

You pick it up hesitantly, the ball such a stark contrast to the rest of the basement, bright and new.

"I'd put that down, unless you wanna play?"

You're about to turn your head back towards the voice when a hand in a latex glove reaches up and wraps around your mouth. You scream, but it's muffled, the latex-gloved perpetrator turning you in one swift motion and pinning you against the brick wall.

You want to cry, a man in a latex gimp suit towers over you, his head tilting to the side as he watches you quiver from his presence.

Their other hand reached around to the back of their head, pulling the mask off slowly to reveal their face.

Kai stands in front of you, his hand leaving your mouth as he bends over in hysterical laughter.

"You should've seen your fucking face!" He gets out between laughs, as you let out a sigh of relief before it boils up into anger.

"You fucking dick!" You scowl, slapping a hand on his chest as he tried to stifle his laughs, holding a hand up to his mouth.

"I'm the only ghost here," Kai says, leaning towards you brushing his hair up against yours. You let out a laugh of your own as you cave into Kai's advances, leaning up and closing the small gap between your lips. Something about being in this house made you feel incredibly tense, but also incredibly aroused.

You had to admit, you didn't know where Kai got that latex suit but he looked incredibly good in it. Kai kisses you against the wall, moaning into your mouth as your tongue explores his. Your fingers tangle in his long blue hair, as his hands grip onto your waist in a tight hold.

Kai pulls away suddenly, startled by a tap on his shoulder. He turns his head, now face to face with a guy with blonde hair and eyes as dark as his.

Kai didn't have time to respond before the stranger shoved him back by the chest, up against the wall next to you.

"That's mine," he says, referring to the gimp suit Kai was wearing, "and unless you want to fucking die, I'd take it off."

Your heart beats loudly in your chest at the surprise of someone else venturing the Murder House with you, but then confusion settles over your face when you try and figure out what he means.

"Kai? Where did you get the latex?" You ask him, as he seethes back at the guy for pushing him.

"It was just upstairs, I put it on to scare you," Kai scoffs, "who the fuck is this guy?"

The stranger, that you now noticed was wearing a striped sweater, black jeans and a pair of converse, looking between the two of you, before he answered.

"My name is Tate, and I live here,"

Kai looks at him with just as much confusion as you do, until you realise, that maybe he was a ghost.

"Oh my god, Kai, he's a ghost," you say out loud, Tate's facial expression unfaltering but Kai's twisted with laughter.

"Y/N are you fucking shitting me right now? He's not a fucking ghost," He scoffs, unzipping the suit from the back and peeling it off his now very sweaty body.

Kai stands in his drenched underwear, in front of you and Tate, both of you staring at him with your bottom lip between your teeth.

"She's right you know?" Tate says to Kai, as he throws the gimp suit into Tate's arms.

"She's right about what?" Kai scoffs, walking over to his pile of clothes in the corner of the basement.

"I'm a ghost," he says simply, making your blood run cold.

"Oh yeah? Can a ghost do this?"

Kai comes back up to Tate, and grabs him by the neckline of his sweater, suddenly pulling him in and connecting their lips.

You weren't opposed to the sight, you and Kai had had threesomes before, but you never thought you'd see it while exploring the Murder House, and with a supposed ghost. The kiss lasted longer than expected, Kai's tongue even entering Tate's mouth on occasions, just to really rub it in.

"See? Can a ghost get turned on? Because our man over here has a raging erection in his jeans," you look down at Tate's pants, and sure enough they're almost bursting at the seams at his crotch.

"You're an idiot," you tease Kai, laughing at his boldness, "that was hot, you know?"

Tate doesn't say anything, only looking again between the two of you, as Kai comes back towards you. He presses his chest up against yours, pulling you in impossibly closer by the hips and kissing you again. Your fingers trace down his toned chest and stomach, to the tented fabric of his underwear.

He pulls away, gasping for breath, as he turns back towards Tate, who is still kinda awkwardly watching.

"You wanna kiss her too?" Kai asks him, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall, "go on."

Tate looks at him with raised eyebrows, but you're already in the heat of the moment, and Tate is such a hot contender for a three way that you decide to make the first advancement. There was something about his blushed cheeks and his cold stare that turned you on, and being the couple you were with Kai, in the house you wanted to explore, you finally connect your lips to his. His lips were cold, but they moved with yours with such need, that you tilted your head to deepen the kiss.

It was now Kai's turn to watch, his lips curled into a smirk as he watched Tate's hand come around and squeeze your ass cheek, his tongue exploring your mouth hungrily.

You remembered a lone couch in the corner of the room, and decided to guide Tate over, walking him backwards and making sure not to break the kiss. When the backs of his knees hit the couch, he forcibly sat down, a cloud of dust arising from the surface.

As you continued to explore Tate's mouth with your tongue, you felt your boyfriend place his hands over your hips, grinding into your raised backside with his clothed erection. You loved threesomes, especially when you were in the middle of it.

You broke the kiss to tear at Tate's sweater, not taking him even a second to whisk it up over his head and discard it to the side. You took your own shirt off, knowing you weren't wearing a bra underneath, exposing your bare breasts to the stranger.

Kai's hand reached around you and grabbed onto one of your breasts, kneading it in his big hand as he continued to grind into your bottom. Tate took the chance to reach up to your other breast, grabbing it in his cold hand and then surprising you when he put your nipple in his mouth. It felt so fucking good having two men surrounding you, pleasuring you, that you let out a loud moan.

"Such a little slut," Kai spits menacingly, Tate's eyes looking up at yours from beneath his laches as he sucks on your breast.

"We need these off," Kai tugs harshly on your shorts, breaking you away from Tate for a moment to stand and take them off.

"Are we actually doing this right now?" Tate laughs in disbelief as you settle again in his lap, tugging down the flyer of his jeans as confirmation.

"That's how we roll ghost boy," Kai jokes, "she'll need some encouragement, you know where the clit is?"

Tate laughs back at Kai's belittlement, his fingers reaching down to your entrance, moving back and forth between your wet folds before his thumb settled on your clit. You gasp in pleasure, his two fingers pumping in and out of you as you buckle your hips to meet him halfway. Tate rests his back on the couch, watching you intently as little moans escape your parted lips, begging for more.

Kai takes the opportunity to spit directly on your asshole, before sliding in a finger slowly. The feeling of the two men's pleasurable assault causes your torso to fall forward, your back arched for Kai and your head buried in Tate's neck.

The two men look at each other, Kai enjoying stretching out your tight asshole and Tate mesmerised by how wet your cunt was. Kai leans over and pressed a quick kiss to Tate's lips, as your tongue licks a stripe up his neck.

"Holy shit this is amazing," Tate breathes out, as your hand pulls down his boxers and wraps around his bare cock.

"Fuck me Tate," you beg, your lips ghosting over his as you guide his erection to your entrance. You sit down on it, whimpering as it fills deep inside you.

Kai groans as he uses a second finger in your second hole, and then pulls it out when he thinks you're ready for a second cock.

He lines himself up at your back entrance, pushing in the tip with light force. You wince, the stretching of your second hole painful. Tate reaches up and pushing the hair from your face, kissing down your neck to distract you from the piercing pain.

His mouth finds your nipple again, waves of pleasure coursing through your body as he sucks on it softly.

“Oh my fuck- fuck!” You scream, your hands tangling in Tate’s messy blonde hair.

Kai takes the distraction to his advantage, pushing into you completely and starting to thrust when you relax around him. Pain quickly turned into immense pleasure, you had never felt so full. Tate thrusts up into you again after keeping his cock warm, Kai pounding at your ass as he wraps his hand in your hair, tugging harshly at the roots.

“You just love to be filled up with two cocks don’t you, bitch?” Kai says into your ear, his thrusts only getting harder as he grunts from how tight it feels.

“I’m gonna cum, I can’t hold it in,” Tate moans, throwing his head back against the backrest, his hands gripping on both of your ass cheeks and spreading them for Kai.

You smile down at him, your own release close when Tate releases his load inside you, “holy fuck!” He groans, as his thrusts become slow and sloppy.

“You’re gonna cum soon aren’t you, i can feel you clench around me,” Kai continues his assault on your asshole, his hand coming around and rubbing small circles on your clit. Tate’s cock remains inside you, as you finally orgasm, Kai close behind, finally releasing in you.

Kai pulls out, as Tate does, the semen from both men trickling out of your holes and pooling on the couch and Tate’s lap.

“Holy shit, you guys need to come here more often,” Tate lets out a small joke as you lean forward and kiss his lips in a thank you.

“Maybe we will, if you’re lucky,” Kai responds, helping you off Tate’s messy lap as you all put your clothes back on.