#feather pajamas

[featherpajamas]

[natalinaofficial]

www.instagram.com/officialnatalina

[senatortedcruz]

just saw a photo of Queen Club Chalamet and why do we have the exact same outfit.....

[becomingshera]

I think I need these

[lavellaned]

in my heart of hearts the mythal in the crossroads is 6 feet tall, horned, decked out in armor fitting a self-appointed goddess borne from primordial war and a giant fuck-you dramatic feathered cape. it hurts to look at her directly. out of the corner of your eye you swear the shadow she casts is in the shape of a dragon. she's been stewing in resentment for so long the air just always smells like a wildfire and lightning strikes. ya'll remember the fucking puzzles in her temple? you wouldn't be able to just walk up to her and start talking to her, idc how long it's been since she's had petitioners.

if you want me to believe in the "like holding a piece of the sun" line you have to do better than the pajama-wearing default character creator template num 9 that we actually got.

[julymusings]

melting | 18+

take one look at you, you’re heaven’s incarnate; what is this spell, baby, please show some mercy.

or; after a long, grueling patrol, jason comes home to your sleeping figure laid temptingly on display for him. [3.1k]

jason todd x f!reader; SMUT‼️ CW: soft sex😛somnophilia/free use(prev. consent implied), thighjob, unprotected p in v, cockwarming. + a lil biting; needy touch starved jason😈😈 but then fluffy; based on ask!!; can you tell i'm ovulating.

It’s almost dawn when Jason climbs in through the window of your shared bedroom, tossing his gear bag on the ground and landing after it with barely a sound. His limbs are heavy and bone-tired from the last five hours spent beating up criminals on the street, and he wants nothing more than to plant face-first into bed and pass out for the next twelve hours. The ceiling fan whirs on the highest setting in your bedroom, and the cool current is a welcome change from the dry summer heat outside. He runs a hand through his hair, still damp from the haphazard shower he took at the safe house where he peeled off his suit and stashed it away in his bag.

He slides the window shut as his eyes adjust to the darkness, making sure to draw the blinds to keep the sunrise from disturbing his sleep. And then he sees it.

Right there, on display like an oil painting in a museum, blankets pushed aside, your naked form lies draped across the bed like a marble sculpture in a museum. You’re lying on your side with your back to him, which only accentuates the dip of your waist before it rounds into the curve of your waist, like the perfect handle for him to grab onto and squeeze until you make that high-pitched gasping sound you always do when he grips you with the promise of purple and red stains the next morning. His gaze traces down your body leaving a burning trail in its wake until he lands on the plump lips of your perfect cunt that peek through your thighs.

His heart speeds up in his chest, a burst of adrenaline and anticipation coursing through him. He dares to take a step closer, though he knows that the closer he gets, the less control he’ll have. What was the agreement? Right— wearing pajama bottoms meant you didn’t want to be disturbed, but anything else was fair game. He can count on one hand the number of times he has felt compelled to do this— he much prefers you awake so he can hear the sound of your pleading moans begging for more, feel your nails sinking into his skin and clawing down his back when your release is too intense to bear. But tonight, after the debilitating patrol he just endured, after you so kindly put your perfect body on display for him, he needs this release— needs you.

Jason takes off his shirt and tosses it on the foot of the bed, with the rest of his clothing quick to follow. The clink of his belt buckle, the ceiling fan static; all are drowned out by the roaring blood rushing from his head and straight to his dick. He feels desperate—pathetic, even, with how much his body trembles as he gingerly crawls onto the mattress, careful not to jostle you around and wake you. He kneels over you and rests a hand on your hip. The feel of your warm, soft skin punches out a shaky breath from him, and he drags it down your figure, following your body’s dips and valleys down to your thigh. He gently grips the skin tighter, groaning lowly at the feeling of your soft body moulding to his touch. His fingers trail back up, tracing the slit of your pussy with his middle finger. You hum lazily in your sleep. He slips his finger between your lips and runs it up and down, circling your entrance and stopping just before he reaches your clit. He leans down and brushes feather-light kisses up your arm, inhaling your scent and savoring the warmth and growing wetness.

“My pretty girl,” he whispers into your shoulder.

His dick is fully hard now, but he can’t bring himself to stop. He loves this feeling, loves you and the heat of your body, enough to get lost in it for hours. A sigh escapes your sleepy lips when he circles your slick entrance again, and your hips move forward. His finger slips out of you, covered in your essence. Jason pants, already breathless as he spits in his hand and strokes his cock with a mixture of his saliva and you. He gives himself a few pumps and presses his tip to the juncture of your thighs.

He pushes it in, biting back a groan at the feeling of your soft thighs encasing him. He fucks himself between them, captivated by the sight of it slowly slipping in and out. His hand jumps from your hip to the bed, and he fists the sheets between his fingers, clenching his jaw so hard it might pop. Though he keeps his thrusts slow, your silken skin feels so good around his dick, and he can feel pearls of precum dribbling from his tip, which his strokes smear against the inside of your thighs, painting you with him. His length is sliding against your pussy, gathering more of your slick. He pulls himself out far enough for his head to drag against your folds, and you moan softly in your sleep. Jason peeks at your face; your brows are drawn tightly together, teeth pressed a fraction of an inch into your bottom lip as your hips start moving back and forth of their own volition. 

You want more, and he’ll gladly give it to you. But he knows that if he gives in too quickly, he won’t last more than a minute before he’s spilling inside you, and he needs this to last. The visual itself in his mind—finding his release in your warm pussy, pumping his hot come inside you and watching it leak out of you and all over your thighs, dripping onto the bed and ruining the sheets—he’s throbbing between your legs. He needs to pull away from you completely so that the image alone doesn’t make this end before it has even started.

He lets out a pained whimper, leaning back into a kneel with his hands fisted so hard into the sheets that they’ve turned a stark white. His breathing is labored, and his cock aches from the deprivation of you. His entire body is clenched so tight it hurts, bringing tears to his eyes.

But then, you move. The loss of him, hard and heavy, and rubbing against your lips, makes you whine. You turn over in your sleep, pressing your thighs together tightly to abate your need, and your back hits the bed, baring to him your full face, your tits your stomach. Jason curses under his breath when your knee falls open and reveals your wet, leaking pussy practically begging for him to fill it with his cock

He can’t stop staring at you, though. You are so beautiful, he thinks. And you’re all mine. And I’m all yours. 

Jason adjusts himself so that he’s kneeling over you, caging you between his legs. One hand finds the bed right beside your head to hold him up, and the other comes to cup your face. His thumb lightly traces your cheek, and he lowers himself to brush his lips against your forehead, then moves lower to your lips, and then continues, blazing a trail down your throat with his mouth, his hand following suit.

He kisses down to your breast, all around your nipple, before finally using the flat of his tongue to press into it and mimic a similar sensation on the other with his thumb. He keeps his touches feather-light, enjoying the way your body unconsciously responds: the faint moans that get stuck in your throat, the sharp breaths that escape from your lips. Your body twitches when he takes it into his mouth and sucks, and your back arches slightly off the bed, but he releases you before you can get too worked up.

His cock is heavy and aching, and his whole body feels hot with an urgent need to be inside you. He takes it in his hand and pushes the tip between your lips. He slides it down to your entrance to feel your wetness before dragging it back up and pressing his head to your clit. Your hips jump at the sensation, and it only pushes him harder against you. A groan escapes him at the same time as a breathy whine blows through your lips.

“I know, baby,” Jason mutters quietly. “'M gonna take care of you.”

When he slides into you the first inch, his entire body shudders. Your sleeping figure twitches as he withdraws to his tip, then thrusts in further. Slowly, he continues, pulling out and pushing back in a little further until his hips are flush against yours. He’s holding himself up on two trembling arms with raggedy breathing, and you’re sleepily, mindlessly grinding against him.

He whispers your name into the darkness, and his voice is so soft, so enamored with every part of you. With the way your hair spills perfectly over your shoulders, your fluttering eyelashes, and velvety lips that are drawn into a pout as you search for a pleasure only he can give you. Your body, your nipples that have hardened to stiff points against the night air, the fading teeth marks on your shoulders, the red and purple love bites scattered over your hips. Enamored by how much you love him, enough to not only give your body to him like this, but also to trust him with it. He remembers the first time you were in his bed, when he was so nervous about messing this up, about losing control and scaring you away. And how you cradled his face in your hands and kissed him all over, whispered those four words against his lips, and he knew he was forever gone for you—

I trust you, Jason.

Then, he starts to fuck you— really fuck you, with slow, deep strokes that send shockwaves through his entire body. He pushes your legs out a little wider so he can fuck you even deeper and angles himself just so, in the way that always makes you throw your head back and squeeze him until he sees spots— and that’s exactly what you do. You clamp down on him hard, and he whimpers brokenly, dropping his head to rest next to yours. Your breathing is much heavier now, tiny whines escaping from your throat with each breath.

What started as long, hard strokes has turned to shallow, messy rutting, with Jason reduced to simply grinding his hips against yours. He buries his face into your pillow to muffle the embarrassingly desperate moan that comes from you gripping him so tightly. It’s so good, but he needs more. He speeds up the movement of his hips, keening into the pillow because he’s so needy it hurts, but it still isn’t enough.

But he can feel the pattern of your breathing change, feel your heart rate increase, and he knows that you’re both on your way there. He pushes himself up on one hand to hover over you, and lets the other hand slide under your lower back and lift it by a few inches. He drags his cock out, all the way to the tip, and thrusts it hard back into you. Your head falls back with a sharp gasp. He does it again, and your legs tremble, eyelids fluttering as you begin to stir. He keeps going, both of you close to coming and moaning through your half-asleep pleasure.

Your legs are practically quaking now, and your back arches of its own volition as your cunt leaves a creamy white ring around the base of his cock. Jason’s hand slides around to your front and his thumb rubs circles over your clit. All it takes is one more thrust and your eyes flutter open, hands fisting into the sheets and mouth falling agape with a silent scream.

“Jason,” you gasp, followed by a loud, broken moan as you come. Your walls clench and contract, and his forehead drops to your shoulder with a choked gasp as he follows right behind you. Your cunt spasms around him and he finishes inside you with hot, sharp bursts of come.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans. He rides out his orgasm with wet, sloppy thrusts, and you keep grinding against him throughout yours; all the while his pressure remains even and firm on your sensitive clit. 

“Baby,” you whine. You’re stuffed so full of him, you can feel him in your bones. But he’s still coming; it leaks out of you and drips down your thighs, around his balls, onto the sheets.

He moans into your neck as the spurts of come begin to die down, and his thrusts slow. You’re out of breath, breathing heavily into his hair when it’s over and still trembling from aftershocks. Your hands release the sheets and slide up to wrap around him. He does the same with your waist, holding you so tight, as if you’ll disappear if he loosens his grip. One of your hands finds his hair, and you scratch at his scalp.

“I thought I was having a very vivid, very good dream about you,” you joke quietly, still panting.

Jason chuckles into your neck. His breathing is rapid, and your hearts beat frantically against each other.

“I missed you,” he breathes, so quietly that you wouldn’t have heard it if his lips weren’t moving right against your skin.

“You have a nice way of showing it,” you mumble back, tired but still feeling giggly and fucked out.

You use your grip on his hair to pull his head up to yours. His eyes are shiny, gazing at you like you’re a sight to behold. You guide him to your lips, capturing him in a kiss so sweet his body feels like warm honey is seeping through it. 

He keeps kissing you as he turns to lie on his side next to you. He hugs you tight, pressing your back against his chest. He cradles your jaw, and you make a soft sound when his dick brushes against that spot inside you.

“I love you,” you whisper into his mouth, but it gets lost in a sigh when he sucks on your bottom lip.

You’re in love with the taste of him, the feel of him pressed against you, inside you. So you hold him tight, not letting him leave you, staying intertwined, living on stolen breaths and drunk on the afterglow.

He breaks the kiss to pull the blanket over your damp, sticky bodies. 

“Can never get enough of you,” Jason says into your hair, sounding utterly wrecked.

Your hands settle over his, drawing shapes on the arms wrapped around your torso. “You’ll always have me,” you say softly.

And when you wake again a couple hours later, worked back to the brink with his hands on your hips and him groaning whispers of praise and declarations of love into your hair as he fucks you again, this time from behind, your hand reaches up behind you to thread through his hair and push your lips to his. You moan into his mouth when his thick cock fills all the space you give him, dragging along all the right spots.

“Baby,” he whispers, mouthing along your jaw and down your neck, across your shoulder.

You sigh dreamily when he nips at your ear.

“Feels good?” He asks.

“Faster,” you moan, tipping your head back to fall on his shoulder.

He tightens his grip on your hips and fucks you faster. The sound of his skin slapping against yours rings in your ears.

“’S that better, baby?” Jason croons, and you can only moan in response.

He grins into your hair and wraps one arm around your waist to keep his grip on you, while the other slips between your legs to rub your clit. He does it hard and fast, and pain melds with pleasure in the short moment it takes for you to break once more. You shudder around him, quieter and more relaxed than the first time, but your body is set alight all the same. You roll onto your stomach, pulling him along with you, deaf to his confused protests. Your mind is tunneled on feeling, gone completely blank except for the feverish desire to have him harder, deeper, more.

He gets the message and follows you. Your salacious noises are buried in the pillows and your back arches, pushing your ass against him as he pumps into you through his own strenuous moans. His weight is heavy on top of you, but it only feeds into your desperation to be surrounded by him.

“So—ugh—so good, baby,” Jason slurs into your skin, his voice rough and guttural from where sleepiness meets euphoria.

The chain hanging from his neck taps against your back with each of his thrusts before following the length of your spine when he kisses his way down each vertebra. You feel the cool metal scraping back up when he licks his way back to your neck, tasting the sweat that beads along the column.

His palm slides up your side to grab a handful of your breast, which he squeezes and kneads with a searing grip.

“Gettin’— fuck.” He buries his face in your shoulder, letting his words turn to unintelligible whines.

“Jay,” you whimper. “I’m—I need—”

“Me too,” he groans. “T-touch that pretty clit for me, honey.”

You reach between your legs to find the swollen, sensitive bud of nerves. Your cunt flutters and drips your arousal around him. His cock makes a wet, squelching sound as he fucks you harder. His rutting gets more erratic until he sinks his teeth into your shoulder and comes again with a final slam of his hips. The pressure in your core builds and builds, and it reaches its crescendo when you feel the sting of the bite and his warmth spilling inside you. You arch into him with a loud cry and come all over his cock, just in time for your body to give out and collapse on the sheets. Jason goes down with you, going limp atop your back. The weight is welcome and grounding.

The two of you lie there for some time, enjoying each other’s heaving breaths that fill the silence as you float back into your bodies. You must drift off again, because the rest of the early morning is hazy and you only recall brief flashes of sensation; sticky come from now and before spilling out of you when Jason lifts himself up, something warm and damp running over your thighs and your center.

And when a warm weight settles in at your side, and your forehead is ghosted with a kiss, whispered into your skin is something that sounds like thank you.

is it unrealistic that reader stays asleep through all that😭tbh idc i like that she stays asleep until right before her orgasm i think it's hot. and anyway why am i worried about a fanfiction about a superhero vigilante who was resurrected from the dead by a magical immortality pool being realistic! get a grip girl!

anyway. this was fun to write because i just like the idea of obsession + devotion + complete trust w someone & writing that manifestation in somno. idk. i rlly put my hole heart and soul and julussy into this lmfao

[whos-the-seme]

Shen Yuan is actually a cuddle bug. Had a ton of Luo Binghe body pillows back home not just for the merch reasons but because he needs something in his bed to squeeze when he's sleeping.

Since he started having weekly planning (boozing and bitching) sessions with Shang Qinghua, he sometimes accidentally sleeps over. After he's finished his paperwork and started on some of Qinghua's, sometimes the wine gets to him and he's just so sleepy. Or, sometimes, Shang Qinghua will let the other read some of the short stories he had written early on in his transmigration when fighting to not lose his mind. Shen Yuan would critique them, before harassing him to publish them anonymously.

("Oh, so you are capable of writing more than papapa trash."

"Aw, you like it?" "...it's good." 🙄)

But by the time he finished them, it would be so late, and it didn't make much sense to leave when a bed was right there. And Shang Qinghua had custom ordered goose feather pillows and blankets, which was so unlike his porcelain pillows, and Shang Qinghua himself is right there. Therefore. The man himself becomes his new object of comfort when asleep.

At first, Shang Qinghua used to just wave it off. Then he started to playfully complain and tease about how clingy Shen Yuan was in his sleep, and Shen Yuan would grumble and turn bright red and turn his back on him... only for them to wake up with Shen Yuan basically curled around the other like an octopus in the morning. And then it just became normal because, of course, they really only had each other, so like why not? It brought them both comfort and two people could totally cuddle platonically.

Before long, more than half the week, Shen Yuan was spending the night over, and some rare times, Shang Qinghua goes to the bamboo house. Shang Qinghua learns when to give up his piles of paperwork when his friend starts getting tired and to get more fucking rest himself. Otherwise, Shen Yuan will just walk in, curl up on his lap with his head resting on Shang Qinghua's shoulder, and fall asleep there.

("Really? I ordered those extra stuffed pillows for you, you know. Go to bed, I'll be done in a minute."

"Ugh, shut up, sleeping isn't the same when you're out here ordering new fighting posts for Bai Zhan Peak for the 5th time this month. I'll just wait here for you to finish."

"In my lap...? That's kinda gay--" 😏

"Qinghua."

"Shutting up and finishing the work." )

Those of An Ding Peak, being the peak that was basically the backbone of the entire sect and kept it running through sweat, blood, and some other bodily fluids, knew how to keep secrets from other peaks. You don't become a disciple there without knowing how to keep your mouth shut when outsiders are around. But between each other, whispers abound.

"I don't think Shen-shibo has left in two days," one disciple murmurs to another when they see Shen Qingqiu flouncing around yet again, ordering one of the disciples to bring some two small meals to their Shifu's rooms for a late dinner.

"Do you think they're... you know?" Another asks quietly after delivering some new contracts to their Shifu. The door to his bedroom had been slightly ajar, and through the cracks, green leaf-pattern outer robes were on the ground.

("I'm not sleeping in these, okay! You should have written in pajamas while you were busy adding in chocolate, and whatever else doesn't exist in Ancient China, to PIDW!" 😒

"Oh my god, just sleep in your inner robes, then! Better yet, borrow some of my clothes. But you're sure as fuck not sleeping naked on my silk sheets, bro!")

The disciples on Qing Jing Peak certainly notice when the bamboo hut isn't occupied for the night. At first, they just thought that their Shizun was extra silent in his house now, but once, Ming Fan had to go to Shizun for a small issue late in the evening, and he wasn't there. Nor was he there the next night, or the next. They're not sure where he is, or what he's doing, but he's always there in the morning, so they don't worry too much.

On the fourth night, Shizun was home, but Shang-shishu was also there. And... stayed there. The lights went out, and the disciples who were sent out to spy came back and reported that Shang-shishu had never left.

("He... is Shang-shishu still in there?"

"I think so. M-maybe he stayed in the extra bedroom?"

"..." 👀

"..." 👀)

The disciples eye each other and simultaneously agree to never let those outside the peak know about this. When crossing paths with A Ding disciples, there are discreet looks and nods of understanding, and they pass each other by with not a word.

(Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua?)

----

One bright and sunny morning, Liu Qingge slams his way into Shang Qinghua's office. He is followed by Mu Qingfang, and Yue Qingyuan, all needing to speak with Shang Qingqua to figure out Shen Qingqiu's whereabouts. He wasn't in his bamboo hut this morning, nor was he anywhere else that he typically frequented.

Mu Qingfang because it was time for his bimonthly check-up to ensure that his treatments with Liu Qingge were progressing as they should. Yue Qingyuan due to peak matters (though, technically, he could do it on his own, but if he got to see Xiao Jiu--). Liu Qingge because the beast that he had dropped on his doorstep yesterday afternoon had yet to be removed, which was odd. And also, he had ordered new fighting posts a week ago, and usually they would have been delivered by now, which was also odd.

Wei Qingwei and Qi Qingqi also follow along because they could smell drama. And also they were a tiny bit worried about their shixiong. Whenever he disappeared for too long, it was likely that he had gotten kidnapped or poisoned. Again.

Shang Qinghua scrambles out of his bed chambers with hastily thrown-on outer robes, blurry-eyed, screaming "Whoosit!?" He barely has time to open his mouth before he is instantly bombarded with several requests, most of them pertaining to the apparent missing peak lord. Liu Qingge also asks about his fighting posts, which Shang Qinghua pretends not to hear.

"We've not seen him in a few days," Mu Qingfang says to him over the noise, with an apologetic smile for waking up his overworked shixiong. "I know you two are somewhat friends, so if you see him soon, please tell him he really needs to come to Qian Cao for his next physical."

"Wait, who's missing? Ah, please don't touch that." The last part is directed at Qi Qingqi, who is combing through his shelves. "Shen Qingqiu is apparently missing, according to this bunch," Qi Qingqi says, smirking at him. She pokes the figurine he told her not to touch. Oh well, she'll realize why he told her not to touch it soon enough.

"Shen Qingqiu? What do you mean, he's--" Shang Qinghua instantly closes his mouth, hoping that no one heard that. "I-I mean, yeah, I'll let you guys know if he stops by! No problem, will absolutely send him your way--" "What was that?" Liu Qingge narrows his eyes at him. "You were about to say something. You know where he is. Tell me."

Shang Qinghua begins to sweat immediately. "Whaaat? No, you must have heard wrong. Seriously, I'll let you guys know if I catch him. Now, if you guys can be on your way--" He starts trying to herd people out.

Unbeknownst to him, his bedroom door cracks open and a figure, eyes barely open, shuffles out and heads towards him. Wei Qingwei, idling in the office, is the first to notice the person wearing another set of An Ding Blue outer robes over soft Qing Jing Green inner ones. His jaw drops.

"Qinghua?" A soft, sleepy voice murmurs in his ear, arms circling around his waist and a head laying on his shoulder from behind. "It's too early, come back to bed." A small yawn.

Shang Qinghua can feel himself freeze with a nervous smile on his face.

Shit.

[featherpajamas]

Re-rendered! I'm working on themed stationary and journals. I really hope the aesthetic works. Any suggestions?

[cupcakeinat0r]

You've always known just how big Miguel is. No, not in that way; just big in general. There are short people, average people, tall people, and then there’s Miguel. Big and heavy. He’s reluctant when you ask him to be your “weighted blanket” because he always feels like he might seriously hurt you. Nonetheless, you always tell him how much you love the feeling. You love everything about his size and all the benefits it comes with. You wouldn’t change Miguel in the slightest. No way. . . But there’s this one thing.

 It’ll be super late into the night, and let’s say it’s Winter to make things worse. 

Well, you thought you started the night wrapped and bundled up in y’all’s down-feathered comforter, whipped out from the closet for frigid nights like these. You even wore your thermal pajamas, that’s how cold it was, so you definitely know you fell asleep extra cozy and toasty for the night. To go even further, Miguel always wraps an arm around you before drifting off, pulling the distinct aroma of your clothes and skin closer to his face. . . So why do still you feel cold? 

You remain asleep until your skin can no longer bear the invasive crisp of the air. Dejected, your eyes open, your gaze leading from the wall down to the bed around you.

You twist your head to see behind you, your eyes following along the bed until you find the culprit.

So that’s why I’m cold. Sucker took all of the blanket to his side. 

Your expression is a mix of reproach and borderline laughter. You hold it in so as to not wake him, of course. You did have to admit, despite it costing your comfort and warmth, the sight next to you was just too darn cute. You almost wanna take a picture of the precious crime scene. 

You reckon that, deep in his sleep, Miguel had turned over, and in doing so, brought all of the blanket with him. With tired eyes, you turn your whole body now to face him, his back facing you. You lay there, looking on with a soft smile. Your eyes scan all the shapes and edges; how the mountain of his figure rises and falls. You hold in a chuckle whenever he snores significantly louder. 

When you’ve had enough, you turn back around, and as quietly as possible, you get up to grab another blanket. The other move would’ve been to pull back your portion of the blanket, but there was the risk of waking him, so you settled for grabbing another one.

You come back, snuggled in your assigned spot on the mattress and allow sleep to take you for the second time that night. 

It’s not long before you feel shuffling in the bed. Your eyes crack open when you feel a different, more familiar warmth. You see that the throw blanket you grabbed from one of the lounge chairs is no longer on you, but on the floor. Instead, on your body is all of the comforter that had been stolen from you, in addition to the arm that initially took it. 

“Mmsorry, beba,” with eyes still closed, he mumbles through his half-awake state, ”I’ll buy us a bigger blanket”. 

Your lips curl in your slumber, the feeling of Miguel’s body cocooning yours conquering any blanket or comforter in the world.

<3

[mariasont]

GENTLEMEN PREFER PAJAMAS

you are tipsy and flirty with spencer after a night out, leading to soft kisses, drunk rambling, and sleepy cuddles

pairings: spencer reid x reader warnings: alcohol consumption, no gendered language (I don’t think at least, let me know if there is), tipsy reader, sensual undertones but nothing crazy, flashback of sex scene but it's not too descript, drunk flirting, established relationship, lots of sleepy affection, mild undressing, domestic fluff, mutual pining but already together wc: 1.6k

You collapse onto the pillows in a sprawling, uncoordinated heap, giggling helplessly into Spencer’s mouth as he lands right after, warm and solid and perfectly weighted. You imagine some celestial force eavesdropped on your wishes and promptly deposited him on top of you.

You remind yourself to thank them and gravity. Tonight, at least, it’s completely forgiven for all those stubbed toes and spilled coffees.

And gravity is making your limbs feel like noodles. No, scratch that, noodles would have infinitely more structure. It’s possible you’re not even a person anymore. Perhaps you’ve melted straight into the mattresses, becoming one with it, all fluff and sighs and goofy grins. 

Is that a thing? Can people turn into beds? You’ll ask Spencer later.

Right now there’s kissing to do. Right now, your fingers are stumbling over a jawline so sharp and lovely and you think he smells like laundry straight from the dryer. You suffocate in it as your nose nudges to the hollow beneath his throat. 

And his hands — oh, his hands — they’re now under your shirt and it tickles and you think you’re giggling again, because what else is there to do when heaven is handsy?

He sighs, hands sinking into the plush curve of your waist.  It’s a familiar sigh you love hearing, one of those overly dramatic, pretend-exasperation sounds to signal his patience is running thin. Except you know better. Intimately so. Because beneath that theatrical huff is a smile he can’t quite hide, not when you can almost taste it if you turned your head just right.

He loves this, you’re certain, even if he refuses to say it. But that’s fine. You’re smart, even drunk-smart, and knowing is basically just as good as hearing. Actually, it’s even better because now you’re filled with the giddy determination to chase after that invisible grin with your lips, to hunt down the saccharine concealed there until it blossoms fully into laughter.

“I think,” you whisper loudly, your own smile mashed sloppily into the roughness of his cheek, “you just wanna get me naked.”

Spencer snorts. "I think you need to drink more water."

Killjoy. Beautiful, smirking, possibly medically correct killjoy.

Spencer gently lifts your arms, pulling off your shirt in one very smooth, very grown-up motion. Textbook Spencer Reid, all responsible bedtime procedure and absolutely zero funny business.

But your brain is champagne bubbles, pleasantly fizzy and a little devilish, so your fingers mound absently, tracing warm, languid circles along your newly exposed skin.

You watch him shamelessly, delighted when his cheeks flush just enough that he’s forced to look away, trying to convince you both he’s entirely unaffected.

"Don't need it," you murmur, eyes half-lidded and full of affection. "Just need you, thanks."

"Nice try, angel."

You sigh, softening like butter left too close to the stove as his fingertips coast feather-light down your back while coaxing you upright.

He takes his time, smoothing out each bump of your spine vertebrae by vertebrae. C1 all the way to C7. Then, with a sigh of his own, he pulls back, a moment stretched too thin, and reaches for your pajama top.

You take the time to look at him. Really look.

His belt hands low on his hips, leather biting into the fullness of his stomach, and you ache, physically ache, to trace that little line where cotton gives way to skin. His dress shirt, rumpled and sleep-wrinkled, clings across his chest like it wants to be closer too, buttons tugged taut over the breadth of him. 

His tie is gone. Hours ago, probably. Lost to some hallway or couch or whatever innocent piece of furniture was first to fall victim to your pawing hands.

Spencer tugs the pajama top he fished from the drawer down your arms, moving slowly so you don’t lose balance, not that you’d fall when you’re glued to the bed and using him as a human anchor, arms looped around his neck.

“You know,” you begin, lips dragging along his jaw like a love-drunk GPS, “Penelope is so funny.”

"Mhm."

"No, like, funny-funny. She made songs. About people. Little jingles. Did you know Derek has a theme song?”

"I did not."

"Well, he does. And so do you."

Spencer pauses. "Should I ask?"

"No, because you'll be mean about it."

"I'm never mean to you."

You narrow your eyes at him, or try to. They’re a little too heavy to cooperate.

“Spencer. You once corrected my math during sex.”

He shrugs. “In fairness, it was a bold miscalculation.”

He exaggerates.

Spencer had been beneath you, hands clutching greedily at the back of your thighs, his pupils blown so wide you could drown in their inky hunger — hunger he never bothered trying to disguise. You were gasping, half-lost on the exquisite stretch of him inside you, feeling so full it was like your body had molded itself around him, rewriting its shape in his image.

In the hazy gaps between thrusts you murmured a proud little tally into the air. Three times, maybe four. You couldn’t remember, didn’t care. It felt triumphant enough. Spencer, it seemed, had not.

He corrected that the first time wasn’t technically full sex, so the current count stood at two. You could still remember how your palms had flattened on his chest.

He looked up at you with a smirk that said, what? It’s true.

And you kissed him hard enough to shut him up. Not because he was wrong, but because you absolutely refused to let him be right. 

“So you’re admitting you’re mean to me on,” you say, squinting at him as you try to remember the word you were looking for, “occasion.”

Spencer’s lip tugs upward as he puts a hand to his chest. “Slandered in my own bed.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” you gasp, cupping his face. “You are the opposite of mean. You’re… you’re nice. You’re, like, aggressively nice. Stupidly nice. But you’re not stupid. You’re so smart. And — you’re the best boyfriend ever. Literally ever.”

“There's a lot of praise tonight, sweetheart.”

You groan, face smooshed right into his chest as embarrassment wars with your lingering bravado. Blame the tequila. Blame your poorly-timed confidence at the bar, when you sidled up to him, inspected him head-to-toe like he was some stranger, and purred, what’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone?

Never mind the fact that you arrived together. Never mind the fact that he had been holding your purse.

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.”

His voice spills out all velvet and sweet enough that your brain happily gives up on forming a coherent rebuttal. Gentle fingers squish your cheeks together, molding your lips into a pout that you’d probably laugh at if he weren’t already leaning in to kiss it. 

And he does, of course, soft lips pursed just slightly, showing you a peek at that deeper, cherry-stained color hidden inside. 

Lips shouldn’t look that edible, should they?

But with him, everything feels bite-worthy, nibble-able, lickable, and utterly unfair in how pretty he is. You constantly remind him, watch as his ears bloom pink, eyes narrowing in an attempt to deflect your adoration, especially when you’re in public.

You know he struggles with it. The receiving. The enormity of being loved without proof, without conditions, without demands. But that’s never scared you off. If anything, it draws you closer, makes you cherish every reminder, every repetition, every soft retelling of the truth he’s still learning how to hold. Because one day, maybe, you’ll say it so many times that even he can’t deny it anymore.

“You know,” you mumble, eyelids drooping as your finger taps his lower lip, voice slurred like honeyed bourbon. “That thing you did earlier, kissin’ my wrist all slow — mm-hmm — was that on purpose?”

A low laugh escapes him as he guides your form onto the bed, sliding down to lay beside you. He props his head on one hand, studying you. 

“On purpose? As opposed to… what? A spontaneous wrist-kissing seizure?”

You wrinkle your nose, staring up at the ceiling with glazed eyes. 

“Spence, there’s accidents, and then there’s… purposeful stuff, right? Like when someone just does things because they wanna make you feel good. Little things, like kissing wrists, and… remembering your favorite cereal and —” You lose yourself briefly, blinking sleepily. “And it just feels really, really nice when someone does things on purpose for you, ‘cause it means you’re worth noticing, I think. And you do that a lot.”

He smiles, thumb dragging a lazy arc along your cheek. You lean into the touch like a cat, nuzzling closer.

“I love your mind. Drunk Socrates, but cuter,” Spencer teases, pulling you closer so your head rests comfortably against his chest. “You probably won’t remember any of this in the morning,” he adds, “but I will and… I don’t know, noticing you has never been something I try to do.”

He exhales slowly.

“It’s actually harder not to,” he continues, “You know, yesterday you left your book on the counter, spine cracked and bookmarked with a receipt, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what part you’re up to. I actually looked up the chapter summaries to figure it out.” He chuckles under his breath. “You’re just constantly… there. In my head. Background processing, even when I’m thinking about something else.”

You dissolve further against him, the lines between your bodies blurring pleasantly, warmth pooling so deeply that your outlines vanish. You silently plead with yourself to remember this clearly in the morning, and that your expression in daylight won’t too obviously reveal how completely you’ve fallen in love again.

“So what you’re sayin’,” you mumble, wrapping your arms around him, nipping at the slope of his shoulder, “is I’m basically a parasite you can’t get rid of.”

“Exactly,” Spencer says, fingers digging into your side. “Mutually beneficial symbiosis. I’d let you take over my entire life if you wanted. Full infection. No cure needed.”

“Mmm, you’re gonna regret sayin’ that when you wake up stuck with me forever.”

“I’m counting on it.”

And you believe him.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanded! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[penascigarette]

Smooth Operator Ch 1. A New Client

Joel Miller x f!phone sex operator

➴wc: 6.7k | summary: You unexpectedly find yourself drawn to a new client during a late-night call, who ignites a surprising wave of desire within you. As you engage in a steamy conversation, you realize this encounter is unlike any you've had before, leaving you eager for more and questioning the boundaries of your professional life.

➴warnings: mdni, phone sex, mxm phone sex, fxm phone sex, m&f masterbation lots of dirty talking, use of princess, shitty moodboard

➴an: hi! i hope you enjoy the first chapter of the first fic I have ever posted. if I have missed any warnings please let me know. feedback is super appreciated! now I will go run and hide lol. and a big tysm to @saradika-graphics for making such lovely dividers!

masterlist | series masterlist | pt. 2

You love sleeping, and just as passionately, you love your bed. Whenever you wake up in the morning, you spend at least ten minutes wrapped up in your duvet, savoring the warmth and comfort as you tease yourself with the idea of a nap.

This morning is no different. The sun shines outside, making your dark purple curtains look lighter than they actually are. If you open your eyes, you know you'll see dust particles floating through the air.

You take a deep breath through your nose and immediately wish you'd opened your windows to let in some fresh air. But you never do, even though you think about it every morning. It's too risky. Open windows are an open invitation to your worst fear—spiders.

Just the thought of their tiny, hairy bodies and long, wiggly legs sends a shiver down your spine. You pull the duvet tighter around your shoulders, practically imagining the creepy crawlies on your skin.

And of course, that's when your roommate, Elliot, decides it’s the perfect time to tickle your ear with one of his long, pink, kinky feathers—used for who-knows-what.

You scream, jump, and scramble off the bed like it’s suddenly caught fire. Your eyes—probably bloodshot with dark bags underneath—narrow at the grinning culprit, who is currently doubled over in a fit of laughter on the right side of your king-sized bed.

“What the fuck,” you huff, too tired to find any humor in this. You were so warm and cozy, and now that feeling is ruined for the next twenty-four hours. “You’re a real dick, you know that?”

 “Y-your face!” he chokes out between giggles. He looks far too fresh-faced for someone who’s just rolled out of bed. Still in his pajamas, his messy hair—short on the sides with a wave on top—looks like it hasn’t seen a brush this morning.

“It's not funny!” you argue, your voice rising over the sound of his laughter. You’re this close to stomping your foot at him. “I thought you were a spider!” Standing there in nothing but pink pajama bottoms and a black strap top, your skin prickles with goosebumps. Yet again, you curse him for ruining your warm, safe burrito.

That only makes him laugh harder. It’s hard to believe this man-child is twenty-eight years old when he acts less than half his age most of the time.

At the sound of his snort, you feel your lips twitch against your will. No, you’re pissed at him—there’s no way he’s going to make you laugh. But very quickly, you’re losing the battle. Have you ever tried not laughing with someone who has an impossibly contagious laugh? It’s damn near impossible.

“Whatever!” you say, rolling your eyes as a reluctant smile finally breaks across your face. You cross your arms over your chest, trying to look stern, but Elliot knows he’s won this round

“It’s getting late,” he says, still chuckling. His green eyes are watery from laughing, making them sparkle as he grins at you. Rolling onto his left side, he props his head up with one hand—the one holding the feather—while his other hand runs through his sandy-brown hair, slicking it back. “And you slept through your alarms again, so I thought I’d help you out.”

Damn, have you really? It wouldn’t be the first time. Waking you is like trying to wake the dead.

“Oh,” you say sheepishly. Fair enough, he had to wake you, but—“Did you have to use your kinky, sex feather...thing?” You shiver in disgust. “Who knows where that’s been.”

He shrugs innocently, twirling the offending object between his fingers. “Nowhere gross...” His eyes flick up to yours, and he smiles once more. “Only up Danny’s ass.”

Your eyes widen, and you splutter. “What? Oh, my god—Jesus, that’s just—” You gag in the back of your throat. “You said it hadn’t been anywhere gross!”

He laughs again, sitting up. “I was telling the truth. Danny’s ass was far from gross.” A faraway look crosses his face. “It was heaven,” he muses wistfully before frowning. “God, I miss him.”

“Oh, honey,” you soften immediately, making your way to the bed and crawling toward Elliot to offer some comfort.

You know Danny and Elliot’s breakup was hard on him. He’d been completely in love with that man and was about to ask him to move in—with you both—when Danny decided to end the year-and-a-half relationship. It just wasn’t working was his excuse, but Elliot later found out the truth when Danny updated his Facebook page: he’d left Elliot for someone else.

“He didn’t deserve you,” you say, trying to make him feel better as you drape an arm around his shoulders. Sitting back on your heels, you add, “He was a dick for what he did. You shouldn’t be sad. He’s the one who lost someone who loved him. The only thing you lost was—”

“A twat-waffle who didn’t deserve me, I know,” he cuts you off, reciting your usual line before you can finish. You’ve said it enough times in the past three months since the breakup that he knows it by heart. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better, but...doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

“I know,” you respond quietly, your thoughts drifting to your own breakup. It’s been over a year now, but the pain still lingers. Your ex had been your first boyfriend—hell, your first everything. You’d met when you were seventeen, and you moved in with him before your next birthday. Everything happened so fast, and you didn’t see the cracks until it was too late. “But we have each other, right?” you say, giving Elliot a little shake.

He glances at you, his expression vulnerable. Big eyes, plucked thin eyebrows, a slight bump on his nose from when a bully broke it in his teens, full lips, high cheekbones, and when he smiles, dimples form on his cheeks.

“Yeah?” he replies, hopeful. “Even if I wake you up with a feather that’s been up my ex’s ass?”

You roll your eyes, pulling away to thump him on the arm. “Fucker,” you mutter as he starts giggling all over again. “Remind me why I love you?”

Grinning, he reaches into the pocket of his pajama shorts and pulls out his phone. "Because I'm adorable," he answers distractedly as he stares at the screen. "Oh, my first caller of the day! And it's Simon," he whispers the last part to you as if Simon could hear. "He sounds like a whale when he comes, but boy, does he have a gorgeous sex voice," he informs you. You snort as he accepts the call. "Why hello there, lover."

While Elliot makes himself comfortable against your pillows, you climb off the bed and head toward your wardrobe. You already have your outfit in mind—a pair of leggings and a plain white shirt.

"Mmm, that sounds so sexy, baby," you hear Elliot purr in the background, and you smile, shaking your head. You can’t imagine what people would think about you being in the same room as your guy roommate while he talks dirty to one of your clients, meanwhile, you're getting changed in the corner.

It’s a strange situation, to say the least.

As you remove your shirt with your back turned to Elliot, you can’t help but listen in to the conversation.

"I'd love to touch your nipples," Elliot hums behind you, getting into character. You know how much he loves talking dirty to guys. It’s a turn-on for him. Unlike you, who only really enjoys sex if it’s with someone you love. Elliot is way more adventurous and has had more one-night stands than you can count. "I'd love to stroke them, caress them, lick them. . .”

"Suck them," you add when you hear Elliot hesitate. You pull the straps of your bra up your arms and hook it at the back. 

“Oh, and suck them," Elliot says as you pull your top on.

Since Elliot is still fairly new to this, he needs help sometimes. His situation had been very similar to yours—a broken-up relationship, no job, and forced to move back in with his mum until someone came along and gave him hope. For Elliot, that person was you. For you, that person was your boss, Jane.

Elliot's voice lowers as he talks to his client. "Your body is so pretty, honey. I can't wait to trace my tongue up and down your belly, and then start going lower and lower until I reach your—”

You cough quietly to yourself, trying to hide your smile as you change into your leggings and slip on a pair of fluffy pink socks. You’ve heard Elliot talk dirty loads of times, and he’s heard you talk dirty just as many. Part of training him was him having to listen in on your conversations, and then you monitoring his. Neither of you gets embarrassed around it anymore. It’s more amusing, to be completely honest.

Deciding to leave Elliot to it, you grab your phone off your bedside cabinet and quietly tiptoe to the door. Before you leave, you look over to Elliot and mouth, Coffee?

He nods enthusiastically at you and mouths back, Yes, please!

You’re halfway down the steps when you rub your eye and feel the crumbly sensation of mascara under your fingertip. You’ve forgotten to take your makeup off the night before. You curse to yourself before heading back upstairs to fetch a makeup wipe.

When you reach your room once more, Elliot looks at you questioningly before he notices your face. His lips curl into his mouth in an attempt not to laugh. You roll your eyes and put your middle finger up at him before heading over to your dresser, which sits directly opposite your bed. You open the top drawer and feel through the ridiculous amount of makeup and beauty products you’ve collected over time. As your fingers search, your eyes stare forward at your flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. You can see Elliot's reflection.

"God, you feel so tight around me," Elliot is telling his customer, and you bite your lip in an attempt not to laugh. Finally, your fingers grip the packet of wipes, and you pull them free. "I'm gonna come inside of your ass so damn hard—," Elliot is cut off by a muffled roar, and you turn to look at him questioningly.

He is still sitting on your bed, back against the pillows with one hand holding the phone far away from his ear. He has an uncomfortable look on his face, and it’s then you realize the noise has come from the phone. Or, more accurately, the noise is the loud, animal-like groans of a man coming hard.

Oh my god," you whisper to him quietly, now understanding what Elliot had meant by Simon sounding like a whale when he came.

Elliot uses his other hand to cover the bottom half of the phone, preventing Simon from hearing you speak. "Every. Damn. Time," he replies just as quietly, looking so serious it makes you giggle. He cracks his own smile before bringing the phone back to his ear. "Oh, that sounded like a good one, baby."

You’re glad Simon isn’t one of your callers because you’re not sure you’d be able to stay professional with that sound in your ear. You take care of your makeup before finally getting started on coffee.

Your living room and kitchen are all in one room. The only thing separating the rooms is the counter you eat at. Silver stools with black padded seats sit underneath, four of them for when you have guests over.

You walk past the L-shaped sofa and the counter. Once the coffee is on, you get started on breakfast. You decide on some cheesy, ham-scrambled eggs. Just as you start mixing the ingredients, your phone vibrates where you’ve placed it on the counter. You lean over far enough to see the screen. When no name appears, only a number, you figure it must be a new client since you save existing clients in your phone book.

You accept the call and bring it to your ear. "Hey there," you purr in your sexy voice. You never thought you had one until Elliot pointed it out to you. According to him, it’s a hot one too. "Tell me, gorgeous, what’s your name?"

"Josh." He’s breathing heavily, sounding as if he’s already started the party without you. "I-I'm new to all this…phone stuff," he informs you.

"That's fine, Josh," you say with a slight smile. "My name's Angel, and I’m going to take care of you, all right?" Your name isn’t Angel, but for safety reasons, you’re Angel as far as your customers know. And yes, you’re well aware of how clichéd it is.

"Yes," he tells you, his voice rougher than before. He’s probably getting more excited. Now, all you need to do is find out what he likes.

"Tell me, honey, you like it hard or soft, hm?" you question just as Elliot’s footsteps sound on the stairs.

"God. Hard. I like it hard," Josh answers. "I like it when you take control, with a little pain. Yeah, I like that a lot." In the background, you can hear the sound of his hand working his dick. At least you know he’s enjoying himself.

"Okay, Josh," you nod to yourself, knowing exactly where to go from here. Elliot appears in front of you, his lips forming an 'o' shape when he sees you’re with a client. You nod your head toward the food you’ve been preparing, signaling him to take over as you move away from the counter and toward the living area. Elliot passes you on the way, his hand patting you on the shoulder.

You flop over the arm of the chair and onto the sofa, landing with a bounce on your back. "The first thing I want you to do is to strip for me, now," you order him, reaching toward the coffee table when you spot a magazine there. You bring it over to you and open it. "Are you naked yet?"

"Almost," he practically gasps to you. You can hear some more shuffling, and then he's telling you, "Yes, mistress, I'm naked."

Mistress? You sigh internally. You seriously can't believe how many men are into the whole dominatrix kink. In the beginning, it was kind of fun, but by now, it’s getting pretty old.

Mentally awakening your inner dom, you relax further into the sofa and flip through the magazine. "Good boy," you coo, finding a 20 Sex Tips for Women article. Huh, how fitting. "Now, here's what I want you to do, and you better listen closely, pet."

The call ends up lasting 2 minutes and 28 seconds. Not bad for a newbie.

________

“I might have a date this weekend," Elliot mentions casually, making you glance over the top of your book at him, eyebrows raised.

A few hours have passed since breakfast, and you've had at least seven phone calls since. The two of you are relaxing in the living room, you on one side of your L-shaped sofa and Elliot on the other.

"And why is this the first I'm hearing of it?" you respond, feeling rather hurt. You tell each other everything. You know the penis size of every boyfriend he's had. How can he share that information so easily yet let something like a date stay secret?

He cringes, and you just know you're not going to like what's coming next. "Because..." he hesitates, takes a deep breath, and rushes out, "BecauseitswithDanny." He says it so fast it almost doesn't register, but the name Danny sticks out like a sore thumb.

"What!?" you exclaim, book falling forgotten onto the floor as you sit up. You're completely shocked, and you imagine your expression says everything before you even open your mouth. "How can you—why would you want to after what he did?" You can't understand what's going through Elliot's head, but you seriously want to knock some sense into him.

"I tried hinting to you this morning!" Elliot tells you, sitting up. The magazine he'd been reading earlier falls onto his lap, his attention now completely on you. "I told you I missed him!"

You scoff at that. "A hint is, 'Oh, by the way, I'm thinking of going on a date with my ex.' Not, 'I'm going to tickle you with Danny's ass-feather, complain about missing him, and hope that you get the hint that I'm going out with him this weekend despite the fact he broke my heart!'" You take a deep breath, oxygen running low after that rant. "Look, I know it's none of my business—"

"Of course it's your business. You're my best friend."

"—I just don't want you to get hurt," you continue as you both stare at each other with similar expressions. You're both desperate for the other to understand how you're feeling without wanting to cause any upset. "I love you, honey...and it destroyed you when he left."

"He said he's sorry," Elliot tells you quietly, making you realize just how much they've been talking. A pang of hurt goes through your heart, knowing that Elliot felt like he couldn't talk to you about this. "He said it was a mistake, one he wouldn't make again. But I don't want to jump back into things so...I told him we'll start slow."

"Well," you nod slightly. "That's something, I guess." It comforts you to know that he isn't rushing into the relationship again. Maybe, if they start from scratch, it could work this time. Unfortunately, your gut tells you different. "I'm going to be honest with you, okay?"

Elliot gives you a lopsided smile, causing a single dimple to form on his cheek. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

You smile back for a moment before turning serious again. "I think...you're thinking with your heart and not with your head," you tell him softly. "I think you're in love with him, and you miss him, and you're not thinking rationally about this. Which I totally understand, honey. You love him; I know you can't help that. I just worry that Danny knows how you feel about him, and he's going to use it to his advantage." You watch Elliot's expression closely; he's nodding, letting you know he's listening.

You give your lip a quick nibble before continuing. "But if this is something you feel like you need to do, then I'll support you, you know that."

"Thanks, babe," he responds sincerely, but his eyes are sad. "You're right. I know you're right, but...my heart wants this so damn badly."

"What's your gut telling you to do?" you ask him curiously. You’ve always believed in following your instincts.

"Run," he answers with a painful laugh. "Run and don't look back because he's only doing this as a rebound."

You frown at the information. "Rebound?"

Elliot nods, tears filling his eyes. He crosses his legs underneath him, which surprises you given how skinny his jeans are. One arm goes to the back of the sofa while the other runs through his slick-backed hair. He pulls his lips into his mouth for a moment, a habit of his, before telling you, "Him and Voldemort broke up. Danny says he broke it off because he misses me, but I checked Voldemort's page, and it looks like he's gone and gotten himself a new guy."

You hold back a snort at his nickname for Gary. Voldemort. It suits him. From Elliot's information, you're guessing that Danny is only after a rebound, but Elliot doesn't want to admit it because he still wants to be with Danny.

"Honey..." you sigh, scooting across the sofa so you can give Elliot a cuddle. He immediately returns the gesture but stays seated, whereas you lean up on your knees, making you higher than him. You rest your head on top of his, your arms around his neck. You know you don't need to say anything. Elliot knows he's burying his head in the sand. You think he just needs to find out the hard way; otherwise, he'd always regret not trying.

"I'm here for you," you assure him. This is something he needs to do, and you can't protect him from it, no matter how much you want to.

"Thank you," he tells you tearfully. You can hear how upset he is, but he's trying to hold it back. You squeeze him tighter, wishing you could take away all his pain. "You're the best friend a guy could ask for."

Your lips curve at that. "I know," you joke because really, you're not that big-headed. "Now," you say as you pull away but keep your arms around his neck. "What do you say we turn our phones off for a while, get a Chinese, and watch some crappy chick flicks?"

His eyes are bloodshot and wet with tears, but the smile he gives you is genuine happiness. And that you completely understand because food makes you feel the same way. "I love you so much."

--

The film you end up watching is beyond cheesy, but the humor is awesome, and you find yourself giggling along. Your Chinese food is now in your overly-stuffed belly, and the only things left are the containers sitting on the coffee table in front of you.

You sit side-by-side with Elliot, shoulders touching, a leopard-print blanket draped over your laps. Both of you ordered a beer with the takeaway. It isn’t enough to get you drunk, but that wasn’t the plan since you need to turn your phones back on for work later.

By the time the film ends, Elliot seems to be in a much better mood. Hopefully, he’ll stay that way for the next few hours.

“Gosh,” Elliot starts, reaching behind the sofa to the side table where a lamp sits. He switches it on, making you both blink against the sudden brightness. “I haven’t laughed that hard in ages.”

“Same,” you say, squinting as your eyes adjust. Your muscles feel cramped, so you throw off the blanket and stretch. As you straighten your body, you begin to slide off the sofa but don’t bother stopping it. You let yourself slip onto the floor.

With the coffee table in the way, you have to arrange yourself so you’re lying between the sofa and the table. The wooden flooring is cold against your right arm, while the left side of your body enjoys the comfort of the fur rug.

“Weirdo,” Elliot snorts from above.

“Don’t judge,” you respond, letting out a yawn. Watching films always makes you tired. Maybe it strains your eyes. The floor is oddly tempting right now—so cozy—or maybe Elliot is right, and you’re just a weirdo.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Elliot speaks again, his foot nudging your side. “Can’t sleep now. We’ve got horny customers waiting.”

It’s only then you realize you’ve closed your eyes. “I’m up,” you mumble, forcing yourself to sit upright. The smell of Chinese food still lingers in the air. It was absolutely delicious, but your stomach protests now, begging you not to even inhale another whiff of it. You pat your belly proudly, knowing it did a good job handling the feast.

“Good,” Elliot says. “We gotta get to work.”

Neither of you moves.

“For fuck’s sake,” Elliot sighs after a moment, making you crack a smile. “It’s so much effort. I hate... effort,” he says, spitting the word as if it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

You tilt your head to look at him better. “Just think about all those handsome, horny men stroking their dicks, waiting for you to—”

“I’m up!” Elliot exclaims, jumping to his feet. His hands dive into his pockets as you laugh loudly. “Christ, where’s my phone? My customers need me!” He’s being overly dramatic on purpose, and it makes you giggle even harder.

“It’s not funny!” he tells you, though he’s trying his hardest not to smile. “Who’s going to give those guys their orgasms? This is a serious situation!”

You giggle again, but then you try to put on a straight face. “You’re right. There could be a riot!” you gasp dramatically. “I’ll get on the phone to the prime minister right away!”

“And the president!” Elliot chimes in, but then you make eye contact, and the two of you burst into laughter. Sure, you can act pretty silly sometimes, but it’s healthy. At this age, you feel more mature than most people your age, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be childish once in a while.

Once you both calm down, you know playtime is over. It’s really time to get to work. Sighing, you take Elliot’s hand when he offers it to you, and he easily pulls you up from the floor.

“Thanks, kid,” you tell him, standing on your tiptoes to ruffle his hair. You know he hates when you do that.

He lets out a high-pitched squeak and backs away. “You know my rules!”

“No one touches the hair,” you recite dutifully.

“Yes!” he says, rolling his eyes. “And yet you always forget. And what do you mean ‘kid’? I’m older than you!”

“Yes, well, mentally you’re the age of ten, so…”

“Bitch,” he says, lightly punching your arm, and you laugh.

“Is that all you’ve got?” you tease.

He plants his hands on his hips, cocking a hip at you and raising an eyebrow. “Honey, you can’t handle what I’ve got.”

“I’m heading upstairs. Gonna talk dirty to some dudes, grab a shower, change into my pajamas, get some more horny people off, read a book, then go to bed.”

Elliot takes the phone and nods. “Sounds like a damn good plan,” he says, holding up his hand.

You smile and give him a high-five.

--

One of the hardest parts of your job is keeping things fresh and coming up with new ideas. That’s why you love working with Elliot. He’s a guy; he knows what men like, so whenever you feel like you need something different, he’s your go-to.

New customers are always the easiest to please. No matter what you say, it’s fresh to them. Exciting. It’s your recurring customers who require more effort. There are only so many ways to describe a blowjob before it starts feeling repetitive. When you get that feeling of déjà vu, you worry your client does too.

Oh, and trying to figure out what a guy likes? That’s another challenge. Sometimes, it feels like a seriously fucked-up game of I-Spy.

“I spy with my little eye…” Imaginary-you says in a hopeful voice. “A foot fetish? No? Fuck.” You’re rocking back and forth now, losing hope. “I spy with my little—oh, I know! Voyeurism?” you practically beg, thinking about pulling your brains out with a spoon if this doesn’t work. “…Golden showers?”

Okay, maybe you’re being a bit overdramatic, but you get the point. It’s frustrating, especially when the client is shy and doesn’t know what they like themselves.

Deciding you’re getting cranky—probably because you’re tired—you decide to finish half an hour early tonight. You shouldn’t, especially after already losing a few hours of work earlier, but you’ve made enough money to cover your half of rent and bills this month. You’ve still got a week to earn more for food and anything else you need.

So yeah, you’ll finish early.

Yawning, you pull the covers out from underneath your ass before throwing them over yourself. You’re already in your pajamas—a loose pair of pink shorts and a white strap top—and your book sits next to you, waiting to be read.

But just as you pick up your phone, ready to turn it off, a new number flashes on the screen. You stare at it for a moment, wondering if it’s worth leaving. The problem is, with it being a new customer, leaving a bad impression could mean they wouldn’t come back.

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, knowing the professional businesswoman in you can’t risk losing what might end up being a recurring customer. As far as you know, this phone call could change your career. You snort at that. Highly unlikely, but it’s going to bring in extra money, which is a good enough reason. “Just this last one, then I’m going to bed,” you tell yourself.

You place the earphones back into your ears and press the green button on your touchscreen. “Hey there, handsome.” There’s a pause, and you briefly wonder if they’ve decided to hang up when he finally speaks.

“Hey,” he responds simply, sounding kind of awkward.

“You caught me just in time,” you say naughtily.

“Oh?” he sounds intrigued, though the awkwardness remains. He’s probably just shy or clueless about what to do. “Why is that?”

For a moment, you’re taken aback by how much you’re attracted to his voice. That’s never happened to you before, and he’s barely said five words. Masculine, educated, and gruff. Swoon.

“Um...” You try to get back into character while scolding yourself. The conversation has only just started; you can’t screw it up already. Get your head in the game, girl. “Because I’m wet and needing a man to help me out.” Internally, you wince. That’s pretty weak considering how good you usually are at this.

He doesn’t seem to think so because he releases a sexy, “Shit. I—” He’s breathing heavily, and you wait for him to finish, sensing he has something else he wants to say. “I don’t know if this was a good idea,” he admits after a moment.

Fuck, you’re losing him, and you’re losing him fast. You need to think quickly if you want to keep him on the line. You don’t want to admit it, but your interest in this man goes beyond the money you’re earning from him. He’s ignited something in you. “Wait! Please,” you breathe. “I—I’m so horny. I need you. Please? Just stroke your dick for me. I need it.” There you go; you knew you could do better.

“Damn it,” he hisses, and then there’s the sound of a belt buckle, and you know you’ve got him. “What’d you need, sweetie? Tell me,” he demands, and for the first time since doing this job, you feel a wave of lust hit you.

Swallowing in an attempt to bring moisture back to your dry mouth—it all seems to have headed south, if you know what you mean—you respond truthfully, “You.” Jesus, you shouldn’t be doing this, but before you can stop yourself, your left hand is slipping underneath your strap top and finding your breasts. “I need you, please—” You pause for a second. You don’t know if it will work, but if you’re right about him, this is going to go down a treat. For both him and for you. “—sir.”

And you’re right because he lets out a loud groan, making you squeeze your thighs together in response. Jesus, you haven’t wanted someone this badly in what feels like forever.

“Fuck, you’re going to be such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You’re already nodding before he finishes his sentence. “Yes, god, yes.” You move your right hand so it’s also caressing your breasts. In this moment, you completely love your headset, which allows you to talk and touch at the same time.

“Mm, you’re so obedient, baby,” he tells you, approval evident in his husky voice. “Tell me, Princess, tell me are your nipples hard?”

Your pussy clenches almost painfully, and you try to remind it to calm down because it’s only just started. “They’re hard. So hard they’re showing through my shirt.”

You’re getting so hazy with lust you’re not sure what to do with yourself, so you pinch your nipples roughly and almost cry out in frustration, knowing it would be so much better if he were doing it for you.

“Damn, that’s beautiful, sweetheart,” he tells you, and your belly does a funny flip. “You touchin’ them? Want you to roll them between your fingers. Not too hard, just enough pressure to leave you needing more.”

It’s not easy to admit, but you think he’s better at this than you are, and it crosses your mind that you should probably be paying him. “I already am,” you confess with a guilty laugh. “Your voice... it’s, uh, fucking hot.” You hesitate because you’re not sure if you can say that to him. It’s not very professional, but then you remind yourself that you’re only second-guessing it because you’re actually getting off on it.

"You that eager for me, princess?" he sounds pretty damn pleased with himself. "Tell me how it feels. You know, I'm stroking my dick to this. Getting hard over the noises you're making, and the pretty picture you're giving me."

The image of this man, who you are undoubtedly attracted to, stroking his hard cock over the thought of you pleasuring yourself drives you crazy. He seems so generous, something rare nowadays.

"It feels..." you breathe, trying to find the right words. "Like it's not enough. I need more. Christ." You throw your head back against your pillows, frustrated with yourself and the way you're acting. Completely unprofessional.

"Shh," he coos softly. "I've got you. I'm going to take care of you. Okay, princess?" He's so freaking good at this. You're practically shivering in anticipation of what he might say next. "I want you to get naked for me. And tell me, baby, you got any toys?"

"Um," you think about his question as you pull your strap top over your head. It gets caught on the earphone wire. "Wait a second." You quickly untangle yourself before placing the earphones back into your ears. Moving on to your shorts, you push them eagerly down your legs. "Yes, I have one of those little bullet vibrators."

"Good. I want you to get it for me, princess."

You bite your lip for a moment, feeling extremely dirty about what you're about to do. "Yes, sir..." you say before reaching toward your side cabinet and opening the bottom drawer. In an old, tiny, purple purse with a single zip sits the bullet. You take it out before getting comfortable on the bed once more. "I've got it."

He hums in approval. "Now, I'm more than happy to go slow, make this last, but I'm sensing that my girl wants to come hard and fast, am I right?"

You suck in an unsteady breath. Being called his girl really shouldn't make you feel as giddy as it does. Why and how does a complete stranger have such an effect on you? You're never one of those girls who fall for a man's charm easily. Yet here you are, swooning over a guy because he's good at talking dirty and has a sexy voice.

Apparently you were easier to seduce than you originally thought.

"Yes," you choke out, wondering if you'd wake up if you pinched yourself hard enough. You wouldn't try it, though, just in case you were dreaming. You really aren't ready for it to end. "God, yes."

"All right then," he chuckles, the sound warm. "I'll do what you want this time. Next time, what I say goes, okay, princess?"

Before you have a chance to respond, he's giving you more orders, and in no way are you complaining.

"I want you to spread your pretty little thighs for me, baby." His voice, and the way he's breathing, gives you the impression that he's getting just as excited as you are.

"Okay," you squeak rather embarrassingly. Cool air hits your most sensitive area as you do what he orders, your hands resting against the inside of your thighs, fingers clutching your vibrator as you wait impatiently for his instructions.

You have yet to turn the bullet on, but it already feels like your insides are vibrating.

"Now, take your hand and spread your pussy lips for me."

And there you go, once again speechless—and breathless—because of this man and his words. Seriously, he could do this job better than you. You have to admit, you're storing parts of this conversation away for both personal and professional use later on.

Your hands automatically do as he says, your body desperate for some kind of release. You feel overwhelmed and don't know where to start or what to do in order to relieve it. Thank God you have him to guide you; otherwise, you might combust. Then again, if he wasn't here, you wouldn't have this problem in the first place.

"Okay," you breathe, feeling more and more like a client than a sex line operator. But taking control is obviously something he enjoys, so who are you to put a stop to this? What’s the saying? ‘Customers are always right?’ Well, you absolutely, completely, one hundred percent agree!

"Stretch yourself out," he continues, his voice starting to strain. "Force your sexy little clit out of its hood. I don't want it hiding when you start fucking yourself. All right, princess?"

Fuckkk. Just when you think he can't possibly get any hotter, he goes and says that. Your pussy feels like it’s on fire; your clit is so swollen it hurts. You wouldn't be surprised if you came the second you put any pressure on your nub.

"Now," he continues. "Turn your bullet on and press it to your clit. You're not allowed to stop until your legs are shaking and you're calling out my name. Got it?" You can hear how hard he's pumping his dick now. For a moment, you feel guilty. Are you neglecting him? But then you remind yourself again that this is what he wants.

You know you're not going to last long. You're too excited. Not to mention, it’s been a while since you've spent some time with your right hand. You twist the top of your bullet, putting it on the highest speed. You know you're worked up enough to take it; usually, you start on low and build your way up because you're overly sensitive. Right now, you know it won’t be an issue.

The bullet starts to shake violently, but the noise is low, like a quiet buzzing. Your left hand holds yourself open, fingers forming a 'V' and spreading your lips as far as you can, just as he instructed.

You don’t need to tell him what you’re doing; the moment you press the bullet to yourself, a half-gasp, half-moan escapes your lips. You’re right—you definitely won’t last long. The vibrations are intense, and you draw small circles on yourself, pushing yourself even closer to the edge.

“Damnit,” he hisses. You’re quickly learning it’s one of his favorite words. “You sound fucking sexy. Wish I could see you. Watch you,” he inhales sharply. He’s just as close as you are.

“What’s—” you attempt to speak but end up gasping instead. Wetness gathers below, soaking your entrance and trailing toward your clit. The added lubrication lets the bullet slide more freely around your nub, the sensation unbelievable. “What’s—”

“Princess?” he chokes, likely having the same problem as you.

So close now. So fucking close. You just need a little more. The rhythm is perfect, and you can hear him breathing in your ear, letting out the occasional groan. It’s too damn much, but you can’t let yourself go—not without— “What’s your name?”

"Joel."

"Fuck - Joel!"

You see stars, as cliché as it sounds. Your whole body breaks into spasms, your left hand falling to the sheets and gripping the fabric desperately. Your right hand forces the bullet between your slippery lips, and your thighs clamp around your hand. Incoherent words tumble from your mouth: “Oh god,” “Fuck,” and Joel’s name.

As you come back down to earth, you can hear that Joel barely followed two seconds behind.

“Damn it, Princess. You’re so fucking good. Sound so pretty. Done so well,” the words spill from his mouth like sweet wine. He probably isn’t even aware of them. The sound of him fisting his dick is irregular and off-beat. “Fuck. Damn. You’re such a good girl.”

You remove the bullet from yourself—if you leave it there any longer, it’s going to become painful—and let out a giggle. Your cheeks are flushed, your body buzzing with pleasure. Lightheaded and giddy, you think to yourself that this guy must be amazing in bed. “That was fucking amazing.”

“Yeah,” he laughs breathlessly. “You can say that again. I can’t believe I almost hung up.”

“That would have been bad,” you reply, wondering if your heart will slow down anytime soon. “Very, very bad.”

“Oh yeah,” he agrees, then pauses before adding, “Let me ask you something.”

“Go ahead.” You hesitate for only a moment. It’s unusual for clients to stick around afterward, but you’ve quickly realized this guy isn’t a normal caller.

“What’s your real name?” he asks. “No way is it ‘Angel.’” He snorts, finding your alias hilarious.

Is Angel that bad of a name? You think it’s kind of cool. The company is called Angels and Demons, with you being the Angel. Elliot’s alias is Daemon because it’s close to “demon” but sounds way better. When a customer calls, they get an automated voice instructing them to press the number for their chosen operator, complete with a brief description.

You’re losing your train of thought; you can’t give him your real name, can you? It’s against the rules. If Jane found out, she’d be pissed. She wouldn’t fire you, but her anger is almost as bad. With the image of facing her wrath in mind, you tell Joel, “I’m sorry, I can’t.” Your tone is regretful because you’d really like to tell him. “My boss would…it’s against the rules.”

“Ah,” he responds, masking the disappointment. “It’s all right. I understand.”

“Sorry,” you apologize again, hating the idea of letting him down, especially after how amazing he just made you feel.

"Seriously, Princess, it’s fine,” he reassures you, easing the guilt. “I had a really good time tonight. You can bet I’ll be expecting a repeat tomorrow.” You just know that if you could see him right now, his eyes would sparkle with mischief.

Your pussy throbs again just thinking about it. God, he makes you insatiable. “I’m really, really looking forward to it,” you tell him honestly.

“Me too.” There’s a brief pause, then, “Goodnight, Princess.”

“Goodnight, Joel.” Hanging up the phone, you place it against your lips, letting everything sink in. Alone with your thoughts, you can’t believe you just had full-blown phone sex with a client. It’s so unlike you. It’s more like something Elliot would do. Speaking of…

“Elliot, you won’t believe what just happened!” you shout at the top of your lungs.

[things-for-your-little-mindset]

Things for your Angelic regressor !

Things for your little angel <3

FOODS AND SNACKS ...

Dreamy Milk – Warm vanilla or honey milk with a dash of cinnamon, served in a starry cup

Cloud Pudding – Vanilla pudding with whipped cream "clouds" and edible gold stars

Angel milk - Warmed up vanilla milk. Soft and sweet!

Angel Kisses - Soft, fluffy white marshmallows heated over a fire (Requires big help), and then dipped in melty white chocolate/yogurt!

Cotton candy - white or pink or blue! Any flavor, any color <3

Powdered sugar donuts - cozy and best when warm!

Dinner rolls - butter and honey make them extra tasty! Use powdered sugar to your advantage!

Cloudy lemonade - Lemonade, a vanilla or ice cream, and some cotton candy!

OUTFIT IDEAS

soft white dresses, sundresses especially work !

Soft nightgowns and robes.

Oversized pale sweaters, like pastel colors!

Pajamas with star patterns or moons!

Hoodies with wings (Can be homemade wings!)

Babydoll dresses

Tulle skirts

Overalls!

Peter pan collared shirts

Comfy baggy pants.

Fluffy socks!

Halo headbands

star shaped hair clips

ACTIVITIES

= coloring pages = Baking = DIY angelic crafts = collecting feathers = Bouncing on a trampoline = make paper wings! = watch soft & dreamy cartoons (Little twin stars, kiki's delivery service, hamtaro, etc) = Write little notes! = Listening to lullabies! = Cloudwatching = play cute games on a device! = Take a bubble bath!

Songs and playlists

Chess - slowed (Joyful) Goodbye world - train to busan soundtrack (NOTE: this is a movie about zombies! It is violent.) Rainbow - MLP movie (Sia) Towards the sun - The movie "Home" (Rihanna) Let us adore you - Steven universe Here comes a thought - Steven universe Home - Undertale (Toby fox) Rises the Moon (Liana Flores) Cupid - twin ver Sped up (FIFTY FIFTY) Banana shake - sped up (HUS) I like it - Vocal version ( Dark cat) Cinnamoroll and Hoshizora camp (cocone) Nico Nico Nii (Yazawa Nico) Forwards Beckon Rebound (Adrianne lenker)

[docdudo]

Hybrid 141 As Parents - Foster Human Child!Reader (Part 12)

You woke up feeling uncomfortably warm. Not that it bothered you too much—it was the kind of warmth that made you feel too comfortable to move. Wrapped tightly in a cocoon of blankets, you realized you were stuck in someone’s arms.

And when you blinked your eyes open, all you saw was darkness.

The darkness of someone’s shirt.

You shifted slightly, trying to free yourself a little, but the grip was way too strong. You literally couldn't move, the blankets wrapped too tightly around your body. It made you squirm a bit to try and get free, but still, nothing. "Mhm..."

"Kyle, Johnny, let her go." Simon's low voice sounded muffled somewhere behind you, his heavy hand patting your covered body lightly. "I don't think humans enjoy nesting immobile like this."

Which, yeah, had some truth to it, considering you were still squirming a little, unconfortable with being stuck in place so firmly.

"It's for protection..." Johnny whined—mostly playfully—as he gave you one last squeeze before loosening his hold, pulling you up slightly so you could now see the rest of the room. The blanket that was wrapped around you not so constricting anymore. "Well, good morning, pup! Slept well?"

You blinked slowly, still feeling too sluggish to answer properly. Instead, you rubbed your eyes and face slowly with both hands, trying to wake up a bit. That didn’t stop Johnny, though, who immediately reached out to feel your forehead, checking your temperature. "Ah think it went down..." The Werewolf muttered, his brow furrowing slightly in concentration. It was harder for him to gauge your temperature when he ran much hotter than humans.

"Let me."

Gaz stepped in, leaning closer to feel your forehead, his feathers twitching slightly even when his body was otherwise totally still.

"You feel much better, fledgling." He announced, a small, gentle smile on his face.

"Great! This means we can play, right, pup?"

You glanced up at Johnny’s face nervously. He looked so eager, but you weren’t quite sure if you were ready to play yet... he was still way too big and scary to consider fighting with him.

“Johnny.” Simon reprimanded in his low voice as he stood from the nest. “What did we talk about before?”

"And ya think ah'll hurt her or somethin'? Ya don't knae human limits either, do ya?" Johnny didn’t yell, but his naturally loud tone rose slightly, and your body tensed instinctively between the soft blankets.

Were they fighting? Were they going to argue because of you?

"Humans are more delicate." Gaz chimed in with a neutral tone, stretching his wings as he stood up from the nest, still addressing Johnny. "Especially her, weak as she is after the flu...."

"I knaw ya worried, Ky. I knae, but I'm very careful. Ya knae that." Johnny replied, his voice softening as he moved up to hug Gaz's side gently, one hand smoothing down the feathers on his wing. "Besides, ya have to help me convince Ghostie—he’s such a hardass."

"Har har." Simon deadpanned, rolling his eyes as he bent down to lift you out of the nest. His heavy hands patted your pajamas gently to both fix your clothes and wake you up a bit.

Johnny grinned smugly, amused by Simon’s reaction, his wolf ears pressing down as he let go of Kyle to approach you.

"Ay, pup, do ya wanna see how hybrids spar?" Johnny asked with a mischievous grin as he looked down at you, stepping closer to Simon.

"Huh...?" You murmured, blinking up at him, caught off guard.

"Johnny—" Simon hissed, the raspy, airy sound of a Wraith’s warning making you jump back in surprise.

Only to be interrupted by Johnny tackling him down back into the nest, the Werewolf growling back as they tumbled on top of the blankets and pillows.

You gasped weakly in surprise, eyes wide as you watched them both fall to their knees, Johnny's bicep trying to get a hold of Simon's neck as he tried to push the bigger man down. Simon was clearly stronger though, as he held back the Werewolf's arm and pulled it off of him.

Gaz chuckled sharpily at his two mates' antics, shaking his head softly as he walked past you to go to the bathroom. The soft feathers of his wing brushed against your back reassuringly as he went.

You noticed Simon’s sclera starting to darken, and he let out a low hiss before tackling Johnny's side roughly, pinning him to the nest this time. Johnny growled back, his nails digging into Simon’s arms, in his compression shirt, which somehow resisted tearing under the sharp claws.

You could see both of their muscles bulging with how much strengh they were fighting eachother with.

“You two muppets, stop that.” Price’s voice came from the doorway. He entered the room, shaking his head in mild amusement at the scene. “You’re scaring the kid.”

Johnny took advantage of Simon’s brief distraction to push him off, immediately crawling over to you with a panting grin.

"See? Isnae it fun??" He asked, leaning on the edge of the nest with his arms crossed and his head resting on them. "Course ah'd go easy on ya, pup. Let you mess me up, aye?"

"Who called, Price?" Simon asked, straightening up and casually scratching his arm where Soap had sinked his nails in.

"Nikolai. He was with Kate and Rya." Price replied with a small, affectionate smile, a tinge of affection on his gruffy voice.

"Are they...?" Simon started to ask, glancing at you briefly before looking back at Price, trying to be subtle to avoid worring you in case he was wrong.

"Yes, they are paying us a visit soon." Price confirmed, his tone careful as he gauged your reaction.

"Who...?" You asked quietly, already feeling anxiety creep in at the mention of three new people.

"Bonnie lassie, it's okay, aye? It's just our pack!" Johnny said quickly, trying to reassure you as he got up to his knees to manage to look you better in the eye. "Our pack is very nice, aye? Nice people, very gentle! Ya'll love them!"

"Well, Rya, sure, but Nik and Kate...." Gaz emerged from the bathroom, looking refreshed and wearing a small, amused smile.

"Gaz."

"Kyle."

Both Ghost and Price immediatly scolded the Harpy in unison, their tones sharp but familiar. Gaz just laughed it off, shaking his head lightly.

"Kidding, kidding~"

"They are very nice people, I swear it, doll." John said quickly, his small smile softened by the warmth in his voice, though partially hidden by his beard. "I'll show you pictures after, okay?"

You hesitated, still feeling uncertain. Nervousness tightened your chest, but you nodded slowly. It wasn’t like refusing was an actual option. This wasn’t truly your house. Maybe the best you could do was what you'd done in some foster homes before that had frequent visitors: hide away from sight until they were gone.

Like a cat.

"Let's have breakfast, hun. And you need to take one more dose of medicine. Maybe some warm tea too, hm?" Kyle smiled, his wing brushing your back gently to nudge you toward the door.

You were still getting used to the mornings in their house. They were clearly early risers, with none of them showing the slightest hesitation about starting the day even if they just woke up. The ease with which they interacted, did chores, and moved around impressed you. It was a stark contrast to your usual sluggish mornings.

Not that you were grumpy in the mornings—just… slow. Sluggish. You often zoned out while sitting at the table, barely able to keep up with the energetic chatter and movement around you. They talked continuously, laughing loudly, getting up and sitting back down, picking up dishes, and cleaning as they went.

Truly impressive. You could never.

After taking a warm shower, brushing your teeth, and getting dressed in warm clothes, you found a new problem, though. Johnny was trailing you like a persistent puppy. His wide grin practically begged you to join him in whatever he had in mind.

"If you're going to play with her, take her downstairs to the gym." Simon suggested, clearly offering no help in discouraging Johnny's enthusiasm.

The small, betrayed look you shot Simon only made him chuckle softly as Johnny gently took your hand, leading you toward their indoor gym.

The gym was much bigger than you'd expected, equipped with far more gear than some gyms you'd seen before. The bright white lighting and clean concrete floors created a spacious and organized feel. Each piece of heavy equipment was well-spaced, making it seem as though every detail had been carefully planned.

You scanned the area, taking it all in, until Johnny tugged you toward a section lined with thick, black padded mats on the ground.

"I... don't know how to... fight...." You murmured, your brows knitting together in confusion as you looked up at Soap. It was almost a silent plea for clarification.

"I knae, lassie, don't ya worry! We're just playing!" He beamed at you, guiding you to the edge of the mats. "Here, take off your shoes, bonnie."

Both of you stepped onto the mats. You wore the new socks John had gotten for you—purple with white stars—that carefully protected your small feet, while Johnny went barefoot. His feet were large, with sharp toenails and thick fur along the tops, really what you would expect from a Werewolf.

"What... do you wanna play...?" You asked hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper in the otherwise quiet gym. "Play fight...?"

"Ah like some wressling like anybody, mah kids also love it too! Ah'm sure we'll have some fun, wee lass!"

He smiled confidently, dropping to his knees. He had an eager and wolfish grin on his face, energy pratically radiating from him.

"Let's see what ya got!"

Part 11 / Part 13

[colorlessjay]

You know that relationship dynamic photo where one wears the pajamas and the other a feathered robe. So it got me thinking between Cas and Dean which one wears the pajamas & the robe

I don't even need to draw this one, this is canon

The only reason why they could've give Misha a sluttier widow's robe was cause they used all the budget for Dean's night gown

[norcigs]

SAME TIME? (CAM BUNNY .ᐟ ᢉ𐭩 pt 3)

previous part series masterlist

synop: you and lando explore your connection a bit furthur

warnings: smuuut, with plot, dom!lando, sub!reader, m and f masterbating, praise, vry light degrading, some pet play, use of bunny whore slut doll and others, ownership

🍸: 5.1k words (spoiling you guys)

his big hands sat steady and tight on your waist. you were straddling him, but he was keeping you still and up right while he pistoned his cock into you. he held you in position, leaning over top of him so he could bend his knees to fuck you better. he would pull down on your hips every so often to give you a harder thrust and hit that spot that drove you crazy. he didnt even need to look up, didnt need to see you– he knew he would finish far too quickly if he did. he stared straight ahead at his hands on his girls hips. fucking her like she needed him to. really, he didnt think about his own pleasure at all, once you started gripping at his shoulders and whining into his neck for more. he was concentrated. completely focused. his brows furrowed as he grunted under you, his muscles burned and he needed a rest. but he didnt care, even as a layer of sweat coated his whole body. he just kept fucking you. he just kept making you feel like only he could, you were his after all.

suddenly you were collapsing onto him, and you felt light as a feather. almost like you weren't there. with your face tucked into his neck he was able to see the room again. the lights were fuzzy… or was he that exhausted? he didn't feel your waist in his hands anymore. he saw that they were there, still in place, but he didnt feel them. he was a bit dazed but this felt different, like being lost in a house you've lived in your whole life.

he kissed your shoulder and allowed his hands to trail to your lower back before he let his eyes close. just a slow blink, but when his eyes opened again, you were gone. he wasn't naked anymore, and the harsh slap of reality came when he finally heard the blaring noise coming from his alarm clock.

this was the third night in a row lando had dreamed of you. he didn't mind it, the downside of waking up with a solid cock was outweighed by any time he got to spend with you. it was stupid, he knew that, having a crush on some random girl he knew nothing about. he just, he didn't care. for whatever reason, you were the thing his dick, mind, and heart, kept finding its way back too. and those three had never agreed on someone before.

he drove faster, he worked quicker, kept himself busy with things to do so the days he couldn't see you would pass. the frustration that bloomed from his dick made him brake later and hit more apexes. you made him better. people started asking “what’s happened to you” or “what changed” and his excuses were lame and not believable. especially when his engineers constantly had to snap him back into a conversation from his daydreaming.

this week started the european triple header. Emilia-Romagna first, with Monaco hot on its heels. preparation had been crazy, and while lando had been driving his best, his head wasn't exactly in it the whole time. his thoughts had shifted from eating you out to eating team dinners with you. he thought about bringing you with him to work, having you sit pretty and wait for him just incase he needed a kiss. he thought about having you in his arms any time he was talking to someone. your back pressed to his front, with his arms draped over your shoulders so no one ever doubted who you belonged to.

as he shut the door of his apartment behind him, his chest hummed with excitement. wednesday night. he gets to see his girl. today’s training was particularly sweaty so he got in the shower and got himself ready for you. washing his hair and cleaning under his nails like some school boy with a crush. choosing his pajamas with what he thought you might like in mind. his constant refreshing of your page throughout the week had, unsurprisingly, not magically caused you to appear. but tonight it would. you had a date. “same time wednesday” was the promise that echoed in his head as he laid his computer to the side waiting for that time to roll around.

his dick was already getting hard with want. desire filling him so far up he had to take deep breaths to slow his heart rate. he had to actively try and clear his mind as flashes of your tits, or hands, or wet cunt flickered through his thoughts like you were haunting him. or blessing him, or somewhere beautiful between the two. he opened his eyes with a sigh as he gave up on trying to will his cock to soften.

CAMBUNNY HAS JUST WENT LIVE!

the notification popped up in the top right corner of your profile and he clicked in with no hesitation. he was in too deep to play the nonchalant game. he was waiting for you, and he didnt care if you knew. hell, he was sitting in his apartment, alone, wearing the cologne he thought you would favor. your cam came up full screen, in the same position as last time, close to the bed. he had grown really fond of your fairy lights and barely pink painted walls. he felt a quick pang to his heart when he didn't see you on screen.

where are you baby? he asked himself in his head, almost pathetic. he heard a moment of static, like something being plugged in or turned on, and then your voice, sugary sweet and dripping with beauty.

“four?” you questioned from outside of the frame. you knew it was him, or at least assumed it was. broadcasting yourself live to anyone, and your first thought was of him. his cock standing up higher as he tried to not convince himself he owned you. but your obedience was making it really difficult.

HI BABY

he typed quickly, not wanting you huffy about slow responses. and you were fucking giggling. soft, and genuine, you giggled into the mic, at the pet name, or at whatever was causing you both to be so drawn to the other.

“you joined before i finished getting set up, gimmie one minute” every inflection you put into speaking sent a chill up his spine. you were so real, so individual, so exquisitely you.

TAKE YOUR TIME DOLL

“remember the surprise i told you about ?”

OF COURSE I DO

“okay well i have it on, but its nothing big, so, i just dont want you to be disappointed” your voice trailed off with that innocence that made lando want to kiss you gently or fuck you stupid.

TRUST ME, YOU COULD NEVER DISAPPOINT ME

a quick sigh escaped you, and he tried not to think about your heart racing, wanting to make him proud. it felt like time moved in slow motion as you finally breached the edge of the camera frame. first your hand and arms, bare. then as you slowly crawled to the center of your bed, revealing yourself, your surprise, his mouth dried up and dick pulsed like it might have a heart of its own.

a black leather body suit adorned your figure. the thick leather looked tight and pushed your breasts up where they might spill out if he had his way with you. it was strapless, collar bones on full display– a part of your body he was growing oddly fond of. his eyes trailed down at a snail's pace, like he could drink you in, or like, if he moved too quickly he might finish in his own shorts untouched. black tights under the garment came out and covered your legs, sheer enough to see skin, but modest enough to keep him guessing. crawling across the bed on all fours, back arching, you shook your butt just briefly to show off your tail. a white cotton puff sat right where your perky ass was hardly confined by the skimpy bodysuit. you moved to bend your knees and sit back on your ankles. the last detail finally in frame, a matching black leather collar with silver charms spelling BUNNY. stars pricked the outside of lando’s vision as he really tried to remain composed.

“well what do you think” your voice pulled his floating thoughts back to reality. he wanted to fucking eat you. or worship you. he wanted you bent over, pulling your hair, and giving him what he wanted. or he wanted to sit at your feet and beg you to let him taste your cunt. this tug of war his head played with only made his dick warmer and hips more eager.

YOU ARE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN I HAVE EVER SEEN

and he meant it. as his eyes traced over every inch of you begging to find a flaw. something that could stop his heart from only beating when it thought about you. he couldnt. you sat there, looking like a holy relic, asking him if he liked it? hands folded in your lap like the sweetest little thing. reaching up to move your hair over your shoulders to behind your back. gentle and graceful, showing more of your chest and shoulders. his lips tingled as he thought about leaving scattered kisses along the soft skin. he thought about taking his time with you, really savoring you, appreciating all that was his.

and you giggled at his message, air leaving your lungs like what he said was impossible. like you really didnt know how divine you were to him. like everytime he saw you, he didnt have to question whether or not you were a dream. like something painted by stars and carved by the moon.

“play with me” your soft voice threaded through your mic and straight to his soul. pouting with wet pathetic eyes he didnt even need to see. you were getting fidgety, as his admiring made time move a lot slower on his end.

GETTING NEEDY BUNNY?

“dont tease me, i got all dressed up for you” you whined. and his hand was wrapped around his dick before he could even blink. for him? you did this for him. he thought about his hand replacing your collar and teaching you what it really meant to be owned.

WANNA SHOW ME WHAT A GOOD GIRL YOU CAN BE?

your head was nodding quickly, shame leaving you as it shifted to heat in your face and clit.

GET YOUR TOY AND TURN AROUND

you reached under your pillow, visions flickered in his head as he thought about you desperately rutting against your vibrator late at night, shoving your own face in your pillow to keep quiet. you quickly shifted to have your butt facing the camera, leaning down and arching your back for him. the body suit had little latches where it could be undone right where he might need easy access to you. you laid down onto your elbows, letting you arch further. he could see you now. all of you. you faced away from him, so he couldnt see your face, but he could see your whole figure. all of you at once, the full picture finally completed. had he not been squeezing his tip like it might escape he would have finished like a virgin at nothing but your back arching.

your hands moved between your legs, and you separated the two clasps that held your body suit together over your cunt. pulling it up, he could see your glistening pussy. the tights were just sheer enough for him to see your clit, sweet slit, and the wet spot you left against the fabric. this was the first time he had seen your cunt, really seen it. next to the simmering desire in his belly, was a twist of possession. thats my girl, thats my fucking pussy.

HEAVEN

he told you simply. which is exactly what it felt like. the pool of warmth churning in his crotch was nothing compared to the euphoria he felt in his head at the sight of you. you breathed deeply, shaky and uncontrolled. he saw your hand reaching back to your his pussy with the vibrator now turned on. just as you rested it against the soft bud, burning with want, you saw his message.

DID I GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO DO THAT BUNNY?

you shut it off and snapped the vibrator away from yourself as quickly as you could– not even hesitating. “n-no sir, m sorry” you whimpered, muffled slightly by your head hanging closer to the bed now. your ass pressed more towards the camera, hips straining like it hurt for him to not be there fucking you. obedient. it made his head spin. in your room, with your vibrator, and your cunt. listening to him. behaving.

“please four… please it– it hurts i need you” you clawed at the sheets in front of you. voice exasperated and he knew what you meant. he felt it too. like an itch so deep it could never be scratched. as good as this felt, as good as you looked, he wouldnt be completely satisfied until he felt his cock sink into your velvet pussy. until he placed his hands where your thighs met your hips and jerked your cunt back against him. your whining raked through him as he didnt have it in him to be mean to you anymore.

GO ON, PUT ON A GOOD SHOW FOR DADDY

he regretted calling himself that for a split second, until your moan roared back at him through his laptop. nodding your head and replacing the buzzing toy to your most intimate area. relaxing instantly your voice was a purr as you choked out soft moans from the pleasure. his dick found a steady rhythm, one he liked, until he noticed how your hips moved back and forth ever so slightly. rocking so gently, you could miss it, if you didn't watch with the care that lando did. you fucked yourself against your vibrator. even in this position, you couldnt help but think about being fucked like a whore. spread open around his cock, desperate to be controlled. now his hand matched your pace– though, if he ever got his hands on you, his pace would be a hell of a lot more ruthless than yours.

he spit on his own hand. something he hadn't done before alone, but his hand didn't feel nearly as good as your leaking cunt looked. he thought about how you might drool on his cock while you sucked him, before he pulled you off and used your pussy to finish. the unease he felt about his own spit on his dick left almost instantly as his pumps felt just a fraction more like what he thought your cunt would feel like. you were messy, tights ruined with wetness, as you let noises fall from your mouth and worked your clit like you were

MADE FOR ME

he told you. like most of his messages, he felt as if it went straight to your clit. between the blurry wetness of your tights he could see you clench around nothing. yearning for him.

“mhm made jus fo’you daddy” you slurred with none of the innocence he had become accustomed to. no, this was you at your most vulnerable. completely in the palms of his hands. yanking his dick at the thought of it, you telling him your pussy was made for him. like spreading your legs was all you ever wanted, turning your brain off and just letting him lay claim to you.

his dick was fucking twitching. what was it about you that drove him so fucking crazy. he couldnt hold himself together. the only solace being how your thighs clenched, and he knew your body well enough now to know you were just as close as he was.

CAN YOU DO ONE SETTING HIGHER FOR ME BABY?

your high pitched mmphm was completely lost to the pillow covering your mouth but your other hand clicking the smaller button on your toy was a good answer for him. he wanted, needed, you to feel good. to watch pleasure shriek through your body. he wanted you to feel the best you ever had– with him there. he wanted you to know only he could make you feel like this. wanted your body to lose itself and your mind to trust him enough to choose the stopping point.

you sounded pathetic. delicious, and entirely pathetic. you made noises that sounded more like scripture to lando. you looked like something he would kneel before and pray to. he pumped his cock to you. to the pace of your moans now, they were faster, more like how he would fuck your cunt. his eyes wanted to lull him under, sink into the vision of you really being ruined by his dick, so he could finish. but the idea of missing even a moment of the show you were giving him made his eyelids strain to stay open.

I KNOW BABY, ITS TOO MUCH FOR YOUR SWEET CUNT, I KNOW, JUST TAKE IT FOR ME BUNNY

he was talking you through it. the way your voice sounded ragged and losing the poise of your usual pretty little moans. you were gone. body completely at the mercy of your clit, at his mercy. he couldn't imagine anything being in your little head but his instructions. you sobbed at the almost overstimulation from your vibrator. his innocent little girl. like you hadn't ever experienced this much before… like you had never tried to allow yourself this level of euphoria. but with him, you listened, let him decide, you did as you were told. your slit was clenching more now, reading his messages, knowing you were in good hands, he had you.

“m so– cn i cum please four, can i cum for you” you begged as your body shook. asking him permission for when you were allowed to finish. like a pet. that same blush of pride swelled in his chest as you asked him to tell you what you could or couldn't do with your his body.

HOLD IT SLUT

he couldn't help himself. not when you were so willing to be broken. he hated being mean to you, really he did, but the way your body clenched and loosened like a whore; he couldn't help it. tsk tsk sweet thing, if you weren't such a nasty slut, daddy wouldn't have to be so mean to you. you did as he told you. bunched fists of your sheets as your body was nearly spasming trying to keep from finishing. sobs wrecked through you, as the pillow covering your mouth did little to muffle them now. completely fucking dazed you were mumbling “please” and “wan cum for you” like a manifestation. like the only thing that could make you finish was his fucking permission.

his dick burned, hot and angry against the inside of his fist. clenching tighter around his length like he thought your pussy would. he thought about bucking himself into you as you sobbed like this, completely out of control and in his hands. he thought about making you watch him destroy you. making you watch yourself beg him to destroy you. his hand pumped his cock with every bit of strength he had. watching you fall apart for him.

“four plea–”

LET IT GO BUNNY

your orgasm blared through your body like an earthquake. you shook and convulsed as you tried to keep yourself up right and your cunt open. the scream you let out was almost inhuman. you couldnt think anymore, fucked completely stupid, there was nothing in you except selfish pleasure. brain mushy as you had never pushed yourself this far before. your vision went hot and white. sensations spread from your cunt to the top of your head and bottom of your feet. you couldn't tell where one part of your body ended and the other began. vibrations waved throughout your stomach and left a buzzing feeling on your skin. dizzy as you clenched around your emptiness and moaned his number like a plea to your god.

watching you gently tip off the mountain he had carried you to, sent him diving off straight after you. hips straining up as he yanked thick spurts out of his cock. cumming with a grunt down his own pajamas. hand dragging to force more white from his tip. teeth gritted together as he watched you shake while you finished together. leaving this world, for one of more bliss, at the same moment, hand in hand. it was then, his balls pulsing with a primal hunger, he realized, you owned him. as much as he thought of your sweet cunt as his. his cock belonged to you. red with a heat only you commanded, weak with an ache only you could satiate. as his head slipped back into the bliss of his high he thought, fucking slut. but even he wasn't sure which of you two he was referring to.

your sobbed moans had softened now. still dreamy and collapsed onto your bed, lando came down quicker than you did. at least, he willed himself to. if he was the one getting you so lost, he wanted to make sure he was always there to carry you back home. it didn't seem fair to make you stupid and then tell you to think by yourself right after. no, he would take care of you until you were ready. still fluttering with his own high, he told you

DID SO GOOD FOR ME, MY SWEET THING

still whining and clenching up every now and then, you hummed with an air of ease.

LISTENED SO WELL AND MADE ME SO PROUD

“you drive me crazy” slurred out of you with a sleepy and perfectly drained voice. he lingered at the thought of how much of a mess you would be after he finished with you. after he gave you more than you ever thought you could take. how you might curl up onto his chest, just wanting to be as close as possible. he shook off the image of your hearts beating in sync with one another. he blinked away the thought of you perfectly fitting in all the places he didn't even know were empty. “did you. . .” you tried to finish, trailing off with that same innocence that curled around his ribs like smoke, sweet and suffocating.

DID I WHAT? NEED BIG GIRL WORDS.

this give and take, the pull to his push, your melody to his harmony, different beats but mixing to a beautiful song. the dynamic was unspoken and yet, natural. like lightning and thunder of the same storm. he lead, you followed, you performed, he watched, you spoke, he listened, he pushed, you obeyed. completing one another like a tale as old as time.

the pitiful hmph you responded with was maddening. “did you, y’know, like did you finish too” you asked, quick and shy. falling apart for him like a whore and then being embarrassed to ask if he finished. sweet fucking girl, what am i gonna do with you.

YOU THINK I COULD CONTAIN MYSELF WITH HOW YOU LOOK FOR ME RIGHT NOW?

your giggle was softer now, more gentle, with that tired, loopy look that drenched your whole form. “sometimes…” you adjusted to be sitting back on your ankles again “you talk about me…” you turned around to face him, breasts hardly kept in by the crooked bodysuit “like you own me” you finished.

lando dropped his head back to the top of the couch, eyes nearly rolling. because, he did, he did talk about you like that, and you knew it. his shoulders tensed for a second as your mouth parted to continue “...and” he stared as you cocked your head to the side “...it gets me really fucking worked up” you purred, sounding better than sex itself.

YOU'RE MINE, FEEL LIKE YOU WERE MADE JUST FOR ME.

he thought to stop there but the heat in his cheeks and post nut clarity took over and he added

I MISS YOU WHEN YOU'RE GONE

a glimpse at his heart. a moment too intimate to fall behind the “watcher, player” mask. the dynamic leaking deeper into both of your muscles than you tried to let it.

“i miss you when i'm gone” your tone a whisper of something, like a secret. both of you dancing on the edge of a blade. knowing this is wrong, dangerous even. but being too dissolved in the electricity to care about the current pulling you out too far.

lando thought he could cry. if all the lights were out, and this moment was frozen, maybe he would. a sizzling in his chest as you sat more relaxed, thinking that's his girl, she belonged to him. his eyes finally blinked after not realizing how long he had gone without one. his eyes darted around the screen, shy now, avoiding eye contact with your breasts. he saw a new button at the bottom of your layout.

WANT TO TIP CAMBUNNY?..<3

it read and he clicked it without hesitation. deciding how much was trickier than he thought it would be. it being too little wasn't really a fear, it was the other end of the spectrum that worried him. how much would scare you away? or make you ask questions? he wanted to give you his credit card and follow you around while you bought anything you wished for.

FOUR HAS TIPPED CAMBUNNY €500!

popped up in chat the second he hit send, almost embarrassingly fast.

MAYBE BUY SOMETHING PRETTY FOR ME?

he thought adding the prompt would make you feel more validated in accepting the money. he didn't want you to feel like you had to do anything extra in your streams since he paid you. he liked what you were comfortable with. and clearly you liked getting dolled up.

“wh- wait whoa thats way too much, how can i refund that?” you asked as you frantically moved towards the camera off your bed.

DONT. LET ME SPOIL YOU

“does that make this hotter for you, four” a smirk laced your tone as you teased him. he smiled at you like a dumb kid. each time you two did this together, the walls came down just that little bit further. the connection lighting a spark in a forest, waiting to catch on fire. “ok, but i don't want to end up on BBC with ‘man loses everything due to cam girl addiction’ as the headline” you finished with air quotes, teasing still.

I PROMISE NOT TO GIVE ANYTHING I CANT AFFORD

it was corny. flexing his wallet like he had something to make up for. he didn't. but maybe, this did make it hotter for him. treating you good, spoiling his girl, taking care of you. this was a part he liked just as much as what happened between your legs. this is what made laying awake missing your weight atop him a little easier. made thinking about kissing your tears away and telling you how much he loved you less heart breaking.

GOT TO TAKE CARE OF MY GIRL

my girl. his girl. my girl. his girl. my girl. his girl. separated by everything, yet repeating identical mantras in your heads as you thought about the other.

“do you– if you– are you free tomorrow?” you tried to choke back the stutter but he heard it. lapping it up. liking how he affected you, no matter the context. thursday before a race weekend… he wasn’t really free tomorrow. but part of them both knew he was never going to tell her no.

FOR YOU, ALWAYS

“i was just thinking i could maybe go live again tomorrow, even though it's off schedule” you said, sitting at what he assumed was the desk where your camera or laptop sat. chest fully in front of the camera, and he could see a little sliver of your chin at the top of the frame. the wall dropping. “like around the same time? 9 pm CET?” you questioned as your head stayed trained towards your chat box… waiting for him. going out on a limb and being scared he might snap it off.

I'LL BE HERE DARLING

soft pink crawled over your exposed skin as you huffed happily through your nose. your hand reached towards where you usually ended the stream. snapping it back like you realized something cosmically important.

“wait last thing–” you spoke quickly, hoping he hadn't already clicked off. the possibility of that had never even crossed his mind. “what's your favorite color?” you asked.

a more loaded question for lando than you likely intended. his fingers moved before his instincts. before he had the chance to catch himself, to reconsider. if his wall was dropping low enough you might be able to peek over it, he didn't seem to mind.

ORANGE

no hesitation either. really, his favorite color probably wasn't orange. but it was his color. as much as four was his number and you were his girl. if there was any chance of seeing you covered in orange, covered in him, he was taking it.

“got it” you whispered like you heard something he had never told anyone. like you would memorize anything he told you as if it was sacred. your hand raised steady to just outside of the camera’s view, right where he pictured your lips would sit. then, he heard a kissing noise followed by a ‘pop’ sounding like punctuation. extending your hand and blowing it towards the camera, towards him. he felt his cheek warm on the right side like it landed there. completely stupid, yet content at the idea, he raised his fingers to softly ghost over the spot and savor something invisible. your cam went dark and the screen flashed white

CAMBUNNY HAS ENDED HER LIVE!

slowly, he found the strength to walk back to his bathroom, wanting to clean himself off. despite this being the third time he was washing one pair of pants after just seeing you, lando was elated. buzzing and churning in a way he had never experienced. thinking about carrying you to the shower and washing your hair. thinking about leaving kisses in the shape of his 4 on your tummy. heart skipping at him remembering he can see you tomorrow. hands sweating so little he convinced himself they weren't, but you had told him 9PM CET, Central European Timezone. his timezone. you shared a timezone, somehow, despite that still meaning you could be thousands of miles away, it made you feel a little bit closer. like he could feel your warmth peaking over the skyline, like the sun might during sunrise.

[dannyriccsystem]

Hello!! I absolutely love your work, and congratulations on the 1k followers <33

Could I please request Lando and the prompts 18, 26 and 50? Thank youu <3

YOU MAKE IT LOOK LIKE IT’S MAGIC.

1K SPECIAL - LN4

Comparing hand sizes + “Feel that? It’s just for you.” + “I love it when you touch me like that.” + “I want your hands on me. You won’t break me, I promise.”

SUMMARY: Teasing Lando about his large hands turns into a night filled with pleasure and sweet nothings :)

WORD COUNT: 963

WARNINGS: Smut, AFAB reader, fingering, P in V, hand kink (who else cheered)

FEATURING: Lando Norris x Reader

NOTE: This is for my girlies with hand kinks. I dedicate this to you…

YOU’RE CUDDLED UP TO YOUR BOYFRIEND, attention no longer on the movie before you, but fixated on him. His soft curls, sweet eyes, cute lips, and— Well, to put it lightly, his incredibly sexy hands. You hadn’t really paid them any mind before, but after seeing hundreds upon thousands of comments taking note of how veiny and large they were, you decided to take a peek. Indeed. They weren’t lying.

Lando kissed your scalp, nails scratching you up and down your back in a way that nearly lulled you to sleep. You hummed, pressing your cheek to his chest. Your boyfriend gave a breathy laugh through his nose as he brushed aside a particularly bothersome strand of hair.

“Tired?” He asks in a soft voice to preserve the quietness of the moment. You shake your head. “Then what’s up?”

“Just thinking…”

“About..?”

“You.” Your eyes drift down in a way that’s far from subtle. “And your tiny hands.”

“What?” He seemed offended.

“Yeah, they’re itty bitty.” Of course you’re just teasing him. It’s a lousy excuse to rile the guy up, but it works.

“No way. Come here,” He pats his lap, and you slowly move to straddle him. Lando presses his hand flat to yours, grinning when his fingers extend way past your own. You giggle.

“Alright, fine. You win.”

Lando leans in for a kiss. It’s short, but it’s sweet and it’s full of tension that neither of you move to work out. “I didn’t know it was a competition.” Your fingers lace together, smooth palms pressed together tight. He pulls your hand closer, kissing your palm sweetly.

His other hand lowers to your thigh with feather-like touches to the inside of your leg. The contact with your sensitive skin makes you shudder and bite your lip. “I like it when you touch me like that,” You breathe out. His eyes flicker to yours, and they’re full of newfound hunger.

Lando leans in, pressing kisses just below your jaw. He’s lifting you with ease, strong hands gripping at whatever skin he can. He lays you back on the couch, pushing your legs open. “Tell me to stop,” He mutters as he kisses your calf.

“Don’t,” You murmur. “I want your hands on me.”

“You sure?” He asks, but he’s already sliding your pajama bottoms and panties off, discarding them to the side.

“You’re not gonna break me, Lan.”

“I know… I just wanted to double check.”

He stares at your gleaming folds, licking his lips subconsciously. “I want your hands on me— In me.”

“I can do that.”

He stands up to kneel beside you, one hand slithering between your legs while the other cups your cheek. It’s an intimate scene. He rubs your folds in circular motions, kissing your breath away to stifle your pretty noises. You feel your legs twitch, your hands gripping the edge of the cushions for support.

Lando’s middle and ring finger slide in, teasing your hole as he presses his tongue flat to the sensitive skin of your neck. You quiver— Your whole body does. A sickenly embarrassing moan leaves your lips, making his shoulders shake with humiliating laughter.

“Feels good,” You whine, and he nods reassuringly.

“I’ll take good care of you, love.” He pushes his fingers in further, curling them to brush against your pulsing walls tantalizingly. You shudder, reaching out to grip his head of hair. Lando tuts when you slowly let go. “Be gentle.” You nod with obedience.

He withdraws his fingers, circling them around your extra sensitive clit. You squeal, biting down on your own arm to divert the sensitivity elsewhere. His hands feel so good that it almost hurts.

“Does that feel okay?” He asks quietly, almost as if he wasn’t just knuckle-deep inside your pussy. You nod, tears welling in your eyes. He wipes them nonchalantly, cooing to you, “Don’t cry, baby… You’re doing so good.” He kisses your salty tears away. “What do you want?”

“Your cock,” You whine, hips jerking against his harsh fingers that flick at your sensitive bud.

You ask him so prettily and politely that he can’t say no. He situates himself between your legs before pulling down his grey sweats. There’s a noticeable tent in his boxers that he presses to your aching folds, grinding his erection against you.

“Do you feel that?” Lando grunts, pushing your legs back to allow him more space. You nod, and he grins. “All that just for you.” He leans over, kissing you once before pulling his boxers down. His fat tip slaps against your wet entrance. Lando uses one hand to rub it against you, teasing you efficiently. But when he sees your pouty expression, he slowly pushes his way in.

You’re already clenching so hard around him— Being such a good girl. He hisses, head tossed back as he continues trekking forward. You’re a whiny, squirming mess, but he has to get through this for both of you.

Once he’s fully sheathed inside you, he stops to let you adjust. You reach out for his hands, and he intertwines both of them with yours as he begins to thrust. It’s slow, but it’s passionate.

“Fuck, Lan… Feels so good,” He nods in agreement because he can barely get any words out right now. He’s just focused on trying to make you feel good.

He has to let go of you eventually, but it’s only so he can continue to tease your swollen clit and maximize your pleasure. You throw your head back when you orgasm, your legs spasming before wrapping around him instinctively. He pulls out to come, painting your stomach sticky white.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” He mutters as he presses a kiss to your forehead, letting you rest your sleepy eyes.