#Had some Frustrating work stuff happen and then some Other frustrating stuff happen and then decided to do some job applications

[kinardsevan]

I was totally genuine because I would love your stuff on 911 proper! They're dropping the ball with everything atm, which is so damn frustrating, considering the setup they gave themselves this spring.

Much love! 🤗

Glad for the clarification! ❤️❤️

I can totally understand your feelings. Mine aren’t far off. I waffle back and forth basically by the hour over whether this is all a tee-up and there’s real intention behind it, or whether they truly did give up the best thing that they’ve had in years.

One of my biggest struggles on it all and how it doesn’t make sense, is the active effort to include Tommy/Lou in the social media posts and ABCs use of him in ads as well. I understand that the networks opinion isn’t the end-all, be-all. But I just can’t coalesce all that’s been fed to us to this point, both from a story standpoint, and from the use of Lou/Tommy in the grander scheme at large. It doesn’t make any sense in the narrative, regardless of the ideals that some people have about him being a plot point or “entry level relationship”. One of the quotes I think back on is when Oliver said he wanted to see these two go through the struggles do in their first year of a relationship. That quote alone was one of the things (along with the intentional use of “Evan”) that said to me “people want this to be a short story, but these factors point to Tommy being around long-term”. It goes to the issue that Tommy does not see Evan as “Buck”, when we have already extrapolated that Buck is a mask. We’ve known that since season 3 when he told Bobby that putting on his uniform makes him feel like he can do anything, and “Buck” was a name he took on FOR work. It’s a dignification that creates separation for him from others. By relation, Evan can be as stripped bare and honest as he wants. This is why the use of his first name has always been important. Maddie can see him stripped down and bare, metaphorically speaking, because she knows his trauma. She’s his sister so she gets Evan rights. Eddie used his first name once with the will. In the same context as being stripped down, this was important because he wasn’t communicating with Buck from the standpoint of coworkers, but as a close friend telling him that he had made a decision about the safety and care of his child, should something happen to him. I can’t remember if we’ve ever seen Bobby use his first name, but this has always felt less important because of the father/son narrative.

We’ve seen Chimney throw around “Evan” in weird contexts, but I don’t think it’s a bad thing, so much as they have a unique relationship due to being coworkers, friends, and brothers simultaneously. I think that’s why anytime we hear him say “Evan”, it’s a bit of a play on fucking with him.

So when we cycle back to Tommy, who had only EVER called him Evan, using the name Buck is him forcing himself to create a separation. We also as a fanbase hear that and go “no, that’s wrong, it doesn’t sound right”.

At the end of the day, I cannot reason a fact to build all of this into a narrative (and I do mean ALL of it), include Lou in social media posts, have him be involved in interviews about the show… all to set it on fire 13 episodes after he returns. You’d have to have a damn good reason for doing so, like an actor wanting to leave or being so problematic that they need them gone. Now, a certain group would like for us to believe this, but we don’t have any actual proof of ANY of this narrative. That all said, we have to revert back to what we know and what we’ve been told. Which is confusing.

So. I’ve rambled again. And repeated myself in some contexts 😂 but I think I made my point? (If not I’ll obviously come up with more shit later 😂😂)

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Can you write a joe goldberg x reader where they are out at a bar and the reader gets a lil too tipsy and flirty with another guy and joe gets all jealous and it ends with them dry humping and making out against a wall outside the bar??? I love your stuff ohmigod

omg yes absolutely! and thank you so much, you're so sweet <33

Jealousy, Jealousy (Joe Goldberg x gn reader)

Warnings: SMUT, Joe has jealousy issues lol, reader is a little tipsy but they're still sober enough to consent, dry humping, heavy making out (against a wall), slight exhibitionism, hickeys/biting/marking, brief degrading/Joe has a slight humiliation kink here, gender neutral reader so genitalia and the like aren't specified

Five minutes. Five minutes, that's all he'd been gone for, just to come back to see you hanging off the arm of some other man.

Seriously?

Joe scoffed as he glared at you from the corner, watching you place your hand on the mystery guy's chest and whisper something that he could only assume was needlessly provocative into said guy's ear.

That should be him that you were hanging off, him you were whispering in the ear of.

Scowling, he quickly made his way over, not even bothering to apologize to the few people he managed to bump into. "Hey," he greeted in a tense and strained voice, looking like he was about to crack a tooth from how hard he was clenching his jaw.

At first he thought that maybe it was a mistake. Maybe you were too drunk to realize that guy wasn't him, maybe you hadn't even noticed that he'd left, maybe you'd just so happened to cling onto the nearest tall, attractive person with dark hair under the assumption that he was your boyfriend.

Until you glanced over, and he saw the cheeky glint of mischief in your eyes and the shit-eating grin on your face. "Oh, baby, hey," you drawled out slow and lazily, your speech a little slurred from the alcohol that was currently pumping through your system. "Where have you been? I was looking all over for you. I was so worried."

If he'd been a cartoon, his face would've been bright red with anger and steam would've been seen coming out of his ears. "Don't 'hey, baby' me," he snapped while grabbing your arm, not hard enough to hurt you but certainly firm enough to where you couldn't wiggle away from him. "We're leaving, now."

"Aw, but I just made a new friend," you replied with a pronounced pout, giving him your best puppy dog eyes in hopes of winning him over.

But he was having none of it, refusing to even acknowledge the guy as he furiously dragged you away (the guy in question was fortunately smart enough to leave well alone and let you go without protest).

"I'm never taking you out again, do you hear me? Never again," he practically scolded, his long legs moving almost too fast for you to keep up with.

"But baby-" you loudly began your complaint before he grabbed you by the collar. You felt the breath get knocked out of you as he roughly pushed you up against the wall of a nearby alleyway outside the bar.

"Enough," he snapped harshly, his eyes full of pure envy as he glared at you. The sexual frustration he was fighting with was so strong you could practically feel it pressing against you. Or maybe that was just his hard-on in his jeans. "What have I told you about flirting with other guys, huh? What did I say?"

Huffing, you averted your gaze from him, well aware of the answer he was looking for. "Not to," you grumbled with a childish pout, not enjoying the way he was currently reprimanding you. "But it's not my fault you left me all alone in there."

"I had to use the bathroom," he hissed out through gritted teeth, his patience starting to run thin. "That doesn't give you the excuse to go cozy up to some other guy like I don't even exist."

"Aw, baby, you know I didn't mean to," you purred out in that sultry tone you always knew worked on him, one of your hands slipping down to fiddle with the hem of his pants as you spoke. "I just missed you, y'know? I was lonely and needed something to help me pass the time. I'd never actually cheat on you with someone else, you know that."

As much as he hated to admit it, the charm you were trying to win him over with was working. "Come on, don't try to seduce me when I'm mad," he muttered half-heartedly as your fingers slipped through the belt loops of his pants and used them to tug him in closer, his hips pressing flush against yours.

The corners of your lips curled upwards into a smug smirk when you realized your plan was working. "I missed you so much while you were gone," you continued in a pathetic sounding tone, your hands letting go of his pants so you could wrap your arms around his neck instead.

The growl he let out sounded heavenly, like music to your ears. He trapped you up against the wall of the alleyway while his hands moved to grab onto your hips. "Don't tease me," he warned in a low voice, but you simply snickered in response.

"Make me," you whispered back, and that was all it took for the floodgates to open up and all of his self-control to crumble as his lips met yours in a passionate embrace of teeth and tongue.

"You can be such a brat sometimes," he mumbled into your mouth, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip after. He could tell just from the look on your face how much you were enjoying yourself.

"Only with you." Those three little words caused his grip on you to tighten as he jolted his hips into yours, relishing at the sudden feeling of friction between you.

There was no possible way for his cock to get any harder, but somehow it did. "Say- say that again," he demanded in a soft and breathy voice as he leaned his forehead against yours. "Say that you're only like this with me, that you only do this stuff for me."

You knew exactly what he wanted, of course. He wanted validation, he needed it, even. It was something he was so helplessly desperate for. He needed you to reassure him that there would be no other guys, not now or ever, that he was the only one. And with the pitiful way he was staring at you, how could you ever refuse?

"Only for you, Joe. You know I only have eyes for you, babe," you murmured before grabbing the collar of his coat and tugging his lips back to yours in another passionate kiss, one that was even more intense than the last.

He couldn't help but start to grind against you, acting like a dog in heat with the way he was dry humping you right up against the wall of some random alleyway where anyone could look down and see you. At that point, he didn't care who saw. He just knew that he needed you, and he intended on having you, one way or the other.

You, on the other hand, were delighted and even giddy at his eagerness. Normally you'd be a bit more hesitant to have your boyfriend get so handsy with you in a semi-public place, but the alcohol running through your veins gave you just enough of the liquid courage needed in order to successfully banish those fears away and replace them entirely with the overwhelming experience of lust you always had for him whenever he became possessive like that.

The whimpers and pants that exited his mouth uncontrollably were just the cherry on top, the previous look of rage at having another guy touch you being completely overtaken by his primal urge to take you and make you his. You let out a noise that was a cross between a moan and a sigh when you felt his lips meet your neck, biting and sucking at the area in an attempt to mark you, to claim you as his and his alone.

The pace of his hips was unrelenting as he kept you pinned to the wall, the feeling of his boner rubbing against you through the fabric of your pants making you just as crazy as he was. "God, you're such a fucking slut for me, Joe," you commented mindlessly as your fingers curled through his hair, directing his mouth to a lower spot on your neck in the process.

Your words didn't seem to upset him, and if anything only happened to turn him on even more. He buried his face further into your neck while gripping onto your hips so tightly you were certain he'd leave marks behind, his movements in tandem with yours as you'd started to thrust upwards in an attempt to match his speed.

When he finally came, he bit his lip so hard he almost drew blood, trying his best to muffle the humiliating sounds that were doing their best to creep out and escape from him. You finished soon after, your body tensing up and going limp from the amount of energy you had drained from you.

"Second round at home?" You questioned once you were able to catch your breath, to which he merely letting out a short laugh and pulled your body closer to his.

"As long as you promise to never flirt with another guy again," he bargained in turn, just as exhausted as you were even if he was also itching for more.

He was so naive for thinking that would be the one and only time you'd ever purposely flirt with somebody else. With the kind of reaction you'd managed to gain from him, this was only the beginning. It was decided: you'd have to make him jealous more often.

End notes: I love writing smutty joe fics omg

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[liquidstar]

I'm glad the "Satire requires a clarity of purpose and target lest it be mistaken for and contribute to that which it intends to criticize" meme is getting critiqued in its usage because... While the sentiment itself is absolutely true... I feel like sometimes, perhaps, it's not a work of fiction's fault that you're personally bad at picking up on satire

[keeps-ache]

now annoying my brother by making up tunes and making him think they're real songs lmfshvjhs

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[shikai-the-storyteller]

[finelinefae]

safety [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: harry is always there to help bambi, always.

word count: 5.4k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, fluff, age gap (9 years), harry meets the family, crybaby reader lowkey

a/n: apologies for this taking so long. I've moved into university and switched courses within three weeks so I've had to do a lot of adjusting! But I hope you're doing well, thank you so so so much for all the love on the first part of bambi and being so patient with this part <333

this is part 2 of bambi, read part 1 here

. . .

Y/N sighed as she stepped into the living room, her heart sinking at the sight of her mother passed out on the couch. It was Friday night, and her mom was still in her work uniform, one shoe barely hanging from her foot while the other lay haphazardly across the room. A wave of frustration and sadness hit her hard. She had begged her mom to take the day off to watch the boys so she could go on her date with Harry tonight—the date she’d been looking forward to all week.

This was supposed to be their third date, just before she started working with him at Pleasing this weekend. Their last date had been simple—strolling hand in hand by the river, talking about everything and nothing. But tonight was different. Harry had told her to dress up; he had something important to ask her and was taking her somewhere special. Y/N had been buzzing with excitement ever since.

Glancing at her phone, she felt the sting of tears. Halfway through her makeup, she now realized it didn’t matter—she’d have to cancel. With her mother out cold and no babysitter available at such short notice, the responsibility fell on her. And it was ruining everything.

She opened Harry’s contact on her phone, staring at the little pink heart next to his name. Her thumb hovered over the call button as doubt crept in. What if he never wanted to see her again after this? Cancelling last minute was embarrassing, and she dreaded how angry or disappointed Harry might be.

Her thumb pressed down, the ringing growing louder with each second. Anxiety gnawed at her as she picked at the skin around her nails.

Suddenly, the call connected, and Harry’s voice, smooth and soothing like a lullaby, poured through the speaker. “Bambi? Was jus’ about to pick y’ up. You missin’ me already?”

Her lip trembled, and a tear slid down her cheek as she sniffled. “Harry…” Her voice cracked.

“Hey, what’s wrong, love?” Concern filled his voice instantly, and the warmth of it made her chest tighten.

“I-I can’t go on our date tonight,” she confessed, her voice shaky.

“What d’you mean? Don’t be silly, is something wrong?” His slight panic was clear, making her feel even worse.

“No, it’s not like that. It’s just… my mom came home late, and she’s, um, not able to watch the boys, so I have to stay and babysit. I’m really sorry, Harry. I wanted to go tonight, I swear. I understand if you’re mad or—if you never want to see me again—”

“Woah, woah, Bambi, baby, stop panickin’. I don’t hate you, not at all. It’s closer to the opposite, so calm down, yeah? ‘M not goin’ anywhere.”

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice still thick with emotion. “Y’promise?”

“Five pinkie swears, baby,” he chuckled softly, making her giggle through the tears. “It’s alright. These things happen. But are you okay? Need me to grab you anything? Have y’eaten today?”

His kindness made her heart swell. “N-No, but we’ve got stuff in the freezer I can heat up. Maybe we can reschedule?”

“Bambi, I’m already on my way to your house.”

Her breath hitched. “What? But, Harry, I can’t—”

“You think I’d let a little change of plans stop me from seein’ you? Been needin’ to see m’Bambi all day. How ‘bout this: you help your mum, and I’ll come by and make dinner for all of you. Sound good?”

Her heart skipped a beat. Was he real? Was he really this thoughtful, this willing to come over despite everything?

“Harry, you don’t have to—”

“I want to. Now, go get in some comfy pjs, and I’ll stop by the store to grab snacks. Maybe we can watch a movie later. Does that sound good?”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice lighter now. “That sounds perfect.”

“Alright, I’ll be over in thirty minutes. Take a deep breath for me, Bambi.”

Immediate relief washed over her at the idea of having an extra pair of hands to help her with something that she’d normally be left alone to and better yet it was Harry who was coming to help her. So, she did exactly that - breathe. 

. . . 

Y/N was pushing clothes into the washing machine when she heard the doorbell ring. Her heart skipped a beat or possibly maybe two when she heard it. She forced the door shut on the machine and walked to the front door. She frowned the closer she got when she could already hear Harry’s voice but that was soon followed by the voice of her younger brother. 

“I know jujitsu, you know,” Archie announced, his small five-foot frame blocking the doorway.

“You take classes?” Harry asked, bemused.

“No, I learned it on Roblox,” Archie replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve heard of that one before. You’ll have to show me sometime,” Harry said with a grin.

Archie snorted. “You could just be saying that to get into our house and rob us.”

Y/N’s face heated with embarrassment as she approached the door, ushering Archie out of the way. Harry’s eyes lit up as soon as he saw her. “Y/N, this pizza delivery guy is trying to break into our house,” Archie said. Y/N looked to see Harry holding two pizza boxes and a plastic bag.

“Archie,” Y/N gasped, “this is not a pizza delivery man. This is Harry.”

Harry smiled, clearly trying not to laugh, and offered Archie a small wave. It did nothing to ease the suspicious look on Archie’s face. “Who’s Harry?”

Y/N froze, unsure of how to answer. Harry was both her boss and the man she was dating, but she couldn’t exactly explain that to her little brother. “He’s... my special friend.”

Archie looked between them for a moment, then shrugged and wandered off. Y/N’s shoulders sagged with relief as she turned to face Harry, who was still grinning at her. He looked incredibly handsome in his matching brown suit, his curly hair tousled in that familiar way. Her heart sank a little, knowing he had dressed up for their date.

“H-Harry, I’m really sorry—” she began, but before she could finish, Harry set the pizza boxes down and pulled her into a tight embrace. She breathed in the fruity scent of his cologne as he gently rubbed circles on her back.

“Bambi,” he murmured with a soft sigh, “I missed you.”

She smiled against his chest. “You just saw me the other day, and we FaceTimed last night.”

Harry pulled back slightly, cupping her cheeks with his large hands. “Kiss?”

Her cheeks flushed, as they always did when he asked for a kiss. She stood on her toes, meeting his lips, savouring the softness of his touch and the faint taste of peppermint from his lip balm. 

“Have you eaten yet?” he murmured against her lips. “I brought pizza.”

“You didn’t have to,” Y/N sighed softly. “I was just going to throw something in the oven.”

“Hey, Bambi.” She looked up, meeting his gaze already fixed on her. “I wanted to. I’m here to help, okay? Now, why don’t we eat this before it gets cold? You grab some plates, and I’ll set the table.”

“O-Oh, okay.” She nodded, a bit flustered. “Just so you know, my brothers can be… intense.”

Harry smiled, his expression easygoing. “It’s okay, I’ve got a niece. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

Y/N led him into the living room where her little brothers were scattered. Archie sat in the corner, hunched over the computer, likely playing the game he had mentioned to Harry earlier.

“Who are you?” a small voice piped up. Harry glanced down to see a boy around six or seven, looking at him curiously.

“That’s Y/N’s special friend,” Archie chimed in without even turning around from his game.

“Weren’t you the guy making out with my sister the other night?” The eldest of the three boys, who looked about fourteen, spoke up from where he was watching TV. Despite his age, there was a maturity in his tone that caught Harry off guard.

Harry chuckled, feeling Y/N stiffen beside him. He gave the teenager a polite smile. “Well, I guess that’s one way to put it.”

“Sammy go and get the plates from the kitchen, Harry bought us pizza.” Sammy huffed, pausing the tv and doing exactly as his sister said. 

“Jack, can you grab an extra chair?” Y/N asked the youngest boy, her voice gentle but firm. Harry watched as the boys immediately followed their eldest sister’s instructions without question. A small pang tugged at his chest—part of him felt for her, having to shoulder the responsibility of looking after three growing boys. He didn’t know every detail of her family life, but seeing the way they interacted was enough to tell him they’d had to adapt quickly.

They all gathered around the table, two extra-large pizzas laid out in front of them. Harry chuckled at the sight of the boys eyeing the food like it was a rare treasure.

“Calm down,” he murmured with a grin, leaning close to Y/N. “Y’ so stiff, Bambi.”

Y/N blushed, fidgeting slightly. “Sorry, I just get so—”

“So?” Harry interrupted, smirking as he tried to coax her into a fluster. “So what, baby?”

“So nervous,” Y/N huffed, her cheeks burning as she realized he was toying with her.

A throat cleared from across the table, and Y/N suddenly felt three pairs of eyes locked onto them. Jack and Archie looked disgusted by the couple’s banter, while the eldest boy, Sammy, was glaring at Harry with an intensity that made Harry suppress a laugh.

“How old are you?” Sammy asked bluntly, his gaze sharp and protective.

Y/N choked on her drink. “Sammy! You can’t just ask people that—it’s rude!”

Harry chuckled, raising a hand to calm her. “No, it’s alright,” he said, amused. “I’m thirty.”

“Whoa, you’re old!” Archie blurted out, eyes wide with surprise.

“Archie!” Y/N gasped, mortified, while Jack burst out laughing.

“I guess it is kind of old,” Harry shrugged playfully, glancing at Y/N with a wink.

“Are you rich?” Sammy pressed, undeterred.

Y/N’s face flushed even more, praying the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

“I do well,” Harry replied, keeping his tone light. “I own a fashion company.”

“That means he’s rich,” Archie chimed in, eyes lighting up. “Do you have a sports car?”

Harry leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially, “I own three.”

Archie gasped, his face a picture of awe. “No wonder you can afford two extra-large pizzas!”

“If you think that’s cool, wait till you hear what else I brought,” Harry teased.

“Candy?” Archie’s eyes grew even wider, filled with excitement.

“Better.”

“Ice cream?”

Harry nodded. “Ice cream, candy, whipped cream, chocolate sprinkles... you name it.”

Archie looked as though he might pass out from pure joy. Sweets after dinner weren’t a common occurrence in their house unless it was a special occasion.

Harry’s smile softened as his eyes flicked to Sammy, who was still watching him with guarded suspicion. “What do you want from my sister?” Sammy finally asked, his tone sharp.

Y/N cringed, wishing she could disappear like Jack, who was contentedly munching on pizza, completely oblivious to the tension. Her cheeks were already burning before she’d even taken a bite.

Harry’s hand found its way to her knee under the table, a silent reassurance that he knew exactly how she was feeling without her having to say a word.

“It’s still early,” Harry said honestly, his gaze meeting Sammy’s without faltering. “But I really, really like your sister.”

Sammy seemed to relax at that, but not without a final warning. “You’re not allowed to like her as much as we do.”

Y/N’s heart squeezed at the words. Despite the challenges, the boys were her world, her best friends.

Harry smiled warmly, his voice sincere. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

. . .

"Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!" Archie came barreling into the kitchen, his face smeared with chocolate and whipped cream from the ice cream sundaes they’d made earlier. Y/N was bent over the washing machine, pulling out clothes to hang on the makeshift line by the window.

"Harry says he's gonna take us to the indoor waterpark in the city for my birthday! Isn't that awesome? And he beat Sammy's score on the new game he bought us!"

Y/N glanced up, smiling softly at Archie's excitement. The boys had been glued to the computer for hours after Harry surprised them with a game they’d been begging for. The sound of their wild laughter had echoed through the house all afternoon.

Footsteps approached the kitchen, and she looked up to see Harry standing in the doorway, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Harry, I was just telling Y/N about the waterpark you’re taking us to," Archie said eagerly.

Harry’s eyes flicked to Y/N. "Ah, yes," he said, smiling at her. "I heard there’s a certain someone’s birthday coming up soon."

Archie's birthday was still a month away, and Y/N had only planned a simple celebration—movies, takeout, and cake. As Archie bolted from the kitchen, beaming about the waterpark, Y/N’s smile faded slightly.

Harry noticed the shift immediately. "What’s wrong?" he asked, stepping closer and reaching for her hand. "Did I mess something up?"

"N-no," Y/N replied quickly, shaking her head. "You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just... Archie's birthday isn’t for another month."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "So?"

Y/N hesitated, her words stumbling over themselves. "I just don’t want to make promises, you know, in case… I mean, what if…" She trailed off, struggling to find a way to express the growing anxiety in her chest. She adored Harry, more than she could articulate, but a part of her couldn’t help worrying about the future—the uncertainties that came with letting someone new into their lives.

"Bambi," Harry’s voice was soft as he cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Where’d you go?"

She blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

His lips quirked into a gentle smile. "Y’ do this thing where you space out, like your mind drifts off somewhere else ‘cause you're thinkin’ too much."

"I do that?" she asked, surprised.

"Mhm," he murmured, his thumb tracing the little furrow in her brow, the touch sending warmth through her. "I like you an awful lot, Bambi. I plan on stickin' around for a long time."

"You do?" Her voice was small, almost disbelieving.

"Yes, I do. And I really like your brothers—they’re a credit to you."

Y/N opened her mouth to deflect, as usual. "Oh, you mean my mom—"

"No," Harry interrupted gently, shaking his head. "I mean you."

Her lips parted in surprise, her eyes misting over. She hadn’t expected that. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear those words. Without thinking, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his, a kiss filled with the gratitude she couldn't quite express in words.

She was about to pull away, but Harry held her close, his hands gripping her hips as he deepened the kiss. His soft, warm lips made her head spin, and for a brief moment, the world around them disappeared.

That is, until Sammy’s voice rang out from the hallway. "I’m coming in, so you better not be swapping saliva in there!"

Harry broke the kiss with a chuckle, glancing over his shoulder. "Alright, alright, we’re behaving," he teased, winking at Y/N before moving to the sink. "Let me help you," he offered, turning on the faucet to start washing the dishes from dinner.

Y/N watched him for a moment, her heart swelling with warmth. The words he’d spoken earlier echoed in her mind—words that had already begun to feel familiar, but only when they came from him.

. . .

Y/N woke up the following morning, not from the alarm she’d set for 6 a.m., but from the rapid thumping of her heart. Anxiety rippled through her, making her stomach twist with nerves. Today was her first day working at Pleasing, her first day officially under Harry’s employment. She was excited, of course, but that didn’t stop the butterflies in her belly from multiplying.

She stared up at the ceiling for a few moments, taking slow breaths to calm herself. Her phone buzzed softly on the nightstand, and she reached over, her fingers trembling slightly as she opened the message.

Harry: Morning, Bambi ���� There’s a car on its way to pick you up. No need to stress, yeah? I’ll be waiting for you at the office. You’re gonna be amazing x

A small smile crept onto her face despite the nerves. Harry’s words were like a warm hug on a cold morning, making her feel just a little bit braver. She couldn’t help but appreciate how he seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear, right when she needed to hear it.

She quickly typed a reply, her fingers still shaky.

Y/N: Thank you. I’m a little nervous but I’ll do my best. See you soon 💕

Y/N got out of bed and went through her morning routine, trying to focus on each task to stop her mind from spiraling into all the things that could go wrong today. She picked out an outfit she hoped said “professional but approachable,” taking extra care to smooth out any creases in her clothes. When she was finally dressed, she checked the time—6:45 a.m.—the car Harry sent should be arriving any minute.

She stepped outside, the cool morning air doing little to ease her racing thoughts. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. The street was quiet at this hour, and she couldn’t help but feel like the only person awake in the world.

Just then, a sleek black car pulled up in front of her, the driver rolling down the window with a friendly nod. "Y/N?" he asked, and she nodded in response.

“That’s me,” she said, her voice a little shaky. She climbed into the backseat, clutching her bag on her lap as the driver started the journey to the office. She stared out the window, watching the familiar streets blur by, and tried to give herself a little pep talk.

You can do this. You’re ready. Harry believes in you, so believe in yourself, too.

Her phone buzzed in her hand again, another message from Harry.

Harry: Also going on a coffee run, do you want anything? x

Bambi: Isn’t that my job today? x

Harry: It’s my job to take care of you everyday

Y/N didn’t realize how wide her smile had grown until she caught her reflection in the glassy screen of her phone. A soft blush crept onto her cheeks as she tried to compose herself, glancing out the window to distract from the giddy feeling bubbling inside her. She watched as the quiet suburbs melted into the bustle of the big city, her heart thudding against her ribcage. 

Slowly, the car pulled up outside Pleasing. The building was elegant, with an arched doorway and a clean awning that had the brand's name in bold letters. Through the large glass doors, Y/N could see a glimpse of the bright, stylish interior. Her heart pounded as the car came to a stop, her mouth opening with a desperate plea to leave, to turn back and retreat home where she could hide away—but then she saw Harry, and her words fell away for an entirely different reason.

She’d seen Harry in a suit before, but seeing him in full CEO mode was something else. He wore a flawless black-and-white suit, cufflinks gleaming at his wrists. His eyes were stern, his entire demeanor unshakeable—until he looked her way, and his whole form softened.

“You’re here,” His voice was warm and inviting. She wanted to leap into him and hide herself within him but she wanted to be professional.

She stood in front of him, not wanting to get any closer to her new boss, “Good morning, Mr Styles.”

The corner of Harry’s lips quirked, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Good morning,” he replied, savoring her formality. He took a step closer, his gaze gentle yet focused. “Ready for today?”

“Y-yes,” She said but it wasn’t all that convincing.

Harry grabbed her hand, “You’ll be just fine Bambi.” He murmured the nickname just for her to hear. 

The warmth of his hand around hers steadied her, but it also set her pulse racing. His fingers intertwined with hers, and he kept their joined hands subtly hidden between them as they walked through the grand entrance and into the lobby. Y/N’s nerves started to quiet, replaced by a growing excitement.

As they stepped into the elevator, Harry’s thumb brushed gently over her knuckles. She looked up at him but his eyes were looking ahead. Her eyes fixated on his sharp jawline and smooth, freshly-shaven face; he looked even more polished, clean-cut and distinctly professional since she’d last seen him.

When they reached his office floor, Harry led her down a sleek corridor and into an airy, open workspace with views of the city skyline. The scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, and a few team members looked up with welcoming smiles.

Just ahead, a woman in her mid-thirties with shoulder-length auburn hair and an easy smile approached them. Her professional but warm demeanor put Y/N at ease almost instantly. Harry released Y/N’s hand as he greeted her.

“Lindsey, this is Y/N,” he said, glancing between them. “She’s starting with us today. I thought you might help her settle in and get familiar with everything.”

Lindsey extended her hand warmly. “Oh is this-”

Harry’s gaze lingered on her with a slight, unreadable intensity, prompting Lindsey to pause mid-sentence. Then, noticing Y/N, she broke into a bright smile.

“Y/N! It’s so nice to meet you.” She laughed lightly, her eyes flicking to Harry with a teasing glint. “I have to admit, I’m a little curious why anyone would sign up to be his assistant—he can be a real pain most days.” She shot him a playful look. “But don’t worry, just don’t enter his office at midday - he can get real hangry.” 

Y/N giggled and Harry’s eyes brightened at the sound, ““Y/N,” he said, his voice warm, “you’re in very good hands.” He turned to Lindsey. “Make sure she gets a proper introduction to everything, but don’t overwhelm her.”

Lindsey chuckled. “I’ll keep it light for today, boss. We’d be here all day getting into your list of demands everyday.”

Harry rolled his eyes, and with a final look at Y/N, said, “I’ll see you later, then.” His words were simple, but the small smile he gave her was anything but. As he walked away, Y/N felt the anticipation return, wanting him to come back and be the one to show her around. She wasn’t the best with meeting new people. She was shy and nervous and fumbled over her words too often but Harry had great faith in her so she would try her best to do good. 

“Alright, let’s get started,” Lindsey said, gesturing to an open desk area near Harry’s office. “First things first—coffee? I’ll show you the best spot, and then we’ll make our way through the to-do list Harry sent this morning.” 

. . .

Y/N liked Lindsey a lot. 

She was funny and gentle. Whenever Y/N made a mistake—like earlier when she accidentally printed everything in pink instead of black and white—Lindsey would correct her kindly, reminding her that mistakes happen. Y/N wasn’t used to this kind of patience; her old boss would snap or hiss at even the smallest error. Here, it felt nice to breathe a little easier.

Lindsey spoke warmly about her two little boys, whom she cared for while her husband was away with the military. She had once been a stay-at-home mom, but over time, the isolation began to weigh on her; she craved more than just the role of mother and wanted to be out in the world, around people. When she applied to Pleasing, she’d explained her situation to Harry during her interview, and he had offered her flexible hours so she could still make it home to her boys each evening.

Whenever Lindsey mentioned the things Harry had done for her and her family, her voice would grow thick with emotion, and she spoke of him with genuine admiration. Y/N found herself thinking of her own circumstances and the way Harry had taken her under his wing, feeling a warmth for him settle in her chest.

“Okay, Harry’s in a meeting, so we need to bring in tea and coffee,” Lindsey said, heading over to a small rolling cart neatly stocked with cups, a teapot, and coffee supplies.

She guided Y/N through the arrangement, showing her how Harry liked his tea prepared. “He’s particular about the temperature—hot but not scalding,” Lindsey explained with a wink. “Don’t worry you’ll get the hang of things.”

Y/N carefully poured the tea, her hands steadying with each instruction Lindsey offered. They finished preparing the drinks, and Y/N took a deep breath, steadying herself as she reached for the cart handle.

“You’ll be fine,” Lindsey reassured her, offering a supportive smile. “Just go in, keep it simple, and make sure everyone has their drinks. You’ll be a natural at this in no time.”

“I’m going in alone?” Y/N’s eyes widened.

“It’s good practice,” Lindsey grins, “Good luck!”

Y/N squared her shoulders and pushed the cart toward the meeting room. The murmurs grew louder as she approached, but her nerves eased slightly upon catching Harry’s eye. His expression softened for a moment before returning to its professional coolness, a small signal just for her.

As she entered, she was met with the sight of a large glass table surrounded by men in sharp suits, all eyes shifting toward her. Taking a breath, she rolled the cart around and placed the cups in front of Harry and the others. Just as she reached for the teapot, a slight tremor ran through her hand, and she felt a sudden rush of panic.

In an instant, she lost her grip. The teapot tipped, sending hot tea spilling across the table and splattering onto a crisp white shirt belonging to one of the men. The room fell silent, and every gaze shifted from her to the angry figure, whose face flushed crimson.

““Watch where you’re going!” he barked, rising from his seat. “Do you even know how to serve properly?”

Y/N’s heart raced, the color draining from her face. Just as she opened her mouth to apologize, a surge of anger rippled through the room.

“Do you think it’s okay to talk to a woman like that?” Harry murmured, his voice laced with malice.

“She stained my shirt! She’s lucky I’m not making her pay for it,” the man continued, and Y/N could see the discomfort on the faces of the other attendees, their expressions telling her they knew he’d crossed a line.

Harry’s eyes darkened, a storm brewing behind them. He reached into his blazer pocket, pulling out a checkbook and a fountain pen. With swift strokes, he began to scribble before turning to Y/N. “Y/N, would you mind delivering this to Mr. Smith?”

Y/N nodded, her hands trembling slightly as she accepted the check, its weight feeling both significant and heavy.

Mr. Smith snatched the check from her hands, glancing down at it with a scowl. Written across the page was Harry’s signature alongside a mere fifty dollars. “Your final check—enough to cover the shirt, I assume? I think I saw the same one in the TK Maxx sale rack.”

“Final?” Mr. Smith asked, incredulous.

“Correct,” Harry replied nonchalantly.

Mr. Smith’s face burned bright red. He huffed, rising from his seat and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The room fell silent. “Meeting adjourned,” Harry announced, and everyone flooded out, eager to escape the awkward tension.

Y/N stood in the corner, barely able to look up. Embarrassment washed over her; she wondered if she could do any job right. Her eyes watered as she bit down on her lip to keep from crying.

Suddenly, two polished shoes came into view, and big hands cupped her cheeks, gently forcing her to meet his gaze. “Are you okay?” Harry asked, concern etched on his face.

She wanted to say yes, to express pride in her efforts and how well she had handled the day, but instead, she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his shirt. “I feel like I can’t do anything right,” she admitted, her voice muffled.

Harry sighed, his arms encircling her as he rubbed the back of her head soothingly. “You did nothing wrong.”

“You can’t fire people because of me, Harry.”

“Don’t worry about him. We’ve wanted to get rid of him for ages—just a sexist prick. Turns out you’re a pretty good assistant for giving me an excuse to fire someone on the spot,” he chuckled lightly.

Y/N looked up at him, her heart fluttering as his hand held her cheek, his thumb brushing beneath her eye. “These eyes,” he whispered.

A smile broke through her sadness. “I’m sorry for ruining your meeting.”

“Don’t care, Bambi.” He was so much taller than her, nearly a foot difference, so he had to lean down to brush his nose against hers, their lips ghosting against each other. “You actually made it better.”

“I did?” she whispered, her mind suddenly forgetting the man who had yelled at her.

“Mhm,” he hummed, and then, gently, he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and lingering, sending a warm flutter through Y/N that chased away the remnants of her earlier embarrassment. She melted into the moment, her worries fading as Harry’s lips brushed against hers. 

“Okay, what the hell happened?” Lindsey barged into the room, causing Y/N to leap away from Harry, her cheeks flushing.

“Wow, Lindsey,” Harry said, rubbing a hand over his mouth, both of them flustered as Lindsey glanced between them. “Try knocking next time, yeah?”

“Since when have I ever needed to knock?” Lindsey shot back, her eyebrows knitting together as she assessed Y/N, whose face was now bright pink.

“Since now,” Harry replied. Clearing his throat, he added, “If you’ll excuse me…” He brushed past her, leaving the tension lingering in the air.

A laugh escaped Y/N’s lips, even as embarrassment tinged her cheeks; it was the first time she’d witnessed him so flustered. Lindsey arched an eyebrow, a teasing smile creeping onto her face. “So, are you two like…?”

“No,” Y/N replied, the denial tumbling out a bit too quickly.

Lindsey shot her a knowing look but chose not to press further. “Might want to let him know about that lipstick stain on his upper lip,” she added, rolling the cart out of the room and leaving Y/N feeling distinctly warm and flustered.

. . .

Harry kissed Y/N with the lights off on her front porch after dropping her home. Y/N melted against him, her fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss deepened. She felt a rush of warmth spread through her, the sweet taste of his breath mixing with the fresh night air. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, their bodies fitting perfectly together. “Bambi,” He slurred against her lips.”

“Hm?” She hummed, unable to stop herself when she pulled him closer. 

“I was thinking,” He murmured, pulling away but his hands still firmly gripping her waist, “Maybe this weekend y’ could come to my place and stay the night.”

“The night?” She’d never had a sleepover before let alone one at a boys house. 

“Yeah… Would you be okay with that?” 

“Y-Yeah, I think so.”

“Y’ think so?” Harry grinned, “Are y’ sure?”

She smiled, “I’d like that.”

“Well, alright then,” he murmured, leaning down to place one last, soft kiss on her lips. “Goodnight, Bambi.”

“Goodnight, Harry.” Y/N barely suppressed a smile as she watched him walk to his car, a flutter in her chest as he turned back for a final wave.

Before she turned to step into her house, her phone buzzed and a text came through from Harry.

Harry: I think we have to get better at this whole sneaking around thing

Y/N: Tell yourself that, you kissed me first!

Harry: Can’t help it Bambi 

Harry: I’m obsessed with you

. . .

taglist ~~

@ravenclawmarvel @noididnotsignupforthis @comicalivy  @boomitsallie1 @hazzarules @squirreljoe @c3lline0 @harry2121 @lizsogolden @its-his-dimples @tchalametishot @youngpastafanmug @awritingtree @reidsblessing @idontcareforausernamesblog @madstyles3204 @cherrys4suckers @lomlolivia @tenaciousperfectionunknown

[thesearchforbluejello]

The nerve of the Haven writers to have the episode after Lucy's message is discovered titled "Stay" and have Audrey working through ACTUAL TRAUMA, Nathan and Duke at each other's throats (for real this time), AND THEN have the episode plot about feral dogs that have turned into naked feral humans???? Unparalleled.

[mariasont]

hi hi hi!!! i know you’re working on the bau sleepover buttttt i was wondering if you could write a aaron hotchner x reader fic where like what happened to garcia, reader gets shot and she’s in hospital and they don’t know if she gonna be okay and stuff. her and hotch have this mutual pining for each other and when she gets shot he kinda spirals. after being released, hotch takes her to her apartment and stays with her until they catch him and stuff. i know this is really long, thank you!!!

Some Profiler You Are - A.H

a/n: hi hi hi thank you so so sooo much for requesting <3 i kind of took this a more fluffy route and focused more on the recovery so let me know if you like it :)

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: reader was shot, comfort, angst like a teensy bit, fluff, changing of bandages, kinda shitty ending per usual

wc: 2k

"Do you want to sit down?"

No, you really didn't. After spending the last six hours in a state of near-motionlessness, sprawled across various surfaces, the last thing you wanted was to do was sit down. Your legs had taken on the consistency of overcooked noodles, so you made the grave mistake of misreading the quiet of the house as Hotch's absence, a mistake punctuated by the garage door's sudden rumble.

You should have known better than to assume he would leave you alone for even a second. Now, you were face to face, his scrutinizing eyes boring into yours, arms crossed across his wide chest. He was in a casual zip-up--a rarity that you never imagined him wearing before practically moving in with him. But you really did enjoy this relaxed side of him, he wore it exceptionally well.

Taking work off was a concept you knew was foreign him, yet here he was, not at his desk, hovering over you like a concerned parent. The entire office, yourself included, gaped at him as if he had sprouted a different head when he told them. His next move was even crazier--he insisted you stay with him while you recovered.

You protested. A lot. Shocker. But he wouldn't take no for an answer. Again, Shocker.

You winced as you stepped forward, your hands automatically gravitating to the bandage that spanned around your thigh.

"You can't baby me forever, Hotch," you murmured, though your conviction wavered under the dull throb in your leg.

You braced yourself against the counter, trying to mask the discomfort you were sure was etched all over your face.

Filling the shoes of the communications liaison for the FBI post-JJ's shift to profiling, you signed up for a life of managing the media narrative, being the conduit between local and federal levels, and choosing the cases. You provided assistance in ways that aren't glaringly obvious.

What you didn't sign up for is getting shot.

The movies, the stories, even the firsthand accounts from coworkers--none of it could brace you for the raw, blistering pain of a gunshot wound. It fucking hurt. And the recovery? It was a different kind of torture, and you'd even argue that it was worse.

"It's not babying, it's common sense," Hotch countered.

He was frustrated. You had that effect. He stepped closer, his hand dragging down his face. "You took a bullet. It's still in your leg. It's perfectly rational for me to want to prevent any unnecessary strain on you."

"Feels dramatic," you shrugged, but he was right, like always.

Your grip on the counter tightened, knuckles growing white as you struggled to keep the pain under wraps. His brows lifted in response.

"I'm fine, really, Hotch. I hate this. You're probably dying to get back to work--don't let me be the reason you don't. Despite popular belief, I'm quite capable of fending for myself."

"I'm aware," he said, his attention briefly shifting to your bandaged leg. You were wearing shorts, a choice that felt less than appropriate, but practicality trumped formality under these circumstances. "Work will survive without me. I'm not sure I can say the same about you."

Your laughter was short-lived, swiftly turning into a stifled grimace as your footing slipped. Hotch's reflexes were quick, his hands steadying you--one against your ribs, the other just shy above the hem of your shorts.

"Point in case."

"Poking fun at a wounded woman? Shame on you, Hotch," you chided, your lower lip jutting out in a pout. His eyes darted to it momentarily.

He didn't move, his hands staying put, stirring a gentle, jelly-like feeling inside of you.

This was an odd sort of comfort, the kind you're not supposed to feel with your boss. You shouldn't be talking to him like this, shouldn't be in his kitchen, and certainly, his hands shouldn't be where they were. But the ache in your heart didn't seem to care about shoulds and shouldn'ts.

Hotch's presence was hard to ignore. He was reducing the space with every word.

"You're hardly acting like a wounded woman," he pointed out. "You should be in bed."

You tilted your head, sliding onto the barstool to carve some much-needed space between you. The scent of his cologne was intoxicating, and you needed distance to gather your wits before you did something that HR would definitely not look kindly upon.

The action was a mistake, a fact that became painfully clear as the feeling of something stabbing into your leg took hold. You tried to muster a smile, but you were sure it came across as a snarl. The last thing you wanted was to inflate Hotch's ego by showing that maybe, just maybe, he was right.

"Shit."

You followed his line of sight, landing on the fresh red seeping through the bandage and staining your shorts. Oh. That's not great. Don't think you can fool him with this one.

Hotch didn't hesitate, his response outpacing your own surge of panic, which was incredibly fast, because you were panicking and frankly not that great with blood. His hands were on your skin, easing the hem of your shorts upward to lay bare the wound you had stupidly  underestimated.

You're never going on a date again.

I mean, the only reason you even went was to get your boss of your mind. Since the first day, you'd been hopelessly drawn to him--how could you not be?

But there are a couple factors to consider.

Firstly, he was your boss, and the whole notion of a coercive relationship dynamic seemed problematic.

Secondly, there's the age difference; it had never been an issue for you--perhaps a reflection of your daddy issues--but you knew it would raise some eyebrows.

And thirdly, he didn't even like you back. That was, of course, the biggest issue. If not for this, the other concerns could definitely be overlooked. 

Before this whole incident, he barely acknowledged you beyond was professionally required of him. You knew you hadn't been part of the team long enough to bond--though you weren't sure Hotch did bond in the usual sense, but the point was made.

You were fairly sure you hadn't made much of an impression on him.

"Hold still." That was a tall order, considering it hurt more than a mother fucker.

You found yourself glaring at him--not that he was to blame, but you needed to anchor your frustration on something, or someone. Unknowingly, your grip had latched on the fabric of his zip-up, but he seemed unfazed. He grabbed a clean cloth from the drawer, pressing it against the wound, only furthering the colorful vocabulary going on in your head.

"Fuck, Hotch."

You didn't make a habit of cursing in front of your superior, but the sharp sting forced tears to the brink, your body going rigid as you snapped your eyes shut. 

His other hand found its way to your uninjured thigh, giving it a firm squeeze--a clear attempt to divert your attention. It worked for a second. "I'm sorry, just keep this pressed here, okay?"

He motioned toward the cloth, and you complied, too drained to consider otherwise. Your brows knitted, and you bit into your lip until you tasted something metallicy, your mind desperately racing trying to think of anything other than the blood flowing freely from your thigh.

"Where are you going?" You knew how panicked you sounded as he turned away, stepping towards a cabinet. 

He rummaged briefly before holding up a first aid kit. Catching the brief alarm in your face, he quickly returned to your side, his hand finding the crook of your neck as you instinctively clutched at his shirt once again.

"If you dare say I told you so, I swear, Hotch, fists will fly," you ground out through clenched teeth.

He laughed, and now that did distract you, your eyes zeroing in on his perfect teeth. It was a rare display, and it only served to aggravate you further. Of course he had perfect teeth.

"I didn't say anything."

"I could feel you thinking it," you said, your voice rough as you willed the moisture in your eyes not to fall. "Maybe I should be a profiler."

"Definitely."

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you." You were lying. Everything suited him. He stepped back, and you reluctantly peered at the wound, only to find a neatly sutured leg. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"In this job, you learn to be handy with more than just a gun.”

You’d love to know what else he’s handy with.

He pulled your leg up to rest on his as he took a seat on the opposite stool.

Your body was buzzing, from the closeness, from his hands on you, and also from the pain, but you were trying to ignore that. He grabs a new bandage from the counter, hands trailing up your thigh so slowly you thought you might pass out. He was so gentle. There was no other word for it.

"How's it feel?"

You paused. Eyes fully locked on his precise movements as he wrapped you up. You were closer than you realized, practically sharing the same breath.

"Fine."

"Yeah?"

You nodded, and he finished up his task, his hand lightly patting your thigh to show he was done. You didn't move your leg from his lap, and he didn't move his hand.

"I couldn't sleep for three days."

"What?" Your brows were furrowed, your focus sharpening on his face as the words left his lips.

"When I found out you had been shot." He cleared his throat, his thumb making gentle rotations on your calf. "I couldn't close my eyes without seeing red for days. I wanted to kill the son of a bitch who did that to you. I almost did."

You weren't sure how to process this information, or why he was telling you. "You and me both."

"I'm serious." And you could tell he was, his eyes narrowing slightly as his hand firmly encircled around your leg. You felt a lump in your throat form as heat rose from your neck to your ears. "Do you know what that was like? I felt like my heart stopped."

"Why?"

"Why?" It was more a scoff than a word. He blew out a breath, his fingers pinching into the space between his eyebrows. "Is it not obvious?"

Your heart was beating a lot faster. You wanted to say something, anything but your throat was dry and every time you opened your mouth you found it snapping shut.

Hotch's expression softened ever so slightly, his voice low and bouncing off the walls as he spoke. "Because I'm in love with you."

Your breath stalled, as if every ounce of oxygen had been vacuumed from your lungs. The air felt heavy, almost tangible.

You stared at him, heart skipping a beat.

"That's not funny," you said. It wasn't. You weren't in the mood for jokes, and your brain couldn't comprehend he might be telling the truth. "You...you don't even notice me."

He shook his head. "I notice everything about you." His thumb stilled on your calf. "I'm your boss," he said, as if that explained everything. "There are rules, protocols. I couldn't...I still shouldn't..."

The confession stripped the room of its warmth, leaving a raw aching silence in its wake. You searched his face.

"When you got shot," he continued, "I realized that if I lost you, I'd regret not telling you how I feel for the rest of my life."

"Hotch, I..."

He leaned closer, causing your words to catch in your throat. His hand moved from your leg to your face. You were speechless, the world narrowing down to the man in front of you, to his eyes, the warmth of his hands.

"Say something."

"Are you kidding me?" Your heart was pounding like it was trying to escape from your chest. "I've been in love with you since I started. How could you not see that?"

He looked taken aback, as if your words were the last thing he expected. "Well—,"

But you didn't let him finish. "Some profiler you are."

You were practically climbing into his lap, hands framing his face, pulling your lips to his.

He chuckled against your lips, the sound vibrating through you. "Easy," he murmured, "don't make me fix that bandage again."

You laugh, the sound muffled by his mouth. He tasted like cinnamon and coffee. "Shut up, Hotch."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[fandoms-x-reader]

Defense System

Requested By: @space-dragon-ace

Oneshot

Summary: MC loses everyone in a crowd. To find the others quickly, they yell, "MC is a good for nothing human!" and wait to see what happens. OM! Cast x Reader Word Count: 851

You were apprehensive about going to this event in the first place.

You had just gotten back to the Devildom after being away for some time and you were still readjusting to the way things were down there.

But, your friends had all insisted on taking you to an event that occurred in the streets of the Devildom.

There were going to be tons of food trucks, vendors, shows and so much more.

They promised you that you would have a ton of fun ~ so who were you to refuse to go?

It was only after you got to the event that you began to regret your decision to go.

You had all shown up in a large group, but it seemed that everyone had their own things that they wanted you to experience.

All fifteen of your friends almost immediately went their own way, wanting to get something from a specific vendor to bring back to you or wanting to get you tickets to a show.

They were in competition mode and whenever that happened, you knew that it was hard to get them back on track.

There were tons of people surrounding you; and, despite your best efforts, you couldn’t see a single one of your friends.

You were a bit frustrated at this point, mostly because you had only agreed to go for them.

And, now you were standing in the middle of a crowd of demons, by yourself, unsure where to go or what to do.

You wanted to call someone on your D.D.D. but with how busy it was around you, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to hear anyone even if they did pick up the phone.

You thought about using your pact to summon one of the brothers; but, you didn’t think you were at the stage where that was exactly necessary.

Especially since summoning could cause the brothers pain if it isn’t done properly and it had been a while since you tried to do it.

Unsure of what else to do, you decided to be a little mischievous and test your bond with the others a bit.

You took a deep breath before shouting into the crowd, “Y/N is a good-for-nothing human!”

You paused for a moment, looking around once again, but when you still couldn’t find anyone, you let out a small sigh.

I guess that didn’t work…

“Alright, who said that?!” Mammon shouted, suddenly barreling through people to reach you.

“Oh, there you are!” you said, relieved at the sight of a familiar face and completely forgetting about your little joke.

But, there were fifteen people suddenly rushing to your side who did not forget about what was said.

They each came to you, one by one, hot and heavy and ready to throw punches.

You listened as they each began to throw insults toward this imaginary person as they searched the crowd for who could possibly be the culprit.

You tried to interject a few times, wanting to tell them the truth, but every time you opened your mouth, you were interrupted by another angry person.

“Y/N, did you see who said those words about you so we could find them?” Diavolo asked you, concern in his eyes as everyone turned their attention to you.

You were holding back a laugh as your cheeks dusted pink from all of the attention.

“Sure ~ it was me,” you admitted and their faces turned from ones of anger to confusion.

“Why would you say that stuff about yourself?” Beel asked as innocently as ever.

“Geez, Levi, you’re rubbin’ off on ‘em,” Mammon pouted, causing Levi to look extremely guilty.

“Relax, everyone,” you replied, stifling another laugh.

“I lost you in the crowd and I thought it would catch your attention enough that you would come find me. Looks like I was right,” you explained.

“Well that was risky,” Belphie stated. “Satan nearly lost his mind,” Solomon agreed quietly.

You couldn’t help but notice how adorable they all looked, pouting at the prank you managed to pull off. 

“I’m sorry, really. But, I thought the purpose of bringing me to this event was so that I could experience everything with all of you. Not for me to stand alone in the crowd,” you added.

You could feel the tension in the air shift as they realized that they had left you alone and understood where you were coming from.

They completely abandoned you in the middle of this large event. No wonder you pulled that stunt.

They promised not to leave you alone again and they each took you to their favorite parts of the event, making sure that at least one person was with you at all times.

They made you promise that you would never try something like that again.

You had fifteen people who were ready to fight for you at the drop of a dime, and saying something like that, even if you were joking, would always set them off.

Because they cared about you far too much to let something like that slide.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

House Calls.

Summary: Aaliyah has an elusive charm that can be alluring to some and frustrating to others. Professor Terry is compelled to have her. On one fateful evening at his college buddies bachelor party, he runs into Aaliyah. An interaction he hadn’t imagined would ever happen.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ CONTENT, based off of Players Club, Nasty Talk, Professor!Student. ANGST.

Part three

1999:

Walking into a hair salon was an interesting experience. Pulling into an overly stuffed parking lot in futile anticipation of being in and out “in a decent time.” opening the salon door and walking into a room overflowing with peering eyes full of a mixture of both curiosity and judgment that covers you from your head to the bottom of your favorite shoes. Slinking down into chairs that go from stuffed and comfortable to hard as steel while waiting for the appointment that was due more than an hour ago. Out bursts of group laughter, “girllll, no she didn’t!” and “say what now?!” coupled with the familiar smell of hair sheen spray and neutralizing shampoo that seeps through the fog of sporadic steam that fills the air from the super-wattage, neck-burning hair dyers, steamers and marcel ‘top of your ear frying’ irons, reminds you that this is going to be long day.

Aaliyah Noelle Davenport sat in an unoccupied salon chair within a popular salon in Baton Rouge called Gina’s. Gina’s had been around for over ten years. The pages of her coloring book she was currently scribbling in with old crayons kept her busy so she wouldn’t go snooping around like last time. She burned her fingers touching a curling iron heater.

“He’s back home…coming to pick Aaliyah up in a few…”

Aaliyah’s mother, Rochelle, was currently doing a roller set on a client. She worked the rollers around thick strands of hair with her long, curved, golden nails. Rochelle was a hard working woman. She did hair and worked night shifts at a local motel to pay the bills. Anything to make up for Aaliyah’s father being in prison for six years.

She was the epitome of 90s fine: Rochelle embodied a beauty that was both timeless and undefinable, leaving a permanent imprint on anyone that crossed her path. Her unique blend of elegance, confidence, and charisma inspired and resonated with Aaliyah. That kind of fine isn’t just about looks — it’s about attitude, style, and an effortless grace.

“Make the money, don’t let it make you. Money can't make you anything…only your actions can make you something. Money can buy you things that make life easier but one thing it can’t buy is happiness…”

“Girl, stop acting like you ain’t happy he back home...”

One of her mother’s friends and fellow stylist, Donna, was flipping through one of many hair catalogs the shop owned.

“The less he know the better,” Rochelle added the final touches before she walked her client over to the hooded dryers, “It was one time, that’s it…”

“Rochelle, if you don’t calm your fucking nerves. He won’t ever find the fuck out if you don’t hush!”

“Okay, okay…shit–that’s him coming up right now. Aaliyah?”

“Mhm?” Aaliyah mumbled from her seat while coloring in a teddy bear.

“Your father is here…come on and get ya stuff. He’s gonna take you back to the house while I finish up. C’mon, little girl!”

Aaliyah frowned and pouted her lip while packing away her crayons and coloring book.

“Fix that face. You got homework to do…”

She climbed down from her seat and slipped her Barbie book bag over her shoulders. A candy painted Donk with shiny rims slowed to a stop outside of the salon and Aaliyah’s eyes lit up when she recognized her father’s low–cut ceasar with the deep waves. He shut his door and strolled over to the entrance of the salon with swagger.

Roland Davenport AKA Pressure. He was a smooth cat from Baton Rouge with a nefarious past and a deep love for his daughter. Aaliyah was his entire world.

“Is that my little girl! What’s up, Princess!”

He scooped up his six year old and spun her around. Aaliyah giggled joyfully while clinging onto her father’s crisp white tee. His skin was the deepest brown and blemish free. He flashed his pearly whites at her before giving her a kiss to the forehead. Roland put Aaliyah down and then he made his way over to Rochelle.

Aaliyah watched her parents hug each other affectionately. Their lips connected with a gluttonous passion. Roland’s hands roamed down to cuff Rochelle’s dump trunk and she squeezed his bulging biceps in return.

“Stop! Stop…I’m with a client…”

“How long ya gonna be, baby? I was thinking ‘bout taking my favorite girls out to eat.”

“Oh, yeah?” Rochelle grinned flirtatiously, “Where to?”

“It’s a surprise…”

Aaliyah’s parents talked for a few more minutes before her dad led her out of the salon hand in hand. She skipped along the way. Roland opened the back door and took her back pack so that she could buckle in.

“Daddy, I wanna sit up front.” Aaliyah protested with her sweet little voice, “Please?”

“Liyah. You can’t sit up here today. Maybe next time, okay?”

Aaliyah hung her head before fastening her seatbelt. Roland made his way to the drivers side and climbed in.

“How was school today?” Roland questioned, staring back at his daughter through the rear view mirror.

“Good.” Aaliyah flashed a grin with no two front teeth.

“That’s not what ya momma told me…”

Her smile disintegrated.

Aaliyah fiddled with her pleated, khaki uniform skirt. She avoided her father’s gaze, afraid he’d appear angry and she would be in big trouble.

“Look at me, Liyah…”

She did as she was told, staring up at her father.

“I’m not mad. You had every right to defend yourself. ‘Dem lil’ boys won’t mess with you again after what ya did…”

Aaliyah had been dealing with constant bullying from two little boys in her first grade class. They would pull her long plats, kick the back of her chair, call her names, and other cruel things that always resulted in her crying in the bathroom.

“Now if these lil’ niggas wanna have kids of their own someday, they better leave my daughter alone or I’m putting foot in ass…”

Roland made a silly face at Aaliyah and she couldn���t help but to smile and laugh.

“How ‘bout we make a pit stop to grab a snowball?”

“YAY!!!” Aaliyah cheered, her little arms up in the air like she’d just had a victory lap.

Roland cranked the radio, Sho Nuff by 8ball & MJG blasting through the speakers. Aaliyah could feel the seat beneath her vibrate. She watched her father rap the lyrics, a sudden gush of humid air flooding the car when he let the windows down. Roland extended his arm from the window to greet people he knew, the Chevrolet Impala Donk slow gliding through the hood.

They pulled up to a snowball stand that was situated next to a bowling alley and roller-skate rink. Rolland turned his music down before looking back at Aaliyah over the headrest of his seat.

“Which flavor?”

“Georgia Peach!”

“Aight, munchkin. I’ll be back…”

Roland climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind him. Aaliyah peered out of the open window, her eyes following her father’s retreating frame. What she hadn’t noticed, however, was the way an all black Escalade crept up, all four doors opening in unison.

Everything went in slow motion.

Repeated muzzle flashes sparked the air like it was the Fourth of July.

RAT–rat-rat-rat-rat!!!

Her scream pierced the air.

——

Those memories flooded Aaliyah’s mind that Wednesday morning. She’d woken up in good spirits, ready for her Ethics and Psychology class and a lunch date with a special someone. After showering, Aaliyah slipped on a pair of light grey leggings that molded into her hips, thighs, and booty. She paired it with a fitted, white T-shirt and low top Vans. Glasses on, messy hair pinned back with a claw clip, she threw on a denim jacket and collected her school bag near the front door.

Before she could even leave, a hard, booming knock on the storm door of her Shotgun House caused her forehead to wrinkle with surprise. She paused for a second before walking up to the door. Aaliyah brought one dark brown eye to the peephole.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Aaliyah flinched.

“Aaliyah! Open the door! I know you’re here!”

It was her junkie mother.

She didn’t look like herself.

Acne, dull skin, and self-inflicted wounds from picking at her face. Needle marks and collapsed veins from shooting up.

Rochelle was unrecognizable.

One look at her, and all the trauma from her youth flooded her mind. After her father was shot down, Rochelle went into a deep state of depression. She lost her job at the salon, and the pay checks from her motel job didn’t keep the bills paid. Rochelle had no choice but to seek help from a man. Any man that was willing. She sent Aaliyah away at the age of ten for a few years to live with her estranged grandmother, Ruby. Ruby was a strict, Christian woman with no tolerance for misbehavior or rebellion. She lived in a different Parrish in rural Louisiana, closer to Shelby Springs.

Aaliyah was made to do yard and farm work. She had Bible studies on weekends and couldn’t hang with many children because their parents weren’t ‘Godly Folk’. The only thing Aaliyah really enjoyed was horseback riding whenever her grandmother would visit a church friend. When Aaliyah was nearing fourteen, she started sneaking out to see an older boy. Word got around and Ruby lashed out on Aaliyah.

“I didn’t have sex with him! We were just kissing!”

Aaliyah wailed, hands raised to brace herself from her grandmother’s blows.

“You’re just like your mother! Can’t keep your legs closed! Don’t lie to me, Aaliyah! I know you slept with that boy!” Ruby shouted.

She couldn’t stay there any longer. Aaliyah called her mother that same night, begging her to come get her. Rochelle drove an hour out and when Ruby opened her door, Rochelle shoved past her mother.

“You put your hands on my child?! You evil bitch!”

Aaliyah watched from the top of the stairs with her packed bags. Rochelle and Ruby were in the middle of a screaming match.

“You asked for my help, remember?! She lives under my roof, she abides by my rules!” Ruby argued.

“But did I ask you to beat on my child?! Just the same ol’ shit with you! I can’t even rely on you to be there for my daughter—”

“OH! Now look who’s talking. You couldn’t even get your shit together after Roland died to be a mother. Which man is it now paying the bills, Rochelle?! Look at all this,” Ruby pointed to Rochelle’s jewelry and designer, “Don’t look like you struggling to me.”

Rochelle remained silent, scornful eyes glaring at Ruby.

“Aaliyah! Let’s go…”

She hadn’t seen her mother in almost four years. Rochelle looked…fancy.

“Sully is in the car…He drove me here…I missed you, Liyah…”

Ruby watched with folded arms. She locked eyes with Aaliyah, a look of guilt flashing across her face for just a second. They left without a backwards glance.

Aaliyah was very careful around Sully. He was a drug dealer, bringing home money and gifts to spoil Aaliyah. She became used to the revolving door of other criminals entering her home. She was just happy to with her mother again. Aaliyah focused on her studies and poured herself into cheerleading and hip hop majorette.

Eventually, things started to go downhill. Rochelle was introduced to harder drugs, Sully owed people money and he had gambling debts. Things in their home started to disappear, bills were piling up, and Sully turned violent. It took for Ruby and Aaliyah to fight back for Sully to finally leave. It opened the same wound of her father’s death, Rochelle unable to stay strong. Rochelle’s addiction became worse, so bad to the point that she would steal from her own daughter.

Aaliyah couldn’t handle it. As soon as she graduated high school, she got her own place and left her mother behind. It broke her heart, but in order for her to evolve, she needed to break free. Aaliyah hated working at Hooters, and when she turned twenty–six, she started stripping at Crazy Horse.

“Make the money, don’t let it make you…”

Aaliyah opened the front door, but the storm door remained locked. Aaliyah stared down at her mother. Rochelle looked desperate and more frail than the last time she showed up. She’d relapsed again.

“Hey, baby…”

Rochelle pressed her hands against the door.

“Can you help me? I need some cash—”

“I gave you five hundred dollars when I last saw you, momma. I see you back on that shit again…”

Rochelle hung her head in shame.

“I’m trying, Aaliyah. You don’t understand how hard it is.”

“You’ve tried for over twenty years now. I’m tired of helping you and all you do is use me. Weren’t you staying with Mama Ruby?”

She definitely wasn’t staying with Aaliyah.

“I can’t stay wit’ you?”

“Hell no.” Aaliyah quipped.

“I’m your fucking mother!”

“Did you forget what happened the last time you lived with me?! You stole shit from my house! I don’t trust you!”

Aaliyah didn’t need this. She had to go to school.

“Please…please, Li–Li. I’m hungry…I’m broke…pleaseeee…”

Aaliyah stared her mother down with a venomous glance. There will always be a soft spot for Rochelle, but the repeated hurt was exhausting. Seeing her mother like this broke her heart. She just couldn’t stop using.

“Okay…”

Aaliyah opened her storm door. Rochelle slipped inside quickly. Aaliyah kept a watchful eye on her mother while she admired Aaliyah’s cozy home.

“C’mon…”

They entered Aaliyah’s kitchen. Rochelle climbed onto a bar stool, peering around with a nervous look. Aaliyah opened her fridge, bringing out leftover catfish and grits she’d prepared last night for dinner.

“That piece right there…yeah…”

Aaliyah rolled her eyes.

She gave her mother the thickest piece of catfish and a good portion of cheesy grits. While the food heated, Aaliyah reclined her plush bottom against the counter. She stared her mother down, unable to shake the pain that fought to bubble to the surface.

“How’s school?” Rochelle questioned, unable to avoid picking at her skin.

Aaliyah tampered down her resentment and cleared her throat to speak.

“Good. I’ll be graduating in June.”

“That’s good, baby. Real good…June…How many tickets you gettin’?”

“Uhm,” Aaliyah checked on the catfish, “Not really sure yet.”

“Still dancing?”

Aaliyah rubbed her arms.

“No.”

The smell of the crispy fish wafted her mother’s nose. Aaliyah opened the oven to retrieve it. The grits on the stove top were nice and smooth now. After plating the food, Aaliyah wrapped it with aluminum foil and slid it across the kitchen island to her mother. She opened her pantry to grab a plastic fork and knife, securing it with some paper towels before holding it out towards her mother.

“I can’t sit here and eat?”

“You know you can’t…”

“Aaliyah—”

“Look, I have class. I’m gon’ miss it if you don’t take this shit and leave—”

“LOOK,” Rochelle stood, “I’m sorry you hate me so much. I’m sorry about all that shit, but I’m still your mother, Li–Li.”

“Oh? Last time I remember you being a mother was when I was six years old. Anything after that don’t count.” Aaliyah fired back.

Rochelle parted her cracked lips to speak, but her words stilled in her throat. Her tears flowed down her face and she wiped them away with the back of her dingy sleeve. Aaliyah stood before her with a rigid expression.

“Okay, I’ll leave…”

Rochelle grabbed her plate of food and Aaliyah stepped out of the way for her to walk in front of her. Tears prickled her eyes but she hastily pulled herself together. Aaliyah followed her mother towards the front door. She opened it, unable to reach her mother’s gaze.

“I love you, Li–Li…”

A solemn tear cascaded down Aaliyah’s face.

“…think you could look out for me?”

Aaliyah released a sigh before reaching into her bag. She plucked out whatever cash she had– one hundred and fifty dollars– handing it over to her mother.

Rochelle accepted it shamefully.

“Thank you, Li–Li. Take care of yourself…”

——

Professor Richmond carried his brown leather briefcase with him into the lecture hall. There were already students present the more he approached his desk in his brown dress shoes. His oceanic eyes swept the rows of students, his gaze zeroed into a vacant desk. Bringing his Apple Watch up, he was right on schedule. She would be arriving late today it seems.

Terry couldn’t go the remainder of his weekend into the early weekday without Aaliyah crossing his mind. She invaded and consumed him without her physical presence. He was two grand broker and overjoyed. He’d spend more on her in a millisecond. That shapely body is a walking sin. He found himself daydreaming of how it would feel to press his muscles into the softness of her curves. How would the curl of his biceps feel around her thighs? The ridges of his abdomen beneath her hands as she explored?

“I hope you all read up on Darwin and The Moral Sense. We’re jumping straight into discussion…”

Terry removed his navy blue suit jacket, then he rolled up the sleeves to his white, button down shirt that he wore tucked into matching navy blue slacks. He used a red Expo marker to write: Chapter Three of The Descent of Man. After capping the marker, he turned his attention to the class. With his pointer finger, he pushed his glasses back from the bridge of his nose.

“The keystone significance of morality in human distinctness is clearly asserted by Darwin in the first sentence…and the quote says….”

Terry snapped his fingers before pointing at a student within the second row with their hand raised. A white male with wooly, dark brown hair and a hooked nose.

“I fully subscribe to the judgment of those writers who maintain that of all the differences between man and the lower animals—”

“The moral sense of conscience is by far the most important, correct, James. But why is that?”

He cast his penetrating eyes across his students before flicking his gaze at the door. Another student bravely raised their hand and Terry motioned for them to speak. He continued to lecture shortly after that.

“We know from his notebooks that Darwin was reading the contemporary philosophical literature about moral behavior in 1837…”

As he continued, pacing in front of his desk, hands in the pockets of his slacks, the absence of Aaliyah weighed heavy on him. Minutes ticked away and soon enough, class was dismissed. Terry spoke with a student after class about the grade he’d given them for the midterm paper before packing away his things and leaving.

He made it back to his makeshift office space, shut the door and shuffled inside, careful not to knock his briefcase into stacks of decades old textbooks and files. With his thumb and pointer finger, he flicked on his table lamp, a yellow glow igniting the space. The swivel chair situated at his rectangular, wooden desk creaked slight as he settled down. Terry cracked his wrists, a habit of his when he felt too wound up.

iPhone in hand, he found Aaliyah’s contact.

“Here,” Terry handed Aaliyah his phone, “Put your number in.”

Aaliyah stared up at Terry through her curled lashes with a smile that enticed him into a further aroused state. She held out her small hand and made a come hither motion. Terry felt his phone slip from his fingertips and watched her with a sharp gaze and a slight smirk. She typed away, and he caught her eye before she saved it.

Terry texted her phone later that evening and Aaliyah replied with a kiss emoji.

Terry: Goodnight, Beautiful ❤️

Aaliyah: Nite Professor 😘

He texted her on Sunday, not saying much, just a simple greeting. He didn’t want to come off too strong, although he was fiendish for her attention.

Terry: Hi, Aaliyah. Hope you slept well ❤️ Any plans for today?

Aaliyah: Hi 😏 slept well thanks for asking. how was your sleep? & I’m currently out to brunch with friends.

Terry: You’re welcome. had a great rest. Brunch is fun. I’m sure you look great 😌

Aaliyah: I do 😉

Terry: SO BEAUTIFUL 😍

Aaliyah: Thank you ❤️ can’t wait to see you on Wednesday.

Terry: I’m looking forward to it ❤️

Terry sent Aaliyah a new text.

Terry: Hey, is everything okay?

It wasn’t like her to miss class. Terry unfastened the first few buttons of his shirt. He stood to stretch his sore legs from his workout earlier, easing his way over to the only window in his office. Terry looked out the window. The sky was tar-black and the large clouds seemed as if they were moving towards him. He heard a tapping on the window and then it became a pitter-patter. People ran for cover outside and umbrellas were opened as the clouds spat out their beads of water. Puddles began plinking as the rainfall became heavier. The roofs of the cars danced with spray and he could hear the murmuring of the rain through the window. It sounded like the buzzing of angry bees.

Buzz Buzz

Terry back tracked to his desk, reaching over and grabbing his phone.

Aaliyah: I’m sorry I missed class, Terry. Everything isn’t okay actually. I wasn’t feeling it. Can I call you?

Terry: Yes

He answered immediately.

Terry took a seat, “Hello?”

“Hi…”

Her voice sent chills down his spine.

Terry sensed her sadness.

“Want to talk about it?”

“…Can we still meet for lunch?”

“We can. It’s raining pretty bad out. Sure you’ll be okay driving?”

“I’ll be fine, I’m standing on my back porch right now…looks like it’s slowing down.”

“Okay. Uh…I was thinking Noir. It’s a nice jazz inspired restaurant and it’s a great vibe for cozy and intimate dining. Do you need me to pick you up?”

“No, that’s okay. I can meet you there. I know Noir.”

“Okay, drive safely, love.” Terry said.

“I will, you too. See you there.”

——

Noir didn’t have many patrons that afternoon, and Terry wasn’t complaining. He scooted himself into a booth, the dim light hanging above him so dull as if a shade had been cast upon it. His wet dress shoes squeaked slightly as he made himself comfortable. Terry ordered two filtered waters with lemon and hot water to soak the silverware. His legs swung back and forth beneath the booth table anxiously. Eyes that appeared turquoise glanced towards the entrance and he made out the silhouette of Aaliyah Davenport entering.

She must’ve gotten caught in the rain. She was dressed casually, a large Louis Vuitton tote bag over her right shoulder and a denim jacket flung over her left arm. She paused, eyes searching for Terry. He leaned further out of the booth and waved her down. Aaliyah fixed her gaze on him and a small smile graced her beautiful lips. Terry watched her saunter over, and the further she approached, the more her smile brightened.

Terry stood, fixing his pants since they had ridden up on his thighs and bulged around his crotch. Aaliyah slowed down to a stop before him, an awkward pause with nervous glances between them. Ultimately, Terry opened his arms and Aaliyah giggled before wrapping her arms around him. Terry caught a whiff of her hair; coconut and hibiscus. Mmm…he could feel the slight dampness of her curls through his dress shirt.

Her T-shirt beneath his fingertips was slightly wet from the rain droplets. Aaliyah broke away from him and gave him one last look before settling into the booth. Terry followed, situated across from her. He loved how natural and beautiful she looked. Her curls were slightly heat damaged at the ends, giving it personality. She wasn’t wearing her glasses today, Terry able to enjoy those pretty brown eyes again. Her hoop earrings swung as she swept hair from her eyes.

“I ordered us some water for now if that’s okay.” Terry mentioned.

“That’s ‘awrite with me, Professor.”

She has such a cute voice. Honeyed.

“I hope I didn’t miss anything crucial. I’m sorry.” Aaliyah apologized.

“Don’t be. We discussed chapter three…have you read it?”

“I have. No assignments?” Aaliyah replied.

“No—Aaliyah, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t care to talk about class. He wanted to know what was bothering her. She looked so saddened. It didn’t sit right with him.

“Uh…it’s a lot. I don’t wanna pour my shit out on you.”

“I’m willing to listen, if you’ll let me. No pressure…”

Aaliyah tilted her head and considered his words. Their water arrived and the waiter was ready to take their orders. Aaliyah hadn’t even looked over the menu.

“Give us another minute, please? Thanks…”

Aaliyah started flipping through the menu. The conical body of the saxophone in the background soothing.

Terry decided to order them an appetizer. Mini crab bites. He wasn’t too sure what to order for lunch.

“Do you like crab bites?” Terry asked.

“I do. That sounds good,” Aaliyah peered up at him with a timid smile, “I was thinking of getting a salmon ceasar salad.”

“Tasty,” Terry stroked his goatee, “I’ll probably do a shrimp Po’Boy.”

Their waiter circled back and Terry ordered everything. Alone again, they sipped their water and caught each other’s eye. Aaliyah pushed the wedge of lemon in her glass down further with her straw. She released a sigh before leaning against the table.

“My momma showed up today. Right when I was leaving for school.”

“Ya’ momma? I take it you’re not happy about that…”

Aaliyah’s eyes glistened. Terry wanted to reach out and stroke her soft cheek.

“My mom is a drug addict. Been an addict since I was sixteen.”

Terry allowed what she revealed to him to settle into his mind. He gave her a slow nod, and his eyes fixated on her deeper.

Aaliyah continued with a shaky voice, “After my father was killed, she became depressed and she blamed herself for the longest time. I was there when it happened…saw the whole thing,” Aaliyah rubbed her arms, “He hadn’t even been out of prison for a year and he was shot…”

Terry watched her straighten her back and sniffle, trying her best to calm herself down.

“My momma’s been in and out of rehab. I’ve help her, my grandmomma helped her…she stole from me, disappointed me every single time…” Aaliyah stared down at her hands, “And all she can think to do is show up on my doorstep with her hands out. That broke me.”

Terry twisted his full lips and his eyes fell to her hands. He watched the way her fingers fiddled. With an impulse so strong, he covered her hands with his much larger ones, stroking them with his thumbs. Aaliyah watched the way his hands worked to sooth her. Like he was massaging the stress out of her. Aaliyah exhaled, and then she locked eyes with Terry.

“I love her so much…”

“I know you do, I can see it…I can feel it.” Terry spoke softly.

He released her hands so she could thumb away a tear.

“I’m so sorry, Aaliyah. Sorry about your father. Sorry about your mom…”

“Thank you, Terry. I really appreciate it. I know this is supposed to be a nice lunch. I feel like I’m ruining it with my fuckin’ bullshit.”

“There’s nothing ruined, love. I’m happy you felt comfortable enough to open up to me about it. I just don’t like seeing you like this…your mom isn’t willing to get help?”

“That’s the thing,” Aaliyah took a sip of her water to help get rid of the lump in her throat, “She’s been in and out of rehab plenty of times. It’s this guy she keeps running back to. I don’t really remember his name…all I know is that he’s a dealer. She’s always had a thing for criminals.”

“Your grandmother, what’s up with that?—am I asking too many questions?”

“No, no,” Aaliyah shook her head, “My grandma is…her and my mom have always had a strained relationship. She’s attempted to help, but it never works out. There’s a lot of unresolved issues and my mom just can’t stick around long enough to deal wit’ it, ya know?”

“I get it. What was your father like?”

Aliyah frowned slightly, “He was so funny. Had so much swagger to ‘em. Loved cars. He got himself mixed up in some shit. He was doing a favor for a friend that turned out to be a robbery and it landed him in prison.”

She had this faraway look in her eyes, as if she were recalling the nostalgic feeling of being with her dad.

“…I saw him…die…and…” Aaliyah exhaled, “Took me a while to shake it…”

“Damn,” Terry hung his head, “Aaliyah, that’s heavy…”

Terry squeezed her hands and sought out her gaze. Aaliyah looked across at him and a single tear cascaded down her cheek. Terry released her hand and lifted from his seat, scooting in next to her. He snatched up a few napkins and dabbed her face gently.

“It’s okay…it’s okay, Aaliyah…so sorry…”

One hand rubbed her shoulder while she bawled up the used napkin in her hand. With one last sniffle, Aaliyah turned her brown eyes that reminded him of cognac through a glass and just then, she leaned in and those lips he’d desired to feel grazed his cheek with a feather–like touch before molding into his skin with a pressure so soothing his eyelash’s fluttered in satisfaction.

“Thanks for listening,” Aaliyah whispered in his ear.

Terry turned his head at an angle towards her. He gave her a searing, sideways glance.

“You’re welcome. Anytime…”

“Crab bites…”

Startled, Terry leaped up from his seat and returned to his side of the booth. Aaliyah thanked the waiter and they put in their orders. Terry and Aaliyah shared the appetizer. After chewing, Aaliyah licked her lips before speaking.

“Tell me a little more about Terry Richmond.”

Terry gave Aaliyah an attractive half–smirk. 

“Ask me and you shall receive.”

“Why teaching? Is that something you’ve always had a passion for?”

“That’s a really good question. Uh…yes. I was an instructor when I spent time in the Marines. I trained Marines for combat and firearms. Each day was new and exciting. I’ve always had this…desire to share knowledge, inspire others, and make a positive impact. Although my pops wanted me to continue into the Marines, I fell in love with Psychology. So…I got my PhD a year ago, and here I am.”

Aaliyah sat her face into her hands with her elbows propped up on the table, listening to him like he was retelling a fairytale story. Her eyes sparkled with joy at listening to him drone on about moving to North Carolina with his parents after Katrina, enlisted into the Marines, finished his undergrad, living there up until the age of twenty–seven before he moved back to Louisiana to attend LSU. Both of his parents are still together and living in North Carolina. Their food arrived and they tucked in, talking in between bites.

Terry was happy that Aaliyah is in better spirits. She smiled and giggled and it warmed his heart. She thanked him for cheering her up. Terry was honored. The topic veered to hobbies and interests. Aaliyah shared that she used to be a majorette dancer.

“Fishing? Living outdoors? Wow. I grew up doing farm work and riding horses but nothing that deep,” Aaliyah responded with a giggle.

“I can take you sometime…show you what it’s like.”

Terry cocked his head to the side and stared at Aaliyah. She held onto his gaze, the tip of her tongue peeking through her teeth. Terry wanted to wrap his full lips around her tongue and suck on it.

“So…is it a date then? Taking me fishing and camping, Professor?” Aaliyah teased.

“I’ll take you anywhere,” Terry slurped down some water.

“Anywhere?” Aaliyah dragged out with her cutesy voice and lips twinged with a sultry smile.

“Anywhere…anything for you.”

“I like the sound of that,” Aaliyah smiled, “You’ve earned the privilege to spoil me.”

They laughed in unison.

“How did I earn it, exactly?” Terry quirked a brow up and narrowed his eyes playfully.

“Giving me two thousand dollars cash was enough to let me know,” Aaliyah replied bluntly.

Terry chucked. He licked his lips, eyes scanning the space before he lowered his voice an octave, “You liked that, huh?”

“More than you’ll ever know…”

“Let me know, girl…”

Aaliyah tucked her chin and giggled.

“Let me know…” Terry persisted.

“I didn’t like it I love it. I’m a princess and I should be treated accordingly.”

Terry’s eyelids lowered slightly. He leaned in on his arms, eyes roaming her body before staring into her eyes again. He felt a sensation so deep within his ripped core. Something akin to butterflies. Aaliyah excited him. That mouth on her…he loved it.

“The minute I laid my eyes on you at that bachelor party…you were gettin’ all my money…”

“Good, that’s what I wanted,” Aaliyah nibbled on her straw with a teasing smile.

Terry licked his lips. He stared at her through his spectacles while his fingers drummed against the table slowly. Aaliyah sat her glass down and leaned back against the booth.

Staring.

They were practically eye–fucking each other.

Beneath that table, Aaliyah took it upon herself to run her pointed, left foot up Terry’s right leg. She did it achingly slow. It traveled up and up until she stopped with her foot propped up against his seat between his legs. Terry did one lazy sweep of his eyes over her foot and his teeth latched onto his bottom lip.

”Aaliyah…”

“Huh?”

Terry was going to lose it. Lose all his control. He was itching to walk her to the back of the restaurant, push her into a bathroom stall, and beat that fat pussy up with her chest against the door and his large hands keeping her pinned in place and stable on that dick.

“If I could tell you how beautiful you are…how gorgeous you are a million times I would. The moment I laid eyes on you at the beginning of the semester…I couldn’t ignore it. The feeling. I just knew that I had to have you…”

Aaliyah sat transfixed by his words. Lips slightly parted, eyes misty. He loved that look on her face. He wanted her to look at him like that in a kneeled position with his dick hanging in her face waiting to be tended to.

The thoughts in his mind…

“Wow,” Aaliyah chuckled breathlessly, “You want me that bad, huh? Wow…”

She acted as if a man never pined for her so deep like Terry. His unspoken energy even spoke volumes.

He. Needed. Aaliyah.

Professor or not.

“You don’t even know…”

“Mm,” Aaliyah shut her eyes and nibbled on her bottom lip. Her eyes opened slowly, “Terry…you gotta stop.”

They chuckled, Aaliyah’s thighs clenching beneath the table and Terry’s thighs swinging back and forth.

“Why stop?” Terry whispered.

Aaliyah kisses her teeth, “‘Cause…”

Her cute voice was enough to make the tip of his dick respond. He could feel himself leaking.

Thank God the waiter returned with the check. Terry paid the tab, and Aaliyah looked at him, not quite ready to go. Terry didn’t want to, but he had an evening course starting within the next hour or so and he needed to head back to campus.

Fuck that class. Look what’s in front of of you, nigga…

“You ready?” Terry questioned reluctantly.

——

They hadn’t even made it out of Noir for two seconds before it started again. They quickened their pace as the clouds began to gather in the sky. Up to now, the sky had been postcard-perfect, but it was changing. The beautiful cocktail-blue shade was beginning to darken into gravel-grey. Large pillows of clouds were forming, blotting out the old-gold colour of the sun.

Aaliyah got the first splatter of rain when she was halfway across the parking lot. She took shelter under her Jean jacket, hoping that she could see out past the shower. Terry’s brawny bicep pulled her closer while he covered himself with his own jacket. Droplets of moisture began to drip from the leaves. They were sprinkling onto the concrete like a gardener’s hose. Then the rainfall became more intense. A wall of rain moved over the oak trees and the drops were drumming against the tops of cars. So much rain was falling that the sound blurred into one long, whirring noise. It reminded her of the rotor blades on a helicopter.

Terry’s truck was closer. He rushed to fling the door opened, helping Aaliyah inside before sprinting to his side and climbing in. He slammed the door shut before tossing his drenched suit jacket onto the back seat. The humidity caused the car windows to fog as it poured. Eventually, the noise lessened and the drops faded into a musical chime. They sought out each other’s gaze and laughed.

Aaliyah threw her head back and sighed with contempt. This was a great lunch date. She was so happy she came. After bawling her eyes out about her mother, she needed some fun. Terry was more than just his looks. He was so refreshing. Such a gentleman. Hard working. So deeply fascinated with her. And it was more than just a lustful gaze. A gaze Aaliyah was more than used to. No. This man wanted her.

Aaliyah turned her cheek against the headrest to watch him. Terry felt her eyes and he gave her his undivided attention.

“I want to see you again, as soon as possible, Aaliyah.”

The urgency in his voice let her know he was a man about action.

“I’ll let you know what my days are looking like…okay?”

Terry hummed. The sound vibrated her core. He was impatient.

“Why not check on that now? Friday for an hour and thirty minute class ain’t enough.”

The bite in his voice sounded so much different from his professional tone. Aaliyah was stunned.

“Okay,” She pulled out her phone from her bag, “I have plans Saturday with friends…”

“Friday night?”

“Nothing.” Aaliyah replied.

“Then how about Friday? I’ll take you to dinner.”

“I have to study, Terry.” Aaliyah said, a playful glint in her eyes.

Aaliyah clocked the way Terry’s chest rose and fell with each deep breath. She imagined what he looked like beneath his business attire. Her imagining could only conjure up enough for her to fantasize about. She needed to see the real thing. Up close. Touch on him and memorize the planes and valleys of muscle threatening to bring the freak out of her. He looked like he could bench press and squat three times her size and Aaliyah wanted to test that theory. In many positions.

“I’ll help you study.”

“Isn’t that cheating?!” Aaliyah replied.

“It’s called tutoring, baby girl.”

Baby girl? Oh fucking hell…

Aaliyah became acutely aware of her nipples hardening. So did Terry. His eyes were glued to her breasts sitting up and jutted out.

Terry reached down beside him and his seat reclined back. Aaliyah’s heart skipped a beat. He gave her a pointed look. Aliyah’s eyes fell to his inviting lap…and a rather mountainous bulge…

It was as if the blood coursing through his body carried downward and pooled into his…

The veins in his arms…she could see them clearer now. His large hands resting against his thighs…that man spread…she felt a buzzing in her ears. The silent dominance in his posture…

Aaliyah lifted from her seat in a frenzy, Terry scooped her up with one powerful arm around her waistline and Aaliyah climbed over his lap. She sat herself snugly over his thick bulge that protruded from the crotch of his navy blue slacks like an eruption was waiting to happen. Her fat pussy sat on that protrusion and her breath hitched.

“Professor…”

Terry’s large hands double–cuffed her thick ass and he forced his grip upward, arching her back. Those thick, long fingers sank into the plump flesh as he groped her. One hand above her, pressed against the roof of the car, Aaliyah allowed the feeling of him squeezing and jiggling her cakes to consume her.

His glasses had fogged up. Their mingled, uneven breaths along with the sound of the leather seats filled the space between them. Aaliyah felt his hands smooth around to the junction between her thighs and booty and he applied force, making her ass move on its own—left cheek, right cheek— peering down over her shoulder while she was pressed against him. Aaliyah had her feet folded over his knees.

“Ughhh….”

A deep grunt followed by his arms wrapping around her waist tight. Biceps cutting into her back. The new position had Aaliyah sitting over his print harder. They sat like that for a few minutes, Terry’s nose was pressed against her neck, inhaling cool air and exhaling heated air that caused goosebumps to spread.

His arms loosened and Aaliyah tilted her head down to meet his eyes. She removed Terry’s glasses, resting them inside of his cup holder. The interior of his car smelled like blackberry clove and leather. He smelled like sandalwood. Those eyes. She got lost in them before tearing her gaze away to stare at his lips.

“Can I kiss you?” Terry asked softly.

Aaliyah closed the space between them and one of Terry’s hands tangled into her wet coils while his other hand sat above her ass. They gave each other an open–mouthed kiss filled with a feverish need for each other. Wet smacking noises sent signals of arousal. Eyes closed, heads swiveling, equally tasty and soft lips molding into each other’s. Aaliyah allowed her hands to run beneath his dress shirt and white better, coming into contact with warm skin stretched over an impressive physique.

“Unh…”

She found herself moaning.

A single finger of Terry’s traced the waistline of her leggings. The sensation caused her body to shiver. Aaliyah sat up, leaning back against his steering wheel. Terry locked eyes with her while his fingers brushed from her waist down to her pussy. The heat radiating from there could have added to the fog on the windows .

“You deserve so much…you’re so fuckin’ sexy…”

Aaliyah adjusted herself to tilt her body against his so that Terry could put his hand down her leggings.

“Damn…it’s like that, baby?”

“Uh-huh…”

Terry’s hand cupped her fat pussy through her thong. Aaliyah clung to his shoulders while holding his gaze. Terry’s tongue—thick and pink—poked out and Aaliyah accepted the invitation of touching tongues with him. His fingers moved her panties to the side. He grunted into Aaliyah’s mouth.

“Damn…damn…”

His fingers rubbed up and down. Aaliyah spread her thighs further.

“There you go…nasty girl… spreading your legs like that…want me to touch all over this pussy…I like that…”

His words. She whimpered when his fingers started doing that up and down motion between her swollen labia and over her stiff clit. Aaliyah couldn’t believe how wet her pussy is. Creamy viscous spread all over her.

“Unh…Terry…”

“This what you think about? You think about me expressing how much I want you with my fingers in your pussy?…”

Two fingers sank deep. Aaliyah’s mouth dropped open. Terry’s brows furrowed and his eyes would flicker from her face to his hand moving up and down in her leggings.

“Aaliyah…this lil’ pussy tight, girl…I can’t believe I’m fingering you right now…”

He looked like he couldn’t believe it. Jade eyes intense.

“It’s s–s–so, wet…”

His words stuttered out in disbelief.

“My pussy like you just as much as I do, Professor…”

Aaliyah chewed on her bottom lip and her head lulled back. She started bouncing on his fingers. Damn, she missed this. She missed being fingered the proper way. She ain’t have dick in almost a year. The last man to have her was a mistake and not even worth mentioning. All she could focus on was keeping her legs spread and that pussy open.

“Good girl…you follow directions well…I like that,” Terry dragged his teeth along his bottom lip, “Look at me, Aaliyah…”

She did as she was told.

“I played your little game. Now what?”

He was toying with her.

This man…this was another side to him she was more than excited to see.

“Now you make me cum…make me cum, Professor.”

Terry chuckled, “Make this pussy cum?”

His fingers were knuckle deep.

“Send me home in a puddle, Terry…”

“Mmm…that sweet, little voice gon’ get you in trouble…keep moaning…uh-huh…mhmmmm…”

Aaliyah clamped down on his fingers. She lowered her head over his headrest and rode out her orgasm. So intense. It hit her like a freight train. Terry pressed deeper, stroking a spot that had Aaliyah crying. Terry gently withdrew his fingers. Aaliyah’s breaths slowed down, but her body was still recovering from the after shocks.

His hand resurfaced just as the sun peered over the storm clouds. The aroma of her pussy and the cum clinging to his fingers flooded her nose in the best way. Terry held his manicured fingers up. Aaliyah locked her gaze on creamy–white goodness all over his fingers and dripping down to his wrist.

Terry played with it. Rubbing his fingertips together. Spreading his fingers to see how slimy it looked. Aaliyah watched him suck each finger while his eyes never left her face.

“I taste good?” Aaliyah asked with a smile.

“Fuckin’ amazing, baby…”

Terry licked his lips and Aaliyah leaned in to steal a kiss. They kissed for some time before Terry broke away. He released a growl of frustration.

“I gotta head back to campus…I have an exam for my next class…”

Aaliyah pecked his lips before climbing off his lap and into her seat. Terry had his lip pouted while fixing himself. Aaliyah giggled, her eyes dropping down to his neglected erection. He caught her watching, grabbing her wrist and sitting her hand over his bulge.

It…was…thick…

“It’s so big…”

Aaliyah explored, squeezing and stroking…Terry swiped his bottom lip with his tongue and closed his eyes for a second to gather himself. Aaliyah removed her hand and Terry looked over at her like he didn’t want her to stop. Ever. She didn’t want to go, but Terry needed to get back to Campus. The last thing she’d ever want to do is sabotage his career.

“I don’t want to leave, but it’s okay…I’ll see you Friday, right?” Terry questioned, grabbing Aaliyah’s hand and kissing the back of it over and over.

“Yes. I’ll be there…”

Terry made a come hither motion and Aaliyah obeyed, slipping him some final tongue before they parted ways. Terry put his glasses back on, giving Aaliyah one final look of longing. She knew she had to be the one to leave him behind because if she didn’t, he would have skipped the class and spent the rest of the day proving to her just how much he needed her.

“Bye, Professor.”

Aaliyah opened the car door. She hopped down from his truck, grabbing her jean jacket. She blew Terry a kiss before shutting his door and heading towards her Jeep.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the taste of her pussy on his tongue and her scent on his fingers while he lectured.

——

Aaliyah 🌹: Studying for an exam tomorrow. I’ll talk to you later, okay? I had a really great time today 😏 just might touch myself thinking about it. Sweet Dreams, Professor. Xoxoxo 👄

Terry moved towards his living room, an NBA game on in the background. He was shirtless with black joggers on and a durag over his short curls. A single gold cross chain sat in the middle of his pecs. The heels of his socked feet sat into the throw rug beneath him. He had grilled salmon, broccoli, and dirty rice for dinner.

Aaliyah.

That woman awakened something primal in him. Although his eyes bounced back and forth across the screen, his mind wandered to the way his taste buds craved more pussy. He had such a good time getting to know her. The way her lips felt like the softest cushion against his lips. The soft, little whimpers she made drove him crazy. He dragged a hand down his face.

He studiously ignored the monster in his joggers.

Could’ve been full of something else if you had just taken what was in front of you.

The game did nothing to calm down his body. He flipped through the channels looking for something, anything to distract himself from the length of his dick pulsing against his thigh. Terry shifted his hips on the couch, the fight to ignore it impossible.

“Send me home in a puddle, Terry.”

Terry could still hardly believe that he had Aaliyah in his lap, lips against hers, fingers deep in her pussy, and in public. The morbid excitement from earlier returned to him in tenfold, echoing in the throb of his manhood. He stared forward at the movements on his television unseeingly, fighting his mind as it tried to conjure up an image of himself between Aaliyah’s legs. Her pretty pussy gleaming at him naughtily making his mouth water. He wanted to be the only one to taste her for as long as he lived. To bury his face in between her buttery–smooth thighs to kiss, lick and tongue fuck her until she was a whimpering, quivering mess. His name a constant chant on her lips as she feebly tried to push him away after her orgasm. He wouldn’t stop. Not until all she wanted was him.

“Terry…Terry…right there, Terry…”

“Shit,” he grunted as he lifted his hips off the couch slightly, pulling his joggers down to his thighs, his engorged dick springing free, curving up to look at him. The purpling head waved in the air at him in greeting and invitation. Terry scrubbed a hand over his face at the sight, exasperated at his excitement for a girl he’d never seen naked and his inability to turn this shit off. Sleep wasn’t going to come easily to him if he didn’t take care of big boy first.

Terry’s eyes tracked a drop of precum as it dribbled over his head and down his pulsating shaft, collecting at his heavy balls. His dick was quite literally demanding attention, the veins overly pronoucned along the sides beating in time with his heart, and he was hard pressed not to give in. He hadn’t touched himself in a few days, work had kept him busy and the thoughts of Aaliyah after the bachelor party had given him a reason to. He quickly contemplated walking back to his room and using his fleshlight to get the job done before he decided against it. He was too needy to move now.

Tentative fingers ran over the velvety tip, collecting the beads of moisture there and spreading them around slowly. He closed his blue–gray eyes and pushed his head back into the sofa cushion with a flex of his hips. A harsh ‘fuck’ escaped his clenched teeth at the sensitivity. This was going to be quick, rough and lacking any of the finesse he usually showcased in any moment of sexual gratification. Even if that moment was just with him.

Terry’s dominant hand wrapped lightly around himself, trying to mimic how his Aaliyah would touch him, his other dragging over his exposed abdomen. His hand pulled down roughly, electing a low groan from him, as a fantasy bloomed in his mind. He could see her behind his lids that had fallen closed. Kneeling in front of him, between his parted thighs, bright eyes glued to his expression as she bit her lip in concentration. Watching him with that sassy look she got any time she wanted things her way.

Terry spread his knees as far as his joggers would allow, his hand twisting and pulling himself, gaining momentum with every tight pass of the head. Thumb coming up to swiped over the moist slit. Half curses spewed out of him as his pace quickens, his free hand coming down to fondle his sack. Rolling it between his fingers. The sensation doing nothing to abate his impending release.

“Fuccccckkk…..” his voice hitched and raised, battling with the enthusiastic wet sounds of his hand pumping.

His fantasy girl looked between him and his twitching dick, her hand moving as fast as he was. She licked her parted lips and leaned towards his thick pipe. Her warm breath only heightened his pleasure as she whispered to him lowly.

“Cum for me, Professor…”

And he did just that. His heels dug into the plush rug beneath him, using it for leverage as he fucked up into his hand, the coil in his belly growing tighter until it snapped. A croak of Aaliyah’s name bouncing off his walls. Thick spurts of warm cum landing haphazardly across his upper body didn’t deter him as he continued to drag his fist over his oozing dick until the motion became too much for his overly sensitive body. Legs shuddering with each pass.

Terry let go with a deep sigh, taut body relaxing slowly until he was sitting naturally in his seat. Terry glanced down at the evidence of his ecstasy littered across his chest, stomach and hand.

He huffed an annoyed laugh at how quickly his orgasm had taken him. And how hard his dick still was as it bobbed in front of him, his stamina was working against him this time around. With a disbelieving shake of his head, he gripped the base, pulling his hand with a slow rotation of his wrist upwards. His release making the perfect slick for round two.

“F–fuuck, babyyy…” Terry hissed at the feeling. He let go, palming the head a few seconds to stave off the mounting pressure. He would not come that quickly again.

Terry took his time, languidly pulling at his dick, unrushed. Rubbing his free hand up and down his stomach, tweaking his nipple quickly before sliding back down. He repeated this process as his hand gradually picked up speed.

The short nails on Terry’s left hand bit deliciously into his skin as he raked them down his chest and stomach. The sharp pain was closely followed by a wave of hazy pleasure causing his hips to buck faster into his hand. He abandoned all notion of slow, the tightening in his balls and urge to reach completion pushing fast and hard to the forefront of his mind. The juxtaposition of two intense sensations never failed to throw him over the edge.

Terry threw his head back, neck straining as he clenched his jaw. A constant string of yes, fuck, yes screaming in his head as his abdominal muscles flexed and clenched. His hand is almost a blur with how quickly he’s moving.

Twist

Grip

Plunge

Slap

Squeeze

Fucking Aaliyah did this to him. Those eyes, that smile, her voice, that goddamn body…

Flashes of her twerking in a split, making that ass clap, looking back at it, licking her lips with that tongue ring, talking her shit, how sweet her pussy tasted, how snug her walls were around his fingers.

He wished it was her. Her delicate hand working him. Her brown eyes drooping with arousal. Her heavenly voice encouraging him to go ahead. Let go. He could almost smell her. Almost taste her.

Her pussy was so fucking sweet. He couldn’t wait to suck on her pussy. He wanted to bury his nose into it and draw in a deep breath that almost burned his lungs. He wanted to make her unravel beneath his tortuous tongue and lips. Over and over and over—

He erupted at the thought, breathing hard and keening through his messy release. The second nut even more than the first. Still, he continued to stroke, torturing himself, milking himself like he wanted her to.

Terry was out of breath by the end of it. Body spent and tingling.

So much for not cumming quickly.

He sat there for a long time, waiting for the hollow feeling to retreat from his bones, his cum cooling on his skin. He needed to take another shower.

But what he really needed was her.

Friday couldn’t come fast enough.

@theereina @bombshellbre95 @planetblaque @trippyscotch @megamindsecretlair @uzumaki-rebellion @thesweetestdrug @theblulife @hotgrlcece @blackerthings @deja-r @helloncrocs @hearteyes-for-killmonger @kaylabuggggg06 @skyesthebomb @blyffe @gwenda-fav @beenathembo @blackpinup22 @novaniskye @melaninhawtie @urfavblackbimbo @avoidthings @rose-bliss @xo-goldengirl @kinginwithbreezy-blog @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @sirenmouths @creartivefairy @soulfulbeauty19 @therealmrsrhodes @hrlzy @nayaesworld @gg-trini @brattyfics @flydotty @writingsbytee @shiania @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @madamzola @kismet83 @aristasworld @sl33p-deprived-princess @erynnnn @itssbrie @melaninangel @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @sweettea-and-honeybutter @dashhoney25

[a-hazbin-reader]

Hey did you get my ask/request of Alastor and Wife!reader having an argument and Alastor says something horrible to her leaving him to have to make up for it?

I did, I just have a lot of stuff in my inbox

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Alastor being in the DOGHOUSE

Description: ☝️⬆️

Alastor doesn't mind fighting, likes to bicker with and irritate those around him as some strange show of dominance

But his wife is an exception, he hates fighting with his wife and goes to great lengths to avoid it

Despite his efforts, you two do still fight from time to time and he hates it, he tries so hard to reign in that cruel part of him

He doesn't really even remember what started the fight, probably something dangerous he did that upset you

Something like the Adam stunt

And he probably tried to brush it off, his pride not letting him admit that your fears were warranted

You were understandably getting worked up over his dismissal, and he was getting irritated that you wouldn't just drop it

Everyone else in the hotel had scattered and hidden the moment you two started to uncharacteristically raise your voices at each other

Angel had to grab Niffy to stop her from watching the entire argument play out

He just doesn't want to scare you with the idea of losing him, he wants to be your strong, invincible husband

It makes him uncomfortable that you see beyond the powerful overlord demon and instead zero in on the man beneath it all

"Darling, I would understand your fears if I hadn't come back to you in one piece, but I'm here. With you. Perfectly fine."

You could rip your hair out due to frustration, almost in tears, how could he not understand how you felt?

"Alastor! That's not the point! You can't be so reckless! It's not just you that you have to worry about anymore! You have a wife! You have to live and be safe for me!"

He fears a pang of anger over being told what to do, rage and irritation over the unintentional reminder of his failure to win

Which makes his mind wander to his deal, his fucking leash

The words are out of his mouth before he even realizes what he's saying

"If I knew that everything I do had to be approved by you then, I would've rethought this whole marriage ordeal."

Alastor regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, his ears folding back at the sight of your hurt expression

Your eyes have tears in them but you're doing your best to hold them in, turning on your heel to leave the room

"Wait-Darling, I didn't-"

"Just...give me some space, Alastor."

He regrets it so much, watching you walk away from him when he should be begging for forgiveness

He hates seeing you so upset but he hates being the reason for it even more

Alastor tries to give you the space you asked for, but it's difficult when all he wants to do is make up with you already

But he also doesn't want to actually talk about what happened

So he breaks fairly easily when he sees you again, coming up behind you and hugging you

Only to be shrugged off when he goes for a small kiss, left with a sinking feeling in his stomach

"I said to give me space, I'm not ready to talk to you yet."

Normally, Alastor loves it when you're cruel and cold, finds it a little hot, but when it's aimed at him? He hates it so fucking much

Literally looks like a kicked puppy when you walk away from him again, Charlie and Vaggie looking at anything but him

"You know what, Charlie? I do see that crack in the wall!"

He tries again later, sitting next to you and trying to wrap an arm around your shoulders while the radio bursts to life with a love song

Only to be rewarded with an ill hidden sniffle and you immediately getting up to walk away from him

"If you're not going to apologize and have a genuine conversation with me then don't even bother."

It's driving Alastor crazy not being able to be with you, to not be able to properly make up with you

But he still doesn't want to admit he messed up or have that uncomfortable conversation with you

So he tries lavish gifts and other romantic gestures that all get rejected or given to Niffty to do whatever she wants with them

"Yay!! I'm going to poison these and give them to the mother bugs!!"

Okay...maybe Angel should have these...

Alastor is starting to understand that he can't just gloss over this one

He understands it a little more later that night when you go to bed without him, and he's left too nervous to follow after you

Several hours into the night, the guilt eats at him and he breaks, sneaking into the bedroom

You're awake, your eyes red rimmed from crying but you manage to give him a glare before turning your back to him

"Darling, I believe I owe you an apology..."

The way your tense body relaxes is all he needs, crawling into bed with you and pulling you to his chest

It's a difficult pill for him to swallow, so it's easier for him to have these conversations with you like this

He doesn't want you to see his weakness even when he's laying it out for you

Luckily, Alastor is good with his words and you're willing to listen now that an apology is on the table

It's a long conversation that leaves you both sleepless and emotional in each other's arms

But things are settled and Alastor is forgiven, happy to be back in your good graces

He tried to be strong and hold himself back, he really did... but being without the warmth of your love was torture for him

It was a rough couple of hours for him

HA WHIPPED

"Angel, shut the fuck up before you get yourself killed!"

He's extra clingy and romantic with you for DAYS afterwards, making everyone else at the hotel practically nauseous

Except for Charlie, of course, she loves it

He's just so relieved that you've forgiven him, still disgusted with himself for even saying what he said

Asks you for yet another kiss that morning before Husk finally walks away, annoyed by Alastor's neediness

You don't mind your husband's clingy antics, enjoying the extra attention he's giving you

You should get mad at him more often

[starlightervarda]

I can't sleep so Star Trek TOS/SNW dashboard simulator

🪆 chekovsgunman Follow

to this day I can't understand why they're called the Three Musketeers if there's FOUR of them? Did Dumas just forget his own main character???

🪴 plantdad Follow

You've got to be kidding me

🪆 chekovsgunman Follow

I know right? A mistake like this would never happen in Russian literature!

5,324 notes

🩺 therealmccoy Follow

After months of taking care of everyone else on this giant tin can I really earned this shore leave. Now I get to drink, relax, flirt with some lovely ladies and sleep until noon 😎 Just what the the doctor ordered!

🩺 therealmccoy Follow

Update: A fucking purple tree ate five crewmen. Again.

955 notes

🖖 iamspock Follow

Despite being among humans for close to a decade, I still find their tendency to overcomplicate and avoid aspects of social situations to be confusing at best and infuriating at worst. So much time is wasted on tedious matters such as who gets to 'make the first move' or 'not come off too strong'.

For example, everyone aboard my vessel is keenly aware of Lt. Uhura and Engineer Scott's 'budding romance'. But their need to extend their oddly avoidant courtship ritual, rather than outright state their interest in one another, is pointless, as well as frustrating to witness.

Why do they do this? Why not 'get it over with', as they say?

I encourage answers from all cultures, human or otherwise.

💅 janicethemenace Follow

I'm sorry Scotty and Nyota are WHAT

💉 xtinechapel Follow

DELETE THIS

💖 ofmanytongues Follow

SPOCK NOOO HE DOESN'T THINK OF ME LIKE THAT 😭

🔧 scott-free Follow

But I do! I thought you knew and were just being nice about it!

💖 ofmanytongues Follow

DMing you rn 😳

🖖 iamspock Follow

You're welcome.

24,103 notes

🌟 j_tiberius_k Follow

PSA: If you visit Antares VII, stay clear of any yellow plants, their pollen can have some...inconvenient effects on the biology of humanoid peoples.

My XO and I suffered through troubling symptoms until it was almost too late. Thankfully, we figured out a cure in time.

🪴 plantdad Follow

I can only find info on the symptoms. What was the cure? 👀

🌟 j_tiberius_k Follow

Do I really have to say it?

6,322 notes

💊 mmmbenga Follow

The galaxy if Klingons didn't exist

⚔️ glorytotheempire Follow

Wow. Humans are openly advocating for our disappearance yet Klingons are the bad guys? I thought your federation stood for peace.

💊 mmmbenga Follow

Cry harder you genocidal wrinkly-faced bitch I hope your planet gets sucked into a black hole

#If you think a joke is on par with what they do then book an MRI because you might have brain damage #fuck Klingons and anyone that sympathizes with them

35,007 notes

😎 ortegaaaas Follow

So I can either skim through this asteroid belt on Warp 2 for 3 hrs or on Warp 5 for 15 mins

🚀 mitchiemitch Follow

Erica no! That's not how navigation works!

😎 ortegaaaas Follow

FLOOR IT???

🚀 mitchiemitch Follow

ERICA NO

😎 ortegaaaas Follow

HOW ABOUT WARP 7 FOR 15 SECONDS?

💖 ofmanytongues Follow

ERICA YOU'RE GOING TO CRASH THE SHIP

😎 ortegaaaas Follow

I AM GOING TO HARNESS LIGHT-SPEED TO ZIGZAG THROUGH THE VOID

🚀 mitchiemitch

ERICA P L E A S E

112,517 notes

🐴 sirsilverfox Follow

I know some species are very private, but you'd think they'd share the important stuff, esp when we should trust each other by now.

How are we supposed to enjoy my weekly dinners if you all don't tell me what to watch out for :/ This is the third time this happens to the same person and I had to get the answer why from our CMO

💫 numerouna Follow

Wait what did I miss while I was gone

🐴 sirsilverfox Follow

Spock got wasted on my chocolate fudge cake and hit his head on the counter ://///

2,904 notes

[papaya-twinks]

just an assistant - l.n

Warnings: angst, swearing, smut (SMUT?!), fingering, (oh lord almighty), 18+ (jesus, what if I die), degradation (god damn), one night stand-ish vibes (hey this isn’t the free robux website), belittling stuff (I don’t know the word, I’m dumb ahh)

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - TWENTY QUID TO WHOEVER GUESSED IM DRUNK 🤪🤪🤪😎🥸🤪🤓

Lando. Being nice. Too good to be true? Too good to be true.

You were way too hopeful to expect him to stay nice. The next morning, you walked into the kitchen with a smile on your face, only for it to immediately fall when Lando ignored your radiant grin and your ‘good morning’ quip.

Ah, some things are too good, no? Instead, you chose to busy yourself with house work, when your phone dinged, much to Lando’s annoyance. “It’s ‘Jason’,” Lando said, almost looking to the name in disgust, “who’s Jason?” he added.

“Some guy,” you muttered, moving from dusting to peer at the message instead, your eyes on the words. You’d spoken to Jason a few times on dating apps, and he’d seemed the only decent one, and he’d finally asked you on a date. God, maybe you could finally get over this sexual frustration you had going on.

Jason (tindr dude): so wear, like, pref nothing

‘Pref?’ Who the hell said ‘pref?’ And wear nothing? Jesus, it was the first date, this guy needed some decorum. Lando hadn’t read the message as he slumped onto the sofa, still scrolling through his own phone. You responded with a single ‘sure’ and closed your phone, going back to working.

Jason didn’t know you worked for Lando, he didn’t really know your job, and you weren’t all too keen on telling him either. In case it scared him off, or anything, right? “Lando..?” you said, now that it was fast approaching 4pm. “What?” he said, as if annoyed when he looked up to you.

It surprised you how one person could seriously sit in the same spot for hours on end, all focused on a tiny little rectangle. How did he not have glasses, for gods’ sake? “I was just wondering,” you said, trying to muster the confidence to say it. “Well? Spit it out,” Lando said, rolling his eyes.

“If I could have tonight off?” you finished weakly as your gaze dropped to the floor. “A date? Who the hell asked you on a date?” his words were full of venom as you winced. It wasn’t that he thought you’d were ugly, oh, hell no.

But the thought of some other guy with their filthy little hands all over your gorgeous little body? The anger just happened to land on you, rather than Jason. “Uh, some guy, Jason,” you said, not quite hearing it was a question he hadn’t actually meant for you to answer.

“It was a rhetorical question,” he muttered under his breath, “finish off the work, and I’ll think about it,”. You nodded, rushing to complete the tasks. Lando didn’t want you to go on the date. At all.

Tasks

dust the bookshelf

make dinner

clean the couch

Three tasks. You could finish that if you tried quick enough. So you multi-tasked - you left the pasta to boil as you dusted the bookshelf, and cleaned a few pillows too. It was all well and good - and very much frustrating to Lando. Very.

“Go on your stupid date,” he muttered when you stood in front of him proudly with the pasta bowl. You arrived at the restaurant, looking gorgeous as ever in your baby pink dress, your hair untied, looking radiant. God. You were gorgeous.

“Hey,” Jason smirked when he saw you, “looking good, a little covered though,”. Ew? Straight with the dirty jokes? What the fuck? “Uh, thanks,” you said, eyeing his hoodie and sweats. Lando pulled it off much better.

Wait.

Lando? Why were you thinking of him? This was a date with you and Jason, not Lando, for fucks’ sake. Though a date with Lando didn’t sound too bad…no! Snap out of it, Jason needed your attention, not Lando. “Uh, hey? Bird?” Jason said. Wow. Way to objectify too. Jason was a little ass.

And he looked nothing like this profile picture. The dinner went okay, albeit, it was only 15 minutes into the 6 quid pasta he made you share due to his ‘budget’. “So,” Jason grinned, with what he probably thought was an attractive smirk, “wanna head home and get…busy?”.

Oh how you wanted to say no. But you were sexually frustrated and there was only so much a vibrator could do. So you begrudgingly agreed, following Jason to his lousy car, sitting in and avoiding the fast food bags on the floor, trying not to touch the grease marks along what could have been a decent car seat.

Thank god Lando’s car was better. No! Fuck, why was he always coming up? You didn’t like Lando like that! Surely not, right? Jason’s apartment was just as icky as you expected, as he led you to a gross bed, the sheets sticky and full of crumbs as he worked at removing your dress.

Wow, congratulations. His dick was small too. Great. This, ladies and gentlemen, was a man who thought taking off a girl’s bra was adequate foreplay. In the end, this lousy excuse for a ‘man’ was so ridiculously shit at sex, that you faked it and made an excuse to walk your goldfish, and left for Lando’s.

“Nice date, he must’ve finished fast,” Lando said, checking his watch. You hadn’t even been gone an hour, the damn drive had been longer than the experience. You grumbled something incoherent, crossing your arms as Lando eyed your mascara.

“You’ve been crying,” he said, his words more a statement than a question. “Might have,” you mumbled begrudgingly, eyes on the floor as you sank into the sofa. “Was he that bad?” you were surprised Lando wasn’t even belittling you anymore. “I faked it,” you said, pointedly refusing to look him in the eye.

“Couldn’t even make you cum?” he said, your eyes wide at how blunt he was. “Well, I’m gonna say it how it is,” Lando said, an amused twinkle in his eyes. He didn’t even seem bothered by your surprise. “What was the reason? Too small? Couldn’t even pleasure you right? Couldn’t find the clit?”.

Lord, you’d never heard it out more lewd than Lando had just said. “All of it,” you said, cheeks rosy as he frowned. “So…you’re horny and you faked it,” he said, summarising the events pretty well. You nodded as he tsked, his eyes trained on you.

“Well,” he said, like he was expecting something, making you look up with a frown. “I’m not having my assistant all worked up and horny, deal with it,” Lando grumbled. He wanted you to get off? Here? In the bathroom? Somewhere else? “I…uh,” you said, looking down to your thighs before back to him.

“You’re fucking incapable, Y/N,” Lando said, using your first name instead of ‘you’ or ‘assistant’. Your breath hitched as he moved in front of you, lifting you up with ease as he admired your body under the dress. You let out a little huff as he dropped you onto the sofa properly, your legs splayed across the pillows, subconsciously wrapping round his waist.

“I have to help you with everything, don’t I?” Lando scowled, his voice laced with mocking as he looked down at you. “You’re useless, Y/N,”. You would’ve protested or said you weren’t had it not been for the closeness, or the fact that his hand was trailing up your inner thigh, tugging your panties down.

“These are small,” he mused, looking at the thin lace in his hand as you blushed, “I’ll keep them for later,” he pushed it into his pocket, moving his attention to lift your dress. “Holy shit…” he gasped, his scowl falling off as he looked between your legs.

Surely this was a slice of heaven, no? God. You were beautiful. You hissed as he ran a finger between your folds, you were so damn wet and for what? His words? “Desperate, huh?” Lando smirked, mirroring your thoughts. “I have my finger on your clit, Y/N,” he said, a gasp leaving your lips as he planted his finger with just the right pressure.

“You’re really gonna be embarrassed now?” Lando said with a mock pout, his tone belittling as he dipped his finger into your hole. “Wow, Jason was real shit, wasn’t he?” Lando mused, “couldn’t even stretch you out,”.

A small mewl left your lips as he curled his digit, his thumb stroking across your sensitive clit. “Wow, so responsieve,” he hummed, his movements becoming easier and easier with your wetness. “Is that a good enough demonstration? Or need me to help you finish it all?” he raised a brow.

“Are you that pathetic, Y/N?”

Yes. You were so desperate for him, you didn’t care about your own dignity anymore, just the way he curled his finger so perfectly, how he hit places you could only dream off. Fuck. “Lando, god,” you choked out, his other finger pressed in as well, stretching you out. “Need me to do it for you?” Lando repeated his words.

“Y-Yes,” you gasped, eyes rolling as he sped up, your high building in your stomach. “Pathetic,” he clucked his tongue, “useless, pathetic little girl,”. Lando was meant to be scolding you, and any normal person would feel ashamed or annoyed at the words but you? No, it just helped build up the heat.

“Gonna cum, now?” Lando gritted his teeth, leaning forwards, his fangs bared slightly. “Go on, then. Cum for me,”. Your back arched at his words, your release washing over you as you shuddered, a satisfied smirk across Lando’s face. “Good,” he said simply, moving his fingers as you clenched.

His jaw went slack as he watched you, his olive eyes scanning your oh-so gorgeous, spent body. “Learn to do things yourself,” Lando said through gritted teeth (though he didn’t mind awfully helping you in some areas), “or if you need me to do it for you, just ask,”.

A/N - a h aha ha ha ha ha ha haha remember when lando won a race? last week jn miami? ha ha ha hé was so good, btu when’s oscar gonna win a race, ive been waitign soooooooooo logn ha ha ha hahahah. my friend hda to proff tead my fic hahahaha ha ha

[pastorpresent]

When the dust settled of what Wade dubbed their 'super awesome Madonna world saving sacrifice', (don't fucking ask, god knows Logan doesn't) the TVA had offered to hire their services to round up variants that incorrectly stumbled into their universe. With a fucking paycheck.

Logan had been trying (and failing) to find work for a few weeks by that point. It was sort of difficult when he had no tangible work history in this universe, with no references that could actually be called. Or a social security number. Or a bank account. Or any form of ID, really.

Wade had already quickly agreed on both their behalfs, and Logan got the feeling he just needed a valid excuse to put the suit on now and again between his monotonous shifts at the dealership.

The only catch was that they had to undergo a physical and mental health assessment before hand.

He'd passes the physical with flying colours. The mental one... not so much. They'd still 'hired' him, but when he was given a folder with information regarding each fucking problem he had mentally, they'd heavy implied he needed to work on it to keep his job.

His plan had been to chuck it in the trash, or burn the fucker, but it'd slipped his mind to do either by the time they'd gotten home because Wade started trying to cook pasta for dinner and almost set the entire place on fire, somehow.

He left it on the side and Wade, being the nosy fucker he was, had of course read it.

There was a lot of shit Logan expected to find in there - depression, ptsd, alcoholism... stuff he didn't exactly need some fancy fucking doctor to tell him he had. A six year old could probably glance his way and identify that he needed antidepressants.

The one that he'd thought was odd, and the one Wade seemed to latch onto, was 'touch deprivation'.

The thing was, Wade was a shithead. He practically made it his goal whenever he walked into a room to be the most annoying person in that room. Usually successfully.

But he was also... good. He was a good person, despite what people might say to him. He wanted to help him, which was... sweet, he supposed.

A lot of the stuff in there was a bit tricky to 'fix', probably requiring some sort of medication or therapy (Logan point blank refused both) but a couple of things, Wade seemed hellbent on helping him with.

There was never any liquor in their apartment, for starters. Whenever Logan would buy any, it would go mysteriously missing the following day. Al didn't even know it had been there, and Wade was a shit liar with his innocent little shrug when Logan would ask.

Ar first it pissed him off but, well, Wade was just trying to help, and he was - helping, that is. Logan was actually sober more than he was drunk these days - which hasn't happened in at least a decade.

The 'touch deprivation' was another Wade seemed hell bent on helping with.

The merc was already tactile with his friends. Logan had seen him drape an arm over their shoulder, side hug them as they walked somewhere, hug them goodbye.

It seemed he dialled it up to a thousand with him, though.

If they both happened to be in the kitchen, Wade was brushing up against him every few seconds, murmuring apologies as he all but pressed against him under the guise of trying to move somewhere or reach something.

When they were out, Wade would let their arms and hands brush up against each other. If Logan was pushing the cart in the store, Wade would 'accidently' rest his hand over his on the handle bar.

It was little stuff, things that somebody on the outside of them would probably not even notice, until one night on the couch.

They'd been running around for the TVA all day, and Logan was irritable and exhausted. He felt about ready to claw his own skin off out of general frustration, built up from a day of shitty, all over the place missions.

They'd both showered and were sat watching gossip girl, but he just couldn't settle. He was switching position every few seconds, growling under his breath every time his discomfort returned, and he must've been annoying the fuck out of Wade, he thought.

After maybe an hour - and Logan wasn't going to cry, but he damn sure felt like it, Wade sighed next to him.

Logan immediately found himself growing defensive, ready to argue that it wasn't his fucking fault his skin felt all tingly and wrong, and that the couch was too soft, or that there was a dumb ache in his chest that he didn't understand.

Wade didn't start arguing though. Instead, he lifted an arm in invitation.

Logan stared at him like he'd lost his fucking mind. How many hits to the head had he taken today? Could his regenerative abilities repair concussion or should Logan be taking him to a fucking hospital?

"Come on, peanut. Let me help," Wade said, which only confused Logan more. He didn't even know what was wrong- so how did Wade reckon he could fix it?

"I'm fine," he gritted out with a glare, trying to keep still to prove his point but fuck, his skin felt painful and tight.

"Alright," Wade held his hands up in surrender before letting them drop, turning back to the TV.

Logan watched him for a few seconds, then scoffed loudly, moving to lay a bit more on the arm rest.

It felt like it was digging into his ribs. He scratched his arm, barely resisting the urge to unsheathe his claws. He adjusted to lie back into the cushions. He sunk in too much, and the soft cushions felt like sandpaper against his on-fire skin.

Something dangerously close to a whimper escaped his lips, and he had to blink back a dampness building in his vision. Fuck, what the hell was wrong with him?

"Lo," he thought Wade had went back to focusing on the show, but apparently he'd been wrong, because the merc was staring at him with soft, concerned eyes, and Logan wanted to scream.

"What?" Logan snipped, but it was missing any of the intended edge.

"Let me try and help. No one else is here, it's just us - and if you don't like it, you can just sit back up," Wade lifted an arm again, an invitation for Logan to curl up against him and... it pissed him off how nice that sounded.

He hesitated for a few moments longer. Too long, really, and he expected Wade to rescind the offer entirely out of impatience.

He didn't. He just adjusted himself to be more sprawled back against the couch cushions, parting his legs a little and keeping his arm raised.

Logan made a defeated noise in the back of his throat, crawling closer. He hovered awkwardly between Wade's legs, unsure how to proceed, and Wade just gently pushed on his shoulders to get him to lie down, his head and upper torso covering Wade's chest and lower body.

He worried he'd be too heavy for Wade, but the younger man didn't seem bothered whatsoever. Perks of him being built pretty indestructible, probably.

"Good boy," he praised quietly, running his hand through Logan's hair. Essentially petting him, really, and Logan couldn't explain it but it's like everything in his head and everything with his body quietened down. He could breathe again, and he found himself going boneless against the younger man.

He wrapped his arms around Wade's torso, nuzzling into his stomach with a content sound, his eyes slipping shut as Wade continued to play with his hair, stroke over his back, brush fingers over his neck, calming the burn of his skin wherever they went.

It became a regular occurrence after that. Every night when they settled down to watch TV, Wade would wordlessly lift an arm, and Logan would wordlessly crawl over to lie against him. Sometimes they reversed it, because Logan discovered that having Wade lying atop of him felt incredibly grounding. Usually though, he'd be the one pressed up against the merc, tangled around him like some sort of extra clingy and extra heavy octopus. Wade would always 'pet' him, mumbling occasional praise as he ran gentle fingers over his body, scratching his scalp or dragging blunt nails over his back and arms.

Logan didn't realise how desperately he needed the touch until it was gone.

They'd been arguing all day. It was all stupid shit, really - moreso driven by the fact they hadn't had a mission in a while. Wade grew antsy if he'd been out of commission too long, and if he had to work so many back to back shifts at the dealership. And Logan grew irritable being stuck in the tiny apartment with no real purpose all day.

He'd went to the store and bought himself a bottle of whiskey to occupy his mind, to stop the thoughts of his old found family dead on the ground from a fight he could've aided in leaking into his brain.

Wade, as usual, had poured it down the drain. Something that, ordinarily, Logan would've been pissed about but let drop fairly quickly- because despite what others may think of him, his sort of almost sobriety did matter to him. It mattered to Wade too, which is why Logan never usually got all that mad at him for pouring perfectly good alcohol down the drain.

Maybe it was because of the irritation already brewing within them both, or maybe it was because Logan had really been relying on loosing himself in that bottle, but the argument quickly spiralled out of hand.

"You can't just pour out my shit, Wade!" Logan yelled, gesturing to the now empty bottle.

"Yeah, I'm being totally unreasonable. Next time I'll let you drink yourself into a stupor, pinky fucking promise!" Wade yelled back.

"You had no fucking right!"

"Do you think I want to, huh?! You think I just love having to control your alcohol intake like your some sixteen year old girl who discovered fucking smirnoff for the first time?!"

"Then fucking don't! I don't need you to do anything for me! I managed by myself for two hundred fucking years, I don't fucking need you, and I certainly don't fucking want you!" Logan shouted, probably loud enough that they'd get complaints from the neighbours later.

The ensuing silence felt even louder.

He regretted it immediately. He didn't mean it, and he knew that as soon as he'd said it. Because yeah, he might be able to survive by himself- but that's all it ever was. Fucking survival.

Wade showed him how to live.

He was still too angry to take any of it back, though. To admit he'd crossed a line.

"Fine. Do whatever the fuck you want, Logan," and Wade left, their bedroom door slamming echoing throughout the whole apartment.

They avoided each other for days. Even when they were together, there was silence. Wade didn't crack any of his usual jokes. They ate in silence. They stopped waking up tangled up in one another, and Wade no longer opened an arm in invitation when they were sharing the couch alone. No hand over hand on the cart, or arms brushing in the street, none of it.

Logan didn't give a shit, obviously. He bought ridiculous amounts of alcohol and drank until he passed out on their kitchen floor, waking up a few hours later cover in his own vomit and Mary Puppins peering at him curiously. Even the fucking dog was judging him.

It was the week mark, and Logan actually hadn't had a drink that day. Only because he had ran dry on money to buy any, and he'd considered stealing some but thought it wouldn't be worth losing his job with the TVA. He did maybe try drinking some of Al's nail polish remover, but he was halfway into the bottle when he realised she used the type that was fucking alcohol free.

Not his proudest moment.

His body already felt weary from the slight pulls of withdrawal when he sat on his end of the couch, purposefully not glancing Wade's way. It was very much like how he'd felt when he stopped drinking so much in this universe. The tiredness that ate down to his bones, the cravings niggling his brain constantly.

He already didn't feel great - but then the itching started, and it got intense fast.

His efforts to keep still were futile. It was so much worse than the first time around, and worse still because he knew what was missing, and it was his own fault he didn't have it anymore.

What the fuck was he supposed to say? 'Hey I know I said I didn't need you and to stop treating me like a child, but if you don't cuddle me right now I might fucking explode'.

No. He couldn't do that.

Everything hurt. He couldn't draw a breath in properly, and even the feeling of his clothes against his skin felt fucking wrong. Like it was too... light.

The final straw was when one of those tears welling in his eyes actually escaped, rolling down his cheek. He wiped at it harshly, and got up without another word, heading straight for their bedroom.

He couldn't let Wade see him like this. He was fucking pathetic.

He stripped down to his boxers, needing the stupid fabric to stop touching him, and got onto their bed. The covers felt scratchy, and he kicked them away with a growl. In the process of his aggressive attempts to find a comfortable position, he got a whiff of a familiar scent.

Wades. Wade's pillow smelt exactly like him.

It was the first time since the itching feeling started that he felt some sembelence of calm. His skin still burnt, but he could sort of zone it out for a moment.

He tried to turn away. To ignore it, because it was fucking stupid, but he didn't last long before he was grabbing the pillow and pulling it towards him, pressing his face into it and inhaling deeply.

He didn't remember when he started crying, but the pillow was soon wet with tears. He was so fucking stupid. Utterly fucking ridiculous - a grown ass man crying into a pillow because, what? He didn't have someone playing with his fucking hair?

He was so, so beyond furious at himself. At how ridiculous he was, and at how massively he'd managed to mess everything up.

Wade was good. He was bad. He should've known from the get go that he'd fuck it all up.

"Jesus, Logan," the soft gasp startled him from his thoughts abruptly, and he panicked. He sat up, shoving the pillow aside despite the fact Wade had seen exactly what he was doing.

Maybe he'd get lucky and one of those stupid ring portals would appear beneath him and send him elsewhere. Anywhere, really- he didn't care, it would be better than this.

"What?"

The biting tone wasn't all that effective when he had to scrub at his eyes to get rid of the tears.

It didn't even work anyway. They wouldn't fucking stop now that he'd let them start, and the fact Wade had caught him sitting there breathing in dredges of his scent while fucking crying - maybe part of it was just the utter humiliation of it all.

"Oh, Lo. It's alright," Wade murmured, and then he was shutting the door and crossing the room, climbing onto the bed.

He reached out, but seemed to hesitate, his arm dropping, "can I touch you?"

Logan only cried harder, his body practically vibrating, as if it was attempting to force him to move closer even unconsciously. He gave a jerky nod, "please."

Wade was on him in an instant, pulling him in so tight that to anyone without super strength and regenerating abilities, it would probably hurt.

Logan didn't care. He needed more. The fire was tamed, but it was still there, the embers tickling his body and threatening to overtake him again.

His hands tugged at the hem of Wade's shirt, seeking permission. He needed the stupid itchy fabric gone. The press of it was too soft and gentle. He needed skin. Needed something solid. Needed Wade, now.

"Shirt off?" Wade clarified, and Logan nodded where his head was tucked into the crook of his neck.

He hadn't accounted for the fact that they'd have to break their embrace to do it.

Wade tried to pull back, but Logan gasped, digging his nails in and keeping himself plastered to Wade's front.

"I'm not going anywhere, peanut. I'm just taking my clothes off, alright? I'm not leaving you, I swear," Wade put both hands on the side of his face, lifting it so he could look into his eyes as he spoke, the pad of his thumb wiping away his tears.

Logan reluctantly let go, shivering violently when everything hit him again.

Wade made quick work of stripping off his shirt and sweatpants, leaving him in his briefs. He lay down, and opened his arm.

Logan could've started crying again in relief. He all but dove at the younger man, burying his face away in his chest, wrapping his arms tight around him. Wade held him tightly, pulling him in enough so their bodies were pressed together solidly.

He lifted a hand and started stroking his hair, shushing him softly and rocking their bodies a little.

"I'm sorry. 'M so sorry, I didn't mean any of it," and ordinarily he might very been reluctant to say it, never being all that good at swallowing down his perceived pride, but it felt too important not to say.

Because despite everything, Wade had came in here to check on him. He could've just continued to watch TV. He could've so easily made fun of him for what he'd walked into, mocking how fucking stupid he was, and walked straight back out. He could've and should've done all of that, but he didn't. Because he was Wade, and he was good, and Logan would never fully understand what positivity he put out into the world to earn him.

"I know, me neither. Just calm down, Lo. It's all good now, I've got you," Wade assured, squeezing tighter, and Logan made a small satisfied sound, nosing at Wade's chest and then his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his shampoo and body wash.

The itching had ceased, but he still felt like he needed more, like it wasn't enough until he sliced Wade open and crawled inside of him, curled up contently next to his beating heart, burrowed beneathe his ribs.

He didn't verbalise it, but Wade seemed to understand, as usual.

"On your back, baby," he directed, and Logan did so without complaint.

Wade moved with him, lying on top of him completely, tangling their legs together, a solid weight pressing him into the mattress, and ironically enough he finally felt like he could breathe again.

"Good boy. You're so good, peanut," Wade hummed, running fingers over his shoulders. Logan disagreed, but he was too out of it to really argue. He felt like he was floating on a cloud, hovering out of his body.

He didn't realise he was biting until Wade let out a soft sound above him, and the metallic taste filled his mouth.

"Fuck, sorry I... I didn't realise," he tried to move away, eyes wide, but Wade shushed him again, his expression something fond.

"Does it help?" Wade asked simply, and Logan swallowed. It did. It was... it was like Wade felt closer to him, somehow.

"Mhm, but don't wanna hurt you," he felt almost drunk, his words slurring a little as he watched the small wound on Wade's shoulder close up.

"I'll heal, angel. Have at it," Wade tilted his head in invitation, and Logan nosed at his neck for a moment, still not entirely sure, before sticking out the tip of his tongue and licking experimentally. He moaned softly at the taste of Wade on his taste buds, pressing his nose against his adams apple simultaneously to breathe him in. He let his teeth sink in lightly, nibbling at the sensitive area.

Wade groaned atop of him, and Logan went to pull away, but the merc held him there by the back of his head, "keep going. Please, Lo," and he sounded breathless and needy, and it made Logan growl with animalistic possessiveness, biting down a bit harder, blood running to the surface, which he quickly lapped up.

He couldn't really tell who connected lips first, he was fairly certain it was him, but it didn't really matter ultimately. They were high off one another, Wade grinding down while Logan rutted up, both of them rock solid against each other.

Logan bit at his lip, drawing blood before licking it away filthily, dragging his nails all over every surface of Wade he could reach. He needed him. He needed him so fucking badly. He wanted to worship every square inch of him then crawl beneathe his skin and make a home there.

He reached between them, wrapping a hand around Wade's length, but the merc caught his wrist, using the other hand to grip Logan's jaw and direct their eyes to meet.

"Logan," he knew vaguely that Wade wanted him to listen, but he was too busy whining beneathe him, pushing his hips up trying to chase the friction that every cell in his body was fucking screaming for. He didn't want to stop, and he didn't get why Wade was making him.

"Logan. Hey, eyes on me, peanut," Wade ordered firmly, and Logan finally reluctantly ceased his movements, blinking Wade's face into his focus.

"How are you feeling?"

And Logan huffed, glaring a little, because did Wade really stop what they were doing just to ask him that? Seriously?

"I'm fine," he replied shortly, trying to go for Wade's mouth again, but found himself held down by a hand against his bare chest.

"I'm going to need a bit more than that before we go any further, peanut. Especially with how upset you were just twenty minutes ago," Wade was stroking a hand through his hair again, and the calmness that filled his body from the touch was enough to get him to settle down just a little, sinking into the bed and giving up his valiant mission of jerking off against Wade's solid form.

"I just need to know you're okay, and I need to know you're doing this because you want it, not just because you feel like you need it."

"I want it. I want it a lot," he said after a few seconds, looking up at Wade. It was the most vulnerable he'd felt in forever, and all he could do was hope that Wade took that and handled it carefully.

Wade smiled, kissing Logan firmly. Logan gasped into it, letting his mouth open wider, inviting Wade in to explore as he pleased.

Wade pulled away suddenly, and Logan very almost ripped his head off of his shoulders in order to keep him close.

"Easy, boy. I'm just trying to sort you out," Wade explained with fingers teasing the waistband of his boxers.

It was ridiculous, but he wasn't certain he could handle the younger man's body weight leaving him. That press, being able to feel every inch of Wade against him, it was the only thing keeping him tethered in reality. He couldn't handle his skin setting alight again. Especially not when he had went a whole week without Wade's touch.

"Baby," and something about Wade calling him that made him want to crumble. Want to get onto his knees and suck him off and worship him like he deserved, because he must be a God- that's the only explanation as to how he can breathe a single word and make Logan unravel. Because he'd never been that. He'd never been anyone's 'baby', because no one ever bothered to be tender with him before. He was The Wolverine. He was supposed to be rough, and rugged, and maybe 'handsome', but never 'pretty'. Never 'baby'.

And yet everytime it rolled off of Wade's tongue it was so genuine, so sweet and caring, and it was almost like a permission slip for Logan to let the gruff exterior drop just for a minute, and be somebody's 'baby'. Be Wade's 'baby'.

"You don't want me to leave, peanut? You want me to stay on top of you?" Wade asked, because he was genuinely bothered by the idea of Logan not being one million percent happy with this experience.

Logan found his mouth and kissed him again. This one was gentle. So, so gentle. No blood or biting or back and forth - just a barely there press of lips. A thank you, sealed away in a kiss.

"Please," he answered quietly, speaking it into Wade's parted mouth, "I just... I need to know you're here, I think. I need to..." he trailed off, unsure how to finish.

How could he verbalise that he needed to feel him so completely, that he needed Wade everywhere all over him, all at once? How could he say that without scaring him away entirely?

Maybe that would be for the best, in all honesty. He couldn't be so damn reliant - not when Wade had a fucking life to live. A future to build. Why should he put that on hold just because Logan crash landed into his reality?

He should be going on dates with Vanessa right now, trying to fix things. Or hanging out with his actual friends. He should be doing a lot of things- but trying to fix something in Logan that had been irreparably smashed to pieces years ago was not one of them.

"I need- we need to stop," he spoke, even as every cell in his body was screaming no, fuck no.

Wade frowned, the hand that had been tracing over his arms pausing.

"What?"

"I can't. I can't do it. I can't."

He couldn't drag Wade down into the fucking abyss. He couldn't force him to live out his eternity like this.

"Okay, that's okay peanut. You want me to get off of you?" Wade offered, and Logan nodded.

It killed him, but he nodded.

Wade lifted up, manoeuvring onto the edge of the bed.

Logan wanted to throw up, that cold and empty feeling returning to his gut, spreading through all of his limbs like poison. 'This is good, Wade is good, you are bad' was like a mantra in his head, growing louder and louder until all Logan could hear was the rapid thumping of his own heart and those words, screamed, being etched across his organs like a warning.

Maybe the repeated frying of his brain was finally catching up to him.

"Logan, what's wrong?"

Logan wanted to tear his own fucking skin off.

"Did- was it too much? Did I go too far? I'm sorry, I just thought it's what you wanted," Wade was apologising, he was fucking apologising, and Logan was barely holding it the fuck together, his chest tightening.

"No. No, it's... I need to be alone," he choked on the last word, as if his body was physically fighting him from saying it.

Wade was looking at him with a small frown, reaching out for his hand resting on the mattress which Logan quickly moved away.

He'd never forget the look of hurt etched onto the others face. He might very well of tried to hide it, but he caught the flash of upset that filled Wade's features so intensely for just a moment.

"Of course. Yeah, sorry. I'll just," Wade gestured vaguely to the bedroom door before all but racing out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Logan sighed shakily, curling up on himself and trying in vain to stop the tears coming.

Part 2 up now

[tan1shere]

Heyyyyyyy could YOU please PLEASE do one where Billie tells the reader how to touch herself, while Billie is on tour?!!?

Call Me

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: coming righttttt up, hope you like it 😊

Warnings: smut, phone sex ?? Masterbating - think thats it !

Masterlist

It was lonely here all alone. Finding little jobs and activities to do to fill in time. Whenever you weren't working, yourself. Your girlfriend, Billie was currently on her HMHAS tour. And you haven't seen her in days. Truth be told you missed her like crazy. Her presence. Her voice. Her touch..

Which led to the next feeling you missed. Ovulation was no joke. And you were currently facing the feral-ness of it. Even more so that she isn't here. You had been frustrated all day. And you only now realize why. You needed to touch yourself, you had to relieve this pent up tension. So as the night comes along you get into your warm, comfortable bed. Checking the time. Billie usually calls around this time.

You figure shes sleeping, she had been extra tired lately. You go to slide your hand down into your shorts, about to touch yourself. When you do, but stopping. Things aren't the same. You wanted her touch. You try to continue but nothing was feeling good right now. That caused more frustration to bubble inside you. Deciding to just sleep it away. And hope tomorrow was normal.

Next day rolls around and you still have the same feeling. Frustration and horniness. Not a great combination, the day felt longer because of it. It was a bit earlier when you got home, but thankfully Billie didn't have a show today. So she was hopefully going to answer when you call. You couldn't take it anymore you needed her help. And you needed it desperately.

You go to lay on the bed, grabbing your phone and dialing her number. She answers in seconds, causing you to grow nervous. In all the years of being with her, phone sex was the one thing you've yet to do. So ofcourse you were nervous. Would she even help you, would this be odd? "Hi baby." You hear her say, cheerfully. You smile to yourself. "Hello!" You try your hardest to not jump into things, going to try give her some hints.

"How was your day?" She then asks. You sigh, ever so lightly. "A little frustrating, good to be home though. How about yours?" - "Mine was pretty boring I've just been preparing for tomorrow's show and chilling. Why was yours frustrating my love?" You think for a moment. "Just some work and other little things, some of which I just can't fix by myself.." - "I'm sorry, anything I can do to help at all?" Yes. Phone fuck me. Was all you wanted to say but you had to play things cool. Even if your body was heating up at the thought of this happening.

"Not that I can think of, just wanted to hear your voice I missed you." She smiles to herself. "I miss you too babe." There was a small pause, you were contemplating on how you'd do this. When a small idea pops into your head. You missed her voice so much, and it sounds like you had just woke her up from a nap. Her voice was slightly raspy, a bit of her tiredness peeking through.

"Did anything else happen today?" You then ask, getting comfortable on the bed. Moving your hands just above the waistband of your underwear. You had decided to get straight into your sleepwear, just a loose night gown. Wanting to feel good as all you've been wearing lately are big t-shirts to bed. You wanted to feel hot, make this moment more sensual. "Not too much if im honest, just got my outfit for tomorrow, did some other things. Just boring stuff really." You hum in reply, moving your hand in your underwear as she speaks.

Was this wrong? It felt a little like that. Your face heats up what're you even doing. But you get pulled from your thoughts when you hear your name. "Hello? Y/n, baby. You still there?" The name made you bite your lip. "Y-yeah sorry." She chuckles. "You didn't answer my question love." "Oh, oops. What was it?" She smiles to herself again, finding you cute. Except what you were doing was far from cute and downright filthy. "I asked you how shark had been, he's behaving right?" Your hand moves lower, trying to stay focused on the conversation and her voice. "Y-yeah he's been good." You let out a quiet sigh but she hears it. "Everything ok?"

You get nervous again, how were you even going to manage this. "I'm fine.." You needed her to keep talking, and thankfully she does. "Ok, Im sure if it's anything youre just tired. I was going to talk to you about when I get back, we have a dinner with Finn on the Friday. Just thought I'd remind you incase you forgot." Your finger had been in you, slowly moving the whole time she was talking. And when you don't reply she gets more confused. "Baby, what're you doing you seem distracted." You holt your movements, trying to think of an excuse but why? You wanted to call her and ask.

Ask her to talk to you, help you. So why were you so damn nervous. "Talk to me baby." God sake her voice was so hot even when she wasn't intentionally trying. You bite your lip again trying to stop any noise that was about to escape. Mustering up some sort of strength to reply. "I'm f-fine." Was all you managed to respond with. Billie sits there in thought, when she hears another sigh. Was she catching on? She needed to be sure. "I miss you, so. So much." She was playing with fire. You don't respond again, having your eyes shut as you try to give yourself pleasure.

When it's not working you let out another sigh followed by a tiny whine. She hears that loud and clear, smirking to herself. She knew good and well what you were doing. "Can't wait to see you in a few days, get to kiss you. Hold you. Touch.. you." She chose her words evily. But she didn't stop there. A breath was to be heard. Followed by a frustrated sigh. "Let me help, baby. You sound annoyed." Another small whine left you, at the fact she was right and just overall the way she was speaking to you.

Your brows knit together, giving in and letting her. She knows now, there's no point in staying silent. "It's no good, I miss you. Your hands." She coos. "I know baby, I know. I'm just so good at touching my girl huh?" Your head rests back. "So good." You breath into the speaker. "Your fingers still inside?" You reply with a hum. "Move em." So you do just that, slowly at first. "Move your thumb, touch your clit for me." You do that, touching it then moving your thumb in a circle motion.

Everything was so still and quiet she could hear your wetness and God it was driving her nuts, she wanted to be there. To see it, to feel it. "That's it." She says encouragingly, hearing your noises as you speed up on both tactics. She could just imagine it, you touching yourself just to her speaking. "Was baby doing this the whole time I was talking?" She then says. Your cheeks grow red with heat. "I- uhm." She lets out an evil chuckle, sending tingles straight to your pussy. It was such a hot chuckle. But then again, anything she did right now was 10x hotter. "You're such a filthy girl huh?" You bite your lip yet again.

Feeling more pleasure than you had been. "Please keep talking please." You begged. Voice so needy. "Plunge deeper for me, know you can. Imagine my fingers. How deep they go. Imagine your thumb is my tongue as I swirl it around your throbbing clit." Your back arches at the thought, you needed it more than anything. "Need you so bad." A louder moan was to be heard. The fact this woman is just talking to you and you almost coat the sheets in your nectar. She felt all the power in this moment. "Go faster for me - that's a good girl." She finishes as she hears the squelching increase. Your breaths and moans mingle into one as you get closer.

"Mmm, fuck I'm so so close. Please." She laughs yet again. "So cute, still asking to cum even when I'm miles away. So incredibly good, aren't you?" Your head lulls back into the pillows again, feeling the knot almost snap. "Fuck, Billie." - "Faster baby, rub your clit. Wanna hear you squirt." Just those words alone send both of those sensations out of you, having you leak and squirt all at once. Your breath being uneven as your eyes roll back. "Good, girl. That's what I like to hear."