#working on request but figured it’ll be fun

[noorpersona]

author ive binged so many of ur works in the past few hours.. i was going through something and your writing cheered me the fuck up so thank u a lot!

i was wondering if i could make a request if its something you enjoy writing,,, could u make surprising the hq boys with lingerie a little series? i enjoyed the iwa one soso much and i feel like u could do a lot w the different personalities of each character and howd they react to such a surprise!! if not maybe just a version for suna or atsumu 👁️

BAEE THANK YOUU ❤️❤️

I've been like going thru it your message cheered me the fuck up 😩😩

Also I love your idea so much yes I am making it a series teehehe Enjoy <333

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Laced Reactions: Atsumu

It had been a slow, unremarkable kind of day. The kind where time stretches in sleepy increments, and even your to-do list didn’t feel like it was in a rush. The apartment was clean. Dinner was already figured out. The sunlight pooled lazily across the kitchen counter, and your playlist drifted quietly in the background—muffled lo-fi beats and the hum of a city winding down.

You were curled up on the couch in one of Atsumu’s old jerseys, your legs tucked beneath you, flipping through your phone with a half-eaten bag of chips nestled at your side. Every now and then, you paused to scroll back and forth through the same three apps, rereading conversations or squinting at memes that weren’t funny enough to laugh out loud but too amusing to ignore.

When the door finally clicked open, you barely lifted your eyes.

“'M home,” came his usual singsong voice, warm with the weight of routine. The sound of it made your chest ease a little.

His footsteps padded in—socked feet against the floor, keys dropped into the bowl by the door, the thunk of his gym bag against the wall. And then came the rustling of a paper bag.

“I got somethin’ for ya,” he called, his voice light and teasing.

That made you pause. You glanced up as he approached, swinging a sleek black shopping bag by its gold ribbon handles. He dropped it next to you on the couch, and his grin told you he knew exactly what reaction he was about to get.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” you said, side-eyeing him even as you reached for the bag.

“Didn’t say I had to,” he replied, kicking off his shoes. “I wanted to.”

You parted the tissue paper carefully.

And blinked.

Deep, vivid red gleamed up at you—lace, straps, sheer panels, and the soft glint of garter clips. A matching lingerie set, rich as blood and twice as dangerous.

You stared down at it, then slowly lifted the bra with two fingers, holding it like it might purr or explode.

“Seriously?” you said flatly, casting a look at him.

“You’re a pig.”

He let out a full, unapologetic laugh, already crouching beside you with a shameless twinkle in his eyes.

“I’m your pig,” he said proudly, placing a palm over his heart like it was a badge of honor.

You opened your mouth to roast him properly, but he leaned in—close enough that you caught the salt of his sweat, the spice of his cologne—and his voice dropped low, just for you.

“Wanna see you in it,” he murmured, voice rough around the edges, breath ghosting against your ear with a heat that raised the fine hairs at the nape of your neck. The scent of him—sweat still clinging faintly to his skin from practice, mingled with the citrusy spice of his cologne—coiled into your senses like smoke. His words sank deep, velvet-wrapped and deliberate, vibrating through your spine as his fingers traced a slow, teasing path beneath your jaw. The pads of his fingertips were warm, a little calloused from hours of drills, dragging lightly across your skin as if tasting it through touch.

“Bet it’ll be fun.”

The way he said it—low, lazy, laced with just enough amusement and hunger—made your stomach clench. It wasn’t even overtly dirty. It was suggestive in the most infuriating, devastating way. Like he wasn’t just asking for a favor. Like he was offering an experience, something slow and indulgent.

It pooled heat in your belly, crawled up your spine, lit your nerve endings with a hum. Your cheeks flared instantly, warmth blooming beneath your skin before you even realized it. Your breath caught, barely audible, and you swatted at his shoulder—not hard, just enough to make contact.

“Stop doing that.”

He leaned back slightly, blinking at you with mock innocence, though the glint in his eyes was anything but pure. His hand still rested at your waist, fingers curling ever so slightly into your side—warm and sure, like he knew exactly how much space he was taking up.

“Doin’ what?” he asked, his voice lilting up with faux confusion, but there was already a smirk tugging at his mouth.

Your glare barely held its form, shaky at best. “That thing with your voice.”

His smile broke into something slow and satisfied, like a cat stretching in the sun. He leaned in again without hesitation, and his lips brushed your throat—a kiss so soft, so maddeningly light, it felt more like a memory of touch than the real thing. Still, it left behind heat. Goosebumps.

You sucked in a breath as the warmth of his breath lingered. The scent of him—earthy, sweat-slicked from training and laced with that familiar, spicy cologne—wrapped around you like velvet. Every word he spoke settled low in your belly.

“What thing?” he whispered, voice a rough murmur that sent a tremor up your spine. “The one that gets you all red?”

As if to punctuate it, his thumb drifted just beneath your collarbone. You shivered. Audibly.

You groaned, the sound caught somewhere between protest and surrender. Your hand found his chest and pushed, but there was no force behind it.

“Just try it on,” he said, voice lighter now, but no less persuasive. His arms slid further around your waist, pulling you closer—his grip snug but gentle, like he was grounding himself with the feel of you. “Humor me, yeah?”

You grabbed the bag with a grumble, flushed to the tips of your ears, and stomped off toward the bedroom.

Behind you, his victory whoop echoed with shameless delight.

Inside, you shut the door and exhaled slowly.

You pulled the set out piece by piece, laying it on the bed. The red looked even more scandalous against the pale quilt. You stripped off the jersey and stood in front of the mirror, holding the bra up and narrowing your eyes.

One strap. Then another.

You clipped yourself in and stepped back.

It clung to you like it had been poured on. The fabric stretched and hugged every curve with sinful precision, molded to your frame like a second skin crafted from temptation. The lace was impossibly soft—whisper-light against your skin, intricate patterns etched in delicate swirls and scalloped edges that brushed your ribs and traced the slope of your hips. The cut was wicked—high, daring, unapologetically bold. It bared your thighs and framed your chest in fine filigree, the kind of lace that didn’t hide, but highlighted. The deep red shimmered under the overhead light, catching gold undertones in the delicate threads, demanding attention without even trying.

You turned slightly in front of the mirror. The garter straps stretched taut as your leg shifted, and you reached up to adjust one of the bra straps—fingers grazing your shoulder as you settled it into place. Then your hands drifted lower, thumbs resting briefly at the dip of your waist. Your fingers brushed the edge of the garters where they kissed the top of your thighs, soft elastic and polished metal clasps cool beneath your touch. Heat gathered in your face, your chest. Your reflection stared back—half incredulous, half mesmerized.

You looked powerful.

And very, very doomed.

“He’s gonna combust,” you muttered, and your voice sounded distant to your own ears. Your skin tingled, blood rushing hot through your cheeks as your toes curled into the carpet. Your ears were already burning, heat pooling at the nape of your neck. You hovered at the doorway for a heartbeat, one hand gripping the frame like it could anchor you to something real.

Then, with a breath dragged deep into your lungs, you stepped out.

The light in the living room was low and golden, casting soft shadows on the hardwood. Atsumu was sprawled on the couch like he owned it—one leg kicked over the back, his phone cradled lazily in his hand, expression half-lidded with contentment. He looked utterly at peace, his world uncomplicated.

Until you walked in.

The moment he sensed movement, his head lifted—and everything changed.

His jaw unhinged in slow motion. The phone slipped from his grip and landed on his chest with a dull thump, unnoticed. His mouth parted like he was about to speak, but no sound came. Just stunned, wide-eyed silence.

His gaze swept over you like a heatwave, dragging across the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist, the way the red lace caught the light and turned your skin to gold. His breath visibly stuttered, his throat bobbing with a swallow that sounded like it hurt.

"Oh my god," he whispered, voice ragged. His eyes flicked up to yours, glassy and awestruck. "You’re gonna kill me."

You crossed your arms, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding so hard it echoed in your ears. "Well?"

He surged to his feet like gravity had reversed.

He was on you in a blink. One hand cupped your waist, the other slid reverently over your hip, fingers spreading wide like he was trying to memorize the exact feel of you under his palms. His touch was warm, trembling, desperate with restraint.

“You’re not real,” he breathed, eyes locked on your chest, then your legs, then your face. “You’re—babe, you can’t just walk around like that. This is illegal. You’re illegal.”

You raised a brow, trying to keep your cool even as his fingers threatened to make your knees buckle. “Hands off.”

He froze mid-lean, lips just shy of your collarbone. “Wait, what?”

“No touching,” you said, stepping aside like it was the easiest thing in the world. “If I have to be out here half-naked, the least you can do is look.”

The groan he let out was deep and strangled, like it had been torn from his chest. He dragged both hands through his hair, pacing a slow circle.

“You’re evil, that’s what you are,” he said, his voice half-laugh, half-prayer.

“You’ll survive.”

“I’m not so sure,” he muttered, staring at you like you were a myth that just stepped off the page.

You walked past him slowly, deliberately, aware of every sway of your hips, every squeak of the floorboard beneath your feet. His eyes followed you like he was starved.

When you glanced over your shoulder, he was still rooted in place, fists clenched at his sides like he was physically holding himself back.

Then the spell snapped.

He launched forward with a sharp, breathless curse. You shrieked and bolted, the hallway blurring around you as his footsteps thundered behind.

Laughter echoed down the walls—yours breathless and bright, his low and exhilarated. He caught you just outside the bedroom, his arms banding around your waist, lifting you clean off the ground with a triumphant, half-mad noise.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he growled, burying his face in your neck as you laughed, squirming in his grip.

“Then I better make it worth it,” you gasped.

“Oh,” he whispered against your skin, kissing just below your ear, “you are.”

[hvnlygrl]

hello! may u please take my request? :) ♡

rafe cameron and reader are at a party and she starts acting bratty and telling him to go away and shoving him off and then he leans down and whispers in her ear to tell her to meet him in the bathroom for a spanking as punishment but she tells him no and that they should just do jt at home and then he smirks and leans down again saying that if they do it at home he'll make it 10x rougher, then he leaves, giving reader no choice as he watches her from afar with a smirk as she nervously chips on her nail and bouncing her leg. also can u write the smut punishment (edging)

⌞ BRAT ⌝

જ⁀➴ pairing | rafe cameron x fem!reader

જ⁀➴ word count | 2.4k

જ⁀➴ warnings | MDNI — raw sex (wrap it up y’all), rafe edges the fuck out of reader, crying due to edging, p in v, oral (f rec), creampie 🫣, uhhh, dirty talk, little bit of after care.

જ⁀➴ synopsis | at a party on figure 8, you begin testing rafe’s patience with your attitude. he’s not the type to let shit slide, and you’re in for a long night.

જ⁀➴ notes | HOT HOT HOT woah now i ate with this i think… thanks for the request anon! sorry it took so long i hope this makes up for it tho 💌

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the first time, rafe had to admit, it was cute. but by the third and fourth, he knew you were doing it on purpose. consistently teasing him by letting your ass glide against the thin fabric of his shorts as you passed in front of him, or the winks you shot his way over the rim of your cup. he wasn’t mad, per se, just frustrated.

rafe knew you were riling him up, and he knew that it was working. however, he wasn’t ready to leave, the two of you had only been at the party for a total of an hour.

rafe also knew that the more alcohol went into your system, the more you would tease him. and he was right, the longer it took for you to get your way with him, the more horny you felt and the more you pushed.

you finally found a moment where he was away from his friends, using that as your opportunity to whisper into his ear, “baby, when are we leaving?”

“not now,” he cuts a semi-menacing glare at you, “i’m not ready yet.”

you groan, making a face at him, “but babe!”

“no,” he affirms again, “not leaving now. you’re just gonna have to keep it in your pants for a little longer sweetheart.”

now you were frustrated, brows furrowed and eyes squinted at him. “seriously?”

“yeah,” he huffs back at you, “now stop teasing me.”

“or what? what are you gonna do about it?”

rafe looks at you like his next meal, “oh no, no, i’m not playing this game with you right now.”

“ugh, you’re no fun,” you roll your eyes.

you knew you were getting to him, but you also were fully aware that rafe would never let you be in control, especially not when you were acting like such a brat.

he leans down to give you a kiss, face hardening when you weave away from it at the last second, a mischievous grin plastered across your face. he takes a deep breath and tries again; this time grabbing your face as he does so. you wrench your chin from his grasp, dodging his kiss yet again.

“you being forreal right now?” he’s not hurt, that much is obvious, but you can see the mild anger building behind his gaze. “give me a kiss.”

“you can get a kiss when we leave,” you cross your arms childishly, turning your face away from him as you begin to walk away.

he grasps your bicep firmly, pulling you back and into his chest, “meet me in the bathroom.”

“nope, i’ll wait till we get home,” you raise a brow at him, almost as if you were challenging him.

“oh, baby, you won’t like it if you wait till we get home, it’ll be a hell of a lot worse.”

he grips your chin again, this time using his grasp to place a sweet kiss on your forehead before he leans down to the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin, lighting up each and every nerve in the area.

“meet me in the bathroom. now.”

you watch, wetness pooling in your panties as you watch him flash a grin over his shoulder while he makes his way up the stairs. you debate internally whether or not you should follow him, but you’ve dealt with rafe’s punishments before, and the last time was fairly recently, you weren’t sure if you could handle another severe one again just yet.

you quickly scurried up the stairs and down the hallway, eyes scanning back and forth until you find the bathroom.

you take a deep breath, ruffle your hair, and pull your hand from your mouth; a nervous tick you’d picked up as a child, constantly watching your dad mimic the same motion when he was nervous. you knew it was bad, that biting at your cuticles and nails was a big no-no at your age, especially being in a relationship with the king of the kooks. but you couldn’t help it, it was one of those seemingly unbreakable habits that was instilled in you at such an early age. and you figured there could be worse habits to have, so you didn’t do much to quit.

you let your knuckles rap against the hollow core door two sharp times, a signal to rafe to open the door, which he does almost immediately.

he beckons you in wordlessly, watching you squirm in place as you lean up against the bathroom counter. “hiya, rafey,” you huff out in a nervous laugh.

“hiya, baby,” he shoots a wolfish grin at you as he moves toward you, removing his rings and watch, setting the gold items inside of his hat atop the counter. “take your panties off and flip, angel.”

you follow the instructions, lip pinched between your teeth as you do so. you watch him in the mirror, his tight shirt making his muscles pop in the dim lighting. he looks down the neckline of your low-cut dress, his cock growing hard at the sight of your tits dangling against the soft fabric.

rafe drags his hands up the insides of your thighs as he uses his foot to spread them, a quiet gasp flying from your lips at the sudden movement.

“gotta stay quiet, baby, can you do that for me?”

you nod at him quickly, your pussy clenching and dripping just at the sound of his voice, much less everything else he was doing at the moment.

he flips the bottom of your dress up onto your back, leaving your mostly-bare ass out in the open for him to admire. rafe drags his hands across it slowly, fingers tracing the roundness of your cheeks. “you’re so pretty, sweetheart, every part of you is just fuckin’ gorgeous.”

you can’t help but blush at his words, dropping your head for a moment before picking it back up to watch him in the mirror.

“i hope you wore your good mascara tonight,” he laughs lowly, watching as you gulp at the implication.

rafe pulls your panties down and out from around your ankles, placing them along with his jewelry inside of his hat. he uses one hand to pull you a couple steps backward, your legs still spread as he angles you just how he wants you; pussy on full view for him to do whatever he wants.

he begins by slowly trailing his fingertips through your wetness, letting them glide through your folds and around your clit ever so lightly. the gentle sensation already has you breathing heavily, your hands clasped in front of you, gripping each other tightly.

rafe continues that motion for a few more moments before really focusing in on your clit, rubbing it in the way he knows you love the most. he builds up your climax, almost to the point of bursting, and then pulls away quickly, watching the realization flow over your face.

he was going to edge you to the point of tears, that was your punishment for acting like a brat all night, you finally understood, part of you kicking yourself with anticipated frustration while the other part of you felt nothing but excitement.

he flips you over, allowing you to sit atop the counter while he kneels between your open legs, your knees hooked over his shoulders. he starts by kissing long, slow kisses beginning at your knees and eventually trailing their way up to your sensitive area, his lips pressing up against everything except for where you want them the most. where you need them the most.

you were already horny before you even entered the bathroom, hence all the teasing and games you’d been playing all night, but now you were on a whole other level of horniness.

rafe waits until you're far past the point of squirming in your seat before giving your pussy a quick lick, letting his tongue swirl around your clit for a moment before pulling away, his eyes watching the look on your face fall back into a deep level of frustration.

“rafe,” you whine softly, brows furrowed desperately. “please, baby.”

“please, what? you get to tease me for over an hour and i don’t even get five minutes? that’s pathetic, baby.”

you groan at his words, knowing he’s nowhere near giving into your needs.

“you did this to yourself, just keep that in mind, angel.”

you huff softly, the sound caught in your throat when he latches back onto your sopping wet cunt, practically making out with it as you throw your head back in relief. he grips your thighs, letting the tips of his fingers dig into the flesh as he alternates between open mouthed kisses and intricate licks, waiting for the signs of an incoming climax.

you wonder if he’s going to let you cum, or if you can let one slip past him before he notices, but he knows your body better than you do, pulling away as soon as he knows you’re mere seconds away from hitting that point.

he repeats that process a few more times, bringing you to the brink of cumming four more times before standing between your legs, his lips coated in your juices as he grips the back of your hair, gripping it while he pulls you in for a kiss. “you taste yourself, baby? taste so fucking sweet, i just can’t get enough.” he’s almost breathless now, his eyes glossy with lust and his hair unkempt from your hands gripping and tugging on the golden strands.

he notices the tears that have welled up on your waterline, your chest heaving and your expression full of pure desperation.

rafe unzips and unbuttons his shorts, letting them fall around his ankles as he pulls you a little closer to the edge of the counter. he releases his cock from his boxers. he’s big, his dick full of veins and his tip leaking precum. he lets the tip glide through your folds gently, lets it swirl around your clit while he kisses you, his cock throbbing in his hand at the desperate sounds you breathe into his mouth.

your hips jolt forward when you feel his tip barely breach your hole, hoping that the movement would be enough to feel him inside of you, a whine falling from your lips when rafe pulls back, giving you a look. “you want me to keep going?”

a tear glides down your cheeks at his words, “no, no, please, rafey, i need it.”

“what? what do you need, baby?”

“i need you, i need you inside me,” you whimper, praying it's enough for him.

“what, like this?” he sticks two fingers inside of you, pumping them in and out quickly, curling them at the ends so his finger tips brush against your g-spot. your eyelids flutter at the feeling, a frown washing over your lips when he pulls them away. he sucks the juices off of his pointer finger before putting his other finger in your mouth. “speak up, sweetheart, tell me what you need.”

“i need to feel you, feel you fuck me,” you’re truly on the verge of real tears here, “please, rafe, please fuck me, i can’t take it anymore.”

he flashes that tell-tale grin at you, one hand gripping your hip roughly as the other guides his cock back into your hole, “whatever you want, baby.”

you gasp when he finally bottoms out inside of you, the tip of his dick brushing up against the deepest part inside of you. one hand grips the edge of the counter, the other one grasps the back of his neck as you pull him closer. the hand he used to guide himself into you moves to hold one of your legs up to his hip, the other gripping your ass tightly. he thrusts in and out harshly, breathing heavily as he feels you clench tightly around him.

“feels so fucking good inside this pussy, baby,” he groans softly into your ear, “this is my fucking pussy.”

“yea,” you moan quietly, “it's all yours baby, just for you.”

he continues thrusting, knowing that your climax will come crashing down at any moment after all the edging he put you through, and he can’t wait for it. he moves the hand that was gripping your ass to your clit, letting his fingers drag over the sensitive nub gently but quickly.

you grip the back of his neck even tighter, pulling him as close as possible. you can feel a scream building in the back of your throat at the upcoming climax, knowing that you can’t let it escape. so the only logical thing you can think of at that moment, your brain practically fried from the mixture of his endless edging from earlier and now amazingly good sex, is that the only way to keep quiet is to sink your teeth into his shoulder. he’s wearing a black shirt, so you know it won’t show, but even if it would you didn’t really have another backup plan.

rafe fucks you like a wild animal until you cum, his fingers still gliding over your clit as your body tenses, teeth digging into his shoulder. he throws his head back at the combination of your pussy practically swallowing him whole, clenching around him so tightly he’s sure his poor dick has suffocated inside of you, and the harsh feeling of your teeth. the cluster of feelings sends him spiralling into his own climax, hips stuttering as he fills you up, cum spurting deep into you.

the two of you rest for a moment, holding each other as you both breathe heavily. he plants a gentle kiss to your forehead before pulling out and grabbing a handful of toilet paper to wipe up the mixture of cum that begins leaking from your hole almost immediately. he gives you your panties back and pulls his own boxers and shorts back up, adjusting his appearance in the mirror next to you. “i love you, baby,” he whispers softly as he watches you go through similar motions, taking a different piece of toilet paper, wetting it as you wipe at your face, c;eaning up the places your mascara ran from the tears.

“i love you,” you smile at him, turning to plant a sweet kiss against his cheek, “that was fun.”

“yea, it was,” he laughs quietly, “you feel better now?”

“oh yea,” you nod, heart fluttering as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in for a tight hug.

he holds you for a moment, hand rubbing your back softly before leaning back to look at you once more. “now, let’s get back to that party and get fucked up, what do you say?”

“i’m so down, babe,” you smile, fingers interlocked with his as he leads you out of the bathroom after checking to make sure the coast is clear in the hallway.

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hvnlygrl 2025 ©️

taglist — @lanasb0ngwater @sarahsangelicdoll

[luveline]

could i request spencer x bombshell!reader where maybe spencer and the team meet reader’s ex boyfriend / a guy she used to be interested in and he’s sooo different from spencer so he assumes her flirting is a joke but really she never had a type until she met spencer n now she’s only into nerdy, sweater-vest wearing sweethearts <3

love ur work sm i only read spencer fics but i read all your characters bc the writing is so intoxicating !!

thank you for your request angel! <3 1k, fem

Spencer looks adorable today. You’re not sure if he knows, but that can be easily rectified. 

“Spencer Reid,” you say sternly. 

He’s immediately wide-eyed and sorry. “What?” he asks, pouting. 

“You have some explaining to do.” You glare, taking your compact from your pocket. You open it, check your appearance, fighting a huge smile as you flick the mirror on him accusingly. “So, what do you have to say for yourself?” 

“I don’t get it.” His eyes jump between the mirror and you. “Sorry?” 

“You should be sorry. Do you see how nice you look today?” He rolls his eyes. “Hey, don’t act like you don’t know what I mean.”

You and Spencer have known each other for years now, and you love him. You’d die for him easily in the field, and out of it too, but you’re not together and he’s bad at accepting compliments, so he shrugs you off like you’re only teasing him. 

“My handsome partner,” you say. Even if he isn’t your boyfriend, that’s your loophole. You and Spencer get paired for everything these days, because you’re best friends and Hotch has given up on separating you (though professionally there’s no need). “I could eat you.” 

“Still mildly threatening, then,” a voice says. 

You spin in your chair, shocked and a little horrified to find the last person you wanted to see here in Connecticut. “Cory!” you say, knowing he’ll believe you’re enthusiasm if nobody else. 

“Hi, beautiful. You weren’t gonna call me?” 

Your lips pop as you reply, “I was definitely going to, just as soon as we weren’t on the clock. How are you?” you ask, standing to receive the hug you know he’s going to give. 

Cory is… well, he’s gorgeous, though that hadn’t been why you had fun with him when you were here last. He’d seemed nice enough and plainly interested in you at the time, and you’d been sort of lonely, so really he was a necessity of the soul rather than a want. Plus, he was very rich. 

Gorgeous he may be, but Spencer Reid he is not. You don’t deny it to yourself —the genius behind you has completely changed your type, the kind of man you vy after, and if you’re honest, he’s the one for you. So hugging Cory and pretending you’re going to call him for drinks after the case is over isn’t easy. You lie rather than reject him.

“He seemed nice,” Spencer says in the awkward silence Cory leaves behind. 

“Sure!” you say, blowing out a hot breath. “Was I embarrassing myself? I didn’t expect to see him.” 

“You were the same as usual.” 

You tilt your head back as the door opens again, worried it’ll be Cory back for a last word. Emily smiles at you knowingly, a bag of takeout in hand. “God, did you see that?” she asks, eyebrows rising. “He was perfect.” 

“If you like the Greek god motif,” you joke. 

Spencer’s frowning at his files when you turn back to him. “Spence, what’s wrong?” you ask. 

“Mm? Nothing.”

“You sure?” you ask. 

He maintains that he’s okay as the rest of the team flood in for lunch. You pretend to believe him, not sure what you’ve done to upset him but willing to figure it out. You unwrap his food for him and place his plastic cutlery on a napkin as you know he prefers, sorting through the cup drinks to find his diet lemonade. “Here, handsome,” you say, touching his shoulder gently as you sit down next to him. 

He bristles. 

“Spencer?” you ask. 

He looks around the table. Hotch and Rossi are talking about something with shared smiles, while JJ and Morgan debate the case. Emily’s on her phone with a straw between her lips. They aren’t listening, and so he says, “It’s not a fitting nickname.” 

“What, handsome? That’s not a nickname, it’s a pet name, and it’s true. You’re one of the most handsome guys I’ve ever seen,” —you laugh and grab his elbow when he shakes his head— “are you kidding? Spencer, you could be a model. I’ve told you this a hundred times. You have amazing cheekbones, just dreamy, and your lips–”

“Oh, god, please don’t start,” he says, covering his face with both hands. He sounds like he’s smiling. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

Hotch shoots you a don’t tease look. You send him a vehement I’m not back, waiting for him to look away before you prod Spencer again. “You’re so cute, Spencer, you don’t get it.” 

“I don’t wanna be cute, cute isn’t your type–”

Your eyes flare. “What would you know about my type, Spencer? Is this– is this about Cory?” 

“Of course it is,” he says, face pink as he drops his hands. 

“Spencer, he is not my type.” 

“But you dated.”

“One date. And that was before I realised I liked dorks in sweater vests,” you say. You’re both acting like this is half a joke, a skit, in case you’re overheard, but you’re also both well aware that it’s serious and vulnerable and flustering to confess certain things right here and now. Too bad it has to be done. “I miss your glasses, babe, they really added to your charm.” 

Spencer shakes his head, picking up his styrofoam boxed lunch to ignore you. 

You sidle close to him, your pinky finger rubbing the slightest hint of his bare wrist. “Wanna get drinks with me tonight? I need a cover story in case Grecian Cory tracks me down. And, you know you get that really cute blush when you drink. What do you say?” 

“No,” he says with a smile, which means yes in this instance.

You kiss his cheek, giggling at the lipgloss left behind. “You’re my type, handsome.”

[moonstruckme]

I'm getting an iud and I'm so so nervous!! I have a super low pain tolerance! Would u be willing to write a fic about reader having to get a procedure done (can be general so more people can relate) and just one of the mauraders being there for her? Like May be she tries to not tell him bc she doesn't want to burden him but he finds out and is shocked and then offers to drive her home after?

tots projecting bc I'm gonna have Uber home and I wish I had a sweet bf driving me

Good for you babe! I hope it's not as scary as you think, thanks for requesting <3 I made this fwb Sirius because I thought it'd be fun, hope you don't mind

cw: vague mention of medical procedure, suggestive/mature content but no smut

fwb!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 837 words

You pull your shirt on, nerves once again tingling in your fingertips. It’s been on and off all day, the anxiety as you remember the appointment you have scheduled later this week. Sex with Sirius was only a temporary, if pleasant, reprieve. 

“Hey,” he says, pulling you from your thoughts. He’s opening a pack of cigarettes. “Want me to open the window?” 

You nod, hugging your knees to your chest. “Please.” 

Sirius reaches back to unlatch the window by your bed. He looks the polar opposite of you, all stretched out and languid, seemingly having no inclination to cover up whereas you can’t wait more than a couple minutes after sex before putting your clothes back on. Sirius tends to like to cuddle, chatting with you while he maps idle paths over your body with his touch, but you need layers between you; it’s too difficult to keep the lines from blurring, otherwise. 

He lights his cig, letting his head loll off the bed as he breathes in before exhaling in the direction of your window. You wish he wouldn’t smoke at all, but you appreciate how considerate he is about it. He’s not offered to share his pack with you since the first time you refused, and he always does it outside or out the window, depending on the weather. Now, the air coming inside is cool and muggy, enough to have Sirius reaching for the corner of your sheets and tossing them over himself lazily.

“Can I ask you something?” you say, fingers twiddling in front of your tented legs. “You can say no.” 

Sirius’ head tilts up. “When have I ever said no to you?” It’s a question not meant to be answered, so you don’t. “Ask away, gorgeous.” 

You wet your lips. “Do you have anything on Friday?” 

“Mm, this Friday?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I work at three, but nothing before then. Why?” 

“Oh, nevermind then.” You shake your head, guilt and dread intermingling in your gut. You’ll figure something else out. Worst case, you’ll take the bus. It’ll be fine. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Wait, why?” Sirius sits up, twisting sideways so he can prop himself up on an elbow. The sheet falls down his waist. “What’s Friday?” 

“I’m just…” You shrug, trying to seem nonchalant but no doubt failing miserably. “I have an appointment then, that’s all. It’s not a big deal.” 

“An appointment.” His brow furrows. “Like, the one you talked about making? You’re doing that?” 

“Yeah…” Your voice has gone a bit quiet, nerves and awkwardness shrinking you. 

Sirius shakes his head, appalled. “What, and you just weren’t gonna tell me? Who’s driving you?” 

“Um.” You find yourself looking at the wall beside his shoulder. “I’m not sure yet.” 

“Bollocks. You were going to ask me, weren’t you?” 

Your silence speaks for you. Sirius makes a noise that’s half laugh, half sigh. “Sweetheart,” he stubs his cigarette on the windowsill, sitting up, “I can take off work for that. When is it?” 

“It’s during your shift,” you say, guiltily. “You really don’t have to.” 

He waves you off. “It’s fine, I can get someone to cover for me.” 

You sag a bit with relief. “Thanks, Sirius. If you could meet me around half past four, it should be done by then—” 

“What?” Sirius’ face screws up as though you’ve said something offensive. “No, when does it start? When’s the appointment for?” 

You must look startled, because his expression gentles. 

“Look, babe, I don’t have to sit in there and hold your hand if you don’t want me to, but I can at least drive you there and wait for you to be done. Please, I don’t like the idea of you going alone.” 

“Okay,” you say hesitantly. The idea of having him to hold your hand really doesn’t sound so awful. “It's at three.” 

“Brilliant.” Sirius’ smile blooms at having gotten what he wanted, jovial once more. “Are you nervous?” 

“Yeah,” you admit, still quietly. You’re feeling somewhat more comfortable now that the awkwardness of asking favors has passed, but your general nerves are still there. Sirius seems to pick up on this, leaning forward to clasp both hands around your ankles and drawing circles with his thumbs. 

“You’ll be fine,” he says surely. “We’ll have a pep talk on the way if you need one, and I’ll be there afterwards for whatever you need. You won’t have to lift a finger for the rest of the night.” 

You lift your eyebrows at him. “Are you planning on staying over?” 

He scoffs. “Obviously. Not with any ulterior motives, of course—though I’m never opposed, you know—but someone ought to keep an eye on you. Make sure nothing changes overnight.” 

You’re relaxing some, now, your hands untangling to rest on either side of you on the bed. Sirius’ thumbs continue their diligent soothing of your ankles. 

“It’s not as serious as that, really,” you try to mollify him. “I should be fine soon after.” 

“Mm, nevertheless. I think I’ll stay just in case.”

[readwritealldayallnight]

Hello, I love your writing and I'm so sorry to bother you but I'd like to request... it may sound stupid and feel free to ignore this, maybe I'm just venting. Could you do a ghost comforts reader about their hair. Went to the hair salon today and the hairdresser cut off 7inches of my hair 😭. I know it's been said many times before but I literally feel like someone clipped my angel wings. Haven't stopped crying ever since. Hope you're doing good :,)

You were meant to call Simon to come pick you up after your hair appointment was finished, but after the stylist finally spun you around in the chair to face the mirror, you decided you needed the almost 30 minute walk home to be alone with your thoughts

You didn’t want to make this into a big deal when you saw him, it was just hair after all, you could practically already hear his deep Manchester accent telling you that it would grow back in no time

But another part of you was feeling slightly heartbroken, having gone in to the salon for what you hoped would only be a trim, an inch or two off the ends, and instead walked out with an entirely new haircut, wondering if the hairdresser had even been paying attention when you specified you wanted just a small cut

You haven’t had hair this short in a long, long time. Long before you knew Simon. And while you doubt he would ever have anything negative to say about, especially once he sees how bothered you are by it, small part of you can’t help but to worry about what his reaction will be

You feel your phone buzz in your pocket, taking your mind off your pessimistic thoughts for a moment. Glancing at the screen, you see Simon has texted you

Si <3 : ‘Nearly done?’

You : ‘I’m almost home actually, decided to walk’

Si <3 : ‘???’

You : ‘You’ll see’

You : ‘:(‘

Turning the corner and spotting your building, you steady yourself with a deep breath, figuring it’ll be easier to just rip the bandaid off so to speak, and get this stupid reveal over with

Walking up to your front door with keys jingling in hand, you’re surprised when the door swings open before you even have a chance to find your right key, your mountain of a man evidently stood there waiting for you

“What are you doin’, walkin’ home for-” He cuts himself off when his eyes notice the change, irises darting from shoulder to shoulder, over your head again and again before landing on the sour expression on your face

“She took off so much more than I wanted.” You try not to literally whine as you squeeze past his hulking frame to slip into the flat, knowing he’ll be following right behind you. “It was only supposed to be a trim. Now I look-”

“Beautiful.” He cuts you off this time, your head whipping around to see if he’s truly making fun of you right now, but you find no trace of teasing or joking across his expression. Instead, you almost think you see the faintest tint of red creeping across his pale cheeks, his eyes constantly moving as they have trouble deciding where to land on you, taking in your new appearance in a way similar to someone admiring art work in a museum

“What?” You question, wondering if you’d misheard him. Or maybe the countless head injuries were finally catching up to him and he’d confused beautiful with horrendous

He takes a tentative step closer to you, reaching a hand out to slowly run his fingers across the newly cut ends of your hair

“You look beautiful, love. Don’t ya think?” He asks you, digits still gently playing with your locks

“I mean- not really, no. I didn’t want it this short.” You say, though your distaste for the cut is slowly diminishing as you witness just how much the man in front of you adores you

“Think it’s pretty.” He mutters, bringing his other hand up to join the exploration of your hair now. “Haven’t seen ya like this before.”

“You like it?” You ask timidly.

“Mhmm.” He hums in confirmation, stepping even closer to you now, coming around to stand behind you with his hands on your shoulders. “Makes it even easier to do this.” He adds, gently brushing your locks away from your neck before pressing a kiss as gentle as a butterfly below your ear, venturing his lips down tot he side of your neck, your collarbone, any skin his mouth can find

“I- I guess so.” You agree, slinking your own arm back to wrap around his neck, holding him closer to you. “Didn’t realize you’d like it. Was sure you were just gonna tell me ‘it’s hair, it grows back’.” He snorts at your weak attempt to mimic his voice, utterly butchering the accent. You can’t help but let out a small chuckle as well, feeling much lighter now than you did when the stylist first picked up their scissors.

“You’re a smart girl, lovey. Don’t need me tellin’ you that.” He replies, muscular arms coming to wrap around your middle, keeping you as close as he physically can. “You’ll need to show me how to write a review online though. They can’t have my girl coming home this sad and not expect consequences.”

First of all, thank you so much for the love and don’t you or anyone ever apologize for sending in requests or just ranting to me, I always love to hear from you

Second, I’m so sorry your haircut didn’t go the way you wanted :( that can be so tough, but hopefully this short lil drabble puts a smile on your face

Hope you’re doing well!

- M 🫶🏻

[halfvalid]

Hiii! If its no trouble could I have a zoro and reader fic with the one bed trope? The others know about their crushes on each other so they force each other to share a room? Anyway they end up cuddling and its all cute (the others will tease them forever about it lol)?? Thankss

intertwined ribbons

ABOUT

alternate title: opla zoro makes my hated tropes less hated

rating: general audiences/teen & up

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!nami | live action!straw hats ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 4.9k

description: unbeknownst to you, your crush on zoro is reciprocated. the rest of the straw hats take it upon themselves to get you together by locking you in his bedroom overnight.

tags: strawhat!reader, only one bed, forced proximity, confessions, no use of 'y/n', nami is a true instigator, cuddling, soft zoro, humor

author's note: thank you so much for the request and i hope it meets your expectations!! fun fact i actually used to hate the 'only one bed' trope, so i decided to challenge myself in writing this. and i think it's one of my fave tropes now lol

(you have an inner spirit that helps you make decisions except it’s just nami.)

“I just think that maybe you should stop avoiding him,” Nami started. You bit your cheek, ignoring her as you tied up the last of the ship’s rigging into a careful knot. Nami had been going on for the past few minutes, and you’d zoned out exactly three seconds in, when the name Zoro had first been spoken. Because of this reason you weren’t really listening, so you blinked up at her in confusion. 

“Sorry? Who am I avoiding?” 

“You’re impossible,” Nami grumbled. “And you know exactly who I’m talking about.” Which, well, fair. The math added up: you heard the word Zoro, you stopped listening, Nami continued talking until she realized you’d stopped listening. “Especially since you’re, you know—” she gave you another look, eyes rolling over to stare dead into yours— “Avoiding him.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said innocently. Nami sighed, leaning over to tug the rope dangling from your hands out of your grip. You tried to reach back for it, but she didn’t let you. “Hey!” 

“Yes, you do. Face it. You’re avoiding Zoro.” 

You made a face at her. “I think there are ropes on the foredeck that I can attend to.” 

“No, there aren’t,” Nami answered. “Now stop changing the subject. There’s this wild concept called communication. It works wonders.” 

“Says you,” you muttered, though your arms crossed defensively across your chest. You noticed the action after a split-second and unwound your arms with a scowl. “Look, I just don’t see the point. And I haven’t been avoiding him.” 

You were, in fact, avoiding him. Ever since that dreadful night a week ago when Nami had gotten you tipsy and stuck her hand in your chest cavity fishing for secrets, you’d been avoiding him. The other girl was ridiculously good at prying truths out of you, and during the conversation, you’d accidentally spilled your crush on the Straw Hat crew’s resident swordsman. 

You’d managed to keep the secret for the months you’d been together, wherein the unfortunate feelings had developed, and you should’ve figured once somebody knew they wouldn’t leave you alone about it. Because Nami refused to talk about literally anything else. You’d expected this sort of behavior from Luffy, or maybe Sanji, but Nami? The world was more amatonormative than you'd thought. 

Nami cast you a look. “You’re blushing.” 

“Am not.”

“Are too. What’s the harm in talking to him?” Nami demanded, one hand on her hip as she stared you down. You gaped at her. 

“Um, literally everything? One, Zoro can’t talk about feelings or emotions for shit, so when he rejects me it’ll be in the most excruciating, offhand manner that will probably leave me at the bottom of a barrel of rum, two, after being rejected I’m going to have to leave the Straw Hats, three—”

Nami rolled her eyes, looking increasingly fed up with you. “For someone so obsessed with not telling our resident grass-headed swordsman about your feelings for him, you’re talking rather loudly.” 

You shut up, snapping your jaw closed with a glare. “Stop it,” you hissed. 

“Besides, who knows if he actually will reject you?” Nami turned to work on the next section of rigging, glancing over her shoulder at you. “You’re catastrophizing.” 

“I’m being realistic,” you snapped. “Okay, fine. He reciprocates my feelings. Then what? We date, we break up because all relationships eventually end, it becomes awkward, and—voila—I’ll have to leave the Straw Hats anyway. It’s a bad idea all around.” 

Nami just let out a huff of breath, the exhale laced with irritation. “Catastrophizing,” she repeated. 

“I am not—”

“Sure. Go help Sanji with dinner.” 

You gave her an exasperated look, but at this point Nami wasn’t paying attention anymore, so you stormed off into the underbelly of the Going Merry. Speak of the devil, apparently, because once you entered the kitchen you spotted not only Sanji occupying it but also Zoro. He was lounging at the table, swords strapped to his waist and a bottle of something he was nursing in hand. 

You averted your gaze from him, head running a million miles a minute. Had he noticed you’d been avoiding him? You’d tried to be furtive about it, but if Nami had noticed, maybe—

“Well, hello there,” Sanji called from where he was in the midst of dinner preparations. “Come to help?” 

“Nami sent me,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “I think she’s appointed herself queen of the Going Merry.” 

“Oh, she did that long ago,” Sanji chided. “You’re only noticing it now. Pick up a knife, then. I’d like some help dicing the carrots.” 

You stiffly moved over to the counter, ignoring Zoro as you went even as you felt his gaze following your figure. You picked up the first knife you found, positioning yourself in front of the cutting board to start dicing the vegetables already laid out for you. Abruptly, Zoro stood up. 

“Heading out,” he muttered. “Call me when dinner’s ready.” 

With that, he left the room, leaving you and Sanji to exchange looks. “He’s moody today,” you said. 

“Probably ‘cause you’ve been avoiding him.” 

You felt the familiar pinprick of a blush starting to warm your cheeks. “You too?” 

“You’re rather obvious about it,” Sanji said with a raised eyebrow. “But enough of that.” Weirdly enough, he didn’t seem to question why. There was no way Nami had told him, so you were left confused, but no matter. The point was that for now, you were safe. 

The hour dipped to evening, and soon the moon was glowing in the sky, a shining beacon of white amidst the ocean of stars and shimmering sea. You suppressed a yawn, busing the dishes from dinner as the rest of the crew got up from their respective seats to dissolve to their own rooms. Zoro had already retired for the night—if you were avoiding him, he seemed to be doing the exact same—so at least you didn’t have that to worry about. 

“Ah, wait,” Nami said, after you’d finished washing the dishes and was ready to head out. “Zoro wants to talk to you.” 

You jolted, glancing nervously around you before grabbing her wrist. “What did you do?” you hissed. Nami just laughed. 

“Calm down. I didn’t do anything.” Off your glare, she relented. “I promise. And I swear it’s not about feelings or emotions or whatever. Even though it’s obvious you’re avoiding him, you know Zoro wouldn’t say anything.” 

You were still suspicious, but you dropped your hand. “What, then?” 

Nami shrugged, tilting her chin up just so. “I guess you’re going to have to find out.” 

“I don’t trust you,” you muttered. There was that look in her eye, the one she got whenever she was thinking of something truly devious. Still, you couldn’t figure out what she was up to, so— “Fine, I’ll go to his room. Walk me.” 

Nami rolled her eyes, but she fell into step with you as you made your way across the ship. “You should bring it up to him, you know,” she started, but silenced after your sharp glare. “Okay, okay. I get the point. I’ll stop bothering you about it.” 

You stopped by the mouth of Zoro’s door. “Wait, really?” 

“Yes, really,” Nami said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. She leaned against the wall beside the door, arms crossing over her chest. “I’ll leave you alone about Mr. Prince Charming over there. Knock.” 

“You can't call him Mr. Prince Charming,” you said, though you did knock. “Prince’ is already a title.” 

Nami gave you a look. “Okay, smart-ass.” 

The door creaked open before you could give your response, and you turned, heart pounding in your throat as Zoro stared down at you. His arm was propped up by the open doorway, the other hand still clutching the doorknob. “What.” 

“Um, Nami said that you wanted to talk—” you swiveled your head towards the other girl, but before you could finish your sentence, Nami was raising up your arm and unceremoniously shoving you into the room. 

You shrieked in surprise as you fell into Zoro’s figure, stumbling into him and causing him to lose his balance. Your head shot up in offense, only to see the gleam of a golden padlock in Nami’s hand before she was yanking the door closed.

A dull click echoed through the room. The only thing you could hear for a few seconds was your own heavy breathing and the sound of Zoro gathering himself.

“Did she just—” You gaped at the closed door. “Lock us in?” 

Zoro swiftly pushed past you, jiggling the doorknob for a few moments before giving up. Sure enough, Nami had sealed it with the padlock from the outside, so there was no possibility of either of you getting out of the room. You could vaguely hear sounds from the outside—dull thuds and scrapes—and watched as Zoro started banging on the door. 

“Nami,” he called, voice dangerously low. “Let us out.” 

“Sorry, Zoro!” Your jaw practically unhinged from your skull once you heard your captain’s familiar voice, all bright and cheerful like always. “We’re putting barrels in front of the door, so don’t even try breaking it down. Have a good night!” 

“Luffy? What are you—” Zoro’s knocking quickened in pace, his voice getting increasingly louder. There was no response from outside, though you could hear snickers that sounded suspiciously like Usopp. What was going on? 

You kicked into action, joining Zoro by the door and trying the door handle again. “Nami!” you yelled. 

Nami’s soft laugh came from outside. “Sorry!” she called. “We’ll let you out in the morning.”

You gaped at the door, only aware of Zoro’s gaze sliding down to you as you dropped your hand from the doorknob. There were some more tigers from outside, and then receding footsteps. Zoro tried knocking one last time, but it was evident that the rest of the crew had all but abandoned you. 

“Okay,” Zoro muttered, moving away from the door. “I need a drink.” 

You watched him move across the room, picking up a glass from his bedside table that was only slightly full. He knocked it back in one swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. “Um, what now?” you asked uncomfortably. 

“Nothing. Whatever,” Zoro said, turning to glance over at you. After a moment’s thought, you noticed that he refused to look you in his eye—his gaze was firmly trained at a spot beside your head. He turned away, stripping off his sword scabbard and setting them on the floor. 

You glanced around nervously. Zoro’s room wasn’t that different from yours, really—less decorated, but the constitution was the same. There was the bed, a wardrobe, a desk with various paraphernalia across it, and a little couch in the corner too. “You can look through the closet for something to sleep in. I’ll take the chair.” 

The words didn’t register at first, and you were left standing there, staring as Zoro kicked off his shoes and assumedly started getting ready to sleep. “Um, what?” 

Zoro glanced over his shoulder. He still wouldn’t look you in the eye. “They’re not letting us out until morning,” he said slowly. “You can take the bed. Might as well sleep.” 

“It’s your room,” you started, crossing your arms. “I can sleep in the chair. I’m smaller than you, anyway, so I’ll fit it better.” 

Zoro regarded you with such a reproachful look you almost wanted to laugh. “That’s ridiculous. Change.” With that, he turned around, leaving no room for discussion. You stared at him for a second before giving up, moving to his wardrobe and opening it up to search for something to sleep in. 

“So, uh, any ideas on why they stuck us in here?” You asked, although you already knew the answer. Whatever Nami thought locking you in a room with Zoro would achieve, you were stubbornly not going to let her be right. God, you were so going to kill her once you got out of there. 

“Nope,” Zoro said, with such a degree of finality you figured it wouldn’t be safe to question him further. “They’re just stupid.” 

“I mean, I feel like they would have a motive?” You rifled through his clothes, trying very hard to detach them from their owner. Wearing Zoro’s clothes was not something you wanted your mind to linger upon. Eventually you found a shirt of his that would undoubtedly be oversized on you, and you hastily changed into it, satisfied to find it draped well to your knees so you weren’t exposing too much skin. 

You stole a glance over your shoulder at Zoro, only to catch him in the action of peeling his shirt off. The stretch of the muscles in his back gleamed in the dim light of the room, and you tore your gaze away, heat rushing to your face. “Um. Anything?” 

“Nope,” Zoro repeated. Carefully, you closed the wardrobe door, lingering in one spot with your hands clenched together. Once you heard him start moving again, you deemed it safe enough to turn towards the rest of the room. He’d changed into a loose tan shirt, and had settled back into the chair. 

“I said I’d take the chair,” you told him hotly. 

“Yeah, and I said no,” Zoro said, tone dismissive. He had his eyes closed, and you stared at him in disbelief. 

“I’m not sleeping in your bed,” you said, and then, just to emphasize your point, plopped down on the floor. Zoro cracked an eye open and stared down at you. He sighed. 

“Get up. Don’t be stupid.” 

“I’m not being stupid,” you said. “It’s your room. It’s your bed. You will sleep on it. If you’re not giving me the chair, I’ll sleep on the floor.” 

Zoro let out a long sigh, closing both his eyes as if he was contemplating all his life decisions. “I’m not sleeping in the bed, you know,” he said. 

“Okay, so neither of us do.” 

Zoro’s brows creased, and he opened his eyes to glare down at you. “Seriously? At least take the chair, then. I’ll sleep on the flo—”

You gave him a sharp look. “Zoro.” 

“This conversation isn’t getting anywhere,” Zoro muttered, and finally got up from his chair. You glanced up at him expectantly. “What can I do to convince you to take the bed?” 

“Uh, nothing.” 

“We can work out a compromise,” Zoro said with a sigh. “I want you on it, and you want me on it, and neither of us are willing to take it ourselves.” He paused, brow creasing as an idea seemed to form in his head—one he didn’t seem to be a giant fan of, but an idea nonetheless. “How about.” His lips pursed, before he parted them again to finish his sentence. “How about we both take it?” 

It felt like someone had hit you square in the chest, air kicking out of your lungs and leaving you gasping for breath. Your windpipe was all raw, and you had to fight to tear any words out from your throat. “Ex—excuse me?” 

“It’s big enough,” Zoro said stiffly, though his hands were clenched at his sides. “I can take one side and you can take the other. Since you’re so dead-set on me sleeping on it.” 

“I—” You cut yourself off, suddenly far too aware of Zoro’s eyes fixed on you. Watching your every move. Oh, Nami was in for it now. How were you supposed to survive sleeping in the same bed as—you didn’t even want to think about it. 

“Well?” Zoro prompted. 

“Fine,” you agreed hastily, ducking your head lest Zoro catch any of the flush that was undoubtedly rising steadily up your cheeks. It was bad enough you were stuck in his bedroom and wearing his clothes—but this had quickly become your own personal circle of hell. “Good enough for me.” 

“Finally.” With that, Zoro climbed into bed, settling himself on the very edge of its side. Your throat had gone dry, and you stared at him for another second before hurriedly turning away to flick the lights off. You approached the other side of the bed with an extreme lack of enthusiasm, staring at the empty sheets like they were cackling up at you. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Eventually you slid into the bed, busying yourself with arranging the blankets around your figure. Zoro’s breaths were steady and deep from beside you. You didn’t know what to do for a second, but then Zoro’s voice was cutting through the darkness. “You’ve been avoiding me.” 

You jolted, then suppressed your sigh. “Have not.” 

“Yes, you have, and everyone knows it, and you’re not very subtle,” Zoro said, sounding almost bored as he rattled off the words. “Why.” 

“I haven’t—”

“Don’t.” 

You ran your tongue along your teeth, sucking at the valleys between them in annoyance. “It’s not important.” 

Zoro paused before speaking, like he was mulling over asking the question. “Did I do something?” 

“What? No.” You shook your head, despite knowing he wouldn’t be able to see. The sound did well enough to indicate the action to him, though—he scoffed, a low murmur from his chest that buzzed through your nerves. “I don’t want to talk about this. You’re giving the rest of the crew what they want.” 

“They definitely did not lock you in here to talk about why you’re avoiding me,” Zoro muttered. Now it was your turn to scoff, because if only he knew. “Are you sure I didn’t do anything?" 

“Positive. It’s all me.” 

“Okay, so why?” Zoro prompted. You swallowed hard, trying to dodge around the subject. “Are you sure—”

“Please just stop talking,” you said, one hand reaching out to grip his arm as if the physical contact would make him shut up. There was a stagnant moment of silence, your breath catching as your brain caught up to your body. Your hand was on Zoro’s arm. Your hand was on Zoro’s bicep, and you were in his bed. 

You cleared your throat, a panicked choke bursting from your lungs. “Um.” Your eyes skittered sideways, and then you finally turned on your side to stare at him. To stare at where your hand was still clutched around his arm.

You could just barely make out the angle of his jaw in the darkness, but you could see it was clenched, the vein along his neck protruding just slightly. Hastily, you removed your hand, the skin of your fingers tingling like you could still feel him underneath the tips. “Sorry. Why—why are you so certain that you did something for me to avoid you?” 

There were a few moments of silence that ticked by, nothing but the rock of the ship interrupting it. Finally, Zoro spoke. “Because the reason they locked you in my room is because—”

“What? The reason they locked me in your room is because of me,” you said. Zoro finally moved from his position, head tilting to face yours so you were eye-to-eye. You swallowed. “Nami, um—Nami specifically forced me in here so I would… talk to you.” 

There was a question evident in Zoro’s voice. “About?” 

Your lips parted, and then closed again. “Um.” 

“We can just sleep, if you want,” Zoro muttered. 

“What if they don’t let us out in the morning because we haven’t talked, though?” you hissed. Zoro let out a low laugh. 

“You realize you’re giving them exactly what they want.” 

“So you’d be more comfortable if we just… fell asleep?” you asked. Zoro shrugged. Since you weren’t exactly averse to the idea of not confessing, you nodded in agreement, heart beating a million miles a second. “Okay. Fine by me.” 

You settled back into your pillow, but soon came to realize that, due to the fluttering butterflies in your stomach and the fact you were very aware of the man of your affections being barely a foot to your right, you could not sleep. Evidently Zoro felt the same way, because he kept shifting around under the blankets—your hands brushed against each other a few times before he jolted away like you’d burnt him. 

“Sorry,” you muttered. Zoro didn’t say anything in response. Somewhere in the back of your head, you could hear Nami hissing at you—I didn’t shove you in a room with Mr. Prince Charming just for you to not take advantage of the opportunity. You tried to get her out of your brain—it was a bad idea all around—but the words kept reverberating around in your mind until you found yourself suddenly speaking. “Zoro?” 

“Hm?” 

“Nami stuck me in here so I would tell you that, um—” 

“You don’t have to say it,” Zoro murmured, and you shivered, his voice sounding suddenly closer. You squirmed, your hand brushing against Zoro’s again, except this time it took him a delayed moment to drift away. He had gotten closer—or maybe that was you, instinctually leaning towards the dip in the middle of the bed when you’d been lost in thought. 

“The reason they locked me in here with you is so I would tell you about my feelings towards you,” you blurted, the words slurring together, consonants and syllables all in one rush. “Because I have them. Feelings, I mean.”

Zoro’s voice was very low when he spoke. “Excuse me?” 

You sat straight up, the blankets previously nestled around your chin falling to your waist. “I have feelings for you and that’s why everyone locked me in here.” 

“I—” Zoro coughed, and then coughed again, ridding his throat of whatever was preventing him from making full sentences. He slowly sat up, and you stared down at the blankets in your lap as you saw him rise to his full height beside you. And oh, this was it. He was about to reject you in the most excruciating, offhand manner that would probably leave you at the bottom of a barrel of rum. “That’s not possible.” 

“Why is that—” you decided to shut up instead of finishing your sentence, allowing him to speak instead. There was a soft burning starting at your skin, all red hot, and your brain buzzed, regret filling up your lungs and making it hard to breathe. 

Zoro didn’t say anything, but you heard his hand before you felt it. It slid across the bedsheets before finally resting beside yours, fingertips grazing against your knuckles. “Zoro?” you whispered. 

“The reason they locked you in here with me is so I would tell you about my feelings towards you,” Zoro said blankly. You blinked. It took you a moment to realize that he wasn’t just quoting you—that he hadn’t switched the pronouns accordingly. Your heart dropped. 

Your voice was very faint when you spoke. “What?” 

“I like you,” Zoro said carefully. Languidly, the words dripping off his tongue all saccharine-sweet like molasses, or honey. You shivered, your hand accidentally knocking against his, and he took the opportunity to draw it in closer, fingers pushing up your palm, just a hair’s breadth away from interlacing with yours. “Luffy unfortunately found out. He doesn’t know how to keep a secret and told the rest of the crew.” 

You gaped at him. “I like you,” you said, dumbfounded. You could feel yourself trembling, fingers sliding against Zoro’s hand with every shake. “Nami yanked it out of me. Which is why I’ve been avoiding you for the past week.” 

“I thought you were avoiding me because you found out I liked you,” Zoro muttered. His fingertips brushed against the pads of your hand, and you swallowed, mouth all dry. “So.” 

You tentatively lifted your gaze, finding Zoro’s eyes even amidst the darkness. They were shining, a slight glint from the moon coming in through the window reflecting along the shadows of his face. Carefully, his hand slid fully into yours, fingers lacing together, and it was like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place. 

Zoro slid back down onto his back, tugging you along with him. You settled back on your pillow, using your other hand to pull the blankets back over your chest. For a full stagnant minute the two of you lay there, hands intertwined in the space between. 

You were the one who made the first move, then, thumb running up and down the length of his index finger. Zoro ran with the action, tugging your hand just slightly until you were leaning into the dip of the mattress, gravity pulling you closer to his body. 

He lifted your entwined hands, tugging you towards him until your back was pressed right to his chest. Then he settled your arms back down again, the back of his palm resting against your belly. 

You swallowed hard, able to hear the sound of your throat in the utter silence. Zoro exhaled, his breath softly brushing against your neck. “Good night,” you whispered. 

Zoro pressed a soft kiss to the nape of your neck, a ghost of something that left tingles fluttering down your spine, the drunken butterflies in your stomach swaying at the action. “Good night,” he murmured, and your breath caught. 

He was warm, oh so warm, like a campfire with licks of flame that softened your hands in the dead of night. And even though you wanted to speak up, question when he’d started liking you, if he was lying or not—you were content to stay here in his arms and drift off to sleep.

So you did, settling back into his embrace with your head spinning and senses murmuring, all dizzy like you were caught in a dream. Eventually, your tiredness got the better of you, and you felt your senses fading as the world around you darkened to black. 

The two of you jolted awake to the knocking and the very unpleasant hum of Nami’s voice. “Rise and shine!” she called through the door, and you blinked, bleary eyes adjusting to the light as you suppressed your yawn. 

Zoro jolted up beside you, practically giving you whiplash as his arm was still comfortably around your waist. Your fingers tingled, and you realized that you’d fallen asleep with your hands laced together. 

“Nami,” you grumbled, about to rise out of bed before Zoro stopped you. You turned towards him in question, only to stop short as you registered the look in his eyes. His gaze was deep, piercing; those butterflies rose up again in your stomach, apparently awake after they’d passed out from their drunken stupor. You swallowed. “Hi?” 

“Hey,” he murmured. “They locked you in my room.” 

“I’m going to knock Nami over the head with a rowboat oar,” you said blandly, eyes flickering towards the door, which Nami was still pounding on. You vaguely heard shuffling sounds, like the crew were working to move the barrels they’d stuck in front of the door to free you from your prison. “You can have the rest of them, if you want.” 

“I’ll take you up on that offer,” Zoro agreed. “But first…” 

“First?” you prompted. 

Zoro brought your hands—still intertwined—to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss along your knuckles. “Good morning,” he said, voice low and awkward, like he wasn’t used to letting the words out of his mouth. He let your hands drift to his lap, leaning forward until his forehead brushed against yours.

A faint sigh escaped your lips when he finally kissed you. It wasn’t rough or hard; it was a soft press, like your hands had been just a few hours ago. There was a degree of finality to it; a held-in breath that’d exhaled from your lungs, one you hadn’t realized was building up that much pressure until you finally let it all go. 

The door flung open, and you jolted away, but Zoro tilted your head back towards him before you could. At the mouth of the room, Luffy had started screaming. “Aww,” Nami cooed. Behind her, Usopp and Sanji were gripping onto each other like they were watching a particularly engaging fight. 

A steady blush rose along your cheeks, but Zoro was absolutely shameless, the hand not held in yours raising up to give them the finger. “Get out of my room.”

“Told you it’d be okay,” Nami sing-songed, and then you really did break away from Zoro, picking up the object nearest to you and barrelling towards her. She shrieked, dodging out of the doorway as Zoro laughed from behind you.

“Wait!” she stopped you from whacking your pillow against her head, raising up her arms in defense. “I was right. I saw you two—” 

“Nami,” you started, dangerously low. “You locked me in his room.”

“Yeah, to help you!” she cried defensively, slowly taking backwards steps as you gained on her. “Come on. We can talk about this.” 

“Good luck,” Zoro called out from behind you—you turned around, catching his gaze. He had gotten up, leaning against the doorway and watching you with a sparkle of fondness in his eye. “You’ll need it.” 

You blew him a kiss, ignoring the long groan it pulled out of Luffy from beside Zoro in the hallway. And then you turned around. Nami had darted off, taking the time you’d been distracted to run off. “Oh no you don’t!” you yelled, and then lunged after her with Zoro laughing all the while. 

Maybe it hadn’t been such a bad thing, you thought. But you were still going to beat Nami’s ass. 

© halfvalid 2023

[twistyfish]

prompt~ non-mc reader feeling sad because she feels she lacks the relationship mc has with the lads. requested by anon!

Zayne

Her long, straight brown hair fell in front of her face, and she tucked it behind her ear with slender fingers. Her laughter filled your ears like sticky molasses, and you couldn’t wash it out no matter how hard you tried.

In front of her kneeled Zayne, wiping a cut on her knee with a wet tissue and bandaging it, kissing it gently. You watched as he chided her for being careless and getting hurt.

You wished he would scold you like that.

They stood up and walked away, his arm subtly resting around her waist to support her.

She rested her head against his shoulder. She was so brave. She got injured often because of her profession.

You were an accountant. Your last injury was a paper cut.

The wind blew her hair into Zayne’s face, and you watched him brush it away and arrange it neatly on her shoulders with a smile.

They walked away into the distance, and all you could do was watch.

Sylus

“Can you get my back?” Sylus asked, holding out the bottle of sunscreen to MC.

She nodded and began working the cream into his back, massaging his shoulder blades as she went.

Sylus smiled as she used her strength to massage him. “Nice arm, kitten.”

You sat next to your sandcastle, patting the wet globs of sand together into rough turrets. It was coming together, sort of.

Sylus crouched down next to you. “How’s the castle coming along?”

“It’s getting there.”

“Do you want to come surf with us?”

You hesitated. Truthfully, you weren’t very adventurous. You were a little nervous to ride the waves.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” MC smiled at you, her surfboard held under her muscular arm.

“Um, no, I’m okay,” you responded shyly.

“Alright. Have fun building, then.” She waved at you and they both turned, running into the waves. MC squealed as the cool water hit her legs, and Sylus laughed his deep, rich laugh. He splashed her, grinning as she made various high pitched noises in response.

You sat with your sandcastle, smoothing the sides with no zeal at all. Your focus was gone. All you could think about were her hands on his back, his grin as he splashed her, their shared laughter as they ran into the water.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Sylus shouting. “Hey! Come in, it’s nice and cool.”

You shook your head.

Rafayel

“Wow, your drawings are ass,” Rafayel remarked.

“Shut up, loser.”

“Look at __’s drawing. It has such a nice composition.”

You felt pride swell in your chest at his compliment. “Thanks, Raf.”

“Of course, cutie. I’m just telling it as it is. Ms. Bodyguard could learn a thing or two from you.”

“I don’t understand how you can get everything so proportional,” MC grumbled.

“Here, let me show you.” He stood up and positioned himself behind her, taking her hand with the pencil in it and mapping out rough lines.

“Just make the general shapes first,” he murmured, hand guiding hers across the paper.

You looked away, trying to focus on your own drawing. You could hear him softly instructing her, and you sort of wished you were a beginner too in that moment.

You mindlessly sketched, and you ended up with a lazy looking cat.

“Oh, is it sad?” Rafayel asked peering over your shoulder.

“No, it’s sleepy.”

“Sleepy all the time, just like you,” he said playfully to MC, elbowing her.

“I’m not sleepy all the time! You’re thinking of Xavier,” she argued back. They continued to bicker as you watched.

Maybe it was a little sad.

Xavier

You rang the bell out of politeness despite knowing Xavier’s door code. You had made some banana muffins, and you wanted him to try them. When there was no answer, you figured you would just go inside and drop them off in the kitchen.

You entered the door code and walked inside quietly. As you passed through the living room, you had to stifle a gasp. Xavier and MC were laying together on the couch, under the blanket.

You immediately looked away, setting the muffins on the counter and moving to tiptoe out of the room. Unfortunately, the rustling woke them up.

“__? Is that you?” Came Xavier’s groggy voice.

“No- yes! Um, I just came in to drop off some muffins. I’m leaving, don’t worry!”

Xavier sat up, the blanket falling off his shoulders and pooling around his bare chest.

Your eyes widened and you turned around.

“Hey, __. Where are you going?” MC was off the couch (wearing clothes, thankfully) walking towards you.

“Yeah, sorry about that. We just got back from training and crashed. We were both exhausted,” Xavier said.

Oh. They were sleeping.

“Sorry for waking you guys.”

“Don’t worry about it. Want to nap with us?”

You paused. “I’m good, don’t worry. I’ll just be going now.” With that, you awkwardly put your shoes back on and left the house. The image of them snuggling under the blanket was cemented to your brain.

That night, you slept hugging a pillow.

[lowkeyerror]

Weekends With You

Agatha Harkness x reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Notes: Requested, fluff, smut, fingering, cunnilingus, thigh riding

Summary: You and your wife, Agatha are busy women with jam packed work schedules. It's rare that you just have time to be lazy. However it seems like fate is on your side as you both have the weekend off.

An: Another post this week, I honestly don't know what's taken over me. Hope you guys have a lovely weekend 🫶.

Masterlist | Masterlist 2

An entire weekend alone together was almost a foreign concept at this point in your relationship. Agatha was a busy woman and so were you. Even if both you managed to snag a weekend alone, it would be filled with social gatherings hosted by family or friends.

There was truly little time for just you and your wife. However, the stars seemed to align this weekend.

When you wake up on Friday morning, you are surprised to feel her arms wrapped around your waist. You turn in her hold to find her already staring at you.

“You don’t have work?”

She shakes her head, “Not until Monday.”

Your eyes widen, “Me either.”

A smile tugs at Agatha’s lips, “Do we have any plans? Parties, dinners, hangouts?”

You mirror her expression, “The calendars clear.”

She closes her eyes, relief washing over her features. Her hold on you tightens, “Fucking finally.”

You snuggle closer, resting your head on her chest, “I know right.” You reach for her hand intertwining your fingers, “I’ve missed just being lazy with you.”

Agatha kisses your forehead, “Me too, sweetheart.”

You yawn a bit, “Is it early enough for me to go back to sleep?”

“Does it matter?”

You meet her eyes, “Depends on if you’ll be here when I wake up again.”

Her eyes soften, “Won’t move a muscle.”

You settle against her mumbling, “Don’t let me sleep for too long.”

Before she could get a response off, you were out like a light. She relished in having you close like this. There were too many mornings that you didn't get to wake up next to each other.

As Agatha took in your figure, she started to believe no job was worth missing this view. Perhaps she could cut back some on her work hours. She wanted more time for just this.

True to her words, Agatha didn't move until you stirred again a few hours later. It was late morning. As soon as you began to wake up, the woman bolted straight for the bathroom.

You chuckled a bit, “You could’ve moved if you had to pee.”

“I’m a lady of my word,” she calls back to you.

When you two make it out of bed, it’s only to go to the living room. You’re comfortable in one of Agatha’s shirts and some shorts. The other woman ops for a T-shirt and some sweatpants.

You cuddle on the couch while watching tv. You basically lay on top of her, but she enjoys your body weight on her.

“Hungry, we can order something?” Agatha suggests as she plays with the hairs at the base of your neck.

“We should cook something,” you respond.

She laughs, “Babe, I love the enthusiasm, but you know we can’t cook.”

You look up at her, “Let’s try.”

Agatha rolls her eyes, “Try not to burn down the kitchen.”

You slap her arm playfully, “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“What would we even make?”

You think for a bit, “Friday feels like a burger day.”

“Burgers aren’t too complicated,” Agatha admits.

“Perfect, I’ll order the groceries.”

Agatha raises a brow, “We can go to the store.”

“I’m comfortable right here,” you insists.

“Of course you are,” Agatha says flatly.

You challenge her, “I can get up if you want.”

Her arms tighten around you, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

You turn your attention back to the TV, “That’s what I thought.”

You stay in that position until the groceries get there. Finding a quick and easy burger recipe was not hard.

While Agatha was rigid in the kitchen, you were more fluid. Though you both were equally clueless. She saw you making educated guesses regarding the seasoning to the ground beef, and was going to step in. However, you redirected her to chopping the vegetables.

“I could cut them and you can take over the seasoning if you want?”

Agatha shook her head, “Not a chance. You and big knife, not happening.”

You sigh, “That was years ago.”

She gave you a pointed look, “You nearly lost your finger.”

You shrug, “They sewed it back on.”

“And if they hadn’t, you would’ve had one less finger.”

“You only care because it’s one of the fingers I use to-”

“Focus on the task at hand,” Agatha cut you off.

You made a couple of patties out of the beef, before heating a skillet to cook them. Agatha demanded to be in charge of the cooking, scared that you would hurt yourself. While she focused on the patties, you toasted and prepared the buns.

“Fuck,” you say in an exasperated tone.

“What?”

You pout, “I didn’t get fries.”

Agatha smiles, “That’s fine, we have some chips. A potato is a potato."

You love the way she looks standing over the stove, spatula in her hand. Her words instantly placate you. Truthfully, you loved how Agatha always had a fix for your problems. Her solutions were simple and highly successful. She regularly saved you from stressing over the minute details of life.

You go up behind her, snaking your arms around her waist and resting your head on her back.

“I’m so glad I get to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Agatha has a blush creeping on her cheeks, but she keeps her composure, “Because I said we can eat chips instead of fries?”

You don’t let her escape the compliment, “No, because you’re the most enticing woman I’ve ever met.”

Agatha’s demeanor softens, “I love you.”

You kiss her, your hand rests on her cheek, “I love you too. Don’t forget the cheese on the burgers.”

Agatha chuckles, lightly pushing you away from the stove. You passed her the slices of cheese from the fridge. She put a lid on so the cheese would quickly melt. In no time the burgers were ready.

You assembled them for the both of you, with some chips on the side. As you guys sat and ate, you shared conversations about your weeks. The parts that you hadn’t got a chance to share with each other. The meal was surprisingly good, it warmed both of you.

You wouldn’t say it out loud because it was corny, but you knew that anything that you and Agatha made together had to be good. It just made sense to you.

When you were done the two of you cleaned the kitchen. You washed and she dried the dishes, in a comfortable silence.

“Well now what?”

“You smell like burgers, so a shower maybe,” you point out.

Agatha smirks, “Care to join me?”

“Those were my intentions,” you wink at her.

“Any other intentions I should know about?”

You act aloof, “What ever do you mean?”

“Uh huh, let’s go buttercup.”

Though you had been teasing each other before nothing nefarious happens in the shower. In fact everything has a lighthearted kind of softness to it. There’s a shyness between the two of you. You're stealing glances at the woman you've seen naked more times than you can remember. Agatha eyes ask for permission before helping you wash your body. It’s all very innocent.

When you get out, you decide to put on your sleep shirt. You figure that you’re retiring to the room, so you hop in bed. Agatha follows your lead plopping in the bed next to you.

You both lay, scrolling on your phones. Agatha lays on her side while you’re flat on your back. She tugs your hand and you shimmy closer to her, throwing one of your legs between her’s. The motion is thoughtless as you continue to look at your phone.

You don’t expect it when Agatha snatches the device out of your hand.

“It’s going to cost you to get it back.”

You reach for the phone, failing miserably as you try to grasp it, “And what will it cost me?”

“A kiss.”

You let out an amused huff of air, “Just one?”

Agatha pretends to ponder, “A few.”

“Alright then, deal. A few kisses then I can go back to doom scrolling on Tumblr.”

Agatha sits your phone on the night stand. There’s a gleam in her eyes. One that should let you know that she was up to no good.

You pucker your lips childishly at the older woman, “Ready for my kisses.”

Agatha doesn’t even give you a chance. She places a hand on your waist and begins placing kisses all over your face. Wherever she can get her lips, she kisses.

You laugh at her antics, your voice shrill as she attacks you with kisses, “Agatha!”

She doesn’t stop, instead she takes the hand that was holding yours and extends your arm out. She kisses down and up your arm before locking eyes with you. She has a playfully smolder on her face, “You light my soul on fire.”

You can’t help but let out boisterous laughter. There’s a few helpless tugs on your end, attempts of freeing yourself from Agatha. However, the woman has no plans of letting you go.

Your chest heaves up and down as you attempt to catch your breath. Your eyes shine as they look into hers, “You fill me with warmth.”

Her lips meet yours. The playful energy has disappeared. You feel the atmosphere shifting in real time. Her lips moves against yours, almost hesitating. You meet her tentatively, in no rush to break this bubble that you’re in.

Her breath is minty like your shared toothpaste. The coolness matches the tempo of the kiss. You shiver as Agatha’s hand begins to slide up your bare thigh.

Your breath hitches when her fingers slip past the elastic of your underwear.

“Agatha,” you mumble her name against her lips.

Her eyes open, and they’re loving as the meet yours.

“Can I make you feel good, pretty girl?”

You nod slowly. In a much more deliberate way, she kisses your chin, the base your neck, your collarbone. You pull your shirt over your head in one swift move. She kisses the middle of your chest, before cupping your left breast in her hand.

Your back arches when her mouth takes in your hardened nipple. At first, she’s lost in the feeling of the hard bud in her mouth. Her eyes closed as she licks, sucks, and nips, the sensitive area. It’s when she switches to the right breast, that she keeps eyes contact with you.

Your thumb swipes across her cheek tenderly, “Fuck, I love it when you look at me. Don’t stop, I want you to see how good you make me feel, Aggie."

Once she releases your nipple, she continues to kiss down your abdomen. She’s halfway down when you tuck your finger under her chin. You pull her back up to your lips.

Her tongue slips intto your mouth this time. You let a mewl travel from your mouth into hers, as she kisses you lovingly.

The kiss ends when you tug her shirt over her head. You find yourself staring at her perky breast, once they’re exposed. Agatha kisses your cheek, noticing your staring.

“They’re all yours baby,” she reminds you.

The heat on your face doesn’t stop you from grabbing her breasts in both your hand. You massage them, your fingers twirl her nipples. She moans at the stimulation. You can’t help yourself as your mouth begins sucking at the swells of her breasts. She doesn’t stop you, as you mark her.

While you do that, her fingers travel to their original position between your legs. She can feel a small amount of dampness on your underwear It makes you gasp against your skin.

“So wet for me baby,” Agatha slides her finger over the fabric.

She doesn’t say a word as her fingers drag through your folds. She moves them back and forth a few times, partially unable to believe how soaked you are.

A whimper from you, breaks her trance. She slowly pushes a finger into you, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. She finds none, only your mouth slightly open as she slowly thrusts her finger in you.

The sound alone has Agatha pooling in her own panties. She lowers herself so that she has a better view of your pussy swallowing her finger.

“M-more.”

Agatha adds another finger at your request. She picks up the speed just a little. The breathy sounds that were leaving you, turn more solid. She loved hearing you moan because of her.

“Taking me so good baby,” she mumbles mesmerized by the sight in front of her.

“Your fingers were made to be inside of me,” you manage to squeeze out of your mouth.

“I feel you building up for me. I have to taste you before you cum,” Agatha licks her lips.

Soon her head is dipping down. While her fingers pump into you, she guides her tongue down your pussy. The first thing she thinks as she taste you, is that she never wants to stop. You taste like heaven to her.

She’s tempted to remove her fingers and fuck you with her tongue, but she wouldn't do that too you while you're this close. Your hips rock into her fingers as your desperation begins to peek through.

“Agatha, I need to- please,” a plea falls from your lips.

Agatha doesn’t respond verbally. Instead she flicks your clit with her tongue before sucking it like a lollipop. She does it twice more using the hand that’s not inside of you to rub tight circles on your clit.

“Oh fuck,” escapes you as you grip a handful of Agatha’s hair.

She sticks her tongue out just enough to feel your clit pulsating against it. She’s eating it lazily as your high comes down.

“You’re so perfect,” you say to her, pulling her back up to meet your lips.

You don’t know when she took her panties off, but she did. She slick pussy was making a mess all over your thigh. You couldn’t find yourself to care as she began wiggling her hips as you kissed.

Your hands rest in the dips of her hips, “Let me help you.”

Rhythmically you guide her in riding your thigh. You tense the muscle and you watch her throw her head back. You kiss along her neck while she humps your thigh. You lick long stripes ending with delicate kiss.

“I’m going to cum all over your thigh, baby.”

You keep eye contact with her as you suck on her nipple. Your hands still dictating the swing of her hips.

“Kiss me,” she commands.

Your lips smash against hers. Her hand on the back of your neck keeps you kissing her. Her hips stutter and you feel her muscles go stiff then slack. Her head falls into your shoulder. She leaves a light kiss there.

“I think we were supposed to do that before the shower,” you joke lightly.

“Shut up,” Agatha jokes back.

You kiss her forehead, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she raises her head briefly to peck your lips.

The rest of your weekend follows a similar pattern. Both you and Agatha realize that you aren’t willing to give it up. Both of you changing your work schedules, so you can spend the weekends wrapped up in each other.

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Fucking Cat - Logan Howlett x ftm!Reader

A/N: Okay, I’m a little worried that this isn’t what this request asked for, but I’m hoping it’s okay anyway. I just could not for the life of me figure out how to write penetrative smut about a kitty!Reader. If you (the anon requester) aren’t happy with it, that’s my bad 😬 My brain just doesn’t wanna make it work 😔

Also, the ending might come off a little weird. I really hope not, but you never know. I think it’ll fall in line with the rest of the playful cockiness the Reader has, but let me know if any part of it is weird or not good, please. Thanks

CW: cat hybrid!Reader; playful!Reader; language; cuddling; explicit sexual content; smut; teasing; grinding; this might be considered dubcon?; descriptive sex; blowjob with elements of a handjob; cum eating; taunting; no aftercare; playful ending

1075 words

He’s asleep. He’s asleep and you want him awake.

“Logan.” You poke his cheek. “Logan, wake up.”

You’re lying on his chest, elbows propped on his shoulders. And he’s dead asleep, snoring away like a bear during winter.

You poke his cheek again. Nothing.

Your tail flicks with annoyance. Your ears flattening against your head. You’ve been so patient. All day you’ve been patient. It’s been—you check the clock—two full hours of patience! That’s almost half the whole afternoon!

You smack his face. Not hard, but enough.

His eyes snap open, but you’re quicker than him. Your hands snap to his wrists, keeping his claws far away from your body. For a moment he just snarls. Then he recognizes you.

“Jesus Christ, you fucking cat! What’s the issue now?”

You grin, completely unbothered by his aggravation. “I’m bored.”

He groans and pushes you off him. You hiss softly, scrambling back upright. “Hey!”

He rolls onto his side, facing away from you. “Go bother Wade.”

“But I don’t wanna bother Wade.” You creep closer, your tail flicking behind you. “I wanna talk to… you!”

At the last word, you pounce on him. Kicking and worming your way into his arms. He growls, but doesn’t really protest.

You’ve just tucked yourself along his body when you feel something against your thigh. It takes you a moment, but then your eyes widen.

You consider your options. It’s Logan, so it’s probably just from his nap. On the other hand, he has mentioned how your feistiness gets him worked up. On the other other hand… you’re kinda in the mood for some fun.

So you squirm a little.

He lets out a low rumble, but doesn’t do much other than grip your hip a little.

You squirm a little more, making sure to shift down to rub your ass right against his hardened length.

This time he growls softly. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” You ask, struggling to keep down a grin.

“You know what.”

This time, you press back against him, making sure the curve of your ass is snug against him. Providing the perfect position for him to grind against you.

His growl gets deeper, but you can feel the way his dick twitches. He’s into this and you know it.

“Stop that.”

You can’t hold back your grin anymore. You shift again, just enough to tease. “Stop this?”

His hips jerk a bit. He’s barely holding himself back. You can tell. His voice is a bit strained and you revel in the sound.

“Stop fucking doing that, you tricky little bastard!”

You laugh, unable to help yourself. With a wriggle of your tail and a tensing of your body, you roll over and pounce on him. Again.

This time, you work to roll him onto his back. He goes with a grumble and a growl, but not much protest otherwise.

You settle yourself between his legs, gently kneading your hands against his thighs. “Come on, Logan… I’m bored…! And this’ll give me something to do!”

He groans and rubs at his face, eyeing you. “You’re so needy. Fucking cat. Shoulda found a dog or something.”

You scoff, but know he doesn’t mean it. “Why? So it can slobber all over your shoes? Pfft, I’m way better than some dumb dog. Besides…” You trace your fingers along the bulge in his pants. “Would a dog know you as well as I do?”

You can see him suppress a shudder at your touch. Can see the way his dick twitches under your fingers. He’s putty in your hands now and you know it.

You hold eye contact as you strip him of his pants. As you slide his boxers down and free his blushing cock. Your mouth waters looking at it.

It’s always so easy to forget how thick he is. How large and delicious he looks. There’s a bead of precum at the tip, just barely hanging on.

You reach out, running your thumb over the head. Smearing the precum down along his shaft. Logan groans as you grip his dick, thrusting up into the tightness of your hand.

“No,” he rumbles. “A dog wouldn’t know me like you do.”

You grin. Lick your lips. And dip your head to lap at the head of his dick. Giving him teasing little kitten licks, tasting the precum drooling from his tip. The salty taste makes your tongue tingle.

Logan moans, body tensing like he’s holding back from just thrusting into your mouth. But that’s not what you have planned. You’re gonna make him cum, but you’re not gonna let him have the satisfaction of fucking your mouth.

Instead, you dip your head, mouthing along his shaft. Running your tongue up and down his length. He curses and grips the bed, snarling when you suck one of his balls into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around it, then do the same to the other.

“Fuck! I’m not gonna— Dammit, how do you always—“

You don’t let him finish his words. You’re back up, sucking on the tip of his dick, teasing it with your tongue. You bring your hands in again, gently but firmly gripping his shaft. Jerking and sucking him off, bit by bit.

He doesn’t last long. All too soon, he’s bucking his hips up with a snarled curse, spilling thick hot seed into your mouth and across your lips. You don’t mind, though. You love it when he comes quickly. It’s proof of your skills. Of his desperation for you.

You lick the cum from your lips, making sure to kiss his dick clean before pulling back. He’s panting, arm over his face. You crawl up next to him, smirking. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Shut up.” He uncovers his face and looks at you. “You’re a damn right menace, you know that?”

You preen, tail flicking happily in the air. “Yeah, I know.”

He chuckles softly and pulls you in to kiss your forehead. “Fucking cat. It’s my turn next.”

Your smirk only grows. “Your turn? To what? Suck me off? With my big dick and everything? Think you can handle that?”

He lets out a groan. “Little shit. You just love to rile me up, don’t you?”

But you see the smile flickering across his lips. He loves you and your comments. Just like you love him and his denial of it.

You’re the perfect match, somehow. And you wouldn’t want it any other way.

Logan Howlett Taglist: @yhlqmdlg @alekkkkssss

[unintentionalseductress]

For my request, can you write a oneshot featuring Nanami and a woman reader in an Aladdin AU with chastity and edging please? In the story, Nanami has been hired to work as a palace guard for the sultana aka the reader. But he realizes too late that part of the job involves having his cock locked in a chastity cage and enduring various edging tests to determine his willpower. What do you think?

As You Wish, Princess

I'm so sorry this took so long! Here you go! I truly had fun writing this because subby Nanami isn't requested too often. Also, the premise was really fresh, which is something I've been struggling with. Ideas for JJK seem to be going like hotcakes, and while I can appreciate different takes on the same idea, I always want mine to be different, even if it's slightly.

Warnings: MDNI, coercion, male chastity, edging, ruined orgasm, power dynamics, dubcon

Applying for a position as a palace guard for the precious sultana was something Nanami had done for two reasons; one, the pay was amazing, and two, the position came with living quarters. As someone who had lived a hard life in the small streets of the marketplace as a laborer, there had been no qualms in his mind when a man from the palace had walked through the dusty roads calling out that the palace was hiring help. 

When he’d arrived at the outer courtyard, looking dog-eared and dirty, the designated official had looked at him up and down, wrinkling his nose, but had refrained from saying anything on account of his impressively muscled and toned body, the long hours spent dragging bags of rice, wheat, and other essential grains making him akin to a sharp, chiseled, marble statue, something that should belong in a museum for others to wonder at. He towered over the puny official who had directed him to the head guard. They had an array of tests that he needed to pass and he had done so with ease; running a mile within a few minutes, climbing various obstacles to check his core strength, and how quickly he could escape when surrounded on all sides. The only test he had almost failed was swordsmanship, barely managing to take down his opponent, winning by a hair. 

“The sultana has a final test of her own, after which it’ll be determined if you can keep the job. Wait here.” The head guard walks off into the cool, marbled entrance of the palace, and Nanami paces, awaiting his return. It takes a while before the guard comes strutting back, and then beckons him to follow. Nanami walks unassumingly behind him eyes scanning the opulence that is the palace. The marble seemed to shine, spotless and polished, with hints of gold tucked away artistically. Small murals adorned the walls and ceilings, rich tapestries hung everywhere. 

The guard leads him to a private wing where there is a single door, quite plain looking and rather lackluster. “The sultana is waiting in there. And remember peasant, whatever she tells you to do, do it. No questions, lest you want to be beheaded for impudence. Now go on. Don’t keep her waiting.” He knocks on the door and leaves. 

Nanami waits, wondering what kind of test this would be, and then startles when the door opens. You look at him with pretty eyes lined in kohl, dressed in a simple, flowy, full-armed, muslin dress that managed to flatter your figure despite not giving anything away. He bows and waits. 

You giggle. “Well, aren’t you polite? Enter, Mr…?”

“Kento Nanami,” he supplies as he raises and walks into the room. The shades were drawn despite the heat, and the room was lit by dim oil lamps scattered across the room. He awaits his permission to sit and hears the click of the door as it shuts behind him. You move towards him, admiring the thickness of his biceps, the broadness of his shoulders, and the sinew and tightness of his thighs, barely contained by the threadbare flowy pants he was wearing. 

“What brought you here?” you ask, circling him. Nanami is acutely aware of your gaze but he acts indifferent. 

“I was told the sultana needed a bodyguard. It’s a job preferable over manual labor.”

“Oh,” you titter, then come to a halt in front of him. He’s tall, and you have to tilt your head up to look at him. “Is that all? You didn’t come to admire my beauty and grace? Or for the prospect of being the only one who would be accompanying me everywhere? While I’m eating, bathing, changing my garb…none of that came into your mind?”

Truthfully, it hadn’t. The promise of gold, a roof over his head, and food in his belly had been his only motivators. But now as he gauges you standing so sweetly in front of him with those doe-eyes and full lips, he realizes that it made sense you were asking him this. The sultana’s bodyguard needed to have self-control after all, given that parts of the job required being somewhat intimately in proximity to her, as far as the decency laws allowed. 

“I admit sultana, no, it hadn’t. But if you are worried about me behaving indecently or taking advantage of you, there’s no reason to worry. I understand my limitations and would never compromise your purity.”

“You wouldn’t?” you cock your head to the side and tsk. “How boring.”

Taken aback, Kento stares at you, unsure how to respond. It wasn’t a reply he had been expecting. Your eyes are glittering now, full of mischief, and he wonders for a split second if you were toying with him. Surely not? The sultana had a reputation to maintain. You may have said it as a joke. He mustn’t take it seriously if he wanted this job.

“I was told that the final test before qualifying to be your bodyguard was set by you, sultana,” he ventures, hoping to change the topic. “If your grace so allows, may I ask what it is?”

You hum, then wander over to one of the divans and settle down on it, fiddling with your neatly styled hair, wondering. Kento truly was a treat for the womanly eyes. How such a delectable-looking specimen had managed to stay hidden for so long truly boggled your mind. However, he was a man, and men were fallible to their desires. 

“Have you ever been with a woman, Kento?” 

The muscled man looks rather startled at the question. Purity laws meant little to those who were not nobles. Of course he had been with a woman, many in fact, but he remains silent, trying to arrange his features into one of polite inquiry. 

“I beg you pardon your grace?”

“You see, our laws dictate I cannot intimately know a man unless he is wed to me. I must remain chaste and pure for the man who is to be my future husband. And that means that whoever becomes my bodyguard must remember this at all times, even when I am in immodest situations. After all, the sultana’s bodyguard remains with her at all times, sometimes right outside the door as her husband makes love to her.” You watch him squirm uncomfortably under your gaze and he quickly bows to you.

“I beg your forgiveness sultana but I cannot discuss this matter with you. It is very unbefitting for a woman of your birth.”

You giggle at his response. “A woman of my birth? Oh, how considerate of you Kento. So am I to assume you were a rogue out in the lawless streets beyond the palace? Have you tumbled with many a maiden then? Jumping from bed to bed whenever it suited your fancy?”

The color rises in Kento’s cheeks and he continues to keep his head low. “Sultana, I understand if this raises concern for someone such as yourself but I assure you, my intentions are unsullied. If I was hired to be your bodyguard, I understand I cannot live as I previously did. I will reform of course, to your bidding. I would consecrate my life for you, your grace. No one, man or woman, is a higher priority than you.”

You consider his words but can’t resist the unholy thoughts forming in your head. His clothes were so worn that you could grab his shirt by accident and it would tear. At least, you would make it look like an accident. You wondered how those muscles would ripple if you ran your fingers across them…maybe even daring to dip your fingertip into the little depression of his belly button. 

“So incredibly dedicated. I suppose I won’t find a bodyguard who passed all the other tests and also be this devoted would I?”

“I promise your grace you will not. I will be the only security you will ever need.”

“Then you won’t mind if I test your willpower? Put you to your limit and see how much you can take before you finally snap under the tension?” There’s a strange lilt to your tone as you speak, and Nanami can’t help but have his interest piqued.

“Not at all sultana.”

“Very well. Now remember, you must obey my requests without question. This is about me ensuring you have what it takes to be my personal guard, even if what I’m asking seems…unorthodox.” You sit up straighter on the divan. “You may begin by removing your clothes.”

Kento’s eyes widen in shock his mouth going dry. You were surely joking? “Sultana?” he asks hesitantly, hoping he’d misheard you. 

You giggle. “Oh, I assure you that you heard correctly. Remove your clothes.”

The burly man looks down at himself uncertainly. Sensing his doubt, you repeat the command with a firm touch of authority. “Your sultana, the person whose life you will be responsible for, has already made her request twice. Do not make me say it again.”

Kento’s jaw clenches as he tries to think of a good way out of this. Was this a test? Was he supposed to try denying you again? It didn’t feel so, not with the way you sat with your arms crossed impatiently over your chest, the fabric of your muslin dress curving over your bosom. Kento quickly kills that thought, images of food, fresh clothes, and money in his pocket tugging at his indecisiveness. He swallows causing his Adam’s apple to bob, a gesture that does not go unnoticed, as you wait for your unwilling prey to make a move. 

You can see the cogs in his brain turning, trying to think of a strategic way to another path forward but you know there are none. He was at your mercy if he wanted the job. Kento sighs, and then to your satisfaction, his hands start to bunch up the fabric of his thin tunic.

Kento is blushing as he pulls the cloth over his head, and he stands stripped to the waist, all hard muscles and veiny arms, looking like a delicious cut of steak. Your eyes wander over his skin, tanned from the sun, with a tatch of golden hair on his pecs that trailed down over his belly button and disappeared below his pants. He truly was a stunning specimen of masculinity. You can see him growing shy, grappling with the idea of whether or not he should continue.

“Everything looks good from here. Please continue.” You prompt him, unable to stop your lip from curling as he jerks his head in your direction. With shaky hands, he undoes the drawstring that holds up his loose cotton trousers, and with a soft swoosh, they fall to the floor, leaving his powerful thighs and toned calves bare. You’re pleased to see there’s a prominent bulge in his underwear. 

“Come on now. That too.” You say cajolingly glancing at his underwear. He can barely keep his head up and he pulls them down with trembling hands and your mouth waters as his cock finally springs free, looking so pretty and needy as it rests against his belly. 

“Hmm that's more like it.” You rise gracefully and saunter over to him and before he has a chance to react you grab his erection. His mouth falls open and his eyes widen in shock. 

“You keep insisting that you’re dedicated. But I wonder how much restraint you have when you’re frustrated? Or when your patience is running thin. I believe it’s better to test it now.” You run your thumb over the head of cock, feeling the telltale signs of precum beginning to form in the slit. 

Kento was in hell but he doesn’t dare move. He knows how precarious this situation was. If anyone were to come in here and see them like this…it’s his head they would be after. He watches your small fingers wrap around him, barely touching around the column of heated velvet. He grits his teeth, a strangled grunt leaving him. What was your goal?

As you start to pump him, you can feel the angry throb of his cock, feel the pulse and observe the way the little veins bulge as you tend to him. You knew you had him cornered. He couldn’t cry for help. If he did, you would act as innocent as a lamb. You preferred it this way. Subservient guards were the best. You continue to play with him, even going as far as squeezing his balls, giving them light tugs that has him moaning, his hips bucking in hopes of finding a release. His eyes close and you can tell he was anticipating a sweet climax…before you stop, removing all physical contact and letting his cock hang in the lurch.

His eyelids fly open wildly and he looks at you in what looks like disbelief. You laugh at his state and run a finger down his brawny chest. “What did you think was going to happen here?” You see the confusion in his eyes as he tries to bring himself back to reality. “Did you forget this was a test of willpower?”

His eyes nervously follow yours as you stalk your prey. “You should be thankful I stopped before you came all over yourself. It would be messy to clean that up and there are no wash chambers nearby. You would have to go all the way down to the servant’s quarters. And I’m sure everyone would be curious as to why you’re leaving your meeting with the sultana with various stains on your clothes.”

Your eyes gleam as Kento blushes at your description. “Now, we are going to repeat this over and over again until I’m satisfied you can control yourself.” You gesture to a pouf and indicate you want him to sit down. Kento backs down shakily, unsure what to say. Morally, he knows this is wrong. But the authority you’re taking over him, this confident ownership, was gnawing away at his strength. Because didn’t the sultana own all her subjects? He was at your mercy, obliged to indulge your whims. He was ashamed at his arousal, at the thoughts forming in his head about what he would like to do to you now. He could imagine tearing off that frumpy muslin gown, exposing your nipples to his mouth while his hand presses against the tatch of curly hair between your legs while he stroked you to ecstasy.

His thought are interrupted as you kneel before him. You pump his cock again, and make direct eye contact. Wordlessly, your mouth opens, and Kento’s heart shoots into his throat as he realizes what you’re about to do. With a slurp, you take his heated flesh into your mouth, the hot wetness of it enveloping him like a glove. His fingers dig into the soft cushion and he bucks with abandon. He knows you weren’t planning on letting him cum but maybe if he was quick enough he could before you took your sweet, wet, cavern away…

You’re far too observant and quickly pull away your mouth and Kento is left heaving, an animalistic look in his eyes. He had been so close, had felt that telling scrunch of his balls before you abandoned him again. There’s a numb sensation of pain in his tip and he lays back trying to gain control.

“Not bad. Most men would be trying to pounce on me by now I suppose.” You stand, wiping saliva from your mouth, feeling the lingering aftertaste of his salty beads of precum that had escaped into your throat. You smack your lips, then make up your mind.

“You have the job.”

Disbelievingly, Kento looks at you. His cock pulsed from unleashed need. You quirk an eyebrow. “Unless, you don’t want it? Perhaps you’re a lion pretending to be a meek little kitten? Are you waiting for my back to turn so that you can pounce on me? Catch me unaware?”

Kento scampers to his feet and bows, his cock comically flopping as he expresses his gratitude. “Not at all sultana. I’m…” He clears his throat, trying to catch his breath. “I’m very thankful you’ve chosen me.”

You grin wickedly. “Of course. And I find the best guards are the ones that are always on high alert. Therefore-” You gesture at his semi-hard cock, “I think it’s best if that remains unrelieved.”

Kento feels his mouth go dry. “Unrelieved?”

“Don’t tell me that you weren’t planning on jerking yourself off once I’d dismissed you?” Your eyes gleam as he shrinks at your words. “That simply won’t do. You’re my personal guard now. Therefore, you must always be on my schedule.” 

You walk to a cabinet in the corner of the room and Kento watches you dubiously as you bring out a sort of cage made of metal. “Do you know what this is?” you ask, letting the contraption dangle from your finger. He shakes his head. He honestly had no idea.

You giggle and slip a metallic ring over his cock, pushing his balls through it and securing it behind them. The coldness makes him hard again. “Oh perfect. Makes this part easier.” You slide the strange, curved, cylindrical, device over his cock and he watches in fearful fascination as it lines up with the ring behind his balls. You smirk and slip a lock between the two, securing it in place, his cock contained inside.

“This is called a chastity cage. Think of it as a way to help your urges. From now on, your pleasure will be on my time.” Kento’s mind goes blank as he watches you pocket the key.

You chuckle. “What? This is what it means to devote your life to the sultana.” You pleasantly hand him his clothes. “Report to the main security quarters where they will give you your new uniform as well as information about your wage and living quarters. Report back here once this is all taken care of.”

You start to saunter out of the room, leaving Kento looking dumbstruck. At the door, you glance at him over your shoulder.

“Be prepared for regular testing from now on. Nothing like frequent training to keep your skills sharp hmm?” 

reblog divider by @/ cafekitsune

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

@aether-seawolf @makingtimemine @snwvie @facelessfionna @sweetskozume @theimmortalbuns @supernaturalbaesduh @marusatonanhin @pwd54gr54 @brekkersgf

[admirationandromantics]

Stress-reliever

Okay, so another request! I really like this one, and I had a lot of fun writing it too. Sorry it took so long, but I try to work at an acceptable pace. Anyways, this story is about reader having an assignment and being hella stressed because she can't understand anything. Josh, her friend, comes over because she doesn't answer any of his texts or calls and gets worried about how hard she's pushing herself. And he knows the best way for her to relax...

Word count: 3k (Unedited)

I let out a silent scream, slamming my fist into the book. Goodness sake, why was this so difficult? I look at my word count, and it’s nowhere near finished. I don’t even have a good point I’m writing about. Everything I’ve written before this has been great, or at least good. This was the exception. I don’t understand the lectures, I don’t understand the book, I don’t understand anything. No shit my essay would be trash. 

My phone start plinging, but I ignore it. I have to get this. Maybe I’ll read the chapter one more time. I’ve lost count on how many times I’ve already read it, but I don’t have anything better going for me. I tried youtube videos, getting someone to explain it to me, reading, writing, everything. This was stressing me out, and the deadline is in one week. I don’t have good sources, or backups. I can’t change the theme. 

The phone rings again, but this time, I put it on silent. I have to get this, I need to understand it. Maybe I need a breather? But I don’t have time. I stand up and walk to the window. I can at least get some fresh air inside, I deserve that. I click the lock, pulling the window open. The fresh winter breeze flows into my room, shuffling my papers and pulling my hair. The outside arena has been filled with water, making a large skating rink. A bunch of people are skating, some with families, some while holding hands. They’re probably all finished with tests, exams and deadlines. I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the ice cold air. A shiver runs through me, and I take it as a sign to sit down again. This essay isn’t going to write itself. I correct my papers and open the book in the right chapter again. Just keep reading, just keep reading. I’ll get there eventually. 

***

A loud knock is heard on my door, pulling me out of my trance. I’ve written how much? 4 sentences? At this pace, I’ll have to pull all-nighters all week. Someone knocks on the door again, and I check the time. It’s late, not too late, but who would be here at this time? I get up from the desk, walking to the door and unlocking it. Outside in the hall, Josh is standing with his stupidly cute smile and a plastic bag. 

“Josh” I sigh weakly, hugging him while putting all my weight on him. I’m so tired, so stressed and sick of my studies. 

“You look horrible” he whispers back, hands going around me to stop me from falling on the floor. 

“Thank you, I appreciate it” 

“Have you been outside today?” 

I look up at him, giving a guilty smile. He sees right through me and rolls his eyes. I let go, opening the door wider to let him in. 

“Brough you take-out, figured you were too obsessed with whatever you’re doing that you haven’t eaten”

“You’re an angel” 

“I know” he smiles, putting the bag down and pulling off his jacket. He goes to sit in my desk chair, glancing over all my notes. 

“Hard stuff” he grabs a paper, reading quickly over the highlighted lines. I turn to the food, taking out the different boxes. Chinese food, how sweet of him. 

“I’ve never been this stressed in my entire life” I complain, my neck sore and eyes tired. I grab a roll, eating it quickly. I’m apparently very hungry too. 

“You know, I actually wrote about how stress affects-” 

“Stop!” 

“What?”

“I don’t want to hear about how it’ll kill me, you psychology majors are insane with your theories” 

“It’s not a theory”

“Do you really think knowing this will help me or stress me out more”

“Yeah, you’re right” 

I take another roll, sitting down on the bed and eating it. 

“You know, you could do something more stress-relieving…”

He’s smiling, but I don’t know why. I don’t have time to do anything else right now. But, if it worked, I’d probably understand and write much faster. The offer is tempting. 

“Like what?”

“Well, according to your stress-patterns you-”

“Don’t psycho-analyze me” I threaten, pointing a finger at him, my hand now empty again. He puts his hands up, smirking. That stupid smirk. 

“Fine, okay. Let’s think of normal things then… taking a hot bath”

“I showered this morning” 

“It’s not to get clean, it’s to relax” 

“No, next” 

He shrugs, shaking his head in disbelief. I know I’m difficult, but he’s still here, so I haven’t cracked him yet. 

“Go for a walk?”

I laugh at him. No way I’m going somewhere, and when inspiration strikes I’m not there to take advantage of it. It might hit when I’m 20 minutes from home, and when I get back, it’ll be dead. 

“How about I put it this way Josh… I’m NOT leaving my room” 

He thinks hard, trying to come up with something. I subtle darkness coats his eyes as he looks up at me again, and I smile, intrigued by what he’s come up with. 

“I can only think of one more thing” 

“And that is?” 

He opens his mouth, but stops himself and snickers. I’m left in the dark. 

“Nah, you probably wouldn’t want to” 

I look around confused, throwing my hands out. I’m literally open to anything as long as I can relax a bit. 

“Oh, please tell me, I’m desperate” I whine jokingly, making him laugh. 

“Oh really? How desperate?” 

“Incredibly desperate, I’ll do anything” 

“Anything?” he asks, and I can already sense that I’ll regret saying it. He leans forward, loving that he knows about this secret thing which I don’t. God, he’s a prick. 

“Yes, now tell me” I urge, my curiosity overwhelming. 

“Fine, okay” he leans back on the chair, looking me up and down. “I mean, I could help you relax a bit” 

“With what?” 

“Jesus Christ” 

“Will you just tell me Josh?” 

He stands up, making his way over and cornering me with his arms. Oh. Ooooh… I heat up just from the thought, getting wetter by the second as I think about all the erotic possibilities of this encounter. 

That’s what he meant. I almost feel stupid for not getting it at first. But I have to remember that we’re friends, and this is a very intimate act. Would I really want to jeopardise our friendship for an essay? I already feel my body betraying me, heart racing quicker than my thoughts. 

My body gets the better of me, and I lean into him, capturing his lips and throwing my arms around him. He doesn’t waste time, returning the favour and leaning over me, pushing me back on the bed. Hand goes to my thigh, lifting my leg up. He places himself in between them, staying over me with the help of his other hand. A tight squeeze over my knee makes me gasp, and he uses the opportunity to put his tongue in my mouth. He explores all of me, touching in all the right places, occasionally rubbing where he senses I feel weaker. I pour all my tension into him, another form of it building up in my stomach, begging to be satisfied. 

“Josh…” 

He doesn’t stop, mouth instead moving to my neck as he kisses and sucks. 

“Tell me if you want to stop” he whispers against my skin. I don’t want to stop. I’ve wanted this for a long time, and using my stress as an excuse? I don’t know what will happen after this, but I do know that I want to fuck him. For as long as possible. 

He hits my spot under my jaw, making a loud involuntary moan escape my lips. I feel him smirk against my skin before biting down. My hand immediately flies to my mouth. It would not be good for me if the other people in the nearby dorms heard me. 

“I want to hear you” He’s quick to take hold of my hand, trapping it over my head, pressing my whole body down on the mattress. God he’s hot, I’ve never seen this side of him. I always thought he was ‘just talk no action’, but apparently I was wrong. 

“Fuck” I whimper, feeling messy and needy for him. He knew what he was doing, and it was working a little too well. 

“All my calls, all my texts, everything left unanswered…” 

“I was studying” I breathe out, voice high on ecstasy. His knee goes between my legs, and I lean against him, letting myself grind down on his leg. 

“Was it not just a trick to get me here? Don’t think for one second I haven’t seen those glances you give me when you think I’m not watching” 

“Josh…” 

“Don’t worry, when I’m finished with you, you wouldn’t  have to be so secretive anymore” 

He grabs the hem of my sweater, making me sit up a bit to drag it off. I’ve been home alone all day, so a bra was not necessary, leaving me half naked, the cold winter air from the window making my nipples hard. 

“Oh lord…” 

“Not gonna even the playing field?” I tease, tugging at his shirt. He laughs and unbuttons it, undressing quickly and throwing the garment on the floor. He does the same with his belt, dragging it off his jeans and leaving it on the floor. I feel a tug on the bottom of my pants, and he drags them off with ease, leaving me only in my panties. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful” he comments, laying himself on top of me again and capturing my lips on his. I feel around his upper body, gracing each curve and muscle. My hands wander to his back, pulling him closer, making him lay more of his weight on me. The kisses get wetter and sloppier as we keep going, my pulse going faster than ever before. I pull away a little, needing to take a breath. He uses the opportunity to work on my chest, kissing down my collar and groping my chest. His mouth keeps sucking, leaving dark marks all over my upper body. 

“Josh, please” I whimper, feeling the need overcome me. This is too much, I need him down there, fucking me senseless, just as I’ve always wished for. 

“I love hearing my name coming out of those pretty lips of yours” 

He moves lower, kissing the inside of my thighs and stroking my folds over the soaked fabric. 

“You’ve been wanting this for a long time haven’t you?”

I take a couple of deep breaths before answering, my body dysfunctional from all the waiting and different types of simulations. 

“Y-yes I have” 

“And you finally got what you wanted”

“Please” 

He raises his head, looking up at me. That stupid smirk is still plastered on his face as he’s come face to face with the reactions he gets out of me. 

“Say it again” There’s no use fighting him, my body begging to be touched. 

“Please” 

“Again” 

“Josh, please” 

“As you wish” 

His head goes down again, biting and licking my thigh as his fingers slowly drags my underwear off. It falls off my feet, and his tongue takes a long lick over my folds. My immediate reaction is to close my legs, but his hands stop me, holding both of them in their place. He takes a chance, one of his hands moving to my heat, stroking over the wet area. 

“You’re already so ready for me” 

His tongue finds its way to my clit, licking soft circles as one of his fingers moves inside me, curling upwards. My legs jolt again, but he doesn’t mind, instead keeps pumping his finger and getting me off with his tongue. I feel my edge come closer, and I try to hold it, not wanting to come so incredibly fast. 

“I know you’re holding back dear” 

I try to come with a reply, but it leaves my lips as incoherent erotic melodies, going in tact with his rhythm. He takes out his hand, relieving some of the pressure which is begging to be let out. I try to steady my breathing, but am interrupted as he puts another finger in, filling me even more up. His tongue applies more pressure than before, and I can’t control myself as I come all over him, spilling my juices down his fingers and lips. 

I take deep breaths, ecstasy washing over while throwing my head back. Fuck he’s good. I feel my legs twitch from all the action, pent up stress and energy leaving my body as the high lowers. 

I hear something hitting the floor, and look up to find him standing in front of me. Naked. Big. Holy shit, how am I supposed to take that. 

“You look scared” he smiles, going on top of me once again, giving me sweet kisses. I taste myself on him, but the passionate nature of it is almost… romantic. 

“Just, surprised” I manage to breathe out. 

“Oh, you haven’t seen nothing yet” he teases, giving me another passionate kiss. His dick graces over my folds, coating itself in my last high. His hand goes down to adjust himself, but before he inserts himself, he looks down at my flushed face, waiting for something. 

“You want this?” 

“Yes I fucking want this, Josh please” 

He doesn’t need to hear anything else, slowly inserting himself in me. I throw my head back, feeling him fill me up, widening my walls. He groans as he keeps going, letting out a deep breath as he’s all in. He waits a couple of seconds, still holding himself up over me. 

“Fuck, you feel so good” he exclaims, cheeks red and breath heavy. 

“Please keep going” I urge him, and he starts moving. Slowly going out and slamming deep into me again. It takes a couple of pushes for him to get his rhythm back. The room fills with both our moans, and I pull him down, killing some of them on our lips. 

He takes hold of my thigh, pulling my whole leg up, letting himself deeper inside. My nails scratch his back as he keeps going, both of our orgasms building up. I hold on to him, chest against chest, his pelvis rubbing against me as he slams himself in and out. 

“Let me ride you” I whisper, and he stops for a bit, taken aback by my request. 

“You sure?” 

“Get on your back” I breathe out, trying to sound stern. My tone fails me, and I just sound desperate instead, but I don’t mind. I want him, I need him. He obliges, laying down on his back. I move on top of him, and he looks up at me, mouth agape and eyes blank. He’s so turned on, so hard and so desperate. Probably as needy as me. I steady myself, lowering my body onto him, letting him inside. I bit my lip to stop my noises, feeling him go deeper than before. 

I watch his face, cheeks still pink and skin shiny. His mouth keeps opening, letting out the most vulnerable sound I’ve ever heard from him. 

“And I thought you looked good on top” I start, feeling a smirk find its way to my lips. “Turns out you’re even better under me” 

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me come” he whimpers, grabbing hold of my thigh, bouncing me up and down on him. 

“That’s the goal” I lean down, kissing his collar and neck while still bouncing my ass on him. 

“You’re so incredibly hot” 

His grip tightens, probably leaving red marks which’ll last for days. I feel my core building up, getting awfully hot and tight. 

“Josh, I’m going t-”

“Do it, do it” 

I can’t hold myself, coming all over his cock, tightening around him. I give a cry, body sweaty and hot as I try to keep the rhythm going. The pain starts getting to me, the cause of overstimulation and exhaustion. He notices, and uses his hips and arms to turn us around. 

I slam back into the maddress, my breath being knocked out of me. I don’t get time to regain it as Josh ups his pace, slamming into me harder and faster. I grip the sheets, trying to stay grounded as I feel my whole body rocking back and forth. He leans forward, intertwining my hand in his, while still keeping up the pace. I grip his hand hard, tension building up again as he uses the other to rub my clit. 

“I love you like this, all fucked out” he whispers, making me tighter. I wince as I come another time, pain and pleasure shooting through me. I’ve lost feeling in my legs, letting them hang weakly around his waist. He grunts and moans, burying himself in me as he reaches his orgasm. I feel him twitch inside me, sloppily pulling out as he collapses beside me. His hand goes to my chin, turning my head towards him before leaning forward for a kiss. I let him, sinking into the small action. 

“Still stressed?”

“More exhausted, but no, I’m not stressed” I explain, slowly regaining control of my pulse. 

“Need a power-nap?” I nod, and he walks to the bathroom, coming back with a warm wet cloth and cleaning me up. We both drag ourselves to the top of the bed, getting under the covers and relaxing. I lean into him, feeling his body sink down. 

I think about the essay, everything I could’ve done in the time we fucked. The theme is hard, and the texts are difficult, but… Shit!

“Omg” I exclaim, sitting up. 

“What, is something wrong?” he asks, looking up at me with concern. I stand up, walk to the desk and grab my computer before laying down with him on the bed again. 

“I suddenly understood this one passage” I exclaim, not feeling that tired anymore. I actually understood something! Finally! 

I open the computer, and start typing on the related paragraph. This was gonna be good, I could finally get the parallel I wanted, and compare it to the subtext. 

“Well, I’ll be laying right here if you need me again” he makes himself comfortable, kissing my chin and letting his fingers rub soft circles on my arm. 

[jenosbliss]

hi, can i request 1, 8, 10 enemies to lovers with haechan pls?

pairing. gn!reader x haechan | genre. fluff, enemies to lovers | wc. 1.3k | warnings. none

a/n:: i’m in love with these pics… he looks so fluffy yet damn hot!

“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had,” you muttered, stepping over a protruding root as the dense forest seemed to close in around you.

Haechan groaned behind you, the crunch of leaves under his boots matching your growing irritation. “My idea? You’re the one who said, ‘Let’s go explore off the trail. It’ll be fun!’” He mimicked your voice in a singsong tone, which earned him a sharp glare over your shoulder.

“I didn’t mean ‘let’s get lost in the middle of nowhere,’” you snapped, brushing a low-hanging branch out of your face. “Well, congratulations,” he said, throwing his arms wide as if presenting the trees around him. “You’ve officially outdone yourself. This is a new low, even for you.”

You stopped, spinning on your heel to face him. “For me? You’re the one who got us turned around!”

“I got us turned around?” Haechan repeated, his tone dripping with disbelief. “You’re the one who insisted we’d find a shortcut.”

“To avoid listening to you complain for another hour!”

“Well, that backfired, didn’t it?”

“You are infuriating!” you snapped, throwing your hands in the air.

“And you’re dramatic,” he shot back, crossing his arms. “Seriously, I am fully convinced you never graduated kindergarten. Do you want me to explain how directions work with finger paints?” Your jaw dropped, and for a moment, all you could do was gape at him. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet,” he said, smirking, “here we are, stuck together. Funny how life works, huh?”

“Funny,” you muttered, storming ahead and refusing to look back.

The truth was, you were scared. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the forest shrouded in shadows. The trail you’d been following had vanished hours ago, and with every passing minute, the possibility of finding your way back seemed slimmer.

You hated feeling this vulnerable—especially in front of Haechan. The two of you had spent years getting under each other’s skin, your bickering a constant fixture of your shared friend group. But this was different. This wasn’t teasing over a missed deadline or a poorly worded joke. This was real, and it left you feeling exposed in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

“Slow down,” Haechan called from behind you, his tone less sharp now. “You’re going to trip over something.” You ignored him, determined not to let him see how your hands were trembling.

“Hey,” he said, closer now. “Did you hear me?”When you didn’t respond, his hand caught your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

“What?” you snapped, spinning to face him. Haechan studied you for a moment, his dark eyes narrowing. “You’re scared,” he said, the words more observation than accusation.

“No, I’m not,” you lied, crossing your arms defensively. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I get it. This sucks. But freaking out isn’t going to help.”

“I’m not freaking out,” you said, though your voice betrayed you. He stepped closer, his expression softening in a way that made your chest tighten. “Hey,” he said quietly. “We’ll figure this out, okay? Together.”

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden shift in tone. For a moment, you didn’t see the usual smugness in his eyes—just sincerity.

“Fine,” you muttered, looking away. “But if you say ‘I told you so’ even once, I’m leaving you here.”

“Noted,” he said with a small smile.

The two of you walked in silence for a while, the tension between you easing with each step. Haechan had taken the lead, scanning the trees for any sign of the trail, while you followed a few paces behind.

“I can feel you staring,” he said after a while, his voice breaking the quiet. “I’m not staring,” you lied, though your gaze immediately dropped to the ground. He glanced back over his shoulder, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Like what you see?”

Your face burned as you scoffed, “In your dreams.”

Haechan chuckled, but he didn’t push it, instead focusing on the path ahead, falling into step beside you. It wasn’t until you bit your lip, lost in thought, that his voice cut through the quiet again.

“If you bite your lip one more time,” he said, his tone low and teasing, “I’m going to do it for you.”Your head snapped up, your eyes wide as you stared at him. “Excuse me?”He turned to face you fully, his smirk firmly in place. “You heard me.”

For a moment, the forest seemed to hold its breath. The teasing glint in his eyes was still there, but beneath it, something else lingered—something that made your heart race in a way you couldn’t ignore.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Haechan’s gaze shifted to something behind you.

“There,” he said, pointing to a faint trail winding through the trees.

Relief flooded you as you followed his gesture. “Finally,” you breathed, your shoulders relaxing. “Told you we’d figure it out,” he said, brushing past you to lead the way.

By the time the two of you made it back to the main path, the moon had risen, casting everything in a soft silver glow. The forest seemed less intimidating now, and the tension that had weighed on you all evening had started to fade.

“Well,” you said, glancing at Haechan. “I guess you’re not completely useless.”

“High praise,” he replied, his smirk returning. The two of you stood in silence for a moment, the quiet night stretching between you. For the first time, the silence didn’t feel awkward or tense. It felt... comfortable.

“You know,” he said eventually, his voice quieter now. “You’re not as bad as I thought.” You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Take it or leave it,” he said, but there was no malice in his tone—just a softness that caught you off guard. “Thanks, I guess,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Haechan stepped closer, his hand brushing against yours. You glanced up at him, your breath hitching at the way he was looking at you—like he was seeing you for the first time.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “We’re okay now, right?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice just as quiet. “We’re okay.”

Before you could overthink it, Haechan reached out, his fingers curling around yours bringing them to his lips, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles. The gesture was simple, but it sent a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the chill of the night.

The space between you felt impossibly small, your fingers intertwined with his as he leaned in slightly. Your breath hitched as he tilted his head, his eyes flicking to your lips for just a moment before meeting yours again.

“Can I?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated for only a second before nodding.

He closed the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was soft, hesitant, and warm in a way that made your chest ache. His hand came up to cup your cheek, his touch gentle as if he was afraid to break the moment.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Well,” he said, his voice teasing again, “that’s one way to stop all the bickering.” You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, his smirk softening into a genuine smile.

As the two of you walked back to the safety of the campsite, hand in hand, you couldn’t help but think that maybe getting lost hadn’t been so bad after all. And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind the butterflies he gave you either.

masterlist. nct dream | nct 127 | wayv

100 follower event 🌷

navigation.

[sentientgolfball]

Mushy May: Arts and crafts

So Dew with the broken bones on his boot am I right?

Anyway Aurora and Phantom are responsible and you cannot tell me otherwise

“Is he asleep?” Aurora whisper-shouts from where she hovers at the bottom of the stairs. 

Phantom nods, motioning for her to come over. They try not to move too much though from their spot tucked under Dew’s arm. He is a light sleeper after all. One sharp jostle and his eyes will blink open. 

Aurora grins as she practically bounces over to the lounge area on the bottom portion of the bus, bag of markers in hand. She looks at where Dew’s foot is propped up like a cat watching a bug fly. 

“Can you keep him asleep?” She does not look up at Phantom as she whispers the request. 

“Probably,” they match her tone, “but is this really a good idea? Wouldn’t it work better if you did it while he’s awake?” 

“Oh but where’s the fun in that? Think about the look on his face when he wakes up and sees it.” 

“Yeah alright okay.” As Phantom concedes, their lichtenberg figure scars glow softly. Ozone wafts through the air as a purple light pulses under the hand resting on Dew’s chest. Keeping someone who is already asleep unconscious should be easy even for a ghoul with a weaker connection to their element. 

“Okay go ahead.” Phantom nods, confident that Dew will remain knocked out. 

Aurora grins as she uncaps her silver marker. She pulls up a picture of a skeleton on her phone before dropping to her knees in front of the table Dew’s foot is propped on. She hesitantly grabs right above the boot, just under his knee. Her eyes flick up to his face. When not even a muscle twitches, she trills quietly and gets to work. 

“You should make it accurate,” Phantom cranes their neck to watch her, “make the bones all broken.” 

Aurora laughs, covering her hand with her mouth so she is not too loud. She nods, “This is why they pay you the big bucks bug.” 

“I don’t get paid,” they deadpan. 

She shakes her head as she outlines the shape of bones, and bone shards, over each strap of his boot. Once she is satisfied with it, she begins filling them in. The sound of marker rubbing against the material accompanies Dew’s deep breathing and the lull of the bus. 

“There,” she announces as she sits up straighter, “all done. Now he’ll be back in uniform.” 

“Send a picture to Swiss.” Phantom grins. It was his idea after all. He made the first joke about drawing on the boot. The bones probably would have ended up there sooner if he had not gone back to the Ministry. 

She snaps a picture of her masterpiece with her phone, screen illuminating her face as she opens her messages. “To Swiss and Cumulus and Aether and Sunshine. How long do you think it’ll take before the entire Ministry has seen the picture?” 

“Considering Swiss is Copia’s right hand ghoul now, it’ll probably end up as a mass email.” They both laugh as they imagine everyone back home and on the road getting that notification. There is a hint of sorrow in their chuckles, but they do not dwell. Too tired from the ritual to let their moment of trying to cheer Dew up turn into something mournful. 

Aurora does not return back upstairs to her bunk once she puts her marker away. While Phantom still has their quintessence coursing through Dew’s body, she lifts his other arm and curls up next to him. She smiles at Phantom as they both settle in, resting their heads on each of Dew’s shoulders. They get as comfortable as they can and let their eyes slip shut, slowly lulled to sleep from the moving bus and the warmth of a fire ghoul. 

Once he is absolutely positive they are both asleep, Dew cracks open his eyes. He fights the smile that threatens to light up his face. 

“Brats,” he huffs, though his voice drips with affection. He turns his head so he can press a featherlight kiss between both of their horns. As he shifts to get more comfortable, his phone buzzes. He frowns, using his tail to grab it off of the table. He squints at the brightness of the screen. He once again has to fight off the smile he can feel pulling at his lips. 

Dick cheese: 

Finally. Accuracy. 

He throws his phone back down. If he texts Swiss back now, he knows he will not sleep for the rest of the night. He learned that lesson one too many times last tour with Aether. So, he closes his eyes and settles in as a rusty purr begins to vibrate through his chest. 

[heroesrest64]

Hair Care (But You’re A Tease)

Wrote this a while ago as a character study of sorts? I was just trying to figure out how to write the main character for CBINSB but it turned a lil horny haha. Not canon to the ongoing story, so I figured I’d share and let y’all enjoy :3

Warning: Steamy, but no smut. Read at your own risk :)

You can also find some headcanons on the Chain’s bathing habits here

“You want me to help you with your hair?” You offer, and Wild halts his march towards the nearby pond.

“That… actually sounds really good right now. But are you sure? The others will be there…” Wild quirks a brow, and you offer a mischievous smile in return.

“Remember that theory I shared with you?” Realization dawns on Wilds face, his grin morphing to match your own. “Wind’s with his family right now, anyway. I think us adults should have some fun.”

The two of you giggle sneakily the whole way to the pond, stopping at the tree line before it to calm yourselves down. “I’m a little nervous now.” Wild admits, shaking his hands out.

“I think we’ve got this. And even if it doesn’t work out, it’ll be a funny story to tell.” You assure, unstrapping your equipment and clothes until you’re left in your undergarments and a single knife. Wild flushes red and you pinch his cheeks affectionately.

“With you looking like that… Yeah. We’ve got this.” Wild smiles, bright and warm. You try not to get too flustered. You aren’t even at the main event yet.

The two of you break from the tree line, both in only your undergarments and giggling to eachother like one said a particularly funny joke. There’s notable silence from the pond, and your eyes rove over it to see the many Heroes of Hyrule flushed to the tips of their ears. Cute!

“Hey guys! Hope you don’t mind me joining, Wild just has too many knots to deal with just a comb.” You tease, and Wild pouts, letting out an indignant ‘Hey!’

“I-it’s okay- ahem- you’re good.” Legend squeaks, clears his throat, then continues with a much deeper, more suave voice.

“We can leave-” Sky starts before noticing his own state of undress and cuts himself off. They’re too cute when embarrassed.

“Nah, I don’t mind. And, hey, if it looks fun to you, feel free to join.” You offer a cheeky wink, leaving your words vague in hopes they’ll run with it.

While they try to puzzle out the meaning of your words, you and Wild step into the water, sighing at the warmth of it. Looks like Wars took your advice and let your shampoo bottle warm the pond. Wild sinks under the surface, fully submerging himself before coming back up and paddling towards you. You’re sitting a bit closer to the bank, the water sloshing around your stomach while you wait for Wild to settle in your lap.

Some of the others watch curiously as you slowly run your fingers through Wild’s hair, detangling the ends then moving on to the roots of his hair. He heaves a happy sigh as you scratch his scalp. “Very good, Wildflower.” You hum, tilting his head back to place a kiss to his forehead. There’s a strangled noise somewhere in the background that you pretend not to hear.

The next step is to lather his honeysuckle-ginger shampoo into his hair. Wild giggles as you put some of the soap suds on his nose and preens when you delicately wipe the soap-water mixture away from his eyes. The soap is soon washed out, and you move on to plaiting his hair to keep it from tangling again.

You look up just as you finish the braid to see a red hair tie dangling in front of your face. Legend is the one offering it, his cheeks a ruddy red as he looks down at you. “Do mine next?” He requests, and your smile widens drastically.

“Of course!” Wild moves to the side after you tie off his braid, the two of you sharing secretive smiles as he moves to give you room. Legend isn’t quite as comfortable settling into your lap as Wild was, so you… help him out, lightly grabbing his waist and pulling him closer. You decide to not mention the little gasp he lets out- too much teasing and he’ll just storm away.

It’s the same general process as doing Wild’s hair; brush, soap, rinse and style. His hair is more silky than Wilds, and you find your nails trailing to the nape of his neck, playing with the longer hair there. The most you can tease out of him is a slight jerk, but it’s more than enough for you. He leaves your lap with a couple small braids twisted into his hair.

The next soul brave enough to approach is Wars. He settles in your lap comfortably, leaning until his back is against your chest. “Just a detangling and styling, I already washed it.” He chimes like you’re his personal barber. You suppose you did offer to do their hair. Doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to tease.

Ducking behind the captains larger frame, you begin working on detangling Warriors’ hair, and subtly press feather-light kisses to his bare back. He jolts at the first one, and you can feel his skin heating up as you move further up. He shivers when you place a kiss on a particularly sensitive spot at the base of his neck. “That feel good, hun?” You murmur against him.

“Please… They’re all looking.” He whines. You laugh at his misfortune before returning to your work, tying two longer braids at the back of his head to give a more elegant look.

Twilight approaches next, content to lean back in your hold and let you take control. He hums contented noises when you pull at the tangles in his hair, lets you maneuver his face this way and that as you go. He only jerks when you rake your nails down his back, a teasing smile on your face as he turns to you wide-eyed.

“I can get your back, too, if you’d like.” You offer and he huffs, leaning forward to reveal his broad back to you in all its glory. “Beautiful.”

“Thanks, darlin’.” He rumbles, relaxing once again as you lather his soap bar in your hands. Ever the charmer. You want to mess with him.

You start off innocent enough, scrubbing as usual, but you trace his muscle lines with light fingers, and when you reach the arch of his hips, you trail it to his adonis’ belt, then a little further… “Okay. You got me.” Twilight breathes shakily, hands over your own to stop you.

He scoots away and Sky shyly takes his place. “Don’t go too hard on me, please.” He requests, and you smile, serene and innocent.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He collapses the second you card your fingers through his hair, humming softly and sinking into your hold. He lets out what can only be described as a chirp when you softly brush through the feathers at the nape of his neck. You do the same to the feathers on the back of his arms, humming a little when one comes loose. “So pretty. Can I keep it?” You ask, holding the rust colored feather up for him to see.

“Uh-uhm, yeah. Yeah, sure.” He barely chokes out. You move to tickle the feather under his nose, smiling when he shudders under your ministrations.

“And you? Can I keep you?” He whines, pressing his face into his hands while you laugh and braid some of his longer bangs, tying a ribbon into his hair. “A fair trade, I’d say.”

Wild pushes Hyrule towards you next, the man already blushing profusely. “Enjoying the show?” You suggest, and he whimpers while you maneuver him to your lap. “Just relax, starlight. I won’t touch anything you don’t want me to.” You reassure, gently beginning to untangle his hair. He relaxes, eventually, shoulders dropping with your gentle motions.

You still have a job to do, though, and you won’t lose, even to a sweetheart like Hyrule.

He squeaks when you turn him around so he’s facing you, moving his legs to hook around your waist. His face flushes when you grab his hand, bringing it up to your face so he’s cupping your cheek. A strangled sound escapes his throat when you tilt your head to kiss his palm. “Thanks for trusting me, Rulie. We should do this again sometime.” you purr, and he gets out a stilted ‘yep!’ before turning tail and running.

Four plops into your lap, posing similarly to how you’d positioned Hyrule, his legs straddling you, hands perched on your shoulders to help him keep balance. There’s a purple glint in his eyes as he stares you down like you’re an enigma. “You’re playing at something.” he states, and you grin.

“What makes you say that?” You simper, hands tracing shapes on his sides, a star, a circle, so on so forth. He shivers at the ticklish feeling.

“You’ve never acted like this before. Never let so many people touch you and touch them in turn…” He points out, and you nod along.

“You’re right. If you’ve puzzled all of that out, what is your conclusion, charm?” You grab his hips, tugging him down until he’s grinding his pelvis against your own, leaning closer until your lips are mere breaths away from touching.

“Y-you’re testing us…” He mumbles, looking down to where your bodies are touching. Red flashes in his eyes, and he quickly looks away, suddenly shy. “To see if we’re all okay being with you like this.”

“That’s one reason. There are two others, my dear. Let me do your hair while you try to figure it out?” You hum, touching your nose to his, nuzzling slightly. He melts, falling into your shoulder and letting you run your fingers through his longer hair. It’s slowly twisted into a braid, but you leave his bangs loose.

“...You wanted to see if you could handle contact with all of us for a long period of time.” He finally mumbles, relaxing as you draw some more shapes on his back.

“...and?” You press.

“And Wild wanted to see which of us would last longer without blushing or reacting.” He grumbles, finally sitting up. He looks like he ate something sour, and you laugh, brushing his right bangs behind his ear.

“Spot on.” You chime, pinching his cheeks affectionately, and he blushes at your playful nature.

Time steps up then, and Four sighs, leaving your lap to make room for him. He settles in, facing out at the others and allowing you to start taking care of his hair. He’s quiet while you work, but eventually pipes up, voice low and accusatory. “You are being a tease today.”

You laugh, scratching at his scalp to help the soap suds up. “Is it so bad?”

“No… It’s nice.” He hums, peeking back at you just in time to see you press a kiss to a lock of his hair.

“I hope you don’t mind if I keep going then?” You ask, moving on to rinsing out his hair.

“By all means.”

His golden locks are twisted into an elegant half-up, half-down style, and you tie it back into a bun with a little ribbon. Cute.

“I’m running out of hairstyles.” You complain, hugging around Time’s torso. He laughs, lifting his hands to hold yours, pulling your hands out as if to examine them. You nudge your chin into the crook of his neck, making a place for yourself and pressing little kisses to the exposed skin there. Time squeezes your hands, lifting them up to his lips to press kisses to them.

“I don’t know too many either, don’t worry about it.” He reassures, bringing your hands back down and simply holding them in his lap. He still plays with your digits every now and then, testing the joints, tracing any scars marring the skin, running a nail over the lines of your palms. He seems content after a while, and you take the moment to explore his own hands. They’re bigger than yours, callused and rough from years of fighting, but he easily lets you fold his fingers, push and pull at them, and lets your own fingers fill the spaces between his. You urge his middle and ring finger down, pointing his thumb out. He seems to realize the sign you’re going for, laughing a giddy sound and making your free hand copy the sign.

‘I love you’, neither of you has to say it, it's right there for both of you to see. You lean up to press a kiss to Time’s cheek, reveling in the rosy blush that you leave behind. ‘Pretty’, you gesture before finally pushing away, patting the top of Time’s head and moving to leave the pond. You’re proud of the pool of blushing heroes you leave behind.

[moonlitsmile]

Only with you

anon- Can I request a sweet Joel x reader where Joel can be comfortable enough around reader that he just let's the silliness out around reader, like a dog that has the zoomies

summary | Joel being a silly lil boy and soft with you (headcannons and small Drabble)

- Joel isn’t the kind of man who shows so much to the world. Keeps his cards close, face unreadable, voice flat. But with you? Something in him eases. Like he doesn’t have to brace for impact anymore.

- Every now and then, when the house is quiet and he’s feeling good, really good, he gets this restlessness in him. You call it “the zoomies,” jokingly. He rolls his eyes and mutters something like “Ain’t a damn dog”, but the second your back is turned, he’s right there, messing with you. Pulling you into his chest. Sneaking up behind you just to see you jump.

- His version of playful is like all dry and teasing. Deadpan impressions, fake serious accusations (“You’re the one who ate the last cookie. I saw the evidence.”), or tackling you gently onto the couch like it’s a wrestling match he plans to win.

- He might even dance sometimes. Not on purpose, not really, more like he gets caught in a rhythm when he’s cookin’ or tinkering. You’ve caught him swaying, tapping his foot, muttering lyrics to a song stuck in his head. When you smile at him, he’ll act all gruff, like “What? Can’t a man move his feet?” But there’s a twitch of a smirk he can’t quite hide.

- On days when things feel heavy, your shoulders weighed down, eyes tired, he tries a little harder. His voice gets softer. He pulls out the dry humor, the over-the-top voices, anything to get a laugh out of you. It works. You always crack.

- Sometimes he pokes fun at himself for it. Says he’s “too damn old to be chasin’ you around the house like a kid,” but that never stops him. Not when you’re laughing like that. Not when your eyes are shining just from being near him.

- He doesn’t open up easy. Doesn’t get silly. Doesn’t play alot. but you bring that out of him without even trying. You’re the only one who gets to see him like this, unguarded, warm, and just a little ridiculous.

- I feel like he’d mess with you when he’s bored, in the driest way possible. You’ll walk into a room and find him sitting there holding your book upside down. When you call him on it, he just says, “Somethin’ feels off. Can’t figure what.”

- When he’s feeling antsy and you’re curled up on the couch, he’ll slowly invade your space, stretching his legs across your lap, inching closer, sighing dramatically like you’re keeping him from something. “This is the most uncomfortable seat in the house,” he’ll mumble while refusing to move.

- He hums when he’s in a good mood, especially when he’s fixing something. You’ve caught him adding a little rhythm to his hammering before. When you teased him about it, he said, “You want the chair fixed or not?”

- If you’re laying together and you won’t look at him, he pokes your cheek with one finger. Once. Then again. Then again. Until you give in and laugh or smack his hand away.

You’re standing at the kitchen counter, halfway through making two grilled cheese sandwiches, when Joel walks in holding… a sock.

Not just any sock. A single, sad, gray one, clearly his, and he holds it between two fingers like it personally betrayed him.

“You seen its partner?” he asks flatly, lifting it in the air like it’s evidence in a crime scene.

You glance over your shoulder, eyebrow raised. “Did you check the dryer?”

“Checked the dryer. Checked the washer. Checked under the bed, behind the couch, even in that weird drawer you keep takeout menus in.”

You blink. “You went that far?”

He sighs deeply, shoulders slumped like a man who’s known true loss. “It’s gone. Gone like the damn wind.”

You try not to laugh. “I’m sure it’ll turn up.”

“It won’t. This is how it starts. First a sock. Then my favorite flannel. Then I’m out on the porch yellin’ at birds and forgettin’ what day it is.”

“You already yell at birds.”

He points at you. “That was one time. And that pigeon was starin’ at me.”

You’re giggling now, fully turned toward him, spatula in one hand. “You’re such a drama queen.”

Joel steps forward, socks the sock dramatically onto the table, and says, “This house is where good laundry goes to die.”

You snort softly

He smiles, barely, but it’s there, that little twitch at the corner of his mouth he doesn’t bother hiding around you anymore.

“Grilled cheese almost ready?” he asks, like the sock funeral never happened.

“Two minutes.”

He nods. “Guess I’ll survive. Barefoot. Cold. Emotionally scarred, but survivin’.”

You shake your head as he walks off muttering something about “damn haunted dryer,” and you’re still smiling when you bring him his sandwich.

[writeformesinpie]

Your Scent

Mark Lee x Fem!Reader 

Summary - Your boss doesn’t like it when you leave the office for lunch. You’re on his time after all. You’re always on his time. 

Genre - Yandere 

Warnings - Sexual content, yandere, possessiveness, slight dubcon

Word Count - 1K

A/N - This is part of the 2k follower event from this request. I hope you like it and thank you for the request! <3

“That did not happen, don’t lie!” Laughing at your old school friend, you shove his arm in disbelief. “You always get up to the craziest things.”

He shrugs, giving you more details to prove the legitimacy of his claims. His wife tells a different story, interjecting her own ideas of what really happened. Shaking your head you lean over the small table and give them both a tight threeway hug.

“It was so nice to see you again,” she says, kissing you on the cheek. “We need to hang out more.”

“We really do,” you agree, pulling out your planner from your backpack. “Let’s figure out a time now or it’ll never happen.”

It’s not that you don’t want to spend more time with them, it’s simply that time isn’t something you have a lot of these days. When you’re as busy as you’ve been, things like breaks and having fun fall to the wayside.

“How is work?”

Translation: how’s your boss?

“It’s okay. Things are getting better.”

It’s a lie and they know it.

“Is it?”

“I mean I was able to get out and see you both,” you answer, looking down at your watch. Clicking your tongue you pull out your purse and throw down a few bills. “It’s on me today. Sorry, but I have to get back.”

Before they can decline the offer you’re already out of your seat walking towards the exit, weaving around the other patrons. You wave over your shoulder before heading outside. The sun is blinding as it beats down on your exposed arms and face. You search through your bag with a frown before finding your sunglasses, with a smile you put them on and the relief is instant. Not today, scorching sun.

He’s waiting for you.

Leaning against your car, he’s blocking the driver's side door. Black hair swept to the side and wearing a tailored suit, there’s a glint of something sinister behind his tight smile.

“Am I not allowed to go out for lunch now?” you ask as you get closer to your car.

“Of course,” he says, his voice low over the hustle and bustle of the plaza’s parking lot. People are enjoying their lunch break, or day off, running errands around you, or whatever it is that people with free time do. “I was just grabbing something from the Fed Ex and saw your car.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Does something need to be wrong to come see my employee?”

“I mean, we just saw each other an hour ago,” you say as you look down at your Apple watch. 49 minutes ago to be exact.

“Who was that?” He motions towards the cafe behind you.

“An old friend.” He raises a brow at your response, his jaw tensing as he waits for you to elaborate. After a few awkward moments of silence you continue, “They’re just old friends.”

“What’s his name?”

“What does it matter?”

“Why won’t you tell me?”

Sighing, you step into his space and place a hand on his arm. “Mark, please. He’s not important. Can we discuss this somewhere a little less crowded?”

“Why?” Sliding an arm around your back he pulls you close. Your breasts press up hard against his chest. “You worried your little boyfriend will see?”

“He’s not my–”

“I can’t believe you were out here acting like a little slut and you expected me to what? Stay in the office and slave away? Just ignore the messages popping up on your phone?” He holds up your phone and your hand snaps to your purse like a magnet out of pure reflex. “All these names. And some of these messages...”

“That’s not–”

“On company time no less.” He shakes his head before leaning in and whispering, “On my time.”

“It’s not–”

“Get in the car.” It’s not a question.

He’s motioning towards the back seat of your own vehicle. Your mouth drops as you look around the parking lot. Why is he acting like this here? “Are you serious right now?”

“Get in.”

Clenching your jaw you pull out your keys, unlock the car and scramble in the backseat. You’re quickly pushed further inside as he climbs in after you. Before the door even closes behind him his fingers are in your hair, his lips on yours, each kiss more urgent than the last.

“Mark, please, I…”

“Did he touch you?”

“What? Who?”

“Your little friend,” he says, venom dripping on the word ‘friend’.

“No, he’s–”

“Don’t lie to me,” he says, pulling your neck back by your hair. “I saw you. I saw his hands on you. He touched you.”

“No, it’s not like–”

His lips crash down on yours, painful and hungry, his tongue sliding across your lips, tapping at them until you open up to allow him to deepen the kiss. Wrapping your arms around his neck out of instinct, you suck on his tongue, tasting him; bourbon and chocolate.

His left hand slides across your arm then up behind your back and in your hair. His other hand snakes under your skirt, his fingers pressing against the soft material of your panties. Jutting out your hand to stop him, you pull back from the kiss and look around the plaza. People are fluttering about, some close to the car, and even though the windows are tinted you know people can see if they look hard enough.

“Someone will see,” you say, pushing his hand away. He chuckles before slamming your shoulders down against the leather seat as his hands wander over your body.

“Let them see,” he says as he unbuttons your blouse. “We won’t stop until you’re so covered in my scent, no one will dare touch you again.”