#But that's never the focus because they know it's not juicy or damning enough for people to give a shit

[gothcsz]

El Cumpleañero | Javier Peña x F!Reader | ~8.3k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: It's Javier's birthday, so you show up to his party and things get fun.

Tags: friends with benefits dynamic, jealous!javi (can't help myself), flirting, dancing, javi is a little ooc here but idgaf i need him (in my head he's a bit younger in this au), some untranslated spanish, smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), back shots for days, a lil bit of exhibitionism on javi's part, creampie, one use of a degrading term (slut), some dirty talk, pussy pronouns, facial, no use of y/n, reader is afab and able-bodied, little to no physical descriptions of reader, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay, thanks!

A/N: hiiii everyone! this is my humble submission to @yxtkiwiyxt's never have i ever challenge with my prompt being never have i ever woken someone else because i was too loud during sex 🙈 kiwi bb tysm for hosting such a lovely writing challenge for us, i hope you enjoy this smutty fic! oh, and i am dedicating this one to @letsmeetintheafterglow, amorcito, you left such me a juicy request in my inbox for javi that i just had to write! so, i merged it with the challenge prompt 🖤 hope you dream of him tambien ☁️ also, i couldn't help but project my fantasy of wanting to dance to corrido/banda music with javier. i feel like he's actually a pretty good dancer! swinging ya around to the beat of the song with his hand at your lower back and a modelo in the other. ugh. the song la niña fresa basically inspired the nickname javi calls reader 🍓 and just sets the vibes, i think. as always, let me know that you think and thank you for reading 🖤

The backyard is buzzing with the chatter and laughter of what feels like half the town, the smoky scent of barbecue wafting through the air and the twang of a corrido blasting from oversized speakers, making the ground shake.

You walk through the fenced yard, the southern breeze grazing your skin as familiar faces nod or wave in passing. Your eyes scan the crowd, skimming past clusters of people dancing and conversing, all of them gathered to celebrate someone who swore he didn’t want a fuss.

Of course his family didn’t listen. They turned his “keep it small” request into a blowout, like they always do, inviting anyone and everyone. Not that he could stay mad—he never really does.

When you spot the man of the hour, the corner of your lips lift instinctively and your feet seem to move on their own accord, pulling you toward him.

He’s by the bonfire, the glow of the flames painting his chiseled features in shades of gold and shadow. He stands with his hip jutting out, a cigarette balanced between his fingers, sharing it lazily with two girls you barely recognize.

They hang on to his every little move, trying to soak up whatever attention he might spare. It’s a scene you’ve witnessed too many times, and you really can’t blame them.

You’ve been in their shoes (still are, truth be told), waiting for even a flicker of his focus to land on you, and you know all too well where that desperation led.

To his bed, on his tongue, his cock—you shiver at the memory, your nipples pulling taut.

He’s the kind of man who doesn’t have to try to make hearts ache; it’s just who he is.

A walking daydream wrapped in leather and indifference, with that devil-may-care grin that promises trouble and delivers every time.

You roll your eyes and huff sassily, detouring toward one of the coolers instead. You grab a drink, making polite small talk with a couple of acquaintances, though you can’t keep your gaze from wandering back to him.

He’s already looking at you.

It stops you mid-sentence the way his brown eyes are fixed on you, heavy with intention.

The cigarette is at his lips, the faint glow of its cherry pulses when he sucks in then lets out a ribbon of smoke. 

He makes it look so damn hot, it’s almost enough to persuade you into picking up the bad habit.

The curly haired beauty next to him is chattering a mile a minute, but it’s clear he isn’t listening.

His focus remains locked on you, sweeping slowly—mischievously—down the length of your body. You can feel it, as sure as a touch, lingering at the deep neckline of your sweater then on the way your jeans hug your curves. It’s shameless, but that’s him, isn’t it?

Your smile tilts into a puckish smirk. Lifting your hand, you wiggle your fingers in a small wave.

It’s like striking a match. His gaze narrows slightly as if he’s trying to decide his next move.

He hands off the cigarette with a casual flick of his wrist and shifts his focus back to the girl beside him. She’s still rambling, her words tumbling over each other in an eager attempt to hold his attention.

He doesn’t bother pretending to care. Instead, he lets out an indulgent chuckle, shaking his head like whatever nonsense just came out of her mouth is equal parts adorable and absurd.

You almost feel bad for her. It’s hard not to fall for that sleazy charm—especially when it’s attached to a man that’s so fucking handsome.

When she swivels to chat with her friend, his eyes immediately find yours again. A cocky expression paints his countenance, one that practically asks: What the hell are you doing all the way over there?

You entertain the idea of making him wait, savoring the power in holding his attention hostage for just a moment longer. But who are you kidding? The magnetic pull he has over you is impossible to resist. It always is.

The small box tucked snugly in the back pocket of your jeans presses against you as you weave through the crowd, sidestepping a few overly tipsy guests and slipping past the fold-out tables scattered across the lawn. 

“Hey,” you say, sliding yourself effortlessly between the two girls, not caring about interrupting their conversation. Immediately, their sharp side-eyes practically stab you with twin daggers of irritation.

You don’t flinch. You’re not here for them, anyway.

You only care about the pair of deep brown eyes that make you feel like you’re the only person in the world when he looks at you. “Happy Birthday, Javier.”

A flicker of what looks like smugness and amusement crosses his face as he licks his lips, taking another measured drag.

He’s dressed in a variant of his signature look—a white button-up with a few buttons let loose to show off his neck and the top of his chest, despite the brisk autumn air, and a worn brown leather jacket accentuating his broad shoulders.

However, it’s the ridiculous tiara perched atop his head that catches your eye, and the sight makes you frown ever so slightly when you notice the matching glittery ones on his groupies, like it’s some inside joke you’re not a part of.

For some inexplicable reason—it rubs you the wrong way. You can’t believe you’re slightly jealous of it. How stupid.

“Thank you, fresita.” 

Ugh, that infuriating nickname. You’d been charmed by it at first, assuming it was something sweet and impish. It wasn’t until Chucho let it slip that it’s also used to describe a woman that’s spoiled and picky that you realized it wasn’t just affectionate; it was also dig at your finer tastes.

And so what if you are a little high maintenance?

You don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction, even though he loves coaxing it out of you. Instead, you tilt your head slightly, letting a soft undercurrent of flirtation lace your voice as you ask, “Mind if I pull you aside? I’d like to give you your gift.”

His interest is evident in the way his brow raises and the girls bristle slightly, their expressions shifting to thinly veiled jealousy once they realize he’s no longer focused on them. You captured him the moment he saw you amidst the crowd.

“We were just finishin’ up,” Javi says casually, dropping the cigarette and crushing it beneath his boot. He flicks a glance at the two disappointed faces, his smirk widening. “Con permiso, chicas. Thanks for the smoke.”

As he steps away from them, you feel a little triumphant thrill surge in your chest. They look deflated, their pouty expressions almost comical as they watch him leave with you, muttering goodbyes under their breaths.

The curly haired woman stares you down, and you try not to let the smug victory of whisking him away be too obvious… though you can’t help but smile condescendingly before fully turning away. 

“Some fan club you’ve got,” you tease once the two of you are finally alone, near the entrance of the sunroom that’s a part of the house.

He smirks, leaning against the siding and tilting his head, once more eyeing you down like you’re the finest thing he’s ever seen. “You jealous?” 

You scoff, shaking your head in mock disbelief. “Absolutely not.” It’s a little white lie, since you had felt a twinge of that pesky envy, but you don’t want him to know that. He’d either give you shit for it, or on the more extreme end, rethink this arrangement he currently has with you.

And you’d rather not lose it. Not right now, at least. You’re having too much fun letting Javier fuck your brains out on a consistent basis. 

Slowly, you close the space between you, your fingers darting up to flick the tacky tiara perched on his head. “Cute.”

Before you can step back, his hands are on you—big and warm as they grip your waist and pull you flush against his chest.

The force of it has you sighing out in satisfaction. There’s something wholly fucking addictive about the way he handles you.

His hands know exactly where to place themselves, his fingers applying the perfect amount of pressure to set the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy.

“No need to be, baby. You know you’re my favorite.” If your friends knew you were hooking up with the town slut, they’d definitely stage an intervention before you could finish your next sentence. Laying out all the reasons why letting Javier Peña into your bed was a one-way ticket to heartbreak city.

They’d call it desperation. They’d call it lowering your standards.

But what they don’t know is that standards start to feel awfully overrated when Javier has you pinned to a mattress, whispering filthy promises in your ear as his hands map every inch of your body. They don’t know what it’s like to have his full attention—his lips trailing worshipful kisses down your skin, his gravelly voice murmuring sweet nothings in Spanish that you don’t fully understand from how he slurs them together but feel all the same.

Being around him is electric, intoxicating, a high you’re not quite ready to give up.

So no, your friends don’t know. And as long as you can keep this thing between you and Javier your little secret, they never will.

“You gonna let me unwrap my gift or what?” His hand slides lower to cup your right cheek with shameless familiarity, giving it a frisky spank that makes you giggle.

This man and his obsession with your ass—it’s borderline ridiculous, and yet, you’re absolutely here for it.

“Later, maybe,” you reply with faux coyness, your finger dragging along his mustache then over to his pouty lips. He purses them, placing a kiss to the tip of your finger, “if you’re not too busy.”

His hold on your backside tightens, voice morphing into something more sultry, raspier, which is your absolute weakness. It makes your thighs rub together. “You know I always make time for you.”

You laugh softly at that. More often than not, you’re the one initiating while he only reaches out when it suits him. It’s not ideal at times, but you don’t get hung up on it.

You’re not about to ruin this by asking more of someone who doesn’t have it in him.

You reach back and pull the small box from your pocket. “Here’s your real gift,” you say, holding it out to him. Your voice softens, but there’s still a playful inflection. “Hope you like it.”

Curiosity fills those dark eyes as he takes the box, eyeing the tacky birthday wrapping paper with a soft smile. The sight of that grin on his face has your eyes morphing into hearts.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know,” you reply with a shrug. “But I saw it at the thrift store and just knew it had to go to you.”

You angle yourself to press a light kiss to the tip of his chin, your lips brushing against the stubble before you nip at it gently with your teeth. “Open it.”

His nimble fingers pull apart the crinkled folds of the wrapping paper to reveal the small box inside. When he opens it, you see his immediate delight, and your heart does a traitorous little flip.

The golden chain bracelet glints under the string lights strung along the roof’s edge, somehow making it look nicer out here than how it had been displayed at the store.

“Damn, this is nice,” he says, genuinely appreciative. The praise sends a faint thrill up your spine, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you watch him lift the bracelet out of the box to inspect it.

You’ve imagined how good the gold would look while his wrist is flexing as he grips your thighs, holding you open for him. Or when he’s feeling you up, rough and greedy, fingers digging into your soft hips as he takes your pussy how he wants.

“Put it on,” he holds his wrist and the bracelet out toward you. His tone carries that easy confidence, like he already knows you’ll obey without question.

Which you do, obviously. You carefully clasp it around his wrist, your fingers brushing his skin as you secure it, and that little brush feels like you’ve just snorted a line of adrenaline with how amped up your body gets.

“Looks good on you,” you admire your handiwork, though the truth is; he’d make anything look good. Even a paper crown. Or, you know, a tacky tiara.

“Gracias, fresita,” he replies smoothly, that familiar nickname rolling off his tongue.

“Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”

“Nah.”

Before you can come up with a witty retort, he pulls you against him again, One hand at your lower back, the other tucked into the back pocket of your jeans. His lips capture yours in a kiss that’s eager and completely unapologetic.

“Easy there, birthday boy—”

“Can’t help it,” he cuts you off, his voice rough against your lips. “Been waiting for you to show up all night.”

You can’t help but chase after that tasty mouth of his, your tongue licking against his, teeth biting into his lower lip and the slight tickle of his mustache makes you shiver. Then his hips grind against your thigh, his erection prominent, which in turn has heat flaring all over your body. 

“Let’s go inside,” he breaks away, tugging you toward the small steps leading into the sunroom.

You weren’t expecting to fuck him so early on in the night but you’re not about to complain about it. Every fiber of your body yearns for this man—but specifically your cunt. She’s obsessed.

The room looks like it’s in the middle of a renovation—a man cave in progress.

One wall boasts an unfinished bar, complete with half-empty bottles and shot glasses scattered across the surface. A brand-new pool table sits in the center of the room, its felt pristine, untouched by drunken games or spilled drinks. 

At the far end, a set of leather couches and a recliner face the large television set and entertainment center.

The double doors to the house are shut tight, leaving the room dim and private, save for the warmness of the string lights spilling in through the windows.

You’re caught up taking it all in when Javier sneaks up behind you, pressing hot, greedy kisses against your neck as his hands roam your body.

There’s nothing tentative about his touch—he cups your tits with both hands, squeezing them over your sweater as a deep groan rumbles in his throat. His need for you is palpable, a force that makes your knees weak even as he maneuvers you toward the pool table.

“Here, Javi?” you pant when he sucks at your weak spot under your jaw. “Let’s just go up to your room—”

“No,” he growls, spinning you around to face him, his dark eyes alight with lust. “Want you right here on this table.”

Before you can argue, his lips are on yours again. You let yourself melt into it, your hands reaching up to pluck the ridiculous tiara off his head and tossing it aside with a flick of your wrist.

His hair is soft under your fingers as you card through it, tugging lightly just to feel the way his body reacts, the way his kisses deepen in response.

When his tongue slides into your mouth, you surprise even yourself by wrapping your lips around it, sucking gently. You’re greedy and he loves it.

Javier’s grunt prompts your thighs to clench instinctively around him. His jacket hits the floor as he shrugs it off, lips trailing down your neck. You kick off your boots, his hands lifting you with ease to place you on the sturdy pool table.

Your sweater is gone before you know it. He’s in the middle of working on the button of your jeans, his fingers deft and impatient, when your eyes land on something that makes you freeze.

Or better yet, someone. There’s a figure slumped in one of the recliners at the far end of the room.

Your breath hitches, your body tensing. “Javi, stop.” Your words falter into a moan as his lips find your collarbone, sucking on your skin.

“What’s wrong?” he murmurs, barely pausing as he tugs your pants down your hips. Despite yourself, you lift slightly to help him, even as you frantically nudge your head toward the recliner.

“There’s someone here,” you whisper.

He stops, his head snapping up to follow your gaze. His expression shifts into a frustrated scowl when he sees the figure sprawled in the chair. “Goddamnit,” he mutters, reluctantly pulling away from you and heading over to investigate.

You watch as he approaches, his boots heavy on the hardwood. It’s his cousin Danny, completely passed out, his head lolling to the side and his mouth hanging open. Javier whistles sharply, snapping his fingers in front of his face. Nothing. He gives his shoulder a firm nudge once, twice—still nothing.

“Out cold,” Javier says, his tone both annoyed and amused as he turns back to you. “Took down almost a whole bottle of tequila earlier. He’s not gonna bother us.”

You hesitate, your eyes darting to the unconscious form. The idea of hooking up with someone uninvited in the room feels... complicated… exhilarating, maybe? You’ve never done it before.

But your reluctance evaporates the moment Javier closes the distance between you again, his hands sliding your jeans clean off, leaving you in nothing but your mismatched bra and panties.

He drinks you in, and the rest of the party—including the slumped figure in the corner—melts away under the weight of his attention.

No words are needed, not when he roughly tugs the cups of your bra down, letting your breasts spill free, nor when he dips his head, his stubble grazing your skin as his warm mouth captures one of your nipples.

Your breath catches, back arching your breasts into his warm, wet mouth. His tongue lazily circles and flicks over the hardened bud. Then he sucks harder, pulling a drawn-out moan from you before switching to the other side.

You bite your lip, determined to stifle the sighs of pleasure threatening to break. His knocked out cousin in the corner keeps you cautious, even as your body aches to let go.

Javier notices. Always does. He pulls away with a pop, a thin string of saliva connecting his pouty lips to your nipple. “Nu-uh,” he chides. “Don’t hold back.”

“I’m not trying to wake him up,” you counter, though your voice wavers from how good his mouth felt.

“You won’t,” he replies, almost dismissively, giving you a peck on the lips before he drops to his knees before you. He starts at your calves, leaving slow, deliberate kisses that send sparks dancing along your skin.

The faint scrape of his facial hair adds to the wonderful torment as his mouth works its way up, switching from leg to leg.

When he reaches the inside of your right knee, he kisses it almost sweetly, before dragging his tongue slowly in a hot stripe up to your inner thigh. You can’t stop the small shiver that ripples through you, your hands gripping the edge of the pool table for balance.

Javier finally reaches your pussy and you shudder as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your clothed clit. The heat of his breath and the firm pressure of his lips through the cotton of your panties makes your back arch.

He hooks a finger into the fabric and pulls it to the side, diving in immediately. His tongue parts your folds, curling and slithering against your pearly clit before moving lower.

“Fuck,” you sigh, your hips bucking involuntarily, pressing yourself harder against his mouth.

He groans, enjoying how reactive you are, his fingers digging into the soft meat of your thighs while he holds you firmly in place. His mouth works with a singular focus, his tongue swirling and dipping into your entrance, then sliding back up to flick over your clit.

The feeling of his stupid mustache makes it that much better, scratching at your cunt lusciously. 

You can’t help it now—a soft, keening moan slips out of you, echoing faintly in the dimly lit room. Your head lolls around on your shoulders as pleasure coils at the pit of your stomach, the tension winding tighter with each stroke of his tongue.

“That’s it,” he practically purrs. “Let me hear you.”

His lips seal around your clit, sucking gently, and you swear it feels like you’ve been possessed—holding back is impossible. Another moan escapes you, louder this time, your thighs shaking in his grip as he devours you.

Javi pushes you over the edge so effortlessly that a cry of his name spits out of your throat before you can stop it, cutting through the room.

You're grateful this area of the house is directed away from the backyard, where the party celebrating him outside continues on, oblivious of his absence as he indulges in you.

Your orgasm settles like a heavy current, fingers nearly going numb from holding on to the pool table for dear life.

You’re still disoriented and flustered when Javier stands, looming over you, cupping the back of your head and bringing you in to passionately make out.

His mouth is coated in your tangy essence, making you taste yourself as he slips his tongue down your throat.

You whimper, clawing at his chest for more and he pulls away to turn you around, manhandling you onto your stomach on the table.

His hands are firm yet impatient as he grips one of your legs by the back of your knee and hooks it over the edge of the wooden border.

Javi stares down at your sex, partially exposed and glistening for him. Your panties are askew, one swollen pussy lip peeking out while a dark, damp patch spreads over the cotton where his tongue had devoured you moments ago.

“Fuck.” The lewd sight has him hastily undoing his belt and popping the button on his jeans, his dick hard and ready to bury himself inside your sweet cunt. 

Propping yourself up on your palms, you glance back at him over your shoulder, a teasing, blissed out smile playing on your lips despite the burning heat between your thighs. “I figured you’d want to savor me. Wait for later…” you coo, rolling your hips and causing your ass to jiggle, feeling giddy at how his eyes zero in on the motion.

“I savor you all the time, baby. Even during these nasty, quick fucks.” Him saying that has you over the fucking moon. “You can’t expect me to wait knowin’ this pussy needs me to fuck her real good.”

The hand adorned with your golden bracelet grabs your supple ass, kneading the flesh before landing a stinging spank that makes you jolt and let out a cry. The sharp sound carries, making your eyes flick nervously toward the recliner where his cousin still lies, unaware of the debauchery happening mere feet away.

Javier seems completely unbothered, casually toying with your panties as though you have all the time in the world. He hooks his finger into the soaked fabric, dragging it back and forth against your sticky folds, smearing your slick across your pussy lips.

Your hips move on their own, chasing the friction, and you bite your lip hard, trapping the needy moan building in your throat.

“Can I come over later?”

His question is so nonchalant it nearly makes you laugh, but the way he teases you has you too far gone to do so. You grind back against his touch, desperate for more, your lips parting in a breathy moan.

“Yes.” The thought of him showing up at your doorstep at three in the morning, bourbon on his lips, just for you to sink to your knees and take him down your throat makes your pussy clench around nothing, crying out for his cock as more of your arousal leaks against your panties. “Whenever.”

He hums in satisfaction, stepping closer and reaching for your jaw, tilting your head to the side roughly and meeting you for a kiss. The fabric of his shirt grazes your bare skin and he tugs your panties to the side again while his mouth continues to hold yours captive.

His cock nudges against your waiting entrance, teasing, the flushed head dragging over the fleshy cleft of your clit in languid taps.

When he finally pushes in, there’s no preamble—just the yummy stretch of him filling you to the fucking brim, shoving a strangled whine out of your mouth as he sets a brutal pace immediately, not giving you even a moment to adjust.

Your palms slip against the velvet of the pool table as you struggle to hold yourself up, but it’s no use. The force of his thrusts sends you collapsing forward onto your chest, scattering the neatly racked pool balls across the table.

They clatter and roll in all directions, but Javier doesn’t slow for a second. His grip on your waist tightens, forcing you to fuck yourself back on his dick.

“Shit,” he growls hoarsely, already breathless as he watches your ass bounce with every stroke. “You’re makin’ a loud fuckin’ mess,” he hisses, though there’s no real malice there—just straight horniness.

In one smooth motion, he grabs both your wrists with one large hand, pinning them to your lower back. He then angles your pelvis so that your clit is grinding against the smooth wooden border of the pool table while your tender nipples rub against the green felt.

The effects of that are immediate, your body feeling like it’s burning from the inside out. “Mmm, fuck yeah, keep doing that,” you moan desperately. 

The raunchy sound of your ass clapping against his thighs fills the room, a filthy rhythm accompanied by the feeling of his heavy balls brushing against your cunt. 

The noise feels impossibly loud, your whimpers and his grunts reverberating off the walls. Surely, his cousin will wake up—surely, someone will walk in on the shameless display Javier is putting on with your body.

Or maybe not, since Javier keeps fucking you all hot and wanton, especially when he hits your sweet spot and your ribbed, gushy walls hug around his dick like a vice.

Your forehead presses against the table as you chant his name, your vision swimming.

You try to glance toward the recliner where his cousin is passed out, but your eyes can’t focus. Everything’s a blur—two of everything, indistinct shapes swimming in the haze of your arousal.

The only thing you can truly focus on is Javier: the way his cock breaches your most intimate spaces, the heat of his body against yours, the sharp bite of his belt against the backs of your thighs.

You’re soaking him, ruining the hem of his half-buttoned shirt. But you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when he’s splitting you open so perfectly, his tight grip on your wrists keeping you pinned and utterly open for him to take.

Your sore clit continues to rub against the smooth wood of the table, now sticky from how shamelessly you’ve been humping against it while chasing your pleasure.

Between the stimulation on your clit, the rough scrape of the felt against your sensitive nipples, and the relentless pounding of his shaft brushing your g-spot—it’s all too much. 

Your body trembles, a loud cry ripping from your throat as your orgasm slams into you.

"Javi!" you spasm in his hold, nails digging into your palms as your wrists remain trapped beneath his firm grip. shoulders burning from his rough hold.

Your pussy clamps hard around him, wet and creamy as you come, soaking his cock and leaving no doubt about how thoroughly he fucked you.

Javier curses through gritted teeth, switching between Spanish and English as he ruts into you, his rhythm stuttering. “Fuck, fresita, you’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight—just like that.”

He doesn’t falter, fucking you even as your orgasm settles over you like a heavy current.

He hauls you upright, pulling your back flush against his chest, his grip on your wrists unrelenting as he traps them between your bodies.

Both of his arms wrap tightly around your trembling frame, one hand sliding up to grab your tit, kneading it roughly while the other sprawls against your stomach and waist to hold you steady as he fucks up into you.

His mouth is at your ear now, his breath ragged. “Gonna bust inside this pretty pussy baby and you’re gonna let me, aren’t you?”

You nod weakly, biting down on your lip as your eyes flutter shut. “So fuckin’ willing to take my cum like a real slut,” the degrading name makes your clit twitch because he’s right—you are a real slut. Only for him. Always hungry and ready to please, to do anything to satisfy him and he knows it.

“You’re so goddamn perfect—fuck.” His hips jerk a few times before he groans deeply, his cock pulsing as he finishes deep inside you, his hold on your body tightening to the point where you wince but it hurts so good.

“What the fuck?”

The sharp voice cuts through the haze, yanking you back to reality. Your eyes snap open, and panic floods your system as you instinctively try to shield your almost-naked body.

Across the room, Danny sits up in the recliner, his hair a mess and his bleary eyes squinting in confusion. He looks like he’s been rudely yanked out of a drunken slumber, and unfortunately, it’s your fault.

Javier, of course, remains maddeningly calm. “Relax,” his voice still thick with that post-climax rasp as he mumbles in your ear.

Meanwhile, your body is burning—part embarrassment, part leftover heat from the sinful things Javier just did to you on this pool table.

You try to wriggle out of his grip, but his arms are like iron bands, keeping you firmly in place.

Danny rubs at his eyes, blinking hard as if trying to process what’s in front of him. His head tilts slightly, and for one horrifying second, you think he’s piecing it all together. But instead, he suddenly leans over the side of the recliner and starts retching, the sound loud and wet as he empties his stomach onto the carpet.

The sharp, acidic stench of vomit hits the air, mixing unpleasantly with the heady scent of sweat and sex. It’s enough to finally get Javier to loosen his hold.

He pulls out of you with a grunt, leaving you aching and exposed, and you both watch as his release starts to spill out of you, trickling over your swollen folds and dripping onto the table with obscene little plops.

But there’s no time to dwell on the mess. You scramble to grab your clothes, your movements frantic and clumsy as you yank your jeans up your legs and shove your arms into your sweater.

Javier’s doing the same, though far less hurried, like he’s still amused by the whole situation.

When you finally look up at him, his dark eyes are sparkling with mischief, and he throws you a roguish grin that almost makes you laugh despite yourself.

Danny, meanwhile, is still groaning and gagging, his face pale as a sheet. You feel a tiny pang of guilt, but before you can even think about offering help, Javier grabs your hand and tugs you toward the door.

“Aren’t you going to help him?” you whisper, trying to keep your voice low.

“Fuck no,” Javier replies without missing a beat. “Not my fault he couldn’t handle his liquor.”

He presses a kiss to the back of your hand, his lips warm and soft against your skin, and you can’t help but follow him.

You glance back over your shoulder as you’re being pulled toward the backyard, unable to stop yourself from throwing out a half-hearted, “Sorry!”

He doesn’t respond—he’s too busy dry heaving—but you and Javier are already sneaking out, stifling your laughter as the sounds of the party grow louder around you.

The music thrums through the air, its infectious rhythm pulling you in as your dance partner tightens his grip on your waist. His hands are firm, guiding you with confidence, but the musky cologne mixed with the sour tang of sweat is enough to make your nose crinkle if you focus too hard on it.

Still, you’re here out of spite, letting the sway of your hips speak louder than words as your body molds to his. The banda song carries you both across the makeshift dance floor, your movements fluid and natural as though the music itself has taken over.

Javier is just a few paces away, entangled with the curly-haired girl from earlier. His hands rest on her lower back, his body moving with ease. 

There’s a playful challenge in both of your eyes when your gazes finally meet, knowing how this little game of yours will end. 

Neither of you looks away, both determined to outdo the other, even in this small, ridiculous way.

Your dance partner spins you abruptly, breaking the moment. The move is smooth, you’ll give him that, and you find yourself face-to-face with him once again.

He’s not bad looking, honestly—sharp jawline, nice green eyes—but the cologne is killing the vibe, and his wandering hands are starting to push it.

Thankfully, the song winds to a close just as his fingers inch a little too far down your back. The music shifts, a different tune kicking in, and you step back, offering a polite smile as he thanks you for the dance.

“Got a number I can save?” he asks, hopeful and slightly cocky.

You grin, a little too sweetly, and rattle off your number without hesitation. You’ve got no intention of responding if he uses it, but you can’t resist the temptation to stir the pot. As he finally walks away, you feel it—a scorching stare burning into your back.

You don’t even have to look to know who it’s coming from.

“Baila conmigo.”

The familiar rasp of Javier’s voice cuts through the noise as he steps into your space. He takes a swig of his beer, his leather jacket gone, leaving him in just the white button-up that hugs his chest a little too well.

You cock a brow, crossing your arms. “What happened to your dance partner?”

“Sent her away,” he replies easily, his smirk infuriatingly smug. “Poor girl couldn’t catch the rhythm.”

You let out an amused huff, rolling your eyes. Of course, he’d say that. Before you can think better of it, you take his hand, allowing him to lead you toward la pista.

The moment you’re there, he pulls you flush against him, one large hand settling at your lower back while the other still clutches his beer. You fall into the simple two-step with ease, your bodies moving in perfect sync to the music. 

His thigh slots between yours, the friction sparking something electric, and you can’t help but press closer, your breaths mingling in the intimate space between you.

“Reminds me of that night at the club,” his lips brush at your ear. It’s a miracle you can still hear him over the loud music. “When you finally let me get between those pretty legs.”

The heat in his words, combined with the faint scent of his cologne and the alcohol on his breath, floods your senses. He smells and feels like everything your last dance partner wasn’t.

Whistles and cheers ripple through the crowd as you and Javi throw yourselves into the rhythm of the song, your bodies moving like two parts of the same melody.

You hadn’t expected him to be such a good dancer the first time you shared a dance—not until that night at the club. 

And just like his dancing, the way he fucked you afterward had blown every expectation out of the water.

The song comes to an end, leaving you both flushed and slightly winded, sweat clinging to your skin despite the cool night air. The cheers die down as a new track begins, and Javi’s lips quirk into a lopsided grin.

“C’mon, give me another one,” he urges, his voice still rich and sensual despite the exertion.

You laugh, shaking your head as you step back, hands on your hips. You hadn’t planned to stay this long, and now your body is screaming for mercy. “Raincheck, handsome. I gotta head home.”

Javi’s grin falters slightly, but it doesn’t fade completely as your hand drifts down his chest, fingers savoring the firmness of his body.

His broad shoulders and toned frame are just so enchanting, and you can’t resist indulging one last time before grabbing his beer. You take a long, slow sip, your eyes flicking up to meet his as you drain the bottle and set it aside on one of the plastic fold-out tables.

“Not gonna stick around for the cake?” he asks, that boyish charm in his tone as he steps closer.

You flash him a flirty smile. “Save me a piece.”

He opens his mouth to say something else, but the rowdy chaos of his friends and cousins cuts him off. They swarm him, loud and eager, tugging at his shoulders and shouting for him to take another shot.

He laughs, but his gaze finds yours, his warm brown eyes locking on to you one last time.

“Enjoy, Javi,” you tell him with a wink. “You know where to find me.”

That familiar smirk is at his lips as he’s pulled toward the makeshift bar. You watch him for a moment before turning to make your departure.

You’re cutting across the lawn when you hear a voice behind you.

“Need a ride home?”

It’s the guy you danced with earlier, his cologne still potent even in the open air. His gentlemanliness would’ve been charming if it weren’t for the obvious expectation in his tone.

You decline politely, offering a quick smile before brushing past him and unlocking your car.

What you don’t realize is that Javi sees the entire exchange from afar. He’d caught the tail end of the guy trailing after you, his gaze narrowing as he watched you disappear into the sea of parked cars.

A flicker of irritation tugged at his expression, but he stayed rooted to his spot, letting his friends push another shot into his hand.

Instead of following, he threw himself into his own celebration, his laugh loud and boisterous as if he hadn’t seen a damn thing. But he couldn’t stop thinking about you leaving with that guy, and the glint in his eyes that had been so bright when you were there dulled just slightly. 

Still, he let it go, for now.

He knew exactly where to find you, after all.

“Oh my god,” you mewl, your back arching against the cold tile of your kitchen floor. Javier thrusts into you with a raw, animalistic need, his cock driving so deep inside you that it feels like he’s carving himself into your very being.

The absurdity of the situation is a bit funny—you’re still fully clothed, minus your sleeping shorts having been thrown haphazardly across the room, a stark contrast to earlier when you’d been bare and spread for him on that damn pool table.

Just as you predicted, he showed up at your door in the dead of night, his silhouette illuminated by the dim porch light. You’d barely made it to the door before his desperate, insistent knocking threatened to wake the entire block.  

It felt like he might break it down if you didn’t open it fast enough. Whoever dropped him off didn’t even wait to see if you’d answer.

No words were exchanged when you finally let him in. His brown eyes, dark and searing, did all the talking.

He’d cupped your face with one rough hand, the other holding a plate with aluminum foil covering it, precariously balancing it in his palm as he kissed you with an appetite that left you breathless.

You let him back you into the kitchen, setting the plate on the counter, his body crowding yours until there was nowhere left to go.

And now, here you are, legs spread wide, the weight of him pressing you down into the tiles, his jacket still on, smelling like beer and bourbon as he ruts himself against you.

“Givin’ your number out, huh?” he growls against your lips, his words dripping with bitterness. His hand snakes up to wrap around your neck, firm but not harsh, forcing your hazy eyes to meet his. You feel the subtle coolness of the bracelet against your skin and that only makes it better. “That’s all it takes, fresita? One fuckin’ dance?”

Each word is punctuated by a sharp, punishing thrust that has you gasping for air.

Your hands scramble at the back of his jacket, trying to find some sort of anchor while his dick fucks into you over and over, your slick cunt clamping helplessly around him.

If your brain wasn’t fogged with pleasure, you’d call him out on his jealousy, tease him for letting something so trivial get under his skin. At least you were better about hiding it.

But god, it’s too fucking hot—seeing him like this, so undone, so unhinged, all because of you.

Javier, the man who always carries himself with that cool, confident swagger, who never seems to let anything faze him, is now losing his composure right here on your kitchen floor.

And all it took was watching some other guy’s attention on you to make him snap. If anyone is picky and spoiled here—it’s him.

“Answer me,” he demands, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to leave you lightheaded, his thrusts never faltering. His free hand grabs at your thigh, spreading you even wider for him, the angle forcing you to experience every inch of him.

“I—it was nothing,” you manage to cry, though your words are almost incoherent as he’s driving into you. “Javi, I—”

“You what?” he interrupts with a curt laugh, his teeth grazing the underside of your jaw before he bites down gently, making you squirm beneath him. “You think I’m gonna let you walk around, lettin’ some asshole think he’s got a chance with you?”

The thought alone seems to fuel him further, his movements growing rougher and you swear you’re on the edge of unraveling.

And as he watches the way your body responds to him—your nails digging into his back, your moans turning into screams—he knows he’s making his point loud and clear. 

Javi’s grip around your throat tightens, cutting off your breath just enough to stimulate you. The pressure makes you feel somehow, impossibly, even more turned on.

“He can’t fuck you like I can,” he grinds against you, his coarse and damp pubic hairs bristling against your sensitive clit, the friction of it almost too much. “No one can.” His face hovers so close to yours that you can feel his breath on your lips.

Your mouth falls open on instinct, tiny, wheezy moans spilling out as his nose brushes against yours.

Javier’s dark eyes feel like they’re boring straight into your soul, gleaming with hunger as he watches your every twitch, every little surrender. He leans in and kisses you all demanding and vehement. 

His lips claim yours like he’s trying to eat you whole, his tongue slipping inside to taste every gasp you give him.

“Listen to that,” he murmurs mockingly as he pulls back just enough to let his gaze drop between your bodies, watching your pussy swallow his cock. “Just listen to how wet you are, baby. Think he could ever make you sound like this?”

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment—and arousal—as the obscene, sloppy sounds of his length plunging into you fill the air, amplified by his words. The drive of his hips is merciless, each stroke drawing you closer with dizzying precision.

Your nails dig into his forearms, bending your body beneath him as your vision starts to be blotched with white spots.

You can feel it, the winding of your orgasm at your core pulling taut, about to burst. When it finally does, your pussy flutters and squeezes as waves of smoldering intensity crash over you.

“Puta madre,” he snarls, his head falling back from how good it feels to have you come around him.

Pulling out, Javier pins you down with his weight to keep you from squirming away. His cock, flushed, drooling, and shiny with your juices, hovers inches from your face as you lay flat on the floor.

Your swollen lips part instinctively, the scent of your own headiness making your mouth water.

“Tongue out, baby,” he commands, his voice rough but coaxing.

You obey, sticking your tongue out lazily, your half-lidded eyes locked onto his. The sight of you like this—wrecked, pliant, and waiting for him—is enough to undo him completely. His hand pumps his cock, the golden accessory on his wrist jolting with each move. 

With a low, rasping groan, he spills over you, thick, hot ropes of cum splattering across your face and tongue.

You moan softly, savoring the warmth, licking your lips and swallowing whatever lands in your mouth. The taste of him leaves your tongue and throat buzzing, and you revel in the messy intimacy of it.

He uses his fingers to wipe the remnants of his release from your cheeks, then pushes them into your mouth without hesitation.

“Suck,” he orders, and you comply, wrapping your lips around his fingers, swirling your tongue over them with eager enthusiasm. You get carried away, your tongue flicking and sucking greedily, and he chuckles darkly.

“Jealousy looks good on you,” you can’t help but tease, your voice carrying amusement as you both come down from the dazed fucking.

Javier sways a little, his inebriation finally catching up to him. He stumbles, but he steadies himself smoothly, like the world itself wouldn’t dare let him fall.

He wipes a hand down his face before meeting your gaze, still kneeling on the floor. “Not a fan of people playin’ with what’s mine,” he says, the statement edged with that possessiveness he tries to pretend isn’t there.

Usually, a line like that would have you rolling your eyes and telling the guy to take his ego down a notch. But with Javier? You don’t mind. At all. Something about the way he says it—like it’s a fact, not an opinion—makes your stomach flip in the worst (or best) way possible.

“Yours?” you challenge, sitting up on your forearms and arching a brow at him. “I thought this was casual.”

“It is,” he says without missing a beat, bringing his fingers up to caress the side of your face, more calm and sure, like he’s completely unaware of how contradictory his behavior is.

You narrow your eyes slightly, refusing to let him off the hook that easily despite melting under his touch. “Casual hookups don’t go into a frenzy after watching the other dance and flirt with someone else.”

He doesn’t even flinch at your words, doesn’t even bother to defend himself. Instead, he smirks—because of course he does—and stretches his arms over his head like the entire conversation is nothing but a minor inconvenience to him.

He straightens up then stands, extending a hand to you, his palm open and inviting, the gold band of the bracelet glinting in the low light.

You let him pull you up and let out a sound of exertion, your muscles still tense from rolling around on the hard floor with him.

“Dance, flirt with whoever you want. When I want you, I’m gonna have you.”

That’s possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. “That so?” You try to sound unimpressed, but your voice betrays you, just the tiniest bit giddy.

“That’s so,” he concedes vaingloriously. “Don’t forget who makes you feel this satisfied.”

As if I could ever. “Cocky bastard,” you mutter, but the words lack any real bite.

He leans in, kissing you gently, then his voice drops into that deep, velvety murmur that makes your pussy tingle. “Yet you keep coming back.”

You don’t respond because, let’s face it, he’s not wrong. Especially not when he pairs those words with an affectionate kiss.

Instead, you finally roll your eyes, the most predictable move in your arsenal, and step around him to grab your discarded sleeping shorts.

Sliding them back on, you make your way to the counter, where the lonely styrofoam plate of half-smashed birthday cake waits for attention. Without a word, you pull it closer, grab a fork, and dig in.

Javier watches you with a grin still plastered across his face, leaning his hip against the counter. “Didn’t even offer the birthday boy the first bite, huh? Real cold.”

You stab a piece exaggeratedly, lifting it to your mouth, and chewing slowly, giving him a look that says cry about it.

But when you see the faint pout pulling at his lips—a deliberate act, no doubt—you sigh, scoop up another forkful, and hold it out. “Fine. Even though technically it’s not your birthday anymore.”

He leans in, not breaking the eye contact, and takes the bite straight from the fork, his lips brushing the tines with an unnecessary amount of flair.

You swear he’s showing off, but you don’t call him out on it, not when he groans softly in appreciation and you can’t help but admire him like this, playful and flirty in your kitchen.

“Feliz cumpleaños, Javi,” you say after a moment, softer now.

He swallows, his smirk shifting into something a little more genuine as he meets your gaze. “Gracias, fresita.”

For a moment, the air between you shifts—gentler, almost intimate. Then he reaches for the fork still in your hand and steals another bite, flashing you a look that drags you right back to reality.

i have a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

@almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiamore . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @persephone-girl . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7 . @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @almostfoxglove . @thundermartini . @pigeonmama . @piercethevic03 . @marisemonteiroo . @picketniffler . @getitoutofmymindwrites . @penascigarette . @bunniboo0015 . @kirsteng42 . @ivuravix . @joelmillerisapunk . @theestorm . @pasc4lfuzz .

[dark--eclipse]

So. This wasn't going exactly according to plan.

Okay, well. Leo had been counting on the stealth spells working, and him being able to teleport up to the Krang ship now that his magic was no longer going quite as haywire around the mutated gumballs. He'd been counting on being able to find Donnie again, in spite of the layout of the ship making no fucking sense to him whatsoever. What he hadn't been expecting was for Donnie to be hard-wired INTO the ship, and for alarms to sound and giant pink fleshy clones of his twin to start coming at him with everything they had, making him have to already waste half of the damn potion on trying to keep them from biting his limbs off, because god damn it, something made solely of flesh should not have been able to move that fast--

And all the while, Donnie kept screeching, in a voice that sounded like his but was ever so subtly off, somehow. "WHY DO YOU CONTINUE TO BE A THORN IN MY SIDE, LEO. IT IS POINTLESS TO RESIST THE KRANG. GIVE IN. YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED, LIKE EVERYONE ELSE ON THIS PATHETIC PLANET."

"Fat chance," Leo snarled, shoving another katana made of solidified lightning through a clone's eye socket. "The Donnie I know wouldn't act like this over a bunch of fucking mutated gumballs. The Donnie I know would want me to keep fighting. And I'm taking that Donnie back with me, whether you like it or not." Spin, deflect another attack from another clone, slice its head off. Rinse, repeat. "Come on, you can't keep this up forever. Construct-making spells take, like, a shit-ton of energy. You and I both know that. From the amount you're making, you must be preeeeetty tired right about now, huh?" There seemed to be a lull in the amount of enemies that were coming at him, after all, making Leo confident enough to lean on his conjured sword as he stood there. "You gonna hide out in that gross pink goop all night long, or are you actually gonna come out and play fair?"

Leo was counting on some semblance of Donnie's competitive nature still being buried within....whatever this thing that had taken his brother's place was. The nature that he would swear up and down that he didn't have, but that would rear its ugly head at the slightest indication that Leo was supposedly rubbing some victory in his face. If he could just take advantage of that and get Donnie to fight him one-on-one, he just might have a chance here.

The chuckle that met his ears was so unlike Donnie's, cold and predatory, that it almost made Leo's blood turn to ice in his veins as he stood there. "I have no need to fear my powers running dry now. The Krang have made me more powerful than I EVER was. But fine. If you want to hasten your own death so badly, I SUPPOSE I can accommodate you."

There was a wet, nauseating squelching sound from the center of the room, as something tore itself free of the center console. It was Donnie, with the same fangs and sickly yellow eyes, now with a disturbing amount of pink goop and eyes all over his body. He grinned, making an expression not unlike how Leo imagined a shark would look as it sized up a particularly juicy minnow, scraping that scythe blade along the ground once again. "You know how I love to dance. So let's DANCE, brother of mine."

And then Donnie was coming at him like a fucking bat out of hell, causing Leo to have to immediately go on the defensive just to keep from getting his head sliced off. There was no hint of the careful strategy that Donnie normally brought to combat situations here--there was just pure, unadulterated fury, a single-minded desire to see his opponent dead. It chilled Leo's blood, even as his own focus narrowed down to trying to survive the fight. He blocked yet another attack, sweat running down from his brow, voice wavering. "Donnie, you gotta snap OUT of it. This isn't you. You've never wanted to hurt anybody. That was, like, one of your biggest fears--"

Donnie seemed to falter, then, for a moment. But only a moment. In the next instant, Leo had to duck away from the scythe blade coming straight for his throat, letting out a hiss of surprise as his twin's voice came to his ears. "My fear held me BACK. It kept me WEAK. And I know enough to know that you'll have me go back into hiding if you have it your way. Because my powers are strange. Unorthodox. ABNORMAL. I don't HAVE to hide under the Krang's tutelage. They've made me stronger than I EVER was. No one will ever be ASHAMED of me AGAIN."

Leo's heart sank as he listened to the words, so full of venom and malice. Was that really what Donnie thought of himself? That he was weak? That his powers were doomed to just be out of the ordinary? That everyone was ashamed of him? Leo knew that his twin had always had difficulties, always had to bottle up his resentment towards people treating him differently due to his powers, but he'd never thought it was this bad--

"YOU caused all of this, you know. By not listening. By being a selfish, arrogant little FOOL who never paid others any mind. Always so impressed with your lightning and teleportation powers that you couldn't pay a SINGLE mind to any of the suffering going on around you, COULD you?" Leo ducked away from shadowy spikes rising from the surface of the walkway they were standing on, aiming to skewer and impale. "Always running your mouth. Always sticking your nose where it wasn't NEEDED. How does it FEEL? You'll die ALONE and UNWANTED, and it will be all. your. FAULT. And you'll finally understand how I feel."

He had to fight back a hiss of pain as one of the spikes managed to glance against his shoulder, raising a shielding spell even as Donnie battered against it with all his might, baring those jagged fangs and hissing. "You always thought you were BETTER than me. That I could never beat you at ANYTHING."

"Don--"

"But I've surpassed ALL of you. I'm not some weak little thing that needs PROTECTED anymore, and you....if you're BETTER than me, then why are you making yourself so easy to KILL."

Donnie's technique was sloppier, now. There was no effort put into the blows, no sense of strategy. He was just coming at his brother out of blind rage, and it hurt hurt HURT Leo to see it, like a million thorns sticking into his heart. To know that these were all the insecurities that Donnie was keeping hidden, deep down inside, and they had never known because Donnie would rather have been caught dead than be that emotionally vulnerable around people, especially after being overly emotional made his powers go haywire in the first place--

"I don't think I'm better than you! Donnie, please just listen--"

"Then why ask Father what was WRONG with me?"

Leo's blood ran cold all over again at that. "You remember that? Donnie, I was j-just a stupid kid when I said that. I didn't actually mean that something was....I wanted to know about your beast form thing, I--"

"Shut UP." Donnie was blasting him backwards with a wave of shadow magic then, and ow, okay, skidding along whatever substance made up the majority of this ship was not doing wonders for his back, as it turned out. "Stop running your stupid gods-damned MOUTH for five seconds. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear about how you're BETTER than I am, or how you've CHANGED, or ANYTHING ELSE. When all of you change, you change for the BETTER. All I can do is change for the WORST. Why should I bother trying to hide myself away and control it and be BETTER when nobody will give me a CHANCE to be anything other than a monster? They STILL can't even accept the fact that I'm a MAN and not--well. I'll show them. I'll show them ALL. I don't NEED any of you. The Krang have given me purpose. I'll be stronger than I ever was, and CAPABLE, and-"

"You....you already were." Shit, his sword had....he had to conjure another one, come on, come on, stupid powers, work--

"SHUT UP, I SAID." Another blast backwards. Leo hauled himself to his feet, coughing, his chest distressingly tight in a way that probably meant that he'd at least bruised a rib, if not outright broken one. Thank the gods that their advanced healing factor would probably take care of that for him, as long as he kept Donnie distracted.

"Fine. If you wanna keep coming at me, come at me. But I'm done trying to fight you."

Donnie's facial expression wavered again, dipping from a feral snarl for a moment before lapsing back as if nothing had ever happened. "Either attack or RUN AWAY like the COWARD that you are."

"No. I'm not gonna fight you, Donnie. I never want to hurt you. Ever. Come back. I know some part of you knows this is wrong. I can see it." He reached out then, gently, imploring. "This isn't you."

"You keep telling me that different things AREN'T me. That I'm not a woman, not a monster, not a bad father. But you're wrong. You're WRONG. Are you not PROUD of me, Leo?" Another savage swipe of the scythe, as Leo ducked and rolled away. "I'm BEING the monster. The outlier. The VILLAIN. I'm finally living up to everyone's expectations of me. I tried so HARD to live up to those, you know. But it was never GOOD ENOUGH. I was NEVER good enough. Not a good enough daughter, or a good enough SON, or a good enough magic user, or ANYTHING ELSE. And you people never let me FORGET that. Forget that I was an OUTLIER. What the hell would YOU know about feeling inadequate? You're so gods-damned PERFECT--"

"You really think I don't feel inadequate? Donnie, I feel that way all the damn time!" Leo gestured widely, then, slapping his chest with one palm. "I act like I'm hot shit, Don, but most of the time I have no fucking clue what I'm doing. And I act like that because I don't want anybody else to see how screwed up I am. Because maybe if I act like I'm good enough for people, then I'll start believing it eventually. You probably know what that feels like, don't you?"

"Be quiet."

"I'm sorry. I never really understood what you were going through. I know I deflect a lot and make stupid jokes, and....and yeah, I don't really listen. You're right about that. But if I made you feel like you weren't being listened to? That I don't care about you? Don, you were hurting for so long and none of us.....none of us noticed. All of us let you down. And I don't think we can do enough to make up for that. And you have every right to be angry about it, okay? So go ahead. Beat the shit out of me if you want to. But I'm not gonna hurt you more than I already have."

The leer across Donnie's face no longer looked quite as vicious, suddenly. "You--"

"I'm going to listen to you more. Okay? And you're not some monster, or some outlier, or....or whatever you think you are. Okay? You're just my brother. And I'm sorry that I didn't do a better job of showing that. Sometimes I was scared for you. Your powers are rare, and I was always kind of worried about how people were going to react. All of us were. And even before that, with wanting to change your gender, we knew there'd be people out there that wouldn't accept it. And we wanted to protect you. But if we pushed too hard? If we made you feel this way? Don, I'm so, so sorry for it. Your powers aren't weird or volatile or anything, they're you. I asked Dad that back then because I wanted to understand. And now I think I finally do."

He approached, then, even as his instincts screamed at him that maybe putting himself within Donnie's strike zone at the current moment wasn't the wisest of decisions. "You're more than enough, okay? You don't need to change. You don't need to be some perfect son, or magic user, or father. Because all of us love you no matter what, Don. You're a man if you say you are. You're a father if you say you are. And anyone who doesn't think so doesn't love you. So their shitty opinions don't matter much."

"....shut up. Stop CONFUSING me." Donnie had his teeth bared again, but this time the gesture looked more pathetically desperate than actually threatening, a bluff display to try and make a presumed threat draw away from him.

"Just. Just lemme talk. You're not....none of this is your fault, okay? They made you their little pawn. That doesn't mean you are one. You'd never hurt us. Any of us. I see you, Don. You're so....generous to others, and you work so hard to live up to their standards, but you're so hard on yourself. And if we taught you that....I'm sorry, Don. If you wanna kill me, go ahead. All I'm gonna say is that I finally, finally have some inkling of how hard it's been for you. And....and I'm sorry."

He waited. Waited for some sign that it was getting through to Donnie, or that he was about to get his head lopped off his shoulders. And then his twin's voice came to his ears, choked and wavering. ".....you.....you don't.....you CAN'T....I---"

And then Leo looked up again, Donnie was staggering backwards, his gaze no longer that sickly shade of yellow, no longer leaking shadows or half-feral or anything else. He looked confused. Scared.

"....Don?" "Leo?" Donnie's voice was strangled and panicked, but unmistakably him, and it almost made Leo sag in relief to hear it.

"Don. There you are, there you are. Come on, come back, we need y-"

"It's in my head, Leo. It won't.....I can hear it. It's telling me to....get it off, get it off me, please--" And as Leo watched, Donnie began to borderline claw at the goop-like substance that was now draped across him, all but hyperventilating out of panic.

"Okay, okay, hold on, April got us some of this stuff that works really well on Krang goop. Hold still-" And he was spilling the potion over Donnie as gently as possible, and okay, thank gods, it didn't appear to be hurting him. Excellent. Now he could concentrate on how he was so glad that Donnie was back that he could hug him again--oh. Wait. Donnie was slinking away from him.

"Don? You okay?"

Donnie was paler than he'd ever seen him, looking at Leo's shoulder that was still oozing blood slightly. "I....I hurt you."

"What, this? 'Tis but a scratch, dear brother o' mine---"

"Stop it! Don't make a joke about this right now, Leo, I....this is SERIOUS. I could have.....I could have KILLED...." Donnie turned away, pressing a hand against his mouth as though he was trying very hard to keep the contents of his stomach in, trembling all over.

"It wasn--"

"STOP. Saying it wasn't me! It WAS. I feel all those things deep down, I was so angry and it used that and I could feel myself attacking you and I couldn't stop it because it actually felt good, I....what kind of-" The shadows were back, swirling around Donnie in a way that they hadn't ever since he had come back home, and Leo had to do something about that, he---

He stepped up and squished his hands to both sides of his twin's face before Donnie could do much more than let out a muffled squeak of protest, gently but firmly forcing Donnie to look him in the eyes. "Don. They made you do those things. Okay? Not you, and not anybody else."

Tears tracked down Donnie's face as he leaned into Leo then, sobbing openly. "I was fighting it. I was trying so hard, Leo, I swear."

"I know. I know. Ssssssh. It's gonna be okay." And hopefully, Donnie would catch the hidden meaning behind the words. Maybe not now, but SOON it will be okay.

"I-"

"Don, we can apologize to each other and have a heartfelt talk later. Mikey and Raph are trying to deal with these things by themselves. Well, Theatre's with them too, but....we need you. Okay?"

Donnie pulled away, visibly steeling himself as he inhaled shakily. ".....okay."

Leo had been about to turn away, but he turned back then, slapping a hand onto Donnie's shoulder. "You know I love you, right?"

"Of.....of course I do."

"No, I....I need you to understand," Leo ground out, looking Donnie dead in the eyes once again. "You're my brother, okay? I love you. And there's not a single goddamn thing you can ever do to change that. Okay? And I'm gonna start being a better brother to you now. And we're all gonna show you that the opinions of a couple of brain-dead assholes don't matter. The only ones that matter are the ones from people who love you. Okay?"

Donnie still looked unsure. Unsteady, even, like he was trying to put his world back onto its axis after it had tipped over. But he at least seemed to realize that this wasn't the time or place to be emotionally hashing it out with his own twin, just nodding solemnly after a minute. "....okay."

"Good." Leo turned to slash a portal open again. "Let's go get our brothers."

"Wait. There's one thing I'd like to do first. Me and the ship, see, we've come to an agreement. And she's not quite as bad as the rest of the Krang. I don't think she likes them much either. So the question is-" And when Leo turned back to Donnie, he was grinning, without the toothy hint of malice this time. "Leo, how'd you like to fly a spaceship?"

[cerebraldischarge]

No more bullshit. No more hangovers. No more worries. No more painful memories.

No longer carrying the suffering of everyone else.

This is where we differed. Empathy is somewhat foreign territory for me. That doesn’t mean I don’t care about people, but absorbing their stuff rarely ever occurs to me. I’ll get mad on your behalf and shoot whoever upset you, but then I’ll make a goofy joke about something completely unrelated, simply because seeing you cry makes me uncomfortable. Hell, even seeing myself cry makes me feel awkward unless it’s brought on by music - which happens surprisingly often.

If I had to guess, it was empathy that got Danny into this whole thing. Yeah, he wanted to get rid of life for a long time, so there is a selfish angle to it too, but if it was just that, he wouldn’t have started a movement. He often complained to me about how hard writing is for him, and his perfectionism made it even harder. I could tell he wasn’t too educated, and made some consistent spelling mistakes, probably having learned some words wrong in childhood in the first place. An earlier version of me would’ve judged him for this and would’ve either withdrawn from him or made a point of constantly correcting him. But then I would’ve missed the fact that he was sharp as a scalpel when it came to actually thinking things through and not just regurgitating information. Probably smarter than me, in fact. He would call me while getting drunk, and give me lectures on geopolitics, which were interesting but at times went right over my head. An earlier version of me would’ve zoned out or tried to change the subject even before the juicy part started - I can just hear her going “I don’t give a damn about the bigger picture, I just want to be a grunt!” But because it became clear a long time ago that that’s not an option, I learned to let go of that single-minded focus and listen to pretty much anything that could break me out of my natural state of abject boredom.

Would an earlier version of me be mad about him leaving so abruptly, without waiting for me? I don’t know. Maybe a very early one. But I got used to losing people very fast. I did struggle with needing attention for a while, because adults would act like they lost all sense of object permanence and drop me like I didn’t exist every damn time another adult approached them - the message loud and clear: work is more important than you, and you are not my equal. I still feel a slight twinge of resentment when someone says “I have to go” mid-conversation, but then my mature brain steps in and I accept that people have their own lives, schedules, and obligations, and some little foreigner girl they barely know is going to score lower on the priority list than, say, a call from their boss or their duty to make dinner for their family. This acceptance also applies to the people who never return, for whatever reason. It applied to Allie when he got into that accident in 2009, it applies to Danny who decided he had enough - and, after the fallout of betrayal and the sunk cost fallacy had settled, it even applied to Lauren in a way. My parents are kind of a different category, because paying attention to me was their job - even when I absolutely did not want their attention, which happened more and more often as I got older.

Danny shared with me the time, information, emotional connection, and humor that he wanted to share with me. He definitely shared way more with his buddy Kevin, his aunt Amanda, and a few of his friends that I’ve never interacted with. And that’s okay. Some people would call me a psychopath for being okay with this, but why? If he had a horribly botched, painful end, or a nonconsensual one, or if he was still alive against his will, or something like that, I would feel sad about it, or angry, or guilty, or all three. I would have something pretty close to the expected, textbook grief reaction. But this way, there’s nothing to grieve.

Yes, the world lost a very gentle, smart, and all around cool guy. But would I really rather have him still around and miserable? Nah. People aren’t here to be used by us - not me, not you, not their families, not even the government. People come and go. I have understood this before my age got into the double digits. It’s inconvenient sometimes, but once I managed to cultivate some level of confidence in myself - which is not fucking easy by any means when one of your defining experiences is total rejection by an organization that you equated with life itself, mind you -, I realized I didn’t really need people to stay. I sometimes want them to, and I enjoy it if they do… and sometimes I really want them to leave me the hell alone, too. But I don’t need anyone else in that clingy, visceral, “one flesh, one mind” way that romantic relationships are characterized by. I got a taste of that with Lauren, but it was so exhausting and anxiety-inducing that honestly, I don’t want to experience it again. It’s also likely that I let her inside me to that extent because it played to my insecurities - “military spouse” was a hell of a lot more acceptable than “military reject” in my head and heart.

Danny would’ve made a great grunt, too. His body was a warrior’s. It took regular beatings from evil family members, from alcohol, and from just life in general, and still remained strong to the end. I’m somewhat grateful for that - he didn’t have to experience what my father did: not just pain, but the frustration of trying to move certain body parts and having them just flat out refuse to function. He also had the ability to be violent if necessary, such as when protecting loved ones from harm. For whatever reason, he never made the decision to do this professionally, though. An earlier version of me would have judged him for that. But that was before I realized that not everyone has the same values I do. I would have never expected to get to this point, but now I can even respect conscientious objection - at twenty, it was almost a swear word for me. And I respect, although don’t share, Danny’s belief that life itself is an inherently negative thing. (In order to share his conviction, I would need a clear understanding of the concepts of “positive” and “negative”, and I don’t have that. To me, these are entirely subjective ideas that cannot be defined in an objective manner. This is where I may depart from Rand, whose injunction is to “judge, and be prepared to be judged” - the only judgment I’m confident in making is that if a given action is performed with the informed consent of everybody involved, I cannot condemn it, but if consent is being violated at any point, that’s what I judge/define as evil. Maybe Rand would not regard this as a disagreement with her injunction, after all.)

It would’ve been nice to hang out in West Virginia together. To share a bottle of moonshine under the stars, and all that. To talk about our overbearing mothers, and the various cultural influences we carry within. To practice shooting for a few days and then shoot ourselves in a cabin in the woods. It would have been a whole bucket of fun. But it wasn’t meant to be.

Whatever is meant to be is now for me to find out.

[helldustedstories]

Despite (or perhaps because, knowing Echo) Kasumi's insistence that there was no need to make a fuss, no need to travel to Greed on her behalf, Echo already knew that they were likely going to make the trip, to see what they could find out. And they were going to keep an ear to the ground for any additional information, any whispers of rumour against the fox, any at all. They wouldn't take action unless they needed to, but they would make damn well sure they knew what was going on before that became a necessity.

Oh, Echo knew full well that Kasumi didn't need them to look out for her…., but she was important to them. Which meant that they were going to do what they could anyway. Even if she didn't need it. It was just….something they needed to do.

They cross their arms over their chest, rakish grin hiding the train of thought they'd started down. Instead, they focus on what Kasumi was saying about this so-called Hazbin Hotel. It sounded like she had some old friends around the place, something that intrigued the shapeshifter. Well, at least they'd know where to find her if they needed to. Not that they couldn't find her otherwise; it just made things simpler if they didn't have to track her down.

"But enough about boring business, what about you? I feel like it's been far too long... You never visit me anymore!"

That gets a laugh out of Echo, and they signal to the bartender for drinks, their usual along with Kasumi's, leaning on the bar even as they look over at her. "You could have come to visit me, too," and it's their turn to pout before it's ruined by the little grin they give her.

"Oh, you know, I've been keeping myself out of trouble, been listening for all sorts of things, finding out all the juicy gossip." The bartender brings their drinks, and Echo pushes Kasumi's over to her, something of a smile on their face. "You know, if I'd known you'd be dropping by, I would have brought your gift with you." But then they can't help but smirk as they add, "Guess you'll just have to drop by, hmm?" Kasumi is one of the few people who actually knows where they live, and she didn't use that to her advantage nearly as much as she should.

A peal of sharp laughter slips out of the fox as she is pulled into the stance of a mock-dance, following with a practiced ease. This sort of thing was hardly out of the ordinary, where Echo was concerned, and not nearly as poorly met as it would have been had someone else grabbed her in such a manner.

The dip was more for flair than anything else : what else could she have expected from the showman themself?

"Oh, I wouldn't make a fuss over it. You know how things down there are... Once certain parties fall back into line, I'm sure everything will play out just perfectly." She knows, of course, that discouraging them is pointless. If Echo has it in their mind that a trip to Greed would sate their curiosity, then go they will. There likely wasn't much to be found : whispers here, a well placed bet there. Dancing from ring to ring as it suited her had always been her style.

"That's the one~" She concedes easily enough, not bothering to play her usual games. Not with Echo. "It seems I have old friends in new places... or however the saying goes." A wave of her hand. "But enough about boring business, what about you? I feel like it's been far too long... You never visit me anymore!"

The expression began as a pout, but quickly morphed into laughter.

[tenaflyviper]

Can I talk about how hypocritical the hatedom for VivziePop/Hazbin Hotel really is for a moment?

This is a site where people often stress that teenagers are not fully mentally mature, and therefore cannot be held accountable for their actions (mostly true, though y'all damn well better vote this year if you're 18!!). Many of these same people are also the ones making serious accusations against VivziePop for things she drew at age 16. So, which is it? Do we allow teens the ability to mature and become better people, or are they forever the mistakes they've made while unable to fully grasp the consequences?

People here talk about representation and supporting LGBT and PoC creators, but disregard that Viv is bisexual and Salvadoran (sometimes even deliberately erasing her identity) and they call one of the show's characters a Latina stereotype when the character was created to be Salvadoran representation, and is based strongly on the creator. So, which is it? Are you gonna let PoC represent themselves how they choose, or deem them "racist" and speak over the top of them because your white guilt infantilizes them?

Some of the accusations against VivziePop really expose the latent racism of the accusers, such as the idea that another character is a Jewish stereotype because "she has a hook nose, and is shown holding money" (for the record, she's a flapper getting paid to sing, and her nose is extremely tiny).

There's so much more, but I'm genuinely too tired to think of it.

This whole thing is just a disgusting display of bitterness from people whose legitimate concern for bettering the world is mostly performative for notes on social media. Unfortunately, hating things together online is not a substitute for social interaction/making real friends, nor is it a substitute for being interesting and having a personality. Trying to ruin others' careers is likewise a shit choice of time use, when they could be putting in the actual hard work needed to become a content creator themselves.

And lemme tell ya--they sure as fuck will never succeed with their own projects if they don't grow out of that entitled attitude.

[chromes-corner]

Hello I heard you like thirsty people! Well I’ve been thinking

Affogato’s personality is definitely very interesting. I like his charisma, his manipulative tendencies, his whole thing he’s got going on. But. In a way that makes me want to bring him to his knees and make him call me god if you know what I mean. So, like, sub affogato. Like the biggest bottom on Earthbread with a hard top parter. Total domination. physical and verbal worship from him. It’s nothing if not ironic and irony is ✨juicy✨. Would you mind doing nsfw headcanons of this concept please?

Oh anon you are DIABOLICAL for this one 😈😈😈 I too want this man licking my boots god DAMN this is top tier taste

—-

(NSFW)

Affogato/Reader

Content Warnings: NSFW, questionable relationship dynamics, knife mentions

Notes: NSFW

A/N: this one’s a bit shorter cause like personally I can’t see affo as anything but a hard top but this was a very interesting deviation to write

Affogato is used to serving on his knees in more ways than one.

He’s not gonna obey your every order from the get-go — you gotta break him like he’s a wild horse.

He may seem like a fighter, but Affogato is all talk and no action (he couldn’t rid himself of the King until the followers of Dark Enchantress showed up and did it for him, after all). His constantly running mouth isn’t anything some rope and a sharp command to “shut up and put that tongue to good use” can’t fix.

Another good way to shut him up is to stick your fingers in his mouth. He’ll reflexively suck on them.

It frightens him a little how easy he slips into subservience around you — and how much it excites him.

Man can stage a whole coup but the second you give him a narrow glance and a knowing downward tilt of your head, he’s following your every command.

Your mere presence gets his heart racing and his blood rushing below the belt.

Yank his head back by his hair and trace your fingertips along his carotid arteries. Whisper against the delicate skin of his neck what you’ll do to him. Make him feel his own pulse pounding in (both of) his head(s).

^^Seriously, just telling him the filthy details that he’s about to experience is enough to get him off. Every dirty word makes him involuntarily suck in a breath.

Affogato does not beg — or, so he claims. You can coax it out of him with enough edging. Make him wait to finish for long enough, and he’ll pray and barter for release like you’re an indecisive god.

Handjobs and blowjobs are one thing, but taking him from behind and pulling his hair really gets him squealing.

Overstimulating him drives him up the wall. If you keep going after he’s already finished, he’ll scream his throat raw.

Spanking. Need I say more.

Affogato is a suck-up and a yes man. He will do whatever it is you want, no questions asked, as long as it pleases you. You say jump, he doesn’t even ask “how high?” because he already knows how you like it.

Ironically, he enjoys a good master/servant roleplay. He plays the part of servant so much already that sometimes he just needs to blow off some steam.

A little bit of knife play never hurt anyone — that badly, at least. It’s all about the exhilaration of risk for Affogato. He’ll shudder if you run an edge over his stomach and hips.

Affogato is just 100% drunk on you and his every thought of you. You completely consume his every waking moment. Plans of political takeovers fade into the background as pleasing you becomes his focus more and more.

Just fuck his shit up tbh

[tchallasbabymama]

Don't Forget About Us

Hello, my lovelies. Here’s my contribution to @nahimjustfeelingit-writes smut challenge (the prompt is in bold!) Let’s see what Erik’s up to now, shall we?

Don’t forget to check out my masterlist to read my other stories and oneshots. Your comments and reblogs mean the world to me, so make sure to let me know what you think! And let me know if you want to be tagged in any of my writing. Enjoy😘

Word count: 5,595

CW: smut...duh.

“So, what do you do for a living?”

Kayla sighed internally at the question and took a sip of her Pinot Grigio. She hated first dates with a burning passion, but unfortunately, that was the only way to find a man around here. She went through the motions of politely answering his questions, barely asking any of her own. She didn’t care. Even just fifteen minutes in, Kayla could tell he didn’t excite her, and she lamented the waste of a good outfit as she listened to him drone on about his life. Every now and then, he’d stop and ask a question about her, but she could tell he was only asking so he could talk more about himself.

How many siblings do you have?

What’s your sign?

Why did your last relationship end?

Her mind traveled to her ex-boyfriend, Erik Stevens. They had spent six blissful years together, and Kayla thought he was the one. She wanted them to get married and start a family, and she thought he did, too, but every time she brought it up, he’d find some excuse to change the subject. At thirty years old, Kayla wasn’t getting any younger, so she grew tired of his avoidance and eventually cut him loose. She needed more out of life, but the guy currently sitting across from her certainly wasn’t it.

“We wanted different things,” she answered vaguely and took another sip. It would be a long night with what’s-his-name. David? Devon? Whatever. At least he had money and took her to a nice restaurant.

Darryl took the opportunity to bore her with the details of his job, which Kayla already knew. He was a colleague of her best friend, Carina’s husband. They worked at the same law firm, and Carina decided to hook them up after tiring of hearing Kayla complain about dating apps. As much as Kayla hated Tinder, she would’ve much rather been at home on her couch swiping left on the cesspool of single men Oakland had to offer. Every few dozen swipes or so, she’d find a cutie, but his bio would be abysmal, or his conversation skills would fall flat.

Despite the fact that their relationship just couldn’t make it, Kayla still thought of Erik as the gold standard. Just thinking about his dimples and his struggle beard made her smile dreamily. His big, strong arms would wrap around her and hold her tight at night, and she’d trace her fingers over the intentionally placed keloid scars that held his darkest secrets. She missed retwisting his locs and the way he always smelled like sandalwood and warm vanilla. Kayla didn’t want to admit it, but she still loved him. No man could compare to her Erik.

“Hello? Kayla?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry. Can you repeat that last part?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. What’s got you so distracted, babygirl?”

Kayla fought the bile rising in her throat. She wasn’t his babygirl. It didn’t even sound right coming from his mouth. Maybe it was the thinness of his lips. They weren’t “white man” thin, but they couldn’t hold a candle to the juicy pussy pleasers she had grown accustomed to.

“Nothing, just thought I saw somebody I know. You were saying?”

“Just that you look beautiful tonight,” Damon attempted to flirt with her.

Kayla wanted to roll her eyes but thanked him instead and smiled politely again. Of course she looked beautiful; she had pulled out all the stops for what she had hoped would be a good night out. Kayla had squeezed her thickness into a lavender satin dress. The way the dress’s skirt cinched on the side kept it snug around her plush waist, but the high slit that traveled up her thigh was the main attraction. The strappy silver heels on her feet showed off her matching pedicure that contrasted beautifully with her glistening brown skin, and her makeup was flawless. Her outerwear for the night, a cropped fur jacket that had found its way to the coat check when they arrived, was the icing on the cake. Her outfit deserved the appreciation, just not from Deshawn.

The waiter saved her from having to focus on her date when she brought out the food they had ordered. Since Kayla knew Derek had money, she had ordered the whole lobster, and she fought her mouth from drooling too much as the waiter set it down in front of her. It laid on a bed of forbidden rice, and the side of roasted brussels sprouts and cremini mushrooms looked heavenly. The ramekin of drawn butter off to the side tempted her as it sat next to the minuscule seafood fork. She may not enjoy her company for the evening, but Kayla damn sure was going to enjoy her meal.

“Looks good,” Dominic called from the other side of the table, breaking Kayla from her trance as he cut into his wagyu beef.

“Sure does.” Kayla wasted no time before digging into her meal. Not only was it the perfect excuse to avoid conversation, but it was perfect, period.

A slight chill permeated the air as the door swung open and the crisp January air entered the small restaurant. Kayla shivered as she complained internally about being forced to sit near the door, but that shiver intensified as she heard a voice. His voice.

“Reservation for Stevens, please.”

Kayla stilled.

“Of course. Right this way, sir,” the maitre d’ responded, and Kayla heard three sets of footsteps coming her way.

--------

“Babe, let’s go!”

“Yell at me one more time, woman,” Erik warned as he came around the corner into the living room, fastening his watch.

“I swear, you take more time getting ready than I do.”

“Whatever, Mo. You ready?”

“Nigga, I been ready!”

Erik rolled his eyes and grabbed his keys. It would be a rough night, and things were already starting off on a bad foot. He and Monique had been seeing each other for the better part of a year, and he’d finally reached his limit. She was overbearing, rude, and just after him for his money, but he hated being alone, so he put up with her bullshit. His cousin, T’Challa, had tried to hook him up with a few ladies back in Wakanda when he went to visit after his breakup, but nothing stuck. Almost immediately after coming back to the states, Erik met Monique at a charity event for the Outreach Center. She had the singing voice of an angel and had been booked as the entertainment for the evening. Erik was drawn to her like a sailor to a siren, and she immediately sank her teeth into him. Past her vocal talents, Monique wasn’t really anything special. Her personality left a lot to be desired, she wasn’t the sharpest crayon in the box, and she just wasn’t her.

The moment Kayla ended their relationship a year ago, Erik’s whole world shattered. He had lived a life full of pain and loss, but Kayla had been his lifeline. She pulled him out of the dark and made him revel in the sunshine. Hell, she was the sunshine, but now he had settled for a UV lamp at best. Kayla had wanted a life that Erik was too scared to give her, but that fear became his downfall. He still missed her most nights. He was lonely, and Monique was there to keep him company, but that wasn’t enough for him anymore. Erik craved a connection that Monique just couldn’t provide. So he decided he had to break it off and figured that doing so in a public place would probably be best. She had a tendency to throw things when she got angry.

The car ride to Chez Martine was tense. Monique had been angry all day because Erik had taken back his credit card even though she wanted to buy a new dress for their date. Her lousy mood almost made him dump her back at his condo, but Erik kept a cool head and stayed focused on the plan. He ignored the way Monique complained the entire time she got ready, reluctantly putting on a dress he had seen her wear before. It didn’t matter to him; he knew what the night held.

When they walked into the restaurant, Erik’s heart dropped into his stomach. He’d recognize that shoulder blade tattoo anywhere. She had cut off all her hair and lost a few pounds, but he knew for sure that he was looking at Kayla. His Kayla. He forced himself to look straight ahead as they passed her table and prayed that the maitre d’ didn’t sit them where she could see him. Unfortunately, he had no such luck because the only open table for two was directly within her line of sight. He prayed again that Monique would sit on the far side of the table, but Bast ignored his pleas once more. He had to sit facing her, and as soon as he got comfortable in his chair, her gaze slyly trailed over to him. They locked eyes across the room, and Erik’s heart stopped. She was just as beautiful as the last time he saw her all those months ago, but who the fuck was that sitting across from her?

“What are you looking at?” Monique’s abrasive voice cut through his eardrums.

“Nothing. Just thought I saw someone I know, that’s all.”

She cut her eyes at him and turned around to look as he buried his face in the menu.

“Quit being nosy,” he complained.

“I just wanna see who’s got your attention, that’s all.” Monique turned back around with a sour look on her face. “It’s probably that fat girl with her cleavage all out.”

“Mo, just look at the fucking menu and act like you got some sense.”

“Fine.”

Monique pouted until the waiter showed up, but she plastered a fake smile on her face as he took their order. As usual, she ordered the most expensive thing on the menu, and it bothered him to no end that she was hellbent on spending all of his money. Of course, he had plenty, but she felt entitled to it. Kayla never cared about him being rich. Hell, when they got together, she didn’t even know he was a prince, but he loved to spoil her nonetheless. He loved the look on her face when he’d buy her things or take her on the expensive trips that she more than deserved. Kayla appreciated everything he did for her with all her heart, but she’d say the same thing every time.

“Thank you, baby, but you’re all I need.”

Erik smiled fondly at the memory of when he bought her a diamond tennis bracelet from Wakanda for their second anniversary. She was so excited to have diamonds that weren’t marred by exploited labor that she damn near dropped the box when she saw what was inside. It had been a rough year for them, what with him disappearing for a couple of months to seize the Wakandan throne and all. She certainly had plenty of colorful words for him when he came back. He’ll never forget the look on her face when he showed up at her door. He had brought T’Challa for backup just in case, but she looked right past the king as tears welled up in her eyes at seeing her Erik, alive and well.

Erik’s eyes started to get misty as he thought about the way she kissed him with so much emotion...then slapped him across the face for leaving. His gaze wandered back over to Kayla and he noticed the light bounce off of something on her arm. She was wearing the bracelet.

As if she felt his glare, Kayla shifted uncomfortably in her seat, so he averted his eyes back to Monique, who had caught him staring again.

“Why don’t you go say hi?” she asked sarcastically, making him roll his eyes so hard they almost got stuck.

--------

Erik Stevens. Here, of all places. He just had to be here.

Kayla noticed that he didn’t seem to be enjoying his modelesque date’s company any more than she was enjoying Darwin’s, and the pang of jealousy she felt at seeing him with another woman went away. She knew she had no right to feel any kind of way about it, especially since she was the one that broke things off. That didn’t make it any easier, though.

Dylan was too wrapped up in his steak to notice her wandering eye, but it seemed that Erik’s food was as uninteresting as the woman across from him. Kayla watched as he half-heartedly pushed it around his plate, but he certainly kept his favorite whiskey coming. She wanted to chuckle but didn’t want Daniel to think he had anything to do with her levity. They were both drowning their dissatisfactions in their alcohols of choice, and Kayla got a phantom taste of Uncle Nearest 1856 on her lips as she watched him take a sip. When he set the glass down and licked his lips, Kayla felt flush. She missed those lips…

“So, how about dessert?” Damien asked as he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach. “I hear their creme brulee is amazing.”

“Uh, sure, why not?”

“You know,” he began as he leaned in and reached for her hands. She allowed him to take them, but the softness of his hands disgusted her. No callouses, no roughness, not even a firm grip. “I’ve had a great night. I’d love to see you again.”

Kayla chuckled nervously, unsure of how to proceed.

“What are you doing next-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

A shrill voice pierced the air as Erik’s date bolted up from her seat. Desmond, and the whole restaurant, turned around to see what was going on, and Kayla took the opportunity to remove her hands from his.

“Keep your voice down,” Erik sneered through his teeth. “We’re in public.”

“So?! You bring me out here just to dump me? To dump this?!” she gestured at her slim figure, and he rolled his eyes.

“You ain’t even all that,” he waved her off. He was tired of playing nice, and Kayla could see the exasperation written all over his face.

“Excuse me, miss-” the waiter attempted to calm her down, but the crazed woman cut him off.

“Stay out of this!”

“I’m so sorry,” Erik mouthed to the poor man who would absolutely be getting a monstrous tip later.

“Oh, you’re sorry for him, but not for me?”

“Mo, just sit down. We can finish our meal like adults-”

“Fuck you, Erik.” She threw her dirty martini at him, soaking the front of his all-black ensemble.

Kayla could damn near see the steam coming out of his ears as his apparent ex stormed out of the restaurant. Erik locked eyes with her across the room, and when he saw the concern written all over her face, his softened.

“Whew, poor fella,” Dexter commented as he turned back around. “Where was I? Oh-”

“Excuse me, where’s your restroom?” Kayla interrupted him as their waiter walked by.

“Right down there.” She pointed at a set of stairs off to the side, and Kayla thanked her as she slid out of her seat.

“I’ll be back, Darius.”

“It’s Denzel.” He deflated.

“Fuck,” she froze. She had been sure it was Darius. “Still, I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here,” he responded, obviously upset by her slip-up.

Kayla hurried off down the stairs and leaned against the wall as she waited for either of the single-use restrooms to open up. She took a deep breath and opened her clutch, reaching in to pull out her phone with a shaky hand and typing in his number. It was one of the few she had memorized, just in case.

“You ok?”

Her thumb hovered over the send button, but she couldn’t press it. Her heart nearly thumped out of her chest at the thought of starting a conversation with him, but something within her said that she should. It would be weird not to say anything after all that, right?

“Hey-”

“Shit!” Kayla dropped her phone when his silky baritone graced her ears.

“My fault, ma.” Erik leaned over and picked the phone off the floor, checking it for cracks. He saw she had typed a message out to him and smirked before handing it back to her.

“T-thanks.”

“No problem. And, yeah, I’m ok.”

“Huh?”

Erik pointed at her phone screen.

“Oh! Right. Um, well, that’s good to hear.” Kayla attempted to push her hair behind her ear out of habit, forgetting she had just cut it all off a week ago.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You ok? You don’t seem to into ole dude out there.”

Kayla sighed and rolled her eyes, “Oh, him.”

“Damn, it’s like that?” Erik laughed, and she slapped his arm. That slight contact was enough to spark a flame in them both, and Erik’s face turned serious. “For real, though, not going well?”

“Better than you, it seems,” she quipped as she eyed his wet shirt. That was a bad idea because his first three buttons were undone, and she caught a peek of the raised scars that she missed so much. And that broad chest, and the chain with his father’s ring that he always wore. He’d let her wear it from time to time, and she always felt like it was such an honor. He trusted her enough to let her wear it. He loved her enough to-

Kayla pried her eyes away and made yet another mistake: she looked up at him. Those eyes still looked like sweet, sweet molasses, and even though his locs were braided back, she could tell he was letting them grow out. She momentarily wondered who was retwisting them nowadays, but her train of thought was cut short by the scent of sandalwood and vanilla. Kayla’s mind went blank as she inhaled slowly.

“Heh, yeah. That was...that was pretty embarrassing. Not even gonna lie.” Erik looked away shyly, unable to hold her gaze.

“I guess you’ll need to find a new date spot, huh?”

“Nah, I think I’m good on dating for a while.”

“Same,” Kayla sighed. “Dating sucks.”

“Yeah…”

One of the bathroom doors unlocked, and a middle-aged white man stepped out and passed them on the way up the stairs.

“Well, I should-”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Kayla walked towards the bathroom, but before she could reach the door, she felt a light tug on her wrist. His touch still gave her goosebumps, and he noticed her raised skin as she turned to face him.

“I just, uh...it was nice seeing you, Kay-kay.” Erik smiled at her, and she nearly melted. She missed when he called her that, too. “You look good.”

“Thanks, E.” She smiled back. “So do you.”

He let her go, and Kayla disappeared into the bathroom. When she closed the door behind her, she took a deep breath to center herself. After all these months, Erik still took her breath away. He clouded her senses and scrambled her mind. Even as she took care of business, her brain replayed their short interaction on a loop.

Kayla locked eyes with her reflection as she dried her hands. How could she go back up there to- what’s his name? Oh, yeah, Da- Denzel. That’s it, Denzel. How could she go back up there to his mediocre company when the man she still loved had made her feel so alive with just one touch. That was the magic of Erik, his magnetism. When they were together, she couldn’t help but be drawn to him, even when she wanted to slap him across his beautiful face. Those were some of the best times, though. If she was angry at him, he knew exactly what to do to calm her down. To put her in her place. To remind her-

Kayla’s daydreaming was cut short by a knock at the door.

“Occupied!”

It came again.

“I’ll be out in a minute!”

She reached for another paper towel to dab off the sweat that had started to pool on her skin at the thought of Erik’s dominance when the door opened.

“What the f- Erik?!”

He pushed inside the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

“You need to start locking doors, Kay.”

“I- what do you want?”

“I want to talk to you,” he spoke as he moved closer to her.

“Here?!”

“Yeah, here,” he chuckled.

Kayla rolled her eyes and tried to push past him.

“Now is not the time or place-”

“When is?” he blocked her exit, and she crossed her arms in defeat, looking up at him through her lashes as she leaned against the sink. “Look, I just need to say something real quick.”

“Fine,” Kayla sighed and gestured for him to continue. She knew there was no use fighting him. She wasn’t leaving that bathroom until he was good and ready.

“Kay,” his voice softened, and she looked away only to have her face pulled back in his direction. “Kay-kay, look at me.”

She made the mistake of doing just that, getting lost in his eyes again.

“I miss you,” Erik murmured.

“Erik-”

“Look, I know, ok? I know. And I’m sorry, Kay. I really am- no, look at me. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you...but I miss you, girl.”

Kayla’s eyes welled up with tears that she tried her hardest to blink away, but one had the nerve to fall. Erik wiped it away, and the next one, and the next one. A sob wracked Kayla’s body, and he wrapped his arms around her body.

“Don’t cry, babygirl. I know you worked hard on your makeup.”

Kayla laughed through her tears, but the emotions washed back over her, and she buried her face into his chest. It was already soaked with gin, so what harm would a few tears do?

He held her and rocked her softly from side to side as she cried, and after a couple of minutes, she found the will to look up at him again. His cheeks were wet, so she reached up and swiped her thumbs over them as she held his face in her small hands. He nuzzled into them and kissed her wrists.

“I miss you, too, E,” she croaked.

“I know, babygirl.”

He leaned in to kiss her forehead, and she closed her eyes as his soft lips caressed her skin. They stayed intertwined for who knows how long until Erik felt Kayla begin to pull back. He looked down at her, and the two of them locked eyes. Before they knew it, their lips had met in the middle in a passionate embrace. They got lost in each other for a moment until common sense returned to Kayla, and she pushed him off.

“We can’t-”

“Why not?”

“Because…”

“Because what, Kay?” Erik’s voice rumbled as he closed what little gap was between their bodies. He left soft kisses on her temples before working down to her cheeks, then her jawline, and eventually the column of her neck. She let out a soft whimper when his teeth grazed the crook of her neck but pushed him back again before he could continue any further.

“Erik, I...I still love you, and-”

He attacked her lips with his, hands feverishly gripping her waist as he pushed her further into the sink. She had nowhere to go, and she was ok with that.

“I...love you...too...babygirl,” he whispered between kisses.

Kayla’s mind went blank as he lifted her up on the counter and pressed himself between her legs. She could feel him, all of him, and damn did she miss that monster between his legs.

“Erik,” she moaned as he nipped at her earlobe. He still knew how to play her body like a violin.

“Mmm, say it again.”

“Erik!” she squeaked as she felt his strong hands grip her thighs.

“Just like that,” he groaned, and she flooded her already wet panties.

“Baby-”

He connected his forehead to hers and stared deep into her eyes. “You miss me?”

“Mhm,” Kayla nodded with her lip between her teeth.

“I miss you, too, baby. I think about you all the time. Every day,” he pecked her lips, “every night. I miss everything about you, Kay-kay. Your off-key singing, your horrible cooking-”

“Shut up,” Kayla giggled as his hands traveled up her dress.

“Your body…fuck I miss this body. I miss how you smell, how you taste...how that tight little pussy feels wrapped around my dick.”

Kayla widened her legs for him as his fingers found their way to the seat of her panties, stroking up and down her slit. Erik kissed his way back down her face and over to her ear, his warm breath sending chills down her spine.

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself? Because I do. You’re all I see when I stroke my dick...wishing it was your hand...your lips...this fucking pussy.”

Erik pushed her panties to the side, and his nimble fingers circled her clit. Kayla let out a small moan that was music to his ears, making fingers move faster and her breath grow shallower with each rotation.

“Answer me.”

“Mhm.”

“Come on, babygirl, you can do better than that. You think about me when you play in your pussy? This pussy right here?” he asked as he slapped her vulva, her wetness sticking to his hand.

“Y-yes, baby-”

“Uh-uh, you know who I am. Say it,” Erik commanded as he snuck three fingers inside her wetness, making her moan loudly in his ear. “Shhh, you gotta be quiet, babygirl. You don’t want people out there knowing how much of a slut you are, right?”

Kayla shook her head no.

“That’s what I thought. Now, I asked you a question, Kayla,” he reminded her. His gruff voice made her weak, and the fingers that were steadily speeding up inside her certainly didn’t help. “Answer me. Who am I, babygirl?”

Kayla tried to hold out as much as she could. She didn’t want to say it, too proud to give in, but the way he was currently stretching out her pussy and curling his fingers inside her made her cling to his shoulders. The bastard knew what he was doing, and she didn’t want to let him win. But then, he played dirty and bit down on her neck. She cried out, and when he pulled back to look at her, the ferocity in his eyes drove her up the wall.

“I said, who the fuck am I, Kayla?” Erik growled. His hand sped up, making her weak with every thrust. She couldn’t hold it anymore and came undone around him, her mouth betraying her as his name fell from her lips.

“Daddy!” she gasped as her pussy spasmed, and he chuckled darkly.

“Damn right I am,” he kissed her lips, “now gimme that pussy. Daddy missed his pussy.”

Kayla heard a rip and felt the cool air between her legs as he tore through her panties to get to her treasure trove. She reached down between them and grabbed his clothed erection in her hand, making him groan as he bit down on his luscious bottom lip. She undid his belt buckle and slowly unzipped his pants before reaching in and pulling out his throbbing dick.

The longing in her eyes told him everything he needed to know, so he pushed her legs back and tapped his head on her clit.

“You want daddy’s dick in you?”

“Mhm,” she whimpered.

“Good.”

He pushed in and groaned at the feeling of her pussy walls gripping him as he sheathed himself inside her.

“Fuck, you feel like home.”

Kayla moaned into his neck in response and wound her hips against him, meeting him thrust for thrust as he stroked into her slow and deep. She couldn’t form words. He felt so damn good inside her that Kayla’s brain had short-circuited. Erik’s dick hit spots that she could never find herself no matter how hard she tried. Even in her dreams, he drove her body wild. She had spent the last year trying to find somebody, anybody who could make her feel that way, but nobody could compare to Erik Stevens.

Erik and Kayla panted heavily into each others’ mouths as he made love to her body, and as soon as Kayla started to tense up, his thrusts grew harder.

“I-I-”

“I know, babygirl. Daddy feels it,” he groaned as he nipped at her bottom lip. “Cum on my dick like a good girl.”

His words sent Kayla into overdrive, and her body shook as she spilled over him. Her spasming walls hugged him tight, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, begging him with her eyes.

“You feel amazing,” she moaned.

“Mhm. I know them other niggas wasn’t hitting it like this. I just know it. Look at you, cumming all over daddy’s dick. Look at it!” He grabbed her chin and made her look down at her throbbing pussy as his dick slid in and out of her.

“We look so good, daddy!”

Erik slammed into her, and she bit into his shoulder to keep from screaming. He gave her his all over and over, rocking the countertop in the process.

“We’ll look even better if you let me cum in this pussy. Mix my cum with yours-”

“Yes!”

“Yes?” He chuckled. “You want it that bad, huh? Nasty ass, in here getting fucked while that bum ass nigga’s waiting for you upstairs.”

“Mmm, I want it.”

“Want what, babygirl?” Erik teased as he brought his thumb to her clit, strumming it slowly as he thrust into her.

“You. I want you to cum deep in me.”

“Shit,” Erik groaned. “You want it deep in there?”

“Mhm. Put it where it belongs, daddy.” Kayla licked up the side of his neck, making his knees buckle. “Cum in your pussy.”

Erik lost all sense of control and pounded into her tight pussy, somehow getting even deeper in preparation for his release. Kayla held on tight as she felt him begin to spasm inside her, and she released around him again as his deep moans tickled her ear. Erik thrust extra deep and held his dick in place as he emptied his balls into her warmth, whimpering lightly as she rubbed his back to soothe him and bring him back down.

“I missed you, babygirl.”

“I missed you, too, daddy.”

They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other until their breathing slowed. Erik was the first to move, slowly pulling himself out of Kayla as she whined at the loss of contact. He kissed all over her face before planting a slow, sweet kiss on her lips.

“I can’t let you go again, Kay-kay,” his voice cracked as tears threatened to fall from his eyes again.

Kayla pulled him back in and kissed him so deeply that she nearly lost herself in him again, but he pulled away and looked her in her eyes.

“I’m serious, girl. I’ll do anything. I’ll marry you, give you as many big-headed babies as you want. Just, please, Kay-” she cut him off with another kiss to shut him up.

“We should go back to my place and talk,” she whispered, and Erik’s face lit up. Something about the way she said it, the way she kissed him, the way her body still responded to his...it gave him hope. Kayla smiled at him and pecked his lips once more before hopping off of the sink. He had to catch her because her legs were wobbly, and she stumbled a little in her heels.

“You aight?” he laughed.

“No, nigga,” she slapped his chest, and the two of them got caught in a laughing fit. They had really just fucked in the bathroom at Chez Martine. Kayla was on cloud nine until a thought occurred to her, and her face fell flat. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Erik’s face turned serious, and his eyes scanned over her body, looking for whatever the problem was.

Kayla started giggling again, and he looked confused.

“What is it?” he asked, barely able to keep a straight face. Her laugh was always so infectious…

“Demetrius.”

“Who?!”

“My date.”

“Girl, don’t worry about him. He probably thinks you dipped out anyway.”

Kayla shrugged and fixed her dress as Erik stuffed his shirt back in his pants. They checked their reflections in the mirror, and Kayla was pleasantly surprised that her makeup was still intact thanks to that setting spray she had splurged on the other day.

“Ready?” Erik asked as he admired her beauty. Kayla nodded, and he unlocked the door, opening it to find Duncan leaning against the wall with a sour look on his face. Kayla’s eyes blew wide as she tried to figure out what to say to her date for the evening.

“Heyyy, um…”

“Denzel,” he seethed.

“Yeah, sorry. So, um, we’re-”

“Sorry, bruh,” Erik clapped him on the shoulder, “but we heading out. Bathroom’s all yours, though.”

Erik pulled Kayla along, and she sent Deion an apologetic glance before following Erik up the stairs. It seemed the whole restaurant knew what had occurred, but neither one of them cared. They were just happy to be around each other again. It had been entirely too long.

Taglist: @ladymac82, @kitesatforestp, @harleycativy, @raysunshine78, @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me,@toni9, @bribrisback, @impremenior, @blacklytical, @uzumaki-rebellion, @honeyandpeaches, @cecereads209, @wakandama2,

[theoswriting]

lavender, honey and coconut (e.p. x fem!r)

summary:  Penelope Garcia can sniff out secrets like a cute security dog can sniff out drugs. y/n had been amused but had brushed off the warning. That had been her first mistake.

pairing: emily prentiss x fem!reader

word count: 4k

a/n: okay, this is my first time writing for cm and emily prentiss, so I hope it isn’t too ooc! this is definitely a different vibe to the show lmao, i mostly wrote this to amuse myself, and then decided it might be worth sharing. I hope you’lll enjoy it xo (tell me if u do, i’m nervous)

warnings: some alcohol is consumed, light swearing

ao3

Penelope Garcia can sniff out secrets like a cute security dog can sniff out drugs.

It's a well-known fact that if you want to keep something hidden, one, you don't tell Garcia because she's incapable of keeping anything secret and two, don't breathe near her because she will be able to figure out that you're hiding something, and she will know which buttons to push to get you to spill everything.

Penelope likes to think that in another life, she would've made a great interrogator. In this life though, she uses her powers to get what she wants out of her friends.

This was one of the first things y/n found out when she joined the BAU. Derek spoke about the tech goddess' powers with reverence while the rest of them spoke of it with fear. Even Hotch seemed a little disconcerted by the whole thing.

y/n had been amused but had brushed off the warning.

That had been her first mistake.

***

Paperwork days were the worst.

y/n should probably love them more because if she's stuck behind her desk, it means that no one is out there getting brutally murdered. Still, it's a lot less exciting. It doesn't help that the bullpen is oddly quiet, everyone focused on their files. Spencer is going through his about a mile a minute, stopping from time to time to rewrite something or to look up some kind of information. Derek is slower and y/n can almost see the boredom oozing out of him. Yet, he doesn't look up when she looks over at him and keeps diligently going through his notes.

Finally, her eyes land on Emily. Her head is propped up on her left hand as she writes with the right. Occasionally, she will bite her nails as she focuses hard on part of her notes. y/n thinks she looks extra cute when she frowns, trying to understand her own writing. It makes y/n smile before refocusing on her own work.

y/n is almost done with one of her reports when she notices some missing information. She could easily look it up herself, but she's bored and this is the perfect excuse to get away from her desk for a bit. So she stands up, gathers her papers and walks to her favourite tech genius' lair.

y/n opens the door and sees Penelope's back turned to her. Before she can say anything, Garcia's voice rings out.

"Well if it isn't my favourite ray of sunshine, what can I do for you, y/n?"

y/n smiles at the blonde's greeting, as she sits down next to her, "Are you busy?"

"Not at all!"

"Great, I'm missing some information on this file, but most importantly, I'm in dire need of entertainment."

Garcia happily grabs the file from y/n and starts tapping away at her computer, putting up the information she needs on her screen in no time. She prints it all out and hands it to y/n with a flourish.

"Here's the info you need," She starts, but her eyes quickly turn regretful, "Sadly, I have no recent office gossip to entertain you with."

y/n pouts at that, "Damn, not even from Slutty David?"

Penelope shakes her head and opens her mouth to speak when she suddenly frowns at y/n. She pulls back slightly and y/n wonders if she'd forgotten to put on deodorant that morning. Penelope says nothing, just watches her.

"What?" y/n finally asks, unnerved by the staring.

"What are you not telling me?" Garcia asks simply and it's y/n's turn to frown. She can't think of anything that she might be hiding from her friend.

"Nothing?"

y/n is pretty sure that's the wrong answer and that Penelope is going to keep asking her questions until she confesses to something she didn't even know she was hiding. To her surprise though, Garcia only stares at her for a few more seconds before dropping it. As quick as it disappeared, her bright smile is back on her face and she goes back to telling a story.

It turns out that yes, she did have something to tell y/n about Slutty David.

y/n leaves Penelope about twenty minutes later with a refreshed brain, ready to get back to work. When she gets back to her desk, Emily looks up to give her a smile. y/n smiles back and winks at her as she sits down. Emily's smile broadens before she turns her focus back to the file in front of her.

y/n does the same, her smile staying even while going through an autopsy report. It's only hours later when y/n is almost done with paperwork that she freezes. She looks up at Emily and realizes.

That's what she's been hiding.

She frowns. There's no way Garcia knows that though, she and Emily have made sure, they've been careful.

Yeah, it was probably a fluke.

***

Mornings where she gets to wake up next to Emily are y/n's favourites. Even the early ones, when they get called in for a case, having Emily next to her makes it all easier.

That's what happens that morning, both of their phones going off at 5:45 am. Emily is the one to reach for her phone while y/n latches onto her and drops a kiss on her girlfriend's shoulder.

"It's JJ. We have to go in."

y/n nods and painstakingly opens her eyes. She drops another kiss on Emily's shoulder and turns away from her to get up, but before she can go too far, Emily reaches for her and kisses her. y/n scrunches up her nose even though she's smiling into the kiss.

"Morning breath. Gross," She manages to mutter against Emily's lips.

"Don't care."

y/n had wondered when they started dating if it would get to a point where it'd be too much to be together and then work together as well. Now, six months into their relationship, y/n knows she had worried over nothing. They have a system and boundaries. They keep the PDA to a minimum at work, which isn't a problem considering they had decided to keep their relationship a secret from the team. It's not that Prentiss and y/l/n don't trust their coworkers, it's more than they don't want to screw up the group's dynamics.

And it's also ridiculously funny to see how long it's taking a whole group of profilers to figure out that two members of their team are dating.

After getting dressed, y/n starts packing a new bag, taking clothes from the one drawer Emily had emptied out and gifted to her on their 2 months anniversary. Emily had a similar one at y/n's place. Considering their jobs and the amount of time they spent at each other's place, they figured it was smart to always have enough clothes at each other's place for instances like these.

Not even 10 minutes later, they're out of the door. They kiss one last time before Emily gets into her car and y/n gets into hers. As usual, y/n takes the long way to work, her place being famously further away than Emily's. So when she finally gets to the conference room, everyone is already there and waiting for Hotch.

y/n sits in between Derek and Spencer, "Good morning, my people!"

"It certainly is not," Hotch deadpans as he enters the room. y/n closes her mouth and nods to herself. She should've seen that one coming.

The others chuckle quietly, but the laughter quickly dies. Hotch was right. This is far from a good morning.

The murders are gruesome, the victims are all women which bear a striking resemblance to Emily. y/n doesn't bring attention to it, it wouldn't bring anything to the case except worry over a detail that isn't of much importance, at least not right now. Instead, she watches her girlfriend look at the pictures, and by the way her jaw clenches and unclenches repeatedly, she's come to the same realization.

"Alright everyone, wheels up in 20." Hotch dismisses them, and almost everyone rushes out of the room to get their bags. Garcia stays behind though, and so does Emily. y/n gathers her stuff slowly then, waiting for Garcia to leave the room so she can have a moment alone with her girlfriend.

Garcia doesn't leave, though.

She's staring at y/n ominously. She's missing a furry cat to be petting and she'd look like a supervillain from a cheesy action movie. y/n tries smiling at her, but the blonde doesn't respond in the slightest.

y/n leaves the room. She'll check up on Emily before take-off. She is big enough to admit that she was a little freaked out by Garcia.

She thinks nothing of it until hours later, when she's setting up their evidence board in a small town in buttfuck, Texas. JJ is standing next to her, writing the name of the second victim.

"Garcia has been asking about you."

It's such a weird thing to say that y/n is a bit taken aback. She pauses and slowly turns to look at JJ, "Uhm… Okay?"

JJ puts the cap on the pen and turns to y/n, her face probably too serious for whatever this is about.

"Remember when we told you about Garcia's weird ability to tell when someone is hiding something juicy?" y/n nods, still confused as to where this is going, "Well, she's smelt whatever it is that you're hiding."

y/n briefly wonders if no one is bothered by the constant comparison of Garcia to a literal hound dog, but apparently not. She lets out a small chuckle and nods at JJ, clearly not believing the warning tone the blonde had used, "Yeah, okay, I'll sleep with one eye open."

"y/n, I'm serious," JJ lowers her voice and looks around before confiding, "Penelope is the reason the whole team knows I had a one night stand with Slutty David."

"You had sex with Slutty David?"

JJ shudders, "Everybody makes mistakes."

***

y/n tells Emily about JJ's warning as they cuddle into bed that same night, exhausted from a day of leads getting them nowhere. To her surprise, Emily agrees with JJ.

"Garcia has a way of getting you to admit to things you thought you'd never say out loud."

The way she talks about it has y/n looking up from her very comfortable spot on Emily's shoulder to her girlfriend's face. She's staring off in the distance as if haunted by whatever it is that Garcia had dug up on her.

"What the hell did she find out about you?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

***

"So, are you seeing anyone?"

It's Saturday night and they're out at a club for a Girl's night. After the case they'd had, they deserved a night to unwind. They've chosen a bar where the music is loud, but not loud enough to drown out Penelope's question. JJ and Emily are gone, lost somewhere in the crowd fighting for the bartender's attention, in search of more drinks. As y/n's brain finally processes what Garcia has just asked, she fights the urge to smile and look for Emily.

y/n has drunk enough to be on the dumb side of gay.

"Why do you ask?"

"Answering a question with another question, very telling," Garcia smirks.

Penelope seems oddly composed for someone who is two cocktails and three shots deep into the party. Usually, a drunk Garcia means sloppy kisses on the cheek and getting her away from attractive strangers before she can say anything overtly sexual or inappropriate. So something doesn't add up. y/n squints her eyes at the blonde in front of her, like that will somehow help her see things clearer.

It doesn't. Everything looks fuzzy and she probably should stop drinking.

"I'm not."

The lie tastes gross in y/n's mouth and if there's one thing that could make her feel better, it would be kissing Emily. Before she can stop it, a smitten smile makes its way onto her face. Garcia slams a hand on the table, making y/n jump. She focuses her eyes on Penelope who's pointing an accusing finger at her.

"There! Who did you just think about?"

y/n sputters, racking her brain for a more convincing lie but she can't stop smiling so she gives in. Damn her inability to lie when she's drunk.

"Okay, fine" y/n amends, "I am seeing someone, but please keep it quiet."

Penelope obviously does not keep quiet. Instead, she squeals loud enough that she startles a few people passing by their table. Of course, that's also the moment JJ and Emily pick to come back.

So when Garcia basically yells, "I knew it!" for the whole bar to hear, there's no way y/n is getting out of this one.

"Knew what?" Emily asks with a smile as she puts down a drink in front of y/n. She immediately grabs it, thinking that maybe if she blacks out, this conversation will also be erased from the history of the universe.

"y/n is seeing someone!" Penelope happily informs the two recently arrived. JJ whips her head, excitement filling her eyes, about a million questions fighting to be asked first. Emily, for her part, chokes on her drink.

"Why haven't you told us anything?" JJ says, her blue eyes even more glassy than usual, "Who is it?"

y/n shrugs, going for a nonchalant vibe. She goes with something vague.

"You don't know her."

Penelope's smile widens, "Oh, so it's a her."

Shit. Not vague enough.

What follows are a series of questions that y/n refuses to answer and thankfully, with Emily there to mediate, they manage to change the subject. Seriously, y/n could kiss her right then and there. Instead, she takes a sip of her drink and glances towards Emily. They decide to leave less than an hour later. JJ is about one sip away from taking her top off while y/n is just about ready to throw caution to the wind and start making out with Emily. To hell with consequences.

Penelope is still suspiciously acting sane.

"Oh, Pen, be careful, someone dropped their drinks right behind your chair."

JJ's heads up makes y/n glare at Garcia who looks a little too guilty.

***

When they get back to Emily's place, y/n barely waits until the front door is closed before kissing Emily. Emily welcomes it, blindly throwing away the keys to wrap both hands around her girlfriend's neck. The kissing is sweet, the taste of their last drinks still sticking to their mouths. It's a little messy due to the fact they're both smiling like two goddamn idiots in love. When they stop, Emily grabs y/n by the hand and drags her to the kitchen so they can both drink water to make their hangovers hopefully less painful in the morning.

They're almost done when Emily speaks.

"We have a problem."

y/n stops moving. She should've known this moment would come.

"Listen, if this is about the burnt toaster, I've already ordered a new one."

"Garcia- What?" Emily turns around to look at the spot where her toaster usually rests, "What happened?"

Realizing her mistake, y/n puts her empty glass of water down and wraps her arms around Emily's waist, "Nothing you need to worry about," Emily looks back at her girlfriend who looks too innocent, "What were you going to say?"

"Garcia knows you're with someone."

y/n nods slowly, wondering where Emily is going with this. She doesn't see any problems. Sure, Penelope knows that she might be sort of taken by a woman, but that's it. Even in her drunken state, she'd managed to keep any other incriminating details to herself.

"Garcia has a way of finding things out, it's only a matter of time until she puts two and two together."

Emily looks genuinely fearful and y/n wonders again, what kind of dirt Penelope had gotten Emily to disclose. She thinks back to JJ's warning as well. y/n turns it over in her head, but in the end, she scoffs and leans up to kiss Emily.

"Don't worry, babe. I'll make up a fake break up or something and we'll be fine."

Thinking she could fool Penelope Garcia so easily was y/n's second mistake.

***

Derek is getting himself coffee when y/n swiftly approaches him from the side.

"What secret did Garcia get out of Emily?"

"Which time?"

"There's more than one?"

"Oh yeah."

***

The whole thing with Garcia does make y/n and Emily reconsider telling the team, or at the very least, Hotch and HR.

They hadn't at first because of team dynamics, but mostly because they themselves were figuring out how they worked as a couple. It turns out they worked great, and hiding each other from their coworkers and best friends was getting a bit much for the both of them.

They wanted to show up at Rossi's dinner parties together without worrying about what their friends would think. y/n wanted to hold Emily's hand after a rough case on the jet without it being questioned, just as much as Emily wanted to drive with y/n to work every morning and walk into the building together.

So the next morning, Emily and y/n get to work before anyone else and walk into Hotch's office.

He doesn't have much of a reaction, not that they were expecting anything more.

What does surprise them is that, after giving them the whole speech about professionalism and whatnot, he smiles at them and says, "I'm happy for you both."

Aaron Hotchner smiles at them and y/n feels like her relationship has just been blessed by the angels from above.

***

"Hey, Spence? Do you know what Garcia dug up on Emily?"

"Emily sprained her wrist a few years back and told us that it had happened at the range. It turns out that she'd sprained it falling from her skateboard."

"Her skate- What?"

***

When y/n had told Emily they'd be fine, she wasn't being cocky, but she just knew that there was no way Garcia would suspect something with how careful they had been.

They never showed up together at work. At first, they always timed their arrivals carefully, until it became second nature. They were never overly affectionate with each other. If they needed to be comforted during a particularly hard case, they'd wait to be behind the closed doors of the hotel room they shared on most trips. As much as y/n wanted to, she never showed up to work wearing one of her girlfriend's sweaters, no matter how warm and comfortable they were.

Bottom line was, there was no reason for Garcia to suspect anything when their teammates who were literal profilers hadn't caught onto anything.

No one except Hotch knew. And only because they'd told him, so.

y/n should've known though, from being a profiler herself, that being too confident meant she was bound to slip up and make a mistake sooner rather than later.

It all happens very quickly.

JJ asks y/n if she can grab a couple of files she had left with Garcia and bring them back to her because she was waiting for someone to call and she couldn't go too far. y/n, of course, accepts, always happy to get away from her desk and the paperwork begging for her attention. She quickly knocks on Garcia's door before entering and the tech doesn't turn around as she greets her.

"Bonjour, Emily, what brings you to Casa Garcia today?"

y/n chuckles at the blonde's eccentricities, "Sorry, but you got it wrong, it's me."

Penelope rolls her chair around to face her and she looks truly distraught to have gotten it wrong, "But I always get it right. I'm the all-knowing Penelope Garcia."

y/n gently pats her shoulder as she reaches past her to some files she sees on the desk, "Are these JJ's? She asked me to get them for her."

Garcia nods, but she still looks defeated at having failed to guess her visitor's identity, so y/n tells her she'll come by later with some coffee for a chat. Penelope nods and turns her attention back to her computer and so she leaves.

It's funny, y/n thinks, that of all the people Penelope could have confused her with, it was Emily. Maybe some of Emily's fears had planted themselves into her brain unbeknownst to her because y/n suddenly feels very uneasy. Why did Pen think it was Emily walking in? Had she unconsciously started walking like her girlfriend? No, no, that was ridiculous. Emily had a very distinctive gate that was very different from y/n's.

Still, something is off. y/n trusts her gut, it has never failed her, and her gut is telling her something is off.

She doesn't know what though. She had woken up with Emily that morning and they'd actually had time to enjoy a nice breakfast together and had plenty of time to get ready together. In fact, they had even gotten to enjoy a very pleasant shower together. y/n smiles at that particularly good memory until she realizes.

"Shit," she mutters, but not quietly enough. She's standing in the middle of the bullpen, her coworkers' eyes on her. Before she can tell herself that it's fine, that she was just paranoid and that there was no way Penelope had noticed, she hears a familiar but hurried clicking of heels approach the bullpen. y/n turns around to see Penelope standing on the other side of the glass window and one look at her is all y/n needs.

She knows.

Before Garcia can make her way inside the bullpen and bring mayhem with her, y/n hastily makes her way to her. She drops JJ's files on her desk haphazardly under Derek, Emily and Spencer's bewildered eyes. When she gets to Penelope, she gently grabs her by the arm and urgently leads her away.

"You smell like lavender!" Penelope exclaims with no preamble, "You usually don't smell like lavender, you smell of honey and coconut, but never lavender and that's why I got confused!"

y/n confidently nods in greeting at an agent passing by Garcia's office as y/n shoves her inside. He looks unsettled but only smiles in return, preferring to ignore whatever is going on. Smart man.

"That's why I thought you were Emily! Because Emily is the one who smells of lavender!" Penelope is pacing while y/n stands with her back to the door.

"Okay, Pen, I need you to breathe," She says when the techie is still going on about lavender, honey and coconut.

"Breathe? How can I breathe when you and Emily are dating."

y/n thinks that's a bit dramatic, but Garcia has finally stopped pacing and talking. y/n slowly steps towards the blonde and puts both of her hands on her shoulders. She debates for a few seconds, wonders if she'd get away with a lie but at this point, y/n's pretty sure the cat is out of the bag.

"Yeah, Emily and I are together."

y/n should've been prepared for it, but when Garcia lets out a high pitched squeal, it still gets her by surprise. Her pained grimace is quickly chased away by laughter when Penelope hugs her with all the strength and excitement caffeine was providing her.

"This is so great, I'm so happy for you two!" She lets you go long enough to see the smile that's made its way onto her face. It's the same smitten smile she always gets whenever she thinks about Emily and Garcia honest to god pinches her cheeks, "Aww, look at that smile!"

y/n laughs and tries to get her cheeks away from anymore pinching. That's when the door opens enough for Emily to sneak her head in, "Hey you two, is everything okay?"

She looks at Penelope first, but her eyes end on y/n. Before she can say anything though, Penelope smirks, "Why yes, lover, everything is just fine."

At that, Emily gets in and closes the door behind her. She looks at y/n for confirmation.

y/n just nods, "Yeah, she knows."

"You bet your sweet ass I know!"

And with no further warning, Penelope tackles Emily in a hug much as she'd done with y/n minutes prior. When she lets her go, Emily steps closer to y/n, and with a hand on her lower back, she says, "I told you she'd find out."

y/n ignores the I told you so her girlfriend apparently couldn't wait to give her, but yeah, she's not wrong.

It'll teach her to ever doubt the abilities of the all-knowing Penelope Garcia.

***

Months and months later, y/n meets up with Penelope for brunch on a Sunday morning. Before she can even greet her, the blonde fixes her with a stare that is both strange but oh so very familiar.

"What are you planning?"

This time, y/n grins and tells Garcia not to worry, that she'll know in due time. After all, she can only hide the little velvet box in her coat pocket and its content for so long.

***

[hello-yue-here]

thank you @chiptrillino for tagging me in a wip game!

not quite sure what the rules are but based off of your AMAZING POST OF ART WIPS (check it out here yall chip is so talented) ive decided to just share some parts of my writing wips that i rlly like because i cannot draw whatsoever lmao

enjoy some lil snippets hehe

from heart don't stand a chance:

"Zuko couldn’t get over her eyes. She was looking past the camera towards the man who took it. Zuko could see clear as day the love she held for Sokka in her gaze.

It was a perfect moment that Sokka had captured. No wonder held it with him at all times. If someone had looked at Zuko like that, he’d never want to see anything again.

As he took in the photograph, Sokka sat next to him in silence. His hand was clutching the ring around his neck again in his fist, pressing it close to his mouth as he peered over Zuko’s shoulder to look. Zuko turned to him to compliment the picture and saw a sad fondness lingering in his eyes."

this is a scene i wrote a while ago thats gonna appear in a much later chapter. but yeah. more yue angst for you guys im so sorry.

from i love you (and that's all i really know):

"Mister Sokka," a little voice wishpered in his ear as he felt tiny pokes on his cheek, "Wake up Mister Sokka."

"Good morning to you too Izumi," Sokka responded wearily as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He looked towards the little girl who was standing on her tippy toes to see over the edge of the bed and poke his face until he rose.

She smiled at him once she realized he was awake.

"Can we have pancakes?" She asked shyly, hiding her mouth just below the edge of the bed as she looked up at him with hopeful eyes.

That look was going to be dangerous for him later on, he could aready tell.

"Sure thing, Izumi, just let me sleep for five more minutes, mkay?" He asked as he shut his eyes again. He was exhausted from last nights events, and the sun had barely risen. How did Zuko do this?"

this is a scene from the next chapter of this fic. so much sokka and izumi bonding you guys are gonna explode hehehe.

from cherry (the mailee fic i wont shut up about that is now a whopping 19 pages):

"Mai never had to guess with Ty Lee. She always knew when Ty Lee was happy about something because she would use an obnoxious amount of exclamation points. She would send gifs of people or cartoons making outlandish expressions whenever she wanted to react to Mai’s text with a specific facial expression. Sometimes Ty Lee would even send voice memos whenever her thoughts became too long, or she got too excited about a story that her fingers couldn’t type as fast as she could speak."

hehe i love mailee.

from yours (the mailee sorority fic that i promise i did not forget about):

"Mai lifted her head off the pillow again and met Zuko’s eyes. She studied his impassive expression, trying to figure out if he was joking or not. He did seem like he missed Mai and Azula, so maybe he did really just want to catch up with them.

But Mai wasn’t going to give up a golden opportunity like this.

“Tell us everything about the boy toy as well and you’ve got yourself a deal,” Mai said.

Zuko rolled his eyes and sighed, “Ugh, fine. And his name is Sokka by the way.”

“Nuance. You also have to wake up Azula.”

“No chance in hell,” Zuko scoffed, “You’re the roommate and her fellow ‘pong princess,’ wake-up duty is all yours.”

“If she murders me, it’s your fault. She’s a bitch when she’s hungover.”

“Whatever you say, Mai,” Zuko grinned before returning back to his phone."

i have decided that zuko is a little shit for this fic and no one can stop me.

from Where'd All the Time Go? (the yuekka fic that i have severe writers block with that i also promis i have not forgotten about):

"“Sokka I really think you need to take a moment and-”

“I am fine Aang, I don’t have time for a feelings talk right now. Right now I need to find the fucking chief of this damn place.” His words came out harsher than he meant, but he didn’t have the time to dwell on that.

Before Sokka could run off again to continue his search, a hand grabbed his arm. One of Arnook’s advisors, Malina, had started dragging him towards the podium.

“Do you not realize how late you are for this Sokka? The ceremony was supposed to begin with your speech nearly an hour ago-” she hissed at him as she pulled him along through the crowd.

“Malina I’m sorry but I really need to speak with Arnook it is urgent-”

“This damn speech of yours is what’s urgent right now Sokka, you can speak with Arnook later but the guests are getting antsy so you need to give your speech right. Now.”

“But-”

“Now.”

Maline shoved Sokka towards the podium and suddenly all eyes were on him. Every guest in attendance had their focus solely on Sokka."

homeboy is stressed in this scene. things are slowly going to shit in this chapter. i promise i will update this before the end of the year. i swear. im so sorry.

from a currently untitled jetko/sukka boiling rock fic:

"“Oh good, you survived after all,” She said in a mocking tone.

Jet didn’t answer. He knew anything he said would be used against him. He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know what was happening. But he would be damned if he showed that weakness in front of the fire nation.

“I was told you were more talkative than this,” the girl mused. There was something familiar about her, “my informants were very detailed when discussing your little teashop romance.”

I knew it. Jet snarled in his mind, That bastard betrayed me."

i want this fic to be a little darker but idk how good i am at writing darker fics because i love fluff and humor too much. this could be good angst practice for me.

from a toph and sokka fic that i wrote a while back to help me cope w some shit that i dont know if ill ever post:

"“Sokka? Are you still there?” Toph asked, the slightest hint of concern began to slip into their voice

“Tell me a story,” he was trembling. Despite all of his efforts to sound calm, he knew his voice came out trembling and scratchy and pathetic-

“Is everything okay? You don’t sound too hot,” Toph said through the phone.

Breathe, Sokka, breathe. You don’t want them to be worried, you just need to calm down.

“Please, Toph, I just,” he said through shaky breaths that weren’t nearly deep enough for him to be getting enough oxygen, “I just need a distraction. I just need to hear your voice okay?”"

nonbinary toph anyone?

from a 10 things i hate about you kataang and zukka au:

"“What? Something on my face?” the guy asked deadpanned. He rubbed at his scar as if he were wiping off a smudge of mustard, and Aang’s face went pale.

“Stop scaring the sophomores Zuko, this one’s new. He won’t get your… humor… just yet,” Ms. Wu said as she waved Aang off again.

“I’m hurt that you’d imply I’m not funny, Wu. I’m hilarious,” the senior, Zuko, said as he walked past Aang.

Aang let out a sigh of relief knowing that this Zuko guy didn’t seem all that offended by his awkwardness, and darted out of the room."

zuko is a little shit part 2. the amount of sarcasm i have dripping off of heath ledger zuko is glorious. let zuko be a little shit. i havent added to this in months but when i finish some of my other wips i cant wait to get back to this.

i have more wips and drafts saved but none of them have anything juicy or funny or interesting yet because all of them are like less than three pages so far

but yeah, heres a good chunk of sneaky peakys from my wips!

I hope you liked them!

anyone who wants to do this can totally go for it. imma tag @ambykinns @lumities and @flowers-inthepieshop (only if you all want too!!) because this was fun :)

[drabbles-mc]

Adrenaline Rush

Kozik x OFC

Request by Anon: Hulloo there, may I get a sort of all sons x female reader, but mainly Kozik x female reader, where the clubhouse gets hit, and one of the guys gets hit - and they need something to stop the blood flow, so reader takes off her shirt to reveal her sports bra and ripped abs so that the wound can be attended while they wait for Tara, and the boys are like - damn, and when reader goes to get another shirt, Kozik follows and some form of smut ensues?

Warnings: language, blood, injuries, unprotected sex, brief mentions of bodily fluids

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: I didn’t do a reader insert for this because I try not to describe and particular kind of body-type for the sake of inclusivity. I know I never really made a point to mention that explicitly, but yea. So I just switched it up and changed it to an OFC, hope that’s okay! This was also my first time writing for Kozik, so hopefully it came out alright! Enjoy xo

Join my group-chat here: (X)

SOA Taglist: @garbinge @masterlistforimagines @adela-topaz-caelon @mijop @chibsytelford @xladymacbethx @i-just-read-stuff​ (If you want to be added to the taglist just let me know!)

The clubhouse was nothing but chaos. It had never been a place associated with calm, but with everything that the MC had been getting themselves into lately it had been a bit more of a hotbed than usual. It all came to a head when a rival MC rolled up and opened fire on the clubhouse one night.

The gunshots were deafening, and bullets were flying everywhere. Before she even fully registered what was happening, she was getting shoved to the floor, pinned underneath someone else’s body in an attempt to keep her safe. Her head smacked off the hardwood and everything went fuzzy for a minute, but there was so much going on that she wasn’t sure that she would’ve been able to keep up with it anyhow.

She didn’t know how much time had passed. It could’ve been seconds or hours that she was trapped underneath the weight of another body. The first thing that felt clear to her, though, was the loss of the weight on top of her when they rolled off. They crouched down next to her in the silence that followed the bullets, shaking her shoulder.

“Alli? Hey, Alessia,” they lightly tapped the side of her face, “You with me?”

She knew the voice sounded familiar but her brain still felt too scrambled to place it as she forced herself up, nodding her head as she tried to regain her bearings, “I’m here.”

She shut her eyes tight for a few moments before reopening them, hoping that it would make things come in a little clearer. She was rewarded with being able to see who it was that had tackled her to the ground, most likely saving her life in the process. One end of his mouth kicked up in a smile when she looked at him, glad that she was conscious and seemingly unscathed, but she could still see the concern pooling in his eyes.

“You okay?”

She nodded, “I’m good. Fine. You?”

“I’m fine. Just wanted to make sure I didn’t break you.”

He stood up and held his hand out and pulled her up to her feet. She stumbled a step and collided with his chest. In a calmer moment they might’ve let it linger, but there was too much to think about. She stepped back and shook it off as she looked around the clubhouse.

“We whole?” she glanced over at Kozik.

“I don’t—”

“No!” Jax’s voice cut through the rest of the dull noise of the clubhouse.

Alessia and Kozik glanced at each other for a moment before quickly making their way over to the chapel. They both looked at Jax as they walked, seeing the way that he was clinging to his own arm, face contorted in pain. He saw their looks of concern and shook his head, nodding towards the table. They pushed their through the small crowd of people and were met with the sigh of Juice laying on the table, blood gushing from his leg.

“You call Tara?” Alessia glanced back over at Jax.

He nodded, “She’s on her way.”

“Fuck,” Juice groaned, writhing in pain on the table.

“Stop moving,” Alessia’s voice was firm as she tried to get her thoughts in order.

She was no Tara—she didn’t have any kind of medical degree or professional training. But she’d been around the MC long enough to pick up some practical first aid. She’d MacGyver’d her way through more than a few injuries for herself and for the members of the club. She just had to figure out how to keep him alive until Tara could get there to do the heavy lifting. He was losing blood fast and she was just hoping that the bullet didn’t hit an artery.

“Shit,” she pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment, “Alright.”

She peeled her tank top off over her head and folded it into a long, thin rectangle, her fingers moving quickly and methodically. All of her focus was on the task at hand. She didn’t even realize that she’d drawn the attention of more than a few hungry, wandering eyes as she stood there in her sports bra and jeans.

She glanced over at Kozik, “Belt.”

He’d been too busy staring at her, allowing his eyes to rake over her chest and abs to hear what she’d said, “Wh-what?”

She snapped her fingers and pointed to the buckle, “Your belt. Now. Please.”

Her voice had so much authority to it that he instantly started undoing his belt without questioning it. He had no idea what she would need it for, but at that point he really didn’t care. He slid it out of the loops of his jeans and handed it over to her. She laid her shirt over the wound, pressing down hard on it to give it some pressure. Juice tensed up and cursed loudly. Her apology was passive as she slid the belt around his thigh.

“It’s gonna get worse before it gets better,” she warned him as she got ready to pull the belt tight, “But it’s better than bleeding out in church, yea?”

Juice nodded, already clenching his fists in anticipation, “Yea. Just…just do it.”

They each took a deep breath. Her eyes were on his legs and his eyes were on her. She pulled on the leather strap, tightening it as best she could around his thigh. Juice clenched his jaw tight and did his best to stifle the groan of pain that was fighting to escape past his lips. There were a few moments of utter silence as they all waited to see if her makeshift solution was going to staunch the blood flow at all, let alone enough to buy enough time for Tara to come in and do damage control.

Her split-second decision-making paid off. The blood stopped flowing. It wasn’t going to be a long-term fix, but she figured that Tara couldn’t be far at this point. She looked over the rest of his body, making sure that nothing else needed to be taken care of. He looked a little pale, and extremely tired.

“Need anything else?” she asked.

Juice shook his head, resting it back on the table, “Just a fucking doctor.”

She chuckled, “We’re working on it,” she sighed, running her hands down her face, “You owe me a shirt and I’m about to collect,” she smiled, “Consider it your medical bill.”

“Done,” despite the pain shooting through him, Juice managed a laugh, “Top drawer in my dorm.”

“You’re a gem, Juicy,” she called back as she walked out of chapel towards the dorms.

The men all watched her walk away. It took him a few moments to snap back to reality, but once he did Kozik was hot on her heels. He caught up to her in a few long strides as she was about to push Juice’s door open. She heard him behind her but didn’t say anything, mind still reeling from everything the day had already entailed.

“That was, um, impressive,” he said as you started to walk over to Juice’s dresser.

“We do what we gotta do, right?”

“Right.”

She turned around to face him once she had found a shirt that she wanted to take as her own. Surprise was written all over her face when she saw the way that Kozik was looking at her. She felt the heat beginning to rise in her face, but she tried not to let it show that his stare was getting to her. Despite the fact that he was looking at her with nothing but admiration, Alessia found herself wanting to quickly pull her fresh shirt down over her head to cover herself up.

When she went to lift it up, though, he stepped in to stop her. He pushed the shirt down, taking it in his own hands, “Don’t.”

She watched him as he discarded the shirt, tossing it over onto Juice’s bed. Once his hands were free, they instantly found their way to her sides, running all over her exposed skin as he pulled her closer to him. She wanted to blame the fact that she wasn’t playing hard to get on the adrenaline of the day, and the fact that he had definitely saved her life only a few minutes before. But she knew in the back of her mind that this had been building for a while. There was a reason that he jumped to make sure she was okay before anyone else.

Before she could overthink it, she put her hands on the back of his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. He immediately pushed and leaned into her, hands roaming all over her, grabbing whatever he could hold onto. She bit down on his bottom lip and he let out a low moan as his mouth continued to move against hers. Her hands snaked up into his hair and gave it a light tug.

He quickly wrapped his arms around her and lifted her, prompting her to wrap her legs around his waist. With ease he carried her over towards the bed, not taking his lips off of hers.

Just as he was about to lay her down, she pulled away from him, “In here?”

“What?” he smirked, “Not like he’s going to be using it anytime soon.”

She laughed, “C’mon, he almost died today. Don’t need to disrespect his room, too.”

“You saved his life! Least he could do to repay you,” he laughed as he kissed along her neck.

She couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face. She shook her head slightly but didn’t protest any further as she let him gently lay her down on the bed. He made quick work of pulling off her shoes and jeans. She couldn’t wipe the smile off of her face as he climbed onto the bed, positioning himself over her. His lips crashed back into hers as his hands ran down the toned lines of her stomach, making her shiver.

Alessia reached down and undid the button and zipper on his pants. She could feel the rumble inside his chest as he tried to contain the laugh building up inside him. He pulled his lips off of hers to push his pants down the rest of the way, a smirk etched into his expression. He peeled his shirt off as well and threw it to the floor.

She hooked her legs around his waist, pulling him as close as he would let her. He kissed her, biting down onto her bottom lip as he slowly slid inside her. She tried to stifle her moans but it wasn’t any use. Her legs shook and trembled and she knew that it was no longer just from the adrenaline of the day.

His fingertips dug into her thighs as he thrusted into her. She tilted her head back, letting out a moan, and he took that moment to bite down on the soft, sensitive skin of her neck. She tangled her fingers into his hair and held him there, not wanting to give up the sensation.

“Fuck,” she breathed, “Don’t stop.”

Stopping was the absolute last thing on his mind. He felt the way that her nails set into his back, the way that her body tensed around him, and it only encouraged him to keep going. He increased his pace and let out a low moan as her nails raked down his back. She bit down onto his shoulder, attempting to muffle her screams as she came. His nails dug into her sides as he felt him bite down onto him. It sent a brief jolt of pain through him but he loved it. He cursed quietly under his breath as he approached his own release, pulling out of her right before he did so.

He collapsed next to her on the bed, looking over at her as they both attempted to catch their breath. She glanced over at him and when her eyes caught his, they both couldn’t help but to break into laughter. She ran her hands down her face, wiping away the sweat. Kozik carefully got up and went to grab his boxers and jeans.

“Let me get something to for you to clean yourself up with,” he chuckled as he glanced around the room.

“Time for you to give up your shirt for the cause, Kozik,” she laughed as she propped herself up on her elbows.

“What? No, Alli, c’mon, please,” he laughed as he picked his shirt up off the floor, “Don’t do this.”

She held her hand out, “Hand it over. Time to pay your dues,” she laughed as he threw the shirt at her, “Besides, you’ve got other clothes here anyway. What’s the big deal?”

She threw it back at him after she had wiped herself off, shaking her head with a smile as he dodged it, carefully choosing where to pick it up off the ground from. She set about getting her underwear and jeans back on, and finally pulling on the shirt that she had decided to borrow from Juice.

The two of them stood in the middle of Juice’s room. Alessia was redoing her pony tail, and Kozik couldn’t help but to stand there and watch with admiration. She could see him looking at her out of the corner of her eye and made a point to not comment on it.

“Y’know,” she looked at herself in the mirror with a chuckle, “I might be onto something here. I look good in Juice’s clothes.”

Kozik laughed and shook his head, “You look better than he does, for sure.”

The two of them slowly made their way out of the room. They looked at each other for a moment, each with a small smile on their face, before heading off in different directions. Alessia made her way back towards the chapel to see if there was anything else to be done, or if Tara had shown up yet, and Kozik headed back towards his own space to get himself a fresh shirt. As she walked away, she could feel his fingers trace lightly along her lower back for a moment before she had stepped out of reach. She shook her head slightly and tried to contain her smile as she headed back into the chaos.

[the-sympathetic-villain]

Hello! I just saw your post about wanting remus prompts? Obvs no pressure but I cant get this out of my mind of the rat man..... BAKING

Yes... I need the rat man baking. This took me a bit because I’m really bad at writing short prompts but I like how it turned out! Originally, this was meant to be straight fluff but I couldn’t seem to get away from my personal headcanon that Remus stress bakes lol but its still mostly fluff with a little bit of vulnerability from the rat man <3

Cookies and Coping Mechanisms

Description: After SvSR, Remus knows that everyone is upset by the outcome of episode. His solution? Dragging a reluctant Virgil into the kitchen to make cookies.

Word Count: 1747

Characters: Remus, Virgil (Platonic Dukexiety)

Warnings: Remus-Type Content (Sexual innuendo, Allusions to Drugs, References to gore, etc.), Flirting, Swearing

---

    “Come on, Virgie. This'll be fun.”

    “Last time I heard that, you ended up on fire, Remus.” Virgil muttered as he shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets, cast a cautious glance at the bouncing creative side.

    “You can't spell fun without fire!” Remus chirped happily.

     Virgil stopped in his tracks, looking up in disbelief. “Yes, you can—”

     “Not if you actually want to have fun, Gerard Gay.” Remus threw out over his shoulder as he continued his manic dive into the cupboards. Metal pans flew up to the countertop as Remus swung around to throw open another drawer with a loud clang.

    Virgil growled. His eyes darkened with exasperation as Remus tossed a bag of flour on the counter and a puff of white haze shot up into the air. “I'm so glad that Logan soundproofed the kitchen so you can as be as loud as you want.”

     “Hey, that was Roman's fault." Remus stopped digging through the fridge to point at Virgil. “He brought the firecrackers—”

     “You lit them!” Virgil threw his hands up in a gesture to the large scorch marks in front of the stove.

     “Irrelevant.” Remus purred with a playful grin. “Now preheat the oven for me, emo boy.”

    “To what?” Virgil muttered as he stalked toward the oven.

    “350 degrees, baby!”

    “Don’t call me baby.” Virgil sighed, barely looking up at the mess Remus was making as he danced around the kitchen. “I don't even know why we're doing this. Cookies can’t fix what happened.”

    “Well, it sure as hell can't hurt, Donnie Darko,” Remus winked, shooting finger guns at Virgil. “especially since we’re catering to each of them personally. Everyone can hate each other and all, but they can't hate cookies.”

    Virgil paused in confusion.  “You said we were making one batch of cookies, Remus. I didn't sign up for a whole day with—”

    “I never said we weren't. Just one batch is all we need.” Remus grinned with a teasing smile, taunting him to continue.

    “How can one batch of cookies cater to all of them?” Virgil wondered. “I mean I get Patton, but the others are a little harder to please.”

    “Don't you worry. I'll spill the beans,” Remus paused with a suggestive grin. “but first I need you to strip, Frightmare before Christmas.”

    Virgil let out an exaggerated sigh as he ducked his head to hide the redness in his cheeks. “Whatever fantasy your trying to get me play out, I won't—”

     “Lose the hoodie, Virge. Everything else is optional.” Remus interrupted, grinning suggestively as Virgil tipped his head up. “Unless—"

    “No.”

    “Fine,” Remus giggled as he gave in to Virgil. Before he walked away, he slipped a piece of paper across the table as Virgil slipped his jacket off and laid it off to the side. “It’s to get nice and toasty in here and I don’t need you looking like you just got off a sweet bender covered in a suspicious white powder when we go to deliver the goods.”

    “Okay—Okay! It’s off now.” Virgil through his hands up in exasperation as Remus wiggled his eyebrow up at him. “You can stop tormenting me.”

    “Great.” Remus cheered with a flourish of his hands as he tossed the flour at Virgil. He giggled as the bag erupted into a white puff all over Virgil, leaning into his friend’s scowl before returning to hopping about the kitchen. “Mix the dry ingredients and I'll start on the wet stuff.”

    “Great.” Virgil huffed, rolling his eyes as he straightened out his black tee and brushed the flour off himself. Reluctantly, he picked up the flour to begin as he looked up at Remus for explanation. “Now, tell me why you think this is going to make everything better.”

    “Well, Pattycake obviously loves homemade gifts—"

     “Patton is the easiest to please.” Virgil muttered as he measured the flour. “That's not an accomplishment.”

   “Yeah, well. All Roman wants is attention. The fact that we were thinking of him is enough to brighten his spirits,” Remus grinned as he started to whisk together his ingredients. “and the snake boy has a sweet tooth. He hates to admit it, but sugar is Janus’ comfort food.”

    Virgil paused. His eyes narrowed on Remus with skepticism in his eyes. “And what about Logan?”

     Remus’ grin widened as he swiped Virgil’s bowl and began combining the ingredients. “Well, we're making thumbprint cookies and—”

    “—and thumbprint cookies require jam.” Virgil deadpanned as Remus nodded. He stared blankly as the creative side finished the dough and reached below the counter.

     “Bingo, bad boy.” Remus chirped as he slid a jar of Crofter's across the table.

    Virgil eyed the jam suspiciously as he bit his lip. “Where exactly did you pull that from—”

    “Not relevant.” Remus cheered brightly as he handed Virgil a spoon and started forming the cookies. “Start scooping and don't skimp on the jam. I don't want to offend the nerdy professor.”

    “Re, this is—” Virgil stared as he followed behind Remus, dropping jam into the indents of the cookies. “—surprisingly thoughtful.”

    “So, what?” Remus grinned, raising an eyebrow at Virgil. “Can't a guy do a nice thing every once in a while?”

     Virgil blinked, trying to stifle his own shock. “You try to convince Thomas to jump out of moving cars or eat dirt at least daily. Nice things just aren’t what you’re about. Are they?”

     “Maybe, I don’t like being predictable.” Remus chuckled as he took the tray from Virgil and slipped it in the oven.

    “Holy shit,” Virgil’s mouth dropped open as Remus set the timer. “You actually care about how the others are feeling right now?”

    “What?” Remus mused, raising an eyebrow at Virgil. “Did you think I was here for my own amusement, stormy night?”

    “I mean, kinda.” Virgil dropped his hands to his side, tugging at the hem of his tee. “I didn’t know that you were capable of—"”

    “Of course, you wouldn't think so.” Remus interrupted with a bored tone, sounding exasperated.

     Virgil paused as Remus dropped his voice. The uncharacteristic serious in his friend's muted tone stopped him in his tracks and he turned back to see Remus leaned on his elbows, staring at the countertop.

    “After this last video without us, everyone's thoughts about themselves are turning to crap and I feel them spiraling just the way you do, emo boy.” Remus smirked as Virgil stared back at him with shock in his eyes. “So, yeah. I used to make Thomas repeat this recipe over and over in his head until he memorized the damn thing.”

    “You did that so you could bake for the others if they had a bad day?” Virgil blinked, shocked at the sudden change from Remus’ usual boisterous behavior.

    Remus let out a long sigh as he fidgeted with a wooden spoon in his hand, twirling it between his fingers. “You might be his anxiety, but your not the only one carrying that gnawing dread that nothing's gonna work out, Dr. Doom. If it's grating and repetitive, it shows up on my radar too.”

    “I had no idea." Virgil muttered, unsure of what else to say.

    “You can thank Janus for that one, Virgie baby.” Remus chirped, a little more upbeat as the time chimed off. “You didn’t want to know and the snake's been keeping you safe and snug as long as you been kicking.”

    “But what about you, Ree?” Virgil wondered out loud as Remus started to drop the hot cookies onto plates to cool. “Who keeps you safe?”

    “Eh, who cares?” Remus’ voice cracked slightly as he rolled his eyes. “Point is that I’ll feel icky and this’ll make that go away.”

    “Remus, that’s not—”

    “What? Healthy?” Remus purred, as he wrapped an arm around Virgil’s shoulder and jostling him. “Hate to break it to you, kid, but I'm not Tommy-boy’s good coping mechanisms.”

    “No, but that's why Thomas works on them.” Virgil muttered as Remus released him. “I'm not exactly what Thomas wants all the time either, but he work through his issues so that I can focus on protecting him.”

   “Here’s the thing though,” Remus flashed Virgil a sharp-toothed grin as he chuckled. “My purpose ain’t quite so handy as yours, so its not worth that—”

    “You’re wrong, Remus.”

    Remus looked up in surprise at Virgil’s abrupt response. He stared for a moment at the concern in Virgil’s eyes before straightening up. “Oh?”

    “You keep Thomas grounded in reality.” Virgil shrugged as Remus looked up at him with skepticism in his eyes. “If Thomas lived his life looking Princey's rose-colored glasses, he'd be ignoring all the complex and difficult things that give life meaning.”

    Remus raised an eyebrow at him with a playful glimmer in his eyes. “So, there is creative value in ‘juicy butth—”

    “Stop,” Virgil held up a hand with a chuckle. “You know what I mean. Not everything is sunshine and sparkles. Thomas can’t ignore things just because he doesn’t like them. He needs the ability to face those things and you give him that, Remus.”

     Remus giggled, flashing a knowing smirk at Virgil. “You better be careful, Virgie. If you’re not, I might start to think you give a shit.”

    “I do.” Virgil dipped his head to hide the redness in his cheeks as Remus smirked at him. “I do, okay? Now, just shut up so we can deliver some cookies.”

    “Oh, gag me, emo boy.” Remus chuckled, barely concealing his smile as he made an over-exaggerated expression of disgust. “I didn't know you were capable of being so tooth-rottingly sweet—”

    “Just shut up." Virgil muttered half-heartedly as he smiled and took the plate Remus held out for him.

    Remus chuckled, nodding to the exit with a smirk. “Fine. How about we just deliver these top-notch sweets to our favorite depressed bitches then?”

    “Fine—” Virgil nodded reluctantly, hesitating as he followed Remus. “—and then maybe we could watch a movie or something after?”

   Remus nodded, perking up as he bounced along the hallway. “Something gory?”

    Virgil snorted as he staggered down the hallway. “Might as well. None of the other sides will watch scary movies with me anyway.”

    “It's a date then, stormy night.” Remus grinned, feeling lighter as they walked down the hall together. “You wore me down.”

    Virgil rolled his eyes, smiling as he followed the bouncing man ahead of him. “Good.”

---

General Taglist:

@justanotherhumanstuff​ @im-an-anxious-wreck

[hela-avenger]

To the Stars Who Listen- Part 7

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1977

Summary: When Loki desires to never fall in love, he casts a spell to prevent such a thing from happening. Except, well, in the matters of love and magic, you never know the result it may have in the end. Loki x Reader

A/N: This one’s a bit long and the next one will also be pretty long. I’ve just got a lot I want to include!  Tags are open! (Send me an ask/message/response.)

TTSWL Masterlist

Loki scowled as you led him once more out of the beaten path. He’s forced to descend down the damn hill again until you are content at the bare field that laid ahead of you. Loki glares at the sun that is beating down at them but is relieved at the cool breeze that flowed through the nearby trees. 

“Why did you bring me out here again?” Loki asks. “Isn’t the point of an indoor training facility is to train indoors?”

“After the incident from yesterday morning I decided it would be best if we trained away from everyone,” you answer. “I really don’t need to hear more of my friends confessing things to me.”

“Come on,” Loki drawls. “I’m sure a tiny part of you enjoyed it.” 

You hadn’t and yet a sharp sting runs down your spine at his words. As if your power was reprimanding you for lying to yourself. You try to ignore it but involuntarily shiver and Loki grins at the action. 

You hate his grin. 

You don’t necessarily hate him even though you had many reasons to. 

Loki destroyed New York in an attempt to rule over mankind. He also got his ass chewed out by his parents when he got sent back home. 

Now he was here, claiming to be better, reformed. 

You had yet to see it but noticing how miserable Loki was in the past months roaming the halls of the Tower you knew the slow punishment was certainly fitting the crime. 

Though now, things seem to be working out for him. 

“Look, I don’t want to question your superior knowledge on this matter but there has to be another way for me to expel the excess power I keep surging,” you state. “I can’t be blasting things hours at end so I don’t physically implode.” 

“There are other ways but they’re more complicated,” Loki answers as he crosses his arms. He was hoping that would put an end to that question but you pestered on.  

“So?” you ask him. “I can handle it.” 

Loki snorts. 

The arrogance you held was comedic. He would blame your humanity for the awful trait but his brother and his merry band of friends were endowed with it too. 

“You’re asking me to teach you how to wield your seidr,” Loki explains. “In mortal words that should help you comprehend, you want me to teach you how to cast spells. It will expel your powers but not as quickly or as greatly as the siphons will.” 

“So is that a yes?” you ask him unable to fight the smile on your lips. Loki rolls his eyes but you continue. “Come on. I’m trying to find the silver lining to this new power. If I can cast spells like a witch then I want to learn.”

“I take offense to the word witch,” Loki mutters, noticing how your fingers fidget with the gold siphons. Your obvious discomfort of them was written so plainly on your face. “Even if you could cast spells, you’ll still have to wear and use the siphons daily.”

 “Are you agreeing to teach me then?” you ask him. For once you were excited at the prospect of this lesson. 

“My spells of expertise reside on tricks and lies,” Loki explains. “They won’t work for you so I will have to figure out spells that rely on your ability of the truth.” 

“Seriously?” you deflate. “There’s nothing you can teach me today?” 

“Well I had planned to teach you how to pull out secrets and confessions in a more covert way, but you won’t allow my lesson, will you?” 

You shake your head and Loki rubs his eyes tiredly. 

“Just teach me something simple!” you offer. “Something that you as a kid managed to pull off and then I’ll subject myself to your lesson without questions or commentary.” 

Loki watches you silently realizing that you needed this distraction. It’s been obvious from the beginning that this power was something you hated. He was confused by this anger. Had it been him in your shoes, Loki would be elated to be more powerful than before. 

Of course, you were a different breed. 

From what he could tell by his observations, you were beloved by all. Strong, kind, and smart to be considered at the same level as many of these heroes you surround yourself with. You did it all by yourself and with the single motivation of wanting to do good for the world. 

Your intentions are and have always been so pure that Loki wonders if that is why the Book of Veritas deemed you worthy to release its power into you. 

“I can teach you how to shield…” 

“Come on, I know you have something more fun up your sleeve,” you interject. 

Loki tries to think but he finds himself distracted by the warm smile on your face. He’s seen it in the company of others but never had it been directed to him. You had never spent this much time with him to deem him one. 

“I uh… I cast childish spells. They all rhymed too. I don’t think…” 

Loki doesn’t understand why his mind drives him to that particular memory again. Of floating rose petals and impossible possibilities. He’s horrified by it. Especially as you take notice of it. 

“You know of one,” you point out, your smile widening. “What is it?” 

Loki hesitates but he knows that if he withholds his response for too long you’ll be onto him in seconds. You’ll pry the answer out of him. The truth coming out one way or another. 

“It was a foolish love spell.” 

“A love spell?” you repeat amused. “Little Loki wanted to fall in love?” 

Surprisingly enough, you don’t laugh or make fun of him. Loki is wary by the lack of it but answers your question nonetheless.

“I desired the opposite actually,” he explains. “I don’t wish to ever fall in love.” 

“And why is that?” 

“I’m not going to answer that,” Loki states. 

You’re very curious to know the answer, but Loki’s privacy was one you had yet to invade without his permission. He deserves to keep his secrets in the same way that you didn’t always deserve the truth. 

“So how do I cast this love spell?” you ask him. 

“Wish to fall in love?” Loki asks, turning the focus on you. 

You shrug carelessly, “Maybe.” 

“Don’t have enough admirers already?” 

“What are you going on about?” you ask with a roll of your eyes. “I don’t have any admirers.” 

“You can’t be serious.” 

You stare at him confused and Loki sighs in response. 

“You are.” 

Loki looks away in exasperation causing you to fidget again.  

“Just spit it out already,” you exclaim. 

“Bucky and Sam admitted they found you attractive yesterday morning,” Loki states. “And don’t get me started on the Captain…” 

“Steve doesn’t see me that way,” you sigh. “We’re just friends. All of them are my friends.” 

“Well, all of your friends are attracted to you.” 

You can’t avoid the sudden warmth that encompasses your face as you realize he’s being honest. You try to stammer out a response but the words are useless. 

“I uh… I mean… They’re not…” 

You take a deep breath trying to ignore Loki’s obvious amusement. 

“I don’t see any of them that way,” you respond curtly. “They are attractive men. Actually very attractive. I’m honestly surprised that the entire team hasn’t been poached by a model agency by now.” 

“You’re straying away from the point.” 

“Right, well…” you stumble. “The point is that I don’t find myself romantically attracted to them. They’re great guys but I need more.”

Loki doesn’t really care for your explanation and yet he finds himself intrigued. 

What more could you possibly want? 

You had the whole world in your hands and yet you desired more.  

There was only one way to find the answer and he dreaded the mere thought of it. 

“The love spell needs some binding elements,” Loki states. “I used rose petals but you can use whatever you can find.” 

You can’t help the smile on your face as he conjures a small gold bowl in his hands for you to use. You eagerly take it from him and Loki watches as you skip away to collect whatever you can find. 

“You are going to bind your desires to these elements so I would suggest you choose wisely.” 

You heed his warnings before coming back to him. 

“Ok I’ve got them,” you tell him. “What now?” 

Loki looks down at the filled bowl and scowls. 

A few autumn leaves, daisies, and blades of grass. 

“Interesting choices,” Loki mutters. “Do you have your spell in mind?” 

“No,” you answer. “But why don’t you tell me how yours went and I can just… copy that.” 

Loki notices the mischief laced in your smile. Your intentions were so blatantly clear because you had no wish to hide them from him. He wonders if this was a side effect of your powers or if it was from your original character. 

“A yellow rose petal for friendship, a white one for youth, a red rose petal for love and a blue one for truth,” Loki states. “...And that is all you’re hearing from me. The rest is none of your concern.” 

“Fine,” you smile. “Keep the juicy bits to yourself.”

You take a deep breath and look down at the contents inside your bowl.

“For my heart I wish to have... a man who loves me with all that he has. Blades of grass to signal he’s lean. A fighter, a lover, a man of means. Autumn leaves and daisies of plenty. I hope to find love when I least expect it.” 

Loki could taste the magic in the air. He closes his eyes and feels the warmth and softness brush against his skin. He waits to hear your shocked gasp as the elements in the bowl begin to float away but it never comes. 

“Is something supposed to happen?” you ask him as he opens his eyes to find the bowl still filled. “I feel like something should have happened.” 

“You’re indeed right,” Loki frowns. “Your binding elements should have flown away to find your perfect pair.” 

“Did I do it wrong?” 

Loki shakes his head. He could still feel the residue of your magic and the spell was perfectly casted. 

“Repeat it again.” 

So you do feeling the bowl grow warm in your hands. 

The magic is more pungent now and Loki feels how heavy it lays around them. Before he could decipher the phenomenon, the entire contents of the bowl blew up between them. You and Loki are covered in the debris of grass, shrivelled up leaves, and daisy petals. 

“Ok,” you cough out. “Was that supposed to happen?” 

“Not at all,” Loki scowls as he brushes off the remains from his person. 

“What does it mean?” you ask as you pull off a petal from your hair. 

The magic was fading away from the air and Loki had no explanation to offer as to why your love spell had gone wrong. 

Perhaps your demands were too much, but if that were the case that meant Loki’s spell had actually worked while yours didn’t. Someone who wanted love couldn’t achieve it while someone who didn’t had. 

Loki lets out a sigh. 

“I have no idea,” Loki shrugs as he takes the bowl from your hand and makes it disappear. “You might have infused too much of your power in it and burnt out the spell.” 

You can’t help but chuckle. 

Loki wasn’t necessarily lying but he wasn’t telling you the entire truth. The thing that surprised you immensely was that you really didn’t care to know what he could possibly be hiding. 

Not this time. Perhaps not ever.

TTSWL Tag: @catsladen @is-it-madness @manyfandoms-marvel @mejusttryintogetby @illogicalfangirl @ariel-snow-tmnt @islinglivesinshire @musicconversedance @missmadwoman @smaranshakthi @adaydreamingdragon @poetic-fiasco @like-a-wildfire @jasminecalia @ha-tep @charbokbok @setsuna-meiou31 @ms-blvck @country-cowgirl-101 @bepo-is-sorry @hufflautia @waitforthehurricanrose @fictionalhoomanofnowhere​ @sanniegirl1214​ @telenari​ @anonymouscastiel12​

Loki Tag: @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @thesilentbluesparrow @oddly-drawn-muse @josiehosiedaninja @hp-hogwartsexpress @sadwaywardkid @wolf-lover74 @sizzlingbarbarianglitter @sigyn-nightshade @aoirohi @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @just-a-donut-who-reads @day-dreaming-fox

All Works Tag: @jmb959 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @hellocookiecutter @steve-rogers-personal-hell @buckybarnesyard @not-zari-tak @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie @ariel-snow-tmnt @badhollandfluff @what-a-flammable-heart

[insufferablelust]

THE ARTIST AND HIS MUSE. (II)

Hi everyone! Hope you’re all safe and warm. So this is the second chapter to this story, it’s only a filler chapter but expect some upcoming juicy stuff!

Disclaimer : English is not my first languange, so i deeply apologize if the grammatical is such a mess, i’m working on it! thank you for understanding.

WARNINGS : Dark themed, upcoming Dom!Spencer, Sub!Reader, No smut yet (soon), Detailed Mentions of murder and corpse?, upcoming dark kinks (but not all the time, so expect some vanilla stuff too), SSA!Reader, !more upcoming warnings soon!

READ FIRST CHAPTER HERE!

———🍃———

CHAPTER 2

{The invisible leash i have on you is the imprint of me- the only one who can fulfill your every needs.}

It’s been a few days since the incident that left you breathless and flustered like no other. Things has been quiet, you thought— almost too quiet. It’s frustrating really, Spencer acted as if the words never spilled out of his sinful looking cherry lips. He has managed to kept his calm until now, sitting on his desk sipping his over-sugared coffee and reading a book, Bradbury’s if you guessed from the the cover, yet here you are obviously still distracted from the whole ordeal that you didn’t even hear Penelope calling your name as her hand waved,

“(Y/n)! Hello? Is anyone there?” She pinched your cheeks that snapped you out of your thoughts, you muttered a loud “garcia!” that has her grinning before scolding you “I hate to break you out of your seemingly wonderful daydream, but i need those paperworks you were supposed to finished on... an hour ago” She glanced towards the stack of files on your desk that you obviously haven’t filled. “Alright here’s whats going to happen, Hotch is having a bad night- from my observation so i’m going to get someone to help you fill all these out,” Penelope said with a huff, you’re about to thank her before your eyes widen realizing that the only person who’s clearly done with his paperwork is...

Spencer—,

“Reid!”

Garcia clapped her hands his way, meanwhile you snapped your eyes shut, nervously biting your lip- he’s right on your peripheral vision. You busied yourself with moving your fingers as fast as you can, filling in your paperworks as garcia ask the one person you’ve been trying to stay away from for a week.

“Would you mind helping (Y/n) with her paperworks? she’s backed up because she was probably daydreaming about a prince charm-“

“Penelope Garcia!” you whined at the cheery technical analyst as she laughed and once again pinched your cheeks “Alright, alright she’s going to strangle my cute neck so i’ll leave you both to it, try not to kill each other!” with a hysterical laughter, garcie sprinted back to her lair, whilst you squirm on your seat- awkwardness surrounds you and Spencer as he grabbed some of the files stacked up on your desk and pulled the nearby chair so he can help you to fill out the paperworks.

The only thing in the air was his calm breathing and the sound of loud background noise. And you can’t help but noticed the way his fingers gripped the files or the way he does that thing with his tongue whenever he’s focused on doing something. You gulped, as you tried to focus on your papers— you didn’t even realized you’re displaying nervous ticks before Spencer called you out on why your heels keep clicking against the desk and the way your fingers moving in a rush yet your handwriting seemed off, he said.

Damn him for being such a good profiler.

He placed his pen down, eyes staring sharply at you, wetting his lips before opening his cherry lips. “Do i make you nervous?” His voice rang through your ears like sweet venomous adrenaline thats coursing through your veins, his eyebrows twitched, head tilted to his side. There’s a slight irritation displayed on his face but that’s not all, you’ve been a profiler long enough to know that his eyes glimmered with anticipation, that the tone in his voice is almost condescending in some ways like he’s taunting you, that the tilt of his head suggests adoration, and that twitch on his lips suggests sign of boiling excitement.

As you were about to open your mouth to reply with the snarkiest remark your brain could mustered, Rossi announced that he’s inviting the team for an authentic Italian dinner (once again) at his house in an hour and that everyone must come. Spencer still held his gaze at you, suggesting that he awaits for your answer.

“I- um, thank you for helping Dr. Reid, i can finish the rest. only two more won’t do me any problem, you should go and head over to Rossi’s,” your cheeks flushed as the words spilled out of your mouth way too quickly. God where’s the inner FBI-Agent (Y/n) when she herself needs it.

“You’re not going?” Just then, his lips twitched down, suggesting that a tiny frown is forming. You let out a chuckle and shake your head “Oh no, um i already had dinner plans..” his eyes widen at the realization before he stood up, your felt your heart dropped out of your stomach- quickly realizing your mistake “wait! what i meant is a dinner with my friend, she’s a friend from college, and she’s visiting town to uh this book convention tomorrow, she asked me for a dinner last week so i obviously agreed, not that it matters to you but i just god i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to ramble—“

“Hey, slow down Y/n. I understand,” Spencer cuts your rambling off with an amused laugh, that made your heart swell, the embarrassment seemed to erase itself “yeah okay, but um have fun i guess?” as you heard him saying thank you and see you, you darted your gaze back down to the papers, before you can take a deep breath, you heard his voice one more time that has you squirming the whole night,

“Oh, and Y/n?”

“Yes, Spence?”

“You can text me your answer, and this isn’t a request.”

You’re utterly fucked, you thought.

TBC!

—Taglist open! just leave me a message :) Thank you for reading!

@spencerwaltergubler @blancastans

[nightshadeshadow123]

Teasing: Part 2 (Ratched)

Here is part two for those that wanted it. I hope ya'll enjoy. I'm gonna change the story line a bit as I see fit because I don't want to turn this into a whole unwanted story book if I fit the whole original story line in at a slow pace and time line. 

Gwendolyn followed behind Mildred, easily catching up to her as Mildred spared her a side glance, eyes softening for a moment.

"Can I help you Ms Briggs?" She asked, trying to keep her tone of voice emotionless and authoritative as ever.

Gwendolyn shot her a warm smile stopping next to her as Mildred came to a stop at a door before turning to her.

"Maybe, yes. I just wanted to ask if you'd like to go out with me and (Y/N) to a restaurant tonight?" Gwendolyn asked, trying to play off her nerves and hoping for the best.

Mildred raised a dark eyebrow at the blonde. "Why would I do that?"

Gwendolyn rolled her blue eyes before giving her another smile. "Oh come on, it will be a adventure. Just for tonight after work." She urged.

She was really hoping that the red haired woman would say yes. She's just as interested in her as much as you are after meeting her for the first time. She was intrigued when you've started talking about the red haired nurse when the two of you were out somewhere or at home and she definitely knew why you were so intrigued by her after meeting her.

Mildred slug her shoulder for a moment, eyes focused on the older blonde woman.

"Okay fine, I'll go on that supposed adventure with the two of you." She agreed reluctantly, fighting of a blush trying to spread across her cheeks.

Gwendolyn gave her a closed eyed smile. "Wonderful, (Y/N) and I will pick you up later. Just tell me where."

"Sealight Inn." Mildred informed her before taking a hold of the cold door knob and unlocking it with the key she had in her other hand.

"Pick you up at 7." Gwendolyn confirmed with her before turning around and walking down the hallway.

Mildred listen to her footfalls until it's just distant before shaking her head and walking into the room.

-*Timeskip brought to ya by Ratched's juicy peaches.-*

"Hurry up back there love. It's almost time to go!" Gwendolyn said excitedly, popping her head around the corner into your room and seeing you messing around with a strap on your dark grey dress.

"Just a minute. This stupid strap won't cooperate with me tonight." You huffed out in annoyance. "I hate dresses."

Gwendolyn let out a laugh and strides over to you and assisting you with the dress strap and giving you a peck on the lips before pulling away, making you send her a pout.

Gwendolyn laughed again at you. "Oh hush, there will be plenty of kissing later. Now let's go pick up that nurse before she gives us a labotomy for being late." She pulled you out of your apartment, almost growing impatient as you locked the door first.

"Oh hell to the fuck naw woman don't even mention that. Doctor Hanover was a pain in the side with that whole thing. God his whole idea of turning people straight is ridiculous but yeah I have to refrain myself from knocking him into oblivion." You grumbled and got into the the passenger seat of Gwendolyn's car.

She got in as well and shot you smile before starting the car and reversing out of the parking. "Honey I know, he have a weird way but yeah that's just how some people are. But at least he haven't caught onto us yet."

You hummed in agreement and interlocked your fingere with her other one hands fingers that is not on the steering wheel as she drove down the mostly empty street.

Gwendolyn shot you another smile, blue eyes sparing you a loving brief look before focusing back on the road ahead again and tightening her hold on your hand comfortably.

After a few minutes of driving you decide to break the comfortable silence.

"I still can't believe you've managed to get Mildred to go out with us on one of your fun 'adventures'."

The blonde woman laughed under her breath at you, hold once again tightening on your hand as you used your other hands black painted finger nails to trail against her soft skin in a unknown pattern, goosebumps rising on her skin as you smirked to yourself.

"Hey my 'adventures' is always fun. You love it even if you try to hide it. And ofcourse she would, who can resist not to come on one of my adventures?"

"Apparently no one. You've nagged me day and night to go on one when we've first met and you wouldn't stop until I've finally agreed." You chuckled.

Gwendolyn snorted at this. "Hell, getting you to go out on a date with me was one heck of task, you and Mildred are both as stubborn as a mule."

"Pfft, I'm just hard to be impressed and my dad wasn't so amused at you turning up at random times and he threatened to blow your brains out and honestly that wasn't something I'd like to see happen to you. And Mildred be like that but it makes it all the more fun to tease her." You mused out, keeping up the pattern on her soft skin, taking joy in the way it makes goosebumps rise to her skin as she tries to keep her cool.

"Well, I gotta agree with you there on the last part. God that father of yours was a pain but it was so worth it in the end because now I have you and he's a whole lot nicer now."

You kept up your small talk for another half hour before Gwendolyn turned into the drive way of the Motel where Mildred is staying at.

Mildred stood with her gloved hands folded together as she watched Gwendolyn's car pull up next to her, a unreadable look on her fair face.

You eyed her head from toe from inside the car. She was wearing a red and black attire and black gloves and with her hair in its usual updo with a small black hat resting comfortably upon her red hair.

Mildred looked behind her at the motel for a brief few moments before focusing her dark eyes back on the car again and began to approach the vehicle.

She got in the back seat of the car and softly closed the door behind her before looking at you and Gwendolyn as you both turn to greet her.

"Hey Mildred." You greeted, a warm smile grazing your red painted lips as you eyed the red haired woman.

"Hello (Y/N) and Gwendolyn." She greeted back, a hint of a smile ghosting across her lips as she eyed you both, hands crossing together again in a way to steel herself from the bit of nervousness creeping up on her after seeing the two of you.

Gwendolyn shot her a friendly smile too and greeted her excitedly before starting the car up again and driving once again after getting on the road again.

-*Another Timeskip brought to you by ya less than impressed goth mother-*

It didn't take long for you to find a table after arriving at the restaurant, sitting down at a table near the windows that had a nice out view of the sea outside.

Mildred sat in front of you while Gwendolyn sat next to you, her soft hand subtly on your clothed thigh in a caring matter, occasionally rubbing it slightly as you flip through the menu while Mildred, as subtly as possible scanned the dark grey dress you are wearing that have a low neckline that just give enough tease of your breasts and a fang necklice that's dangling between your breasts, her dark eyes focused on the small glimpse of skin for a longer while until Gwendolyn playfully nudged her lower leg with her heeled foot, giving her a smirk and teasing wink.

Mildred could feel a blush creeping up at both being caught out and the teasing wink and quickly averted her eyes, gloved hand going to her red painted lips and pretending to cough into it.

"Can I get your lovely ladies orders?" A rather slim looking waiter asked after stopping at your table, a nervous smile on his face and pen and notebook in hand.

All three of your focus snapped to the blond waiter.

"One large platter of oysters and lemon please." Gwendolyn ordered before looking at you as you slid your menu away.

"I'll just have some cooked salom with a side of potato slices with creamy sauce please." You orered and gave the nervous waiter a polite smile.

He quickly jotted that down before looking up again. "Will that be all?"

"Yes, thank you." Gwendolyn dismissed him with a flick of her hand and watch as he speed walked away.

The blonde chuckled and put her hand on your upper leg again and gave you a warm smile as you looked at the older woman with adoration as you put your hand on top of hers, and using the other hand to swipe a lock of your hair behind your ear.

Mildred watched the two of you with a small smile, finding it cute at the way the two of you look at each other with adoration. This whole thing was new to her and made her a bit on edge but deep down she knew she was having fun and couldn't help herself from smiling and getting that strange flutter feeling in her stomach that made her feel tingles all over, wondering if that's how the two of you always feel when looking at each other.

The three of you chatter in small talk until the food arrived.

Mildred eyed the oysters nervously and you bite back a amused smile at the red haired woman, sifting in your seat until you are more comfortable before picking up your fork and knife.

"Uh...I've never eaten oysters before. I-I'm not sure how to...do this." Mildred sputtered out embarrassed, skeptically eyes the oysters.

Gwendolyn let out a laugh before giving her a reassuring smile.

"Oh, don't worry. (Y/N) over here didn't either until I taught her but then again she's not one for many type of seafood as you can see. She pretty much hate oysters and would only eat one every once in awhile if I beg her and feed her one." The older woman chuckled and nudged you with her side playfully as you gave her a playful death glare. (Sorry ya'll seafood lovers but damn that shit is enough to send me throwing tf up)

Mildred looked at you and let's out a soft laugh as you smile at her before cutting into your piece of salom.

Gwendolyn then proceeded to explain and ' demonstrate' how to eat it to red haired woman while you watched the older two women in both adoration and amusement.

As Gwendolyn leaned over the table slightly to feed a oyster to Mildred you sneaked your heel cladded foot out and ever so slowly brush it against Mildred's tight causing her to jump slightly and almost choke on the oyster.

Mildred looked at you in surprise, not having expected that but you only gave her a smug smirk, leg still brushing up against her smooth leg while you continued eating as Gwendolyn caught onto what happened and smile to herself.

The red haired woman fought back another blush, trying to ignore the goosebumps appearing on her skin as your soft leg brushed against hers in a sly way that have her getting wet.

"So?..."Mildred started, trying to keep her nervousness and arousal at bay.

"How and when did you two met?" She asked both genuinely curious but also to distract herself from the feeling of your leg against hers.

Gwendolyn looked at you and putted a hand on your upper leg again, squeezing it slightly, enjoying how you clearly enjoyed that and the way you are getting the nurse worked up with your other leg.

"We met at once at a bar, I tried getting to know her better but she wasn't too keen on that but I just knew I had to keep on trying. After she left I thought I never see her again but we did end up meeting again when her father had a business meeting with The Governor two months later, she was helping her father out as a assistant at the time." Gwendolyn began to explain excitedly while you continued to mess with the stoic nurse and getting amusement from her clear struggle to keep up her exterior.

"Her father didn't like me at first, he hated me in fact because as he like to put it, I was making googly heart eyes at his daughter and wanted to steal her and he was being protective." Gwendolyn chuckled um used lying at the memory of that day he said that.

You decided to join in on the conversation. "Yeah. He was ready to kill you after you've sneaked me out a few times and also get us in trouble or when you'd show up knocking at his door at two in the morning and your continued persistent urge to see me."

Mildred was listening with intrest now, a smile spread across her lips as she decide to be bold and sneaked her hand down and grabbed onto your lower leg that is brushing against hers causing you to pause as she eyed you, her fingers digging into your soft skin before tracing patterns on it as you gave her another teasing look, your hand dropping to Gwendolyn's hand on your tight.

"I know, but at least he likes me now. It took two years but I regret nothing and neither does he I think." Gwendolyn finished, looking at you again with a loving look you mirrored mixed with lust as she sneaked her hand to ghost dangerously close to your already throbbing center, the tips of her fingers skimming against it over your dress.

Mildred bite her lower lip subtly as she saw the look that the two in front of her is sharing, having a great idea at what they must silently convey with each other without uttering a word.

You slowly licked over your lower lip, (e/c) eyes darkening as Gwendolyn's blue lust filled eyes flicked down to your lips at the motion until she squeezed your thight again and your eyes met again until you gave a silent nod to the blonde.

Gwendolyn called the waiter over and told the nervous waiter to bring the bill and then focus to look at Mildred that is still watching you, her grip firm on your lower leg by now.

"Would you like to come back to our house?" The older woman dared to ask, having clearly noticed the way she have watched the two of you with her dark eyes, clearly aroused after the teasing you've done and they look the two of you had shared.

Mildred snapped her eyes back to Gwendolyn before clearing her throat, her tights rubbing together after she released your leg.

"Uh...Sure. I think so." She agreed reluctantly, not sure if she should.

Gwendolyn smiled at the waiter as he brought the bill and quickly paying for it and sending him off before grabbing her car keys and getting up with you.

You linked one arm with Gwendolyn and held a hand out to Mildred, waiting patiently for her to take it.

She looked down at your hand for a moment before taking it firmly and allow you to drag her along as Gwendolyn led you out of the restaurant and right towards her car, relishing your arm to open the passenger door for you and the back door for Mildred, not even bothering to hide her excitement as she watched the two of you get in.

"Thanks for this night out. It was fun." Mildred said in her raspy voice, one of her hands sneaking over the seat and resting on your shoulder and the other one on Gwendolyn's shoulder after Gwendolyn pulled out of the parking lot and started driving.

You both shot her a smile before Gwendolyn spoke up.

"It was a pleasure having you with us. Thank you for agreeing to come out."

Mildred smiled at this.

"But I bet we'll have even more fun at home." Gwendolyn eyed the red haired woman through the mirror of the car, smirking when seeying the other woman blush slightly and feeling the grip on her shoulder tightening.

"You don't say. Well then I can't wait."

You looked between them and put a hand on Gwendolyn's upper leg, notching how the older woman tense up for a moment as you sneaked your hand to her clothed center in a agonising slow pace.

Mildred smirked at this and as the two of you made eye contact you gave her a wink she just seemed to understand and decided to play along with your game by slipping her hand lower on Gwendolyn's shoulder slowly too, sneaking in beneath her light grey dress as the older woman tensed more at the unexpected moves from you both.

Mildred teasingly sneaked her fingers through the top of Gwendolyn's dark bra, her cold fingers groping her left breast  while your hand disappear between the blondes legs, cupping her aching center firmly as she try to hold back a tiny moan.

"Don't...distract me." The blonde tried to be stern but she only let out a broken moan as Mildred leaned more over the seat and began to kiss a trail up her shoulder up towards her neck while you decide to sneak your hands into her panties and rub at her now wet clit.

"Fuck!" Gwendolyn hissed out under her breath, her grip on the steering wheel tightening until her knuckles turned white when you slipped a finger between her slick folds.

A low register chuckle fell from Mildred's lips at this, taking great pleasure in hearing the blonde woman getting so worked up by the touch of you and her.

"What the matter? Can't handle a little teasing Gwen?" She husked into the older woman's ear, dark lust filled eyes trailing over the goosebumps appearing on the other woman's skin.

You chuckled too, sharing another look with the red haired nurse before you lower yourself and leaned over to Gwendolyn's lap, pulling her panties down her legs, forehead leaning against her upper leg as you inhaled and then exhaled a warm breath against her upper leg right where her center begin making the woman glare down at you.

"Don't you dare do that now while I'm driv-" the blonde tried to warn sternly but was cut of by whimpering when you licked her clit teasingly, a finger gingerly rubbing between her soaked folds as you looked up at her with a smug smirk.

"Holy shit. Just don't hunt me if we crash." Gwendolyn's glared daggers but couldn't help but take joy in your and Mildred's minestrations, leaning her head back against the Mildred's as the red haired woman kiss up against her neck once again while you slip a finger inside of her.

All she knew was that she can't wait to get back to your shared home and get the two of you back for this teasing.

-End or to be continued(if enough people desire a smutty threesome part)😏

Hey ya'll, I'm not making the readers father a homophobic in this part but my father and whole family is homophobic in real life so pretty much I just want to write one that Isn't. Sorry for this shitty part but honestly I'm not good at writing. Lol I didn't exactly plan on making this part as smut teasing as this but eh shit happens and I couldn't control myself. Eh and let's pretend reader and Gwendolyn owns a house where they go to.

[jiminniethemarshmallow]

Ball of Stress (M)

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Genre: smut, college AU

Word Count: 5,690

Warnings: Jimin watching porn, edging, unprotected sex, creampie, cum eating

(A/N): Writing the warnings makes me feel dirtier than writing the actual smut lol. Finally got one of my several drafts complete, so you guys actually have new stuff to read (from me at least)!

Being a college student is stressful, despite it being the “best time” of many people’s lives. Keeping up with the school work, doing well in sports, attending clubs, and having a healthy social and party life are all things that students have to juggle, and Jimin knows the struggle all too well. You both are in your final year and it never really gets any easier, the pressure to graduate and transition into the world of adults almost crushing at this stage in your lives. But you have each other, keeping the both of you afloat, because surely you would sink and drown on your own.

The last few weeks have been hard on Jimin. His sports team is in peak season and practice has been running longer everyday it seems. The work load his professors dump on him doesn’t help and he feels like he’s falling farther and farther behind with every class. Not to mention the strain that’s put on his friendships and social life. He’s had to decline invitation after invitation to parties and group gatherings because of school work. His friends understand and they support him, but one thing that has been becoming unbearable for him is the lack of time he gets to spend with you. Your class and practice schedules don’t line up with his too well so you mostly only get to see each other at night, and even then you don’t talk that much because you’re both consumed with homework and projects. There’s no time for romance anymore, he barely gets the chance to touch you, and when things do start to heat up, you’re both too tired to do anything.

It’s been about 2 and a half weeks since you actually had the time and energy to hang out with Jimin and you vividly remember that last time the two of you got intimate. You had finally gotten the chance to attend your friend Hoseok’s party and you decided to get all dressed up for it, wearing the sexiest and most revealing outfit you could find, hoping to spark something within your boyfriend when he laid eyes on you. You expected him to get jealous from all the looks you were getting that night, but he didn’t— or at least you hadn’t noticed if he did— and instead he was all over you, whispering in your ear how sexy you look, how badly he wants you and exactly what he wants to do to you. When neither of you could take it anymore, you stumbled back to your home and barely made it through the door before your clothes were off, already mingled in a heated embrace. The bedroom seemed too far away in the moment so you both settled for the couch, making love on the love seat until your bodies gave out.

It feels like so long ago but you could never forget that night— in fact, it’s been all you can think about since. You remember the depth of every kiss, the tenderness of every touch as he took his time caressing your body, committing it to memory as if it would be his last time seeing it. You remember the hunger in his eyes once he was finished worshipping you, the softness switching to a predatory gaze that made it look like he wanted to devour you. And he did. There is no middle ground when it comes to you and Jimin in bed. You’re either making love or fucking. One or the other. Nothing in between. That night, although it might have started off soft, turned into one of the best fucks of your life, and Jimin agrees.

That night has been replaying in his head all day today, and no matter how hard he tries to focus, he can’t get the thought of you off of his mind. Today was rough, he practiced hard, stayed up all night studying for the exam he took today, and was just tired in general, but he finally made it home, stepping through the threshold of your shared off-campus house. Even though he knows you’re not home, he’s still a bit disappointed when he finds the house deserted. Your shoes weren’t in front of the door, your purse and bag weren’t laying in a heap on the kitchen counter, and the space around him was filled with unsettling silence. With a huff, Jimin kicks off his shoes and ventures deeper into your home, holding onto the small shred of hope that you somehow had come home before him and were currently in your bedroom waiting to welcome him.

But much to his dismay, your bedroom was empty. And loneliness crept into his heart.

You had once teased Jimin about his need for attention, laughed at how much he beamed at every compliment, constantly looking for approval, but you never once hesitate to feed into his desires for praise. That was your job as a loving girlfriend. But everyone else, however, is not his girlfriend and he knows that they won’t entertain his neediness unless he does something significant that shows he truly deserves it. Well, right now Jimin feels like he deserves some attention. As he walks through the room to your bed, he winces at his sore muscles and creaking joints, tired from the hours of practice he’s just gone through. This season he’s been working double time and playing harder than ever to be successful and lead his teammates like the great captain he is. It’s no wonder he’s so sore, his back must hurt from carrying his team the entire year. But it’s not like he’s frustrated by that fact, he takes pride in being the best player on his team, he just craves to be acknowledged, at the very least.

His coaches and teammates never congratulate him, never comment on how much harder he works than everyone else, and quite frankly, it’s starting to piss him off. You are the only person who ever feeds into his praise kink. You always know just what to say, reminding him that he’s amazing at what he does and that his team is lucky to have him. You are the only one who gets it. And as he falls face first onto your side of the bed, just the scent of you is enough to calm him down a little.

A small smile graces his lips when he remembers the time he plopped onto your side of the bed one day, only to encounter a hard mass instead of the plush surface of the mattress he was expecting.

“Ow! Jimin, you’re crushing me.” You had mumbled from beneath the sheets. He didn’t see you hidden under the cover of the dark room, taking a nap peacefully while waiting for him to return home. He remembers fondly how he showered you with kisses in apology, eventually finding your lips and ending your night in a sweaty mess between the sheets.

Fuck, he really needs you right now. Jimin feels a vein in his forehead throb from the headache that’s plagued him all week. Usually you would run your hands through his hair gently whenever he was in this condition, telling him random anecdotes about your day to take his mind off of the stress. He can’t help but wish you would just come home already.

Burying his face into your pillow, Jimin inhales deeply and his body automatically relaxes, but the relief is short lived because he reaches out for you only to find the cold, empty bedding surrounding him. By this point, your absence is becoming irritating and he can feel his patience running low and sense his frustration bulging against the crotch of his pants. Damn it. Sitting up from his spot, he tries to calm himself. Is he really getting hard right now? It’s shocking to him that just the thought and smell of you can make him this horny. But he can’t afford for that to happen, not when you’re not home. He stands slowly, making his way to his desk chair to sit in front of his laptop. Gaming should take his mind off of you for a while, right? It’s never failed him before.

Opening his laptop, Jimin browses through his games, but nothing captures his attention or interest at the moment, even when he sees that his friends Jungkook and Seokjin are online. After almost a half an hour of scrolling through social media, texting you, and trying to find anything to distract himself, Jimin gives up, and with his surrender emerges that tireless voice from the back of his mind that appears every time he is alone and bored. There’s only a moment’s hesitation on his part before he clicks the browser on his laptop and types, finding himself on the homepage of his favorite porn site. Thumbnails of erotic videos present themselves to him immediately, along with a section of recommended videos based on his search history, even though he hasn’t been here in a while. Through the selection of thousands of videos, nothing really appeals to him, a few catching his eye because of the actress’ resemblance to you, but the women were always with another man and he refused to even imagine you with anyone but him.

He’s even more frustrated now, dick half hard and waiting, but Jimin is far too picky to be satisfied with just any old video. Oh, here’s one! A blowjob with the faces cropped out, just a view of all the juicy action, and it’s enough to get him to grow a bit, so he accepts it, pants unzipped and circling his ankles by the time he clicks play, hand already tugging at his length and his dignity thrown into an empty drawer.

Today was a rough day. Back to back exams and strict professors were enough to put you in a mood, but your favorite food place on campus closing right before you reached its doors was what sent you over the edge. Plus the whiny texts you’d received from your boyfriend. Your needy boyfriend, who you’d promised cuddles and kisses as soon as you returned home. You told him that you were on your way back less than 10 minutes ago, but he hasn’t responded yet, something you don’t dwell on long as you rush to your home with the prickling need to shower, slip into your pajamas, and watch the next episode of the newest hit drama over your plate of leftovers.

What you don’t expect when you enter your home is to find it so quiet. You thought for sure that Jimin would be watching tv or making something for himself in the kitchen like usual. Whatever, maybe he’s taking a nap in your room. You take your sweet time in the kitchen, pulling out a container of the food you made a couple days ago, thinking a few minutes before throwing all of its contents onto a pan and stuffing it in the oven because you have a feeling Jimin hasn’t eaten yet, pulling out plates and utensils until you finally make your way toward the bedroom. Initially, the plan was to strip out of your clothes and throw on some sweats— your shower could wait until after you’ve eaten— but those plans come to a halt as soon as you open the door.

Your wide eyes adjust to the dimly lit room fairly quickly, the laptop sitting open on the desk illuminating your slightly sweaty boyfriend and his hand that pumps steadily at his cock. He’s bare from the waist down, his shirt tucked under his chin as he reclines to see the screen. You see the way he flexes his abs every time he twists around his head, bucking up a little, and God, you haven’t seen anything that hot in a long while.

He doesn’t notice you at first, focused intently on the woman deep-throating the man on screen until she drools down her chin, and you have the opportunity to creep forward, knowing he can’t hear you with his noise-cancelling gamer headphones coving his ears. You’re almost at his side when he shuts his eyes and lets out a groan, slowing his pace and biting his lip with an expression you would interpret as pained, squeezing himself with a huff before speeding up.

“(Y/n), please,” He almost whispers, and you start to understand the situation a little better. He can’t quite get himself over the edge, too tense and too eager to let go. Without thinking, you reach for him, your hand wrapping around his own delicately.

“Need help, baby?” Jimin almost leaps out of the chair, snapping his eyes to your face in a look of terror that makes you laugh. He relaxes when he realizes its you, though he is a bit embarrassed that you caught him.

“Babe, I-“

You hush him as you position yourself between his legs, taking over the movement of his hand until he lets go and sinks back into his seat. He moves his headphones to rest around his neck and reaches to stop the video, but you grab his arm before he can do so. “Leave it on.” You watch his throat bob, an excited look glazing his eyes as your tongue slithers out to lick the bead of liquid at his tip. Flicking over the slit a few times, you trace your tongue along the sides of him, loving how hot he feels.

You go straight to work once you sink down on him, starting halfway down his length and bobbing at the same pace his hand was moving earlier. Jimin moans immediately, eyes locked on you as you swallow more of his cock, one hand on what you can’t fit and the other lightly massaging his balls. His hands move to shift your hair away from your face, pulling it to the back of your head in a messy ponytail, and you pull off of him quickly to assist, using the hair tie around your wrist for his convenience. He can barely see you as you sit under the shadows of his desk, but you yank off your shirt anyway and toss it aside. What he can see is the suave grin plastered to your lips and the seductive look in your eyes when you grab him again.

“What’s the girl in the video doing? Guide me.” You can tell he’s almost forgotten about the video because of the way he snaps his head back up to the screen. His legs tense when you push him into your throat, his hands returning to your head to guide you up and down. You let him push you down a little farther, loving how his girth sets in your jaw uncomfortably and makes you drool down your lips and chin.

Jimin moans as his eyes flicker back and forth between the bright screen and your shadowed face, doing his best to help match your movements with the video. When he pulls you up for air, you suck on his tip with your wet lips, gliding over it repeatedly and making his thighs tremble on either side of your head until he hisses.

“Mm, you’re so good at this. Can I..?” His fingers weave firmly in your roots and you know exactly what this means, humming a response and waiting for him with an open mouth. Distantly, you can hear the woman’s erotic gagging coming from Jimin’s forgotten headphones. He pulls you down cautiously before lifting his hips from his seat, sliding easily until his head hits the back of your throat. You don’t gag, though your stomach quivers a little, and his next thrusts are less wary, keeping the pace just quick enough to have him panting. Locking your hands behind your back, you give him full control as he pulls you deeper, his jerking hips struggling to keep rhythm as tears spring to your eyes. But you take him gratefully. Your panties stick to you more when his moans get breathier, and he holds your head in place so he can buck into you deeper, his length slipping down your throat and making you choke hard. The sound you make is obscene, but it’s worth it when he looks so damn good, mouth ajar and eyes screwed shut as he nears the edge.

At the first twitch of his member, he yanks you away, whimpering at the loss and squeezing himself at the base with shaky fingers. You’re confused when you look up at his sweaty form and ask, “What are you doing?”

He sighs through his nose, untangling his other hand from your hair to run through his own. “I can’t cum yet.” A small gasp leaves him at the feel of your tongue on his scrotum, sucking one of the soft sacks into your mouth while giving him the most innocent look you can muster when his length flexes just an inch from your face. “I- I want you to feel good, too. Come here.” Jimin’s fingers delicately hold your chin to lead you up and onto his lap, your pants and underwear discarded on the ascent. Next to go is your bra, and Jimin takes this time to remove his own shirt and the headphones around his neck, your bodies naked and hot and dripping with lust.

“You don’t have to worry about me, clearly you need this more than I do.” You mumble, lips already closing in on his. Your mouth tastes like him as he slips his tongue past your lips and wraps his arms around you, holding you firm against him. One of his hands slips between your bodies to cup your core, the jump of your hips blowing your cover, and you can feel his smile against you.

“Really? You seem pretty needy too, baby.” He grazes your clit with the pads of his fingers just to watch you chew your lip, eyes falling closed in the dimness.

“N-no, I’m fine.” You begin to fidget when his fingers remain soft, and only then does he press into you in earnest, circling the bud just the way you like, burning arousal leaking onto the digits.

He chuckles. “Oh yeah? So you’d be okay if I didn’t fuck you?”

“Yes.” You lie. “But I’ll let you do it anyway since you’re so... mmm... hard right now.” Your mouth moves on its own as you speak, trying to tease him, but it looks like it’s working against you.

“And you wouldn’t need to take care of yourself later because you’re not horny at all, is that right?” He’s breathless, too, at the way you rock against his hand, your arms resting around his shoulders to hold yourself steady.

“Yup.” You strain your answer as his lips and teeth begin to nip at your neck and collarbones, kissing down until one of your nipples is in his mouth and you finally groan. “Minnie~”

“Hmm?” His eyes dance with friskiness. Even if he was on the verge of cumming, he still had the power to make you desperate. Your head rolls back to arch your chest further into him, and you can feel your heart hammering against it when 2 of his plump fingers slip into you. Working you up has always been Jimin’s specialty, but today your patience has run thin with the aching desire to have him deep inside you and you’d really rather skip the second half of foreplay.

Taking matters into your own hands quite literally, you start to stroke him as you lean in to nibble on his earlobe. “Baby, put your cock in me.” You whine, carding your hand through the hair at the nape of his neck. He shivers but stays resistant.

“Well, since you don’t need me to fuck you, I was just thinking about how nice it would be to finish in that pretty mouth of yours.” His free hand comes up to thumb your lips, pushing it into your open mouth for you to suck, which you do simply out of habit.

“It woul’ peel nicer if you phinished in my puthy.” The words lisp with his digit pressed to your tongue and you stare at each other for a split second before bursting into giggles.

“What was that?” He laughs, some of the tension breaking with your silliness. You love how you can laugh with your boyfriend during sex. Instead of ruining the mood, it feels like you get closer to him, both of you so comfortable with each other that there’s never any awkwardness in moments like these.

“I said, it would feel nicer if you finished in my pussy.” You clarify when he pulls his thumb from your mouth.

“For you or for me?”

“For you.”

The tsk of his tongue is harsh on your ears like broken glass. One of his shapely eyebrows curves upwards in faux irritation, the hand between your legs skidding to a halt with his palm smashed against your clit. “Still so stubborn, babygirl?” He looks you over with dark eyes, the light of the screen behind you casting dangerous angles on his face. By now your hand on him has also come to a stop, but you can feel just how swollen and hot his is, stiff enough to curb his usual generosity, but also enough to take away the assertive edge you expect his voice to be laced with. “On your knees.”

“Nonono, wait, I was kidding!” You gasp in an outburst, resisting his insistent hands that attempt to push you off of his lap. “I want you, Jimin, let me take care of you. We both need this.” You hold onto him by his handle, tightening your grip and effectively derailing his train of thought. He says nothing further and you reposition yourself above him, looking down into his chocolate eyes as they soften.

You glide his tip gently along your slick folds, enjoying how it brushes your clit and makes you impossibly more wet. It certainly has been a while, you don’t remember the last time you responded to him this well.

“Please don’t tease me,” He breathes, voice barely above a whisper, and you glance up to catch him looking at you with a pleading stare, plump lip caught between his abusive teeth.

You cave in instantly, guiding his tip to finally nudge against your entrance. Leaning forward, you steal a kiss, letting him lick into your mouth, his tongue caressing your own as you slowly slide down his wide length. You suck in a long inhale throughout your lengthy descent, addicted to the feeling of him filling you up. Filling up the hole inside of you made just for him. God, you missed this; and you tell him these words in the small space between your lips.

Jimin’s hands skim up your back, then trail down the lines of your sides, waist, and hips  indecisively before settling on your ass, pulling you closer to help you take that last extra inch. When he’s buried to the hilt, you both sigh deeply, letting out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. He releases your lips to lean his forehead against your shoulder, fingers squeezing your bottom tightly as he fights to control the emotions bubbling inside him. It feels like it’s been forever since he was last this close to you, connected to you like this, and it’s almost overwhelming, especially when he’s this sensitive. His cock feels like a comfortable heaviness in the pit of your stomach, your shared warmth heating your passion like a furnace, and you have to anchor yourself around his neck so it doesn’t burn you alive.

Your grip around his hair and around his member are like a vice, keeping him grounded and sane, all of his stress and frustration being sucked out of him and replaced by raging lust for you. You rock your hips experimentally, sparks of pleasure shooting through your bodies.

“Fuck, babe, please move. I can’t take it anymore.” Jimin whines, digging his fingers into your flesh. You swivel your hips as you adjust yourself, smirking down at your boyfriend who is in shambles beneath you.

“Fast or slow?” The seduction dripping from your voice makes him throb and he can barely groan out an answer.

“Ride me fast, (Y/n). Make me cum.” He commands, a hint of dominance tracing his demeanor, and you gladly oblige his request.

With feet hooked around the tops of his thighs to support your bent legs, you use your thigh strength to lift yourself up until just his tip is sheathed within you. Then you drop yourself down completely, impaling yourself on his hard cock and knocking the air from both of your lungs. You brace your hands on his shoulders for stability as you set a quick pace— as fast as your legs can take you— and it’s almost as if you have ignited a hunger inside you that singes your nerves.

“Oh shit,” Jimin whispers, throwing his head back at the return of that special tightness in his belly. You have always been good at riding him, but he never gets used to it. Your own mouth hangs at the catch of his burning red tip prodding all the best places within you, his moans restoring your strength and stamina as they increase in volume.

The chair beneath you squeaks desperately, groaning from your combined weight and movement, but you pay no attention as you focus your energy on making Jimin see stars, clenching purposefully just to hear him gasp and watch his eyes roll back. His fingertips dimple the flesh of your ass, pulling you down on him harshly until his cock is rammed as deep as it can go, only to lift you with ease and reveal the pearly cocktail gathering between you on the base of his shaft. He peeks his eyes open to look at you, transfixed by your bouncing breasts and the shiny quality of your neck, an urge to lick a stripe up the skin overcoming him and gifting you with the sensation of his tongue tracing a ragged line from chest to chin, tiny mountains prickling the skin in pursuit.

“Fuck, I’m close,” He grunts as he brings you forward until you’re leaning over him. Your head hangs over his shoulder and your legs drop back down to the floor, having unraveled with your new shift in weight, and Jimin just keeps sinking lower and lower in his seat with every bounce of your hips. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, whimpering praises and forcing you to go faster with his hands. But your muscles are already starting to fatigue and your legs begin to tingle with pleasure. “Where do you want me, baby?” It’s through the grit of his teeth that he strains this, veins pressing through his skin and sweat gluing your chests together, and you can only think of one answer.

“Inside me, Minnie-“ Before you can even finish the last syllable, his hips snap up into you, the strong muscles in his arms working to hold you above him so he can fuck you relentlessly from underneath. You feel his teeth sink into your shoulder, his breath held tight in his chest as he focuses on reaching that long awaited orgasm, and it’s all you can do to moan and encourage him with your fingers twisted in his scalp. There’ll be bruises on your ass for sure from how he lifts you and from the rapid fire smacks it receives from every thrust. Feet planted, arms tense, you know your boyfriend is ready to crumble.

“Tell me you want it.” He muffles into your skin, voice shaking with effort.

“I want it, baby. Want you!” He huffs at this, stuttering out of rhythm as he brings your body down to meet his, hitting you in a spot that makes you go blind with pleasure for a second. You’ve always known him to be a slut for praise and validation, and this time is no different, your words being the drop that breaks the dam, frenzied moans pouring from him with his last few thrusts, your hips slamming down to cement him inside you while his whole body twitches and rolls. This is the hardest you’ve seen him cum in a long time and you want to pull back and watch the beautiful expression painted all over his face, but he’s busy sculpting indentations of his teeth in the crook of your neck. His hands slide up your back as he begins to calm down, though you can still feel him throbbing inside you. Your walls clench at the feeling, close to their own peak, and it’s then that Jimin removes his mouth from you, collapsing back on the unsteady chair and looking up at you with the most content and satiated look you could imagine. As if he had been suffering a great pain and it had finally been relieved.

You watch him with joy at the sight of his relief, but he can still see the lust and need swimming in your eyes. Not wasting a second, he stands and turns you so that you are now the one in the seat, it’s leather sticking to your skin from his damp adhesive. Jimin lowers himself between your legs, the long forgotten laptop behind him illuminating you as his eyes feast on the sight of your glistening core. His cum hasn’t started leaking yet, but your own wetness stains your lips regardless.

It’s almost a surprise when you’re met with his tongue, half expecting that he’d just use his fingers to avoid tasting his own mess, but Jimin dives in eagerly with his long tongue, sucking your swollen clit between his lips skillfully. You clench at the feeling, returning your hands to his hair, and the rhythmic pulse of your walls pushes out his seed to seep slowly down your lips. He licks it up easily, groaning against you at the combined taste, and honestly, seeing him close his eyes in bliss as he tastes his own cum in you is probably your new favorite thing. Unable to stop yourself, you begin to rock your hips against him, whining and cursing as you near your edge. The feeling of him dipping his long pink muscle into your leaking cavern is what sends you into your orgasm, and he gratefully cleans up everything you have to offer, swirling his tongue a few more times just to watch you jump from sensitivity before pressing kisses along your inner thighs, all the way up until he reaches you lips.

You kiss like that for an unspecified amount of time, you were so lost in his talented mouth that you have no idea how much time has passed. It could have been seconds, it might have been minutes. You couldn’t care less. When Jimin finally pulls away for air, you loop your arms around his neck, your body lifting with his as he stands to his full height. He closes the porn site that is still displaying the white replay button to the video that now seems repulsive to him. Post-nut clarity at its finest. Once he walks you both to the bed (your legs just drag lazily as he pulls you along), you plop down and simultaneously sigh.

“I needed that, thank you.” He whispers, though you doubt it’s from sleepiness.

“I needed it, too, little vampire. I’m glad I came home to that.” You giggle, the stress of the day effectively replaced by the pleasant buzz of your lingering high.

“Little vampire?” This time you’re giggling from the lift of Jimin’s eyebrow, completely unaware that he has marked you with his teeth. You turn your head to give him a view of it, and he gasps, apologizing profusely with kisses to the darkening bruise.

“Minnie?” You say when it’s quiet again. He hums. “If this whole school thing doesn’t work out, let’s become a cam couple, okay?”

“What?” Not expecting you to ever say anything like that, he is rightfully appalled.

“I’m pretty sure I failed both my exams today, so I’m preparing my plan B for when I get kicked out of school. Plus, I know for a fact that I can give better blowjobs than the girl on that video you were watching, so we’d probably do really well. I hear pornstars make a lot of money.” One look at you and he knows you’re completely serious, which makes the situation that much funnier. You stare at him with a goofy smile as he laughs, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer.

“You’re not going to fail out of school, silly.” He says between chuckles. You shrug. “Don’t talk like that, you have a brilliant mind and you’re one of the most determined people I know. You’ll succeed for sure.”

“I know, I’m just a bit overwhelmed at the moment. This did help, though.” You look down at your naked bodies for emphasis, cuddling comfortably into him.

“I feel exactly the same way. How about we spend the rest of the night de-stressing. We can eat dinner, take a long bath, have a movie-“

“Dinner!” You gasp, only just realizing that you left your leftovers in the oven before Jimin... distracted you. You hop up and run to the kitchen still buck ass naked, and he follows, rounding the corner to see you pulling out an undistinguishable lump of charcoal from the oven. You look absolutely defeated.

“Well, I guess we’re ordering in tonight.” He stifles a laugh when you pout, dressed in nothing but your mint oven mitts and a frown.

So he orders something greasy and unhealthy, and you spend the night wrapped in each other’s arms binge watching addictive shows and cuddling, erasing the world until it’s just you two in your own bubble inside your shared apartment. And it’s better stress relief than anything you could imagine.

[jpegjade]

Drinks and Clinks - Spencer

all right frens and ferns, WE’VE GOT OUR FIRST FIC OF THE WEEKEND HERE. it’s cute fluff and i’m okay with that. i really worked hard to do the name section so please laugh with me. thank you. ((Also i made a minor change because i wanted an excuse to do the names so hi sorry anon but ily))

Request ((I can’t find it on my page so i’m paraphrasing here)): The team is out for drinks and they run into Garcia’s friend, y/n, who is equally eccentric and the reader starts flirting with Reid.

________________

“Pen, where are we going?” You asked, being tugged along into a bar. 

“We’re going to meet my team! I think someone’s going to loooove you.” Garcia said, pushing open the door. 

The two of you were close friends from college but you barely got to see her when she was working so much. After work hours for her meant you were most likely working on another project for work that required your full focus and being with your best friend meant that your focus was on her, not what you were really supposed to be doing. 

The closer you got to a table of people, the more nervous you got. You didn’t know the plan was to go to a bar, not go to a bar where you would have to interact with people. Garcia went to the table, dragging you along, and you saw everyone laughing before taking a break to cheer because Garcia made it. 

“I would like to introduce my close and very lovely friend, y/n!” Penelope pulled you forward, causing you to stumble a little bit. You weren’t expecting the tiny pull forward so your first interaction with the team was a stumble and a weird hand wave. 

“Hello, I’m y/n.” You flinched. Penelope just said that. With a sigh, you composed yourself as everyone smiled at you. 

“Hi, I’m-” Someone started but Penelope cut them off.

“No. We’re going to have her guess based on what she knows about you guys from me.” Penelope said, beaming. You were nervous so you took a moment before saying anything, just surveying the table. 

“Okay well… I’m going to guess that you’re dark and juicy, Derek?” You pointed to the first guy who wanted to introduce himself. 

A round of laughs erupted from the table as Derek raised his hands and shrugged. 

“You have a very serious demeanor. You must be No Humor Hotchner?” You pointed to the guy sitting to Derek’s left. More laughter and Hotch smiled. 

“Okay you’re blonde and don’t look like a goth so ma’am with the black hair over here, you must be goth from the grave, Emily?” More laughs and nods. 

“That leaves you three. So we have Papa Pasta. He looks like you guys could be his kids, honestly.  I would love to try your pasta fresh because Pen has brought me leftovers and it beats the fast Italian I get for lunch breaks.” You said, pointing to Rossi. 

“Okay that leaves the two of you. I’m going to guess, by your gender, you’re JJ the kickass momma.” You pointed at the blonde girl sitting next to Rossi. 

“And you must be Spencer, doctor wonder baby.” Spencer smiled as he looked down at the table. 

“Wow, Garcia, your friend is good. Are you sure she’s not a profiler?” Emily said, nodding towards you. 

“She could be with the way she pays attention to literally everything.” Garcia said, sitting down. 

You were awkwardly standing at the table while everyone was seated when Reid stood up and grabbed a chair from another table so you could sit by him. You didn’t think much of it because of course, he was just being nice. 

SItting next to Spencer was nice. He smelled nice and it wafted over to you because the air conditioner was blowing in your direction. You were so happy that you brought a sweater because you would’ve frozen to death in front of a bunch of very nice people, all of which were talking amongst themselves while you and Spencer tried to keep up. Well… You tried to keep up and it looked like Spencer was trying to wind down. 

“What are you drinking?” You asked him, trying to get him to make conversation. Garcia told you he was cute but you didn’t think she meant stunningly cute in person. Photos did not do this man justice.

“Apple juice. Do you want something to drink?” He asked. You hadn’t gotten the chance to order something from the bar since you got swept away with introductions. 

“No, I can get it later.” You said, watching Spencer stand up and pause. 

“Are you coming?” He asked, as though it was obvious that you were supposed to tag along. 

“Oh. Yeah, I’ll go with you.” You got up and followed with him. 

Sitting at the bar with Spencer was an experience. You ordered something fruity and Spencer smirked. 

“You look like the type to order something fun and flavorful.” He said, looking at the bartender. 

Damn his jawline was sharp. How were his features so defined? It was like-

“How do you know Garcia?” Spencer brought you out of your thoughts. You were in the middle of giving him the up and down and by the looks of it, he noticed. 

“We’ve been friends from college. I was there for her when her parents died, she got arrested, she started working with you guys. All that good stuff.” You said, thanking the bartender for your drink. 

“Oh you’re the one who sends us flowers.” Spencer’s face lit up. 

Whenever you heard that someone close to Penelope got hurt, you sent flowers. Sometimes, you even sent Spencer flowers just because. It was rare but you did it. 

“That is me!” You said, taking a large swallow of your drink. “I didn’t know you liked them.” 

“I love them. I tell my mom about it every time I get a flower.” Spencer couldn’t look at you out of embarrassment. 

“Aww, Pen didn’t tell me you were a momma’s boy. You’re such a cutie, oh my god.” You smiled at Spencer, who looked slightly embarrassed but nodded his head. 

“Okay doctor Reid, what else haven't you told me? Are you hiding a caffeine addiction and a tormented soul behind that cute haircut of yours?” You had an extreme urge to ruffle his hair but Penelope told you about his thing for people not touching him so you restrained yourself by tapping on the bar counter. 

“Something like that. Although I wouldn’t say it’s an addiction. It’s more like an extreme appreciation that I can stop any time I feel rested enough to perform my best.” Spencer smiled again. 

Going back and forth with Spencer like this felt so easy. It was like you found someone just shy enough to be open to your advances without being so shy that everything was overwhelming. Although, this boy was gaining more confidence the more you talked to him. 

“So tell me, good doctor, why are you avoiding your team?” You leaned in closer to him so it wasn’t so loud.

“I’m not avoiding them.” He said, glancing over at them. 

The whole table was talking about the two of you but they were too far away for you to hear them saying how Spencer had never looked so happy to talk to someone he just met.

“I’m not avoiding them.” He said, slightly defensive but mostly just tired. 

“Then why haven’t we gone back over there? We’ve been over here talking the whole time.” You said, followed by a pause from Spencer. 

“I’m just tired from the case we finished up.” He said, obviously avoiding something. 

“Really? Jet lag kicking that cute little ass of yours?” The drink was definitely starting to hit you. 

“A little bit, yeah. It was a quick turnaround with little sleep.” Spencer looked so cute but he was even cuter when he was embarrassed. 

“Can I ask you something?” You said, swaying just a little. Spencer put his hand on your arm, scared you were going to tip over. 

“Sure.” He said, putting his arm back down. 

“Did you really get me over here so you could talk to me alone? Because I’ve downed two drinks and you’ve made not a single suggestion to go back to the group.” You squinted at him suspiciously in all kidding but he couldn’t hold his calm demeanor. 

“Are you sure you’re not a profiler?” Spencer asked, taking a sip of his apple juice and smiled. 

“Well, doctor Reid, I have to be going. I propose that maybe, and correct me if I’m flying in left field, we would be a good fit to go on a first date? Just you and I, not with your team.” You said, sliding off the bar stool. 

“I believe that’s a baseball reference and I don’t watch baseball but I think a date would be nice. Somewhere… Not a bar.” He said, writing down his number on a napkin with a pen from his pocket. 

“Oh don’t worry about it. I’ll let you find my number when you’re done doing a full background check on me with Pen later tomorrow. Call me when you’re done with that. Bye, Spencer.” You grabbed the napkin with his number on it and slid out of your seat. 

You motioned to Garcia that you were ready to go and the two of you left in a fit of giggles. You looked back at Spencer one last time to see him smiling to himself.