#them you’d have nothing to complain about

[kiddiesmores]

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐓𝐞𝐝𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐲𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞: 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐥

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐞: bello! this is the prequel to the college ted smut fic LOLL, this is gonna be a cute little series. more headaconish if anything, everyone say thank you @michibap !! this series is less edited, and i’ll talk abt them as i please, but if you ask for more i’ll probably tell u more abt them so, you never know. ok enjoy!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smutty towards the end.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.2k

and as always!! dividers by @cafekitsune

Ted was the RA of your hallway yalls freshman year

At your first meeting you kinda sat in the chair with your roommate next to you a little geeked out

Those stupid glasses and collared shirt had a grip on you it really did

But outside of the occasional room check (which he literally does nothing but stand and look side to side before leaving) you don’t see him much

However on your walk home from your friend's dorm across campus, your roommate gave you a heads up that she’s having a person over, and if you could stall an extra 30 minutes or so that would be great.

Whatever, you’ll hang out in the common area

That was at 9pm. It’s 11.

And you’ve blown this girls phone up and fucking nothing, and it’s not like you’re not LITERALLY RIGHT OUTSIDE THE ROOM so you know whoever it is hasn’t left yet.

And you’ll be damned if you sleep in room with your roommate and her victim of the week.

So you decide to suck it up and text your friends who’s dorm you were just at and asking if you could sleep on the floor tonight and just bitch at her tomorrow

“You locked out?”

Your angel, saving grace, Ted Nivison

“Nah just um, trying to be a good roommate.” you joke, pointing at the pink scrunchy on the doorknob that your roommate used to signal she has someone of “importance” over

He laughs a bit to himself, “Well, I can keep you company, or better yet kick whoever it is out, yk, can’t have opposite sex over past 10pm and all”

You sigh, “I don’t even know if it’s a man in there or not so, we can hold off on that one”

He sets up next to you on the common area couch, “Then I guess I'm keeping you company.”

Your brow raises, “Don’t you have any RA duties to finish, like i dunno, loud sex complaints or people smoking out their shoe box?”

And he laughs again, you got this man giggling, you’re so in

“I’m off duty now, finished my last walk around so, you want me here or not?”

You pretend to think for a moment, “Yeah, you wanna see pics from my cadaver internship?”

“Forgot I'm on the floor with the freaks.”

From that point on you two were in contact with each other

Walking back from class and checking his door to see if the wheel on his door said he was inside or not before knocking

Always thinking it’s another resident but it’s just you with a bag of chick fil a from the student center and a stupid smile while sweat drips from your forehead

The two of you sitting in his floor sharing fries and discussing class and the drama from your opposing friend groups

Finding out he’s a theater and film kid from all the playbills and movie posters scattered across his single bedroom

Complaining about how it’s been months and you get no play and have to just suffer and live through your roommate

And he’s just eyeing you like 🌝

So yall start hooking up! for the plot

He was kinda waiting for you to just lean over and just start kissing him but a win is a win

Eventually you’d be sleeping over all the time and one night yall are watching a movie on his laptop

And he has an arm around you and just looks down at you like “Are we like?? Dating??” Cause atp it’s been going on for months

And you shrug and you’re like “We can be”

And he’s giddy but tries to stay cool about it

But the cuteness aggression gets to him and he just starts hugging you tight as fuck and rolling around violently and you’re like “bro chill” but you like it so it’s whatever

Fast forward to sophomore year and yall are out of the dorms thank fucking god

Yall end up living in the apartments close to campus where all of your older friends used to stay

But the real issue is debating if you’d wanna live TOGETHER or not

You decided against it because the thought of living with a man is driving you crazy, you get enough testosterone when you see him and schlatt together you don’t need that evil energy near you at all times

Speaking of Schlatt, that dumb ass sigma chi president

When you first met it was when Ted drug you to one of the parties they threw, something about getting the “full college experience” or something who knows

Schlatt approaches you both and he kinda looks at you funny?? So you look at him funny?? But you know that look, you’ve seen it from the girls and twinks in the Fine Arts building whenever you go in and sit with Ted before class starts

He wants your guy and now you’re on guard

You end up going shot for shot with him at the next party to assert your dominance over him but you both just end up drunk and shoeless down the road eating half frozen burritos he took from the house fridge

Ted notices you both are missing and tracks your location and drives to find you both sitting on a curb leaned against eachother

“How the fuck did you guys get here?? And what the fuck are you eating??”

“Rito..” you mumble, mouth full of tortilla and you even hand it to him as a peace offering

He sighs and takes a bite before lifting you up and throwing you over his shoulder with a “hff” from you, and looking down to see Schlatt falling over since you were his ledge

“Get up man, you’re embarrassing the hoes” and Schlatts at full attention and stumbling to the car

So yall fucked with eachother after that, hangover the next morning went CRAAZY and yall sent each other snaps back and forth showing how fucked you both looked

When yall decided to get the apartments, schlatt was there, in Ted’s ear about how Tucker and Charlie would be happy to live with them if you didn’t want to

And you look at him like ???? cause since when was he moving into the apartments

“If I stay another year in that house and see those pledges everyday and hear them try to butter me up, I might burn the house down.”

“Type shit”

Even at separate houses Ted still loves to be in yours.

Sleepover? Yeah if it’s in your bed. Wanna fuck? Yeah but only in your bed.

Girl house energy is so much better than chuckle house.

You’ll wake up to him tucked into your side or laid on top of you, face in your neck and snoring softly.

No shirt on, hands on your hips and sleepy mumbling in your ear, you don’t even mind how hot his body temp is because he looks so precious on top of you.

Loves when you rub on his back and whisper his name to wake him up, slowly waking up and squinting at his lack of vision and because of how tired he is before smiling softly when he sees you.

Yall are so codependent it’s sickening.

Loves touching you, like LOVES IT. CRAVES IT.

When you’re out together he will have his hand on yours or hand on your waist or hip.

Hanging out with friends? He needs to be sitting next to you, thighs touching or head resting on top of yours, hands interlocked and kissing your fingers while staring at you softly while you speak.

Mornings after sleepovers he’s stood behind you while you cook or move about in the kitchen, hands around your waist and leaning against you while trying to force himself awake.

“You’re gonna make me trip if you don’t move Ted.” “Buh.”

Off chance you’re at his place, it’s never just you and him time. It’s you, Ted and Schlatt time.

You’re cuddling? Schlatt is sitting at the bottom of the bed or in the office chair at the desk on his phone. You wanna smoke? Schlatt is sat between you both as a footrest for you and someone to lean on for Ted.

Yall have a group chat called “Bottoms n Schlatt”

He always oddly fits in with you two.

You learn that he and Ted had a weird aura when they first met. Not knowing if they were just close friends or wanted each other but inevitably never doing anything about it.

And you only found out when one drunken night at a party you found your boyfriend and schlatt talking oddly close to each other in a corner, giggling and poking at each other while Schlatts hand tightly gripped your boyfriends hip to stop him from running from his playful gnawing.

But you weren’t upset at all! In all honesty it was hot! And it’s not like you and schlatt haven’t fooled around before.

That drunken night as yall sat on the curb was only the beginning.

It’s where he admitted his distaste for you because he thought you were stealing his bestfriend. And how he found you both so attractive it made him mad.

To which you replied, “Type shit” and let him kiss you, only stopping when he pulled back and grumbled about having to throw up, making you go “eugh” and rub his back as he did so.

You told Ted the next morning, a bit guilty as you guys had JUST started dating but he wasn’t phased at all.

“Did you like it?”

“Huh?” you mutter, still twiddling with your fingers anxiously. He smiled sweetly, slowly sliding his hand over to yours to interlock them, leaning in closer. “Did you like kissing him?”

You think for a second, dumbly blinking with slightly widened eyes. “I mean, for the 10 seconds before he had to hunch over I did..” “Eugh..” “I had the same reaction.”

He laughs and kisses your cheek, squeezing your hand before murmuring a low, “M’not mad, I think this is definitely a conversation for all three of us to have though.” To which you nod and softly kiss his lips.

To this day that conversation never happened. You all kinda just hit on each other whenever you were all together.

At a party and talking to Ted while stood next to Schlatt but Schlatt’s hand is on your hip as he sips his drink, and both their eyes are locked on you.

How you and Ted cuddled in an empty room while everyone else went crazy down stairs suddenly shifted to Schlatt sitting in the room with you guys quietly but then turned into all three of you sandwiched together, drunkingly giggling and whispering to eachother.

How you caught them making out in a dark corner and only whined because you wanted to be included.

To which they took turns kissing you while being passed around in their arms.

Multiple pictures in the digicam of you three, the taller two holding you up while you pout or the three of you teasingly sticking your tongues out at each other while the tips touch.

But your personal favorite, was the one of them both between your legs, smiling goofily with glistening lips and dazed eyes, Ted's glasses crooked.

It started off playful, you laid back in Schlatt’s arms and play fighting with ted, small kicks and giggly grunts as you tried to keep him away from you, only for Schlatt to end up holding you down while Ted tickles you.

Once the tickling stopped he’d lean up to kiss you, still between Schlatts legs as you kiss him back, letting his tongue slip into your mouth. You let out soft moans, starting to forget that you’re both quite literally between schlatts legs until he lets out a low huff, making you pull back with a trail of spit between your lips to look up at him.

“Well don’t let me stop you.”

Ted’s face ends up buried between your legs with Schlatt’s hands under your sweatshirt toying with your tits and locking you in a hot sloppy kiss, grunting into your mouth when you moan out for Ted.

Pinches your nipples and it makes your back arch, causing Ted to groan and rub his nose against your clit as he eats you out.

Schlatt marks up your neck, huffing in frustration because he needs MORE

Does a weird shuffle to move from under you, confusing you a bit because where are you going??

Regardless he manages to get from under you and lays you against the headboard, walking around to the end of the bed to join Ted between your legs.

Pushes his face over with his hand like “Move over.” “Guh”

Your eyes kinda widen because what are they gonna-oh wow.

TWO MOUTHS???

THEY’RE ALTERNATING

This is a planned attack, has to be.

Regardless you enjoy it, two mouths lapping at your cunt, two mouths to clean up the mess. Efficient!

In your haze you notice the digicam on the bed stand, shakily reaching over to grab it with a wicked smile.

The two of them are rutting against the bed and cleaning you up, Ted whimpering and Schlatts low groaning giving you a good contrast of the two.

“Say cheese boys!” you tease with a playful cunning smile, causing them both to look up and press a cheek to either of your thighs.

Both looking just as pitiful as the other, only difference is Ted’s glasses are all fucked up and he’s way redder than Schlatt is. But they enjoyed it an equal amount!

So yeah y'all are all kinda locked in after that.

[fingertipsmp3]

Unfortunately I absolutely fucked up one of my nails today but also I made my grandma a tote bag for her birthday so I think overall it’s going well

[elliewithcellie]

Girl, Interrupted

summary: Eddie crashes by your home when you least expected, but everything happens for a reason, right?

wc: 1.8k

cw: PURE SMUT (MDNI 18+), basically no plot, friends to fwb?, oral (f receiving), Eddie is a tease, fairly bold reader lol, fingering, talk of p in v sex, hair pulling, orgasms idk let me know what else

a/n: my bestie bought me slutty pajamas for my birthday, and since I'm a hypothetical whore, this has been on my mind nonstop. Finally took a break from my spn series to write this down. This is the filthiest thing I've written to date but definitely short and sweet

Eddie’s jaw fell slack as the door opened before him. He knew he shouldn’t have shown up to your place uninvited. Sure, you were his best friend, and of course, you had said he could come over whenever, but that never truly meant unannounced. He was already kicking himself for showing up as late as he did when you opened the door.

Your oh so short pajama shorts were the first thing that caught his eye, how your thighs spilled out beneath them, the cotton begging for relief. His eyes trailed higher to your tank top one size too small. The hem rested just above your midriff, the outline of your hips more prominent than he had ever seen. Your face was flush, pinks and reds lining your cheeks. He fought the urge to pinch himself, scared that he was dreaming, scared that he’d wake up to the absence of you and very real feelings emerging.

“Eddie? What are you doing here?” you asked, your arms crossing over your chest. “I thought you had a date.”

Date, what date? Eddie’s mind was going numb. His brain was flatlining at the mere sight of you, more exposed to him than he’d ever seen you. Fight or flight kicked in, debating on whether to say something or just turn around and leave. He was almost sure he was not supposed to see you in this state.

“I—uhh—it didn’t go well, so I cut it short. But I know you love the place, so I figured I’d bring over the leftovers.”

“Oh, sweet. Thank you.”

Eddie hesitated, scared to ask, but his interest piqued. “Is someone—you’re alone right now, right?”

Your eyebrows pinched together. You exhaled a dry laugh. “Please, I’m always alone. Come in. Tell me about your date.”

You ushered Eddie inside and settled into your couch. You pulled a blanket over you, and Eddie released a sigh. He couldn’t believe the hold you suddenly had on him. It was like he was in high school again, ready to combust at the sight of a shoulder. At least with your legs covered, he was less inclined to think about spreading them.

“Was it really that bad?” you asked, drawing Eddie from his thoughts.

“She was just so boring,” Eddie complained. “Like, there’s nothing wrong with her, but it was like we were from different planets! She didn’t know Metallica! How am I supposed to bond with someone when there’s nothing to relate to?”

“Did you think of showing her?”

“Showing her what?”

“Metallica!” you laughed. “Wouldn’t that be kind of romantic, you know, to introduce that to her? Maybe tell her you’re in a band? It’d be like showing her a whole new world. And maybe you’d get a groupie out of it.”

Eddie swatted at the air. “It’s not worth it. We were both bored. And it was clear she wasn’t looking to rock with a guitarist.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“You didn’t meet her. She’s pristine, a Chrissy Cunningham type. Meant to be with a lawyer or some shit.”

You leaned in closer to Eddie, your blanket sliding down your thighs. “Those are the girls who fantasize about guys like you the most. Those girls on the straight and narrow, the ones who seemed destined to be sweet stay-at-home moms or perfect career women, those are the ones who dream of just one night doing something they never thought they could. Something so wild that when they’re taking their kids to soccer practice, or their ‘perfect husband’ is asleep on the recliner while they're doing the dishes, they can think back to that wild night when they fucked a rockstar.”

Eddie’s lip trembled as chills coursed through his body. You leaned back against the couch and shrugged like what you said was nothing. You had to be on something, he decided. Never had you been so frank when the topic of sex came up. Your face was still flushed with color, and you couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position on the couch, shifting yourself from one side to the other to no specific rhythm. Heat radiated off of you, though you weren’t known to be the furnace between the two of you. Something struck Eddie as so foreign but so familiar as he took you in.

“Would you fuck a rockstar?” Eddie found himself saying.

Heat rose to your cheeks. “Do I seem like one of those straight-and-narrow girls to you?”

“That’s not what I asked,” Eddie said, a newfound confidence overtaking him. “You came up with that way too fast to act like you don’t think of it, too. So, would you fuck a rockstar?”

You bit your lip and shifted in your seat. You huffed into the couch. “Wouldn’t anyone?”

“Why so shy all of a sudden?” Eddie asked, egging you on. “You’ve been squirming since I got here, sweetheart. Is something on your mind?”

Your eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips, then back to his eyes. “Tonight is not the night to ask me that.”

“Why is that?” Eddie chuckled. “Were you in the middle of something? Was something left unfinished when I so rudely interrupted? And now all you can think about is the ache between your legs?”

You shuddered at his words. “Eddie,” you said, your voice shaking.

“I could help you.” Eddie leaned closer, his words almost a whisper. “Because I may not be a rockstar, but I’m sure I could give you the night of your life.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Don’t tease me. It’s not funny.”

“No one’s laughing.” Eddie pulled the blanket back, his hands resting on your thighs. Your legs slightly opened on instinct. “What kind of friend would I be, huh? If I didn’t at least offer?”

Eddie didn’t know where this bravado came from, but he didn’t care. All he knew was the longer you looked at him like that, the harder he got.

You grabbed him by his shirt and forced his lips on yours. Nothing soft or sweet came from your lips. You were needy and desperate, clinging to him like he was the air in your lungs.

The urgency shocked Eddie, but he quickly found your rhythm. He smirked against your lips as he pulled his jacket off. His hands snaked from your thighs to your hips to your ass, lifting you onto his lap. You groaned into his mouth as he rolled you against him.

He was sure he was dreaming now. Only there did he ever picture you above him, grinding your hips into his. Only there did he imagine you moaning from his touch. But never were his dreams this vivid, this real, this fucking good.

He pulled you from him and pushed you back onto the couch. You whined at the loss of contact. He’d never seen your eyes so dark, so lustful, so hungry for him.

He slid down to the floor onto his knees and pulled you to the edge of the couch. “You still want my help, sweetheart?”

You nodded emphatically.

“I need to hear you, baby. Say it.”

“Please help me, Eddie. I need you. Please.”

“Atta girl.”

You lifted yourself up as Eddie pulled your shorts down your legs. Eddie’s cock jumped at the sight of you. He bit his lip to maintain what little composure he had left.

“Aww, your poor little pussy’s just as needy as you, isn’t she?” He spread your knees apart, the cold metal on his fingers sending chills up your spine. The throbbing between your legs only intensified, a small whimper escaping your lips.

Eddie couldn’t wait any longer. There was no time for teasing, no time to explore. You needed him, and he was going to deliver.

He dove into your aching pussy like a man starved. You jumped at the contact, your hands flying to his hair. His tongue worked overtime, kitten-licking your clit before diving in for more.

“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he said, smiling against you. You moaned in response, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him closer.

Your sounds turned him on even more, searching for his own release as he rubbed himself against the couch. His mind was in a daze, in utter disbelief that anyone could look so perfect for him with your legs spread and your back arched. Your chest rose and fell to the rhythm of his tongue, and your lips formed a perfect ‘o’. Oh, how Eddie wanted to feel your lips around his cock. How you’d sink down on him, your perfect innocent mouth being completely sinful just for him.

He placed a finger at your entrance and pumped in and out, his thumb now circling your clit. Your head fell back. “God, yes, Eddie. Just like that.”

“I need you to do something for me, baby,” Eddie said as he added a second finger.

“Wha—what’s that?” you asked, breathless.

“I need you to tell me what you think of when you get off. Tell me what you were thinking of before I showed up at your door.”

“I—I oh god,” you shouted as Eddie’s lips found your clit. “I—I thought about you on your fucking date.”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groaned into your pussy, the vibrations shooting up your spine.

“I pictured you fucking her from behind, her skirt hiked up to her hips, her panties to the side as you fucked her in front of the bathroom mirror.”

“Fucking C—Christ,” Eddie stuttered, his hips rutting into the couch faster. “Keep going.”

“Then it was me you were fucking. You grabbed me by the hair, so I could watch what you were doing to me,” you said, your voice shaking with every word. “Eddie, please. I’m close. Please.”

“Come on, baby. You can do it. Tell me what I was doing to you.” He was past dreaming at this point. He was sure this was heaven. Hearing your words had him reeling. He didn’t want to stop, didn't know how to stop. He just knew he needed to see you come.

Your lip trembled. “Your hands were all over me, playing with my tits, your lips on my neck, and—and your big cock pounding into me over and oh-ver and—and Fuck! Eddie, don’t stop! Please, please, please!”

Your orgasm crashed down on you, expletives and Eddie’s name on your lips. Eddie continued to pump his fingers in and out of you like a madman as he lapped up your cum.

“Oh god, oh fuck!” he moaned against you.

You pushed his head off of you and caught your breath. Eddie took a breath, too, leaning back against his heels. You pulled him back up to you and kissed him, tasting yourself on your lips.

“That… was so hot,” Eddie said, releasing a breath.

“Can it be my turn to help you?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Eddie’s cheeks rouged slightly, his eyes trailing to the growing wet spot on his jeans. “I had a turn already,” he said, guilt painting his words. He leaned in toward you, a devilish smirk joining his features. “But I’m not done with you. Not yet.”

[luveline]

hi!!! i have a request for roommate!spencer where he's injured during a case and reader show up at the hospital because she's his emergency contact but the team is really confused wondering who's this stranger fussing over spencer. hope you like it, love you!

thank you for requesting honey!! love you<3 fem!reader

“Close your eyes,” you command, voice all blown up and grand, already smiling. “Close your eyes, Spencer.” 

“No.” He squints groggily. “What are you doing?” 

“Close your eyes.” 

“No, Y/N, what are you doing?” he asks. 

You shake your spray bottle at him. He sighs a long-suffering sigh and finally admits defeat, his tired eyes shuttering closed all too easily. You rest your knee on the side of his bed and hear the metal squeaking at your added weight, your hand gentle as you cover his forehead. “You have greasy hair,” you say sympathetically. “This is gonna feel much nicer.” 

You blast him with dry shampoo, his brown hair turning white with powder. You drop the can in his lap and set about rubbing the powder into his hair until the grease is soaked up, and his hair feels less miserably lank. 

“When are they gonna let you shower again?” you ask quietly. 

You’re still touching his hair. More for him than you, you hope he feels comforted, but mostly you just wanna affirm to yourself that he’s all in one bruised piece. Your heart still aches as much as it did when you got the phone call in the first place —Spencer Reid’s next of kin? 

You suppose that’s you. 

“I don’t know.” 

You take his hair back into his current parting. “Well, let’s hope it’s soon. How are you liking the sponge baths? Are they awful?” 

“Humiliating.” 

Just outside of Spencer’s hospital room, Hotch and JJ stand together with a bag of essentials. They’d drawn to a sudden stop when they realised Spencer had company. “Who is that?” she asks. 

Hotch, used to knowing everything, frowns very deeply. He doesn’t know who you are, but from the way you’re touching Spencer’s hair and face, he should. 

JJ sounds a little put out. “She doesn’t work here.” 

“No, I don’t think so,” Hotch says. His frown lightens as you laugh and scratch Spencer’s hair back behind his ears. 

“Is it unkind of me to think he didn’t have any friends?” JJ asks. 

Hotch knows Spencer has friends. He’s summoned Spencer from chess games and fan clubs, picking him up occasionally on the way to the office on cafe sidewalks as he waved goodbye to a glasses-wearing bibliophile, often in coats too big for them or with hair in need of a trim. Spencer attracts the unconventional because he, as anybody in this line of work tends to be, is inordinary. So JJ probably is being unkind, but Hotch knows what she means. 

You look completely regular. You settle on one thigh on his bed while the other keeps you up and put your hand on his chest, chatting breezy words they can’t hear through the glass.

Spencer curls into you slowly. 

“You’ll be home soon,” you say, rubbing his shoulder, “don’t worry.” 

Hotch’s eyebrows rise of their own accord. He and JJ excuse themselves for coffee before they’re spotted, and when they return, you’re gone. “Spence, who was that girl?” JJ asks. Hotch notes the slightest line of jealousy tugging under her curiosity. 

He sounds as though he could use some more pain medication, and a good night's sleep, but he’s proud as he says, “That’s my roommate. I told you about her.” 

“Ah, your roommate,” Hotch says. 

“What’s that mean?” Spencer asks. 

“Nothing, Spencer,” Hotch says, using the young man’s first name in a rare show of affection. “That’s just an irregular word for it. I haven’t heard it in a while.” 

JJ laughs. Spencer hides his face with both hands, a smudge of lip balm on his hand shining under the stark hospital fluorescents. “I’m too tired,” he complains. 

Hotch hadn’t seen you kiss him, but he can imagine how it might have happened, how you’d leaned in for a kiss on the cheek goodbye and Spencer overwhelmed himself thinking about it. Or maybe it’s just an innocuous smudge. Maybe it’s nothing at all. 

“We live together,” Spencer mumbles. “I couldn’t afford to live by myself at first, it’s D.C.” 

“And now?” Hotch asks. He knows Spencer is on good enough money to afford an apartment by himself these days, a big one. He has no dependents. 

“Didn’t seem fair… She’s nice. She’s, like, my best friend.” 

“Don’t let Morgan hear you say that,” JJ laughs. 

Hotch isn’t sure she gets it, but he does. “Well, you can ask her to come back. We have work to do.” 

Spencer pretends he’s hesitant to pick up the phone. Your reply is an immediate beep. Hotch knows a good friend when he sees one. 

[strang3lov3]

On Display

“At him. Look at him.” Joel turns your head back in Tommy’s direction. His gaze on you is intense, and you find yourself unable to bear it, looking down at the floor instead. “But Tommy says,” Joel whispers in your ear, his breath hot on your neck, “That if you want him to watch, you need’a ask him yourself.”

You crave more than just Joel’s eyes on you, so he gives you an audience. (6.1k)

Tags - smut, voyeurism/exhibitionism, tommy in the cuck chair, hella dom/sub vibes, fingering, cunnilingus, masturbation, unprotected piv, creampie, come eating, orgasm delay/overstimulation, little bit of manhandling action, little bit of panty sniffing/licking, being instructed/talked through it by both Tommy and Joel, threesome adjacent - tommy just watches, the sex happens between reader and joel. Fic help - @noxturnalpascal, @endlessthxxghts, and @beefrobeefcal for their eyes and help editing!! thank you all my sweet loves <3 A/N - hello! we’re not making eye contact for this one. If you’re into this please tell me so because I think I wouldn't mind writing a little more about this trio 👀

Joel’s driving you fucking nuts, in more ways than one. He’s antsy, and he’s handsy, and he’s ready to walk you home. He always walks you home, no matter what, no matter who you’re working with. You’re safe and protected in Jackson, but that doesn’t keep Joel from wanting to protect you further. 

You’re working with Tommy at the bar tonight and it’s late and past closing time, but there’s still shit to do. There always is. Joel watches you from across the room as you wipe down tables and put the chairs upside down on top of them. You’re taunting him, you must be. Wearing those jeans, that pair that fits your ass like a glove and hugs all of Joel’s favorite curves of yours. To add insult, you’re wearing that sexy perfume that Joel loves. He could smell that fruity, musky scent when he walked into the bar. Fuck, he could lick it right off your skin. Fucking eat you. There’s nothing in the world he wants more than to be inside of you, feel your warm and wet walls clenching around him.

 Joel downs the rest of his bourbon and saunters through the bar until he’s pressing himself against your back, his warm hands sliding over your hips as you gather the billiard balls on the pool table. “Let’s get outta here. S’late,” he whispers, the wiry hairs of his beard scratching your neck. 

“Joel,” you whine, reaching behind yourself to cup his face. He kisses your hand as you complain, “We can’t. I gotta finish–” you gasp as he sucks one of your fingers into his mouth. 

“Correct. You do gotta finish,” he growls against your skin.

“Joel. I need to finish closing down the bar with Tommy.” You pull your hand from his mouth and turn around to face him, to show him you mean business. All of your efforts are futile when he looks at you with those dark eyes of his, a devilish grin on his lips.

“Tommy can handle cleanin’ some dishes, sweetheart.” 

 “Joel, I’m serious.”

He’s kissing your neck now, his hands making their way down to your ass and squeezing you there. He lifts you onto the edge of the pool table and spreads your legs to fit himself between them. “You tell me all about it. Go ‘head and tell me how serious you are,” he murmurs, taunting you. “S’not like it really matters. You ain’t callin’ the shots.” 

He’s insatiable. You have to pull away from his kisses to beg him please not here, not the pool table. He shushes you gently, “I’ll tell you when and where, my darlin’. You just take what I give you.” His hands are finding their way beneath your shirt, his rough and calloused palms warm on the skin of your tummy. You let out a shaky breath as he unbuttons your jeans and shoves his hand inside them, pulling your panties to the side and running his fingers up and down your lips. 

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. Tommy’s just in the other room, and you shouldn’t be doing this. He could walk out at any moment, see you and Joel on the pool table and you’d never hear the end of it. It’d be so humiliating, so shameful and unseemly. 

And it happens. It fucking happens. 

Joel doesn’t seem to hear it, but you do. The quiet footsteps behind the closed office door, the creak of the office door’s hinge as it opens. Tommy appears in the doorway and quietly approaches the sink, turns on the water to wash some glasses. Joel’s in his own world, his eyes closed as he kisses your skin and his fingers dip between your lips, chuckling when he feels just how wet you are. But you - your eyes are on Tommy. And maybe it’s because you were anticipating seeing him but you’re not startled by his appearance, really. You’re just watching him. 

You feel guilty. Joel’s circling your clit now and you should be focusing on how good it feels, and it does feel good. But then Tommy looks in your direction and it feels better - your heart skips a beat, your stomach drops. His eyes linger on you, simply observing as you lose yourself in the sensation, as Joel’s fingers dip lower and press against your entrance, he pushes them slowly inside and you groan quietly, your eyes still on Tommy, Tommy’s eyes still on you. You’re not sure if you or he should feel more ashamed. 

Tommy smiles at you before opening his mouth to speak. “Hey Joel,” he shouts, “Quit harassin’ my employee.”

“Fuckin’ dick.” Joel huffs quietly and pulls away from you, subtly pulling his hand from out of your jeans and sucks his fingers into his mouth as he rolls his eyes at you. He turns around and blocks your body so that Tommy doesn’t see you buttoning your pants, as if he doesn’t know what Joel was just doing to you. “Wouldn’t have to f’ya would let her clock out. Place is clean as a whistle, Tommy.” 

“Yeah, but not that pool table,” Tommy quips. When you slide off of the table, Tommy’s looking at you again as if he were waiting for your reaction. You shy away as you feel your face and neck warming up. Tommy does his final walk through as you wait awkwardly, Joel standing next to you impatiently. “Place looks good. She’s all yours, Joel,” Tommy says with a smile, a smile that almost makes you dizzy. “G’night, sweetheart,” Tommy opens the door for you and Joel and sends you on your way. You don’t tell him goodnight back. 

Joel walks you home quickly, practically drags you. You have trouble keeping up with his long and quick strides. He doesn’t make it to his bedroom and instead takes you in the living room, the blinds wide open as he pulls you down onto his cock. You look out the window as Joel fucks you knowing full well anyone could walk by and see you like this, that Tommy could see you like this. 

Tommy could see you, he could see all of you. Joel’s between your thighs, whispering praises in your ear and all you can think about is Tommy, the thrill of his eyes focused only on you. Back on the pool table, you felt so good with Joel’s fingers buried in your cunt, but even better under the heavy-lidded gaze of Tommy. It was all so arousing yet so wrong. It made you feel sexy and ashamed, taboo and salacious all at the same time. You come on Joel’s cock thinking of the smirk on his brother’s lips as he watched you from feet away. 

-

The next time Tommy’s in your line of sight is the following night at dinner. You and Joel didn’t feel like cooking, so you’re eating at the community diner. Tommy’s sitting just a few seats down from you and Joel, he’s chatting it up with some friends. Tommy’s mostly focused on his conversation but he glances at you now and then, and it makes your heart beat a little faster each time with the memory of last night. You’re lost in thought and barely even realize you’re staring at him until you notice him smiling at you. 

Joel’s low voice interrupts your thoughts. “Thinkin’ about trading me in for the newer model, aren’t ya?”

“Joel!” 

“No, no. I get it,” he teases, no real hurt in his voice. “Tommy’s younger, he’s stronger, less gray…” 

You smack his arm. You’re not sure if you’re more offended by his implication or the fact he caught you ogling his brother. “No. It’s not that.” you tell him flatly. Joel raises his eyebrows at you, waiting for you to continue. “It’s…” you sigh, and Joel’s expression turns from amused to concerned. 

“You can tell me.”

“Last night,” you begin, tugging his sleeve to bring him closer to you. He tilts his head for you to whisper in his ear, “Last night, when Tommy and I were closing the bar and you came to visit. And you - we - on the pool table…Tommy watched us.”

Joel eyes Tommy after hearing your admission, but doesn’t quite glare. “Right,” he says.

“Just for a second,” you add quickly. “Just for a second.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. “That’s all.” 

Joel pauses. He studies you, his dark eyes darting between yours. “I don’t think that really is all,” he says. He knows all your tells, and he knows that you’re lying right now. At the very least, he’s certain you’re not sharing the truth in full. And what he finds most amusing, is that he knows the way you look when there’s something you want. He knows exactly what you want. “You liked it, didn’t you? His eyes on us. His eyes on you.” Busted. You press your lips together to keep yourself from smirking. “S’okay if ya did.” 

Before you can respond to him, Joel presses a kiss to your temple and takes both of your dirted plates in his hands and stands up. He does a subtle nod in Tommy’s direction, imperceptible to you but one that Tommy can see, and Tommy surreptitiously joins Joel as he places your dishes on a nearby countertop to be cleaned. 

 Joel returns to you moments later with two slices of blueberry pie. “Check it out. S’your favorite,” he says. You eat your pie with Joel, and when you look in Tommy’s direction, his chair is empty.

-

Later that evening, you and Joel walk home hand in hand. He’s oddly quiet, and when you look at him you swear you see the faintest smile on his lips. Joel walks with you up the staircase and you’re immediately intrigued by your shut bedroom door, some light peeking out at the bottom. Maybe you or Joel forgot to turn a light off this morning. It could mean nothing. 

“Good evenin’, sweetheart.” 

It’s not nothing at all. Tommy’s there, in that old, navy blue La-Z-Boy recliner that sits in the corner of your room and faces your bed, gently rocking back and forth. 

“Tommy,” you breathe shakily.

Joel approaches you from behind and puts his hands on your shoulders. “Told Tommy about your dirty little secret,” he says. It takes half a second for you to pick up what he’s putting down, and your breath hitches in your throat. “You know the one. That you liked when he watched us.” 

You turn your head, “Joel–”

“At him. Look at him.” Joel turns your head back in Tommy’s direction. His gaze on you is intense, and you find yourself unable to bear it, looking down at the floor instead. “But Tommy says,” Joel whispers in your ear, his breath hot on your neck, “That if you want him to watch, you need’a ask him yourself.” Blood rushes to your core and your mouth goes dry at Joel’s words. You’re unable to form thoughts as arousal takes over your senses, that dizzying, heady feeling building inside your body, enhanced by the fact that you and Joel aren’t the only ones in the room.

 By the way Tommy’s eyes flicker above you, you have no doubt Joel’s smiling in sick delight behind you. It comes as no surprise that Joel’s gonna make you work for what you want, he does so with everything else. You don’t come without his permission, you don’t touch yourself without his permission. You can’t even touch him without his go-ahead. He knows how to make the wait and the work worth it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. It’s agonizing every time in the best possible way. Joel nudges you. “Well get on with it, then. Don’t make him wait.”

“Tommy,” you mumble, your voice barely audible.

“What is it, gorgeous?”

Gorgeous. The compliment spills from his lips like syrup. Tommy’s always had a sweet spot for you, and no matter how many times he makes that known through his words and his actions, it always, always exhilarates you. 

“Will you - will you watch?” 

“Watch what?”

You wonder if Joel primed him, it wouldn’t surprise you. If he told Tommy to coach you through it all, make every step of the process as tedious for you as could be. Or maybe this is Tommy all on his own, and he’s cut from the same exact cloth as Joel.

“Well, spit it out,” Joel says, not allowing you hesitation for a moment further.

“Will you watch Joel fuck me?” 

 “Nuh-uh, try it again. Let’s mind our manners this time,” Joel says to you. “Now what do you say?”

“Please,” you whisper.

 “And remember to tell him thank you f’he says yes,” Joel reminds softly.

“Pleasure would be all mine, darlin’,” Tommy replies with a smile. “Be happy to.” 

“Thank you.” 

Joel presses a kiss to your head. “S’a good girl,” he murmurs.

He undresses himself first, first unbuttoning his flannel and then pulling his white t-shirt off his torso. You’re not sure where to look - him, or Tommy - when he unbuckles his belt and lets his jeans drop to the floor. 

You’re up next. He stands behind you and wraps his arms around your body as he unbuttons your own shirt, peering over your shoulder as he undoes the buttons slowly, one by one until he reaches the bottom. He peels the fabric off of your shoulders and lets it fall to the floor, joining his pile of clothes. He unzips your jeans and bends down to help you step out of them and you’re stood there in front of Tommy, clad in nothing but a bra and panties. Not for long, though, as Joel stands back up and unclasps your bra. When the garment falls, you instinctually cover your chest. “Let him see you,” Joel whispers, and you drop your arms. 

Tommy lets out a low whistle as he scans you, his eyes tracing the contours of your body. “Fuck,” he groans, one of his hands palming the sizable bulge in his jeans. “Need ya to do me a favor, sweetheart, give ‘em some lovin’ from me.”

You maintain eye contact with Tommy as you bring your hands to your chest and knead the flesh of your breasts between your fingers. You sigh in pleasure as you massage yourself, circling your nipples before pinching and rolling them between your fingers. “Oh, that’s it. Jus’ how I’d do it,” Tommy praises. 

The moment lasts just a little longer, and then Joel’s guiding you to sit on the edge of the bed, facing Tommy. Gently, he takes hold of your wrists and lays both of your palms flat on the bed, allowing himself access to you. He tilts your chin up so he can kiss you, then kisses down your jaw and your neck, sucking and biting your skin on his way down. He kneels before you, teasing your nipples himself, one in his mouth and the other between his fingers, doing a much better job than you were. His mouth and his hand trade places, a trail of spit in their path. When he's done, he kisses down, down, down until he’s reached your pussy. He presses a kiss over the already damp fabric of your underwear and hums in satisfaction. “Lift up,” he says, pulling your panties down your legs before tossing the garment behind himself in Tommy’s direction. 

Tommy catches the fabric, and for the first time he pulls his eyes from you. “Goddamn. What a mess she made,” Tommy comments, rubbing his thumb over the damp spot of your panties. His eyes flicker back up to you as he brings them to his face, inhaling your scent deeply. “Shhh,” he mouths, his pointer finger in front of his lips. When he drops his hand, his tongue darts out to lick the arousal-soaked fabric and you gasp, gasp as Joel licks a long stripe from your ass to the top of your pussy. The room is quiet, save for the heavy breathing between the three of you. 

You moan louder than you’d like to when you feel Joel’s tongue travel lower before circling your tight hole again, and you can’t help but feel self conscious.  Joel presses a couple of kisses to the surrounding area, all wet and sloppy before he dips his tongue inside you. You squirm and wonder what Tommy thinks of this, of you, as he has a perfect view of what's being licked and what’s not. 

One of your hands finds Joel’s scalp and tugs on his graying curls and waves, your free arm is bent and supporting your body as you lean back. He swirls his tongue one, then two more times around your asshole before his lips travel higher. He kisses your slick folds, sucking one into his mouth and then the other. Joel dips inside your heat, all warm and slick just for him as he inhales you, tastes you - your musk, your sweet arousal, just like honey on his tongue. He uses the muscle to trace you lazily, more for himself than you before he finds your clit, licking and sucking the sensitive part of you. And as he does, it’s just you and Joel. You fall in love with him all over again every time he’s like this, between that heated, soaking wet and private place between your thighs, his favorite place to be. His big doe eyes sparkle as he eats you the way he wants to - savoring you and your body. He’s all passion and devotion, full of love, love for both you and the performance itself. He blinks slowly, in a feline sort of way - relaxed yet laser-focused, the only time he breaks eye contact with you. You feel like you’re his prey, the mouse that the cat eats for dinner tonight. 

“Quit lookin’ at Joel, honey. He’s not goin’ nowhere. You look at me tonight,” Tommy demands, his voice is less kind than it was before. 

You find him in the corner, steadily rocking back and forth in that old chair, twirling the end of his mustache around his finger as he watches you. Instinctually, you find yourself looking back down at Joel between your thighs, seeking his permission to obey Tommy. He turns his head to the side and bites your thigh, not hard but enough to startle, the way a dog does to discipline her pup. “What’d Tommy just tell you?” Joel scolds. “My apologies, Tommy,” he mumbles against your skin.

“S’alright. I know she’s new to it.” Tommy’s words go straight to your core. It’s that condescending tone, paired with that sugar-sweet smirk on his lips as he says it. 

Joel’s tongue and lips on your clit continue to work magic. He eats you the way he does every time - like it’s not something he’s doing for you, but to you, his own endeavor. It’s all lust and hunger, fingertips bruising your skin under his vice-like grip, tongue relentlessly laving over your sex. His patchy beard gently scratches your inner thighs, rubs you raw so that you’ll be feeling him in the coming days after this. Your skin will burn under the hot water of your bath and the lather of unscented soap on Joel’s hands as he washes you, and he’ll hush you as you wince at the sting. “Shhh. M’almost done,” he’ll tell you, like he tells you every time. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

You writhe and grind against Joel’s mouth, attempting to take some semblance of control over your pleasure. Joel swats your ass cheek and holds you still. You’re gonna take what he gives you, feel exactly what he wants you to. Feel his aquiline nose circling your clit, his tongue dipping in and out of your slick hole. You let out moans, pleasure building quickly. You feel it everywhere - deep in your gut, up your spine, down your legs.

Tommy listens intently to all the noises you make as Joel eats you. Your cunt and those lewd, sloppy, wet sounds it’s making as it’s licked, sucked, lapped at and kissed. Your moans, how they turn from loud and spaced out between each other, to quick and breathy, shorter and higher pitched. When you begin to go quiet Tommy watches you closer, your eyebrows knit together, the muscles in your thighs begin to jerk and flutter. “You close, sweetheart?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, “S-so close.”

“Not yet, Joel,” Tommy says. And Joel listens. Your mouth drops, your eyes wide and dismayed like a wounded animal as he retreats from you, his lips and chin shiny with your juices. You look at Tommy with that same hurt expression.

“Hey. Don’t you pout at him like that,” Joel barks. “S’rude. Tommy’s a guest in our home. You need’a apologize.” 

A contrite look washes over your face and you apologize quickly, “I’m sorry, Tommy.”

Tommy looks impressed by the way you submit yourself so readily to him. “S’water under the bridge, darlin’,” he purrs.

Joel rises then, groaning as his joints softly pop and crack. He rounds the bed and props a couple of pillows up against the headboard, sighing softly as he sits on the bed and leans against them. He spreads his legs and reaches forward to grab you by your armpits and pull you back against him, his bare chest against your back, his warm, stiff package pressing into you. You’re still facing Tommy as Joel spreads your legs apart. “Can you spread ‘er a bit wider?” Tommy asks him. 

“Certainly,” Joel says. “Your wish is her command. Isn’t it, baby?” Joel nudges the side of your face with his nose, you can smell your arousal on his skin. “Show Tommy what he wants to see.” You spread your legs a little further apart, “Keep goin’,” Joel whispers. “You know what to do.” 

You do know what to do. You’re about to feel so exposed, so bare. With trembling hands, you reach for your center and spread your own lips a little wider for Tommy’s gaze. Joel kneads your breasts as Tommy takes you in and watches your pussy drip onto the bed sheets. “Prettier than a picture,” he says. 

“Yeah, ain’t she just,” Joel says. He pulls your hands away and replaces them with one of his own to cup your mound, the other sliding up your torso, your neck, until your jaw is held securely in his hand. He’s making sure you don’t look anywhere but where you’re supposed to.

Joel kisses the side of your head and pulls your earlobe between his teeth, biting you gently as he dips two fingers into your slick hole to gather your arousal, and then he drags it up your seam and circles your clit. 

“You takin’ requests, Joel?” Tommy inquires. Your eyes flicker to his and he meets you with a lopsided grin. It’s a dangerous one at that, one that tells you he’s going to like making you suffer, ache, and beg for it just as much as Joel does. 

“Name it.” 

“Go a little slower. Don’t give it all to her yet.” 

You whine and squirm at Tommy’s instruction. “Relax,” Joel grunts. “You’ll be fine. We’re goin’ nice an’ slow for Tommy tonight.” Joel whispers, his fingers no longer circling your clit but prodding gently at your hole. “Nice…and slow.” 

There’s no gratification at his touch, no relief. You stay upright and facing Tommy, willing yourself to stay focused on him, knowing that he’d probably find satisfaction in ratting you out to Joel should you look away. Tommy watches you carefully, watches the way your bottom lip wobbles and how you writhe with Joel’s teasing. He holds his palm against his erection and presses down hard on himself. He groans, he almost sounds like he’s in pain. He’s been denying himself his own touch for far too long and unzips his jeans to pull his cock out. It springs up, long and thick, his tip blushing an angry red color. 

You study him as he tends to himself. He spits in the palm of his hand and wraps it around his member, tightening his fist as he watches your pussy being teased. A couple of his dark curls fall forward over his eyes as he tilts his head down, and he frantically pushes them out of his face. You swear you’ve seen Joel do the same thing before. You watch all of Tommy’s mannerisms and expressions, and see them mirroring those of his brother. It’s almost jarring.

You wonder if he’d tease you like this too. If the tables were turned, and it was Joel in that old recliner instead of Tommy, if he’d tease you as agonizingly. Probably, but there’s a part of you that doesn’t think so. Tommy’s impulsive at times, impatient. Joel’s not - he’s calculated, careful. Intentional. You wonder if Tommy’s hands would have the same warmth that Joel’s do. 

Tommy chuckles as you buck your hips into Joel’s hand. “You’re torturin’ that poor girl, Joel.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Joel goads, his mind apparently thinking the same thoughts as yours.

“Oh, without a doubt,” Tommy replies., winking at you. 

Joel lazily draws patterns up and down your folds, circling around your clit now and then. You grip his forearms, nails digging into his skin, feeling his muscles flex under your palms as your hole clenches, arousal dripping from it and furthering the mess on the sheets. “Joel,” you whine, “Please.”

“M’just the middleman right now,” Joel purrs. It’s the most frustrating thing he could say. You know he’s at the top of the totem pole right now, that he holds all the power. But the way he pretends he doesn’t is what makes it all so fucking frustrating. 

You look at Tommy, begging him silently. “Give her a little,”  he says. “I’m feelin’ generous.”

Only then do you feel Joel's fingers dip inside you. Finally, you feel that stretch you’ve been craving as he pushes them as far as they can go, down to his scarred knuckles. You sigh in relief, “Fuck,” you breathe. Joel pumps his fingers in and out of you a couple of times, simply stretching you. 

“Hey Tommy,” Joel says. “You wanna see somethin’ cool?”

Tommy nods, still pumping his cock up and down. Joel adjusts himself some and begins to curl his fingers inside of you repeatedly, hitting that sweet spot he’s come to know so intimately. “Fuck, fuck,” you whine. The effect the action has on you could not be more glaringly apparent. You’re squirming, eyes rolling back into your skull as your thighs clamp around Joel’s arm, your toes curling as the feeling builds and intensifies. His other hand has left your jaw and he’s tweaking your nipples now. “Joel, oh my god, it - you - s’good–”

“Look at her go,” Tommy marvels. “Fuckin’ Christ.” He pumps himself more furiously now, watching as you melt under Joel’s touch. He’s so beautiful like this, fucking himself into his fist to your image. But it’s all too much, you retreat into yourself, eyes fluttering shut as you lean back onto Joel’s shoulder. He nudges you forward, “Don’t be gettin’ lazy on me, now. C’mon, up–” Joel pulls his fingers from your core unceremoniously, slick and shiny with your juices. He stuffs them in your mouth and has you suck on them, taste the tangy sweetness. When he pulls them out, you know what’s coming next. “On your hands and knees, sweetheart.” 

You move into position like Joel’s asked you to. Your legs and arms tremble as you do, garnering a soft chuckle from Tommy. “You’re alright,” he soothes, still chuckling a little. “One step at a time.”

Joel pulls his boxers all the way off and kneels behind you. He pushes your chest down a bit, angles your hips up as he uses a knee to spread your legs wider. He planned it this way - there’s a mirror on the wall opposite the bed that will not only allow him to admire your body rocking with his every thrust, but that allows him to see your face. To check in on you. To make sure you’re looking at Tommy, Just as you’re supposed to. 

Joel runs a palm up and down your spine before taking his rock hard and leaking cock in the other hand, pumping it a couple times and rubbing the tip over the swell of your ass before he lines it up with your entrance. He notches himself at your entrance and sucks in a deep breath as he pushes himself into you fully, in one swift thrust. 

You whine. It hurts, really hurts. It always does, always takes you a minute to adjust and get used to the delicious, aching stretch of his cock sliding inside of you to the furthest depth. “Just look at Tommy,” he tells you in a hushed tone, his way of distracting you from the pain. “Focus on him. You’re okay.” 

“T-Tommy,” you sob. 

“S’right, you just keep lookin’ at me, beautiful,” he coaches. “Look at how good you’re doin’. Doin’ so good.” 

Your eyes flutter shut and you arch into it, into Joel, allowing your body to welcome his intrusion. He pulls out of you slowly, admiring the way your arousal has coated his cock, and then buries himself inside you again. Tommy watches the way your fingers twitch as you grip the bed sheets. 

Joel grunts as he rocks into you at a slow and steady pace, working himself deeper and deeper inside your cunt. He loves the way his cock disappears into your body with each of his slow, calculated thrusts, the whimpers that fall from your lips to match. “Oh, there she is,” Joel purrs. “I know, baby. I’m listening. Tell me how good it feels.”

“So good,” you moan. You’re inundated by him, just like always. Lost in his touch, his palms so warm and heavy on your skin. Lost in the pleasure flowing between your hips as he fucks you. 

“Joel,” Tommy calls his name softly. Fuck. When your eyes find him, he’s looking right at you. “Your girl ain’t lookin’ at me. Beginnin’ to wonder what I came down here for, you know.” 

Joel laughs. “You’ll have to give her a minute, Tommy. She has trouble listenin’ when I got her stuffed full like this. Don’t you, sweetheart?” Joel leans forward and wraps a hand around your throat so he can whisper in your ear, “Don’t make him say it again.” It’s a warning, your one and only.

“Yeah, you said she’d do that,” Tommy says. “Poor baby.”

You watch him like you’re supposed to. He’s watching just as intently, his eyes are dark and his gaze is unwavering. He’s completely mesmerized by you as his stroking becomes faster, harder, sloppier. 

“Tell Tommy how much you like havin’ him watch you,” Joel pants. 

“Yeah,” Tommy says, “Tell me, sweet girl. I wanna know.” 

“I like it, Tommy,” you rasp. You didn’t even realize tears were brimming in your eyes until a few fall down your cheeks. Your stay focused on Tommy. He’s biting his bottom lip, breathing heavily through his nose as he pumps himself. “I love it.”

 “I do too, honey. I think you’re so pretty, gettin’ fucked like this.” 

Joel fucks you just like that for a little while longer, slamming his hips into you at a frenzied pace. He winks at Tommy as he curls himself a little closer to you and reaches between your legs, the pads of his fingers finding your clit to massage the sensitive part of you. Tommy quickly smiles before his face contorts in pleasure again as he focuses on you. Tommy can see it happening, and Joel can feel it - your walls begin to flutter around his cock, your sharp breaths begin to quicken and become unsteady. You squeeze your eyes shut and concentrate hard on the familiar pleasure building deep inside of you, because it’s too hard to concentrate on Tommy. 

“She’s off in her own world again,” Tommy’s complaint is barely audible to you as you really are lost in your own world. “She just don’t listen, huh?”

“We’ve been workin’ on it. But why don’t you remind her, Tommy. Maybe you’ll get through to her.” 

Your stomach drops at that. Tommy rises and approaches you and all you can feel is anticipation, excitement. Maybe even a little fear. He extends his free arm and cups your jaw, the other one now lazily stroking himself. He stands above you in an almost domineering sort of way, just like you love. You’ve got no choice but to look at him, admire his beauty - his dark curls, the freckles on his nose, a different shape than his brother’s but just as beautiful. His wide barrel chest, his cock from a closer view. His pubic hair neatly trimmed, and you wonder if maybe he did it for you. 

Tommy admires you right back. Your wide eyes, your lips parted and wet with drool. Your skin is damp with sweat as your body bounces under Joel while he fucks you. Tommy lets go of his cock and holds his hand under your chin, “Spit,” he tells you, loosening his grip on your jaw. You spit into his palm and he tightens his hold on you again and goes back to pleasuring himself. He notices that you watch him stroke his cock instead of his face, but he doesn’t mind that. Tommy rubs his thumb back and forth over your cheek in a soothing manner. 

“You’re gettin’ close, aren’t you?” Joel asks. “You gonna come?”

“Y-yeah,” you nod as best as you can with your head held by Tommy and Joel never faltering in his pace. “I’m gonna –” 

“Go ask Tommy. Ask him if you’re allowed to come on my cock.”

“Tommy?” your voice is small, weak. “Please.”

“Wait on it, sweetheart.” 

You groan, fighting as hard as you can to stave off release as Joel rounds your clit with his fingertips over and over. You know it’s coming, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it as you squirm and whimper. You’re desperate, and feel pathetic. Tommy wears a pitying sort of smile as he looks down at you. You look pathetic, getting fucked on all fours, your limbs trembling uncontrollably, your eyes tear-stained as you sniffle. “Christ, she’s makin’ me soft,” he groans, rubbing your cheeks affectionately. “Let her come, Joel. She earned it.” 

Finally, release. You moan loudly, coming immediately, your vision turning blurry from the intensity. You feel like you’re going to break into a million little pieces as Joel fucks you apart. It’s surreal, feeling Joel’s frenetic thrusts inside of you while you’re looking right at Tommy. 

Joel doesn’t stop. You can tell he’s close too, but he keeps it together, all for the sake of pushing you past your limit. “Joel,” you cry. “Joel, I can - I can’t.” 

“Bet Tommy thinks you can,” he grunts. “Tommy?”

“Mhm, I do,” he replies. “Let it ride, baby. Gimme one for the road.”

It’s all a blur even when you come again. Your own orgasm coaxes Joel’s, and you feel that familiar, comforting warmth as he spills inside you, “Fuck,” he groans. “Oh, goddamn. Fuck.” The steady decline from pleasure is overwhelming, you’re not sure if it’s even happening - it’s all so endless, no clear beginning or end. Joel fucks you through his own orgasm and Tommy’s grunting, moaning as he spills into his fist. 

The rest of it happens in a daze. Joel pulling out of you, flopping back onto the bed. You collapse onto your stomach but he pulls you into his chest again, scooping up your body to hold you through the comedown. Tommy licks his hand and Joel notices how you watch, practically salivating  at the sight. Tommy looks at Joel for permission, and Joel nods.

“Be a lamb,” Joel says as Tommy holds his hand in front of your face. The implication is clear. In Joel’s arms, you lick Tommy's hand clean of his spend, humming at the taste. When you’re done, Tommy bends to kiss you on the forehead. “You did so good,” he whispers. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Tommy leaves then, and the moment settles. Your breathing slows as you come back to earth in Joel’s arms. “I spoil ya,” he says. “You know that?”

“Mhm,” you nod. 

“Was it everything you wanted?” 

You nod again. It’s true, it was perfect. 

Perfect in the way you’ll be replaying this night in your head for weeks to come. You’ll think of it in bed and during mundane activities, you’ll think about it the next time Joel fucks you. You’re already thinking of it - the way Tommy lingered in your mind before, how he watched you being fucked on Joel’s fingers as he washed those glasses - the same thing happens tonight. Though it’s not Tommy’s image that you think of. It’s not Tommy pumping his cock and admiring you, it’s not his smile or his sweet praises. It’s his touch that haunts you. You can still feel the weight of his palm on your cheek, and can still feel his kiss on your forehead. 

And Joel knows you’re not yet satiated. 

If you enjoyed please reblog, send me an ask, leave a comment 🩷 your words keep me motivated to write for you all

Also if you read this and have had cavity fillings before, please tell me some encouraging things 🥲 I have my first fillings tomorrow and I am very nervous

[immortaljai]

Good Talk.

1.5k Words, Smut, dirty talk, 3some, asshole behavior, porn w plot.

It was a weird family but it was your family. The amount of times the X-men tried to recruit you was sickening, Wade always in your ear about unicorns and his “Golden babys” all that you were used to. You never expected Wade to come home after his disappearance let alone with someone who seems to hate everyone. Logan was snarky, a drunk, and overall an asshole from the moment you met him.

He had this “lone wolf” batman shit going on with him, it confused you seeing Wade and him interact let along him living with you guys. You tried to avoid him as best as you could getting cursed at less then Wade but it irritated you how he hated you when you did nothing primarily to Logan other than have your tomfoolery jokes with Wade.

You really should have noticed the heated gazes, the close proximity and the borderline degrading words, Logan wanted nothing to do with you for a reason. With Wade it was different he was always..touchy always close especially when he was hurt one smaller cut off healing arm waving at Logan and one hand on your waist a bit close to your bottom as you faced him cleaning the blood off his face. If only you looked behind you to see the irritated flustered mess Logan was, truly explains why Wade laughed louder.

You’re a clueless thing indeed, how could you not have noticed Logans brushing up against you as you argue about how onions should be cut “You know what fork hands maybe if you pulled weight around here and cooked your own fucking meals you wouldnt have so much to complain about” the chopping board making loud noises as you slides irritatedly Wade was long gone getting the “Powdered donuts” for Blind Al so he really had no idea what was going down Al decided long before to leave the apartment.

“You have knifes for hands use them” you snarkily said with an eyeroll “You got a fuckin’ smart mouth you better watch it” he growled in your ear still hovering, he snatched the knife out of your hand standing behind you cutting the onions himself “Ya’ see? Maybe if you didnt run your fuckin’ mouth so much you’d learn something” that made your anger flare quickly exhaling through your nose “Maybe if you didnt fuck up what you had, you wouldnt be here and id be asshole babysitting free” the kitchen went silent as the slicing ceased you could hear him breathing lightly behind you. The knife clatted on the cutting board as he leaned down his nose touching your shoulder, his breathing on your lower back “Ya wanna repeat that?” 

You nearly shat yourself as you stuttered out or tried to stutter out an apology, however that was cut short due to Wade coming through the door “MARVEL JESUS IS BACK” you never thought you'd be so happy to hear that name quickly and swiftly moving from Logans trapped arms and running to the door “Heeeey red” you said side smile on your face as you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding “Hi sweet face, where is Whiskey dick” a grunt came from behind you knowing it was logan you paid no mind to him, as Wades eyes widen “Theses my muscle man oh you look angry i think my bone is rising” you rolled your eyes a smirk on your face as you turned to look at logan “M’ not pissed, not in the slightest” he said gruffly a beer in his hands leaning on the doorway his heated gaze on you.

Wade's eyes widened as he raised his non-existent eyebrows “Ohhh what happened while i was gone- clothes are still on” that made you scoff lightly folding your arms as you walked away from the kitchen “Dinners nearly ready” Logan said staring at Wade as you disappeared. Wade smirked walking up to Logan quite closely “So..what happened between you and sweet cheeks” Logan looked at Wade with slight uninterest “She’s got a mouth” “That can be used properly” Wade replied quickly with a smirk “Your disgusting” Logan said pinching his nose “And yet here you are a boner cause of an attitude- you pervert” 

Dinner was as usual loud, friends over as if it was a celebration, Logan in the corner watching keeping a close eye on his self proclaimed daughter a drink in hand as usual, he manspread slightly catching your gaze landing on his lap before away again, his eyes however were already on you, maybe it was the buzz, maybe it was his hormones but you looked..nice..better then nice even. Throughout the night he moved closer to you, from the chair, then next to Laura, then in the end you were in the middle of him and Wade.

Wade's arm around your waist from the moment he closed in, his eyes moving from the cleavage your shirt gave as he talked to you, his eyes taking in you completely licking his lower lip, he noticed Logan moving in and he smirked to himself. “Go get my board game for me sweet cheeks” Wade whispered to you winking to Logan, he gave Wade a blank face before taking a long swig of his drink.

You entered his room, it was cluttered as you huffed looking through his things, tossing things behind you “Where the fu-'' your sentence  was cut short as you were pushed and pinned agaist the bed a heavyweight pushed against your back before a hand came to cover your mouth “Smart mouth..” Logan whispered in your ear you blushed deeply at the bulge pressed against you and the husky voice behind you “M’ gonna need you to listen to me, there's about 6 people in the house..i'm gonna need you to be quiet” you didn't need to be told twice nodding your head slowly.

That was all he needed his hands moving up your pants pulling them down slightly his fingers reading you through your underwear “L-at that, soaked been thinking bout this?” you were pre occupied your face pressed into the sheets whimpers coming from you, that made him chuckle his pants swiftly being pulled down as his tip nudged between your core and your underwear making him sigh deeply before pulling back your slick being pulled with each drag of his hips “This- jus’ gonna have to do for now” he said fucking your thighs, his hand moving to grab your throat to lift your head, the door opened making your eyes widen as you looked back seeing Wade. 

“Fuckin knew it- you guys left me out” he frowned as he started removing his pants quickly “Dumbass- you gave me the hint” Logan groaned into your ear his pace not slowing, his tip brushing your clit perfectly with each drag of his hips, your ass jiggling each time. Wade smirked as he sat in front of you his legs opening “Hi sweet cheeks- im sorry to ask this..given your state but-” he grabbed your hair using your open mouth as a fleshlight as he sighed in content “Yeah..thats better” Wade was bigger then any male you sucked off and it didnt help thst Logan wasnt letting up, you quickly found a rhythm from sucking Wade using your hand to stroke what couldnt fit sucking his tip harshly making his eyes roll back “F-fuck yea- like a lolipop sweet face” his head thrown back as he softly rocked his hips in your mouth, Logan hand reaching up to grab his balls “There you go smart mouth, make the idiot cum” he said whispering in your ear speeding up his precum coating your cunt. Your eyes rolling back as you tried your best to deep throat Wade while stroking his cock “Ohh-Ohhh yea im about to paint the entire room white like marble-” Wades eyes squeezed shut as he held your head down moving it once, twice, three times before blowing his load down your throat and falling back his chest heaving as you swallowed it all licking his tip clean. 

Behind you, you heard a snicker as your face was pushed down into the pillow and a dick was inserted into you Logans pace started off uncaring as he used you as if you were a doll slamming you up and down as his hand rapidly rubbed at your bud “Yea- I don't see you talking now do I?” he chuckled at your muffled moans crudely his chest making contact with your back as he groaned “Fuck..cmon cum doll, cum for your asshole” he whispered in your ear making your mouth fall open as you screamed in the pillow your vision going white as you painted his cock white, triggering his own orgasm as he stuffed you full thrusting a few more times before pulling out pulling your underwear up making sure it all stayed in. Wade’s eyes crinkled into a smile seeing your fucked out face “We gotta get up doll- they gonna start speculating” however you could barely hear let along talk so you nodded dumbly 

That made them chuckle lightly as they stood up Logan stuffing his cock into his pants as Wade put back on his pants “Guess we tell them she fell asleep?” Wade asked “I don’t give a shit” Logan said walking out with a smirk leaving you in your slutted out state 

“Good night sweet cheeks” 

Still feral thanks for cumming.

[sillyblues]

𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐠𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you overhear a couple of spider-people talking about you and miguel

ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: inspired by a scene of a drama i saw in tiktok at 11:30 pm whoops here’s a small scenario while i work on that hiding pregnancy with miguel fic

part 2

You hummed to yourself as you walked towards Miguel’s room. You were so excited to talk to him about how your days went and if you were lucky, maybe you’d get to hear how his day went as well. It wasn’t like he doesn’t talk about himself, of course he does, you two were practically the bestest of friends now. It’s just that nowadays, he seemed more stressed and preferred to listen to you talk. Or at least you hoped so. He never really complained each time you rambled his ears off (which was like 83790134 times a day oops).

But a mention of your name in a hushed conversation stops your tracks.

“... [Name] is pretty close to Miguel, huh?” the conversation was actually a bit far from where you stood but thanks to your extreme superhearing, you were able to hear what they were talking about. You tilted your head. I wonder why they’re talking about me…

“Nah, I don’t think so. Miguel doesn’t even seem to like them.” You grumbled under your breath. That’s just what it looked like to others. They didn’t know that you know Miguel’s favourite empanadas are the ones sold by a Mexican granny on a stand right around the corner outside the building. They didn’t know that Miguel actually remembers what you say to him and even reacts to your stories. If that isn’t what you call friends in their natural behaviour, you don’t know what to call it.

“Yeah, it’s probably because they never stop talking. Their mouth just never know how to close for at least 10 minutes.”

“Miguel is probably annoyed at them. I wonder how he manages to keep his patience from running out with them.”

You bit your lip. Yeah, they were right…You admit that you talk a lot and you do feel a bit bad about it. But your friends haven’t told you to stop talking or that you were bothering them yet so you thought it was fine with them. If your friends said something about it, you would definitely stop and try to talk less for them. You were sure your friends would say something if they were uncomfortable, especially Miguel. You believe in them and you believe in him.

“I know right! If I was him, I would…” so you took a step forward and continued to walk towards your destination. Only this time, you weren’t humming.

.

.

.

“Hi, Miguel! Good afternoon! Such a lovely day, isn’t it?” you quirked up immediately as soon as you stepped foot into his office. As usual, he was on top of his floating station. Most of the time, he worked on planning and storing files with Lyla about which planets had been reported with anomalies. Sometimes, he watched videos of his daughter Gabriella and himself despite having already seen them countless times.

Miguel was lonely. You could see that. Sure, he had Jess and Hobie and Peter, but Jess was pregnant, Hobie was busy fighting against the government and being cool, and Peter had Mayday. You try your best to be with him because maybe he would feel less lonely with you around for him. Maybe he would be distracted by whatever you say from his exhaustion and his pain.

You swung yourself and landed on his platform. He was standing with multiple yellow screens hovered almost around him. His hands were on his waist and there was a glare on his face as he stared at it. He gave you a brief glance before turning his attention back to his work. Well, looks like today is a busy work day for him, huh. 

“Hey booo,” Lyla appeared in front of you and waved. You grinned at her. “Hey, Lyla! What’s up?”

“Ugh nothing much, except for Mr. O’hara on his red flood apparently.” She leaned and covered the side of her lips to whisper but it was no use to the said person with his abilities.

“I heard that.” His exasperated response was instant but he didn’t look away from the screen.

“Really? You did?” She asked with a higher and tightened voice with amusement. She then flashed a quick message to you. 

Miguel has been working even after you left three days ago. He wouldn’t take a rest no matter how many times I told him.

What? You looked at the back of his head in alarm. Worry immediately settled in your head and you furrowed your brows. Before you could convince him to stop, Lyla quickly made the message disappear and announced, “Oops, my power is running low. Gotta charge them now, byeeee.”

“I literally just checked your levels yesterday. Come back here—” he was cut off by her disappearing form.

He groaned and in his frustration, he swapped away the nearby items on the table. Most of them were papers but unfortunately, he didn’t notice he also swept away the teddy bear that you gifted him. It was similar to one Gabriella had and you knew this from the videos you watched with him. You thought how nice it would be to have at least a physical reminder of your love and not just ones you can see and hear. 

“I’ll get it, don’t worry!”

From his strength, the bear was flung high and without even thinking you walked backwards as you focused on its direction. You were being stupid because you forgot that you were on top of a floating platform and the floor wasn’t endless. The bear was almost near within your reach and with just one more step, you would be able to get it.

That one more step didn’t step on any solid floor but instead on air and so, you fell but not without the teddy bear in your hands. 

“[Name]!” Miguel shouted and you looked at him and finally, he was looking at you now. He ran at your falling figure with arms reaching out to you and for a second, you thought there was a tinge of panic and desperation laced in his hoarse voice and wide eyes. 

Sticky web was shot at your chest and you were quickly pulled towards him. You were hit against his figure and he caught you in his arms. You stilled and flushed, your ear was pressed against his chest and you could hear his roaring heart that beat so fast. He immediately shook you by your shoulders and yelled at you. “What were you thinking? Why weren’t you looking?”

“I mean, I was trying to catch it—” you flinched.

“Are you stupid? ¿y si te lastimas?” his nails were digging into your skin and his grip was beginning to hurt. You tried to laugh but came it off weakly.

“I just don’t want to see my gift get dirty. Besides, I’m fine—,” you tried to joke, hoping it would ease the tension and calm him down.

“Just shut up! Shut up!” he pushed you away with a growl, “Stop being so fucking reckless. I could have done it by myself. Stop annoying other people by doing stupid shit like this!”

He was breathing heavily, anger so deep in his eyes. Your eyes were wide and tears threatened to fall as you listened until it finally fell once he said his final word. Maybe the realization had finally settled in Miguel’s mind at what he had just said. His eyes widened in panic and reached out to you but you took a step back.

Your head hung low as you let his words sink in. Annoying? You couldn't even laugh bitterly like you usually do in situations like this. They were right. You were annoying him. You bit your lip. Had you been a bother to him all this time? How come Miguel never said anything?

Suddenly, his cold indifference to you was so clear and obvious now. Memories of him visibly annoyed with a frown flashed through your head. The sudden awareness made your head hurt and it burned your heart. It throbbed with a pang and you felt incapable of breathing, the pain overwhelming.

No, Miguel wasn't responsible for telling you this. You should've known better, you called yourself his “bestest friend”. You shouldn't have talked to him. You shouldn't have approached him in the first place.

You were annoying. You were a nuisance. You were a problem.

Stupid. Stupidstupidstupidstupid—

“[Name], I,” he sighed, “I’m sorry. I didn't mean—”

“No, it's fine,” you wiped your tears and pressed the teddy bear you gifted him and wanted to catch for him. You wonder if this bear was also a bother for him. Maybe it was. Everything related to you is irritating. You were tiresome. “I should be the one to say that. I’m sorry.”

“I need to go now. I’m really sorry, again.” With a brief glance at him, you immediately turned around and swung down. You almost ran as you made your exit from his office. You did the know where exactly to go, only anywhere without him and far away from him. Strength had left you once you were outside his office and you walked and walked and walked. 

Maybe if you left, nobody would find you annoying anymore.

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 TELLING THEM THEY'RE PRETTY!

FEATURING: dazai osamu, fyodor dostoevsky, nikolai gogol

SUMMARY: telling the bsd boys that they're pretty! (wordcount: 3.5k; sfw; fem!reader)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: i had cute dividers but this won't show up in the tags if use them D: ! i had sooo much fun with this! i hope you guys enjoy! :D

DAZAI OSAMU

You can’t seem to drag your gaze away from him. 

As a long day of work comes to an end, you rest your head on your arms and lean on your desk. Kunikida is still tapping furiously away at his computer, Tanizaki and Naomi are whispering about something together, Ranpo is sorting through his candy, and Atsushi and Kyouka are looking through files. But your eyes are tracing over Dazai Osamu as he leans back in his chair, lazily spinning and bobbing his head to the music he’s listening to. 

The setting sun casts an ethereal glow over him, his lips idly turned up and his lashes brushing his cheeks as rests his eyes waiting for the day to end. Dazai Osamu is pretty—you’ve always acknowledged that—but there’s something about the peace of this moment, the domesticity of the office and the ambience of the lighting that has you utterly enraptured.

He looks so at ease, and Dazai Osamu is never at ease. Even when he throws up that clownlike mask of his and spends his day entertaining under the guise of joy and humor, you can always see the strain in the corner of his eyes and lips. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible really—if you were anyone else, you’d miss it, but you’re not anyone else, much to his displeasure, because you know he hates how easily you can see right through him.

After a few minutes, Dazai peeks his eyes open—and you’re almost breathless, because his eyes are like melted honey beneath the sunset, warm and gentle, glittering with amusement. You think you can stare at him forever and never tire of it.

He rolls his chair closer to you, resting his forearms on your desk so that your arms are brushing and laying his head down on them so that his face is mere inches from yours, matching your position. There's a smile on his lips, soft and teasing as he whispers, "You've been staring at me for five minutes."

"Mhm," you agree, voice just as quiet as if to not disturb the tranquility of the office. You can feel his breath light against your face from the proximity he's laying at and you can smell peppermint on his breath from the candy you’d seen him swipe from Ranpo’s desk earlier when the other man had gone to speak to Fukuzawa.

“Is there something on my face?” he asks playfully, dark eyes glimmering as he waits for your response.

You can tease him back and say yes, as you usually do and is probably what he expects—and you fully intend to do just that but the words that leave your lips are not that. 

“You just look really pretty today,” you say softly, watching as his eyes widen just a bit at your words, pink dusting his cheeks. 

His lips part to say something but no words leave them. He opens and closes them a few times and you marvel because Dazai must know that he’s pretty from all of the attention he gets from women, so you don’t understand why he’s so thrown off hearing you voice it out loud. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him genuinely speechless before now.

“So you don’t think i’m pretty every other day?” Dazai pushes his bottom lip out into an over-exaggerated pout, recovering swiftly from your words, though you expected nothing less from him. But you can’t help but note that his cheeks are still a bit pink and there’s something indecipherable in his eyes.

“Prettier than usual,” you amend and watch as the flush on his cheeks darkens and he instead resorts to completely burying his face in his arms with a frustrated groan.

“I am supposed to be the flirt, bella,” he complains, voice muffled by his arms as he hides his face from your view. He cannot hide the way his ears have gone bright red, and you have half a mind to reach out and tug at them

You lift your hand to your lips to hide the giggle that rises to your lips, scooching your chair a bit closer so you can knock your shoulder against his. 

“I’m not flirting,” you say. “Just stating a fact.”

He turns his head to the side, just enough so that he can give you a heavy side eye—you can only barely see the red hue coating his cheekbone. 

“Not mutually exclusive,” he says grumpily, and you lean down to press your lips against his now exposed forehead, smiling softly as his eyes instinctively flutter shut and his body relaxes as the touch.

Then, you receive a pencil to the side of your head. You yelp as your hand flies to where it had made contact with you, scowling at your assailant who is none other than Ranpo, smiling widely as he waves at you and then motions to Kunikida, who is red faced and staring at the two of you. You can’t tell if it’s in embarrassment or anger.

“Not during work hours,” he snaps, and you realize that he’s definitely embarrassed, so you share a short look with Dazai, who has regained that mischievous look in his eyes as he glances over at Kunikida and back at you.

Without saying a word, or giving any other sort of warning, he leans in to press his lips against yours. It’s a short and chaste kiss, but his lips are soft and taste of candy, and you think you might be able to kiss them forever if you get the chance.

Now you’re the one flustered, you can feel heat rising to your cheeks as you stare at Dazai, who is evidently thoroughly pleased to not be the one uncomposed if the unscrupulous grin on his lips has anything to say about it.

He tosses you a wink before rolling his chair back over to his desk, animatedly complaining about Ranpo and Kunikida being lonely and bitter and getting in the way of Dazai’s chance at true love because of it—you only roll your eyes at his dramatics, as you usually do when Dazai goes off on tangents, but it’s with much more fondness this time. 

•••

FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY

You are not listening to a single word that he’s saying. 

It’s a dangerous situation to be in with Fyodor Dostoevsky, you’re sure he’s noticed by now and he will be petty enough to finish his brief about his plans and your involvement and then ask you to repeat what he said, but you just can’t focus. 

He tied his hair back, you note, still quite a bit awed by the sight. There are two locks framing his face and his bangs are falling between his eyes, but the rest of his hair, which has grown a bit long in the weeks that he’s been ardently preparing for the final stages of his plan, is pulled back into a lax bun. 

He looks so casual, and Fyodor Dostoevsky never looks casual. He’s dressed in a turtleneck and loose pants as he leans back in his chair. There’s a folder resting on his lap that he’s idly flipping through and he keeps glancing up at you occasionally, pale lips flat and violet eyes disapproving, but you just nod along to his words even though you know that he knows that you’re not paying attention. 

And you think, distantly, that you probably should be paying attention because he’s talking about your upcoming mission and what you should expect from it but you figure you’ll be fine—it’s a simple infiltration mission, nothing to worry about. And you’d much rather prefer to appreciate Fyodor’s rare repose than to listen him droll on about boring topics. 

Sometimes, you think if he just kept his mouth shut all the time, he’d be perfect. But you think you’d miss his sharp-witted comments and the lengthy debates the two of you have after a few glasses of wine.

He looks extra pretty tonight, even beyond the casual hairstyle and clothes and his uncharacteristically relaxed demeanor, and you think it’s because of the way the flames of the fireplace are casting an enchanting orange and red glow over his face. It makes the violets of his eyes burn alive in a way that they usually don’t, you’re far too used to the glacial visage they take whenever he puts his attention on someone. Every time he glances up at you, you swear that you can get lost in them.

“… And you are not listening to a word that I am saying, are you?” 

Fyodor is giving you the heaviest side eye as he finally calls you out, expression unamused. His brows are furrowed and his pale skin is taut with thinly veiled irritation.

“Of course, I am,” you dismiss, waving your hand. “Infiltration mission, detective agency, get close to the tiger boy.”

Fyodor looks distinctly unimpressed by your words, brows deepening—you figure you must have spoken wrongly, you probably shouldn’t have been so indifferent, and you bite back a sigh before reaching forward to press two fingers between Fyodor’s eyebrows, as if to forcibly smooth away his annoyance.

He blinks and draws back, out of reach of your arm, and then casts you an even more irritable look.

“You’re not taking this seriously,” he accuses. “This mission will be dangerous, you’ll be at risk of being exposed every moment you are in the agency and if you are exposed-“

“Your plans will be ruined,” you finish, forcing yourself not to roll your eyes. “I kno-“

“You could be killed,” Fyodor corrected, voice cold and sharp, and you look back over to him. He looks unusually intense, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the appearance that the flames of the fireplace are giving him as they flicker dangerously across his face or if it’s because he’s that displeased with you being distracted. Either way, you find your mind drifting again because wow. “Dazai Osamu is not a man to be taken lightly. When he manages to figure out who you are and what you’re doing, we will need an immediate extraction plan.”

“Careful, Fyodor,” you drawl, watching as his violet eyes narrow briefly, “almost sounds like you care.”

Fyodor’s lips twist but he doesn’t respond. You raise your eyebrows, he looks away. Your eyes shoot open.

“You have a bigger role to play,” Fyodor finally says, but he’s no longer looking at you. “You cannot be killed yet.”

“Yet,” you repeat, amused. Fyodor’s jaw tightens, he doesn’t look at you, his eyes are trained on the fireplace to the side of the two of you and you can vaguely see the flames reflecting in his eyes, burning ardently against the familiar violet.

You lean forward again, shifting off of the couch to sit on the coffee table between the two of you so you can reach him. You reach forward to brush your knuckles against his cheek—he doesn’t move away this time, but his eyes cut to the side to watch you carefully.

You don’t say anything for a moment, absently tucking one of the locks of hair framing his face behind his ear. His hair is soft, freshly washed—for once—it smells faintly of lavender and vanilla and you wonder if he stole your conditioner.

“You look very pretty tonight, Fyodor,” you say quietly, and then smile. “It’s hard to focus when you look like this.”

The expression Fyodor directs toward you is extraordinarily blank, except for the faintest specks of pink that glare compared to the pallor of his face. 

He shakes his head, looking away from you yet again. 

“… You cause me much suffering,” he murmurs, and somehow, you know that might be the closest you might get to an admission of love from Fyodor Dostoevsky.

You smile to yourself. “And you to I,” you say, voice a bit teasing, and then you add, “Now, can you tell me again what to look out for?”

The moment is ruined. Fyodor’s eye twitches and he’s giving you that unamused look again, and you think having him repeat himself might be a mistake because now you’re even more distracted, but Fyodor sighs and starts on his lecture again so you force yourself to listen.

It takes about three minutes for him to release a sigh of utter suffering when he realizes that your eyes have glazed over yet again. 

•••

NIKOLAI GOGOL

Nikolai has a wild sort of beauty about him. He’s unpredictable and dangerous, and it’s widely apparent in his frenzied laughter and chaotic behavior. His eye glitters and his teeth gleam sharply beneath the glow of the moonlight as he waves his hands around, animatedly describing to you all of the details of the things he’s been doing while you were away. 

Fyodor’s masterplan has involved Nikolai apparently taken upon an infiltration role at the ministry of defense—you think it’s a bold move for Fyodor to use Nikolai for such a tenuous mission, but he’s apparently been having the time of his life with it. Though he thinks his boss is deplorable and one of his coworkers has evidently pissed him off beyond repair, because now he’s telling you about how he’s been ‘pranking’ the man in righteous vengeance. 

You think Nikolai’s idea of pranking varies from yours, because you’re pretty sure him using his ability to break into the man’s house constitutes a crime not a prank. But you don’t have it in you to make that distinction when he’s so excitedly telling you about how every day he’s been going into his house to move around all of his stuff and hide some of his belongings to make the man squirm. He’s succeeding outstandingly in his ambition, if the videos he’s waving in front of you have anything to say about it. 

You watch as he frantically scrolls to the next video—“this one is the best,” he claims, as he has for every video thus far. You watch with an amused smile as his dark-haired coworker steps into his apartment and nearly starts crying when he realizes that all of his stuff has been moved again, scrambling for his phone to call the police, who have—according to Nikolai—apparently already told him multiple times that there’s nothing they can do about it. The video is shaking wildly, as if the person filming can barely hold the camera straight, and you’re convinced that’s exactly what it is because you can hear Nikolai’s muffled laughter coming from recording.

Nikolai naturally finds it much funnier than you do, half-way keeling over as he wheezes, his laughter shattering the peaceful night. The two of you are sitting at a park near the apartment that Fyodor had leased for you for the duration of the Yokohama operation. The moon is high in the sky, casting a bewitching glow over the lake in front of you and there’s a chill in the air—it’s a nice night all around, you think there will probably some frost dusting the grass in the morning but the cold hardly bothers you now with Nikolai pressed to your side as he laughs himself into a near-coughing fit over his harassment of his coworker. 

“Why aren’t you laughing?” Nikolai suddenly complains loudly, scowling at you, but even then he keeps having to bite back residual laughter whenever he glances back down at his phone. “It’s funny.”

“It is funny,” you agree. Nikolai gives you a look as if he doesn’t believe you. “It is.”

“Then why aren’t you laughing?” Nikolai accuses doubtfully, and then adds, even more accusatory, “You hate me.”

You’re not sure why you aren’t laughing, honestly. Usually you’d be burying your face into his shoulder trying to smother your snickers, because even though you might not entirely agree with Nikolai’s idea of a prank, you can still find some humor in it. Because it is kind of funny. Kind of. 

But then you realize that you’re probably not laughing because you’ve been spending most of the night admiring Nikolai rather than listening to him prattle on about his escapades and watching his poorly recorded videos, so you can’t fully appreciate the humor in the videos. With his cheeks flushed from copious amounts of laughter and his eyes glowing with excitement, you think he’s very pretty tonight—Nikolai is always pretty, but the angle at which he’s sitting leaves the moon haloing behind his head, and maybe it’s just because you’ve missed him the past few weeks when you’ve been abroad dealing with a territory dispute with Tolstoy, but you think there’s something special about tonight. 

“I don’t hate you. I guess I’ve been too busy admiring you,” you finally say, a playful smile on your lips as you tilt your head to the side to look at him. “You look pretty tonight.”

Nikolai blinks, eyes wide and owlish as he processes your words. The longer he goes unresponsive, you acknowledge that a quiet Nikolai is far more unnerving than a loud and erratic Nikolai, you’d expected a more… theatrical response to your comment. A swish of his cape, him leaping to his feet with a twirl and an agreement, even just a wild laugh; instead, he looks away abruptly. He doesn’t even just look away, he physically turns his whole body away from you. 

You blink.

“Nikolai?” you ask, a bit astonished when he literally ignores you. You lean forward, trying to get a look at his face, but then he swivels around even more and your lips part in shock. “Nikolai.”

You’re only met with a face full of his soft white hair, impeccably braided, as per usual—you have half a mind to tug at it hard to try to get a response from him, but you aren’t in the mood for the lewd comment that would likely spill from his lips after. 

“Koly-“

“Poor me, poor me,” Nikolai suddenly cries loudly, “The little koshenya mocks me when all I do is try to make her laugh. Poor me, poor me.”

His hand flies to his face, melodramatic as he bemoans your alleged cruelty. You stare at him, mind trying to piece together what exactly is happening—Nikolai is always hard to predict, but you feel like this is a bit strange even for him, and that’s saying something. 

“… What?” you start to ask but Nikolai has thrown himself into a loud and theatrical tirade about how he doesn’t deserve such injustice and how he was only trying to make you laugh, and how it’s so, so cold-hearted of you to taunt him when this is the first time the two of you have seen each other in weeks. 

Nikolai is impossible to bargain with when he gets like this, so you only sigh and tilt your head up to the sky, his words flying in one ear and out the other as you wait for him to settle down on his own. 

Instead, you swear the world is against you because rather than settling down, he becomes increasingly more noisy and distressed, and his accusations become even more asinine. Now, he’s saying that you’ve always had it out for him and how you weren’t laughing at his jokes because you hate him and want to report him to the police and how he should tell Dostoy about your betrayal, or better yet, he should stuff you in his cloak and leave you there?

You side-eye Nikolai heavily as he continues on, slightly alarmed, but brush off the casual threat as just Nikolai being Nikolai. You don’t know how to shut him up, you think you might be out here all night listening to him, and now you’re the one bemoaning your fate because how did a simple compliment turn into this. 

Finally, an idea strikes. 

You brace yourself, questioning your sanity and your entire existence before you interrupt him with a loud, “Quiz time!”

Nikolai goes silent instantly, head snapping toward you, eye even wider than before. 

You think you’ve hit an all time low as you say, “Was I trying to mock you before?” Nikolai opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off before he can. “What’s that you say? I wasn’t? Ding ding! We’ve gotta winner!” 

You think Nikolai might be having an internal crisis. He’s staring at you as if he’s seeing you for the first time in his life—his lips are parted, his eye void of the usual mischief dancing in it. He looks as if he wants to say something but he doesn’t know what. 

You let out a long breath as you go to speak up again, but before you can, his eye is glittering again, sharp and dangerous, and his lips are curving up into a slow smile. 

Nikolai inhales and then he takes a complete one-eighty as he bursts into loud cackles and says, “Ahahaha! I knew you loved me!” as if he wasn’t just lamenting your irrational hatred for him moments before.

Your eye twitches. He begins a second tirade, this one far more embarrassing for you than the last. 

You regret everything.

[hargreeves-duncan]

Can I request five x reader (takes place in s2) where reader (five’s partner) gets sent to Dallas around a year before five comes and after he does and reader sees him, she immediately tackles him on the spot and gives him many kisses. Maybe reader manages to work at a casino too

a/n: hi, thank you so much for your request! i haven’t written in a while so i'd love to hear your thoughts, enjoy!!

summary: it's been far too long since you've seen your boyfriend - he learns that the affectionate way.

warnings: reader works at a casino but there’s no actual gambling so🤷‍♀️

word count: 1.4k

You had to hand it to yourself, for someone who’d known next to nothing about life in the 1960s, you’d adapted pretty well. In no time at all, you’d managed to land yourself a job as a waitress in a casino. A very good one. It seemed in this timeline, Jack Ruby thought a casino would be a better investment than a night club - and for your part, you couldn’t say that he was wrong, nor could you complain.

The hours were long, but the pay was good enough and the other girls had taken you in as one of their own. You quickly began to excel. Strolling between the tables and flashing smiles was easy, second nature even. You developed the wit and charisma to charm the casino’s patrons without second thought, which meant you got more drinks served, more loyal customers and bigger tips to go along with them. 

Most nights the new life you’d built for yourself was more than enough but sometimes, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t help but yearn for what had come before - who had come before.

There was always a dull ache in your chest whenever you caught a fleeting glimpse of a lone, brown-haired man at one of the tables. In those moments, you could never stop yourself from believing for a slither of a second that Five had made it and he’d come right back to you.

You’d waited for him in that dingy, old alley for two weeks straight, because you knew that Five would never abandon his family like that. That something must’ve gone wrong, but it was okay because he’d come back and everything would be fine. That was what you told yourself. You were so sure he’d show up and solve everything in an instant, because that was what he always did. And when he hadn’t, it had almost destroyed you.

The first few months were gruelling, taking your first steps in the new world had taken a while. Grieving Five had taken longer. The obvious truth was staring you in the face. A year without contact from him or any of the other Hargreeves siblings? The probability was that you were the only one who had survived.

It was a truth that you were reluctant to admit, even now. One that led you to where you are today, starting yet another night shift, beside the casino’s bar, to serve a particularly rowdy Friday night crowd of patrons.

As you begin to set up, Mary-Anne, one of the other waitresses on shift, sidles up to you. Her honey-blonde curls bouncing around her ears as she leans against the bar. Trying to stifle her laugh, in her southern drawl, she says, “Has he tried talking to you yet?”

You raise an eyebrow at her, tilting your head to the side, “Has who tried talking to me yet?”

Her grin grows wider as she gestures to a table on the far corner of the room, laughing, “That little boy. Haven’t I said a million times that we oughta get tighter on the security in this place?”

She sighs, resting her hands on her hips, “I went over to him - trying to tell him that we don’t allow minors in here - and what’d he do?”

Deciding to humour her, you smile, looking down at her, “I’ve got no idea, tell me.”

She scoffs, shaking her head as she smiles, “He told me that he more than knew his way around place a place like this and that I had nothing to worry about with him. Can you imagine having the nerve like that at his age?”

The thought made you laugh. It reminded you of Five. His haggard temper in the body of his younger self always seemed to shock people in the very same way. You paused. It couldn’t be him, couldn’t it? You must be jumping to conclusions. After all this time, it’d make no sense if he was here now and yet…

“He said that?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing as you glance between the table and Mary-Anne. You squint, trying to see if you could recognise him.

A part of you felt silly and girlish for still holding out hope but this kid’s description was just too similar and besides, you were a teenager again, you were allowed to be lovesick and entirely delusional. It was practically your god-given right.

Mary-Anne nodded, loading her tray up with drinks of all shapes and sizes to cover her half of the room, “He did.”

Your eyes were locked onto the distant table, practically pleading for the kid to just turn around and let your hopes down already. Still, all that greeted you was the back of his head and the green fuzz of the poker table in front of him.

When you didn’t tear your eyes away, Mary-Anne looked you up and down, her baby blue eyes swimming with concern, “You alright there?”

Looking back at her, you sigh, already pent up at the possibility of Five being so close, “Yeah, I just… What did he look like?” You ask tentatively, biting your rouge-tinted, bottom lip between your teeth.

Mary-Anne hums in thought as she loads your tray for you, “Gosh, I don’t know - he had dark hair, was wearing a suit. It had the funniest, little emblem on it.” She says, tapping her chest in place of where it would’ve been.

Your eyes widen in shock and excitement as you process her words, “An umbrella! It was an umbrella, wasn’t it?”

Mary-Anne grins, giggling, “It was… how’d you know that?”

You couldn’t even answer her. You were already starting to tremble and hyperventilate, entirely overcome with nerves and joy and pure, unbridled excitement all at once. A year of being apart and now he was no more than a few strides away. Your smile brightens up like no other.

You slip your tray from over your head and place it down on the bar as you say, “Hey, cover for me, would you? I’ll be two seconds.”

Without waiting for her answer, you dash across the room - a flurry of giddiness bubbling up inside of you the closer you get. You tousle your hair and straighten your uniform, anything to keep your anxious fingers busy and to better yourself for something you’ve waited for for far too long.

Hearing heels coming towards him again, Five sighs in frustration and turns around in his chair, “Lady, I already told you-“

The breath feels like it’s been stolen from your throat as he turns to face you. It’s really, truly him. Your boyfriend is right there in front of you and you’ve never felt more relief than in this moment.

“Y/N.”

You’re not sure if you want to cry or scream or simply just take him in for the first time all over again. As you look over him, his piercing gaze, his dark hair and the freckle on his right cheek that you can’t count the number of times you’ve kissed, your eyes can’t help but be drawn to his lips.

God, how you’ve missed the feeling of them. You barely have time to think about what you’re doing before you’re cupping his face and pressing your lips against his once more, savouring every part of him in a way you’d never thought to before.

Your hands trail over every callous in his skin, memorising him with your fingertips, and as you pull back, Five’s gaze softens like nothing else as he smirks, “Hello, you.”

His hands reach out to cup your face, gazing over you as if he’s not entirely sure that you’re real. After all your time apart, you’re not sure either. You smile, nodding, “It’s me. It’s you. You’re here, you’re really here!”

You cup his face in return and you can’t help but press another kiss to his lips. He smiles fondly as you do. And so you kiss him again… and again on his cheek… and on his freckle… his chin… his forehead. Everywhere your lips can reach, you press them.

After a moment, he laughs weakly and reaches up to pull your hands away from his face and intertwines them with his own fingers instead, “Okay, love.” He says chasteningly, “Let’s calm down there, shall we?”

Your smile grows shyer as you right yourself, “Sorry.” You say, brushing your hair away from your face.

He shakes his head, brushing your hair back for you and then guiding you by the waist to the seat beside him, “No, don’t be sorry. Don’t ever be sorry. Believe me, I’m just as happy to see you. Really.”

It’s him who initiates the kiss this time. He’s soft, delicate almost, in the way that he kisses you, as if each movement of his lips is a new way of giving all of his love to you and promising that he won’t ever let you out of his sights again.

[ln4swiftie]

Slim Pickin’s

☕️ ln4 x bestfriend!reader

☕️ where your childhood wish becomes a reality

☕️ warnings - none !! just some fluff and kisses

☕️ word count 1.5k

☕️ a/n : so i heard sabrina carpenters song that’s gonna be on short n’ sweet and then this was born two days later !! enjoy <33

“Maybe I'm gay.”

your best friend, lando, looks at you, confused. “what?” he asks through a chuckle.

you were fed up. The number of douchebag men that you have in your phone and not one of them has ever made it to a second date. That fact makes you want to rip your eyeballs out.

“maybe god just forgot my gay awakening and that’s why i can’t find a boyfriend! maybe i just don’t like men.” you throw your head back on the couch in lando’s living room in monaco.

“i doubt that he just forgot,” lando giggles

you knew this wasn't true. you knew you liked men and only men. because you definitely liked the man sitting at your feet, and you have since you were both 15. you’ve just never ever told him.

And you planned to keep it that way.

you groaned. “No, Lando, you don’t get it! it’s slim pickings around here. half the men in my phone don’t even know the difference between there, their and they’re!” quiet giggles from the man sitting across the couch from you filled the room.

Lando knew you were only joking, yet he can’t help but feel bad at your lack of dating life when he has models flocking toward him at all hours of the day. granted, the girl he wants isn’t even a model. In fact, she’s sitting right in front of him, sprawled out on his couch, complaining about boys. but she didn’t know that.

And he planned on keeping it that way.

—

Throughout your week-long stay in Monaco, you decided to set yourself on a mission to meet a guy and go on a date. On the fourth day, you were successful!

During a coffee run while lando streamed, you met a guy who asked you out to dinner the following night. You were so excited since given your history, the chance of a guy asking you out was close to zero. When he asked you even scanned your surroundings to make sure he was talking to you specifically.

you were getting ready in the guest room of lando’s apartment, since you were staying there during your visit.

while applying your lip liner and gloss, you heard a knock on the door. “Hey, what are you thinking we do for din- woah.”

the curly haired brunette stared at you in awe. you were always beautiful in his eyes, yet right now he was looking at you like you were the only girl in the world. it then clicks in lando’s head that you’re not dressed for him. “Why are you all dressed up?!” he teases, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“oh i have a date!” you hum with a smile.

he looks at you confused, like he doesn’t believe you fully. leaning against the doorway “what happened to slim pickings?” he pokes, crossing his arms atop his chest.

“can’t a girl meet a guy and go on a date? gosh.” you scoff, slightly annoyed that he’s teasing you over this. you’d hoped he would be happy you’re crawling your way out of this slump of being single. it was one of the things you loved about him — how he always treated you with nothing but kindness and support.

“Fine, fine, whatever. have fun, i guess” he turns around and ducks into his office, closing the door harsher than you expected. Just as you make a mental reminder to have a talk with him about it, your phone chimes — your date is waiting in the lobby.

lando watches you from the cracked doorway of his office, as you do a final check of your makeup in the mirror of the mud room. he thought you looked beautiful and was silently raging at the fact he isn’t the man you’ve dressed up for tonight. he’s liked you since you both were young kids running through the suburban bristol streets while your parents sat on the patio of his childhood home socializing over cocktails.

You were always there to support him through his racing career and you were the first person he called after McLaren chose to extend his contract. While he doubted himself and everyone told him to leave, you told him to follow his heart and do what felt right to him. Now, he’s a race winner with the team he calls home. To him, it’s always been you. You have always been the girl he pictured his life with.

But his gut always told him you’d never return these feelings back to him.

—

your date went horrible. All the guy did was talk about himself. and once he found out you were friends with some celebrities, the date had ended there for you. although you got some free drinks and a meal out of it. it only made you fall further into this loneliness.

the elevator dings, signaling you’ve arrived at the floor of lando’s apartment. you stumble to lando’s door. the alcohol takes effect and makes you trip into the door, startling Lando who’s standing just on the other side, waiting for you. He throws the door open, finding you standing there with slightly messed up hair and a frown on your face.

“c’mere,” he says quietly, taking you to the couch. sat on the coffee table in front of you, he gently took your foot into his lap. you feel his soft touch as he gently removes your heels from your feet. sending shivers down your spine.

“It was horrible. all he did was talk about himself,” you say frustrated. “I also accidentally let it slip that I knew you, oh, and don’t even get me started on his horrible taste in just about everything.”

He helps you up, taking you to the bathroom and sitting you down on the counter. He rummages through your toiletries bag, before taking out your makeup remover. As he starts removing your makeup, you study every inch of his face, counting every freckle and watching the way his jaw muscles clench as he focuses.

god he was beautiful.

you feel a lump in your throat as tears begin to fill your eyes.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Lando asks, halting his movements.

“it’s just- i'm pretty sure every good man in this world is either taken or dead and its not fair.” you say letting a stray tear fall. in your head you knew you were being dramatic, but the three glasses of wine you had to get through that date have taken full control of your emotions.

Lando chuckles lightly, folding with the used makeup wipe in his hands, he looks to you “well, i’m neither of those things.” he says softly, almost as if he’s upset.

fuck. shit.

“no, no, wait, lando- i didn’t mean it like that, you're a great guy. an amazing guy actually.” you say quickly. he smiles at you as you continue to ramble “i mean, shit, i’d date you in a heartbeat-“

“what?”

you slap your hand over your mouth. holy fuck, did you really just say that? and Lando not saying anything just solidifies that he doesn’t return your feelings. Lando is staring at you like you’ve got three heads coming out of both of your ears.

you start to panic “i’m sorry, i don’t know why i said that, forget i said any-“ you’re cut off with the feeling of lando’s lips crashing into yours. his hands gently cup your face as he kisses you. you instantly return the kiss. The world slowly falls away leaving just the two of you. your hands moving to find home in his curl, slightly pulling on them. Lando releases a quiet groan. His hands work their way down your body to rest on your hips, gently pulling you closer to him.

Lando pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. “I have literally loved you since we were 16.”

you smile at him, “i love you, too.”

The two of you find yourself in Lando's bed watching your favorite movie, wrapped up in eachother. Lando turns his head to look down at you resting on his chest. Admiring your sleepy state as you attempt to stay focused on the movie he gave up on watching. How can he focus on anything else when you were sitting next to him?

the girl he's wanted since the two of you sat on his porch on a late summer night, eating the ice cream his mother tried to hide. giggles filling the air while you pointed out constellations to lando, chatting about where you wanted to be in 5 years.

“Well I hope to be in formula 1” Lando admitted. “You'll be there, I'm sure of it.” you added giving lando a smile he swore was brighter than the stars sat above.

He gasps slightly “don't move”

you freeze as he reaches a hand to your cheek, softly swiping a fallen eyelash holding it in front you.

“Make a wish” he breathed.

You shut your eyes tight, emphasizing the wish you were making before taking a big breath and sending the eyelash into the air. Followed by the sound of giggles coming from the brunette, he asks what you wished for. “If i tell you it won't come true!” you gasp faking offense.

who knew that after 8 years, your wish would finally came true.

🤍☕️.

AYAYAYAYAY ALL DONE !!

big thank u too my lovely friend who edited this and helped me <33

[ithebookhoarder]

(BAU Headcanons) If you fell asleep on them

A/N: So... guess who fell into another fandom? I blame everyone on here and their amazing fics for convincing me I need to give this show and wonderful cast a chance. I may have binged 13 seasons in like a month... oops? I'm also looking at my fav BAU bunch here but I'm open to writing for other characters from the show

Aaron Hotchner

Just like some of the other members of his team, Hotch has a hard exterior that very few people manage to crack through. 

If you and he are in a relationship then I can bet you’ve already had to chip away at it, so you’re already pretty intimate with one another. Falling asleep on him is nothing to bat an eyelid at. If anything, he would welcome the opportunity to relax and hold you close to him.  

It also gives him an excuse to steal a few moments of sleep himself, not daring to move and wake you from your rest. 

He loves holding you close, letting himself listen to the steady beating of you heart as it gently lulls him to become calm enough to shut his eyes. 

However, if you weren’t in a relationship or if it happened in front of the others at the BAU then you know he’d immediately react by saying something about ‘work place conduct’. 

However, he’s clearly saying it for the sake of it as he’d make no effort to wake you or remove you from him. 

In fact, he makes sure to stay still and let you rest peacefully, making sure your neck isn’t bent so you don’t wake up in pain. 

He’d also make sure to lay his jacket over the top of you, a clear sign that you are not to be disturbed - under pain of death. 

David Rossi 

Rossi would be the first to complain if you ever fell asleep on him but it’s all good natured. In fact, he only ever complains about it to you after you’ve woken up and only as a joke between the two of you.

“What am I? Just a pillow to you? Are you trying to say my cooking has made me plump?” 

It’s hard to resist his charming smile, especially when he actually is rather comfortable to lean on. His expensive shirts are always soft to the touch, and the cologne you’d brought him last Christmas lingers as you nestle in close. 

He always make you feel safe, and that is an honour greater than any he’d ever been awarded. 

If it happened in front of the others you know he’d roll his eyes and mutter about the cheek of it all. However, his smile would be enough to tell the others he didn’t mean it. 

“I started reading my manuscript and this is what happens… guess that’s one way to leave a review.” 

He’d be sure to shoot daggers with his eyes at anyone else nearby who looked like they would wake you up. 

He’d also shoot down any possible jokes being made at your expense, his parental nature coming out in full force. 

Derek Morgan

This boy would be so smug if you ever fell asleep on him. Like, if you imagine a Labrador’s tail wagging with one of those big dopey grins, then that’s what he is. 

He is keen to try and capture the moment with a picture, setting it as his phone background to prove to himself it really happened. 

If it happens in front of the rest of the team then you know he is going to keep reminding you and everyone else whenever he gets the chance. 

However, you know that for all the bragging and teasing Morgan is actually super touched by the fact you fell asleep on him and he is keen to offer you a place to lay your head whenever you look like you need to take a beat. 

He even has a blanket and pillow in his go-bag especially for you. 

“Only the best for you, hot stuff.” 

He will never complain about it and - considering how much torture and pain we know this man can endure - he is more than capable of handling any cramp or pins and needles he gets as a result of you lying against him. 

Eventually, he would take the opportunity to try and sleep as well. With his job and his manic lifestyle, if he gets the chance to close his eyes he knows better than to waste it. 

Emily Prentiss

She would be shocked at first, especially if it’s early-on in your relationship. She isn’t really used to public displays of affection and you sleeping with your head on her shoulder is pretty public. 

She would stay as still as possible, though, scared of disturbing you or ruining the moment. She’d also probably be panicking internally, unsure what she was supposed to do. 

However, she soon takes a breath and relaxes. After all, you look so cute when you’re asleep and she is honoured you feel comfortable enough to relax around her like this. 

She doesn’t often get the chance to just sit and be peaceful so she savours the moment you’ve given her. 

She’d end up watching you for a while before relaxing and trying to adjust you so that you’re both comfortable. 

She would also take the opportunity to be affectionate, loving that she can run her hands through your hair and kiss your head without any fear of being embarrassed or rejected. 

After all, we know Emily has a soft centre underneath her tough, bad-ass exterior. She just needs to know she is able to express it. 

JJ

JJ is such a mom to everyone including you, so is over the moon the first time you fall asleep on her. She welcomes it with open arms, happy to melt into the embrace. 

It doesn’t matter if you’ve been together long or not, or if you’re in public. Either way, it feels like a personal badge of honour to be trusted in such a way, whether or not you meant to do it. 

She has enough patience not to move a muscle in case she disturbs you and ruins the moment. She knows that if you fell asleep like this then you probably need the rest. 

JJ would totally form a blanket cocoon around you to keep you warm and toasty as you sleep, wrapping her arms around you and cradling you close.

She’d smile the whole time, pressing kisses to the crown of your head and gently murmuring in your ear whenever you seem to stir. 

“Ssssh, Sleepyhead. It’s ok. I got you. Go back to sleep, honey.”   

If it was just the two of you then she’d be sure to try and move you somewhere more comfortable after a while, like the sofa or your bed. 

However, if you were in public then she would turn into a full mama bear and threaten anyone who came close or tried to disturb you. She has that angry mom look down to a fine art and has made grown men wither with it.

Penelope Garcia 

This beautiful baby angel would be so delighted if you fell asleep against her that she’d probably wake you up by accident after squealing a little too loudly. 

“Oh, oh, sorry. Sorry! Go back to sleep. I’m staying as still as a statue, you precious angel, I promise. So you just close your eyes and let me hold you.”

She’d probably manage like five minutes before she moves again and wakes you up, but it was enough time for her to steal a few private photos to commemorate the moment. 

They will most definitely be the background on her computer the following morning, and possibly yours too.

She would also be sure to make sure she has a blanket and pillow stashed away for you if you ever felt like taking an impromptu nap again when you weren’t at home. 

If you worked at the BAU they’d be kept in her lair - or your private napping room, as she tells you. 

They’d also be brightly coloured and super soft, chosen specifically by Penelope to make you as comfortable and as happy as possible, even whilst at the government building. 

“Just so you know, I gave them a spritz with this gorgeous lavender mist spray to help you knock right out the moment your pretty head hits the pillow. So, sweet dreams honeybun.” 

Dr Spencer Reid

Spencer is a precious boy and would be utterly baffled at first if he looked down and realised you had fallen asleep on him. 

He would be surprised he hadn’t noticed you drooping against him sooner, or that your breathing had slowed as you fell asleep. 

At first he thinks it must be a mistake, immediately trying to ease you off of him. After all, he wasn’t the most comfortable person to sleep on and people are far more likely to find his company irksome rather than soothing. 

However, after you start doing it more often he realises that isn’t the case. 

In fact, he feels rather proud that you’ve got the point in your relationship where you aren’t afraid to relax around him. 

He also learns how not to let it over-stimulate him. It takes some time to train his mind to not think about the possible pathogens that could be passing between you or the way your hair tickles his face. He’s also able to talk to you about positions to curl up in if you ever want to sleep against him again, that he feels more relaxed in. 

He’d also totally be happy to tell you all about whatever his latest hyper-fixation is, knowing the sound of his voice helps you settle better than any lullaby. 

Masterlist

[stunie]

NO BRAKES ! ᯓ⭑ 1.2K wc. ft. dabi x f!reader

summary: oh, so you wanna ask him “is that all you’ve got?” while he’s balls deep inside you and see what happens? here’s a lil hint for you: he’s not gonna be very happy with you.

contains : explicit smut (18+), brat taming, overstimulation, mentions of squirting, pet names, teasing, creampie, cw blood (his staple tore a lil bit), slight cw degradation (calls u dumb, but he also calls u cute !!), his dick has piercings <3, hate sex ??

note : okk here’s my response to this thirst ! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

“Look at you,” you hear Dabi growl from just above you, his hand pushing your face deeper into your couch as soon as you’re trying to spit a slew of curses at him, “What’s the matter? That’s quite the face you’re making.”

His pace doesn’t falter, still relentless even when he’s jutting out his tongue to quickly swipe at the blood that’s begun to drip down the side of his mouth, the result of the way his lips are overly stretched in a scary smile— his mouth spreading a bit too far from the way he’s laughing at how you’re squealing underneath him. “S-shut up,” you try and bark back, voice trailing off into a loud gasp when he hits a particularly deep spot inside you. “It’s t-too much. You gotta.. gotta slow down..!”

“Aww, you poor, poor thing,” he’s feigning sympathy, a terrible job at it— but the thumb that was previously pressing into your cheek a moment ago is now rubbing soothing circles against the skin. It does absolutely nothing to comfort you, only making your eyebrow twitch in annoyance at the mere thought.

“But.. i wouldn’t be complaining if i was you, little girl.”

You can smell the familiar scent of smoke as soon as he’s lowering himself to loom over you, the cold staples that line his chest now pressing against your back as you shiver. The movement has him suddenly reaching even deeper inside you, your eyes rolling further back into your skull when you feel a mixture of his cum and your juices spill out onto the fabric beneath you.

He was big enough as is… had already emptied himself inside you once tonight, got you completely filled up to the brim and yet you’re still somehow able to vividly feel the piercings lining his dick drag along your walls with each and every thrust.

The same walls he’s been so insistent on training. The same walls he’s always having to force to stretch out for him, make them open up and accommodate his thickness. It’s always been a mystery to him as to why you— down to your pussy, always act like such a fucking brat with him. Just how many times has he taken you by now?

Bent you over your couch, your table, he’s even taken you right on your welcome mat. But no matter how many times he buries his cock in you, he still has to spend his time working his fingers in you, get you all stretched out and ready to take him.

How much longer’s it gonna take for your pussy to ingrain the shape of his dick in its little mind?

He wants to make that happen tonight.

You hear Dabi loudly grunt above you before he’s suddenly grabbing you by your face, fingers digging into your cheeks as he forces you to crane your neck and peer back of him, cock twitching when he sees you shoot him your best attempt a glare.

“Ahh, still a fuckin’ brat,” he acknowledges, “looks like our practice has been helping your stamina.” His voice is steady and low, and if it wasn’t for the hungry and crazed look in his eyes— one you can easily recognize as the same look he gets when he wants to see you screaming and shaking under him.. you’d probably think he was bored otherwise.

“You know… if you didn’t have such a cute face,” he’s leaning in, and he has to stifle a laugh when your eyes flutter shut in expectance. Oh— you cutie. Did you really think he was about to give you a little kiss?

How adorable of you. So you really can be sweet sometimes.

There’s a tight squeeze to your cheeks to get you back to looking at him, your tired eyes meeting with his again as your lips are forcefully puffing out in a pathetic pout from his grip. “There you are. Said that if you didn’t have that face, then it’d be my foot pushing your head down on that couch and not my hand.”

“Consider yourself lucky.”

“..Huh?” you ask incredulously, and he’s immediately taking back what he previously thought about you being sweet, not with that attitude you’re giving him. Your voice is breathless, and he can tell your mind has already started to go dizzy from how good he feels, but you still have your pride if nothing else— much to Dabi’s dismay. “Y-you’d better not..” you’re panting now, “put your grimy feet anywhere near my face.”

He only laughs. God, he’d never even dream of ruining that pretty face.

“Yea, yea,” he coos, abruptly letting go with a disappointed shrug of his shoulders as you yelp, hands coming to catch yourself as you fall back onto the couch. “Not that it’d even matter, dollface… ‘s not gonna change the way you’re looking right now.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to retort, hands gripping around your hips now as he repeatedly pulls you back into him, bullying his achy cock into you over and over, ecstatic with the way you have to scramble to get a tighter grip on the couch, keep yourself braced and grounded so he doesn’t fuck you right off onto the floor.

And you’re being so loud. Did you really even hate him? Your neighbors wouldn’t think so. In fact, no one in a one mile radius would think so.

They would think you loved him.

“How cute— you’re already looking ruined.” There’s a subtle shake to his voice, a tell-tale sign that he’s starting to get close to his high, and the way he’s slamming so deep inside you is only a second confirmation of that. “Completely ruined. How’s that feel?”

“‘M not,” you spit back, glare contorting to a lewd expression as soon as he finds the spot that’ll have you creaming in seconds. Close. You’re so close, and it’s always about now when he starts fucking you like you’re nothing but a toy.

“Yeah?” and you absolutely hate that you know him well enough to be able to tell that he’s grinning ear to ear at the way you’ve started to tremble under him. “You’d break into pieces if i took off the brakes.”

“But you asked for it huh? Want me to destroy you and turn you into my dumb little cocksleeve?” He’s louder now, raising his voice so you can hear him over the shrieking sound of your moans. “Don’t needa ask twice, doll. now shut that bratty mouth of yours up already.”

[sluttywoozi]

Nothing Better | lch x reader

A day at the pool is the perfect thing to remind you just how hot your boyfriend is (as if you could ever forget).

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~5.2k | Pairing: lch x reader | Genre: smut

Warnings: oral r and m receiving, face sitting, fingering, multiple orgasms, prone bone, creampie, breeding kink but just the cum part, cockwarming

Reader Notes: wears a one piece, has a vagina, wap, cries a little

You’re starting to wonder if maybe going to the pool wasn’t your best idea. 

It’s not that you don’t like the water - you love to swim - and it’s not that you don’t like the sun (when you have sunscreen on), it’s just that your boyfriend looks a little too good all wet and glistening. You can’t seem to take your gaze off of him, and neither can what feels like half the people here. 

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t feeling at least a little territorial, though you know very well that Chan doesn’t have eyes for anyone but you. It’s obvious in the way he keeps glancing over at you from his floatie, checking to make sure you’re still where he left you and smiling softly when he sees that you are. 

You’re reading on your tablet, having bought a waterproof case just for this weekend trip, your elbows resting on the ledge and your body submerged in the water. He wanted to get some more sun before it set and you’re trying to avoid the very same, so you retreated to the shady end of the pool while he floated out to the sunny side. 

There are children splashing around and shouting but you’ve managed to tune them out, your focus locked on your book as it starts to build up to the climax. You haven’t gotten a lot of reading done so far, not with most of your attention on Chan, but you don’t mind that at all. You like to concentrate on being with him when you’re together, like to stay present and soak in every moment, especially since he started at his new job a few months ago. 

He’s been working so hard, putting in long hours and taking on extra projects in an effort to prove himself, but finally, he took a day off and proposed using the long weekend for a staycation. You’re only about an hour from both of your apartments but the hotel is swanky, the beds are cushy, the pool is warm, and you have Chan to yourself. 

You can tell he needed the break by the lax set of his shoulders and the unburdened curve of his smile, a stark difference to his demeanor just yesterday. His laughter comes easier too, you can hear it from across the pool as he joins a few kids in a diving contest, tossing neon pool toys into the shallow end and clapping for them every time they burst up with their treasure in hand. 

They toss the toys into the deep end and you watch as he cuts through the water, his muscled arms propelling him forward before he dips below the surface. It’s a matter of seconds before he shoots back up, holding four of the neon sticks with one hand and smoothing his soaking hair back with the other. 

You know you’re staring but you can’t help it, he’s just so toned and tanned and luscious looking, drenched with pool water and grinning bright enough to overpower the sun. Fuck, why does your boyfriend have to be so hot…

Not that you’re complaining. Far from it, in fact. You know how lucky you are to have found love in someone who’s as beautiful as they are kind, as sexy as they are smart, as handsome as they are funny. Chan is close to perfect, but that’s not why he’s perfect for you. 

It’s because he’s the kind of person who will cut short their relaxation time to play games with kids they don’t know. Because he’ll listen to and empathize with your problems before offering to help you find a solution and comforting you if there is none. Because he’s taken the time to learn you inside and out, dedicated himself to loving you and only you, made promises to you and actually fought to keep them. 

You trust him with your life, your heart, your body, and you know he feels the same way. 

All of that, unfortunately, just makes him even hotter in your eyes. 

Hot enough that though you’re nearing the most important part of your book, you’re wondering if you can drag him out of the pool and back up to the room. There are things you want to do to him and you can’t do any of them here. 

Thankfully, he’s started to wade over, tugging the floatie behind him and waving at you with an affectionate grin. You set your tablet on the edge of the pool and wave back, beaming as he approaches. 

“Hi baby,” he says happily when he arrives, leaning in to kiss your cheek and not even cringing when his lips meet sunscreen instead of bare skin. 

“Hi Channie, do you wanna head up soon?” You ask, hoping he’ll catch the undertone of desire in your voice. 

He doesn’t. 

“Maybe in like an hour? I want to swim some more, is that okay?” He asks so innocently that you don’t have the heart to tell him you want to swallow his cock then ride him into the sunset. 

“Sure, yeah, that’s fine,” you nod placidly, pasting on a fake smile and praying he’ll take it for a real one. 

He doesn’t. 

“What’s wrong?” His brow furrows in concern, his hand wrapping around your upper arm and his thumb brushing over your skin. 

“I just- I, um…” You lean in close to him and cup your hand around his ear, whispering, “You look so hot and I want your dick in my mouth, to be honest.”

“Oh,” He breathes heatedly, his hand tightening on your arm before he lets it slip down, his fingers tangling with yours. “We should go then. We should go right now.”

You just barely grab your tablet with your free hand before he drags you over to and up the stairs, pulling you behind him but walking carefully so neither of you slip. You gather your things up quickly, drying off as best you can before he takes your hand again and guides you around the pool to the small lobby of elevators. The kids wave at him as he goes and he distractedly waves back, still ushering you forward. 

You think he’d be jogging if the pool rules allowed it. 

The air in the elevator is tense, and if the walls weren’t made of glass, you know you’d be pressed up against one of them with his lips on yours. As it is, you can only squeeze his hand while it’s rising, standing next to him as it shoots up to the fifteenth floor and opens with a ding. 

“Do you have the key?” He asks urgently, watching as you dig through your bag to find the thin plastic card. You pull it free of the inner pocket and hold it to the mechanism, waiting for it to turn green. As soon as you hear the click of the lock, you’re pushing open the door and tugging Chan through, barely waiting for it to shut to turn and pull him into a kiss. 

He tastes like chlorine but you couldn’t care less, all you care about is getting his tongue in your mouth and your hands on his body. His abs tremble under your fingertips with every shaky breath he draws in, and they tense into a six pack when you sink to your knees. 

“Baby, you really want to?” He confirms, knowing that your gag reflex is more than a little bit sensitive and wanting to make sure you’re comfortable. 

“Yes, Chan, I really want to,” you murmur, your eyes already locked on the growing bulge in his swim shorts as you start to pull them down, letting gravity do the rest of the work. His dick bobs free and you catch it with one hand, your fingers wrapping around the base and squeezing tight as you guide it to your open mouth. 

You begin with gentle licks to the head, your tongue dragging over his sensitive skin and lapping at the ridge where it connects to the shaft, your eyes coasting up his body to find his half lidded and already on you. 

Now that you know he’s watching, you start to feed his cock into your mouth, moaning when you finally feel the weight of him on your tongue. He echoes you, groaning softly and gazing at you as he reaches the back of your throat. You can’t take him any further, but you know you don’t have to deepthroat him to make it good, not when you’ve made him cum like this before. 

He takes in a shuddering breath and rests his hand on your head when you start to bob up and down, swearing and fighting to keep his eyes open as you suction your cheeks around him. You fall into an easy rhythm and let your hand follow your mouth, stroking what you can’t swallow with a tight grip. 

You don’t know why you don’t do this more often. Having Chan at your mercy feels almost as good as his cock in your mouth does, and the knowledge that you’re bringing him pleasure is enough to make you feel it too. Your pussy is starting to throb with it, your clit beating in time with your heart as you grip his plush ass with your free hand, pulling him into you and taking him just a bit deeper. 

“Feels so good, baby,” he sighs blissfully, his fingers clenching in your hair when you suck up to the tip and swirl your tongue around the head. You hum in response, the vibrations making him groan and tilt his head back, highlighting the tantalizing arch of his neck and the sharp edge of his jawline. 

He doesn’t keep his eyes off you for long, his chin tucked to his chest as he watches you lap at the precum seeping out. It’s salty and bitter but you don’t mind the taste, knowing it means you’re doing a good job. 

Too good, apparently, because he cups your cheek and murmurs, “Baby, I don’t wanna cum without you.” 

Your knees are starting to ache anyway, so you press one last openmouthed kiss to the head of his cock and release him. He takes your hands and helps pull you up off the floor, leaning in and connecting his lips with yours, uncaring of the fact that his dick was just in your mouth. 

Chan’s a sweetie like that, though his kiss doesn’t stay sweet for long. He lets go of one of your hands and cups your neck, his thumb pressed to your pulse as he sucks your tongue into his mouth and moans around it. 

You’re sure he can feel your heart racing but you’re past being shy about his effect on you, know he loves to feel the physical evidence of your desire for him. He could feel even more if he slipped his other hand into your one piece, but it’s still tangled up with yours and you hate being the one to pull away. 

Chan knows this and gently untwines his fingers to grip your hip and steer you to the bed. You’re about to let him tip you back when you remember the fact that you just came up from the pool, pulling away to say breathlessly, “Chan, we’re still soaking wet, we need to get these suits off and hang them up.”

His mouth quirks in a fond half smile in response, the playful roll of his eyes soft and his hands even softer when he uses them to start pushing you toward the bathroom. He practically frog marches you to the sliding barn door, stopping only to swipe his trunks off the floor and working his fingers under the straps of your bathing suit as soon as you step foot on the tile. 

You hold onto his shoulders for stability as he peels the wet fabric down, sinking your fingers into his still-dripping hair when he kneels and presses his cheek to your stomach. 

“Let’s shower fast, I want you to sit on my face asap,” he sighs contentedly, smooching the soft skin of your belly before rising to his feet with your swimsuit in hand. 

You’re struck silent as heat floods your stomach and your cheeks, and he pinches one gently as he laughs, “What, you can be blunt but I can’t?” 

“You can be as blunt as you want if you keep saying things like that,” you assure him, reaching over to turn the shower on and fighting back the shiver that threatens to roll down your spine. 

“In that case…” He wraps his arms around you and brings you into his chest, warming you with his body heat. “I’ve wanted your thighs wrapped around my head since you climbed into my car in that sundress this morning.”

“Why’d we go straight to the pool, then?” You wonder, mystified. 

“You were so excited about your new waterproof case and getting to relax. I didn’t want to ruin the vibe with my dirty thoughts,” he pouts, reaching around you to feel the water and pushing aside the curtain so you can climb into the tub.

“Babe, I have literally never felt more relaxed than I do when you make me cum,” you admit to him as you step under the flow of the shower, tilting your head back to avoid getting your hair wet. “Your dirty thoughts can only enhance the vibe, not ruin it.”

“You promise?” He asks as he joins you in the tub, shielding you from the water. He pumps some body wash into his palm from the wall dispenser before sudsing his hands up and starting to glide them over your body. 

You hum happily and murmur, “I promise, Chan.”

Your eyes fall shut but you can still sense him smiling as he scrubs your skin free of sunscreen and chlorine. You feel fresh and clean and slightly dazed by the time he nudges you back under the water before stepping around you and beginning to clean himself off. You wake up enough to wash his back for him, spending an inordinate amount of time on his toned shoulders and digging your fingers into the knots that plague him from hours spent hunched in front of a computer. 

He rinses himself quickly and shuts the water off, grabbing a towel from the rack and carefully dabbing you dry before swiping the cotton over his own skin and stepping out of the tub. You know Chan gets out before you so he can catch you if you slip, and you can’t suppress the smile that ticks up the corners of your mouth as you climb over the ledge with his hands holding yours. 

He doesn’t release his hold even when you’ve got two feet on the tile, immediately guiding you back to the bedroom and letting go only to hold your hips as you set a knee on the bed and crawl on. 

“Don’t get too comfy yet,” he reminds you, leaping up and twisting to land onto his back midway up the bed. It would be funny if he weren’t eyeing you so heatedly, if you didn’t know exactly what’s about to happen. 

But with his pretty lips parted and his hands covetous as they reach for you, there’s no mistaking his eagerness for humor. You take in a shaky breath while you shuffle closer, your hands pressed to the mattress as you lift your knee up and settle it on the other side of his neck, leaving you straddling his face. 

“Now you can get comfortable, baby,” he says softly, his breath flowing out over your sensitive folds. His eyes are locked between your legs, and as you start to let yourself relax, he lays his tongue out, humming in satisfaction when your pussy finally makes contact with his taste buds. 

Chan eats you out often but hardly ever like this, mainly because you find it difficult to completely let yourself go and just feel. You’re always worried about smothering him or being too heavy or if he’s really enjoying it, no matter how much he reassures you. 

But there’s something about this time. 

Maybe it’s the way his eyes slipped closed as soon as his tongue touched you, like you’re a delicacy he’s privileged to taste. Maybe it’s how he’s gripping your hips and pulling you down, like he wants you to smother him. Maybe it’s the near constant moan vibrating against you, like there’s nothing he’d rather be doing than this. 

Whatever it is, you think you finally believe him. 

Which is why your thighs untense, letting you rest fully on his face as you bend over and prop yourself up on your elbows, sinking into the feeling. 

He just groans in encouragement and wraps his arms around you, digging his fingertips into your skin and urging you to grind. You roll your hips once, whimpering at the sensation of his nose pressing into your clit as his tongue slides inside of you, and that’s enough to get you going. 

You set a gentle pace, sliding in little movements back and forth, barely even registering the obscene sounds of Chan’s mouth at work between your thighs. They’re muffled by your body and before long, they become background noise to the ringing in your ears and the rush of your blood pumping in your veins as he devours you. 

He doesn’t let up for even a second, shifting his focus instead, his lips wrapping around your clit and sucking in pulses. His tongue taps at the bud incessantly, his moans urgent as if he’s wordlessly begging you to let your release find you. 

It’s slow going but you can feel it creeping up on you, your climax rolling in like fog on a chilly morning as you try to beckon it closer in your mind. It pulls you in instead, its blissful vines coiling around you as he whines and whimpers into your pussy. 

Finally, the pleasure takes root, blooming within you gently at first before unfurling with ardor, stealing the air in your lungs and the thoughts in your head. Your head falls and your eyes flutter shut, and soon enough, all you can do is kneel there and tremble through the barrage of feelings, the softness of his tongue and the heat of his breath and the reverberations of his groans rendering you helpless. 

You’re still shaking by the time you regain the ability for complex thought, and the first thing you do is attempt to climb off of him. 

Except Chan doesn’t let you go, he just shakes his head and wraps one arm tighter around your body, bringing the other behind you to prime two fingers at your entrance. He doesn’t even bother speaking, simply grunting around your clit and starting to sink his fingers inside, the slickness of your cunt enough to let them glide. 

You melt into him with a moan, reaching one hand down to tangle your hand in his hair and pull as your back arches, trying to guide his fingers to that one spot inside as if he doesn’t always find it on his own. 

And find it, he does, his fingertips grazing the erogenous patch and beckoning forth a little burst of arousal that you just know is seeping down his chin. He’ll need another shower after this but you can’t find it in yourself to care, not when he immediately starts building you up again with his mouth around your clit and his fingers buried inside of you. 

Your hips respond to his thrusts without your permission, rolling into his every touch, and for the first time, you actually find yourself riding his face. He moves with you, whimpering continuously into your pussy as if he’s feeling your pleasure like it’s his own. 

Your head starts to spin, the blaze of white hot euphoria licking at your spine and heating your skin, making sweat prickle where he grips you like a lifeline as he voluntarily drowns himself in you. 

Everything zeroes down to the point of connection between your body and his, the only thing on your mind being the high that’s just out of your reach. It’s just a matter of time with his fingers grinding into your sweet spot and his lips wrapped around your clit, with his whines vibrating against you and his skin pressed to yours. 

You know he wants you to cum, and that’s part of what’s getting you so close. Chan loves to give you pleasure, views it as both his duty as your boyfriend and his privilege as a man, and he always feels a sense of accomplishment when he can get you there more than once. He’s also just a generous person, a giver, and that doesn’t change when it comes to being with you. 

It’s not that you’re not a giver too, it’s just that you know how to take. 

You know how to take the bliss he insists you feel, how to take his mouth and his fingers and eventually, his cock. You know how to take everything he wants to give you, and that’s why you work so well together. 

It’s like you don’t need words anymore, not when you can read his actions just as well. 

And with his actions, he’s telling you to stop thinking and just feel, just let him guide you over that edge, which is absolutely something you can do. 

It doesn’t take much at all to clear your mind, a curl of his fingers and a pulse of his lips around your clit sweeping your thoughts away, leaving you muddled with sensation. You hiccup in a breath and sigh out a shaky moan, your thighs trembling on either side of his face as you near the drop off once more. 

You let it happen, let him push you off the edge into the deep end and welcome the waves of bliss that wash over you. They’re more powerful than the last, blanking out every word in your brain but his name, all of your focus centered between your legs where he’s still hard at work. 

He pushes you through it, digging his fingers into your sweet spot and groaning around your clit as his hand squeezes at your hip. A hot rush of arousal leaves you, and he’s quick to slide his fingers out and open his mouth to catch it. 

His tongue swipes at your entrance, dipping in and out as he drinks you down, his body shuddering under yours at the feeling of your fluttering pussy. 

By the time it’s over, you can barely hold yourself up. Chan seems to sense this and pulls himself out from under you, gently tugging at your legs until they lay straight with you resting on your stomach. 

You feel his touch on your back, a gentle hand rubbing up and down softly as he comes to rest at your side, nosing at your hairline. 

“So good, baby. Just what I wanted,” he murmurs to you, and you pick your head up and turn it to face him, blinking bleary eyes at his flawless visage. 

“Want your dick in me,” you mumble thickly, watching as his eyebrows furrow contemplatively. 

“You’re not too tired?” He questions, and you try to respond but you can only look at his lips and the sheen of you on them. 

“So what if I am? Maybe I wanna fall asleep on your cock,” you finally say, half playful, half truthful. 

“Like… cockwarming? Would you really wanna do that?” He asks eagerly, and you grin a teasing little grin, happy to have unlocked one of his secret desires. 

“Yeah, Chan, I would really wanna do that,” you confirm. “Maybe even today… after you fuck me?”

“Okay,” he beams, pressing a kiss to your nose before springing up with a shocking amount of energy and climbing atop you. 

He straddles your hips and sets both hands on your ass, pushing the cheeks apart to expose your pussy to his searching eye. He releases one side to grab his cock and line himself up, slowly beginning to push inside and choking out a breath as he feels your warm wetness wrap around him. 

Chan is the perfect size for you, not too big or too thick, but just enough that there’s a slight stretch every single time. You fit him like a glove, like puzzle pieces meant to interlock, and somehow, every time he slides inside of you makes you feel like you’re the home that welcomes him after a long time away. 

He bottoms out and it’s like you can finally breathe, even as he stretches himself out on top of you and tucks your hands under his, weaving your fingers together and holding tight.  

You’re completely surrounded by him and that’s enough to have you relaxing into the bed, the only muscles activated in your body being the ones holding your ass up for him as he rolls his hips back and sends them forward again. 

You love having him this close as he takes you apart, being able to feel his strength in the muscled arms stretched along yours and the toned chest pressed to your back has you wanting him even closer. Given the chance, you just might climb into his rib cage and squeeze right in next to his big, luscious heart. That might be a little much though, so for now you’ll content yourself with being smothered by his perfect body. 

The feeling of his dick pressed against your walls to root deep has you reeling, making you thankful for the grip of his hands over yours, the weight of them serving as a reminder that he’s here and he’s got you.

He sets up a smooth, easy tempo, one that reminds you of ocean waves pushing onto and then receding from the shore, filling you with his cock again and again. You miss him every time he leaves but he returns before the emptiness starts to ache, the ebb and flow of him as constant as the tide. 

“‘s this what you wanted, baby?” He murmurs into your neck, waiting for your nod to continue to speak. “Gonna let me fill you up? Gonna let me stay inside?” 

“Yeah, Channie, want you to fill me up and stay inside me,” you whimper, squeezing your inner muscles around him to emphasize your words, the tight clutch of your cunt making him tremble above you. 

“Fuck,” you hear him bite out just before his hips scoop on the next stroke in, the angle allowing his cock to graze your sweet spot. Pleasure zips up your spine, sharp and electric, making your back arch and your pussy clench. 

He notices the way you push back into it and begins to aim every thrust there, ensuring that he drags against the internal patch of nerves as often as he can. He’s still going slowly, his movements almost sedate though there’s an intensity to them, one that you know will be enough to undo you. 

Chan always gets you there, even on nights where it’s harder to climb that hill, nights where you’re distracted or stressed or anxious. You reach for him on nights like that anyway, knowing that soon enough, he’ll have you so blissed out that you’ll forget what was wrong in the first place. 

Nothing could be wrong today, and that makes everything even better, makes his name on your lips taste sweeter, his body on top of yours feel broader, and his cock inside of you hit deeper. It almost feels like he’s reaching the end of you every time his hips buck into yours, the dull smack barely audible with his gasping breaths and shuddering groans in your ear. 

The medley of it all has you feeling dizzy, rapturous, like pure affection and desire and devotion are welling up inside you. They’re rapidly running out of room, your chest only so big compared to your love-soaked heart, and there’s little you can do to quell the overflow as it streams from your eyes in tender tears. 

You try to swallow down the sob that aches to be let out but your lungs trip on it anyway, and Chan just coos and burrows closer to you with a sweet kiss on the cheek. He knows this means you’re getting close and that he shouldn’t do anything but keep going, though you wonder if he knows that it’s unlikely you’ll cum from just his cock. 

He does, of course he does, extricating one of his hands from yours and sliding it down under your body and between your legs. His fingers gather the arousal he’s pushed out with his dick and smear it up to your clit, beginning to rub slow, gentle circles that match the push and pull of his hips. 

The feeling is instantaneous, a syrupy burning starting up low in your pelvis before gathering in your stomach, your pussy responding to the sensation by fluttering around him and trying to suck him in deeper. 

He doesn’t stop, just maintains his slow and steady pace, patiently working you up to your third orgasm and sucking kisses along the curve of your throat, murmuring to you, “Please cum, baby, please cum for me. It’s gonna feel so good, I know you can do it. When you cum, I’ll cum too, okay? I’ll fill you up with my cum and I’ll stay inside and when we wake up, we’ll do it all over again.”

And what can you do with him begging like that, with his dulcet voice and steadily rolling hips and expert fingers on your clit, except exactly what he wants? 

With a whimper you fall to pieces beneath him, euphoria flowing through your veins and dousing your nerve endings, blanking out everything in your mind but his name. It falls from your lips like a spell, like an incantation urging him to shatter with you, the chant constant even as your lungs plead for air. 

But it works. 

It works and he bursts with a low cry, his cock twitching against your undulating walls, a warmth flooding you deep within as his cum paints your insides white. He trembles above you, the muscles that have been holding him up weakened by pleasure, and soon enough he completely sinks into you, weighing you down to the bed. 

“That was so good, baby… Love you so much… Now let’s sleep,” he slurs quietly, just barely shifting to the side so he’s not suffocating you, though he leaves his still hard, still throbbing, still leaking cock buried inside of you. 

Normally that would keep you awake, but days at the pool are always draining and you did just cum three times, so you think a little sleep would do you good. 

When Chan’s arms snake around you and tug you tighter into his chest, you giggle weakly and murmur, “Love you, Chan,” before letting your eyes slip closed and following him into slumber. 

AN: Woohoo!! this started as interlude no. 10 a few months ago but i got like 2k in and lost inspo for it. i picked it back up this week and here we are!

thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed!! i am eager to know your thoughts and feelings 🙏

[snowballseal]

Hi! I really adore your writing. You have really caught each guys essences.

If your requests are open, I was thinking of something like how each guy would carry you and in what type of scenario. I thought Zayne would do bridal style and Sylus over the shoulder, but if you see it differently, feel free to do it as you see fit 😊

How they would carry you (LaDS)

Note: This was such a cute request!! I had fun writing it, though I definitely rewrote Rafayel's like three times cause I couldn't make up my mind on the scenario. I went with a different idea for Zayne, but I think you'll like it ;)

I really hope you enjoy this! And I hope I wrote them all well. Thank you for the request.

Also, I'm incredibly sleep-deprived, so I apologize for any mistakes/inconsistencies.

---

Sylus *over the shoulder*

“My feet hurt,” you grumble.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have worn such cheap shoes,” Sylus hums, voice bordering on between teasing and mocking.

You shoot the man a glare. He gives you a smug smile in return, arms crossing over his chest.

Of course he’s right. But you can’t admit that, not after you made such a fuss about ignoring his warning before the night began. You had been stubborn, maybe a little too stubborn. The restaurant you were going to was just so nice, how could you not wear heels? You wanted to look nice for your date, and they paired so well with your dark cocktail dress. Of course you’d forgotten about how much they hate your feet.

Every step feels like a bunch of nails digging into your feet. Why did you park so far away? Oh right, because you thought the night was so nice, you wanted to take a little walk before dinner…Not your best idea in retrospect.

Another step makes you wince.

Sylus suddenly stops. This forces you to pause as well, your arm curled around his elbow as you walk. You glance at him questioningly, trying to hide the pain, not wanting to bother him further by complaining. Or endure more of his teasing.

But his gaze burns over you intensely. You shift a little, heat climbing up your cheeks, but putting your weight on your other foot only makes that prickling pain shoot up your leg, and you can’t stop your lips from twisting into a light grimace.

For a brief moment, Sylus’ face softens. He lets out a sigh before removing his jacket. Your brow furrows as he slips it around your waist, the warmth of the fabric covering your bare legs.

“Sylus?”

“I’m not so cruel as to make a woman suffer, kitten,” he hums, securing the coat by tying the sleeves. He then leans up to your face, lips quirking up into a smirk. “Especially when she got all dolled up and pretty just for me.”

Before you can blush even darker, you’re suddenly being thrown over his broad shoulder. You let out an undignified squeak, instinctively squirming to try and get out of his grip. You kick your legs, hands scrambling against his back.

“Sylus!”

“Careful, kitten, otherwise I might drop you,” Sylus warns, voice dancing with amusement. His hand slips below the hem of his jacket to curl over the back of your thighs, locking them to his chest. You freeze, heart fluttering wildly. 

What a brute.

Though, there’s really nothing you can do to escape this man. Not that you really want to.

“Sylus, seriously, this isn’t funny,” you still whine, trying to keep face.

“Would you rather walk barefoot?”

Your nose scrunches at the thought. While you are in a nicer part of the city, it still sounds gross. You guess this is the lesser of two evils. Letting out a defeated sigh, you prop your elbows against his back to try to get comfortable. Also trying to ignore how defined his muscles feel against you.

Sylus hums approvingly, “There you go, kitten. Just relax.” 

His hand tenderly squeezes your thigh and you’re actually thankful he can’t see just how red your face is. Probably as red as the wine you had with dinner.

It’s definitely embarrassing. Especially when you pass by a few people, catching their odd stares. But it’s hard to care when Sylus starts massaging your legs, his touch overwhelmingly gentle in contrast to his previous actions. His thumb presses firm circles into your ankle, drawing a breathy sigh from you.

“Feel better, sweetie?” He murmurs, and you can feel his voice rumble through your body.

“Definitely helps,” you breathe, “Though you could have just carried me in a more comfortable way, Sy.”

“Now, where’s the fun in that?”

“This isn’t fun for me,” you grumble petulantly.

Sylus shifts, suddenly putting you down. You blink in surprise when you find yourself sitting on the hood of a familiar car, your lover leaning over you. His fingers trace your leg, grazing up your arm, until he can cup your cheek, bringing your faces so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your lips.

“And how can I make it up to you, my dear?” He purrs lowly, lips grazing yours teasingly.

“Well-” Letting out a shaky breath, you reach up and slip your arms around his neck. A blush still coats your cheeks, but you give him your best innocent look, pouting your lips as you mess with the silver strands at the nape of his neck. “I think a full massage at home might make up for the discomfort. The last one you gave me was pretty nice.”

Sylus quirks a brow in amusement, “Is that all?”

“Nope. I also want you to watch a sappy romcom with me. Then I’ll forgive your brutish ways.”

That breaks the intense air between you. Sylus chuckles, the sound deep and fond, making you smile. He leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“I accept your terms, kitten.”

“Good. Now chop chop, mister! Let’s get home!”

---

Zayne *koala style*

“Darling.”

Your eyes flicker open, eyelids heavy. Letting out a sleepy hum, you drag your blurry gaze to meet a pair of warm, hazel eyes. Zayne kneels beside the car, thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek to keep you from falling back asleep. You lean into his touch with a content sound, making him smile.

“We’ve arrived home,” he murmurs, voice quiet, “Would you like me to carry you inside?”

You nod, head still fuzzy with sleep. All you can really focus on is that you don’t want his touch to go away. It feels so nice.

“Alright. Can you wrap your arms around my neck for me, darling?”

You reach out blearily, your fingers blindly finding their way into the soft strands of hair at his nape. Zayne carefully turns you until your legs dangle out of the car, giving him a better angle to slip an arm under you. He picks you up like you weigh nothing, drawing you flush against his chest.

You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, letting out another happy hum as he readjusts you so you can tuck your face into his neck. One of his hands stays secured under you, the other sliding up to hold the back of your neck tenderly.

It’s almost impossible to not fall back asleep like this. Surrounded by his warmth, his fingers massaging your neck so lovingly, the gentle sway of his body as he walks. Your eyes flicker closed again as you nuzzle deeper into your lover.

You love when Zayne holds you like this. Not that bridal style isn’t nice, but this is just so much closer, so much easier for you to wrap yourself around him. Plus you like the feeling of his fingers gripping your thighs, reminding you of just how strong the doctor is. It just makes you feel…safe.

“Wish you’d carry me like this more,” you mumble thoughtlessly into his neck.

“Is that so?” Zayne hums, a small smile curling his lips.

“Mhm.” 

You press a sluggish kiss to his collarbone to show just how much you like it. Zayne’s steps falter imperceptibly. But you notice, a bubbly giggle escaping you.

“Don’t trip, Doctor Zayne,” you tease sleepily.

He pinches your thigh in warning. “Perhaps a certain hunter shouldn’t be so distracting.”

You squeak, pulling yourself further up by his shoulders. Zayne chuckles, palm smoothing over the spot, though he didn’t actually pinch you that hard. Still. You draw back a little to pout at him.

“So mean, Doctor Zayne. What if I bruise?”

“My apologies, darling,” he murmurs, not at all apologetic. You hold your pout, only weakening when he tilts his face up to brush your noses together. “I’ll be sure to treat it once we get inside. A kiss should do, hm?”

God, he’s so perfect. You’re not sure your heart can take it. The warmth behind his eyes, the small, rare show of affection. It leaves a lingering heat under your skin that turns your cheeks rosy pink, and you duck your face back into his shoulder to hide your blush.

“So, so mean,” you grumble.

A fond smile graces Zayne’s lips. If he’s being honest, he likes carrying you like this. He likes how you feel in his arms, your weight, your warmth, the rise and fall of your chest against his. It’s not often you let him take care of you without complaint, so he takes full advantage of when you do. It helps calm whatever deep-seated need he has to look after you.

The fact that you’re so easy to fluster is a mere bonus.

You settle back into a comfortable silence, barely paying attention as Zayne navigates through your apartment complex. You only notice when he shifts his arm further under you so he can fish his keys from his back pocket and unlock your shared apartment.

He doesn’t bother to turn on any lights as he carries you through your home, straight to your room. You grumble as he bends down to set you on the edge of the bed, your fingers tightening around his neck when he starts to draw back.

“Don’t go,” you plead softly.

“Wouldn’t you rather be in more comfortable clothes, sweetheart?”

“‘m already comfy,” you assure him, leaning against his chest, “Just take your pants off and cuddle with me.”

“What a bold patient I have,” he teases, though his voice dips into a low timber that makes you shiver.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, doctor,” you whisper, a little bashful, cheeks going warm again. “Just don’t want you to stop holding me.”

Zayne softens. His fingers trace along your heated cheek, drawing you back just enough so he can lean down and capture your lips in a lingering kiss. You press into him immediately, a delighted sigh passing your lips when he settles onto the bed beside you. When the kiss ends, you tuck yourself back into his side, content once again now that you get your way. A drawn-out yawn escapes you, and Zayne curls his arms around your waist, guiding you so your head can rest against his chest.

“Sleep now, I won’t go anywhere,” he promises softly into your hair.

“Mmm, love you, Zayne.”

“I love you too, my snowflake.

---

Rafayel *bridal style*

“Oh, “ you chirp, cool air washing over you as you step out of the venue, “it’s raining.”

The two of you were attending the opening night of Rafayel’s new exhibit. You’re surprised you didn’t even hear the rain, considering the streets look about flooded already. Puddles collect along the sidewalk, a small river running along the edge of the road. Paired with the rapidly setting sun, it leaves a chill in the air that makes you shiver slightly.

“I like it,” Rafayel hums and drapes an arm around your shoulders, drawing you into his side. You glance at him, biting back a smile when he playfully avoids your gaze, as if trying to keep your warm might hurt his “cool” factor. “The smell of the ocean is stronger when it rains, don’t you think? And the puddles look like tide pools.”

“They certainly do,” you giggle, “though neither of us are really prepared for the rain. Should we call a cab? I’d hate to ruin these shoes since you just got them for me.”

You look down at the kitten heels you’d worn for the event. They’re so cute, a soft baby blue color, decorated with little pearls. You remember pointing them out to Rafayel on one of your walks down the pier. They were just so pretty, and reminded you so much of him in a way, but the price was out of your range. Not that it deterred Rafayel, of course, who secretly went back the next day to get them for you.

A pair of shoes really shouldn’t mean that much to you, but every gift from Rafayel feels special. You can’t bear the thought of messing them up.

“Hmm, I think I have an easy solution.”

You let out a squeak when Rafayel suddenly ducks and sweeps you up into his arms, bridal style. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, clinging to him for dear life at the sudden loss of balance. The sound of Rafayel’s laughter rings in the air, light and full of mirth, as he dashes into the rain with you.

“Rafayel!” You squawk and break into your own fit of laughter despite the icy cold rain immediately drenching your clothes. “Rafayel! Put me down!!”

“I’m already carrying you, putting you down would just be more work,” he teases, that infuriatingly charming smile pulling at his lips. “Now you don’t have to worry about the puddles, at least.”

“But we’re still getting soaked!” You squeal, trying to hide away from the rain by tucking your face into his neck. “Why didn’t we just call a cab?”

“A little rain won’t hurt us, yeah?”

“Says the merman. It’s freezing.”

Rafayel chuckles, the sound close to your ear. Warmth blooms across your cheeks when he presses a kiss to your temple, the touch lingering and soft with adoration, making everything slow down for just a moment.

“Then hold me tight.” he whispers, voice dipping to a low rumble that has your heart racing, “Take my warmth. It’s yours, my beloved bride.”

Any remaining complaints get lost somewhere in your throat. The heat under your skin rivals the cold. A dark blush coats your cheeks, and you try to bury yourself against his chest. You can’t hide from him though, your neck just as rosy, and you can practically feel Rafayel beaming with pride.

Stupid fish.

But he is warm.

You let out a wavering sigh, pressing the cold tip of your nose into the warm crook of his neck. Rafayel shivers, but his hold around you only tightens, as if he wants to envelop you in the heat of his body. It’s almost like being held by one of those heat up stuffies. It’s so comfortable, you can’t help but melt into him, fondness for the merman curling deep inside your bones.

“Do you always run this warm?” You murmur and rest your cheek against his shoulder so you can look at his face.

“Not always,” he hums. A stray drop of rain drips down his jaw and you reach to brush it away. Rafayel’s voice shakes almost imperceptibly at the touch, the tips of his ears going red, “For the most part, Lumerians endure harsh, cold temperatures, so we actually run colder than you humans.”

“Then why are you so warm?” You ask curiously.

His blush only spreads, until his cheeks match yours. The artist glances away, almost looking embarrassed to admit, “My fire evol is useful for more than just fighting wanderers, you know.”

Ah. So he can warm himself up with his evol. And he’s doing it to keep you warm.

The revelation fills your chest with a giddy kind of love. Like, a fuzzy, dizzy kind of love. You bite back the urge to keep teasing him, to see just how red he can get. God, how can you love this man so much? Every new thing you learn about him, every surprise he somehow pulls out of his sleeve, leaves you slipping further into the ocean of affection you’re already drowning in. The rain is nothing in comparison.

“I guess you’re my knight in shining armor, then,” you sigh wistfully, “Against the wanderers and the cold weather.”

“That’s right.” Rafayel puffs out his chest a little, almost like a preening bird. A giggle escapes your lips, and he gives you one of those heart-stopping smiles. “You should really thank your knight in shining armor, cutie. Otherwise I might not feel so inclined to swoop in to save you next time.”

“Well, thank you, Rafayel.” In the blink of an eye, you reach up and draw his face down to yours, capturing his lips in a chaste, yet searing kiss. The artist jumps back, eyes wide as he stares down at your mischievous grin. “Even though we could have just taken a cab and avoided all of this.”

His shock quickly turns into a pout.

“You’re no fun, cutie.”

---

Xavier *piggyback style*

“Really, I’m fine, Xav-”

You wince as Xavier gently flexes your foot, hot pain prickling up your leg. The hunter gives you a rather disapproving look.

“You do not have to lie to me,” he sighs and lowers your foot back down, “I will not think less of you for being injured.”

Heat creeps up your neck, and you have to tear your eyes away from his soft, unassuming gaze. It really wasn’t that bad. While fighting a wanderer, you had dodged an attack too quickly, somehow, twisting your ankle in the process. You couldn’t just stop fighting though, so you had grit your teeth through the pain until you finished the wanderer off, and then collapsed on a nearby rock. That’s when Xavier had rushed over to you, asking what was wrong.

You attribute your embarrassment to the stubborn bit of pride you carry as a hunter, so used to taking care of yourself that you don’t often let others do it for you.

“I’m really okay, it’s probably just a sprain,” you grumble, “I’ll ice it when I get home.”

“And how exactly do you plan to get home?”

Your nose crinkles. Right. Glancing back at Xavier, you find him looking at you with a small, rather amused smile, eyes sparkling with mirth. The little punk. He really can be mischievous when he wants to, huh?

But you do not have an answer to his question. So you just shrug, letting out a heavy sigh. You’ll just have to rely on him this time it seems.

“Would you like me to carry you?”

Immediately, your blush spreads up your neck, painting your cheeks rosy and warm. Eyes wide, you look at him incredulously.

“Xavier, that’s- I don’t- What?”

“I can carry you.” The hunter tilts his head, much like an adorable puppy. Your heart flutters at the sight. How are you supposed to resist that?

“I mean,” you hesitate, scratching the back of your neck, “if you think that’s the best solution…”

“It’s the simplest one,” Xavier hums, quickly standing up, pulling you carefully to your feet as well.

He turns around, ducking a little so you can get on his back. You hesitate again, though.

“Are you sure?” You ask, voice wavering.

“Positive.” Xavier looks at you over his shoulder. That gentle smile curls his lips again. “Who wouldn’t want to carry a pretty girl on their back?”

God, you hate him sometimes. Shaking your head, you gingerly step closer. You curl your arms tentatively around his shoulders, careful to avoid his neck so you don’t choke him. Then you jump. Xavier catches you with ease, fingers slipping under your thighs to hold you as he stands up straight again. It only takes a moment for him to find his balance as you get comfortable, your chin tucked over his shoulder.

He hardly seems affected by your weight. Like he’s carrying a light backpack. It eases your consciousness a little.

“I always forget just how strong you are,” you mumble.

Xavier holds back a shiver at the way your breath warms his ear. His fingers tighten around your thighs though, thumbs massaging circles into your skin. You hum softly, facing tucking into the collar of his uniform. This is nicer than you thought it’d be.

“You could take a nap until we reach our destination if you’d like.”

“No,” you sigh, though you do feel suddenly exhausted, “That wouldn’t be fair. I want to keep you company.”

“Mm, okay. Then what should we talk about?” Xavier peeks at you, amusement curling in his chest at the thoughtful pout you give.

“How about…what we’ll get for dinner tonight? We did complete the mission, afterall, we deserve a treat.”

A low chuckle escapes the hunter. Tilting his head, he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Whatever you’d like, my star,” he hums, fondness warming his usually calm voice, “Is there something you have in mind?”

“That new diner opened down the block from us, we could try that!” You suggest, excitement lighting up your features, like a kid in front of a christmas tree. You look at him, smile brighter than any star he could compare you to. “What do you think?”

How could he ever resist you?

“Mmm, sounds delicious.”

“Perfect! We’ll go there then!”

You spend the rest of the walk back to the transit station talking about what dishes you might order, what movie to watch as you eat. Anything and everything. Neither of you notice the odd looks you get, too comfortable to care.

You all but forget about the pain in your ankle. Why focus on that when you can focus on the absolutely charming man willing to carry you all this way?

---

Can you tell which characters I main based on this? Just curious.

[esouliie]

DON’T YOU LOVE THE DEVIL?

– pairing | wanda maximoff x fem!reader

– synopsis | wanda was everything you wanted in a mom. she was kind and loving, even to those who weren’t her own children. she, however, loved you in a very different way…

– warnings | porn with plot, non con that turns kinda dub con, smut, mommy kink, spanking, thigh riding, overstimulation, aftercare, wanda is a perv lmao (18+)

[word count: 3.4k]

Summer was always your favourite time. It meant avid beach trips, ice cream dates and - most importantly - bestie sleepovers. You enjoyed staying at Natasha's house, which was much larger than yours. Wanda, her mother, was always very kind to you, even more so than your own. Because of this, throughout high school, you found yourself always at the Maximoff’s. When you were going through a difficult time, you would always turn to her for support; she was a solid shoulder to cry on as her hushed whispers soothed you.

Much like your house, Natasha’s dad was never in the picture. And because Wanda never seemed to date, it was always just them two and sometimes you. Their house was your safe haven and Wanda was your beckoning angel. Now in your last year of college, you still find yourself coming to the older woman…

Countless nights, you wished she was your mom instead.

Reaching into your pocket, you fumble around for the front key, feeling its familiar shape between your fingertips.

This was your usual routine – Natasha would text when she was nearly home from work, and you’d arrive shortly after, letting yourself in with the spare key she had given you months ago.

The door swings open with a soft creak, revealing the warmth of the home beyond. The living room is empty, just the faint hum of the TV can be heard.

As you step into the kitchen, the warm aroma of burnt vanilla envelops you. Wanda stands against the island, dressed in a large, red sweater and black skirt, with one hand scrolling through her phone as the other holds a glass of red wine. She looked radiant as ever. A grown woman confident in her own skin and her ability.

“Hey, Wanda.”

She places her phone down and greets you warmly. “Hey there, sweetheart. How are you?”

“I’m good.” You take a seat next to her and she busies herself with pouring you a glass of red. You watch her, marvelling at how effortlessly she moves around the kitchen, her movements always graceful and fluid.

"So," Wanda begins, setting the glass in front of you, "another bestie sleepover?"

“Yep! Natasha’s going to be busy with Bucky next week so we’re spending as much time together.”

Wanda scoffs at the mention of her daughter’s partner, “Yeah, she said something about going to his parent’s lake house for the week.”

You hum, reaching for a sip of the wine, awkward in the revelation of Wanda’s distaste for her daughter’s boyfriend. I mean, it’s not like you like him either. You hate him actually. He was always so weird about your friendship with the redhead, always starting arguments around how much you guys hang out together and how he thinks you have a crush on her.

Plus, Natasha was way out of his league and he sometimes treated her like shit. It was only last week when Natasha was complaining about how they had an argument during their date and Bucky left her to find her own way home…

“I really don’t know what she sees in him.”

You sigh, setting the glass back down. “Me neither. He’s an asshole.”

Lost in thought, you fail to notice Wanda’s approach until an arm laid upon your shoulder, and a hand twirled around your curls.

“You know, I always thought Natasha would end up with you.”

Shocked by her confession, you try to respond - to deny that nothing would ever happened - but your mouth is unable to move as her nails scratch against your neck.

Wanda settles down in the stool beside you, hand retreating to stroke down your arm.

"I just don't understand. He’s boring and doesn’t deserve Tasha, whereas, you’re… you’re so much better than him.” She admits softly, her gaze fixed on you.

"You’re so much more than him.”

You shrug, expelling a shaky breath as you watch her manicured nail draw patterns against your exposed skin.

Silence envelopes you both, Wanda deep in thought and you pretend to act calm about the fact that Wanda’s touch has trailed down to your hands, resting in your lap.

“You know if I were her…” Her breath flutters against your ear, “I wouldn’t even think about anyone else… when I have you.”

Your heart skips a beat at her admission.

"I..." you begin, your voice catching in your throat as you struggle to articulate the jumble of thoughts and emotions swirling within you.

It felt so wrong, and yet you didn’t want her to stop.

To keep stroking your hand,

To keep whispering in your ear.

To keep close to you.

“I think… I want to kiss you.” Wanda murmurs, her thumb gently running over your lips.

But before you could say anything, she leaned in, her lips meeting yours in a soft, tentative kiss.

“So pretty.” She whispers, lips closing in once again, but the sudden closing of a door upstairs startles you both as you pull away. Eyes wide in fear that Natasha could’ve seen you kissing her mom.

Wanda leaves her seat, an unreadable expression on her face, and disappears into the living room, Natasha’s thundering footsteps break you from looking at her as she comes downstairs. Her hair is wet, her bangs clinging to her forehead. She must’ve been in the shower.

“You made it!” Natasha exclaims before briefly hugging you and dragging you with her upstairs, “Come on. Let’s watch a movie.”

…

A few hours later, and a few movies down, you end up back in the kitchen, in search of a drink. You spot Wanda in the living room watching a show, her presence both comforting and unnerving. No longer elegantly dressed, she lounges in a maroon satin night gown. The thin fabric barely covers her long legs as it glows complimentarily against her pale skin.

Summoning as much courage, you take a seat on the other end of the sofa. The drink long forgotten. She recognises your presence but you both don’t say anything, engrossed in some reality show on TV. This distraction works for a while but then, like a shadow in the morning sun, the memory of the kiss surfaces. Heat blossoms against your cheeks but you feel it weighing on your mind, a heavy burden demanding acknowledgement.

“Wanda,” your voice so quiet she almost didn’t hear it, ‘I think we should talk about earlier.”

With a delayed hum, she turns towards you, waiting patiently for you to continue. Your words stumble out clumsily, faltering as you try to convey the complexity of your emotions. You want to explain that the kiss was wrong, that she was your best friend’s mom and that nothing like that could happen again, but you don’t want to hurt her feelings in the process.

Her expression was unreadable, you could almost hear the pounding of your own heart, the uncertainty hanging thick in the air between you. And then, finally, she speaks.

“I’m sorry, darling. I thought- it was silly and inappropriate of me.” She reaches over to briefly squeeze your hand.

“Let’s forget it happened.”

You exhale with relief, “Yeah, okay. Thank you.”

Quick to change the conversation and clear the awkward tension, Wanda asks, “How come you’re down here anyways? Where’s Natasha?”

“Oh she fell asleep.” You giggle at the unattractive image of your best friend, snoring somewhat loudly and taking up your side of the bed.

“Besides, I’m not really tired, so I thought I’d come down for a drink.”

Wanda hums, a smile on her face at the sight of you giggling so cutely.

But you notice her hands run over bare arms, soothing the goosebumps and the slight shiver, “Are you cold?”

She looks at you for a moment, eyes taking in your concerned features before she nods.

“I’ll get you a blanket.” You move to stand but a grip on your wrist halts you.

“Don’t bother. Just sit here.”

She leans back against the pillows, legs parting slightly. Your brows furrow in confusion.

She tugs your wrist softly, “Don’t think, just come here.”

She pulls you to sit between her thighs, flush against her front as she winds her arms around you. It wasn’t uncommon being hugged by the older woman but it’s never been like this. But despite earlier, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort wash over you. The room even felt cosier now all that tension was gone. So, you lean back into her embrace, feeling her steady heartbeat against your back and her warm thighs brush against yours.

“Hm, much better. You’ve always run hot.” Her face snuggles into your curls and you giggle.

Her large hands dip, holding softly onto your hips, pulling you even closer with a silent groan, before descending to your thighs. A shiver of anticipation runs down your spine, but you maintain composure, thinking nothing of the surely innocent touch as you focus on the TV screen in front of you.

Her touch is gentle, sending a warm current through your body with each stroke. You feel your legs widen, following in the direction of her strokes, not wanting the caress to stop. The show on the TV fades into the background as your attention becomes solely fixated on her.

She leans in closer, her breath warm against your ear as she whispers, “Pretty girl... feels good, doesn’t it?”

You nod, allowing yourself to melt further into her embrace, your head resting against her shoulder instead of watching her hands.

Wanda tuts, “No, baby, head up.”

A single hand moves from your thigh to hold the back of your head, forcing you to look down at your entwined legs. Another hand wanders higher than expected, tracing small circles into your inner thigh, jarring you out of your trance as you go to wiggle free from her grip. “Wanda… that’s-”

Your speech is cut off as fingers slip under your shorts, and you gasp, squirming with renewed vigour. But her hold refuses even the feeblest motions as she wraps an arm around your waist.

“Wanda… please!”

“Don’t think, baby.” She warns again, fingers gliding further into your shorts. “Just let yourself feel good.”

You fight harder, hips snapping away from her touch as hands pry at her wrist. “Get off me!”

“No, you’re not getting up.” You squirm again, and without warning, she digs her nails harshly into your soft skin. “I said, you’re not getting up.”

You whimper in pain and stop your movement. Instantly, her nails pull back from your skin, leaving red angry crescent marks. Those fingertips gently caress the marks to soothe them before moving up under your shirt.

“Good girl.” Those words bring an odd warmth to your body and suddenly you think that letting Wanda have her way with you couldn’t be as bad as you initially thought…

But light fingers caressing up and down your stomach, inching closer to your breasts reminded you of the position you’re in.

This was your best friend’s mom.

Natasha didn’t deserve this.

“Wanda, we can’t… it’s not right. What about Nat-?”

“It’s fine, princess.” She interrupts, placing a few chaste kisses against your neck. “She won’t find out.”

Suddenly, those hands slide up over your bare breasts and gently squeeze. You take in a deep breath and exhale slowly with a soft whimper. Pleased with the response, she begins to knead them kindly alternating between light and firm pressure.

“You like that, baby?” Wanda coos then nibbles on the side of your ear, descending your neck carefully to not leave bites and marks in place.

Your back arches slightly, pressing your breasts deeper into her adept grasp, and your defiance fades ever so quickly with each breathy moan.

“Hm, so needy, so responsive…” thumbs swipes over your perked nipples, “and all I’m doing is playing with your tits, princess.”

Your increased whines answer in reply and Wanda doesn’t bother wasting time anymore. Lifting a hand from its spot under your top, she glides down under your shorts. Her lithe fingers ghost over the soaked underwear, travelling low enough to feel the wetness seep from your slit, and she moans lowly at the sensation. “You’re so wet… fuck, is this all for me?”

Battling between not wanting this and giving in to her, you also fight the urge to thrust your hips upwards, to search for some needed friction, to end the maddening ache between your thighs.

The older woman’s light touches feel like heaven and hell as nimble fingers slide up and down the fabric that clung to you, purposely missing where you needed her most.

“That’s it, baby. Relax… let go for me.”

A strange fuzziness washes over you completely as you relax - moral sobriety long forgotten - as your legs spread apart limply for Wanda to grope in every direction.

 “M’kay.” You reply, barely hearing yourself, lost in the moment.

Wanda sighs contently, forever pleased she’s put you in this headspace with such little fight.

Focusing back on your neck, she licks along the flushed skin, and as she bites against your pulse a little harder, the slight pain has you quivering.

You melt into the warm heat below you, head resting against a firm shoulder, as you let out a moan laced with pleasure and slight frustration. Hips bucking slightly back into Wanda’s hoping she’d take the hint and get on with it.

The quicker you gave her what she wanted, the quicker it would be done.

Finally, her index finger slides higher, the tip of her nail just brushing against your clit slightly. Your thighs shake at the motion, wanting to clamp shut around her but never doing so in fear she would stop. A cry falls from your mouth in surprise as her finger finally reaches, circling your swollen nerve endings in a slow yet firm motion.

Your words stumble out clumsily, unable to string a full sentence together as Wanda practically purrs against your ear.

“Oh, you’re doing so well, baby.” She coos, before pressing open-mouthed kisses against your jaw, “So well for me… come here.”

Tipping your neck up, she dips forward, pressing her hot lips against your own. A choked note of dismay comes from you as Wanda forces your mouth open and shoves her tongue inside. The older woman dominates the clashing of tongues, making sure that you know your place.

You fail to notice Wanda pull your shorts and panties down from your hips until her fingers press against you harder, and you can’t help but grind against it with such aching desperation. She marvels over how pathetic you look… one minute begging for her to stop and now humping against her like a bitch in heat, swallowing her tongue down your throat.

Such a depraved mental image and yet it only feeds into her desire for you.

To claim you as hers, no matter if you wanted it or not.

Because she didn’t care.

She could feel herself getting wetter, as she met your grinding with her own thrusts, your ass pressing flush against her soaked panties.

The kiss eventually comes to an end, a few hungry strands of saliva briefly clinging to your lips, linking you together. Wanda gazes lovingly at the sight of you, a growing smile on her lips, as you writhe in building pleasure.

“Can you look at me, princess?”

Wanda asks in a sultry tone and you struggle to open your eyes, squinting against the light as her blurry face comes into focus. Her pupils are blown out, partly consuming those emerald irises, her cheeks painted a flushed pink, and her lips part as she pants freely.

She looks so beautiful.

Her green eyes shine clouded over in a different colour than Natasha’s…

Natasha.

Dread seeps into your bones, your body ripped from its relaxed trance as you recall your best friend and how she’s sleeping upstairs as you’re fucked by her mom.

You don’t want to think about how upset she would be to find you like this.

“Baby…” She reels your mind back to focus on her, noticing you’re beginning to spiral. “You ready to come for me?”

Her fingers speed up perfectly but you shook your head in defiance, your mind no longer free to just enjoy Wanda’s touch.

“No,” she coos, “you don’t want to come for me, baby? Don’t want to come for Mommy?”

A whiny no leaves your lips, not giving in to the beautiful temptress behind you.

Annoyed, Wanda rolls her eyes, clearly upset that you wouldn’t just give in to her and that you’re not nestled in that special little headspace anymore.

Without warning, she twists your thigh over the other, ass on show as she lashes out with a sharp slap. You cry out at the unexpected blow, your hands grabbing tightly onto whatever part of the woman you can reach. You weren’t sure if you were trying to push her away or pull her close.

“I thought we were done with that, baby.” She unleashes a few more spanks, “Thought you were going to be my good girl, hm?”

You gasp for air at the same time Wanda gropes your marked flesh, pulling your cheeks apart as she rubs in soothing circles. The breath turns into a choked moan as Wanda spanks you one more time, before returning you to your original position, back to pressing firm circles against your clit.

Once again, you fight her touch. Hips wiggling in each direction until ankles wrap around your legs, locking you in place.

Tight circles turn to quick taps, the once pleasing hand now bringing pain upon your pussy in rapid succession, not allowing you to writhe in her generosity for too long before returning to cruelty.

A beautiful blend that muddled all of your defying thoughts until there was nothing left.

Your body betrayed your mind. Your legs fell completely limp, as you lay at the mercy of the older woman. Taking whatever she deemed necessary to give.

Finally, she had you.

“I don’t care if you don’t want to. You’re going to cum all over my fingers for me.” She concludes with a kiss on your cheek.

And not caring if you cry loud enough to wake up the rest of the house, her fingers speed up for the last time, sending you headfirst over the edge.

…

After what felt like hours, Wanda was done with you. You had moved into her bedroom, deciding the sofa was not adequate to continue. Now her head rests against your stomach after she had spread you open to lap up your next orgasm.

Your body spasms randomly, wave after wave of aftershock rolling over you. A warm hand cups your core firmly, and you buck away from the sensitivity, not wanting her touch anymore. But her fingers remain, gliding slowly up and down your slit, marvelling at your swollen skin, before pushing against your entrance.

You’re overwhelmed. What little fight you have left mentally can’t keep up with the fatigue of your exhausted body. If she wanted to, she could have her way with you. Again and again. Fresh tears fall from your eyes as you sob inconsolably into hands covering your face.

Wanda leaves you be, moving up your body to grab onto your wrists.

“Hey, baby… it’s okay, you’re okay…” she coos, fingertips wiping away your tears, “Mommy went too hard on you, didn’t she?”

You struggle to find the words, and Wanda shushes you, stopping you from thinking too much in such a delicate headspace.

You feel movement, feel Wanda get off you, and your eyes snap open in a slight panic but she sits beside you and swiftly draws you onto her lap.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Don’t cry.” She says gently, reeling you in with false empathy. She was glad she pushed you too hard you broke.

“Mommy couldn’t help herself.”

You scoot closer, close enough to bury your head into her neck as fingers trail up and down your back.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, baby. Can you forgive me?”

Her soothing words are music to your ears as you whimper softly against the woman, not willing to talk or move away. You just want her to hold you.

“Say it, princess. Say you forgive me.”

She guides you out of her neck to look at her.

“I forgive you.” You choke out, upset you’re no longer buried in her chest, as your hands run back to cover your eyes. Too ashamed to even look at her.

“Sweet girl, come here.” Wanda doesn’t wait, moving your hands to wrap around her neck as she kisses you hungrily, swallowing any little disapprovals as you push languidly against her chest, trying to force her mouth off of you.

It’s fine, it’s fine,” she ushers against your swollen lips, “I just want to make you feel better.”

You whine in disapproval but your arms wrap tighter around her.

“You love me, don’t you?” She whispers against your cheek, but doesn’t let you reply, as you choke on her tongue, stroking deep against yours.

“Say you love me, baby.” She moves to kiss your forehead, before moving down against your collarbone.

Hands groping your ass as she rocks you steady against her thigh.

“I love you,” a few tears burn down your throat as you hiccup,” I love you, I love you.”

Wanda mumbles her gratitude into your skin, fresh marks blooming against your chest as she fucks you against her.

“Keep saying you love me, baby.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you…” flies from your mouth in quick succession, your mind once again empty as the tell tale signs of another orgasm come into view.

“I love you too, princess.” She returns to your lips, tongue prodding past them as she coaxes your tongue into her mouth.

“Come on. Be good for me.”

It slams into you, body tense as you fall over the edge, pressing your face deep into her neck. She shushes you, not letting go of your body until the convulsions stop, and even then, you’re curled into her chest. Unwilling to part from her.

She allows you to sob freely, your body shaking uncontrollably as hands stroke all over until you calm down. Almost asleep in her arms.

A hand runs through your damp hair, “That’s it, baby. We’re done.”

“No more.” You mumble out, eyes already shut as exhaustion washes over.

“No more, baby. Go to sleep.” Wanda shifts you down her body, your face now against her chest, as she covers you both with her duvet.

Unable to resist any longer, you drift off in Wanda’s warm embrace.

[writtenbymoonflower]

how about

and hear me out

room mate! marauders who are obsessed with their shy roomate

oh trust me, hunny, i am hearing you. hope this is okay! shy gn!reader x poly!marauders

cw: nothing really, just fluff, reader is very flustered

1.1k words

Your eyes were blurry as you shuffled into the sunny kitchen. You weren’t used to waking up to the curtains open and breakfast on the stove. You’d lived with people before of course, but none as lively as this bunch. You weren’t complaining, though, you were quickly warming to them, even though you had probably spoken a total of 50 words to your new housemates in the three weeks you had lived with them. Most of these words likely consisting of sorry, excuse me, thank you. 

They had been talking though. Ever since the day you met they had been treating you like their best friend. Not even that. They were all best friends. (Though you considered that wasn’t all, on more than one occasion you had caught Sirius with his head in James’ lap, or Remus’ legs swung over one of the other boys. You had also observed a fair number of kisses between the three boys). But rather, they treated you like something precious, like a porcelain doll they were begging to get a hold of.

That thought made you immediately think of the nickname Sirius (or ‘Pads’ as the boys occasionally called him) had stuck you with. 

“Hey, dollface! You sleep well?” The coal-haired boy looked like he was itching to beckon you under his arm, but resisted. You were thankful, not knowing if you could survive that.

“It was good.” You hummed, barely legible to James over the sound of his bacon sizzling. You padded over to the breakfast table, sitting one chair away from Sirius and his huge bowl of cereal. No sooner had you sat down when a steaming cup of coffee was placed in front of you by a spindly hand. 

“Here you go, dovey.” Remus sat in the chair between you and Sirius. 

“Oi, Moons. You’re blocking my view.” You turned in your chair to look behind you at the ‘view’ he was referring to, brows scrunching in confusion when all you saw was the archway. You heard a light chuckle from Remus and a snicker from Sirius as you whipped back around. The possible meaning dawned on you, making you his your heated face in your mug.

“Don’t torture the poor thing.” James scolded, giving a (what you were sure he believed was comforting) squeeze to your shoulder before he sat on your other side.

“I never tortured anyone.” Remus corrected from behind his morning paper, slowly eating a cup of berry-yogurt. “Collective punishment is a war crime, Prongs” 

“Leavin’ me to the wolves huh, Moons?” Sirius sassed, sipping on his coffee that was mostly just cream and sugar. 

“Oh trust me, I’m sure we all know how much you’d love to be left to the wolf.” James smirked, clearly in on a joke that you had no idea about. He abandoned his teasing to turn to you, fixing a horribly kind look that made your tummy turn to mush. “There is some bacon and eggs on the stove for breakfast, but I’m sure Sirius would let you into his cereal.” 

“There’s also yogurt.” Remus looked pointedly to his near-empty cup. 

“Oh no, I’m okay. I could never take your food. I’m not hungry anyway.” You muttered into your mug. 

“You’ve gotta eat somethin’ babydoll. Can’t have you skipping meals.” Sirius had a playful, if not protective tilt to his tone. 

“I’ll find somethin’ don’t worry.” You scrubbed your bleary eyes with irritated cadence, still on the brink of sleep despite the warm caffeine swirling in your system. Thick fingers wrapped around your wrist to pull your offending hand away. 

“Gentle, sweetheart.” James scolded lightly. “Gonna hurt yourself like that.” He squeezed your hand before letting it go but it felt oddly like your face and your lungs were being squeezed as well. If this was the boys normal, you weren’t sure if you were going to survive. 

You mumbled a sorry looking at the mahogany table like it held the meaning of life, or the extra hour of sleep you desperately craved. 

“What’ve we told you? You say sorry too much, sweet thing. It’s like, your favorite word or something.” Sirius laughed, slurping down his cereal milk and licking his chops. You bit back another apology and rubbed your eyes again, though much more gentle this time. James cooed in sympathy. 

“You still sleepy?” He rubbed your back again, which made you both more heated and more drowsy. 

“Yeah.” You hummed, shamefaced as you played with the hem of your oversized t-shirt. You were thankful that you were still too shy to not wear long pants around them, because they would definitely be able to tell how tensed your legs were. Remus set his paper down.

“Do you have work today, love?” 

“No, ‘s my day off.” James grinned at that, but Sirius spoke up. 

“Happy coincidence! It’s ours too.” He grinned. “How about we all watch something? We can put something on in the lounge room and you can catch a bit of sleep on the settee?” He suggested. You shrunk at the thought of sleeping in front of them, but weren’t opposed to the idea.

“We’ll make sure to wake you up so you don’t sleep the day away.” James added, still rubbing your back. You were easily convinced. 

“Okay, that does sound nice.” Barely above a whisper. 

“We can all have a big lunch when you get up, too. Maybe we could go out?” Remus suggested as he led you gently to the living room. You tried to make your way to the armchair, but you were tugged to the couch. 

“That won’t be comfy, dollface. Here you go.” Sirius sat on the settee close to one arm, Remus by the other. Sirius pulled you between them while James sat on the floor and you whined in protest. 

“No, I’ll move. You sit here, James.”

Remus swore that was the loudest he had ever heard you speak. 

“No, I’m good right here. Thanks though, sweetness.” James reassured. He was sat in the middle, though rather close to Remus so the mousy boy could reach out with one hand and scratch James’ scalp, roving his long fingers through the thick curls. You were so distracted that you were startled when Sirius tugged on you again, maneuvering your head onto a pillow that laid on his lap. You tensed before relaxing into his warmth. You tucked your legs into yourself as Remus covered you with a blanket before going back to loving on James. 

“There you go, baby. That feel nice?” Sirius said, unfamiliarly soft as he stroked your hair, hand a welcome warmth on your scalp. 

Baby. Baby. Baby.

It would surprise you if you woke up from this nap. Your heart had nearly stopped on the spot.