#and they’re emptying the fridge at this hour

[cockaiine]

nanami’s side of the bed wouldn’t even be called nanami’s anymore. you sleep there nearly every day, blaming it on how the pillows smell of him.

nanami’s clothes aren’t his anymore, you're sleeping in his shorts and t-shirt tonight. you wore his shirt yesterday, and took his ties for some clothes experiments last week.

nanami’s sacred pens are no longer his own, he finds them on the table after you tried to scribble up something and forgot to put them back.

nanami’s mugs are now shared, always in the dishwasher even when he doesn’t recall using them at all. 

nanami’s thoughts don’t belong just to him anymore. you’d bug him about it all day if he doesn’t share what he’s thinking — so he, with an exasperated sigh, tells you what’s on his mind.

nanami’s salary doesn’t go straight to his savings account like it used to, instead taking a portion of it to spend on you. ‘you’ means gifts, flowers, dates, trips, trinkets, and so on.

nanami’s weekends aren’t as quiet as they once were; now they’re chaotic, full of so much of you. 

nanami’s fridge is full nowadays. candy, leftovers, ice cream, cheese, cake, bread, and the list goes on. so many things that don’t go along with his diet fill the once-empty shelves.

nanami doesn’t spend as much time in his study as before you moved in. now old books are left to collect dust, long forgotten in a room that’s never lit. even when he decides to pick one up and read it, it’s the minute that he sees your face the book is tossed away.

nanami’s happiness still comes from days off, but now it’s because those days are spent with you. days when he slept long and ignores the world are long gone, now he gets to sit and focus on you, watching as everything else becomes nothing but background noise.

nanami has always been sure he’s not looking for marriage, at least not right now. but he swears that ring looks so perfect for you. there’s no way he’d miss it. 

nanami stands in front of the bathroom mirror 5 minutes late every day because you’re still figuring out how to fix his tie the right way without any help. he can’t seem to rush you, though — what’s being precisely on time have on your little giggles as you sit on the sink and struggle to finish a task he could have done in under a minute?

nanami has been spending so much time eating as of late, more time than he can afford. while he used to finish a meal in approximately fifteen minutes, now dinners could stretch to two hours. he couldn’t get off the table early when you sit across from him, talking and joking and doing anything that’s not eating. he simply can’t possibly not indulge in the little conversations, appreciating every moment he gets to spend in your presence. nanami’s life wouldn’t even be called his anymore. you’re a storm, invading his life all at once, bringing in your chaos along with you. you’ve infatuated him, you’ve assailed his senses and changed his very being. every time nanami’s eyes align with yours, he prays your presence isn’t a fleeting one. he silently hopes you don’t leave as suddenly as you came, that you plan to stay.

[blindmagdalena]

The Drug In Me Is You

18+ 3.2k vampire!homelander x supe f!reader. dacryphilia, noncon, p-in-v, blood drinking, possessive homelander, vampire bites as an aphrodisiac, cunnilingus, fingering, kidnapping, reader is held captive, gaslighting, abuse. dead dove!

Ever since Homelander got his cold dead hands on you, you've been the answer to his every prayer. You exist solely for him, kept safe in his home, delicious to the point where he refuses any blood that isn't yours. He isn't conscious of the extent he's grown to rely on you until the day he comes home to find you gone.

written for Monsterlander Mania! thank you @staarboyyy for the incredible vamplander gif. 🖤

There are few things that Homelander despises more in this world than summer. While the heat doesn’t bother him even beneath the thick layers of his suit, the rest of the world isn’t so lucky.

The meet and greets are by far the worst; a crowded collection of sweaty bodies piling in against one another like directed cattle, stewing in their own filth just long enough to reek of their own humanity by the time they’re touching him with clammy hands.

He’s never more grateful for his suit–especially his gloves–than during these occasions.

On top of that, these sardine can buildings become an echoing cacophony of juicy, throbbing hearts, every single one of them pounding in eager anticipation. Indoor events are better for blocking out the sun, but worse for every other aspect when it comes to his senses.

By the end of the day, his skull is throbbing and his stomach is twisting itself into knots. He needs quiet. He needs home. He needs to eat.

It’s dark by the time he lands on his balcony, the hour late. While he does prefer flying at night, he doesn’t like coming home so late. He tugs off his glove to use the thumbpad, which unlocks his automatic door. Stepping inside, he then hits a switch that triggers his blackout blinds to close behind him alongside the door.

“What a fucking day,” he grouses, making his way to the kitchen. “Twelve hours of this shit. I hate summer,” he says, tossing both of his gloves onto the kitchen counter. He reaches into the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water and a dark, thick green slurry in a tall lidded cup. It’s packed full of everything he both needs and likes, but perhaps most important is the iron content.

He goes through a fair amount of that.

“But I’m glad I’m home,” he says, carrying both beverages to his bedroom. “Because it looks like someone didn’t drink their shake.”

Homelander stops dead in his tracks, staring blankly at his empty bed. Standing perfectly still, he listens for the familiar cadence of your breath. The beat of your heart. Anything to tell him where the fuck you are. When he hears nothing, he drops the drinks unceremoniously to the floor and spins on his heel, instantly tearing through the penthouse.

He doesn’t smell blood or death, but the thought of you dead seizes him anyways, hurling him instantly into a panic. He scans through every wall and ceiling, but you’re not here. He calls your name, shouting it down each hall, but he’s met only with the reverberations of his own distraught voice.

At the front door, Homelander moves to input the code to open it, but halts abruptly. The panel is green. It hasn’t locked. Pulling it open, a thin piece of plastic falls away from the mechanism. It had been blocking the lock from securing.

Wednesday is grocery day, he recalls distantly. A staff member came to restock the fridge. They must have had the door propped open, and you…

Left. 

You left.

Homelander rips the door open, nearly yanking it off the hinges, and storms down the hall, fangs bared. You must have waited until it was late and the guard presence was scarce, otherwise someone would have reported you. You can’t have gone far.

When Vought realized that the continued development of Homelander’s powers came with a particular quirk that necessitated the consumption of human blood, they began the process of ensuring he always had a steady supply to keep him from eating his adoring fans. He never really cared about where the blood came from until he tasted yours.

Yours was special. It did something no one else’s ever had; it made him feel alive. He could taste the world in ways he never could before, and if he drank enough, he swore he could feel his heart start to beat. None of the scientists knew why. It didn’t matter to him. From that point on, he wasn’t interested in drinking from anyone other than you.

That was when he decided to keep you close at hand. Cut out the middleman.

You belong to him, and you have for months. He’s taken the utmost care of you, ensuring that you could have everything you need within the confines of his penthouse. The finest foods, every form of entertainment one could dream of, exquisite service at your fingertips and most compellingly of all, the love and adoration of the world’s greatest hero.  

So why the fuck would you leave?

Homelander rips through the tower. He’s furious, wounded and hungry. Those few security guards smart enough to get out of his way evade his rampage while a couple of unlucky ones wind up with their own personal craters in various walls.

He can smell the intoxicating allure of you trailing a path through the halls, but the combination of his hunger and his rage makes following it disorienting. He’s in no condition to hunt–he’s become sickeningly complacent in your time together, more reliant on you than he ever would have admitted freely. He’s grown to love the wait, letting himself feel his hunger so that you taste all the sweeter on his tongue.

Now the churn of it in his gut burns like fire.

Nevertheless, he is relentless, and within minutes he finds you in the garden just outside the tower, locked in by looming steel gates. You aren’t even properly dressed, garbed only in the thin loungewear he keeps you in, barefoot and combing your fingers through a tall hedge full of flowers just beginning to wither, their pink petals curled and browning.

You don’t even notice him until he’s upon you, snatching your wrist and whirling you around so sharply, the hedge behind you drops its wilting petals in a flurry. He must be a fearsome sight if your expression is anything to go by, your eyes wide and panicstricken.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He hisses through his teeth, fangs fully protracted. You take a breath to speak, but he doesn’t want to hear it. He jostles you by your shoulders to cut you off, fingers biting into your arms.  “Do you have any idea how fucking worried I was?”

Your pulse is racing. He can hear it, feel it in your wrist beneath his thumb. The sound of it is nearly enough to throw him to the ground, to shred the thin veneer of humanity he wears and give in to the bloodlust. His thumbnail tilts ever so slightly, biting a crescent mark into the supple flesh of your wrist. Never have you felt more tender in his hands. Never has he come so close to tearing you apart.

One slip, and you would be spilling red all over his tongue. 

“I just–” you begin, but he pulls you sharply up into his arms, seething so furiously that he can’t stand to hear you speak. He’s too far gone. Too fucking hungry.

“We’ll talk at home,” he grits out, and with a sonic boom that rips the remaining blossoms from the hedge in a flurry, he launches into the sky, purposefully flying too fast to allow for conversation. He holds you to his chest as tightly as he dares, landing back on his balcony with a thud. He uses the thumbpad and damn near tears the door off the hinges pulling it open. 

Homelander doesn’t have time to waste. You bounce a few times with the way he drops you onto the bed. Glancing up, he catches sight of himself in the myriad of mirrors. No wonder you looked at him the way you did. He looks crazed, lips parted around his fangs, his usual bright blue eyes shining pure crimson.  

It’s fine. It’s fine. Everything will be fine after this.

You scramble up the bed, moving backwards on your hands, but he catches you by the ankle and yanks you back down it, climbing on top of you with a frustrated noise that fades off into a sigh. “Y’see what you do to me?” He asks, voice low and frayed. You yelp when he rips your shirt clean apart, exposing your top half completely.  Your skin is adorned beautifully with the history of your night.

You bruise easily for a supe. Your blood just loves to rush to the surface for him, vessels full and bursting under his grip. The memory of inflicting these marks is so intoxicating that even in his frenzy he can’t help but lean down and drag his tongue over one of the bruises that mottle the pretty skin of your chest. Under his tongue, you feel like ripe fruit yearning to be bitten into.

“Please, Homelander, stop,” you plead prettily. He can hear your tears in the tremble of your voice, practically taste the salt in the air.

Good, he thinks viciously. Cry. Regret. Never do this to me again.

“Played a dangerous game tonight, sweetheart,” he tells you, that pet name dripping with affection and venom in equal measure. He forces your legs apart and settles between them, tearing what little clothing remains on your body like paper and tossing it aside. He presses his palms down against your thighs, and the heat of you compared to the chill of his fingers nearly burns. He pushes your legs up and apart, soaking in the sweet smell of your cunt.

Sex and feeding have always gone hand in hand for Homelander. Vought tried for years to satiate him with plastic blood bags and artificial alternatives, but it never fed him the way a meal he could fuck does. Still, all of them paled in comparison to you. Your inner thighs are a mixture of both new and faded punctures that dot your body in matching pairs, scars that he hopes never fade. They mark you as his.

Neither of you will ever settle for another ever again. “I didn’t mean to make you worry, please–please let me explain,” you weep, trying to squirm out of his grasp. With a predatory growl he yanks you back into place, unwilling to listen.

The hunger is driving him to madness. He can feel your pulse like it’s his own, the sound of it thundering in his ears until it threatens to split his skull in half. His nails bite into your skin while he leans in, deaf to your begging as he closes his eyes and opens his mouth wide, sinking his fangs into the soft, succulent meat of your inner thigh.

Your blood spills into his mouth like rich ambrosia. He moans loudly, losing himself to the taste and the heat. Your blood is transcendent, going beyond nourishment. Your pulse reminds his heart to beat. The more he drinks, the more the warmth of you fills his frigid body, thawing out his sanity alongside it. Your heat courses steadily through him, the fervor of it vanishing that nauseating pound from his skull until the only throb he’s left with is the one between his legs.

He sucks in a wet breath when he breaks away from you, panting his delirious pleasure. There’s nothing in this world than the high that comes after being satiated from a frenzy. It’s like he’s floating, his tongue and throat tingling with your sweet nectar.

He isn’t the only one tingling. He can smell the heady musk of your arousal. Your fearful tears are no match for the effect his bite has on your body, how his saliva mingles with your blood and makes you ache for him.

Without his hunger deafening him to the world, he can focus again. He takes a moment to lap at where he’s bitten you, cleaning up the blood that dripped from the wounds. He trails his blood-warmed tongue inward, far from placated. 

He pins your thighs down flush to the bed and nestles into the sweet core of you, plunging his tongue eagerly into your cunt. Your body jolts, but he holds you steady, eagerly swirling his tongue, collecting the taste of you to drink down. He sucks hungrily at your clit, pulling off of it with wet little pops, kissing and licking and sucking until you’re writhing beneath him for all the right reasons.

Devouring you like this is working him back up into a different kind of frenzy. He slips one finger into you, then two, mouthing your clit while he fucks you with his fingers, coaxing more and more from you. Your walls feel so fucking soft and velvety around his fingers, and his need to feel you quivering around his cock is rapidly outpacing his hunger for the taste of your cunt. With one last deep plunge of his tongue, he lifts himself over you, reaching down to hurriedly unclasp his belt, staring down at you with lust glazed eyes.

You’re a mess. Your whole body is flushed with heat, and you’ve barely stopped moaning since he bit you. He’s heard the effects of his bite described like a fever, a delirious experience that robs you of your senses and leaves you desperate for more, for anything of him. Even so, you haven’t stopped crying. It makes you look sweet. Vulnerable. Fucking delicious.

“Mmm, you’re pretty when you cry, baby,” he says, running his tongue along his teeth, over the sharp juts of his fangs. He gets his cock free and adjusts himself between your legs, laying over you. “This your way of saying sorry? Because it’s working,” he tells you, bracing one hand on the bed next to you while he uses the other to hold the base of his cock, dragging the head of it up and down through the wet mess of your pretty pussy lips. “Show me how sorry you are, sweetheart. Be good for me,” he murmurs against your skin, nuzzling at your throat.

Opening his mouth, Homelander bites into your neck at the same time he thrusts forward, letting out a muffled, ragged moan as he sinks into you on both fronts, shuddering with how fucking good it feels, tight and wet and hot as sin. Between that and the fresh rush of your blood down his throat, he ascends to a state of goddamn euphoria.

You make a noise somewhere between a sob and a moan. He drinks you up, savors the sound of you as much as he does the taste. He snaps his hips, wastes no time fucking you deep, holding you still with the lock of his jaw while he pounds you into the mattress.

“Oh, ffffuck,” he groans, lips bloodied. He laps at the blood on your neck, the sound of it as wet as his cock hammering your cunt with the relentlessness of a machine, utterly inhuman in the way he takes you. “So good to me, aren’t you? Feeding me, taking me. Mmm, fuck, m’close,” he says, nuzzling at your skin, enamored with the warmth of you.

With the ravenous insanity of his bloodlust fading, his thrusts become less brutal. He hikes your thigh over his hip and holds it there, sliding into a rhythm that’s something closer to making love. Your cunt quivers all around him, and by the noises you’re making he knows you’re electrified, out of your mind with the haze of pleasure that his bite induces. “M’gonna take care of you, too. You know that, don’t you? Yeah, y’do, and you won’t ever fucking leave me again. Don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” he pants, mouthing at the shell of your ear.

It’s a lie. He knows what he would do. He would punish any world that dared take you from him. The thought alone would be enough to enrage him all over were he not so deeply soothed by your iron on his tongue and your soft body giving into him. If he had breath to give, it would be stolen by the way you seize up against him, orgasm taking hold of you like a possession, capturing your voice and rolling your eyes heavenward.

This is love. This undying hunger, this obsessive compulsion to keep you close. He craves you not just for the ambrosial taste of your blood, but for your soft lips against his and the timbre of your voice. He brought you into his life to satiate his bloodlust, but never could he have fathomed the greater emptiness that you would fill. Knowing you were here waiting for him has made him understand for the first time in his life what it means to come home.

He’ll ruin you before he loses you.

Homelander comes with a low, wrecked moan, kissing you fervently as he stops to empty himself into you as deeply as possible, forehead pressed to yours.

You’re panting, letting out pitchy little wisps of sound with every breath. He gently kisses them from your lips, hushing you. “S’alright, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek, licking the salt of your tears from his lips. He cups the other side of your face and strokes it with his thumb. You’re shaking all over. He slips an arm around you to draw you close, to comfort you as you come down from your high. “Ssshhhh. Everything’s alright. M’right here, and I love you.”

That wrings a tight little sob out of you. He smiles, dazed on his own lingering ecstasy. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you,” he assures you, kissing your forehead. “Can’t imagine how scared you must’ve been, wandering alone in the dark like that,” he says, stroking your cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Just happy I found you before anything happened to you.”

What if someone else had found you like that? Confused and vulnerable. He would have found you eventually, but had anyone been unlucky enough to lay their hands on you before then, they wouldn’t have hands for much longer. He kisses you again, firmer, possessive. “Don’t cry, baby. You’re safe now. You’re home.”

Gingerly, he slips from the wet heat of your body and adjusts himself, getting you both situated under the covers. He spends a while soothing you, rubbing your back while you lay in his arms, kissing the top of your head every so often.

“You alright?” He asks eventually. You aren’t shaking anymore, but you haven’t said a word. It makes him a touch… anxious.

“Yes,” you whisper. It’s not very convincing, but he wants to believe it enough that he accepts the answer anyways.

“Good,” he purrs, slipping his hand over the back of your neck. His fingertips brush your menagerie of scars, each bite a reminder of how thoroughly you have allowed him to love you. “That’s my good girl. I love you,” he says with a smile, tipping your head back to kiss your lips.

He waits.

“I love you,” he says again.

“I love you, too,” you finally respond.

His smile broadens. He draws you closer to him, listening to the lively thrum of your body. You are the warmth in his own veins, the beat of his heart.  This, too, is love. Kissed lips, bitten limbs, hungering teeth and bodies intertwined. It’s sweeter than anything he has ever known. The need in him is a monstrous thing, he knows. He hadn’t known how monstrous it was until he thought–even for a moment–that he’d lost you.

It won’t happen again.

[ladykailitha]

Paper Hearts Part 3

Thank you for the lovely response to this story, it makes me warm and fuzzy inside.

This chapter is just 2000 words of Wayne and Eddie being sweethearts to Steve.

Part 1 Part 2

****

Eddie led the way through his trailer to the kitchen past Wayne, who was sitting in his armchair reading the newspaper, a defeated Harrington limping behind.

“What did I tell you about bringing home strays, Ed?” Wayne huffed, a small, gentle smile on his face.

Eddie shook his head, his curls flying. “I’m just watering and feeding this one before I return it back to its owners.”

Harrington blushed and ducked his head. “I got lost.”

Wayne’s eyebrows shot up. He looked over at Eddie who nodded his confirmation.

“This is my Uncle Wayne,” Eddie introduced them. “This is Steve Harrington, Uncle.”

Wayne’s eyebrows stayed raised. Of all the people Eddie could have brought home, he was pretty sure this was the biggest surprise.

“You got your car?” he asked.

“This dumbass was out running around with his head in the fucking clouds,” Eddie scoffed.

Wayne’s glance at Harrington was far more appraising. He looked him up and down, taking in the sweat on his brow, the limping, the slumped shoulders, and vacant expression.

“You do that often, son?” he asked Harrington, folding up his newspaper.

Harrington just shrugged. “I like running to get out of my head.”

Wayne licked his upper lip slowly, calculating. “Uh-huh.” He looked over at his nephew, who had his hands on his lower back and staring at the floor. “There is some leftover beef from Sunday.”

Eddie jumped excitedly. “Yes! That would be perfect.”

He loped over to fridge and pulled out a Tupperware container. He set it on the counter. He got out two plates and a glass. He filled the glass with water and handed it to Harrington.

“Don’t worry, princess,” he huffed. “Our water comes from the same place as yours does.”

Harrington rolled his eyes. “I’m not worried about you poisoning me.”

“You’d be the first,” Wayne said with a chuckle.

Harrington furrowed his brows and looked between them in confusion.

“Surely,” Wayne said in amusement, “you’ve heard about Ed’s reputation going to that school of yours.”

Harrington shook his head. He looked down at his feet. “I mean, I hear rumors and shit, but I really don’t believe that he chased three freshmen with a hunting knife.”

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “You would pick the one rumor that was actually true.”

Harrington’s head snapped up. “What? Why would you do that?”

Behind him the microwave beeped and Eddie hurried to get their food out. He piled on the food and handed it to him.

“Because they were trying to buy drugs off me,” Eddie muttered as he handed Harrington a fork.

Harrington blinked at him a moment and then nodded. “Is there an age that you do start selling to high school students?” His eyes went wide and looked at Wayne in panic. “I mean, if you were selling drugs. Not that you do or anything.”

Wayne chuckled and shook his head. “I am more than perfectly aware of my nephew’s side business, thank you. I wish he didn’t have to do it, but he hasn’t had a lot of choices in the legal employment racket, not for someone like Ed. But sometimes a couple of grams sold is the difference between not having to chose to pay the water bill or the power bill.”

“Uncle Wayne and I set down ground rules when I started dealing,” Eddie huffed. “One of them was not selling to anyone under the age of sixteen.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

Harrington ate his food in silence.

“Do you need to call your parents?” Wayne asked. “Won’t they be worried where you are?”

Harrington shook his head. “They’re going to scream the same amount if I was five hours late or on time. I’d rather just deal with it the once thanks.”

Eddie and Wayne shared a worried glance over his head. Eddie was far too familiar with that nugget of parental discipline, because that’s exactly what Al would do with him.

“You ready to go, Stevie?” Eddie asked as he set their now empty plates in the sink.

“Don’t worry about cleaning up, Ed,” Wayne said. “I’ll take care of it while you take him home.”

Harrington blinked up at Eddie after he used his given name. “Oh, yeah. Of course. Thanks for dinner and the water.”

Wayne nodded. Eddie led the way back out to the van.

“All righty,” he said, pulling his door closed. “You’re gonna have to give me directions, pretty boy.”

Harri–Steve blinked at him for a moment. “I thought everyone had been to my house at one point or another.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Seriously, dude?”

Steve just curled his hands on his lap and then mumbled directions.

Eddie cursed himself in his head. He had gotten the other boy to come out of his shell a little bit while they were talking to Wayne, but now the lid had slammed shut.

Because Steve was right. Even though he only invited the popular kids, his parties always exploded way past the original guest list. But Eddie had avoided it when it was Steve’s place though. Dealing at Hagan’s or any of Steve’s former pals was easy enough, his van fit right in with all the vehicles no problem. But in Loch Nora? Yeah... that was like showing up to a funeral in torn up jeans and smelling strongly like booze.

“Let’s just say my van is a little more conspicuous in Loch Nora,” he said after they had driven in silence for a couple of miles.

Steve’s head snapped up. “Oh. Shit. Yeah. My neighbors might not call the cops on any of my parties but they would absolutely be on the horn if they saw your van parked anywhere on the street.” He picked at his nails. “I keep forgetting shit like that.”

Eddie risked a glance at the other boy, whose shoulders were rounded against being bullied.

“Dude,” he huffed, “the whole fucking school saw what you looked like when you came back after tangling with Billy that kind of damage leaves lasting affects. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Steve scoffed. “Asshole fucking cheated. Took a plate to my head and then just started wailing on me. Probably would have killed me too.”

“So what stopped him?”

“Being tranq’ed by his step-sister,” he snorted. “She was visiting a friend of hers. One Billy didn’t approve of because of the color of his skin. Billy threatened to kill the kid, so I hit him. Would have won, too, if he hadn’t fucked me up with the plate.” He took a deep breath. “Anyways, they had some tranquilizers because one of their parents were having trouble sleeping. She grabbed one and jabbed it into his neck.”

“Pretty brave thing to do,” Eddie conceded. “Sounds like there were two badasses there that night.” Then he shook his head. “So you got the shit beat out of you for defending little sheep and Wheeler still went for Byers? I don’t know, man, sounds like she wouldn’t know a good thing if it bit her in the ass.”

Steve huffed out a breath of laughter before he caught himself. He hid his smile under his fist. “Something like that, yeah.”

They pulled up to his house and Steve let out this strange little pained noise. Like it was relief and disappointment all rolled into one. A sound Eddie was far too familiar with.

“My parents aren’t home.”

Eddie looked over at him in curiosity. “How can you tell?” Because yeah, the front lights were off and the house seemed quiet, Eddie knew these houses were big enough that if there was a light on in the back of the house, it couldn’t be seen from the road.

“The garage is closed,” Steve huffed. “They only close it when they leave. They have to show off to the whole neighborhood the cars they drive.”

Eddie blinked at Steve in confusion. “Aren’t they worried someone will steal their car?”

Steve shook his head. “It’s insured, plus they don’t believe anyone would rob them in their fancy house while they’re home.”

Eddie looked up at the large house, so big it could only really be called a mansion. “Are they stupid or arrogant?”

“Both.”

“Look, Steve,” Eddie said, stopping him briefly. “I need to apologize and every time I see you you distract me. So I’m just going to come out and say it. I’m the one that shoulder checked you the day you hurt your hand.” He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed dramatically.

“You see, you had this far off look my uncle gets sometimes and the best thing to do is make a noise or bump into him. Just something that reminds him that his not where ever his mind is and that’s in the present. But I heard these assholes saying that they got their kicks out of kicking your stuff and stomping on your hand and I realized that it was my fault that happened and I’m really, really sorry.”

Steve stared at him for a moment. “Oh. Hey, it’s not your fault, you were only doing what you thought would help. I wasn’t spacing out or whatever. I was just feeling sorry for myself over a stupid holiday. But apology accepted, I guess.”

Eddie nodded, feeling a little bit better about it.

Steve hopped out of the van and he turned back to Eddie. “Thanks for the ride, Eds.”

He slammed the door behind him and walked up to his big, dark, lonely, still house and Eddie felt a small pang of something like pity for the guy. And wasn’t that a kick in the teeth.

When he got home, Wayne was waiting up for him.

“Did that boy get into any trouble when he got home?” were the first words out of his uncle’s mouth. Not so much as a ‘hello’ or ‘by your leave’.

Eddie shook his head. “They weren’t home. I don’t know if they went out to dinner without him or if they just went on one of their infamous business trips.”

Wayne cocked his head to the side. “What’s so infamous about them?”

“They leave so often,” Eddie murmured, “that Steve is pretty famous for the ‘rich kid, empty house’ trope you see movies these days.”

“He’s got friends he can stay with, doesn’t he?” Wayne pressed.

Again Eddie shook his head. “He blew up his friends group awhile back, called them all assholes and bullies over some chick. Then the chick broke up with him over the eldest Byers boy.”

Wayne patted the spot next to him on the sofa. “Tell me about this Harrington kid. You used to all the time, ranting and raving about something or another that he did and then you just stopped.”

Eddie flopped down on the sofa with a heavy sigh. “Like there wasn’t anything to tell after that, you know. He just faded into the background. Gave up his title of King of Hawkins High and then Friday happened.”

“And you found out he was being bullied,” Wayne finished. “I see. That’s got to be rough to go from being surrounded by people to not having anyone there for him.”

Eddie threw his head back onto the back of the sofa and let out a loud groan. “Like it’s my thing. Picking up the lost and the lonely. But this one comes with a lot more baggage than the others and I’m not afraid for me or the rest of my friends but...” He buried his fingers into his hair and screamed.

Wayne nodded. Eddie befriending Steve could make things worse for him and not better. But inaction might hurt the boy in the long run.

“Maybe do something for him that he doesn’t know it’s you,” he suggested to his nephew. “That way he knows he’s not alone, but your reputation won’t make things worse for him.”

Eddie frowned for a moment and then his eyes went wide. “Oh! I think I know exactly what to do!”

Wayne smiled at him. “I figured you would.”

****

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Tag List:

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

2- @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie

3- @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666

4- @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

5- @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690

6- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

7- @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

8- @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @swimmingbirdrunningrock

9- @croatoan-like-its-hot @lolawonsstuff @moonshadows-13 @lololol-1234 @dotdot-wierdlife

10- @slv-333 @ravenfrog

[inkchwe]

three men & a crib | 𝖕𝖘𝖍

୨୧ pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 1.2k ୨୧ genre: fluff, comedy ୨୧ tags: established relationship, soontobedad!sunghoon, married!au, pregnant!reader. ୨୧ synopsis: Sunghoon is wasting time not building the furniture in the nursery, mainly the terrifyingly intricate crib his pregnant wife ordered. What else can he do besides call Jake and Jay to help him?

How did he end up in this situation? Sunghoon is staring down the cardboard box in his living room, armed with a handful of tools and an instruction manual that might as well have been written in an alien language.

“I can do it when I get home from the shower,” you told him two hours ago, pouting at the fact the crib still had yet to be constructed. The baby would be arriving in less than three months and there was still so much of the nursery that needed to be completed. The main piece being the place your child was meant to sleep.

Sunghoon shrugged off the idea. No way were you going to try building furniture when you should be focusing solely on relaxing. Your belly was too swollen at this point for Sunghoon to let you even carry in a heavy bag of groceries without assistance. What kind of husband would he be if he let you do manual labor in your condition?

“No, baby,” he said, kissing your forehead with reassurance. “I promise to finish it. Just focus on having fun today and when you get home it’ll all be done, you’ll see.”

With a sigh and a kiss to his lips, you were off with your mother to your baby shower. Heeseung’s wife Yunjin organized the entire day for you, and Sunghoon wouldn’t let something as simple as a piece of infant furniture get in the way of your good time.

But now, staring down the dismantled pieces of the crib, he’s starting to grow anxious at the thought of you coming home to his empty promises and utter disappointment. He reads over the first step of the instructions again, and the words practically bleed over and into each other on the page. Admittedly, Sunghoon was not well-versed in carpentry, but surely it shouldn’t be this hard to understand.

Whatever he has to do to figure it out, he won’t let you down. And he won’t look like an incompetent father because of some measly, complex instructions.

So, he does the next best thing he can: he calls in backup.

Jake and Jay sit next to Sunghoon on the living room floor, looking over the parts of the crib that they’ve agreed go together first and have to be constructed in the proper order. 

After forty-five minutes of assembly, the three men feel an acceptable amount of confidence they completed the crib.

Except for the fact there’s a random piece of wood sticking out in the center of the crib itself.

“I’m telling you the directions said that that was supposed to go there,” Jay insists, skimming the manual.

Sunghoon groans. “Tell me exactly Jay what the fuck that is supposed to do.” He emphasizes his argument by pointing directly at the block of wood in the middle of the crib.

“I don’t know, man, to keep the baby from moving?” Jay retorts.

“Okay, let’s just start over,” Jake says to both men, tired of their bickering already.

Just when the men think they’re getting somewhere, they read the next line of instructions and feel like idiots for putting this piece of wood with that screw.

“This might as well have been written in ancient Egyptian, man. Why did she have to buy the most annoying crib in existence?” Jay grumbles and flips through the manual again.

“She said it comes with a lot of safety features,” Sunghoon answers, taking apart the two pieces of wood that Jake put together initially. Sunghoon wishes he could go back in time and stop you from buying it in the first place. Of course he also wanted the best for your child, but did the damn bed need to come with so many bells and whistles for all of this hassle?

By the time Sunghoon dismantles the pieces and puts them back in an organized pile on the floor, Jake looks ready to give up and raid the fridge.

“We could just find the model online and order it assembled,” Jake suggests. A yawn leaves his lips, already fatigued at the minimal effort he put in.

“And say what to my wife?” Sunghoon asks with a scoff. “That I was too stupid to make it without help?”

Jay and Jake look at Sunghoon without a word, their stares saying enough.

“You know what I mean, assholes.” Sunghoon looks at the instructions over Jay’s shoulder again and grunts. “We are three strong and capable men. We can do this!”

Less than an hour later, Jake is on the manufacturer’s website. Thankfully, the model number was written in bold font on the front of the manual. And even better, crib assembly and one-day delivery is only an extra hundred dollars.

“I’ll name the next kid after you, man.” Sunghoon pats Jake on the back as the older one puts his card information into the order.

“Whatever. Just don’t expect me to not spill the beans if your wife asks me about this.”

Jay chuckles and helps Sunghoon put the pieces of the original crib back in the cardboard packaging.

Three hours later, two delivery guys come up the elevator with the crib to bring into Sunghoon’s apartment. It fits with the rest of the nursery, the color of the wood matching well with the decorations you had already put up for the baby’s arrival.

You walk into the apartment later in the day to find Sunghoon sitting at the couch waiting for you. You smile at him and immediately snuggle in close to his chest.

“How was the shower?” Sunghoon kisses the crown of your head as his hand runs across the center of your stomach. His warmth immediately calms you after the long day of greeting family and friends.

“Fun, but a lot. By the third hour I was over talking about breastfeeding.”

Sunghoon chuckles and kisses your cheek. Even now, after four years of marriage and a baby on the way, he still managed to make you feel like the same lovesick teenager you were when you first met. The feeling sank deep into your bones and made you even more sure that you picked the right person to spend forever with.

“Thank you for putting the crib together,” you say. You squeeze the hand that’s on your stomach with your own. “We appreciate you so much.”

Sunghoon smiles earnestly and kisses you on the lips. “And I appreciate you. None of this would be possible without you, you know.”

You grin. “Likewise.”

When you wake in the middle of the night later on, waddling to the nursery and admiring the quality of the crib, you chuckle quietly to yourself.

Sunghoon was completely unaware of how cute he looked in the Ring camera helping the delivery guys bring in the assembled crib. He also had no idea that you had watched from the comfort of Heeseung’s couch as the gentlemen, with Jake and Jay in tow, all shuffled into the apartment hours ago with the second crib.

Maybe the biggest lesson of parenthood was that sometimes it was better to work smarter and not harder. And regardless, Sunghoon would do anything to make sure you and your child were happy. What more could you ask for?

[catiuskaa]

ticklish, cold water nights. —bf!jisung thoughts.

A/N: the bf!thoughts series is finished! I’m so happy I could finish it. I had so much fun coming up with these lil scenarios. Feel free to check them all out, they’re all linked in my masterlist!

i’m an absolute simp for this man. that’s it. that’s me.

(got a bit carried away, oopsies, lol)

jisungie, who softly blinks, sitting in front of his computer screen, eyes itchy and throat dry after hours of work.

jisungie, who wants to drink water, but the bottle in his study room is empty, and the kitchen is too far away for him not to grunt at the thought.

jisungie, who grins like a naughty boy santa would think twice if he should write him down on his list, closing his laptop and waddling to your room, only a few steps away.

jisungie, who smiles like a fool at the sight of you, wearing a sweater of his and a pair of fluffy socks that he gifted you as a joke because the design looked like penguins.

jisungie, who giggles when you move your eyes away from your phone and stare at him from the bed. “Well, well, well, look who it is.” Even after a couple months dating, you still make him blush when you tease him.

jisungie, who happily plops himself down over you, his face lying on your chest until you cradle it with your hands. “Hi, cutie.” You smile, and he grins back.

jisungie, who starts peppering your face with soft kisses, his hands trailing under your—his—sweater. “Hey, lovely.” He mumbles, still focused on his task.

jisungie, whose heart flutters at your giggles. “H-hey! Y-you’re tickling me!” You playfuly start pushing him off you, but your antics don’t work against a gym bro.

jisungie, who stops to let you breathe, and you struggle to catch your breath, your cheeks red and your lungs begging for a break. “You’re a meanie.” You huff, and he kisses your forehead with a smirk.

jisungie, whose smirk grows even wider when you whine. “Baby, no!” He snorts. “Baby, yes.”

jisungie, who teases you, his fingers threatening to tickle you again, stroking your skin under your—his—sweater.

jisungie, a secret meanie. “I want water.” He starts. “And you, beautiful, want me to stop tickling you.”

jisungie, who plays his part, holding back the urge to just grab the water himself when you whine again. You’re so cute, he almost can’t help it. “Not fair!” you pout, and he coos at you.

jisungie, who grins, counting down, now resting comfortably on your bed. “Three… two… one… one and three quarters… one and a half…”

jisungie, who frowns. “No! That’s water from the sink, I want a bottle from the fridge!” You roll your eyes, and he smiles back at you, throwing a kiss.

jisungie, who is slightly confused when you bring a bottle of water— empty. “You didn’t specify if it had to be full.” You mock, sticking your tongue out at him.

jisungie, who raises from your bed and pins you up against the closet, tickling you again. “O-okay, okay! I’ll grab your stupid water!”

jisungie, who smiles cheekily when you hand him the bottle of cold water, and stops you by his side as he takes a sip.

jisungie, who smugly makes you swallow not only your snarky coments when he kisses you deeply, messily passing the water to you, but also said water.

jisungie, who softly cleans the remaining water off your lips. “There. Gorgeous and hydrated.” He teases, and you slap his butt as he cackles, both of you heading off to bed now.

~kats, who has no excuse for that ending, but has no intention of apologizing for it either lololol.

[nadvs]

so sorry for sending so many requests but this just popped into my head. in the swte universe, in their college days, i feel like the reader isn't a huge fan of drinking or she doesn't get as pissed as rafe at least. so what if she gets completely drunk one night, being clingy to rafe, maybe people flirt with her because she's without rafe and he comes to "rescue her"? idk just sth like that🤍🤍🤍🤍

never be sorry, ily and your ideas are always so good 🥹 YES omg rafe has no impulse control so he gets hammered on the reg, whereas she’s not one to get too crazy… most of the time 🤭

i’m a sucker for angst so i just had to make it when they’re fwb and he’s already fallen for her while she still just assumes they’re just friends (and this is the night she starts to think of him as something more) 👀

based on this fic

» au masterlist

she cannot pay attention to the guy talking to her. she’s too dazed. she hasn’t eaten much today. she’s running on only a few hours of sleep. and the coolers she drank were so sugary that she didn’t even realize how much alcohol she was consuming. this is the drunkest she’s been in ages.

this guy’s hitting on her. she can tell by the way his eyes trail down her body every so often, his head tilted as he rambles on about something. what was his name again?

she nods along, trying to follow his words while loud music surrounds them. she doesn’t even remember how they started talking.

rafe moved in to this house with his teammates just last weekend and tonight, they’re hosting their first party. the front room is crowded and stuffy and she’s getting dangerously close to feeling sick.

she’d rather hang out with rafe right now. but when she arrived, he pulled her in a friendly hug and pointed her to the drinks, then continued talking to the girl he was already in conversation with.

he’s probably trying to hook up with her and she doesn’t want to be a shitty friend, cockblocking him simply because she’s craving some familiarity.

“…too much work, you know what i mean?” the guy says.

“yeah,” she says, no idea what she just agreed to. she looks around. “did you see any water around here?”

“we can try the kitchen?” he offers.

rafe spots her crossing through the crowd. the guy who she’s been talking to, so obviously into her that he’s embarrassing himself, is following her. she doesn’t seem all that happy that he’s trailing her.

he’s been talking to this girl to try to get out of the fog that sank over him not that long ago. while he was getting ready tonight, all he could think about was the girl who’s supposed to just be his best friend.

she’s always on his mind. when he wakes up. when he goes to bed. during classes. during practice. it’s so bad that even when he’s with her, he’s dreading her leaving.

rafe turns his attention back to the girl talking his ear off. he needs to distract himself. he’s starting to see his best friend as more than a friend, has been for a while now, and it’s fucking agony. she could not be clearer about not wanting a relationship.

and he doesn’t want one, either. he needs to remind himself of that.

but as they round the corner into the kitchen, he sees the guy’s hand rest on the small of her back. it makes rafe’s blood boil.

she opens the fridge. it’s practically empty.

“this has to be a joke,” she mumbles, dizzy at this point.

she swings the door shut and looks up at the guy who’s been following her. at this point, she just wants to get rid of him and find rafe. she can apologize for cockblocking him later.

thankfully, she doesn’t have to. rafe pays no mind to the guy clearly trying to get in her pants, putting himself between them. he ducks, lowering so he can speak in her ear.

“you alright?” rafe asks.

“a house full of athletes and you don’t have any water?” she slurs.

rafe smirks when her hand drags over his. it’s so damn nice when she touches him, especially when it’s subconscious like this. he pulls back just enough to meet her eyes.

then, he turns to the guy who should be able to tell he’s a third wheel at this point.

“we’re good,” rafe says, cocking his head in a way to dismiss him.

irritation flashes over his face. but he’s not moving.

“can you not take a hint?” rafe snips. “she’s not interested.”

rafe isn’t sure if that last part is true, but he hopes it is. it works. he sighs and steps away, pissed off but likely not about to start a fight with the guy known for his aggression.

he turns his attention back to her. he’s revelling in the fact that her hand is still cupping his. her palm is so nice and soft and it’s making his chest go warm.

“how much did you drink?” he asks, the amused smile on his face returning.

“too much,” she admits.

rafe leans over, opening a cupboard to grab a plastic water bottle, then grips her hand tighter.

“come on,” he says. he leads her upstairs to his bedroom, away from the noise and stuffiness of the crowd.

once he shuts the door behind them, the chaos from downstairs muffled, she already feels less overwhelmed.

she’s been in here once before. they hooked up in this bed a few nights ago. she can still remember the way his mouth felt on her neck.

rafe leads her to his bed, sitting her on the edge while he kneels on the floor in front of her, and she’s overwhelmed all over again because of the way he’s looking at her, concern etched into his features.

she’s too drunk. she’s not thinking straight, because not only is she dizzy as hell, but as her eyes sweep over his face, all she can think about is how handsome he is, how good of a kisser he is, how nice it’d be to spend the rest of the night in his arms, like they’re a couple instead of just two people who hook up sometimes.

he twists the cap off the bottle for her. she takes long, slow sips. rafe settles on the bed beside her, watching her.

she lets out a slow breath once she’s drank enough. when she looks at him, she exhales a chuckle.

“why do you look so worried?” she says. “i’m not gonna die.”

rafe catches himself and glances away. this effect she has on him is insane. he’s never cared this much about anybody.

“just didn’t know you were this bad at holding your alcohol,” he says.

“i hate you,” she laughs. “but thanks for saving me.”

“saving you?”

“that guy would not shut up.” rafe hates how happy he is that she didn’t actually like him.

“about what?”

“i couldn’t tell you a single thing he said to me,” she confesses. he chuckles. “i was just thinking that i’m drunk as hell and want to hang out with you.”

that last part slipped out. she takes another sip of water just to have something to do. she expects him to give her shit for her soppy words. but he doesn’t.

“why didn’t you?” he asks.

“didn’t wanna cockblock. that girl you were talking to is pretty.”

she hopes in her drunkenness, she doesn’t sound jealous. because she realizes maybe, deep down, she is.

how could she not be? rafe turned out to be so much more than she expected. what she thought would be a one-time hook-up led her to her best friend. her best friend who happens to be hot and fun and unlike anyone she knows.

“she wouldn’t shut up, either,” rafe says. she laughs, sinking back across his bed.

“are we both just bad listeners?” she asks.

“i’m not.”

“right. you’re never the problem.”

he looks down at her. his cheeks are starting to ache from smiling.

“we should set them up,” she says, her eyelids heavy, legs hanging off the side of his bed. “they’d never run out of things to talk about.”

rafe thinks about how the same could be said for the two of them. conversations always come so easy.

she shuts her eyes and all he can think about is how cute she is. fuck, this is hard.

“what if i napped right now?” she mumbles. “would you be offended as the host of this party?”

“yeah,” he answers simply, because he’s quite honestly at a loss for words right now.

“okay, i’m gonna offend you then,” she says softly. “sorry.”

he nudges her knee.

“don’t sleep like that,” he says. “come on.”

she shifts to lie down on her side, smelling him on his pillow, feeling him put a cover over her. he’s treating her with such tender care that if she wasn’t so drunk, she’d be teasing him, asking who the hell he’s pretending to be, acting all sweet.

but she’s soaking in the feeling because it’s nice to pretend like this is more. she hopes it’s just the alcohol swimming through her that’s making her think this way.

she nuzzles into his pillow. rafe doesn’t say another word. he shuts off the lights and leaves. throughout the night, he comes back up every so often to check on her.

eventually, she wakes up and comes downstairs, feeling more coherent. the music is just worsening the headache she woke up with and she’s desperate to just get home already. she steps outside and books a ride on her phone.

rafe’s phone buzzes in his pocket. it’s a text from her.

thanks for taking care of me. i ordered a ride home and made your bed so i think we’re even

his heart sinks over the fact that she’s already gone.

he replies: we are not even

she texts back: i’m okay with not agreeing on this. goodnight :)

rafe stares at his screen with a small smile on his face, somewhere between happy and sad, before texting back: goodnight.

[alwaysmicado]

Wet

3.3k | 18+ MDNI | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 2

Warnings: no outbreak au, implied age gap, smut: pussy sliding, unprotected piv, choking, creampie, public sex, pet names, degradation/praise, soft!dom Joel, aftercare Summary: You run into Joel at the gym. Seeing him all sweaty in his gym shorts turns you on, so you fuck him in the whirpool. A/N: Get your favorite protein shake ready, make sure to stay hydrated, and have fun! 💦 Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 🖤 series masterlist / AO3

“Mmm, I’d know that beautiful ass anywhere,” a deep voice behind you murmurs. You duck your head to look at Joel’s shoes through your spread legs. “This your signature move, Miller? Perving on girls in the gym at night?” You hear him chuckle, “Only you, baby.”

It’s 98°F today and your AC died five days ago. You’ve been too busy with work to call someone to fix it for you, so you’re currently lounging on your couch in your panties and a white tank top, beads of sweat forming on your face and chest, fanning yourself with an envelope that used to contain a wedding invite from your co-worker. It’s far too hot in your apartment and the prospect of spending your whole weekend in this sweatbox is giving you a headache. Since it’s already 8pm on a Friday, there’s zero chance you can get your AC fixed before tomorrow, and that’s if someone’s available on such short notice. 

You sigh and get up to pour yourself a glass of water. It’s ice cold after sitting in your fridge all day and cools you down nicely from the inside. Your phone lights up with a message from your gym, notifying you of a promotion they're offering for their new line of protein shakes. The gym is two blocks away from your apartment and has a big indoor pool. Why not, you think. Do a quick workout and then cool off in the water. Sounds like a plan.

The girl at the gym’s front desk greets you cheerily and compliments your shorts. They’re bright pink and make your ass look incredible. You thank her and go to the locker room to change shoes and stow your bag. You take your towel and water bottle with you and go to the main room with all the cardio and strength equipment to do a warm-up before running a few miles. The room is empty save for a handful of people doing their own thing.

You lay your towel down on the mat and start doing a few yoga poses to stretch all of your tense muscles. When you’re going into the Downward Dog pose, you exhale deeply and try to let go of all the stress that’s been weighing you down lately. Work, the heat, your family, your life- 

“Mmm, I’d know that beautiful ass anywhere,” a deep voice behind you murmurs. You duck your head to look at Joel’s shoes through your spread legs. “This your signature move, Miller? Perving on girls in the gym at night?” You hear him chuckle, “Only you, baby.”

You sigh deeply and get up. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing here on a Friday night, hm?” Joel asks, taking a swig from his shaker and licking his lips. Now that you’re getting a good look at him, you can only stare for a few seconds. He looks sinfully handsome in his black shirt and gym shorts, his hair already a bit wet and disheveled from a previous workout.

“My AC’s broken,” you eventually find your words, “I’m just here to cool off in the pool.” Joel furrows his brow and tilts his head, “Why didn’t you tell me? You know what I do for work.” You give him a smile, “It just went out a few hours ago, no big deal. I’ll call someone tomorrow.” Joel looks at you for a second before nodding. “Alright, sweetheart, gotta do my next set. And you keep doing those beautiful poses,” he winks at you, “giving me all sorts of ideas.” 

You resume your yoga routine and try to concentrate on your breathing again. It’s no use. All you can focus on is Joel’s biceps and triceps flexing a few feet away from you, sweat running down his neck, his strained face, the way his big hands grip the weights. Oh, and his spread legs in those slutty shorts he’s wearing. You could just sit between them and blow him while he’s doing his workout. Or straddle him while he’s sitting on the bench, rubbing yourself on his hard cock, your bodies separated by the thin material of your shorts only. 

You can feel wetness seeping out of your pulsing pussy and pooling in your synthetic thong. You press your legs together, flex your abdomen and stretch your torso to try and distract yourself from your burning arousal, but it doesn’t work. You can’t concentrate on anything but your throbbing clit and the fact that your cunt should be clenching around Joel’s thick cock right now instead of nothing. Your heart is racing and your skin is on fire. 

When you sit up and spread your legs, you realize that there’s a visible wet spot on your shorts. Joel is taking a sip from his shaker when his eyes lock with yours and then drop down to your exposed core. His brow furrows, eyes wide when he chokes a little on the thick liquid going down his throat. He tries to play it cool, but you’re already giggling smugly. He glowers at you, but you just bite your lip and tilt your head. He is too easy sometimes. 

You turn around, get on all fours and present Joel with a perfect view of your ass and the damp fabric hugging your folds when you move into Downward Dog again. You make sure to hold the position for a few long seconds before getting back on your hands and knees again, moving into Cat and Cow. After a few repetitions of those poses, you can hear weights hitting the floor rather aggressively.

“You need it that bad, huh?” Joel is standing in front of you now, his erection clearly visible through the thin fabric of his shorts. You look up at his face, feigning innocence, “No idea what you’re talking about.” Joel scoffs, “All you need to do is ask nicely, darlin’. No need to act like a desperate whore.” He crouches down and grabs your chin roughly to force you to look into his dark eyes. “Or is that what you are, hm? A desperate whore showing everyone what a mess she made in her pants?”

Fuck, it turns you on when he talks to you like this. You look up at him with big eyes and bite your lip. “Hmm, poor baby can’t even use her words anymore,” he tuts mockingly, tracing your lips with his thumb. “It’s okay, baby. I know what you need.”

Joel releases your chin and gets up to stand above you. “Tell me what you are and I’ll give you what you need. Simple as that, darlin’.” You’d usually try to defy him, but your physical need for him to fuck you outweighs any and all inclinations to be a brat right now. “I’m a desperate whore for your cock, sir,” you purr, batting your eyelashes. “Yeah, that’s right,” Joel smirks, palming himself over his shorts. “Time for a swim, don’t you think?”

—---

The water looks beautiful. Turquoise, clean, cool. Joel dims the lights and closes the door behind you two. There’s no one else in the pool area right now, but you can’t lock the door from the inside. 

“C’mere,” Joel growls, pulling you close by your waist with one hand and grabbing the back of your neck with the other. “You gonna be a good girl and take what I give you, hm?” He raises an eyebrow at you, the dark glint in his eyes making your whole body tingle. His face is so close to yours that you can feel his hot breath and smell the intoxicating mix of sweat and aftershave. You want him so bad it hurts. 

“Yes, sir,” you coo, your pulse quickening rapidly. Joel lets go of your waist and grabs your chin instead. “Look at me, baby.” You lock eyes with him and swallow. “You get off on being a pathetic little slut in public, don’t you,” he smirks at you. You nod and can’t hide the grin spreading across your face. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, pulling you close for a passionate kiss. His plush lips find yours, pressing against you gently but commandingly, making you moan into his mouth. His skilled tongue circles yours as he tangles one hand in your hair and runs the other down your back slowly. He squeezes your ass and then slides his hand further down, feeling the damp spot between your legs, massaging you softly through your pants. His hard cock is rubbing against your thigh and you want nothing more than to feel him deep inside you, filling you up over and over again until you can’t think straight anymore.   

“Fuck, Joel,” you breathe against his lips, “I want you so bad.” He grabs your ass cheeks with both of his big hands and pulls you up his thigh. “I got you, darlin’. Gonna fuck you so good you’ll be begging me to stop.” You press your thighs together and whimper at the thought. Joel nuzzles his nose against the delicate skin of your jaw and hums, “Yeah, I know that’s what you need.” He starts trailing soft kisses down your neck from behind your ear all the way down to your clavicle while you tangle your hands in his curls and moan softly into his ear. 

“Tell you what, baby. If you make it into the pool naked before me, I’ll let you come tonight,” he smiles mischievously against your hot skin. You stare at him like a deer in headlights for a split second before determination sets in and you rip your shirt and sports bra off.

Joel starts fumbling with his shirt as well when he realizes you’re taking this seriously, but you’re already shucking off your shoes and pulling down your pants along with your panties before he can even get to his shoes. You run towards the pool and clumsily jump on one leg at a time while taking your socks off without stopping.

Joel just laughs to himself and stares at you in awe, your beauty taking him by surprise every single time. You lift your hands above your head and jump into the wonderfully cold water head first. It feels incredible.

You come up again and put your arms on the edge of the pool, Joel’s naked toes appearing right in front of your face. He looks down at you and laughs, “Remind me to never underestimate your desperation for my cock again, baby. Alright?” And with that he jumps into the water. 

You both swim a few laps, trying different styles, making a race out of it until Joel catches you by your ankle and pulls you back into his broad chest, his arms wrapping around your naked torso from behind. “Can’t stand that I’m winning, old man?” you chuckle breathlessly, your chest heaving from the exertion. “You’re such a brat,” Joel growls, moving one hand to cup the soft flesh of your left breast, kneading it roughly and rolling your pebbled nipple until you cry out in pain, while the other hand finds its way down your belly.

“You love it,” you pant, turning your head to look at him. He immediately removes the hand that was almost touching you where you need it the most and puts it around your neck, squeezing hard. “You’re really pushing your luck tonight, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his face so close that his lips brush yours, “let’s go in the whirlpool.”

Joel gets in first, closing his eyes, spreading out his arms and groaning at the feeling of the jets massaging his back and legs. You smile at the sight. You know he has a stressful job and isn’t the type to allow himself much downtime, so it warms your heart to see him be able to relax when he’s with you. He’s beautiful. “You just gonna stare at me or come in,” his voice yanks you from your thoughts. “C’mere and sit on my lap, pretty girl.” 

He immediately wraps his arms around you once you’re straddling him, tracing your back with his palms. His cock is already hardening again and you can’t help yourself but start rocking back and forth on it.

“Mmm, what a needy little thing you are,” Joel coos, “can’t wait for me to fuck you, huh?” You nod and whimper at the delicious feeling of your swollen clit finally getting the stimulation it has been aching for. “Shame you had to be a brat today and behave like a bitch in heat in front of everyone,” he grips the back of your neck with his hand, sending shivers down your spine.

“You wanna get off so bad, you do it. But I’m not gonna help you,” he searches your eyes intently, “got it?” He raises his eyebrows and you nod slowly. “Good. Now be a good girl and make yourself come on my cock.” 

You start rolling your hips, your slick folds sliding over Joel’s length continuously. “Fuck me, you feel so good, baby,” he moans, arms crossed behind his head. You keep grinding and tilt your pelvis so you’re stimulating your clit with every movement you make.

You’ve not fucked anyone since Joel a week ago and it’s been too hot in your apartment for you to get in the mood and masturbate, so you’re understandably desperate for release. It’s so close you can taste it, but still too far away. You dig your fingers into Joel’s shoulders as your movements get more erratic, the tension in your lower belly close to snapping.  

“That’s it, baby,” Joel pants, “keep going.” He keeps his eyes trained on your face and puts his hands on your waist. For a second you hope he might help guide you and start thrusting his hips, maybe even fuck you, but you know better. He loves it too much when you’re desperate.

You’re so close to coming, but just can’t seem to get there completely, no matter how hard or fast you rub yourself on his cock. You whine in frustration, hot tears starting to well in your eyes. 

“Look at me, baby,” Joel purrs, “you wanna say something?” You shake your head, trying to avert your gaze and blink away your tears. Joel grips your chin and forces you to look at him. “It’s okay, you can tell me,” he coos sweetly, the smirk on his face telling you that he’s mocking you.

“It hurts, Joel,” you whimper, tears rolling down your cheeks now. He cups your face and wipes them away with his thumbs. “Well, princess, it wouldn’t have to if you didn’t behave like a little whore. You think I should reward that behavior, hm?” 

Your pussy’s on fire and you’d say anything at this point if it meant you could come. “I’m so sorry, sir. Please help me, I’ll do anything, please, please, just help me,” you whine pathetically. “Aww, you poor thing,” Joel teases, “no fight left in ya, huh?” You shake your head and fall into him, burying your face into his neck, putting your arms around him. “Please, Joel,” you sob, “I need you.” 

He wraps his arms around you and strokes your hair. “You’re a good girl for asking so nicely. Wasn’t that hard now, was it?” You look into his eyes and shake your head no. “Good girls get rewarded, you know that.”

He nudges your nose with his and presses his soft lips on yours, kissing you urgently, nibbling and biting until he can’t take it anymore himself. “Sit on my cock, baby,” he pants, holding his shaft up with his hand. You position yourself right above his tip and sink down on him slowly. You almost come instantly, the way he’s stretching you open the perfect combination of painful and pleasurable. 

“Fuuuck, that’s it, baby. Take what you need from me,” Joel encourages you, gripping your hips and guiding you up and down on his thick cock. You can’t hold back your moans anymore, bouncing on him frantically, throwing your head back and flexing the muscles in your abdomen.

“Fuck, Joel, I’m so close,” you whine, starting to feel dizzy from the overwhelming mix of sensations. “Look at me when you come on my cock, baby,” Joel commands. You open your eyes, brow furrowed, mouth slightly opened, and look into his big dark eyes. “Just let go, baby,” he pants, “you’re doing so good for me.” 

Your skin is burning and your heart is racing when the tension inside you finally snaps and you come with a strangled moan. You convulse in ecstasy, your walls spasming and contracting around Joel, sending him over the edge himself. “F-fuck!” he groans, holding you down and thrusting up a few times, emptying himself inside you.

You collapse into him, as the aftershocks of your orgasm run through your body. “C’mere, darlin’. I got you,” Joel mumbles into your ear breathlessly, holding you tight and stroking your hair gently. 

The sudden rush of dopamine and oxytocin flooding your brain is forcing tears down your cheeks. You’re so exhausted that you can’t stop yourself from crying and sobbing into the crook of Joel’s neck. “Shhh, sweetheart, it’s okay. I’m here,” he reassures you calmly, drawing soothing circles on your back.

Your body’s still trembling and the tears won’t stop. “I know, baby, I know. I’m here, just breathe.” He kisses the top of your head and murmurs into your hair how proud he is of you and how good you’ve been.

After a few minutes of silence, you’ve calmed down enough to open your eyes and lift your head again. “There’s my pretty girl,” Joel cups your face and smiles at you softly. “Let’s go take a shower, hm?”

---

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened,” you murmur while Joel’s gently rubbing soap into your skin. “No need to apologize, darlin’. Crying after the incredible orgasm I gave you seems pretty natural to me,” he smirks and you giggle.

“I never want you to hide your feelings from me. Just want you to be yourself around me, always,” he looks at you earnestly. You nod and smile at him before rinsing off the shampoo in your hair. You both towel off, gather your clothes and go to the respective locker rooms to change. 

Joel waits for you outside the gym’s front door, enjoying the cool night air. You try to sneak by the front desk, fearing that the receptionist might have put two and two together or even heard you, but of course she sees you. “Have a great night,” she winks at you and gives you a big smile. 

“I can never come here again, I hope you’re happy,” you sigh and Joel chuckles. “Not my fault, baby, remember? I was just doing my workout when you came and decided to put your pussy on display.” You slap his arm and laugh.

“Well, have a good-” “Let me drive you home, darlin’,” Joel interrupts you, taking your hand in his. You shake your head. “I live like ten feet away from here, you don’t have to drive me.” “I know I don’t. I want to. No buts, c'mon.”

Despite your reassurance that you’re fine and that he doesn’t need to bring you upstairs, Joel’s currently in your apartment, fixing you a glass of water and an Advil. You should know better by now than to expect anything less from him - he’s a gentleman through and through.

“Let’s get you to bed, darlin’,” he leads you into your bedroom, helping you out of your clothes and into a new shirt and pair of shorts. “Thanks, Joel. It was really nice seeing you tonight,” you murmur, your eyes getting heavy as soon as your head hits your soft pillow. “You too, sweetheart.”

You think you feel him put a soft kiss on your lips and murmur something when you drift off to sleep. You're probably just dreaming already.

If only you knew how much you mean to me.

Something’s off when you wake up in the morning. You rub your eyes, stretch, look around your room and can’t figure out what it is. Only when you step into your living room, it hits you. Your AC is working. You smile to yourself and look for your phone. 

You: Thank you, mr. contractor

Joel: Anything for you, babe

—--

part 1 || part 3 || series masterlist

[d3arapril]

modern!ellie headcanons

my take on modern ellie. why? cos i love her 🙄 pls enjoy! feedback appreciated as alwayssss~ <3

✧ warnings: brief we3d mention but other than that, none! just ellie being ellie. safe for all audiences!

ellie was quite reserved when u first met and now ur dating she can still shut down sometimes but she's working on it

she's quiet if she doesn't know u...if ur close... ur gonna wish u weren't

literally NEVER shuts up sometimes?? she can be like one of those wind up toys and chatter on and on for HOURS if she's in the right mood

knows random facts about the most obscure things

"babe did u know that there are more than 60,000 tree species on earth??" *silence* "uhhh.... thanks el?"

CHRONICALLY ONLINE!!! knows every meme under the sun, would still use xD un-ironically if u didn't bully her for it

her tiktok screentime is probably like 7 hours a day bc she could spend endless hours just laying in bed scrolling, u get home from work/school and she's sent u 30 messages. u watch every single one <3

she's fairly active on instagram but doesn't really care about followers etc... just posts random photos whenever she feels like it and has several photo dumps dedicated to her fav pics of u. has a highlight called ‘❤️’ with pics of u

would comment on other ppls tiktoks but not post her own vids.. she’s a bit of a troll sometimes LOL

bites her nails/fingers all the time til they bleed... it's a habit

u got her the nail polish that tastes nasty to try and help her reduce the amount she bites her nails but she just started enjoying the taste of it 😐

"i thought this was supposed to taste bad???" she'd ask u with a thumb shoved in her mouth

so obviously gets bitches but is so oblivious to her surroundings and doesn't notice people ogling at her whenever you're walking around together

however if people are looking at u?? its on sight

gets very jealous very easily and has a mad short temper. lowkey toxic sometimes

will wear an 'i love my girlfriend' t-shirt without even being asked because..she loves u..duh?

leaves u notes all around ur home... u open the fridge and she's written on the empty carton of milk that she left in the fridge :/

'i love u ps were out of milk :('

wears flannels/hoodies, vests/plain tshirts and baggy jeans (maybe skinny jeans if she’s feeling crazy. u tell her she’s outdated) with converse every day. 'lesbian uniform' she calls it...

carabiner queen but doesn't actually have any keys attached to it, just keychains... her fav is the spiderman one she won at the arcade. also has a fidget cube attached. Locked And Loaded

tobey maguire is her favourite spiderman :) closely followed by andrew garfield. she says she’d probably have a crush on him if she liked boys. also loves wanda.. obviously

listens to old 2016 rap.. fetty wap has been in her top 5 spotify artists for the past 2 years

also listens to deftones (her fav songs are teenager and cherry waves btw)

uses wired earphones still because she can’t let go.. they’re busted and chewed up to hell but somehow are still going strong

i’m a strong believer that ellie would LOVE watching berleezy and quotes his videos ALL THE TIME. it's "..and bricked.... hello!" whenever she sees u looking nice (which is all the time to her)

knows all the fnaf lore (somehow?? shes never even played it)

super light sleeper, always tossing and turning and she's actually fallen out of bed several times bc she gets so ridiculously restless

always sleeps in until she only has around 15 mins left to get ready. is somehow rarely late

she has no skincare routine but has perfect skin 🙄 just washes her face with some random cheap face wash she found on sale and moisturises when she remembers. she also doesn’t use conditioner bc she ‘doesn’t believe in it’ but has soft hair? tf

always staring at u? she frowns a lot but when she looks at u her entire face softens and she has that lil half smile that she doesn’t even realise she’s doing

u guys have an intricate secret handshake that she practised in her own time so she could get it right

her journal is full of sketches of u, poems about u… girl is so in love sometimes it scares her a lil

made a scrapbook for ur birthday full of everything she’s kept from everywhere u have been together, she even kept the stickers from ur starbucks drinks and stuck them in there <3

wrote a lil song for u and waited until ur bday to sing it to u for the first time… she got so embarrassed straight after so she just hid under the covers

big ol stoner! if u dont like weed she won’t smoke when she’s with u but if u also smoke/don’t mind she’ll loooove to smoke w u. gave u her fav grinder as a token of her love

tried to make special brownies but u both burnt them to a crisp 😔 el tries so hard to be optimistic (for once) “it’s fine babe we can just eat it anyway” “ellie it’s literally crumbling when u touch it…”

tried to stick n poke herself several times but couldn’t commit so she just has unfinished pieces on her upper thighs

loves head scratches and pants like a dog when u scratch the right spot

is this emoji 🧍🏼‍♀️ frequently

that’s all folks (for now……) …. i love her

[gayhoediaz]

béchamel

E || 2.1k

Stroking him steadily, Eddie takes his face out of the crook of his neck, searching Buck’s heavy-lidded eyes with his own.

“The girls are watching Moana. They don’t even know the rest of the world exists right now, they’re not coming in here. You’ve been slaving over this lasagna for the past two hours, and you look…” Eddie trails off, dropping a kiss to Buck’s swollen lips - somewhat chaste, even, given the circumstances. “…so fucking hot in an apron.” (Which isn’t news - at this point, Eddie has lost track of how many times he’s bent Buck over in that thing. On those occasions, of course, they have had an empty house.) “Relax, sweetheart. Let me make you come. That okay?”

Buck drops his head back against the fridge, the corners of his parted lips twitching upwards as he nods.

♡ read on ao3 ♡

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 54 (12.1)

part 1 | part 53 | ao3

cw: angst

Chapter 12

Steve drives to Chicago.

He wakes up to an empty bed and a sticky note by the kitchen phone, words scribbled over so the only legible thing left is the word sorry underlined in jagged black, and his breath sticks in his chest and he can't be here anymore. Epiphany ringing like a gong, sending ripples through his marrow, because the walls are closing in and Eddie decorated those walls — splattered himself over every inch of this place, and now he's just the newest haunt in a line of ghosts that Steve can't shake. He thought he’d gotten rid of them, but now he hears them louder than ever. In the hiss of the faucet, in the buzz of the fridge; they’re moaning in his bad ear and rattling his bones, and he can't be here alone with them he can't be here he can't—

So he drives.

Gets in his car with nothing but a spare jacket and a crumpled pack of cigs. If ever there was a time to pick the habit up in earnest. Eddie’s van is gone, and Steve’s heart is bruised; it's bleeding out inside him, pumping fresh hurt with every beat, so he lights a cigarette with shaking hands and heads north. Takes the back roads to the on-ramp of I-65, drives for hours; drives for years, speeding down empty stretches of highway with nothing but roadkill for company.

At some point he rolls the windows down until the icy wind makes his cheeks burn, but he can't really feel them. Can't feel his face, or his fingers, or his heart.

All the world is snow and asphalt, and Steve Harrington is alone.

He tries to drown it out with music. The radio mocks him with swooning quartets love songs — 'put your head on my shoulder' and 'life could be a dream' — and all the tapes he can reach belong to Eddie, so he pulls over on the narrow shoulder of an overpass bridge and screams and screams and screams while he chucks the cassettes over the edge.

Fuck Eddie.

Fuck him.

"FUCK YOU!!" he shouts to the foggy nothingness.

The words dig in sharp; pocket knife twisting in the space below his kidneys.

The fog doesn't respond.

Back in the car, his thoughts turn to his mom. Because he's driving to her, he knows — knew it in his splintering bones and haunted blood the moment he left town. He's driving back to his first ghost, as if confronting the original will somehow exorcise the rest.

Miles pass in silence, and Steve paints over the canvas of what-ifs again and again, oily streaks in the underpainting as he tries to set the scenes just right: quiet, tearful confrontations in his aunt's formal living room, graceless screaming matches out on the front lawn. In one version he never makes it past the guard at the front gate, and in another he just eggs the stupid lion statues leading up to the house while his mom silently weeps from the top of the stairs.

He doesn't know if his mom would laugh at that.

He doesn't know her much at all.

And that fucking hurts; that sits like acid in his lungs, because his mom was his first friend. When he was little — before the housekeepers and nannies, before his mom started tailing his dad on business trips like a trained dog on a leash — they spent so much time together. Trips to the playground, to the library, to the pool. He'd perch himself on her vanity when she got ready in the mornings, use her hairbrush as a microphone to sing along to 50s doo-wop, and she'd giggle and call him her little superstar, so he'd come up with stupid dance moves just to make her smile more.

He misses that. The script, the routine. How he'd spin around in his socks on the slippery bathroom tile and look up at her with her big hair full of rollers and her big eyes full of stars, and he'd say, "Hey! How come your eyes are all twinkly?"

And she'd grin and pinch his cheek and give the same answer every time: "Because you're the light of my life."

"I wish I knew what you'd say now," he whispers to the empty car.

For a moment he envisions that she's sitting there with him, that she's filling the blank space where the boy who broke his heart should be, but he can't remember her cadence well enough to mimic it; can't put words in her mouth when he no longer knows her lines, and with something a bit like horror and a lot like despair it occurs to him that he can't remember what she looks like. There's an apparition in his blind spot, but it's formless and unstable. The shade of its hair keeps changing; the texture, the length.

When he tries to make it speak, it shrugs and dissipates.

—

part 55

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[softhairedhotch]

comfortember day six: notes aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader you leave secret notes for aaron to remind him to take care of himself. when you stop after a bad case, he starts leaving you notes too. word count: 2.2k warnings/content: mentions of food, eating, weddings, life stuff. flirting, taking care of each other, cutesy lovey fluff.

comfortember masterlist here!

also on ao3!

green and yellow sticky notes

Before becoming a new recruit at the BAU, you were very aware of all the rumours surrounding your new co-workers. About how they handle cases with high-end professionalism and no emotion, how they’re not afraid to break the law a little to solve a case, how they don’t mind getting their hands dirty. But when you move to the division you find that that’s not (entirely) true. The team are lovely and, when not on a case, deal with everything the same as everyone else: cracking jokes, lifting each other up and making everyone around them laugh, and getting food with each other to pass the time.

All except for Aaron.

He joins in when he can, smiling occasionally and making the odd joke or two, but from what you can tell, he keeps mostly to himself to remain professional as the team’s boss. However, after a few months of working alongside him, you realise that he often overworks himself, picking up odd hours in the office and working overtime, and forgets to take care of himself in the process. He survives off coffee and spite alone, something that both intrigues and concerns you. 

It pains you that he doesn’t care for himself as much as he should and, as time goes on and you find yourself helplessly falling in love with the man, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

You smile as an idea pops into your head one day when you're struck in the office and you reach out to grab your stack of green sticky notes and a pen. Scribbling down a quick message ('don't forget to eat!' with a smiley face in the corner), you remove it from the pile and fold it neatly, shoving it into your pocket and waiting for the perfect moment to drop it where it needs to go. 

It’s almost an hour later when Aaron leaves his office for a bathroom break and you smirk to yourself as you grab a random file from your desk and make your way up the stairs. Glancing around to make sure no one’s paying attention, you slip inside the empty office and pull the note from your pocket, placing it on his desk and leaving as quickly as you entered. 

Making your way down the stairs, you see Aaron already making his way back to his office with his head buried in his phone. You suddenly grow anxious at the thought of him finding the note–would he think it's weird? What if he knew it was you immediately, even though you modified your handwriting to make it harder to distinguish? What if he called you into the office to tell you he's reporting you to HR? 

Forcing the thoughts out of your mind, you sit back at your desk and brace yourself for Aaron's reaction, whatever it may be. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Aaron unfold the note and read it a few times, flipping it over to see if there's anything on the back. He looks confused, rightfully so, before standing up and looking out at the bullpen like a hunter stalking his prey. 

Derek, who sits across from you, looks up at him lazily with interest before raising an eyebrow in your direction in a silent question. You shrug and give him a half-convincing smile as if to say you don't know what's going on either, looking back at your computer and pretending to focus so he doesn't feel the need to pry. 

To your surprise, Aaron says nothing. Instead, he makes his way to the kitchenette and pulls out a container from the fridge, glancing at it to determine whether or not he should heat it up. You smirk to yourself as you realise your plan worked, watching as he finally throws it into the microwave and leans against the counter with his arms crossed and eyes closed in thought.

After that day, you find yourself leaving more notes. Messages along the lines of 'stay hydrated <3' and 'get some sleep tonight man!' and 'there's some pasta in the fridge, enjoy :)'. Secretly, of course, and at times he wouldn't be able to suspect it's you. Although after a few weeks pass, you figure he already knows who's leaving the notes but hasn't brought it up because he appreciates the reminders to drink water and get some fresh air. 

You find yourself unable to gather enough energy to leave him notes, however, after a particularly gruesome case that hit far too close to home and messed you up more than you'd like to admit. Going to work feels like a chore and you don't have it in yourself to brighten his day, no matter how much you wish you could. 

A week passes and you still can't shake the case, walking into work feeling like the weight of the world rests on your shoulders. You're early, unable to get any sleep the night before, and you notice the bullpen is mostly deserted as you make your way to your desk. You sit down with a sigh, holding back tears and bouncing your leg as you pull items out of your bag. The sight of something on your keyboard catches your attention and you freeze at the sight of a yellow sticky note sitting on top of the keys, neatly folded. 

Interested, you carefully unfold the note and almost sob at the message scrawled out in capital letters: 'TAKE THINGS EASY TODAY.' It’s clear that whoever wrote it tried their best to make the handwriting as unrecognisable as they could but you have a sneaky suspicion of who left it. 

As you push it into your pocket, wanting to keep it on you so you can reread it throughout the day, Aaron walks into the bullpen and sends you a gentle smile as he heads up to his office. You watch him settle down at his desk, pulling out his own items from his briefcase before casually adjusting his yellow sticky notes on his desk with a focused expression. Your heart misses a beat and you feel as light as a feather, knowing that you just fell for him even more. After that, your day is infinitely better. 

There's an hour before your shift ends when your stomach starts growling at you. Sighing to yourself, you push away from your desk and make your way to the bathroom for a small break, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly as thoughts of Aaron invade your mind. The thought of him leaving a note for you made your heart swell multiple sizes and you had to restrain yourself from giggling out loud at the thought, feeling happier than you have in days. 

You make your way back to your desk to refill your coffee cup when you find another note, yellow like the last one, neatly folded on top of your case file. You chuckle to yourself and glance up to Aaron’s office, his eyes meeting yours for a moment between the open blinds before he looks away as if he wasn’t looking at you at all, and you grin as you open the note.

‘YOU HAVEN’T EATEN YET.’

Emily raises an eyebrow at you when you let out a loud snort and slap your hand over your mouth. You shake your head at her and send her a look as if to say you’ll tell her later before looking back at the note and laughing quietly to yourself. The way he words it, so factual and certain, makes you feel warm. It’s so him, even when he’s clearly trying not to be.

Shoving the note in your pocket, you make your way to the kitchenette to heat up some leftover pasta. A few minutes later Aaron is sidling up beside you, pouring fresh coffee into his mug. It’s silent for a few moments as you both focus on your own tasks. 

“Thanks for reminding me to eat,” you say, smiling at him. 

He stills for a moment. “Sorry?”

You laugh and shake your head fondly at him. “Don’t play stupid, Hotchner. I know it’s you leaving the notes.”

A small smile tugs at his lips. "It hasn't even been a full day. Was I that obvious?" 

You snort. “Hotch… you wrote them in all caps and ended both messages with a period. They sound exactly like something you’d say anyway; even the tone felt like you. Didn’t even take me two seconds to figure out who it was, even with the poor attempt at changing up the handwriting.”

Aaron raises his eyebrows and pretends to look offended. "Poor attempt? I think it was pretty good!"

“In your dreams, maybe.” 

“Well, what about your notes? I could tell it was you from a mile away.”

“Really?”

“...No. It took me about two weeks to realise.”

You let out a loud laugh as you pull your food from the microwave. Aaron smiles at you with bright eyes as he sips at his coffee, wincing when it burns his tongue. 

“Two weeks, Mr. Profiler? We oughta get you an award for that.”

“Yeah. Make sure it says I’m the unit chief too so that everyone knows I suck at my job. Couldn’t even figure out it was my own subordinate leaving me notes.”

You smirk at him as you stir your pasta. "Is that all I am to you? Your subordinate?"

Aaron's face turns serious and he tilts his head to the side. "Of course not." He rubs the pad of his thumb idly against his closed fist for a few moments. "Thank you. For the, the notes. I didn't realise how bad I was at taking care of myself until you started reminding me to." 

 "Yeah," you chuckle, "you're pretty bad, to say the least." 

"Seems like you've been going through the same thing this week, though. Don't want you turning into me." 

You sigh. "Yeah. Just… that last case…" 

His hand slowly lands on your shoulder and he gives you an empathetic smile. “I understand. My office is always open if you ever want to talk. It doesn’t necessarily have to be about the case but I’m there for that too.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it. And you… can come to me about anything, too. Just want you to know that.”

Aaron’s smile widens as he pulls back. “Thank you. I’ll leave you to eat. Speak to you later, yeah?" 

And off he goes, leaving you feeling like you might burst into flames.

After that day, the two of you get into the habit of leaving notes for each other all the time, you with a green sticky note and him with yellow. Gentle reminders to eat or to stretch your legs and the like. But as you get to know each other more intricately outside of work, you find that the notes become more personal. You make sure to remind Aaron that he has an appointment at Jack’s school or that he’s meant to restock on Jessica’s favourite tea when she visits, and he lets you know when you’re low on your comfort snacks in the office or have a doctor’s appointment coming up. 

Soon enough, when you start to get even closer and he begins inviting you to his apartment for movies and meals, you find yourself leaving notes around his place. Little messages in the kitchen to remind him when something goes out of date or the living room to make sure he doesn't forget to pick up a case file on his way out. Even telling him that he's a great boss or that you (and the team, but you put emphasis on the fact that you) appreciate him. 

It's safe to say that it's no surprise when, after you hide your face in his chest during a terrifying scene in a horror movie, the two of you quickly become more than friends.  

Penelope is over the moon for you, Derek is glad Aaron finally pulled his head out of his ass and made a move, Emily finally understands what made you happy all those months ago, JJ is happy you both found each other, Dave is proud that Aaron finally moved on and found someone new, and Spencer is indifferent to the whole situation. You and Aaron are, much like the others, ecstatic.

When you move in with him, the apartment very quickly fills up with yellow and green sticky notes, the two of you leaving reminders of your love everywhere. And when he proposes to you, he leaves a yellow sticky note inside the box that tells you how much he adores you. Like a fucking dork. But he’s your dork, and you burst into tears at the sight and cherish the note forever.

At the wedding, Aaron makes sure that his pocket square is yellow, in honour of his colour, and unbeknownst to him, you make sure your own outfit has some semblance of green in it. It makes him tear up and, unlike every other time he gets emotional, he’s not afraid to show how much it affects him.

For years to come, the two of you leave each other yellow and green sticky notes no matter what. Jack does it with his partner, refusing to break the habit, and their children do it with theirs, and their children with theirs, following the tradition until the only memory of how it started are the tattered notes kept in the storage of your great-great-grandchildren’s attic.

tag list: @criminalskies @citrusiove @hotchs-big-hands @ssahotchnerr @sillyhotchsgirl

[ereardon]

The Backup || Jake Seresin x Reader [teaser]

“That can’t happen again.”  

“It will.” 

You sighed loudly, flinging yourself backward onto the mound of pillows, knowing that he was right. Jake rolled off the bed, tugging on his boxers. 

He grinned. “Any more bad dates planned for this week?” 

“A blind date on Friday,” you replied, rolling onto your side to face him as Jake got dressed. “Someone that a secretary from my work knows.” 

“A blind date, really?” 

Ignoring his comment, you replied, “What about you?” 

“No plans.” 

“Which means that you’ll have a date lined up by Thursday.” 

“And it’ll be a flop and we’ll be right back here on Friday night.” 

“I’m serious Jake, this can’t keep happening.” You stepped out of bed, slipping on a silk robe and tying it tightly around your middle. “We can’t be each other’s fallback every time a date goes sideways.” 

“So end it,” he said. “You’re the one that called me tonight, remember?” 

“I’m weak,” you replied and Jake chuckled. 

“You’re a lot of things, sweetheart, but weak isn’t one of them. Except when it comes to those mall pretzels.” 

“Well those are objectively the best.” 

“True.” 

You watched as Jake finished getting dressed, tying his shoelaces, slipping on his jacket. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Always.” 

“Are we fucking each other up by doing this? Like are we the reason that every single date goes bad? Because I feel like lately they all end up sucking.” 

“The dates are bad because our options are bad,” Jake replied. “We’re not cursed, Stinky. That’s just how these things go. You date and date and just when you think you want to fling yourself over the Golden Gate you find one person who suddenly makes things work. And then you live your weird Hallmark lives together forever.” 

“You, Jake Seresin, believe that?” You raised your eyebrows. “What happened to the guy I met three years ago who didn’t realize that girls don’t want to come over to your fucking Tenderloin apartment and see a bed without a bed frame?” 

“I loved that apartment and it was dirt cheap,” Jake argued. “Besides, you’re not much better. Remember when you thought guys actually liked girls who wore Birkenstocks?” 

“They’re comfortable!” 

“You looked like you were going to yell at me for not using a reusable jar to grind my own peanut butter at Whole Foods for twenty dollars an ounce. It was heinous. Also they smelled like ass.” Hence, the nickname that you hoped would die but never did. 

“You’re just saying that because your type is girls who stomp around in size five Aquazzura heels on Market Street and have their daddy’s Amex card numbers memorized.” 

“Better than your type. Mr. Couch potato, looks practically homeless and asks you to split the check at dinner because he’s too cheap to pay for your baked potato.” 

“That happened twice, that’s not a pattern.” 

“More than once is concerning.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re lucky you’re good in bed because I can’t fucking stand you.” 

“Stop stroking my ego.” 

“Goodnight, Seresin,” you said, walking toward the kitchen, your back to him. “Slam the door on your face on your way out, won’t you?” 

“Night Stinky,” he said and you could hear his footsteps trailing down the hallway. “See you next weekend!” 

You grabbed a half-empty bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from the fridge door and slammed it, a little too hard, the sound of bottles inside rattling as you unscrewed the cap and chugged directly from the bottle. It was acidic, probably too old, but it would do the trick. Anything to block out Jake’s words that haunted the quiet air of your apartment even after he was gone.

He was right. Somehow the two of you always fell into bed together. The dates always went belly up. Hinge, Raya, Bumble, League. No app worked. No blind set up. It was like clockwork: you’d spend an hour getting ready for a date, and within five minutes you’d know that at the end you’d call an Uber to take you to Jake’s. Or vice versa: he’d show up at your door with a pocketful of condoms and a smirk. It always ended the same way. For almost a year, you and Jake had been filling the gaps of your dating life with each other. Friends with benefits. No strings. 

And, of course, you made a point to keep it from the friend group. Coyote would throw an absolute fit if he found out. 

[Note: Special shoutout to @clancycucumber230 for the idea!]

[tired-biscuit]

UGH THINKING ABOUT WEREWOLF!STEPBRO!KIBA PLUGGING YOU FULL TO THE KNOT, DROOL FROM HIM DROPPING ON YOUR CHEEKS IN DROPLETS BC HE'S THAT FERAL im so sorry

18+ fem!reader // cw: stepcest, monsterfucking, dubcon

it’s even better if he really tries to hold back but he just can’t help himself.

after your parents leave for their yearly vacation, you’re left all alone at home with only your older stepbrother to keep you company. and while that shouldn’t be a problem — you usually get along super well and are close by default either way — this particular week has caused a bit of a rough patch to appear in your otherwise tightly-knit relationship, from the way he’s been acting all sorts of weird during it.

after all, with each passing day, your dear ol’ brother keeps staring at you in a way that makes you think he’s low-key planning to eat you. sometimes, when he thinks you’re not paying attention and when you gather just enough courage to glance at him from the corner of your eye, you swear that his irises seem to turn yellow in colour instead of their usual, plain brown, and his pupils are nothing more but sharp slits. it’s an eerie sight, but sure enough; when you turn to look at him more clearly, trying to convince yourself that it’s just your brain playing silly tricks on you, he blinks — quickly.

and just like that, they’re right back to normal.

he, however, isn’t.

no, instead, he always seems to linger nearby in whichever room you’re in. you sit in the living room to watch tv, and he’s right there — lounging on the opposite end of the couch, pretending he likes the show you’re watching even though you know damn well that he can’t stand it in reality.

so half an hour passes, an hour, and the sun sinks below the horizon, and he’s still there. with his arm draped on the backrest of the sofa and his head tipped back, he watches the sex scene unfold on the screen with a completely bored expression — albeit with a tense jaw and his legs spread wide open — until you’re the one grabbing the remote; switching the channels to something a bit more decent because it makes you uncomfortable and somewhat hot and bothered at the same time.

and it doesn’t stop there. whenever you open the door to exit the bathroom right after you’re finished with your shower, he just so happens to be passing by at that exact moment; swiftly eyeing you up whilst you stand there in front of him, clearly embarrassed because your curves are hidden by nothing else but a mere towel which you’ve lousily wrapped around yourself just so that you could cross the hall, and water is still dripping from the ends of your hair, making your skin glisten. one time he’d even waited for you, with his back pressing against the opposite wall, and his arms crossed over his chest. he never explained as to why.

he also eats whenever you do. you sit down, plate and fork ready, and he’s already next to you; his leg touching your own under the table, arm sometimes draped across the back of your chair just like he tends to do on the couch. there’s two more empty chairs, now that your parents are on their vacation, but he still chooses to sit right beside you every single time.

it’s a habit, you think, soothe. it’s completely normal. after all, doesn’t everyone like to sit in their appointed seat?

so you try to relax as he cracks jokes and talks while you eat — you always make sure to cook enough food for the both of you — and yet he always finishes it before you and keeps wanting more, more, more. it’s never enough lately, he’s always rummaging through the fridge. especially when it comes to the meat. he’s always been a fan of it, you’re aware of that, but the way he practically breathes it in as of late is almost unsettling to watch.

“sorry, i’m just feeling so goddamn hungry all the time,” he tells you one evening as he’s licking his fingers clean. the face you pull at the sight is hard to hide. “dunno what’s up with that, hah.”

“maybe you’re getting sick?” you suggest, eyes glued to your plate. it certainly has been feeling like that, he’s been nothing like his usual self. “or maybe you’ve just got really bad table manners and they peeked through, now that dad and your mom are away, i don’t know.”

“hmm… maybe,” he hums, seemingly deep in thought whilst he absent-mindedly starts to suck on the leftovers of the chicken drumstick you’ve prepared. you can’t look at him for too long, it’s borderline bestial — the way he eats.

trying to appear busy, a shiver that runs through you when you hear a sudden crack resonate throughout the kitchen, breaks that effort in an instant. whipping your head to the side, you can’t stop yourself from jolting and immediately cringing away from your brother the moment your eyes land on him chewing on the actual bone.

he’s behaving like a feral animal.

“dude, c’mon!” you groan, frowning deeply. the disapproval is obvious. “stop that!”

“what,” he mumbles, ignoring the way you punch his shoulder as he still keeps on chewing. he pauses to look at you at the contact, brow furrowed. “the marrow is the best part… and you stop that, will ya?”

“no it isn’t, and that’s fucking gross, okay? you’re so disgust— hey!” the way he shoves you away from him when you try to punch him in the arm for a second time nearly knocks the wind out of your lungs. you stumble back into your chair from the sudden force he’s just bestowed upon you, fail to grab onto the edge of the table the last second, and fall right onto the floor with a loud thud.

since when did he get so strong? the swing of hand seemed almost effortless, and yet here you are; hurting.

bad brother.

the pain that now throbs in your right asscheek, hip and arm from the way you’ve so clumsily landed onto the wooden flooring is uncomfortable as hell. a small whine leaves your lips as you use your elbows to push yourself up, but before you can even take another breath; he’s on you, kneeling right between your legs, wrapping his hands just a mere inch underneath your ribs so that he can help you up to your feet.

he’s moving so fast and his fingers are still greasy from the food he’s devoured so far, but that’s not what bothers you the most right now.

no, what worries you more and more, is the way how hot his palms feel on your body even if your t-shirt stands in the way between his searing skin and yours. how big his hands seem to have gotten as they hold you still. how big he’s gotten.

come to think of it… has he always been this big?

“fuck, fuck, fuck…! ‘m so sorry, pipsqueak,” he mumbles, evident panic lacing each word. he’s studying every inch of your face almost frantically now as he keeps checking for signs of hurt. “i didn’t mean to, i swear i didn’t, i— you just— a-are you okay?”

his voice sounds deeper than it normally is even as he uncharacteristically stutters, more gritty and gruff to come from the throat. you’ve noticed that it’s been like that for the last couple of days, hence your suggestion of sickness earlier, but hearing it so upclose makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention. truth be told, you’re not entirely sure if it’s a good thing or not.

leaning over you like this, topping you, he even smells different. his scent is still pretty much the same as the one you’re used to, at least the base of it is, but it’s also way more intense, sharper. it almost stings your nose and gives you a headache as you keep inhaling it; it overrides everything you know. it’s pleasant but deadly. confusing. it stirs something within you that you’re not proud of.

and that makes you feel nervous. threatened.

but despite feeling a little bit scared and puzzled by him, anger still manages to turn you foolishly brave as you try and push him away with the most venomous glare you’re able to muster in that exact moment.

“get off of me, you prick,” you screech, kicking your legs against the floor as you try to squirm away. he’s got you locked underneath him; the weight is making you awfully uneasy because it pins you down, trapping you in ways you’ve shamefully caught yourself fantasizing about at night. “what the fuck is wrong with you?!”

are you aiming that question at him or yourself?

nevertheless, your words still manage to cut just as deep. he looks hurt, almost lost as he takes a deep, shaky breath and mutters, “look, i didn’t—”

but you’re not listening to him. he’s touching you almost inappropriately now, fingers reaching under the fat of your breasts, thumbs stroking midst all the chaos, and you’re still fighting against him, still babbling, “get off, get off, get off—”

“c’mon, just lemme expl—”

“GET. OFF.” the heel of your palm slams against his jaw and for a fraction of a second, you swear that you can see a long canine gleaming in the kitchen light as his upper lip curls back and he snarls down at you, snapping.

he pins your wrists to the floor in a single movement that’s much too fast for you to comprehend, slams them down hard. his expression twists into something unrecognizable, it’s insane, feral. all of his teeth are on display now as he bares them. the sharp gleam makes your heart stutter whilst he stares at you, his face so close to your own that you can feel the warmth of his exhale on your lips and the tip of his nose is just merely grazing yours.

the growl that sounds out makes your skin pull taut over your bones. it’s deep, savage, but also clearly agitated and provoked. it nestles deep inside of your gut, invoking your fight or flight response even though instead of doing either one of those, you simply end up freezing like the pathetic prey you are. cold sweat washes over you when he looks you directly in the eye, every pore working overtime, turning your scent bitter, but before a single solution can even begin to form in your now fear-induced brain, he takes one deep breath and — luckily — pulls away from you just like you’ve demanded of him.

there’s dead silence hanging in the air as you try to remain rational and find logical reasoning as to what just happened. the tension is so palpable that you can almost taste it. he doesn’t say anything as you push up to your feet and scramble up the stairs to run to your room and lock the door even if it makes you feel like you’re acting crazy; no, he doesn’t even look at you.

what he does instead, is come knocking on your door that same night.

“hey,” he tries softly, knocking one, two, three times. “would you… maybe wanna open the door so that we can talk…? i wanna apologize; maybe explain things a bit.”

you don’t respond as you lay in your bed, slipping further under the covers at the sound of his still awfully gruff voice, despite the seemingly sweet intention. the thick duvet causes you to sweat even if you’re dressed in nothing else but the t-shirt that you stole from him a while back and a pair of simple cotton panties, but the heat itself is not nearly intense enough to chase you out of the covers’ safety.

unbeknownst to you, he can smell the salt that sits on your skin right through the door.

“c’mon, i know you’re still awake, pipsqueak,” he says slightly more urgently, now. his line of patience is thin at a time like this. “mom fucked up the dates ‘cause your dad confused her, and me being the idiot that i am; i wasn’t paying attention to the cycle… anyway, you’re stuck with me whether you want it or not, so stop pretending like you can’t hear me.”

you have no clue what on earth he’s trying to tell you with the jumble of information he’s just tossed your way, but it’s like he knows you can’t sleep after the events that have taken place downstairs.

he does know. he can hear your heartbeat and every single one of your breaths.

“open up,” he says, banging his fist against the wood quite harshly this time around. he’s transforming on the other side of the door, inhaling your sweet scent, imagining how tight you’ll feel when he finally gets you to sink onto his cock, force or not. he’s always had the hots for his little stepsister, and the rut — that just so happens to appear at the worst of times as well — really tends to mess with his brain and turn those fantasies all sorts of twisted, bringing them closer to reality.

it’s no wonder why you were taken away from him under the pretense of trips and short getaways whenever the transformation and heat kicked in at the same time, and he started getting aggressive. why his mother made sure to have you separated during that time.

but you’re here now because tsume made a mistake when it came to calculating the really important days, and as a result of her error, there’s nothing left between you and him besides this one measly door, now. by the time she’d left with your father, and thus left you alone with her son, the heat had already sizzled every single shred of morality in his already questionable conscience.

to be fair, he’s lasted much longer than he thought he would, pretending and acting, but he’s done with that and he wants you, now; his little sister. he needs you so bad. it’s why he’s been following you around for all this time. why he’s been watching you, preying after you. you’re always there, close by, ready to use. you’re so cute, looking up to him, loving him, feeling so special whenever he gets protective over you. goddammit, you even smell like him; wearing his clothes so often that it all blends together.

you’re his. you belong to him; you’ll become his mate one way or another. he’ll make sure of it.

standing in the dark hallway, looking and feeling much taller and stronger than what could ever be considered humanly possible, kiba can already hear the little squeal you’ll let out the moment he tears the door off its hinges if you keep on refusing him. can hear the little moans and whimpers you’ll voice when he gets you naked and stuffs you full. can hear the sob you’ll try to repress when the knot comes into play.

his skin is so hot; it makes his blood feel like it’s boiling and his teeth are getting uncomfortably big for his mouth. all he can think about is biting you all over until you’re marked and using all of your holes to fuck the pressure out. he will not carry it anymore, lest he die on the spot.

no, instead he’s going to stretch your cute little cunt and bend you in all the ways he can think of. until you’re creaming, leaving multiple rings of milky arousal at the base of him and you’re prepped for him to mount you as you throb, and throb, and throb with orgasm after orgasm. until he’s pounding into you like the dirty dog — wolf — he is, hitting that sweetspot, drool dripping from both of your mouths because you’re so fucked out, and he’s finally gotten the chance to fuck in.

it’ll drip right onto your cheek — the saliva. and right after that, he’ll spit a fat glob of it right onto your pretty pussy, just so that he can feel your hole flutter around him in response. the thought alone is already making him excited. he’s so sick in the head because of the heat. he’ll fuck you until sunrise.

and speaking of sick; the last chance he gives you before he gets ready to hunt you down like the predator he is, is by saying,

“let me in.”

[claraswritings]

Could we get some steamy chef Luca after hours in the kitchen 🤌🤌

HELL YEAAHH 🥵

This started as a blurb and actually got away from me a bit. Can’t help with with dream man Luca 😍 ❤️

SMUT BTC

Warnings: sex in a kitchen, p in v sex, no protection but they’re together, fingering, praising, teasing, creampie, Luca’s extremely well hung cause I just know he is, everything is completely consensual, just passionate smut in a kitchen ❤️

It was quiet now, just the two of you left alone. The once busy kitchen had emptied and it was now just you, you and Luca. Your Luca.

Your eyes focused on him watching him effortlessly lift 100lb bags of flour from one counter, ready for tomorrow. The tight blue shirt he’d worn complimenting his eyes as well as the muscles flexing in his biceps. Your gaze raked over him, admiring the pull of the shirt and how he could toss the bags from shelf to shelf as if they weighed nothing.

“Seen something you like?” Luca shot you a smirk, feeling your eyes on him as he shifted the final bag and moved back to wipe down the counter with the same precision as he crafted desserts.

“Yeah…you.” You teased gently as you approached him wrapping your arms around him from the back, momentarily distracting him from his routine.

“You done so good today, darling” you said into him, your hands gliding along the hemline of his shirt and under to touch his skin“Proud of you”

“Couldn’t do it without you” Luca whispered, turning to embrace you, his hands cupping your face with the ticking of a clock and your breathing the only sounds.

“Yeah, you could.” You stood on tiptoes to kiss him.

“Wouldn’t be the same” he said and returned your kiss.

“Something smells good, what is that.”

Usually by this late in the evening, the kitchen just smelled like cleaning products and whatever had been on the menu that week but something lingered in the air that was different. You didn’t recognise it

“Something new I’ve been working on for tomorrow” Luca answered, eyes focused on you as his hands came to rest on your hips. “I was going to bring it home to you but…Wanna try some, my love?”

Before you could answer, Luca lifted you onto the counter with such ease, placing you as easily as he’d moved those large bags of flour.

“If it’s made by you? Always” you smiled at him.

Luca went to the fridge and took out a pot of pale orange cream, and with the same expert precision he’d handle a patrons dish, scooped out a serving and turned to you.

“Open” he told you, holding the spoon towards you, waiting for you to oblige him and open your mouth so he could feed his latest dish component to you.

“Isn’t that a health and safety violation?”

“Maybe…but we’re all alone. I won’t tell if you don’t?” He said so matter of factly that it caused you to laugh as you parted your lips for him to slide the spoon into your mouth. You let out a low sigh at the mango taste “oh god Luca, that’s amazing. So…”

That’s when you notice it.

A little splash of the same mango cremeux just on the inside of his wrist. Right over the veins. An idea you cannot force down comes into your head. You can’t resist, it’s right there. It’s been a week, no two weeks, and god, you know it’s probably inappropriate and in violation of several health rules and regulations but you can’t stop yourself.

You withdrew for lips from around the spoon, holding your boyfriends eyes as you licked your lips…Right before you took his wrist in your hand and dashed out your tongue to lick straight across his pulse point, catching the little drop that he’d missed.

The sudden action caught Luca off guard and he felt the heat pool in his stomach almost instantly. You kissed the inside of his wrist.

“You missed a spot” you said and Luca arched an eyebrow. The action was so flirty, suggestive but you were looking at him with affection.

“Stop distracting me.” He replied giving your legs a squeeze. “Go label the stuff in the freezer if you wanna help me”

“I can think of a better way I can help you…” you kept your hand on his tracing over the skin with your thumb. “My poor baby you’ve been so tense these past few days…”

He’d been working flat out this week. There’d been a new menu to prep, a new junior pastry chef that he’d had to train on the basics, and not to mention the six events they’d had booked in this week. From a celebrities birthday party and a seven tier cake to a diplomats conference, he’d been working non stop Luca mentally counted in his head as he worked out it had been a whole two weeks since he’d been inside you, felt you around him, had touched you.

Fuck had it really been that long? Usually the pair of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. All of a sudden the freezer could wait.

He moved back to you, nudged your legs apart carefully, slotting himself between your thighs.

“Have I been neglecting my girl this week?” He asked suddenly focused on you, as he gently pulled on your hair so your eyes looked up to meet his. “I’ll have to make that up to you.”

“Hurry up and finish up and take me home then” you smirked.

“Why wait?” Luca began kissing along your collarbone “We’re all alone now, just you…me…big empty kitchen…”

He dropped his lips to yours, and you could taste a mix of the same mango along with the minty taste of the gum he’d had earlier. It was addictive and you wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him close.

“You started it.” He whispered, planting kisses down your neck and over your throat. “Can you finish it?”

Luca’s fingers worked into your hair so you’d tilt your head up and allow him access to slip his tongue past your lips, meeting yours in a passionate kiss.

“Yes” you whisper against him. He’s completely flipped the teasing over on you but you don’t even care at this point if it meant you got him.

His other hand found your hip pulling you closer to the end of the counter so he could trail slowly down to your knee and place it around his waist, before moving back down almost cautiously up your thigh and under your skirt and you could feel the satin of your underwear was already soaked through and pooling between your legs.

Luca smirked against your lips as he felt the dampness coating his fingertips. Already so wet and all for him.

“This is turning you on isn’t it, getting touched in my kitchen…” he bit your lip slightly “you thought about this a lot? Is that why you’re so wet when all I’ve done is kiss you”

“Yes, chef” you said and he pulled back a little surprised at how that went straight to his dick. Why was a phrase he heard fifty times a day so hot coming from you. The idea that you wanted this so badly had him struggling to hold back. Had you really thought about this?

The slick between your legs said yes.

His fingers slid past the fabric and your hips jerked against him as he found your clit, teasing it with enough pressure that you let out a low hiss.

“Just couldnt wait till we got home could you?” He teases “You want me to make you cum here, my love?”

“Yes chef” you repeated.

Luca spurred on by your words stroked your clit a little quicker and you let out a gasp that he swore was down right heavenly.

“Like that, Luca, god, you make me feel so good”

Luca dropped his head to the crook of your neck and sucked gently as he moved his hand to push a finger inside your and then another, thrusting them into you at a faster and faster pace until you were jerking your hips up against him, walls seizing around his fingers.

“That’s it…” you moved your hand up to bite your knuckle to stop yourself from moaning too loudly however Luca had other ideas and pulled your hand away.

“It’s okay it’s just me and you, my love, I want to hear you.” He said in that gentle but authoritative voice you knew he used in this same kitchen. Luca continued to suck and bite at your neck as he pushed in and out of your core with two fingers slowing his pace down and then picking up again. “Tell me how it feels”

You felt a sound of pleasure pull from your throat and involuntarily your hips rose up before Luca’s arm moved around to cage your hips down against the counter. “Luca…”

“Hmmm…What do you need, my love” Luca says voice heavy with lust and in your ear as he added a third finger and curled them deep inside hitting your soft spot as you seized around him, finishing on his fingers.

“Need you Luca” you whispered “Need you” you mouthed, gasping your air against his lips.

“You got me, my love, I’ve got you,”

Luca withdrew his fingers and cleaned the majority of your wetness off with his tongue before holding out his hand for you to lick your own slick off.

“Something else for you to taste.” He said before he placed his fingers in your mouth, letting you suck softly.

You could vaguely hear him unbuckling his jeans with his other hand and them hitting the linoleum floor and felt him pull your underwear to the side and groaned as he took his fingers out of your mouth and yanked your hips closer to him.

“Can’t believe I’ve never fucked you on the counter before” he said as he lined himself up and pressed himself, hard and aching for you against your folds, getting his tip wet from you. “You feel what you’re doing to me, my love”

You sighed at the pressure at how close he was to being inside you.

Luca was big, easily the biggest you’d had by far, that much you knew. The first time you’d slept together he’d had to ease into you and even now his size took adjusting to. In this moment, you didn’t care.

You could feel him now and ached for him to fill you and stretch you out

“Don’t be slow now, baby” you teased.

“Gotta be patient, my love,” Luca told you as he lined up against your entrance, pressing in slowly, causing you to let out a low moan as he slipped inside you just enough to make you crave more of his length.

“More, please Luca,” your words of encouragement, your reassurance, your want letting him sink deeper into you. “Feels so good” you made an attempt to push against him but he held you steady, letting himself control the pace.

“Easy.” He said softly “You take me so well don’t you” he stopped only to kiss you “That’s it…”

Luca couldn’t but help but be captivated by how hot it was to watch himself slide inside as you’re grasping at his shoulders to dig your nails in.

“Fuck you’re incredible.” Luca said, his voice breathy now “so tight…” He met your gaze looking for reassurance and all it takes is you nodding, before he pushes further now until he’s bottomed out inside you and you’re clawing at his chest, whimpering around him.

Luca starts slow, inching out and back to you, one hand on your hip and the other right where your shoulder meets your neck. It’s achingly teasing and you want more of him. His movements speed up a little, pulling almost all the way out, leaving you almost empty before burying his cock back deep in you, making sure you’re gasping out his name.

“Luca” you mouthed his name. “Luca Luca luc-…” the rhythmic way his name fell from your lips, encouraged him and he was soon bucking his hips into yours, holding you on the edge of the counter.

“Fucking love seeing you like this.” He got out “Love this. All for me”

You could barely string a coherent sentence together as he plowed back into you again, faster now.

“For you, my Luca” you just about managed to say , choking back.

He pulled out of you only for a second to yank you off the counter, turn you around and press you into the counter before he was back inside you, wasting no time in plunging all the way in.

You let out a little squeal as he did.

The cool counter top pressing against your skin where your shirt had ridden up combined with how Luca was pounding in and out of you was overwhelming.

“Fuck you’re amazing.” He moved one hand from your hips to reach around and find your clit again rubbing and grinding into you at the end of each thrust, making you gasp against the counter as you stretched and tightened around him.

“you’re so good to me, Luca baby” you muttered unable to stop your walls seizing around his length.

“Where do you want it?” He asked voice barely coherent as he could feel himself twitch against you. “I’m close…”

“Cum inside me, Luca, please” you choked out. “Please. Wanna feel you inside me, please”

That was all it took. You asking him to fill you.

With a few more sharp thrusts, your contracting walls had him spilling deep into you as you rode out your wave together.

After a few more seconds of you both catching your breath, he was the first to speak.

“Sorry was I too…” and like that your sweet Luca is back, turning you around to face him and kissing you so gently like he hadn’t just railed you. “Was I?” He was suddenly lost for words as the haze cleared.

“You were perfect, I loved it.” You kissed him softly reassuringly

Luca sighed to himself wondering how could he possibly work tomorrow without picturing you bent over the station and secretly hoped you’d be joining him late a whole lot more often.

[storm-angel989]

Yo I love your work.. anyway can I request Val x Fem Reader when Reader is on their period and the rest is up to you (I’ll cry if you actually notice)

Hi Friend,

Thank you for sending in your request! I always notice and read a request- sometimes it just takes time for my brain to buzz.

Now I have written this before. The link is here:

Valentino x Reader (Period Pains)

That being said….

Here is another version! Think OTO reader and Val after they’re married. 

<3 Mandy

The bright red stains on my favorite pajama pants began the start of that cursed day. It was going to be one of those mornings that lasted all day. 

It didn’t help that I woke up alone, my husband off to do whatever it was he did in his studio. Vox and Velvette were working and me? I was by myself. Which, as I poured myself a cup of coffee and stirred in my creamer, I figured was better that way. 

I lifted the mug to my lips and took the first sip of what should have been a heavenly experience. Instead, I was met with the bitter taste of peppermint.  I spat it into the sink and went to set my mug down. Somehow I missed the counter and shards of ceramic splatted the floor. 

“Fuck!” I yelled across the empty flat. I grabbed a roll of paper towels and cleaned up the mess as quickly as I could, tossing the shards into the garbage. Housekeeping would be up later, but with how the day was already turning out, I didn’t want to risk stepping on a rouge shard. 

“Who the fuck puts peppermint into their coffee without mocha?” I growled aloud as I shoved the creamer back in the fridge. 

Of course, I knew the answer was Vox. As much as he pretended he only drank black coffee, those of us who lived with him knew his guilty pleasure. Random flavored coffee creamers that appeared in the fridge each time it was restocked. It was just my bad luck that I had grabbed the wrong one this morning. 

Shoving the thought of making another cup of coffee to the side, I jumped into the shower, willing the hot water to take away the cramps that slowly awakened with each movement of the day. Fuck, there were some days I hated being a girl. 

But, like all women, being on our period wasn’t an excuse to miss work. Going to see Velvette in her studio was always an option, but just the thought of being touched by another being made me annoyed. I gingerly dressed myself and pulled my hair up into a bun. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I grumbled as I tried to hide the tiny whiteheads that appeared overnight with a strong dose of foundation. 

“Okay, I can do this,” I said to my reflection as I swallowed down several advil. “I got this.” 

Ten hours, eighteen phone calls and one ruined pair of underpants later, I stormed back upstairs to our apartment. 

“Babygirl, you’re home late,” Valentino’s voice rang out.

“I know, fuck,” I snapped without thought. The cramps, masked by the Advil I had taken this morning, left me both nauseous and crabby.  Every part of my body ached, and I could feel a headache starting to brew. I slammed the door behind me as I stripped off my outfit for the day. 

The bright red bloodstain on the back of my dress. I stared at it and without really knowing why, I burst into tears in the middle of my room. 

“Bebita?” Valentino’s voice came quietly from behind me. 

I felt him tug the dress from my hand and he wrapped his arms around me. I didn’t have to say a thing and instead laid my head on his chest as I sobbed. 

“Nothing a little stain remover can’t take out,” he said soothingly. “It’s alright. Why don’t you get in the shower? I’ll get your pjs and…”

“My two favorite ones are wrecked,” I choked out softly. “I bled all over the ones this morning, and my backups have a hole in them and…”

He pressed a finger to my lip and kissed my forehead. “Just let me figure it out while you go shower, okay?” 

There was something about he way he said it that left me with a feeling of comfort. I disappeared into the shower and by the time I came out, he was leaning against the bathroom sink, waiting. He handed me a towel and watched as I wrapped it around myself. 

“I have a heating pad and a cup of tea ready for you in bed. Toast, if you’re hungry. Advil if you want it. And if you’re in the mood to cuddle, I’m here. If not, I can stay with you or give you space. Remote is yours either way.” He pointed to a pile of clothes. “Period underpants. Vel sent them up. And…wear my pjs tonight. They’ll be looser than anything you own.” 

“Thanks, Val,” I said softly. “I’m sorry I was such a bitch when I came in.”

He cracked a smile. “Mi amore, I don’t think you know the true meaning of that word. Come on out when you’re ready.” 

I watched the door close behind me and got dressed in the outfit he left for me. I settled into bed next to him and sipped the warm tea. 

“I love you Val,” I said after a few moments. 

“I love you too, bebita. Even when you’re cranky,” he replied lightly. “And I always will.”

[chrisgotitall]

got inspired by these pics!! mike and reader throwing a cute little cooking/board game party and inviting a close knit group of friends then their social batteries being completely drained once it’s over and everyone leaves, trying to finally enjoy some peace and quiet while being exhausted together!! don’t get them wrong, they had so much fun playing and getting drunk with their buddies but they’re both introverts so they do love their time away from everything & everyone and their personal moments together.

"Bye, thank you so much for coming" you say greeting goodbye the last few people to leave the apartment. Mike says goodbye from the couch, his eyes already closed.

You reach him and literally throw yourself on the couch. You look around the apartment. It's a mess: red solo cups everywhere, empty bottles on every surface and left over food on the table.

"We should clean this up before going to bed" you say.

Mike lets out a growl, signaling he doesn't want to. You tap his shoulder, "Come on, just five minutes, we just have to throw everything in the garbage and get that good in the fridge" you encourage him, even if you're not moving yourself.

He looks at you, "How do you have the power to make me get up from the couch when I'm this wasted?" he says.

"Well, that's the power of love" you slap his leg lightly and finally get up.

Both of you clean up the apartment just enough not to find a mess when you wake up in a few hours.

"Ok... let's go to bed"

You get in your bedroom and Mike tries to take off his shirt to change into his Pj shirt but somehow he drops his arms and huffs.

"What are you doing?"

"Can I just get in bed like this?" he says referring to the clothes he's been wearing the whole day.

"Absolutely not!" you say and help him out taking off his shirt.

"Oh and see how you took that possibility..." he says smirking.

"Just hurry, idiot"

You get in bed. He gets in too and he reaches for you waist and hides his head in the crook of your neck. You hold his head.

"Finally some peace and quiet" he says, his voice muffled as he speaks into your neck.

"I know, right?" you say back.

You had a really fun night with just the right people but after a bit you just get enough and can't wait to go back to the two of you alone in your quiet apartment.

You guys cuddle up in your bed laughing about the fun moments that happened during the night so now the apartment isn't so quiet anymore but it's filled with loud laughs.

Then Austin joined you two on the bed and the peace was yet restored. You, Mike and your dog together.

You kiss his head. He caresses the skin of your arms with his fingers.

You kiss his lips.

"Goodnight, baby" you say.

"Goodnight" he says kissing your head.