#(I still very much stand by this work too but Yes)

[ssa-dado]

Cat Equals Sign Of Integration

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader Genre: fluff, smut (implied) Summary: Aaron, ever the strategist, decides that a little wine might help soften the blow of figuring out with you how to tell the team you’re dating. A solid plan - except for one tiny flaw: wine makes him a whore. Warnings: +18, MINORS DNI Hotch is a touch starved whore, a few cuss words here and there, wine gets a bit into both of your heads. Word Count: 5k Dado's Corner: Did I hallucinate this while working on one of the many requests still on my to-do list, only to realize halfway through that it was completely derailing from the main plot - but too cute to abandon? Yes. Is this fun? You tell me (pretty please).

masterlist(s)

One of the many rules you and Aaron had in your relationship was that if you cooked for date night, he was the one doing the dishes.

His idea.

You had been opposed to it at first - not because you minded, of course. You were actually a huge fan of grown men handling household chores without whining like toddlers about how it might somehow demasculate their poor, fragile egos.

No, you were opposed because you didn’t want him doing it out of some sense of obligation.

It took you a while to accept that Aaron wasn’t doing this because he owed you - he was doing it because he wanted to.

Because that was just… Aaron.

Ever the caregiver, always looking for ways to make life easier for the people he loved. He could give you the world and still come to you like a wounded dog, begging for forgiveness because he thought he wasn’t enough.

It was infuriating - for all the deep psychological reasons you could analyze for hours, but also for a much pettier one: when it was his turn to cook, instead of letting you do the dishes like the so-called rule dictated, he just… did them anyway.

And thus, the noble Mr. Clean - brave warrior of dish duty, his arms submerged in treacherous, frothy depths - found himself utterly helpless against the sudden, most dreadful buzzing of his phone.

A cruel twist of fate, indeed!

Stranded, defenseless, bound by duty to his porcelain captors, he could do nothing but stand there, a tragic figure of great importance, cruelly denied his right to immediately bestow his undivided attention upon whatever poor soul dared summon him.

Oh, the agony! The injustice! How swiftly the mighty are humbled… by a sink full of bubbles.

That was because, logically, if even a single drop of water touched his phone, he would instantly lose all of the very important, highly classified FBI secrets stored inside. Of course, phones couldn't possibly be waterproof.

Ha, imagine?! What a concept.

“Who is it?” Aaron asked, still scrubbing at your wine glass like he was trying to erase its entire existence.

Which – by the way - was completely pointless, considering that in less than five minutes, he planned on refilling it with some more. A different wine, yes. But for God’s sake, you weren’t going to die if the last few drops of white mixed with the red.

…What a fussy man.

“Penelope,” you replied, admiring the view.

What a view, really. That man was all legs and no ass, and you were finally learning to appreciate it. 

“Ignore it,” he said, not even turning around.

Unfortunately for him - and for the HR department still blissfully unaware that their most serious, by-the-book boss was fraternizing with a subordinate - you were a profiler.

The U.S. government literally paid your bills every single month because you were exceptionally good at reading people.

And the way he answered? Yeah, that wasn’t the tone of a man casually dismissing an unimportant text. No, that was the tone of a man caught red-handed, scrambling for plausible deniability.

Embarrassed. Secretive. Suspicious. Frankly, if you didn’t already know what he was hiding, you’d be halfway to slapping cuffs on him. Wouldn’t even be the first time.

And so you read it – out loud.

Penelope Garcia, 7:56 PM:

hotch sir hotch bossman sir, i am DYING please tell me if you found out who her mystery boyfriend is i am suffering!!!!!!!! i know you know. i know it in my heart. if you can’t say it just give me a hint. a tiny one. a cryptic riddle. a blink. i will take anything.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

By her, of course, she meant you - because despite a few months of keeping your relationship under wraps, you still hadn’t gotten around to telling the team. Your colleagues. Your friends. Your unwanted, overly nosy adopted children.

That their elusive "mystery boyfriend" was, in fact, your mutual boss.

You were going to tell them. Eventually.

Didn’t know when. But you would.

Then again, it wasn’t like you were surrounded by some of the best profilers in the country, trained to pick up on the slightest behavioral shift.

It’s not like the second two incredibly touch-starved people like you and Aaron started walking around with even a fraction of happiness, that wouldn’t immediately raise suspicions.

…Except, apparently, it hadn’t.

Because somehow, the team had only managed to land on half the conclusion: you were seeing someone.

But Aaron? Not even a blip on their radar.

It was almost impressive, really. The answer was so obvious that they had discarded it entirely, still wandering around in the dark, trying to piece together a puzzle that was sitting right in front of their faces.

Just like Penelope was doing now, so desperate for some reason that she was straight-up asking him outright - when not that long ago, she still thought twice before even making a dirty joke in his presence.

And so, you got up, walked over to Aaron, and held the phone directly under his nose. “What does this mean?”

He squinted at the screen, then at you. “Oh, honey, I don’t know. She always sends me that - I don’t understand what exactly equals the sign of integration”.

…What?

You were suddenly just as confused as he was.

He blinked at you, eyes wide, eyebrows raised in that utterly sincere, slightly bewildered way of his. “That sign before it,” he said, completely lost. “It looks Chinese. Thought you knew Chinese, sweetheart.”

…What?

Oh, for the love of God.

If this man hadn’t already seen the absolute worst horrors the world had to offer, you would fight for his innocence with your nails, your teeth, and - if absolutely necessary - one of the worst shooting records ever logged in the Bureau.

You looked at the screen again.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

Oh.

Oh, that’s what had confused him.

“Aaron,” you said gently, doing your absolute best not to kiss him right then and there, “that is a cat.”

You sighed, then pointed at the message again. “By the way, the ‘sign’ in the middle is in Korean, not Chinese.”

He looked at the screen again - then back at you. “…Cat equals sign of integration?”

“No, honey,” you said, barely suppressing your smile, tapping the little text emoji. “It’s just a cat.”

He studied it for another second. “Oh.”

There. That did it. You gave in. Leaned in and pressed a loud smooch to his cheek.

At least your dignity was still intact - he had no idea why you’d done it, just assumed it was one of those spontaneous bursts of affection that came with being hopelessly in love.

Honeymoon phase truly did work wonders.

“Do you think I can have the cat too?” he asked, grabbing the bottle of red and a corkscrew.

That was a trap.

Because Aaron Hotchner still signed every single text he sent.

And while it wasn’t an issue when he was sending something standard -

Lawyer, 6:17 PM:

They found a new body, we’re gathering at the precinct in 30.

A.H.

- it became a lot more unsettling when he sent the filthiest, most depraved things you’d ever read, only to end them with that stiff little A.H. like he was dictating official Bureau correspondence.

Lawyer, 11:51 PM:

Sweetheart, if only these stupid walls weren’t so thin, I’d have you right here with me, bent over, face pressed against this mattress, making you come so many times you’d forget your own name. At least three. Maybe four, if I’m feeling generous.

A.H.

So now, standing in his kitchen, watching him pour wine like he hadn’t just permanently scarred you with his painfully bureaucratic approach to sexting, you knew that if you admitted he could simply copy-paste that ‘cat equals integration sign,’ it would only be a matter of time before you were subjected to something truly traumatizing, like -

Lawyer, very-late-office-hour PM:

It’s your fault I’m getting distracted with the paperwork, because I’m still thinking about how good you tasted last night while sitting on my face. God, I can still feel your thighs shaking, you were so sweet for me, honey, so fucking perfect.

P.S. How many reports do you still have left? Because I’ve been thinking about having you on my tongue again before the night is over. I think I’ve got about an hour or so left but then I’m all yours.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

A.H.

Yeah. No. Absolutely not.

That man could not be trusted with the cat.

“Oh, honey,” you cooed, pressing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades as your fingers brushed over his back. “I don’t think you can get it. She must have programmed it herself into her phone.”

You truly hoped you were as convincing as he was clueless about text etiquette.

“It’s a pity,” he sighed, both of your wine glasses in hand as he made his way to the couch. “I would have loved to send you the cat.”

…Of course he would. Smug ass.

But as the words left his mouth, something shifted in him - just barely. A pause that didn’t usually belong there... weird.

Still, you followed, watching as he settled in, patting the cushion beside him with a half-smile. “Come here, sweetheart.”

A misleading gesture, considering his legs were very much spread - a much clearer invitation. At least, that’s how you chose to interpret it.

Because you could swear - those legs spoke to you. Called to you. So you slid right into your rightful seat - his lap.

…Would have been rude not to answer.

“Back to Garcia,” he said, resting a hand on your thigh as he handed you your painstakingly polished wine glass - so clean, so immaculately spotless, that the red wine inside looked redder than red. A real masterpiece, Mr. Clean. “She doesn’t seem to be letting up about finding out who you’re dating… This is the fourth message this week.”

You raised a brow, taking a sip of your wine. “Well, she’s second only to you when it comes to being nosy about gossip.”

Aaron exhaled, shaking his head, that same small half-smile back on his lips.

That particular smile.

The one he used when he was trying to convince someone he was fine when, in reality, he was not - when he was trying to reassure everyone else while simultaneously refusing to admit, even to himself, that something was eating him alive.

Oh, now you knew what this was about.

He had definitely practiced this conversation in his head - refined it down to the perfect phrasing. Measured. Logical. Reassuring.

A version so well-rehearsed, so carefully constructed, that he’d convinced himself first before trying to convince you - that this didn’t scare him.

That this was just another rational step forward.

That it was fine.

Because if he could make it sound easy, maybe it would be.

Maybe it would give you something solid to lean on, because the last thing he wanted was for you to feel like you were standing on shaky ground with someone just as fractured as he was.

But in the end, even the best-laid words couldn’t withstand the weight of his emotions - whether he liked it or not, even rocks are meant to erode.

“I think it’s time we come clean to the team,” he admitted, completely veering off-script - though, of course, he still made sure to soften the blow with a kiss to your temple.

Not that it made much difference. You both knew this moment was inevitable, but somehow, you’d managed to delude yourselves into thinking that if you just kept putting it off, the perfect time would miraculously appear.

At first, you’d delayed it until things were official.

Then, because you needed to be sure this could work in the long run.

Then, because you wanted time to just enjoy each other.

Truthfully? If it were entirely up to the two of you, you’d probably keep postponing it indefinitely - at least until the day you were both retired, far away from any fraternization rules or painfully awkward team dynamics.

Unless, of course, your eyes had been deceiving you all along, or life decided to be cruel and rip this happiness away from you before you ever even got the chance. All you could do was hope not.

Aaron sighed, watching you carefully. “So, how do you want to do this?”

At least he could take comfort in the fact that his very specific plan of having wine while discussing this was still intact - especially since the very large sip you took the second he asked hadn’t gone unnoticed.

He huffed a laugh.

Yeah.

This was going to be fun.

“Are we sure we have to?” You groaned, tilting your head back against his shoulder.

“I’m afraid so, sweetheart. It’s the only way to keep them from getting the satisfaction of figuring it out first and do this our way…”

It was his turn to take a long sip now… he surely wasn’t thrilled about the lack of an actual game plan.

“…Still need to figure out what exactly we mean by ‘our way,’” he admitted. “But, you know… that’s what these are for.”

He tapped a finger against his temple, then against yours, clearly implying that your very skilled, highly trained profiler brains would surely work this out.

You, however, were placing your bets on your problem-solving skills drastically improving after a few more glasses of wine, because right now?

“We are so fucked,” you commented.

Aaron clinked his glass against yours, deadpan. “Completely.”

You both took long, slow sips of wine like it might somehow provide divine intervention.

It didn’t. You were indeed left pretty much alone in this.

You sighed, setting your glass down on the coffee table. “Well, you definitely have the face of someone who already has a plan...” You reached up, brushing your fingers along his jaw. “...a very handsome face.”

Cheesy. But deserved.

Aaron chuckled. “I believe…” He kissed you on the cheek – twice - before setting his own glass down too. “…We should tell them directly. Get ahead of it. Lay it out as matter-of-factly as possible.”

“Matter-of-factly?”

He nodded, all serious, like he hadn’t just suggested the worst possible approach.

“Sweetheart…” You pinched his cheek, making him scrunch his nose, hoping – more like praying - that it would snap him out of whatever fantasy land of logic, reason, and good intentions he was apparently living in.

“If we tell them directly, Penelope will throw an actual partypersonally design matching t-shirts, and have the entire team wear them.” You paused, leveling him with a look. “And you know it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I know.”

“Emily and Derek will immediately start making jokes like two middle schoolers who just learned what sex is and will not let us breathe.”

“I know.”

“JJ will be quiet but then ask all of a sudden, ‘So when’s the wedding?’ which will restart the chaos all over again.”

“I know.”

You turned to face him, deadly serious. “Spencer-”

“-Will hit us with a full statistical analysis of workplace relationships,” Aaron finished, exhaling sharply, already bracing himself.

Because there was only one team member left to account for - the worst of them all.

“And… oh God… Dave…”

And with that horrifying realization, he did the only logical thing a man in his position could do - he face-planted directly into your chest with a dramatic, muffled groan of pure defeat.

You blinked down at him, amused. “Honey…”

Why was he even so touch starved like that?

“All I ask,” came his muffled voice, still very much nestled between your breasts, “is five minutes of peace.”

You snorted. “You do realize this isn’t exactly discouraging me from making fun of you, right?”

He sighed again. “You do realize that if you keep laughing, you’re just shoving them further into my face?”

…Damn him and his irritating ability to state the obvious.

You sighed, fingers absentmindedly combing through his short spikes of hair. “…So we’re back to square one.”

Aaron exhaled, still very much face-first in his chosen safe haven. “Unfortunately.”

You hummed, “Okay, hypothetically, if we just… never tell them, how long do you think we could get away with it?”

That was so absurd that it actually made him lift his head. He blinked at you, utterly offended by the suggestion.

“I am not spending the next decade pretending I don’t stare at your ass every time you walk away.”

…Alright. That was definitely the wine talking.

In vino veritas, as the Romans said. Wine makes people say dumb shit: the truth.

“Wow. Didn’t know you were a poet, Hotchner.”

His lips twitched. “Don’t pretend you’re above it, because I catch you every time you drift off during briefings just to stare right at-”

“Alright, alright,” you cut him off, slapping a hand over his mouth before he could fully call you out... he was not happy about it. “We’re both shameless…"

You needed an exit strategy. Fast.

You reached for his wine glass over the coffee table. “Well, at least the bright side of telling them is that we won’t have to schedule our coffee breaks in advance anymore and pretend to look surprised when we see each other.”

And all of that was just for one single moment.

The fleeting brush of fingertips as you handed him the cup you always poured for him.

The way his hand was always warmer than yours, despite the fact that you were the one holding the scalding mug, as if basic thermodynamics simply did not apply to Aaron Hotchner.

And if it was one of those days, sometimes, there’d be a little extra something.

A longer touch.

Eye contact that lingered just a second too long.

A slow sip from his cup while still holding your gaze, and suddenly, it felt indecent - like something you definitely shouldn’t be doing in broad daylight, let alone in a federal building.

And now - here, in the comfort of his apartment, with nothing and no one to stop you - he reached for the wine glass you were offering, except… he wasn’t actually reaching for the glass.

He was just holding your hand.

Aaron chuckled, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your knuckles. “I think we’re holding onto this touch just a little too long,” he murmured, nuzzling into you, his breath warm against your ear. “Might start looking suspicious.”

Didn’t he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Oh, also some-” you started, or at least tried to, because as if everything else wasn’t enough, now he was kissing just behind your ear, his lips just brushing the sensitive skin there, warm, and slow, and wet and… God…

Okay. Okay.

Maybe it was the wine.

Maybe it was the fact that you were always kind of a little bit obsessed with him.

Either way, the result was the same: you really, really wanted him right now.

You sighed, tilting your head to grant him a little more access - but not too much, or you might actually end up using the full length of his three-seater couch instead of stubbornly remaining curled up in the same cramped two-foot space you’d unofficially claimed as your own. Ergo - going horizontal with him instead of just being seated on his lap.

“I thought we were having a serious discussion,” you murmured, though the breathy edge to your voice wasn’t exactly helping your case.

Aaron hummed in response, slowly dragging his lips from behind your ear down along the curve of your jaw, pressing a kiss at the hinge. “We are.” Another kiss. “What were you starting to say, sweetheart?”

And another one.

You tried to think. Really, you did.

But it was getting increasingly difficult with his mouth still very much on your skin, moving towards places that were making it exponentially harder to form coherent thoughts.

You would’ve made a mental note to never wear anything that resembled a tank top around him again, if only you had the actual brain capacity to form any notes right now.

“Aaron-”

Aaron smirked against your skin. “You were saying?”

…Blank. Absolutely blank.

Your brain stalled for a solid three seconds before mercifully rebooting.

“I-” You licked your lips, cleared your throat. “Penelope.”

That, thankfully, was enough of a keyword to get him to back off - though, the second he did, you already desperately missed the warmth of his mouth on your skin.

He tilted his head, “Penelope?”

You swallowed. “She’s… gonna be beaming.”

Aaron blinked at you. “Beaming.”

“Yeah.” You smiled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, because God, he was too cute when he was confused like this. “Her and Kevin have been desperate for another couple to go out with. Ever since JJ and Will stopped leaving the house because they’re too busy baby-proofing every square inch of their lives.”

Aaron’s brows furrowed slightly. “And by ‘go out with,’ you mean double dates.”

You hummed, fingers grazing his cheek. “Mmm. Yeah. Double dates.”

Aaron didn’t even hesitate. “Oh, absolutely not.”

You blinked, pulling back slightly. “Wait, what?”

His face was resolute. “I’m not doing double dates.”

You squinted at him. “Okay, but why?”

And that’s how you learned that if there was one thing your boyfriend hated - more than messy paperwork, more than delayed flights, more than the Bureau’s budgeting meetings - it was double dates.

Not specifically with Penelope and Kevin. God, no. He was practically the puppet master of their relationship in the first place. Just… double dates in general.

“They’re impractical,” he said.

You snorted. “What do you mean?”

Aaron sighed. “They are a waste of time. You sit there, and for the first fifteen minutes, it’s fine. The usual small talk, polite conversation…”

You nodded, barely biting back a grin. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Honestly, this just sounded like some classic Aaron Hotchner being the most adorable introvert to ever exist.

He shot you a look, deadly serious. “It’s a trap.” You nearly cooed. Adorable. “Because at some point, you end up talking one-on-one with someone from the other couple. And right when the conversation is actually getting interesting-”

He suddenly paused.

His hand started at your shoulder, innocent enough - until it wasn’t, until it drifted lower, fingertips skimming down until they found your thigh, before sliding inward, squeezing your soft flesh there.

“See?” Aaron murmured, voice deceptively casual. “It starts off innocently. A hand on the shoulder…”He angled his fingers just a notch further up your upper thigh. “…Then the thigh. Then-”

He leaned in, kissing you just at the corner of your mouth.

"A little kiss here," he murmured, lips barely brushing your skin.

Then another - softer, lingering just at the very edge of your lips.

"A little peck there."

Okay.

Ahem.

For a man who hated double dates, he was making a very strong case for them.

This was clearly foreplay.

Had to be foreplay.

You chose to interpret it as foreplay.

So, naturally, just as you were about to pull him in properly - to finally taste the wine on his lips – he pulled back.

Mixed signals whore.

“And then,” he continued, and you swore his voice had gotten even lower - sluttier, if you were being honest - "it escalates.”

...Wine-induced yapper. "Because one couple decides a little peck isn’t enough, so they turn and start devouring each other’s faces… in public.”

The wine that was in your system, instead, suggested you should have him biblically, right here, right now, on his couch.

“Care to demonstrate this part too?” You licked your lips, tilting your head.

Aaron sighed “Honey.” You knew you were in trouble the moment he smirked. “You’re demonstrating my point…”

Your stomach dropped.

“…You want more.” Aaron tutted, shaking his head, feigning disappointment. “Of course you want more. A chaste kiss isn’t enough. How could it be, sweetheart?”

Hell yes you wanted more.

Badly.

You might have even nodded without meaning to.

“But imagine if this was happening in public. In front of two other people. What about them?” he murmured, tilting his head, voice dropping into something dark, silky, dangerous. “In front of two other people.”

You swallowed, very much not thinking about them right now.

“Because at that point, they only have two choices: they either sit there - third-wheeling, watching - or…” His hand slid beneath your shirt, fingers splaying wide over your bare waist, gripping, pulling you that much closer. "… they start doing it too."

Your breath hitched. “Aaron-”

"With just a kiss, it creates an environment," he murmured, lips grazing the shell of your ear, "where both couples get competitive. Where they start copying each other - but making it more…"

He dragged his nose along the curve of your jaw, the ghost of his lips tracing just behind it. "Passionate."

A teeth-grazing kiss against your pulse.

A slow drag of his lips down the column of your throat, before he made his way back up, tilting your chin up with his fingers just so, forcing you to look at him.

And God, that look.

"More tongue," he continued, letting you see it first - his own darting out, wetting his lips just before he brushed them over yours.

Not kissing.

Not yet.

“More biting.” Aaron caught your lower lip between his teeth, pulling just enough to confirm what you already knew -

He tasted like red wine.

Rich. Dark. Addictive.

And so did you.

“More touching.” His hand drifted, fingertips just skimming over your ribs, teasing along the underside of your breast - so close, so close, before he let it trail lower again, just as his lips ghosted over your ear.

"More sounds."

You barely bit back the breathy, desperate little moan clawing its way up your throat because -

Aaron shoved you off his lap.

In one fluid motion, he shifted, pressing you back into the couch, caging you in beneath him, his arms bracketing either side of your head.

His knee slotted between your thighs, pressing up just slightly - just enough to make you gasp, make your hips twitch without thinking.

You were pretty sure now that this was, in fact, foreplay.

“At that point,” he murmured, lowering himself, pressing his body against yours, pinning you down with nothing but his weight, “if you’re already getting ideas…”

Aaron rolled his hips against you, his knee shifting just enough to have you sucking in a sharp breath. “…it’s better off just staying home. Because at least then,” he whispered, “we can do this.”

And then he kissed you. Properly.

Deep and hungry, pressing you down into the cushions until you moaned into his mouth, pulling him closer as one of his hands slipped under your shirt.

“You-” you swallowed, trying to find words, but he stole them from you, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw. “You expect me to believe this is why you hate double dates?”

“I expect you to understand,” he murmured against the sensitive skin of your neck, “that if I ever go on one…” he nipped at your pulse, making you gasp. “…I’ll be thinking about this the entire time.”

Then - click.

The sound of the button of your pants being undone, followed shortly by the hiss of your zipper. You felt the warmth of his fingertips slipping beneath the waistband of your pants, resting over your hip bone.

Well, fuck.

“You’ll be sitting across from me,” he continued, voice so unfairly composed, so infuriatingly smooth, “pretending to listen to whatever they’re taking about.”

He tilted his head, kissing along your collarbone, then much lower. You made a mental note to always wear anything resembling a tank top in his presence from now on.

“And the entire time…” his fingers dipped just slightly beneath the elastic of your underwear.

You shuddered. “Aaron.”

He hummed, pleased - so deeply pleased - before finally sliding lower, his fingers finally brushing right where you needed him most.

You whimpered.

“I’ll be remembering,” he murmured, “exactly how you sound right now.”

Your back arched into his touch, fingers digging into his shoulders, nails biting into muscle as his fingers moved.

“And how you look,” he added, his lips brushing the curve of your breast, “when you fall apart for me.”

Your breath hitched-

And then.

Then-

He stopped.

Just - stopped.

His hands left you completely as he leaned back, settling onto his knees above you, looking far too pleased with himself.

You gaped at him, betrayed. “Are you kidding me?”

Aaron just smirked, gaze flicking over you, taking in your flushed cheeks, your uneven breathing, the way your body was still desperately aching for him.

“See?” he shrugged, voice so damn smug. “This is why I hate double dates.”

How funny would it be if these ended up being his last words?

You huffed, adjusting yourself on the couch, crossing your arms like you weren’t still ridiculously turned on and very annoyed about it. “Alright, you know what? Fine. No need to suffer through a double date if we just… conveniently wait to tell the team about us until after JJ and Will start going back out with Penelope and Kevin.”

Aaron smirked.

At least you’d both come to an agreement - the exact same procrastination tactic you’d been using, just with a new and improved excuse attached.

“…Smart girl.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I wouldn’t dare, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, still breathing heavily, still so deeply unsatisfied, as Aaron pressed a kiss to your temple, then stood, stretching his arms.

“I’ll clean the wine glasses,” he mused, already heading toward the kitchen. “And then I’ll be back to you.”

You stared at him.

He paused, glancing at you over his shoulder, smirking.

You huffed, sarcastic, “glad we could work this out.”

You were not glad. Not at all. Especially because not even a full minute later, your phone buzzed with a text.

From him.

From Mr. Clean himself, who was currently just a couple rooms away from you.

Lawyer, 8:43 PM:

Sweetheart, I hope you're ready, because I’m going to spread you out on that couch and fuck you so deep, you’ll still feel me when you sit at your desk tomorrow.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

A.H.

"Garcia just told me how to get the cat," came his voice from the kitchen - so damn smug you could hear the smirk in it, followed the sound of his footsteps getting closer.

Before you could turn, before you could say anything, he was there - leaning in from behind the couch, arms sliding around you, caging you in, whispering into your ear -

"It was just a simple copy-paste."

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[blu3haw4]

Happy Clexaweek everyone! I bring to you today a new idea born from... such a random post. An anon sent me a prompt for introvert college gamer Clarke and Lexa and I couldn't resist. I build up their characters through asks and I've been having a lot of fun with it, So

Here's... (already on AO3)

The Sex Life Of Gamer Girls

Summary: Clarke and Lexa are introvert college student who unknowingly attend the same school. They both love gaming and they meet online, they love chatting with each other, and there's lots of flirting online as well. After learning they attend the same school -and a little awkward silence- they make plans to meet up.

“You’re still in your underwear!” Octavia groans, closing the bathroom door forcefully behind her.

Lexa turns to frown at her, despite knowing that attitude is more than justified. She’s changed too many times to count, and they don’t really have that much time until they must be at the theater for sound check with the rest of the orchestra.

It’s just… that she has a few options. Three pairs of pants and three blouses give her room to try them all a few times in different combinations, and that’s not even adding the jackets, which may change the outfit completely-

“Why are you so worried, I though Sky was just a friend”

“She is! And it’s Clarke-”

“Not the point” Octavia rolls her eyes; she knows Clarke and Sky are the same person.

“That she’s my friend doesn’t mean I don’t want to impress her” Lexa deadpans.

“Okay, and you don’t think the master solo you’re playing tonight will do the trick?” Lexa just huffs at her and turns to examine her clothes again.

Octavia groans again.

“Just tell me what’s up” She rolls her eyes falling into her bed. They both know what’s up, they’ve been best friends for too long and roommates for what feels like even longer to not know what is up.

Still, neither would say it.

“You’ve never cared about your looks other than the prize and brand of your clothes-“

“That’s not true”

“Yes, it is”

“No it’s not”

“And understatement then”

“Overstatement”

“Whatever!” Octavia growls and Lexa can’t help the triumphant smirk “If she’s really just a friend go black dress-pants, black shirt and the grey vest. You look cool, you dick”

Lexa’s smirk falls, she utters a response about the word sounding like dyke just to keep Octavia talking as she turns back to her clothes with a frown.

She knows she looks cool with the vest, profession even, some might say. The colors, or rather shades, are fitting for the play and she knows it’s going to be comfortable on her seat. And she knows Clarke is just her friend, her online friend that she’s going to meet in real life for the very first time. After a year of playing together and recently after an awkward couple of months since they found out they go to the same school, but ultimately, just her friend,

But she might be more, closer than expected, they flirt a lot, or at least Lexa thinks they do, sometimes, not that she has ever asked or acknowledge it with her, she doesn’t want to or would admit it -right now-…

“What if…” She sighs through her mouth, sitting down on Octavia’s bed and avoiding eye contact with her “cool… is not… what I’m going for”

A second goes by, then another. She counts to three before gazing over to Octavia. She’s narrowing her eyes and it’s clear she’s trying to tame the smirk raising, Lexa can’t help but join her.

“If… you would rather, let’s say, look… hot. Go with the leather pants and the green knitted sweater with the… big crunch turtleneck” Octavia hums “Your figure does “Woop!” She says, making an hourglass silhouette with her hands and winking at her.

“I don’t have an hourglass figure” Lexa rolls her eyes at Octavia’s defiant laugh. She stands to get the sweater regardless. It wasn’t within her first options, but it should work, she can envision the outfit in her head and… yeah, she does look hot in that.

“The tight ones?”

“No, the others. With the belt. You could also do heels.”

“I’m not doing heels” Lexa rolls her eyes, putting on an undershirt before grabbing the sweater.

“Your ass pops with heels. Sexy as fuck”

Lexa pauses, with the turtleneck half over her face, considers for a second and turns to look at Octavia. She’s already smirking, Lexa huffs as she pulls the sweater the rest of the way down revealing her own smirk.

“I’m just saying, Sky is going to love it, she would have to be blind to not want to kiss you”

“It’s Clarke” Lexa corrects as she slides the pants up and bounces to get them past her hips. She ignores most of the sentence and refuses to acknowledge the blush rising to her cheeks.

“It’s the same person! We both know who I mean”

“But I need us to get used to calling her Clarke”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve been calling her Sky since we met, and she asked me to please call her Clarke when we see each other”

“Okay… but why?”

“Because it’s her name!” Lexa rolls her eyes. And okay, that is maybe a bullshit answer, but she doesn’t have to explain everything to Octavia.

---

There’s no need to, really, when Octavia has heard it all already. From the first time Lexa realized they never addressed each other by any names, through teasing when she heard ‘princess’ coming out of Lexa’s mouth for the first time, all the way to a few days ago when Clarke asked to "please, for the love of god, don't you dare call me Sky.”

It was a funny thing, a few memories that Lexa held dearly, close to her heart.

The first time they talked they greeted each other with ‘hi there’s and ‘hello’s and continued to talk directly about the game, they told each other coordinates and gave each other directions, they were the only two playing so there wasn’t any real need to clarify who they were talking to.

It went like that the first few times they played together, just greeting each other with ‘hi’s and ‘hey there’s while Lexa started to realize there were only two ways she could think of to call her new duo and one of them was ‘Princess’.

The first time she called her Sky wasn’t even talking to her, Lexa was telling Octavia all about her new online friend and she went with it and it just kinda… stuck. She still didn’t bring it up to Clarke for another while, Clarke hadn’t brought it up either, but they’ve talked once about potentially playing in teams of four which would inevitably force them to talk about it.

“We were just talking the other day that it would be fun to play squad but” Lexa tasked, she didn’t know why she felt so nervous “I mean, I would have to ask her a name or something, right? If we’re going to be talking with more people, I mean… But her username is SkyPrincess… and I’m not about to call her Princess”

Octavia eyed her suspiciously, because of course she noticed Lexa’s nervousness, she could’ve brought it up directly to this Sky, but instead she asked her best friend for advice.

So, it was her job… to tease her.

"I mean if you wanted to” she said suggestively.

"Octavia! No" Lexa blushed, because… maybe she did. A little. Secretly.

"Okay, but keep it in mind" Octavia winked at her before tasking and turning more serious “Just ask her. I mean it’s not like GaHeda gives any indication of your name. It translates to Girl Commander”

“She could think of calling me Heda”

“Didn’t you already tell her what it means? She would be having the same argument we’re having with her friends”

Which might as well be the case, she didn’t ask, but she got a better grip on her emotions by the time the subject of playing squads was brought up again.

“Should we play with open mic?” She asked.

“I mean… sure, it would be   fun. Does it matter?”

“Uhm not really I just… I would need to know... how to call you, so we can communicate better.” Lexa paused. “Cause I’m not gonna call you Princess"

“What if I am an actual princess?”

“I... you aren’t- are you?” Lexa stutters, not that she believed so, but… could it-

Clarke snorts, unable to keep up her own lie “no… but I could've been” she joked, oh so pleased with herself.

Lexa snorted and rolled her eyes “Can't imagine a princess using Fornite’s open mic”

“Are you a princess? How would you know?”

“I could be. And that's the reason I wouldn't call you a princess”

“…You just stepped on your own lies” Clarke giggled out after a second.

“Whatever!” Lexa rolled her eyes again, she was smiling though, Clarke always made her laugh whether she was trying or not “Can I call you Sky or are you going to tell me your name?” She tried, smiling through it, no longer nervous.

“Will you tell me yours? Because I don't want to call you "Heda" now that I know it means commander... even though you are bossy” Clarke started laughing,

“You are bossy!” Lexa laughed with her.

They calmed into a few giggles “Okay, okay. I must admit I do like sky…” Clarke chewed her lip and considered for a second before adding “but uhm, my name is Clarke”

“Klark” Lexa tried out, and it made her smile.

“Mmh, sure, click the K however you'd like” She couldn’t help but murmur, trying to tame her smile.

“I'll stick with Sky then” It’s the tasked respond she gets, making her laugh a full belly laugh. She could almost imagine the eyeroll that accompanied it, if only she knew how Lexa looked.

“I should make you call me Heda just for that” Lexa huffed while she was still laughing.

“I'll call you Gabe if you don't tell me your name” She shot back, still giggling when she answered, not missing a beat.

“Noo! Iugh, that's awful” Lexa sounded truly disgusted “It's G-AH not G-ei-b. You're not trying to say g-ei-m. It's like g-ah-m-ah” she clarified, it was a different language after all.

Before Clarke could come up with a joke she added “aaand! My name is Lexa”

It paused Clarke. It’s pretty, it fits her in a way that she can’t fully understand. She tested it in her head for a second, mouthing it as her eyes roamed her screen, dreaming of putting a face to the name.

“Lex-ah” She smiled, unable to be serious for too long “... not lex-ei?”

“I’m disconnecting” Lexa sighed immediately through what Clarke simply knew to be a tamed smile.

“No wait!” She called out anyways, giving the seriousness Lexa was surely looking for… only for a little bit “Lex-aH is fine, Lex-aH is perfect, beautiful even"

She said without thinking, not realizing she put no filter in her words. She didn’t take it back, not embarrassed, no regrets. She hoped Lexa liked it… or at least didn’t hate it.

“You done?” Lexa asked in a dry tone that was just so… her. So used to be serious but hiding laughter behind it.

Clarke couldn’t help but smile knowing that she had got to know Lexa enough at that point to be able to tell those little details.

“If you forgive me, yeah” She tried with her brightest smile, knowing that even if Lexa couldn’t see it, she could surely hear it.

“Let's play then Sky”

“You're really not going to say my name again?”

“Noup” and there was laughter, slipping through a single word and making Clarke smile and giggle.

Clarke didn’t argue, she did laugh the first twenty times Lexa called her Sky, not caring that their different teammates couldn’t understand what was so funny.

Lexa continued to call her Sky every time after that day, and Clarke did end up calling Lexa Heda sometimes, mostly as a way to mock her bossy-ness, laughing at her -and maybe flirting a little- after Lexa described exactly what she needed to do.

Lexa got her turn as well, when Clarke was feeling serious and she took it upon herself to boss her around about weapon load-out and heals and locations, she would just throw in a “yess, princess!” not only making her blush but immediately disarming her.

It was annoying that she liked it so much.

Annoying that she liked Sky just as much, because no one else called her that, it was their thing, Lexa’s names only for her. There was always a specific tone that came with it as well, a tone to shifted and morphed through the months, when there used to be a teasing tilt now there was a softness to it, an affectionate tilt to the word, maybe a flirtatious one as well… or maybe Clarke was projecting.

There have been other names recently, proposedly thrown in there to test the waters on what exactly their relationship was about. It was a constant state of doubt, of overthinking and questioning if what she was doing was okay, if Lexa liked it or was just been polite, of whether she was actually clueless, and Clarke wouldn’t -couldn’t- blame her, she didn’t know what exactly she was doing either.

She couldn’t say that it had started recently, but it definitely felt like there had been a pause when they found out they went to the same school, and then they were back to it even stronger after the holidays.

It was a little over a year since the first time they played together when they talked about it for real. They both knew the other was a college student, but they didn’t know much else about it. They hadn’t really talked about it in depth, just the classic ‘oh I need to study for a class’ or ‘I have this group assignment’ and then they were back to talking about the game.

The only reason Lexa started asking more questions that time was because Clarke had joined the game three hours later than they had agreed, she was three hours late because a group meeting for a class she didn’t even like had run that late because everyone was knee on arguing with each other and they couldn’t agree on anything. Clarke was so tired and so pissed, Raven was out at a party with Nyilah and Echo had a terrible headache and Clarke just needed to complain about it to someone.

That night was the first time she shared about her career choice -by complaining about the classes that didn’t fit with it anymore- how she had only truly realized what she wanted mid semester and now she was stressing with a pair of classes that she didn’t like or care for, and it felt good to share with Lexa this new part of herself one she was really and recently excited about.

In turn, Lexa shared a little about her life as well, she told Clarke about the classes she was learning were not what she wanted, those subjects she learned she only liked as extracurriculars, she told her about her extracurriculars, and that it was very likely that anytime she said she couldn’t make it after class it was probably due to them, much more probable than her needing to study.

They talked about the different courses their schools offered and were surprised to realized they offered pretty much the same ones, they got suspicious when Lexa mentioned a science fair she attended a few day prior and Clarke remembered there had been one at her school as well. Neither of them really wanted to ask because they were afraid to be right; Clarke had never pondered the idea of actually meeting Lexa in real life, but suddenly it became all too possible when Lexa cleared her throat and reluctantly asked.

“Hey uhm… Clarke?” and that was already a change, Lexa calling her by her name always meant serious, though until this point nothing had ever been truly serious “are you… attending *Polaris University*?”

“I… am. Are you as well?”

“…Yeah”

They were in the middle of a game, so it wasn’t hard to shift subject and ignore the awkwardness, one that was born from… very confusing feelings. Because they both knew that if this was anyone else, they would close the game and block the person to never have to worry about it again, instead, because they liked each other so much they were caught in this limbo of what the fuck to do.

When they ended second place in their game and the options’ screen loaded in, Lexa asked “Ready up?”

“Yep, let’s go” Clarke answered, and they played for another hour before saying goodnight like any other time, only difference been not asking when they would get on again.

It was around the end of November so it wasn’t hard to use Thanksgiving as a self-told excuse to not play much -Lexa lying more than Clarke about not having the time, she retired back to other, offline, games since she wasn’t spending it with her family, and there's only so much time you can spend talking with your best friend when only one of you has a social life and you live together-

After Thanksgiving is finals time so it’s the same thing, neither ask the other to play and they don’t really chat over discord, but it still feels like they are giving out excuses even when they’re only in their heads. It’s around this time that Clarke finally tells her roommate and college best friend, Raven, about Lexa. Over the past year Raven has heard her name a few times, she’s never bother asking more though since Clarke also played with other people including her childhood best friends.

Clarke has no filter that day, she sits on Raven’s bed and asks for her help on her dilemma, she explains how she met Lexa and how great she is and how much she likes playing with her and how good it felt to tell her about her life and feel like real friends -she didn’t mentioned the flirting- but how that had led to finding out they were in the same school which then led to the awkward thanksgiving break that made Clarke realize she didn’t want to lose her but didn’t know how to move forward. Ultimately the answer was giving it time and Raven promised not to tease her about it… in front of their roommates.

Finals roll out and then winter break and they finally calm down a bit, Lexa has been playing on her own since Clarke hasn’t even started the launcher, but then a day before Christmas she gets on.

They’re both in their hometowns, it’s late at night for both and it’s easy to send a group request and play together, blaming their quietness on tiredness and just chilling in every game. Just like that, they start playing regularly again, Lexa confesses to being practically free all break long and Clarke jokes -and means it- that she’s going to use her as an excuse to get aways from too much family time.

They go back to school, and they go a few weeks playing without mentioning it, each pondering in their heads the chances of running into each other, of whether they would recognize the other and whether they would want that to happen.

It feels like they get to the same conclusion at the same time when they start tiptoeing around the subject. The flirting turns ON for real, silly still because that's who they are but oh so clearly there. It’s fun, and it’s easy to forget they were troubled by about a month with this when now it felt so easy.

Clarke starts very consciously saying "sorry, babe" and "babe, c'mon" during fights, Lexa leans much more into calling Clarke Princess, either while watching her clutch a 1v2, or when she's found her favorite gun and she’s bringing it over to her - Clarke misses snipers this season but will settle for the hunting rifle recently added- Lexa also sneaks a little "goodnight princess" every so often, that makes it impossible for Clarke to sleep those night, blushing and smiling like a fool while trying not to imagine other scenarios where Lexa could call her that.

The nagging feeling that it can all fall apart if she pushed too far is still there, and then Lexa brings up meeting up, very casually mentioning she’s going to be playing with the orchestra -because yes, she plays the piano- and she would like if Clarke could assists “I think you could like it, it’s quiet an epic set”

---

The doubts and questioning and overthinking only increased after they had agreed to meet up. And they are right there as Clarke changes outfits so many times, not deciding on color palette or style, and what she’s supposed to do for her make up, and her hair-

She tried to do all this freaking out during the week, preparing beforehand was a smart move, even though she wasn’t supposed to be stressing; Lexa was her friend… had to be, at least until they met for real and she figured out her feelings.

Hiding away from Raven … wasn’t her smarted decision. She Is, after all the only person who knows about Lexa, or how Clarke feels about her. She already knew her so well - sharing a dorm and a room together for a year and a half does that- of course she clocks Clarke’s internal struggle the minute she walks into their room, dressed and ready to be Clarke’s plus-one, and finds her in front of the mirror with three different tops on her hands, and none of them on her.

“Girl, really?”

Clarke turns straddled, wide eyes pressing the tops close to her body and blinks.

Raven closes her eyes and sighs, if she wants to laugh, she covers it perfectly, she drops her bags and massages her forehead before getting to work.

“Did you pick the bottoms?”

“Uhm-”

“Cargos, then, you look good, you’ll feel comfortable and they’re easy to match” Raven grabs one of the tops from her hands and throws it back to her bed “That one doesn’t. Are you going light or dark?”

“I… was thinking light” she swallows, she’s not intimidated… at all, it’s just that Raven is weirdly this serious and she’s unsure how to react. That’s all.

“Light blue one, I love those. These two don’t match though” Raven says as she grabs the remaining two tops and throws them as well. She finds Clarke’s cargos and throws them at her “Put them on” She says as she starts rummaging through Clarke’s closet.

“Ohhh look at you! you’re perfect” Raven gasps after a second “Listen I know you love cleavage” she says turning to face Clarke “but you don’t own this top for no reason” she smirks showing her a knitted, sleeveless crop-top color cream.

She doesn’t wait for an answer before she’s throwing it at her, she throws herself to her bed with a satisfied sigh and lets Clarke get dressed.

“I think you know you need to go with the combat boots, and for coats, just pick any of the high-end long-ass ones, I know you own a bunch but just don’t take forever. Actually, just go with the cappuccino one”

Clarke simply nods, going over her large selection of coats in her head as she finished dressing, confirming that, yeah, the cappuccino one is perfect. She’s a bit surprised at how… honest Raven’s help seems to be, she know Raven is a good friend and cares about her, it’s just that her help is usually accompanied by-

“I don’t know why you’re so worried about this- Scratch that I know why” Raven interrupts her thoughts, turning to her with a smirk.

Oh, there it comes.

The teasing.

“Obviously you’re like in love with this girl or something-

“I’m not!”

“-but I mean come on, you already know each other, she already likes you!”

“I’m not worried”

“And I’m not a genius, Griffin don’t lie to me!” She rolls her eyes “if you weren’t worried you wouldn’t have told me about her when you found out she was studying here” she raises her eyebrows, giving her time to say something even when they both know she won’t.

“You say she’s your friend, and you think she’s inviting you to this thing as a friend… but you don’t know if you want her to be more -Your words, not mine-”

“I know! Can you just… forget it, just today. Just be there, don’t mention it” Clarke pouts and then spins in place showing off her outfit to Raven.

“Hot” Raven nods and winks, and as Clarke walks to her closet to grab her coat and boots Raven sighs, long and tired “Fiiine, but only because I love you. And only today, I want all the details tomorrow. No gatekeeping!”

“Some gatekeeping”

“Only if you get lucky. I’ll forgive you wanting to keep the details of some gross love making”

“Raven!” Clarke scowls, blushing.

“Do we have a deal?”

“Ugh!” Clarke simply groans and walks out with her purse and phone.

It’s nerve wrecking, to stand backstage knowing Sk-Clarke!- is out there and will be able to tell who Lexa is immediately. It’s a little ridiculous that she’s not nervous about playing but about Octavia getting recognized by Clarke while popping her head out of the curtain to try and see if she finds her.

“How do you not know how she looks?” Octavia huffs as she closes the curtains for a third time.

“I told you, she just said she’s blonde” Lexa shrugs, she doesn’t want to stress out -more than she already is- trying to find Clarke in the audience, the chances of recognizing her were practically zero, she had no description, no picture, nothing.

“How will you meet up then?”

“I told her I play the piano, and that we can meet after at the… one of the exits, I don’t remember now” Lexa shook her head. Octavia rolled her eyes painfully and returned to her position between the curtains trying to see if she could spot Clarke.

She gets scowled at by their maestro and sent to her seat behind her drums a minute later and Lexa follows suit sitting behind the piano. She tries to focus on the sheets of music written in front of her, but her head is already running over any possible place Clarke could be sitting and how she might look from there.

‘So much for not stressing’ She scowls at herself, but it doesn’t stop her from spotting every blonde in the audience as soon as the curtains open. She closes her eyes a minute later as the greeting applauses quiet down and she takes a deep breath, focusing, tuning everything else out.

The music’s start with the piano and Clarke can’t comprehend how incredible Lexa looks leading the group. Raven asks which one is Lexa as soon as the curtains open and Clarke has to pause for a second, realizing she’s going to need a minute -or an hour- to process seen Lexa for the first time, so she lies, she tells Raven she doesn’t know. She’s honest when she tells her that they’ve never shared any social media or pictures of each other, but the reality is that there’s only one piano, and the pianist fits the description perfectly.

Lexa looks… majestic. The sweater is very feminine, the crunch turtleneck softens her broad shoulder, the light behind her accentuates her waist, as does the thick belt attached to the high wait of her pants that have no right making her legs look that good while sitting down. Clarke can’t tell from this far, but she wonders if the color of the blouse is a choice to accentuate that of her eyes. Her hair is tied back at the top by a few braids and the rest falls like a cascade over her back, her posture is pristine and relaxed, she moves with the music naturally and graciously.

Clarke can’t imagine how she’s supposed to stay friends with this girl.

The set ends with an explosive assembly, Lexa meets eyes with Octavia, both sighing heavily out before smiling brightly. As usual the standing ovation and exit of the stage is a blur, Lexa find Octavia out of the shared changing room, and they hug the rest of the adrenaline out.

And while still high on that feeling, on that excitement that is amplified by the thought of meeting Clarke, her stomach still crunches when she spots a blonde girl walking towards her with purpose at their agree exit. She’s looking at her, a smile growing bigger with each step, because of course she already knew who Lexa was, she had to have known from the moment the curtains opened and must’ve been watching her the entire set.

Lexa is breathless before Clarke can even reach her, because not even all the excitement in her body can make her heart cartwheel the way seen Clarke for the first time does.

Clarke is… gorgeous, she looks like a model striding towards her, the cappuccino coat gives her an air of confidence that matches her steps, the cargo jeans frame her hips perfectly, giving a teas of her tummy before the crop-top covers her from and reveals the slightest bit of cleavage. Her hair is loose, and her waves bounce with her steps. She’s wearing eyeliner, a simple strip of black line makes the blue of her eyes shine, or maybe that’s just the excitement.

When she’s finally withing reach, Clarke goes in for a hug; she lifts her arms before the distance is gone, shrugging a little as a warning to Lexa, barely missteps, cautions for only a fraction of a second, before she goes fully into it, deciding that it’s fine, because they’re friends, they have been for over a year now and it might be the first time they see each other in person, but this is how Clarke greets her friends, and she won’t apologize unless Lexa complains.

She doesn’t, she actually likes it, so much that it feels unreal. Lexa’s not a hugger, she only ever hugs Octavia but other than that she keeps physical contact to a minimum, and yet, she melts into the feeling of Clarke’s body fitting into hers. Clarke pulls her close and Lexa wraps her arms around her waist over the coat, she closes her eyes against Clarke’s shoulder and squeezes back when Clarke pulls her even tighter against her and sighs into her neck.

It's definitely a little too long before they pull apart and Lexa spares a thought to Octavia before she’s looking at Clarke again and all thoughts evaporate.

“Hey there!” Clarke breathes out as her eyes jump all over Lexa’s face, trying to take it all in at the same time.

They haven’t let go at all when Lexa laughs a little nervous “Hi”

---

It takes them both right back to the first few times playing together, all the excitement and nervousness to get to hang out again, the comfort of having fun with someone new, the insecurity of sounding cool that faded through time as they learned to be goofy with each other.

The very first time they played together was in the early morning of November first, Lexa had dropped Octavia off at the custom party of one of their soccer teammates before getting back home to play fornite -with her spookiest skins- She decided to play duos a few hours in and opened her microphone.

Meanwhile, Clarke came back from a frat party she went to with her friends -who all remained there or migrated to other parties- a little tipsy and knee on continuing to have fun she immediately opens the voice chat and starts playing duos.

Lexa is the first person to join the voice chat since Clarke started.

Clarke is the first match since Lexa opened her microphone.

They greet each other and Clarke is very excited to talk to someone, Lexa isn’t sure if she finds it endearing yet, but she plays along. At first all they say are technical stuff; where the other likes to land, with what strategies the other plays, which are you chosen weapons and such, better at shooting or building and such.

They communicate well during fights, and they actually win their first game. From then Lexa gets more friendly, she asks more specific questions about the game and preference whiting it, she laughs and tags along to Clarke’s idea of switching skins anytime they lose, Clarke asks her which are her favorite and they spend an entire game discussing old ones and new ones, Lexa can’t believe she agrees to put on the Christmas ones nor can she understand how Clarke convinced her to ‘go festive’ to ‘call for the Christmas spirit’

They learn through games and games what better strategies fit them better, Lexa is less coy -and maybe a little flirty, Clarke has a pretty voice- when admitting to feeling like a pro at building and editing them. In turn, Clarke’s confidence turns up as well going over the top to prove that her aim is unmatched.

They win countless games, and they go on for hours until the sun rises and they’re both shocked that they’ve been up so long. Joking and laughing they promise to get on another time and try playing ranked since “Clearly we’ve found ourselves the wining duo”. They disconnect with quiet goodbyes and go to sleep with untamed smiles.

For months to come they play together often, they get each other’s discords to be able to invite each other more often and the audio is often better as well.  They keep playing for months and months, through winter, spring and summer all the way back to fall.

---

Octavia, who has known about Clarke all along, and is casually standing behind Lexa, can’t help but think “Friends’ my ass” as she tries not to react at Lexa’s very unusual response to a hug. She stands there for even longer than she expects after they part from the hug and just hold each other.

Eventually they seem to remember they’re not the only people in the world and Lexa turns to look at her, finally -and maybe reluctantly- letting go of Clarke.

“Uhm, Sk-Clarke” Lexa slips for a second and Clarke’s eyes widen even while her smile seem to grow “This is Octavia, my best friend” she finishes, turning to Octavia with a blush raising from her chest up to her cheeks.

“Hey, I’ve heard a lot about you… and heard you a lot” Octavia winks as she extends a hand.

“Sorry about that” Clarke breath a laugh while Lexa frowns at her. Before they can fall into some awkward argument or silence Clarke continues “Well, I would love to introduce you to my roommate, who so kindly joined me” she give Lexa a look, a smirk is there and Lexa’s eyes shine with hers “But she has abandoned me as soon as we stepped out”

“Oh no, were we that bad?” Lexa jokes, still smiling, unable to stop. She can’t explain it and doesn’t want to think about how Clarke’s mare presence makes her so happy.

“Oh no, god, you guys were amazing! It was honestly so enchanting, it felt magical”

“Thank you” Lexa and Octavia answered automatically, they could both hear the genuine tilt of happiness in Lexa’s voice though.

“Raven’s probably off trying to find a party” Clarke added after a beat of smiling at Lexa.

She just couldn’t help it, Lexa was… so pretty. Beautiful, and hot and just- so attractive, but specifically pretty, her gaze had a softness that complimented the sharp angles of her jaw, and her smile? The way her eyes lit up with it and her nose seemed to crunch a bit as if she was used to taming it down, she was just so pretty, and Clarke didn’t even want to pretend. She was sure that after a few more conversations she would say it to her, just like she told her she liked listening to her voice after only a few times playing together.

“I’m uhm-” Lexa turned only for a second to look at Octavia “I’m pretty sure some of the boys are from a frat house, they surely have a party or something planned”

Lexa finds herself saying, unsure why and not really bothered by the implication that she would go to something like that. She doesn’t get the chance to clarify anything or for Clarke to ask her because Raven joins them, all cheerful jumping into Clarke’s back and shouting a ‘hey-yoo’ as a greeting.

Lexa’s eyebrows raise up to her hairline, her smile is too bright to fully fall, but there’s definitely a different feeling in her gut now.

“I landed us an invite to the celebration with the musicians! I already texted the girls. Did you find your chick?”

And now she is blushing -she’s not sure which is responsible, the implication that ‘your chick’ is more, is different, not necessarily a friend or that ‘your chick’ is said with familiarity, like Clarke talks about her like she’s… hers.

“Raven!” Clarke hisses, blushing as she pushes her off her “Don’t jump on me” she says trying to cover up for the phrasing. Because she’s not ready to process any part of that sentence, even when it’s only two words “Be nice This is Lexa, and her best friend Octavia. This is my roommate Raven”

“I’ve been denigrated to ‘roommate’!? You’re repaying me with extra shots tonight. Hi! It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you. Great play back there, by the way, gave me chills, for real!”

Clarke sighs, she tries her best at not closing her eyes -or rolling them- at Raven’s extra extrovert greeting. Lexa remains still, smile frozen and eyebrows still raised. She looks like a deer caught in headlights.

Clarke moves to try and say something, salvage the situation, but it seems to be all Lexa needs to recover.

“Hi. All good thing I hope and… thanks, we’ve been practicing a lot, it was very exciting. The crowd’s reaction was great” she says fluidly. Strongly, confident.

Clarke swallows, she sounds different than she’s even heard her, natural but also monotone like she’s used to it, like she knows how to handle it, she sounds… very sexy. And her smile is still there, her eyes don’t shine as much until she glances at her briefly, and maybe Clarke is protecting, but she smiles again, even if Lexa isn’t looking at her anymore.

Lexa sees her smile in the corner of her eye as Octavia greets Raven and they start talking about the party, sure that she’s no longer needed in the conversation she turns back to Clarke. She’s smiling, wide like she can’t be bothered to tone it down and it makes Lexa feel validated, because she’s so happy, she’s so excited to get to be with Clarke in person and she’s still too stunned to know what to do with herself.

“Y’know…” Clake stars, needing to stop the racing thought in her head “when you told me you played the piano, I didn’t imagine you would pull a solo like that, it was truly incredible”

“Thanks…” Lexa blushes, it’s not that she doesn’t know she’s amazing in her solo, it’s just that Clarke… noticed- “I mean you’ve seen my skill building and editing…” She adds, smirking a little, leaning closer “Did you really think I don’t explode this talent”

She doesn’t mean to flirt -or so she tells herself- but the implication of how far her talent extended wasn’t lost to her once the sentence left her mouth, and she won’t bother with clarifications.

Before they can gather their thoughts, their friends tell them to start moving. There’s a slight pause after Clarke asks where they’re going, and Raven rolls her eyes “Obviously to the party I just mentioned”

Octavia looks at Lexa and she doesn’t know what to say or do so, she looks at Clarke instead, who’s already looking at her with a questioning gaze. She doesn’t look hopeful nor disappointed, a little worried maybe but Lexa doesn’t even question it when the next sentence out of her mouth is “Sure, let’s go”

Her hopes of not making it a big deal go out the window when Octavia jumps on her back, letting out a strangled “Really?” before she’s squeezing her tight and vibrating with excitement.

“Okay, people this is not a drill! Let’s get going before she changes her mind!” Octavia says as soon as she jumps off her, she grabs her hand in the process and pulls at her while Lexa blushes furiously.

Raven turns to Clarke with raised eyebrows and all Clarke can do is shake her head with a shrug. She laughs when Raven grabs her hand with a shrug of her own and pulls at her in a similar manner.

She doesn’t let her anxiety take over, it starts pushing her to wonder if Lexa doesn’t actually want to go to this party, instead, Clarke takes a deep breath and waits until she’s alone with Lexa again -it happens fairly quickly, they catch up and Raven replaces her with Octavia, before they resume their own conversation.

“I take it frat parties aren’t your usual?” She asks even while Lexa still isn’t looking at her, she does smile at the question though.

“Not really” Lexa concedes and braves a look at Clarke “Parties in general are not… my usual- but hey! Neither is making friends online and yet here we are” She smiles bright, renew excitement over the topic.

Clarke smiles with her, likes the way Lexa shrugs and lifts a conspiratory eyebrow, still she can’t help but worry “We don’t…” she swallows “We don’t have to go, if you don’t want to- we can do something else or… go somewhere else” it’s Clarke’s time to shrug.

Lexa’s smile softens, and she has to look away from Clarke because really, quit it with the blushing! “It’s fine, really” she reassures “It’s not that I’m not a fan of parties per se” she smirks just thinking about it “I just… don’t particularly like people” she grimaces but her smile is too bright for it to look genuine.

Clarke snorts, like she doesn’t mean to laugh but can’t help it “You and me both” she hushes leaning closer as they giggle “I’ve heard… that alcohol helps a lot with it though” she says after a bit and it’s Lexa’s turn to snort.

“Oh I know” she nods her head, leaning into Clarke as well, because she can, and it feels good and Clarke isn’t complaining “I do know it tends to... become a problem later on as well”

“Touché” Clarke nods “Good thing we can leave whenever we want” she winks, reassuringly, she thinks, she wants Lexa to know that she can be honest anytime she’s not comfortable. And so what if it’s also a little flirty? It’s harmless.

They make good use of that statement in the end.

When they arrive at the party, the frat house is packed, there isn’t a line yet, but a couple of boys are out talking, planning a head of that moment. One of them is the guy Raven talked to, he shamelessly flirts with her and looks shocked to realize Octavia and Lexa are coming with her, he invites them in and promises to find Raven later.

All throughout Lexa eyes Clarke with a slight frown, she just keeps shrugging and shaking her head lightly, it’s a normal thing, typical Raven behavior.

Octavia grabs Lexa’s arm inside and they make it to the bar. Her best friend is giddy she gladly takes two shots from Raven, Lexa doesn’t even look at Clarke as she dedicates the first of whatever is in the tiny plastic cup to Octavia.

Lexa turns to Clarke when Raven places a second round and Clarke smiles, she leans in to be heard over the music and tells Lexa that she’ll take hers if she doesn’t want it. Lexa in turn raises a challenging eyebrow clinks it with Raven’s before taking it.

Octavia hugs her again once their grimaces are gone and Raven offers to pour them a mixed drink to last them a while, Clarke wants vodka and Octavia asks for rum for her and Lexa, she winks at her discreetly and then hugs her again.

“You’re not even drunk, stop being so clingy”

“I’m just excited that you’re here!”

“And I’m excited that you’re both here!” Raven cheers downing her drink quickly and pouring another “Which one of you is going to introduce me to the rest of the music bros?”

Clarke tries not to laugh as Lexa turns to her alarmed, she shrugs just for the sake of it and then Octavia is speaking, Clarke can’t hear it very well over the music, but she assumes she’s offering because a minute later they’re both gone.

The butterflies come swinging back to her stomach and a smile rises without her consent when Lexa turns to her again.

“Do you wanna go somewhere quieter?” Lexa leans in, a smile of her own adorning her face.

It takes them a minute to move around the packed house and then some to find a pocket of air with less noise. They end up sitting in the nook of a window by the corner of the huge lounge room, they’re farther from the dance floor than they were in the kitchen, and they both sigh a sigh of relief followed by giggles as they lean back.

They sip their drinks, suddenly a little awkward, not sure how to start a conversation and afraid to keep on just looking at each other. Clarke is the brave one at first, asking about Lexa’s drink choice and how Octavia answered for her.

“I’m don’t usually drink so… I tend to not care what I am drinking” Lexa shrugs, she takes another sip and braves a look at Clarke “Is Vodka your usual?”

“Yeah” Clarke smiles “It’s… tasteless enough, I think it makes it easier to mix. I’ve learned to drink tequila in mixed drinks with Raven, though, and there’s just… nothing like it”

“In a good way?”

“Yeah, it’s so much better. Specially with sweet drinks… but it’s more expensive and it’s quick to give a hangover”

Lexa laughs “Oh yeah, I’ve had my fair share of tequila hung overs”

It’s easy to move the conversation around, it feels nice to ask the questions they avoided before, those that felt too person for two friends that only talked about the game they were playing. Lexa shared about her friendship with Octavia going all the way back to sophomore year of high school, Clarke tells her how Raven quickly scaled from roommate to best friend and how her childhood friend met her the summer before, and they were so jealous.

They talk about all their classes and possible majors, Clarke just about figured out before break that she’s really interested in biochemistry, and she’s excited to see where it might lead her, Lexa joins in excitedly to talk about science since one of her many extracurricular is focused on chemical experimentation, she explains to Clarke that she has a lot of extracurriculars, always has had, from sports to chess, to science and music, all her passions have led her to a variety of classes, but she’s mostly find them boring or overly specific.

They talk a little bit about high school and how each of them moved around the bizarre social hierarchy of it, they maybe throw in a little hint about their dating game and maybe it’s a little flirty, maybe it’s a bit of a joke but so easily not.

Throughout their conversation Raven comes over a few times to check in on them and Octavia comes over to hug Lexa anytime she sees her, Lexa accidentally calls Clarke Sky a couple of times and it may become a little less intentional once she realizes Clarke blushes every time.

They’re constantly leaning on each other and talking closely, and giggling all the time.

They refill their drinks and ‘babe’ enters Clarke’s vocabulary full force, she ignores Raven’s looks from across the room and can’t help but blush any time she catches Octavia winking at Lexa, for her part Lexa downs her drinking faster than Clarke, too happy and too comfortable to care about any of it.

Their friends drag them into a game of beer-pong with shots -warm beer is gross and it’s not like most people here aren’t rich- appealing to their competitiveness to lure them. Octavia and Raven team up against them, swearing that they’re the sober ones and thus will win. Clarke and Lexa are content to stay glued to each other, leaning into the other as they wait for their friends to shoot, holding the other as they drink their shots and calling out sweet encouragements before every shot.

They end up winning against their friends, barely, and as celebration the crowd makes them down the remaining of their shots. They chose to grab some water next and return to their little nook. With liquid courage they get even more comfortable in each other’s personal space, they flirt a lot, smirking every other sentence and talking about anything that comes to mind.

Clarke calls Lexa Heda jokingly making her drop a few Princess’ in between, they’re not blushing as much anymore, just enjoying it and leaning into it, so much that they don’t mind Octavia’s side eyes and Raven’s raised eyebrows, they just keep trying to find ways to make the other call them pretty names.

They start talking about fornite at some point, they recall Winterfest and how they sped through levels to get every reward possible, they agreed, now that it was over, that it was kinda… ‘meh’, the year before had been better and it mostly had to do with the addition of the OG maps and all the hype about that taking away the attention of the holidays.

“The collaborations were insane though!” Lexa rolled her head back and the sideways to rest on Clarke’s shoulder.

“Right?!” Clarke turns to her even when she knows she won’t be able to see her, it’s nice to have their faces so close together “Like what do you mean Snoop Dog, The Shack and Marya fucking Carey all have matching Santa skins?”

They both break into laughs and Lexa leans heavily into her. They sigh in unison with smiles on their faces, content to watch the party for a minute- that is until a group of frat boys not too far from them start… barking?

Lexa quickly lifts her head off Clarke’s shoulder and turns to frown at her, Clarke shrugs with a shake of her head and it’s not long until they start laughing again. They giggle the remnants of their cringe out while looking at each other and then Clarke smirks a mischievous little smirk.

Lexa tilts her head, and Clarke does the same in the direction of the exit, she doesn’t take her eyes off Lexa and her smirk grows when Lexa imitates her, they continued tilting their heads and nodding them until they can’t keep from laughing anymore.

The frat boys are still barking when they stand up and start looking for their friends, they tell them they’re heading out and make a quick job of leaving, they both take deep breaths a block down the house and sigh out giggles.

“Where should we go?” Lexa asks, and she doesn’t care that she still hasn’t let go of Clarke’s hand.

“Don’t call me crazy-” Clarke uses their joined hands to pull Lexa closer and whisper conspiratorially “but… we could… go… play”

“Oh, this is why we get along!” Lexa throws her head back and Clarke reigns her back in when she loses her balance for a second.

“Let’s go then Heda”

“Lead the way Princess”

They agree to go to Clarke’s place first, Octavia will be staying with a friend so they can have the room to themselves, thus they’re going to pick up Clarke’s laptop and go. The walk is full of talking and laughing and flirting, it’s silly, so unserious but so… them.

“This’ me” Clarke nods to their right as they approach the dorms wing of campus.

“Really?” Lexa huffs “I’m right over there!” she points to their left, two buildings down from Clarke’s.

“For real? That is so crazy!” they laugh and decide to ignore that before today -okay maybe form a month ago- that information would’ve been scary as fuck.

They enter Clarke’s dorm quietly, not remembering that her roommates were all at the party they just left, Clarke hesitates before letting Lexa into her room, but it’s hard to think when she turns her head and Lexa is right there, practically glued to her and so giddy.

They’re a little drunk, so Clarke is stumbling a little, throwing her coat over her bed and trying to get her laptop, she’s also trying to make sure her -half- of the room is presentable or close enough to Raven's to pretend. And Lexa is all excited for apparently no reason other than being in Clarke's room, and the flirting hasn’t stopped and it’s making them both a little dizzier.

So when Clarke stands up and Lexa is standing too close, neither of them move.

They're breathing unevenly and they stare at each other for a long moment, trying to decipher what's going on, looking for the answer in each other’s eyes.

Lexa is all too happy to stay right where she is, she knows in a few minutes or less she’s going to want to touch Clarke in some way, grab her hand or her wait, kiss her or worse, lean her forehead to hers, but she can’t be bothered right now, because Clarke is really pretty and she’s really happy that she was brave enough to invite Clarke to her orchestra, because she’s really happy to be there with her.

Clarke is a bit more antsy; she’s looking up because Lexa us wearing a bit of heel, and she was already a bit taller than her and her lips are right. There. So Clarke has enough. She leans up and touches her lips to Lexa’s softly. She doesn’t mean to capture her lower lip in hers, she’s just a little clumsy, at the moment, and Lexa-

Lexa is kissing her back.

Lexa’s hands move quickly to hold her -uncovered- waist, and sighs into Clarke’s mouth at the contact, she doesn’t question anything, doesn’t even think about it when she stars leaning into her, chasing her lips and that tongue that ever so softly teases her bottom lip.

Clarke sneaks a hand up to Lexa’s jaw and holds onto her -very… vert strong- bicep with the other, she takes half a step back and her ass meets the side of her bed, she has to sort of sit on it when Lexa keeps leaning because the bed is a little lofted for storage. She doesn’t move her hands from Lexa, which makes it so she can feel her bicep flexing when Lexa takes a larger step closer and pulls at her waist lifting her so she’s sitting fully on the bed.

The kiss is teasing and tight, but the moment Lexa wiggles her way between Clarke’s legs, parting them just enough to fit and pull her close, the kiss turns deep, Clarke doesn’t think twice when the new angle and closeness allows her to comfortably slide her arm around Lexa’s neck and swipe her tongue confidently into Lexa’s mouth.

Lexa moans in turn, chases her tongue and sucks on her bottom lip, she’s still leaning on Clarke, pushing her onto the bed. She extends a hand for leverage and snakes the other one around Clarke’s waits, leaning more fully into her. Clarke’s hand on her bicep flies back to hold herself as well when Lexa keeps on leaning until she’s practically on top of Clarke even with her feet still on the ground.

It’s outrageously long before they break for air, and when they do, they don’t part if anything they hold each other closer as if to make sure the other won’t leave. They press their foreheads together, but neither is brave enough to open their eyes, they breath heavily, drunkenly.

Lexa moves slightly, bumping her nose with Clarke and huffing a giggle at Clarke’s answering bump, she opens her eyes just in time to see Clarke open hers and the smirk adorning her lips reaches up to her eyes.

Over all the noise in Clarke’s head, questions and desires and also just mush, she can’t help but high-five herself in her head, she was right Lexa’s sweater do compliment her eyes, it’s a deeper shade of green than her grey-ish green eyes, but green all-the-same.

“Hi” Clarke’s giggle drunkenly.

Lexa smiles dopily “Hey there”

“You didn’t tell me you were such good kisser”

“I’m good at a lot of things” Lexa giggles, and she really doesn’t mean it flirty this time, but then Clarke’s pupils dilate and she’s thankful to her subconscious.

“Yeah?” Clarke bites her lip “Will you show me?”

Oh hell! She’s got game!

Lexa kisses her, she kisses her deeply and dirty because that was really hot, and oh so smooth and she doesn’t know what to say, she’s always been better with actions anyways-

She can’t help the smirk that gets kissed off by Clarke at her next idea; Lexa sneaks a hand under Clarke’s top and feels around the clap of her bra, she pulls away from the kiss with a wet sound and smirks at Clarke’s frown before she’s snapping the claps open with a simple twist of her wrist.

“Example number one” She giggles again and Clarke gasps at her with a smile.

“You should get my top off next” Clarke winks, recovering quickly.

It takes Lexa a second to swallow down before nodding her head “yep, great idea”

They make quick work with the crop top, and Clarke throws her bra to the side enjoying the way Lexa completely stops at the sight of her boobs.

“Like what you see” she bites her lips, one hand back behind Lexa’s neck and the other planted back on her bed, her back arches in such way and she knows she’s an spectacular view.

Lexa gapes, blinks once and then not for a long while which makes Clarke chuckle, she pulls slightly at Lexa’s neck, urging her to lean on her again and Lexa can only brace herself on the bed, still transfixed.

“Can I-” She clears her throat, her voice is hoarse, eyes dark with want as she looks up to her eyes. Clarke shudders a breath as Lexa swallows and tries again “Can I touch you?” she breath out.

Clarke could moan at the sound of Lexa’s desire, she bites her lip harder instead, takes a shuddering breath and nods her head.

Lexa’s eyes are back down to Clarke’s breaths, it’s not that she hadn’t realized Clarka had… such voluminous rack, she just thought she wasn’t supposed to care. And there’s a very big difference between clothed and enclosure boobs and… this.

She moves her hands to Clarke’s hips, enjoys the way her breath catches when she moves them to her waist and they make contact with her bare skin. Lexa licks her lips as her hands travel up Clarke’s ribs and move accordingly to fit the underside of Clarke’s breast in the cup of her hand.

They both sigh when Lexa presses up and squeezes the full weight of Clarke’s boobs.

“Fuck”

Clarke smirks, and Lexa can’t be bothered to recognize that she said that out loud, she plays with Clarke’s nipples for only a second before Clarke is pulling her forward into a kiss. She pauses her ministration, if only to moan into Clarke’s mouth as their tongues meet.

A hand snakes down her neck groping her tits over the sweater on its way down to her waist when Clarke pushes the sweater up to pull her closer still. She quickly pushes it higher util Lexa has to lift her arms to take it off, she does so reluctantly, not happy to let go of Clarke’s breast.

Clarke laughs at her when they kiss again, having regained her balance she kisses Lexa more comfortably, now sitting up, while making a quick job of Lexa’s belt, and consequently, her pants.

Lexa steps back to step off them and Clarke takes the chance to slide off the bed, ready to comfortably kiss all over Lexa’s body when she freezes. Lexa’s is wearing a matching set of linger. A dark shade of green, it’s not see-through but the artist in Clarke can recognize the work of the beautiful design over the lace.

She blinks when Lexa huffs a smirk at her, her gaze breaks the patter of bra-abs-panties to look at Lexa in the eye; she gives her a smirk of her own and pulls her closer by the hips, bending down to drop a kiss under Lexa’s sternum and dropping down to her abs.

While Lexa shudders at Clarke’s lips on her skin she can’t help the smile on her lips, it feel good to have this effect on Clarke, it makes her feel sexy and desired and she likes it. Clarke moves up her body grabbing a handful of Lexa’s ass to drag her closer and kisses her again, she’s still leaning on her bed and Lexa happily steps into her again, holding Clarke’s shoulder as they kiss and taking the chance to kick off her heel.

The first step down leaves her eye level with Clarke and their lips part at the change angle. Lexa moves her hands down to Clarke’s knees consciously through the holes in Clarke’s cargos, and Clarke wraps her arms around Lexa’s waist. She kicks her second heel off while they look at each other smiling.

“Come here” Clarke breaths into her leaning forward for a kiss and then back to pull Lexa on the bed.

They giggle and adjust so Lexa can climb on the bed, they kiss and tickle each other trying to get Clarke’s shoes and pants off. Clarke lays flat on her back and encourages Lexa to straddle her.

The sight of Lexa fluidly sliding down to kiss her is one Clarke’s sure she’ll never forget, she moans into the kiss and holds Lexa’s waits, she arches her back at the feeling of the linger gracing her nipples and she suddenly can’t wait to her Lexa’s bra off.

She’s a little distracted though, Lexa moves to kiss her jaw and down her neck, and Clarke’s hands travel up to Lexa’s ribs and then down to her hips and back to grab a handful of her butt.

They moan and sigh and they pull at each other for kisses while molding their bodies together. Lexa sits back to flick her hair, and Clarke follows her halfway up, chasing her lips, but stopping at the gorgeous view of Lexa straddling her. Clarke absently traces her hand up Lexa’s tight and while leaning on her elbows she sneaks her hand to cup Lexa’s cover core.

Lexa bites her lip to contain a groan as she rocks her hips into Clarke’s hand. She keeps going like that rolling her hips sensually, her hand holding her hair as she watches Clarke watch her.

“Fuck… I want to touch you”

“You are touching me, Clarke” Lexa smirks, enjoying the effect she’s having on Clarke.

Clarke pushes herself up and ghosts a kiss over Lexa’s lips “I’ll be more specific. I want to be inside you” her voice huskier than a second ago “Can I do that?”

The little whimper that crawls out of Lexa’s throat is not something she’s proud of, but she can’t ignore the glow of pure want the fill Clarke’s eyes after hearing it. She bites her lip, nodding her head and moves her hands into Clarke’s hair to draw her into a kiss that is all tongue and teeth.

Clarke wastes no time moving her underwear aside and making room for her fingers to explore. Lexa resists the urge to roll her hips into every touch while smirking at every one of Clarke’s gasps.

Clarke teases her entrance repeatedly, rubbing around her clit but never truly touching it, she bites Lexa’s bottom lip and licks into her mouth while using her free hand to encourage her rolling hips.

It’s not long before they both know Lexa is ready and Clarke enters her with a singular digit. They moan into each other’s mouths as Lexa stills and gasps, adjusting to the feeling, she moans again when she starts moving and Clarke follows suit, calmly going in and curling out. A second finger is added, and Lexa turns her head to hide in the hollow between Clarke’s neck and shoulder, she nibs and kisses the skin available as her arms go around Clarke’s shoulders, giving her more leverage to rock into her fingers.

Clarke sucks her neck and bites her earlobe as they move in sink and she gasps every so often, adjusting her hand to give Lexa a better angle to rub her clit over Clarke’s palm. It’s only the third time Lexa’s open mouth kiss turns into a shuffled moan that Clarke speaks to her.

“Lexa… you know we’re completely alone right? You don’t… need to keep quiet” she says, blushing. Because they concept of wanting to hear Lexa feels way more intimate than the position, they’re in, specifically since it’s an addition to it.

Lexa grunts lifting her head, she doesn’t stop the rolling of her hips and Clarke doesn’t stop the movement of her hand “These are paper-thin walls Clarke!” She scowls, heaving the words out, her face is flushed, and the crown of her head is damp from forming sweat -Clarke didn’t know she could get even more beautiful- “of course I have to keep quiet!” She groans.

Clarke kisses her instead of arguing, because she can, and she looks so pretty, and she can feel the moan she heaves into her mouth and it’s good enough for now. They continue kissing and huffing and moaning into each other until a particularly perfect moan from Lexa cuts off by her biting her own lip.

“Hey. Listen” Clarke huffs “quick floor plan description, behind me is the common room, currently empty. Behind you there’s a laundry room that is obviously closed right now, past my closet is the hallway, also empty, and out the window… you saw it was also quite empty”

Lexa closed her eyes hallway through the sentence, frowning and she kept moving and conflicted as to how Clarke could form such an elaborate sentence when all Lexa could think was-

“Fuck!”

She feels the smirk Clarke presses onto her neck, she bites her lip again and assumes her brain understood beyond her consciousness.

“That’s it, let me hear you, Heda”

She moans a filthy moan, Clarke smirks is wider, she bites Lexa’s neck, and she huffs in mild annoyance.

“Make me, Princess” she shoots between hoarse breaths.

She smirks when she opens her eyes to a gapping Clarke staring at her with lust, she closes her eyes quickly after when Clarke moves to lean one hand back fuck her harder with the other.

“Sky!” Lexa moans and immediately blushes.

It was loud, very loud. And the wrong name-

“Say that again” Clarke hushes, nibbing her jaw, thrusting up to meet her rocking hips.

“Sky…” Lexa… whimpers, she wishes she could call it something else, but it is what it is.

Clarke kisses her and they rock against each other in sync, Lexa moans and Clarke gasps and they’re both panting. Lexa closes her eyes, throws her head back, Clarke can’t keep staring. Their rhythm is thrown off for a second when they hear a creaking sound, they both blink and quickly realize it’s the bed protesting from the motion.

They smirk at each other.

They kiss messily while still smiling and pick up the pace, Lexa throws her head back again, moaning freely and Clarke latches her mouth to her neck. She moves her arm from behind her all the way around Lexa’s torso and pulls her close.

Lexa adjusts in Clarke lap, making her lean on her hand again and she takes the chance to push her by the shoulders back to the bed. Clarke lands with a huff and her hand flies to pull pillows behind her head when Lexa presses her hand over Clarke’s ribs, almost cupping the underside of her boob and starts rocking her hips firmly into Clarke’s hand.

Her moans grow louder, her eyes close and her breath heaves even more, her hips eventually start stuttering, moving erratically and Clarke holds her hip while thrusting up, helping her hand reach deeper.

“Fuck! Sk-mmhh, Clarke!”

They both know she’s close, she’s riding Clarke’s fingers with purpose, sighing and moaning and huffing heavily, all it takes is Clarke moving her free hand to press her thumb to Lexa’s clit and one singular undulating thrust for Lexa to frees in pleasure, strangled moan caught in her thought before she comes undone, shaking screaming out the end of her moan.

She leans heavily on her hand over Clarke’s ribs through her orgasm and eventually flops forward, laying half on top of Clarke with both pairs of hand trapped between them.

As Lexa lays there, completely spent, Clarke can't help but smile and move to kiss the side of her forehead. Her fingers are still wrapped around Lexa's warm walls and her hand is folded with her release. She leans to kiss her shoulder as well as she moves her hand out of Lexa and from between their bodies, she grabs Lexa's hand to move out from between them as well and can't resist the chance to kiss the back of it.

Lexa huffs a laugh and what feels like an audible eye roll. She lifts her head slowly and deliberately leans in to kiss Clarke. The kiss is soft and so deep, Lexa is fully leaning on her now and her weight make the kiss harder.

Lexa moves her kisses to Clarke's jaw, she bites her earlobe and sucks on her pulse point, she moves down to kiss her collarbone as Clarke huffs a shig, her breaths fastening. It is with only one slurry look, that Clarke arches her back, and Lexa starst devouring Clarke’s nipples expertly.

“Can I go down on you?”

“You, uhm- you don’t have to” Clarke breaths, heavily.

“I-" Lexa bites her lip, looks down and they slowly sensually up "I want to”

"Mh-mhh?" Clarke hums, high pitched affected not only by Lexa's work on her tits but also the look of pure desire on Lexa's face.

At Lexa's nod, Clarke nods as well and Lexa smirks as she starts making her way down to her core.

Lexa takes only a short moment to admire the glistening heat of Clarke's heat before diving in. Clarke moans loudly at the first swipe of Lexa's tongue, throwing her head back and grabbing onto her sheets. It spurs Lexa on, each new movement, new swipe or kiss to Clarke's can't grants her a series of different sounds and reaction out of Clarke that are simply too hot.

A thought of where and with how may people Lexa might've learn to be that good crosses Clarke's mind, but before she can get jealous of upset she remembers she's no one to judge. She doesn't dwell on it for too long either, Lexa is far too talented with her tongue for Clarke to be able to hold any thought for longer that two swipes of Lexa's tongue.

Eventually Lexa enters her with one finger and then quickly a second one when it goes in too easily. She looks up as she attaches her mouth to Clarke's clit a second later, smirking as Clarke whimpers a shudders below her.

"Fuck! God Lexa yes!" Clarke throws her head back, a hand jumping to Lexa's hair when she starts moving; both her fingers inside her and her tongue over her clit, circling it expertly..

It doesn't take too long before Clarke is coming apart, shaking and shouting out Lexa's name, shuddering away and up into Lexa's mouth, overwhelmed with pleasure.

She taps Lexa's head tiredly to signal her that she can't take anymore and still whispers when Lexa removes her mouth from her. Lexa smirks and moved to kissing her tight, pulling her fingers in and out slowly to draw out the last of her orgasm.

Lexa kisses her hip next, leaving a mark as her fingers continue moving and Clarke jerks and moan with the aftershoks, she moves to the other hip and pulls out slowly when Clarke taps her head again, she takes a long deliberate path up Clarke's body, kissing any skin aviable and diving right into a kiss to her lips once she reaches them.

Clarke moans at the taste of herself on Lexa's tongue and enjoys the way Lexa deepens the kiss and rolls her hips on top of her as a response. They make out for a bit, smiling and huffing at each other, bumping noses and rolling into each other as their hands roam mindlessly.

That is until Clarke slides a thigh between Lexa's and feels her wetness rub on her. She presses up, moaning as Lexa bites her lips and cants her hips mote firmly into her. Clarke leans up to kiss Lexa and in a swift and impressive move turns them around in the small bed to lay on top of Lexa.

"Fucking me turned you on, didn't it?" Clarke whispers against Lexa's ear, snaking a hand down her abdomen and bitting her earlobe.

Lexa breaths out, swallowing a whimper as Clarke grazes her fingers over her folds finding her freshly wet.

"You're very vocal" she eventually breaths out, her eyes are closed and Clarke is sucking a bruise into her neck as she toys with her can't lazily.

Clarke smiles into her neck, hums in agreement and bites her lightly. She moves her fingers as though she's going to enter her and lifts her head.

"Do you like that? That I'm vocal?"

Lexa opens her eyes while blushing, she bites her lip and nods slightly, she then throws her head back with a moan as Clarke enters her with two fingers easily.

"Good... because i want to talk you through this one okay?" She huffs a chuckle into her lips, and Lexa moans as Clarke pulls out hooking her finger on the way.

"Skyy!"

Clarke thrust into her with the help of her thigh and starts a rhythm, one that Lexa matches with her huffs and moans and curses and calls of her name, all the while Clarke prises her, and tells her how good she feels, how good she sounds, how beautiful she looks and how she can't wait to see her come undone again.

"Fu-fuck! Like that-SKY!"

"I love it when you call me that, fuck"

"Yeah...? Fuck-" Lexa bites her lip.

The bed is creaking again, knocking against the wall as Clarke pounds her fingers into her cunt.

"Yeah, but... fuck. I want you tl say my name when you come. I want to hear you clicking that K like you always do-

"Fuck- ah! you" Lexa huffs a laughs and Clarke laughs with her, kissing her cheek and making her blush.

Becasue of course something like a kiss to the cheek after a joke would make her laugh, never mind that she's but naked, legs spread open and Clarke fingering her into an orgasm.

A kiss to the cheek is too much.

"Fuck Lex, you're so tight" Clarke hushes against her collarbone.

Lexa moans, because she likes the nickname, it's nothing special, but she likes it. And Clarke is doing ungodly things to her pussy, caressing her sides, saying all the right things and sucking on that specific spot right on top of her collarbone that drives her crazy, because she has her all figured out already.

And she is tight, she can feel it, she's so close, she can feel that familiar feeling in her lower belly, tugging at her, making her moan-

"Cla-ahrke!"

She comes so hard, for so long and Clarke keeps taking to her, she can't tell what she's saying because her brain is mush, but it's dragging her climax on and on until she can't take it anymore.

Still shaking she grabs at Clarke's bicep, squezing and whimpering, moving her hips away.

"No more?" Clarke whispers soflty. Lexa can't only shake her head "Okay baby" she kisses her jaw and if Lexa's face wasn't already red from coming, she sure as well would be blushing.

Clarke kisses Lexa's shoulders soflty, trying to keep her weight off her as she still breaths heavily. Lexa's eyes are closed and Clarke takes the chance to look at her. Her faced flushed a pretty fading shade of red, her lips parted sightly as she huffs her breaths out, her hair is a mess, sprawled around the pillow under her. Her collar bones and chest are red as well, adorned with a couple hickeys she can't help but to be proud of.

And then Lexa blinks her eyes open, heavy eyelids drop a couple of time before she can keep her eyes fully open. And then a smile raises slowly, and Clarke realizes as she tries to smile, that she was already smiling brightly.

"Hi" Lexa chuckles.

"Hey there" Clarke leans in to kiss her and Lexa moves her hands to hold her close.

They move a little messily, laughing as Lexa refuses to separate their lips, Clarke lays on her side and Lexa turns with her.

The kiss turns lazy when Lexa has no strengths to even coordinate her lips, her eyes close permanently. Clarke smiles and pulls back, kissing Lexa's nose just because and watching a smile rise slowly with a slow huffed laugh.

"Sweet dreams, Heda"

"Mmhh, g'night Princess"

-

...To be continued 😉😌

[caramelarrowswife]

i know youre working hard on finishing requests and we are all so thankful for your work

Bc all ur fics are absolute bangers <333

Still tho- i got a little prompt/request of a hc of mine if ur up for it.

Since vanilla extract contains alcohol, what if- Pure Vanilla’s kisses make one tipsy? (And by one I mean Dark Cacao obv)

Maybe the ficlet could be a lil suggestive if you feel comfortable enough with that. Its not a must tho!! ❤️

DRUNK ON LOVE

─── ∘°❉°∘ ───

Pure Vanilla Cookie, in an affectionate mood, visited his darling husband (who was busy overworking) to show him some love. The healer knew very well how much a small distraction could help with a large workload..

..He hadn’t meant to be this much of a distraction, though.

TWs: Alcohol, suggestive themes

A/N: thank you so much fhwebkrfw <333

─── ∘°❉°∘ ───

Pure Vanilla walked through the halls of Citadel, his light clothing standing out against the dark patterns of the Dark Cacao Kingdom. None of the maids or warriors looked at him weirdly; the monarch’s presence was as regular as that of his Majesty himself.

This time, he had a specific mission. He would visit his husband, king Dark Cacao Cookie, and (kindly) force him to take a break, however small it might be. Perhaps he could be convinced to take a walk.. it was a beautiful day - by Cacaoian standards, at least.

Finally arriving by the large door that led to Dark Cacao’s study, Pure Vanilla knocked. After a second or two, a quiet ‘Enter’ was heard. When Pure Vanilla walked into the dimly lit room, his suspicions were confirmed.

Dark Cacao Cookie sat behind his desk, hunched over a scroll. Many more of the same sort were scattered over the desk and the floor, the king’s usual precision nowhere to be found.

A sharp hiss was heard from Dark Cacao at the bright daylight that fell into his room. “Close that.”

Pure Vanilla did as he was asked (commanded). The monarch swiftly made his way over to Dark Cacao, carefully stepping over the scrolls to make sure he didn’t crush any.

“Cacao,” Pure Vanilla murmured.

He received no answer. The healer put his head on Dark Cacao’s shoulder to watch if he had even noticed.

A slight mistake near the bottom; one of the characters had a line that was just a little too long, perhaps caused by a small distraction. Pure Vanilla was just being ignored, then.

“Dark Cacao Cookie,” Pure Vanilla said again, his voice more serious this time.

Ah, his full name got a reaction out of the stoic king. Dark Cacao looked up, a little hazy, staring at Pure Vanilla’s face just inches from his.

“What is it you need..? I’m busy.”

“Too busy, one might dare say,” Pure Vanilla hummed. “The Citadel is concerned.”

“Well, you will have to reassure them,” Dark Cacao said, returning to his work.

Pure Vanilla clacked his tongue, eyebrows furrowing slightly. That just wouldn’t do.

He leaned over slightly, pressing a small kiss to Dark Cacao’s lips.

That truly got his attention. He looked up, a little wary, but his eyes had the shine of a toddler tasting their first candy.. Wait, he wasn’t supposed to feel like a toddler tasting their fi-

Before Pure Vanilla could finish that thought, gloved hands had cupped his cheeks and Dark Cacao’s lips were back on him. Dark Cacao pushed the tip of his tongue into Pure Vanilla’s mouth, desperately chasing after the sweet flavour he tasted.

Pure Vanilla, pleased his distraction had worked, let him do as he pleased.. It wasn't until Dark Cacao pulled back that the healer noticed the strange glaze over his eyes.

“Cacao?” Pure Vanilla frowned. “Are you alright..?”

“Yes..” Dark Cacao’s voice had a slight slur to it. “Let me.. I need to..”

“Look at me.” Pure Vanilla pulled back slightly, and Dark Cacao let out a pitiful groan. That.. wasn’t like him at all.

Pure Vanilla cupped Dark Cacao’s face with his hands, staring into those unfocused, amethyst eyes. Normally, Dark Cacao would’ve batted his hands away, and it was a little worrying that he hadn’t done that just now.

Oh. Oh.

Pure Vanilla could hit himself.

Of course… when Strawberry Crêpe Cookie had done a scan on his dough recently, and had found an alcohol percentage of 35%. Dark Cacao hadn’t had any issues with it in the past, but if he was in a weak state…

“‘Nilla..” Dark Cacao slurred. “Come- come on, don’t be like that.. let-le’me have–”

Pure Vanilla opened his mouth to reply, but all Dark Cacao saw was an opportunity. He leaned forward and messily kissed Pure Vanilla’s cheeks, and then his forehead, and then his lips. This much affection from the king was unheard of, and Pure Vanilla felt himself growing red.

“Cacao,” Pure Vanilla murmured softly. “You are not in the right mind. Stop it.”

Dark Cacao might have been as desperate as a starving hound, but he knew how to recognise boundaries. He let his head fall against Pure Vanilla’s shoulder with a small grunt, his abdomen unnecessarily needy.

“At least..” Pure Vanilla said with a small smile. “That is not to say I won’t reconsider when you’re sober.”

[gaddaboutgriffon]

Went almost two months without doing art, and listening to my choir director’s 5 year daughter talk about her My Little Pony toys got the spark going for a bit. Then again I was a gen 1 and gen 4 fan. We’ll see how far this goes. Maybe I’ll make a custom coloring book for her.

Anyway to the art.

Now to explain the names. Well not the pony’s names but the species.

I always thought that calling the regular ones earth ponies was unimaginative and even a little disrespectful. So I changed the design to make them the biggest, gave them gem hooves, rock and earth powers, and Named them Claysdales.

Yeah same situation with Bat ponies. But the name was harder. Can’t call them thestrals cause I am pretty sure that is copyrighted. I was stumped until I put two random bits of information together. 1 Pegasus was originally the name of one individual winged horse and became a species name over time. 2 cavalum is the name of a bat winged horse in Portuguese mythology. If it worked once it works here. So now I named my batty ponies of the night Cavalum, and gave them sonar, night vision, the ability to control shadows and even travel through them, and dream walking.

Pegasi don’t change too much other then the mane and tail now being made of feathers. They of course walk on clouds and have wind and air magic and are very fast.

Unicorns I changed to be smaller and slimmer, almost deer like compared with the other pony species. And gave them the classic lion or ox tail seen in medieval art. Males will have a beard. Their powers include levitation, teleportation, and general magic which lets them mimic other creatures powers but at a lower strength level. Basically if it isn’t the first two they are a Jack of all trades and master of none.

The Chitiny…. Ok they are a mix of the flutter ponies in gen 1 and the changelings in gen 4 design wise, But still really different in the lore I am developing. The name comes from the words Chitin (what bug exoskeletons are made of) and Tiny, cause they are the smallest type of pony, standing at about a foot tall (fyi the claysdales range about five to six feet tall at the shoulder…. Yes I’m American). The antennas let them communicate with other Chitiny and people they have built a bond with telepathically. They can lift several times their weight (like ants and bees) they can make silk, honey, wax, royal jelly, and a sticky slime. Of and cling/crawl on walls. Yes they live in hives. Rosy Maple is from the Lepidop hive ruled by queen Luna and king Atlas.

Zebras I never understood why they weren’t used more in MLP. Anyway I wanted to give them a wild nature theme and am giving them powers to make plants grow faster and even move, and if you don’t think that is impressive let me just point out when the trees woke up in Narnia Prince Caspian. I will never get the image of tree roots dragging that one guy underground out of my head. Oh they can also understand animals.

Ok tagging people who I think will enjoy this. @artstaeus3600 @bianca-hooks123 @confusedshades @emacrow @hubedihubbe @kizzer55555 @pinkiemachine @tigertaurus22

Ooops quick edit. This isn’t all the pony species I thought up but was what I had time to draw. We still have the Kirin, the Kelpies, the alicorns and one I made up called the Najor. And about 11 other non-pony species that make up this world’s inhabitants. So there will be updates.

[zepskies]

So much angst in this one, right? 😅

the fact that this is how he sees their story, yet he's still chosen to be a dirty lying no good scoundrel really grinds my gears. like he needed to forget his name? I could smack him with a frying pan rapunzel style for the same effect lol

IKR? Piece of shit for real. lol I condone the Rapunzel treatment. 🍳

my immediate thought was well try harder 😭 and i did feel bad for a second, then I finished the chapter…i stand by my statement 😅

lolllll I don't blame you for that instinct honestly. He's not showing us that he deserved even an ounce of his wife saving his life and staying by his side.

so real lmaoo her inner conflict tugged at my heartstrings, i'm just glad she's giving herself some grace at least <3 it’s a difficult situation all around the flowers!!! 😩 oh dean :( and michael is truly a classic douche like sir you cannot just magically make it better with some flowers and dinner 🙂‍↔️🤚🏽

Haha Dean certainly gave her a reason to smile. 😏

Yeah she has to work through the complicated cobwebs of this situation in her mind and in her heart, poor thing. 💙 Same thing for Dean too with those flowers, especially when he runs into Michael. Exactly his point too! 😮‍💨

it’s bad enough he’s sleeping with a floozy on the regular but to take his wife’s money as well to fund that is actually beyond ballsy and insane. i hate them, justice for my girl fr 🫶🏽:(

RIGHT?! That would've sent me into contemplating murder loll.

ngl I had to put my phone down for a moment and yell into a pillow because dean, what the hell man 😩

LOL you kinda wanna choke the shit outta him, don't you? (not in the good way) 😝

oh dean, getting stabbed would’ve probably hurt less

lmfao facttts. Dean was not his best here, but yes at least he didn't let her stew in this misery and actually apologized and tried to comfort her, even if it was a bittersweet goodbye. 🥲

oh they’d work on me for sure 😭

Oh SAMe. 🥺

my heart aches, this chapter was so sad 😩 (not in a bad way!!🫶🏽) I feel for all three of them 😔🤍

I warned you guys about the heartbreak in this chapter. 🤭 I'm so sorry to do this to you, hun, but I promise there's a happy ending in store here 💙💙💙

ahhhhhh the cliffhanger! i’m guessing he found something illegal and/or dangerous 🤔 the preview is making me anxiousss, he better not hurt her! 😩

Big cliffhanger, again I'm so sorry! loll But you're getting very warm...

this was a wonderful chapter, very excited to see the drama unfold!!💗💗

Thank you so much, friend!! I'm very glad you enjoyed it despite all the heartbreak, but I can't wait to bring you guys the grand finale next week! 🥰💕

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 4

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Now we get into the aftermath of the night before, with all the insecurity and heartbreak to go along with it. 💙

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: “Danke Shoen” by Wayne Newton

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: Mentions of cheating, angsty angst, trauma/PTSD, and a cliffhanger…

✨ Series Masterlist

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 4: Complicit

Sam would give Michael one thing. The guy damn well knew how to drink.

He didn’t stop all night, throwing back whiskey like it was cheap beer. His words began to slur, his movements sloppy, but he was still coherent. When he got up to visit the men’s restroom, Sam got up as well. Maybe he could get Michael talking.

Sam stopped the other man from tripping into the urinal. The two laughed it off, with Michael thanking him before he unzipped to finish his business. Sam did the same.

After washing their hands, Sam looked over and noticed Michael’s gaze lingering on his own reflection in the mirror. It was becoming a rough sight—his blonde hair no longer neatly coiffed, purplish rings under his eyes, the stench of alcohol clinging to his skin and clothing.

“You all right there, Milligan?” Sam asked.

Michael ran a hand over his face, sighing when it didn’t get any better.

“Fine,” he replied. “So, Winchester. What did you say you do for work again? Something about your own business?”

Sam nodded. “I started up a law firm.”

That much, he had to be honest about. It was all too easy for someone to look up his name in the directory.

“Sounds like a good outfit,” Michael said, with an incline of his head. “Every lawyer I know wears a Rolex.”

Sam chuckled, glancing down at his father’s watch. “Well, I’m not quite there yet.”

“Someday soon, I’m sure,” said Michael. He bumped Sam conspiringly on the shoulder.

“And you?” Sam asked. “What’s keeping the lights on at your place?”

Michael raised a hand to sort through his unruly hair, a dirtier blonde in this unflattering light.

“Well, you could say I’ve inherited a business of my own,” he said. “I run a meat packing plant down in the district.”

Sam’s attention piqued. There had been a meat rationing during the war, even some rumors and propaganda about “meatleggers,” black market operators.

“How’s it been with the rations?” Sam asked. “Been hard to even find a good carton of eggs lately.”

Michael gave him a slight smile. “Been on the turnaround, actually. I’ve been able to make some connections with vendors outside the city. A little grease on the palms makes a little go a long way, if you catch my drift.”

Sam slowly smiled and nodded. A little grease on the palms, huh?

“Do what you gotta do in the times, ‘s what I say,” Sam agreed.

Michael snorted. “Now you’re talkin’. That’s all we can do, you know. Try to make a thing work, with whatever scraps we get. Try to stay afloat.”

“Try to stay alive,” Sam rejoined.

Michael made a low sound of approval. He became more contemplative, crossing his arms as he once again glanced at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Sam’s gaze on the other man was perceptive, gaining ever closer to what seemed to be eating at the very core of him. Whether Sam actually believed what he was saying or not, each of his words was a test, a subtle nudge.

“You know,” Michael said. “I was shot down in France.”

Sam sobered further. Leaning against the counter, he retrieved two cigarettes and a lighter. He didn’t often smoke, but he thought it might keep the other man talking. He handed one over to Michael, and he took it gratefully. They lit up together and coiled musky tobacco smoke into the air.

“Where?” Sam asked.

Michael snorted, huffing a bit of smoke. “Lord knows. But when I woke up, I had stitches from here to here.”

He gestured to the back of his head, all the way to above his brow. It explained a small, but noticeable scar near his temple.

“And I had an angel standing over me,” he added, his eyes growing heavy. Guilty. “A bona fide angel. She’d stitched me up, she told me. She also told me I was lucky to be alive. The doc wanted to toe tag me and be done with it, but she thought I still had some fight left in me.”

Michael shook his head. “The next chance I got, I married her.”

Sam’s brows rose. He knew you had been a nurse, but he hadn’t known this part of your story.

“A wartime romance, huh?” he said. Michael quirked a smile.

“She was my anchor,” he said. “After it was all said and done, she followed me here, held my feet down to the ground. Sometimes she had to hammer me down, ya know.”

He hesitated, his eyes somewhat glazing over. He stared over Sam’s shoulder at something only he could see.

“But sometimes…sometimes an anchor just feels suffocating,” he said. “Sometimes, you need to forget your own damn name. Forget that your entire life and mortgage is in a warehouse that might as well be a freezer full a’ dead cow meat. And still, it smells a hell of a lot better than lying on a dirty cot—where the last guy who had your spot probably got his leg sawed off.” 

Michael considers the cigarette in his hand for a long while before he takes another puff.

Sam exhales smoke as well. He spent the last three years behind a desk, but he sees the same shaken core in Michael Milligan that he too often sees in his older brother.

“You know, Winchester, there’s two kinds of men,” Michael said, just a hint of a slur in his voice. “The ones who pray to live…and the ones who beg for it to be over.”

“And what kind of man are you now?” Sam asked. His tone was loose, but his gaze was sharp.

Michael snorted. He dabbed the butt of his cigarette on the inside of the sink before he threw it away.

“I’m the guy who can’t die,” he muttered.

He rolled his shoulders, as if to let the weight of his words and everything that came along with them to roll off his back. Then he pushed his way out of the bathroom, leaving Sam considering more than just half a cigarette.

That night after Dean left, you slept in the guest room instead of your bed. You couldn’t even bring yourself to sleep next to Michael when he stumbled in at four in the morning, especially now that you had seen his game with your own eyes. 

However, you also felt complicit yourself the next morning. You felt…ashamed. You took your vows seriously. You had never in your life thought you would be someone so brazen. You never thought you would dishonor your husband as well as yourself.

And yet. All while you got ready for work, hearing Michael’s snores from the other room, your mind was filled with warmth and memory—of Dean. His smile, his voice, his eyes, his lips, and of course, his hands. You couldn’t decide which of them was your favorite, but his hands were high on the list. 

You shouldn’t have let him in, you reminded yourself. You nibbled on your lower lip while you prepped the coffee maker. You should have told him goodnight at the door and saw him off. You should very well not have invited him up to the apartment, let alone drank with him, or let him touch you…

You paused while the sound of percolation and the smell of fresh coffee filled the kitchen. You looked up at yourself in the small mirror that hung on the wall. The woman looking back at you was conflicted at best.

Yes, you felt guilty. But at the same time, you didn’t. Was it really betraying your marriage if your husband had been doing far worse, and for God knew how long?

No. This wasn’t a marriage. This was a sham. A mockery of the very thing.

You frowned angrily and almost slammed the carafe on the counter when the coffee was done. Forcing yourself to take a few steadying breaths, you allowed that hate and anger to slowly drain out of you, and you smiled.

You marveled that you could smile at all, but it was only thanks to Dean Winchester.

What the hell am I doing?

Dean stared at the two bouquets of flowers. One was a bound bunch of red roses, the other was wildflowers and other colorful ones he didn’t know the names of. He was having a hard time deciding, namely because he didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked.

Because after all, he barely knew you.

He sighed down at the roses. They were pretty, but expensive. He could imagine your surprise, followed by your smile—the one that actually lit up your eyes and changed your whole face, made you sweeter, almost shy.

I’m buying flowers for a married woman.

The thought managed to make him pause, with a rough exhale of breath. The truth was, he’d crossed the line with you. More than once.

The hard part about it was, he didn’t really care. He did wonder if you cared.

He wondered if you’d be embarrassed to see him again. He wondered if you wanted to keep last night a memory, and nothing more. He wondered if he was better off booking his train home now, and leaving some kind of note for you with Sam. Dean didn’t think he wanted to see that look of mortification on your face, the whiskey finally cleared from your mind to see what he really was: a man with no job, no commitments, and very little prospects on the horizon.

“Ah, ‘scuse me,” a young man said from Dean’s left side.

“Oh, sorry,” Dean said, making way for the guy. He wasn’t quite as tall as Dean, lithe, blonde, and blue-eyed. He grabbed an arrangement of blue and yellow iris flowers from the case and took it up to the front. The florist seemed to recognize him.

“Oh, Michael! Been a while since I’ve seen you,” he said.

When the florist asked about you as well, the mention of your name rang between Dean’s ears. A feeling like inky claws raked through his chest; he raised his head from the roses and finally recognized Michael Milligan. He was the same man Dean had spotted in your wedding pictures hanging on the wall last night, right in the foyer.

“She’s all right,” Michael chuckled. “Truth be told, I’ve been working late this week. Hoping to surprise her tonight, take her out to dinner. Somewhere nice, you know.” 

“Oh, really? Why don’t you take her to that nice steakhouse off of Broadway…” the florist twittered on as he continued to ring up Michael’s order.

Anger and disgust prickled under Dean’s skin, his fists clenched at his sides. More than anything, he wanted to turn around and lay your husband out flat. If he thought one little bouquet and a Salisbury steak was going to wash him clean, then he was an idiot as well as a selfish bastard.

But Dean knew, deep down, that Michael would be just as justified to throw a swing right back at him.

So Dean left the flowers, the flower shop, and the entire busy street and all its blaring sounds behind.

During your lunch break, you quickly made the trek over to Sam’s office. He’d called you this morning with a story that only confirmed everything you’d inherently felt, and yet, some of it still managed to shock you. 

You didn’t even have the patience to wait until after work, but when you got there, he reassured you. It had taken him a few rounds of poker and discreetly following Michael and Dolores after they exited through the back of the club…but Sam had gotten the evidence not long after. They weren’t exactly discreet in the alley. Or in the nearby motel.

You had the envelope in hand filled with the pictures he’d developed from his camera.  

“You don’t have to look,” he advised. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“No, I want to see it,” you said. You took the pictures out, and your expression didn’t change as you look through them all. Each position captured was more compromising than the next between Michael and Dolores Daye. Apparently, he was paying most of her bills as well with your combined household funds. So part of your own money was financing his exploits.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. He was sincere, with those hazel eyes of his.

You nodded and gave him back the envelope. “What’s next?”

“I went ahead and filed the petition. I’ll take this right to the clerk’s office myself.”

“How long will it take to be over?”

“As long as Michael plays along, should be quick. A few months at most, after he’s served the divorce papers and signs them,” Sam assured.

A few months? That wasn’t quick enough in your book, but you agreed with a nod. You got up from the chair opposite his desk. You hesitated there.

“Oh, I meant to ask…how’s your brother?” you said.

Sam began to smile, but he tempered it. “He just called before you came in. He let me know he was stepping out for a walk.”

“Oh, really? Did he happen to say where?”

You not only found Dean in Central Park, but close to the very same bench you two had sat on yesterday and talked the night away. He was surprised, but he smiled when he saw you. Your pace quickened, until you were hastening over to him. He welcomed you into his arms. He bent his head towards yours, stopping just shy of kissing you. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours for a moment.

“Well, look who’s here?” he teased. “How’d you find me?”

“I stopped by Sam’s office,” you said, holding onto the lapels of his coat. A cold November wind pushed at you both, ruffling your clothes. “The paperwork is on its way. Soon enough, I won’t be a married woman anymore.”

He tucked a wild strand of hair behind your ear and smiled, but it didn’t altogether reach his eyes.

“How soon is soon?” he asked.

“A few months, according to your brother.”

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath. “That’s good…but, I need to head home for a little while.”

That made you pause, tilting your head in confusion. Though you supposed it made sense. He was only here visiting his brother. He was planning on going home eventually.

But surely, that was before we… You lowered your gaze.

“Back to Lawrence?” you asked. Again, he nodded.

“I need to take care of some things, figure out my next move,” he said.

You pulled away from him to brace yourself, and not just against the cold. “Well, when will you be back?” 

He stayed quiet, worrying you even more. There was a deep pit forming in your stomach, churning with unease.  

“Dean?” you prodded.

He stepped back in to grasp your arms gently.

“Sweetheart…the truth is, I don’t have much to offer you,” he said. “I don’t have a business to inherit from my folks. I don’t even have a job. I’m a man who was about as useful as a jackhammer, until the war ended.”

You frowned, resting a hand against his chest. “Dean Winchester, that’s not all there is to you.”

“Really. When did you figure that one out, in the whole week you’ve known me?” he asked. It was harsher than he meant to be, but he couldn’t help the words that were spilling out of his mouth. “Didn’t that get you in trouble the first time? I’d a thought you would’ve learned your lesson by now.”

You snatched your hand back, hurt filling your eyes. You turned to walk away before he saw your tears. You should have known. You should have known a man like him would never be serious. Not about you. 

As soon as he let the words go, Dean realized what he was doing. Yeah, he was frustrated, but it wasn’t aimed at you. It couldn’t be aimed at you.

God knew he didn’t want to hurt you, or for you to hate him. He really couldn’t stomach either thought, so he relented and reached out to grab at your hand, before you could get too far. 

“Wait,” he said, managing to pull you back to him. “I’m sorry.”

You tugged your hand to try and free yourself from his grasp. 

“You know what, maybe you’re right,” you said, your voice wobbling with anger, dismay, and tears. “Maybe I ought to stop letting a man get even an inch into my heart. At this point, it’s my own fault.”

“Stop,” Dean demanded. “No, it’s not.” 

He pulled you back into him, but you looked away from his imploring gaze. Your breaths grew shallow while you tried in vain to stop yourself from crying. It damn well broke his heart.

“It’s not your fault. I’m just an idiot,” He cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears as they fell. “But you…you deserve to be happy. With a man that can take care of you, protect you. A man who has a little more of his life figured out.”

“You’re just saying that so you have an excuse for toying with me. So you can keep chasing skirts,” you said, pushing at his chest. “Yes, your brother told me about all your little exploits.”

Dean took the blow, both proverbial and physical, with a raise of his brows. He guessed he couldn’t blame you for that one. Still, the disdain behind your words stung. He allowed you to break free of him.

You stepped back and straightened your clothes. You took in a deep breath that did nothing to calm you, and you uttered a humorless laugh.

“I suppose it makes sense. Why would you want anything to do with me?” You gestured down at yourself with a dismissive hand. “A-a walking mess. Even when I am divorced, that’s how people will see me. Damaged goods. I don’t even know how I’m gonna tell my parents.”

You covered your face against Dean and the rest of the world, and after weeks and months, you finally allowed yourself the one thing you hadn’t since your first inkling that your husband was being unfaithful. You finally allowed yourself to break.

The first sob shuddered through your body, followed by hot tears. You squeezed your eyes against them and wiped at your face in vain.

Dean broke too, in his own way. He gathered you into his arms, where he shushed you gently and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“I wasn’t giving you an excuse,” he said.

Despite how much you wanted to push him away, the deep, steady timbre of his voice pierced you and soothed you at the same time.

“I meant every word I said. I may not be the right guy for you, but don’t you dare take a scrap of what anyone else might say, you hear me?” he said firmly. “You’re beautiful. You don’t suffer fools like me, and you’re better than that sad sack excuse of a man deserves.”

You looked up at him with watery eyes.

“You’re a lot of things, Dean Winchester, but you’re not a fool.”

He shook his head, not wanting to argue with you anymore. He just kissed you, deeply, thoroughly, the way you always imagined a kiss should be.

Except that you realized…this was goodbye. So you took advantage of every second of it.

You met him with as much as he gave and reached up to touch his cheek. It felt a little rough under your fingers, just like you remembered. You would probably always remember that feeling, long after you left the park.

That evening, you packed as many bags as you could. You put together the savings you’d been collecting for a few months. It had been at your coworker Jess’s advice, ever since you started feeling the inkling that something wasn’t right in your marriage.

After you were all packed, you took one last, long look at the space you had tried to make your home. With one last tear trailing your cheek, you stepped out of the apartment. You took the bus uptown, where you later checked into a hotel. 

When your husband finally got home from work, he would find a one-page letter written in your own hand. 

For once, Sam was actually home in his apartment. He was helping Dean take his suitcase to the front door after calling a taxi to come shortly. Sam wasn’t happy about it though.

“You don’t have to go so soon, Dean,” said Sam.

Dean gave a humorless laugh. He grabbed his coat from the rack and threw it on.

“I’ve gotta get back to the house. It’s already been empty too long,” he said. Three years too long. “Fact is, I’m just getting in your way here.”

He couldn’t quite meet Sam’s eyes as he went to the door, but Sam stopped him with a pressing hand on his arm, tugging him back.

“Hey,” Sam said, his brows furrowed. “That’s not true. Where’d you get that idea?”

Dean raised his brows. “You mean the way you’ve haven’t been home more than a few hours a night? The way the only time I see you is if I go find you at that office. You should open up a Bed n’ Breakfast there. You’d make a double killing in this town.”

Sam wilted. “Dean, we opened the firm barely a month ago. I’m just trying to—”

Dean laid a hand on his shoulder, relenting.

“Hey, look. I’m not judging you, Sammy. I’m not,” he said. “You’re building something. I know that. I just need to go figure out how to do the same, whatever that means for me.”

Sam stared back at him, still with that frown. His guilt and reluctance to see Dean go was reflected in his eyes; those sad puppy dog eyes that used to get him out of almost any punishment with their parents when the boys were young. Before.

The corner of Dean’s mouth kicked up into a smirk.

“Don’t worry. I’ll see you again soon,” he said.

“How soon is soon?” Sam asked. It was something their mother used to say to John whenever he called late, promising he’d come home after long days in town buying supplies for the farm.

“The divorce papers will be served to Michael Milligan,” Sam added, pointedly raising his brows. “She…could use your support.”

Dean’s smile faded at the mention of you. His hand slipped from Sam’s shoulder.

“She’s got a strong head on her shoulders. She’ll be all right,” he said. He heard the honk of the taxi outside. He grabbed up his hat, set it on his head, and took up his bags. He turned back to Sam at the last moment. “I’m sure you’ll look out for her.”

It was somehow both a question, and an imploring charge. Sam sighed, but he nodded in agreement. His brother could be so very stubborn. Once he got an idea of what he thought he needed to do, there was almost no talking him out of it.

Sam opened the door for him and walked him out to the car, helping him with his bags. Before Dean could get into the cab, Sam stopped him. Their gazes met, but in that moment, no words were needed.

They pulled one another into a firm hug.

I’m sorry. I should’ve been there more for you.

Don’t worry about it. It’s already forgotten.

Dean released him first with a smile, and a heavy pat of Sam’s shoulder. He turned and climbed into the cab’s backseat. Afterwards, Sam watched the yellow cab take his brother away to the train station, feeling a weight in his heart that wouldn’t subside.

He would never know that Dean felt exactly the same way. Except that impossible weight felt a lot like your hand, gently laid over his heart.

Dean took up his suitcase as the train pulled into the station. He stepped up onto the platform and retrieved the ticket from his pocket, but he paused, hearing a familiar voice shouting his name.

He turned his head and saw Sam rushing to meet him at the platform.

“What’s the matter? What’re you doing here?” Dean asked in surprise. He didn’t like the wary apprehension written across Sam’s face.

“I just took a closer look at Milligan’s finances,” he said. “Before you go, there’s something you might want to know.”

AN: Come on, we needed at least one cliffhanger in this series! 😘 What do you think Sam rushed over to tell Dean? What did you think about their "goodbye," as well as her and Dean's goodbye? ...And are you ready for all the drama that's about to go down? lol 

Next Time:

Except the loud, insistent knock on the door broke you out of your thoughts. Straightening up with a frown, you set down your glass and went over to the door. Maybe it was Housekeeping coming up to bring you the fresh towels you asked for. The ones that had been laid out in the bathroom smelled musty.

You opened the door to a tall frame taking up room in the doorway. It was Michael, standing there both disheveled and steaming mad. He held your letter crumpled in his left hand. 

“Michael, what—what’re you doing here?” you gasped and stepped back. He followed you inside the room and slammed it shut. He looked around at your open suitcases in disbelief, then finally at you.

“What’s this supposed to mean, huh?” he demanded to know. He shook the flimsy piece of paper at you.

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[the-oracle-of-the-lost]

i'm actually pretty far into my Picard-era Voyager reunion fic (about 6k out of.... probably 9k or so) but i'm a bit insecure about it because every other longer fic i've written has been a little more insightful & deeper whereas this feels too surface level for my tastes. like i enjoy writing it. and i'd enjoy it if i was just a reader rather than a writer. it's fun to catch up with these characters and figure out how their relationships have changed and write some banter but idk it's just not clicking the way my other recent published fics have.

[arcticmist0324]

One thing that is difficult about writing historical fiction is when you’ve set your story up in the same time frame as major historical events, which you KNOW would be on your characters’ radar yet they don’t impact the plot. What is too much? What is too little?

[smol-tired-binch-blog]

hate how im now at a point where im legit like kicking my legs and grinning like an idiot over fictional characters SEND HELP

[warmfuzzyanimal]

Is it ok if I reference your art? I want to make a reference sheet for my character and you're so good at drawing my body type. I would NOT directly trace yours, but it might come out as the same pose as whatever I end up referencing. If that's not okay, I understand and it's completely fine! If it makes you uncomfortable, I will not use your art as a reference. (Sorry I'm bad at wording things)

sure! referencing poses or w/e is super okay with me ^^ also tbh, i don't mind if people trace* my art,

****AS LONG AS*****

they're not posting it, and especially not posting it claiming it's their own. anyone can *privately * use my work to learn shapes or lines or whatever else, tracing is a good tool to feel out the shapes in art.

👍

note: by tracing, i specifically mean breaking down the art to bare bones shapes. finding the circles and squares and bean shapes that compose the anatomy in a piece, NOT just tracing along the lines. direct tracing does not work as a tool, and is something i'm very not okay with happening to my work. ... annnd is something i very heavily encourage you to avoid for the sake of learning on your own.

[asakamasanobu]

can nakamura please bring back ritsu’s father issues …….. please i’m asking for a friend

[koushirouizumi]

{YU-GI-OH!} Duel Monsters Type: AMV ~ Yuugi & {Ace-implied!}Yami {Atem*} (*This AMV mainly contains 'Yami''s form) [Reading in Aro-Ace or Aro-Acespec!Yami is also Fine] {Just please respect my own headcanons too!} Title: "Taking Over Me"

Summary: "You saw me M o u r n i n g my {xxxx} for YOU, and T O U C H E D MY H A N D..."

"...Just to F I N D Y O U--"

Music © E.v.a.n.e.s.e.n.c.e/Amy Lee

Spoiler Info: -Leads up to End of Anime-only “DOMA” Arc's Yuugi & Yami Duel {Anime-Only sequences; not included in original manga} -{Mainly} D.M. Only Eps -A single clip from the original 1st series by Toei opens it, but nothing else from it is included.

*Any Lip-sync'ng was unintentional {+Any similar Might be removed in any future Remake}

Yu-Gi-Oh! © Kazuki Takahashi Yu-Gi-Oh! 1st Series {Anime} © Toei Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters {Anime} © Studio Gallop This is a FAN-WORK. NO $$$ is being made off this work.

{AMV by (Young) Me} {DO NOT REPOST} {DO NOT COPY} {DO NOT REPRODUCE MY WORKS UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES WITHOUT MY PERMISSION}

(Note: This is an OLD work {10+ yrs old}. and one of my last YGO D. M. ones of the timeframe; however, it was still very early on in my making of these type of works {AMVs} when I finished this. The footage used will reflect this, as it was made before widespread transition into H.D. Footages. Please be understanding.) [There may be intent for me to remake it someday!] Overall, it is Complete, and other than removing accidental lipsyncs; Most of it I do not plan to change.

Note: -This video’s embed may randomly not display at times, Showing like it’s “down”, but it’s not at this time! {It usually happens late at night[s] or seemingly when Tumblr and/or Vimeo is experiencing very high traffic} If that happens, please consider watching the Direct link here!

{I am NOT taking new Requests [or making changes to this one] (+for this series) at this time. Please DO NOT Ask!}

[lovegasmic]

𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗬▶ WELCOME HOME, CALEB 𝗩𝗛𝗦

‘ zayne x fem!reader x caleb ’ love and deepspace

⌞ PG-18 ⌝ — based off Caleb’s first scenes but with the current reunion◞ double penetration◞ thigh fucking◞ cunilingus◞ fingering ◞ squirting ◞ kitchen sex ◞ blowjobs ◞ creampie◞ tips touching◞ three way kisses◞ there is a little tension between Caleb and Zayne◞ and Caleb is a tease / sarcastic but not mean◞ w plot !

“let’s invite Zayne over for dinner”

you still remember that day clearly, when things were perfect, having shared a yummy lunch with Caleb and Grandma before everything went crashing down.

who could have through that lingering promise would have turned into a “let’s invite Caleb for dinner” instead.

surprised was not even the correct word to express how you felt upon reuniting with Caleb once again, shock, confusion, happiness, all emotions previously bottled up now bursting as you ran to embrace the man you had missed deeply.

“Zayne will be running a little late” you explain to Caleb who is currently standing next to you while helping chop a few vegetables, giving some extra attention to the carrots, “there was an emergency at the hospital”

Caleb couldn’t care less, to be honest, hiding the fact that he would very much rather spend the whole day with you alone, but alas, some time before the black haired man arrived was also welcomed.

“oh, really?” he hums, grabbing yet another carrot to chop, nonchalantly with a slight hint of a smile on his face, “it’s a pity, he works too much, doesn’t he? he’s probably getting wrinkly already” his words are so filled with amusement, like an inner joke he is not willing to share.

“don’t tease him” you scold him gently, “but yes, Zayne is often overworked, he never listens when I ask him to take breaks”

“he is a girls repellent, they don’t like workaholics” Caleb starts, almost as if he was testing the waters while you turned to wash a few used utensils so couldn’t see his eyes following you to gauge your reaction, “girls like attentive guys…, guys who can cook…, don’t you think” was he… praising himself?

“well—” Caleb scoffs a little loud, a sound you would have heard if it weren’t because the door suddenly was pushed open and Zayne walked in, with a bag in his hand and sliding his glasses into the shirt pocket with the other.

“oh, Caleb, it’s good to see you again” the doctor’s tone is as flat as you expected, yet he still approaches to greet the other man whose only thoughts are why did Zayne had the code to your apartment, why is Zayne so comfortable in your house, why is Zayne placing his hand on your waist while walking past you.

Caleb is not liking this at all.

“yeah” the smile gets back in place with a hint of annoyance that lasts a second, “good to see you too, Zayne”

the latter’s attention shifting to you almost immediately, now there is a soft smile while leaning next to you to check what’s in the oven, then the bag he was carrying is left on the counter, “i got some—”

“macaroons” Caleb chimes in with that smirk that borderlines on bickering, “i’m not surprised”

Zayne’s eyes lay on the other man, looking a tad bored even, then down on the counter with an almost imperceptible raise of a brow, “and you are still obsessed with carrots, i’m not surprised either”

“she loves them” Caleb motions to you while his eyes lock on Zayne’s

“i can’t—”

“she likes macaroons better”

“that’s you, actually—” you get to whisper under your breath, the atmosphere thick with unexpected tension.

“we grew up together” Caleb retorts, “i know her better”

“i also grew up with her”

“but not as long as me”

“are you sure about that?”

“stop!” you finally raise your voice and both of them turn to look at you with expressions softening like puppies who just got scolded, “why are you fighting? this was supposed to be a nice dinner” your voice lowers with a sigh as you lean over the counter with both hands on the surface.

Zayne is the first to speak, resting a hand on your lower back, “i’m sorry”

and Caleb joins, saying your name very gently while bringing a hand to cup your nape, “i’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to ruin things” then he plants a kiss on the top of your head, to which Zayne replicated with a kiss on your shoulder, their affection making you shiver slightly.

but you don’t reply yet, having a hint of a pout on your mouth that both men find absolutely adorable, starting to leave more kisses across your skin, Zayne trailing up your neck to your ear while Caleb went down to kiss your neck and collarbones, unable to stop the soft whines that left your lips. and they continue, taking the cute little sounds you make as encouragement, “so cute” Caleb murmurs, with a hand coming to squeeze your waist and rub under your shirt with a thumb.

Zayne on the other hand, trails his hand up and down your back, settling on top of your butt and gently tugging you closer to the both of them.

“I didn't mean to upset you” is Zayne who speaks first, lowering his head to take a better look into your face and slowly pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

which Caleb takes as a challenge, mimicking the other man to stare into your eyes with a smile, “come on, pipsqueak, forgive me” then presses a kiss on your lips, a chaste one that leaves you slightly surprised, unable to properly understand what just happened before Zayne repeats the act, the frown on his face almost imperceptible because of the way they’re constantly kissing you without giving you a moment to think.

until both crash and you are left utterly speechless when they both kiss you, with hands on your hips and waist, tongues sticking out to meet the other two in what you can just catalogue as the lewdest kiss you’ve ever gotten, unsure of whether of it’s Zayne or Caleb whose hands grope your ass, whose the one sliding a hand under your shirt until it comes to lay under your boob and you moan against their eager mouths.

the kiss does not stop, it’s so messy, with saliva, tongues and teeth, muffled groans of delight solely from kissing your soft lips.

“you taste delicious” Caleb parts with a pant, as if he has just ran a marathon and would do it again, all while Zayne takes the opportunity to kiss you himself, still without much words, yet cupping the back of your neck to tilt your head back and devour your mouth, sloppily and uncharacteristically messy for a doctor of his level.

kisses get peppered on your neck next, lower and lower while your other best friend starts to slowly open your blouse buttons, his tongue leaving a burning trail that soon cools against the air from where his saliva touches the skin of your chest, down the valley of your tits. his hands being too skilled and Zayne’s kiss leaving you breathless that your lust filled brain barely registers the other man’s hands undoing your bra, too impatient to even take it off so he just pushes the soft fabric up and attaches his lips to a nipple, sucking eagerly and barely nibbling on the sensitive flesh, sending waves of slick down your already drenched panties.

“ah, fuck—” you moan against Zayne’s mouth, who eagerly receives the sound with a low growl of his own, slow and very gently sliding the hand —you now realize was Zayne’s all along— down the curve of your ass and under the skirt, barely teasing the crotch of your panties with a single finger that dips in between your folds through the flimsy fabric.

moans only grow, getting a little choked with how dizzy both of them made you feel.

Caleb’s lips are so eager, so soft and warm, leaving each nipple utterly sensitive and coated in saliva as he moaned against your skin, unconsciously helping Zayne keep your skirt up around your waist as he slowly knelt in between your legs, nose bumping against Zayne’s fingers and your lower lips that were so visible through the soaked panties, “fuck, love… you smell divine” his voice so deep and makes your knees buck, and forces Zayne to finally release your mouth with a gasp as his green eyes flickered to the sight of Caleb between your legs, eagerly tugging down on your panties until the fell on the cold ground with a soft ‘splat’ due to how wet they were.

you whimper at the coldness, which gets quickly replaced by Caleb’s lips attaching to your clitoris, sucking the engorged nub, “C-Caleb! a-ah yes” your cries are heavenly for both men, who can feel their cocks getting even harder at your sounds, smell, and they way your cute body shook.

Zayne is quick to help, latching his lips to your earlobe and nibbling, making sure to wrap an arm around your waist to keep your body upright as his finger found your empty and fluttering hole, “so wet, so pretty” his voice is deep, caressing your ear like his fingertips does with your hole before dipping inside, “and so tight…”

“Zayne!” you mewl, now, holding onto Caleb’s hair with a hand and Zayne’s wrist with the other, a few seconds away from letting out a sob bubble out your throat.

“good?” and you nod, gasping at each delicious thrust and curling motion of the fingers inside your gushing cunt that squelched vulgarly, alongside the sounds of the man between your legs, slurping and sucking on your clit and folds as his life depends on it, occasionally brushing against the other man’s fingers which makes him groan.

there is slick dribbling down your legs, which Caleb eagerly laps up with a low, murmured, “fucking delicious” before his lips are on you again, there’s a cacophony of sounds, to which the sound of belts soon join and a muffled growl against your folds, before you can hear a soft ‘shlick’, fluttering your eyes open to be greeted with the sigh of Caleb between your legs and his arm moving desperately between his own.

“can I…” Zayne breaks your line of thought, pressing a kiss on your nape and the tip of his now bare and drenched cock rubs against the back of your thigh, immediately understanding what he was asking for and you nod.

Caleb stands finally, with lips coated in slick, aggressively fisting his own fat and veiny cock that already leaks precum before he is kissing you now, sharing the taste of your juices and a hand tight on the hair in the back of your head to keep your head still.

“you taste so good” Caleb mumbles with what you can just explain as a drunk hazed smirk, and you’re no far from it, with half lidded eyes, moaning wantonly while a little line of saliva dribbles down your cheek at Zayne’s two fingers abusing your cunt, managing to hit the delicious spongy spot that had your hole gushing waves after waves of slick all over his hand and a bit on the floor.

your hands land on Caleb’s shoulders, tugging for another kiss at the same time Zayne’s thick cock slides between your legs, keeping them squished for a better grip.

“stay like that” he murmurs so low and dark that you, once again, get impossibly wetter, soaking his cock that’s perfectly nestled between your folds and bumping on your clit with each thrust.

it really is flattering how both of them get whipped by you so easily, with Zayne moving faster and faster until your body gets also rocked back and forth, and his cockhead brushes against Caleb’s in front of you, making them both moan and you whine at the sound, throwing your hips back to get a little more friction, “m-more, please, I need to cum” you almost beg, and a hand lands on your clit, offering to rub you through an orgasm but you refuse, “no, i— ah!”

Caleb cups your face with a hand, a little tighter than necessary but his dark and blown pupils stare at you, “what do you need?”

Zayne stops too, rubbing on your lower abdomen so sweetly, “your cock” you murmur and precum dribbles down your thigh.

“whose?”

“both…” you barely murmur, letting another moan leave with how tight Zayne’s hands get on your hips.

“are you sure?”

“yeah… maybe… one at first?”

and they both agree, now Caleb sitting atop the kitchen counter, legs spread and your eager and warm mouth wrapped around his long cock that fills every inch of your mouth, veins pulsing in a warning of an imminent orgasm that he forces to stay down until he has a taste of that sweet cunt too.

“oh, darling, oh fuck” you never could have expected for Zayne to be so vocal, moaning against your neck while he basically humps your pussy with tiny thrusts that keep him deep, but they are so aggressive, so needy that you get pushed further against Caleb’s cock lodged down your throat, and a few tears fill your eyes at the stretch.

“ah, yeah, shit…” is the latter who moans now, grabbing a fistful of hair and keeping your mouth still, drooling all over his pelvis, “i need to fuck your cunt now, Zayne move over”

there is a little grumble from Zayne but he obeys, pulling you back against his chest that is now just covered by a shirt, you gasp and pant at the amounts of air that fill your lungs, allowing for Caleb to stand up in front of you, he was completely naked unlike Zayne and you who just had a skirt and socks on right now.

they tilt your head at the same time, lips crashing like minutes ago, making you so dizzy that you can barely register how they both lift you up, having you squished in the middle, thighs spread wide and swinging over their big arms.

“c-careful” you murmur through the mess of tongues upon feeling another cock poke on your clitoris, teasing the slick soaked skin and down your full and overly stretched hole that pulses around Zayne.

“i’ll be gentle” Caleb smirks, prodding against your abused pussy and slowly but steadily getting inside, the three moan simultaneously, the stretch too wide but still as inhumanly good, the feeling of their cocks rubbing together was sending shivers down their spines but none of the men was willing to say it out loud, barely nibbling on their bottom lip to keep the sounds down.

“so… tight” Zayne murmurs with open mouthed pants against your nape.

“you feel… ah… so amazing… what a heavenly pussy” Caleb comments next, keeping your thighs wide so his balls finally press flush against Zayne’s and your needy cunt.

“y-eah…! s’ full” your words are slurred, eyes crossing already and barely having time to think before they are moving and tossing you around, too pussy drunk to stop as they use you like a rag doll, up and down, sometimes in circles that has your toes curling and chest glistening with sweat and saliva that leaves your mouth wide open, almost dumb.

they groan unabashedly, muttering praises to your gorgeous cunt for sucking on their cocks so good, like a damn fuckin’ vice, refusing to let them go even if your brain shuts down, “s’ good, s’ fuckin’ good, feel funny…”

they have never seen a sight so pretty, your eyes crossed and filled with tears, tits jiggling and nipples hard in blissful pleasure.

there are a few jets of liquid gushing from your pussy, too stupid to even realize you’ve been cumming on their cocks already, they’re tiny but makes both of them groan when louder, hips snapping brutal and vulgarly against your over sensitive and used pussy, that keeps cumming nonstop.

Zayne has a hand on your pelvis, barely above your pussy, pushing in the skin to keep you flush and somehow feeling the movements of your insides being fucked by their fat cocks, making you squeeze them tighter.

“i’m going to cum” Caleb mutters with a hoarse tone, his forehead is covered in sweat and his head low, jaw slacked to let out those pleasure sounds, “can’t last longer, this pussy is too good”

Zayne does not want to admit how embarrassingly close he is as well, gritting his teeth while his hips snap a bit harder, making his flesh slap against your ass that’s sore by this point.

two, three more minutes and they fill you to the brim, tips pushing into that spot that is just so deep and you come crashing with a scream, soaking their lengths and balls with squirt while they both fill your womb with semen, so thick and so much you feel like throwing up.

no one speaks for what feels like hours, trembling in the middle of the kitchen floor, until Caleb speaks, “i hope… we can do this dinner again” his voice is low against your neck, and soon the smell of burnt food fills the air.

i’ve been wanting to write for them since so long so if its ooc I apologize ajsgshs

[primofate]

Drop the towel wrapped around you and appear naked in front of your Genshin husband

In a nutshell: That old tiktok challenge/prank. In your private, shared home of course.

Warnings: My perpetual warning as a writing mother is that I am sleep deprived. Very VERY sleep deprived. SUGGESTIVE: BORDERING ON NOT SAFE FOR WORK, written on a 10 minute timer please be gentle

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Cyno, Diluc, Itto, Kaeya, Kaveh, Kazuha, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Tighnari, Wriothesley, Xiao, Zhongli, implied fem!reader

Personal Favourites: Tighnari

Aether

chokes on nothing

"Y-Y-Y/N?! What're you doing?"

Comes up to you and tries to cover you up with the towel again, as if it was a sin to look at you naked in broad daylight.

Full on blush on his face and respectfully tries to look away.

"Don't surprise me like that!"

Seems not to like it but actually likes it too much to the point of getting embarrassed for himself.

Yes he's your husband but is still a precious respectful man

Albedo

Blinks a couple of times but appreciates your beauty and gives your body a slow once over. Chuckles in amusement afterwards.

"Is there a reason for this?"

Just to get his reaction, you admit.

"Well..." starts walking towards you. "I do have higher self-control than most others... but let it be known that I'm far from immune to my..."

Stops in front of you and yet again seems to eat you up with his eyes. "...needs," ends with a suspiciously sweet smile.

Alhaitham

Can't help but be a bit surprised and you can see it by the way his eyebrows go up as soon as the towel hits the floor.

Opens his mouth to say something but closes it again, as if hesitating, which is really strange for someone like him.

"...Is this the part where I sweep you off your feet and carry you to our room?" there's a bit of amusement in his tone. Stands to walk over to you.

Places a hand on your waist.

"Cause I can guarantee you that we DON'T need to be in our bedroom for things to happen...but you knew that already, right?"

Ayato

Quirks his eyebrows up, amused smile appearing on his face.

"I must say, this is a lovely surprise,"

Traces your figure with his eyes. Then approaches you to hold your waist and dip in to kiss your neck softly.

"How could I ever resist, my love, when you're standing in front of me in all your magnificence?"

Takes the longest time just admiring and basking in your beauty, tracing every little part of your skin.

Baizhu

Lets pretend the snake ain't here okay?

Does a double take.

"Y/N, first off, you'll get a cold,"

Pushes his spectacles up and gives you a once over.

"Second, you'll give me a heart attack,"

Beckons you over gently with his hand. "Come over, I suppose it's been a while since...I've done a full body check,"

Hides a grin.

Cyno

Blankly looks at you and is still processing what is happening

"Y/N? Is this... Did I do something?"

Is so suspicious that this was some kind of trap.

You tell him its simply to get a reaction out of him.

Immediately shoots out of his seat and catches your wrist.

"Then...Is it my turn to get one out of you? There's several ways to do that...and I know your favourite ones,"

Diluc

Eyes follow the towel down to the floor and head snaps back up to blink at the sight in front of him. Recovers quickly.

Chuckles as he stands and walks over. Picks up the towel and drapes it around your shoulders. "Only because it's quite chilly tonight,"

but still ends up inching the towel off your shoulder, tracing your collarbone. "Although, as your husband, I suppose it IS my job to keep you warm... So how would you like it today, love?"

Itto

"WHOA!" by instinct covers his eyes with his hands but his fingers are actually splayed apart so he can totally see through the gaps

Feels himself getting aroused

I mean the guy gets turned on even just at the sight of your neck

Suddenly stands and walks over to you, easily hoists you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and makes a beeline to your shared room.

"You're asking for it Y/N!"

Kaeya

"Oho?"

Sits back and relaxes, he doesn't really know what he was expecting. Some type of show maybe. "What's this? Finally giving me that lap dance you owe me, snowflake?"

Laughs but you're incredibly flustered at the suggestion.

Beckons you over and grabs you by the waist to sit on his lap.

"Feel that?" he whispers in your ear.

Oh you feel it alright, pressing at your upper thigh.

"Now whose fault is that? You'll have to do something about it now, love,"

Kaveh

"Archons!"

Looks away with a blush on his cheeks.

"Put something on!"

Yes he's seen you naked before, you're married, but the guy's always flustered in unexpected events.

You provoke him further by coming over, sitting sideways on his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Y/N!" He looks down at you and can't help but look at your nakedness in full and close view.

Gulps but starts to feel his body heat up, his hands suddenly, assertively planting themselves on your waist as he meets your eyes. "I don't care what you say about yourself, but know that you're the only one who takes me from 0 to a 100 in a second,"

Kazuha

"Y/N?" Chuckles nervously and takes in the sight of your body.

Smiles at you and takes your hand to kiss the back of it.

"I've seen you countless of times... Each time, I'm reminded by how fortunate I am that you chose me to take care of you,"

Caresses your cheek all the way down to your jawline. "You're beautiful, Y/N,"

He has the most tender and gentle look on his face, but its mixed with a passion that you've never seen on anyone before. "Let me show you how much I love you, dear,"

Neuvillette

Eyebrows twitches upwards in surprise. Has no clue what to do in this new situation.

He doesn't say anything but is most definitely enjoying the view of your body. You see his jaw tense up, as if he's clenching his teeth.

"Ahem," he starts. Then seems to have the most trouble prying his eyes away to meet your gaze. "Is this...perhaps another way to tell me... that you would like some attention?"

You say not really and just wanted to see how he would react.

"Ah," he lets out, as if understanding and as if the conversation has ended.

A moment of silence passes and you're starting to wonder if that was all he was going to do. But he then stands and places a gentle hand on your bare waist. "...So you're simply doing it, as people would say, 'for fun'?"

He asks, and you say yes innocently. He smiles a bit and has another hand cupping your face and thumbing your lips. "I see," breathes out slowly.

"Unfortunately, for your actions, the Iudex feels that a punishment is in order,"

Scaramouche

Raises one eyebrow as if he's bored. Then smirks.

"If you wanted it, all you had to do was ask," pulls you by the waist and makes you straddle him "But this is good too,"

Hands actually start to grope you up and down. Will fondle and squeeze in private places immediately.

"What? Startin' to feel good? S'what you get when you play games with me,"

will smack your butt the first chance he gets

Tartaglia

Immediately jumps up and in an automatic daze, eyes glued to his favourite parts, trudges towards you and attempts to bury himself in softness.

You quickly stop him and in turn HE quickly stops you. Hands easily bunching your wrists up together and angling them upwards above your head.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," he grins down at you. "Someone's being naughty,"

You complain that he reacts too fast.

Laughs, but his hand starts to unbuckle his pants and there's a dark look in his eyes. "Oh, I'm just being naughty back. When you want something, Y/N, believe it when I say I'll GIVE it to you,"

Tighnari

ear twitches. Tail swishes back and forth. Does not show any expression except slight curiosity.

"What's the occasion?"

You tell him that you just wanted to see his reaction.

He hums and nods slowly, like processing some type of complicated information.

"Wait here, I'll be back in a minute,"

You ask him where he's going and you're a bit upset at the lack of response from him.

He chuckles and returns to you, tail angling upwards in an attempt to wrap and brush against your waist. Takes your hand, presses your wrist against his lips and seems to take a slow breath in.

"I'm merely clearing off my schedule for today. Now, be patient, I'll be back,"

Wriothesley

Almost spits out his drink but gulps it all down instead.

Eyes widen a fraction at the sudden act but his hand is already loosening his tie.

"Wait right there precious," chuckles while he says this, tie already falling to the ground, now unbuttoning his vest. At the same time walks over to you urgently as if you're going to disappear but laughs nervously while he's at it.

"I swear you'll be the death of me,"

Looks like he's going to pounce on you but when he reaches you he only gives you a chaste kiss, as if asking for permission first.

You suddenly remind him that he has a LOT of things to do today, appointments and all.

Actually barks out a quick laugh. "You're not really expecting me to walk out now? As far as I'm concerned," pulls you flush against him and kisses your jaw "The only thing I need to do today is you,"

Xiao

"Wh-Wh-What do you think you're doing?!"

caught unprepared. Crosses his arms and looks away. Pretends he's uninterested but his eyes still dart back to look at you.

You ask him if he likes what he sees.

He now completely looks away from you. A few seconds pass and when he turns his head back to look at you there's now a carnal look in his eyes.

He walks towards you slowly and captures your chin to tilt it up. Looks down at you as if he hasn't eaten a meal in days.

"...When I'm done with you tonight you'll get your answer,"

Zhongli

Chuckles. Amused.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, dear?"

You shrug and even do a turn for him. He watches you carefully and takes in the image in front of him.

Smiles and strides over towards you. "Truly a magnificent sight," brushes his fingers against your neck

His eyes trail downwards and isn't shy about looking at your body. "Might I remind you my dear, my stamina surpasses that of a normal human," he smiles at you sincerely.

You tell him that you're well aware. He just chuckles again.

"Then you know well what'll come next,"

End

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[tinystarbites]

accidents pt. II | Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: during a long case away, Spencer accidentally sees Reader's nudes on her phone and can't cope because he is a MESS for reader whoops pt.II The Reckoning /j, this is basically just 10k words of porn with feelings yikes

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, 18+ only, fem!reader, fluff, some angst (still Spencer feeling he isn't good enough 😔), EMOTIONSSS, Spencer STILL loves you so much, he gets a hug, and so much more!, talk about sex, detailed asking for CONSENT (be safe people), sex (piv), some frottage, uhhh what else, dirty talk, some dom/sub understones (sub!Spencer ofc), little bit allusion to subspace, Spencer discovers so many kinks in this awww we're so proud of you bby (mentioned kinks: praise kink, squint of liking being embarrassed, tiiny bit of a voyeristic thing), also I made him a virgin whoops so virgin!Spencer, proofread but prolly not perfect lol. Tell me if I'm missing any tags I am so tired

(also, Spencer will be bisexual in all of my Spencer fics because I am not a coward like the writers were and I will honour Spencer the way he was intended to)

HERE you can read pt. I, I do recommend it to have context and all but do whatever you want lmao I'm not your mother anyway have fun being completely wrecked like I was while writing this!! also thanks so so MUCH for 400 followers and almost 2k likes on the first part, you guys are the best and I hope you enjoy this fic as a thanks!!<333

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Spencer’s never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.

His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-

It’s you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he can’t just-

“Spencer?”

He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-

“Uh, yeah, just a second!”, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-

He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and –

“Okay, I’ll just…chill with that weird plant here.”

An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.

After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that it’s not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.

And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.

For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.

“Hi.”

You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesn’t know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.

You’re not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelope’s.

“Hi to yourself”, you chuckle, “Can I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?”

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

“Only seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.”

He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you don’t hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.

Spencer’s breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his body’s response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is… a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious he’s trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isn’t enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.

The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what you’re thinking.

“Spencer”, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didn’t make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. “Do you hate me?”

“Wha-“, he sputters your name, “No- no! Of course, I don’t- whe- why would you think that?”

You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. “Because you’ve been acting hella weird these last few days and you won’t tell me whyyyy”, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else he’s just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.

“I haven’t been acting weird, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

Spencer almost breaks his neck with how fast he whips his head down to look at you again. A strangled noise escapes him without permission and what. What.

“Because, that would actually explain so much, especially the way you’ve been acting and really, that’s probably on me because I’ve always been telling myself to put them behind a password block but I somehow always manage to forget that because apparently I have only one braincell left that’s stuck spinning on the deep-fried version of Funky Town and well, I guess I’m glad it was you that found them and not someone else and-“

“What? No, no, I didn’t- What- that’s not- what-“, Spencer cuts off your rambling with a horrified, screeched version of a protest because how- how could you have guessed what’s going on with just one try? Is Spencer so- so absolutely besotted with you that he’s so obvious? Spencer is so very confused and overwhelmed with whatever the hell is going on, he kind of misses the slight twitching of your mouth.

“Come on, Spencer. I said it’s fine and basically my own fault. Uh- well, actually… sorry. Because, well, that’s probably not very work-appropriate… I will pay for your therapy session, just send me the bill.”

Spencer thought he’d reached the limits of confusion seconds ago but apparently, he hadn’t. What. What are you even saying?

“Therapy sessions?”

You just- ignore him.

“Oh, also, please don’t tell Hotch? He’ll be pissed, despite me literally just doing hot-girl shit, y’know-“

Oh, Spencer cannot take it anymore.

He says your name and, “Stop, please, please, just-“

You snap your mouth shut, pulling your lips between your teeth and Spencer definitely doesn’t miss the way you have to force your mouth to stay still this time.

“Are you- is this a joke?”, Spencer asks, frazzled and desperate and so confused he just wants to bury his head under the duvet and never come out again. Because if you don’t actually know but- are just joking around, oh Spencer is overwhelmed, alright.

Your expression changes into something panicked then. “No, no, Spencer, sorry. I’m- sorry. Of course I’m not joking, I’m so sorry. It’s just a little bit too easy to tease you. Sorry.” You actually look apologetic now, lips downturned and frowning slightly.

“Not joking- so… so, you know?”, there’s something big and anxious pressing inside of Spencer’s chest. The urge to hide away and never face daylight again intensifies tenfold. He’s flushing before he realizes, hands trembling and breathing a bit too fast to be considered normal. Oh god, you know, you actually know, you’re going to- you’re never going to speak with him again you are probably here to tell him how weird and- and-

You must’ve noticed the frenzy he is thinking himself into, because you reach out with one hand and gently nudge his thigh with one knuckle. “Spencer”, you say, voice serious and steady and not the slightest bit disgusted or harsh and it snaps him out of his anxiety spiral.

“I knew the second I walked back into that room after you basically fled the precinct. I am, really, genuinely, sorry for making you uncomfortable. Like, it wasn’t actually my intention for you to see them. And then, after I realized what… I just wanted to wait and see what you’d do, if you came to talk to me or, well…”

You sigh, the hand that nudged him ruffling through your hair.

“I didn’t handle this situation very well. I’m really sorry. So… “, you trail off, scrunching your nose in that adorable way of yours that makes Spencer want to kiss it until it scrunches even further because you’d laugh and try to fight him off.

“We can just- forget about this. Forget that it ever happened, or-“, you hesitate again.

Spencer feels suddenly breathless. Like he stands in front of a cliff face, seconds before taking the step to send himself careening towards something immeasurably great or devastatingly fatal.

“Or…?”, he breathes, voice small and unsure.

You meet his eyes again after what feels like hours. There’s something intense in them, burning, and it’s like an electric shock to Spencer’s system. He’d give anything for you to keep looking at him like that forever.

“Or”, your hand returns to his thigh, but this time you let your fingers travel along the shape of it and Spencer whimpers. The burning in your eyes intensifies and Spencer feels hot, suddenly, so hot he’s burning with it. “Or we can do something else.”

“Something else?”, Spencer basically croaks because his throat is so dry and it’s difficult for his body to function properly when you are touching him like that.

You hum in agreement. “Whatever you want. You can tell m-“

“You.”

You look a bit startled when he cuts you off with that one, desperate syllable. Startled but also endlessly amused and Spencer just- his mind is apparently turned off, what the-

You laugh quietly, and your eyes soften, and it does something to Spencer that leaves an ach-y feeling in his chest. Oh, he loves you so much he can’t take it.

“Sure. You can have me”, you say simply, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world for you to admit, “Tell me what exactly you want, because I’d give you the world if you asked.”

And suddenly there’s hot pressure behind Spencer’s eyes, at the back of his throat. You’re just- just- amazing and so lovely and so kind to him, no one has ever said something like that to him, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Spencer blinks up to the ceiling, desperately willing these stupid unwelcome tears away because crying about you treating him kindly is so on the bottom of the list of acting casual about this, so he rather feels than sees you sitting up next to him. Your hand slips from his legs and he feels the loss of your touch as if someone sucked the marrow from his bones. Before he can say something embarrassing like ‘please touch me again’ he feels your hand covering his. It fills him with a heady kind of courage.

“I want…”, Spencer starts, feeling entirely too uncomfortable with having to state his deepest and darkest desires. There’s the old familiar urge to start picking at his nails nagging at him, but you just interlace your fingers with his and start tracing random patterns into the skin there with your thumb. Spencer melts against you and tenses up at the same time because it’s just so- so nice. It feels so nice and Spencer never thought he’d ever get to have things like that with you but you’re here. You’re here, with him, and basically offering Spencer the entire world on a silver platter but it’s still so so unfathomably difficult just saying what he so badly wants.

“You want…?”, you hum slightly, voice soft and so tender as you continue painting patterns on his skin and Spencer would literally die for you. And that’s the entire problem. Spencer doesn’t know if you’d do the same. Well. Maybe not die die for him but. He can’t just sleep with you, and it not meaning anything to you. It would kill him. It would kill him, if after you give him tenderness and pleasure and acceptance in a way he’s never dreamed of receiving, you would go back to normal. Always politely distanced, close, but never close enough and it already twists his chest just thinking of that possibility.

“I just-“, he tries again, but when the words are stuck in his throat, sticky molten sugar that tastes like bile and fear, he pulls out of your grip and buries his face in his hands. He’s so bad at this. He’s the worst. No wonder he’s never had- had something like Morgan has, one night stand after one night stand (not that he particularly wants that, god no, but just-) because Spencer is just so bad at spilling all of the things that plague his gut and keep his thoughts in overdrive at night. No wonder he’s never even had a girlfriend or boyfriend before.

“Hey, hey, Spencer”, he feels your hands cupping his own, still over his face. Not taking them away, but just – there. “It’s alright, penguin, we can always come back to this another time. I’ll wait.”

Spencer’s face crumples and his breath hitches a little because- penguin. That’s the frankly ridiculous nickname you’ve been using for him ever since he apparently once looked like one, with that white scarf and knee-length black coat he wore during one of your cases where a blizzard surprised not only the team, but also the unsub. Spencer, like most of you, wasn’t prepared and thus, had to make do with what the helpful officers provided them with. And well, Spencer drew the penguin stick it seemed.

It’s ridiculous but sweet and it always makes him feel so loved, loved by you, because it’s adorable and theirs and he just loves it irrationally much, okay? And also, penguins are just really fascinating because-

“Did you know that most penguins live monogamously? The Emperor penguin is actually one of the only ones that mate seasonally, they only have one mate per breeding season. But most others have a mate for life, like, like swans and bald eagles.”

Before Spencer even opened his mouth, he was aware of the fact he was going to ramble on about some unimportant stuff. It’s always like this, it always feels like a breath he’s been holding in for too long, like an itch somewhere in his weird brain that only stops when he opens his mouth and infodumps and he cannot stop it. No matter how consciously he is telling himself to cut it out or screaming at himself to shut the fuck up you weirdo, it’s unavoidable. As soon as his brain latches onto a statistic or a fact it is reminded of, it’s an unstoppable force.

Like now. He is kicking himself. Why, oh why can’t he ever be normal? He feels himself flushing bright red from embarrassment and shame and frustration. He can’t believe he is rambling about birds while- while whatever the hell you two are doing right now. While in the middle of a conversation that started out with you confronting him about him seeing your nudes, jesus christ.

Spencer is about to suffocate himself with a pillow when you let out a graceless snort.

It confuses Spencer so much he lowers his hands to look at you and- oh.

Your eyes are shining with something that looks so close to what he would call affection, and it makes him want to bawl his eyes out and at the same time, smile so hard there’ll be laugh lines on his cheeks for the rest of the week.

“Well, that fits perfectly then”, you say, and Spencer doesn’t understand.

“What do you mean?”

You smile just a little wider, a little more teasingly but in a nice way, in a kind way and it leaves Spencer’s chest blooming with warmth.

“If you’re my penguin, I’ll be your penguin.”

Youryouryouryouryour-

Spencer feels entirely braindead. Only the fact that you called him yours registers. Because yes. Yes. Spencer is so yours he’d gladly let you make every decision for him from now on in his life and yes. That’s not exactly a very normal thing to think. Or to want. Spencer doesn’t care. He’s never felt normal about you for a day in his life and he definitely won’t start now.

“You- you mean- like, as, as mates?”

You scrunch your nose in disgust. “If you want to call us that, I think I’ll take back my offer.”

It punches a giggle out of Spencer, sudden and kind of light-headed. He watches your face break into a wide grin.

“But you- you’d like that?” You’d like me?

You pull a face, sniffing in a nonchalant way, direct your face to your nails in fake disinterest.

“Sure. Whatever.”

And Spencer can’t help himself. He sobs out a laugh- laughs out a sob or, whatever that weird noise he makes is, because you’re so ridiculous and he loves you more than anything in the world.

You roll your eyes, fondly, shake your head slightly.

“Of course, Spencer. I’d like that very much because I like you a very unnormal amount. Literally. On my knees, crying, screaming etcetera”, you say just like that, smiling just like that.

Spencer feels like he’s dreaming. He must be. There’s no other explanation for it. He just can’t wrap his head around the fact that you could like him. You. You’re so, so lovely and amazing and you deserve everything good in this world and Spencer is just. Spencer.

“You- you like me? Me?”, Spencer can’t hide the incredulous tone that seeps into his questions because you like him?

There’s no traces of humour in your eyes anymore. Your eyes look painfully honest, face suddenly serious, and it steals Spencer’s breath away.

You lean closer to him again, grabbing his hands with yours. Your gaze bores itself into his, intense and steady and he can’t look away. “Spencer. I know it’s- I know life has been hard on you for way too long. And that leaves its marks on you. That’s fine. It’s human. But. You do not deserve any less love because of that, do you understand me? Of course I like you, what isn’t there to like? You’re kind and funny and sweet and just so- Spencer. You’re so lovable and it kills me to know that you don’t see how you are so worthy of being loved.”

Oh.

Oh.

You can’t just- can’t just say things like that and expect him to not cry a little. Can’t expect him to act completely nonchalant and cool about all of this when you say things like that to him. Are you trying to kill him? Because it sure does feel like that.

Spencer is so completely at a loss. He doesn’t know what to say to that- not to mention what to do. How do you always do this? How can you see straight to the hidden, bruised core of him, littered with all these ugly and bad things and. Just. Figure out what to say to strike him exactly there.

It should scare him, being known so deeply. It should, but it doesn’t because it’s you. You are warmth and acceptance like his favourite place in front of a fireplace, book in hand and rain gently knocking against windows. You are quiet mornings at work, you are soft rays of sunlight in his hair, you are gentle hands helping you up when you fall and bruise your knees. You are –

A touch to his cheek startles him. He opens his eyes – when did he close them? – to your fingers brushing some stray tears away, so softly as if he’s something precious, something to be held delicately. That thought sends new tears spilling down his cheek. He can’t believe this is affecting him so much, so completely he simultaneously feels like he is going to shatter and be stitched back together again.

He never knew he needed this so much.

“Sorry for making you cry, penguin. I didn’t think this discussion about my lack of nude etiquette would get this emotionally damaging”, you say, voice hushed in the big silence of the room, a small smile on your lips and eyes so kind.

Spencer snorts, despite himself. This has really been a very bizarre evening. He feels almost drunk on the weirdness of it all, on the rollercoaster that his emotions have ridden all evening. That’s probably why he does what he does next.  

“Neither did I, especially after you interrupted me while I wa-“

Spencer shuts his mouth so fast he clicks his teeth together, eyes wide and suddenly horrified. He- what-

Why?

Why can’t Spencer ever keep his big mouth shut? Is he completely and utterly insane?

There’re alarm bells going off somewhere in Spencer’s head and a concerning warmth settling deep in his stomach when your grin takes on a slightly devilish edge, one he knows all too well and. And. Oh. He’s in trouble. So much trouble. Why did he have to say that?

“After I interrupted you while?”, you prompt him, eyes electric and hot and oh god-

Spencer is so dumb. An idiot. Of the highest order. High IQ, where?

“Nothing”, he says, voice high-pitched and rushed and he curses himself and his ability to act everything else but nonchalant. He’d be the worst actor of all time.

“Spencer.”

The tone of your voice rearranges something in his neurons. He can feel himself sit up just that little bit straighter, can feel his mind buzz at the edges. He’s never felt like this before.

He loves it.

“Hmm?”, is all he gets out. Trouble, so much trouble.

Suddenly you’re standing up, away from him and Spencer wants to whine because you should stay there next to him, forever fixed to his side. He doesn’t have to despair long, because you take one of your knees and gently nudge his legs apart with it and okay. Okay. That definitely didn’t just send Spencer’s mind reeling. That wasn’t just totally the hottest thing that ever happened to him.

You slot yourself between his legs as if you own that space and. In his humble opinion, you do. You so do. Spencer is willing to give you a map of his entire body and a marker and tell you to please demarcate every part of him you want. He’d give it to you, no questions asked.

He is looking up at you, at your burning eyes that still hold something so soft in them that makes the lump in his throat bigger again. And by god, Spencer just needs to hear you say it again-

“You like me?”

You move closer to him, lifting one hand and placing it underneath his chin. Your thumb traces along his jaw and Spencer feels like he is going to burst into a million embarrassed pieces.

“Yes”, you say simply, but the way you say it. Spencer can’t help but shiver and exhale shakily. He feels so warm, everywhere. His skin burns where your fingers are touching him. He never wants this to stop.

“You- You want me?”

Your hand grips his face a little stronger, your other fingers splaying over and down his throat and there’s a high noise coming from somewhere and there’s goosebumps on his body everywhere and oh, wait- it’s him. The noise. Well, how embarrassing but. He doesn’t care. Nope. Not at all.

…Okay maybe a little. His face feels warm, suddenly, warmer than the rest of him and yes. He’s blushing, okay?

“Spencer”, the way you say his name it- god, “I want you. I said it before, but. I will give you anything. Tell me what you want, Spencer, and you will get it from me.”

Your eyes are so dark and your voice so low and Spencer actually whines and. He’s hard again, so hard, because he didn’t come before and now, he’s even more pent-up and his thoughts are a mess, but you haven’t even touched him more than this and he’s already so worked up from you just saying these things to him-

“I want you”, Spencer pants, currently finding no other English words in the dictionary of his mind. And well. Emily was right about him. IQ slashed to zero when pretty person do thing.

He watches you take a deep breath, as if to steady yourself, as if this whole thing is affecting you as much as it affects him but that’s- ridiculous. Impossible. Because. Have you seen yourself?

“I know that, Spencer. But what do you want from me? Do you want me to kiss you?”, you ask, face suddenly so close to his Spencer feels your breath fan over his skin, and he whimpers because yes he wants that wants that- “Do you want me to touch you more?”, your other hand grabs his side, gentle but just a little bit roughly and Spencer is suddenly vividly reminded of the fact how strong you are and he feels kind of lightheaded-

“Do you want me to fuck you, Spencer?”

Spencer is going to pass out. And die. And moan and say, “Please yes yes yes”. Maybe not in that particular order.

“Okay, angel, anything you want”, you say, smiling softly at him as if he’s the best thing in the world and angel. Angel. Angel.

Before he’s even started to process you calling him angel, he sees a glint in your eyes, that edge in your smile again and before he knows what’s happening, you’re kissing him.

You’re kissing him and it’s- everything.

Your mouth is soft against his, and Spencer’s insides twist and flutter and his brain is kind of lagging behind, but he wants to be closerclosercloser-

It’s so good Spencer completely blanks on everything. There’s nothing in his mind except the feel of your lips moving against his. There’s no insecurity, no embarrassment tainting this moment even though this is literally like, only the sixth kiss or so of Spencer’s life and he has no idea what he is doing. But it’s so good.

A noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper escapes him when you lick into his mouth and Spencer’s soul almost leaves his body. He feels you shudder where you are pressed together, chest to chest.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe against his lips, in between wet, hot, kisses. You rub your nose against his, eyes closed.

“Hmm?”, he hums, his voice somewhere in Canada or wherever. His mouth is too busy smiling so wide it hurts, anyways. No time for articulating anything.

“You’re amazing, Spencer, amazing.”

And he wants to shake his head, no, because the only one amazing here is you. But it’s impossible to disagree with you when your mouth has returned to his in a way that is probably ruining him for anyone else. (He’s okay with that.)

You peck him on the lips once, twice more, before you press your lips against his jaw, exactly where you had your fingers before. Your hands are basically the only thing holding Spencer up in a sitting position, because he feels like molten chocolate in your hands. Muscles apparently forgetting to do their job and well. Who can blame them? Spencer has stopped thinking in proper sentences the moment you had walked into his life, so. Only a matter of time until you broke the rest of him as well.

You kiss his neck and Spencer gasps. It’s really been a hot minute - three years, one hundred, twenty-one days and twenty hours to be exact – the last time he made out with someone. Everything feels heightened on his heated skin, especially you opening your mouth against him and licking him oh god-

It almost feels like a reward when you gently bite at his skin next. Spencer almost screams.

“So good, so so good for me”, he hears you whisper into the skin of his neck and this time, Spencer does make a noise. Because yes. He wants that. Be good for you. That’s the only thing in his fuzzy mind that feels clear, that feels graspable.

He can see your pupils dilate. Can see the wicked lilt to your lips. “You like being good for me, don’t you, angel?”

ANGEL. Spencer is nodding his head before he knows he does so. “Yes, yes.”

“Fuck”, he hears you breathe against him and it’s strange, seeing the effect he has on you. Did really he do that? “I can’t believe how incredible you are, sweetheart.”

And you need to stop. If you keep calling Spencer these things- he’s pretty sure he won’t survive this. The team would need to find another genius to solve cases with. His cactus Greg would dry out and wilt and die. You and Penelope would need to find another victim to send confusing memes to.

“Did you like my pictures, Spencer?”, you then ask and that’s so not fair. You can’t just ask him that while he’s so utterly in your hands that he’s sure he’d tell you about every little fantasy he’s had about you ever if you asked.

Because Spencer wants to be good, feels that need so deeply in his bones, he nods frantically. “Yes, I- I liked them.”

At the same time the words leave his mouth, something feels wrong. There’s an ugly thing twisting in his stomach, so unpleasant it momentarily occludes the high-octane bliss-fuzz fogging up his mind.

You notice the shift in mood almost immediately. “What’s wrong, angel?”

And well. It’s just- that guilt. Of not saying anything to you about Spencer seeing your nudes, of just ogling you like that without your permission. That wasn’t very good of him. Actually, the opposite. He’s been bad and he hates that. Hates that so severely that there’s suddenly tears on his cheeks and oh no. That’s mortifying. Who cries before sex? Jesus Christ he’s such a virgin it is genuinely embarrassing.

“I’m- I’m sorry”, he stutters, a little bit hysterical, creating distance between you, arms slung around himself, “I should’ve, should’ve said something, I’m so so sorry, I’m the worst friend and now I’m- I’m crying, oh god, I’m so sorry-“

“Hey, hey hey whoa. Spencer, darling. Penguin. Look at me, please?”

But he shakes his head. He doesn’t deserve to look at you again. What was he even thinking? He was- so creepy and now- now-

Two warm hands grab his face and then Spencer is looking into your eyes again. He squeezes his own shut, but all that it does is send more tears spilling over his cheeks and he’s so fucking stupid-

“Baby, please.”

Spencer sobs.

Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. That’s the best thing he has ever heard but he doesn’t deserve these things.

“Of course you deserve it, silly goose”, you say and oh. He’s said that out loud.

Your thumbs brush over his cheeks and Spencer can’t not lean into your touch, despite everything. Because that’s just the way it always is. He’s drawn to your warmth and tenderness like a moon revolves around its planet.

“I thought we’d established that it was an accident? And if it was someone’s fault, then mine, because no password, remember?”

Spencer opens his eyes. The deep affection swimming in yours makes him sob again. He’s a mess. A crying, horny mess and Spencer definitely fucked this up. Why does Spencer always ruin the few good things in his life?

“Spencer, Spencer. Hey. It’s okay, I promise you. We wouldn’t be doing this, if it wasn’t, okay?”, you kiss his nose. “Do you want to lay down, maybe?”

He nods, not really thinking clearly. He moves up the bed, under the covers and curls up on his side. He waits for you to get up from the bed, for you to walk over to the door and leave. To say that this was a mistake, he was a mistake. To say that you take back everything you said to him in the last half hour.

He’s not just a little surprised to feel your weight dip the mattress, to feel even more sudden warmth engulf him when you spoon him from behind. You start tracing swirly patterns over the skin of his arm and he feels goosebumps spread all over his body.

Some minutes tick by, you still holding him, when his tears have finally dried up. He doesn’t remember crying so much in one day. Spencer feels miserable.

“Do you still like me?”, he asks, and yes, it’s pathetic and stupid but. He doesn’t care if you never have sex or if you’re not going to be more than his friend now. Because the thought of you not being in his life in any capacity anymore- just no.

He can feel you freeze and take in a sharp breath. “Wha- Spencer. Of course, I still like you. I don’t care what we do, I just want to be with you. In any way you’ll have me.”

You sound so understanding and sincere and actually confused about his fear as if you’d never even think of not liking him anymore and and and-

And something in him just- snaps. He wants you, needs you so much he’s going to die if he doesn’t-

He shuffles and turns in your arms until he’s face to face with you. You look at him, eyebrow raised in question but so beautiful and lovely and you still like him-

“I want you so bad”, he says and then he presses his lips against yours again.

You respond immediately, low moan escaping you and Spencer is greedy, he wants to hear more, feel more, feel everything with you.

He’s kissing you as if he’s going to die if he ever stopped, which, yes, he absolutely would, and you kiss him back as if you can’t live without him. It makes everything become hazy again, like before, and every bad feeling suddenly feels eons away. Like he’s underwater, floaty and relaxed. Safe, he feels safe in the way you kiss him and hold him. Like you always do.

You move your kisses to his neck, sucking and biting and Spencer is moaning and moaning and can’t stop and then suddenly, you’re gone, what –

“Spencer, Spencer, wait”, you pant, out of breath and flushed and he wants to cry again, “Sorry, sorry I just-“

You frame his face in your hands, a little bit roughly. “I’m so sorry for making this so hard, you’re being so good for me, but Spencer. Have you done this before?”

Somewhere in the fog that is his minds, Spencer finds his voice. It’s high and airy but he doesn’t care. “No, no, I haven’t.”

He watches you take a deep breath, feels your fingers digging into his skin a little bit more.

“Tell me. Do you want this, Spencer?”, your voice is shaking as if you need to keep yourself in check and Spencer can’t believe he’s getting to see you like this.

“Yes”, he says because he can’t ever want anything else, and, “Please make me feel good.”

You inhale sharply, your grip on his face bordering on painful. “Spencer, you’re incredible, amazing, the best- I’ll make you feel good, okay? I’ll make you feel so good because you deserve it.”

“Yes”, Spencer is not ashamed of how whiny he sounds. No. He’s owning it now. This is his thing now, okay? He’ll gladly be your pathetic wet cat, or whatever the term was that you sometimes use to describe him with. Whatever it even means.

“Good”, you grin, and then you push on his shoulder hard and he’s on his back. And you. Sitting on top of him, thighs on either side of him. Straddling him exactly where he wants you most and he exhales a needy ‘ah’. His hypothesis of liking being manhandled is… yet to be disproven. He’s discovering so many things about himself today.

Pleasure radiates in waves from where you’re passively giving pressure to his hard cock and yeah okay. This is good. Amazing. He’s never felt better. But-

“Please.”

“Please what, angel?”

“More?”

“More what?”

Your fingers trailing along his throat and jaw, down his chest and teasing ghost-like over his nipples are not really helpful in finding the right words to what he wants. You take pity on him.

“More touch?”

Spencer nods his head, so fast he almost gets dizzy because he’s at that point again where everything feels liquid, hazy, a little bit unreal. So, speaking is already quite the task.

You smile at him as if he just solved the most difficult equation. “Doing so good, Spencer. Incredible.”

He moans. Okay. Another hypothesis to add to his ever-growing list of scientific discoveries today.

“Where do you want touch, Spencer? Here?”, there’s hands in his hair. He shakes his head.

“Hmm… Here?”, fingers drawing circles on his chest and yes, that feels nice, so nice but he wants-

“Here?”, you ground your hips down and jesus-

“Yes!”, Spencer almost chokes on the sound. Pleasure shoots up his spine and he whimpers. “Please.”

You exhale shakily, looking flush. “Okay. Because you ask so nicely.” There’re two little taps on his lower stomach through his shirt. “Do you want to take this off first? Or no?”

The way you give him the chance to say no- the way you respect his autonomy so deeply-

It’s basic human decency, yes, but it’s also the hottest thing and Spencer feels so valued and understood and safe that he’s not even hesitating when he mutters a quiet yes.

You help him sit up because he’s currently not really heir over his body like he usually is. Help his head out of the shirt and thread his arms out. And then, he’s half naked in front of you and suddenly, the doubt and insecurity that’ve been so quiet so far are back with a vengeance.

The urge to cover himself is so big it’s impossible to stop his arms from wrapping around himself.

Spencer knows he’s not ugly. He’s not that bad looking actually. Can’t be too bad if Morgan keeps insisting on calling him pretty boy, even though Spencer sometimes still has the sneaking suspicion that he’s teasing him. But his friend wouldn’t be so cruel.

But other people like to be. Pipe-cleaner, leek, straw, big-eyes. He’s heard it all before. He has matured enough and grown into himself so that these things don’t bother him like they used to. But still. Still. These things are arduous to scrub from under his skin.

Your gaze on him though- he’s never felt so, cleaned from all of these mean words before. You look- you look reverent while mapping his skin and maybe that’s the reason why he lowers his arms again.

“Spencer. You’re a dream”, you say, almost in trance. Almost as if you’re hypnotized by him, and he’s flushing. But. Being watched so intently, being admired like that. He feels his dick give an indigent twitch against your clothed core. Another thing for the list.

“So impatient”, you tut and Spencer flushes more. He thinks he’s waited long enough for this. But he doesn’t say that. If you stopped now- he would definitely combust spontaneously.

You lean down, over him. Hands trailing along his sides like you did earlier, but without any clothes between your skin and his. It’s almost too much. And not enough. He feels electrified, where you touch him. His heart is hammering against his ribs so hard you must be able to feel it. His stomach is in knots, fluttery. He’s never felt more alive.

You connect your lips to his throat, placing kiss after kiss along the arched length of it. Follow the same path with your tongue and Spencer whines, curves up against you a little. Everything feels so good Spencer is floating in it.

You shift your attention to his collarbones next, kissing but then gently biting and Spencer feels the indents of your teeth all the way through to his back and he hopes, wants, you to sink them into him so deep they’ll leave marks. So that he carries the evidence of this with him for the rest of this case, so that there’s absolutely no more doubt to who he belongs to. That thought alone makes him whimper, makes him feel that tiny little bit more lost in you.

You start kissing along his chest, down his stomach. Open mouthed, wet kisses and Spencer shivers when the places you put them feel cold after because of your spit. The lower you get, the noisier he becomes and at one point, Spencer would’ve been embarrassed. Well, he kind of is, but he’s also so turned on that the embarrassment doesn’t feel as stifling like usual. Rather, in a weird way, it makes everything hotter, and he does not own enough brain capacity right now to decipher that. But he does add it to the list.

When your face is dangerously close to the waistband of his pyjama, Spencer tenses, holds his breath. Being shirtless is one thing, but… well.

“It’s okay, Spencer. We only do as much as you feel comfortable with”, you murmur, giving a small peck to the left of his belly button. You calmingly follow his sides with your hands, smiling at him with so much affection in your eyes that Spencer feels speechless, breathless, until the tension releases his muscles again and he melts into the sheets.

“’m just…”, he tries, he really tries so hard to tell you that he wants this more than anything he’s ever wanted but that he just feels… insecure.

You kiss his stomach again. “How about we only take off the pyjama? For now? If you want to take off your underwear too later, we can still do that.”

That… that’s actually a good idea. So, he nods.

“Words, angel.”

“Yes, yes. That’s- good.”

You look so proud of him. “You’re so good, Spencer. Perfect.”

He moans embarrassingly loud. He really should be more concerned about this. About how you are basically pulling him apart, thread by thread and he just lets you, willingly. How you know which threads to pull to reduce him to a sweaty mess in what felt like 0.2 seconds.

There’s a finger dipping beneath the waistband, moving back and forth along the newly exposed skin. Your eyes watch him intently, almost predator-like. A question is in there somewhere as well and Spencer nods again.

You help him lift his hips, help him pull down the pants. Spencer is kind of busy kicking his legs a little to shake them off completely but when he looks back and down himself to where you are hyper-focused on the outline of his cock through the thin fabric he blushes.

Even more when he notices the big, dark blue splotch in front of his underwear. That’s definitely never happened before. How embarrassing.

When you look up at him again, you’re also flushed. Eyes dark, wide, voice kind of unsteady. “Spencer, Spencer, can I?”

“Please”, and then you palm him with your hand, and it feels so good it takes all of his concentration to not come on the spot. He doesn’t know if he’ll survive this until you arrive to the main thing.

It’s not the first time someone has touched him like that, but it is the first time you are doing it, and it already feels better than anything he’s ever felt before. You’re either a wizard or Spencer is just biased because he thinks everything you do is ten times better than the same thing done by someone else.

Probably the first reason.

He has his head angled back, one of his arms thrown over his eyes. If he looked at you now, he’s pretty sure, he’d come. Visual stimulation on top of physical would probably be the end of him. It’s already too much, just feeling your hand move up and down his dick in various pressures. Almost as if you are testing what he likes best, and Spencer is definitely here for it. Definitely. He’s happy to just let you experiment with him until you know all the different ways to drive him mad with pleasure with just a few moves.

Which, you apparently already figured out, judging by the way Spencer can’t form a single coherent thought anymore. It’s already, so good, so freaking good holy shit, and you’re still not touching him. Still a layer of fabric between your hand and him and he kind of- just-

“Take it off?”

You still your hand, looking up at him. You look kind of crazed, almost a little pained. It takes two deep breaths for you to process what he just asked, eyes a little unfocused before they fix Spencer to the bed with an intensity that makes him feel unfocused. “You sure, angel?”

Spencer literally can’t do anything but nod. You stay in your position for some moments longer, before you sigh out a long breath, mumbling something that suspiciously resembles you’re gonna be the death of me. Spencer misses your warmth on top of him the second you hoist yourself up. It’s kind of crazy and destitute of him. You are literally right there but he’s waited for this for so long it feels like he’s suffocating without your weight pressing him down. Which is ironic and also, insane.

Your fingers are gentle, when they move under the stretchy fabric of his underwear. Even gentler when they pull down and down and down until Spencer is entirely naked in front of you.

Oh, he feels so exposed. While he has been the recipient of a mediocre hand job before, it’s been in his trousers. This is kind of the first time someone sees him naked like that, because school locker rooms and his mother don’t count.

He doesn’t dare look at you. If there’s anything akin to disappointment, not to mention disgust on your face- Spencer probably would have to jump out the window, stat. His gaze is frozen on his cock, steadily leaking precum on his stomach (which, embarrassing). He’s abashedly trying to insert himself into your point of view, tries to imagine what you think about seeing him like this. What you might think about his dick, if it’s too short or too thin or if it looks weird, if he should’ve shaved. If his legs look strange and too gangly now, or if his stomach connects to his pubic area wrong or-

“Holy shit”, you say, and Spencer is too curious for his own damn good sometimes, because he can’t force his gaze to stay away from you.

You look at him- like before. Reverent but more, so much more. He almost feels like a deity, the way you look at him. Someone to be awed by, someone that should be worshipped. Spencer feels his already in overdrive heartbeat quicken even more, blood flushing his cheeks so much it leaks down his throat, to his chest.

Spencer would literally kill to have you look at him like this for the rest of his life.

“Holy shit, Spencer”, you repeat, eyes now meeting his, “You’re like- a literal fucking dream. I cannot believe- you’re so beautiful, how are you so beautiful everywhere?”

Spencer whimpers and he needs you to touch him kiss him fuck him anything please now or he will absolutely die from heart palpitations.

Some of his despairing thoughts must’ve come through to you, because the next thing you do is moan, which is the best thing he’s ever heard. Then, you take off your sweater. Second to go is your cropped tank top and you aren’t wearing a bra and good heavens.

Pictures could never compare. Not even Botticelli could’ve adequately committed you to canvas.

Spencer must’ve taken some brain damage from seeing you half naked. He doesn’t remember you taking off the remainder of your clothes, nor does he remember you straddling him again. But, fuck.

Spencer kind of doesn’t use the f-word that often but-

fuckfuckfuckufuckfkcufuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkc-

You’re warm against him, and wet, so freaking wet, and it feels so mind-blowingly good- it’s a miracle he’s still holding on. But-

“Won’t last long”, he gets out, breathy and whiny and just so goddamn fuzzy from pleasure. The world could literally perish right now, and he wouldn’t care. He can’t care, because this is the best thing that ever happened to him and he won’t ever care about anything else ever again other than feeling you, you you you you, against him.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe, gasp, and fuck, the way you keep using his name. “Are you okay? Do you still want this?”

It’s ridiculous you even ask. But the warmth in his chest, the feeling of comfort and safety and ease – because everything with you is so easy, so natural - he feels with the way you look after him-

He feels your thumbs caressing his wet cheeks. You put small, sweet kisses all over his face. Take the time to brush away some of his sweat-sticky hair from his forehead. Place kisses there too. You end with a drawn out, gentle kiss to his lips.

“What do you say, sweetheart?”

There’s really only one way for him to answer that. He trusts you. Plain and simple. There’s no one else he could ever do this with.

“Yes, I want. Please.”

You kiss him again. “So good Spencer, you’re so fucking good to me. I can’t believe you are trusting me with this. You are incredible, angel.”

Spencer doesn’t know how it’s anatomically possible, but he blushes even harder. Also, feels his cock twitch against you because he apparently likes to be called good almost as much as he likes being good. For you. Only you. Jesus Christ.

“Do you have a condom?”, you ask and ah. Well.

“Suitcase”, and wow. First word with more than one syllable since you straddled him the first time. He’s being so brave right now. He deserves a medal. Proof of Being Able to Speak Polysyllabic Words While Getting Fucked (Almost).

There’s humour glistening in your eyes, when you hide a fake gasp behind your hand and say, “Oh my god, Spencer you dog. Can’t believe you planned this entire thing.”

Spencer almost chokes on his own spit. “N-no! I just- uh, like being prepared.”

You grind down a snort, drive your teeth into your lower lip. “In case you accidentally saw your coworker’s nudes and them being down to fuck you about it?"

Oh my god, you’re the most ridiculous person he’s ever met. He can’t stop himself from grinning because seeing you trying to keep your laughter at bay-

“Yes. That.”

“But what if- what if it was Rossi instead of you seeing them? How would’ve your plan worked out then, huh?”, you wheeze, shaking from literal suppressed laughter and Spencer makes a sound like a dying horse.

“Rossi? Rossi?”

“Oh my god, imagine it would’ve been Hotch. He would’ve probably fired me so hard and then called me a week later to disappointed-dad-talk me to come back but to please, refrain from bringing personal files to work in the future.”

Spencer laughs. He’s still rock-hard underneath you, but he’s laughing because that’s what you always do. Being so absurd and silly that he’s shocked to laughter.

He adores you with every fibre of his being.

“What the fuck?”, you ask, incredulous but laughing yourself, “Is my misery amusing to you?”

And Spencer feels like being a little bit of a brat. “Very.”

You flick his nose. Grumble something like I’ll show you misery and then you move your hips against his and Spencer sees stars. Let’s out an embarrassingly high whine.

Ah well. It was still worth it.

“Don’t move”, you order, when you climb down from him to retrieve a condom. Spencer watches you, lets himself look at you. All the times he’s wondered how it would be, how it would feel like, being in this kind of situation with you. He’s never in a million years thought it would feel so familiar. Like you’ve done this before, so many times that it’s just become something normal between you two. He’s actually relaxed. So turned on it feels like he’s going to burst any second, but he’s calm. He feels comfortable, so much so that it doesn’t even matter that it’s the first time he’s doing this and he’s so clueless about all of this.

But he knows, if it’s with you, he never ever has to worry about anything.

“Do you have lube as well?”, you ask, rifling through his suitcase and distracting him from his sappy thoughts.

“Hmm. No, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, angel”, you say while returning to Spencer, and the nickname kind of switches something off again in his brain. Perfect. He’s never going to be able to be normal again about that word.

“We’ll have to get some, for next time. Always feels better with it.”

Spencer hasn’t really registered more than next time next time next time-

He’s pulled out of his daze of knowing your intentions of this not only being a one-off thing, when you straddle him again, a bit lower on his legs. Spencer moans, loud and high, when you grab him by the base and god, fuck, his skin is tingling with anticipation.

With your other hand, you grab the condom and then use your teeth to open the packet, and his cock jumps in your hand. How are you so hot. How does everything you do turn him on so much, what.

He watches you take out the plastic ring as if he’s watching from above, out of his body. He watches as you position the condom over his tip and then pull it down, down and Spencer’s brain must be lagging because he feels everything with at least a two second delay and shit, god, son of a-

“You ready, baby?”

He makes a noise between a sob and a whine. He’s losing his mind. “Please please please-“

“Fuck, Spencer”, you whine, lift yourself up a bit with your legs and then you are sinking down on him, inch by agonizing inch.

It’s so good, it’s so good, you are so warm, so hot, and Spencer can’t stop making noises until your hips are flush to his and he’s inside you.

You let out a loud, drawn-out moan above him. “Fuck, fuck, Spencer. You feel so fucking good, holy shit.”

He feels like he’s one move away from coming. God, oh god, it feels so incredible.

“Can I move? Spencer, please?”, your voice is wrecked, you’re flushed down to your navel, and you’re the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Please please please please”, it’s the only word he remembers how to pronounce.

“Fuck”, you almost sob, lifting yourself almost completely off him. You lower yourself back down again, one swift move, and you both moan.

You pick up the pace a little, fucking him with still languid but purposeful thrusts. Every time his cock sinks back into you, Spencer feels bits and pieces of his sanity crumbling away. He can’t think, can’t speak, his mind so fogged up and fuzzy he’s having troubles remembering who he is. He’s so completely at your mercy he’d let you do anything to him.

That turns him on a worryingly huge amount. List, something about a list somewhere.

“Oh, god, look at you. Spencer, baby, angel. You feel so good inside of me, so good.”

He keens, grabs at your strong thighs bracketing his slim hips. Arches up into you, closerclosercloser-

“You like being good for me, right angel?”, you ask, hips slowing down to a gentle grinding that absolutely drives Spencer insane and he’s too far gone to even nod, “It suits you. Being so wrecked for me, moaning and shaking. God, fuck, you’re divine, Spencer, fuck.”

The pressure behind his cock, low in his stomach, that’s been building all evening, all week, holy shit, it’s too much. Spencer feels delirious, feels your hotness around him, feels your hands pressing his chest down into the bed. He’s going to die it feels so good.

“You going to come for me, Spencer? You gonna be good for me and come inside of me?”

Please please please please- it’s all he can think, all he can feel, because because-

You give a particularly hard thrust and-

Spencer’s coming, moaning and moaning, shaking everywhere. He’s coming and it feels so good, so fucking good. He’s never come so hard in his life before.

He might have blacked out a little. The next time he’s aware of something, it’s you cleaning him with a wet washcloth. Slow, and gentle and Jesus.

“What?”, is the first thing he manages to say, and you snicker beside him. You caress his face, hand running through his hair, down his chest. Peck his lips. You’re both still naked.

“Feeling good?”, you ask and what kind of question even is that. You just fucked the soul from his body, and you ask him-

“I almost died”, he says, tagging your name at the end with an incredulous tint to it.

You snort, setting the washcloth on the nightstand behind you. You lie down close to him, cuddling into his side. “That was the plan.”

“Killing me with sex?”

“Yep. That’s for ogling my nudes without my permission, you creep.”

He says your name again, exasperated but so fucking fond it’s a miracle you’ve never noticed his pining before. You shrug, pull a ‘what can you do face’. Spencer rolls his eyes and then, unceremoniously, flops on top of you.

“Uffff”, you press out. “You’re smothering me, penguin.”

Spencer shrugs and copies the expression you just did. You bark out a laugh.

“Ha! Didn’t know post-sex Spencer is such a cheeky little shit. I’ve created a monster.”

He can’t entirely control his face, some parts of a smile slipping into his features. He does manage to poke out his tongue at you though, before he buries his face in your neck.

Some minutes tick by, you both enjoying the other’s presence and warmth and idleness, before something in his brain-

“Wait-“, Spencer splutters, pushing himself away from you so that he can look at you. “Did you- did you even finish?”

He’s kind of horrified. He was so focused on his pleasure- he- how did he forget? He doesn’t remember you coming and oh no, he’s such an asshole, who doesn’t make sure the other person has come as well and-

“Spencer, Spencer”, you shush him, fingers trailing along his back, and he shivers, eyes rolling back.

“I made myself come right after, don’t worry. You were kind of busy in your post-orgasm, pussy-drunk coma.”

Spencer flushes. “But I wanted to…”

You laugh softly. “You can do whatever to me, next time, sweets. This was about you. We’ll go on a date as soon as we’re back home. Fucking Florida is driving me nuts.”

Oh, he suddenly feels shy. A date? You want to go on a date with him?

“Really?”, he asks, and he hates how insecure he sounds.

You send him an unbelieving look. “Uh, what about the last hour makes you think otherwise? Seriously, Spencer, we need to work on your confidence.”

“Okay”, he mutters, a little bit pout-y and you scoff, pulling him down on top of your chest again.

There, with your hands painting patterns on his back and him completely lost in your warmth and familiarity, Spencer thinks that maybe, Florida isn’t that bad.

--

Bonus

“So, then. Made any scientific discoveries last night, pretty boy?”

Spencer chokes on his coffee.

“What?”

“Nothing”, his ‘friend’ says, smirking and leaning against his table, “You just seem to have figured out that little problem that’s been keeping that pretty head of yours all messed up.”

Spencer feels himself flush. Stupid body and stupid involuntary, physiological reactions. Morgan picks up on it, of course.

“Ohhhhh, want to share with the class what those discoveries were?”

Briefly, so very briefly, Spencer thinks of his self-compiled list but- no no no no.

“Shut up, Morgan.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @wasitforrevenge @wannabewolf @tommorecommendedfics @winterhi09 @theoraekenslover @chaewondrful @okeyhoezayy @busy-buzzing @laurakirsten0502 @redros3y @trashxqueen @kitty-kei @so-long-daisymay @hayleythecannibal @jsnsnsnszjzj @reeidsluv @kayane28 @moonysreid @desperately-seeking-serotonin @munsonslunchbox @tul1p-mimi @anuttellaa @pinkgomie @elizabethmidnight2017 @evrmorets @cyanidebitsg @bangchansdog @pinterestwhore145 @some-one-yiu-dont-kno @emma-e-a

i hope these work lmao, also let me know if you wanna be on my eternal tag list for any future Spencer fic ;)

[fairy-angel222]

𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

—gojo’s single and geto’s a good friend. good friends share everything.. including girlfriends

pairing: gojo x fem! reader x geto

content: crack, smut, threesome, praise, cum eating (gojo), pussy eating, blowjobs, cream pie, throat bulge, throat fucking, tag team, playful banter, squirting

Geto thinks he’s a great friend. Being willing to share his precious girlfriend with his best friend. He’s seen the way Gojo looks at you. And he’s not mad, no, he’s quite happy. It makes using you as a gift so much easier— especially when he knows you get wet at just the thought of a threesome with the white haired man.

“I am not lonely. I could go get a quick fuck right now if i wanted too.” Gojo defended, taking another gulp of the beer in his hand as he leaned back into the couch.

“Hmm, i smell lies, you’re very lonely this season.” you teased, giggling softly when Gojo glared at you with the flip of his middle finger. You gasped dramatically, turning to Geto with a pout, “Baby your friend just flipped me off.”

Geto simply smiled at you with the shake of his head, taking a quick swig of his drink before he was wrapping his arm around your shoulders. Pulling you into him and placing an especially wet kiss onto your head. “Don’t disrespect my girl bro.” He joked along, Gojo only scoffing before flipping him off too. “I’m being targeted by weirdos. Great.”

“Weirdos who aren’t single. Can’t relate now can you?” you retorted with a grin. Gojo finally letting out a chuckle, “Ya got me there.” downing the remaining contents of the bottle. “I’m gonna get another one, you guys want any?” he questioned, standing up to head to the kitchen.

“Oo, yes please.” you piped in cheerily, Geto’s head snapping towards you with an eyebrow raised. “Uh, no. She’ll just have a coke or something. But i’ll take one.” Geto corrected.

Gojo nodded, making his way past the dining area and into the kitchen to open the fridge.

Geto winced lightly when you pinched his side. “Why can’t i have one?” you whined. Geto pinching your cheeks with a faux frown, “because your alcohol tolerance is too damn low.” You simply huffed, fiddling absentmindedly with the hem of your boyfriend’s sweater.

“So, is it still happening?” you questioned in a whisper, a smirk forming on your boyfriend’s face as he brought the bottle to his lips to empty it out. “Mhm.”

Gojo came strolling back into the room with two opened drinks and a cherry flavored soft drink. And you fought the urge to roll your eyes when he handed one bottle to Geto and the red colored drink to you. A smile on his face as he bit back his teasing words about Geto not letting you drink alcohol.

Geto cleared his throat, setting down the drink and placing his hand on your thigh. Squeezing as he travelled it higher and higher, his breath hot on your ear when he leaned in. “That’s your queue baby.”

Your face heated up, watching as Gojo raised an eyebrow across from you, taking a swig at his drink after mumbling “fucking weirdos i swear.”

Getting off your seat, you bit at your lip as you looked back at Geto. Your boyfriend only giving you a reassuring nod before his drink was at his lips, watching as you almost shyly walked up to Gojo.

Sitting yourself on his lap with practically no warning making the man’s eyes widen. “What are you-” being cut off by your lips on his, your ass lightly grinding on his cock as you gripped his shirt. Gojo’s eyes met Geto’s in panic, the latter simply tilting his head, “Better enjoy it while you can.”

Gojo groaned, your hands slipping under his shirt to run your nails over his hard abs. Slowly bringing them down until you stopped at the bulge in his sweats, groping it through the fabric before smiling as you pulled away. “You’re already hard?” you giggled.

“Shut up.” His face flushing red as you got off of his lap, situating yourself on your knees between his legs. Your hands working to pull his pants down mid thigh, your head in his crotch as you licked a strike along his cock through his underwear. Looking up at him through your lashes before freeing him from the thin black fabric

Gojo nearly choked on his spit, watching as you ran your thumb over his tip. Collecting glistening precum before using it to stroke him, circling your wrist while you moved it up and down. “S-shit.”

Your eyes met his cock with a hard swallow at the length. Taking in a breath before sucking him into your mouth. Swirling your tongue around his leaking tip then taking him in deeper. Bobbing your head up and down as your drool coated his veiny skin.

You could hear Geto standing up behind you, reaching your kneeling frame in two large steps before his hand was stroking your hair. “She’s good ain’t she?”

Gojo only letting out a cracked moan as he nodded. Geto’s hand suddenly grabbing hold of your hair to quicken the pace of your mouth. “But trust me, she can be better.” Roughly pushing you to take Gojo down your throat before pulling you back up again. Repeating the process as you slobbered onto the man’s dick with muffled moans.

Your eyes pooled with water each time your boyfriend forced you to take his best friend all the way. Gojo’s cock bulging in your throat as your nose pressed at his base. “See that?” Geto hummed.

Gojo’s mouth hung open in breathy grunts as he began thrusting his hips upwards. Head falling back onto the back of the couch with his breathing speeding up. Basking in the way his best friend used your warm mouth to fuck his twitching cock. “F-fucking hell— ahh.”

“Good girl” Geto dragged out. “gonna make him cum already.” he praised, “Wonder how long it has been since he’s felt a pretty girl’s lips on his cock.”

Gojo grunted, “f-fuck o-off, shit—” a loud groan sounding in his throat when he began to spill into your mouth. His body shuddering when you continued to suck on his tip while maintaining eye contact. His cock throbbing as the last bits of cum spurted onto your tongue.

“Now what do you do?” Geto asked with a smirk, watching you swallow the thick substance before glancing between the both of them with a smile. “That’s my girl.”

Gojo panted with heavy breaths, receiving a pat on his shoulder from the black haired man. “That’s not even the half of it.”

It wasn’t long until you found yourself on your hands and knees. Geto’s cock down your throat as Gojo fucked into you from behind. “Is this what you like baby?” your boyfriend groaned, Gojo’s rough thrusts effectively rocking your mouth on and off of Geto’s cock. “Showing this lone fucker how good your pussy feels?” Gojo being too lost in how deep you were sucking him in to even respond.

You mewled, clenching down on Gojo’s cock as he hammered into your g spot. His thick length easily sliding in and out your tightness.

Gojo’s hand groped at the flesh of your ass, the sound of his hips slamming onto your flesh only getting louder when he sped up his pace. Allowing his tip to graze your gummy walls with force. “Haah- think this might just be the best pussy i’ve ever had.”

“Hear that baby? He loves that perfect pussy of yours.” Geto breathed, his eyes closing as he used his hand to guide your head faster. “Shit. Swear that mouth of yours is made of gold.”

You let out a muffled cry when you felt a coil build in your stomach. Your body still being jerked between the two men as you drooled onto your boyfriend’s cock. Your back arching when Gojo leaned onto you, his chest against your back as he brought his hand down to rub your clit. Your loud mewl sending vibrations through Geto’s dick.

Gojo groaned into your ear. “You feel so good pretty girl. Wish i could fuck into this pussy forever.” His thrusts getting sloppy as he moaned noisily into your neck, his eyes fixed on the way your swollen lips had stretched to fit his best friend’s girth. “O-oh shit— clenching down on me so tight.” he rasped into your skin, voice cracking into a higher pitch at the feeling of your warmth ready to milk him dry.

Geto pulled you off his cock with a grin, watching as you whimpered before taking in a well needed breath, your chest rising and falling as your eyes lost their focus. “Nnhg— Suguru, ah- Satoru, ‘m close,” you cried out, feeling yourself getting closer as Gojo continued to rub small circles on your sensitive bud, his cock hitting deep inside you with each movement

“Yeah baby? Gonna show him just how good he made you feel?” Geto husked, pulling your head back onto him before you could even nod in response, using your mouth as a wet flesh light to get him off the edge.

Gojo groaned loudly, his thrusts hard and mean as they lost their speed. Rolling his hips desperately into yours to chase his release. “Shit, can i cum in ya, pretty?”

You were only able to let out an incoherent babble, feeling the coil in your stomach painfully close to snapping.

“Don’t push it.” Geto warned, your chin getting messy as he lazily fucked your face, his head falling back with a string of deep curses.

“Selfish prick.”

“You’re fucking her aren’t you?”

Your body shook as you came, whimpering with a broken cry around Geto’s cock as your pussy spasmed. Eyes rolling back and your head fuzzy as you gushed messily. The force of your orgasm threatening to make Gojo’s cock slip out.

“There you go baby.” Geto started, Gojo finishing his words as he slowed his movements on your clit, “That’s it.”

Both men breathed heavily as their movements came to a halt. Geto holding your face down on his cock to spurt ropes of his cum down your throat.

“Suguru- fuck, please let me cum in her. Tight pussy doesn’t want to let me go.” Gojo moaned out, pleading blue eyes looking up to your boyfriend.

“You do that and you’re gonna lick it all out.” Geto growled out, tapping his cock onto your tongue a few times before he was pulling out. Watching as you moaned softly when his cum slid down your throat.

Gojo’s lips parted as his cock ached for a release. Deciding to take his chance at burying himself inside you, his twitching cock pumping thick ropes of cum into you. Looking up to meet your boyfriend’s fake grin.

“Baby, lay down, and you, better get every fucking drop outta her.”

Gojo pervertedly smiling as he willingly crawled in between your legs. Lapping at your sopping folds and swirling his tongue around your clit as you moaned and mewled into the air.

Your fingers tangling in white strands as his tongue dipped into your hole, sucking a mixture of your juices and his cum into his mouth with a groan.

Geto let out a short laugh in amusement, “So this is what a lack of pussy does to a guy.” Watching as Gojo licked you clean, bringing you to another squirting orgasm in the process.

[filmstarved]

i can fix him and fuck him.

18+ [logan x female!reader]

nobody can break through logan's walls with ease like you can. and he actually lets you, welcomes it even. he needs it to breathe and when he's ready to walk out of the gifted youngsters door, there you are again.

word count: 5,737

logan sulks. he’s so devoid of love and compassion that he sulks. he’s confused most days, too. unsure of who he is and what he even wants. the people who are somehow closest to him can’t even find their way past the fire breathing dragons that guard the drawbridge to his heart. (scott jokes that he doesn’t have a heart and that the adamantium replaced it and he’s fully pumping cold, hard metal).

logan is a man who answers to himself and doesn’t give people even the slightest chance to ask him a dumb fucking question because he’s not in the fucking mood. he’s never in the mood…unless you put him in one. usually a good one.

you earn a smile from logan as easy as the sun makes it seem to rise every morning and the moon to take its place at night. it leaves the team dumfounded. they believe if you weren’t here, logan would have left a long time ago. they’re right. logan used to search high and low for any excuse to leave. he never knew where he’d go, he’d just…go. but you didn’t dare let him out of your sight. not ever since the professor had brought you to what you call home a little over a year ago now.

deep down, he wanted reasons to stay. somewhere deep inside that metal frame…he wanted things to be right again. he’d find it tiring most days to carry around his grief and anger. but you gave him reasons to stay just one more day.

“so we’re working on that thing for charles together tomorrow right?” you asked on a wednesday, standing so cutely in the threshold of his door that it was almost annoying to him.

“so we’re catching that movie downtown with ororo and hank tomorrow right? it starts at 6!” you asked on a thursday.

“heeyyy, lo…do you possibly, maybe think you could sub for scott’s morning classes tomorrow? he has a dentist appointment…,” you shyly asked on a very late sunday night. (logan heard scott’s jokes about his heart so he made you ask. logan was the only one available.)

but behind his stoic stature and intimidating glare fixed on his face accompanied by knitted brows, he’d always say yes…to you. you were his reason for staying. he knew it but would never admit it. you knew it but played the oblivious part well. and the rest of the team would gossip about it when you two weren’t around. but as long as you were here, logan has nowhere else to be.

although as of late, you’ve been busy. much busier than usual. charles has you creating plans for a mission happening soon. when you’re not teaching mutant ethics 101 to freshmen, you’re hauled up in the lab or library; sometimes darting back and forth between the two multiple times a day leaving very little time to worry about logan.

tonight, you brought your work back to your dorm. as you cleaned up a rough draft of an exit strategy, rain began to tap lightly on the window. you had lit candles littered around the room as well as grouped on your table, a small desk lamp illuminated the surface further. as you reached up to stretch your aching back muscles, you were startled by the sound of a throat clearing.

your eyes shot to the sound at your door where logan stood, leaning against the frame; arms crossed and still like he had been glued to the spot. 

“hi lo,” you say. “y’scared me, heh.” you aren’t used to logan greeting you often, especially not this late. he’s over 150 years old, of course he’s grumpy and an early bird. you’re usually the one at his door with requests and invitations to social events he assumes can be nothing short of insufferable. he sighs, his stare dropping to burn holes in the ground. “logan, are you-“

“i think i’m gonna get out of here, bub.”

those words felt like an arrow hitting the bullseye in your chest and then another splitting the first one right through the center.

“wha-what do you mean?…you’re leaving?” you asked, confusion and frustration trembling in your voice.

“it’s too hard being here.”

with that, you stood up from your chair, beelining to him. “c’mere,” you say hushed, pulling on his leather clad arm, trying to unfold them and get him out of the door frame. he doesn’t budge and you pull “the look” that you know he can’t say no to. “come sit with me please, lo.”

he unfolds his arms which allows you to grab his hands to lead him to take a load off on your bed. your bare feet pat on the hardwood floor as you quickly go back to close the door.

you walked back over to him, assessing his body language. ever since he let you use your mutation to “read him” a few months ago, you told him you’d never do it again without his permission. one gaze into his eyes and a touch of his skin and you could feel everything wracking around in his head. anxiety, rage, hate but love, pain. it was hard to feel just for a moment and your heart cracked knowing he was riddled with those feelings constantly.

but right now you couldn’t help it, he was slouched on the edge of the bed, his head dropping to rest in his large hands, and apparently ready to walk right out of the door. your powers are amplified with a touch and even more when you can look into their eyes. from a distance, you could feel a sense of unease and something else… a pressure…built up in your stomach as you surveyed your friend. it didn’t feel bad though…it felt familiar. a good familiar. you stopped reading him and did your best to shrug off the aching stomach feeling and care for your disheveled logan.

he wasn’t emotional, like ever. he hid all that, only showing you what you wanted to see; what he believed you wished him to be — happy, whatever that was. but that couldn’t’ve been farther from the truth. sure, you want him to be happy but also just whatever he wanted to feel, you wouldn’t suppress it or try to change it to fit some ideal of who people on the outside want him to be. yes, he was one of the meanest motherfuckers you had ever met but he was your mean motherfucker. (whatever that means because nothing has ever really been clear between you two).

you walked closer to him, forcing yourself in his diabolical bubble. you stood between his legs, removing his hands from his face to wrap them around your waist. you scooped your hands under his scruffy chin, pulling up to get a look into his bloodshot eyes. oh, he’d been crying.

“lo…,” you muttered. “why were you crying, wolv?” you slide a thumb across his cheek where tears had stained the skin. “why do you want to leave?”

he pulled his face away, breaking his stare with you. he dropped his head forward to rest on your stomach, wrapping his arms around your legs so his hands rested on the back of your thighs. he began to slowly rub the exposed skin of them that your very short night shorts didn’t cover. he lifted the hem of your shirt slightly to press his hot face into the soft, cool skin underneath. he hummed into it, allowing you to feel the vibration.

“logan,” you softly moaned his name under your breath. his fingers press firmly, inching closer to the crease in the skin where your ass meets thigh.

“is this okay?” he asks lowly, when he looks up for confirmation to keep going, you’re already looking down at him nodding. “say it’s okay for me to touch you like this, bub.”

“yes, keep going, logan,” you said curtly. in your voice there is a hint of need. you hadn’t been touched like this since jean’s christmas party, tipsy off spiked egg nog in the garden with a guy whose mutation was a very wet, long tongue. flirting with him seemed intriguing in the moment, but five minutes later, it rendered itself utterly useless due to user error. the sexual tension between you and logan is so potent it usually clears out a room. aside from accidental brushes of hands and quick looks at each others lips mid conversation, neither one of you has acted on it.

his hums turn to growls and soft whimpers as your hands ran through and tugged his hair. your fingers found their way to his nape, splaying out to grip the hair there in your fist. he managed to place a single kiss on the skin right above the elastic of your shorts before you pulled his head back to scrutinize his face.

“you don’t have permission to read me,” he groaned. before you could ask how he even knew that’s what you were doing he said, “you get this serious, focused look in your eyes. i can feel you in my head.”

“logan, what are we doing?” you ask, releasing his hair and stepping out of his bubble. 

his hands drop from the absence of your thighs onto his lap and his sighs frustratingly. 

“what do you mean?” he asks, admiring your body in the dim light with a semi pressing on the denim of his jeans through his boxers.

“i’m…not doing this with you…if you’re just gonna disappear from my bed before the fuckin’ sun comes up. i’m not doing this,” you said, with your hands on your hips.

he pressed his hands into his knees to push himself up to tower over you. he took two big steps forward and stood in front of you. his hand raised up to brush the back of his fingers across your cheek to cup it and rub his thumb over the warm skin. 

he pressed his lips to yours, skillfully allowing his tongue access to it. you let him. “i give you permission,” he moaned in your mouth. “read me. feel how i feel about you…how i’ve always felt about you.”

he welcomed the hesitant slip of your hands past his jacket and under his shirt, shivering and chuckling “mm, cold” into your mouth. you rested your cool touch on his hips and with his mouth obsessed with yours, you read him. 

your head dizzied instantly and the hair on the back of your neck stood up. you had never felt anything as strong as this. you could almost taste the colors in logan’s head. your heart dropped to your stomach like you were on a rollercoaster, feeling sick from adrenaline in the best ways. and then, returned that good familiar feeling. this time buried even deeper in your stomach, moving it’s way lower…and lower until logan was swallowing the noises escaping you. before you literally passed out, you dropped your hands and took back ownership of your lips and tongue. breathing heavily, you moved away from him to collect yourself.

a beat of silence followed by a heavy sigh and a “well, say something” from logan passed and you opened your mouth to speak before shutting it again.

that…was the best thing you had ever felt. no drug could compare to the euphoria that a minute of kissing logan could bring. you could practically feel yourself lubricating and your upper thighs unconsciously squeezed together as you scrambled to find thoughts.

there were none. your mind already dumb and wanting more of him…more of the feeling. your fists planted firmly on both your hips as if you were grounding yourself to the floor to avoid buckling. you eyed the ground, looked back up at him and forwarded with another heated, taking-in-each-others-breath kiss. your hands found their way to the same place gripping the hair on his nape to which he praised the tug with a moan. he supported your balance as your whines got more whiney and needy and your hands held onto him like life support.

“lay down,” he said into your kiss. it wasn’t really a command, more of a warning because he tossed you on the bed like unfolded laundry.

he stood over you as you collected yourself, darting your tongue out to taste the spit he left behind. you propped yourself up on your elbows to get a look at the man casting a shadow over you. without the sounds of pleasure exclaiming in each others mouths, your ears absorbed the comforting sound of the battering rain. a tree branch smacked the window as thunder rumbled outside.

logan took a moment to admire your presence. starting at the top, he gazed upon your hair that he associates with vanilla and roses and the times he’d touch himself wondering how it’d feel being wrapped around his hand and pulled.

as he removed his leather jacket, he took his time mentally undressing you. feeling even more pressure build in your clit, you bore your hips down into the mattress, rolling them in circles to stimulate the swollen nub. he beheld your tits, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip at the sight of your hard buds under your very thin, white tank top. he threw his heavy jacket to the side, letting it thud in a ball on the ground.

“you look so beautiful, sweetheart,” he said, deeply enthralled by your scantily clad figure laid out in front of him. unable to stop staring, you could see the bulge in his pants get larger and it ridiculously turned you on. with you making eye contact with the crotch of his jeans, he effortlessly unfastened his belt buckle. the metallic buckle clanked to the floor as his jeans and boxers pooled around his ankles. 

he stroked himself while he looked upon you. it was like you could read his mind, because you began to touch yourself. the twitch of his lips and darkening of his eyes validated your teasing. letting yourself drop back on the bed, you caressed your body for him. one hand occupied by cupping your tit and pinching and twisting your nipple while the other is exploring the wet spot left on your panties. not being able to handle eye-fucking you any longer, he dropped to his knees on the edge of the bed between your legs. logan hooked his arms under your knees, pulling you close which in your intoxicatingly lustful brain you found funny, so you laughed.

logan spread your thighs open so he could fit in between them to leave wet, sloppy kisses all over your skin. he nibbled here and there, earning soft hisses and hums from your parted lips.

kiss kiss nibble hiss mmm kiss hum nibble nibble bite kiss suck

he spent about a minute just doing that, leaving warm welts in his mouths wake. “i need these off of you, princess.” once he had kissed his way up to the elastic of your shorts, he snapped it. you nodded and he did the honor of pulling them down and flinging them across the room like he was opening presents on christmas morning. 

he let out an amused scoff as he ran his trembling hand down his face, caught between ecstatic disbelief at the sight of your black lace panties with little black bows adorning the seams. you mentally thanked your past self for slacking on doing laundry and only having your “special occasion” panties left to wear.

“d’you know how pretty you are,” he said. his eyes traced over every inch of you in excitement like you were artwork he stole from the louvre and made out like a bandit with.

his hand disappeared to slickly stroke himself, his mouth watering in anticipation for your taste. his chest heaves as he takes in the sight of you, studying every curve prettily laid out before him; thinking about every position he wants to see you in and every way he wants to please you. without another groan inducing thought, he lunged forward to press a kiss to your lips, his tongue demanding attention. you drink his breath like liquor becoming completely intoxicated by him. he needed this, he needed you.

“need…to taste…you,” he breathed in between kisses. with this mouth obsessed with yours, his hands caress your tits, his thumbing circles on one of the nubs while he’s pinching and pulling on the other. your head falls back and your neck rolls at the sensation, earning profanities from your pretty, swollen lips. your tit misses the hand that he proceeds to run down and up your thigh to locate the spot in your panties you were playing with a moment before. as he parts from your kiss, he’s hooked two fingers under the elastic, pulling those off swiftly.

you yelp when he pushes your torso down. you stare up at the decorative ceiling as he savors you, kissing and massaging your thick thighs. he’s enjoying playing with you as much as possible before allowing himself any pleasure. he wants your juice to cover his face…his neck…his arm…the bed…the floor too when he gets you to pop like a water balloon.

“logan…please, please,” you beg, pawing at his hair. you lift your head to watch the man between your legs taking in the sight and smell of your pretty, wet pussy. even in the dim light, he could see how much you ached for him. he not so secretly got entertainment from watching you lightly buck your hips up to his face and he would’ve let it continue but your pheromones became overwhelming for him; engulfing his head in it’s enchanting aroma.

like fresh pie on a windowsill, he was drawn into you. logan opened wide to swipe one flat tongued lick up your slit. he had one goal — to knock all sense out of you, to fully engulf you in pleasure. he wants you dumb and begging for him to stay right where he is — at the mansion and also all over you. 

logan audibly sucked and popped your clit in and out of his mouth, teasing the most sensitive bit. he’d suck and pop and then lick up your slick, repeating the act. one of his big hands reached up to cup your tit, pinching and twisting and circling. from his hair to the tit he wasn’t playing with, you clawed at whatever would ground you. being eaten by logan felt like floating above the stratosphere.

your wet soaked his beard and it only made him more horny, his cock dripping and throbbing in his fist. tasting you, inhaling you, winning pretty sounds from you, knowing he’s the one making you buck up and fuck his nose only made his appetite for you insatiable. he let go of himself to push his pointer and middle fingers into your needing pussy. you hissed and cursed. the thrill of him devouring you began to reach its peak. his fingers pumped relentlessly into you, curling them to stimulate your g-spot. moans, curses, the gushing of your wet cunt, his sucking and popping and vibrating moans mixed with the rain and thunder grumbling outside filled the dorm like mozart’s symphony no. 25.

he wanted to kiss you, so he did. with his fingers still coaxing an orgasm out of you, he shared the sweet taste. he got back on the bed with you, sliding his free hand under your back to push you up to further to see the mess you were making on the sheets.

“look at how good you’re taking my fingers,” he groaned, inching closer to your ear so you could hear his dirty language loud and clear. “you can come for me, baby.” he peppered a few kisses to your forehead, removing his hand from behind you so he could press it into your stomach. this only heightened the overwhelming wash of pleasure coursing through you.

“lo…logan, i’m-“

“fuck my fingers, baby. use them…oh that’s it…that’s it…i feel that clenching, c’mon you can do it for me. go big baby, make me happy.” his dirty mouth and sporadic clit circling and pumping in and out of you with his tireless wrist pushed you over the edge. you cowered into his neck, pulling on his white tank top and biting the salty skin below his ear as your pussy obeyed, erupting with your juices. out of breath and fucking dumb already, you could feel the wet soak the sheets under your ass.

logan pulled his fingers out of you, landing a light smack on your pussy before licking you clean off of his digits. you fell back on the bed, your arms above your head as you heaved and saw stars.

“‘m not done with you, princess.” he slid off the bed, still delighted by your taste and engulfed in your aroma.

“fuuuck,” you groaned. the pulsing lightning feeling spread throughout both legs as an effect of your rocking orgasm. logan was wicked with his tongue, a devious magician with his fingers and you were his sole audience member wondering about his tricks for sleight of hand.

he quickly tossed his tank, that had tug marks from your attempt to ground yourself, to the side, his muscles flexing under his skin. as he let your post orgasm, cock-dumb brain fog clear, he spit in his hand to fuck his fist. his saliva mixed with the pre-cum leaking from the head, he groaned and sighed heavily at the feeling of giving his dick some sort of relief. you, needy for another hit of him, propped yourself up on your elbows to watch the most delectable creature pleasure himself.

just the sight of him illuminated by candles and flashes of lightning outside as he gets off to how fucked out and dumb you look was enough to have you open up again and play with yourself. the sensitivity from your swollen nub required a delicate touch but your pussy ached, clenching around nothing. his knitted brows relaxed, eyes darting from your pretty face, to your tits, to your fingers rubbing circles where his mouth resided moments ago back to look longingly into your eyes.

“you’re gonna stay,” you said. your hand reached your mouth, your tongue swiping a lick up your middle and ring fingers, wrapping your lips around them to coat them in your saliva. “tell me you’re going to stay for me,” you elaborated. your wet fingers found your aching center.

“there’s no where else i want to be,” he answered. he paced closer to the bed where you laid, his dick basically making eye contact with you as he stopped a few inches away. “you’re mine, you know that?” he noticed your hand slow, “keep going,” he commanded. logan reached out to cup your face, tilting his head to get a look at you obeying his every request. “your face…your mouth…,” his thumb swiped across your lips as he spoke. “your body…your cunt.” he leaned down to kiss your mouth, leaving a string of spit attached to your lower lip. “your laugh…your heart,” he said kindly, his hand massaging your scalp. moans earned from his praise escaped you. “you’re all mine. is that okay with you, baby?”

you’re so bewitched by his aura and his subtle touches make your heart race so fast that you can’t do anything but try to maintain his torrid eye contact and nod.

“use your words, honey.” his thumb returned to the softness of your parted lips.

“i’m yours, logan,” you said, taking his thumb in and closing your lips around it. “if you’ll stay with me, i’ll be yours forever,” you breathed around his thumb, speaking from a mix of eager lust and the terrifying need for him to not to be an asshole, just once.

“i’m not going anywhere…i promise,” he said matter of factly before leaning back down to hungrily devour your kiss. “i need to…fuck you…now,” he cursed in between swallowing moans. 

“do what you want…i’m yours,” you said just clearly audible over the storm rumbling outside. you two shared eye contact so intense that you noticed his dick twitch from your peripheral. you took his dick in your drooling mouth, reaching up to squeeze the base of him. it twitched from the warmth, pressure and tongue swiping rhythmically around his angry, red tip. you kept yourself enveloped around his length, bobbing your head to hit your gag reflex. the added lubrication drove him crazy, his abs twitching under the toned skin of his abdomen. you moaned around him purely from the enjoyment you got out of having him stretch the corners of your mouth, feeling the sting from it. 

logan reached down with both hands to hold your head steady while he sped up thrusting into your throat. your gags and gasps for air, his praise and the storm filled the room beautifully. 

“fuuuck, baby, keep that throat open for me please,” he begged. his hands left their position to find a new one — one supporting his thrusting hips, the other petting your head. “oh, you look so fuckin’ pretty with my cock down your throat…you’re taking me so good, sweetheart.”

he pulled his dick out of your mouth to smack it on your face, complimenting how gorgeous you look. he kissed and licked the mess off of your mouth.

“mm, baby i need to know how good you feel.” with that, he rounded the bed to lay down. “c’mere, baby.” you turned around, crawling on all fours to obey him. his cock in its usual place to be, in his fist, leaks pre-cum in anticipation for you to smother it with your warm, clenching pussy.

“lay down,” he said.

“damn, yes sir,” you say, jokingly annoyed with all of his demands. you lay down next to him, your knees instinctively parting slightly. he lays on his side, resting his hand on your stomach, rubbing his large hand in flat circles.

“d’you know how long i’ve thought about this moment with you?” he asked, leaning in to kiss and suck the skin in the crook of your neck. you lustfully sighed at the sensation of his hot breath. his hand finds its way between your legs again, tickling and tapping at your slit. “i want you to read me the whole time i’m inside…can you do that?”

“are you—“

“yes i’m sure, i feel so fucking good right now and i haven’t even felt you. i want you to feel that and more,” he explains, pulling your chin in to taste the desperation on you.

before he came just from your kiss and rutting against the sheets, he hovered above you. his lips stayed attached to your chest, kissing lower and lower to suck a tit into his mouth, flicking your nipple with his tongue then biting softly on the nub. his hand disappeared from the side of your head to grab hold of his shaft, flicking his tip against your clit. his head dropped as he watched and listened to your slick coating his cock. he quickly swiped up and down your pussy trying to savor every fold and feeling. his brows furrowed, not being able to resist your warmth, he lined himself up with your hole, using his hand to guide just the tip into it.

“oh…fuck,” he groaned in excitement. he pushed in just a little more which caused you to hiss. his head shot up and eyes scanned your face for any sign of regret or unsureness. “are you okay? d’you want to stop?”

“no, baby,” you giggled, lifting your arms rest around his neck, one hand always finding a way into his dark locks. “just been a while…keep going, i’m okay.”

with your permission, he pushed in a little more. he let out a deep groan at the feeling of you stretching to form perfectly around him. you gasped, pressing a hand into his chest, feeling a similar sting to the one you felt in the corners of your mouth earlier. against his want to start thrusting his whole length into you, his went slow, watching your demeanor for cues to keep going.

“you feel…fuck…like it was made for me,” he said which caused the butterflies in you to flutter their wings even faster. “are you okay?” his chest heaved and his breath fanned your face.

“fuck me…please logan,” you said. your hands reached his hips, pushing them down onto you. without wasting another minute, he did. 

he bent your knee more to press it into your chest as his hips repeatedly slammed down hard, his balls smacking your ass. with one hand giving him better access by positioning your leg higher, the other cupped and squeezed your bouncing tit.

“oh my…fucking god,” you moaned. you had let the walls of your mutation down, allowing yourself to be flooded by not only your pleasure…but the love logan feels for you plus the absolute sheer euphoria that he was experiencing deep inside of your pussy. it coursed through your body like a steam engine leaving the station. it had felt like you had been brought to five earth shattering orgasms before the one that was bound to shake you again soon.

“you know you feel so good, look at that fuckin’ fucked out smile. can you feel it? can you feel how good you make me feel, baby? don’t stop readin’ me, princess. it’s all for you,” he praised for you to hear every word.

“holy shit…mm fuckin’…ahh!” your hands couldn’t help but find their way above your head, subconsciously reaching for the bed post for something to ground you again.

“here, baby, hold onto me.” logan grabbed your wandering wrist with his free hand, slapping your hand on his chest which you pressed into as if you were pushing him away. before your cock drunk mind could register what happened, he had flipped the two of you so you were on top. 

logan looked so fucking pretty under you. you took a second to breathe and take in the view before bending your knees to put yourself in a squatting position on his cock. you placed your hands on his heaving chest for support as you started to bounce your ass on him. ‘oh this is so fun’, the thought making you giggle in elation as you drilled down your hips, rocking them back and forth to feel him stimulate the deepest parts of you. his thumb bored into your clit, drawing circles on it. 

as you kept bouncing your wet pussy on him just how he liked, logan lifted his knees up behind you and pushed you back onto them. he moved his hand away from your clit and picked his head up to watch his dick disappear deep inside you. then, he spit. his saliva landed on your pussy and stomach. he went back to stimulating you, fully realizing how much that turned you on from the tight clench around him and the extra juice running down his ass onto the sheets under you two.

he, still playing with your clit, summoned your face closer to his with the middle and ring fingers on the other hand. once closer, he grabbed your neck to kiss your fiercely. 

“you’re my good girl, huh?”

‘mhmm’ was all you could muster with his hand around your throat and his hips still ramming his cock into your stretched out hole.

“use those words for me, baby. are…mm, fuck…you my good girl?”

“ye…sss, baby i’m your…good…oh my fucking…girl!!”

“open your mouth.” he fucking spit in it. you moaned tasting him again and feeling it on your face. “good…fuckin’ girl,” he complimented, kissing you and then squeezing your cheeks to spit on your tongue again. 

your body started to go limp and your eyes were practically glued together. you could feel the searing hot orgasm burning up inside. you could feel logan in a way that you never thought possible. everything. 

his love, his passion, his longing, his fear, his anxiety, his lust, his heart…everything was yours in this moment. high on his feelings, you let your head fall back coming undone on top of him.

“oh you’re so pretty…that’s pretty, baby, keep…fuck…use me, it’s all for you.” his words took you further and further into ecstasy. it was a really good fucking trip that you never wanted to end. the pain of his cock fucking you out and his grip clutching your skin like he’d fall off earth without doing so made you moan so intensely that not even the thunder outside could compete.

he could tell you were a few fucks away from collapsing but so was he. 

“baby…you keep clenching around me like that…i’m gonna fuckin’ fill you,” he said. you kept bouncing on it, wanting him to even feel a fraction of how he just made you feel. he closed his eyes trying to last as long as possible in the heaven that he found in you. his thumbs bore into your hips as he used them to ground himself.

“i want it, baby…fill your good girl up.” you leaned down to speak into his ear and then carry on kissing his neck, letting him claim your moans as trophies. 

“fuuuuck…fuuuck,” he moaned as his thrusting became sloppy and you weren’t bouncing as much anymore. his abs twitched again along with his face. 

SNIKT!!

you hissed at the cool metal of his claws against your skin and the feel of him throbbing severely inside you as he let himself paint your walls. you thanked him in pleased moans before falling on his chest. still semi-hard inside, he kissed the top of your head to which you looked up and he gave you a proper kiss. he let himself twitch out a few more dribbles of cum inside you before pulling his claws back in to carefully rub your back.

a few beats of silence went by as you listened to each others hastened breaths and the rain tapping the glass. 

“…i love you, logan.”

“i think you know how much i love you, baby,” he said, smugly remembering how you looked coming on his dick, further escalated by his letting you read him.

you two snuggled naked under the covers and as you laid on his chest and listened to his light snoring, you read him again. 

ease and silence…and love.