#things def heat up here

[magicxc]

Hills and Valleys

Synopsis: Legend has it that Halloween is strictly for the scares. With ghouls and goblins, vampires and werewolves, witches and broomsticks, who could disagree?

However, all this friend group wanted was a little trick or treat. Sprinkle in a few party favors, loud music, and a cabin in the woods, the myth was bound to come true. 

Lurking around the corner is danger like never before, eager to bring this night to a bloody finish. 

So join these friends as they fight to make it through a Halloween they’ll never forget, proving that "the scare" is more than just a fantasy.

Word Count: 4027

Warnings: TRAUMA lol, detailed bloody scene

Chapter 3 - Lorenzo’s POV

Series Masterlist

“Oh my gosh, how the hell did we manage to get roped into helping you cleannnnnn,” Lynn complained. 

“Guys we’ve been doing this since highschool, why are y’all acting brand new?”

“Dammit Lenny, I should’ve left while I had the chance.”

“Steph you’ve been drinking all night, how the hell were you planning on getting home without driving?” I countered. 

“And as ritual would have it, I assume we’re all sleeping here then?” Emery asked. 

“See, Em gets it and I got the guest room all set up for you guys.”

“Two rooms, five people. That gives us about 2-3 persons to each room,” Jason proposed. “Sugar and I are more than willing to squeeze one more in.”

“No, the hell we’re not,” she whispered.

“Woah woah woah, what do you mean five people? Where the fuck is Julez?” Steph barked. 

“That sneaky bitch, she’s probably halfway back to the A right now,” Lynn suggests. 

Ahhh fuck, Julez. I wouldn’t dare say it to her face but I for sure wouldn't mind if she stayed the night. Truth be told, this rift between us has gone on long enough. I was more ashamed than anything for several reasons - number one being that I was scaring the hoes. It was beyond unnecessary for me to snatch them out of their kiss like that and I felt like an antagonist straight out of a lifetime movie. Reason two being everyone saw it all go down. I swear I looked up and the lights were on, the record scratched, and this random bitch was clutching a pair of invisible pearls. Ok so it didn’t exactly go down like that, but a lot of people still saw that shit happen. And reason three being that work became awkward as hell and my coworker ended up putting in a request to transfer departments. 

What’s even worse is that I’m not good with words. I’ll never in my life put a woman in any situation to feel uncomfortable or forced to do something she’s not down with. And the fact that my coworker felt the need to get away from me made me feel fifty shades of shitty.

Meanwhile Julez has actually been trying to mend things between us and like the dumbass I am, have been giving her the cold shoulder. Could you believe that? One of my best friends has been trying to squash our beef and I act like a bitch on her period. 

Maybe I can blame it on my underdeveloped brain? They say men aren't fully mature until they hit 25, and even then there’s still some debate. Yeah, that’s the one. I can hear her and the girls now, cackling up a storm. They’ll never let me live it down, but it’s all good. I fucks with the homies and if communication is something I need to learn to keep them in my life, then so be it. 

But after tonight tho; once I get some sleep in me and this alcohol out of my system. Hopefully Julez will be willing to hear me out, nah fuck that. I’ll fly down to Atlanta if I have to, but she’ll listen to everything I have to say whether she likes it or not. 

“I mean the guest room is big enough right Steph, why don’t we let those three have it while you and I catch up for old times sake?” I teased. 

“NIGGA THAT WAS ONE TIME.” 

“Lenny, you know I'm down to help clean, but I'm pretty sure we can do this tomorrow,” Em yawned. 

“Yeah man, I’m no lightweight but even I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“J’s right Lenny, we can finish this another time.”

Wow, it’s a full on bitch fest in here tonight. 

“No we can’t Lynn, my parents are gonna be back here first thing in the morning and I need this place in pristine fucking condition,” I snarled. 

“Well why would your dumbass host it here at the lakehouse then,” Steph screeched. 

“Because Stephanie, it has more living room space and less valuables to steal; plus the scenery is cooler for Halloween.”

“Mhmm touché. A lake house on Halloween where there’s seclusion and nature, and creepy crawlies.”

“Really Jason,” Lynn butts in. “Since when do you like seclusion?”

“Since there’s no neighbors around to hear the sounds I’m gonna pull from you.”

“Guys please,” Steph gagged. “I know those mummy meatloafs weren’t the best, but I was really hoping they’d come out the other end.”

“Oh whatever, don’t hate just because my sex life is healthy.”

“Yeah a little too healthy. Now I see why they call you sugar,” Steph laughed.

“Dammit now I’ll never hear the end of this.”

“And y’all will never hear the end of me. COME THE FUCK ON, CLEAN AS YOU TALK.”

“Lorenzo, dude relax,” Jason chided. 

“Lenny, it's not like your parents don’t know about your party lifestyle.”

“It’s not that Lynn. The lake house is in Escrow,” I explained. “The new owners are set to move in come Monday while we spend the weekend removing any last minute items. 

“Ohhhh yeah, I would’ve fucked you up if I were your mom and dad,” Steph pointed out.

“Now really ain’t the time.”

Every get together is the same exact shit. They eat my food, drink my beers, then get to bitching when I need help tidying up after. We go on about how tired they are while they drag their asses and the next thing you know the sun is peeking over the horizon. What could’ve taken minutes turns into hours where we all sleep til evening and then laugh about it over some makeshift leftovers. But I’d much rather skip to the laugh over a meal part cause I’m getting real sick of the inbetweens. Next time I'll just let them host at one of their homes and see how they like it. Maybe then they’ll appreciate all the efforts I go through.

Just when I find myself ready to have another screaming match, it seems that Em has beat me to it. At first I thought she just wanted us to shut up, but the way she’s clawing at the glass has me on edge. The scratching of the window soon turns into hitting and I race over there before any real damage is done. 

Grabbing both her hands, I try to pull her away from the window - my attempts damn near futile until Jason comes over, arms wrapped around her waist as we both work to calm her down. But a fist to my jaw has us pinning her to the ground entirely, concern thick in the air. 

“Emery, what’s wrong? Talk to me!” I yell. 

Nothing, just constant thrashing as her arms and legs flail every which way. The screaming hasn’t since stopped and I’m on the verge of having her committed because what the fuck? She was JUST fine a second ago. 

Rushing over, the girls land on the floor next to her, trying but failing to understand exactly what's happening as they shake her shoulders for answers. 

“Em please! Tell us what’s going on,” Steph sobbed.  

“Em- Emery! EM, calm the hell down.”

“Lynn what the fuck did she see? Go and check the window,” Jason orders.

“Julez,” Em hiccups as she points to the window. “It’s fucking Julez. They’ve found me.”

“Julez? What do you mean Julez, Julez what?” I screamed.

“And who the hell is they?” Steph added 

“Ohhh Em tell me you aren’t referring to the Resident Reaper?” 

“Lynn, they’ve got her,” Em says weakly. 

“The Resident - aye y’all what the fuck is going on?”

“Come on Lorenzo, your friend has obviously been through a lot.” 

“J shouldn't have to remind you to be considerate Lenny.”

“I’m sorry Em, I- I’m still stuck on the Julez part is all, wh-what about Julez?”

A shaky finger pointed in the direction of the window is all Em can manage. Silent tears stream down her face and I get this gut feeling in the pit of my stomach that something went terribly wrong tonight.

It's like the opposite of butterflies, that instead of everything being light and airy my stomach feels heavy and sunken to the ground. But I didn’t think it could sink any further until I heard the gasp that Lynn lets out. It’s shallow and wrapped in despair, yet somehow it’s enough to have everyone flocking to the window. 

I hear a mixture of sobs and screams alike and as I lock eyes with Em, I realised then and there that I wasn’t going to see my friend again. That we were never gonna get the chance to patch things up and that for the better part of a few weeks, I’ve been way too stubbornly foolish. 

My feet feel frozen in place but I have to see for myself. Trudging over to the window, I stop just shy of the pane and peer out into the darkness, eyes adjusting as I try to make out what my friends are seeing. Their sobs get blocked out as I stare into the water and stumble upon the gaze of Julez.

Her eyes are bloodshot red and lifeless as she drifts with the tides, a serene scene under different circumstances. Oddly enough she looks content and I’m not necessarily religious, but I say a silent prayer to the big guy upstairs that she at least went peacefully. 

Dropping to my knees I let out a sound that scares even me, roaring out my frustrations and sadness alike. That scene is something that���ll haunt me forever but what hurts most is wishing that I'd never seen it.

There’s a solemness to the air around us, thick with gloom and melancholy as everyone tries their best to gather their thoughts; scared to break the silence and confirm that this isn’t just a bad dream. Quiet sniffles and heavy breathing slices through the silent night until the stomping of feet cuts through it all. 

Looking up, I see Steph marching toward the front door trying but failing to open it as she realizes that the deadbolt is locked. It's one of those deadlocks without the knob turn thingy simply because my parents felt it was better security in a house this far out. Essentially it needs a key to be unlocked. 

“Dammit Lenny, why would you lock the damn door,” she shouts while jiggling the handle. 

Wiping furiously at my tears, I stand up deciding that I’ll have to grieve a little later as my body goes into overdrive, panicking at the idea that someone took it upon themselves to lock us in here. 

“Steph, why would I do that?”

“I’ll check the back door man,” Jason offers. 

“What about the windows, any of them big enough that we could fit through?” Em questions. 

“There’s bars on all the windows” Steph mumbles. “What the hell was your family trying to keep out?”

“Or maybe keep in?” Lynn induces.

“Now is not the time to place blame guys,” Em suggests. 

“Back doors locked too and I’m not getting any cell service out here man." 

“Alright everyone let’s just take a second to think this through,” I snapped.

There could’ve been a thousand guesses thrown my way about how I imagined this night turning out and absolutely none of them could’ve surmised just how fucked it’d get. 

At worst I prepared for a nasty hangover, Tylenol on standby, not a damn murder mystery. And Julez of all people, she’s damn near the most wholesome one of the group and they- they watched as all life drained from her big, round eyes. 

Dragging my palms across my cheeks, I straighten up as my body kicks into autopilot, revenge sourcing it with enough adrenaline to power through this shit show. 

Even with anger coursing through my veins I can’t understand why? Why go through the trouble of killing Julez and locking us in here? It’s not like we discovered her right away, however it’s not something I have time to elaborate on. We need to find a way out of this death trap and call for help immediately 

“Listen, the whole point of shitty cell service in the area is something my parents were banking on when they got this place,” I disclosed. “Some crap about family bonding time, but if I can just get to the -“

“This just gets better and better,” Steph blurted, while she rocked back and forth on her heels. “Escrow or not Lenny, I’m getting out of here even if I have to tear that door hinge from motherfucking hinge.”

“BUT IF I CAN JUST GET TO THE BEDROOM UPSTAIRS, MAYBE WE’LL GET ENOUGH SIGNAL TO CALL FOR HELP.”

“What’s so good about the bedroom upstairs,” Em questioned. 

“It’s the only part of the house that picks up a bar, maybe two from the cell towers.”

“Bars on all the windows, deadbolts on all the doors, only available cell service is in the master bedroom,” Lynn criticized. “Just what the fuck were you four up to in here?”

“What are you suggesting?”

“That maybe you guys ‘family time’ went beyond the occasional movie night,” she sneered. 

“Baby, enough we’re not gonna get anywhere with y’all jumping at each others throats like this.” 

“YOU’RE SICK! LYNN I SWEAR IF YOU WERE ANYONE THE FUCK ELSE I’D-“

“You’d what?”

“Guys please,” Emery sobbed. “This is exactly what that asshole wants, to see us turn on one another.”

“Lynn you’re fucked up for that one and you know it,” Steph admitted. “None of this is helping, so what do we do now?”

“I think the cell service is a great start Lorenzo, but we gotta find those keys man,” Jason suggested. “Where’d you last place them?

“I remember seeing it near the deviled eggs,” I sighed. 

“You max this house out to the brim for a party and don’t even bother to properly secure the keys to your own home?” Emily screeched. 

Inhaling a deep breath, I tilt my head upward desperately trying to hold onto what little patience I have left. Julez is out there floating against the currents and here we are arguing over a set of keys. My friends have never really struck me as stupid, but this night is chocked full of surprises. 

“New locks to this place are getting installed come Monday Em. Between my parents here this weekend and the new owners after that, I couldn’t care less who had the keys.”

“And now we’re all going to die for it,” Steph scolded.

“Shut up, all of you,” Jason yelped. “Every minute we spend here is a minute more that sick freak has the upper hand, possibly plotting. 

“And unless one of you can squeeze through those bars, the only way we’re getting out of here is through that door,” Em chimed in.

“Lorenzo, think man, does your family keep a spare key anywhere around here?”

“Uhh ye- yeah, I think so. Hell if I know where it could be at this point Jason.”

“Where is it usually?” Em asks. 

“By a rack near the back door.”

“There were no keys when I checked back there,” Jason pointed out. “Fuck, we need to get moving NOW.

Facial expressions hardening, I can see the socialite version of him slipping away while his military brain kicks into overdrive. Feet spread at shoulders length and arms placed firmly behind his back, Jason goes on to dictate orders to us, a small thanks on the tip of my tongue considering we were all scrambling.

He directs me to the master bedroom to try and get some signal, Em to the second bedroom, himself to the kitchen and living room, Steph to the bathroom and any miscellaneous closet doors, while Lynn works on picking the deadlock cause God only knows how she picked up such a skill. Why am I surprised tho, this is the same woman who helped me open my car door after I’d accidentally locked my keys inside; criminal ass bitch. 

We all race to our respective areas, more than ready to get this night over with. Upstairs, I make a beeline for the innermost corner of the room between the bed and window. 

Stretching my arms until the phone touches the ceiling, I squint my eyes until they gloss over with no luck to any flashing signal. I dial 911 only to hear the mocking tone of the operator on the other end letting me know that the number I am trying to reach is unavailable. 

Picking up the expensive floral vase from the night stand, I smash it against the wall until it shatters into a thousand tiny pieces; beyond overwhelmed with how everything is going. 

Before I know it, my knees connect to the wooden floor beneath me, palms circling the perimeter of my face as I bawl my eyes out; teeth sinking into my skin to muffle the screams that tear through my throat. If someone would’ve told me 24 hours ago that I’d be stuck in my own damn house while trying to evade a possible serial killer, I would’ve told them to fuck off and yet - here I am.

The rage running through my body comes to slowing stop, adrenaline all but gone as the weight of exactly what’s going on crushes me further into the floor. 

Sitting up against the bed frame, eyes puffy and throat sore, I briefly wonder if it’s even worth the trouble and come to terms with the fact that I may very well not make it out of here alive. 

A low gleam of light pours in from the window above and the moon in all its fullness draws me closer, the same way its gravitational pull does the earth. 

Fingers cradling around the lip of the pane, I pull it up and the gust of wind that whips across my face fills me with a fresh glimmer of hope. The stars in the sky twinkle so brightly and I wonder if that's the last thing Julez saw before her untimely end; a sliver of satisfaction filling me at the thought of her final view being something so serenely scenic. 

Fingers slipping into my pockets, I dig out the cell phone lodged in there and stick my hand through the bars at shoulder length. Iron jabs at my skin the further I stretch my arm through the metal while small beads of sweat gather on my forehead and palms. Tongue slipping between my teeth and over my lips, it plants itself at the corner of my mouth; a telltale sign of my concentration. 

Aiming my arm higher toward the sky, it starts to burn at the sensation and I make a mental note to get back in the gym once this is over with. 

“C’mon you son of a bitch, I dropped $1300 on you, the least you could do is pick up a signal.” 

Angling my arm a little to the left, I stand on my tippy toes in hopes of getting lucky and the small bar that pops up in the corner of my screen is enough to ignore any discomfort my body may be feeling. 

Eyes brimming over with tears, it takes everything in me not to scream through my relief, trying to stay focused on the task at hand. 

Fingers swiping over those infamous three digits, I’m all but ready to hit send until my phone slips through the cracks of my hand. Watching as it free falls 20 feet to the ground, the screen breaks alongside my hope. 

“Son of a BITCH,” I fumed, arms wrapped around the bars as I shook them senseless; annoyance growing once I realized that even after giving it all I had, it didn’t even budge. 

After a few more minutes of me pacing around the room, I get this lightbulb moment of clarity that of the five of us left, there’s still four more phones. 

Racing down the stairs in newfound anticipation, I burst through the doors of the first bedroom, all but ready to snatch Em’s cell phone; only she isn’t in there. Making my way to the front, I see the bathroom light pouring into the hallway and dash inside, eager to find someone, anyone really. 

Slamming through the bathroom door, I get ready to scream the good news to Steph, yet the sight before me has me halting entirely. 

Both hands covering my mouth, I have to physically swallow down the vomit that threatens to surface. Panic rises inside of me as the hands that once wrapped itself around my face now finds itself buried in my hair - frantically running through its tresses. 

A low wheezing sounds from beneath me and I fly to the floor, knees sliding against the tiles until I reach her. 

Blood is everywhere! Splattered drops line the walls as the once white floor slowly turns a shade of deep crimson. I look over to Steph, whose hands are weakly cradled around her neck and it’s only then that I can figure out just where all the bleeding is coming from. 

“Oh shit, oh shit, shit,” I hissed. “Steph it’s gonna be alright, I just need you to hold on for a minute.”

Shuffling, I reach out to the adjacent wall to snatch a towel from the rack. Wrapping it around her throat, I try my best to make a tourniquet, loosening it as Steph starts to make these wet, gurgling noises. 

Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes at the fucked up reality of this situation and the fact that I can’t even sit down long enough to process just what the hell is even going on anymore. 

With the towel securely placed around the wound, blood rapidly seeps through the cloth, my face sinking at the realisation of how futile my efforts are and how quickly she needs professional help. 

“AYEEEEEEEEE,” I screeched. “YOU GUYS GET IN HERE RIGHT THE FUCK NOW.”

Applying enough pressure to the wound to try and stop the bleeding but light enough that I don’t choke her, I finally let my tears fall. 

Shoulders sagging and chest heaving, my body is physically exhausted from this terror filled night. My best fucking friend is getting paler by the minute and the blood that gushes from her neck shows no sign of slowing down. The pool of liquid quickly spreads beneath us and sinks into the tiled creases and I can’t help the wail that escapes me.

“Steph, baby talk to me,” I pleaded. “Who did this to you?”

Heavy footsteps approach the doorway and I hear a muddled mixture of screams. 

Stephs raspy voice pulls me in and her whispered tone is indecipherable. Wrapping her in my arms, I quietly shush her as I rock us back and forth, urging her to save her voice and energy until we can get some help. 

Feet splashing through the blood and plopping beside me, it takes a minute for me to notice that it's Lynn, begging for answers. 

“I don’t fucking know Lynn, for goodness sake make yourself useful.”

“Both of you shut up,” Jason barks. “Dude tell me you got enough service to get us some hel- to get Steph some help.”

Silence is all I can muster up in this moment and yet it's enough to answer their million dollar question. 

Jason frantically paces the floor, Lynn is hovering over Steph yelling out questions and assurances alike, and Em is sliding down the wall, legs cupped between her arms.

Stephs slow breaths stop hitting my neck, her light wheezing all but gone and it's then that the crushing weight of her passing dawns on me. 

Eyes tightly squeezed shut, they do very little to stop the onslaught of tears, my rocking now intensified. Lynn catches on and her high pitched shriek sends a ripple effect of anguish into the air. 

A deafening silence falls on the group, and after what feels like forever, a gut wrenching realisation hits me that it’s one of us - it’s one of us hurting our friends.  

[imaginedisish]

Modern Love (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey y'all! Here's something short and sweet. This is based on a request, so I hope the requester enjoys :) No song references here, but "Modern Love" by David Bowie seems appropriate. It's 80s, New Wave-y, and we're in an arcade in this fic, so it fits.

Summary: The team goes out to an arcade, and Logan is his usual grumpy self...but his soft spot for you is more clear than ever.

Warnings: Suggestive content (would totally write a second part with some true smut), tooth rotting fluff, friends to lovers, kissing, cursing, f!reader/afab!reader, grumpy!Logan, Jubilee is a cock block LOL, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 1,685 short and sweet indeed

“I do not want to be here,” Logan complains, rolling his eyes as the team strolls into the arcade. 

Jubilee skips inside, twirling with excitement. “Well, that’s just too bad, Logan!” She calls, running over to the arcade’s version of Dance Dance Revolution. Kurt is laughing, following at her heels. “Because everyone else is going to have a great time!” 

“Gambit’s winning big tonight,” Gambit says, taking Rogue’s hand in his. “Gambit’s winning chere a prize, he is.” Rogue blushes, letting Gambit pull her to one of the fake slot machines. 

Jean and Scott walk over to an older machine—Pac-Man or something similar, probably. Storm and Charles head towards the seating area near the snack bar in the back, leaving you and Logan to yourselves. Of course. You’re alone with Logan. The person you want but you know you can’t have. 

You’re friends—just friends. You’ve accepted that he’ll never see you as anything more, but it still hurts. 

“So…” You say, trailing off as Logan looks around the arcade. “Not your kind of place, huh?”

“Not particularly,” he says back, his eyes finding yours. You can’t help but smile at that stupid, grumpy look on his face. “You like this shit?” He asks, smiling back at you. 

You shrug your shoulders, noncommittal. “I think you’d have fun if you tried,” you say, nodding towards the crane machine, and walking over. You can hear Logan’s footsteps against the carpet, following you close behind.

You peer into the glass, looking at all the stuffed animals filling the machine. Your smile widens when you spot the cute little turtle in the back—green and brown, wide eyes, and extra plush and round. Logan leans against the machine, arms crossed tightly against his chest. “Which one are we going for?” He asks. We—you can’t help but replay the word in your head. There’s a “we” in this. You and Logan. 

You point to the turtle in the back row. “We’re going for that one,” you say, and his eyes find the green little thing. “Isn’t he cute?”

He shakes his head, grinning ear to ear, his grumpiness seemingly gone now. “Sure, princess, sure he is.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat at the sound of the familiar pet name. You lean down to put a quarter in the machine, trying your best not to overthink the situation. The crane starts up, whirring to life, giving you three tries to win the stuffy. 

You maneuver the crane to the back row, just above the turtle. “Do you think that’s good?” You ask, looking towards Logan. But he isn’t looking at the machine; he’s looking at you, smirking. “What?” You ask, narrowing your eyes incredulously. 

“You’re cute when you concentrate,” Logan says, his smirk unwavering. You can feel the heat rising to your chest as he peers into the machine. He nods, his eyes finding yours again, changing the subject before you can respond to his comment. “Looks good to me.”

You swallow nervously, pressing the button on the top of the stick, sending the crane down to the stuffy. It grabs the turtle, holding it up. It looks like it’s going to make it, but it falls in the center of the glass box. You groan, annoyed as the crane moves back to position. You try again, bringing the crane to the center of the machine, just above the turtle, and dropping it again. The silver claws grip the plushy, but it’s a bad grab—the turtle slipping right out of its grasp. 

 “Fucking rigged,” you mutter, moving the crane over the turtle for the final time. “This is it,” you say, looking at Logan. He’s suddenly shifting closer to you, standing behind you and pressing his front to your back. His arms rest on either side of the crane machine’s controls, caging you in. 

“Much better view from here,” he whispers at the shell of your ear. You’re distracted by how close he is. You can smell him—tobacco and pine and musk. “Let’s see if it works, princess.” This is too much. Far more than you can possibly handle. 

You take a deep breath, your eyes surveying the crane’s distance from the turtle carefully, and you press the button. The crane drops, grabbing the stuffy, and picking it up successfully. “Yes!” You say, looking back at Logan. His face is inches from yours. You can feel his breath fan across your lips. Your noses are so close, brushing together softly. He leans in, lips parted. 

“Game over!” A robotic, automated voice rings out, the crane whirling back into position. It snaps you back to reality, and you look inside the machine. There, off to the side just next to the machine’s drop box, is the turtle. 

“Shit,” you mumble, shoulders slumping with disappointment. You know it’s just a game, and you are an adult after all, but you can’t help the frown that forms across your face. “I really wanted him. I was gonna name him Bernie.”

Logan chuckles. “Bernie?” he asks, and you nod. He’s centimeters away from you again, leaning in. “Don’t sweat the loss, princess. You’re cuter than that little thing is anyw—"

“Look what Kurt and I got with our tickets!” Jubilee is suddenly in front of you, a stuffed, sparkly blue dinosaur in her hand. She’s tugging you away from Logan and across the arcade before you can protest. “You gotta dance with me!” You look back at Logan, who’s standing alone in front of the crane machine, arms tucked against his chest. 

Have fun, he mouths. And good luck. He winks at you as Jubilee whisks you off to Dance Dance Revolution. You let her pick the song, and you struggle through the round, your feet tapping to the beat. You and Jubilee are a laughing mess. You know you look absolutely ridiculous, but it’s fun. 

And yet, your mind still wanders to Logan. You think about how close he was to you, the way his lips practically brushed against yours—the ghost of a kiss. You think about the way he caged you in, pressed against your back. You’re so distracted that you don’t even realize how badly you’re fumbling all the moves; you don’t hear Jubilee calling your name. 

“Hey!” She shouts, finally bringing you back to reality. The round is over; you missed the entire second half of the dance. “Where’d you go just there?” She asks, concern hidden within her smile.  

You look over to the crane machine, expecting to see Logan, but he’s gone. In fact, you can’t find him anywhere. “Sorry Jubes, but I gotta go see about something,” you say, stepping off the platform. 

Your eyes search the arcade. Gambit and Rogue are at the ticket redemption counter, picking out a big stuffed bear. Kurt is fooling around on one of those motorcycle racing games. Storm and Charles are—uncharacteristically—sharing a soft pretzel, while Jean and Scott share a milkshake. Everyone is here and accounted for except Logan. 

That is, until you notice the puff of smoke in the corner of the glass door at the front of the arcade. You smirk, walking towards the entrance and pushing the door open. 

Logan leans against the brick wall of the building, cigar in his mouth. His head turns towards you, and he immediately takes the cigar out, dropping it to the ground and extinguishing it with the heel of his boot. 

“Hi,” you whisper, standing next to him. 

He looks down at you, smiling widely. “Hi.” He’s leaning in again—so close—and a shiver runs up your spine. “Cold?” He asks, shrugging out of his leather jacket before you have a chance to answer. He helps you into the jacket one arm at a time, his eyes drinking you in once it’s on, trailing up and down your body. “Looks good on you,” he hums. “Way better than it does on me.”

You shake your head, letting your shoulder brush against his. You look over at him and suddenly notice something green and round in his hand. “What’s that?” You ask. But you already know. You recognize the little brown spots and the wide eyes. 

Logan smirks, lifting the turtle up. “Couldn’t let you go home without him,” he says, holding it out towards you. 

“No way!” You shout, ignoring the turtle and throwing your arms around Logan’s neck. It’s instinctive, natural. He tugs you in closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. “Thank you so much,” you mumble into the crook of his neck. “I can’t believe you ended up playing a game at an arcade.” 

“I’d do anything for you,” he whispers against your temple. The sudden vulnerability of his words makes your heart tighten in your chest. You stay like that for a while, his lips ghosting your forehead, your chests pressed together. You finally lift your head, looking up at Logan. 

“Lo?” You whisper, and his gaze meets yours, flitting between your eyes and your lips. He drops the plushy onto the bench next to him and walks you back into the brick wall, caging you in, hands on either side of your waist. 

He leans in. “Yeah, pretty girl?” He brings one hand to your hip, gripping gently. “What do you need?”

“Y-you,” you stutter. “I need y—"

His lips swallow your words, fitting against yours like a puzzle piece. The kiss is slow, languid, but you can feel his need in the way he moves against you, hands slipping underneath the borrowed jacket and your shirt to explore your skin. His fingertips drag along your back, relaxing you into his touch. 

“Maybe we should get out of here,” Logan mumbles against your lips. 

Your heart flutters in your chest. “But what about the others?” You ask, nodding to the arcade.

Logan smirks, stealing another kiss. “All the more reason to get back to the mansion before they do.”

“But how are we going to—”

He grips your waist, tugging you towards the parking lot. “I took my bike, pretty girl.”

Oh?

Oh. 

tags: @ilysmdovie12 @prettyseaveins @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @silversprings-mp3 @movhoney @wittyjasontodd @theasiaabattoir @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @pedrohoe04 @derbygracie

[rubyreduji]

beach boobs babes — kmg

summary: mingyu goes to the beach to cool down, but things only heat up

tags: smut (minors dni!), chubby!big-boobed!reader warnings: sexual content, semi-public sex, spit used as lube, praise, tit fuck, oral (m. rec), cum eating, tit sucking, fingering, one mention of being "too heavy" wc: 1.3k an: this is def inspired by that video of ross lynch at the beach where you can see his dick print ANYWAYS

Part Two

Mingyu wouldn't consider himself a pervert, he may be rethinking that now though.

At the beginning of the day he thought that a beach day would be the perfect way to cool down from the scouring heat of the Korean summers, but now that he's actually here he feels nothing but heat creeping up the back of his neck, covering him in a whole body flush from his cheeks all the way down to his dick.

Ever since he laid eyes on you this morning he's been doing his best to tamper down his growing hard on. It doesn't help that his swim trunks are short and tight and perfectly define his package even when he's not have perverse thoughts.

In his defense, he wasn't expecting for you to show up like that, with everything out on display for his viewing pleasure. Your soft looking stomach and your full round breasts and your thick thighs all wrapped up in a bikini that doesn't do much to stop Mingyu's imagination from wandering away.

Your bikini is cute, a little yellow set with white flowers patterned over it, strings tied together to hold it in place. Mingyu would kill to pull those strings, releasing the knot and subsequently your fat tits.

There's not much that Mingyu wouldn't do to see your full bare body in front of him, served to him like a starving wolf being fed a steak. Mingyu knows he should have shame for his thoughts, but he can't bring himself to care when you look so fucking good.

You're technically Joshua's friend. While you get along well with the others, it's Joshua who you're always hanging around. It makes Mingyu a bit jealous to see the way you're so clingy to the older boy. He's also a bit thankful for it though, because if not then you wouldn't be here now, at the beach with the group.

Mingyu stares intently at the way Joshua squirts sunscreen all over your back. The creamy, white ropes hitting the bare skin of your back. He can't peel his eyes away as Joshua's large hands cover your back, spreading the sunscreen all over and working it into your skin. Mingyu desperately wishes he was in Joshua's place, his hands roaming across your skin, the soft rolls of your back under his palms.

Mingyu knows that everyone can see his hard-on through his swimtrunks but he can't help it. You look so pretty with the sun beaming down on your smiling face. Mingyu can't take it anymore and he quickly heads to the shore, hoping a swim will help him calm down.

It does work for a while, the cold water shocks him a bit and the swimming helps him release some pent up energy, but it quickly all goes to waste when he climbs out and gets another sight of you. You're standing next to Joshua, eating a piece of watermelon and just the idea of you and food gets Mingyu going, but then you take a bite and the juice of the watermelon drips down your chin and falls right onto your chest, sliding further down right into the valley of your breasts. Mingyu groans, his dick stirring at the idea of him pressing his tongue to your skin, lapping up at the sweet juices with your beautiful, full tits squishing either side of his head.

Mingyu realizes he really has to stop staring because you've seemed to notice him and the prominent strain of his swim trunks. Your eyes trail down his figure, lingering on his crotch, before looking up to meet his eyes. Mingyu doesn't give you time to even send him an expression before he's quickly turning and heading to one of the changing huts.

He's not quite sure what the laws are on jacking off in a changing room on a public beach is, but he also can't really put much thought into it when his dick is actually starting to hurt. The only thing his mind can focus on is the image of your soft curves and suffocating in your cleavage.

A deep groan leaves Mingyu's throat when he finally pushes his trunks down, letting his cock pop free. He doesn't waste time spitting in his palm before grabbing his length and starting to pump it. He leans back against the wall as he closes his eyes, fucking his fist and imagining it's your pussy.

He's so lost in thought he nearly misses the sound of the changing room door opening but when he opens his eyes he jumps, trying to cover up his leaking cock. In his haste he must have forgot to lock the door. It takes him a few more seconds to process who exactly is standing in front of him.

You look so innocent, with your big eyes and soft features, staring at Mingyu curiously. It would almost be enough to make Mingyu feel some kind of shame, but then his eyes trail down your figure and his body is flooded with the pains of lust once again. Your swimsuit is just so tiny on you, the strings digging into your flesh, your tummy pudging up over your waistband. He can't even look at your tits without his cock twitching in his hand, just barely hidden from your gaze. They way they spill out of the fabric, pushed together to create the most delicious cleavage that jiggles anytime you move.

"I-I'm sorry!" You exclaim, but you still don't tear your eyes away from Mingyu. "You looked a bit uhm...flushed earlier, so I wanted to check in on you. I can see why now."

Something snaps in Mingyu and he's suddenly removing his hands to let his dick hang free, in full sight for you. "Don't give me that bullshit, baby. I know you saw it. It's kinda hard not to." Mingyu wraps his hand around his cock, yanking at his length a few times. "I mean, look how big it is. All hard just from you."

"F-from me?" You squeak.

"Who else, gorgeous? I mean look at you, in that skimpy ass little bikini, teasing everyone on this damn beach," Mingyu growls.

"I-I didn't-"

"God baby, doesn't matter what you meant to do. Truth is it's taking all of my resolve not to jump you right here." Mingyu's hand speeds up, his cock leaking pre-cum all over his fingers.

"Well then, I should help you, right?" Your words come out slowly and Mingyu swears he has no clue how you can still sound so innocent while implying something so dirty.

Before Mingyu can react you're kneeling down in front of Mingyu, staring up at him. You gently bring your hands up to pull the strings of your bikini top loose, letting the fabric fall off your body and reveal your tits. Now without the support of the fabric they droop down, the weight of them too much to defy gravity. Your areolas are large and round like a target for Mingyu's mouth.

You don't allow Mingyu to put his mouth on you though. Instead you lean foward and push your tits around Mingyu's cock, eveloping his length in the warmth of your large, soft cleavage. Mingyu audibly whines at the feeling and he can't even be embarassed because he's in absolute heaven right now.

You slowly start to move your tits around his cock, and Mingyu nearly cums on you right then when you let your saliva dripple down your chin and onto his tip. The mix of his pre-cum and your spit allows you to glide his cock between your breasts easily, rubbing up against his length in a way that makes Mingyu's head go completely blank.

"F-fuck," Mingyu whines, "you look so good right now baby. My big cock pushed between your fat tits."

Mingyu starts to rut his hips into the valley of your chest, helping you jack him off. Mingyu knows he's not going to last long when you lean down to start suckling on the head of his cock. You suck and kitten lick at it, lapping up all of the pre-cum drooling out of his slit.

"Holy shit, baby, fuck," Mingyu babbles. He knew he needed this, but he completely underestimated how good it would feel. Your skin is warm against his cock and the plump fat of your chest cushions his length nicely.

"C'mon Gyu," you mutter in between lapping at the tip, "cum all over my chest. I know you want to. I see the way you stare at me. Cum on my tits."

With a groan Mingyu's hips stutter and he's painting your chest white with his spunk. Some of it sprays up onto your face and the sight of you cover in his cum is enough to send Mingyu's mind reeling.

Mingyu nearly falls over when you bring your finger to your chest, scooping up the mess and bringing it to your mouth. You suck on your fingers, staring directly at Mingyu as you do. Mingyu's cock twitches despite having just nutted.

You whine and shift a bit where you're kneeling. "Mingyu," you mumble, "I'm so wet now."

Holy shit.

Mingyu quickly moves to sit on the chair in changing hut. You stand and make your way over to him. You look nervous for a second but Mingyu grabs you, pulling you into his lap.

"M-mingyu! I'm too heavy!"

"Fuck baby, no you're not. You feel so good in my lap," Mingyu mutters, his mouth too busy kissing at your bare skin. His hands roam over your stomach, soaking up every bit of sweet chub he can.

You whimper under his touch, squirming in his lap a bit. Mingyu stares at you intently as he brings his head down, raising one of your boobs to meet his mouth. He wraps his lips around your tit, sucking on it hard. He swirls his tongue around your nipple and relishes in the reaction he gets out of you.

"G-gyu, please," you beg.

Normally Mingyu would respond, "Please what baby?" but he doesn't dare take his mouth off of you. Instead Mingyu lifts you up, turning around so this time he's on his knees while you sit in the chair.

You seem a bit shocked Mingyu could lift you, but you can't focus too much on that when Mingyu's fingers are playing with the strings of your bikini bottom. When Mingyu tugs at it, it comes undone, your bottoms falling against the chair away from your body.

A soft sigh leaves your mouth when Mingyu pushes his fingertips up against your clit. He rubs there for a moment before exploring further. His fingers push your chubby folds apart, revealing your hot, slick cunt. As much as Mingyu wants to drag this out he can't help himself from sinking his fingers into your pussy.

You wrap your arms around Mingyu's head, pushing his face even farther into your chest. Mingyu thinks he could die like this happy, suffocating between your tits, your velvety walls wrapped around his fingers.

Mingyu is completely content to stay like this, but then you start to wiggle your hips and Mingyu realizes you're basically cock warming his fingers. He starts to move his digits in you, brushing up against your walls. When he hits a particularlly soft spot and he hears you gasp, he knows he's hit your sweet spot.

Your jucies are running down his hand as he continues to jut his fingertips up into the same spot, his thumb rubbing at your clit as he does. Up above, his mouth is still working diligently at sucking at your tits, licking and nipping where he can.

"M-ming-gyu," you stutter out, your voice high pitched and tense, "so close. Please."

Finally, Mingyu pops his mouth off of your tits. "Fuck, c'mon baby. Cum for me. I know you can, pretty girl."

His thumb speeds up, pressing against your clit harder. Your hips buck up against his hand before your thighs are clenching and you're shaking. You let out the prettiest mewls as you reach your high, your head thrown back against the wall.

"Good girl, you look so pretty like this. Absolutely stunning," Mingyu tells you, and he means it. He doesn't think he's ever seen something so breath taking before.

When you've calmed down Mingyu slowly pulls his fingers out from you and pops them into his mouth, licking your arousal off of them. You taste even better than you look and Mingyu hopes that eventually he'll have the opprotunity to be squished between your thighs. He's sure it will be just as magical as being squished between your breasts.

Mingyu helps you tie your bikini back on and when the pieces are in place you frown at the marks Mingyu left all over your chest.

"Mingyu!" You whine.

"I'm sorry baby," Mingyu mumbles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "I couldn't help it."

"Yeah, but now I'll have to explain to Joshua why I look like a vaccum attacked me!" You exclaim and Mingyu suddenly remembers you two came to the beach with a group.

Mingyu groans. He's never going to hear the end of the teasing. Oh well, it was totally worth it.

taglist: @ckline35 @toruro @jeanjacketjesus @namjoonbaby @n4mj00nvq @0717luv @lovelyhan @ovai @wolfgurl2600 @scorpiobitch88 @im-gemmy @lllucere @tulipgarland4 @embrace-themagic @sulkygyu @leejihoonownsmyheart @synthetickitsune @heavenly-mobo @pandorashbox @enhacolor @bias-recs @luvthatleader-nim @hoeforcheol @blxckswxnxge @tinkerbell460 @yeosayang @emmmui

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[reidelight]

Wake Up Call

summary: when the heat breaks down at the hotel you’re staying at, you suggest sharing a bed with spencer to keep warm throughout the night

genre: a twinge of smut and fluff

cw: 18+ MDNI, gn!reader, afab!reader, pet names (darling, love, pretty boy), slight sub!spencer if you squint hard enough, mutual pining, fade to black sex

wc: 1.8k

note: hi! this is my first fic on here :) there's def potential for a part two if y'all want it. enjoy!

You regretted not bringing a sweater to sleep in. 

While it made complete sense that the weather cooled as the sun went down, you couldn’t help but complain as the cheap motel informed you all that the heating was unfortunately down in some of the rooms. Ever the lucky ones, you and Spencer stepped foot into your shared room and are welcomed with a deceptively kind wall of chilly air.

“You’d think that with all the BAU does on a daily basis, we’d get a decent room to hunker down in,” you huff, setting down your duffle bag on the farther bed.

“Just you wait until you feel the thickness of the duvet,” Spencer chimes in, which results in a dramatic sigh falling from your lips.

It was only a matter of time before you had suggested sharing a bed to gather as much heat as possible. Seeing as Spencer was a walking heater, it made perfect sense when he crawled into your bed and even more so when you huddled close together.

Despite the good doctor’s opinions on the amount of germs passed through physical contact, he found that you bypassed any and every one of those thoughts. Simply put, he didn’t mind your germs. After the three years you two had worked together at the BAU, Spencer had developed a bit of a soft spot for you, and you for him. 

“Pretty boy,” Morgan smirked as he watched you enter with Spencer, treats in hand and the brightest smiles on your respective faces. “About time you two got together.”

“What?” Spencer squeaked, the heat rising to his cheeks. “No, they just brought me a coffee this morning.”

“Just you?” Derek turns to you, “What about me? I like coffee too, and don’t get me started on donuts.”

“So does the rest of the team, and everyone else in this office building. I can’t exactly afford enough for everyone,” you laugh, taking a seat at your desk.

“Not my fault the coffee machine broke down and maintenance hasn’t gotten around to fixing the damn thing,” Morgan groaned, tilting his head back.

“I’ll bring you one tomorrow, but it’s going on the company card,” you reply, flashing a smile to Morgan.

“Not a chance,” Hotch says as he passes through the bullpen.

Your conversation faded away as Spencer set up his desk far from your own. He couldn’t help but stare at the little heart drawn next to his name on the cup. You were his best friend, but he couldn’t help but allow his heart to flutter at the prospect of something more. Of course, he had weighed the pros and cons of asking you out, but ultimately decided it wasn’t the smartest idea. 

It was all around bad timing. You had just gotten out of a rough relationship and swore off dating for the time being. Spencer watched as men and women alike pursued you each time you’d gone out on BAU bonding nights. It made perfect sense. You were the most beautiful person Spencer had laid his eyes on, of course other people would see that too. 

Spencer had done his best not to let the idea of you in relations with another get to his head. Hell, he had spent so long trying to push away his own feelings for you. It’s not like workplace relationships were prohibited– Penelope and Kevin’s relationship was given nothing but support from the beginning. To him, there was simply no way that you would ever see him in that light. 

Apparently he had been wrong, specifically about what kind of feelings you had for him.

When he had woken up in the middle of the night, Spencer found that the blood not only rushed to his cheeks at the state of your position, but to his crotch as well. You had unknowingly curled up against his front, your head tucked underneath his chin, legs tangled together. 

For a moment, Spencer stopped breathing. You were so calm, completely unaware of the lewd thoughts running throughout his head. He felt ashamed for wanting to pull you closer and hear your sickly sweet voice moan his name. 

“Y/N? Wake up, I’m sorry,” Spencer mumbled, trying to wake you.

Instead of opening your eyes, you had moved impossibly closer to his body, placing pressure onto his already aching cock. Spencer winced, simultaneously cursing and thanking whatever god above that allowed this to happen.

“Darling, I need you to wake up,” Spencer shook you again, sighing in relief once he saw your eyes flutter open.

“Was there another murder? What’s going on?” you grumbled, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“You really shouldn’t be rubbing your eyes like that. It increases the possibility of small scratches on your cornea, leading to redness, light sensitivity, and irritation,” Spencer spits out, trying his best to evade his evident nervousness.

“I just know you didn’t wake me up to tell me that,” You were slightly more awake now, still unaware of your (in Spencer’s opinion) compromised position.

“I’m sorry, I just need to get up,” Spencer rushed out, gesturing to your proximity. “Right now, preferably. I-I’m so sorry.”

Eyes wide, you shuffle away from him, apologizing profusely for moving around in your sleep. In your defense, the beds weren’t exactly the roomiest, and definitely not built for two people to sleep in comfortably at once. And he was just... so warm.

Spencer scrambled to get out of your shared bed, doing his best to cover his crotch with his hands. Already embarrassed enough, he finds himself bolting to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He rubs his hands on his face, ignoring the statement he’d spat out to you minutes prior. 

Unbeknownst to him, you had noticed his evident hard on as his lanky figure stumbled into the adjoined bathroom. Knowing your history, you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t think of the prospect of a hypothetical relationship blossoming between you two. Before you could overthink the idea, you found yourself following his lead and stopping at the door of the bathroom.

“Spence?” you knock gently, trying to listen for any movement beyond the door. “Are you okay?”

“Yep!” he replied rather quickly.

“It’s completely okay, you know. You shouldn’t be ashamed for… that,” you say softly.

“Can we please forget about it? This is highly inappropriate, and I truly am sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

“Oh, Spence. Who said I wanted to forget?” Spencer feels his breath fall short. “Can you let me in, love?”

How could he even begin to say no to you?

Unlocking the door, you’re greeted with a disheveled looking Spencer, cheeks flushed a deep scarlet. 

“What’s going on there, pretty boy?” you begin, taking a step closer to him.

“Look, I’m really sorry about this. I really didn’t mean to,” he begins, “W-what are you doing?” his voice falters to a whisper, afraid to speak any louder.

You placed your hands onto his wrists, gently pulling them away from his middle, allowing the view of his clothed erection on display.

“You really have nothing to be embarrassed of, Spence,” you smile, socking your head to the side. “Do you need some help taking care of that?”

“I-I couldn’t ask you to do that,” he mumbled.

“Why not? We’re friends, yeah?” Letting go of his wrists, you bring your hands to rest around his neck.

Spencer nods, instinctively putting his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

“And friends help each other out,” he groans, shutting his eyes. “Say the word and I’ll stop. I’d never want to make you uncomfortable.”

“No!” he exclaims, gripping your hips tighter. “I’m just nervous.”

“Of what, darling? It’s only me,” you pause, holding his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. “You have done this before, right?”

“Minimally, yes, but it's not just that. This could change everything. I don’t want to lose you as a friend if anything goes wrong. A-and the team! How are we going to explain any of this to them?” Spencer rambles, trying to avoid your gaze.

“We are the ones in control of this. It’s really our own prerogative to figure it all out. Either way, you’re still my best friend,” your voice fades away, lips pursing at all the thoughts running through your head.

“I am? I thought Penny was?” he spoke just above a whisper. 

“Of course you’re my best friend, dummy. You make it difficult to not love you.”

What? Spencer’s jaw drops, struggling to process the words spilling out of your mouth.

“I can understand if you don’t feel the same way–” your sentence is cut off by soft lips pressing against yours.

Following his lead, you kiss him back just as eagerly. Spencer hums into your mouth as you gently tug at the roots of his hair. You took this as a chance to slip your tongue against his, nipping at his bottom lip. He was desperate, unable to get enough of the taste of your lips. Pulling you taut against his body, you let out a shaky moan feeling his erection press against your belly.

“March 13, 2011,” he says, taking a breath. “Exactly two months after you joined the team, you didn’t seem like yourself. You were really in your head, not even Penelope could cheer you up. It also happens to be the day I worked up the courage to invite you over to mine for some wine and movies to take your mind off everything.”

You hum, taking a pause to press a short kiss to his lips. “Yeah, I remember that. It was the first time we had hung out outside the office.”

“It took every fiber in my being to not kiss you while wine drunk,” he laughs, toying with the hem of your shirt. “I think that’s the day I realized that I fell in love with you.”

“Oh, Spence,” you coo, brushing the hair from his eyes. “I probably would’ve kissed you back.”

“You’d just broken up with your partner. I couldn’t do that to you. I wanted to be a safe place, not just some guy that wanted to get in your pants.”

“I’d like to think that both those statements can exist at once.”

Spencer purses his lips, trying to hide his smile. His heart was beating out of his chest. He’d never felt lighter than he did right now.

“What do you think about letting me help with this, hm?” Spencer moans as your hands travel down his body, hovering just above his bulge.

“I don’t think we can just be friends after this,” he whispers, leaning into your touch.

“Sounds like a plan.”

[legoflowers]

the thing about shopping for a coat is you have to be at the exact right temperature. if you’re too hot you’ll feel overwhelmed and won’t want anything but if you’re too cold you’ll settle 

[theragethatisdesire]

pretty girl - jean kirschtein x afab!reader - 18+!!!

there's def more eren coming but while that's in the works please enjoy the result of the jean brainrot i experienced the other day. fair warning- it's going to get pretty rough, but that's what you asked him for ;)

pairing: reader x jean kirschtein

wc: 4.6k

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

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, established relationship (jean's ur gorgeous bf lucky u), unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, pretty rough sex, vaginal fingering, biting, dirty talk, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, daddy kink, use of names (pretty girl, crybaby, good girl), very dom jean, multiple orgasm, dacryphilia/crying, creampie

this one was super fun and is very tasty u guys enjoy <3

-

-> be there in 5 babe :)

You are not looking forward to this, to say the least. You pace madly around your little apartment in a massive t-shirt and sweatpants covering the skimpiest lingerie set you own. It’s got all the bells and whistles: a matching garter belt, lace in all the right places, stockings that come up to where your plush thighs are the fattest. You should be looking forward to this, you tell yourself, candles lit and ambient lighting ready to go. You have a gorgeous boyfriend who’s going to “be here in five”, and you should be brimming with excitement. But…you’re just not.

Jean’s been in your life for a few months now. What had started as a run-in at the coffee shop around the corner had turned into candlelit dinners, movie marathons, and exclusive titles, and you adore him. His sandy brown hair, the tattoo on his strong bicep, pretty hazel eyes– Jean’s sexy, loving, sarcastic, attentive, literally everything you could ask for in a boyfriend. Except when it comes to your sex life, that is.

The sex isn’t bad per se, you just can’t shake the feeling that he’s holding something back from you. He’s almost too perfect; he’s gentle with you, always taking care to ask permission before touching you, chaste kisses as he slides in, hand-holding in missionary. He cums every time, immune to the whiskey-dick you’d expect from his bourbon drinking habit, so you know he’s enjoying himself, but he doesn’t always seem all there. The fire just isn’t in him, and you know he has that side to him. You’ve seen those hazel eyes you love so much blaze, in a heated argument, at the gym. Why it doesn’t happen in your intimate moments is beyond you, it’s like he’s afraid to break you, like he’s not doing everything–

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Shit, knocking on your front door is what he’s doing.

You take one last look in the mirror: hair’s casual, but still sexy, makeup to a minimum, all straps and lace covered up by your inconspicuous pajamas. Time to potentially ruin your relationship.

“Hey beautiful,” Jean greets you with an innocent smile, “you look cozy.”

“Feel cozy,” you accept his kiss, chewing on your lip as he comes in. Your heart’s pounding in your ears; poor thing has no idea what’s to come. Maybe it’ll go well, you think; false hope might be the only thing that gets you to pull through with your plan.

“Have any movie ideas for tonight? I was thinking Hereditary, but only if you’re not too chicken…” Jean raises his eyebrows, a taunting smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Ha! If only he knew all of the things you aren’t “too chicken” for.

You smile weakly, stomach churning. “Maybe. Can we just…can we just talk for a sec?”

Jean’s playful demeanor drops instantly, replaced by a faint frown. “What about?”

You amble over to the couch, playing with the strings of your sweatpants anxiously. How the fuck are you even supposed to bring this up? Your mind’s racing so quickly it draws a blank, and before you can stop yourself, you blurt: “Sex.”

“Sex?” Jean’s cheeks tinge pink. He hasn’t shaved in probably a week, a shadow covering his sharp jawline. God, he’s gorgeous, you can’t mess this up, you really can’t.

“Yeah,” you confirm, “sex. Our sex, to be clear.”

“I figured as much,” Jean’s sat himself beside you now, one eyebrow raised suspiciously. He’s not upset, not yet, but you’ve definitely caught him off guard.

“I– I feel like we’re on different pages,” you stammer– fuck you are so bad at this, “I just feel like sometimes you’re so…gentle, and you don’t necessarily, like, have to be?”

Jean’s frowning full on now, a precious little wrinkle appearing in the center of his forehead. You’ve hurt him, and your heart sinks. Probably should have started with the pros. “Like…what do you mean, by ‘don’t have to be gentle’?”

“Our sex life is great,” you try to smile enthusiastically, as if you don’t actually want to blow your brains out right now, “please don’t think I’m saying you’re bad in bed or anything. I just, like– okay, for example, have you ever tried anything rough?”

His mouth is a flat line. “Like what?”

“Like, handcuffs, or roleplay, any of that stuff.”

“What have you tried?” His voice is even, collected, but there’s something simmering in him that you can’t put your finger on. It’s not anger, but it tastes similar, running in the same vein but not quite there. It’s your turn to feel your face warm.

“I mean, I’ve tried handcuffs before. Some light slapping, spanking.” You’re twiddling your thumbs, confessing into your lap. You can feel his eyes on you.

“That it?”

“I guess.”

“Did you…enjoy that kind of stuff?” He’s taking the bait. You finally meet his gaze and it ignites a little fire in your stomach; he’s never looked at you this intensely, brows pinched together like you’re a puzzle he’s trying to figure out. All of these little mannerisms are tells, you’re intuitive enough to know that, but exactly what he’s trying to convey you just can’t figure out.

“Yeah.”

“How rough are we talking, here?” Jean sounds deeper than normal, the slightest bit of strain to his words. That’s definitely new; Jean’s the most unshakeable person you’ve ever met.

“If I’m making you uncomfortable, I–”

“You’re not making me uncomfortable,” an easy chuckle floats out of his mouth, “just trying to feel you out is all.”

Your brows furrow. “Feel me out?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “I’m surprised, that’s all.”

“Surprised?” Your nose wrinkles. “Did I ever give off the impression that I was, like, super vanilla or something?”

“No,” he laughs again, a bit of the tension melting from the room, “no, not that. We’re just still pretty new, that’s all. Wasn’t going to whip out everything in my toolbox ‘til I knew you were okay with it.”

That piques your interest; you think you’d very much like to see what’s in this toolbox of his. “So you do like some of this stuff?”

Jean rolls that thought over in his mind for a beat before responding, a suspicious smirk that you can’t read tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I guess you could say I like some of this stuff.”

“We’re back to my original question then: what do you like?”

“I’m more worried about what you like,” Jean says, “especially since you won’t come right out and say it. Gonna make me guess?”

That’s your Jean, blunt as ever. The fire in your stomach sparks and spits at the conversation, teasing and tempting. There’s something playful to his words; you can’t shake this feeling that you’re missing something, that he’s toying with you, but you like it. You let him keep pushing, see where he’s leading you. “Sure, guess.”

“Do you like…” Jean trails off, examining you with his chin nestled between his thumb and index finger, “to be dominant?”

“No.”

“Submissive, then.”

“Yeah.” He likes that, you can tell by the way his eyes glint at you. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

“Like to be tied up?”

“Already told you about the handcuffs.”

“I bet you have a praise kink.”

That has you flustered. There’s a sinking sensation in your stomach that you’ve underestimated him, waded out too deep into the water, but fuck it, you’re already here. “How’d you know?”

Jean smiles, pleased. “I just do. Overstimulation?”

“Sure.”

“Orgasm denial? Degradation?”

“If I deserve it.” It’s a bold answer, but it makes Jean suck in a sharp “fuck” between his teeth. Oh yes, you’ve definitely underestimated him.

“You like to be punished, don’t you?” His hand has traveled up to cup your jaw, thumb playing absentmindedly with your bottom lip. There’s an anticipatory warmth gathering between your legs, and the air between you both is practically crackling, charged by the tension thrumming through both of your bodies.

“Yes,” it comes out in a breath, almost pathetic, but you can’t help yourself. He looks so good, always does, and now he’s grazing his eyes over you like he wants to take a bite.

“You know how safewords work?” You nod a bit too eagerly. “Ours is going to be red, okay?”

“Okay,” you’re agreeing, but you aren’t entirely sure what to, caught up in the soft rubbing of his thumb over your mouth.

“If your mouth is,” a deep breath shakes through his frame, “occupied, give me a sharp pinch with your nails.”

“I can do that,” the tension between you is palpable now, the room’s so hot that you’re surprised your wallpaper isn’t peeling off.

“Go to your room,” Jean releases you, eyes dark and hungry, “take your clothes off and wait for me on the bed. I’ll be in soon.”

You follow his instructions without thinking twice, as if a switch has flipped in your brain. Maybe it was his tone, an authoritative way of speaking that threatens consequence, or maybe you’re just so ready to see what this perfect boyfriend of yours has been hiding all this time. As you’re getting undressed, you realize he still doesn't know about your lingerie. You bite back a smile, kneeling on the bed. This is going to be so good.

A minute or so ticks by slowly, and just when your legs are starting to ache, Jean’s entering your room. His face darkens in a way you’ve never seen before when he sees your little get up; lightning shoots through your core.

“Put on a pretty outfit just for me?”

“Mhm,” you hum.

“That’s good,” he says in that slow drawl of his, “good girl.”

He’s only testing the waters, but you can feel your body viscerally react to the little pet name, shifting on your knees to mask your desperate attempt for friction, dampness spreading in your panties. Jean sees right through your act, smirking.

Jean joins you in undressing, slipping his shirt over his head. You take your time admiring his torso; miles of long, lean muscle, little ripples by his ribs trailing into a ridiculous six-pack. Jean’s a confessed gym rat, and it shows in every little line along his body. You have to blink and look away before you start salivating.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Jean scolds, tilting your head up towards him, “eyes on me, got it?”

“Got it,” you answer. Jean frowns.

“That’s not very nice,” he says, “try again.”

You go out on a limb. “Yes, sir.”

Jean’s eyes glint again in that mean, pretty way you saw earlier. You did good, you did good for him. “Much better. Get on the floor.”

You slide off of your mattress, practically buzzing with anticipation, settling on your knees in front of him. A low groan rumbles in Jean’s chest.

“Look so good like that, my pretty girl.”

Oh, you really like that, nuzzling against his hand on your head. Jean smiles down at you, inching his pants down until that little thatch of brown hair starts revealing itself. “Open up for me, nice and wide.”

Your jaw’s dropped, mouth open and tongue out, expectant. Jean smiles wider, sharp and dangerous, pulling his cock out for you. He taps the head against your tongue a few times, even slaps you with it, facade faltering for a fraction of a second to gauge your reaction. You’re good for him, sitting still and patient with your mouth still open, a drop of drool starting to slide off the end of your tongue. Jean makes a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a chuckle.

“Oh, you’re an obedient little thing, aren’t you?” Your panties grow impossibly wetter, you wiggle on your thighs under him, earning yourself another slap of his cock on your tongue, heavy and drooling. “Gonna fuck this pretty face, okay?”

You close your mouth around his head, sucking lightly to show your approval. He’s not even touched you, not so much as a kiss, and your brain’s foggy, running like a hamster on a wheel chasing the circular thought of be good, be good, be good. Jean grabs your hair none-too-gently, tugging it at the roots, and starts canting his hips towards your mouth, muttering under his breath about how good you are, how good your mouth feels on him.

You lower your jaw ever so slightly, and before long, Jean’s picking up speed, knocking your gag reflex here and there and making you cough around him. He doesn’t seem overly concerned; in fact, he grins cruelly down at you when he hits an extra-sensitive spot, making you hunch and gag on him.

“Look at my pretty girl, so happy getting her mouth fucked,” he hisses when you moan around him, feeling the vibrations up his cock. He’s moving faster now, rougher than he’s ever been. You’re gagging with some regularity, tears welling up in your eyes and threatening to spill down your cheeks. You expect him to let up, give you some air, but it only spurs him on, and before you know it, there are thick streams of tears running down your face. Your jaw aches, your knees burn, but you stay, letting him use you how he pleases.

“Fucking crying on me,” Jean growls, “my cock too much for you?”

You try to answer with a shake of your head, but he’s relentless, fingers tightening in your hair and cock shoving to the back of your throat, making you retch.

“No, you love it, don’t you? My little crybaby.”

You’re so wet you can feel it gathering on the insides of your thighs, entirely soaked through your panties. You move your hips subtly, this way and that, desperate for friction. Jean notices, pulling out of your mouth but staying connected by a string of your spit.

“You squirming, pretty girl? Need some attention?”

“Yes, sir,” you rasp, nodding eagerly. Jean helps you up onto the bed, lays you back against his chest facing the mirror on top of your wardrobe. It’s a terribly lewd sight; you spread out in front of him, face swollen and teary, the telltale glisten of wetness glittering on your thighs.

Jean slides a hand down your body, rubbing you over your panties and nibbling at your ear. “You’re gonna watch me make you cum, and if I see you look away, I’m fucking you ‘til I cum, and you’re not getting a damn thing. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” your voice wobbles pathetically. Jean seems to like it; his cock twitches in interest against your back. He pushes your panties to the side, flicking his fingers faster over your clit. Embarrassingly enough, you’re already nearing your halfway point from the face-fucking, moaning and grinding up into his palm.

“Need something?”

“Mhm,” you grit out, jaw clenched. Jean slaps your pussy; not too hard, but firm enough to make you jolt, bring you a moment of clarity.

“Manners,” he reminds you sharply.

“I’m sorry, I– can I please have a finger?”

Jean’s placated, slides one finger into you and laughs hot against your neck at the obscene sound that tears from your throat. “What do we say when we get what we ask for?”

“Thank you– fuck, thank you,” your words are coming out in puffs of breathe. Jean has long, skilled fingers, a fact you’re already familiar with, but the position he’s put you in has you dripping onto the sheets: forcing you to watch as he pumps in and out of you, grinding into your clit with the heel of his hand. You’ll be lucky if you last another minute.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? My pretty girl likes being full, right?” Jean murmurs, hot against the shell of your ear. “Tell me.”

“Yes, sir, I– I like it, I need– fuck!”

“What do you need?” Jean coos, entertained, as if he’s not unraveling you with just the one.

“I want one m-more finger, please,” you stutter, relieved you’re able to get the words out at all.

“Learning so fast,” Jean kisses your shoulder, granting your wish. His fingers are thick, the slight stretch making you throw your head back against his shoulder, hips rolling into his hand of their own accord. “Still looking?”

You force your head back to its upright position, mindful of the threat in his tone. His fingers work faster at your obedience, curling insistently against the gummy spot inside your walls that makes you see stars, makes you a little out of your mind with need. It’s that out-of-mind dizziness in your head that causes your little slip-up:

“Fuck, please, more- more, Daddy.”

Jean’s fingers still; it’s not until you’re halfway into a whine of disappointment that you realize what you’ve said. Your face burns; you meet his eyes in the mirror, yours shot wide and embarrassed. You trip over your words, trying to explain yourself. That definitely hadn’t been mentioned in your earlier conversation.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that, I just–”

“Just what? Already so fucked out you can’t think straight?” Jean curls his fingers pointedly against your walls, punching a groan from your chest.

“Yeah,” you sigh, head growing cloudy again.

“Say it again.” That definitely isn’t what you expect to hear him mutter against your neck. Jean works a third finger into your cunt with some difficulty, stretching you to your limits. “Fucking say it, or you’re not cumming.”

“Oh my God, D-Daddy,” your cries are pathetic, punctuated by whimpers. The bubble in your stomach is about to pop, the tension growing unbearable. You’re almost there, grinding into his hand pitifully and babbling, when Jean takes one of his hands to grab your throat roughly. He holds you captive, staring at your own stretched cunt on display for you in the mirror.

“Good, good girl,” he says, “now watch Daddy make you cum.”

The band inside you snaps viciously; your back arches away from him, and you squirt, gushing all over your bed sheets, inhuman sounds tearing from your throat where you struggle under his hand. Jean’s working you through the whole thing, still steadily pumping his fingers and whispering dirty little nothings into your ear. It finally begins to quiet, overstimulation washing over you. You push urgently at his wrist, mumbling something or other about “too much, too much”.

Jean mercifully obliges, pulling his hand from you with a shameful sucking sound, giving your pussy another light slap.

“Such a good girl for me, yeah? How you feelin’?”

“Good, so good,” you slur, “I’ve never– never…”

“Never squirted?” Jean’s eyebrows shoot up at your answering nod before a smug expression settles over his face. “Such a fun little toy, aren’t you? Just wait, you’ll get used to it soon enough.”

Your cunt clenches around nothing; so he can make you do that? Again? Jean’s slid out from behind you and is repositioning your limp body, dragging you down the bed by your ankles to line you up with his cock. He bends your knees up, pressing them close to your head. Jesus, he’s going to kill you at this rate.

“Want me to fuck you?”

“Please,” you hate the begging lilt to your voice, but you’re beyond fighting it. You gave up the reins a long time ago when you knelt for him, let him call you a good girl, let him fuck your throat.

“I’ve got you, pretty girl, Daddy’s gotcha,” Jean starts bullying his way into your pussy, still tight and pulsing from your orgasm. “Shit, got a tight little cunt, don’t you? Feels so good– fuck.”

You’re simpering under him, barely able to process the stretch of his cock in you. He’s well-endowed and you’re overwhelmed, a dizzying combination for your fucked-out brain to handle. Just when you think he might be in your throat he’s so deep in you, his hips press to the back of your thighs, both of you letting out a long groan at the feeling.

“So pretty,” Jean muses, not moving yet, just placing a thumb on your clit and absentmindedly playing with it, “such a beautiful pussy.”

You whine, frustrated. He glares at you, landing a harsh smack to your inner thigh.

“I’m not going to warn you again.”

“Please fuck me, oh God, please,” you pant, past the point of humility. Jean licks his lips, presses his palms deep into the backs of your knees, practically folding you in half. He gives you what you ask for.

You’re jolted back and forth on the mattress, mouth hung open in a silent scream as he splits you open on him, forces every inch deep into you. His tip’s kissing your cervix, pain blooming in your abdomen, but you don’t even care, so lost in the rhythm of his hips.

“Jean, I– oh my God,” you try to tell him how good he feels, but all you get is a firm hand around your throat.

“Who’s fucking this pretty cunt up, hm? Fucking you good and deep? Who is it?”

“Daddy,” you choke out, breathless, “Daddy’s.”

“There you go,” Jean’s focused on where you’re connected, eyes never leaving the frothy white ring forming around the base of his cock. You’re crying again, vaguely aware of the streams of tears running down your temples, into your hairline, but fuck, he just feels so good your brain can’t even process it. Jean takes notice, wipes one of your tears and licks it off of his thumb. “Cute fucking crybaby, all happy and cockdrunk, aren’t you?”

You whimper some semblance of an agreement, feeling the band of tension in you already getting stretched to a breaking point. He’s at an angle that allows him to hammer into the most delicious spot inside of you, rubbing against it with each thrust.

“Gonna cum soon, I– I’m gonna cum soon,” you manage, locking his gaze.

“Let me feel it, go on, do it for me,” Jean pants, squeezing your neck tighter. The lack of air goes to your head; the room spins until all you can focus on is him pounding into you. You cum violently, throbbing around his cock, thrashing against his strong arms. Jean fucks you through it, never losing his pace. “Good fucking girl, just like that.”

You’re practically wheezing as your senses return to you, clawing at Jean’s arm on your throat. He lets up on your neck, smiling down at you. “Feel good?”

“Mhm,” you hum, blissed out and half-asleep until Jean flips you, forcing you to prop up on your hands and knees. “Wait, Jean–”

“Wait?” Jean scoffs, sliding back into you. You let out a little cry, and he smacks your ass sharply. “This is what you asked for, right? Said I was being too nice to you.”

“I didn’t– oh my god…” your eyes roll back into your head, a well-placed thrust cutting your words off. “It’s so…it’s so much, Jean.”

Jean lands three more sharp slaps to your ass, already thrusting into you at a brutal pace. “What was that?”

“T-too much, Daddy,” you collapse, face shoved into the bed to mask the pitiful cries leaving your mouth. It is too much; if you tuck your chin to your chest, you can see a little bulge in your tummy where he’s fucking into you, another orgasm already building in the pit of your stomach. You feel like you might pass out if he makes you cum again, but he’s ruthless.

“Too much?” Jean coos, fisting your hair to turn your face. He’s glaring down at you. “You were practically begging me for it, and my pretty girl gets what she wants, right? Said you wanted it rough, so you’re going to fucking take it.”

You nod miserably, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Jean hisses when you clamp down around him. “Squeezing me so goddamn tight, this pussy.”

You feel a hand start thrumming insistently against your clit and nearly shriek; your pussy’s so swollen, so sensitive already. You claw at the bedsheets, feeling something warm and wet swelling inside of you.

“Daddy, I– fuck, it’s, it’s–”

“Gonna make you squirt again,” it’s a promise from behind your ear, “you’re gonna squirt on my cock and Daddy’ll cum for you, okay?”

“I can’t, I–” you’re wailing, words cut off by your own moans. Jean loves it, you can feel his thrusts growing more urgent against your hips, so deep in you you could choke.

“You can,” he corrects you, hand moving faster, “want Daddy to cum in you?”

“Yes, please, p-please,” You cry, letting him use you as he wishes. 

“I’ll give it to you, gotta cum first, you can do that, can’t you? Taking me so well, pretty girl, just need you to cum one more time for me.”

“Uh-huh,” the edges of your vision are starting to close in. He’s ruthless, hips slamming into yours hard enough to bruise, cock stretching you out so nicely, you can’t hold it, but you know, somewhere deep in this primal part of your brain, you need to be good, need to ask him. “Need to cum, Daddy, please– please let me, I–”

“Go ahead,” Jean shushes you, hips moving impossibly faster, “be a good girl, let me feel it.”

That tips you over the edge and Jean makes good on his promise; your cum is dripping out of you, spraying onto his thighs and ruining your sheets. You’re thrashing your head back and forth and sobbing through your orgasm, pinned and powerless under him. Jean swears at the vice-like grip you have on him; it doesn’t take him long to follow suit, pressing himself as deep as he can go, cumming in you. He bends over you as he does, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to him, kissing you hard in a mess of tongue and teeth. You feel it warming your stomach, moaning appreciatively until you both collapse in a sweaty mess of limbs, gasping for breath and clutching onto one another.

Jean allows himself a few moments to catch his breath, and then he’s pulling out of you, leaving you empty and whimpering. He shushes you, holding you close to his chest and letting you work through the intense session in his arms. You’ve never been so fucked out, nuzzling into his chest and simply letting him hold you, letting the aftershocks wrack through your sore body. After a few minutes you’re coming to; the haze begins to lift, and you peek up at him, unsure of where to start after…that.

“You okay?”

You turn the words over in your mouth before you can get them out, still feeling a bit like you’re floating. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. That was…wow.”

Jean, the man that just held you down and forced what were probably life-threatening orgasms out of you, blushes. “Yeah, it was really something.”

“Yeah, it was,” you agree, giggling despite yourself. Your mind is still a little cloudy, a little soft after everything. “But it was good. So good.”

“Yeah?” Jean grins, hoisting you up into his lap so you can both sit up, still cradling you to his chest. “Not too gentle, was I?”

Your face grows hot, you want to hide it behind your hands. “No, not too gentle.”

“You were right earlier,” he admits, “I was definitely holding out on you just because the way I like to…I mean, I don’t think I need to get too into it, you were there. It can be a lot. Didn’t want to push you too far.”

You hum contentedly, playing with the little gold chain he always wears. “I understand that now, but I’m a big girl. I can handle whatever you want to give me, promise.”

“Don’t say that,” Jean groans, “too tired for round two.”

Your hand falls into the mess between your thighs, and you wince. “Maybe after a shower?”

“Greedy,” Jean tuts, scooping you up with him to make the journey over to your bathroom, “my greedy, pretty girl.”

[pierregazly]

are you warm enough? ꨄ oscar piastri

oscar piastri x reader

warnings: reader has the flu, sad!reader over being sick [945 words]

request: Could I ask for a 💗 with Oscar and "Are you warm enough?" prompt?

note: oscar is def the type to take care of a sick partner?? i dont make the rules but it's true! this is part of my 1.5k celebration! feel free to request away!!

It was inevitable it was going to hit you. It had struck through your entire workplace, through all your study groups. One by one, person by person, they were taken down. By a measly thing like the flu. You knew it was going to take you out, and you were going to hate every second of it.

Selfishly, you were hoping it would strike you the week Oscar was gone, not wanting to waste any of the short time that you did have with him by being confined to bed with a sickness that wouldn’t go away. Unluckily, just hours before his plane was scheduled to touchdown in Melbourne, you felt the tickle begin to climb in the back of your throat.

By the time Oscar’s bags were tossed through the front door of your apartment, you were curled up on the couch, a heated blanket over you while a half-empty cup of tea remained on the coffee table in front of you. Your head was pounding, your nose was stuffed, your stomach was aching. You couldn’t keep any food down, and it felt like the apartment had hit negative temperatures in the few hours between waking up with a scratchy throat, and Oscar coming through the door.

“Honey, I’m home,” he singsonged, walking around the corner and stopping dead in his tracks when he observed your state.

You had told him about all the people who were getting sick at work, at school, about how you had been diligent about making sure you were washing your hands and keeping away from them. How you had told him how you didn’t want to ruin the little time the two of you were finally going to be able to spend together, so you were being extra careful.

Oscar felt the sympathy wash over him as he observed you peak out from underneath the blanket, a look of sadness etched around your face.

“Osc… you shouldn’t come close to me. I don’t want to get you sick, too,” you said.

Ignoring your words, Oscar moved closer to the couch before sitting down beside your sock-covered feet. He gently maneuvered them so they were placed over your lap, rubbing soothing circles on your now-exposed ankle.

“I’ll suffer if I have to. Can’t make you take care of yourself when you look like you might freeze to death if I even move this blanket.”

Just from the blanket simply touching his leg, he could feel the heat emitting off of it, the number ‘6’ displayed on the power screen, indicating it was at the highest level the blanket could reach. 

“Do you want me to make you another tea? Maybe go pick up some soup? I can give my mum a call, see if she can make any and drop it off? Does that sound good?”

Your only response was a nod of your head at every question he threw at you, you weren’t one to ask for help when you were sick, always able to simply take care of yourself. But the idea of getting off the couch, moving from the warmth of the blanket to go and make yourself a tea, or dig through the cupboards to find a can of soup… it just didn’t sound worth it, at all.

“I don’t want to bug your mum, if you pass me my phone I’ll just order some soup here. I can get you something too, real food. But you may not want to eat near me, I haven’t really been able to keep anything down either,” the sniffles after every few words had Oscar grimacing.

“Oh hush, mum always has leftover soup. Someone’s always sick around there, she’d be more than happy to drop it off. Let me go make you a cup of tea, and I’ll be right back.”

It didn’t take him long to tinker around the kitchen, throwing your favourite teabag into the mug and heating up the kettle; texting his mum in the process to inquire about any recent soups she may have made. Unsurprisingly, dad had been sick just days before, excess of his favourite soup in a Tupperware container in the freezer. Nicole had promised to get it thawed up and dropped off before sunset, a message of ‘get well soon, honey’ likely to be written in black ink on the lid.

Holding the warm cup of tea in front of your face, he gestured for you to sit up, a groan emitting from your body as you did so. Gently placing the cup into your hands, he sat down next to you, a small frown marring his face.

“Are you warm enough, baby? I can go pull down a few more blankets from the cupboards? Or turn the heating up?”

Shaking your head, you placed the mug down on the coffee table in front of you, before snuggling up into his side. 

“Can you just hold me? You’re always so warm, and I just want to be snuggled up with you, right now,” you said.

The arm that was pressed between your two bodies moved out of the grasp, wrapping an arm tightly around your shoulders before pulling you in closer to his body. 

“I’ll hold you whenever you want me to, even if you’re going to have to be the one to explain to the team why I have the flu next week.”

The only response you gave him was a shrug of your shoulders. You had already grappled with the fact you were probably going to get him sick, if you had to explain to the team why one of their prized driver’s was now sick… then so be it.

y'all... i didnt realize how popular oscar was until this celebration i have SO many requests for him lol. i hope everyone loves this, and as always, thank you for celebrating with me!!

[awearywritersworld]

i have for the first time found what i can truly love—i have found you

sukuna x reader summary: you and sukuna go out for a late night meal. gojo finds out about your... relationship. sukuna is forced to take care of you when you come home drunk. w/c: 2.85k tags/warnings: enemies to lovers. fluff. lots of banter. cursing. jealous/protective!sukuna. gojo being a flirt. aged up!yuuji. features a teeny bit of yuuji x reader. drinking and drunk!reader. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: i think i like how this turned out! also, the first two sections could def be read as a fluffy lil stand alone. idc whats happening in the canonverse, sukunas just a tsundere who adores us very much<3 series masterlist // masterlist

"maybe if you stare long enough, food will magically appear," sukuna calls to you from the kitchen table.

"this is no joking matter," you scold from your place in front of the fridge. "i'm starving."

"well, here's an absurd idea— let's go eat."

you turn toward him, finally closing the fridge, and tilt your head to the side. "you eat?"

"of course." he leans back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. "i typically prefer babies, but hell, i'd even go for an old man right now. i'm famished."

your eyes widen and your mouth falls open. he lets the panic simmer on your face for a few more cruel moments. "i'm kidding, idiot. i eat food, same as you."

"i knew that," you assert. the way your shoulders sag in relief tells him otherwise.

"right," he smirks. after standing up, he grabs your purse and tosses it in your direction. "where to? you're buying."

with only so many places open at midnight, you begin your journey to a 24 hour ramen shop.

you've hardly interacted with sukuna outside of your apartment, so this is certainly an experience you didn't anticipate. and in fact, you're shocked at how normal it feels— almost as if it's a date.

as you walk down the street, people eye him suspiciously because of the dark lines they assume are tattoos. it doesn't bother you though, nor does the lateness of the hour. you know that you're safe because you're with him.

your hands keep brushing against one another's, and you're hoping that he'll eventually take a hint and reach for yours. he doesn't (i mean come on, do you even know who you're dealing with?).

he does at least pick up on your pouty expression with impressive ease. "what now?"

"nothing," you huff.

"don't be a brat."

you sigh dramatically. "you're supposed to hold my hand."

"sure princess," he says condescendingly, lacing his fingers through yours. "maybe use your words next time like a big girl."

he doesn't fail to notice the ensuing skip in your step, and he kicks himself for regarding it as cute.

when you arrive at the ramen shop, sukuna orders no less than three bowls, which earns him a glare once the waitress walks away.

"when i agreed to pay, i didn't know what a glutton you are."

"oh yeah? cause i'm just the picture of temperance any other time?"

you scoff. "well you've got me there."

a sly smirk settles onto his face before he speaks again. "maybe one day you'll learn how greedy i am when it comes to the things i've deemed pleasurable."

you choke on the water you'd just brought to your lips, your face heating up as if it'd been bathed by fire.

wiping at your mouth, you try your best to recover quickly. "whatever, you hellion. as long as that doesn't involve a fourth bowl of ramen."

you're no more than 10 steps away from the shop when you hold out your hand to him. "ahem."

he grabs it roughly and not without rolling his eyes.

"what?" you ask innocently. "that was a word."

"hardly," he jeers. "for as much as you read, i'd expect you to be more fluent than a child."

"and at 1000 years old, i'd expect you to be more charming than a teenage boy, but i guess we're both making concessions."

"see, this is the part that puzzles me. you never seem to have trouble with your words when you're being insolent."

"maybe it's a sign," you begin whimsically. "the universe decided you need to be taken down a peg."

"ah, yes. you as the executor of the universe's will. i don't know why i couldn't see it before."

you giggle, rather delighted that he's elected to play along with your quips. there's something that feels so warm and pleasant about it.

as you wonder if he feels it too, your hand tightens around his.

you're not quite ready to head back to your apartment just yet, because you're scared you'll lose the atmosphere surrounding the two of you. in truth, it's a bit intoxicating.

the perfect opportunity arises when you spot a small park up ahead. lights are strung around the trees, all of which are situated around a small fountain.

"we should stop at that park!" you hardly finish speaking before you take off in that direction, tugging him along behind you.

after you plop down on the fountain's ledge, sukuna takes his place beside you.

"let's sit here for a little while."

he doesn't respond and you take his silence as agreement. he's not really one to stifle his grievances.

as the minutes pass, the rush of the fountain is the only noise that fills the air, while you gaze at the trees with a serene expression.

sukuna, however, is looking at you. the only care he has for the trees is the way their lights reflect in your eyes. otherwise, he's fully occupied by the curve of your nose and the fullness of your lips.

"isn't this pretty?" you finally ask.

"it's pretty," he agrees, even when such a soft word feels foreign on his tongue.

his eyes still haven't left you, and you seem to be oblivious to this fact until he reaches up to stroke your cheek with the back of fingers.

when your gaze lands on him, the fondness written all over his face catches you off guard and you realize how close the both of you are. without really thinking about it, you lean into his touch.

"very pretty," he repeats lowly, as if he's talking to himself.

your heart lurches once in your chest, then hammers away at your ribcage without respite. he leans toward you a fraction of an inch, his eyes flicking down to your lips for a brief second.

truthfully, sukuna has never felt the way he does in this moment. it's a sincere sort of desire. he doesn't want the mindless devotion he once thirsted for from his followers. and he doesn't want the sex he used to crave from his concubines.

no. he just wants you— in whatever capacity you're willing to have him.

the way he's looking at you is just too much. there's a dull thudding in your ears and you swear your thoughts are moving at a million miles a minute.

so naturally, you blurt out the first thing you can manage. "we should take a selfie!"

his face shifts from whatever that expression was to one of confusion. "take a selfie?"

some twisted mix of relief and disappointment crashes through you.

"yeah, a selfie. a picture together. ya know, since the park is so pretty," you ramble.

he pulls away from you. not all the way, but enough that it gives you space to finally breath. he chuckles and it doesn't sound lofty like it so often does. in fact, he seems genuinely amused by you.

"a selfie," he deliberates. "that sounds great, but to the best of my knowledge, hell hasn't frozen over."

and just like that, your dynamic feels like it did during your walk from the ramen shop to the park— comfortable and fun.

"well i guess you would be one of the first to know."

ignoring his protests, you take out your phone and hold it far enough away that the camera captures both of your faces. you can see on the screen that he's put on an expression of complete boredom.

"c'mon," you nudge him with your elbow. "you look like you hate me."

the corner of his mouth curves upward. "that's because i do."

you think back on the way he was gazing at you just moments ago and laugh. "you're so full of shit."

then, without warning, you press a kiss to his cheek and click the button.

you decide that his vague look of contented surprise will just have to do.

when you and yuuji walk into the bar, you immediately spot one of the people you're there to meet. he's sitting at a hightop by himself, his snow white hair pretty hard to miss.

you tap his shoulder and his face breaks out into a grin. he slides out of the barstool. "if it isn't my favorite civilian!"

as he pulls you into a hug, you wonder if he's ever going to get tired of that joke. "if it isn't my favorite old man."

"35 is not old," he argues, moving to greet yuuji. "i'm still in the summer of my life, thank you very much!"

"gojo you're 36," the pink haired man remarks.

"gah! such betrayal, yuuji!" he presses his hand to his forehead and takes a deep breath. "now i'm going to need another round."

"i'll go and get drinks for all of us," you offer. "you two stay here so no one takes the table."

before either of them can respond, you turn and begin making your way through the crowd. you don't hear gojo when he calls out, "but darling! i should go with you!"

he takes a step in your direction, but stops when sukuna's mouth appears on yuuji's cheek. "you certainly should not, you insufferable half wit."

"relax, dude. he flirts with literally everyone," yuuji informs him.

gojo scoffs. "i am right here—"

"as if that makes it better?" sukuna barks. "she isn't some toy to be played with."

"of course she isn't! you can't honestly think i'd believe otherwise."

gojo is left forgotten for a moment as the other two bicker, so he interjects once there's a lull in the conversation. "do either of you care to explain what the hell is going on?"

yuuji turns toward him, trying and failing to hide the embarrassment on his face once he realizes that gojo is, in fact, still standing there.

his eyebrows are raised above his sunglasses and it's clear he is inappropriately amused by the situation (what else is new?). he moves to sit across from the younger man, looking at him expectantly.

having no way to talk himself out of this, yuuji relays the recent events regarding you and sukuna, sparing some of the finer details. gojo's face doesn't really betray much emotion throughout the story, though he does look thoughtful by the end of it.

leaning forward, he crosses his arms on top of the table. "maybe your feelings for her are influencing his own, forcing a sort of bond between them?"

"i don't think so," yuuji contends honestly. "other than her, you're the person i admire and respect the most, but he thinks—"

"that you are perhaps the most imbecilic rampallion i've ever had the displeasure of coming across."

gojo jerks back, as if the insult had hit him squarely in the jaw. the look of giddiness from yuuji's compliment, followed by the shift to indignation at sukuna's insult is almost comical.

he stretches his neck forward, cupping his hand around one side of his mouth as if it'd keep sukuna from hearing. "what'd he just call me?"

yuuji shrugs. "beats me, but i don't think he was singing your praises."

"i see your point." gojo pauses, glancing over his shoulder. you're approaching the table, so he turns back to yuuji and quickly adds, "we'll talk more about this another time, but for now, keep this between us."

a few moments later, you appear in front of them and exclaim, "look who i found!"

megumi and inumaki situate themselves around the table too, offering their greetings. you slide yuuji and gojo their drinks, both of which are filled to the brim of the glass. "now then gentlemen, shall we?"

when gojo teleports you and yuuji back to your apartment that night, it takes everything in you to keep from yakking all over your carpet.

"ta ta, hooligans!"

you turn to request that he never do that again, but he's already gone. taking one step forward, you promptly fall on your ass in the entryway with an unforgiving thud. yuuji staggers toward the couch, making it there just in time to face plant into the cushions.

looking down toward your shoes, you're dismayed to find that each one appears to have two sets of laces. you're fumbling with them determinedly when someone crouches down in front of you, their elbows resting on their thighs.

he doesn't say a word. brushing your hands away, he unties your shoes and carefully pulls them off your feet. you're lifted from the floor before you can register the arm that's looped under your knees or the other that's securely around your back.

"careful," you hiccup, your head falling into the crook of his neck. "'m gunna p-puke."

"i'd rather you didn't."

you groan. "s'not like i 'ave a choice in the matter."

he hums. "how much did you drink?"

"dunno. sss'much. nobara—" you hiccup again. "nobara n' maki made me."

he chuckles, placing you down on what you figure is your bed. "right, i'm sure you had no choice in the matter."

"tha's correct, yes."

unbuttoning your jeans, he tugs upward on your belt loops. "lift."

you do as he says, lifting your hips from the bed so he can slide your jeans off your legs. he knows you won't remember this— hell, your eyes are already closed— but he looks away as he does it anyway.

pulling your phone from your pocket and putting it on the charger, your pants are discarded off to the side. he only turns his head back in your direction once he's pulled the blankets up over your body.

"tuck me in?" you request.

sitting down on the bed beside you, he does so without protest.

he stares at you for a little while, worried about how poorly you're probably going to feel in the morning. he presses a kiss to your forehead, intending to get up and grab a water bottle for your nightstand.

instead, his body freezes when he hears you mumble, "i love you s'much."

his heart clenches so painfully, he honestly considers ripping it from his chest— it would probably be less agonizing.

but a thought that makes him feel like a fool occurs to him. of course it's not him that you love. "i'm not yuuji."

"well, duuuhhh. you're s'kuna." you're peering up at him through tired, hazy eyes. it's the first time you've ever seen him look bewildered, so a small giggle erupts from your throat. "s'okay. you don't 'ave t'say it back."

your eyes flutter shut and your breathing evens out before he even thinks to respond. all at once, it's as if his head is empty and as if it's about to explode.

love?

what does he know about love? it's a sentiment he's cursed for so long, but sitting here beside you, he can't quite seem to remember why. one thing he is sure of, however, is that there's never been a thing in the world he's loved.

suddenly, he's struck with remembrance of a quote from jane eyre you had emphasized with messy underlines:

"after a youth and manhood passed half in unutterable misery and half in dreary solitude, i have for the first time found what i can truly love—i have found you. you are my sympathy—my better self—my good angel. i am bound to you with a strong attachment. i think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wraps my existence about you, and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one."

rochester says it as he begs jane to stay at thornfield with him, an act sukuna had previously regarded as ridiculous, but is that still the case?

were you to ever scorn him, would he fall to his knees and plead with you to change your mind? or if you were in danger of dying, would he drag himself to a shrine and pray to the gods he doesn't believe in?

is that what love is?

could he stand to be apart from you? are you special to him? does anything else in the world compare to you? does he seek out your company? is he consumed by you? can he know himself without knowing you?

does the definition of love lie in those questions?

sukuna hopes not, because he's terrified of the answers. being in love is not his way, nor is it in his nature.

he buries his face in his hands as realization settles into his bones. it feels as if they're splintering beneath the pressure, trying resentfully to stave it off.

he transcends any imaginable scale of power. he's bled entire villages dry, he's commandeered death, he's the king of curses.

so why now? and why you? is it divine retribution? a sick sort of joke that even he couldn't have dreamed up?

gods, you were right. the universe has sent you to carry out its will and he's completely powerless to stop it.

the worst part of it all? he doesn't want to.

taglist: @96jnie @ay0nha @sad-darksoul @bbysatoruuu @luciiferian @thepup356 @risuola *users in bold could not be tagged

[fruittt-punchhh]

hey! MDNI, filthy smut ahead!! just a lil toji x fem!reader drabble. cw: smut, pet names, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, etc.

call me crazy and depraved but Toji is def obsessed with your stomach??? whether it’s flat and muscular or soft and squishy and hangs over the hem of your jeans or anything in between??

like you know he loves grabbing it when you’re cuddling, pulling you closer into him as he falls asleep. and when you feel shitty, he’s quick to come up behind you, kissing your neck and rubbing your belly as he tries not to let his hands explore further south.

oh and when you’re fucking?!!?!? jesus christ, he loves teasing your folds before he’s laying his heavy cock on your stomach, admiring just how deep he’d be when he’s finally ruining your guts. he pushes down hard on your stomach where he left a spot of precum, moaning as he says, ”think you can take all of me, hmm? gonna feel my cock all the way up here,” emphasizing the grip he had on your waist while he pushes his two thumbs into you even harder, surely leaving a bruise behind.

of course Toji loved a nice pair of tits and a big ass, and he loved your plush thighs to go along with the rest of your heavenly figure. but when you got ready for a date and put on the new bodycon dress he got you, he thought he might fall to his knees and eat every inch of you right then and there. seeing how perfectly the dress hugs your curves, and more importantly, accentuates your cute tummy, has him losing himself.

and we all know he loves fucking into you with your legs over his shoulders all mean and aggressive, rightly claiming that which belongs to him. pushing his hand down hard like the bastard he is on the soft flesh above your navel. asking, “you like that, huh? feel me all. in. here. right?”, he says, enunciating each word with a hard thrust into your addicting heat, “take all these fuckin’ inches like the slut you are,” he commands.

and his favorite thing of all is to paint your insides white, breeding your deep pussy by giving you all of his cum, forcing you to keep it in with two thick fingers plugging your hole. he keeps you stuck there, squirming for him as he kisses and bites on the fat of your tummy. “stop movin’ so much, ma’, m’tryna’ give you my babies. won’t work if you push it all out,” he says, watching as you bite your lip, loving the feeling of being stuffed full of nothing but him.

he can’t help but cum inside every time you two lay together, obsessed with putting another stupid brat in you. he wanted to watch your tummy swell with his seed and your tits get all plump and sensitive as you grow his child so well for him. (although he absolutely did not want another brat and this was purely his sick imagination at play)

he pulls his fingers out, making you whine at the lack of his warmth. he smirks, looking up at you, “nah, go ahead and push it out for me, baby. lemme see how much of a mess I made in that pretty cunt, please.” Toji isn’t much of a beggar, but when it came to you he was more than willing to ask for what he wanted.

“I’ll just be puttin’ another baby in you soon anyway, right doll?”

[nqify]

ok, then here we go!

how about jake sully during heat? and maybe he not only can't keep his hands off of you, but when he's not touching you he can't help but jerk off right in front of you.

maybe he's just so unbearably horny that he starts to hump his pillows, the grass, your leg, his hands, or even touch himself during important meeting and has to be excused.

like he's just a needy soft!dom who is feverishly grinding on everything or tugging his thick cock in thoughts of you; poor bby can't even stop it 🥺🤭

had to make my first Jake sully fic with ur request ofc!!! AHHH!! this is so good!!!

heat. — jake sully ☆

Jake sully is the definition of needy!soft dom!! especially during heat!! this MF will find any excuse just to fuck you, like omg!! it’s a full moon we must fuck, or he made food without burning himself we must fuck!! he’s just so needy!!

so when his heat rolls around, omg get ready to be fucked and touch every single day. oh this fucker can not keep his hands off you.

lets just say, Jake starts to feel his heat coming on in an important meeting. during this meeting the only thing he could focus on was you, he’d be eye fucking you from across the room!!

his gaze was dark and lustful, his eyes were hooded and covered with little strings of hair. girl u are fucked!! you’d noticed, his posture straighten up, his arms all big and strong and his cock aching for you!! he will try everything and anything to get out of there. “baby, i need you now”

and now ur back is arched, pillow underneath you while jakes hands were gripping ur hips!! “f-fuck, pretty, this pussy f-feels so good!!”

this man would 100% get pussy drunk while he’s on heat. he’d be eating your pussy, tongue swirling around your clit while his fingers were spreading you out, “gimme more baby, want more of ur pussy, fuck so pretty for me” he loves u omg!! “such a pretty pussy baby, just for me right?? only me?? for daddy mm??” you’d be nodding, “wanna hear u say it, say this pretty pussy is mine, cmon, needa hear it” pussy is aching!!!

sometimes you’d be away from him, hunting for food or travelling with friends. you’d come home to this fucker humping the pillow, he’d be grinding, head thrown back while whines escaped his throat. “j-Jake??” this MF does not stop, he just looks at you and smirks, “aaahh, baby, daddy needs some help, you can help him right?? cmon be a good girl for me”

or whenever your away too long and you guys finally get into it, this fucker is so needy!! he’d be jerking off on top of you, “f-fuck needa cum, needa cum shit” but omg he was so hot. stroking his cock up and down to the sight of you?? pussy WET!!! “look at you baby, u want my cum?? u want daddy’s cum to make a mess of ur pussy?? yeah??”

now when he’s in heat bf will only do doggy style and missionary. he needs to have control over you when he’s in heat, or he’ll explode. this dude will have ur back arched and ur legs spread wide, gripping into ur tail for deeper thrusts.

“mmm, fuck pretty, look at this pussy, u need my cock don’t you?? u want daddy’s big cock to fill u up huh?” ur whining like PLS HELLO?? in doggy style this fucker is going deep!! like reaching every inch of u. bro is def hitting ur cervix. “yeah baby?? that feel good?? u like when daddy touches ur little special spot huh?”

now for missionary, oh boy. his veiny hand would be gripping your neck while the other was holding your waist. he’s pounding into you with everything that he’s got, “mmmm, my pretty girl likes this right?? fuck ur such a dirty slut for liking this” oh BOY!! “j-Jake!! need ur cum!!, pls fill me up daddy”

HELLO!! Breeding kink while on heat?? YEPYEP!! “yeah baby?? u want daddy’s cum? u want him to make u all full and stuffed right? yeah I can do that baby, just keep being a good girl for me” and oh my god HIS LOAD is THICK AND HEAVY!!! you could feel it in you and lord DO U LOVE IT!! and when he would see it pour out, “oh no baby, i gotta keep it in so u can have my babies!!” he’d just fuck it into you.

this dude has to be messy, spit and cum everywhere!!! you want a kiss? messy asf. he’s eating you out? messy asf. fucking ur pussy, MESSY ASF!! DEF has a spit kink!!!!!!

“cmon baby, open ur mouth for me, yeah that’s it, good girl” and BOOM SPIT!! cuz he’s on heat he feels some kind of control making you a mess

your drooling EVERYWHERE!!! and he’d make fun of u!!! “awe look at you, such a fucking whore and can’t keep herself clean can she?? she likes when daddy makes her all messy and dumb doesn’t she mm??” ur nodding bc DUH?? “uh uh babygirl, say it, say ur my dumb little slut” GIRL!!!!! “I-I’m ur dumb little s-slut!!” HSHFNJS

and ofc!!! when u guys are done he’d still keep his cock in you!! he loves having you so close, cock warming is def his fav thing to do. “baby, u still feel so warm” and omg “I love this pussy so so much”

[swordsandholly]

def need more ditzy reader with mechanic 141- the only thing that tops my love for military men is blue collar boys <333

make sure to take care of yourself tho lovie!! don’t burn urself out :))

I for sure want to write more of her. Hopefully after this insane week at work I’ll be able to really sit down and crank out some writing. For now I’m battling my way through Ch 3 of Across the Way

But pls enjoy this little not proofread experimental snippet I wrote for ditzy reader

“Look.” Your landlord sighs loudly. Like you’re the one inconveniencing him. “I’ll send someone out.”

“That’s what you said two days ago! And three days before that!” You stomp your foot at no one just to get some of the anger out.

“I’ll get to it when I get to it.”

“Why can’t you-“ The line cuts before you can finish. The jerk hung up on you! What the hell!

You pout, plopping down into your desk chair and sighing. What are you supposed to do? You’re not allowed to call a handyman according to the lease and you don’t have a boyfriend right now. You can’t keep washing pans in the bathroom. It’s gross.

You huff.

“Alright?” Simon asks and you whirl in your chair. How does he walk so quietly?

“Yeah…” You pout harder under his steady gaze, slipping down further into the chair.

“You’re a terrible liar, luv.” His eyes crinkle in corners with a smile.

“Well…” You shrug, twiddling your thumbs in your lap. “My kitchen sink has been broken for a whole week and the landlord won’t do anything about it! I called and called and he just keeps saying he’ll send someone and then doesn’t!” Your voice pitches at the end, real annoyance bleeding through into the edges of your words. You fist your hands in your skirt.

“That’s all?” He raises an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you just ask one of us?”

You blink twice, staring up at him. Your face heats and you look away bashfully - not wanting to admit you didn’t think to ask for their help. Stupid. “I don’t want to be a bother…”

“I’ll come by after work.”

“You don’t have to-“

“I’ll be there.” He nods before marching back into the garage. You just blink after him as he goes.

True to his word, Simon shows up at your door with a massive tool box in hand. Really, he still can’t believe you live in such a shit complex. Price pays you well enough. The locks might as well be paper-mache. Simon lowers his mask before knocking. He trusts you with his face - hell you probably forget it every time you look away - but he also wants you to trust him too. For whatever reason.

You’re staring when you open the door. Big doe eyes looking up at him and blinking slowly. He wonders what goes on behind those blank eyes of yours - if it’s nothing at all or such a chaotic dialogue that you can’t process it enough to pay attention.

All or nothing.

“Gonna let me in, doll?” He asks. You startle, not realizing how intensely you zoned out.

“Oh! Yes!” You jump out of the way, letting him into your small studio apartment. Every time he thinks your shorts can’t get smaller he’s proven wrong.

Simon takes a look around, huffing at the net full of stuffies hanging on the wall. Everything about your home is soft - soft colors, soft fabrics. It smells like vanilla, just like you always do when you come into the shop. His eyes lock briefly on a well-loved sewing machine covered in stickers with a project still under the needle. You must have been working on it before he got here.

Did you mean to leave your bra hanging on the back of that chair right by the kitchen? Lacy and lilac. He’ll have to remember that for some other time. Maybe your birthday.

“Let’s ‘ave a look.” He sighs, knees popping as he crouches in front of the sink. It’s a fucking mess, that’s for sure. At least you figured out how to turn the water off.

“Pipe’s busted.” He says. “I can seal it but it’ll take a sec.”

“Okay.” You murmur.

Simon sighs as he turns onto his back to get a better look. He doesn’t miss the way you stare blatantly at his midsection as his shirt rides up. He might adjust some to expose just a bit more.

You really are the least subtle thing in the planet, aren’t you?

“Can you come hold the light f’me, luv?” He points to the toolbox.

“This one?” You ask, as if it isn’t the only flashlight in the box.

“Yeah.”

“Like this?”

“Yup.” At first he expects you to sit silently so he can concentrate, but he quickly realizes that was far too presumptuous.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Si?” You ask quietly.

He huffs. “No.”

“Oh.” You chew your lip. “You seem like the kind of guy that would.”

Simon has never heard a bigger misread in his damn life but he’ll take it as a compliment, he supposes. “Why do you ask?”

“Cause this is boyfriend work and you’re good at it.”

Simon tries to see your logic - he really does - but he just has no clue how those things are even remotely related. Sure, guys fix things for their girlfriends but calling it ‘boyfriend work’ when anybody with two cents could do it is a bit silly. More than, if he’s honest. He just grunts in response, at a total loss for how to respond.

Simon looks down at you. The way you kneel as your cleaving spills out of your tiny tank top - one of many you insist on wearing so often. He can give into temptation just a little bit, right? “Gonna need you to get closer, doll.”

“Oh!” You scoot forward until your knees brush his side. So ready to listen. Cute.

“Can you lean in a bit?”

“Like this?” You lean forward, chest pressing against him while your hand splays over his midsection for balance. Fucking hell.

“Perfect. Good girl.”

It’s bold and a bit uncoordinated even for him. Something Johnny would try. The purposeful choice of words seems to go right over your head. Instead you blush and smile, shifting your hips just a bit. Your chest pushes further into him. So soft.

Fuck.

You’ll be the death of him. Thank god you’re too unobservant to notice that he’s rock fucking hard.

He’s already done with the sink by the time of this little exchange, but he pretends to tighten some useless bolts anyway just to keep you against him a little longer before shooing you away. It’s cute, the way you scramble to get out of the way. Simon turns the water back on before standing, and gesturing toward the sink.

“Give it a try, luv.”

A little furrow forms in your brow as you step forward to turn it on, crouching and standing to make sure the leak has stopped. You turn the faucet off and whip your head around with a grin.

He’s pretty sure you burst an eardrum with the pitch of the squeal you let out, bouncing over and tightly wrapping your arms around his waist. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

“It’s no pro-“ he cuts off as you push up onto your tip toes and press a kiss to his cheek. He can’t help but bark out a laugh. Little minx.

“Oh, I got some lipstick-“ You reach up to smudge it off but he bats your hand away. He’ll wear it back to the garage and show off the kiss he got. Johnny’s going to absolutely fume.

[imaginedisish]

Poker Face (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: OKAY! Here is the strip poker fic! This is not a request, but there are a few requests I really like, so I'm most likely going to write one of those next! Could not waste the opportunity to use Lady Gaga's "Poker Face" as the inspiration here. I hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: You and Logan are alone in the mansion for the evening, and after a few drinks, your game of Blackjack turns into strip poker...

Warnings: 18+ Sexually Explicit Content MINORS DNI!!! Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, Unprotected PIV, multiple orgasms, softdom!Logan(?), cocky!Logan, alcohol consumption (neither reader nor Logan get drunk), feelings, friends to lovers, strip poker!, f!reader/afab reader, cursing, def some grammatical errors (proofread this one between weird times), I think that's it!

Word Count: 4,025 how did I do that???

The house is empty. Quiet. It’s so strange, almost eerie, but honestly welcome. You can’t remember the last time you were ever so alone. Not lonely—alone. Comfortably and peacefully alone. 

Scott, Jean, and Storm took most of the children off on an overnight camping trip, while Hank, Kurt, and Charles were on a mission with some of the older mutants. Rogue and Gambit were out somewhere, leaving you and Logan in the mansion alone. 

You’re sitting at the kitchen table, back to the window, looking out at the empty room. Everything is untouched—neatly put away. You know things will be back to normal by tomorrow afternoon—dishes in the sink, shoes all over the floor, kids shouting down the halls. But for now, there’s nothing. No disruptions. No—

“Oh, hey,” Logan mumbles, stepping through the doorway and into the kitchen. “Didn’t know you were in here.”

You smile, trying your best not to let your eyes flit up and down his body. He’s wearing one of his tight beaters and a pair of jeans. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him—if you said that being alone in the mansion with him wasn’t somewhat overwhelming. You’ve wanted Logan since the day you joined the X-Men, just a few months ago. And while you’ve become close friends, you know it’ll never progress further than that. 

“Wanna join me?” You ask, tilting your head to the chair across from you. 

Logan smirks and nods. He walks to the fridge, swings open the French doors, and reaches inside. “Got something for us, actually,” he says, glasses clinking as he rummages through the fridge. He pulls out whatever he’s looking for, turning around, and revealing a 6-pack of beer. 

“No way!” You shout excitedly. “Logan Howlett, breaking the rules as always.”

He sits down across from you, placing the beers in the center of the table. “You know you love it,” he husks, grinning widely. 

You can feel the heat rising to your chest. He’s right. “I do,” you whisper, hoping he doesn’t catch on to the implications of your words. If he does, he doesn’t show it. He grabs a beer by its neck, pops off the cap with ease, and holds the bottle out towards you. Your fingers brush his as you take the beer from him, his hands warm and surprisingly soft. The contact is fleeting, effervescent. You wish he could touch you again. 

You bring the bottle to your lips, the cold beer a distraction from your all-too-hot thoughts. You watch as Logan pulls a bottle for himself, his muscles flexing as he removes the cap. He brings the bottle to his mouth and knocks it back, his throat bobbing as he swallows. 

“So…” You trail off, doing your all to ignore the way his tongue swipes across his upper lip as he places the beer back down on the table. You take another swig of your beer, ready to down the entire thing just to give yourself the confidence to say something. “D-did you wanna do anything?” You take another big gulp. 

Logan smiles. “Not sure,” he says, taking a sip. “You got anything in mind, princess?”

Your heart flutters at the familiar nickname. You rub a finger up and down the beer bottle, streaking the condensation. “We could play a game,” you offer, your eyes finding his. “Cards?”

Logan hums in affirmation as he knocks his beer bottle back again. He’s already practically finished. “You wanna play Blackjack?” He asks, taking a final sip before standing up and walking over to the kitchen island. He rifles through a couple of drawers before finding a pack of cards. He sits back down across from you, grabbing another beer and cracking it open. 

“Sure,” you answer, watching as Logan slips the cards from their box and expertly shuffles them. He thumbs the cards, dexterously letting them slide through his long fingers. He deals you the first card, face up, and then does the same for himself. You have a king of hearts, and Logan has a five of diamonds. He deals again, and you’re given a nine of clubs. It’s a good hand. Better than Logan’s, so far. He deals himself another card, looking at it briefly before putting it face down on the table. 

He smirks up at you. “Hit, or stay?” He asks.

You roll your eyes. “Stay, obviously.” He shakes his head, smiling as he deals himself another card. 

“Well, princess,” he says, showing you all three of his cards now. Five of diamonds, queen of hearts, and six of spades. “Looks like I won.” He’s smug as he grabs your cards and shuffles them back into the deck. 

You scoff and let him deal you in again.

You’ve only had two drinks, but there’s something about being with Logan that makes you feel like you’re drunk. You’ve been playing Blackjack for almost forty-five minutes now, round after round. Despite this being a game of chance, it seems like Logan wins far more often than you do. 

And yet, something gives you the sudden confidence to up the ante. 

“Lo?” You ask, taking a swig of your third beer, now. He looks up at you and hums, dealing the next round. You lean across the table. “What if we…” you trail off. “Made this more exciting?” 

Logan looks across the table under hooded eyes. You can sense the sudden shift in his expression, and you know he can sense the suggestiveness in your voice. The corner of his mouth turns up—a sly, half smile. “Exciting how, princess?”

You’re nervous now—all talk and no action. “Maybe we could bet somehow?” You offer, but Logan knows that’s not truly what you mean. He cocks his head, eyes narrowing.

And then he says exactly what you’re thinking—as if he can read your mind. “What about strip poker?” 

Your eyes widen and you swallow harshly. Logan is focused on you, still folding the cards into each other. You finally nod your head. “Sure, sounds fun.” 

Logan quickly deals the first cards. You have an ace, and Logan has a ten of diamonds. He places another card down for you—seven of clubs—and another face down for himself. 

“Hit or stay?” He asks, his eyes set on yours. He’s leaning closer to you than he was before. 

You take a deep breath. “Stay,” you answer, your voice trembling ever so slightly now. 

Logan shakes his head. “Wouldn’t have mattered anyway,” he says, flipping over his second card. It’s an ace of hearts. He collects your cards without another word, but his eyes are still glued to you. 

You bite your lip nervously and decide to tug away your sweatshirt. You’re wearing a thin tank top underneath, much to your relief. Logan’s eyes flit up and down your body, drinking you in. 

You drape the sweatshirt across the back of your chair, your eyes narrowing in Logan’s direction. “You have to be cheating,” you accuse sarcastically.

Logan grins ear to ear as he deals again, looking down at the table. “Just lucky,” he says, the words stopping your heart. “Very lucky.” He looks back up at you. Your breath catches in your throat. 

There’s a four of hearts in front of you this time. You roll your eyes at the low card. Logan—naturally—has a jack of diamonds. He places another card in front of you, a nine of clubs, and another face down for himself.

“Hit,” you mutter before he can ask the question. He places a seven of diamonds in front of you and shakes his head. He reveals his other card: an eight of spades. You smile widely, self-satisfied as you grab your beer by the neck and take a long swig. You lean back in your chair, watching as Logan pulls his beater up and over his head. 

He’s perfect, you think to yourself. Sure, he’s all chiseled abs and muscles, but he truly is beautiful. And you hope he knows it. “Happy now?” He asks, dealing the next hand. 

Heat spreads across your chest and down to your stomach. Your clothes feel tight, itchy. You try your best to ignore the way Logan makes you feel—to ignore the way you long to press your thighs together for some sort of friction. You—very obviously—are failing horrifically. 

“Hit, or stay?” Logan asks. You’re so distracted by him that you completely missed the deal. You look down to see an eight of hearts and a six of diamonds. Logan has a king of spades face up, and his other card face down. 

You raise your eyebrows, mulling it over in your mind. “Hit,” you finally spit out, and Logan deals you a ten of clubs. 

Oh. 

“Well shit,” you mumble. Logan chuckles as you stand up, struggling to decide what to take off. You look down at your athletic shorts and decide those are the next to go. You slip them down your legs and place them on the back of the chair with your sweatshirt. 

Logan’s throat bobs as his eyes trail up and down your legs. He isn’t laughing anymore; there’s something serious in his eyes, something dark. He works his jaw as you sit back down across from him. He looks pained as he deals the next hand. 

You cock your head to the side as he places a queen of hearts in front of you. “Are you okay?” You ask.

“’M’fine,” he answers curtly, drawing an ace of diamonds for himself. He quickly places another card down for you—a five of spades—and another face down for him. 

But you can tell there’s something wrong. It’s the way he moves, the way he fidgets in his seat. You reach out tentatively across the table, your fingers brushing against his. “Logan,” you soothe. “We don’t have to play if you don’t want to.” 

His eyes find yours, and he smiles softly, looking at your cards and then flipping his over. He got it. Twenty-one. Blackjack. “I think this game is almost over,” he says, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. 

You roll your eyes and grab the hem of your tank top, slowly pulling it up your body and over your head. Now all that’s left is your sports bra and your panties. You look across the table, and there’s Logan, eyes locked on you. “One more round?” You ask. 

But he ignores you, pushing out his chair, standing up, and walking over to you. “No,” he murmurs. “I think we’re done with the game.” He pulls your chair out from the table and leans down over you, placing his hands on either armrest, caging you in. 

His eyes are dark and filled with lust, his lips just centimeters from yours. Your noses brush, his breath fanning across your cheeks. You can smell him—the pine and musk and tobacco, his shampoo, a hint of mint. 

“L-Lo,” you stutter, your heart beating out of your chest as he leans in closer. There’s something animalistic, something primal about the look in his eyes. 

“I know you want me, pretty girl,” he husks. “Could smell that pussy crying for me before you even took those little shorts off.” 

“I-I,” you stutter, unable to form a coherent thought, no less a sentence. Your thighs rub together involuntarily at Logan’s words, searching for friction, for relief. 

Logan chuckles darkly. “Yeah,” he hums, one hand dropping from the armrest and slipping in between your thighs. “That’s what I thought, princess.” 

He pushes your legs open, his fingertips trailing along your inner thigh, slowly climbing higher. He finally reaches your heat and two of his fingers drag teasingly through your clothed folds, up to your clit. “Haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already soaked,” Logan growls, stroking you through your panties. “Making a mess of the chair, hm?”

“Logan,” you whine, his fingers circling your clit and then pulling away. Before you can protest the loss of contact, he’s hoisting you up and out of the chair, his hands squeezing your ass, holding you tightly in his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist and bring your hands to the nape of his neck.

He carries you through the kitchen and into the hallway. He stops in his tracks and pushes your back against the wall, his lips finally finding yours. The kiss is rushed and frantic, like he just has to have you now, like he’s so hungry he’d die if he waited another second. He grinds his hips into yours, his erection straining through his jeans. 

“Need you, darlin’,” Logan mumbles against your lips, his chest heaving in time with yours. “Needed you this whole time.” He finally steps away from the wall and heads towards the stairs. You thread your fingers through Logan’s hair as he bites your lower lip, your pulse point, kissing you anywhere he can as he walks up the stairs and into his bedroom. 

He closes the door with a kick, and strides over to the bed in the center of the room, placing you down in the middle and crawling over you. His lips find yours again, his tongue darting out and sliding over your bottom lip, silently asking to be let inside. How could you ever say no? How could you ever not give him whatever it is he wants?

Logan balances on his forearm as his free hand trails up your body, warm and soft and soothing. He finds the hem of your bra and pulls the fabric over your tits. You arch your back, helping him slip it off the rest of the way. He finds your breasts, massaging gently before teasingly rolling your nipple under his thumb. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he huffs, moving to your other breast, pawing at the flesh, rolling over your nipple again, pinching lightly. His knee is settled between your legs, keeping you spread open for him. Your hips involuntarily rock against him, your needy core sliding up and down his thigh, searching for relief. 

Logan smiles against your lips and swallows your moans with a kiss before his touch suddenly disappears. His knee is no longer between your legs—the delicious friction gone. Your eyes flutter open and closed as he crawls down your body, kissing his way to the hem of your panties. 

“Lo,” you whimper as he places a chaste kiss to your clothed clit. “Please,” you beg, squirming underneath him. 

His arm latches around your waist, holding you down to the mattress while his other hand hooks inside the waistband of your panties. He tugs teasingly, taking his time as he slides your panties down your legs and tosses them off to the side. Logan settles himself between your thighs, his breath fanning against your cunt.

His arm is still firmly pushing you down into the mattress as he brings his face closer to where you need him most. “Wanna taste this pretty pussy, darlin’,” Logan grunts, and his tongue swipes through your folds, dragging across your slit and up to your clit. 

You curse under your breath as Logan licks another long stripe, his tongue finishing with a flick to your clit. “So fucking sweet,” Logan murmurs against you, the bass and vibration of his voice sending a burst of pleasure up your spine. “Knew you’d taste so good, pretty girl.” 

Logan pulls you closer to him, burying his face into your cunt like a man starved. He takes your clit between his lips, sucking roughly. His fingertips slide up your inner thigh, drawing higher and higher until he finds your folds. 

“Such a fucking tease,” Logan mutters, spreading your slick, prodding your entrance. “Using cards as an excuse to take your clothes off for me.” He shoves two fingers deep inside you as his tongue circles your clit. “Wanted me that bad, huh?” You can feel him smiling against you, all smug as he pulls his fingers from your slit and plunges back in. 

“Y-yes,” you stutter. His grip is like iron across your hips, keeping you in place, stopping you from squirming. “Wanted y-you so fucking bad.” 

He pumps his fingers in and out, down to the knuckles as he laps at you. He sucks at your clit again, harder this time. “I know, sweetheart,” Logan soothes, his thumb rubbing against your hip as his thrusts become faster, deeper. You’re already shaking underneath him—a trembling mess. “I’ve got you, pretty girl,” he coos. 

His tongue flicks your clit, swirling around the bud, adding more pressure with every stroke. Your walls flutter around his fingers, taking him in deeper. “Logan,” you whine, growing closer with every pump. “I-I—”

You’re cut off as he adds a third finger. “That what you needed, princess?” Logan asks, all cocky and self-assured. Your back arches off the mattress and Logan tightens his grip on your hips, holding you down as he devours you. “You’re not going anywhere until I’m finished with you.”

Your muscles clench around him at the words. His teeth graze lightly against your clit as he pulls the bud into his mouth, sucking roughly. “Lo…” You trail off, unable to use any semblance of language to communicate the way he’s making you feel. 

“Taking me so good, darlin’,” Logan praises, his fingers fucking into you unrelentingly. “Such a good fucking girl.” 

You’re so close, almost at that edge, pleasure burning through your every nerve ending. “’L-Lo I’m so—” you choke out.

“So fucked out that all you can say is my name,” Logan teases, sucking on your clit between sentences. “Wanna feel you come around my fingers.” He pushes himself in deeper. “Wanna taste it.”

“F-fuck,” you stutter, contracting around him uncontrollably. The tension building in your stomach finally snaps, the fire set free to burn through your body. “Logan!” You cry out, chanting his name like it’s a sacred prayer. And maybe it is.  

“I’ve got you,” Logan soothes, his tongue still lapping at you, his fingers still thrusting in and out. “I’m right here, let go for me.” He works you through your orgasm, his pumps slowing down as you ride out your high.

He pulls his fingers from your cunt, but his face doesn’t move. He’s still lapping at you, his tongue swiping through your folds, your slit, up to your clit. He’s drinking you in, savoring the taste of you. 

“Lo,” you whimper, running your hands through his hair, trying to guide him up your body. But he doesn’t budge. He grunts against your core, his tongue dragging through your heat. “Please,” you beg. “Need you, Lo.”

He licks one more long stripe through your folds before finally lifting his head to look up at you. Your release is painted across his lips, glistening in the moonlight. His tongue darts out, licking away the proof of your orgasm. 

“Need me, sweetheart?” He asks, sitting up, unbuckling his belt and letting it fall to the floor with a clink. He unbuttons his jeans and pulls his zipper down. “Need me to fuck you?” You nod, settling into the pillows at his headboard as he tugs his jeans and boxers down his legs. 

His cock springs free, bouncing against his stomach. You swallow nervously at the size of him. He settles on top of you, balancing on his forearm as he guides his cock to your entrance. 

Logan presses a chaste kiss to your lips as his tip nudges through your folds. “Thought about this for a long time,” he murmurs, the head of his cock bumping against your clit before sliding back down towards your entrance. His lips meet yours again, more hurried and hungry this time. “Always thinking about you.” And then he buries himself deep inside you, down to the hilt. He stalls, unmoving, giving you a moment to adjust to the size of him. He’s stretching you out, working you open. You grab his biceps, searching for purchase. Nothing could have prepared you for this, for the way he fills you up and makes you feel whole. 

“Feels so fucking good,” Logan whispers, pulling out and pushing all the way back in. “So tight, so perfect,” he praises, slowly setting a rhythmic pace, pumping in and out. 

His hand leaves the base of his cock and slips between your bodies, finding your clit—still sensitive from your first orgasm. His thumb strokes soft circles into the bud, drawing a moan from your lips. 

“Y-yes,” you pant as Logan plunges into you, faster and deeper with each thrust. You can feel him throbbing inside you, his cock dragging against your walls. It’s already too much—already more than you can handle. “F-feels so good, Lo.”

His hips snap against yours. “I know it does, pretty girl,” Logan coos, rutting into you. “Gonna take care of you. Gonna make you feel good.” His words go straight to your core, your muscles contracting around him. He curses under his breath at the feeling, your pussy taking him deeper as he sinks inside you. “Squeezing me already, sweetheart.”

He’s fucking into you, his pace growing reckless and punishing. He adds more pressure to your clit, rubbing harder, faster. You don’t know how much longer you’ll last, not with his lips at the shell of your ear whispering praises. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he husks, his hips rocking against yours. “Taking me so good, doing so well for me.” He’s hitting that sweet spot inside you with every thrust. He swallows your moans with starving, desperate, needy kisses—biting your lips, bruising them. He’s consuming you, taking everything you have to give him. 

He presses his forehead to yours, pounding into you, somehow finding a way to sink deeper inside. Your walls flutter around him, and you know you’re almost there. “Logan,” you croak, pushing your hips into his. 

“F-fuck,” he stammers, his cock twitching inside you, massaging your inner walls. “I know princess, know you’re close.” You can feel his thrusts faltering, growing sloppier. “Wanna feel you come on my cock, pretty girl.” You moan his name, wrapping your legs around his waist, keeping him close as he pumps in and out. “Come for me, darlin’.”

Logan pinches your clit and buries himself deep inside, sending you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes into you, your walls clenching around him, squeezing him tighter. “Stay,” you whisper, and he knows what you mean—knows exactly what you’re asking for.

He curses under his breath and his head falls to your shoulder as he comes undone, too, filling you up, spilling inside you. Everything is liquid heat. Your muscles contract and relax, your shoulders melting into the mattress. Everything feels hazy as Logan gently strokes your clit, thrusting in and out of you slowly, riding out your orgasms. 

He finally pulls out, wrapping his arms around your back and rolling you over so that you lay on top of his chest. He holds you close, his fingers trailing up and down your back. He kisses the crown of your head. “You okay?” He whispers into the silence of the room. 

“Yeah,” you answer, burying your face into his chest. “’M’perfect.”

He presses another kiss to the top of your head. “Wanted you for so long, princess,” he husks, his voice deep and raspy. 

“Wanted you, too, Lo,” you say, pressing a kiss to his chest. 

You can hear his heart beating; can hear every breath he takes. You can even hear the smile in his voice. “You have a terrible poker face, you know.”

You laugh softly, lifting your head from his chest. “I think it’s just fine, thank you very much.” He’s smiling down at you, his hair a mess, sweat still on his brow. He’s perfect. So fucking perfect. “And besides, you’re the one who suggested strip poker.”

He shakes his head, tugging you back down to his chest. “Should’ve played it sooner.” You can feel his chuckle reverberate through his lungs. “We can play again if you want…”“…but this time we skip the poker part.”

tags: @ilysmdovie12 @prettyseaveins @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @silversprings-mp3 @movhoney @wittyjasontodd @theasiaabattoir @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @pedrohoe04 @derbygracie @honeyfewr

[eggluverz]

WE REALLY WERE TIMELESS

PAIRING. dan heng x gn!reader (also dan feng x reader ig!)

WORD COUNT. 3,722

SUMMARY. dan heng does not want to remember his previous reincarnation, but there is one part he doesn't want to let go of forever— you.

SOF'S NOTE. i was listening to taylor swift's timeless and thinking about how much i love dan heng...and this was born :3 i love him sm and i def feel like love with dan heng could transcend all lifetimes <3 pls enjoy if ur a fellow dh lover :>

Dan Feng was many things. Cold and ruthless, some said. A merciless killer, said others. Revered and powerful, was the more popular and favorable opinion. But, what most people seemed to wipe from their memories was that he was also a lover.

A lover to you, at least. You, and only you. 

His days as the Imbibitor Lunae were long and laborious. He lead countless battles to destroy threats and rescued Xianzhou fleets from annihilation. 

Dan Feng was used to spending long periods away from home, but when he returned, he knew he would at least be greeted by you. 

Occasionally, you were there fighting alongside him. Capable and strong. But most of the time, you preferred using your strengths to continue studying and advancing medicine. You were compassionate and knowledgeable, and you wanted to help your injured allies rather than cause more destruction.

His favorite moments with you involved the little leisure time he had between battles when he was able to stay in his residence with you, wrapped in your embrace. 

Dan Feng, proud member of the High-Cloud Quintet, was left speechless and in awe at the sight of you. Those nights you spent together were filled with both heat and passion, and attention and love. Every moment he spent with you was intentional; he never took those times for granted. 

Of course, those times couldn’t last. 

Be it his selfishness, his arrogance, his drive to help his friend—he lost you. Not because you shunned him or turned him away, but simply because he was forced to reincarnate and locked away without the ability to say even a simple goodbye. 

His love, lost in the blink of an eye. And he may never see you again. 

Now, as Dan Heng, he was almost in denial when Jing Yuan informed him you forcibly reincarnated as soon as you heard the news of the Sedation of Inhibitor Lunae and slipped away from the Xianzhou Luofu. 

What were you to Dan Heng? Dan Feng was no longer here and Dan Heng did not want to claim his past. 

Imbibitor Lunae was not him. Renowned member of the High-Cloud Quintet was not him. 

But when Jing Yuan spoke your name, memories of his previous life rushed through him. If he didn’t acknowledge his past, would that mean you had no chance of ever being his again?

Dan Heng had no attachment to the name Jing Yuan. Yingxian no longer held special meaning either. He didn’t want it to. But hearing your name stirred something in him. It caused a battle between past and present. And the present was winning until he walked along the streets of Penacony. 

An intense shiver shot through his veins and the hairs on the back of his arm stood up. You were here.

He knew it. He felt it. Dan Heng didn’t know where exactly, but your presence was so powerful, it was something he couldn’t ignore. He wasn’t strong enough to. 

You were his first and only romantic love— A love he thought would be eternal until he got reincarnated. The draw to you was so intense he found himself wandering the wide pathways filled with Gothic buildings until he felt the call was satiated. 

It wasn’t completely gone, but he felt more relaxed. More at peace. 

Dan Heng notice his body stopped in front of a library with a square roof and he immediately entered the building. The interior was filled with rows of bookshelves and large tables, busy with scholars and those here for leisurely reasons alike.

Despite all that, Dan Heng knew where you were right as he laid eyes on you. 

You were half-hidden by piles of books as you took notes on a blank sheet of paper. You sat straight on the chair and briefly put your pen down when you noticed his staring. Your gaze met his as your eyes darted around the room. 

When they landed on Dan Heng, you tilted your head to the side as he watched you, but you showed no signs of recognition. 

His stomach churned. Of course you wouldn’t recognize him. You had reincarnated soon after Dan Feng did. Your past life was gone, your memories were gone, and he didn’t even know if your name was still the one that was so familiar on his lips. 

With an inquisitive look on your face, you beckoned him over. He was surprised that you acknowledged him so overtly, but if you were anything like your past self, he shouldn’t be too shocked. 

Dan Heng wondered if he should turn around and leave. Did he want to pretend he didn’t see you? Pretend that your fates weren’t inextricably linked? 

His heart felt like it was being torn out of his chest as he turned away, ready to go on as if this never occurred so he could continue his life as Dan Heng with no ties to the previous Imbibitor Lunae. He began walking out of the library, shoving his feelings down deep to hide them away for good. 

The cold outside air hit his face as he opened the door. It felt damp out—as if it were raining. 

Dan Heng touched the wet drops on his face before he realized it wasn’t rain. It was his tears. 

It pained him more than he cared to admit. His past love was here and he was going to throw it away before he even had another chance. He grit his teeth and clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms so deep it hurt the flesh. But it had nothing on the pain his heart was feeling. 

He couldn’t do it, he realized. He couldn’t severe the bond from his past completely— Dan Heng couldn’t severe his bond with you. He’d lose a part of himself he wasn’t even aware he still had. 

The muscles in his body screamed as he entered the library once more, this time walking straight to you instead of basking in hesitation. You looked confused as you stared up at him, probably wondering why he ignored you, left, and came back all in the span of one minute.

“Hi there! Can I help you?” 

Dan Heng instantly froze at your words. He yearned for the familiarity; a sense of comfort washed over him at your simple acknowledgement. 

But it didn’t look like you knew who he was. There wasn’t an ounce of recognition on your face even as he stood closer. 

It’s me. Do you remember? he wanted to ask. The desire to reach out and grab your hand, touch your face, was strong enough to make his heart pound. But he refrained. If you didn’t know who he was, it might frighten you if he did that. And discomfort was the last thing Dan Heng wanted to make you feel.  

You laughed nervously, letting out a single cough to fill the silence. 

Dan Heng, realizing he hadn’t said a word, quickly scanned the books you had stacked up. They were books on medicine and the evolution of healthcare. He tried to find something relevant to say.

“I almost gave someone CPR once.”

You blinked slowly, a small and uncertain smile on your face. “That’s great! I think…” For a moment, you considered what he said. “I supposed it’s not great if someone was in a situation where they needed CPR. But it is great you were willing to help.”

Dan Heng nodded, glad his plan went well. 

“Why did they need CPR? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“We found them unconscious. They had a weak heartbeat and pulse so I wanted to make sure they stayed alive.” 

You took in this information, looking slightly impressed. “Typically, we start CPR when there’s no pulse, but if the individual begins gasping for breathe, it’s usually a good sign to start CPR.” 

“I see.”

The two of you fell into a long silence before you gently cleared your throat. 

“Is that all you had to say?” you asked. Dan Heng suspected you didn’t exactly buy that he wanted to talk to you solely about CPR. “Earlier, when you were looking at me, you had a strange look on your face. It looked like you recognized me.” 

Dan Heng stilled. 

You clasped your hands together on top of the table, leaning forward almost conspiratorially. “Do I know you?”

His breathing quickened at the prospect of you remembering your past with him. 

“Maybe from a birthday party as a kid? Or did we go to the same school?” 

Dan Heng’s face dropped. “Oh. No.” 

You hummed in thought.

“You…might know me, though.” 

Curiously, you raised your brows at his vague response. He wondered if he should stop himself, but he wanted to tell you about your past life. Maybe then you would remember him. 

But would that be a good idea? Would it work in the first place? 

Dan Heng didn’t know. 

He felt impulsive but he needed to talk to you more. “I can explain more, but can we go outside first?” 

You craned your neck to the side, considering your options. He knew what he asked of you was something ridiculous in the eyes of a stranger. To stop what you were doing, take time out of your day, and follow this man you had only just spoken to with no explanation. 

It was wishful thinking to expect a yes. 

Yet somehow, you always managed to surprise him. “Of course. Let me just return these books.” 

Dan Heng tried to hide how pleased he was as he patiently waited for you to turn the books back into the librarian. He offered to help you carry them, but you managed to gather the heavy stack into your arms in its entirety. 

“Now I’m ready,” you said with a smile, eyes studying him in wonder. You looked confused, but you didn’t seem concerned. Perhaps something inside of you also sensed familiarity. “Do you want to see the stars with me?” 

He nodded and you led him to a clear, grassy spot away from the town. The grass was tall and green, pastel wildflowers growing amongst the landscape. You smoothed down your clothes and sat on the soft ground. Dan Heng sat next to you, careful to respect your personal space and keep a slight distance. 

He took in the scenery of the night before he saw you gazing at the stars. He quickly followed suit, tilting his head back.

Moments of tranquil silence passed by before he asked, “Do you know what I am?”

You didn’t miss a beat, almost as if you were expecting that question to come. “You appear human, but your presence doesn’t feel as so.”

“Much like you, correct?” he countered. “A Vidyadhara.”

You touched your head instinctively, the place where your horns should be. With wide eyes, you hastily put your arms back against your sides. 

Dan Heng raised his brow. 

“I thought my appearance had changed suddenly,” you said with a nervous laugh. 

He shook his head. “I’m sorry to cause such alarm. You don’t need to worry; you still appear human as well.” 

“It’s not as if I’m trying to pretend I’m not a Vidyadhara,” you explained, “it’s just easier to live here and be unnoticed with this appearance.” You looked away from the starry sky and turned to face Dan Heng. “And you— Why do you choose to appear human?” 

“I refuse to pay for the sins of my past reincarnation. It’s not me,” he said, voice tense. “That’s not who I am.” 

“You remember your past reincarnation?” you asked, your body perking up. Embarrassed by your eagerness, you stilled. “Sorry. That’s insensitive. There must be a reason you don’t want to remember. Sometimes, I just can’t help but wish I did.” 

The corners of Dan Heng’s mouth tilted upward. “Don’t be sorry. I don’t care for my past…except for one particular detail.” 

You shifted your position to sit with your legs folded over the other. You didn’t say anything, instead letting him speak as he felt comfortable.

“Maybe one particular person is more accurate.” 

Your eyes closed as you breathed deeply, the wind blowing around the two of you as if creating a bubble from the rest of the world. In deep concentration, you changed into your normal Vidyadhara form. Your ears were pointed, regal horns emerged from the top of your head, and you looked taller as your tail appeared underneath you. 

Expectantly, you looked at him. 

Dan Heng hesitated, but soon followed suit. He felt his body change to the one of his past as he revealed his true form to you. 

“Am I the person in your past?” you asked slowly, examining everything from his turquoise horns and dark hair, to his long tail landing in a semi-circle around you. 

He smiled to himself. Attentive as always, he thought. Lifetimes had passed, the galaxies never stopped moving, yet you were just as he remembered. Your experiences may have been different, as did the environment you grew up in, but at your core, you were still thoughtful, caring, and intelligent. No matter the reincarnation, you were still you— His beloved. 

A conflicted look formed on his face as that thought. Dan Heng was getting ahead of himself. He wasn’t Dan Feng. You couldn’t be his. 

You didn’t let his lack of response deter you, instead staring up at him with a hopeful gaze. “I’m sorry if that’s too personal of me to ask. It’s only… Something about you just feels safe and warm.”

His tail swayed back and forth. You felt it too?

“But you’re a stranger in this life, as far as I know,” you said with small laugh. “So why do you seem so familiar? Perhaps it means in my previous, you weren’t so strange.”

Dan Heng noticed his tail getting closer to your body before he managed to sway it the other way. You bumped yours against his mischievously. He jolted in surprise, both at the sudden touch of his tail—which he hadn’t felt in years and years—but also the small spark running through him at the point of contact. 

You bristled as well. “What was that?”

“I am not sure either.”

For a moment, you were lost in your thoughts. He wondered what you were thinking as your eyes swirled, looking more captivating than any galaxy he has ever seen. Your elegant horns looked as if they were glowing against the night sky and he wanted to reach out and feel them like he used to. One of your sensitive spots, he remembered. 

“I felt something when our tails brushed,” you said slowly, thinking your words through. “It wasn’t much, but it felt like a glimpse of my previous life. Do you think I can touch you more?”

Dan Heng absolutely did not mind if you touched him. Anywhere—for that matter. But he figured what was visible would be safest for the time being. He bowed his head, offering his horns to start with. “As you wish.”

You smiled brightly and his heart fluttered. He felt deep down he would do anything for you. Even confront his past life. And he vowed that what he didn’t do in his past life—spend enough time with you before it was too late—he would do in this. If only you allowed him. 

Reaching out, your gaze was fixed on his tall horns. You started with a careful touch to the tip and ran your fingers down to where his horns branched out. Heat and cold were both searing through his body at the touch and he was certain from your expression you felt the same. Your hands trailed down his face, feeling the point of his ears and resting on his cheek. 

Whether it was from the pain of the intensity coursing through you or whether it was because you were remembering your past life, Dan Heng saw tears rolling down your cheeks. 

He brought his hand up to you to wipe them away, but stopped right before he could touch your skin. “May I?” 

You nodded, a light sniffle coming from you and Dan Heng yearned to be of comfort. 

He started with a light brush of his thumb to gather the wetness on your face, gently wiping it off. Then, same as you did to him, he felt the elongation of your ears and ran hs fingers from the base of your horns to the very top. They were just as smooth as he remembered and he felt you tremble at the touch. He smiled. They were still also as sensitive as ever. 

“Are any memories resurfacing for you?” he said quietly. 

Your eyes were squeezed shut yet tears still leaked from them. It took a while for your to respond, overwhelmed by all the emotions, but eventually you managed to ask, “Is it… Dan Feng?”

“Dan Heng now,” he gently corrected. “I don‘t go by that name anymore.”

At that confirmation, you cried even more, jumping into his arms and burying your face in his chest. 

“It‘s been so long,” you said in exasperation, your words mixed with sniffles. “The Sedation— We didn’t even get to say goodbye!” You paused, removing yourself from his chest and looking up at him. “Rather, I didn’t get to say goodbye to Dan Feng. But with you here, maybe now I can.”

He nodded in understanding. His ending was so abrupt. Due to his own hubris and for the life of his closest friend, he ended up sacrificing himself. And in the long run, he learned he even sacrificed you. Dan Heng would never treat your relationship with him so casually again. He should’ve showed you it was the top priority in his life. 

Dan Heng watched in silence as you closed your eyes and whispered under your breath. He didn’t fully understand what you were saying, but he allowed you to have your private moment and say your goodbyes. He said goodbye to the past you as well—a right that was also stripped away from him as he was forced into reincarnation without second thought. Anger rose in his cheeks at those who took that away from him. From you. But it died down. Ultimately, what Dan Feng did wasn’t a part of him now. Maybe the person he is today wouldn’t have agreed with those past actions in the first place. 

Moments turned into minutes and minutes turned to hours before you finally opened your eyes and looked at him. Your gaze was clearer, as if it was truly him—Dan Heng—you were seeing. 

You smiled wistfully, hand gently stroking the spine of his tail. “I may have said goodbye to Dan Feng, but, at your core, the Dan Heng in front of me still feels like the man I love.”

He hummed in thought. He understood exactly what you were feeling. “Your core is the same too,” he said, his palm resting on your chest where your heart was beating. “You’re someone I will always love. And I’m sorry it took me so long to find you.”

Your face broke into an expression of sadness and Dan Heng felt his heart tightened. 

“I’m sorry I, as Dan Feng, left you. I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you until the end.”

You shook your head, trying to force a happy look on your face. “No, it’s okay. You didn’t leave me. You were taken and punished and I couldn’t say goodbye. But I forgive you.”

“Why? I valued my power and my friend’s life and, ultimately, was selfish and didn’t consider the impact on yours. There are so many reasons I don’t want to hold onto my past. But if being here with you means facing it, I will.”

You sighed, a small, sad chuckle escaping your lips. “You see someone selfish and arrogant, but I see a kind and selfless soul who wanted his friend to be there with him forever.”

Dan Heng thought back in shame of the Blade he met on Luofu. 

“Our pasts are linked, but so are our presents,” you said, lifting his chin up. “You’re not Dan Feng anymore, are you?”

He nodded firmly. 

You smiled in acceptance. “You’re not exactly my first love, Dan Feng, but I have a feeling I’ll like this Dan Heng person even more, anyway.”

His body immediately warmed and he wanted to melt into your touch. You were always so kind, so thoughtful. Dan Feng may have messed up and got the two of you separated, but he would never. 

“In our last life and this life, and if we have even more to come, we will always find each other,” he vowed. 

You touched your forehead to his before leaning in for a kiss. He met your lips as if he were securing a promise. A promise not to leave you again, a promise he was really here, and a promise he still loved you. There was so much he had to learn about your new life—and you, his. But Dan Heng was certain it’d only make him love you more. 

He had gone through the betrayal of a friend, the betrayal of a nation, and death and exile from the very place he once called home, but no pain compared to that of losing you. And now that he found you again, he didn’t want to make the same mistakes as his past reincarnation. 

You placed your hand on his cheek and deepened the kiss, breaking him out of his thoughts. Your hand was warm against the cool air of the night. Dan Heng ran his hand down to your waist and wrapped around to rest on the small of your back. He pushed you closer to him, wanting to feel your body against his. The heat emanated through the fabric of your clothes and the faint smell of wildflowers and vanilla filled his senses. It was a familiar scent he had always loved. 

He smiled into the kiss and you moved closer, draping a leg around his hip. Dan Heng didn’t ever want to let you go, but he knew he had nothing to fear. Now he knew the strength of your bond—how the draw to each other could withstand lifetimes. 

Not even time itself could separate you from him. 

[reidsaurora]

Your event is so cute!!! Could I get a sun kissed Malibu dream house with Aaron?? 🥹 in need of some fluff with him hehe

i am so so sorry this took me so long to write! writer's block these past few months has been kicking my butt. but, thanks to my awesome betas, i think i wrote something you'll like! hope you enjoy!

"Summer Lovin" ~ A. Hotchner

Summary: As the start of summer arrives, you and your friends at the BAU find yourselves feeling a bit reminiscent of the summers before. Along with that reminiscence, you start to miss the days when you and Aaron had little babies instead of big kids…

Pairing: Dad!Aaron Hotchner x Mom!Reader

Word Count: 2,019

Content Warning: lots of talk of babies/pregnancy, sexual humor, kind of fade to black smut if you read between the lines lol, small mention of food, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: i'm so sorry this took so long, i had a very hard time writing this and def meant to post it sooner. however, in the spirit of my city being under a heat advisory today, this feels appropriate to post 😂

Originally Written: 06/04/2024 through 06/25/2024

Beta Read By: @dungeons-are-too-cold and @virtual-vivi 🫶🏻🩷

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

Summer Celebration info can be found here!

Sun Kissed - fluff requests

Malibu Dream House - domestic!au

Aaron tossed off the blanket, letting out a small sigh of relief. “When did it get so hot?” he grumbled, his morning voice prominent. As he rolled over to his back, you spotted a big wet spot on the front of his tee shirt from just how much he was sweating.

Still, you scooted closer to him anyway and tossed an arm over his abdomen, his familiar scent filling your senses. “News said there’d be an excessive heat wave today.”

“It's probably ninety degrees already,” he complained, “and it's not even 9:00 yet.”

Rolling onto your side to face him, you left a trail of kisses along his jawline. “Hey, Mr. Grumpy Gills,” you giggled, referencing one of your kids’ favorite movies. “When life gets you down, you know what you gotta do?”

“It's sweltering! How in the world could you possibly want to cuddle right now?” Aaron ignored your attempt to brighten the mood, instead opting to toss a pillow over his head and groan into it.

You just pulled the pillow away and left another peck on his jaw. “Because I love you. And because our children are gonna come in here any minute to take you away from me.”

He noticed the small pout that followed your statement, the expression enough to soften even Aaron Hotchner, king of stoicism, up. “Alright, fine. I'll allow it. But only because you drive a hard bargain.”

Your pout was replaced with a smirk as you snuggled closer into his side. “Mmm, that means a lot, coming from an ex-prosecutor. Maybe I should've gone to law school with you.”

“You're too sensitive for the big house, or whatever they say,” Aaron snickered. After noticing your look of offense, he quickly covered with, “I didn't mean it in a bad way. You have feelings. It's a very nice thing to come home to after dealing with emotionless psychopaths all day.”

“I think you're trying to compliment me. I'll take it.”

His lips met yours for a quick peck before saying, “I have nothing but compliments for you, my love,” Then, he met you with a second, much longer kiss, and while he tasted like morning breath, moments like this were so rare that you were willing to look past it.

One of his large hands met your leg, his calloused fingertips trailing along your bare skin. It felt like a lifetime since you'd been like this, with two children always needing your attention and the FBI always needing Aaron's. Just a simple touch of his fingers had you forgetting about the outside world, if even for just a moment.

Your lips met his neck, his stubble scratchy against your skin. He'd been away on a case in Seattle for about a week, and you were certain he hadn't shaved the whole trip. You liked it that way anyway.

His hand traveled further up under your nightgown, settling on your thigh. He squeezed the supple skin, a gesture of both affection and want.

“Are you trying to go for number three?” you joked before kissing his neck once more.

“Believe me,” Aaron chuckled, “if I knew I had enough time, I'd certainly try.”

As if on cue, four scurrying feet came stamping across the hardwood floor into your bedroom. “Good morning, Daddy!” both of your children yelled in sync, climbing onto the edge of the bed.

“That's why you're not allowed a third,” you mumbled into his ear. “The ones you have don't even appreciate me.”

“They love you, I promise,” he whispered, kissing your cheek. To the kids, he said, “Good morning. Don't you have anything else you want to say?”

They both turned to you, sheepish looks coming across their tiny, adorable faces. “Good morning, Mommy.”

“That's better,” Aaron said, gaining him a snicker from you. “Now, may I ask why the two of you are up so early and you're already in your swimsuits?”

It was then that you realized he was right. Jack, the older of your children, was sporting his favorite Spiderman swim trunks, while his little sister, Libby, had managed to dress herself in a cherry-print swimsuit she hadn't quite grown into yet. They made your heart melt.

“Daddy,” Libby sighed, clearly exasperated with her father, “don't you know what day it is?”

It happened to be the day your kids hadn't stopped talking about for weeks: the beginning-of-summer pool party you and Aaron threw every year for your friends and his coworkers at the BAU.

Aaron tapped a finger against his chin, his brows furrowing as he thought. “Let's see… it's not Libby’s birthday, and it's not Jack’s birthday, it's not my birthday, and I don't think it's your mom’s birthday,” his last comment earned him a sarcastic look from you. “Hmm, what day could it be?”

You joined in on his little game, tapping against your chin as you pretended to think. “Perhaps it's Christmas?”

Jack narrowed his eyes at you. “It's too early in the year for Christmas,” he said matter-of-factly.

“You're right.” As you continued tapping your finger, you shot Aaron a knowing look, which he gladly returned. He could tell by the gleam in your eye exactly what you meant with that look. “Is it…”

Each of you grabbed a kid, tickling and eliciting little squeals and giggles. “Pool party day?!” the two of you shouted in sync.

Libby thrashed around in your arms, laughing and squirming, while Jack attempted to escape his father's arms. Moments like these were almost as rare as the ones with just you and Aaron, so you had to take advantage of them while you could.

“It's pool party day!” Libby squeaked, while Jack was laughing so hard, he could barely breathe.

Their smiles and laughs pulled at your heartstrings. You wondered when the universe decided to make your babies grow up, since it seemed like only yesterday when you had a newborn and a two-year-old.

Bringing yourself out of your nostalgic trance, you pulled yourself out of the bed, grabbing each kid by the hand. “Who wants to make pancakes while Daddy’s in the shower?”

—

Soon enough, all your friends had arrived and it felt like summer had too. Penelope and Spencer were currently entertaining all the kids, while the other men were crowded around the grill and the rest of the ladies were sitting poolside and working on their tans.

“You ever wonder if either of them will have kids?” JJ asked, nodding toward Penelope and Spencer.

“Spencer, a hundred percent,” Emily answered, like her statement was a fact. “Penelope, I'm not so sure.”

You were next to jump into the conversation, not even bothering to look up from your magazine. “Why do you ask, Jen?”

JJ let out a longing sigh. “It's been so long since we've had a baby around here.”

Putting the magazine down, you looked over to her, eyebrows creased. “Henry's only three. It hasn't been that long.”

“You don't miss having a baby at our get-togethers? Emily, where do you stand?”

“Don’t look at me,” Emily said with wide eyes. “If I didn't have to change another diaper for a lifetime, it still wouldn't be long enough.” She was the one person in the group that was rather indifferent to children, but babies, she'd rather not talk about or be around.

“Yeah, babies are nice,” you said, “but the pregnancy part? That's what I'd rather go a lifetime without.”

“Well, I'm sure there's one thing we can all agree on,” JJ snickered. “At least making the baby is fun.”

Emily tossed the pillow behind her back in the direction of her coworker, giggling all the while. “Jennifer!”

“What?” she laughed as she swatted the pillow away. “Am I wrong?”

You let out a small snicker yourself, shooting a glance in the direction of your husband, who was currently taking his turn in manning the grill.

Neither of your friends missed that look, both their mouths falling agape at the expression. “Spill!” they squealed in sync.

Penelope made her way over from the edge of the pool, her face overtaken by the brightest smile known to mankind. “I heard the ‘Someone has beans to spill’ variety of squeals and giggles. What am I missing?”

“Nothing,” you insisted with an eye roll.

Emily patted the edge of her chaise, welcoming Penelope over. “Come sit, we're gonna get it out of her. After all, two out of three of us are profilers.”

Your eyes narrowed at the brunette. “Do you forget that I also used to be a profiler before my kids came along?”

“Stop changing the subject,” Penelope said with a swat of her hand. “Spill your guts. What did I miss?”

“Well, we were talking about how it's been so long since anyone on the team, past or present, has had a kid,” Jennifer explained.

“And someone looked at her husband with that look,” Emily further explained.

You scoffed. “It was not that look.”

“It totally was,” your friends spoke in sync.

Penelope's face lit up like a child in a candy store, her mind clearly running rampant with ideas of what the look meant. “Oh my God, are you-”

“No!” you quickly interrupted, knowing exactly where that question was headed. “Not yet anyway,” you mumbled under your breath.

The three of them practically jumped out of their seats and gathered around you, all screams and smiles.

“We haven't even had the conversation yet!”

“But you're going to!” Penelope insisted.

You rolled your eyes, but internally, you couldn't be happier for the gift of friendship from these three women. Jennifer, the mom friend in more ways than one. Emily, the voice of reason who not-so-secretly had a funny side and always knew how to make you laugh. And Penelope, the perfect shoulder to cry on and perfect soul to confide in. Lucky didn't even begin to describe how you felt about knowing these women.

Suddenly, you found yourself— as Penelope had said— spilling your guts. “I don't know. This morning just felt… different. Like, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have another baby around.”

The three of them flooded you with comments of love and support, hugs wrapping around you from each direction. Having another baby would be different, of course, but your friends were making sure that you knew it would be a good kind of different.

“I still have to get Aaron on board, so no one get too excited,” you reminded them.

JJ was already way ahead of you. “We've got the kids, Rossi and Derek have the grill. Don't worry about anything out here. You and your man deserve a moment of free time.”

“Just so we're clear,” you said, pointing a finger as if to further prove your point, “we are just going to talk. No funny business.”

Emily snickered. “Yeah, the same way you guys used to ‘talk’ on the jet?” Your cheeks heated to a bright red shade at her comment.

“Ew, Hotch is in the mile high club?!” Penelope practically screamed. Luckily, everyone else seemed too engrossed in conversation to hear her, but you were still mortified nonetheless.

“Okay, scratch what I said. I'm actually going inside to give myself a lobotomy.”

And with that, your friends were shouting in sync different variations of “Have fun!”

Then, with a smile on your face from both the joy of friendship and the love you had for your husband, you found yourself heading over to the grill and pulling Aaron away. His reaction was nothing short of laughter as you practically dragged him toward the house, his shirt nearly coming off with how hard you were tugging it.

Lips met skin as you closed the back door behind you. Aaron let out another chuckle, though he surely wasn't protesting your affection. “Woah, that look in your eyes tells me you're the one thinking about number three,” he commented, referencing your words from that morning.

“Well,” you said as your fingers started to trail under the hem of his dark gray tee shirt. With another kiss to his neck, you continued, “About that…”

taglist: @1234-angelika @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @the-lucky-ones311 @mercuryvapours @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @paintlavillered @lavhoes @rhyanishere @danielle143 @handsupforamiracle @ah-blossom @reidselle @dungeons-are-too-cold @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @cwritesforfun @lover-of-books-and-tea

[nanamiluvs]

hiii luv ur writing^^!!

i was wondering if you could write some wriothesley x chubby reader... insisting she's too heavy to sit on his face despite him urging her to do it and that it'll be fine,, eventually getting tired of her excuses and grabbing her thighs to pull her down onto his face

thanks for asking and tysm! wriothesley would def do that and he would beg you to sit on his face. also, honestly i think wriothesley is the type to prefer chubby and/or muscular bodies, he just views it as more meat for him to bite. he has a large body as well, so yeah.

pairing : wriothesley x chubby!reader

rating : explicit

wc : 850

warnings : reader is afab but no pronouns used, wriothesley calls reader "angel" and "doll", wriothesley is desperate, reader is a bit insecure about their weight, face sitting, oral (f receiving), wriothesley eats pussy like no other, slight dirty talk, i mean how can he talk much when his face is stuffed with pussy

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

wriothesley who wants you to sit on his face, you who thinks you're too heavy for that. he begs to differ.

wriothesley who tells you that he wants you to sit on his face.

wriothesley who pouts for a moment when you tell him no. it's okay, really, he would never force you to do something you don't want to. he just doesn't understand what exactly makes you uncomfortable with the idea, and wriothesley is a curious man when it comes to you.

but come on, how could he know that you thought you'd be too heavy for him? for him, for wriothesley who could throw weights twice as heavy as you around with ease? and wasn't your thighs crushing his face and your pussy suffocating him the entire point?

wriothesley who mentions the idea again later on, and this time, you agree to do it. it'll be fine, you think, you'll just rest your weight on your legs and he will also get to have what he wants. if he had a tail, you know it'd be wagging behind his back by the way his smile widens.

wriothesley who's just thrilled to finally have you on top of him, your wet heat hovering above his face. his dick is aching in his pants, purposefully left clothed so he can feel how much it wants you.

wriothesley who looks up at you weirdly after a few seconds, and you think that's it. he regrets it all.

"you want me to starve here? come on, doll, sit, no backing down now." he grins, his breath hitting you from how close his face was to your cunt. his rough hands caress your plush thighs as he playfully bites the inside of your thighs, pressing a kiss right after, waiting for you to properly sit.

you gulp. "i am sitting though..?" you lower yourself a bit more, pretending like you're placing your entire weight on him. "is this better?"

"nah, not really, but..." his eyes now stare into yours in a more serious manner. were you uncomfortable with him? you seemed like you were in doubt. "love, if you don't want to, you don't have to, i'm not-"

"i-i want to, but..." he pauses for a moment as you part your lips, listening to what you have to say. "i can't just sit on you! i would...crush your face, probably."

wriothesley who raises his eyebrows at your words. "yeah?"

you want to escape his gaze yet his eyes hold you in like a prisoner.

wriothesley who listens to you babble about some nonsense. i'm too heavy, it'd be a turn off for you, it's embarrassing, blah, blah, blah.

wriothesley who takes it as a challenge and simply grabs your legs and pulls you onto his face with a shriek, your entire weight pressing down on him. your pussy is met with his eager mouth and your clit presses against the tip of his nose, making your legs go numb for a few moments. "w-wrio, you!" you call out, shy as his tongue delves between your folds to lap up your slick like it's the last thing he ever wants to taste. he groans against your cunt at your taste, the vibrations making you grab his hair and press yourself harder on his face.

he grins in response, your skin feeling every movement of his. he moans into your pussy when you tug on his hair, all your thoughts about insecurities thrown out the window with the way you push yourself down on him. his hands grab your thighs firmly, wrapping them around his head as he kept pressing you down on him. his tongue pushes in at your hole after sucking in your clit harshly, "mmh, so-" he mumbles, and you swear you see stars by the way the sound vibrates through your body, "so wet for me, doll-"

wriothesley whose dick throbs, stretching against the tight fabric of his undergarments, begging to fill you to the brim. his hips thrust into the air in want, in need, desperate for some friction as he feasted on you. he knows you're close as you start grinding against his mouth, his tongue thrusting in and out and licking your folds as his nose presses against your clit. his hold on your body was still firm as ever, only tightening as he gets more into it. he sucks in your clit as the waves of pleasure wash over your body and you cum on his face, his greedy mouth licking up everything he can.

he lifts his hands and you back up, checking to see if he was okay.

wriothesley who fucking smirks at you from below, breathless and half of his face drenched and glistening with your juices. "how unfortunate," he says as he pulls you down once again, "make sure to break my neck this time."

[redr0sewrites]

HI YEAH I AM BEGGING YOU TO ELABORATE ON THOSE TWO THINGS FROM THE SUB VOX HEADCANONS⁉️⁉️

RAHH OFC!!! IM ELABORATING ON THE DRY HUMPING HERE LMAO THE SOUNDING IS LINKED HERE FOR ALL OF YALL TO ENJOY AJSJ

🥀Cw: smut, sub!vox, dry humping, pillow humping, thigh riding, little bit of somno

🥀minors dni

when it comes to dry humping, vox gets SOOO humiliated

he gen enjoys it more than actual sex, theres just something so achingly desperate about grinding against someone, too impatient to even take off your clothes

vox is soooo sensitive, but he would rather die (again) then admit that

he can't even sit on your lap without squirming, he just can't stay still, not with the "accidental" pressure you're applying to his already hard cock

he would probably try to subtly (not subtly) bring it up in a conversation once, he thinks hes soooo slick about it but in reality you can see right through his bravado

when you pull vox onto your lap to make out he audibly whines, his legs wrap perfectly around your waist and his hips r already squirming as you kiss him stupid

hes practically a bitch in heat when you both r grinding against eachother, after a long day all he wants is to he put in his place and fucked out of his mind, and loves battling for dominance while humping against you likes hes in heat

its pathetic really

sometimes he'll glitch out and truly be unable to stop himself, his mind is just so pathetically blank and fuzzy that he just can't help it, his body has a mind of its own as he ruts against you in a frenzy, small, plessurable sparks spreading across your skin

sometimes you'll come into his office while hes working and straddle him, he gets a hard on in seconds and can't help but buck his hips up against yours while he shields his face in shame

vox has a wild imagination, i mean, he has access to the entire internet at any given time, IMAGINE how filthy his wet dreams are

he def humps you in his sleep, whimpering your name and grinding down against you

he has the sweetest little unfiltered whines when hes sleeping, and more often than not will come in his pants just from rutting against you

vox def likes riding your thigh while working too, you can't help but tease him and start bouncing your knee as his claws dig into the desk, his mind going absolutely fuzzy from pleasure as he desperately tries to stay composed

he gets off on how humiliating and humbling the position is, the fact that one of hell's strongest overlords is grinding on his partner's thigh in a semi-public place where anyone could walk in? it only turns him on more

vox's preferred form of masturbation is humping something, you can't tell me otherwise

sometimes he'll be laying in bed, missing the warmth of your body, and he can already feel himself going painfully hard and horny. vox can't even get off on his own without you, its just so pathetic but his hand never feels like yours and no sex toy could imitate your perfect hole. so, vox opts for hugging the nearest pillow to his chest, slowly dragging it down to his crotch, not even bothering to remove his clothes as he drags his hips against the material. vox'll moan you name, the movements of his hips growing more sporadic as his head clouds over with pleasure until hes fully straddling the pillow, grinding down against it and panting as he cums in his pants. he's exhausted, yet he finds himself still impossibly hard, unable to stop desperately humping the pillow below him like a bitch in heat while thoughts of you swirl in his fuzzy mind.

he has the most delicious, fucked-out look on his face as he grinds deliriously for what feels like hours, until his body finally gives up and collapses, the pillow still clamped between his legs as he takes deep, shuddering breaths as his lust begins to calm down

what if i wrote a full fic about reader walking in on vox humping a pillow, and instead of helping him, forces him to continue and just gets off while watching him struggle.... haha.... jk.... unlesss....

in will prob make this into a scenario later heheee i love putting this man in situations