#i want him flat on his chest on my dinner table

[wicke2deer]

[charliemwrites]

Part 4

Mister(s) Steal Your Girl is, somehow, now the official title. Congratulations you little shits (affectionate).

Content: Toxic Behavior, Brief Weight Shaming, Hurt/Comfort

You didn’t expect to see Johnny much after that one night - or possibly ever again. Kyle introduced you two, it was a lot of fun, but you figure that’ll be the end of it. Like introducing a new man to your girlfriends (not that you can really introduce Kyle to yours) you passed the vibe check and now Kyle will keep you and Johnny separate.

That’s how it’s been with Brandon’s friends. (Granted, you don’t really care for Brandon’s friends. And you figure it’s mutual based on the “uptight” comments they pretended to think you couldn’t hear.)

You’re starting to realize that Kyle is always going to subvert your expectations.

Johnny becomes a fixture - a welcome one. While you and Kyle still have your date nights and privacy, Johnny joins you two at least once a week for movies, drinks, dinner, or just silly adventures out and about.

You’re surprised that you don’t mind. Johnny is fantastic company, always respectful, funny, and friendly. Whenever the two of you are left alone, there’s no dead air. In fact, sometimes you could almost swear there’s electricity. Which is… well. It makes it hard to look him in the eye sometimes - and looking at Kyle even harder.

Guilt nips at your stomach until one of them distracts you with another story you’re 70% sure they shouldn’t tell you.

You and Johnny play a game with pub napkins, doodling something on one folded half, then passing it over for the other to scribble on the second half. The trick is not cheating and seeing the first half, then unfolding it to a complete (and usually silly) picture. Gaz always gets to name whatever monstrosity has been created.

You get a month of that good company. Then Kyle sighs at his phone one night.

“Shipping out again,” he explains when you glance at him.

“Will you be gone long?” you ask, shifting.

His brow furrows. “Not sure. They can’t tell us much over the phone.”

You hum in understanding. Still new to this whole military thing, the redacted danger of it all, but you think you’re getting the hang of it. At least, Kyle never seems annoyed when he can’t answer you, only apologetic.

“Is it gonna be the whole team?” you ask.

“Nah, just me and the cap.” He rubs his palm along your calf, a gesture that you suspect is self-soothing rather than for your benefit. “Probably not too dangerous, then.”

You make a noise of protest, nudging at his thigh with your foot. “Bad luck!”

“Sorry, sorry!” he chuckles, tapping his knuckles on the wooden end table. “You’re right.”

You crawl from your side of the couch to his, nuzzling up under his arm. He trails kisses along the side of your face as you snuggle in.

“I’ll miss you,” you mumble into his neck. Still a little embarrassed to be so needy, but you want him to feel appreciated.

“I’ll miss you too, chickadee. I’ll call if I can, yeah?”

You hum in agreement, squeezing an arm around his middle.

“While I’m gone, if you need anything - even some company - you ought to call Soap,” he adds.

The idea is tempting but… “I don’t want to bother him.”

“I promise you won’t,” he laughs. You don’t know what’s so funny, but hearing his voice rumble in his chest like this is always a treat.

“Maybe,” you allow.

“We’ll take it.” Before you can ask what that means, he loops an arm around your waist and scoops you into his lap. “Now then, about my send off.”

Your giggle turns into a moan as his mouth slants over yours.

Kyle’s only been gone three days. You’ve occupied yourself with cleaning up the flat you share with Brandon. Dust has been collecting since you’ve been out and about so much - and god knows Brandon hardly does more than load the dishwasher. Besides, a good bit of spring cleaning is a pleasant enough distraction, humming as you toss out old things to make more room for the new stuff you’ve been collecting.

“Good to see you getting back to normal,” Brandon says cheerfully. You glance up from the laundry you’re folding. He continues, “I was worried with how behind you got on things, but I knew you just needed some time. I told you this would be better for us both.”

You try not to let that sting. Even if things are better now, and continuing to get better, you can’t forget the pain that lingers from the beginning.

“Tell you what,” he adds, hands in his pockets. “When you finish cleaning up, I’ll take you out to the pub, yeah? Put on something pretty.”

You perk up, pleasantly surprised, though hesitant.

“We could leave earlier if you helped,” you point out, hoping for more than just dinner. “Maybe we could walk in the park or something before eating.”

He gives you a weak smile. One you recognize more than his real one by now. It’s almost apologetic, but not quite.

“I would but I’m bloody exhausted from this week, ya know? Big projects coming up at work.”

Your smile freezes. “And some late nights, I’m sure,” you try to joke.

He doesn’t laugh like you expect, but gives you an odd look. “Why would you say something like that?”

Baffled, you shrug. He shakes his head.

“I’m going to take a nap, come wake me up when you’re ready to go.”

You manage to finish the majority of your to-do list by 5. Shower, get dressed, do your hair and makeup with Brandon snoring in the background until 6. By then, he still hasn’t woken up from his nap, so you perch on the edge of the bed and gently nudge at him until he stirs.

“I’m ready to go, babe,” you murmur.

He scrunches up his face - you spare an affectionate thought for how cute it is. You’ve always found it cute.

“Five more minutes,” he grumbles.

You laugh a little. “It’s getting late, we should probably head out.”

He groans. “Five. Minutes.”

You huff in amusement and reach for his phone to set an alarm, but pause at all the notifications from dating apps crowding his screen. There are… a lot. And as you’re looking, a new message pops up, just labeled “blonde” with a peach emoji. Gross.

You set the alarm and slip away to the living room.

It takes him another half hour to finally rouse, shuffling into the living room with a groan.

“C’mon,” he yawns. “It’s going to be bloody crowded by now.”

You follow him quietly to the car, knowing he’s not chatty when he’s just woken up. Hunger only adds to his mood; you can practically see a cloud forming over his head. By the time he pulls up to the pub, he’s downright grumpy. He grumbles about shit parking, and the milling people outside. It looks busy.

“We could go somewhere else?” you suggest.

“This is fine,” he says.

He parks a block away and starts at a swift pace. You try to hold his hand, but halfway there, he pulls away to check his phone and doesn’t take it again.

Surprisingly, it’s only a twenty minute wait for a table - but Brandon sneers something like “of course it is” under his breath. You smile apologetically at the hostess and usher him away.

He doesn’t talk during the wait, at first. Until suddenly he blurts. “We wouldn’t have to wait if you’d woken me up.”

You blink at him. “I did. You asked for five more minutes.”

“Well, why didn’t you wake me up then?”

“I set an alarm?”

You don’t know why he’s so irritated, just that he seems tired and hungry.

“You know I don’t listen to alarms,” he complains, scowling at the sidewalk.

“Okay… I’ll wake you up next time,” you offer.

“Yeah, next time.”

Thankfully, the two of you are called a little early. The pub is indeed loud and crowded, and you’re definitely overdressed. But at least you know what you want - Brandon’s taken you here a million times before.

Wisely, you wait until he’s downed the texmex rolls before trying for conversation again. He hums along as you talk about work, about the books you’ve been reading, about the new movie you saw last week. You think it’s going pretty well, catching up on each other’s lives, when he interrupts you mid-sentence.

“Where was this?”

You frown. “At the grocery store…?”

“You’re still on that? Thought we moved on from that story.”

You don’t bother finishing it, just ask him about his work. It’s like pulling teeth. A lot of “good” and “busy” and “same as usual.” By the time your entree comes, you’ve given up, not sure if you want to cry or just walk away to see if he even notices. He keeps checking his phone. Your fingers twitch to text Kyle, but you don’t want to bother him while he’s working.

The end of dinner can’t come sooner. You decline dessert when the server asks.

“Probably for the better,” Brandon tells you lowly when they’re gone to get the check. “I think you’ve put on a bit of weight. You know how you get.”

You probably have - Kyle has a sweet tooth and practically begs you to split desserts with him. Johnny’s shares his food with you now too, grinning when you express approval for whatever high-protein dish he’s picked and shoving more at you.

As for “how you get”… Brandon’s mentioned in the past when you were heavier that you get mopey, aren’t much fun to be around.

(A small part of you wonders how that would even effect him at this point. He doesn’t spend enough time around you to notice if you’re mopey. Is that why tonight has been such a disaster…?)

You just collect your purse and lead the way out of the pub. It’s a quiet walk back to the car, even though Brandon seems to be in a better mood. He’s still texting, nearly bumps into an elderly couple along the way.

Back at the apartment, he runs his hand down your side, tugs at the lace hem of your shirt.

“Careful,” you chide.

He sucks his teeth and drops his hand. “I’m just trying to be playful.”

“I know, but I like this shirt.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’ve got three just like it.”

You don’t answer, know it’ll lead to more useless bickering. Just tug the stupid thing over your head, ready to go to bed.

“Hey now, that’s more like it,” he drawls, fingertips running down your spine.

You jump, surprised, but play it off that his hands are cold. He makes some crass comment about warming them up, reaching for your breasts, and your stomach churns.

“I-I think I ate something bad,” you lie, all but sprinting for the bathroom.

You close the door behind you - but don’t lock it. Just sit on the floor, the wall cold against your back, while you try to breathe through your spinning, conflicting thoughts.

He’s finally giving you attention, affection. Why aren’t you jumping at this opportunity to spend time with him? Not long ago, you would have been weeping with joy to have an iota of your normal relationship back. Maybe you really did eat something bad.

“Hey,” Brandon calls through the door, “I’m gonna stay somewhere else tonight.”

You stare at the blank white wood, aghast. “But I’m sick.”

“It’s not like I can do much, is there? Except listen to you be sick all night,” he reasons. “And who knows. Maybe it wasn’t something you ate. Maybe it’s contagious. I don’t want to spend the weekend ill.”

Your eyes burn. He didn’t even open the door to check. “Yeah,” you agree, voice robotic, “you’re right.”

Not even five minutes later, you hear the front door close. That almost, almost does you in. You manage to keep your lackluster dinner down, but not the tears.

You let yourself be pathetic for a few minutes, crying into your arms, folded over your knees. When you finally manage to get yourself together, it’s not Brandon you ache for. It’s Kyle. It’s not possible, you know. You just don’t want to be alone even though the nausea is dissipating.

Sighing, you remove your ruined makeup and wash your face, climb into one of Kyle’s jumpers. At least it still smells like him. It’s only as you’re trying to decide on a comfort show, huddled into a ball on the couch, that you remember his advice.

It takes all of fifteen seconds of debate before you scramble for your phone.

I know it’s late, but are you free, you text Johnny.

A response comes almost immediately.

Always for you, lass. You bite your lip on a tiny smile, already feeling better. Your phone buzzes again. What’s up?

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard for a moment as you figure out what to ask - then how to ask it.

Would you want to come to mine for movies? I don’t feel good…

He answers instantly again. Ice cream not-good or Theraflu not-good?

You sniffle when you remember that being sick was a dealbreaker for your night with Brandon.

Ice cream not-good, you reply.

Say no more, hen. Be there in fifteen. Pick a good one.

You watch TikTok’s until there’s a knock at the door. Upon answering, you’re swept up in a bear hug that lifts you off your socked feet.

“Johnny!” you cry, laughing a bit in shock.

“There she is!” he crows, swinging you around. “Been missin’ my best girl!”

You tell yourself the thrill in your stomach is just from him setting you down. (It’s a harder sell when it happens again seeing his wide smile and warm blue eyes.)

“You're ridiculous,” you huff, “I’m not your best girl.”

He arches his eyebrows. “Oh, yer keepin’ track, are ye?”

“C’mon, you must have a partner or something?” you prod as you usher him inside.

“Kyle must’ve told ye, hen, it’s hard in this line of work,” he explains, shrugging. “Tried before but… usually they just end up feeling neglected, ya ken.”

You hum. That’s why Kyle said you and he would work so well with the open relationship - that you’d still have someone at home while he was out. That you wouldn’t be alone if something happened to him.

“Anyway, this is no kinda talk for a cozy night in, now is it?” Johnny says, cutting your melancholy musing short. “Come look at what I brought ya!”

You only notice then the two grocery bags in one hand. He herds you to the couch and sets them on the coffee table for you to root through.

“My favorite!” You exclaim when you extract the tub of ice cream.

The grin Johnny shoots you is proud. “Kyle said so.”

“You two,” you sigh happily.

He’s also brought a squishy stuffed animal, crisps, popcorn, soda, candy, and a small collection of self-care items. You hold the face-masks up with a questioning smile.

“Heard somewhere that it’s good for ye, when yer feelin’ down.” You try not to giggle when the last word comes out sounding like “doon.” He continues, blissfully ignorant. “Hope that’s the right shite, there was a lot to choose from.”

You throw your arms around him, chest warm. “Thank you, this is perfect, Johnny.”

He circles his arm around your waist, holding you close. “Anytime, bonnie,” he murmurs into your hair.

You squeeze his shoulders as you pull away, waving one of the mask packets with a wicked little smile.

“Wanna try this ‘shite’ with me?” you tease.

You expect a resounding and masculine-heavy no. Instead, Johnny tilts his head consideringly for a moment, then shrugs.

“Eh, why the hell not?”

You wake up the next morning to a mess of candy wrappers, discarded moisturizers, and an empty carton of ice cream. And the smell of eggs. Cartoons are playing quietly on the telly. When you yawn and sit up, you’re greeted by a cheerful Johnny at the stove, wearing your pink apron.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” he calls.

You flush and smile back, glad that you called him. “Mornin’!”

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Masterlist

[wonryllis]

✶ 𝟭𝟳𝟳𝟱 (𝓥 ) SATAN'S IMAGINATION, AGENT ENHYPEN.

╰ 𝖠𝖫𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖭𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖵𝖤𝖫𝖸, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗍𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗋.

THE ATELIER. agent!enhypen hanging on that line between act and reality with agent!reader. word count 1261 CONTAINS— fluff, suggestive, fem!reader. ( ARCHIVE? ) pls reblog!!

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 he feels his breath caught in a dangerously thin line between staying professional and kissing the hell out of you, your body pressed against him between the narrow shelves.

he's probably at fault for blowing your cover earlier but all he can think about right now is the way the light through the windows make your glossed lips glow and your messy hair look sensual.

each inhale and exhale a battle against his self-control.

"do you think they noticed?" your voice sounds more tempting than ever in the low whisper you let out against his chest and heeseung swears he's fighting demons right now. "i hope not," he sighs heavy, feeling himself leaning into you, getting carried away as his conscience slowly slips and cracks.

lips almost brushing when you suddenly look up, wide eyes boring into his,"i think they just walked past," unaware and painfully oblivious of what your partner was about to do to you. of how he was ready to devour you.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 with the biggest lovesick smile ever, jay watches you act coy in your character, gently excusing yourself to the washroom.

"act like you want me, but more like you love me," your soft words tingle his ear as you discreetly whisper to him just before you leave the dinner table. are you dense or are you just too professional? there is no way you think the look on his face isn't already giving away his feelings to all these people around the table you're supposed to fool.

he chuckles deep and smitten as he stands seconds after,"i apologize gentlemen, but my love needs my help," excusing himself as well.

with each step he takes towards you, he realizes the wicked idea you have in your wicked little brain.

his heart skipping beats and blood rushing everywhere when you throw yourself at him, dragging him to bathroom with your lips hovering over his making sure the targeted people get a glimpse of it and get the wrong idea.

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍 jake grins wider as your palm presses flat against his chest first and then fingers curl to mimic a gun, your tips emulating a spark of electricity through his veins, feeling the blood pump harder in his heart.

"you better not take advantage of our cover to steal kisses, sim," it is crazy how he feels disappointed yet amused at the same time, you doing this right now is the hottest thing ever but you refusing to let him kiss you later is a tad bit upsetting plus you knowing he loves to do that has him dazed.

"can't promis—" his breath gets knocked out mid sentence as you grab him by his tie and smash your lips together in a sloppy and short kiss.

"that's is all you can have for the night, focus on the mission agent three,"

now that was hotter than the hottest thing you could have ever done to him, and you decide to do it right before work. oh how he wishes he had kissed back harder and show you just what you'd be missing out on later.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 his eyes scan across your rather overly feminine dressed figure amble over to him, stance seductive and alluring in the red cocktail gown he helped you pick hours ago.

"that was disgusting," he says as soon as you stop beside him.

he was glad the mission was successful and he was so glad he picked this dress for you. feeling a sense of pride that he has always been the first one to see you dolled up and that he has always been your date and that he has always been gotten to take you home at the end of night.

the only thing he feels jealous about right now is that while he has always been all that, it has always been the targets who get to feel you all up and who get to see your siren side showing them how it would be if you were interested in them.

"well it wasn't for you anyway, mr hotshot," you bite back and sunghoon almost breaks on the verge of exposing that he'd die for it to him, for you to seduce the heck out of him.

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐖𝐎𝐎 the hawk-like focus sunoo had on you seemed so normal to you both, you didn't even realize when it turned into something possesive and unfitting for agents just working together.

perhaps it was for the reason that you two had been paired up together for couple missions, or perhaps it was because you both trained together everyday. there was this sense of belonging you had developed, unaware of how it was changing things in your work dynamics.

"your gaze is so fake, come on baby i know you can give a more sultry one, remember our practice?" sunoo speaks through the in-ears, his eyes locked with yours across the other end of the vip club, watching you try to seduce the target.

the sparkle of tension crackling in the air as you held the eye contact, sunoo's ego blasting at the back of his mind knowing he's the only one who's seen the real thing.

"just imagine it's me, and finish it up so you can actually come back to me,"

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 his gaze is envious and bitter, feeling his blood boil over the revelation you just made. "so you know him well?" the tone being one of grudge and spite, he continues to watch you strap on the weapons around you body. places under your dress where one would probably not have the chance to touch, unless it's him.

which amplifies his jealousy to a staggering height at the realization that the target you are chasing this time probably has touched you in those places before. maybe even more than he has.

the dismissive nod you respond with, makes jungwon's impatience fly through the roof, walking closer to trap you against the table where the weapons laid. "better than me?"

the air thickens with implication of his words, jungwon himself is unaware what the undertone of it means.

if it's how well you know him or if it's something entirely different, something that makes him want to leave kisses down your neck like he did the last time.

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈 his breath is laboured as he helps you rush out the pool, your fancy dress drenched and heavy weighing you down more than he'd anticipated. quickly you both find a spot in the showers to hide, squeezing into a single booth.

he's brisk and sharp, giving you a hand in stepping out your wet dress into the latex suit underneath. letting you put your weight on him, your hands holding onto his body while you undo the strings and sleeves. the possibilities of getting caught are on high alert yet riki can't find it in him to focus on anything besides you.

the way you look so hot in your agent attire, your hair wet and sticking to the sides of your face making you appear so cute in contrast to you getting ready to fight men a step outside the door.

he has always found it so attractive, and the thought of admitting it openly just makes him more dazed.

his fingers reach out to push away the strands around your eyes and lips, thumb brushing a second longer on your lips, "i really wanna kiss you right now," he whispers into your ears, lips grazing against it softly.

taglist ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz @shawnyle @potato0579 @enhastolemyheart @belowbun @ro-diaries

[its-avalon-08]

ADORE UR ANGST! Can you do a lando norris x y/n where lando is upset with y/n because she wasnt listening when he was ranting about something that happened. He feels annoyed. Y/N doesnt know why he's upset but then she realises. she tries to apoligise

can i just say i love it when y/n messes up, because writing reader groveling is my guilty pleasure <3 thanks anon

look up from your fucking phone (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - alot of fighting, y/n is being annoying, angst, fluffy ending

Lando slammed the apartment door shut, the echo bouncing off the bare walls of their new place in Monaco. He threw his helmet on the couch, the familiar orange a stark contrast to the simmering red of his mood.

"Y/N, did you see that?!" he yelled, stomping towards the kitchen.

Y/N was hunched over the counter, phone glued to her ear, a frown etched on her face. "Ugh, why won't this load?..." she trailed off, finally noticing Lando's stormy entrance.

"Didn't you see what Yuki pulled out there?!" Lando practically exploded. "That dive bomb into Turn 12? I could've been wiped out!"

Y/N finally peeled her phone away from her ear. "Yeah, I saw it. Sounds scary," she said, her voice flat. She scrolled through her phone again, a picture of a cupcake taking center screen.

Lando's anger intensified. "Scary? Y/N, it was reckless! He could've ruined both our races!" He gestured wildly with his gloved hands. "And all he gets is a five-second penalty? That's a joke!"

Y/N sighed, a sound of exasperation that sent a fresh wave of irritation through Lando. "Look, I'm sure you'll bounce back. Maybe get some revenge on him next race?" She offered a tight smile, her eyes still glued to the phone.

Lando felt a knot tighten in his chest. "That's it? No 'are you okay?' No 'that was a dirty move?'" His voice dropped to a low growl. "Don't you even care?"

Y/N finally looked up, startled. "Of course I care, Lando! I just... I had a really stressful day too, okay?" She gestured vaguely at the phone. "Work stuff."

The knot in Lando's chest unraveled, replaced by a hollow ache. "Right," he muttered, his voice devoid of its usual spark. "Work stuff is always more important than your boyfriend getting wrecked on the track, apparently."

Y/N's eyes widened. "Hey, that's not fair! I wouldn't say that." She reached out a hand, but Lando flinched away.

"Just forget it," he said, his voice tight. "I need a shower."

He stormed past her, the slam of the bathroom door echoing through the apartment. Y/N stared after him, the phone clattering to the counter with a forgotten thud. The file which had now loaded mocked her from the screen.

Her heart pounded a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She'd been so caught up in her own problems, she hadn't realized Lando was having a terrible day. Shame washed over her as she remembered his frustrated yells, his need for support.

She jumped up, rushing to the bathroom door. "Lando, wait!" she called out, her voice laced with panic. "I'm so sorry, I was just..."

Silence.

She tried the knob, but it wouldn't budge. He must've locked it. Lando, who never locked the bathroom door. A cold dread filled her.

He was mad. Really mad. And it was all her fault.

The silence stretched on for what felt like hours. Dinner, usually a time for shared laughter and stories, was a tense affair. Y/N cooked Lando's favorite pasta dish, but it sat untouched on the table, growing cold beside her untouched plate. Every time she stole a glance at the bathroom door, a knot tightened in her stomach.

Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, she cleared her throat. "Lando," she began tentatively, "I know you're upset, and I just wanted to say again that I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have been on the phone. I was just..."

The clatter of the bathroom door slamming shut cut her off. Lando stormed into the living room, his face a mask of fury.

"Just what?" he spat out, his voice raw with emotion. "Just another bad day at work for you? Don't you get it, Y/N? Today was a nightmare! Yuki nearly took me out, the car felt off the entire race, and to top it all off, the media keeps hounding me about missing out on the podium."

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. "And you," he pointed a finger at her, his voice cracking, "you weren't even there for me. You were too busy with your stupid phone to even see how much I was fucking hurting."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes. "Lando, I-"

He cut her off again, his voice laced with a raw vulnerability that ripped at her heartstrings. "No, Y/N! You don't get to talk now. I had the worst fucking day of my life, and your sorry does. not. fix. that. You listening to me, maybe even caring, might have. But you weren't there. And frankly, right now, I don't even know if you care at all."

He stormed past her, grabbing his helmet from the couch. "I'm going for a drive. Don't wait up." The slam of the front door echoed through the apartment, leaving Y/N standing alone in the cold, sterile silence. Tears streamed down her face, a silent apology echoing in the empty room. She had messed up, badly. And now, she had to find a way to fix it, even if it meant facing Lando's anger and rebuilding the trust she had so carelessly shattered.

Lando's car tore down the familiar winding roads, the roar of the engine a poor substitute for the roar of frustration in his chest. Tears, hot and angry, blurred his vision as he navigated the steep climb towards his favorite spot - the very same hill where he'd asked Y/N to be his girlfriend.

"Stupid phone. Stupid fucking Yuki. Stupid me," he muttered under his breath, slamming the car into park with more force than necessary. He stormed out, the cool night air doing little to quell the fire burning inside him.

He reached the familiar crest of the hill, the city lights twinkling like scattered diamonds below. It was supposed to be a place of peace, a place where he could clear his head. But tonight, it was a stark reminder of everything he'd lost.

"Why couldn't you have listened to me Y/N," he growled, the words catching in his throat. He sat down on the familiar patch of grass, burying his head in his hands. A choked sob escaped his lips, the sound harsh and raw in the quiet night.

Suddenly, a soft voice broke through his despair. "Lando?"

He looked up, startled, to see Y/N standing hesitantly before him. She was holding a basket overflowing with snacks, drinks, and a familiar fluffy blanket. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face etched with worry and regret.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice hoarse. His anger hadn't quite subsided, but it was overshadowed by a wave of surprise.

"I followed you," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. She set the basket down beside him cautiously, the woven handles creaking softly. "I know you needed some space, but I couldn't just stay there. I had to try and fix this."

Lando hesitated, then gestured towards the spot beside him. Y/N sat down, her gaze fixed on the glittering cityscape. Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken emotions. Finally, Y/N reached out, placing a hand tentatively on his arm.

"Lando, I'm so, so sorry. There's no excuse for my behavior today. You were having a terrible day, and I completely ignored you. It was selfish and insensitive, and I hurt you. And for that, I am truly sorry."

Lando flinched, a tear rolling down his cheek. He looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of hurt and longing. "I just... I needed you, Y/N. Today was one of those days when everything felt like it was going wrong. And all I wanted was for you to be there for me, to listen, to just be you."

Y/N's hand tightened on his arm. "I understand now. And believe me, I was there in spirit. Every time you yelled, every time you slammed the door, it broke my heart a little more. But I was so caught up in my own problems, I didn't even see how much you were hurting."

She squeezed his arm gently. "Please, Lando. Let me try to make it up to you. Let's stay here, talk, share some snacks." She gestured towards the basket with a small, hopeful smile. "Maybe then we can face tomorrow together."

Lando looked from her hopeful face to the inviting spread in the basket. A flicker of his old smile played on his lips. He sighed, the tension easing from his shoulders. "Alright, Y/N. Snacks and talking it out sound pretty good right now."

As they settled under the blanket, the city lights twinkling around them, they began to talk. Lando poured out his frustrations about the race, Yuki, and the media. Y/N listened intently, offering words of encouragement and understanding. They reminisced about better races, laughed at silly inside jokes, and slowly, the rift between them began to heal.

The drive home was filled with a comfortable silence, a silent promise to communicate better in the future. As Lando pulled into their driveway, he turned to Y/N, a genuine smile warming his face.

"Thanks for coming after me, Y/N." He leaned in, his lips brushing softly against hers. "I love you."

Y/N smiled back, her heart overflowing with relief. "I love you too, Lando. And next time, I'm chucking the phone into the bin."

[seeingivy]

french toast

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

an: enabled by @babiemay thank her for giving me the BIGGEST best friends older brother sukuna brain rot i've ever had in my life. (ooc sukuna again btw)

**part of my best friends (older brother) fic

previous part linked here

--

based on the seventeen years that sukuna has known you, he figures that you’ve already worked up some type of overthinking storm in your head when you arrive at his apartment two days later. and he knows for a fact that he’s right, because you’re at his doorstep with a pinched look on your face, clutching your purse like you’re about to get robbed. 

“hi pretty girl. did someone make an attempt on your life today?” 

you can feel your cheeks burning at the term of endearment, so phased you can barely coherently respond - or understand - what it is he said. 

“no?” you respond, nearly sweating under his eye contact as he smiles. 

“then why are you looking at me like you think i’m going to eat you?” he asks, annoyed as he gestures for you to walk into the kitchen. 

you feel your head run in a spiral, at the implication of his words, as he places his hands flat on your shoulders, and guides you to sit at the stool on his little kitchen island. the entire ordeal - the breakfast, the fact that he’s peeling off your coat and pressing a kiss to your temple, and the lingering touches - they make your skin burn, almost itch with nervousness. 

he stands on the other side of the counter, leaning forward on his forearms, as he smiles at you. and you try your best to figure out what exactly it is that’s beaming in his eyes as he leans forward. 

“pick your poison.” 

you feel yourself pale. 

“huh?” 

he frowns, as he leans back. 

“for breakfast? what did you want to eat?” he clarifies. 

you breathe a sigh of relief. 

“anything’s okay. don’t trouble yourself. i-i can even help.” 

you walk over to his side, pulling up your sleeves and giving him a peachy smile, as he takes the opportunity to step towards you. your back hits the counter and sukuna makes it a point - resting both of his arms at your sides - as he traps you within his hold. 

“talk.” he states, almost sternly. 

“hm?” 

sukuna leans closer, leaning his forehead against yours, as he takes a deep breath. it reminds you vividly, of two nights ago, when he pulled you straight onto his lap. and murmured into your skin that you were his pretty girl. and that he was going to prove it to you. 

“talk.” he states, the tone in his voice irritated. 

you look up at him, at his eyes razor focused in on yours, and spot no inclination of irritation on his face. despite the fact that you were almost positive that it was dripping from his tone. though, you always found him particularly hard to read.  

“now.” he murmurs. 

you sigh. 

“what are you trying to do right now?” you ask. 

he rolls his eyes. there’s the irritation you were hearing. 

“make you breakfast.” he deadpans. 

“is that all?” 

“what are you getting at?” he asks. 

sukuna often finds that talking to you is like digging a hole. that it takes patience. because he’s not going to find what he’s looking for forthright. but he knows for a fact that there’s something down there. 

it’s aggravating. but he persists.  

“promise you won’t make fun?” you ask. 

“i will do no such thing.” 

“sukuna.” you whine, crossing your hands against your chest. 

sukuna finds this part of you endearing. because it reminds him of all the different ways he’s seen you. when you were four and barging into his house to play wii with his little brother, explaining barbie movies at the dinner table, and tagging along on his family vacation when he was fourteen. 

and how after all this time, you still have the same tendencies. you bounce your right leg when you’re nervous, tuck your hair behind your ears when you’re finished rambling, and curl your hands into little fists and cross your arms - entirely unable to meet his eyes - when you’re embarrassed. 

sukuna clears his throat, as you look up at him. and you know the expression all too well. that he’ll wait all day if he has to. 

“no making fun. i’m serious, sukuna.” 

“it’s almost like you know you’re going to say something stupid.” 

“don’t call my feelings stupid.” you murmur. 

“well, i’ll keep calling them stupid until you tell me what they are. i’ll be honest if you let me.” 

this is something you can appreciate about sukuna. that he won’t beat around the bush. or say things just to coddle. it’s the same as the other night, where you told him about what happened at the bar, when he didn’t rush to your defense like almost everyone else does. and when it comes to this, you figure that he’ll be straightforward. 

“are you trying to have sex with me right now?” you ask. 

you look at sukuna, specifically at the way his eyes widen, before he breaks out into a laugh. and not just any laugh, because he’s nearly keeling over with how amusing he finds it. howling even. and it makes even more blood rush to your cheeks, humiliated for even bringing it up. 

sukuna grins, lifting his hands up from the sides of the counter and wrapping them around your neck.you can feel your breath hitch in your throat, as you instinctively shut your eyes. he’s going to be straightforward. 

“your feelings are stupid.” he whispers, right into your skin. 

you pull back, staring at him dumbfounded, as he places one of his hands on your waist. and he’s staring back at you, the expression in his face slightly amused. 

“that’s not nice.” 

“i’m not a nice person.” 

it’s frustrating. the tone that he uses with you. it teeters between placating and teasing you and you find it hard to decide which one exactly it is. and it seeps right under your skin, lets your irritation come to a head faster than it usually would.

“okay, well. sue me! you had no problems doing god knows what in my room the other day. and-and then you were making jokes about how you were going to eat me. the second that i got here. and-and you know how you are-” 

“and what’s that?” 

you pause.

“what?” 

“you said you know how you are. well, i don’t. enlighten me please.” he clarifies. 

sukuna’s pleased with himself. because he’s figured out exactly what it is, that’s brewing in that head of yours. and naturally, he has every intention to make you mince your words. 

“you-” 

you’re not sure how to say this. if there’s a polite way to call him what he is. 

“i’m what? a manwhore?” he asks. 

“no! you-” 

“you think i’m a horny freak, right? that i want to lift you up, take your skirt off, and have you right here on my kitchen counter?” 

you feel your eyes go wide, as you swallow hard, and feel the nervousness take residence in your stomach. sukuna senses it fast enough and makes his efforts to diffuse it. 

“do you think i would only invite you here because i want you to please me? do you think that’s the only way i can enjoy your company?” 

you can feel yourself getting too overstimulated, your head nearly steaming - at the implication, at the way he’s looking at you, and the fact that his lips are a few feet away from yours - and his smug grin crawling underneath your skin and making you twitch. 

you cover your face with your hands, feeling the warmth on your palms, as you feel his hands curl around your wrists, prying them off of your face. and when you look up at him, at the soft smile on his face, as you can’t help but frown at him. 

“no…” 

sukuna smiles. 

“are you lying to me?” 

you deflate. 

“maybe a little.” 

sukuna secures his hands around your waist, before fully lifting you up and placing you on the counter. and he presses a lingering kiss to your cheek before he wordlessly starts rummaging through different cabinets in his kitchen and the fridge, fully intent on making you the breakfast you were promised. 

you can’t help but watch him, as he muses around his kitchen, slicing vegetables on the cutting board and fruits on the side. at how he entirely discards the conversation you just had like it was nothing. 

from two feet away, sukuna is very, very appreciative of you. because you’re not very proud. and despite your first attempts, you’re honest too. because he knows for a fact that your hesitation to state your thoughts is because you don’t want to write sukuna off as something so…lewd. even if you think it’s true. and that of course, any hesitation on your part comes from something deeper than him. 

the deep seated distaste you seem to have for yourself. though sukuna’s entirely unsure why it’s there in the first place. he slices a strawberry in half, letting the eggs cook at his side, before he makes a residence standing in between your legs. 

he hands you one of the halves of the strawberry, before popping the other in his mouth and leaning into your space. 

“i don’t think you’re a manwhore.” you clarify. 

“okay. i don’t think you’re one either.” he responds. 

you smile.

“but you do think that’s the only reason you’re here?” he pokes. 

“no! no, i don’t think that. i just-” 

you sigh, placing your hands flat on the fabric of his hoodie, as you crumple it into your fists. 

“sorry. i’m not very good at this type of thing. and-and you’re like…you know. reputation. and you obviously have needs! and megumi thinks you’re a womanizer.” 

sukuna snickers, as you release his hoodie, and you deflate slightly. mainly at the fact that he’s not offended. and letting you ramble - and say ten different things you shouldn’t - openly. 

sukuna doesn’t shy away from what exactly it is that you think of him. or what that godawful sea urchin megumi thinks either. because it’s naturally, quite simple. and somewhat true. because he finds it hard to stay in one place for a long time. and as you very keenly put it, he had needs. 

though, that rule, as sukuna was painstakingly reminded of, didn’t apply to you. because again, you transcended any normal guideline that sukuna had. which is why he was keen on making you breakfast two days later, on his day off. and make your favorite, which he specifically remembers from the camping trip. 

“i’m not sure what thing you’re referencing. and make no mistake. i don’t talk in tongues like you do. if i invite you over for breakfast, it’s because i want to eat breakfast with you.” he responds. 

“you were the one who said you were going to eat me.” you defend. 

“you were looking at me like you were scared of me. like how prey looks at a predator before it gets eaten?” 

“oh.” 

sukuna pushes off the counter as he starts plating the food onto and feels his ego inflate when you jump off the counter and cling to his arm when you realize what exactly it is that he made. 

“sukuna. i love french toast!” 

“yes. i’m well aware.” 

"how'd you know?" you ask.

sukuna looks over at you, the look in his eyes so devious, that you know you've certainly walked into something by stating it.

"you told us. on the camping trip. you've always been my pretty girl. even when you were fourteen."

you barely have time to even stomach what it is that he said as he lifts both plates as he makes a gesture for you to follow, seating the two of you back on his kitchen island. and when you settle in, sukuna gets to pick at your mind, with the questions that have been stuck in his head for the past two days. 

“before i divulge my manwhore adventures for you, you have to indulge me first. how many guys have you dated? or talked to?” sukuna asks. 

you hate sukuna’s choice of words sometimes. indulge. it’s almost like he knows he’s saying words that make you nervous. that make the sweat accumulate on the palms of your hands. 

“where’d you learn how to make french toast like this?” you ask, deflecting. 

“i asked first.” 

you swirl the eggs around on the plate - moving them from the left, to the right, and back to the left - before you answer. 

“i had a crush on this guy named dean from sixth grade to eighth grade. all of the boys in school got dared to slow dance with different girls and he picked me. it was an awkward four minutes of halo by beyonce but i loved him after that. he was funny. and cute.” 

“did you date?” he asks. 

“oh, of course not. he started liking this girl named kimi in eighth grade.” 

sukuna’s not exactly sure if this is the question he asked. but you keep going. and it’s intriguing to him nonetheless. 

“in my sophomore year of highschool, i had a crush on this guy named parker. he was kind of nerdy, like the stupid type? my english teacher would always put us in group projects together, and when i asked him why, he said it was because he wanted us to get married.” 

“that’s an appropriate thing to say to a fifteen year old.” sukuna bites. 

“no! my teacher had this dream to go to two of his students weddings, that met in his class.” 

“and what killed that extremely inapprorpiate dream, dead in its tracks?” 

“my best friend. we all somehow ended up in the same friends group our junior year. and they kind of started flirting. dated all the way till our freshman year of college.” you respond. 

sukuna curbs the question that comes to the forefront of his mind. because it occurs to him that his plausible answer to it, one that he despises, is exactly what’s going to be the answer. that if they liked each other, you were going to let them. despite the fact that you liked him first. 

“any more for me?” sukuna asks. 

“my first boyfriend was in my senior year of highschool.” 

sukuna feigns shock, as you fight the urge to laugh. 

“have we finally arrived to a real boyfriend?” 

you laugh, as you settle your hand into his underneath the table. there’s something so inviting about him, the way he’s hanging off the ends of your words and listening intently, that makes you continue. 

“we don’t speak his name.” you state. 

“oh?” 

“he’s not a good guy. we dated until….my freshman year of college. december. and we officially stopped talking the summer of my sophomore year.” you state. 

sukuna bites the urge to ask every question in his mind. on who this guy is, why you continued to talk to him almost an entire year after, and most importantly, why you haven’t talked to anyone else since. 

except for him anyways. for the first time, sukuna finds himself being the exception. in a way that’s favorable to him. 

“that’s all of them! your turn.” 

sukuna smiles. 

“that’s all?” 

“mhm! it’s kind of boring, i’m assuming. in comparison to you.” 

sukuna concludes one thing. that all three of these men, especially the last, were not deserving of you. in the slightest. and that each one had wrecked a sizeable amount of havoc. he curses himself for not paying attention when he was still there.

“oh definitely. you’d need to stay here all day if you wanted to here that.” 

you smile brightly. 

“that can be arranged.” you respond. 

sukuna leans forward, lips a few feet away from yours, before he speaks again. 

“you like to play hard to get, don’t you?” sukuna asks. 

“what? what do you mean?” 

sukuna places his hands on the rung of your chair, before pulling it flesh with his own. and he tests the waters, by placing his hand on your bare knee, right near the pleats of your black skirt. and he feels you instinctively press your legs together, but make no moves to push him off. 

“i didn’t make the list?” 

you swallow hard, entirely embarrassed. though, your first real crush you supposed is naturally the one that you’ve denied, vehemently, since you were four years old and yuuji asked you in passing. 

because when your eyes lingered on him for too long, after he fixed the wii controls and dutifully handed you both your controllers back - of his wii, that he was letting you play on - yuuji halfmindedly asked the question. 

why are you looking at him like that? do you like him or something? 

it was a joke, of course. because yuuji just asked so he could start the match of wii tennis while you weren’t paying attention. that in the rush of it, you never got to consider the answer to it in full. though you suppose there’s no better time to answer it than now. 

“i have this best friend. his name is yuuji.” you start. 

sukuna’s alarmed. so alarmed that he pulls his hand off of your thigh, retreating it behind his back. 

surely you didn’t really like yuuji. because that would stop whatever it was that was blooming right now. because he was not his brother, despite their identical pink hair. the farthest thing from it actually. 

“i met him when i was four. and i barged into his house because he wanted me to play wii with him. you see, his big brother didn’t really like to play with him so he figured that i was the next best thing.” you state. 

“he had greasy hands. so did you. it was disgusting.” he states. 

“and yuuji didn’t know how to turn on the game. or-or remember which one it was in. so he called his very cool, much older brother, to help us. i’d never met a six year old before, and naturally if i had, i wouldn’t have thought he was so cool.” 

“shut up.” 

sukuna desperately wants you to continue. 

“seemed like the real serious type. kind of quiet. dark blue shirt, black shorts. the socks that only go to your ankles. i didn’t even know that his name was sukuna until a few days later, when he walked with us to school. he didn’t even introduce himself to me.” 

“did you want to know him that badly?” 

“and he fixed the remote, obviously. had some six year knowledge we didn’t clearly. and-and he turned to me. gave me a smile before he handed one to me and walked away.” you state, shrugging at him. 

sukuna’s satiated with your answer. mostly because, it seems you seem to remember the ordeal in as excruticating detail as he has. that you were wearing a pink dress, gold earrings, and a ribbon in your hair. that your skin was the softest he had ever felt, that you were the first girl who had brushed fingers with him when he handed you the remote, save for his mom of course 

sukuna brings his hand back into your hair, feeling the fabric of the blue ribbon in your hair today, matching with the short cardigan that you were wearing. and he wants to keep this one too. yank it out of your hair and secure it to his keys next to the pink one he refused to return. 

sukuna looks down at the fabric, at your hair sprawled over your shoulder. he can make out the length of your collarbone from underneath your tanktop and settles his lips right into divot, before pressing a lingering kiss into your skin and feeling you keel over in his arms. 

“france.” he murmurs, right into your skin. 

“what’s that?” you ask, dazed from the contact. 

“i learned to make the french toast in france.”

he kisses up the length of your neck, making no inclination to stop even as you barely stutter your words out. and for the second time, can't resist and places his hands on your waist just to pull you straight on top of him.

"makes sense. that's just-just toast for them." you mumble.

sukuna can't help but laugh. he's never going to tire of you.

--

next part linked here

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[cumikering]

Neighbour Ghost x reader 8 (end)

1.6k | fluff The stray and his forever home (part 1)

“Bone apple tea.” You placed the cup of camomile in front of Simon.

“What?”

You pointed at your skull-printed shirt, the apple pie patch on his hoodie and the tea on the table. “Bone. Apple. Tea.”

He’d missed that brilliant smile too much. It was impossible to not want to kiss you. He chuckled as he pulled you to stand between his thighs.

That Sunday with your help, despite the pounding of his head, he packed the rest of his stuff and managed to move out. In the last few days he had before he left, he spent any possible moment with you, mainly eating his favourite Chinese takeout or cuddling on the couch.

Two months later when Simon came back, things crawled to how they were, with him visiting for dinner and leaving before midnight. Eventually, he stayed more and more nights a week, leaving more than a few of his shirts behind.

The divorce was finalised and his childhood home was sold. The city of Manchester didn’t mean gripping the straps of his backpack after school as he walked up the dreaded front steps anymore, nor sleeping restlessly lest someone barged in the door with another bizarre creature. The house was gone, along with the memories that breathed within the walls. He didn’t miss them.

His mum got a flat near Tommy’s and a job at a flower shop in the neighbourhood. ‘Not as nice as working with Ben’, she said. She had to buy her own bread, and none she’d found in the area tasted remotely close to how grand his were. She still cooked too much, but Tommy didn’t mind the extra whenever she dropped by. Little Joe always loved seeing his nana anyway.

Back from his next deployment, Simon held you at the door as he inhaled the warmth he’d missed terribly. After his shower, you showed him his shirts in their own drawer, not jammed between yours anymore. He smiled, pulling you in for a kiss.

In spring, he came with to visit your dad, insisting on wearing one of his dress shirts, even when you assured it was a regular lunch. He stood rigid on the porch, the neck of the wine bottle about to snap in his grip.

Your dad was taking too long. Was he arming himself before opening the door? Should he tackle and disarm him or take the shot like a man? He should have worn a tac vest.

“Si, relax.” You rubbed his back. “You’re already too tall. You’re going to scare my dad.”

Is that not a good thing?

Your dad (obviously unarmed) tried making small talk with him at lunch, but he sucked at it as much as Simon did, leaving you to do almost all the talking among the pauses. You only received short answers from the men who avoided each other’s gazes.

Also, who the bloody hell put the coriander in the chicken stir-fry?!

“Your dad hates me,” Simon declared as he drove home, the phantom taste of soap persisted on his palate despite the hours between.

“He doesn’t, I promise. He doesn’t even really like Chinese, but picked the place because I told him how much you love it. He really tried, but just doesn’t talk much with new people.” You stifled a laugh. “You should have cracked a few jokes.”

He gave you a deadpan look. “When we get home, I’m going to tickle you until you pass out.”

Home.

You’d made your flat Simon’s home too. You cleared another drawer for him, and another, and another, even when he didn’t have so many possessions. But you let him expand and take up the space he needed. He reordered a set of his ID discs for you to keep on your nightstand.

Things were… easy. Simple, like getting out of bed a little later on weekends. With his nose buried in your hair, arm around your waist pulling you flush to his chest, he held you in silence from dawn until you woke. Listening to your quiet breathing filled his chest heavy with warmth.

You’d asked multiple times if it bored him to be doing nothing, as if he didn’t lay prone behind rifle scopes for hours on end for a living. It didn’t, because being in your presence wasn’t nothing. You were real, and you were his.

You woke with a stir, a smile gracing your lips when you realised he was with you before your eyes opened.

“Good morning, my love.” He slipped the strap of your tank top off before peppering kisses on the nape of your neck down your exposed shoulder.

“Morning, Si.” You reached back to scratch his scalp.

He rolled you onto your back before crawling on top of you, kissing the column on your neck making you giggle with his weekend scruff. He pulled away to admire your eyes, always striking in the warm sun.

“Love looking at you.” You cupped his cheek, tracing the healed cut with your thumb. “You’re so beautiful, Si.”

He leaned in, and you stayed in bed a little longer.

In his shirt, you placed more toasts on the table.

“Two goldfish are in a tank…”

He handed you a buttered toast. “Don’t steal my jokes, luv.”

“It’s too lame to forget.”

“Yeah? ‘Cause I remember you howling at Tesco when I told it.”

“It was your first ever.” You smiled. “My favourite.”

“Why didn’t you tell me I was scary, luv?”

“I’m not sure they teach you to tell the scary bloke he’s scary in self-defence class.” You took a bite of the toast.

“Fair enough.” He shrugged. “Are you out of jam?”

“Forgot to grab some yesterday, but I didn’t forget your limes.”

Simon became a bit of a pie connoisseur. He figured baking was better than sparring with the intention of beating someone up to a pulp. He tried different fruits (even declared himself a pro at peeling) and techniques, and eventually other varieties. That late Saturday morning, it was key lime pie.

“Why’s the cat so small?” you asked as you tied your kitty apron around his waist.

“Why?”

“Because it drank condensed milk.”

He liked that you were becoming more like him. “You too, it seems.”

You mock gasped. “Rude! You know I can take you, Si.”

“Not in a fight.”

You slapped his chest playfully earning a hearty laugh from him.

Volunteering at the soup kitchen became a regular occurrence too, along with his sergeants. Sam ended up dating one of the volunteers’ daughters, the one he was introduced to. Unfortunately, his two other sergeants hadn’t had as much luck on their side. ‘Does your birdie have sisters or friends, sir?’ Eric joked, but it barely masked his hopefulness. You assured you’d ask around if they promised to keep each other safe while deployed.

It got hard at times, when things went sideways and the missions lasted longer, or when he had no way to contact you or wipe the tears off your face.

Somewhere along the way, Simon listed you as his emergency contact. You weren’t supposed to find out this way. Not this soon, not from his captain calling you about how he was unconscious, dying from blood loss from getting his leg slashed.

The first thing he did when he astonishingly woke was to call you. He could ignore the sear on his thigh, or the fact that his eyelids weighed like lead, but not the guilt that sank into the pits of him when you were in a mess of tears.

“I’m so sorry, luv,” he croaked out of his throat that felt like sandpaper. “I mean it. I’ll leave this all behind if that’s what it takes to keep you. You just have to say the word.”

“Si, you don’t... always have to bend yourself backwards for others. I chose you for who you are, and I will keep choosing you, as long as you don’t give up on this. On us.” You sniffled. “Please come home soon. I need you with me.”

Simon was glad you stood by his decision to stay, because that afternoon a year after, as the major pinned on the new insignia onto his uniform, he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face when the mass erupted in applause.

Captain Simon Riley.

Among the crowd, next to Tommy and Beth, her belly carrying his niece, you had your arm around his mum, Joe’s hand in yours. From across the room, your sincere eyes made him feel like a hero, the most desirable man. He knew he wasn’t, but you looked at him like he was sunshine, and maybe, he was to you a little bit.

Nothing changed. Simon was still fatherless, still missed out on the memories a child deserved to have, but was never granted. Still bound to a past that wouldn’t go, but he was more than that.

He thought his dad was the only thing standing in the way of happiness, whatever it meant. He knew now. It wasn’t what he thought he wanted, wasn’t what he imagined, but it was perfect. This was what it was supposed to be like all along.

“For you,” he mouthed.

Simon Riley never wanted to be an oil painting admired by many, but he was, and always had been, a love note sealed with a kiss.

Line art from part 4

Masterlist

Thank you so much for sticking around until the end :) I greatly appreciate the support and kind words this little story has received. Take care!

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[heartfullofleeches]

Fletchers reaction to foxboy willingly kissing him for the first time

Yan Farmer Rabbit + Fox Hybrid Reader

[Reader has no mentioned gender but they are referred to as wife]

-

"Damn it!"

The knife clatters to the kitchen floor with a dull thud. Chest heaving with each pain breath, you fall to your knees - shirt clutched painfully tight in your claws as wetness drips down your cheeks.

Three weeks... Three weeks you've lived with the farmer and he hasn't asked you to lift a finger. This is it.... isn't it? It's finally happening. You were a such an idiot to think it wouldn't. He's testing you... A trial to see how useful you'll be to him in the long run.

"Hey, Sweetness. Something came up down at the general store. Shouldn't be gone long, but- think you can cut up the potatoes for dinner while I'm out? It's not hard. I'll show you how to do it."

He made it look so easy. Each slice against the cutting board so neat, precise - perfect. Just like him. What does he want from you? Does he actually think you'll make for a good partner? You can't even cut up vegetables to save your own tail- Just what the hell does he want from you?!

"Hun? That you?"

Shit. "Fuck, fuck, fuck-"

You wipe at your eyes with the backs of your palms, scrambling to pick yourself off the floor before he sees you. He can't see you like this- The thunder of his footsteps fills you with a kind of terror you haven't felt since you got locked in that kitchen coop.

"Y/n?"

Your back hits the cupboard wall. Fletcher's large, imposing figure hovers at the door frame. Two steps into the kitchen is all it takes for him to march up to the table. To see your mistakes. Too thick. Too thin. Sliced indiead of cubed like he asked. The farmer takes a breath. He kneels down in front of you, hand perched on the tile a hairline away from your shivering legs.

"Hon-"

"Don't-" You bite. "Just don't..... I missed up. I always do. Why do you even want me here? I can't do anything right... I'm a terrible wife."

"Hey!-" Fletcher grips your shoulder, tugging you against his chest. "Don't you ever, ever talk about yourself like that. You're fine. It's okay. All you need is a little practice. Just calm down."

Liar- He's a fucking liar. "What if I don't get better with practice?! What if all I ever am to you is dead weight?"

Fletcher kisses the top of your head, voice small - crushed by the sounds of your sobs against his chest. "That's fine with me too, Sweetheart.... That's fine with me too. I didn't bring you here because I wanted a maid. I just wanted you. That's all I have ever wanted since I laid eyes on you. I love you- Always have, always will."

His hold on you lessens as your whines and sniffles crawl to a still. Your puffy eyes cross his as you lift your head from his chest. He tries to smile - delicately raising his enormous paw to the fuzzy flesh of your cheek. He rests his nose against yours - just like he always did when he was trying to comfort you or feel a connection, lips inches from yours.

"Whether you can dice up a thousand potatoes or not at all. Even if you make a mess of everything you touch. I'll always be here for you no matter what. I'll always love you - no matter what."

Your arms creep up to his neck, the space between you null as your lips ghost over his. Fletcher stiffens, unsure - fearful of scaring you off now if he takes the dive for you. And so you take it-

The kiss is hesitant. Gentle as the hand stroking at your back, washing away any doubts left of his conviction towards you. Tear drops fall at your skin, but you have none more to cry. Is he?... You pull away as the droplets drip from Fletcher's chin into his already stained tee.

"My bad." The farmer barks out a dry chuckle, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stop the flow. "Now's not the time to get emotional, but I just- I'm so glad to have you here. With me."

"I know... I'm glad to be here too now, but um... Fetch?"

"Yeah?"

Your ears lay flat against your skull as your stomach whines in hunger. "Can we... finish up with dinner now?"

The laugh Fletcher bellows is far less restrained. "Sure. What kind of man would I be if I let my wife starve? I'll tell you some more tricks will we're at it. You'll be a head chef in no time, sweetheart.... And even if you aren't - I'll cherish you all the same."

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

Friday night. l Joel Miller

Summary:  you were friends who met on Friday night

Warnings:  +18, smut, swearing, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, sex with protection (good job!), mentioning masturbation

A/N: this has been on my mind for a few days now. it's not perfect, but i hope you like it. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

"So when? Tell me, tell me, tell me."

You looked at Joel sprawled on your couch, his long legs were lying on the coffee table. This Friday night was definitely not supposed to go like this.

After a hard week, you were craving some relaxation. A hot bath, lotion rubbed into your skin, takeout, and some stupid reality show on TV. 

And then he showed up.

Joel Miller showed up at your door, bringing you the food containers you had recently brought him and Sarah dinner in. He had no plans to stop by, in fact Tommy was waiting for him at a bar nearby, but he really didn't feel like going there.

So he stayed. You both ate your Chinese food, sipped cold beer, and watched a show about young and beautiful people trying to date each other. This was your Friday night.

"Y/N, I won't judge you, you know that." Joel continued, digging into the box of food with his chopsticks. "Tell me, when was the last time you had a really good date?"

"A long time ago." You replied, feeling the heat creeping up your neck and chest. "Like... Last year? I mean... I thought it was a good date, but he didn't call after that."

"Really?" Joel looked at you in surprise. "What a fucking idiot!"

"Don't say that, you were part of it." You took a sip of your beer. "I shouldn't have answered your call. You asked me to pick Sarah up from training and sit with her for a while, because you were coming home pretty late."

"Shit!" His brown eyes looked like a scolded puppy. "I'm sorry. But you didn't say anything about me fucking up your date."

You shrugged. "That was a year ago, it's not relevant anymore."

Joel's gaze lingered on you for a moment as he analyzed your words. He never thought that by calling or writing to you, he was intruding on your private life. Or that you had another private life apart from him and Sarah.

You had been friends for a few years. It started with you taking Sarah to her friend's house because he couldn't get away from work. And then everything flew like an avalanche. You always found time for his daughter, and he could always count on your help. Sometimes you brought them dinner, it saved their lives when the projects he was working on completely consumed him.

Joel, however, was not just a taker. Whenever you asked him for help, like when you bought a new dresser or when you had a flat tire in your car - he was the first one at your door.

The fact that you were friends also meant that you gave each other presents for birthdays and holidays. You were good together.

"And you?" your voice tore him away from his thoughts about your date for a moment "When was the last time you did that? Or even better!" a sly smile crept onto your face "When was the last time you slept with a lady?"

Joel cleared his throat. He should have expected that, right?

"Pffff... Ummm... That was a long time ago." he replied, pretending he didn't feel embarrassed at all "You know. I'm a single father, I work a lot..."

"So what?" you wondered "I never thought you were lacking anything. Even more! I think it's a treasure to have a guy who knows how to use a drill. It's quite sexy."

"You think so?" he smiled.

"Sure! If you found a girlfriend, I doubt she'd let me use you like that. Sexy handyman."

"Fuck! Don't make fun of me!"

"I'm not doing that!" you laughed as he threw a pillow at you "You should be at that bar than here with me. You're wasting your potential, Joel."

"I'm where I wanted to be." he replied, reaching for the bottle and taking a few sips. "And you?" you looked up from your fried rice. "When was the last time you slept with someone?"

He immediately noticed that you were embarrassed. It even gave him a little satisfaction.

"I'm sure you've noticed that my love life is a disaster." you replied, trying to smile and seem relaxed. "The only thing that seems to live inside me is my vibrator."

You burst out laughing when those words left your mouth, and Joel chuckled himself.

"Fuck, that's pathetic!" you covered your face with your hands. "What's wrong with us, Joel? We should be fucking some super hot people right now! Any place, in any position!"

"One really nice lady would be enough for me." he put the empty bottle on the table and stretched. "By the way. Last time I was here, I mean when I was fixing your bedroom closet door, I also replaced the batteries in your vibrator. The poor thing was barely breathing."

"Oh! Thank you, I guess..."

"The drawer in the nightstand was ajar." he explained seeing your embarrassment. "I hope you'll think of me when you use it. Fuck, that sounded awful."

"What made you think I'm not doing that yet?"

When his dark eyes landed on you, you tried your best not to burst out laughing. A mixture of emotions and strange thoughts was written all over his face. You were sure that in a little while you'd bite your lip trying to hold back your laughter.

"Shit! We're on some really fucking dangerous ground, babe." He mumbled, shaking his head. "I didn't know you from this side."

"Maybe if you saw me as a woman..." you started, but Joel quickly interrupted you.

"Who else am I supposed to see in you?" he snorted. "I'm afraid that soon you'll run out of things I could fix, and then you'll start taking care of... I don't know, fucking flowers... and I don't know anything about that. You bring dinner to my house, you help me with Sarah..."

"Joel, I think you're doing great with Sarah. She adores you!"

"You know what I mean..." he sighed, scratching his already disheveled hair. "She's a young girl, she needs someone like you around her. But when you finally meet a guy, he's not going to let you spend time with a single father and his teenage daughter, right?"

You put the almost empty box on the coffee table and pulled your legs up onto the couch. You understood what Joel meant. Your friendship was something that required incredibly understanding partners if you wanted it to continue. You probably didn't even think about getting involved with someone else because of this what you both had, because of Joel.

The thought of giving up seeing him, listening to his voice, talking to him or just spending time with him doing such completely ordinary and boring things - God, it was terrifying.

He must have been thinking the same thing, because he suddenly fell silent as if what he had said had taken him out of the conversation.

He hadn't planned on ever telling you what he thought about you, honestly, he was afraid it would make you run away. He couldn't give you much, and he thought that a woman like you deserved everything that was best in the world.

"You know, I don't want you to think that me spending time with you is some form of pity." you began uncertainly, trying to find the right words for what you wanted to say "I really love it. You always make me feel good and in the right place. There's not much more I can do for you."

"You're already doing way too much." Joel's hand stroked your leg in a friendly manner "I guess we both benefit from this, right?"

"I guess so." you replied, smiling "Jesus! This is so awkward!"

"Think about how I feel!" Joel put his arms behind his head and stared at the TV "You have your vibrator, and I have to do it manually!"

You started to giggle, "But you definitely don't think about me then!"

"I don't know what gave you the idea that I don't do it. Fuck, I must have fallen out of practice when it comes to flirting."

"A little." you were still laughing, "But it's sweet, you know. And I'm glad we feel comfortable enough with each other to say things like that."

Joel nodded and shifted uncomfortably on the couch. You both focused your gaze on the TV screen again for a moment, but it had been a while since you had watched this show. Every word Joel said was going through your head. You felt several emotions at once, but they were all really nice.

You thought about how good you felt with this guy who treated you really well, even though you weren't in a relationship. At least not a romantic one.

And then the question came that changed everything that evening.

"Have you ever thought that you and I..." his voice was calm, but you knew he was weighing his words before he let them out. "Have you ever thought about what it would be like if we tried?"

"Tried what?" you asked. You had an idea what he meant, but you wanted to know that you were both on the same page.

"Sleep together. I mean, sex." You nodded. "Really? Fuck! I thought there was something wrong with me."

"Why?! Joel, I've always thought you were a handsome guy. And if it makes you feel any better, I've thought about it more than once. I guess that's why you had to change those batteries."

Your laughter filled the room again. If you both felt any unpleasant pressure, then it had definitely dropped to zero. Joel opened his second bottle of beer and took a sip.

"Would you like to have sex with me?"

"Yeah, I would." you replied, completely unfazed.

"Now?"

"Sure."

You had been feeling it for a while now. Excitement was spreading slowly through your body. In your head, although you fought it, all those images of Joel that you had been trying to hide until now appeared. You imagined him in such sinful situations that you were surprised he didn't see it in your eyes.

"I guess you don't have any condoms?" you made a face and he smiled "Okay, I'll go to the store to buy some."

"But let me check something first. If you let me…”

You moved over to him before he could stand up. When your hand touched his cheek, you both smiled nervously. His stubble tickled your hand gently. He didn't lag behind, his hand found its way to your thigh, stroking it gently.

You were the one who kissed him first. It was wonderful to finally feel his lips on yours. You kissed gently, but when you parted your lips a little, Joel took the initiative and slipped his tongue into your mouth. That was it. A shiver ran down your spine. His tongue caressed you as he deepened each kiss, and his hands quickly and efficiently pulled you onto his lap.

You couldn't stop kissing him, and he returned each kiss with such enthusiasm, as if he had been waiting for it for a really long time. You slid your fingers into his hair and tugged lightly, and Joel groaned quietly. The bulge in his jeans was rubbing hard against your thigh.

"Condoms." he panted. "We need... Fuck..."

"Yeah, I know..." your lips collided again. "Go. Now."

With considerable difficulty, you got off his lap. Your heart was beating like crazy.

"Ten minutes." he said, quickly standing and unconsciously adjusting his jeans, which had become a bit tighter, you giggled. "Don't move from here."

"I won't do that."

He leaned in once more, kissing you hard, and quickly left the apartment.

He came back just as he promised. For a split second you saw uncertainty in his eyes, but when he saw you were waiting for him he immediately brightened up.

"No judging." You said, quickly taking off his shirt "I don't look like those sexy girls from tv shows."

"Shut up!" He silenced you with a kiss as his hands ripped off your shorts "You're a thousand times sexier. I'm afraid I'll come before I get inside you."

"I don't care. We have all night, Joel."

The first time you saw him naked, it was better than anything you had imagined. His strong and wide shoulders, narrow waist and soft belly. His manhood was already hard and ready.

"Jesus, have you seen yourself?" His voice tore you from your whirlwind of thoughts "You look like a million dollars."

His eyes, full of admiration, wandered over your body. You suddenly felt a little embarrassed.

"Oh, don't hide it from me." he groaned as you tried to cover your breasts. "It's you. You're fucking perfect."

His large, warm hands cupped your face as he kissed you slowly. You felt the bed behind you and soon you were lying with him on top of you. It was overwhelming, feeling his weight on you as his lips trailed down your neck, to your sternum, kissing your breasts, nibbling on them gently. You moaned as Joel's mouth captured your nipple, sucking and teasing it with his tongue. One of his hands slid between your thighs and soon you felt his fingers running over your already slick folds.

"Is this for me?" he asked, lifting his eyes and looking at you with appreciation.

Heat crept up to your neck and cheeks. His bedroom eyes made your pussy drool at the sight of him. Joel was clearly delighted by this though.

"Let me make you feel good." he purred, kissing your breast a few times, then moving lower. Fuck. You weren't ready for this. A few kisses on your thighs, the feeling of his stubble brushing against your delicate skin, and then a slow lick of your folds. You closed your eyes, feeling as if all your nerves had gone crazy.

His mouth found the bundle of nerves that made your head spin with every movement of his tongue. Two of his fingers slid inside you, stretching your walls pleasantly. It was incredible to feel him. It seemed as if Joel took incredible pleasure in exploring your body and was quickly learning what you liked. His fingers pushed back and forth as he licked and sucked, and you couldn't manage anything but moans.

"Jesus, you're so beautiful right now, baby." he whispered as your body arched as his fingers touched that spot. "I've imagined you like this so many times. Naked, thighs spread, waiting for me."

"Joel... please..."

"I know, I know, baby." he kissed your thigh tenderly "I can feel you're close. You squeeze my fingers so nicely, suck them into you."

His movements became faster and stronger. You clenched your hands on the sheets feeling like you were losing control over your body.

"Let go, Y/N. I'm here, let go."

And you did. You moaned loudly as you reached your peak, and your legs trembled. It was amazing. He was amazing.

Before you could catch your breath Joel was on top of you again, his beard glistening with your juices, but you didn't mind. You put your hand on his neck and pulled him in, kissing him hard. You felt your taste on his lips. Addictive.

"I want to be inside you." he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours "I want it so bad."

"I want it too. I want to feel you, Joel."

He stood up and reached for the foil package, which he opened with his teeth. You watched as he put on a condom and leaned over you again. His tip slid over your entrance a few times before he slid inside you.

The air escaped your lungs as he pushed his entire length into you, stretching your delicate walls. The stretch felt so good. When his cock was inside you all the way to the base, you both froze for a moment.

"Fuck..." Joel whispered, tearing his gaze away from where he disappeared inside you and looking at your face "You're so tight, baby. You wrap me around so well..."

"And you're so big, I was afraid you wouldn't fit." You giggled and soon all the stress drained from you "I don't think I'll last much longer. It's wonderful to feel you."

"Don't worry, sweetie." His lips kissed yours lightly "Like you said, we have all night. Ready?"

You nodded and Joel pushed, going even deeper. His cock would slide out of you, then return with much greater force. You pulled your legs up to give him easier access. Joel found your hands and held them above your head. It gave him full control, and you didn't mind.

"Fuck. I don't know why we waited so long with this..." he gasped as his hips slammed into yours, the dirty sounds filling your ears. "I've been thinking about you for so long."

"Really? I thought... OOHHHH! I thought you only saw me as a friend..."

"Remember when you came to Sarah's soccer game? In those tight shorts? Fuck! I already wanted to drag you to the truck and fuck you hard."

"Jesus!" you bit your lip, Joel hitting exactly where you wanted him to, "When you were helping me with the air conditioning."

"What about that?"

"It must have been a million degrees here. I was melting, and then I saw your shirt lift up, exposing part of your lower back. Damn, I was waiting for you to go away so I could reach for that fucking vibrator."

"Fuck!" Joel hid his face in your hair, "You're going to kill me. Tell me you're close, I can't hold out much longer."

You were already on the edge, his cock pushing in exactly where you needed it. He let go of your hand, gripping your hip tightly. His movements were becoming increasingly erratic and unpredictable.

"Joel, I'm so close... so close..." you moaned.

His mouth unexpectedly captured your nipple, sucking it hard. That was it. A strong shiver ran through your body as the walls of your pussy clenched in a sweet spasm of pleasure flooding your body. Joel was right behind you. He didn't need much. When he felt you tighten around him, he was done. He came with a loud groan, burying his face in your shoulder, digging his fingers into your soft hip.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." he breathed out "You're amazing. Just fucking amazing."

"You're not bad either." You laughed quietly, wrapping your arms around him.

He wanted to stay in your arms, but you both knew he had to clean up. Joel lifted himself up and slid out of you, holding the end of the condom carefully, then went to throw it in the trash can in the bathroom.

"You have a really nice butt." You murmured as he laid down next to you again.

"You think so?" He laughed, "I think yours is much better, but thanks."

You lay next to each other, breathing deeply, in a sweet state of total fulfillment and relaxation. It felt nice to have him next to you, within arm's reach, in a more intimate way.

Joel must have been thinking the same thing, because soon his hand found yours in the sheets, he brought it to his lips and kissed it.

"Did you like it?" he asked, turning his head to look at you.

"Very much. I would gladly repeat it a few more times." you replied smiling widely "And you? What do you think about it?"

"Same here." he replied "But I wouldn't want it to destroy what is between us."

"Joel, I don't expect any declarations from you." you turned around and leaned on your elbow looking at him closely "We feel good together, I like you a lot, I actually have a soft spot for you for a long time. Let's just let it flow, you know. We'll see where it takes us."

"That's probably a good idea." he mumbled, his fingers brushing away strands of your hair "You're beautiful, you know..."

"Those are declarations!" you lightly patted him on the shoulder.

"No. That's a fact, actually."

You smiled, and his heart beat faster for a moment. He already knew he was lost, but he didn't want to say it. Not now, when you said 'no' to all declarations.

"Maybe you'd like to have dinner with me tomorrow?" he finally suggested "Sarah's on a school trip. She won't be back until Monday. We could have a nice time. See where it takes us..."

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"You know... I'm glad we did it."

"Me too." You leaned in, kissing him lightly on the corner of his mouth "And you know what else I'm happy about?" and seeing his questioning look you added "We still have a few condoms, and the night is still young."

"You're going to kill me, you know that?" Joel burst out laughing.

But his arms were already gathering you to him and you were lying on his chest, you liked this position and you were going to use it well.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[bamboobooshark]

MOON BOYS X READER

₊˚.⋆🕯️⋆⁺. SHARING FOOD : 1.1K WRDS

A/N : Here’s something to hold you guys over for the week! School has been a pain in the ass, so it’s been kind of hard to keep up with classes, homework, social, etc. Hope you guys enjoy these little scenarios where you ask the boys for a bite of their food, even though you told them you weren’t hungry! ALSO SORRY TO THE MARC FANS MY MIND WAS BLANK ON THINKING OF SOMETHING FOR HIM 💔💔💔

STEVEN GRANT .

“Are you sure you don’t want anything, love? Anything at all?” Steven asks you while preparing to order something in the drive-through for the two of you. “Mhm! I’m sure,” you reassure him with a nod for what feels like the millionth time in a row. He exhales deeply and nods in acceptance. He hates it when you insist on not ordering something for yourself. It’s not because he hates sharing his food, but because he wants you to treat yourself. You deserve it!

Your footsteps pad against the hardwood floor of you and Steven’s flat. You rub your eyes from the exhaustion of today. Your senses heighten a bit as you spot Steven on the couch. He’s watching a new documentary. You smile when you realize it’s the one you won’t stop telling him about. Your heart practically melts at the fact that he remembered.

“Steven,” you say in a sing-song voice as you walk up behind the couch. “Mm,” he hums as an absent-minded reply. You lean forward and slip an arm on his shoulder, your hand resting on his chest. “I’m hungry,” you complain. Your eyes drift to the screen, and for only a moment, you and Steven are indulged heavily in the documentary. Your boyfriend let out a breath and winced softly. “Sorry, hun. Did you say something? I was a little focused on my documentary,” he told you with a nervous chuckle. His words pull you out of your own trance, and you nod your head. “Yeah! I said I’m hungry,” you exclaimed.

Steven chuckles softly and releases a hum of acknowledgment. "Well, how about we solve that problem?” he asks with a soft smile. “But I’d really like it if you sat with me first,” he requested as a form of compromise. You smile and roll your eyes at him. He’s always known exactly how to make you agree to do something with him or for him. You walk around the back of the couch and flop down right next to him. Without asking, you reach over to the side table and grab a bite of his food. He swats at your hand with a stupid pout on his face before the two of you exchange snickers and laughs.

MARC SPECTOR .

“Whatever you say, baby,” Marc says in a tone that asks if you’re really sure. You laugh at the way he dramatically raises his eyebrows, throws up his hands, and widens his eyes. “Whatever I say,” you repeat while giving him a playful look. On the way home, though, you keep eyeing his bag of food as stubtly as your attempts can.

Marc sighs when he hears you approach the dinner table. “Marc! Hey,” you drag out awkwardly. He looks up at you from his phone and gives you the same look he always does—the one that tells you he’s always right. “Hungry?” he asks before you get the chance to spit it out. You drop your head in defeat and nod. “Yep,” you agree sheepishly while glancing at his food.

He nods while taking another bite. He reaches his hand into the bag and pulls out food for you. You get butterflies in your stomach as he hands you the packaged meal. “Your usual. With everything you always ask for and nothing of what you don’t ask for,” he says with a knowing smirk. You stand there silently, embarrassed that he knew you’d ask for his food but blushing at how he knew your exact order.

“My kiss?” he asks while giving you a side eye. You put your hands up in defense before leaning forward and kissing his cheek gently. “Thank you, Marc,” you chirp sweetly. “Thank you for the kiss, baby,” he says in a similar tone.

JAKE LOCKLEY .

“Dios mío,” Jake groans over the phone. “I know you’re going to beg me for a little bite of my food later, cariño. Tell me what you want me to get you,” the man urges, like his life depends on it. “Jake, I told you I’m not hungry! If I do get hungry later, I’ll heat up some leftovers or something,” you insist while laying sprawled out on your shared bed. Another noise of annoyance comes from your phone before your boyfriend speaks again. “Okay, mi sol. Whatever you say, don’t come begging for food later. You know I’ll make you do something for it,” he says with a soft chuckle. The two of you say your goodbyes before he hangs up.

“I’m home, chiquito,” he calls to you as he enters the flat, holding his bag of food in one hand while the other holds a flower. He struggles to shut the door with his hands full, but manages to get it done. “Jake! I missed you,” you exclaimed with excitement from the couch. “I know you did. You always do,” he says cheekily. You give him a look that says, ‘Really?’ “Okay, sorry! I missed you too,” he says in a dramatically sweet voice. You both share a laugh. He comes and sits down by you, the couch squeaking a bit once he does. “I got you a flower. Es muy bonito. Just like you,” he says before pressing a kiss on your forehead. He gently gets a hold of your jaw, then tucks the flower behind your ear. He smiles wider because, damn, you are just too much for him to handle. He loves how you look adorning his little gifts.

Jake lets out a grunt as he gets comfortable on the couch. He snatches the remote from your hand with a smirk. He begins to browse through the channels and starts to eat. As your boyfriend is focused on finding something interesting to watch, you carefully reach your hand into the bag of food. “Aye. Don’t,” he tells you with a stern tone. He’s always so good at noticing little details and catching things; likely from being a cabby for a living. You groan as your hand retreats. “Please? Pretty please? I just want a bite,” you ask with a slightly annoyed tone. “I told you earlier that you’d have to do something for me if you wanted some, cariño,” he reminds you. You huff softly and give him a look that prompts him to tell you what he wants you to do. He hums in thought, then makes eye contact with you once he thinks of something. He leans close to you and takes your jaw in his hand once more. “Say please again,” he purrs while looking at you. “Please,” you hesitantly beg. He smiles and pulls back, causing you to yearn for a kiss. He laughs and gives you a bite of his food before you steal the kiss you rightfully deserve.

[peachesofteal]

Oh god - I’m still stuck on this.

18+ MDNI / explicit sex, dark and twisted themes

I've been thinking a lot about Simon Riley who doesn't want the divorce.

Simon who never wanted to be separated, who hates living apart. Simon, who would drag you to a tattoo artist to get your ring permanently inked to your skin so you could never be rid of him, if he could. He’s been actively avoiding the stack of papers that are waiting for his signature, staying on longer Ops, picking up extra work.

Can’t be divorced if there’s no signature.

Simon, who unbeknownst to you, still comes home. Still pushes open the back door in the dead of night, keeping his steps silent so he doesn't wake you. Simon, who stands in the doorway of your bedroom, his old bedroom, and watches you sleep on his side of the bed in those little, ratty shorts with your ass perked up in the air like you're waiting for him. Like you’re ripe, and ready.

Simon, who checks your birth control every night. Who’s pleased when he realizes this month’s pack hasn’t even been opened, every color coded pill still in place, foil glinting at him in the low light of the vanity.

Good girl, he thinks to himself, shutting your medicine cabinet with a silent click. Getting yourself all ready for him.

Simon, who agrees to meet you for dinner.

"Let's just sign and get it over with. We can catch up, too. Talk about what we want to do with the house."

"Alright, love. Whatever you want."

You're a bundle of nerves when he shows up, seated at a little table in the back, glass of wine already half gone.

Normally, he'd try to soothe you. You've always been naturally anxious, a little dependent, and in a social setting, a little high strung. He's well versed in navigating your emotions, calming you into a relaxed state with a few words or a reassuring touch.

But this time, he doesn't bother. He sits there with his arms crossed, watching you nervously chatter away, one hand flat on a manilla envelope. He stays quiet, letting you go on, watching your hands seek something to do, fingers finding your wine glass over and over.

You drink two glasses of wine before the entrees are served, dangerously close to your usual self imposed "three drink" limit.

One thing bleeds into another. You start to lean a little, in your chair. He nurses a bourbon, you order a shot after the meal.

"Want one?" Your tongue follows the seam of the lime wedge, dabbing along the spongy, white fibers before your teeth sink into the flesh of it, lime juice squirting across your tongue.

“You know I don’t like tequila, but you go on.”

You’re a bit sloppy by the time he gets you home, but still sweet like honey, like you used to be years ago. Before everything changed. Before you asked him to move out.

You’re giggly, excited when he bends you over the kitchen table, the kitchen table where you used to eat together, breakfast for dinner when he’d come home, waffles and bacon at one in the morning.

You don’t protest when he slides your skirt down your hips and over your ass, thumbs spreading you wide to reveal your glistening cunt, twitching and desperate.

“My poor girl, has it been so long?” He cooed, relishing in the way you moaned with your lips on the wood. He knows it has, knows you haven’t been with anyone since the last time he fucked you, months and months ago, on the night you asked for the divorce. “Don’t worry, I’m gon’ take care of you and this neglected little pussy.”

“You have to pull out.” You slurred, breath hot, fogging against the finish of the table. “Promise.” He grunts something under his breath, nonsense, but you can’t tell the difference, and when he slides inside your scorching cunt, you howl, breath hitching with the stretch.

Bleedin’ Christ. You’re so tight, so wet, soaked enough that it sticks to the curls around the base of his cock. How could he ever give this up?

“That’s it.” He kisses your shoulder, pressing his chest to your back with his weight, pinning you in place, his hands clamping down around your wrists like shackles. “Squeeze me tight, good girl. Show me-“ Show me how you’re going to hold my come in your tight little pussy once I fill you- comes to mind, but he bites his tongue instead, not willing to tip you off too soon.

To have and to hold.

“Simooon.” You sing, hips start to push back with him, fucking yourself onto his cock, chasing him, chasing your pleasure, mouth half open with the little pants and whines that are music to his ears. He keeps you pinned, flat against the table, fingers between your legs, stroking your clit, shoving you closer to your orgasm, delightfully pleased by the way your pussy pulses around him.

“Come on.” He urges, big hand between you and the table, pressing against your lower belly, still tapping away at your clit, indulging in the trembling of your legs.

“Fuck- fuck, Si.” You cry, clenching down around him with your orgasm, voice breaking.

“There it is… what a good girl.” He hisses, keeping his pace, pushing deeper and deeper until he’s notching himself nearly inside your womb. It’s overwhelming for you, he knows, but he doesn’t stop swirling his fingers around your clit, zapping electric pulses through body.

“Nngh Si. Too- ooh it’s- it’s too much.” You wail, a tear on your cheek, and he nods, nosing above your ear.

“You’re doing so good for me, so perfect.” It’s whispered with a groan, hands stroking your hip, keeping your steady, in place. “Just need a little more, just- just a little, I’m gonna-“

“What-” You ask, more with it now that you recognize the edge he’s riding, the roughness in his voice clueing you in to where he is, but he sends you back into orbit, pressing your clit and working you in circles. “Oh, oh.” Your hips rock, and he moves with the momentum, fucking into you faster, grunting the truth as he speeds towards the cliff, desperate to drive the car over the edge, eager to change the course of his life, your life, his marriage.

“Take it.” He spits, wide palm spread across your shoulder. Everything in him tightens, fire spreading through his veins, pressure rising in his body like a fucking tea kettle, about to scream out a whistle. He’s going to breed you, fuck you deep with his come and put a baby inside you, give you what you wanted years ago, the thing that made you cry alone in the middle of the night whenever he refused.

Well, he’s going to give it to you now.

“Fuck- here it comes.” You rock again, half lost to the world, eyes glazed over in pleasure, spasming around his cock with your second orgasm. He slams into you, burying deep and you keen, fingers gripping the edge of the table, his hips flush with yours like a lock.

And he’ll throw away the key.

His phone dings with a text, two days later.

“Still mad at you… Can we please meet up about these signatures?”

This became a full fic here.

[willow-moon-23]

Black Cat and Her German Shepherd

Aaron Hotchner X Fem!Reader

Summary: The tables have turned and now it's time for her team to meet her spouse.

Part 1

Word Count: 2437

Standing in the kitchen, her hands braced on the counter. She takes a long slow breath. Hotch walks up behind her.

“Are you feeling ok, colonel?” He wraps his arms around her from behind.

She glances back at him. “Fine. Just thinking.”

Hotch studies her for a moment longer. “Are you worried about me meeting your team?”

(Y/N) lets out a sigh. “No.” Her answer was flat, but Hotch could tell she was fighting a lot of thoughts in her head as she glares at the cleaned dishes on the counter.

“Then what is it?” He asks patiently.

She pushes off the counter, pushing Hotch a step away as well. “My team,” She starts slowly as she turns to face him. “I’ve told you the stories. They are a motley crew of hardened soldiers. They hardly have a filter when talking to higher ups and even less of one when talking to each other.”

“I’m aware.” He nods, letting her talk through her thoughts.

“They’re good men. I trust them with my life.” She speaks slowly.

Hotch brushes her hair from her face. "But?"

(Y/N) hesitates for a moment. “I don’t know. I can’t figure out why I’m hesitating like this.” She runs a hand through her hair and looks up at her husband. “You’ve met the captain before. Only because I got hurt, but you’ve still met him and he likes you. He always asks about you when I come back from leave.”

He nods along. “He gave me his number in case anything were to happen to you.”

“Yes. He’s a good man.” She agrees with him and begins pacing. “I know they won't judge us for any reason. They might make jokes if they are comfortable enough.”

Hotch walks up to her again and holds her shoulders, effectively stopping her pacing. “You’re overthinking it. Take a breath, colonel. I’ve never seen you this worked up. Not even when you’re being deployed.”

She does as he says and takes a slow breath. “This feels more nerve-wracking than a month-long mission and I can’t figure out why.”

“Maybe there is no ‘why’.” He rubs her arms gently. “Maybe you want to be sure that both your lives can coexist and not clash. There's no harm in wanting things to go well.”

(Y/N) looks up at the ceiling. “Maybe you’re right.” She drops her head to rest against Hotch’s chest. She slowly wraps her arms around him. “Stop reading me.”

Hotch chuckles. “I didn’t have to profile you to know all of that.”

She hums. After a moment, she pushes back. “Cap and Gaz said they would be here in ten. Johnny said he’d catch a ride with Ghost. Meaning they would be late because of him.”

“Do we have everything ready for them?” Hotch’s hands rub her back idly. He glanced around the kitchen, seeing all food was ready.

“Yeah, I just need to set the table and change.” She tilts her head as she thinks.

Hotch looks her up and down. “What’s wrong with what you’re wearing?”

“I’m in workout clothes.” Her tone was flat. She looks down at her sports bra and leggings with a raised eyebrow.

“I think you look great.” He winks.

(Y/N) rolls her eyes. “You’re awful. I’m going to change.” She turns away from him and walks to their room. Hotch chuckles as he watches her leave the kitchen.

Once the door closes behind her, he begins taking out the silverware and glasses to set the table for her. He sets it identically to when she had made dinner for his team about a month ago. He walks around the kitchen one last time making sure everything that needs to be turned off is before walking to their room. He knocks twice before entering. Hotch smiles and walks up behind (Y/N).

“I like this shirt.” He comments, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

(Y/N) closes her eyes and hums. “You should. You bought it for me.”

“Yes, I did.” His voice was smug. Before he could compliment her again their doorbell rings.

(Y/N) chuffs. “Saved by the bell. Take a second before you come out, yeah.” She pats his chest affectionately before walking out and closing the door behind her. She smirks as she hears Hotch groan behind the door. She takes a deep breath before opening the front door. She is greeted by her captain and one of her sergeants. “Evening boys.”

“Good to see you, colonel.” Price steps forward and envelopes her in a warm hug as she lets them into her home.

She accepts his hug and turns to Gaz. “How was the flight over?”

“Not too bad. Cap slept the whole way here.” Gaz laughs and offers her his own hug.

(Y/N) shakes her head and hugs him. “No surprise there.” She hears her bedroom door open behind her and pulls back. “Boys, my husband, Aaron Hotchner.” She steps to the side as Hotch enters the space next to her.

Price was the first to extend a hand. “Good to see you again, agent.”

“Likewise, captain.” Hotch shakes his hand, with a nod.

(Y/N) motions toward Gaz. “This is Sergeant Kyle Garrick, or Gaz, as we all call him.”

“I thought he’d be taller.” Gaz stage whispers to (Y/N) before extending his hand.

(Y/N) rolls her eyes. “I told you he’s barely taller than you.”

Hotch takes Gaz’s hand with a chuckle noticing his wife's banter with the sergeant. “A pleasure to meet you, sergeant Garrick.”

“Gaz is fine.” The sergeant gently corrects him. Hotch nods mentally takes a note.

A loud knock at the front door had (Y/N) turning to open it. ”And there are the last two.”

The four are met with Johnny’s grinning face the second the colonel opens the door. He immediately pushes into her house, hugging her tightly. “Bonnie, it’s been too long.” He squeezes her as if he hasn’t seen her in over a year.

“It’s been three days, Johnny.” (Y/N) pushes the Scott off with a raised eyebrow.

“Three days is three too long.” He practically whines at her. Gaz and Price chuckle behind them.

“He’s been whining the whole way here.” Ghost steps into the house and closes the door behind him. The tall Lieutenant towered over all five of them in his black hoodie and face mask.

The colonel chuffs. “No surprise there.” She turns to her husband. “This-”

“John McTavish, they call me Soap.” Johnny interrupts her with a grin and eagerly shakes Hotch's hand.

“Is our other Sergeant.” (Y/N) sighs. “And this is Lieutenant Riley. He prefers Ghost. Boys, this is my husband, Aaron Hotchner.”

“Federal Agent.” Ghost looks him up and down.

“Unit Chief.” Hotch nods, taking Ghost's hand.

Ghost hums and turns to (Y/N). “How’s the side?” he jerks his chin toward her.

(Y/N) shrugs. “Healing.”

Johnny bumps Hotch's arm. “So, how ya manage to tie ‘er down?” Gaz chuckles behind Johnny. “Couldn’t ‘ave been an easy feat.”

(Y/N) lightly smacks the backside of Johnny’s head. “He didn’t tie me down.” She glares at him. “Get in the dining room before I throw you out already.”

“Awe, don’ be like that, Lass. Just poken’ a bit of fun.” Johnny grins, knowing she’s not actually mad at him.

“Go.” She points to the dining room.

Johnny holds his hand up in surrender and walks into the other room with Gaz and Ghost behind him. Price chuckles. “Pay them no mind. They were all excited when you told us to come for dinner.”

Hotch steps next to his wife and gently rests a hand on her lower back. “I’m glad you all could make it. I know you’re going back tomorrow. So it means a lot to both of us that you took the time to stop here first.”

Price smiles. “Anything for one of ours.” He turns and walks into the dining room.

(Y/N) sighs and looks up at Hotch. “Any initial thoughts?”

“Your stories of Johnny don’t do him justice.” Hotch laughs softly.

She shrugs. “He’s something else alright.”

“Come on, they’re waiting for us.” Hotch softly nudges her forward.

“Fine.” She takes his hand and heads in. She takes her seat next to Hotch’s after passing out plates to everyone and looks around the table. Her team was all happily joking with her husband as they all settled in. Her team thanks her for the meal and eagerly digs in. They haven’t had a properly cooked meal like this in a while, so they enjoy it when they can. All of them make sure (Y/N) knows how thankful they are before the questioning starts.

“So, how bad has it been, been’ married to this one?” Johnny was the first to break up the sound of utensils on plates. (Y/N) glares at Johnny.

Hotch laughs it off. “Honestly, not much has changed for us. We love spending time together. Marriage just seems to work for us.”

“He puts up with me, it’s all I can ask for.” (Y/N) chimes in as she cuts another bite to eat. Her lighthearted comment brings a chuckle to everyone.

“You have a little one, right?” Gaz leans forward to ask Hotch.

“I do. Jack is at his aunt's house right now.” Hotch smiles as he talks about Jack.

Price turns to (Y/N). “He likes you?”

“He does.” She nods. “I mean, he better, I’ve been in his life since he was born.” She looks over at Hotch with a smile.

Price chuckles. “Fair enough.” Price turns to Hotch. “She told us you were a prosecutor before working with the BAU, correct?”

“Yes, I used to work as a prosecutor. I changed fields so I could do more good than I was doing then.” Hotch easily takes over the conversation. Telling them how he felt as if he could do more good being a profiler than he ever could as a prosecutor.

Her team continues to ask more questions, mainly about Hotch’s job and how he treats (Y/N) when she's home. Once everyone was finished eating the boys immediately help (Y/N) clear the table and wash up, not that she even asked them to. If anything, she told them not to, only to be, politely, pushed aside. Hotch stands next to her as Johnny and Gaz tell him about a mission they went on where they had to detangle (Y/N) and Price from a tree after a rough landing. (Y/N) and Price exchange glances when the two add more details than were true. A few eye rolls and scoffs were shared at the story.

Once all the dishes were done and Johnny finally finished another one of his stories, (Y/N) moved everyone into the living room. There Hotch tells them a bit more about what he and his team do. The team listens eagerly, hanging onto nearly every word. (Y/N) smiles to herself as she watches them. After a minute she feels a soft tap against her shoe. She looks up to see Ghost staring at her. He nods his head toward the kitchen. (Y/N) gives him a soft nod.

“You boys want tea?” She interjects softly as Hotch finishes his thought.

“I wouldn’t mind a cup.”

“Yes, please.”

“Sure, Lass.”

She nods as they accept. “Aaron?” She stands and looks down at her husband.

“I’m alright, thank you.” He smiles up at her.

“Ok. Give me a hand, Simon?” Ghost merely stands and follows behind her. The two walk into the kitchen as the four continue talking.

“You trust 'im?” He asks the second the two are out of earshot.

“With my life.” (Y/N) looks up at the lieutenant.

Ghost stares at her with matching seriousness. “He good to ya'?”

“Very.” She answers easily.

He nods. “If he tries anythin’.”

“You’ll be the first I call.” She interrupts his thought.

Ghost grunts. “'is team know you?”

“Met them a while back.” She nods.

He nods. After a long pause, he speaks up again. “I like 'im.”

(Y/N) chuffs. “Really? I couldn’t tell.”

“Don’ get cheeky.” Ghost narrows his eyes at her.

“Wouldn’t think of it.” (Y/N) turns to prepare tea for her team.

Once the tea was ready, the two brought out the cups and passed them to each member. They all say their thanks and ease back into asking questions. To Hotch’s credit he takes Gaz and Johnny’s lighthearted banter and runs with it. The night goes on with loud laughs and well-meant jabs at each other. Hotch got to sit back and watch (Y/N) and Johnny have a back-and-forth on whose fault a misplaced rifle started a five-day hunt for said rifle was. Sitting in his living room with his wife and her team allowed him to see just how close they all were and how much they cared for each other.

As the sun started to go down the team realized they should be heading out. They all said their goodbyes for the night, giving hugs to their colonel and strong gripped handshakes to Hotch. They thanked Hotch and (Y/N) for the meal and headed out the door.

Price stops by (Y/N) and rests a hand on her shoulder. “You have a lovely house. Thank you for having us over.”

“Thank you for accepting my invitation to join us.” She rests her hand over his.

“We’ll always come when you call, love.” Price smiles at her.

She returns his smile. “Drive safe.”

He gives her shoulder a light squeeze and tips the brim of his hat to her and nods to Hotch before walking to his car. (Y/N) and Hotch stand outside watching each of them get into the cars, Johnny waves at them as he and Ghost drive off first. Price and Gaz follow out the driveway.

Hotch wraps his arms around her waist and rests his chin on her shoulder. “Feel better?”

“I do.” She leans into him. Her hands hold his arms.

“You sure, you look pensive.” He tilts his head to look down at her.

She waves off his worry. “Price mentioned something about our next mission. It’s nothing to do with you meeting them.”

Hotch could tell she was being honest. “You think I meet their approval?”

(Y/N) nods. “Ghost likes you.”

“He barely said a word.” Hotch raises an eyebrow.

“That’s just how he is.” She shrugs. “I’m surprised you couldn’t tell, Mr. Profiler.” She teases.

“I think it was the twitch in his eye every time I touched you that made me think otherwise.” Hotch laughs. “You have a good group around you. They genuinely care for you.”

(Y/N) gives his arm a squeeze. “Yeah, they’re a good bunch.”

[blueicequeen19]

Reunited

Warnings: none? JJ released from jail, unprotected sexy time, oral

You wanted to be the one to pick him up when he was released but John B insisted. So you’d spent the last few hours cleaning things that didn’t need cleaned, rearranging the living room, and cooking up everything in the fridge. You even changed your outfit four times before you finally realized it wouldn’t be on you long enough for him to notice.

You’d stopped in your tracks the moment you heard the door open, the two of you frozen in place as you looked each other over. He still looked so fucking good. The red cut off that showed his sculpted arms. The jeans that hung low on his waist. The shark tooth necklace around his neck.

JJ was home.

You were across the room and jumped into his arms a moment later, barely letting him completely inside before you engulfed him.

“Baby.” You melt in his warm embrace from the raw emotion in his voice, his face buried in your neck as he holds you tight. So tightly that you can feel the racing of his heart.

“I missed you so fucking much.” You fight off the tears again as you take a second to just breathe him in. He smelled the same but different. He’d put on more muscle and his hair was a little longer. The tang of weed was gone from his clothes but he still smelled like mint and leather.

“I missed you too. More than you know. So fucking much.” You pulled back to look at him, cupping his face gently. He looked.. tired. Defeated. His eyes weren’t sparkling with mischief like they usually did and his mouth wasn’t tipped up in a knowing smirk.

“I love you, JJ Maybank.” You felt like reassurance was what he needed right now and he smiled in return, pulling you in for a gentle kiss. The moment your lips met it became anything but gentle. Fire coursed through your veins almost immediately. A throaty groan left his lips and your back was suddenly against the wall, his duffle dropped on the floor so his hands could trace your curves.

Every worry you’d had was replaced with white, hot desire that burned all the way down to your toes. Your sundress was ripped over your head between kisses before you found yourself somehow flat on the kitchen table.

“We have family dinner tonight to welcome you home.” You rasp as he kisses every square inch of your body as he slowly peels your panties off.

“This is what I want to eat.” JJ groans, throwing your legs over his shoulders as he settles in between your thighs. The first swipe of his tongue has your body bowing off the table. It had been too long. There’s nothing sweet and savoring about his movements. Your hands quickly find his hair as he threatens to steal your soul through your pussy.

“JJ, please, baby, please. I need you.” You beg, his head squeezed between your thighs.

“I’m right here.” JJ mumbles around the flesh of your leg, leaving marks as he goes.

“JJ—.”

“I’m gonna fuck you in every position I can think of.” You gasp as he shoves your legs open and stands to his full height. It’s impossible not to watch as he peels his shirt off, revealing defined abs and a meatier chest. A total wet dream.

“You’re not leaving my bed until I’m done.” You hear the thud of his boots then his shorts are gone next. His cock is rock hard and weeping as it juts up towards his navel. Your insides pulsed, ready to him inside you.

“You’re going to beg and cry and scream for me, baby.” He leans over you, kissing you deeply as his cock nudges your inner thigh. You suck on his tongue, raking your nails down his back as you taste yourself. Only when you’re trembling and reaching for what you desperately want does he finally pull back. That spark is back in his eyes as he slides his cock up and down your slit, his smirk on full display.

“So cancel the dinner. Because we’re gonna be here awhile.” You open your mouth to protest but he’s inside you with the next breath, his cock touching so deep that your eyes nearly cross. The loud moan that escapes him is music to your ears as he wastes no time rutting into you.

“JJ!” You cry, continuing to chant his name as he fucks you like a man who just went six months without you. There’s no love making. No sweet words or gentle caressing. Just pure need. His hands are rough on your body, pinching and slapping at your breasts as they bounce with every harsh thrust.

“Do you know how many times I jerked off thinking about this pussy?” JJ growls, but you barely hear him over his heavy breathing and the sloppy wet sounds of him fucking you.

“How badly I missed the way you squeeze me right before you cum? Or that little sound you make when it’s too much for ya?” His mouth finds your nipples as the band inside your belly threatens to snap.

“The way you like to be fucked like a worthless little slut while I call you a good girl.” His blue eyes find yours, his teeth around your nipple as he rolls his hips, hitting you so deep and perfectly that you can hardly think.

“Baby, please.” You sob, gripping his biceps as he straightens again. His hands have a bruising grip on your thighs as he fucks you slow and lazily.

Suddenly he’s flipping you over, your toes barely touching the floor before he’s entering you from behind. His hand wraps around your throat, pulling you against his chest. His cock was so deep. So thick.

“Oh— God—.”

“Nope. Just me, darlin’.” JJ whispers in your ear, his hips not faltering in his rough movements. You reach back to fist his hair, his lips finding yours in a wet, tongue filled kiss. His hand slides down your front, pushing your hips back to meet every thrust.

“You feel so goddamn good. Better than I remember. I could live in this pussy.” JJ bites your lip before sucking it into his mouth, fingers thrumming over your slick clit. The need to cum was almost too great. Your clit was pulsing and you could barely catch your breath.

“Make me cum.” You breathed against his mouth, your hand covering his as he teased.

“But I’m not done yet. And if you scream my name then I’ll definitely cum before I’m ready.” You open your mouth to protest but he forces you down on the table, your breasts smashed against the wood as he presses down on the center of your back. He pounds into you ruthlessly, holding you in place as he pounds into you over and over. You open your mouth to scream but he’s suddenly shoving something in your mouth — your panties — as he keeps pace. You cum so hard you see stars, unable to suck in a deep breath as he slams into you harder than before.

“Fuckkkkkk.” JJ lifts one of your legs onto the table, his pace growing sloppy as he quickly finds his own release. Your body trembles, wetness dripping onto the floor as he cums with a loud groan, pumping you full of his seed until you’re weak and unable to hold yourself up anymore.

“You did so good.” You don’t open your eyes when he scoops you into his arms, no doubt heading for the bathroom to clean you up.

“My good fucking girl.” Your back meets the bed and your eyelids flutter as you try to find your bearings. You feel the sticky mess between your thighs as he starts to drip out of you but he doesn’t seem to care as he settles between your thighs.

“Wait, no, I’m so sore, babe.” You try to sit up but he’s there, pushing you back down as he trails kisses up your thighs.

“Better get used to that, pretty girl, because I’m not gonna be done for a while.” His mouth finds your clit, two thick fingers suddenly curling inside your pulsing walls until you’re crying out, trying to twist away from him.

It’s not until he rips multiple orgasms from you as tears stream down your face, tasting you from front to back that you finally realize you’re completely and utterly done for.

[vampiretendencies]

concept!! jj noticing you getting jealous over random girls talking to him and he reassures you and acts all lovey dovey 💭

noticeably, jj maybank is a sight for sore eyes. half the girls on kildare throw themselves at him, though he’s made it advantageously clear that he’s unavailable.

hell, the new intern at the local barber thought she had a chance merely because he left her a forsaken tip. since then she’s been giving him free haircuts in hopes that jj would at least acknowledge her existence.

naturally, jj doesn’t bat an eye at the poor girl. because his vision is set on his one and only.

his only message to those that made it their mission to wear at the seams of your relationship was, ‘look, i’ve finally fell in love and forgotten who you were.’

with that, you knew you truly didn’t have anything to worry about because the man is practically a lost dog on a leash, under your compulsion. that’s why you are nearly itching, trying to resist the temptation of jealously at its brink. it was supposed to be date night, with the location being the wreck for dinner, and as he’s at the bar trying to convince them he’s old enough for a glass of beer two girls swarm him like clockwork. it’s irritating the way one of their gently polished hands dust over his shoulder and the other is talking to him a little bit to close for your liking. chatting him up like he has no where to be.

it’s sickening that they’d take great lengths to earn nothing but an irresistible smile in the end. nothing more, nothing less.

“no luck on the beer baby, can you believe them— i mean i definitely look twenty one—“

“why were they talking to you?”

his pure features turn flat from that sudden interruption. even has his large hand letting go of your small one from across the table to adjust his hat as if he didn’t hear you correctly. you don’t mean for your face to turn downward, with an expression like you’d just smelled expired food— stomach churning and frown evident.

“them?!” he points their way, scoffing mixed with a chuckle in disbelief. the jealousy and envy are written on your forehead.

“yes them, who else?” you cross your arms, jj doesn’t appreciate the dismissal so he leaves from his side of the booth and squeezes into yours. a close as can be so you can’t avoid eye contact, whilst he’s trying to make things right.

“she’s heard that i work on cars here and there and asked if i could fix hers, her friend just happened to be there. nothing else, baby you know that.”

“has she also heard that you have girlfriend?

“mhm, she’s heard that m’fuckin crazy about my girl too.”

your irrationality is beneath you upon a grin trying to creep it’s way past, you really didn’t want to but it’s beckoned unfeasible around jj— he’s contagious.

“now go ahead bite my head off some more baby, i love it.”

he’d known true jealousy would be unavoidable, it took a lot for you to get here though— it’s always so painstakingly obvious how devout he is to you.

you shoved his chest a bit; playfully. whilst he pulled you into his lap with ease. peppering many kisses as he can between words. in public and all, whoever wants to stop and watch the show let them. up until your neck he feels the need to worsen the jealous trail by saying ‘get jealous more often, you looked so fucking hot pretty girl.’

[dreamescapeswriting]

Stray Kids Reaction || They Have A Praise Kink

SKZ x GN!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - January 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

a/n: I’ve tried to make these all as different as possible! I hope that this is okay for you!

CHAN: The two of you lay in bed cuddled close together with your head resting on Chan's chest, it had been a long day today for him and you couldn't have been prouder than you were right now. 

"You did great today, baby," You whispered as you traced your fingers over his chest and smiled. But Chan's heart rate began to pick up and his hands were starting to get clammy, 

"You okay? Your heart is...racing," You placed your hand flat on his chest before smirking to yourself as you realised what was happening.

"Do you...like it when I praise you, Channie?" You arched an eyebrow before sitting up straight in the bed and looked at him as he blushed bright red.

"Oh baby, we're going to have a lot of fun with that." You teased before kissing him softly and making him chuckle. MINHO: "All I'm saying is, you might wanna re-read the recipie," Minho said as he watched over your shoulder, you were cooking the two of you dinner tonight and you'd found a recipe online you hadn't tried before.

"Can you just be a good boy and pass me the paprika?" As soon as the words left your throat the air in the kitchen turned thick and dead silent, you frowned slowly turning around to see your boyfriend frozen in place.

"Minnie?" You whispered as you watched him closely, his cheeks were flaming bright red and he appeared to be stammering over his words a little as he tried to speak back to you.

"Did you like that?" You inched closer to him as he looked at you, nodding silently as you smirked a little.

"Do you have a praise kink, baby?" As you ran your hand over his cheek he nodded once again, not able to form any kind of words just yet.

"Good boy," You whispered before he let out a small whimper, relaxing against your touch. CHANGBIN: It had been weeks of non-stop work for Changbin until he finally it was complete, the album was ready for everyone to hear and it was being released in less than a week,

"Hey, what are you doing here?" He chuckled nervously as you walked into his studio with a basket full of food. It was his final day of working and you were going to be damned if you didn't bring him something to eat.

"I'm bringing food for my man, you did so well baby I'm so proud of you." You smiled as you unpacked the basket of food onto the small coffee table, glancing at your boyfriend who was now blushing.

"You are?" He stuttered turning around in his chair and looking at you, you smirked a little as you walked closer to him and ran your hand through his hair.

"I'd had a sneaking suspicion that you had a praise kink," You whispered before leaning down and kissing him gently on the lips.

"Now be a good boy and come and eat with me," You told him as he rushed to get up from the chair and sit with you on the floor to eat. HYUNJIN: "You've been locked up in here for days," You told Hyunjin as you looked around his mini art studio, smiling as you saw the piece he was working on. It was a huge landscape piece of a farm, something he'd seen when the two of you had gone on a drive together. You walked toward your boyfriend and ran your hand over his back,

"It's looking really good though, you always do so well baby." You didn't need to see his face to know that he was blushing since his ears were now turning bright red.

"You like that?" You cooed, running your hand over his back again and letting out a soft laugh as he began to blush.

"I-I do."

"You want me to tell you how much of a good boy you are?" You added, kissing the back of your boyfriend's neck as he whimpered and nodded his head eagerly. JISUNG:

You knew about Jisung's praise kink, in fact, everyone knew about it but you were the only one who ever acted on it with your boyfriend. Including tonight, the boys were having a game night and you were desperate for some time alone with your boyfriend,

"You're such a good boy, Jisung," You whispered in his ear, only lowly enough for him to hear you instead of the others in the room.

"W-What?"

"You did so good today and I'm so proud of you," You added, running your hand up and down his arm as he whimpered a little, glancing at you.

"Shall we go back to mine and relax a little?" You arched a brow at him and he nodded at you, slowly licking his lips.

"Y-Yes, Yes."

"Good boy," You laughed softly as he rushed to get up, ignoring the guys as they asked where the two of you were going.

FELIX:

"I did it!" Felix screamed from his seat making you jump, you glanced over at his screen to see "Victory" plastered across it and you smiled. Felix had been trying to beat the level he was on for months now and you couldn't have been happier for him,

"You did it, baby, you're incredible!" You weren't stupid you'd noticed the signs that Felix had a slight praise kink and you'd been trying out small praises for weeks now. 

"I-I am?" He blushed, looking back at you his game completely forgotten in the moment as you nodded at him.

"You're the best, I'm proud of you." You told him as he moved to come and crawl onto the bed with you, snuggling into your arms as you continued to praise him.

SEUNGMIN:

You knew Seungmin was in a bad mood, Felix had text you beforehand and let you know your boyfriend wasn't in the best of moods after the performance that they'd had tonight. All because he'd messed up on one note in the song,

"Baby you did great, please don't beat yourself up," You told Seungmin as you cuddled into his chest. Seungmin was refusing to talk to anyone, not even you,

"I fucked up, I ruined the song." He mumbled harshly to himself before you cuddled closer to him, kissing his chest softly.

"You did great baby, you always do. Every performance you always outdo the last and you're the best at what you do." You told him as his heart rate began to pick up.

"Yn..."

"No, let me finish. I have never been more proud than I am right now, you messed up but you didn't stutter on that stage you powered through and did so well!" You praised making him stutter and snuggle closer to you, unable to fight you back on it.

"Your praise kink is adorable." You whispered before kissing the top of his head softly.

JEONGIN: 

Jeongin had been abnormally anxious lately and it was starting to worry you, all you wanted to do was comfort him and tell him everything was going to be okay. He had a massive interview that was broadcast live and he had to speak English, something he was very anxious about but he'd done it. As soon as he made his way over to you, you threw your arms around him and hugged him tightly.

"You did great baby! I'm so proud of you!" You yelled while jumping up and down with him on the spot,

"I-I'm...I did it," He blushed hugging you back as you continued to sin his praises in his ear, and you stopped when you felt his heart race increasing. 

"Oh, I can't wait to explore that more when we're home," You teased, kissing him softly before whispering how proud of him you were once again.

[minaturefics]

Watching, Wanting

A/N: Hello! (its been awhile) I just wanted to indulge in my love for Boromir (ft some faramir bc i love my brothers). Very vague plot if you squint. It's a bit spicy, but nothing explicit!

Reader gets sent out in a storm by Faramir and turns up at Minas Tirith soaked.

Boromir x Reader

Gender-neutral reader

Rated: TEEN

2.3k words

---

The low hills of Emyn Arnen at your feet gave way to soft fields and in the distance the Anduin meandered through the landscape. There were dark clouds on the horizon, grey and heavy, and the faint earthy scent of coming rain was in the air. If you rode fast, you could make it to the city in a few hours, but judging by the clouds, you would be riding right into the storm anyway. You sighed and turned to Faramir. “Are you certain this is of such vital importance that I have to risk getting soaked to the bone?”

He nodded. “My brother requires these maps. I would have sent it with the trade carts this morning but it slipped my mind.”

“Rather uncharacteristic of you,” you muttered, raising your eyebrows at him.

He shrugged, an easy smile on his face. “My mind has been occupied of late. It is no easy feat, establishing a settlement.”

You softened at his words. Eowyn and Faramir had been working from dawn to dusk the past few weeks and the spring rains had been slowing construction and delaying the new workers and settlers journeying to Emyn Arnen. 

“Very well.” You tucked the long, flat wooden box into your pack and buckled the waxed canvas securely. “I’ll be off now.”

“Safe travels, my friend,” he grinned and waved.

You swung onto your horse and, with a flick of the reins, started off down the road. As the grass and trees sped by, your thoughts drifted to Boromir. 

You had become friends with Faramir first and, in the months Boromir had been away from Minas Tirith, you had helped coordinate the Ithilien Rangers from the city. Boromir had been civil to you when he returned, respectful of your battle and logistical strategies, but distant outside of the war rooms and planning councils. But something shifted one evening. 

It was one of the many victory dinners, a smaller, more intimate one for The Fellowship and close companions. The hobbits had pulled you into their game of roughhousing and somehow you had ended up sprawled on top of Boromir. He had been large and solid underneath you, his hands heavy on your waist. You looked up into his grey eyes and your breath caught in your throat. 

After that, it seemed as though his eyes were always on you. Across dinner tables, across courtyards, even, once, from across the throne room in full view of everyone.

You thought that with the end of the war, there would be no need for much contact between you and him, that all you would ever do is look, but Faramir had unofficially appointed you as a representative between the city and Emyn Arnen.

There had been so many afternoons spent with Boromir, shoulder to shoulder, pouring over maps and trade routes, so many nights spent eating across from each other in the low light of his private dining room. Yes, he was brave and proud and a fantastic tactician, but all that seemed to vanish when you saw him. 

Really saw him. 

Him with sleeves rolled up, exposing his strong forearms. His hair tied up, the pale column of his throat on full display. And those training breeches, somehow loose and tight at the same time… 

What would he look like sprawled on your bed? Eyes glazed and chest heaving, hair mussed and lips parted. His breath hot in your ear, his voice low and raspy.

Thunder clapped overhead and rain started to fall on your overheated skin. The drops were cool and refreshing and you tipped your face to the sky. 

How were you to spend another evening, another moment, in his presence? It was maddening, the way his eyes would blaze, the way he would draw close to you but never touch.

Why would he not act? It is true that you did not hold as high a standing as his family, but the brothers never seemed to care about such a thing. Even though that may be true, surely he understood that it was not as if you could do anything — it would be far more impertinent that you, of a lower standing, should be the first to move.

You shook your head and tightened your grip on the reins. You would ride back tonight to Emyn Arnen, even if you had to make the journey in the dark. It would be too much to spend another night near Boromir only separated by a few doors.

-

Boromir rushed down with the panicked servant who had burst into his study. What was his brother thinking? Sending you to Minas Tirith in the storm? He rounded the corner and found you shivering and dripping onto the polished marble. Someone had already taken your cloak and pack and you stood in your soaked clothes and saturated boots, clutching a wooden box. He swallowed at the sight of the fabric clinging to your form and strode towards you. 

“Riding in such a storm is madness. What was so urgent it could not wait until morning?” You shoved the box into his hands and he stared at it for a moment before shaking his head. “Come, let us get you warm and dry first.”

He led you to his rooms and sat you down before the fire. “You cannot stay in those clothes,” he said, handing you some towels and a blanket along with some of his spare clothes. “You will catch your death.”

“But, Boromir, it is not proper —”

“I do not care. I would rather some impropriety if the alternative is illness or death.” He turned around and faced the wall. “I will not look until you are sufficiently… dressed.”

For a moment, he thought you were about to protest some more until he heard the slick swish of your clothes. He could imagine you, peeling off your layers, bare skin tinged orange by the fire. Heat crept up his neck to his ears. By the gods, he needed to control himself. He squeezed his eyes shut and drew a ragged breath in. 

What sort of delightful torture was this? How many days had he spent beside you, close enough to breathe in your scent? How many nights had he spent staring at his bedroom door, willing you to walk through it?

He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the sound of your wet clothes hitting the floor. He had to be proper. A gentleman. A man of honour. He had to be mindful of his position and standing. Yes, his brother had appointed you various titles and responsibilities, but whatever they were, they were still ranked below his own title of Captain of Gondor.

He had heard too many stories of people being swayed and persuaded by the nobility — he would not allow you to feel obligated to reciprocate his own selfish desires simply because he was ranked higher than you were. 

There was the rustle of cloth, the whisper of cotton on skin, and he fought the images of you donning his clothes. Oh, how will he ever wear that tunic ever again and not think of you?

You were wonderful and smart and were filled with endless ideas for new laws and trade. But in his quiet moments, he wondered what you would feel like under his touch, wondered what sort of sounds you would make.

How would you say his name? In a whisper? A gasp?

In a cry of pleasure?

He spied the wooden box you had brought with you on the side table and shook his head. Damn Faramir for putting him in such a position! What could possibly be so important?

“I, um — I’m just going to look at what my brother sent. Do not be alarmed by my movement,” he said and heard you hum in assent.

With slow, measured steps, he made his way to the box and opened it.

“Faramir said you needed maps,” you muttered behind him.

There were maps indeed, but they were just the regular sort that anyone could buy at the market cartographer. He frowned, rifling through the parchment, and pulled out the envelope tucked in between the papers.

Brother, 

Forgive my deception, but I hope my interference will be forgiven. Aragorn has written to me saying he is on the verge of tearing his hair out at the sight of you two. Eowyn and I are not faring much better here in Emyn Arnen with the constant pacing and faraway looks my, our, friend has whenever they return from the city. 

I pray you spare all of us any more heated longing stares. 

Best of  luck,

Faramir

The nerve of his brother! To send you out in the storm simply for the purposes of… of… matchmaking! The paper crinkled in his grip and his eyes wandered down to the scrawl at the bottom.

P.S. I am not so foolish as to send them out in anything threatening. Spring storms may be chilly, but hardly dangerous. 

That mollified him little and he grumbled. 

“Is anything the matter?” you asked. “Were they damaged in the rain?”

“No, not at all. It is nothing. Simply my brother being… my brother.” 

He read the letter again. Pacing… faraway looks… heated stares… Was his brother implying…? No, that could not be, could it? But, then again, perhaps he did not imagine the way you would linger in the sitting room after dinner or how he would feel your eyes on him sometimes. Your expression was always unreadable, careful and controlled, that he could hardly be sure of what you felt for him. If you felt anything at all. 

And yet, Faramir’s letter…

Your bare feet shuffled on the stone. “You may turn around if you wish.”

He folded the letter away and replaced it along with the maps into the box. He turned and his stomach clenched at the sight of you.

You were bathed in the warm light of the fire, your skin aglow, incandescent in the dim light. His tunic was loose on you and the front ties of the collar were undone, revealing the skin of your chest. His eyes wandered down to the pile of wet clothes on the floor and he spotted, what were unmistakably, underthings, heaped on top. 

Heat flared low in his belly and he glanced away. 

You. Naked under his clothes. Valar help him. 

-

Boromir had that look in his eyes again, all aflame and intense, except he was directing it at one of the tapestries on the wall. You glanced down at the wet clothes at your feet. Well, he could not have reasonably expected you to keep your underthings on, could he?

He was still staring at the wall. His jaw was tense and his hands were clenched by his sides. You took a step forward and he stood straighter. His eyes cut to yours for a moment, smoldering with want, before they went back to the wall. He took a shuddering breath and you took another step. 

Perhaps if you couldn’t act, you could make him act first instead.

You fought a smile and walked to stand before him. You could smell him fully then, his familiar musk mingling with cedar from the scent he favoured.

“Boromir,” you whispered.

His eyes snapped to you and he swallowed.

“Boromir.” 

You tipped your head to the side and parted your lips.

“Boromir.”

He crashed his lips against yours, his hands coming up to cradle your face. He deepened the kiss, his chest rumbling in a low moan when your fingers curled into his shirt. He tasted like the bitter tea he favoured after dinner. His hand drifted down, skimming your waist before coming to rest on your hip. Your nails scraped at the nape of his neck and he groaned.

His body was warm, hot even. He pressed himself closer to you and you could feel him, hard, against you. Heat pooled in your stomach and you moaned his name. His hand slipped under the hem of your shirt and he pulled back for a moment. “Is this alright?”

You nodded and tipped your head back. “Don’t stop.”

“I’ve… wanted this… for weeks,” he said, kisses drifting towards your jaw. The delightful scratch of his beard was followed by soft, warm lips as he worked his way down your neck. “Wanted you.”

“You should have done something.”

He smiled against your skin. “I’m doing something now.”

His lips paused at the curve of your neck and shoulder, sucking for a moment, as his hand slid up your side, his touch gentle but demanding. Your fingers fumbled with the ties on his tunic and tugged on the fabric. He pulled it off and tossed it to the side and he stood flushed and grinning before you. You trailed your fingers down his solid chest, past his stomach, following the light dusting of hair down.

“Maddening man, you —”

There was a knock on the door and you yelped, startling away from him. 

“Who is it?” he asked, voice low and rough. He cleared his throat. “What is the matter?”

“Should we prepare a hot bath for your friend in the spare room?” The servant’s voice was muffled through the door.

His eyes darted to yours before a smirk spread across his face. “There is no need for that, thank you.”

There was the sound of retreating footsteps and you exhaled. Boromir let out a relieved chuckle and pulled you towards him. 

“Sending my warm bath away?” You threw a challenging look at him. “How ever will I get warm?”

“I can think of a great many ways.”

“Will I like any of them?”

“I think you will find that you’ll like all of them.”

He dipped his head, capturing your lips, and tugged you in the direction of his bedroom.

---

I never realised just how quick things can head into a mature rating until I wrote this lmao. Not sure if I will ever write smut but well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (maybe)

Tags: @sotwk @ass-deep-in-demons @thetempleofthemasaigoddess @hippodameia

[togamest]

hello! I’m so happy to see more wind breaker content it feeds my fan girl soul. may I request suo hayato sleeping headcanons please? a million thanks if you do 🫶

-> sleeping angel | 708 words. gn!reader, really just fluffy nonsense.

author’s notes: i feel like this guy just doesn’t sleep, and he’s not a napper, so when he does nap/sleep, that mf is EXHAUSTED. it’s tiring telling white lies every day :/ LMAO, enjoy!

I have a strong feeling that Suo is not a big sleeper. He doesn’t really seem to get tired, and he’s always on alert even though he makes you seem like he’s not. It’s so hard to creep around him, because he’ll pop up with a smile on his face and a “where you going, darling?” falling from his lips.

He does sleep with you at night, of course, but you’ve noticed he spends more time staring up at the ceiling instead of curling up with you and falling asleep. His brain gears moving are so loud for you that you end up barely sleeping, too worried about him and what he could possibly be thinking about. You don’t comment on it at first, as its really not your place, but as your relationship gets more serious, you can’t help but ask.

“Why don’t you sleep with me at night?” you blurt out over dinner once. The silence that follows has your face reddening in embarrassment, looking down at your food to avoid Suo's gaze. When you do look back up, he’s staring at you with an appreciation that makes your heart flutter. He closes his eyes with a smile, his head slightly tilting to the side. “How did you notice?” he asks, and you sigh, your fork clinking against the plate as you lean back, arms folding across your chest. You didn’t want to tell him this, but he’s driven you to it, and you need to be honest; your sleep is being affected. “I can’t sleep with you thinking so loudly,” you say, gently, as if worried he’ll snap at you, “and I want to know what’s wrong. You know, so I can help you. It’s okay to ask, Suo.”

His eyes go wide, then, and the smile drops to an expression of shock. It’s almost like he didn’t know that you were up all those nights, because you hid it so well. That, or he was too busy thinking about himself, as usual. “I’m sorry,” he says, reaching across the table and grabbing your hand, “I just don’t sleep very well. I get nightmares and I don’t want to wake you up.” He looks genuinely upset that he’s wrecked your sleeping schedule, and that expression is something you can’t deny. You sigh, squeezing his hand. “Alright. But you need to start sleeping. I don’t care if you have nightmares, I’ll help you through them. I’m here to help you, okay? Please don’t forget that.”

His nightmares, you discover, are horrendous. He’s constantly sweating, cursing under his breath, twitching and squirming; but you’d rather him go through this than not sleep at all. You often curl around him, petting his hair and kissing his forehead, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. You know he can’t really hear you, but feeling him relax into you, eventually, is more rewarding than anything else. He doesn’t talk about the subject of them, and you don’t need to know; he’ll tell you when he wants to.

Now that he’s sleeping better with you, his nightmares not occurring every night the longer you snuggle with him and take care of him, he doesn’t nap much anymore. Although, sometimes you’ll find him on the couch, his phone at risk of falling out of his hand, a silly video of Sakura and Nirei playing on it. His gentle breaths fan against the hair falling into his face, and you brush it out of the way as you press a kiss to his forehead. He’ll smile in his sleep, too; he knows it’s you.

You have so many photos of him sleeping in odd positions when he does end up taking a nap; one of them is him curled up in a chair like a cat, another is him spread-eagled across the couch leaving a fraction of space for you to sit to watch a movie, and yet another is him sleeping on a bus with you, cheek pressed against the window, eyelashes flat against his cheeks. You rotate them with your phone home screen wallpaper; the Furin boys eventually take notice, but say nothing. Suo would have their heads if they did; you are his exception.

divider credit: @/benkeibear networks: @enchantedforest-network

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