#i haven’t watched the last two because i’m too mad about this one

[orion-kenobi]

hello emergency! fans please tell me i’m not the only one who thinks johnny and roy getting promoted in the greatest rescues movie makes no sense for them

[pathologicalreid]

stuck between a rock and a hard place | S.R.

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You, an undercover agent, uncover a hidden secret of the country's largest operation, putting your life in danger and under the protection of the BAU.

who? spencer reid x fem!FBI!reader category: angst content warnings: general cm violence, hospitals, medical inaccuracy, drugs, sex crimes/trafficking, attempted sa, reader works in sex crimes. mentions foyet and also 6x24 (supply and demand). established relationship. word count: 7.7k a/n: this has been sitting in my wip folder for far too long. i am now emotionally attached to these two. i will write more of this specific pairing because now all i want is for them to be happy.

Spencer

It wasn’t every day that men and women in suits piled into the BAU carrying evidence boxes, everyone stood up at their desks. Spencer watched as Andi Swann followed in behind the other agents, not even bothering to greet the team as she went straight to Emily’s office.

Prentiss opened the door, letting Andi in before beckoning for Reid to join them. This had to be about you.

Ignoring the way his heart rate spiked, Spencer stood up from his desk and went up to Emily’s office. On the other side of the bullpen, the rest of the team filed into the roundtable room.

“Spencer, have a seat,” Emily offered, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of her desk.

Glancing at Agent Swann, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “No, I’ll stand.”

Andi cleared her throat, looking at Spencer, she spoke, “Y/N missed her last two check-ins. As her next of kin, I need to notify you to let you know that as of now, the FBI is considering her missing.”

He wanted to be angry. He wanted so badly to be mad, but he’d seen this before. Years ago, an agent in Andi’s unit missed her check-ins and the BAU helped find her. More than that, he knew how much Andi cared about her agents, so he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad.

“Section Chief Cruz has asked that the BAU help to recover Y/N,” Emily said, looking at Spencer. “You know I have to tell you that you can’t be on this case,” she explained, leaning against her desk, eyes flickering as she tried to read Spencer’s expression.

Taking a deep breath, Spencer looked at Emily, “Y/N’s gone missing, and I’m not allowed to help look for her?”

Sympathetically, Prentiss shook her head, dark hair swaying with the movement. “You know it’s a conflict of interest to be involved with a loved one’s case.”

“Isn’t that kind of what the BAU does?” He could’ve rambled off a list of BAU agents who worked on cases involving their loved ones – including himself and Emily.

Turning to face Agent Swann, Emily suggested she join the rest of the team in the roundtable room. She waited until the door was closed before speaking again, “When’s the last time you saw Y/N?”

Closing his eyes, he remembered the morning of the day you left, the both of you had stayed up late as if you could delay your departure, but the last time he saw you was when he dropped you off at the Sex Crimes Unit before making his way up to the Behavioral Analysis Unit. “We haven’t even spoken since she left,” he answered, almost a month ago now.

“Is there a chance she tried to reach you or her family?” Emily asked. She had to ask, he knew that, but it didn’t make the questions any less ridiculous to him.

Shaking his head, he began to pace around the office, “No, she wouldn’t have done that. She follows the undercover playbook obsessively. She always said freestyling was like signing your death certificate.” He tried. He tried to get you to leave him breadcrumbs, but you never did.

Nodding, Emily watched as he paced back and forth “When did you get married?”

Pressing his lips into a thin white line, he stopped in his tracks, “When I came back after The Believers. It was the next day.” You had offered to sleep on the couch in an attempt to give him space when he asked you to go to the courthouse with him. That was two months ago now.

He didn’t want space. Not from you. Never from you.

Finally, he sat down.

“Did you tell anyone?” Emily asked, sitting down in the chair next to him. “Did you have a witness to sign your marriage certificate?”

Nodding, Spencer reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and produced three rings, his wedding ring, your engagement ring, and your wedding band. You didn’t have the time to get them soldered together yet. “Rossi was our witness,” he responded, “He was the only one who answered his phone.” He slipped his ring on and closed his fist around your two rings.

After a moment, Emily stood, “I’m going to speak with the rest of the team, but I won’t tell them anything I don’t think is pertinent to the case.” Which was her way of saying ‘Your secret is safe with me.’ “Stay in here as long as you need, Spence,” she offered before walking out, shutting the door tightly behind her.

He thought of the last night you were together. Spencer tried to check in with you, he told you that if your job ever became too much, you just had to tell him, and he’d be there. What he neglected to tell you was that he was beginning to feel like your job was too much for him.

You had given him the opportunity to hold you close, and instead, he let you slip through his fingers.

Opening his fist, he looked down at your rings and the indent they had left on his palm, slipping them back into his pocket before he walked over to the roundtable room. Everyone paused what they were doing to look up at him.

Spencer just shrugged and looked at Emily, “I can’t just do nothing.”

In response, Emily nodded solemnly and suggested he go through the case files with Matt.

It had been hours. The sun had set, jackets had been shed, and takeout had been ordered. The clock behind him showed it was nearly midnight, meaning it had been almost two days since anyone had last heard from you.

“Oh god,” Penelope said, her voice cutting into the thick silence of the roundtable room. Her fingers began frantically typing on her laptop.

Spinning in the office chair, Spencer wheeled over so he could look at the screen, vaguely aware of Emily hovering above him, “What is it? What did you find?”

She hit the keyboard so hard he thought they might break, but she answered, “The trauma center at Johns Hopkins reported a Jane Doe brought in a few hours ago. She matches Y/N’s description.”

“Did they run prints?” Andi asked, of course, there would be red tape if the hospital tried to run your prints, seeing as you were undercover.

Another tap and dozens of files opened, “It looks like she went right into surgery. Uh, the EMTs reported she was listing off a string of numbers when they brought her in… 265D019Z?”

Spencer swallowed thickly, “That’s Y/N’s badge number.”

Shaking her head, JJ looked over at the map of DC on the wall, “It’s a two-hour drive to Baltimore from here.”

“But it’s a thirty-minute flight, Reid, Tara, Swann, and Alvez go. The rest of us will look into what happened from here,” Emily doled out responsibilities, nodding at everyone as the team broke.

Spencer stayed still, still looking at Penelope’s screen, his eyes flickering over the documents. Words jumped out at him, drugged, punctured, and knife. It made his stomach churn. How had you gotten to Baltimore? Your unit had you set up in an apartment near the Hill. When did you travel from the district to Baltimore?

The thirty-minute flight felt like it was hours long, the drive from the airstrip to the hospital dragged on, but thankfully Emily had called the hospital ahead of time to let them know who you were and who was coming for you.

A doctor stopped the four of you from going into the room, a police officer was already stationed outside of the room, and the blinds were closed. Please, Spencer wanted to plead, please just let me see her.

“She’s weak, she just came down from recovery and she hasn’t fully woken up yet,” the doctor said, placing her hands on her hips. “I can’t in good faith let you go in there and badger her with questions. Not with no one in there to focus on her well-being,” she ordered. The doctor stared the four of them down with piercing gray eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Spencer peeked through the doorway when a nurse exited your room. “She’s my wife, I’ll advocate for her,” he responded, hoping the doctor would let him through. He could feel Tara and Luke staring, but he didn’t care.

Nodding, the doctor continued sizing Reid up, “Alright, but just you, for now. She’s not awake enough to be questioned anyway.” Stepping to the side, the doctor let Spencer through before blocking the doorway to everyone else.

In the worst way possible, you took his breath away. Your skin was sallow, you had an IV, nasal cannula, and a chest tube out the left side. Walking to your right, he took a seat next to you, taking your hand in his and pressing a gentle kiss to your bloodied knuckles – evidence that you had put up one hell of a fight. “Oh sweetheart, what did they do to you?” He whispered even though he knew you wouldn’t answer.

Reaching over you, he smoothed your hair from your face, your skin was clammy, probably as a result of blood loss. It looked like they were still transfusing, so you had probably lost a considerable amount of blood.

Shuffling the seat closer to you, Spencer took your hand in his. The doctor came back in holding a tablet, “Dr. Reid?”

He hummed in response, not daring to take his eyes off of you. “What happened to her? Why did she need surgery?”

“She had been bleeding out in an alley, according to the police officers who reported to the scene. The other agents are talking to them now,” the doctor said, tapping a few buttons on the tablet. “She had been stabbed several times in the upper left side, we went in to repair damage to her spleen, liver, and lung. There was some strain to her heart, it appears she was drugged before she was stabbed.”

He intently watched the steady rise and fall of your chest before he spoke up again, “Is she going to be okay?”

Setting the tablet down, the doctor paused before answering, “We’ll know more when she wakes up.”

Spencer leaned back in the chair, finally taking his eyes off of you and looking at the doctor, “Was there anything… did they…” He felt ridiculous, having spent the better part of his adult life in the BAU, and he couldn’t even put the words together.

To his relief, the doctor shook her head, “There were no injuries that suggested she was sexually assaulted.”

Reading the doctor’s badge, Spencer nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Herman.”

“Hit the call button when she wakes up, we’ll need to evaluate her pain and other treatment,” the doctor said, gathering her things before walking out of the room, and shutting the door behind her.

Spencer kept his eyes on you, tapping his foot on the ground impatiently, every once in a while, his phone rang, but he didn’t have the energy to talk on the phone. When his phone buzzed, he pulled it out of his pocket and checked the messages.

Penelope Garcia: How is she? Spencer Reid: Still sleeping. Penelope Garcia: How are you? Spencer Reid: Not sure.

Setting his phone on the table, screen down, he watched you again, every once in a while, your nose would twitch, or your eyes would flutter. Every time he would hold his breath, hoping you’d open your eyes.

He waited, and about an hour after he had arrived, a small, keening noise came from you. His head snapped up at the sound, your eyes were still closed, but you were moving. “Y/N?” He whispered hesitantly, not wanting to wake you up if you weren’t ready. Slowly, he stood up from the chair, not sure if he should keep waiting or if he should hit the call button.

You were muttering something, talking to someone in your sleep, when suddenly you jerked away. Instinctively, Spencer put his hands on your shoulders to stop you from tearing your stitches, and it was that touch that caused your eyes to snap open. “No, no, no, no,” you babbled, frantically looking around the hospital room.

“Y/N,” Spencer said, keeping his hands on your shoulders, “You’re safe, I’m here. You’re at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore.”

With wide eyes, you looked up at him and mouthed the word ‘Baltimore.’ As if you were trying to figure out how you had ended up in Baltimore, something the BAU still hadn’t figured out. “I thought I…” Your voice was nothing more than a rasp, but with the bruises he could now see littering your neck, that didn’t surprise him much. “Did you see it?”

Spencer pushed the call button without you noticing, “Did I see what, love?” He asked, keeping his voice low as he gently sat down on the edge of your hospital bed.

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked around the room, “Is Andi here?" Your voice was tight, like you were struggling to breathe. "I need to talk to Andi.”

Helplessly, Spencer watched as the number signifying your heart rate jumped, “Not just yet, alright?” He said, looking up when the doctor and a nurse came through the door.

The doctor introduced herself and started trying to get you to even out your breathing, one of the monitors was beeping like crazy until the nurse hit a button on it.

All he could do was watch, making sure he didn’t get in the way. Listening in to words about medications and making a mental note to research everything. “How’s your pain, Y/N? On a scale from one through ten.” The doctor asked, standing at the foot of the bed.

“Like a seven? When I breathe it’s more like a nine,” you answered, every word was strained. The doctor flashed a light in your eyes, “That isn’t helping,” you said through gritted teeth.

The doctor said something to the nurse, prompting her to nod before pushing something through your IV. After a few moments, Spencer watched as your heart rate lowered and your body visibly relaxed into the mattress. You nodded softly when the nurse asked if that was better.

Dr. Herman left and the nurse scrawled some notes down on your chart, introducing herself as Amelia before she left as well.

“Oh no,” you whispered, looking in the direction of the door. “Is the whole BAU here? How badly did I fuck up?”

Quickly, Spencer shook his head, “You didn’t, at all. It’s just me, Tara, and Luke,” he tried to reassure you as best he could without knowing the full story. “Do you feel up to talking?” He asked, smoothing your hair away from your face.

You nodded gently, “I need to talk to Andi. Alone, if it’s okay with you.”

“I can wait right outside in the hallway,” he offered, holding your hand in his and skimming the pad of his thumb over top of your knuckles.

You hummed contentedly, “Could you see if I can have water?”

Grateful to have something to do, Spencer stood up, leaned forward, and pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I’ll be right back.” He stepped out of the room, garnering the attention of the agents who were waiting in the hallway, all of them staring at Spencer expectantly, “Andi, she wants to talk to you.”

The Unit Chief nodded and disappeared into the room, leaving the door open just a crack.

He was gone for three minutes, that was the time it took him to walk to the nurses’ station and ask if you were allowed liquids and back, but when he returned the door to your room was wide open. “Where did they go?” He asked, looking over at Tara.

She was still leaning against the taupe hospital walls before nodding in the direction of the red exit sign, “Swann was in there for maybe two minutes before she came out in a huff, she took Alvez with her.” Lewis spoke calmly like it didn’t necessarily mean anything to her.

But it did to him. Walking back into your room, he stood at the side of your bed, “What did you tell Andi that you didn’t want me hearing?”

“Huh?” You sounded tired – rightfully so. Your pupils were dilated, which told Spencer that the drugs that the doctors had given you were working.

It comforted him that you weren’t in as much pain, but you were still hiding something from him. “You asked me to leave while you talked to Andi because you didn’t want me to hear what you were telling her. What did you tell her?”

Your face softened as your eyes filled with a different kind of hurt, “Don’t profile me.” You were too tired to hide the pain in your voice.

He raised his eyebrows and shrugged, “Don’t lie to me,” He countered. You were lying by omission, but what was worse was that you might’ve been putting yourself in danger.

“Please don’t leave me,” you whimpered.

Spencer’s chest tightened as he watched your eyes fill with tears, he sat down on the edge of your bed and took your hand in his. “I’m not going anywhere. Why would you think I’d leave you, darling?”

Your eyes were half-closed, “because you…” your voice trailed off and he squeezed your hand to get your attention. “When Scratch had Emily, you wanted to kill him,” you murmured.

The air had been knocked out of his lungs. You hadn’t been talking about a divorce. You were saying that you could identify your assailant, and you didn’t want Spencer to know. “I won’t go,” he whispered, “I’ll be right here.”

“It was Jake,” you mumbled, barely able to open your mouth as you fought your exhaustion.

That hadn’t been the answer he was expecting. He swallowed thickly, “Jake did this to you?” He asked slowly, looking at your hand, your fingers intertwined.

Minutely, you shook your head, “Jake blew my cover, Spence.” Yawning, you proceeded to mumble about him doing it on purpose.

Untangling your fingers, Spencer reached out and smoothed your hair away from your forehead, “Get some sleep, angel. I love you.”

You hummed an ‘I love you’ back, and the next moment your eyes were shut.

A nurse came in and asked for a moment while she checked the output of your chest tube, ushering Spencer and Tara out. “Okay, I’ll bite, who’s Jake?” Tara asked, putting a hand on her hip as she looked expectantly at Reid.

“Jake is her partner. When she’s not undercover and just out in the field, they’re partners,” Spencer explained.

Tara pursed her lips thoughtfully, “So, he would’ve known that she was undercover.”

Nodding as the newly added weight of the situation threatened to pull him down, Spencer turned and faced you, watching as the nurse examined you as you slept. “He blew her cover on purpose,” he reached up and rubbed his eye. Jake knew exactly what he was doing when he blew your cover, and you knew exactly what you were doing when you begged Spencer not to leave you.

“We have to go back in and ask her more questions,” Tara said.

Usually, Spencer agreed with Tara, but not this time. He saw the monitors you were hooked up to, he read your chart, and he watched the concerned looks on the nurses’ faces. They all told him that you weren’t stable enough to be speaking, let alone a cognitive interview. “No,” Spencer said finally.

Clearing her throat lightly, Tara stood next to him in the doorway, “We can’t let them get away, Reid.”

“And I can’t lose her,” he rebutted, ignoring the way his voice broke in his desperation. 

Stepping back slightly, the other agent nodded in understanding. “Okay, I’ll call Emily. You go sit with her.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice; he pulled a chair up impossibly close to your bedside and draped his jacket over the back of it before loosening his tie and sitting down.

You

When you woke up, it was still dark outside, but the bright lights of the hospital room made it hard for you to get any real rest. You were pleased to find that, true to his word, Spencer was right next to you when he woke up.

He was sleeping, resting his head on his hand with his wrist bent awkwardly. “Spence,” You whispered, clearing your throat, “Spencer.” You couldn’t reach out to touch him, but you wanted to wake him up, so his wrist wasn’t sore.

Jolting awake, he looked at you, “Hey, did you just wake up? How do you feel?”

It was a weird question, you felt like an absolute dumpster fire. “Better,” you whispered, “less hurt, achier. Sore. I don’t know, my head feels fuzzy,” you rambled, trying to move higher up on the hospital bed, but being limited by the chest tube. “How long do I have to have it?” You asked, staring at the plastic tubing as if you could make it go away via the power of suggestion.

“At least through the night, but it could be longer,” he said, reaching over and smoothing over the edges of your blanket. “Do you know what they gave you?” Spencer asked, shaking out his wrist.

You hummed in response, “No, it was intravenous though. They were big on amphetamines, but it didn’t feel like a stimulant. Benzos maybe,” you told him, your voice was soft. The pain in your throat had subsided after being intubated during surgery, but you were still swollen from when Cal grabbed you.

None of this made sense to you. The one thing that bothered you more than anything else was why Cal stopped when Jake said to. It couldn’t have been as simple as the money.

Spencer must’ve noticed you burrowing into your memories, “You remember everything?” He asked gently.

He knew what he was implying, in more cases involving severe trauma, victims generally remember everything or remember nothing. It was lucky for law enforcement when they remembered, but bad for the victims. Bad for you. “Mostly,” you breathed, avoiding his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” you said softly.

“Why? You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” he tried to reassure you, reaching out and taking your hand in his.

You hummed, “I don’t remember anything after they drugged me, just the stuff before. Just the…” Your voice trailed off as you returned to your confusion. “Who’s still here that I can talk to?”

He squeezed your hand comfortingly, “Do you feel up to it?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have much of a choice,” you answered him despondently.

Spencer nodded before he got up from his chair, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead before he stepped out into the hallway and let Tara in.

The agent smiled at you gently, “Hey, Y/N, how are you feeling?” She asked, sitting down at a free chair at the end of your hospital bed, leaving the chair at your side available for Spencer to return to.

You gave your best attempt at returning the smile before you answered, “I think I’m going to make it.”

As Spencer sat back down next to you, placing a water cup on your bedside table, Tara opened a file and looked through it, “Can you start by telling me a little bit about your assignment? You were undercover as… Barbara?” She read from the file.

Nodding slowly, you held out your hand for Spencer to hold, “Yeah, but they called me Babs.”

Three days ago...

You shifted self-consciously in the gold dress. It was a silky, slippery number that displayed more than you particularly liked. Spencer would probably like it, but he’d hate how uncomfortable you were in it.

Inadvertently, you smiled at just the thought of your husband. It was late, so he was probably at home, reading next to the fireplace. Maybe he was on a case, off somewhere in the United States and saving lives.

It had been twenty-nine days since you had last seen him.

“You look gorgeous tonight, Babs,” Johnathan McCallister, better known as Cal, told you, reaching out and placing a hand on either one of your shoulders before placing a kiss on both cheeks.

Bashfully, you smiled at him, “You’re too good to me, Cal. I can’t believe you got me in!” Deep down, you knew tonight could be the night, you would be able to take down The Program. At least the D.C. chapter of it.

When it was over, you could be Y/N Reid again, instead of Barbara McFarston.

The Program took women around your age and sold them into sex slavery. The chapter in Washington D.C. was one of the most active, which made sense when you looked around the room and saw a majority of the people were elected officials – men and women alike.

Andi Swann had assured you that taking down this chapter would create a domino effect, causing the other chapters to topple. According to her, if you could take down D.C., Miami, and Los Angeles, The Program would most likely cease to exist.

Turning to ask Cal about the selection tonight, you were startled to see familiar gray eyes on your companion’s other side. You felt your façade slip, but only for a second before you pasted a brilliant smile back on your face.

You tilted your head to the side, “And who might you be?” You asked Jake, wondering if Andi had sent him in to get a status report on you.

“Jake Cohn,” he answered, and goosebumps spread over your exposed skin at his answer. He should’ve said William Jacoby, that was his identity for this case.

In horror, you watched as Jake leaned in to whisper something in Cal’s ear, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time. You bit your tongue as Cal wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in tightly, “Let’s talk.”

You stumbled a little over your own feet and looked at Jake with wide eyes, the leader forcefully shoved you into a private room, one that would probably light up like a Christmas tree under a blacklight. “What’s wrong, Cal?” You asked, standing up straight.

He reached over and grabbed the back of your neck, gathering the hair at the nape of your neck in his fist. The force of it made you scrunch your shoulders up, “You’re a fucking fed?” He seethed, tossing you to the ground in one swift movement.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tried to convince him. Tried to flip the script so that Jake was the liar instead of you.

Cal grabbed your throat next, holding you down on a booth seat. “Oh, Y/N… Jake’s been one of my best employees for years.” He said, chuckling at the betrayal in your eyes, he only laughed more when you kneed him in the gut. “Oh, I like it when they fight back.”

You shut your eyes tightly as you heard the clinking of his belt buckle, but they snapped back open when you heard the word, “Stop.”

“What? Did you want first go on her?” Cal asked, wiping his cheek – you must’ve scratched him in your struggle.

Jake cleared his throat and met your eyes, “We should keep her clean, you know?” He said, and for a moment you thought he was actually trying to help you, “Think about how much a clean fed would go for here. Especially in D.C.”

And just like that, your hopes were dashed, “he’s right,” you told Cal, trying to formulate a plan.

“Shut up, whore,” Cal spat, causing you to involuntarily flinch.

At least there’s nothing he could call you that you hadn’t heard before, in your line of work, people got very creative.

Cal looked at you, inspecting your neck where he had grabbed you before, “You’ll make me a lot of money, won’t you?” He said, rubbing a hand up and down your arm soothingly before poking you with a needle.

Your legs gave out beneath you, but Jake caught you before you hit the ground. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t think he’d do this. I thought he’d kick you out, but I didn’t think…”

Looking up at him, your throat burned, and you weren’t sure if you were going to cry or throw up, but you shut your eyes. “No, you didn’t.” You don’t just casually tell the leader of a sex trafficking ring that the person with them is an FBI agent.

Present

“And that’s the last thing you remember?” Tara asked, scribbling something down in your file.

You nodded absentmindedly, “I think…” Your voice trailed off as you looked at Spencer, “I think Jake might’ve been in charge the whole time. Pulling the strings from behind the curtain while he waited for the perfect time to catch me off guard. That’s the only reason Cal would’ve backed off when Jake told him to,” You proposed your theory, not missing the way Spencer was holding your hand a little tighter than before.

Tara’s brows were raised, “Jake Cohn has worked in the bureau for almost a decade, it would be hard for him to evade detection for that long.”

“But he knows exactly how to evade it,” you rebutted. “He’d know all of the tricks from Sex Crimes and all of my tricks. He- He set me up,” you realized.

Spencer turned around and looked at your monitor, “Okay, let’s take a break. We can talk more later.”

Getting up, Tara let Spencer know she was going to call the rest of the team before she stepped back into the hallway.

“My chest hurts,” you said, hating how your voice sounded like a whine.

In response, Spencer smoothed your hair back in an attempt to comfort you. “Your heart is racing,” he whispered, “Take a deep breath, okay?”

You nodded slowly, breathing in deeply through your nostrils and letting the air collect in your lungs before blowing it out your mouth. Looking up at Spencer, worry plain in his eyes no matter how hard he tried to hide it, you came to a decision, “Spence?”

He bowed slightly closer to you so he could hear you better, “What is it, love?” He moved his hand, so it was gently cupping your cheek.

Leaning into his touch, you whispered, “It’s too much.” The only thing you had left was to hope he knew what you were talking about, the words were too hard right now, but you felt them contributing to the burning in your chest.

“Okay,” he answered. “It’s okay. You don’t have to worry about disappointing anyone.”

You practically melted back into the hospital bed; the weight of your job eased off of you. Nodding, you closed your eyes, “It’s good, this is good. I just feel crazy, but a good crazy.”

Spencer smiled at you, “Okay crazy,” he whispered, “I’m going to-“ He was abruptly cut off by his phone ringing, furrowing his brows, he swiped the screen and held the phone up to his ear, “Hey, JJ.”

Cocking your head to the side, you tried to listen to JJ’s side of the conversation, but either she was speaking quietly, or Spencer had his phone volume really low. From the way Spencer’s jaw tightened, you knew that this couldn’t be anything good.

He looked at you before looking at the door, “Do you know where?” He said in a tone entirely unfamiliar to you, it was low and steely. Reaching over you, he nimbly pressed the call button on your bed, “Okay, keep me updated.”

“Spencer, what is going on?” You asked as the nurse came into your room, faltering for a moment as she looked at the two of you.

Placing a hand on the bar of your hospital bed, Spencer looked at the nurse, “Do you have somewhere secure she can be moved to?”

The nurse looked shellshocked, surely the FBI occupying the hospital wasn’t an everyday occurrence, “I don’t… I don’t think so?” She seemed unsure of herself.

“Spencer,” you repeated his name.

He turned to look at you, “Jake’s here and he’s looking for you.” Turning back to the nurse, he pointed at you, “She has to be moved.”

“I don’t… I’m just a student, my preceptor is taking a break. I could try to find-“ The nurse stammered nervously. “We don’t usually just move people.”

Nothing about this situation was usual, but one look at Spencer told you this was life or death. Your life or your death. You sighed in defeat, “This is really going to suck.” Reaching over to your side, you gripped the tube that had been draining blood from outside your lung and pulled it out. Like ripping off a band-aid.

In the process, you tore the stitches holding it in place and set off all kinds of alarms, leading to a crowd of nurses and doctors charging into the room.

As someone held pressure down on where you were bleeding, someone said something about moving you to a sterile procedure room, and the nursing student trailed along, whispering “That was the stupidest smart thing I’ve ever seen anyone do.”

Everything was blurry when you woke up next and, through the blinds, you could see that the sun was finally rising. The warm, orange light peeking through like lines on a piece of paper.

“Hey,” Spencer said from right next to you, placing a gentle hand on your arm. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” he whispered.

You looked away from him, back towards the blinds, “Will you open them?” You rasped, your throat felt raw, and your body felt heavy.

He got up and ambled over to the window, twisting the mechanism until the sun poured into your room. “How are you feeling?”

“Heavy,” you whispered, the mental weight of the past several days was threatening to take you down, but physically you felt like Atlas himself, carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Spencer hummed in response, “They sedated you, standard procedure for people who rip their own chest tubes out.” He adjusted the way your gown rested on your shoulders, “Luckily you didn’t do too much damage.”

You took a deep breath and leaned your head so you could look out the window. The outside felt so foreign to you now, you couldn’t remember the last time you had breathed real, fresh air. “So, what is the damage?” Your voice was little more than a murmur but with just the two of you in your room, it wasn’t hard to hear.

“You’re going to be fine; they think the tube can go later today. Then they’ll evaluate whether enough you’re strong enough to go home, it’ll probably be another couple of days,” He explained to you, matching your gentle tone. “Johnathan McCallister is in custody, and Jake Cohn is dead,” he told you, studying your face for any kind of reaction.

Closing your eyes, you felt white hot tears stream down your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, laughing a little despite yourself. He probably thought you were losing it, crying over the death of someone who had nearly had you murdered.

The edge of your mattress dipped down slightly, and you opened your eyes to see Spencer sitting next to you, “You don’t need to be sorry, my love.” Gently, he rested a hand on your hip, skimming his thumb over the rough fabric of your hospital gown, “He was like family to you. I’m not sorry he’s dead – I’m not. I am sorry for that loss, though.”

Nodding, you felt it as your face crumpled, leading Spencer to lean down and hug you as best he could. “I’m sorry I scared you,” you said as he pulled away.

Your furrowed your brows in confusion as he reached into his pocket and produced your wedding ring, taking your left hand, he slid the rings on, “For better or for worse, right?”

A small smile grew on your face as the gem on your finger shimmered in the morning light, “for richer or for poorer,” you continued.

“In sickness and in health,” Spencer whispered, eyes flickering around the hospital room.

You reached up a shaky hand and cupped his cheek with your palm, “to love and to cherish.” You said, feeling a dopey, lovesick grin blooming on your face.

He turned his head and kissed the center of your palm, “until parted by death,” he finished, taking your hand in his.

“No dying,” you insisted, feeling your energy begin to drain, you started to understand why the doctors didn’t want you going home for a few days.

Spencer hummed in response, “You almost did. If you hadn’t been found when you were-“ his voice broke off and you had to tear your eyes away from his for a moment. “I still can’t believe you chose that,” he whispered, looking at you like you hung the moon.

Shrugging as if it was nothing, you melted back into the pillows, “I had a split second to weigh my options – get sold into sex slavery or get stabbed in the chest.”

“A catch-22,” he nodded, wrapping his head around your impossible decision. You couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take until the fear in his eyes left.

You shifted a little in the hospital bed, the sheets rustling as you did, “We get it, you’ve read Joseph Heller.”

He smiled at that, the light teasing seemed to bring brightness to his face, “What is it about blood loss that makes you think you’re funny?”

Laughing lightly, you squeezed his hand as tightly as you could manage, “I am funny. And I’m tired.”

“Go back to sleep then, baby,” he said softly, “it’ll all be here when you wake up.”

There was a party in your hospital room. It started with just Emily, coming in because you were finally up to seeing anyone other than Spencer, and it ended up being the entire BAU.

Someone had gone to the apartment and gathered clothes for you so that, once your chest tube was removed, you could put on real clothes. So now you were sitting up, wearing sweatpants and a ratty old college sweatshirt, and laughing with the BAU. You were leaning heavily on Spencer, who was also sitting on your hospital bed, but he didn’t seem to have a problem with keeping you steady.

Luckily for you, no one in the BAU wanted to ask about what had happened on your assignment, they were more interested in the rings that adorned your and Spencer’s fingers.

“I still can’t believe you two secretly got married,” Penelope said. “Of all of the times for me to not answer my phone.”

Next to her, Luke shrugged, “Honestly, I can believe it. It feels like a very Y/N and Reid thing to do.”

Gently, Spencer rubbed your back. His hovering was quickly going to become insufferable, but right now you were welcoming every touch with open arms.

“Well, we’ll have a party for the two of you. When you’re up for it, of course,” JJ said, smiling from where she was standing next to Emily.

You wanted to shake your head and tell them that it really wasn’t necessary, but asking the BAU to refrain from throwing a party was like asking a shark to stop swimming. Instead of debating, you just smiled and bobbed your head.

Eventually, Andi showed up, just as you knew she would. “Hey, guys,” Emily nodded in the direction of the doorway, “Why don’t we go raid the hospital cafeteria?”

After a few more hugs, including a lingering one from Garcia, the BAU, save for your husband, filtered out, and Andi made her way to the foot of your bed. “Hey,” you said, your voice was soft.

Nine years. You had spent nine years in the sex crimes unit. Spencer had done the math, you’d spent approximately seventy-six percent of that time undercover, missing birthdays, holidays, not ever really looking forward to the future. Until now.

You, the most decorated member of the sex crimes unit, were leaving.

Suspiciously, you eyed the files in Andi’s arms, one was a case file, the other a plain manila folder. She silently handed you the case file, and you shared a look with Spencer before flipping it open. “The Program is gone?” You asked, your eyes skimming the folder.

Swann nodded, her brown hair swaying with the movement, “The arrest of the leader of the D.C. chapter greatly contributed to that, but it was the death of the ringleader that took the remainder of The Program down.”

Closing your eyes, you nodded as you tried to process what she was telling you. Jake had been in charge all along. “Andi, I-“

“It was your intel that did it,” she cut you off. “From your last several assignments, everything you collected directly contributed to the downfall of this trafficking network. One of the largest networks the FBI has ever seen.”

She handed you the next file, labeled with only your name. You flipped it open, well aware that Spencer was reading from over your shoulder. “I don’t qualify for retirement,” you told her, furrowing your eyebrows, and looking at the papers in front of you. You didn’t qualify for retirement, and yet, you were looking at a retirement offer.

Your unit chief nodded understandingly, “I pulled some strings, with some help. Collectively, Prentiss and I know a lot of people.”

Spencer placed a supportive hand on your back, and you looked up at Andi. “I’m only thirty-two?” You asked, it wasn’t a clarification, it was a question.

“And yet,” she answered, “you’ve done more for the Bureau than most agents could hope to do in their whole career. This plan came from the director, Y/N. He wanted you to have it.”

Shaking your head, you handed the folder over to your husband so he could look through it. “I don’t… can I think about it?”

“He’ll want an answer soon but talk it over and give me a call when you’ve come to a decision,” she said, grabbing her things and making her way to the door. “And Y/N?”

You lifted your head up to meet her eyes, “Yeah, Andi?”

She smiled at you, a rare, real smile from her, “Make the right decision for you. You have a small army ready to support you through everything.”

Slowly, your gaze followed her out the door, waiting until you heard the latch of the door secure. Spencer handed the folder back to you, “What do you want to do?”

You flipped through the folder again, it was a lot of money, and there were a few different distribution options, but it was more than you felt you’d ever need. “I don’t really feel like I deserve this,” you whispered, reaching your hand up and rubbing the back of your neck. “The Bureau doesn’t offer early retirement like this, not without extenuating circumstances,” you continued.

“They did it with Hotch,” Spencer said, reading the file over your shoulder.

Shaking your head, you leaned over to look at him, “That was way different, Haley was murdered by a serial killer.”

Spencer sighed, “I think you’re selling yourself short, darling. The Program was trafficking almost 12,000 people across the country. That’s almost 70 percent of the yearly total trafficking victims. You took them down,” he told you earnestly.

Your shoulders slouched forward, “I didn’t do it alone, though.”

“Didn’t you, though? They sent you in with no communication device, no emergency signal, and information that wasn’t even true. Your unit told you Johnathan McCallister was the leader of the ring, but it ended up being a decorated agent and you’re the one who figured that out,” Spencer spoke emphatically. “You almost died in the process, and now there are thousands of victims who are going to go home – all thanks to you.”

Wiping at your eyes, you looked at your husband, “You’re biased.” That felt true, but Spencer was the person who knew you best in the world.

“What’s holding you back?” He murmured gently, sweeping strands of your hair behind your ears.

Smiling unsurely, you closed your eyes, “Fear of the future. In the past nine years, the longest I’ve ever been home was four weeks. I don’t… What do you want me to do?”

He shook his head slowly, “it’s not my decision.” A diplomatic answer, you should’ve guessed.

“But what do you want me to do?” You pressed.

Sighing, you watched him weigh his options, “If my choices are you going back out into the field and getting hurt again, where maybe it doesn’t have this good of an outcome, or you, safe at home, where I get to see you more than approximately three months a year, then the choice is clear.”

When he laid it out for you like that, it was pretty clear. “Maybe I could finally see what all the BAU spouses are talking about. You know, how you’re never home,” you said. Some part of you always felt disconnected from the other BAU family members, Spencer wasn’t the one who was never home, you were.

Spencer laughed lightly, “We could celebrate your birthday together.” That was the one day you always missed. Almost six years together, and something always came up on your birthday.

“I’ve never had this before,” you whispered, there was still something about it that felt tentative, almost frail.

Smilingly softly, Spencer reached out and took your hand in his, “Had what before?”

You beamed, “A future to plan.” Everything was always laid out for you, every day was spent waiting for the next directive, a new assignment. “I mean, not in nine years.”

There were always dreams, late-night murmurs with Spencer about a house with a yard and kids running around, but they were just dreams. The nights when you were able to sleep next to each other. “Do you have plans for us?”

Nodding rapidly, you answered, “Oh yeah, you and me, I’ve got big plans for us.”

next

please remember to like, reblog, and comment if you enjoyed :-)

[ellecdc]

elle… elle… imagine me crawling into ur inbox like i’m crawling through the desert like i haven’t had water in days… i have a request.

do you think maybe maybe we can get just some potter!reader and james sibling interactions… i’ve been thinking abt it so hard i love u ok bye

hahaha here, have a quick little baby blurb starring our favourite siblings

Barty Crouch Jr x Potter!reader who is spending the hols with the Potters, apparently [638 words]

CW: siblings, swearing, island of misfit toys, reference to The Shining

“What’s everyone doing for the hols?” Peter asked around a bite of his toast to the rather large group gathered at the Gryffindor table that morning. 

Marlene waxed poetic about how she was going to Tuscany with her folks and lamented that she wasn’t going to get to see Dorcas even once, whilst Dorcas simply rolled her eyes and stated she was going to be skiing with her parents in Switzerland and was really looking forward to it. 

Lily was going to be visiting some of her relatives but was happy to announce that she was going to be visiting Mary for a weekend at her home.

Remus admitted that it was going to be a quiet affair at the Lupin cottage in Wales but would be spending a weekend at the Potter manor to visit Sirius (and James! Don’t forget James!). 

“How about you, Junior?” Peter asked cautiously; always worried of eliciting any sort of response from the Slytherin boy, though not wanting to insult him by not asking him as well. 

Barty looked up from his book to see the table's eyes on him. “Uhm, I’m just staying here.” He responded simply, causing you to start shaking your head in disagreement as you worked to swallow the bite of food you’d just taken. 

“No.” You amended. “You’re staying with me.”

“I am?” He asked as James gasped “he is!?” 

You nodded simply as you took a sip of your tea. “I asked mum and dad last week, they said it was fine.” 

And if Barty had been mad that you’d asked your parents for such a thing, or upset that you didn’t deign to inform him of these plans, he didn’t show it as he offered you an agreeable shrug and moved back to his book. 

“Excuse me.” James deadpanned as he stared daggers at you. “No one asked me.”

“Why in the buggering fuck would I have asked you, Jamie?” You spat back at him.

“Uhm, because it’s my house too!?”

“No one asked me when you moved in the creepy twins from The Shining! No offence, boys.” You amended quickly as you offered an apologetic smile in Sirius and Regulus’ direction, which earned you a simultaneous “none taken” from Regulus and an offended “we duel at dawn, Trouble” from Sirius. 

“Well-...” James started, though he couldn’t seem to find an argument as you raised a brow at him. “Well I just…think someone ought to have informed me, is all.” He finished haughtily.

“Yeah, okay.” You offered sarcastically. “I’ll be sure to give you ample notice next time.”

“Next time!?” James beseeched. “You can’t keep bringing them home!”

“Why not!? You get to have two of them!?”

The two of you continued verbally sparring as Barty, Sirius, and Regulus all exchanged a look at being referred to as them. 

“You’re being ridiculous; it’s not a competition.” James spat pretentiously. 

“No?” You said, causing everyone else in the group to brace themselves at what was no doubt going to be a special brand of Potter nonsensory. “In that case, I’m going to go see if the Rosier’s want to join us.”

James stared at you with his mouth agape as you made to stand from the bench. “You wouldn’t.”

“Watch me.” You challenged before taking off towards the Ravenclaw table where you knew at least one Rosier would be sitting.

“Fuck.” James hissed, now standing as well as he began frantically searching the Great Hall. “Uhm… oh, Fenwick! Need somewhere to crash for the holidays!?”

"I'm sorry I asked." Peter let out with a heavy sigh as Regulus muttered something French and likely very unflattering regarding his boyfriend under his breath.

“Potter Manor; home of misfit wix.” Remus mumbled, earning him an indignant “oi!” from his boyfriend, “watch who you’re calling misfits, Lupin” from Regulus, and a snort of laughter from Barty.

[suengmi]

- the ways stray kids show their love and affection

genre: fluff/romance, nonidol!au, gn!reader warnings: mentions of making out, nakedness? idk lol

anyways this is just major soft hours, one of my moots said i should do this i can't remember who it was pls lmk if it was you asljdls also unedited

♡ masterlist / pls reblog if you liked! it helps a lot ♡

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ bang chan

sweet kisses all over your face to wake you up, pressing his nose into the crook of your neck and gently nibbling you. “i’m bored wake up babe.” grunts when you ignore him. ends up pulling the sheets back so your naked body is exposed to the cold. “that’s what you get.” gets salty but then feels bad, covering you up again, then he really wakes you up. back hugs when you’re cooking for him. whining whenever you don’t pay attention to him, tugging at the edge of your shirt. sulks when you say you’re busy. doesn’t give a fuck about how clingy he is, but he knows you love it. holds your hand a little too hard when you’re walking together. kiss attacks always!!

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ lee know

stops you from crossing the street until he’s checked it. “stupid, look next time.” beats you twice in a board game but sees that you're sad that you’re not that good at it, but fails the third time just to see you smile and gloat about beating him. he loves seeing you happy, even if he has to purposely fail. leaves you notes everywhere, maybe just ‘i love yous’ mixed in with ‘i know you’ll forget this so don’t.’ text messages asking if you’ve eaten, and then getting mad and sending food to your door if you haven’t. swiftly kisses to the forehead aggressively saying you ‘deserve it’ but sounds like a threat. ‘you know i love you yeah?’ more aggressive kisses. ‘i won’t stop until you say you love me!!’

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ changbin

little wrestling matches on the couch, telling you that you’re silly for even trying. pulls you by the back of your hair if you’re not paying attention to him. “i left you the last piece of food.” always, always saves you the last piece no matter what it is. picks you up and throws you around, pretending he’s going to eat you bc apparently he’s a monster. but says you taste good so he doesn’t mind eating you. more wrestles. whenever you’re sad, he always cheers you up and never fails to make you laugh. does his trot impression of some old korean songs, full performance with your glitter jacket on that doesn’t fit him. ‘you still love me now? you better.’ knows you love being engulfed by him, so 90% of the time he is the big spoon. when he's feeling really romantic, he'll do a little picnic at the beach. always making sure it was at sunset because he knew it was your favourite time of the day.

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ jisung

midnight trips to get take out, sitting in the car until 2am with both of your feet on the dashboard. ‘remember that time!’ always reminiscing about how you first met, nearly choking on your fries when you recall. kisses in the car, kisses in the house, kisses in the shower, kisses in the dark. ‘babe but i want it.’ chucks a tanty when you don’t buy him things. pouts and folds his arms. ‘if you loved me you would!’ holds the cuff of your jumper, mostly walking behind you whenever you go somewhere because he feels safe. morning calls, but especially night calls. he doesn’t care how you look at the end of the day, he just wants to see you and tell you he loves you. hiding himself in your jumper and saying there is enough room for two (when there isn't.)

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ hyunjin

taking you to art galleries, standing behind you with his head resting on yours. ends up putting his hands into your pockets from behind, cutely leading you around from the back. with hyunjin it’s not always words, sometimes it’s just his actions. he pushes your hair out of your face or tucks it behind your hair. mostly, he does your hair for you. always making sure your hair was out of your face because it annoyed you. brings you tea and sits with you if you’re studying or drawing or even watching tv, rubs your thigh gently to let you know that he doesn’t want to distract you, just shows you he wants to be with you. rubs your belly if you feel bloated and talks to it. 'you better stop being bloated or... i'll do something. idk what.' art dates!! always drawing together, even if you're shit he encourages you to keep going

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ seungmin

gently slips his fingers into yours without saying anything but smiling to himself when he sees you blush, he kind of loves that he makes you nervous. always taking the chance to make your cheeks tint pink. showers with seungmin, always washing your body and shampooing your hair for you, wet kisses in between. sometimes he’d gently press his nose on your naked skin, enjoying your scent but never admitting it. ‘it’s comforting’ he’d say in defence, ignoring you for the rest of the night. guiding you with his hand on your lower back, making sure you were safe no matter where you were. kisses to the forehead, the back of the hand, the back of your knees. seungmin doesn’t say it much, but he does love you. he shows it through everything else, knowing those words have such a weight to them.

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ felix

‘are you gonna cook!?’ jumping up and down when you say yes, annoying you the whole time you’re cooking or baking. ‘is it done? i can’t wait to eat it!!’ eats half of the food before it’s even cooked because he says it’s ‘too good.’ little play fights that would begin from felix nibbling at your fingers and then at your thighs. ‘little gremlin’ you’d end up joking, rolling around on the floor, bodies all over each other, which would end in a heated make out session and clothes far gone. he’d send you random texts, of random things. ‘hey i saw this flower, it's cute, yeah?’ ‘this potato looks like you. it’s too cute to eat T-T’ ‘you think i could eat 11 hot dogs in two minutes? hmm maybe.’ 

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ jeongin

blowing raspberries on your tummy and holding you down. sometimes uses your foot as a telephone. ‘yes hello stinky foot line how can i stink you today?’ proceeds to try and hold your foot with his. 'shut up i can do it!!' probably be super sarcastic, mocking you when you tried to be cute with whatever you were saying. karaoke together, always singing out of pitch but though he’s laughing, encourages you to be more confident because he loves seeing you enjoy yourself. watches you sometimes, just admiring you but instantly whips his head around to pretend he wasn’t, head banging into something hanging from the wall. ‘mind your business’ he’d joke, walking away suspiciously.

♡ taglist: @blankdyean @l3visbby @daddyjoonchua @ipegchangbin @abcdefgiwsmcty ♡

[waldau-archived]

put a ring on it — lee jihoon | 1,236 words | fluff, hurt/comfort

can y'all tell i love this man a bit too much? like, this is way too sappy even by my standards. inspired by me forgetting my ring one morning and feeling extremely uncomfortable without it.

gender neutral reader. warnings: one gross(ish) fact about the human body.

jihoon’s not going to make a big deal out of this. he’s not going to make a deal out of this on any scale. not when this is the first proper date you’ve been on in almost a whole month.

it’s his fault, definitely, what with managing making songs and practicing for their comeback and being unable to sleep because of all the ideas buzzing around in his head. it went on till bumzu forced him out of the studio and made him take some time off for you, if not for his own sake.

oddly, the date’s going well. you look amazing, the food’s great, and he’s feeling more relaxed than he has in a while, all thoughts of deadlines pushed back because he’s worked enough to take on new projects.

jihoon knows he’s still not the best with being affectionate with you, and doesn’t match up to the way you’re so casually affectionate with him, despite how much he wants to be.

but it’s not so bad that you’d just stop wearing your promise ring, is it?

you’d been ecstatic when he’d first given it to you, pointing out how much he’d been blushing and how shy he’d been to tell you what it meant to him, and for the two of you, but now your hand looks bare without it. it looks wrong.

to make things worse, you don’t even seem mad with him. you’re talking to him like you normally do, asking him about his work and how all his friends are, telling him about how your day’s been. any other day, he’d love to listen fully to everything you have to say, but today it feels like your words are flowing in through one ear and leaving through the other.

you’ve both neared the end of your meal, and you still haven’t brought up why you’re not wearing the ring. jihoon’s sure he’s beginning to feel sick. did you just forget it after all these months of wearing it? is this your way of telling him that you’re done, you’re moving on, you have better things to spend your time on?

“do you want to go for a walk?” he asks, almost out of breath, when you finish telling him about a new movie you watched with your friends last week.

“what?”

“right now. it’s been a while since we’ve spent time together like this, and i just…don’t want it to end. if that's okay?”

you give him an apologetic smile. “i’m really tired today, hoonie. just want to go home and cuddle with you.”

ouch. okay. at least you didn’t turn him down entirely. and called his place home.

but the doubt doesn’t go away even when you’re in the car with him, singing to songs on the radio while you drive, laughing at how terrible your own voice is. any other day, jihoon would join in to tease your voice, but he doesn’t have the courage to do it right now. he watches you and thinks about what to do next, and more importantly why you’re not bringing it up.

you go into the bathroom first to take a shower, and come out wearing your sweatpants and one of his shirts. but your hand is still empty.

jihoon can’t take it anymore. he turns around resolutely to avoid facing you, trying to shut his mind before he says something stupid. the bed dips on your side and he knows you’ve turned to face him.

“hoonie?” you ask softly. “everything okay?”

“yeah,” he says, burrowing his face deeper into his pillow.

"are you sure?"

jihoon shrugs.

“okay, can i just…” you wrap an arm around his waist so your face rests in his neck, and he instantly relaxes against you. “tell me if this is too much.”

“not too much.”

you just stay together in silence for a while, jihoon just taking in your presence. it’s crazy how he doesn’t take more days off when it’s you he gets to come home to.

“did you know?” you ask, your words laced with a tone he's come to learn indicates you’re up to some mischief.

he shakes his head.

“earwax is a type of human sweat.”

jihoon’s broken out of his thoughts at that, turning to face you with an expression he hopes conveys disgust. you laugh loudly, poking his cheek.

“that’s what you wanted me to know?”

“just wanted to make you react somehow. tell me, what’s wrong?”

he shakes his head. “it’s nothing. i got over it.”

“i’ll believe that when you come crawling to me for cuddles.”

jihoon glares at you. “i don’t crawl.”

“but you haven’t asked me yet, so…”

jihoon knows he’s not going to get out of this, and it’s for the best if he doesn’t. “you didn’t wear your ring today.”

“i…what?”

he knows he’s being shifty. “it’s just…you weren’t wearing your ring when we went out for our date tonight. and you didn’t wear it after your shower, either.”

“i didn’t think you’d notice,” you say.

he sighs. “i’m not…i know i’m not very physically affectionate, and this ring is my way of reminding you i’m always there. for you. so i just felt…you know.”

you shake your head and the next thing he knows, he’s being pinned to the bed while you straddle his waist, giving him a stern look.

“lee jihoon.”

“oh, no.”

“how long have we been together for now?”

“um…a year?”

“are you asking me, or are you telling me that?”

“telling. one year.”

“have i ever once hinted at wanting to break up with you for whatever reason?”

“…no.”

you show him your hand. it’s bare, but when he looks closer, he realizes there’s a skin-coloured band-aid taking the exact place of your ring.

“what…”

“little accident when i was cutting an apple for myself. it’s nothing. i’ve been wearing my ring the way you do,” you say, tugging at your chain you’ve been wearing all evening long. it’s only then that he sees his ring sitting on it like it’s always belonged there.

“i love it just as much as you do, hoonie. of course i want it with me all the time. besides, i told you you’re stuck with me forever, didn’t i?”

jihoon can’t stop smiling like an idiot. when you first met and fell in love, it was new to him, because the love he’d written about in his songs was nothing like what he felt for you. if his songs were two dimensional, loving you and being loved by you was four dimensional.

not to mention all the songs you've inspired him to write about you, songs you get to listen to when you're in his studio, on his lap. just his whole world in one room.

he’s been working to keep that feeling between you both every single day, given he used to wonder how you’d ever understand and accept the part of his life that was music. but you have. and it’s been a whole year since you changed his perception about love.

on a whim, he tugs you down by your chain to press a kiss to your lips, and it ends up with you sprawled on top of him, laughing into his neck. just a year ago, he wouldn’t even have imagined this, but now, it feels right.

because it’s you.

taglist: @bookyeom

[gallavichsreddie1128]

The Getter (Soldier Boy)

Description: When Soldier Boy first saw Y/N he wanted her but she was hooking up with someone else in the group.

Warning: Smut, Thigh Riding

Word Count:2,011k

He smirked as she walked in the room. He hadn’t seen her before but wanted to see more of her. She was beautiful. She hadn’t even seen him yet as she was too busy talking to Hughie about what just happened. He ate his burger and watched them talk. She was in a nice fitting pair of jeans and a leather jacket. Her hair was straight and she had on eyeliner and red lipstick. She was a catch. She looked to be about 25 or so but that didn’t matter to him. “And this is soldier boy.” Hughie introduced him to her, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Hey sweetheart.” He said with a smirk. She rolled her eyes and his smirk dropped. “Yeah, nice try but she’s not easy like that.” Hughie said to him. He grumbled “yeah right.” Soldier Boy knew he was hot and there hadn't been many women that haven’t fallen to their knees for him. He was just gonna have to break her. 

“So you work for these dorks?” He asked her. She looked at him. “Well my brother is one of the dorks.” She said. Hughie? That’s her brother? It couldn’t be Billy because she was flirting with him earlier and MM? MM had a brother but not a sister. Frenchie also only had a brother, so that leaves Hughie. “Hughie is your brother?” He asked. She nodded. He looked at her and basically checked her out. Her eyes glared at him. “Do you think Hughie would mind if I fucked his sister?” He smirked. She rolled her eyes and scoffed in disgust. “His sister would care.” She said and walked away. Soldier Boy smirked. She would be his sooner or later. 

He watched as she flirted with Billy. Billy was smiling at her as she gave him the fuck me eyes. He glared at the two as they were basically fucking in front of him. What did Billy have that he didn’t? Her hand was rubbing his bicep as they were talking about god knows what. He couldn’t focus on the words, only the touching and obvious flirting they were doing. “Would you two get a room already?” He asked, annoyed. They look at him as their smiles fall. “Maybe we will.” She said and grabbed Billy’s hand leading him in the direction of his room. “Fucking hell.” He grumbled. 

“So your sister and Billy…” He trailed off. Hughie looked at him confused. “What about them?” He asked. Ben looked at him. “So how long have they been fucking?” Hughie shot up from his seat and looked at Ben in horror. “What?” He realized that Hughie didn’t know that they were fucking. He smirked just thinking of what was going to happen and oh boy he wasn’t going to miss this. 

“So you guys have been fucking behind my back?” Hughie yelled. Soldier Boy smirked. Billy and Y/N looked down. “How’d you find out?” Billy asked. “It doesn’t matter how I found out. Point is you guys kept it from me.” Hughie was mad, sad even. His best friend? And his sister. “Hughie I’m not a kid. I’m an adult. I can have sex with whoever I want.” Y/N Stood up. “I’m not saying that but you guys are doing this behind my back.” Hughie said. Y/N couldn’t figure out how he knew. They’ve been very secretive about it and kept it well hidden. I mean for the past 6 months they’ve kept it under wraps so how did he figure it out? MM and Frenchie didn’t know about it either given the looks on their faces. The only one with a not so shocked look was Soldier Boy. “It was you.” Y/n said pointing at him. He smirked at her but acted dumb. “What are you talking about?” He asked. She rolled her eyes. “Don’t play coy. You told Hughie about me and Billy.” She accused him. “Don’t know what you’re talking about sweetheart.” He said. “All because I wouldn’t have sex with you.” She said. Everyone perked up to what she said. “You told my brother about Billy and I because I turned you down. You can’t handle rejection. Well guess what Ben? Even if you were the last man on earth you still couldn’t get this.” She said. He just stared at her without saying anything. Everyone was shocked but she was angry. Not one person said anything. She huffed and left the room leaving everyone to their thoughts. 

He realized that he may have fucked up after she said all that. He honestly thought that she would eventually give into him but all she ever did was ignore him now. Anytime he walked in a room she walked out not wanting anything to do with him. It actually got to him. It got to him so bad that he ended up knocking on her door. “Who is it?” She asked. “It’s me.” He said. She stayed silent on the other end of the door waiting for him to go away. He knew she wouldn’t respond. “I know I'm the last person you wanna see or speak to but I just need you to listen.” He sighed. “I was jealous, okay? Of you and Billy. I know that’s not an excuse for telling him but that’s why I did. I also wasn’t aware that he didn’t know until after I had told him. It was my mistake and I’m sorry. Look I don’t handle rejection well you’re right about that. I honestly thought that eventually you would fall to your knees for me but I was wrong and I see that now so I’m sorry.” He said and leaned against her door. She sighed and opened the door. They faced each other and stared. “You need to learn that not every woman will want you no matter how good looking you are.” She said. “Wait, you think I'm good looking?” He asked with a smirk. “That’s really what you got from that?” She huffed and went to close the door. “Wait. I’m sorry I get what you’re saying.” She opens the door again. “But to answer your question, yes I do.” She said. He tried so hard not to smirk. “Well I think you’re beautiful.” He tells her.

She smiles and shakes her head. “I get it though. Why you did what you did. I know I’m irresistible.” She jokes. He laughs and nods. “Yeah you are.” He said. She looks around and motions for him to come inside. He walks in and she closes the door. Once she shut the door she pulled her shirt off. His eyes widen at the sight of her bare breasts on display. She threw the shirt at him and he caught it. He chuckled and threw it to the ground. “What are you doing?” He asked her. She pulled down her shorts revealing no underwear as well. “You and I are gonna have some fun.” His jaw dropped. “Isn’t that what you wanted?” She asked and went and laid on her bed. It took him a minute to process what was happening but he quickly stripped and joined her in bed. She laughed as he landed right next to her. He quickly turned to the side and kissed her. She kissed back cupping his jaw. He pulled her on top of him and she deepened the kiss. His hands running all over body. She started grinding down on him. His hands gripped her hips as she humped his thigh. He pulled away from the kiss to kiss her neck.

She moaned as he nibbled a bit and left a mark. Her hips continued to drag on his thigh. He watched as she rode him and looked at her face. She looked like a dog in heat, rutting against his leg. He couldn’t help but smirk. “Look at you humping my leg like a bitch in heat.” She moaned at his words. Her hips moved faster and faster and her moans got louder. “Fuck Soldier Boy.” She moaned softly. “Call me Ben sweetheart.” He told her and she nodded moaning his real name. His hands placed on her hips helped her thrust. “Holy fuck your thigh feels so good. I-I can o-only imagine what your d-dick feels like.” She manages out. He felt pride in the fact that this beautiful woman was about to cum on his thigh and that it was all she needed.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed her body forward more. Her mouth was right by his ear so all he heard was her breathing and moaning. “Such a pretty sight.” He said as he rubbed her hips. His dick was so hard and ready for her pretty pussy but this was also pretty hot. “Fuck Ben. I’m so close.” She moaned in his ear. “Yeah baby? Why don’t you let go all over my thigh and then I’ll let you cum all over my dick. Sounds good?” He asked. She nodded and gasped as the knot in her stomach tightened. The edge was right there and she was about to fall over it. Her hips lost their rhythm as she gasped loudly. He felt her warm gush come out as she came hard all over his muscular thigh. “That’s it baby. Ride it out.” He says and watches her hips move slowly as she rides out her perfect orgasm. She opened her eyes and her hips stopped.

His eyes traveled down her body and he smirked. “You have such a perfect body. I can’t wait to fuck it.” He says. She smiles at him. “What are you waiting for then?” She asked with a smirk that matched his. He flips them over so he’s on top. He looks at her body one more time and starts stroking his thick cock. “Are you ready sweetheart?” He asked her. “Always.” She smirked. He pushed her legs apart and entered her. She gasped at the feeling of his long thick cock inside out her. She wrapped her legs around his hips pushing him in more. “Fuck you’re so warm and tight.” He groans. She takes one of his hands and intertwines it with hers. He chuckled and began thrusting. “Ben.” She moans loudly, not caring who heard her. He closed his eyes for a second enjoying her warmth.”Fuck you feel so good sweetheart.” He moaned and moved faster. She was letting out all kinds of dirty noises and gasps. He watched as her face contorted to pleasure. Her mouth was shaped in a perfect o and her eyes were closed.

He was letting out grunts and groans at the feeling of her perfect pussy. Her walls were fluttering around him and he was getting close. “Tell me doll does Billy fuck you like this?” He asked her. He opened his eyes and watched her shake her head No. “Mmmm that’s not good enough, baby. I need you to say it.” “No.” She moans and gasps. “No, what?” He teased her. “He doesn’t fuck me as good as you.” That was his breaking point and he came inside of her. “Fuck.” He groaned. She had yet to cum and with being a Supe he didn’t need time to cool down. “Scream my name when you cum doll. I want everyone on the planet to know who’s fucking you.” He told her and watched her jaw drop as her climax was right there. “BEN.” She screamed as she fell over the edge once again but this time felt so much better. His hips didn’t stop until her climax was over. 

“So I’m better than Billy?” He asked as she laid on his chest and he was rubbing her back. “I don’t know.” His face dropped. “I think you might need to fuck me again just so I can make sure.” She said. The smirk came back on his face and he pulled her on top of him. “This time I wanna see these pretty little tits bounce.” He said and pinched one of her nipples making her groan.

[webslingingslasher]

hi babeeee!!! idk if this is how requests work bc i never request fics but i was wondering if u could do something super duper angsty, like really angsty, and then hurt comfort with a fluffy end? it can be anything you want, but like that sort of timeline would be so so so good, if u could and if requests r open,, xoxoxox

it may have taken me 12 years but i did it bestie.

Peter Parker wasn’t the type of boyfriend to have rules. 

You were your own person, and should live as one. However, there were some things he was a bit more passionate about. 

Like: texting him when you get home (and he wasn’t around), calling him if you feel unsafe or nervous, keep him informed of your whereabouts so he could try and track you down if he needed to, and always, always, call him back. 

Peter had one rule, let him know you're safe. Always. Even when you’re mad at eachother, even at your most ugly, you’d let him know you’re okay. It was Peter’s one true rule, the other things he liked and he preferred you’d do, but this was his number one thing. 

And you’re not following it. 

The third time you ignored his call he felt frustration brew so deeply he almost slammed his phone to the ground, it would’ve done nothing to fix anything, and would’ve made a bigger problem, but the satisfaction of watching something break apart into a million pieces would’ve made him feel better. Even if just for a moment. 

It’s almost like you knew it’s pissing him off, you’ve never dug this deeply into a wound. You knew it would get under his skin in the right places, it was something that either of you didn’t play with. It was too serious for Peter, and knowing you were most likely safe and just doing this to try and get even with him made him furious. Because he can’t prove it. And because he can’t all he could think about how not okay you might be. 

Peter hates leaving angry voicemails but he can’t stop himself this time. 

‘This is the fourth fucking call you’ve ignored, I think you proved your point. I know you’re mad at me but this is just childish, you made this night go from a small hiccup to a massive fight because you won’t answer your phone. Just call me back, goddamn it.’ 

Peter’s never once gotten loud with you, he’s never once felt enough rage towards you he could ever buck up enough energy to yell at you. But all he wanted to do was scream about how inconsiderate you were. He understands he may have started it, he even tried to apologize but you must’ve had this in your heart for a minute because you couldn’t wait to bulldoze him. 

‘I’m so sorry, baby. I got caught up in the low-’ 

‘Whatever, I don’t care. I’m going home.’ 

‘Hey, no, no, no! We can still hang out! I haven’t ate-’ 

‘I did. I waited over an hour, Peter. I’m going home.’ 

‘I’m sorry, I really am, baby. I know tonight was important to you.’ 

And that’s when the night switched. 

‘No, Peter, this wasn’t important to me. This was important for us, this was about you trying to prove you still care about us.’ 

‘Woah, hold on, don’t you dare stand there and tell me I don’t care about you or us, that’s unfair and you know it.’ 

‘You know what, Peter? I didn’t sign up to date two guys. I was willing to accept the other because it was a package deal, but I’m tired of being picked last. You know I’ll always be waiting around and it’s so fucking tiresome just waiting around.’ 

‘Bullshit. You knew exactly what you were signing up for, you don’t get to act like this is new news.’ 

‘I’m always picked last! I understand who you are, Peter, who you share a life with, trust me, if anyone here knows best about understanding, it’s fucking me, but that doesn’t mean I’m always the last priority. I know sometimes I have to be on the backburner, and guess what, Peter? I fucking understand. But, tonight? What stopped you? Because it’s not like there’s a domestic attack on the city, so tell me, what was so fucking important tonight I was shot to the bottom of the list for it?’ 

‘Okay, I get it. I know you’re mad, but I think we both need to take a breath and talk about this at home.’ 

‘No! I want you to look at me and tell me what was so important NYPD’s finest couldn’t handle it for an evening.’ 

‘Baby, I really don’t-’ 

‘Fucking tell me! I want you to admit right now it was nothing important. Look me in the eye and admit you didn’t care about my feelings.’ 

‘It was a robbery. I have a responsibility to keep the city safe, a city you very much live in, by the way.’ 

‘Ah, the classic, ‘if you really think about it, I’m doing this for you’ line. Real original.’ 

‘Can we please just go home? If you’re going to be pissed at me anyways I’d rather it be in the comfort of our home.’

‘You can go wherever you want, but I’m not going anywhere with you.’ 

‘I’m gonna get a cab, hold on.’ 

‘No, I’m not going anywhere with you and I mean it.’ 

‘You can hate me at home, let’s go.’ 

‘No! I’m leaving, you can sit around waiting on me for once.’ 

‘Why are you doing this now? You’ve never been this persistent before, I moved in with you and you still don’t think it’s enough. What else do you want from me? I’m giving you all I can, fuck.’ 

‘You know what? I hope someone fucking kidnaps me, maybe then I’d be your first choice.’ 

‘Don’t, don’t you even dare go there. You know that’s a low blow.’

‘I do. I hope I’m fucking tortured with you on the line, too.’ 

Peter tried calling out for you, screamed your name even, but you walked across the street and were swallowed into the crowd. He tugged at his hair a few times before looking around, he wasn’t sure what to do. Get a cab, bus, train? Does he walk in the direction you went? It’s a start. 

Pulling out his phone he tried calling, you sent him to voicemail on the second ring. You’re pissed, that’s fine, he just needs you mad and safe. Peter dodged bodies on his left and right, checking each alleyway for you, assuming you’d stop to collect yourself and call him when you had a breather. 

No sight of you. He doesn’t know where you went from here, it splits two ways. He tries using his boyfriend intuition and attempts to channel you, he’s left hopeless. Like a hail mary he remembers you share locations, Peter’s hands shake when he reaches for the app, your name loading until a small circle appears in his. 

You’re close. He follows the road forward, he knows you took this way and his heart squeezes. You deliberately took the sketchy route, the one you told Peter you wouldn’t dare walk without him. It looks like he’s getting closer, but it’s impossible to tell when he has to wait for it to constantly reload. 

Peter swears he can see your jacket ahead, he calls your phone, picking up the pace and trying his best to catch up. You blocked his call again, but he saw you do it.

He knows you heard your name get called, because you started to walk faster, it’s useless, Peter’s quicker. The only option you had was to hide in the crowd, squeezing yourself in the middle and out through the front. Sighing heavy at your escape, and a bit unamused by the childish behavior. Peter looked down at his phone refreshing your name ‘find friends.’ 

His face crumbled into a thousand pieces when the notification appeared, ‘- stopped sharing their location with you.’ His response was to call you, this time you let it ring out, and he left a nasty voicemail. It was like he snapped, he pulled at his curls and exhaled a loud ‘fuck!’ before gripping his phone so tight he thought it’d snap, and that's why he put it away. 

If you wanted to play dirty so could he, you’re hard to find from the street but when he’s swinging from building to building you’d be out of luck. He was tired and hungry, he wanted this to be over. Fight about it like grown adults, at home, while he’s making a grilled cheese or something. 

Peter ran down a back alleyway, ripping his clothes from his body and pulling his mask from his pocket. The suit came in handy tonight after all. Taking a sharp inhale, he took a leap, screaming out when he took flight. 

‘Not you, not you, not you, not…. You? No, not you.’ 

‘Where the fuck did you go?’ 

You were nowhere to be found, still no answer on his calls or texts. He knows it’s irrational, but he’s terrified you’ve jinxed yourself and really are in trouble. He’s taken the route on a spin three times and he still hasn’t seen you, there’s three options, you either went into a gay nightclub, were kidnapped, or somehow snuck your way across the road and into… central park. 

Of course you did, Peter should’ve known that. He told you one time it was a weak vantage point, he couldn’t see through the treelines all that well, and didn’t have much to swing from. At least he has a general idea of where you are, he just has to do it on foot. 

Maybe you were right, maybe he just sucked at prioritizing you now. He doesn’t know when he became this way. He just feels so responsible, he got a great gift and it’s only right he shares it. He just hasn’t figured out how to share Peter with you and Spider-Man with the world yet. Both people need him at the same time. 

At last, sitting on the edge of the fountain, is the love of his life. Just looking terribly sad, he hates to know he caused it. He may have started the fight, but you said some terrible things, things that were only said to jab at the most vulnerable spots. 

Taking a seat next to you he sighs, his entire body deflating in one breath. You mimic the sigh. 

“Rough night?” 

You hum, “my boyfriend and I got in a fight. Maybe we still are, I don’t know. What about you?” 

Peter stretches his legs, red feet scrape the brick. “My girlfriend went nuclear, kinda deserved. But, she also really hurt my feelings.” 

“Did you hurt her feelings too?” 

“Does that make it deserved?” 

Silence. It didn’t. 

Peter watches you twiddle your thumbs, chewing on your bottom lip and sniffing. 

“I’m sure she’s really sorry, and she knows whatever she said hit a soft spot. It seems like your job comes with some downsides, and maybe she kept it all bottled up until she couldn’t anymore, because how do you tell a superhero you want their attention more than a city needs protection?” 

He knows what you mean, he knows how selfish it could sound, but it’s not. You’re allowed to want him around every second, because he does too. 

“You don’t.” 

Peter can feel your eyes, “you don’t tell the superhero, you tell your boyfriend.” 

Your throat clears, “what if he’s both? What if he’s already spread too thin and his whining girlfriend is his last straw?” 

“No. He’s not spread too thin. He was unaware of how you felt, he didn’t know how much it bothered you. He didn’t know how far he pushed you away.” 

“So what changes now he knows?” 

Peter breaks character, this is about real solutions. 

“We figure it out. We’ll go home and look at our schedules and work around it, and have a set day where it’s only us. Twice a month we’ll have a standing date, attendance mandatory. The police scanner gets turned off unless it’s a slow night, and from now on, unless it’s a domestic attack, nothing comes before you.” 

[theragethatisdesire]

show off - eren jaeger x afab!reader x jean kirschstein, 18+!!

something wild and wicked came over me while considering the dynamics of the erejean threesome, and i realized we all deserve to see the incident that started it all. this is the official part 2/prequel to three's a... and it is very very fun and tasty. i feel like i haven't been posting as much, so i am super excited to get this up. i hope you guys enjoy as much as i did writing it :) it's also from eren's pov which you guys know i adore

pairing: jean kirschstein x reader, eren jaeger x reader, a lil bit of eren x jean tension but nothing physical

wc: 6.2k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: swearing, smut, threesome, implied internalized homophobia??? (literally just like, a pinch. eren has a "no homo" moment at the end lol), oral sex (male receiving), pet names (slut, brat, bitch, baby, princess), eren's a bit of a hard dom in this one, degradation, humiliation, penetrative vaginal sex, thick tension between eren and jean, eren's a menace

enjoy :)

-

Eren should be mad.

Eren should absolutely be mad, waking earlier than normal and padding into his kitchen, finding this scene waiting for him. You, wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts and a stringy thong and leaning over the counter enough to make that fact exceedingly obvious, and Jean, his roommate and friend since high school, shirtless and smirking, flirting over coffee. When he announces his presence, the shame and surprise on both of your faces is evident enough to confirm his suspicions; there’s definitely something building between the two of you, and whether it be a harmless crush or more, it’s there. Eren should be mad.

He’s just…not.

Despite his constant struggles to bite back his temper, especially when it comes to you, Eren surprises himself by the pointed lack of red in his vision. The heat’s still there, though; something coils in his chest that reminds him of anger, has the same flavor and the same spark, but none of the pulsing rhythm is there. Only something slow and catching, simmering in the pit of his stomach.

You come over again that night, winding up snuggled into his bare chest and intensely concentrating on the newest episode of Game of Thrones that Eren’s been dying to watch, but can’t bring himself to pay attention to. The image of this morning, you and Jean leaning into each other and smiling conspiratorially over whatever conversation had been struck up, is burned into his brain. And he’s still not mad.

“Do you want to fuck Jean?” Eren doesn’t parse his words; he’s no good with them anyway, and he’s a straight-to-the-point person as it stands.

“What?” You shoot up off his chest, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed accusingly at him. “What gave you that idea?”

Eren’s not buying it, though; there’s a little flush rising to your cheeks, and it betrays you. Not only do you flirt with Jean when Eren’s not watching, but you do want to fuck him. And Eren’s just not mad.

“You two were flirting in the kitchen this morning– I saw you,” Eren snorts when you try to interrupt him in protest, “and it’s not like we both haven’t known about Jean’s little crush on you for the last couple months.”

“We’re friendly,” you shrug, looking down into your lap guiltily, “we’re trying to be friends.”

“Well you’re both doing a damn good job of it,” Eren rolls his eyes.

“I’m sorry if I made you mad, I wasn’t trying to be flirty with him, I just–”

“Want to fuck him,” Eren finishes for you, carefully watching your reaction. You scowl at him, irritated, but your heart’s not in it, he can tell.

“Why are you so stuck on this idea of me wanting to sleep with Jean? I’m sorry if I went a little too far in the kitchen earlier, but that doesn’t mean I want to fuck him.”

“You keep bringing up this threesome idea,” Eren strikes right where he knows your mind’s already headed, “is it because of Jean? Is he the guy you want us to fuck?”

“You said you’d never do that,” you bite into your lip, suddenly so embarrassed. Eren’s overcome with a sudden urge to comfort you, to smooth the crease between your eyebrows and tell you that it’s okay. It confuses him, and he knows he can’t do that without betraying whatever…odd feelings are brewing in his stomach at the idea of you and Jean together, of you Jean and Eren together.

“Is it Jean?”

“It’s not Jean,”  you huff, crossing your arms like a petulant child.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not–”

“I mean, if it was going to happen, I’d rather it be Jean than some fucking rando.”

Eren’s caught you off guard, and he can tell. Your mouth hangs open a little, trying to mouth the words that you want to say, but nothing comes out. The flush on your face grows deeper, and Eren wants to kiss you. He’s always loved this about you, that you’re so filthy deep down, but you get so shy about telling him what you really want.

“W-why is that?”

“At least he’s our friend,” Eren shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant despite the bulge that’s already starting to grow in his pants at the thought, “he wouldn’t cross any lines or pull out any crazy shit on us.”

“I guess so.” You’ve returned to fiddling with the hem of your shirt, avoiding his eyes. Eren reaches out, tilts your chin up to look at him.

“C’mon, be honest with me. Is it Jean?”

“Maybe a little.” Your words may be reluctant, but your eyes have taken on that glossy, distant look that Eren knows so well. It is Jean.

Eren pauses to wonder what you’ve fantasized about in the dark, what you’ve been holding back from him. Maybe one in your mouth, one thrusting into you from behind? Riding one and taking the other down your throat? The pictures that flash through his brain have a groan threatening to slip from his lips, the raw hotness of it cutting straight through the weirdness that he’s sitting here, staring at his girlfriend, and thinking about Jean with a tent in his boxers.

“Would you do it? If you were put in the right position?”

“I…yes. I would.” Your words come out in breathless gasps; oh, you have it bad, for both of them, Eren realizes. You catch yourself before he can drag you down too far though, reining yourself in with an airy chuckle. “But I doubt Jean would even go for it. He doesn’t seem all too freaky.”

“You never know,” Eren concedes, letting the matter lie for now and pulling you back into his chest, “but you would do it, right? If he was into it.”

“If you both were, then yeah, absolutely.” Eren can feel you subtly rubbing your thighs together, and he smirks above your head where you can’t see him.

“Maybe one day we can ask him.”

A lighthearted laugh shakes your frame. “Yeah, maybe one day.”

From then on out, Eren can’t escape the plaguing thoughts of you and Jean and himself, tangled up together in a mess of sweaty limbs. Images of you gagging on Jean while Eren has a hand on the back of your head, shoving you further along his length, keep him distracted while he’s at work. Making himself cum into his hand in the shower thinking of watching Jean, face between your legs and two knuckles deep in you, Eren telling him how to make you cum, how to make you scream.

It’s become a private obsession for him, one he can’t run away from. Eren has you over at the house every night nowadays, insisting he’s been going through a lot at work and he misses your company. You, being the sweet little thing that you are, have no idea that he’s watching, baiting Jean into coming clean.

Eren has happened to “lose” all of his sweatpants but one pair, forcing you to walk around their apartment in those short little sleep shorts you favor, or ideally, just your panties and a t-shirt. He observes Jean as you pitter patter around their kitchen, keeping track of just how many times Jean’s eyes flit to where the shirt rides up as you reach for something high in the cabinets. He’s not just watching Jean, he’s watching you too; the way your breath hitches in your throat when Jean slicks his hair back, when he stretches, arms over his head, and lets a little slip of skin show.

And when he can find the presence of mind to focus, late at night with your mouth on him or his face buried between your thighs, Eren listens closely, and he’s rewarded. There’s the telltale creak of feet on the carpet, of someone lurking just outside of Eren’s barely-cracked, “accidentally” left-open bedroom door. If he listens close enough, sometimes he swears he can hear little grunts and groans coming from across the hall.

You two want each other badly enough that it’s practically weighing the air down, and Eren’s not mad, he’s frustrated. You’re both so shy, so clearly uncomfortable with the attraction between each other, how is he ever going to manage to get you both to just say it?

It turns out that Eren’s not just an observant hothead, he’s a lucky observant hothead.

It’s been three weeks since you let Eren in on your little crush, three weeks of mind-numbing observation and little bits of bait thrown out, but neither you nor Jean have risen to any of it. It’s not until you’re finishing up dinner with Eren in the kitchen, wearing nothing but a tank top and the tiniest shorts he’s ever seen, that Jean comes home, sweaty and out-of-breath from the gym, and Eren sees his opportunity.

“Hey,” Jean breathes out in greeting, whipping his sticky shirt over his head and tossing it to the ground.

“Hi, Jean,” you smile amicably at him through the doorway. Eren watches as Jean’s expression lightens, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a wide smile.

“You save me something?”

“Always.” You shake a full Tupperware container at him meaningfully before sliding it into the fridge.

“You’re too good to me,” he whistles, hands running through his hair, “I’ll get to it after I shower.”

“How was the gym?” Eren makes his presence known, looking up from his phone where he’s seated at the dining table they’ve put just outside the kitchen. Jean meets Eren’s gaze with an all-too-obvious blush rising to his cheeks; Jean always gets that little embarrassed look when Eren catches him flirting with you.

“Fine,” Jean shrugs noncommittally.

“Any cute girls?” Eren asks, returning his gaze to his phone. He can viscerally feel the startled look you give him, the stuttering of Jean’s fluid movements next to you across the room, getting a cup from the cabinet.

“What?”

Eren lifts his gaze to find exactly what he expected: Jean, subconsciously having drawn just a little too close to you for comfort, glaring over at him; you, eyes wide and questioning, the slightest hint of a frown creasing your forehead. Eren lets an easy smile grace his mouth, shrugs.

“Were there any hot girls at the gym?” 

“No,” Jean answers carefully, slowly pulling his arm down, cup in hand. Eren doesn’t miss the way the two of you glance at each other, the unsaid what the fuck? passing between you two in the air.

“I figured as much,” Eren shrugs again, scrolls on his phone, “not like you’d notice, considering how much drooling you do over my girlfriend.”

The words hit the floor like a shattering glass, spreading a heavy, thick silence over the room. Eren doesn’t dare look up from his screen, doesn’t want to disturb the aura of casual conversation that he’s worked to establish. He can’t jump in to reassure Jean that he doesn’t mind the other man’s flirtation and ogling glances, not too quickly. Eren has to spin this just right, back the both of you into the corner you so desperately want to be in.

“Eren,” you finally hiss, scowling at him. Eren knows you must be confused, but you’ll understand in a moment if he can play his cards right. “What the hell?”

Jean, for his part, is stock-still and bright red, looking between you and Eren like a deer caught in headlights.

“Oh, don’t pretend like you don’t know,” Eren rolls his eyes and stands from the table, leans against it with his hands in his pockets, twitching with anticipation, “we’ve talked about his little crush on you.”

“I– I don’t,” Jean tries to stutter out a rebuttal, but Eren cuts his words short with a cool, calculated grin.

“Yeah, you do,” Eren saunters over to the kitchen to place firm hands on your shoulders, turning you to face Jean, “but if you haven’t noticed that she has a little crush on you too, then you’re blind.”

“Eren!” Eren can hear the panic in your voice, can feel your shoulders tense up with embarrassment, but he’s hardly paying attention. His eyes never leave Jean, watching as the muscles of his chest and shoulders flex with the tension humming through his body.

“What are you playing at, Jaeger?” Jean narrows his eyes, finally picking up on Eren’s little game. Eren bites back a grin; if only Jean understood what game they were actually playing here.

“Nothing,” Eren says innocently, knowing full-well that the dark glint in his eyes is telling a different story, “it’s not like I blame you, I mean, look at her.”

Eren rubs relaxing circles into the skin of your shoulders, urging you to loosen up under his touch. You’re still strung tight, practically vibrating with confusion and shame under him, but Eren can feel the way your skin’s starting to run hot. Most of that tautness in your muscles is nothing but pure, unadulterated want, Eren’s felt it enough times now to know the difference.

“Eren…” the pinch of anger has faded from your voice now, and Eren can hear the cautionary, are we doing this now? tone hiding behind the words. In response, Eren digs his thumb into a particularly tough spot between your shoulder and your neck, wrenches an unwilling gasp from you.

“She really likes you, Jean,” Eren’s leaning over your shoulder, ignoring your warning completely, practically nose-to-nose with Jean now, “wants to fuck you, wants us to fuck you.”

Jean’s face stutters while his mouth remains silent, but just before he hardens his mouth into a flat line, schools his face back into that perpetually suspicious scowl of his, Eren catches it. Jean’s trying to keep himself closed off, but Eren’s faster, and he can see the flicker of arousal that floats over Jean’s face.

“You’re fucking with me,” Jean counters, but there’s a questioning lilt to his words. Eren grins, shakes his head. Jean looks down at you, trembling and frozen in Eren’s grip. “He’s fucking with me, right?”

“Tell him,” Eren coos, leaning down to whisper hot against your ear the way he knows will get a fire started in your belly, “tell him the truth, it’s okay.”

“He’s not,” you choke out, strangled and nervous, “it’s…it’s not a game.”

Jean blinks once at you, twice at Eren. Eren grabs you by the chin, gently guides your mouth to his. All of his suspicions are confirmed when he kisses you; you open up for him a little too easily, let him suck your tongue into his mouth with no resistance at all. And when he releases you, looks back up at Jean with a question in his eyes only to find that Jean’s gaze has darkened, mouth just ever-so-slightly ajar, Eren smirks. He’s got both of you right where he wants you.

“What do you think, Kirschstein?” Eren brings his hands up to hold your breasts, twisting your nipples through the thin fabric of your tank top. “Isn’t she cute?”

“I, I mean–”

“She’s so pretty,” Eren nips at your ear, pulls a little whimper from you, but he sees how your eyes never leave Jean’s, “and she listens so well, such an obedient little thing.”

“Eren,” you pant, the last bits of your anxiety showing in the tremble of your voice. Eren shushes you disapprovingly, sneaks a hand down between your legs, applying just enough pressure to make your knees weak.

“Gets bratty when she’s nervous,” Eren explains, flitting his eyes up towards Jean, who looks like he hasn’t taken a breath in several minutes, “don’t you want to show Jean how good you can be, hm?”

“Mhm,” you hum. It’s quiet, but it makes Jean’s eyes widen, makes him suck in a sharp fuck between his teeth.

“Why don’t you kiss her, hm?” Eren shoves you into Jean’s arms, startling both of you.

“Jaeger, I don’t–”

“I’m serious,” Eren backs away a few feet to prove his point, smiling earnestly, “kiss her.”

Jean scowls, looks between you, Eren, back to you. Eren takes note of how Jean’s hands haven’t left their grip on your waist where he caught your stumble from Eren’s push, how your arms are tucked into Jean’s tacky, strong chest.

“Is he serious?” Jean murmurs down at you.

“Only if you want it.” Eren hates the self-conscious waver in your voice, wishes he could have told you everything he’s seen over the last few weeks, all the evidence he’s collected that yes, Jean very much does want it. But then again, if he had, he wouldn’t be treated with the sight before him now: you and Jean, nervous in each other’s arms, practically vibrating with the idea of exploring each other for the first time.

“I,” –Jean licks his lips– “I want it. Want you.”

“Me too,” your voice is hardly louder than a breath, Eren recognizes the sound in a heartbeat. You’re already strung out, fingernails digging ever-so-slightly into the skin of Jean’s chest.

“Can I?” Jean’s so sickeningly sweet with you, Eren almost wants to roll his eyes. He likes to be sweet with you sometimes, but if Jean only knew how much you could take, the dirty, mean things that you beg Eren for…it occurs to Eren that maybe he can show Jean sometime, and his boxers start to tent underneath his sweats.

“Yes,” you tilt your chin up to Jean pleadingly, and Jean’s resolve finally breaks.

Eren’s delighted to see that Jean’s chasteness doesn’t hold out long; after only a few minutes have passed, your hands are flying all over each other, breathless little moans passing between your mouths. Jean’s hand trails down to cup your ass, and Eren looks on intently as the flesh gives under Jean’s grip through hooded eyes. Eren’s hand has subconsciously traveled down to the front of his sweats, palming roughly at the erection that’s showing through the thick fabric. 

Jean starts to wander away from your mouth, eyes shut as he peppers gentle kisses along your jawline, feather-light nips down your neck. As if he’d forgotten about your clothes, Jean’s eyes widen when he feels the strap of your tank top under his mouth, and his eyes flit to Eren in question. Eren nods at him, tries to offer an encouraging smile that comes off more like a wicked smirk.

Jean slowly– ever so slowly– slips the strap over your shoulder, kissing at the newly-bare skin. Eren already knows you’re sensitive there; Jean quickly learns from the quivering gasp that reaches his ears.

“Is this okay?” Jean mumbles against your skin; Eren has to choke down a gag at his sugary tone.

“Take it off,” Eren answers for you, cheeks burning at how coarse he already sounds, throat swollen and thick with arousal. Jean scowls at Eren over your shoulder, turns softer eyes back to you.

“Please,” you echo Eren’s sentiment, raising your arms to emphasize your answer. Eren doesn’t miss the slight shake of Jean’s fingers as he reaches for the hem of your tank top, rids you of it slowly. Once you’re bare, Jean’s eyes darken, almost glossing over.

“Fuck,” Jean breathes out, ghosting a thumb over one of your peaked nipples. Eren’s chest swells with pride at how completely wrecked you’ve gotten Jean already; he’s practically drooling down at your half-bare form.

“Told you she was pretty.” Eren grins, gripping his erection harder through his pants. You were right about this, you were so right. There’s not enough blood flow above Eren’s waistline for him to focus on how bizarre it is that he’s getting off to another man, his friend even, pawing at his girlfriend; all he can process is the tangible heat of the room, memorizing each little spot on your body Jean’s hands return to in admiration, learning which parts of you Jean likes and which actions of Jean’s make your knees shake.

You peek over your shoulder at Eren, as if you’ve just remembered he’s in the room, and his knees nearly give out. Your lips are swollen and wet from Jean’s slow, strong kisses, from pulling your lip between your teeth in shame, and your eyes are glistening with unshed tears of pure want. Eren’s never seen you so beautiful.

“Do you want to…” you trail off, offering Eren a beckoning hand, but he declines, grinning at you.

“Have your fun,” Eren says, words a sharp blade against Jean’s steadfast comfort, “you begged for it enough.”

Your mouth stutters open in embarrassment, a half-formed protest on your lips, but Jean’s deft fingers grab your chin, gently directing you back to him. He gives Eren a chastising frown, clear disapproval of Eren’s snark. Eren thinks that he likes the contrast they give you as a team; Eren the firm hand of discipline, and Jean the soothing balm to ease your cries.

“Is he telling the truth?” Jean questions you softly, free hand cupping your breast ever-so-tenderly. Eren watches your back arch, watches the way you lean desperately into Jean’s touch. “Did you beg for this?”

“Yes,” you say, voice breaking under the weight of your arousal.

“Okay,” Jean nods, as if he needs any more reassurance, Eren thinks with a roll of his eyes.

“Her mouth,” Eren calls out, unable to rein in the telltale rasp of desperation in his voice, “she’s good with her mouth.”

Jean’s eyebrows furrow in thought; Eren can see the choices flying across his face, to have you spread on the counter before him, feel the warmth of your walls around his fingers, or the soft give of your throat around his cock.

“I like doing that,” you whisper, so low Eren almost doesn’t hear you. Jean’s eyes shoot open in surprise, until a slow, understanding smile spreads over his face. Eren almost wheezes with relief.

“You like using your mouth?” Jean thumbs lovingly at your lip, smiles wider at your enthusiastic nod. Without being told (Eren decides to reward you later for being so good for your guest, showing off how well he’s trained you) you climb down onto your knees, sitting back and waiting patiently.

Jean looks back to Eren, the last thin string of hesitation taut between them and aching to be cut. Eren snaps it with an affirmative nod of his head, shoves his pants and boxers down to finally free his dick and bring it against the familiar skin of his palm.

Jean’s eyes flick to Eren’s length, pausing just a little too long. Eren doesn’t have the wherewithal to think too much into that now, only to appreciate the rush of heat it sends through his veins. In answer, Jean pushes his shorts down his legs, sending the compression boxers he’d worn for the gym sliding to the floor with them, cock bobbing free and dangling in front of your face.

“Pretty,” you murmur, wrapping your hand around the base and pressing a light kiss to the tip affectionately. Jean’s head falls back, and he groans; a throaty, appreciative sound.

Eren was growing frustrated initially with Jean’s softness towards you, but it hadn’t occurred to him that you might behave differently towards Jean than you do towards him. When you take Eren in your mouth, you’re all enthusiasm, dipping as far as you can go the moment he taps your tongue, retching on him, drool hanging in long strings from your tongue and wetting your chest.

With Jean, however, you place curious little kisses up the bottom of him, deliver kitten licks to the tip before swirling your tongue in long, slow circles around where he’s flushed and dripping for you. Jean swears repeatedly under his breath, brings a tentative hand to the back of your head to run his fingers through your hair. Eren’s own hand slows where he’s jerking off, his gaze honing in to look on in wonder as a woman he thought he knew so well reveals a new side of herself to both of the men watching her.

“That’s– shit,” Jean groans, head lolling off his shoulders and eyebrows knitted in pleasure.

Eren feels a poignant rush of pride at watching Jean become unraveled from your mouth, watching how good you make him feel. It’s a relief for Eren as much as it is for Jean, he thinks, to watch some of that iron-clad composure drop, see the way Jean’s jaw drops slack, his shoulders slouch. 

“She’s good, isn’t she?” Eren hardly recognizes his own voice, gravelly as he speaks into the sticky air. Jean meets Eren’s eyes, both of their gazes half-lidded and desperate.

“So good,” Jean answers, only breaking eye contact when a satisfied little hum rings out from you, sending vibrations ricocheting through Jean’s body and making him roll his head back again, a little moan echoing out into the room.

“Doing so good for him, baby,” Eren strides closer, bold and half-mad, wanting to see the way your cheeks hollow around Jean, the way that drool is starting to collect in a glossy sheen on your chin. “You like it? Like having him down your throat?”

You nod, mouth still full and eyes shining up at them, glazed over and content. Eren softly cups the back of your head for a whisper of a moment, loving that he has this relationship with you, loving that he can watch such a sacred sight and know that you love him all the same, loving what a filthy little thing he’s turned you into.

“Fuck,” Jean exhales, eyes widening as Eren’s tenderness morphs into something urgent, shoving you further along Jean’s length, “don’t– don’t choke her–”

“That’s what she wants, isn’t it?” Eren’s affectionate gaze turns hard and expectant, hand forcing your head to move faster, harder, further. “You love having your mouth full, don’t you? Nasty little slut.”

“Mhm,” you whine around Jean’s cock, pulling a throaty groan out from him.

“You’re being– shit, too rough with her,” Jean tries and fails to shoot Eren a glare, eyes flitting back down to you when your throat constricts around him with a gag.

“She loves it,” Eren corrects him coolly, mouth quirking up at the corner when you retch, “loves being whored out. You want his cum down your throat? Show him how bad you want it.”

You slip your tongue out, letting it rub down the thick vein on the underside of Jean’s cock, opening your throat that much more for him. Jean nearly whimpers, bringing his hand to the other side of your head, holding you softer, more gently than Eren, but clearly beginning to lose himself.

“So good for me, princess,” Jean murmurs down at you, chest beginning to heave with the growing intensity of your movements. You blink up, hearts in your hooded eyes, humming around Jean affectionately. Eren chuckles darkly.

“Is that what you are? Jean’s little princess?” Eren shoves you down particularly hard, grinning cruelly as your body constricts with a vicious gag, Jean groaning loudly next to him.

“F-fuck, I’m–”

“Getting close?” Eren murmurs in Jean’s direction, never taking his eyes off of where you’re on your knees, crying and gagging and working so hard for Jean’s cum, “I bet. She’s fucking good.”

Your eyes flick between the two men towering over you, trying desperately to keep your throat open to receive the little thrusts of Jean’s hips, hands folded in your lap obediently as you squirm, rubbing your thighs together in a fruitless attempt to gain some much-needed friction. Eren notices the steady, needy rocking of your hips, smirks triumphantly.

“Look at her, like a bitch in heat,” Eren sneers, “squirming and shit, trying to get herself off with your cock down her throat. Give her what she wants, Kirschstein, come on.”

Your gaze lands on Jean, watery eyes blinking pleadingly. Eren can hear the little hitches in Jean’s breath growing more frequent, more urgent, and he isn’t sure where he wants to look more: down at you, so needy and pleading on the floor, throat stuffed and wet between the legs, or Jean, strung out and panting down at you, hips canting into your mouth harshly.

And then Jean’s cumming, and Eren realizes where he wants to look, has to squeeze the base of his cock hard. Jean throws his head back, eyes screwed shut, hand fisting into your hair and fingertips rubbing against the back of Eren’s hand, a deep, raspy groan clawing its way out of his chest. His hips push forward of their own accord; Eren can hear you coughing as Jean cums down your throat, a lot by the sound of it, but Eren can’t be bothered to look away from the other man, fucked out and untethered all from your mouth. Eren’s damn close to busting from just watching Jean cum, knowing the feeling all too well and never having anticipated how erotic it would be to watch another man be brought to his knees by you on yours.

“Holy shit,” Jean breathes, barely a whisper of a statement, chuckling airily down at you when you release him with a little pop.

“Was that…good?” You venture, smiling shyly. Eren nearly scoffs; you’re so good at playing the part of the innocent little thing, when he knows better. You’re a menace, a vixen.

“That was incredible,” Jean says, and Eren can hear the bare honesty in his statement.

“Up.” Eren interrupts your little moment with Jean to tug you to your feet. It prompts an expression of bewilderment to appear on your face, as if you’d forgotten that he needs to get off too, and so do you. Eren turns to Jean, appraises him. “I’m going to fuck her, you’re more than welcome to stay.”

“Wait, Eren–”

“Wait?” Eren chides, ripping those tiny shorts from your body like the inconvenience they are, leaving you bare and wanting. “Don’t you want to get fucked? I mean, look at you. You’re soaked.”

There’s a little glisten at the apex of your thighs, the evidence of you rubbing your legs together in a desperate attempt for stimulation shining in the low lights of the kitchen. Eren pulls you over to the chair that had started it all, where he’d been sitting when this beautiful opportunity had stumbled across him. He sits, tugging you into his lap with a smack to your ass, settling you over his cock and letting you grind yourself against it, slick him up.

“Tell me,” Eren pinches your chin, forces your eyes to his, “don’t you want me to fuck you?”

“Please, please,” you gasp, working your hips over him like a woman starved, like your last chance at salvation is getting Eren as deep inside of you as he’ll go. Eren smiles, pleased with your answer, and lifts your hips, letting you sink down on him with an endless, pitchy moan. He glances over your shoulder to see Jean, sitting across the table from you both, tugging absentmindedly on his half-hard cock and watching intently. The sight of it fuels the fire in Eren’s veins, convinces him to convince you to keep showing off, show Jean how hot you two can be when you get into it.

“Give it to me then,” Eren slaps your ass again, nips at your jaw, “show me how bad you need to be fucked, baby.”

“E-Eren,” you whine, rolling your hips down on him the way he knows you love, the way that makes a little bulge appear right at the base of your tummy, the evidence of just how deep he is.

“There you go,” he coos, grabbing your hips and working you faster, forcing you towards your orgasm as fast as he can because he knows good and well he’s not going to last, “all better, yeah? Little slut likes having her cunt stuffed full?”

“Yeah I do,” you say dreamily, eyes rolling back as Eren starts to thrust up into you in tune with the canting of your hips. He can see Jean over your shoulder, fully hard again and pulling at his cock, looking mesmerized. Eren catches Jean’s eye, smirks like a cat that’s got the cream.

“He’s watching you,” Eren murmurs to you, purposefully loud enough for Jean to hear, “watching you get fucked dumb. Gonna show Jean how pretty you are when you cum?”

“I-I–” A well-placed thrust from Eren makes you cut yourself off with a sob, hands flying to his shoulders for support. Erin grins, something feral and predatory, snapping his hips up into you harder.

“Gonna cum so fast I bet,” Eren grunts, “so needy for it, my spoiled fuckin' brat. Can’t ever be satisfied, can you?”

“Uh-uh,” you whimper, thighs already beginning to shake around his hips. Eren’s eyes are glued behind you, on Jean’s strung-out gaze, on the desperate motion of his hand around his cock. Eren wonders if just the sight of you fucking him is enough to make Jean cum again; the thought spurs him on, has him jackhammering up into you like his life depends on it.

“Quit holding out on me, then,” Eren growls, “can feel you clenching down on me, know you want to.”

“I w-want to.” A fresh wave of tears has escaped your mindless eyes, dripping down the side of your face, off your jaw, onto your chest.

“Fucking do it then,” Eren snaps, growing closer to the end of his line with every punch of his hips up into you, “show Jean what a little slut you are, how hard you cum for me. Go on, show him.”

“E-Eren, I– oh, oh fuck, I’m gonna–”

“There you go,” Eren snarls like he’s tired of waiting on you, feeling your body break and bloom all at once in his hands, “there you go, good girl.”

Eren watches Jean look on as your body thrashes, rolls with the waves of your orgasm quaking through you, the way his jaw drops a little when you wail and leave dark half-moon indentations into Eren’s shoulders. Jean’s hand is moving impossibly fast in time with Eren’s hips, and when Eren feels himself getting close, only moments away from his release, he meets eyes with Jean. Something overtakes him, something dark and unfamiliar, and Eren flits his eyes down to Jean’s cock, back up to Jean’s gaze, and nods. Jean cums with a loud groan and a shudder, triggering Eren’s orgasm. Eren clutches you to his chest desperately, pinning you down onto his cock and filling you with his cum as deep as he can manage, groaning in your ear amidst the sound of your whimpers and whines.

A beat passes, heavy and pregnant with tension. Eren and Jean are still locked eye to eye, watching each other to see who will make the first move. Jean, coated in his own release, glances down to see Eren’s cum dripping out of you, seems to come back to himself with a shudder.

“I…I’m going to shower,” he says, clunky and awkward, standing and pulling his shorts back over his softening cock, mindless of the white ropes decorating his abdomen.

“Jean?” You murmur into Eren’s skin, sitting up slightly and wincing at the feel of Eren’s half-hard cock still digging into the most sensitive parts of you.

“Yeah?” Jean stops in his tracks, looking over at you and Eren with all the tension of a wild animal that’s been caught.

“That was fun,” you smile dreamily, slumping back into Eren’s chest and blinking up at him, “don’t you think, babe?”

“Lots of fun, baby,” Eren strokes your hair, urging you to stay curled into him, knows you need to for a few minutes after he’s fucked you half-dumb, “what do you think, Kirschstein?”

“It was…” Jean gulps, looks around the room with a pink stain to his cheeks, “it was fun, yeah.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed us,” you giggle deliriously, “we’ll have to do it again sometime.”

“Is that so?” Jean eyes Eren, narrows his eyes suspiciously. Eren almost rolls his eyes, out of patience for this Jean, all cautious and nervous like he hadn’t just cum down your throat.

“I think so,” Eren says in confirmation, trailing a hand up your back soothingly, “anything for my girl, right?”

“Right,” Jean frowns, almost as if Eren had said something in another language.

“See you soon, Jeanie,” you wave him off to the shower sleepily, biting a smile back behind your swollen lips. Jean makes a swift exit, still blushing madly. “Do you think he liked it?”

“I think he loved it,” Eren chuckles down at you, still cording his fingers through any parts of your hair that aren’t a tangled mess.

“And you?”

“I’d do it again,” Eren answers you with a noncommittal shrug. You cock an eyebrow at him.

“Seemed like you really enjoyed yourself. Am I the only one with a crush on Jean?”

“I’m not gay,” Eren scoffs, rolling his eyes. You simply keep your disbelieving glare on him for an extra beat or two; Eren squirms uncomfortably under your knowing gaze, not necessarily wanting to confront this while he’s still balls-deep in you. To his relief, you ease up, gingerly stepping off of him and offering him a hand.

“Mmm, okay. We’ll talk after a shower?”

“Fine,” Eren grumbles, letting you pull him towards his half of the apartment and hoping you don’t notice the quick glance he shoots over his shoulder, catching a flash of Jean’s bare skin as he steps into his bathroom.

[devzo]

DATING TOM KAULITZ HEADCANONS

Tom kaulitz

content: headcanons, fluff/smut

a/n: i haven’t gotten any requests and i couldn’t just not post something. So i decided to make ‘dating tom kaulitz’ headcanons. (it’s because i’m also bored)

swf

— Would buy you so many gifts. He doesn’t care if they’re expensive or not, he would buy you the world if he could.

— Talking about love languages, physical touch is probably another one of his. He always has to have his hands on you.

— When you’re on your period, he gets nervous because he doesn’t really know what to do. He’d ask Bill for advice. Once he gets it he’d buy you literally everything you want. Sweets, pads (he didn’t know which ones to get you) even stuffed animals.

— When you’re feeling down he always tries to comfort you. He cuddles you, prepares a movie night, places kisses all over face. He doesn’t like when you’re down.

— He takes pictures of you on his digital camera like everywhere, in restaurants while having dinner with the band, while you’re sleeping, walking. Literally everywhere. even in bed.

— He adoress you. He cannot last a minute without telling you ‘i love you’. Let’s say you were in an argument and he tells you he loves you but you dont reciprocate because you’re being too stubborn, He would literally whine in your ear until your say it. (And if you don’t he’d punish you.)

nsfw

— He’s usually top, but he’s down baaad for you when you’re over him.

— He praises you every second. ‘you’re so good for me.’ ‘taking my cock so well.’ ‘you can take more, no? I know you can, you’re a good girl.’

— About the camera thing. Yes, he films you in bed.

His camera was in his right hand, while the other fondled with your breast making you whine. The camera captured everything, from your fucked out face to his dick sliding in and out of you at a fast pace.

— He doesn’t really have any kinks other than breeding and praise kink, also dacryphilia. (that’s how i imagine.) He’d probably try other kinks with you.

— He calls you so many things in bed: slut, whore, bitch. He probably likes humiliating you with those names. Of course, there’s other names he calls you in bed: baby, sweetheart, schatz…

— When you’re on top, which was very rare. He’d whine underneath you, telling you he didn’t like when you’re on top but he secretly did. He liked watching your breasts bouncing in his face.

— He likes trying new positions, but his all time favorites are doggy style or missionary. He likes watching your ass bouncing in time with his thrusts and watching tears run down your face.

— His aftercares are soo good. He would prepare you a warm bath and carry you (You promised you could walk. thats a lie. But he insisted on carrying you.)

— If he went too hard and made you use the safe word you two put. He would be so mad at himself, he would get up, get dressed and leave without you knowing where. He comes back with bags in his hands. He’d get you things you like and stuff that comforts you and shower you with kisses.

[imaginesmai]

Hewn City, where nightmares come true

Maybe this is a bit long and excesive? Maybe, but we love good angst, hurt and comfort. Thank you @marscardigan for your request! Feel free to send anything else. This is places inside the baker!reader universe, but it's independent. You can find other parts here.

Plot: your anonymity makes you a great choice for Rhysand's mission, even if Azriel doesn't agree. But you'll do anything to discover more of Azriel's life, even the worst part. So you decided to take that trip to Hewn City - where nightmares do come true.

Warnings: males being a lil creepy with their comments, Keir, violence.

“Az” you sighed for the third time that afternoon, staring at your stubborn mate. “It’s no big deal. Feyre has done it, Nesta has done it. Why can’t I?”

“They have done it because they have powers. They…” his words died when you raised a brow and dared him to tell you that they could and were different. More capable. “It’s not even about them, don’t change the topic. It’s about us. I don’t want you to do it”

“So, it’s fine when you leave for weeks to the mountains with a target on your back but I can’t accept one dance where you and your brothers will be watching?” you asked, and he finally looked away.

Azriel and you had been arguing about the same topic for two days in a row. Since Rhysand, who you had become fond of in the last years, asked you for a favor. He had been hoping you would come with them to Hewn City and dance with some males while they snooped around. You didn’t even have to carry weapons with you, since you would be introduced as part of their family.

It wasn’t dangerous or risky. It was a favor from your friend because Hew City didn’t know you. An unfamiliar face they would be too preoccupied studying to notice Feyre, Nesta and Mor sneaking into their studies. They would play the hard part. You just had to dance.

And Azriel was having a tantrum about it.

“The fact that you can’t even answer that question is enough. I’m going. And you can’t decide what I do and don’t”

“I can talk Rhysand out of it” he tried, not looking at you.

“Oh, like you haven’t tried that already”

You decided the conversation was finished and turned around to finish decorating the trail of cookies. Azriel was leaning against the counter, his usual place to watch you work in silent adoration. The storm in his eyes died down a little at the familiarity of your movements, at the comfort of the bakery.

Yes, he was mad. Mad at Rhysand because he hadn’t asked him first, mad at himself for considering he was your owner and needed to be asked for permission for you to do something. Mad at you because you couldn’t see how tight his heart became at the thought of you in someone else’s arms, dancing in a room full of vipers.

Half of the citizens of that rotten place had been tortured by Azriel at some point, and the other half had been gently tortured. He trusted Rhysand’s glamour to hide your bonded scent, but his rebel heart seemed to think otherwise.

For a while, he watched you work in silence, hands working your own particular magic with common ingredients. The fire eventually left his soul and he felt guilty enough to leave his spot. When you set the last trail in the oven, he took advantage of the vulnerable position and wrapped himself around you.

His wings created a small cocoon for the two of you, light barely seeping through the thick membrane.

“I’m sorry for being an overbearing mate” he apologized against your earlobe, letting his warm breath make you squirm. “You’re amazing and brave and you can handle everything you want, but I worry because I love you”

“And I’m also too smart and beautiful for your own good” you scoffed when one of his hands sneaked beneath your apron. “We’re gonna burn those cookies”

“Won’t the only thing burning for you tonight”

You bursted in a loud laugh and the rest of his anger faded away, giving up space for the usual love and adoration for you. In his arms, he could hear your heartbeat, smell the faint remains of vanilla from the previous muffins and your shampoo.

Azriel pushed you farther into his arms, and you didn’t complain. One of his arms was settled on your waist, under your apron but with no further intentions. The other one crossed your chest, and you gripped his forearm between your hands.

He was all hard muscles and soft skin. Even under his usual leathers, you could feel the familiar outlines of his arm. You looked up from his chest and saved the height different when you locked your eyes with him. From upside down, he was just as beautiful as ever.

His lips curved into an apologetic smile, although you were certain it wouldn’t be the last time you heard from it. Azriel was just a little less stubborn than you.

“I forgive you on one condition. You don’t bring it up to Rhys anymore. He already feels bad about it, you don’t have to remind him” you gently reprimanded him. “If he could, he would have searched for other solution. And I’m happy to help”

“You’re happy here, but down there it’s horrifying. And Rhysand and Hewn City can fuck – “

“Besides, I like doing things with you. From your other life”

Azriel’s life as the shadowsinger, as the spymaster, was still a bit hidden to you. You had gotten him to open up little by little, and he had shared some details that had you almost regretting your decision. But it was true that, besides doing Rhysand a favor, you wanted to do it with Azriel. Watch him work and be that tough male everyone feared.

That point made him roll his eyes and drop the matter with a brief kiss to your nose. He captured it between his teeth and playfully bit you, which earned him a swift elbow to his groin. Azriel teared apart just in time for the next customer to arrive.

With a sharp look that promised worst thing than an elbow, you left him in charge of the cookies and went to the front door.

-

Azriel hadn’t been allowed to see you before he big night. He had tried, but had received an arguable reason – that he would leave his smell all over you. As if he was a teen with hormone problems that couldn’t control himself. He was still fuming about it as he waited in silence by the throne, still pouting but intimidating.

His shadows were scattered all over the room, and he was purposefully ignoring Cassian’s warning glances. The last thing he could do to show his discomfort was terrorize a little their guests.

Rhysand had been introducing you in the dinner hall, where he hadn’t been allowed in. For centuries, the rules had kept Illyrian out of the finest and most elegant parts of the city, and it was one of the few rules he liked. He avoided pointless and tedious conversations waiting in the throne room.

“I bet Rhys he would wear line for a week you won’t last more than five dances” Cassian muttered under his breath, not looking away from the early guests. “Mor placed it at two”

“Glad my discomfort brings you joy, Cassian” he replied. “I plan to endure the whole night, if only for your troubles. What did Rhys bet?”

“Sex ban for a week”

Azriel rolled his eyes and finished the conversation. He was in for a long night, and he would try to endure it for you. Because you had looked so excited to be part of the plot, so bright and happy, he would never smudge that out.

The remains of your smile warmed his heart, and he relaxed a bit. You had been sitting right by his side as Rhysand went over the last details the previous night, listening to him like a hawk. Where you needed to dance, opposite from the entrance. Who you needed to charm or avoid, what you needed to act like.

He hated all of that, but he couldn’t deny that it made you happy. And whatever made you happy was worthy. The part he couldn’t stand was his absence during the grand dinner, during your introduction. It would raise many suspicions since Azriel never accompanied Rhysand there, therefore he had to wait at his usual spot.

Rotten on the spot with unusual nerves and doubts, he listened with trepidation the incoming steps.

“Don’t make me lose the bet. You don’t want to see me in a sex ban. Or Nesta” his brother announced quickly before the big doors opened.

“Shut up” Azriel hissed.

“A fair warning”

Rhysand walked in with cold indifference, Feyre walking by his side like the queen she was. His high-lord deemed worth the risk shoot him a warning glance, and Azriel thanked him, because it half-prepared him.

You walked right behind them, talking softly with Mor, and you were stunning. Beautiful. Bright. Radiant beyond the stars.

Azriel found the simplicity of your bakery uniform charming and perfect. The constant stains on your clothes, the sunny dresses you wore for your dates. Even training clothes made him stare longingly.

The dress you were wearing was long and dark, hugging all your curves and letting your left leg at plain sight. The cleavage lowered down to your waist, so low he could see the burnt scar you had gotten when you started your bakery. It showed your shoulders, your arms covered by a transparent, thin sheet of stars and bright dots. Azriel was glad he got a moment to digest the sight before seeing your exposed back.

You were so beautiful he stopped breathing, that he lowered his guard for the first time in that place. Someone could have tried to assassinate him from the front and he wouldn’t have seen them coming. Not when you were looking like a dream come true.

Rhysand was by his side before he could tear his eyes away from you, Feyre on his right.

“You may dance and drink and do whatever you like tonight” Rhysand motioned with a vague hand around. “But kneel first at your majesties”

“Lower” Cassian roared when only their heads lowered.

They all fell to their knees, as you and Mor watched by the side. While all their eyes were fixed on the ground, you looked at Azriel for the first time. He tugged frantically on the bond, proving Cassian wrong and behaving exactly like a hormonal teenager. You pulled back with a small smile – so small, so hesitant, that Azriel frowned.

It was different from the radiant one you had gifted him so many times during the last days.

He didn’t have to bother looking at Rhysand to have him speaking mind to mind.

“It’s her first time, she’s just nervous” his voice broke through the mental barriers, wary and full of concern. Azriel forced himself to look away from you, for your safety and his.

“What happened?”

“Nothing”

Rhysand knew him well enough to know he didn’t believe his answer, so he was met with flash of images of the previous dinner. How you had been introduced under predatory eyes, how your smile had died down a bit at the darkness and the coldness in their stares. Azriel’s whole body became alert as he watched through Rhysand’s eyes the dinner, no one daring to come close to you.

It would be different now, he knew, so he steeled his nerves as the first fae rose his head. 

They rose up one by one, and when Rhysand just kept mumbling something in Feyre’s ears, they deemed safe to start moving. Music started playing and males started looking for the company of women. Azriel’s neck vein pulsed painfully when a lesser fae walked up to you and Mor, asking for your hand.

From up there, he could smell your hesitance. You would follow the plan, as Mor stepped out with a small vow, Nesta nowhere in side. Feyre would leave shortly too, and you would only have to stay there until they came back. But Azriel had to remind himself to breath when you were taken to the dance floor by another male.

He had to give it to the first one – he was respectful enough to keep his hands your waist and not lower them. Azriel felt his power roaring inside him the whole time, and he couldn’t help but stain his ears to listen to the conversation.

Through the dances you granted, he did that, ignoring the rest of the world and looking without seeing through the room.

You’re beautiful, how is it we haven’t seen you around earlier?

I have a son, he has lands and power. Would you like to know him?

I was hoping to catch you all night. What is such a sweet flower like you doing here?

You smell nice, unbonded

Rumors say you are an unmarried female. Such a pity

The comments grew more unfortunate the longer the night went. Rhysand power was gently holding him in place, reminding him the importance of giving the girls time. The High lord was looking too much at you, for his sake, so they wouldn’t notice Azriel acting like a boiling bull next to him.

And that started to draw unwanted attention, the notice of his High Lord staring at a woman. You were nothing like the female that had walked hours ago into the ballroom. Once you had seen what Hewn City was, what your mate had to work with, you were withering away – and Azriel noticed.

Azriel was seeing every drop of your smile, every muscle you tensed. Blood dripped to the ground behind him from how hard he was clenching his fists. His shadows curled in the edges of the room impatient, ready to attack. He broke every bet they had and then the last male walked up to you.

“May I have this dance?” Keir asked as you were dropped by your last companion. “You are hard to catch, my dear”

You brushed off the last feeling of discomfort from hands on you, all night, and tried to think quick. He had been one of the few males Rhysand had warned you to stay away from, but he had scared off any other options. And your friends weren’t back yet.

“I was hoping for a break” you tried to seem confident. “Sit this one out”

“Pretty things like you shouldn’t be sitting”

You bit your inner cheek, regretting the help you had offered. You had been regretting since you had stepped in the hall, and you had met Azriel’s eyes. The way they shone with worry and concern, the desperate tug on the bond. He had warned you and you felt foolish, because you thought you could handle it.

There were reasons in fate why you worked in a quiet bakery and he spent his life in dungeons.

“Shouldn’t have dance with every male in this room if you’re gonna get scared now” he chuckled, all void and dark. It made the hairs of your arms raise. “I won’t bite. Not too hard”

Apparently out of options, you accepted his hand and kept a straight face when he pulled you closer. If you were honest, you were too close to crying. Your feet hurt, your heart was pounding way too loudly against your chest and you had been touched way too many times. Every inch of your body felt dirty and wrong, and Keir certainly had big hands.

You had avoided Azriel’s eyes all night. You knew Rhysand was looking out for you, maybe to draw attention away from your mate. But that had made more males, the worst type it seemed, to become interested in you.

Keir was the last of a long list you had endured so far. He shamelessly inhaled when he pulled you closer, his nose brushing the space between your shoulder and neck. You convinced yourself it was his nose, not his lips, that traced your pulse point.

“You smell divine. So sweet” he commented, keeping you close to his body. “Have you been taken yet, dear? Has a male unfiled you?”

“That’s not a question I want to answer” you complained. You weren’t sounding confident at all, not with his hand pressing against your waist. It sounded more like another question itself.

“Oh, how I will like to see this city defile you. A little, sweet thing. Didn’t your mother warn you about wolves and rabbits?”

You kept quiet at his words, looking down at your moving feet. That way, he couldn’t see the way your expression broke. You noticed your lip quivering, your body trying to become smaller in his grasp. Just a dance, you reminded yourself. The heat of Azriel’s eyes was still present on your back, Rhysand glamour tight around you.

Keir’s shoes became blurry when your vision filled with tears. So desperately, you wanted to be home, with Azriel. You wanted Rhysand to never need you again, to have Keir moved to another continent along with the rest of that doomed city.

“I wonder if you’ll be as quiet in bed. How much will your father make me pay for you? Maybe we can arrange things for this week” Keir suddenly gripped the edge of your chin and made you look up, with a serious look on his cruel face. “Are you fertile, dear?”

The way he was speaking about you, his fingers gripping your face, was enough to make the first tear roll down. The male actually looked surprised at the sight, but once it had fallen, you couldn’t control yourself.

It could have been like that, you realized, if you hadn’t found Velaris. If Az wasn’t your mate, instead a male like Keir or someone worse. Your eyes searched desperately for him, without need to ask for help.

Azriel had reminded you many times that only one look and he would be right beside you, court matters dammed. He had made you say it out loud multiple times, had gotten you a small bargain tattoo on the back of your ankle. His eyes were already dark and troubled when you met them, his body ready.

He winnowed between shadows before anyone noticed, and then those same shadows were besides you. Keir’s fingers were ripped from you with a sickening crack, and you only saw Azriel’s fighting leathers. His rough hands tucking your face farther into his body, his shadows crawling up to your knees and calves.

They were cool against your sweaty skin, Azriel a calming and safe presence. Your face scrunched in a silent cry as you let your pent-up emotions consume you. You hugged him tight, not looking at the source of the screams.

“Scum” Azriel scoffed at the male in the ground, shooting Rhysand a warning glance.

“This is over. Forever”

“Azriel. They will know”

“Fuck you”

Rhysand could only witness in tense silence as Keir’s body tried to fight off Azriel’s shadows. Always so gentle around your body, they wrecked the male on the ground. They burnt his arms and snapped his fingers, squeezed his throat until his eyes budged. Azriel watched with murderous indifference as he held you trembling.

That was what he had wanted to tell you, to warn you about. You were capable of everything, you were brave and amazing. But that city was filled with trash and they could suck the life out of anyone.

“I want to go home” you whispered against his chest, your knees trembling.

“You have always been stupid, Keir, but you can always surprise me” Azriel growled, so primitive and feral that the room fell quiet. “Let’s see if you can quiet your screams tomorrow”

Feyre running out of one of the many doors was the last thing Azriel saw before winnowing you both away from Hewn City. He let his shadows hide you, but used his wings for good measure of protection.

In a few seconds, you were back in your apartment in Velaris, above your bakery, the sweet scent of summer nights filling the space. It no longer smelt like death and expensive perfume, like rotten flesh and arrogance. Azriel didn’t let you go as you squeezed his middle with a surprising force.

He knew what you needed without explanation. Carefully, he unlaced the dress on your back, his hands brushing any inch of skin those males had touched. Each trembling sigh, each tear he smelt on you, made him physically hurt to go back and kill them all. Pull at their limbs and hang them from their insides.

Rhysand would be hearing for him for a while, everyone in his family would. He squeezed his eyes shut as he listened to your whimpers, that stabbed into his heart like sharped knives. Azriel ripped the sleeves off your dress and could have burned it with the sheer force of his hate.

When you were finally standing with just your underwear, he allowed himself a moment of reassuring. Since the moment he had met your eyes, he was done for. The destiny of the world could have been in risk that he would have had still acted.

His hands were shaking too when he pulled your face away from his chest, cupping your cheeks. They were wet with tears, Keir’s fingers marked on your chin. He watched those beautiful eyes, that had shone at the idea of working with him, carry the burden of that night.

“I’m sorry” you whispered brokenly, your breath speeding up again. “I’m sorry I messed it up”

“You did perfect, darling. You did so good. So good” he assured you with passion, bringing your face closer to him until you couldn’t avoid his burning gaze. “They got out and you did perfect, but you won’t have to do it never again. I promise, Y/N, never”

You cried in his hands, and Azriel broke at the sight. What type of mate allowed their partner to go through that? To have strangers’ hands on them for hours? He hated himself a little bit more for that, but tried to hide it as he kissed your forehead.

He tangled his fingers between your locks as his lips lowered down your face. To your closed eyelids and wrinkles. Azriel kissed every tear, your nose, the edges of your pointed ears. He let his lips linger at the bruises on your chin, and found comfort at having Keir paying for them next morning.

Azriel ended up picking you between his arms, and carrying you to your room. It still held the remains of your excitement – scattered clothes close to the wardrobe, make-up products opened and half-used. He pointedly ignored them as he carefully dropped you in bed. Your arms didn’t unhook from his shoulders, and he didn’t complain.

“I hate them so much” he admitted in a whisper, close to your ear. “I hate them”

He had hated them since he was a child, had wanted to keep them away from you. He considered if moving to another continent with you was far enough, or if he would be forced eventually to kill them for breathing the same air. Those decisions would have to wait until the next morning.

Still on his leather clothes, Azriel let you lay on his chest and draped the sheet over your bodies. He ignored Rhysand’s talons against his mental shields, only hug you closer. He listened to every shaky breath of yours, caressed away with his thumb the last tears you shared.

“I’m sorry I doubted you” you said eventually, almost when Azriel thought you were asleep. Raising your head from his chest, you met his eyes. “You were right. I’m sorry”

“I wish I had been wrong. I… sometimes I wish it was different. That I worked in the Archives or owned a coffeeshop” Azriel talked just as quietly. “Then I could have you with me always. I hate my job, but I love my court. I love Velaris and I want it to be a safe place, so I gotta endure those things”

“I wish that was different too”

It was foolish to wish on things that couldn’t happen. Azriel would die before letting you close to that part of his life again. He wasn’t done by far with Hewn City or his own brothers, but that night he only held your naked body close. Every now and then, he would recall a certain moment of the night and remember the exact point a stranger’s hand had touched – Azriel would caress that same spot, feeling you hug him tighter.

Neither of you slept that night, and you didn’t open the bakery the next day. It took Azriel two days to be able to leave your presence without feeling the need to rip Rhysand’s head off his shoulder, five baths to erase the memories of those hands. Keir rotted in a cell, accompanied only by Azriel’s shadows, in the meantime.

Three days later, when Azriel came back to Hewn City after leaving you in the bakery, Keir couldn’t keep quiet.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

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Azriel taglist:

@boygeniuses10 , @tothestarsandwhateverend , @starsinyourseyes , @bakananya

[lowkeychenle]

The Last Straw [ZCL] (M)

Description: Chenle has been your best friend for as long as you can remember. Being in love with him isn't easy, until you find out he reciprocates those feelings (thanks to Cockblocker!Jaemin).

(This was requested!! Thank you for the request and I'll respond to the ask with this link <3)

Genre: Fluff/Smut

Content Warnings: Explicit (protected) sex, I have a thing for Chenle saying pretty girl so excuse that in almost all of my Chenle fics rip me, Chenle is just perfect okay but also sassy

Word Count: 3,742

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader (feat. Cockblocker!Jaemin because he's a mess)

Juliet's Masterlist

(also I made a moodboard for this one instead of using gif and i think the moodboards are so much more fun so I'll prolly make these from now on! Disclaimer: I don't own any of these photos!)

“Respectfully, if you don’t knock that off, I’m gonna swat you upside the head.” You give Jaemin a pointed look from your spot on Chenle’s couch. “You’re just mad that he beat you again.”

“He cheated.” Jaemin crosses his arms over his chest, returning your glare with ease. “No way he’s actually that good at this shit.”

“I think I’m pretty good at everything, honestly.” Chenle shrugs, leaning back against the cushion and resting his arms along the top, fingertips brushing your shoulder.

You and Chenle have been best friends for years. Longer than he’s known Jaemin, that’s for sure. No way would you take Jaemin’s side over Chenle’s, even if he so happened to be in the wrong.

You look at him with a smile, which he returns, brow quirking in response. Jaemin grimaces at the two of you.

“At least let me leave before you start making out.�� He scrunches up his nose. “Disgusting.”

The tips of your ears burn as your attention shoots over to Jaemin. At the same time, Chenle launches a throw pillow in his direction, leaning forward as if he’s about to stand up. Jaemin holds his hands up in mock surrender as he swats it away.

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” he says, running his fingers through his faded pink hair. “And don’t have too much fun by yourselves.”

When the door closes behind him, it leaves you and Chenle in awkward silence. You can’t lie and say you’d never thought about kissing him, but not recently. If ‘recently’ is only the past few days. There’s something about the general confidence Chenle has that makes you curious.

“Um.” Chenle clears his throat, pressing his lips together in a thin line. “Wanna pick something to watch? I’ll make popcorn.”

“Absolutely.” You give an exaggerated nod, lunging forward to grab the remote off the coffee table.

You think everything will go back to normal after he returns with a bowl. He sits next to you, putting his arm over your shoulders again and shifting until he’s pressed comfortably against you. This isn’t abnormal, but for some reason, it has your heart racing much faster than it should.

The show plays for maybe two minutes before he clears his throat. You think nothing of it until he does it again, pulling your attention to his face. The lights inside the house are off, but the sun is resting just above the horizon, painting an orange glow on his skin.

“What’s wrong with you?” you ask. “Do you need some water? You haven’t even had any popcorn yet.”

He blinks. Once. Twice. His eyes even flutter across your face.

“This is weird. What’s going on?” You frown at him.

“Have you ever thought about it?” He quirks an eyebrow.

You chuckle. “Thought about what?”

“Nevermind. Forget it.” He shakes his head, leaning back with a slight pout to his lips.

“No, tell me.” You gently smack his chest. “Don’t do that.”

“Fine. Just remember you made me say this,” he grumbles, sitting up again. He’s only inches away from you like this. “Have you ever thought about kissing me?”

“I mean…yeah.” You shrug. “We’re around each other all the time. I’ve literally seen you kiss people before. Nothing wrong with a little curiosity, you know?”

“Why haven’t you asked?”

“Asked what?” You laugh before you stop yourself. “To kiss you? Are you insane?”

“You just said you wanted to,” he points out, shifting closer. “Why wonder when you can know for real?”

“You want to?” Your eyes widen as they dart down to his lips unintentionally.

You watch his pupils dilate, his eyelids threatening to flutter shut as he nods. He’s so close to you, you feel his short, choppy breaths. What the hell are you doing? This is the last thing that should happen—in no world is Chenle kissing you a good idea. You’ll fall into a rabbit hole and probably accidentally admit how you want more than that.

No way in hell you’re going to stop him when he’s looking at you like that, though. He hesitates, meeting your gaze one last time, a thousand questions moving from his mind to yours. There’s only one you need to answer, and you do. Slowly, you nod.

The initial brush has sparks igniting along your skin, and you instinctively grip onto the sleeve of his T-shirt. Usually, he’d tease you for something like that. He’d say something about how you’re trying to strip him down, but he doesn’t seem to have any other thought besides kissing you right now. This is the most attractive you’ve ever seen him.

When he really kisses you, his full lips pressing gently against yours, you swear electricity courses through the two of you, the sparks enough to make you gasp. You’d imagined this plenty of times, but never did you think it could be like this.

He sighs, bringing his hand up to weave it through your hair. You push yourself closer to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders.

The second his tongue runs across your bottom lip, you let out a short, quiet moan. Instead of taking a moment to tease you about it, he uses the opening. The two of you battle for dominance, but when his thumb rubs against your scalp, you know you’re no match for him.

Everything around you heats up, and as much as you hate to deny it, you feel your panties dampen. Your body tingles with excitement as he guides your back down against the couch, finding the spot between your legs he fits in perfectly. No matter what, you don’t dare open your eyes or pull away right now. If this is a dream, you sure as hell don’t want to wake from it.

As he settles on top of you, you gasp when you feel him semi-hard through his shorts. Before you can psych yourself out of it, you reach for the hem of his shirt and start sliding it up. He takes the hint, pulling away to tug the fabric over his head. Unfortunately for you, you don’t have time to admire him before his lips are on yours again.

“I was almost all the way home when I—what the fuck?” A familiar voice from the doorway has Chenle launching away from you.

The trance is broken, the moment is gone, and all you’re left with is burning cheeks and instant shame under Jaemin’s scrutiny.

Chenle scrambles for his shirt, and instead of putting it back on, he puts it over his lap in a poor attempt to hide his arousal. You can’t bring yourself to sit up, your palms still flat on your face.

“I didn’t know you guys actually did that.” Jaemin grins, placing his hands on his hips and smiling widely. “Good job, buddy.”

“We don’t.” Chenle rolls his eyes. “What did you even need?’

“I left my jacket here.” Jaemin points over to the kitchen, where it’s draped over one of the dining room chairs.

“Okay…so how about you grab it…and you go?” Chenle glances up to the ceiling, as if he’s asking for strength, and then blinks rapidly at Jaemin. “Like, now.”

You still haven’t moved, only spreading your fingers apart to look at Chenle. 

“Right. Yeah, duh.” Jaemin rushes to get it, not acknowledging either of you again until he’s at the door. He stops, reaching into his pocket for his wallet before he tosses something at Chenle. “Make sure you’re safe! Bye!”

He leaves, and when you finally get the courage to look up, Chenle has his head in his palm. A condom is about a foot in front of him, sending another wave of embarrassment to your face.

“So…” Chenle trails off. “Maybe we should rewind the show.”

Disappointment flutters around your heart. “Uh, yeah. Sure.” You gulp and grab the remote. Regardless of how much you wish you could yell at Jaemin for interrupting, the urge to continue doesn’t subside.

“(Y/N).” He sighs, brows furrowing. “I need to tell you something.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to do that again.” He leans his head back on the couch, and this time, you pay close attention to the expanse of his neck. The two of you don’t hide things from each other, so nothing is off limits—you’ve heard all about the things he likes, and neck kisses are one of his weaknesses. Your mouth waters at the thought of it.

“Me too.”

“But I need you to know it’s not just…it’s not all I want.” He closes his eyes, cringing at his own words.

Your brain doesn’t compute what he means at first—you assume something completely different. “Are you saying you want to have sex?”

His attention shoots to you. “No! Well, yeah, but that’s not what I meant by that. I have feelings for you, dumbass."

“For me?” You snort, half-choking on a laugh until you realize he’s serious. “Why?”

“You’re an idiot.” He rolls his eyes and groans. “Why wouldn’t I? Have you seen yourself? Met yourself? You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, but if you even try to repeat that to anyone I will vehemently deny it until the day I die.”

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that?” Your brain whirls at the sight of him, and your entire body yearns to be close to his again.

“It’s the truth. I’ve liked you for a while now, but I’ve never had the courage to say anything.” Chenle chews the inside of his cheek, pondering. The thought of Chenle’s confidence wavering when it comes to you has your heart tumbling in your chest.

“You know what this means?” You quirk an eyebrow at him.

“Hm?”

“Your mom is going to be so excited.” You bite back a smile, but it breaks through anyway when you see him glare at you, narrowing his eyes.

“Why would you bring my mom up right now? Are you trying to make me go soft?” His words send heat to your cheeks, and it takes everything in you not to tap them to snap yourself out of it.

“You’re still hard after Jaemin came in here like that?” You push his shoulder.

“I was on top of you, dude. There’s only one way I’ll be able to get this thing down, and hopefully, it’ll be with you and not my hand.” He takes a deep breath. “Whatever you decide is good with me.”

Leaving Chenle to his hand is the last thing you’d even think about doing right now. You don’t want to move too quickly, but when he looks away from you briefly, you use that as an opportunity to straddle his lap. He gulps and shifts beneath you, immediately gripping your waist.

“And now you’re on top of me,” he mutters. “I’m gonna have so many dreams about this.”

Before your nerves can overtake you, you dip your head down until you're mere centimeters from him. He wasn’t lying about how hard he is, his bulge pressing beautifully against you. At this point, you curse yourself for wearing denim shorts. You’d be feeling it so much more if you were in something softer.

“You should know,” he says, right hand trailing up to cup your cheek. “We can take this slow if you want. I don’t want to rush you. Everything needs to be done right.”

“Kiss me, dumbass.”

He grins softly, only for a moment before his beautiful mouth is on yours again, working magic you’re sure only he’s capable of. You live for the sounds the two of you make, your lips moving together in harmony as if you’re made for each other.

At this point, you think you just may be.

You sit still on top of him, not quite wanting to elevate things yet, and he doesn’t push you. He lets you take everything at your own pace. Eventually, your tongues meet again, but you don’t fight him this time. You allow him to explore your mouth, sighing at how skilled he is at it. When he pulls away, his teeth gently digging into your bottom lip to tug it, you groan, your hips finally moving on their own accord. His smug look quickly fades as his breath shudders. You grind down on him, his hardness gliding along your clit through way too many sets of fabric.

“Chenle,” you groan. “I need you.”

“Patience, pretty girl,” he hums, moving along to your rhythm. “Need you to keep going, okay? Don’t stop.”

You didn’t intend to. Instead of waiting for his next move, your lips connect with his neck, nipping and licking along the skin you know is sensitive. You feel his soft moan before you hear it, and something inside of you snaps.

“Damn it, Chenle, I need more.”

“Do you?” His gaze darkens when he meets yours, fingers still weaved in your hair.

“I need you.”

He wets his lips, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he nods. “We should go to my room.”

Doing your best to keep grinding down on him, you reach down to the bottom of your T-shirt, making quick work of it so it can join Chenle’s on the couch. He stares at you, attention everywhere.

“I lied,” he breathes out, shaking his head. “I don’t like you. I’m in love with you. Let me take you to my room.”

The confession sends you reeling for half a second, and then you’re sliding off his lap to allow him to get up. You’re already weak at the knees thinking of all the things about to happen between the two of you, but you don’t dare say anything else as he bends to grab Jaemin’s condom from the ground, intertwines your fingers, and practically drags you toward his bedroom.

Right when you step foot through the threshold, he closes the door behind you and pushes you up against it. His lips work harshly on yours, leaving you to whine into him. Without wasting another second, his fingers pop the button on your shorts, and he pushes them down your thighs. They slide to the floor, leaving you in your bra and panties. You almost get self-conscious at the way he’s looking at you, but his hand starts ghosting along your inner thighs.

“I wonder how wet you are.” His voice is dangerously low, sending all sorts of shivers up your spine.

“Why don’t you feel and find out?” you taunt him, rocking your hips toward him.

With one quick movement, he unclasps your bra, leaving your top half bare as his head dips down. He nips at the flesh, and you swear you feel your heart pounding in your throat. Taking your nipple into his mouth, he swirls along it. He tweaks the other, and a moan escapes you before you can even try to hold it back.

“How about I make you cum on my face?” he mumbles, nipping as his mouth trails downward.

Then he’s on his knees in front of you. Never in your wildest dreams had you ever imagined a man like Chenle on his knees for you. His fingers hook in the hem of your panties, and he glances up at you.

“Are you sure this is okay?”

You nod, but it’s not enough for him.

“Say it out loud,” he commands. “I need to hear you say it.”

“It’s more than okay. Please do something.” Your head thuds against the wood of the door.

He smirks, tugging your panties down to the floor. Hoisting your leg up on his shoulder, he leans forward to lick a broad stripe up your core. You’re not sure where to grab, but you can’t find anything to hold onto except for the door handle.

Pausing, he reaches upward, guiding one of your hands to his hair. You take the hint, grasping onto him for support. Your one leg keeping you standing is already shaking, and when his tongue prods at your slit, you shudder.

His nose nudges your clit, and you push him further between your legs.

He pulls away, mouth shining with your arousal. “My pretty girl has such a pretty pussy. I could fucking eat you forever.” And just like that, he returns to his ministrations, wrapping his lips around your sensitive bud and flicking it with his tongue.

You cry out his name like a mantra, grinding into his face while he doesn’t dare let up for even a moment. Knots form in your stomach—the kind that have your hips bucking wildly—and suddenly, the repeated ‘Chenle’s escaping your mouth start to taste so, so sweet.

And then you crumble, hardly able to stay afloat. He slows down, helping you ride out your high before placing one last kiss on your clit and standing up.

His lips meet yours, and the taste of you doesn’t do a thing to bother you when you’re so dazed from your orgasm. He moves down to the sensitive spot by your ear, and you gasp, tightening your grip on him.

“Chenle.” You pull him up to look at you. “I love you, too.”

His breathing shutters as he spins you around, mouths connected harshly, and walks you back toward his bed. The glow of the sun has faded, the night sky surrounding the two of you in delicate, gentle silver light as he lowers you onto his mattress.

He pauses, eyes trailing over your body slowly, as if in appreciation. Neither of you moves until his hands move down to his sweatpants. You’re barely able to see him as he grabs the condom from his pocket and before pushing them and his underwear to the floor. He steps closer to you, gripping your thighs and tugging you to the edge.

“Are you sure?” he whispers. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

You sit up and take the condom from him. Once you rip the wrapper open, he gulps, watching as you reach down. A small sound escapes him when you wrap your fingers around his cock and stroke it a few times.

“Yes,” you say. “I’m sure.”

You roll it on him. He barely gives you enough time to finish with it before he crushes his mouth to yours with every ounce of feeling he has.

Scooting back on his bed, he climbs on to join you, stopping only when he hovers over you. His face is so close to yours, you almost moan at how swollen his lips are. He lines himself up with your entrance, making sure to brush against your clit a couple times.

And then he’s pushing inside you, stretching you slowly while he waits for your reaction. Your eyes roll and you lift your hips to get him deeper. He pauses, nuzzling against your shoulder, shuddering breaths fanning across your skin.

You close your eyes, letting your head fall back against the mattress as you adjust to the way he fits. He starts slow, pulling out only a bit to push back in. You weave your fingers through his hair, stroking his scalp in encouragement as he picks up his pace. His hips roll against yours, each thrust pulling sounds from you.

“God,” he mumbles, running his tongue along your collarbone.

“Kiss me,” you say, tugging at him. “Please.”

His lips are on your seconds later, surprisingly gentle. Your heart thuds in your chest. He swallows every moan, reaching up to intertwine intertwine your fingers together. With your hand pinned next to your head, you get lost in his rhythm. Everything around you is unbearably hot, skin sticking to skin while sounds of your wetness fills the room with each of his movements. Your brain whirls and you swear you’re going crazy the longer he’s inside you.

The pleasure is so intense, you doubt you’ve ever felt this way before. Your body shakes from his movements, and you do your best to match him. You feel knots forming in your stomach, but you don’t want it to be over yet, you want to be in this bed with him forever while he makes love to you.

He shifts closer, and you cry out when he slides right into your spot. His mouth rests against yours, gazes locked as he repeats the action over and over.

Releasing your hand, he reaches between the two of you, fingers connecting with your clit. You’re unashamed of your loud moan, especially as your orgasm hits like a tidal wave. Arching into him, you grip his shoulders.

He curses, face contorting in ecstasy as you clench around him like a vice. With a low groan, he snaps his hips into yours, sucking in a breath as he reaches his climax. He pants, setting his forehead on yours with his eyes closed.

“Good fucking God,” he mutters. “You’re amazing.”

Your mind is so shattered and overwhelmed, you can’t do anything but giggle. He’s shocked for a moment, but he joins you, kissing you once more before gently pulling out of you. You slump into his mattress, staring up at the ceiling fan.

“I’ll be right back,” Chenle tells you, rolling off of the bed to dispose of the condom.

Sweat sticks uncomfortably to your skin, but not even that can wipe the smile off your face. When he returns, he finds his place next to you, and regardless of the heat, he pulls you to his chest.

“You okay?” he asks.

You nod slowly, eyes fluttering shut. “Mm.”

“Holy shit, I fucked you dumb.” He laughs, squeezing you.

You give him the best glare you’re able to muster, but it must not be that great, because his smile doesn’t fade.

“So.” Brushing your hair behind your ear, he raises an eyebrow at you. “I think we should go out on a date. Or something.”

“Right now?” You stare at him, dumbfounded.

“No, not right now.” He shakes his head. “Soon, though. Like tomorrow.”

You grin, nodding. “I want that.”

“Good. Me too.” Chenle cradles you closer to him.

Grabbing the small blanket folded at the foot of his bed, he brings it up to cover both of you and hums when you throw your arm around him.

“I love you,” he says, voice so soft it’s almost lost in the night.

“I love you, too,” you reply with ease.

With his steady heartbeat as your lullaby, you have no problem falling asleep in his grasp.

[hannahssimblr]

July seeps into August in a yellow haze. The heat has stupefied the village, slowing all movement, the tourists wading through the humid streets with ice creams melting down their hands, the only kind of food it feels acceptable to eat. It hasn’t rained in weeks, since that first storm of summer, and the landscape struggles. The grass in the local pitch has shrivelled, and the earth has become a powdery dust that fills the air every time our football skims it. It keeps sticking to the sun cream on our skin. Every evening I need to wash an extraordinary amount of grit, dirt and sand out of strange places, like the creases in my elbows, and the webbing between my fingers and toes.

I launch the ball down the pitch to where Jen is bouncing foot to foot near the goalpost, and wander towards the sideline to mop sweat from my brow with the t-shirt I stripped off an hour ago. 

“You want water?” Claire O’Gorman holds her pink metal bottle to me. It jangles with the fluffy charms and beads clipped to it. I shake my head. Jen saw her kissing Shane last night at the front door before she left, so at least twenty percent of the backwash already in that water is bound to be his. I don’t tell her this, because if she doesn’t know what backwash is, I’ll have to go through the whole rigamarole of explaining it, and inevitably end up looking stupid, so I just shake my head.

“You’re running like mad out there,” she comments. “I don’t know how you’ve the strength in this weather.”

“You just endure it, I guess.”

“Hm, I couldn’t. I’m like a princess. I just really don’t like sweating and getting all out of breath. Evie is like you, though,” she adds.

I’m careful to arrange my features into a neutral expression. Claire has been hanging around with us every day for the last week, for reasons that nobody has explained to me, not that I have asked, but when I chat with her, I make sure that I never, ever bring up Evie. Teenage girls are detectives. They pick up on the tiniest facial expressions or shift in tone and use it against you.

I’ve been bamboozled before, and the last thing I need is for Claire to go home to Evie in the evenings and tell her, God forbid, that I asked a question about her. The multitudes of ways they could read into my body language makes me feel queasy. 

“Right,” I say in a bored voice, and scratch my armpit. 

“She’s always like, go go go! All the time, you know? Like playing tennis one minute, swimming the next, going on a mad run the next it’s like,” she rolls her eyes for emphasis, “take a break, girl, please, you know?”

“Mm.”

“I’ve been trying my best to convince her to come to that festival too, just to get away from the routine, but I can’t get her to give me any sort of answer about it.”

I frown. “Did you invite her to the festival?”

“Oh, was I not meant to? I kind of thought it’d be fun if she came, you know, so it’s not just me.”

“I didn’t know you were coming either.”

Her face drains. “Oh, well, Shane asked me, and I-”

“No, no, you can. Oh my God, obviously, I didn’t mean-”

“Right! Okay, of course, but like, I don’t want to impose on-”

“Just I didn’t know Evie might come, that’s all.”

“Well, yeah, I thought it’d be nice for me to have a close friend with me, but if you don’t want her to... like, she might not be able to anyway, so.”

“I don’t not want her to come.” God, why does this feel like a conversation two thirteen-year-olds would have? I swear I haven’t felt this juvenile in years, and I cringe, as though some other version of myself, the cooler Jude, is watching me engage in this conversation and groaning into his hands. Sometimes, these days, I feel like the cooler Jude is slipping through my fingers like handfuls of sand.

“She’s actually really nice,” Claire says with an edge of defensiveness. “I know she’s a bit quiet. I thought that when I met her first too, she was kind of known as the weird girl at school, but when you get to know her, she’s a really sweet person.”

“I know,” I say, my face burning. “I mean... she seems nice. I didn’t mean to imply that she isn’t. Please don’t tell her I think she’s quiet, or weird, or that I don’t want her at the festival or anything like that.”

“No, of course.”

“Because I do… like... think she’s nice, and it’d be okay if she came with us. I would even want her to, actually.” Shut up. God, please, shut the fuck up, you dickhead. 

Claire smiles and nods. 

“But don’t tell her I specifically want her to either, just… Don’t tell her anything.” Oh, line me up against a wall and shoot me, execution style. 

“I won’t.”

I bet she will. And I bet she'll tell her about about the smell of desperation off me, too.

“Turner!” Shane bellows. “What are you at? Your team mates are flailing over here.”

“Right, bye,” I tell Claire, and turn around quickly, unable to bear the embarrassment for another second. 

“Bye!”

As I walk back onto the pitch, I screw my eyes shut and thump my fist against my forehead. 

I’m toast. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[danibee33]

Don’t mind me.. just thinking about singledad/neighbor!Soap 🫶🏻

Thinking about how curious he would be to come home after work to see the big moving truck blocking his drive.

The townhome that shared a wall with his had been blissfully empty for months now, the last tenant had been a pompous old cunt, the kind that nagged and complained about how noisy the kids were.

Ah, his kids- who were currently, probably, driving the nanny just a bit mad. Two boys is no easy feat, much less a 2 year old with the same mischievous tendencies as his father, and a 5 year old who was too smart for his own good.

“Ach, definitely gets that from his mother.” he always says, even though everyone knows the man is smart as a whip.

But it’s when he nearly collides with a brown, cardboard box that he finally meets you.

You, who looked nearly on the verge of tears as you peeked your face around the side of the box before sitting it down,

“I’m- sorry..”, you apologized at least three more times before even making eye contact with him, looking up to see the outrageously handsome man just barely holding back a smile.

Soap’s curiosity was more piqued than ever, hearing your thick American accent- seeing you fumble for words before blowing out a long sigh,

“It’s been a long night- uh- day. I don’t know anymore.. I had a thirteen hour layover, and I haven’t slept in I think over twenty-four hours now? and you.. but, none of that matters. Ha.. um, hi.”

Oh- Fucking hell, you’re adorable. And he’s in trouble.

You extended a trembling hand, your name spoken so softly he could’ve missed it if he were further away- but he thinks he likes the sound of it.

“John MacTavish.. nice tae meet ye, lass.”

The weak giggle that tumbles from between your lips is a sweet sound, one he instantly finds himself craving more of-

“Somethin’ funny?” He asks, cocking his head to the side, your hand still in his because he noticed you haven’t made any effort to pull away.

And fuuuuck, the way your cheeks bloom an even brighter red makes your features somehow even more gorgeous- it’s honestly not fair, the universe giving him the prettiest little thing for a neighbor.

“No.. I just- your accent- and you, you’re very nice, oh- oh my god.” You finally let go of him, scrubbing the same hand over your face, “You’re.. my neighbor. And I’m blocking your spot. Christ alive.. I’ll move it, I’m sorry-“

Before he can tell you it’s fine, that you really didn’t have to, you had already flitted away.

+++

He doesn’t see you for another week. He sees the moving truck disappear, spots a sparkly holiday wreath on the door the next day, hears you quietly moving about mostly in the evenings, and sees your chimney puffing white smoke- but never you.

Until finally, the sound of his snow shovel draws you out.

You hadn’t even gotten dressed yet, it was that early. Sleepily making your way downstairs, pulling on your ridiculous fluffy robe as you go- Scotland winters would certainly take some getting used to.

It’s then you hear the oddly repetitive sound, scraping followed by a dull thump. Over and over.

You peek through the curtains, seeing your neighbor- your very good looking neighbor- bundled up in a thick plaid jacket, his overgrown mohawk covered by a black beanie, the dark curly ends just barely poking out around his neck.

He’s shoveling your walkway, oddly tan cheeks colored pink from the cold and exertion-

Without thought, you unlatch your chain lock, flipping the deadbolt next before yanking the door open,

“What are you doing?”

Nice.. real fucking smooth-

Soap looks up in surprise, big blue eyes meeting yours before straying- seeing your legs bare under the fuzzy pink robe, your hair pulled up in a messy bun, little baby hairs flying this way and that. (God, he’s so fucked, isn’t he?)

You watch him stand straight, casually leaning against his shovel when that same lopsided smirk as before graces his lips,

“Well.. we got a good bit o’ snow last night, and I figured since I were already up and at ‘em, I’d do the neighborly thing, y’ken?”

——

🫣🫣 oh god, I’ve watched waaayyyy too many cheesy holiday movies - send help.

[royal-tea-blogs]

Lily Orchard Deserves Better

These thoughts have been rumbling around in my mind for a while now and considering what happened recently with her tumblr being taken down twice and the recent situations, I just wanted to give my two cents so my brain can stop bothering me about it. Heads up for typos and grammar since I wrote this on my phone.

The first Lily Orchard video I ever watched was Over Cooked, a video about Steven Universe’s handling of Amethysts character. Now even as a 12 year old at the time I still knew it was better for me to avoid the content I know would make me mad, and I was a huge fan of SU at the time. But curiosity got the better of me and I ended up watching it.

Then I watched more. Because she made sense. Then I wanted more of her videos. I vividly remember thinking to myself “wow that was harsh” every now and then, but beyond that there weren’t too many cases where I was actually mad at her (because I’m not a pathetic diaper baby who gets mad at opinions what who said that?)

I watched her from then on rip my previous favourite show to pieces, I watched her rip brony pedos and crybabies to pieces and I loved nearly all of it, even if I didn’t agree with some of it.

It took me a while, don’t get me wrong. She discussed it herself in a few videos: people on the internet are used to a lot of shield jokes and bootlicking by the creators (which is fine!). But once I built of more of a tolerance by listening to what she had to say, I found myself a lot more critical in the long run.

Now I still haven’t quite learned my lesson on my curiosity getting me to watch things that I know will make me mad, so I’ve seen a few Lily Orchard debunking videos. Near every single time it is blatantly obvious that they either didn’t understand what her actual point was, or are deliberately misunderstanding it. I just wanted to grab my monitor and shake it screaming “THATS LITERALLY NOT WHAT SHE MEANT” but alas.

The sheer amount of harassment that Lily has gone through for OVER A DECADE is ridiculous. Especially considering a huge amount is from whiny cartoon stans who have nothing going on in their lives.

As for the criminal allegations, if they have the proof they claim (and proof that has apparently convinced other friends so apparently despite Lily’s previous support of them) then take it to a courtroom. I’m personally done listening to those sorts of accusations until something is at least ATTEMPTED to be done about it in a meaningful manner.

As for Stockholm allegations: I’ve seen the clips. I saw one years ago and it broke my heart at the time. It does seem like Lily might have written Stockholm. But I haven’t done lots of searching into that. You know why?

Lily has made it abundantly clear, for the entire seven years I’ve been watching her (at least as long as I can remember) EXACTLY where she stands when it comes to pedophilic behavior, proshippers, abuse victims, and that type of content.

Did she write Stockholm? Her behavior and stance nowadays means that, to me at least, it doesn’t matter. The Lily of today (hell, even years ago) certainly wouldn’t support such a fic and would rake the writer over hot fiery coals, she’s made that blatantly obvious.

Would admitting if she did write it been the morally correct thing to do instead of denying it? Yes.

Do I blame her for a denying it (if she did write it)? After seeing even a tip of the harassment iceberg she’s had to endure for far pettier things? I don’t blame her a bit.

Either she never wrote Stockholm and she’s always held these beliefs and behaviors, or she saw the error of her previous behavior and CHANGED FOR THE BETTER. It’s not like it would have been the last time, I see she tries her best to correct her mistakes.

Honestly? That’s good enough for me. Harassing her over a fic from a decade ago that she has either never even written or blatantly disowned and now condemn the very behavior of is just nonsense. All of it is.

Anyways Lily, I love your content and I really hope you can keep doing what you’re doing and writing what you love ❤️

[tickletastic]

Okay, But Who Do You Main in Mario Kart?

Fandom: DC

Ship: JayRoy, Birdflash

Summary: Dick just wants to play Coin Runners, and Jason knows not to fight when Dick has that look on his face. Based on my belief that I could guess who someone mains in Mario Kart based on their personality, and this incredibly clever and big-brain anon. (ps, Dick would totally main Cat Peach)

“I fucking hate Coin Runners,” Jason sighs, watching his older brother choose the next game for them to play, “can we just do another race, dickhead?”

“No,” Dick whines, “I love Coin Runners and we haven’t even played once.”

“Yeah,” Jason groans, “because it sucks.” He looks towards Roy in hopes that he’ll choose a side, but is just met with an apathetic expression. 

“I’m staying out of this,” Roy shrugs, “but your team kind of sucks at mini games, Dick. Why don’t we go back to the races?”

“Hey!” Wally gasps, sending a scandalized look in Roy’s direction, “half of our team sucks, that’s an important distinction.” 

Dick’s jaw drops, pausing his character selection to gape at his boyfriend. “It’s not my fault you decided to take the opportunity to try out new characters!”

“Well it was either choose a new character and have an excuse for losing, or have to admit that my boyfriend absolutely sucks at Mario Kart!” Wally exclaims, gesturing vaguely towards the screen. 

Just as they fall into a rhythm of back-and-forth bickering, the front door opens down the hall, the chattering of Steph, Mia, Cass, and Donna floating through the foyer. Quick, quiet footsteps dash towards the living room, and Steph pokes her head in, looking warily towards the couch. “We brought Dunkin.”

“Fuck yes,” Jason exclaims, rising from the couch to grab a coffee, Roy trailing behind. 

Wally and Dick stay on the couch, customizing their cars as they wait for Roy and Jason, that is, until Donna’s head is suddenly popping into the room, “doughnuts too!” They’re in the kitchen, quite literally, in the blink of an eye, raiding the box of doughnuts while Mia, Cass, and Jason talk about what they’ve been reading. Mia is only interested in talking about Tennessee Williams, ‘going through a phase’ as Roy describes it, and Cass divulges that she’s been in a reading slump. Jason could only suggest Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, the only book he’s read in the last two weeks, courtesy of a special request from Lian. 

Dick and Wally get wrapped up talking to Donna about some off-world issue that Diana, Clark, and Hal had been tending to, and whether Dick should bring back the discowing costume. The opinion is a hard, resounding no, but Dick still argues for giving it a new life, now that they’re in a 70s resurgence. By the time Wally and Dick return to the living room, Jason and Roy have already resettled, Cass and Mia also now in the room, sitting on one of the far couches while contemplating joining the game. 

When Dick finally sits on the couch, he notices that the game has been changed; Coin Runners was ended prematurely, and Jason and Roy are in the character selection for a 200cc race. They have already chosen their characters, Wario and Dry Bones, and are waiting for Dick and Wally to select their own. Dick glares Jason’s way, ignoring the impatience on his younger brother’s face.

“Just choose Cat Peach so we can play already,” Jason chides, jokingly grabbing for Dick’s controller on the coffee table. Dick intercepts him, attempting to shoo him away by poking him in the ribs. Jason shies away with a grunt, quickly recoiling out of reach. When he’s upright and no longer as vulnerable, he locks eyes with Dick, eyes squinted. 

Dick grins back, mischievous and lightly malicious, quite Chesire cat. Jason knows exactly what the look means, and before Dick can even move a finger he’s catapulting himself over the back of the couch, making a mad dash down the hall. “Oh fuck no.”

Dick makes chase, giggling maniacally and frantically as he follows Jason’s loud footsteps out of the living room. 

“Leave me the fuck alone!” Jason yells as he’s backed into a corner, seriously considering whether it’s worth it to scale the wall next to the stairs to get to the second floor. He decides that it is, throwing himself as high as he can get, hoping to grab onto the railing. He falls back down with a thud when Dick grabs him around the ankle, tackling him to the ground. “Fucking ow, dickhead.”

“This is all on you, Jaybird. We could’ve just played Coin Runners,” Dick teases, trying to grab Jason’s wrists as Jason bucks wildly. “Hey, Wally?” Dick calls down the hall, back towards the living room. 

“Yeah, babe?” Wally responds.

“I need your help!”

Wally is next to him before he even finishes the sentence, grinning down at Jason and Dick grappling. Jason grunts when Dick manages to gain the upperhand for a moment, stradling Jason, and Dick is quick to tell Wally to grab Jason’s hands. 

“Fuck, no, West, I will kill you,” Jason threatens with a glare. He considers, for a fraction of a second, calling Roy, but that would be admitting defeat. He continues to fight until Wally shoots a slowly vibrating finger towards Jason’s ribs, Jason squealing and tensing enough for Wally to scoop both wrists into his hands. “You’re so dead, you’re not living to see tomorrow, West.”

Wally pales, but plays it cool, “you know, I’m not too worried. You don’t look all too threatening right now.”

“I promise, it will be slow and-” Jason clamps his mouth shut, biting hard on his bottom lip. Dick had brought his hands up to dig into Jason’s sides, going from slow, teasing circles to spidering in with his fingertips, switching at random intervals. 

“C’mon, Jaybird, I know you wanna giggle. I see the smile peeking out,” Dick teases with that disgustingly endeared voice he does when he’s pulling the Big Brother card. 

Just as Jason gets used to Dick’s maddening pattern, Dick reaches a hand back and squeezes Jason’s hip, and Jason snorts loud enough to be heard all the way down the hall, the dam finally breaking. 

“You forget,” Dick grins, “I am your older brother, I know exactly how to get you to break.”

“Fuc- fuhuhucking- no,” Jason cackles, throwing his head back with another snort when Dick continues to squeeze. He makes a show of pulling at his arms, but Wally can tell its nowhere close to Jason’s full strength, something Dick knows all too well. 

When he’s satisfied with how many snorts he’s produced from Jason, and satisfied with Jason’s embarrassment about his uncontrollable snorting, Dick’s fingers move to Jason’s stomach, pinching the skin on both sides of his belly button. Jason squeals, bucking up and down as he starts to giggle, uncontrollably. Jason would have taken this to his grave if it weren’t for Dick, if it weren’t for his older brother analytically conjuring the most embarrassing reactions he can from him. 

“You know, if I didn’t value my life, I would say that this is almost cute,” Wally chirps, and Jason squeals out a string of curses and threats. Wally thinks he can make out something about time travel, and something about Barry and space, but it’s not as scary when Jason is red in the face, giggling uncontrollably as his older brother tickles his tummy. 

When Jason feels his shirt move up, seeing the evil glint in Dick’s eyes, he absolutely screams, bucking as hard as he can, desperately squirming to get away from his brother’s rapidly descending face. “Dihihick, no! Yohou’re so dead! I sw-” Jason cuts himself off with a screech, trying to melt into the floor to get his stomach away from Dick’s lips. Dick just laughs along, giving him a few more before relenting. 

“I’m not done just yet,” Dick teases, “one more spot, Jaybird.” Dick looks up from his brother for a minute and notices Roy leaning against the wall, trying to hide his endeared grin at the state his boyfriend is in on the ground. Dick starts to rub soft, ticklish circles under Jason’s belly button, grinning when his brother starts to giggle again. “Oh look, we even have an audience.”

Jason hadn’t realized his eyes had been screwed shut, but he opens them quickly, looking up at Roy, mortified. “Dihihick, you’re going to die.”

“Well, yeah, we all are,” Dick says in a sing-song tone, “but you first.” With that, his fingers dart up to Jason’s armpits, and his younger brother shrieks, trying to jacknife away from too all-too-knowing fingers. “Good to know this is still your worst spot!” 

Jason tries to dispute it, tries to continue to threaten his brother, but it all tickles so much, and his body feels like a live wire. Something about Dick tickling him always made it so much worse, it made everything tickle so much more, and he always felt completely helpless up against Dick’s Big Brother Skills™ and Big Brother Tactics™. 

Wally suddenly lets go of Jason’s hands, and Jason manages to wrestle Dick away from him, rolling onto his stomach and giggling into his arms. 

“You broke my boyfriend, Dickie,” Roy says, jokingly upset. 

“Nah, he’s just fine,” Dick waves off with a grin, “he’ll sit there and giggle for a few minutes, and blush for the rest of the day, but he’ll survive.” 

Jason groans, something so incredibly embarrassing about how Dick cannot only precisely predict Jason’s reactions, but also the aftermath of his attacks. He tries to sit up, but just continues to giggle, proving Dick’s point as he brings his hands up to cover his face. 

Dick ruffles Jason’s hair, standing next to Wally, “hurry up, we’re playing Coin Runners.”

Jason just groans, flipping him off as Dick and Wally walk back towards the living room. Roy moves closer to Jason, kneeling down so he can see his face. He puts a single finger under his chin and leans in, placing a kiss just on the corner of Jason’s mouth. “That was really cute.”

Jason’s blush grows hotter, glaring at Roy. “Don’t think you’re safe, West is the top of my hit-list, but you’re not too far down.”

[hoejosatoru]

Love It When We Make Up

Pairing: Fem! reader x Gojo

Summary: You and Gojo fight and fuck to make up. Loosely inspired by Ariana Grande’s song Make up

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: Not necessarily toxic, but fighting with partner. Fingering, a lil teasing, p in v sex, cream pie 

You loved you boyfriend Gojo, but he also knew how to get on your nerves like no one else. For starters, he's been taking on tons of missions that pull him away from home after he promised to spend more time with you. When he was home, he was leaving the seat up in the bathroom, eating the food you planned to bring lunch, falling asleep when you were supposed to be watching your favorite show together. The show he insisted you couldn’t watch alone because it was your “couple” show. 

Was it anything that serious? No, but all together? You were sick of it. So, fuck it, you thought, two can play at that game. You watched the finale of the show. Without him. You blasted music when he was in his office doing god knows what. You shrunk some of his shirts in the wash. It was petty, but you didn’t care.

“You did this on purpose,” Gojo accused, running his hands over his now too-tiny shirt.

“Did not,” you lied.

Gojo rolled his eyes. “You know you can’t fucking lie to me. I can sense your bullshit from a mile away.” You crossed your arms and stared him down defiantly. 

“And why would I want to shrink your shirt purposely? Hmm?” Gojo narrowed his eyes.

“Probably for some shit you made up to be mad at,” he replied. Oh hell no.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve,” you snapped, “You were away all last week and then you come home and act like a fucking slob.”

Gojo scoffed. “I was away last week because I was working. Which was more pleasurable than this fucking conversation.”

“You’re being a dick.”

“Yeah, well you’re being a bitch.”

“Fuck you,” you spat, “And by the way, you’re favorite character died in the finale.” You stormed up the stairs, savoring the shocked look on his face. You could hear him bounding up the steps behind you.

“You’re messing with me.”

“I thought you could tell if I was lying,” you mocked his voice, “Maybe you’re not as perfect as you think you are.” You were both being petty and ridiculous at this point. You knew all this shit didn’t matter, and that the real reason you were so upset was because you missed him. You knew his job was important and he was important, but you wanted to feel important to him too. 

Gojo sensed your energy softening, which led him to soften himself. “Maybe I’m not, but my girlfriend certainly is,” he smirked, wrapping his arms around your waist. You rolled your eyes, but didn’t push him away. Gojo alway got like this when you fought. He hit a point where he completely flipped and tried to butter you up

“Shut up,” you replied, though there wasn’t any conviction in it.

“Did my girl miss me while I was away? Is that it?” he questioned, his voice smug. You only rolled your eyes, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “Bet it was so hard being here without me.”

“Didn’t even notice you were gone,” you grumbled, sounding like it was the opposite.

Gojo chuckled, his hands tracing up and down your sides. “That it? All this cause you were missing me so bad?” He pressed a kiss to your throat. “What did you do when you were missing me baby? Did you touch yourself?” His hand slid between your legs, ghosting over your pussy. You let out a strangled breath.

“Maybe.”

“Hmm no wonder you’re in such a shit mood.” He pressed his thumb against your clothed clit. “Haven’t had a proper orgasm in a week.”

“Who said that?” He was right. 

Gojo took your hand in his, pressing your fingers to his lips. “We both know no one can make you cum like I can. Not even yourself.”

You couldn’t let him get too full of himself. “Right like you don’t call and complain about having to fuck your fist while you’re away. You miss me just as much.”

Gojo smirked. “Never said I didn't, sweetheart. Missed your sweet pussy so much.” He slipped his fingers into your leggings, slipping through your lips. “Oh you really missed me, huh?” He slid his finger into your dripping pussy. You opened your mouth to reply just as Gojo pressed against your g spot. He licked into your mouth as you moaned. 

“Fuck,” you gasped as he pumped his fingers inside you. His long, slender fingers able to reach spots inside you couldn’t. He was right, no one made you cum like him. “Gojo, please.” You gripped his wrist urging him to keep going.

“Gonna cum around my fingers pretty girl?” he mused, pressing on your clit with his thumb. “Go on, you need it bad.” Your head fell back against the wall, as a warm bliss spread like fire through your body. You moaned his name, your pussy clenching around his fingers. “Good girl.” Gojo held your body up as you went weak in the knees coming down from your high.

One you composed yourself, you pulled Gojo down to floor, pulling off his clothes as you're went. Gojo snorted. “We have a bed you know.” 

“Don’t care you,” you huffed, kicking off your leggings so you could straddle his lap. You took his cock in your hand, loving how heavy and hard it felt. You rubbed his tip through your lips, mixing his pre cum with your arousal. You teased the tip at your tight hole, making Gojo squirm. 

“C’mon on angel, don’t tease.” Gojo tried, and fail to mask the tension in his voice. You smirked, loving when he got a little desperate. If you weren’t so needy, you would have pushed it longer. Instead, you lined yourself up to him and sunk down on his cock. You went slow, letting you both savor every last inch. You bit your lip feeling your pussy stretch around him. 

You rolled your hips, slow and languid. Nothing in the world felt as a good as Gojo’s cock, the blunt tip hitting those spots inside you that made your pussy flutter. “Fuck, baby, squeezing me so tight,” Gojo breathed, “Missed this pussy so fuckin’ much.” You ground against him faster, harder, not caring about teasing him, just wanting to cum on his cock. Gojo gripped your hips, helping to rock you body over his.

“Haa, fuck Gojo,” you gasped. Your pussy was already so sensitizer from your first orgasm that you found yourself on the edge quickly. Gojo could sense it, rubbing his thumb over your clit to finish you off. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as your second orgasm lit up your body. 

“Fuck,” Gojo moaned, his cock throbbing inside you as he filled you with his warm release. You rutted your hips a few more times before collapsing on top of him. You could feel his cum dripping out of you as you both caught your breath.

“I’m sorry I was being a dick,” Gojo said eventually, “And for being away so much. I just know that when they call me, it’s something serious. I worry that if I say no something bad could happen, something that could hurt you. I couldn’t bear that.”

Tears pricked at your eyes at Gojo’s words. It was rare for him to worry or feel afraid. You had thought he left because he didn’t care, but really he left because he cared about you so much he wanted to make sure the world was safe for you. “I’m sorry, too,” you replied, “I left my insecurities get the best of me and I was a bitch about it... And I’m sorry for spoiling the show.”

Gojo laugh, picking you up and carrying you towards your room. “Bitching I can forgive, but spoiling the show? I’m gonna need a few more rounds before I can accept that apology.”