#I just wanted these to see the light of day somehow

[missarchive]

guys my age - spencer reid

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

who? professor spencer reid x student fem!reader

category: slow burn, forbidden love.

content warnings: NSFW MDNI! age gap! (spencer is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s). dubious content. freakish obsessed reader, freakish obsessed spencer. dom!spencer, but reader is pretty controlling. borderline stalking. unprotected p in v. forbidden love. power dynamics. smut. spencer cums inside :]

word count: around 8k

a/n: hi all!! this is my first post, i used to write wayyy back in the day but after a long three years and finally finishing my degree, i now have all the time in the world to write again. feedback is greatly appreciated <3

The lecture hall was alive with murmurs, but you couldn’t hear them. All you could focus on was the moment that door would open, the instant he would walk in. Dr. Spencer Reid. His name consumed you, whispered endlessly in the back of your mind, an invocation that made your pulse quicken. You had done your research long before the semester began—his credentials, his publications, the infamous cases he’d worked. He wasn’t just brilliant. He was untouchable. But not to you.

You sat deliberately in the middle row, far enough back to observe him fully, close enough to feel like he was speaking directly to you. The moment he entered, time seemed to slow. His presence was overwhelming, his voice a melody that wrapped around you, dragging you under. Every movement he made—the way his fingers toyed with the edge of his lecture notes, the slight adjustment of his glasses—was a spectacle.

“Good morning, everyone. Welcome to Advanced Criminology. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.” His voice was smooth and confident, with an underlying warmth that immediately put you at ease.

For the next hour, you sat transfixed as he delved into the complexities of criminal behavior, weaving together case studies and theories with an ease that only someone with his expertise could manage. He had a way of making even the most intricate concepts accessible, his passion for the subject evident in every word. By the end of the lecture, you were utterly captivated—not just by the material, but by the man who delivered it.

Perfectly ironed white shirt, sleeves rolled up his forearms. The same black suit pants you’d seen countless times when you closed your eyes. Unruly curls lay in a perfect mess, somehow each strand just fit. His eyes held knowledge, they commanded attention. They looked at you with such an intensity, you wondered if he could see right through you. Sure, he wasn’t blind. Dr. Spencer Reid was a genius, after all. But, as he walks around his classic oak desk, fingers grazing against the wood as he leans up against it, you wonder if he knows the effect he has on you… On everyone.

Your old professor had resigned, much to your dismay. However, that was quickly resolved once you learnt of the new, much younger professor who was assigned to take his place. Spencer Reid, a name that seemed like a curse every time it was spoken. You’d just have to settle for admiring from afar, for now. 

He was perfect. No, he was more than that. He was yours.

In those first weeks, it became routine to linger after class, pretending to ask questions about criminological theories when all you wanted was his attention. You started tracking his habits: the exact time he arrived on campus, where he grabbed his coffee, the path he took to his office. It wasn’t enough to listen to him during lectures. You needed to know him. Needed to understand every nuance of his life.

Your notebooks filled slowly. Not just with his words, but with sketches of his hands, his profile, even the way the light hit his hair during evening lectures. You memorized his mannerisms and read every book he recommended—not just to excel but to mirror his thoughts, to create a bond he couldn’t ignore.

Each interaction became a drug, a fleeting high that left you craving more. The way his eyes lingered on yours during class wasn’t a coincidence. You were sure of it. The moments his voice softened when addressing you were evidence of something deeper. He felt it too—he had to.

Dr. Reid, for his part, seemed to enjoy your curiosity. He would patiently answer your questions, occasionally sharing anecdotes from his time in the field. There was a depth to him that intrigued you, a sense of vulnerability hidden beneath his intellect. You couldn’t help but feel a growing admiration for him—one that you knew was dangerous to entertain.

It happened on a rainy Friday afternoon. You had stayed behind after class to discuss a particularly challenging case study, and the conversation had spilled into his office. The rain pattered against the window as you sat across from him, your notes spread out on the desk between you.

“I’m impressed with your analysis,” he said, his eyes meeting yours. “You have a natural aptitude for this field.”

The compliment sent a flush of warmth through you, but you quickly pushed it aside. “Thank you, Dr. Reid. That means a lot coming from you.”

For a moment, the air between you shifted, the professional boundary wavering ever so slightly. He seemed to sense it too, clearing his throat and looking away. “Well, uh, keep up the good work. I’m looking forward to seeing your perspective on the next assignment.”

As you gathered your things and prepared to leave, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something unspoken lingered between you. It was subtle, like the faintest trace of electricity in the air, but it was there. And it terrified you.

The weeks turned into months, and the connection between you and Dr. Reid continued to deepen. It wasn’t intentional—at least, that’s what you told yourself. You simply couldn’t help the way your conversations seemed to flow effortlessly or the way his insights resonated with you on a level that felt personal.

There were moments when you caught him watching you during lectures, his gaze lingering a fraction longer than necessary. And then there were the times when his praise felt almost... intimate, as if he saw something in you that went beyond your academic abilities.

You knew it was wrong. He was your professor, and the power dynamic alone made any kind of relationship inappropriate. But the more you tried to suppress your feelings, the stronger they seemed to grow. You found yourself yearning for his company, for the way his mind worked, for the rare glimpses of vulnerability he shared.

And you weren’t entirely sure he was immune to it, either.

It was during a late-night office visit that everything came to a head. You had been working on your final paper and were struggling with a particular section. Dr. Reid had offered to review it, and you had jumped at the chance, grateful for his guidance.

As you sat across from him, discussing your ideas, the tension that had been building between you finally reached its breaking point. There was a moment of silence as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes searching yours.

“You’re incredibly talented,” he said softly. “I hope you know that.”

The vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard, and before you could stop yourself, you replied, “It’s easy to feel that way when someone like you believes in me.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. He looked at you, his expression a mixture of conflict and longing. “This...” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “This can’t happen. I won’t elaborate further, but you’re a smart girl… I know you know what I'm talking about.”

You nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I know.”

But even as you said it, neither of you moved to leave. All you received was a curt nod. The pull between you was undeniable, and in that moment, it felt as though the world had narrowed to just the two of you.

The night of the gala was your chance. You spent hours perfecting your appearance, knowing he would notice you in a way he never had before. And when he did, when his eyes locked onto you with that unreadable expression, it was like the entire world fell away.

When he led you to the corner of the room, your heart pounded, not with fear, but with anticipation. His frustration, his struggle to maintain control, only proved how deeply you had affected him.

“What are you doing?” He demanded, his voice low and sharp.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you mean, Dr. Reid.”

His jaw clenched, his composure slipping. “You know exactly what I mean. You’ve been crossing lines all semester.”

You stepped closer, the scent of his cologne intoxicating. “And what if I have?”

His gaze burned into yours, his control fraying with each passing second. “This has to stop.” He said, though his tone lacked conviction.

But you knew better. You had studied him, unraveled him piece by piece. He wasn’t as strong as he pretended to be. And neither were you.

“Maybe I don’t want it to.” You whispered, your voice trembling with both fear and desire.

For a moment, his eyes softened, as if seeing the truth of your obsession for the first time. “Obsession is a dangerous game.” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

You would burn the whole world down if it meant keeping him close.

The world outside of Dr. Reid’s orbit ceased to matter. Friends became an afterthought. Classes, even the ones you’d once excelled in, were nothing more than obligations. Every moment not spent in his presence felt wasted. His words were etched into your memory, his voice a constant echo in your mind.

You found excuses to linger near his office, pretending to read in the hallway or jotting down notes on topics that had long ceased to matter. Sometimes you’d see him through the small window of his door, head bowed over papers, fingers absently running through his tousled hair. Those moments were sacred.

And then there were the nights.

Your dreams became a battleground, the lines between fantasy and reality blurring. You would see him, hear him, feel the phantom weight of his gaze. Waking up was a cruel joke, pulling you from a world where he was already yours. More than once, you had the fleeting urge to knock on his door late at night, under the pretense of needing help.

But you stopped yourself. Barely.

For now.

When he praised you in class, it felt personal, intimate. You lived for those moments. The way he would say your name, how his eyes would flicker with something unreadable—those seconds were your lifeline. But it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. You needed more.

You started keeping track of the little details. The brand of pens he used. The scuff on his leather satchel. The faint hint of lavender in his cologne. You’d bought the same scent, spraying it on your pillow just to feel closer to him at night.

One evening, you followed him. It wasn’t intentional, not at first. He left the lecture hall as you lingered, and without thinking, you gathered your things and trailed behind him. He walked briskly, head down, weaving through the near-empty campus. You stayed far enough back to avoid suspicion but close enough to study him.

He stopped at the local bookstore, his long fingers running over the spines of books with a reverence that made your chest tighten. You hid behind a display, watching him as he browsed. When he left, you waited a few moments before approaching the same section. He had lingered near the true crime section, and you traced the path of his fingers, touching the same books he had touched.

It became a ritual after that. You discovered his favorite haunts: the coffee shop where he always ordered black coffee with two sugars, the quiet corner of the library where he would sometimes sit and read, the park where he walked on Sunday mornings. You were careful, meticulous, ensuring he never saw you. But you saw him.

Every time you caught a glimpse of him, it felt like a secret, a moment that belonged solely to you.

The gala had been your boldest move yet, and the way his gaze lingered on you that night had only fueled the fire. His warning echoed in your mind, but you dismissed it. He said you were crossing boundaries, but you knew better. He was simply scared. Scared of what this meant. Scared of what you meant.

You decided to leave him something. A token, something small enough to avoid suspicion but personal enough that he would know it was from you. A first edition of one of the books he had mentioned in class. You placed it on his desk after everyone had left, your heart racing as you imagined his reaction.

The next day, you waited, anticipation coiling in your stomach like a serpent. When he walked into class, the book was in his hand. His eyes scanned the room, lingering on you for a moment too long before he placed it in his bag without a word.

It was a victory.

But victories, you realized, were fleeting.

One evening, as you left the library, you spotted him walking toward his car. The parking lot was empty, save for the two of you, and for the first time, you didn’t bother to stay hidden. You followed him openly, your footsteps echoing against the pavement.

He stopped abruptly, turning to face you.

“Why are you following me?” He asked, his voice sharp but not unkind. His eyes held a mixture of curiosity and something darker, something you couldn’t quite place.

Your breath caught, but you forced a smile. “I wasn’t following you, Dr. Reid. I just happened to be walking this way.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “This isn’t the first time, is it?”

The accusation hung in the air, and for a moment, you thought about denying it. But then, something inside you snapped.

“No.” You admitted, your voice trembling. “It’s not.”

His expression shifted—confusion, disbelief, and something else flickered across his face. “Why?”

The word was a whisper, barely audible, but it was enough to unravel you.

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you,” you said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I can’t eat, I can’t sleep—I can’t focus on anything but you. You’re brilliant, and kind, and perfect, and I—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, his voice firm. “This isn’t healthy.”

You took a step closer, desperation clawing at your chest. “But it’s real. You know it is. I see the way you look at me. Don’t pretend you don’t feel it too.”

He took a step back, shaking his head. “This has to end…now. Do you understand me?”

But you didn’t believe him. Not really. Because you had seen the way his hands trembled when you were near, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you. He was scared, yes, but not of you. He was scared of himself.

And that, you realized, was all the encouragement you needed.

Dr. Reid’s words echoed in your mind for days after the encounter in the parking lot. This has to end. But the way he said it, the way his voice wavered ever so slightly, betrayed him. It wasn’t conviction; it was fear. Fear of what you had awakened in him.

You were sure of it now. He wasn’t immune to you. Not entirely.

The proof came in small, fleeting moments—too subtle for anyone else to notice, but to you, they were glaring signs. The way his eyes lingered on you during lectures, his gaze softening before he quickly looked away. The way he adjusted his tie when you walked into the room, as if suddenly self-conscious. And then there were the compliments, so carefully worded that they might seem innocent to others, but to you, they felt personal. Intimate.

Still, he kept his distance. Even when you sought him out after class, he kept the conversations brief, his tone polite but clipped. It was maddening, the way he seemed to hold himself back.

But then, there were cracks.

One afternoon, you arrived at his office under the guise of needing help with a research topic. He hesitated before letting you in, his hand lingering on the doorknob as if debating whether this was a mistake.

Once inside, the air between you was charged. He sat across from you, his hands folded on the desk, but his gaze flickered to your lips more than once as you spoke.

When you handed him a stack of notes, your fingers brushed, and he pulled back quickly, too quickly.

“Sorry.” He murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, leaning forward just enough to close the space between you. “It’s okay.”

For a moment, his composure faltered. His eyes locked onto yours, and the tension was unbearable. You could see it in his face—the war he was waging within himself.

Then, just as quickly, he stood, turning his back to you as he busied himself with a stack of papers on the shelf. “Your analysis is impressive,” he said, his tone suddenly distant. “You’re clearly passionate about the subject.”

The shift was jarring, but it only solidified your resolve. He wasn’t rejecting you. He was protecting himself.

That evening, you stayed late in the library, poring over the materials he had assigned. As you packed up to leave, you noticed a familiar figure in the far corner. He was seated at a table, his long fingers flipping through a thick volume, his expression distant.

You froze, your heart pounding. He hadn’t noticed you yet. For a moment, you considered leaving, but the pull was too strong.

You approached slowly, the sound of your footsteps drawing his attention. When he looked up, his eyes widened slightly, a flicker of something unguarded crossing his face before he composed himself.

“Staying late?” He asked, his voice calm, but his fingers tightened on the edge of the book.

You nodded, setting your bag down on the table. “I could ask you the same thing.”

He gave a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I find the library... peaceful.”

“Me too.” You said softly, taking a seat across from him.

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the unspoken tension that had been building for months. His eyes flicked to yours, then away, as if he couldn’t decide whether to meet your gaze or avoid it entirely.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “You should be careful, you know. Spending so much time in my office, lingering after class—it’s not... appropriate.”

Your heart twisted at the words, but his tone was anything but stern. It sounded like a warning, but it felt like a confession.

“Do you want me to stop?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked down at his hands, his fingers flexing as if resisting the urge to reach for something—or someone.

“It’s not about what I want.” He said finally, his voice strained.

But it was. You could see it in the way his shoulders tensed, in the way his gaze lingered on you when he thought you weren’t looking. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him. He was just better at pretending otherwise.

The next day, during his lecture, you felt his eyes on you more than usual. He paced the room as he spoke, his hands gesturing animatedly, but every so often, his gaze would drift to you, his words faltering for the briefest moment before he recovered.

It was intoxicating, knowing you could unravel him like this.

After class, as the other students filtered out, you stayed behind, your heart racing as you approached his desk.

“Dr. Reid,” you began, your voice steady despite the storm brewing inside you.

He looked up, his expression unreadable. “Yes?”

You hesitated, searching for the right words, but before you could speak, he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“You’re relentless.” He said softly, almost to himself.

The words sent a shiver down your spine.

“I just want to understand you.” You said, stepping closer.

He shook his head, a faint, almost bitter smile playing on his lips. “You already understand too much.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The space between you felt impossibly small, the air thick with tension. You could see the struggle in his eyes, the way he fought to maintain control, but you also saw the flicker of something darker, something he couldn’t quite suppress.

And in that moment, you knew: this wasn’t over.

It was only just beginning.

It started innocently enough—at least, that’s what you told yourself.

The male student, a classmate you barely knew, had approached you after lecture to ask about the upcoming project. His name was Ethan, and while he was polite and charming, you couldn’t muster much interest in the conversation. Still, you smiled and nodded at his jokes, your polite laughter echoing in the near-empty hall.

Unbeknownst to you, Dr. Reid had lingered behind, tidying up his desk and organizing his papers. His sharp ears caught the sound of your laughter, a melody he had grown far too familiar with—and possessive of.

He looked up to see you standing near the doorway, your body language relaxed as Ethan leaned in slightly, his tone conspiratorial. Spencer’s grip on the edge of the desk tightened.

Ethan’s laugh was loud, too loud, as if he wanted to broadcast how much he enjoyed your company. Spencer’s jaw clenched. He knew this was ridiculous. He was your professor, and it wasn’t his place to interfere with your social life. But the sight of another man so close to you, taking liberties he couldn’t, made his blood boil.

When you glanced back into the classroom, likely to gather your things, your eyes met Spencer’s. For a fleeting moment, his mask slipped, and you saw something dark and raw flicker across his face. It was gone just as quickly, replaced by his usual calm demeanor, but the image stayed with you.

“Everything alright, Dr. Reid?” You asked, stepping inside and leaving Ethan to wait by the door.

Spencer straightened, clearing his throat. “Yes. Just... finishing up.”

Ethan peeked his head in. “Ready to go?” He asked, his tone casual but his presence invasive.

Spencer’s eyes darted to Ethan, then back to you. “You should be careful with your time,” he said, his voice quiet but pointed. “The project deadline isn’t as far off as it seems.”

You frowned, confused by the sudden shift in his tone. “I’ll make sure to stay on top of it.”

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, as if debating whether to say more. Instead, he turned his attention back to his desk, his movements stiff and deliberate.

The next few days were marked by a subtle shift in Spencer’s behavior. During lectures, his eyes seemed to find you more often, but they were no longer soft or conflicted. There was an intensity to his gaze now, a quiet possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine.

When Ethan approached you again after class, Spencer’s reaction was immediate.

“Miss L/N.” He called out, his voice carrying across the room.

You turned, surprised to see him still at his desk. “Yes, Dr. Reid?”

“Could you stay for a moment? I’d like to discuss your recent paper.”

Ethan hesitated, clearly waiting for you, but Spencer’s sharp gaze left no room for argument. “I won’t keep her long.” He said smoothly, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Ethan nodded reluctantly. “I’ll catch you later.”

As soon as the door closed behind him, Spencer’s demeanor shifted. He stood, his tall frame looming as he approached you.

“Is he bothering you?” He asked, his tone casual but his eyes anything but.

“Ethan? No, not at all. Why would you think that?”

Spencer’s lips pressed into a thin line. “He seems... persistent. I just want to make sure you’re not feeling pressured.”

You couldn’t help but smile, amused by his sudden protectiveness. “I’m fine, Dr. Reid. Really.”

He nodded, but his expression didn’t soften. “Good. I’d hate to see someone distract you from your potential.”

The words were innocent enough, but the way he said them—the way his eyes lingered on yours—made your breath catch.

It wasn’t long before his jealousy became harder to hide.

During a group discussion, Ethan made a point of sitting next to you, his arm brushing against yours as he leaned over to share his notes. Spencer’s gaze locked onto the interaction, his hand tightening around the marker in his grip until his knuckles turned white.

When Ethan made a joke and you laughed, Spencer interrupted sharply. “Let’s stay on topic, please. This isn’t a social hour.”

The class fell silent, startled by his uncharacteristic tone. You glanced at him, surprised by the edge in his voice. He avoided your gaze, turning back to the whiteboard with rigid movements.

After class, as students filtered out, he called your name again.

“I wanted to apologize,” he said, his voice softer now. “I was... out of line earlier.”

“It’s okay.” You replied, though you couldn’t hide your confusion.

He hesitated, his eyes scanning your face as if searching for something. “You have to understand,” he began, his voice dropping lower, “that I only want what’s best for you. Not everyone has your best interests at heart.”

“Are you talking about Ethan?”

Spencer’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer directly. “Just... be careful who you trust.”

The weight of his words hung heavy between you, and for the first time, you wondered if his concern was more than professional.

Later that evening, you found yourself thinking about him again, replaying the moments when his composure slipped, when his obsession peeked through the cracks. You didn’t know whether to be scared or thrilled.

But one thing was certain: Spencer Reid was unraveling, and you were the one pulling the thread.

The days that followed were an intricate dance of tension, each interaction with Dr. Reid pulling you closer to a dangerous edge. His jealousy, once simmering beneath the surface, began to bleed into every corner of your academic life, coloring the way he spoke to you, the way he looked at you, the way he made his presence impossible to ignore.

It started small.

Ethan asked you to partner up for a case study project, and though you agreed, the arrangement didn’t go unnoticed. During the next lecture, Spencer called on you repeatedly, his questions increasingly challenging, as if testing your limits. The rest of the class shifted uncomfortably, sensing the deliberate scrutiny, but you met his gaze head-on, refusing to falter.

Afterward, he lingered at the podium, watching as Ethan hovered near your seat, leaning down to talk to you. The sight made his stomach churn. He didn’t like how Ethan’s hand rested casually on the back of your chair, how his laughter seemed designed to draw your attention.

“Miss L/N, a word?” Spencer’s voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding.

“What’s this about?” You asked, crossing your arms.

He tilted his head, his gaze piercing. “I noticed you and Ethan are working together.”

“We are,” you said carefully. “Is there a problem?”

His jaw clenched. “No... as long as you’re confident he’ll contribute equally. He strikes me as the type to let others carry the weight of the work.”

You frowned. “That’s not fair. He’s been helpful so far.”

Spencer leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. “Helpful isn’t always the same as trustworthy. Just keep that in mind.”

You stared at him, the intensity in his tone sending a shiver down your spine. He wasn’t just warning you—he was staking a claim, subtle but unmistakable.

The breaking point came during a departmental mixer, an event meant to encourage networking among students and faculty.

You had hesitated to attend, but Ethan insisted, offering to walk you there. Spencer spotted you as soon as you entered, his sharp eyes narrowing when he saw Ethan’s hand at the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd.

He approached you moments later, his movements precise and deliberate. “Miss L/N, a pleasure to see you here.”

“Dr. Reid.” You greeted, your smile nervous under the weight of his gaze.

“And Ethan,” Spencer added, his tone clipped. “Enjoying the event?”

“Yeah, it’s great,” Ethan replied, oblivious to the tension. “I was just telling Y/N about a conference coming up in D.C. She’s thinking about attending.”

“Is she?” Spencer asked, his eyes locking on yours.

Ethan nodded. “I might go too. We could share accommodations to save on costs.”

The suggestion made Spencer’s blood run cold. His mind spiraled with images of you and Ethan alone, the boundaries he fought so hard to maintain crumbling under the weight of his jealousy.

“That won’t be necessary.” Spencer said abruptly.

Both you and Ethan blinked in surprise.

“I mean,” he added, forcing a smile, “it’s likely the university will have funding options available for individual accommodations. I’d be happy to look into it for you, Miss L/N.”

“Thank you, Dr. Reid.” You said slowly, sensing the undercurrent of his words.

Ethan opened his mouth to protest, but Spencer cut him off with a glance so sharp it left no room for argument.

Later that evening, Spencer’s restraint finally snapped.

You stayed behind after the mixer to gather your things, only to find him waiting for you outside the building. The night air was cool, but the tension between you burned hot.

“You didn’t have to wait.” You said, pulling your jacket tighter around you.

“I wanted to.” He replied, his voice low and steady.

You walked in silence for a moment, the quiet punctuated by the rhythmic click of your heels against the pavement.

“Why do you do it?” He asked suddenly.

“Do what?”

“Let him follow you around like that. Laugh at his jokes. Entertain his attention.”

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him. “Ethan’s my classmate. I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”

“It is my concern.” He said, stepping closer. “You don’t see the way he looks at you. The way he talks to you.”

“And how do you look at me, Dr. Reid?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, your voice trembling.

His breath hitched, his carefully constructed walls beginning to crumble. “You know how I look at you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve known all along.”

The admission hung in the air, dangerous and electrifying. You stared at him, your heart pounding as he took another step closer, his presence overwhelming.

“This can’t happen.” He said, though his words lacked conviction.

“Then why are you here?”

He didn’t answer, but the intensity in his gaze spoke volumes. His hand twitched at his side, as if he was fighting the urge to reach for you. The distance between you felt razor-thin, and for the first time, you wondered who would break first.

The silence stretched between you, taut and electrifying. Spencer’s jaw tightened, and his hand briefly raked through his hair—a telltale sign of his internal struggle. He was balancing on the edge of control, teetering between his professionalism and the unrelenting pull you had on him.

“You should go home.” He finally said, his voice low but strained, as if forcing the words out against his own desires.

You didn’t move. Instead, you tilted your head, studying him with a boldness that matched his intensity. “Is that what you want?”

His sharp intake of breath gave him away. “What I want doesn’t matter.” He said, but his eyes betrayed him, dark with longing.

You stepped closer, drawn to the crack in his carefully curated armor. “It matters to me.”

“Don’t.” He warned, but the word lacked strength, a faint plea wrapped in desperation.

You hesitated, caught between the thrill of provoking him and the awareness of the risk you were taking. Still, the magnetic pull between you was undeniable. “If you really wanted me to stop, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

Spencer’s restraint snapped, just for a moment. He reached out, his hand hovering near your arm before he jerked it back as if burned. His expression twisted in frustration, his usual composure unraveling.

“You think this is a game?” He hissed, his voice harsh. “You don’t understand what you’re doing.”

“I’m not the only one doing it,” you shot back, emboldened by the fire in his eyes. “You can’t stand it when anyone else gets too close to me. Admit it.”

His silence was deafening, his jaw clenched so tightly you could see the faint twitch in his cheek.

“I see the way you look at me,” you continued, your voice softer now, almost coaxing. “It’s not just admiration, Dr. Reid. It’s something more.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He muttered, turning away, but you caught the tremble in his voice.

“Then prove me wrong.” You challenged.

Spencer turned back to you, and this time, there was no mistaking the raw emotion in his gaze. “You want the truth?” He said, his voice dangerously soft.

You nodded, your pulse quickening.

“I think about you more than I should. I notice every detail—every time you laugh, every time you tuck your hair behind your ear. And when I see him talking to you...” He broke off, shaking his head. “It takes everything in me not to...”

“Not to what?” You pressed, your heart pounding.

His lips parted, but he seemed to catch himself, stepping back as if the space between you might restore his self-control. “Not to cross a line I can’t uncross…” He finally said, his tone heavy with regret.

But the heat in his gaze told a different story—a story of a man on the verge of losing himself to the very thing he’d been trying to resist.

The tension between you didn’t dissipate. If anything, it grew, seeping into every interaction like an unstoppable tide.

In class, his gaze lingered on you longer than was appropriate, his voice faltering slightly when he called on you. During office hours, his questions delved deeper, as if searching for something he couldn’t articulate.

But it was during a casual seminar that the cracks in his professionalism began to widen.

You had arrived early, taking a seat in the front row. As you flipped through your notes, Spencer entered the room, his eyes immediately seeking you out. He paused, visibly unsettled, before making his way to the podium.

As other students filtered in, Ethan arrived and, to your surprise, took the seat beside you. He leaned in, his tone light and teasing as he made some comment about the seminar topic.

Spencer’s expression darkened. He began the session, but his usual measured tone was tinged with an edge that made the room feel heavier. His eyes kept drifting to where you sat, his words sharper whenever he addressed you or Ethan.

When the seminar ended, Spencer was quick to dismiss the class. 

The classroom emptied, leaving the two of you alone. Spencer stood behind the podium, his hands gripping its edges.

“What was that?” He asked, his voice tight.

“What was what?” You replied, feigning innocence.

“You know exactly what I mean.” His gaze pinned you in place. “Him. Sitting next to you. Acting like he—” He broke off, shaking his head as if trying to compose himself.

“Acting like what?” You pressed, stepping closer.

“Like he has the right to your attention,” Spencer snapped, his professionalism unraveling further. “He doesn’t. Not the way I...”

He stopped himself, his chest rising and falling with restrained emotion.

“Not the way you what?” You asked softly, your voice carrying a mix of curiosity and challenge.

His eyes burned with an intensity that made your breath catch. For a moment, you thought he might close the distance between you, shattering the boundaries he’d been clinging to.

Instead, he exhaled shakily and stepped back, running a hand through his hair. “This needs to stop.” He muttered, though the words seemed directed more at himself than at you.

But even as he said it, the tension between you was palpable, an invisible thread pulling you closer despite the chaos it threatened to unleash.

The air between you felt suffocating, charged with a tension that had been building for weeks. Spencer stood before you, his normally composed demeanor unraveling with every passing second. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw tight as he tried to steady his breathing.

“I’ve tried,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve tried to keep this professional. To keep my distance. But you...” He looked at you then, his gaze piercing and raw. “You make it impossible.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of exhilaration and fear coursing through your veins. “What are you saying?” You asked, your voice trembling.

“I’m saying that I can’t pretend anymore,” he admitted, his voice low and filled with something dark and desperate. “Every time I see you with him, every time I see you smile at someone else... I can’t stand it.”

You took a step closer, emboldened by the vulnerability in his confession. “Then don’t pretend.”

Spencer’s eyes darkened, his restraint crumbling as he closed the distance between you in an instant. His hands cupped your face, his touch firm but reverent, as though he’d been starving for this moment.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me…” He murmured, his voice shaky with need.

“Then show me.” you whispered, your breath ghosting against his lips.

That was all it took. Spencer’s mouth claimed yours in a kiss that was as fierce as it was desperate. His hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as though he needed you to breathe. The kiss was everything—pent-up frustration, unspoken desire, and a need that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged. “This is wrong.” He muttered, though his hands still gripped your waist, unwilling to let you go.

“We don’t have to tell anyone.” You countered, your voice soft but insistent.

Spencer’s eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away. But then his resolve broke entirely. His lips found yours again, this time slower, more deliberate. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a claiming, a declaration that you were his, consequences be damned.

Without a word, he guided you backward until you felt the edge of his desk against your hips. His hands roamed your sides, skimming over your curves with a possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he admitted between kisses, his voice hoarse. “How many nights I’ve stayed awake, thinking about you. How hard it’s been to stay professional when all I want is to make you mine.”

“Then stop holding back.” You urged, your fingers clutching at his shirt as though afraid he might pull away.

Spencer’s response was immediate. His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you onto the desk with ease. His touch was everywhere—your hips, your back, your neck—each movement filled with a hunger that bordered on obsession.

“Tell me you want this.” He said, his voice low and commanding as his lips brushed against your ear.

“I want this,” you breathed, your hands tangling in his hair. “I want you.”

His eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense. “You have me,” he promised, his voice rough with emotion. “You’ve always had me.”

In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist. There were no rules, no boundaries—only the two of you, finally giving in to the undeniable pull that had been drawing you together all along.

He is the first to break the silence, his voice low and husky.

"Tell me what you want."

You hesitate for a moment, the words stuck in your throat. Then, quietly, you say, "I want you, Spencer."

He moves closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "Tell me exactly what you want."

You swallow, feeling your heart rate quicken. "I want you to touch me, Spencer."

"Where do you want me to touch you?" He murmurs.

"Everywhere." You whisper, leaning into his touch.

He traces his fingers down your neck, his touch featherlight. "Here?"

You nod, your breath hitching as his fingers ghost over your collarbone.

He moves his hands down further, trailing his fingers across your chest. "I need words, sweet girl."

"Yes," You breathe, feeling your arousal growing.

He hums in approval, hands moving lower still, caressing the curve of your breasts. "And here?"

"Yes…" You repeat, arching into his touch.

He cups your breasts through your shirt, squeezing gently. "What about here?"

"Please…" You whimper, your voice barely audible.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. "What else do you want, Y/N? Tell me."

You can feel your face flushing, but you can't stop the words from tumbling out of your mouth. "I want you to take my clothes off, Spencer. I want you to touch me everywhere."

He lets out a soft groan, his hands moving to unbutton your shirt. "God, Y/N. I've wanted you for so long."

Your shirt falls to the floor, leaving you exposed. His eyes roam over your body, hungrily taking in every inch of bare skin.

"You're so fucking beautiful." He murmurs, his fingers tracing patterns across your stomach.

You gasp as he leans in and presses a kiss to your neck, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. His hands move lower, dipping below the waistband of your jeans.

"Spencer…" You moan, your hips bucking against his touch.

"Yeah, baby? What is it, sweet girl? Tell me what you need." He breathes, his fingers dancing along your inner thigh.

"I need you." You whimper, desperate for more contact.

He pulls away from you, his hands moving to undo his belt. He pulls his pants down, his hard cock springing free. Tip flushed pink, the same shade as his swollen kiss-bruised lips. He grabs your hips and lifts you onto the desk, his body pressed against yours.

"Is this what you want?" He asks, his voice rough with desire.

"Yes." You gasp, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He pushes his cock against your entrance, his eyes locked on yours. "Say it, Y/N. Say you want me."

"I want you, Spencer." You moan, feeling him slide into you.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groans, thrusting into you. "You're so tight."

You cling to him, your nails digging into his back as he drives into you, again and again.

"Feels s’good." You babble, feeling the tip of his cock deep in your cervix, his hand coming down to rub calculated circles on your clit.

Spencer was a man of logic, of knowledge. But nothing could have prepared you for how skillful his hands could be in such a sinful context, hands you’d spent hours marking into the pages of your notebooks.

He fucks you harder, his pace frantic. "Such a pretty pussy, Y/N." He groans, dipping his head into your neck to nip at your skin.”My pretty pussy.” He delivers a quick slap to your pussy, sending a shock of pleasure through you, clit throbbing painfully.

"Oh, god, Spencer…" You cry, your orgasm quickly approaching, unable to stop it no matter how much you want to prolong the feeling.

“You wanna cum for me, baby? Cum all over my cock?” He stares down at you with a look you know will be ingrained in your mind for as long as you breathe.

It doesn’t take long before your orgasm crashes over you, pulsing through you in waves, back arching off the bed as you reach out for anything to ground yourself. Hands finding the back of his head, pulling him into your chest. 

He follows soon after, his cock pulsing inside you as he empties himself into you, collapsing on top of you, his chest heaving.

You look up at him, your eyes bright with satisfaction. "Do you think it was worth it?"

He smiles, stroking your hair. "I’d do it all again if it meant I could have you this way just one more time."

The first rays of dawn filtered through the blinds of Spencer’s apartment, casting faint golden stripes across the room. You stirred slightly in his arms, your body cocooned in the warmth of his embrace. Spencer had always been a light sleeper, but he hadn’t moved all night. His arms remained securely around you, as if even in sleep, he was afraid to let go.

For a moment, the world was still, the only sound was the gentle hum of the city waking up outside. In the quiet, you allowed yourself to revel in the stolen tranquility. These moments were fleeting, precious—time you carved out in secret, hidden from the eyes of the world.

“You’re awake.” He murmured, his voice low and rough with sleep.

You tilted your head back to look at him, a smile tugging at your lips. “So are you.”

“I don’t think I slept much,” he admitted, his fingers brushing idly along your arm. “It’s hard to sleep when I know every moment with you has to be hidden.”

You frowned slightly, guilt tugging at you. “I hate it too,” you said softly. “I hate that we have to pretend in class, that I can’t just... be with you without worrying who might see.”

His hand tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. They were warm, but behind the softness lay a steel determination. “It’s not forever,” he promised. “The semester is almost over. Once you’re no longer my student, no one can question us. No one can tell me it’s wrong to feel this way about you.”

You leaned into his touch, comforted by his words but still anxious about the risks. “Do you ever think about what would happen if someone found out?”

“Every day,” he admitted without hesitation. “But I think about losing you more. And that’s a risk I can’t take.”

The weight of his confession settled over you, heavy and grounding. You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “I’d risk it all for you, Spencer. You know that, right?”

He nodded, his expression softening as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “I know. And I’d do the same for you. But until it’s safe, we have to be careful.”

The reminder of the outside world, of the boundaries you had to navigate, was sobering. Yet it didn’t dampen the connection between you. If anything, it strengthened your resolve.

Days in class were an intricate dance of restraint and subtlety. You sat in your usual spot, taking notes diligently as Spencer lectured at the front of the room. His demeanor was calm, professional, every word deliberate. To the untrained eye, he was simply your professor, and you, his attentive student.

But beneath the surface, every glance, every fleeting moment of eye contact held a world of unspoken words. When he paused to scan the room, his gaze lingered on you a fraction too long. When he walked past your desk, the faintest brush of his presence sent a shiver down your spine.

After class, you remained behind under the pretense of asking a question. The other students filed out, their chatter fading as the door closed behind them.

Spencer glanced at you, his professional mask slipping slightly as he leaned against the desk. “Is this about the assignment?” He asked, his tone neutral but his eyes betraying a flicker of warmth.

“No,” you admitted, lowering your voice. “I just... I wanted to see you.”

His lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile, and he nodded toward the door. “Wait for me outside. I’ll finish here and meet you in the library.”

The library had become your haven, a place where the world’s watchful eyes couldn’t reach you. Tucked away in the farthest corner, surrounded by shelves of dusty books, you found refuge in each other’s company.

Spencer sat across from you, his hand resting lightly over yours on the table. “You know,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the hum of the library, “this hiding... it’s maddening. But there’s something exhilarating about it too.”

You raised a brow, your lips quirking into a teasing smile. “Oh? Dr. Reid enjoys breaking the rules?”

A low chuckle escaped him, his fingers brushing against yours. “When it comes to you? I’ll break every rule there is.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and for a moment, you simply looked at him, your heart swelling with a mix of love and longing. “One more month,” you whispered. “Then no more hiding.”

“One more month,” he echoed, his voice filled with quiet determination. “And then I’ll make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

Until then, you would continue this delicate balancing act, cherishing the stolen moments and weathering the secrecy together. Because in the end, he was worth it. And you knew that no matter how many rules you had to break, how many boundaries you had to navigate, you would never let him go.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[annievrse]

hold tight!

roronoa zoro x reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: franky's version of the waver from skypiea has everyone excited!!! w/c: 2.2k a/n: happy holidays! this is real this happened to me two days ago on a jetski, so i had to make it zoro because its better to write fanfic about characters than daydream about the impossible irl

The entrance to the new island is a dramatic sight—towering cliffs rise on either side, their jagged peaks piercing the sky like the spines of some ancient beast. The narrow passage between them is barely wide enough for a small boat, let alone the Thousand Sunny. The dark, churning waters below them add to the sense of foreboding, and the cliffs almost close in on themselves as if daring anyone to enter. Thick vines hang from the rocks, draping down like curtains of green, and the air smells of salt and earth.

To combat the problem of the Sunny being unable to pass through the cliffs, Franky, always ready to rise to the occasion, introduces his latest invention with his trademark flair. With a wide grin, he steps forward and announces the arrival of the seated Waver, a new addition to the Sunny's ever-growing transport arsenal.

When Luffy complained about the old Waver from Skypiea being annoying and having nowhere to sit, Franky took it as a personal challenge. He wasted no time designing something to solve the problem and impress his captain.

The result is a sleek, streamlined Waver with a comfortable seat, sturdy grips, and the perfect balance of speed and stability—a far cry from the old, seatless model. It’s built for comfort and thrill, and it’s clear from the first test ride that Franky’s creation is a hit.

With his usual enthusiasm, Luffy grabs the handlebars from the Sunny's figurehead and practically flings himself onto the Waver.

“My turn!” His infectious excitement fills the air, and before anyone can stop him, he revs the engine, sending water spraying behind him like a wild stallion kicking up dust.

“Careful!” Nami scolds from where she sits on a second one. “Do you want to fall in?”

Luffy just laughs, his signature grin lighting up his face. The Waver is far easier to handle than the old seatless ones from Skypiea, and Luffy’s thrilled with how quickly he’s mastering it.

You lean against the bow, watching the scene unfold, with Robin standing quietly beside you.

“Do you think they’re safe?” You ask her, eyes flicking toward the speeding Luffy. Robin tilts her head, her expression unreadable.

“Franky seems confident,” She replies with a slight shrug.

“Hey!" Nami yells your name. "You joining us or what?”

You glance back at Robin, who gives you a soft, knowing smile. "I'll be fine, go."

You nod and turn toward the sea to find the rest of your crew.

Franky operates a third Waver with Chopper and Brook, and somehow, Sanji ends up on the second with Luffy, his fists white with how hard he's holding onto the seat.

The ladder dangles over the side of the Sunny and into the water, and you look at it with apprehension. Taking a deep breath, you climb over the edge and carefully slip your foot onto the first rope.

The sea breeze hits your face as you reach the bottom of the ladder, the water shimmering under the bright sun. Nami zips before you, her hands firmly gripping the controls and her fiery expression unmistakable.

You jump in the water and swim over to the back of the Waver, climbing aboard and shuffling to sit behind Nami.

“Come on, hurry up!” Luffy shouts over his shoulder, his voice carrying over the water. Sanji winces and squeezes his eyes shut as Luffy hits a wave. “It’s awesome!”

“Ready?” Nami asks, drawing your attention back to her. But before you can answer, you hear a familiar grunt behind you.

“Oi, wait up. I’m not getting on one with the cook," Zoro yells, deep and reluctant.

"Get on this one then," Nami rolls her eyes, not bothering to look back at the swordsman.

You turn to see him standing on the last rope of the ladder, clearly not thrilled by the idea of riding one of Franky’s new contraptions. But true to his word, he’s already swimming toward you. His eyes narrow slightly as he hauls himself out of the water and onto the Waver, clearly uncomfortable with the idea.

“Zoro,” You start, raising an eyebrow. “You really want to ride with us?”

He grunts with his usual grumpy expression in place.

“I'm not getting on with the cook," He repeats, disgust painting his features. His gaze lingers on your face, though, and then he looks away.

You laugh. “Fine, but you’re sitting behind me."

Zoro's expression darkens, and he mutters something under his breath.

"Hurry up," Nami snaps. "Luffy's almost there."

With that, he awkwardly steps behind you, leaning slightly against your back as he settles into place, his hands gripping the sides of the Waver. You can feel the nervousness radiating from him, his posture stiff as he adjusts to the unspoken closeness.

His leg muscles press against yours, and the five-inch inseam shorts he chose to wear does nothing to stop the heat rising to your face.

Nami, noticing the restlessness building between you two, grins cheekily.

“Aw, look at this,” She teases, her voice dripping with amusement. “Zoro, you’re gonna sit right there?"

Zoro stiffens behind you, his grip on the Waver's sides tightening.

“Shut it, witch,” He growls. "Where else am I gonna sit?"

She glances over her shoulder at Zoro and winks. “You two look like you’re having fun together. How’s the view from back there, Zoro? I bet you’re really enjoying yourself.”

You feel Zoro’s body go taut with irritation, but before he can snap back, Nami revs the engine, the Waver surging forward and pulling you into motion. His thighs press more firmly against yours with the movement, the sudden closeness sparking a familiar feeling in your chest.

“Hold on!” Nami calls out, laughing as she steers the Waver expertly through the waves.

The wind whips past you as Nami expertly maneuvers, the thrill of the ride and Zoro's breath in your ear quickening your heartbeat. The ocean spray hits your face, and the waves beneath you shift unpredictably, sending the Waver swerving.

Suddenly, you hit a particularly rough patch, and the Waver tilts sharply, throwing you off balance. You instinctively reach for the Navigator before you, but your hands slip off her wet shoulders.

For a split second, the surface of the Waver is disappearing under you—you’re going to fall in.

You yelp, your body leaning dangerously to one side as the Waver tilts further, the sharp spray of seawater splashing into your face. You can feel yourself losing traction, your heart racing as you flail to stay steady.

And then, in a flash, you feel a strong hand grip your waist, yanking you back toward the centre of the Waver.

The warmth of his hand on your waist is immediate and intense, his fingers digging into your sides to steady you as his other arm wraps around you to pull you upright. For a moment, it feels like everything has frozen, the world narrowing to the feeling of his hands on you, your back pressed into his chest. The movement of the Waver makes it hard to focus, but you can feel Zoro’s presence behind you—his body tensed, his breath sharp against your ear as he fights to keep both of you from falling.

“Gotcha,” Zoro growls, his voice low but steady, his hand holding you firm. "Easy."

You instinctively grip his forearm for support, your heart thudding louder. The contact feels uncomfortably intimate, but the shock of nearly falling off the Waver keeps you from dwelling on it for too long.

As the watercraft straightens out, your exhale is shaky, and your heart is still racing.

"Everyone okay?" Nami yells over the waves. You nod, though she can't see.

“I mean, it's nice to know that Zoro's got your back—literally,” She says, her tone playful but laced with that unmistakable edge of teasing. “Don’t let him get too comfortable, though, or he might not want to let go.”

Zoro doesn’t remove his hand from you despite Nami's taunts. His fingers linger at your waist, his grasp firm. You can feel the apprehension in his body—he’s not letting go until he’s sure you’re steady. You’re acutely aware of how close you are to him, the heat of his body at your back, his arms still wrapped protectively around you, his thighs pressed devastatingly hard against yours.

"Thanks," You whisper, patting his arm. Zoro retracts his hand and returns to holding onto the Waver. He mutters something unintelligible, his face flushing, but his body stays rigid behind you.

The island looms ever closer, and as you draw near the jagged cliffs that line the entrance, the air seems to thicken with anticipation, the excitement of finally reaching this new land mingling with the salty tang of the sea.

Nami expertly steers the Waver towards a narrow rock formation near the shore, already slowing to a stop. You can feel the anxiety of the ride dissipate, though the awkwardness of the previous moments between you and Zoro still hangs in the air. You prepare to jump off, the icy water enticing you.

You start to slide off the Waver, but as your foot lands on the rocky shore, a sudden surge in the water throws you off balance. Before you can react, Zoro’s hand shoots out, gripping your arm and pulling you back toward him with surprising force.

“Careful,” He says gruffly, his hand on your waist again.

You glance up at him, surprised by his reflexes.

Zoro, looking as stoic as ever, just gives a small grunt. “You were gonna fall. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

But his hands don’t immediately leave you. He’s still steadying you, his body heat radiating through the thin fabric of your clothes. You can feel Zoro's hot breath on your neck and goosebumps rise on your skin despite the hot sun beating down on you.

Nami, already dismounted with practised ease, glances back over her shoulder, a mischievous grin playing at the corners of her mouth. “Zoro, you’re really good at catching people today, huh?”

Zoro shoots her an irritated look but doesn't say anything, his grasp on you finally loosening.

"Thanks," You say again, your voice softer than intended. Your fingers brush his, and he grunts in response, not quite meeting your eyes.

“Don’t mention it. Just don’t fall next time.”

You giggle, hand swatting his bicep. "I wasn’t planning on it."

"C'mon!" Nami laughs, ignoring you and Zoro.

You follow her up onto the rocky shore, casting one last glance at Zoro. Despite his gruff exterior, there's something about how he held you that lingers, something warm and steady.

“Luffy! Slow down!” Sanji yells, his voice tinged with genuine panic. You turn back to the ocean.

Nami chuckles at the sight, standing beside you on the rocky shore, arms crossed with a knowing smirk. “Sanji’s gonna have a heart attack if Luffy keeps this up."

You watch Luffy, grinning ear-to-ear, utterly oblivious to the disaster he's creating.

“This is awesome!” Luffy shouts, steering the Waver even harder as if trying to defy gravity. His excitement is infectious, but it's clear to everyone except him that he's about two seconds away from crashing.

“Luffy, we’re gonna sink!”

“We're fine, Sanji! Don’t be such a baby!” Your captain's voice rings back over the waves, carefree and completely unfazed.

Zoro’s eyes follow the scene for a moment longer, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly. He uncrosses his arms and steps closer to you and Nami, his movements easy and relaxed.

“Luffy’s gonna be Luffy,” Zoro says, the irritation in his tone softened by something almost resembling fondness.

You look at him, noticing the shift in his expression. The awkwardness from earlier, the lingering, unspoken tension between you, is nowhere to be found. It’s like that invisible wall has crumbled without you needing to speak.

Nami, still grinning from ear to ear, turns to Zoro with a smirk.

“You're not worried?” She teases, her eyes glinting with mischief.

He snorts, rolling his eyes at her. “If I were worried every time Luffy did something stupid, I’d be dead by now.”

You chuckle softly, the sound of it carrying in the open air. "Aren't you glad you got on our Waver and not his?"

He glances at you with that typical deadpan expression, but there’s a faint glimmer of something softer in his eyes—maybe humour, maybe something else. But when his gaze drifts down your body, you feel your face heat up again.

“Tch, what do you think?” Zoro mutters, but there's a hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth now.

You nudge his shoulder, an easy laugh falling from your lips.

Maybe the island ahead is full of surprises, but for now, standing next to Zoro—his presence beside you, the crew doing what they do best—you feel like everything's exactly where it’s supposed to be.

Even if Luffy's about to take out half the coastline.

[ssloveslogan]

❆ christmas treat ❆

warnings: MDNI, reader x logan, i feel like i should mention there’s a bit of father/daughter cuteness with logan and rogue (i can’t help myself i miss them), porn with tiniest amount of plot, p in v, panties stay on, unprotected sex

- christmas themed fic obvs! merry christmas guys hope you all got what u wanted under the tree (tearing up because hugh jackman wasn’t there BUT i did get a cutout, calendar and shirt of him😝)

the x-men mansion was buzzing with holiday cheer, a welcoming warmth against the outside bitterness. today is christmas, and the atmosphere was filled with laughter, music and the smell of baked goods wafted through the halls. later tonight, everyone would do their secret santa exchange and you, like everybody else, had been eagerly waiting for the moment when you could finally stop waiting and could open your gift.

but, the one thing you were even more excited about, was the look on logan’s face when he sees what you had gotten him. somehow, you had drawn out your boyfriend’s name from the hat this year and, god, was it hard to find something for him. your struggle to find something for him was quickly overcome with a brilliantly personal idea.

so, here you are, on your bed, placing logan’s favourite blue lacey panties of yours and a polaroid picture in a small rectangular box wrapped in festive paper and tied with a shiny blue ribbon. the polaroid picture in question was a filthy picture of you from a couple days before, spread out with your cunt on full display, post-orgasm, cheeks flushed and arousal soaking your pussy. you just couldn’t help yourself, what else were you meant to do when you were horny as fuck and logan was on a mission?

your train of thought was soon disturbed by the opening of your door and in came logan. you were quick to hide the gift under the bed and you gave him a smile, in attempt to make it look like you weren’t just wrapping his secret santa gift up.

“what’s got you all smiley?” logan chuckled and raised an eyebrow when seeing your grin wide on your face.

“oh, nothing, don’t worry about it lo,” you giggled, biting your lip to stop you from giving yourself away. “soo, did you get your person their secret santa gift?” you asked, wondering if he even bothered this year.

“yeah, i did. i got rogue this year so i figured i’d get her something. got her some makeup and chocolate” he spoke grumpily as if he was buying her stuff against his own free will.

“that’s really sweet of you, lo! surprised u even did it this year” you tease him and he rolls his eyes in mock annoyance.

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” he huffs out but you notice him trying to hold back his smile. “anyways, who’d you get? or are you still not gonna tell me?” he question with a hopeful look in his eyes.

“that defeats the whole purpose of secret santa y’know that, baby? you will find out soon, you desperate man” you smirk and play nudge his stomach as he scoffs and tries to act annoyed but his walls tumble down at the noise of your laughter and his heart warms.

“we should get going now, right lo? can’t have you waiting to find out who’s name i pulled out any longer” you giggle and logan groans.

you begin to get up and put your shoes on as you realise you probably should be going downstairs to gather up for the gift exchange, seeing as you are already late. you grab your gift and hide it in a bag and then you wait for logan to put on his leather jacket and take his gift too. once you’re both ready, you give him a quick peck on the lips and intertwine both yours and logan’s hands together. you smirked to yourself, knowing of what’s to come.

the both of you swiftly make your way to to the christmas tree where all the adults and some of the older kids were gathered around. christmas lights twinkled around the room, stockings - with everyone’s name sown on it- were hung by the grand fireplace and chatter filled the space up with a cozy ambience.

“i’ll be back” you say to logan, letting go of him and walking off towards the tree to place your gift for him under it, before he could grumble about being alone. oh how you can’t wait for the gift exchange, your patience is going down by the second.

your eyes wander around the room before they land on storm and jean and you smile, making your way towards them.

“look who finally decided to join us!” storm teases while embracing you in a friendly hug.

“i’m surprised logan even came for it this year, normally the guy just stays outside while smoking his beloved cigars” jean snickers and makes all three of you fall into a fit of giggles. “hey, who’d you get for the secret santa?” jean questions while sipping on her drink.

you smirk at them and a little giggle comes out “i got logan” you say, biting your lip to stop your laughter from erupting even more.

“girls! come on, we’re opening the secret santa gifts!” scott shouts out before you guys could say anything else about the topic at hand, and you three step towards the christmas tree and huddle together.

you sit on the couch alongside your girl friends, surrounded by the glow of the massive christmas tree. the sound of laughter and the occasional tearing of wrapping paper filled the air as people opened their gifts one by one. you turn around and notice logan, leaning against a wall, nursing a bottle of beer. his gaze was already on you and you smile, winking at him.

it’s rogue’s turn to open her gift and she absolutely loves it. even though logan doesn’t give up his identity as the mystery giver of said gift, you notice him smiling to himself - proud of what he had gotten her.

soon enough, everyone had opened their gifts - you had gotten a gorgeous silver necklace from kitty with a heart pendant in the middle. well, everyone but one final person, logan howlett.

“alright, logan, you’re up!” rogue beams, signalling for him to come over and open it with everyone. he grumbles yet he still makes his way over, curiosity getting the better of him. he leans over to grab the perfectly wrapped gift with his name written on it and stands back, closer to the wall, while gently untying the delicate ribbon.

your legs bounce in newfound nervousness, what if people saw? you clearly didn’t think it through very well but you pray to yourself that he doesn’t take it out of the box. you watch his every move, waiting for him to finally peek inside the box, the one-sided tension growing in your body.

logan slowly takes the lid off of the box and he tenses, stopping himself, making sure not to take the contents of the gift out for everyone to see. his pupils dilate at the polaroid of you, tongue sticking out, eyes rolled to the back of your pretty head and your swollen pussy all on show with your glistening juices dripping down your cunt. underneath the polaroid he saw the perfect blue panties he’s had to repurchase you dozens of times from the amount of times he’s ripped them off of you.

“s-shit..” he murmurs to himself, feeling the tent in his jeans grow. the room was trying to figure out what was even inside the box and why he seemed so off. you, on the other hand, smirked to yourself as you felt a sense of victory at the reaction you got out of him.

logan quickly closed the box and glanced up at you with darkened eyes, his face radiating off want and desire and you simply smirked at him, winking, as you felt yourself dampening on the spot from his intense gaze, ignoring the way he made your tummy flip.

“sooo, what’d you get?” rogue said to cut the uncomfortable tension everyone else sensed in the room.

“nothing” logan’s voice dropped an octave as his eyes remained on you the whole time. you shuffled, feeling vulnerable under his gaze.

everyone knew they weren’t getting an answer from logan, so they dropped it at that, continuing their conversations and acting as if nothing had even happened. you also tried to pretend like it was just a normal christmas day, but you saw logan, his gift still in his hand, and he was striding towards you.

your heart rate fluttered when he briefly stopped infront of you - breathing heavily, knuckles white from the grip on the gift and his nostrils flaring in need.

“o-oh! hey, baby! wha-” your stuttered out sentence was swiftly cut off by logan picking you up by the waist with one arm and throwing you over his shoulder.

“logan! logan, put me down!” you shout, bashing your fragile hands on his stone hard back.

you continued with your pleads and apologies in attempt to get him to put you down, but the rush of arousal hit you hard, the possessive act sent floods of heat through your veins. your own body betrayed you as you feel yourself dampen even more and your nipples were slowly hardening.

logan pays no mind to your lousy attempts and he makes his way to your shared room, slamming then locking the door behind him. he tosses you and the gift onto the bed, following you down with his own weight. he leans in close, his face hovering just inches from yours, his hot breath fanning over your lips. you can see the raw desire in his eyes, the way his pupils are blown wide with lust. you can see his hunger for you written all over his face. without warning, his crashes his lips against yours in a searing, passionate kiss. it’s not gentle or sweet; it’s a kiss born out of desperation, need and untamed thirst. you pull away breathless, and begin to speak.

“lo? you okay baby?” you tease, a playful glint in your eyes but all confidence is lost when you see his face not even twitching to smile. you rake your hands through his hair and he leans into your neck to bite into the supple skin, making you gasp and tilt your head back to give him more access. his tongue laps to gently suck over the mark to soothe the sting as he continues to litter your neck with kisses and purple bruises.

“l-logan..” you whine, exhaling sharply as you feel tears pooling in your eyes from the overwhelming sensations on your neck. after what feels like forever, logan pulls away to admire his work and he reaches for the gift box, opening it to pull out the familiar lacy blue panties he adores.

“need to fuck you with these on you” he rasps, slowly stripping you of your clothes until you’re bare for him, exposed and defenceless.

“christ, you’re just soaking for me darlin’, arent you? filthy fuckin’ girl, you get off on me carrying you around, baby? you like knowing i can pick you up whenever i want?” he smirks, seeing your cheeks flush pink while you nod weakly at him.

“don’t worry doll, i’ll help you out.” he grunts, tapping your hip signalling for you to lift them as he makes you wear nothing but the panties.

“perfect, you look perfect like this, baby. you wanted this, hm? wanted my attention with the gift? you got it now, i’ve got you.” logan says while quickly unfastening his belt and getting rid of his jeans and boxers. his tip was leaking with beads of pre-cum, his tip swollen and red, and he gently pulls your panties to the side and places himself in his spot between your thighs.

“p-please lo, want you to fuck me” you whine, your neediness displaying as he teases you by rubbing himself on your weeping folds.

he wanted to watch you squirm just for a little while longer, but his little self restraint disappeared when hearing your sweet voice begging for him. he lines himself up at your pulsing hole and before you could say anything more about needing him, he plunges deep into you, knocking the air out of your lungs as you both let out a deep moan. he begins to move slowly, pulling out before slamming back in, pounding into you mercilessly.

“love this pussy, always so fuckin’ tight for me” he growled, his breath hot against your ear as he continued thrusting into your wet heat, vigorously.

his words only fueled the fire burning inside of you and your walls clench around him tightly. “harder, please logan, i want you to fuck me harder” you begged, voice strained with pleasure.

“you want it harder, baby?” he smirks darkly before slamming into you with renewed intensity. “like this, baby?” he asks as his hands make their way to your hips, pushing you down even deeper onto him.

“j-just like that lo, so fucking good b-baby.” you moan loudly, tears prickling at your eyes from the profound pleasure-pain.

the bed creaks with every thrust while the bed frame hits the wall, creating a rhythmic thump-thump-thump. “making such a mess on my cock. ‘m gonna fucking ruin this pussy, doll” he groans, while reaching down to rub tight circles on your clit.

as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you, you can feel every ridge and vein of his thick member stretching your inner walls. you clench around him, the knot in your belly tightening, making him groan and shudder above you.

“i’m gonna come lo, so close” you whimper out as he continues to drill into you, his cock dragging deliciously against your sweet spot with each stroke as he drives you closer to the edge.

“i know, baby, that’s it. be a good girl for me and come on my cock, doll” logan grunts into your ear as you scrape your nails down his back, leaving marks which are quickly healed again. you throw your head back and arch into him as you convulse and spasm around his length, your orgasm crashing over you, making him groan in pleasure while you moan into his shoulder and dig your nails deeper into his back.

he works you through your orgasm as his thrusts become desperate, his own release stirring inside of him. with one final and brutal thrust, logan buries himself deep inside of you and he holds still. his cock throbs and pulses as he releases his hot seed into you.

“s-shit, so good for me..” logan grunts, his face contorting with pleasure and his chest heaving erratically. he pulls out with a wince as he lays next to you on his back. you move to lean onto his chest, the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothing you. logan’s arm tightens around you as he leans in to kiss your head while gently stroking your hair.

“i guess you liked your gift then?” you giggle and look up at him with your fucked out smile, already knowing his very obvious answer.

logan chuckles and glances down at you, admiring your post-orgasm beauty. “loved it, baby. might have to somehow make you get me again next year.” he grins while tracing patterns on your arm.

you giggle and move upwards, your noses brushing against each other, lips barely an inch apart. “merry christmas, logan” you whisper, leaning your forehead to press against his.

“merry christmas, darling” he whispers back, smiling softly at you before closing the distance between you both to share a soft and sweet kiss.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

❆ i rushed this so badly and didn’t proofread it so i’m sorry if some bits don’t make sense and wrongly punctuated guys!! but also i’ve been so busy this past week i literally am surviving off of what feels like zero sleep at all. hope u did enjoy this tho we all need some christmas logan content.

[rosenclaws]

One More Present || Logan Howlett drabble

summary: Logan has one more present for you

warnings: light smut, STILL MINORS DNI AND 18+ ONLY TY, light bondage lol

wc: 546

a/n: So this is a really stupid drabble I thought it would be funny and so here it is lmao. To all the people who wanted a wolverine under their Christmas tree <3

Christmas with your neighbors was more fun than you've had in a long time. It was also the most you've drank in a while. Wade really went all out with his party and his gifts.

Though you really didn't need the uh, interesting picture calendar he had put together for everyone. You're pretty sure you saw Logan throw his into the fireplace when Wade wasn't looking.

The day after Christmas was spent doing pretty much nothing. Logan had taken refuge in your bed as he normally does since you started dating but he was forced to go back to help the clean up. Waking up without your personal space heater was a lonely experience but he left you his flannel at least.

Unfortunately for you, you couldn't escape going back to work and were trapped at your boring job wishing you could be home with Logan instead. Your phone pinged and you looked to see a text from Logan.

Wade's finally fucking gone.

You laugh as you can picture just how much Wade had gotten on Logan's nerves today.

I'm almost done, I miss you

You text back. Logan accidently hits a few different things before finally thumbs uping your message. He really was an old man with technology sometimes. As the time ticked and you were nearing the end of the day you got one more message.

Found something in our bedroom, I think you have one more present to open.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. You can't remember leaving anything and Logan isn't really one for surprise gifts. He would have given it to you yesterday. As you clocked out you tried to call him but he didn't pick up. Weird.

"Logan?" You call as you step through the door.

"In here!" He calls from the bedroom. You shrug off your coat and drop your bag, expecting to find him lounging on the bed or something.

"Hey what..." Your voice trails off as you walk into the room. Logan was laying in bed for sure, but completely naked.

He's smirking as he sits in his totally naked glory. His abs are on full display, thick thighs, and big arms. You swear he was...shiny? But you weren't complaining.

What really catches your eyes is his fat cock, a big red bow tied around it. The red ribbon trailed up his body and sat at one of his wrists which tied him to the bedframe. His muscles flex as he sits up.

"How did you know this is what I asked Santa for?" You tease as you move over to the bed, admiring your stupidly hot boyfriend. He shrugs, the ribbon straining against his muscles.

"You got one more present sweetheart." He looks down to the bow.

"Want to unwrap it?" You smirk as you slowly strip your clothes.

"Merry Christmas to me." You purr as you climb onto the bed.

He watches with hungry eyes as you take the edge of the bow in your teeth and pull it, freeing his cock. Winking as you lower your head. Logan groans as you take the tip of his cock in your mouth, dancing your tongue just the way he likes it. He tugs on the ribbon and somehow it doesn't rip.

"Hope that ribbon can hold you, because I want to have a little fun tonight."

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

Happy Hawthorne Christmas:

merry christmas to everyone reading this!! I hope you all have wonderful days, I thank you all very much for your love and support 💖💖 lowkey these headcannons are so bad so sorry but I wanted to make a post for xmas

taglist: @lovethornes @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @fleuriosa @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast @eternal--dream

- every time rohan puts up mistletoe to kiss savannah under grayson takes it down

- libby does the twelve days of cookiemas

- xander makes an ornament of himself and puts it on the top of the tree because he is (quote) ‘the star of the family’

- grayson will return anything you get him for xmas

- jameson, xander and even grayson constantly make jokes about nash being one of santa’s elves (because he’s the shortest of the four of them)

- gigi once got a sugar high on candy canes and went around the house screaming christmas songs until she passed out

- avery has a whole drawer dedicated to christmas fluffy socks which she collects religiously and ONLY wears at christmas

- as a joke jameson stole and hid a pair and let’s just say… it wasn’t pretty

- max can recite every christmas movie known to man

- grayson knits christmas sweaters

- gigi starts christmas in august

- she has the brightest, craziest, rainbowest decorations ever that send grayson into a COMA

- xander eats his whole advent calendar on day one

- grayson 100% can play a violin solo of carol of the bells

- when the boys were little and tobias (ew) was strict about presents and christmas and just anything that resembled childhood joy, nash started the transition that the boys would open one present altogether on Christmas eve

- this was continues after tobias died

- nash gets cold so easily

- he also hates the snow for this reason

- BUTTTT libby loves snow so when she asks if he’d go on a snowy walk with her he practically bolted out of that door

- the christmas after emily died was the hardest christmas for jamie and gray to even be in the same room

- xander bought max a reindeer one year and they named it mince pie

- grayson = angel gabriel… need I say more

- gigi and xander always team up to find where their christmas presents are hidden

- seeing this nash and grayson play a little trick with really bad fake presents for them to find

- grayson refuses to start christmas until halfway through December

- christmas competition is a big part of a Hawthorne Christmas, along with secret Santa, there’s giant gingerbread house construction, best Christmas karaoke, ugliest christmas sweater and best christmas tree decorating competitions

- xander still believes in santa

- grayson is like one of those mum’s at christmas that will scream at you if you dare put a decoration in the wrong place on the tree

- he also colour coordinates all of his decor (silver and blue)

- rohan buys everyone socks

- jameson usually forgets he has to actually buy gifts for people (except avery)

- avery writes a letter every christmas to her mum that basically talks about her life that year, she seals the letter and never opens it and knows he mum reads it somehow somewhere

- drink or dare is always played at a hawthorne christmas

- savannah cannot wrap a present to save her life whereas rohan is practically an expert

- so naturally he loved to annoy her about it

- jameson wrapped himself up for avery to open

- one year gigi and xander were left to christmas dinner… that was the year the whole kitchen blew up and they ordered takeout instead

- avery and jameson have a tradition that every christmas eve they light a candle for avery’s mum and wait for it to burn out completely

- despite being a dancer lyra is horrible at ice skating

- when her and grayson went together she practically held onto him for dear life

- rohan never had christmas as a kid

- nash hates hot chocolate but didn’t have the heart to tell libby until three years into their relationship because she’d always make him cups

- avery always donates money away to charities at christmas

TIG masterlist

[redfoxwritesstuff]

AN: I want to take a moment to wish everyone a Merry Christmas, Happy Holiday or a really good wednesday. Be good, be kind, don't lick doorknobs.

CW: smut, Luci being a sad sack of shit, threesome, two dicks in one hole, oral

Summary: On a rare snow day in hell, the residents of the hotel indulge in a snowball fight that has a rather enlightening ending, revealing unlikely teammates and what you would have considered even less likely feelings. The solution to the frosty mess? Even more surprising.

Snow glittered in the dim light of hell’s sun. You were eager to get out of the hotel and into the snow. It had been decades since you had seen snow, an actual torture you hadn’t been aware you were suffering from until a Christmas miracle struck and hell rather literally froze over. 

It didn’t take long for the hotel residents to join you. Snowballs flew through the air, pelting residents. You seemed to be disproportionately the target of the attacks. It had to have been Alastor. You were so sure of it, and yet every time a snowball landed, it came from the wrong direction. 

He was innocent of the frozen crimes you had so badly wished to accuse him of and that was making you all the more angry. It didn’t help that you couldn’t seem to do more than land a glancing blow with your own balls. 

You were ready to scream and then you saw it. 

“Are you fucking serious?!” you raged, catching sight of Alastor’s shadow holding a bright white ball of icy terror and getting ready to send it to you. He had the manners to at least look sheepish when he was caught before melting away. 

Alastor knew he was caught, holding his hands up as he tried to convince you he was innocent of the snowy crimes you accused him of. You wouldn’t hear any of it, raging at him as you compacted a snowball, trying to look as threatening as you could. 

You were going to shove that snowball right into his charming, handsome face as he laughed. Just as you were going to shove that icy ball into his face, a wave of cold washed over you. 

White was everywhere and then all you could see was red. Everything went black as the force of the snow pushed you forward and down, crashing you into Alastor. The two of you fell in a heap, limbs tangling as snow buried the both of you. 

You gasped, snow filling your mouth as the weight piled onto you. Over the blanket of snow, you could just hear the sound of Lucifer laughing, surely filled with glee over having caught Alastor for once. 

You struggled, wiggling and fighting to get free from the cold embrace of the snow. At first, you hadn’t realized the impacts of where you landed until you heard the gasping moan of Alastor and felt… oh. You felt a lot of Alastor’s body under you, even parts of his body you hadn’t thought you would ever feel at all. 

“I am so, so sorry.” You whispered, eyes wide and body frozen in place as Alastor throbbed against your hip. Heat rose in your face as you felt his hardness twitched against you. “I swear- we don’t have to ever talk abo-” 

Hot lips crashed against yours as Alastor leaned up. For a moment, you thought it was somehow an accident. Alastor surely wouldn’t be kissing you. Doubt swirled in your mind until you felt his hand slip around the back of your neck, holding you in place. 

Cold water soaked into your hair, ran down your neck as it melted around you. Alastor’s hips twitched, pushing his hardness into you in a barely restrained attempt to get some stimulation. 

You melted with the snow, sinking into Alastor’s arms. Though you had never thought Alastor would give you a second glass, your heart pounded in your chest. The crush you harbored for Alastor was one of your most sacred secrets. 

“Finally,” Lucifer said as he scooped snow off of you. 

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice and the light filtering in through your eyelids. The idea that anyone would see your intimate moment with Alastor, unplaned through it was made you feel vulnerable. Below you, Alastor sent a wink up to the devil who had uncovered you. 

Oh. 

The world crashed down around you. They had planned this, whatever this was. 

There were so many questions you wanted to ask but the clatter of your teeth as you shivered cut off any chance of asking them at that moment. The snow had melted on your back, soaking what passed as a jacket in hell. 

“Come on,” Lucifer said, offering his hand to help you up. 

You hesitated for a moment, looking between Alastor and the king. You had thought they couldn’t stand eachother. You had thought they would never work together and yet they had. ‘Why?’ was just one more question you wanted to ask them. 

“Let’s get you inside,” Alastor said as he stood, shaking the snow from his coat. His tall red ears flicked, sending snow flying. 

Alastor’s hand rested against the small of your back, a guiding hand as Lucifer told the others they were taking you inside to warm up. Everything felt so coordinated as you stepped inside the hotel. 

How you ended up in Lucifer’s suite, wearing his dressing gown, you didn’t know. They had just led you along, not giving you the chance to turn off to your room. They walked as if they knew exactly where they were going to take you. Teamwork, once again. 

“What is going on?” you finally braved asking as Lucifer handed you a mug of cocoa. 

“What ever do you mean, darlin’?” Alastor’s smile grew wider as you shifted on the couch. 

“What do I mean?” You had to look between the two men, both sets of eyes so intently focused on you. “What I mean is you-” you pointed to Lucifer with the mug of cocoa. “buried us in snow. And then you-” you pointed the mug at Alastor. “You fucking- you kissed me.”

“Yes,” Alastor hummed, “I suppose I did.” 

“You winked at him.” Your attention was focused on Alastor as you spoke, sparing a moment to sip the offensively good cocoa. “Why? You planned this- why? What is going on?” 

“I-” Lucifer sighed, eyes flicking toward Alastor before he focused on you again. “We like you.” 

“We?” You struggled to wrap your head around the conversation you were having. “What does that mean?”

“It means, Cher, that both the Little King and I seem to have developed a deep care for you.” Alastor’s wide smile told you so very little, so you turned to Lucifer. 

“I- yes.” Lucifer nodded, eyes darting away from you.

“Then why did you help him kiss me?” You struggled to follow any of their logic.

“He thought you wouldn’t want him.” Alastor offered. “He thought you would rightfully pick me, the superior choice.” 

“Fuck you,” Lucifer snapped. 

“So, what?” You struggled to follow the conversation between the rivals turned unwilling teammates. “You just gave up?” 

“You don’t want a depressed divorced man.” Lucifer laughed. 

“Why do you get to decide that for me?” You struggled to wrap your head around what was going on. Less than an hour ago you were under the snow, kissing Alastor as his cock throbbed under you and now both men you had fancied sat in front of you, telling you they both had feelings for you. “Why don’t I get to decide?” 

“And what would you decide?” Alastor asked, setting his mug of cocoa down. “If we had given you a choice?” 

“I-” The words died in your throat. “I don’t know.” 

“How would you decide?” Lucifer asked, a hint of hope in his voice. 

“Why should I have to decide?” You pouted. “Why should I have to pick at all? 

“And that’s why we picked for you.” Alastor laughed. 

“And who says you get to pick? Why should anyone have to pick?”

“What are you saying?” Lucifer asked, setting his mug of cocoa on the table. 

You huffed, focusing your attention on your cocoa, closing your eyes as you took a sip. You didn’t even know what you were saying, what you were thinking. All you knew was that everything was too much. 

The men both moved so fast, not giving you a chance to really prepare for what came next. Lucifer and Alastor were on their knees in front of you, pulling your thighs as far apart as they would go. 

Tongues swiped up your folds, licking and sucking at your clit as the two men fought for space. The warring sensations had you gasping for breath, each talented tongue leaving you gasping. Your thighs ached with how you were spread wide. 

“Careful,” Alastor teased, looking up at you as you clutched your mug of cocoa. “You don’t want to spill.” 

“It’ll land on my head,” Lucifer teased, coming up for air. “And then we’ll have to stop.” 

“Now tell us, who’s better?” Alastor asked, tongue running through your folds again.

“I don’t,” you struggled to think through the sensations. “I can’t.” 

Lucifer shoved Alastor out of the way, worming his long forked tongue into your twitching opening. Alastor would have none of that. Lean arms slipped under your thighs and wrapped around your hips. 

“Shit,” you squeaked out the word as he lifted you up off the couch. 

“You’re hogging her,” Alastor said as he planted your back against the wall, working your thighs up onto his shoulders. 

“Fuck, Alastor!” Lucifer whined. “I can’t reach.” 

“I know,” Alastor said, as he delved back between your legs. 

He ate your cunt like a man starved. Cocoa splattered, running from the mug that tipped down, forgotten in the pleasure. Sharp teeth teased the sensitive bud of your clit. You gasped his name as the sting of pain swam within pleasure. 

“That’s right,” Alastor said, lips working against your clit as he spoke, not willing to be apart from your sweet core for a moment longer than he had to. “Sing my name.” 

As he pushed you closer and closer to your orgasm, the sound of Lucifer’s complaints drown out. The shoulder of the robe fell down, exposing skin you no longer cared about anyone else seeing. 

“Alastor,” you cried his name again and again as you came, fingers flexing as waves of pleasure ran through your body. The mug fell, crashing to the ground in a rain of chocolate covered shards. “Alastor! Alastor!” 

He let your body slide from his shoulders, wet cunt smearing down the soft, well-worn fabric of his shirt. The buttons caught, scratching your sensitive skin. 

“I think I won,” Alastor laughed as he held you to him, carrying you easily toward the large bed in lucifer’s room. 

“You didn’t fight fair,” Lucifer accused. 

“I’m not a thing to fight over,” you sighed as Alastor nestled you onto the bed. Lucifer crawled up onto the bed in front of you, naked. When he got that way, you didn’t know. His golden flushed cock stood out proudly. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Alastor grumbled as he worked his bowtie free from his neck. 

“Well-” Lucifer chuckled, enjoying the way your eyes roamed his body. While he wasn’t secure about his mental health or his ability to keep a partner happy emotionally and mentally, he had no doubt of his ability to sexually satisfy.

Alastor had stolen his chance to shine orally, but Lucifer was eager enough to show his skills another way. 

���Put your clothes on. It was my name she was screaming.” Alastor ran his hand over your curves, not actually bothering to cover where your legs met. 

“Who said she picked yet?” Lucifer countered, reaching out to tug the shoulder of the robe down, exposing your breast. Your pretty pink nipple slipped out from under the soft fuzzy fabric. “You’ll let me fuck you, won’t you, angel?” 

“Oh,” you moaned as he softly caressed the soft skin of your breast, running his nails over the sensitive bud of your nipple, urging it to pull tighter and tighter. “Okay,” you sighed. 

Lucifer grabbed your hip, pulling your body to him. His strong hand ran down your thigh, gripping your leg and pulling it over his hip. The blunt head of his cock ran up and down your folds, spreading your slick over him. 

“Who says you get to fuck her first?” Alastor grumbled, grinding his clothed crotch against your ass. 

“I’ll share,” Lucifer teased, “If she’s up for it.” 

“What?” You gasped as his cock nudged your clit, caressing it softly as your slick gathered on his shaft, spread between your folds as he thrust through them. 

“Would you like that?” Alastor hooked your jaw and pulled you to look at him over your shoulder. “Would you like it if we both fucked you?” 

“I-” Your attempt to answer was cut off by his lips sealing over yours in a soft kiss. 

“You did say you didn’t want to pick,” Lucifer added as you faced him again, Alastor’s hand leaving your jaw to caress your chest, palming the swell of your breast before disappearing. 

“What if we didn’t make you pick?” Alastor offered, working the buttons of his shirt free one after the other. 

“What if played nice and you could have your cake and eat it too?” Lucifer offered. 

Part of you felt like this was somehow their endgame. It felt like it had all be a game to get you here, mind foggy with desire as they offered you a deal soaked in sin. 

Any chance you had of thinking things through was gone the moment you felt Alastor’s pants shimmy down his hips. The hot weight of his cock sprang out, resting against your ass as he worked his clothes off. 

“What do you say?” Alastor whispered in your ear, hand resting on your hip as his cock twitched. 

“Okay.” You whimpered as Lucifer’s cock slipped into your wet cunt, spreading your walls around him. His size was disproportionate to his height and lean frame. The burn of your unprepped hole spreading for him was delicious. 

The head of Alastor’s cock rested against your puckered ring of muscle. He pressed forward, a slow and steady pressure that remained constant while Lucifer began his slow thrusting into you. 

“Have you ever?” Lucifer asked as he sighed, enjoying the simple pleasure he had long missed of simply being inside the body of another. 

“No.” You sighed, tense body relaxing with each smooth thrust of Lucifer’s cock through your sensitive walls. 

“We’ll take good care of you, baby.” Alastor promised, cooing the words in your ear as the head of his cock finally breached the tight ring of your asshole. Your body jumped with the intrusion, sharp pain dulling into a burning pain. 

“Shh,” Lucifer cooed, “Relax. Let him in.” 

Alastor kissed your neck as his cock twitched, the head of him just moving inside you. Each thrust into you Lucifer made pushed you back slightly more onto the cock in your ass. Pain slowly morphed into pleasure as Alastor pushed slowly deeper into your virginal asshole. 

“There you go,” Alastor whispered. “You’re taking me in so well.” 

“Gosh,” Lucifer gasped. “You’re making her even tighter.” 

“Oh god,” you whispered as Alastor finally bottomed out, hips resting flush against your plush ass. 

The men slowly began moving against eachother. Each of Lucifer’s thrusts into you pushed you back on Alastor’s cock, forcing him in deeper. Alastor returned the favor, pushing into your ass and pushing Lucifer’s cock deeper into you. 

They worked at a slow, lazy pace, soft words of praise whispered in your ears. They took turns lavishing you in sweet kisses as clung to them, both with your arms and your body. 

Sweat gathered on your skin as you trembled, overwhelmed by the feeling of the two cocks sliding against one another inside you. You were so close to your orgasm and yet part of you was terrified of cuming in that position. Would the force of it rip you apart? 

The orgasm snuck up on you, breaking the dam when you were distracted with the soft slide of their bodies against yours. Your back arched as you gasped, choking on the power of the orgasm, face nestled in the crook of his neck, breathing in the musky scent of him.

Lucifer’s lips latched onto your nipple, teasing the sensitive bud as your body twitched and spasmed, walls trying to milk the men inside your holes. 

“Fuck this,” Alastor grumbled, pulling from your twitching ass. Magic flared, burning behind you, but he didn’t give either of you a chance to question things as he grabbed your thigh, pulling it up and spreading you wider. 

“If you want us both, you’ll have to take us both.” Alastor growled in your ear.

“What are you doing?” Lucifer pulled from your nipple and looked over you to Alastor, eyes widening as he felt the dull head of the other man’s cock press against his shaft. “You’re not serious.”

“Deathly,” Alastor growled out as he pushed forward, working your hole wider. 

You gasped, nails digging into both men as you shuddered. Your hole burned as he pushed the limits of what your body could take. 

“Too much,” you cried out, “Too much. Too big.” 

“Al, she’s going to strangle us at this rate.” Lucifer couldn’t keep the moan from his voice as your hole grew impossibly tight around him, the foreign feeling of another cock pushing in alongside his. 

“You’ll be fine,” Alastor insisted, pulling his cock out slightly before pushing into you again, forcing your inner walls to make way for him. 

Lucifer grunted, the pressure of Alastor’s cock trying to crush his while your body struggled to part for him. The slick side of Alastor’s cock moving against his made it difficult for Lucifer to remain frozen in place. 

You choked on your gasps, the burning stretch consuming all of you as Alastor spread your cunt wider than you ever thought was possible. The pain was matched by the intoxicating full feeling as he settled into you, hips resting against your ass as he held your hips as weld as he could.

“Hold on,” Lucifer groaned as your walls clamped down with each move either of their cocks made. “Sit up.” 

“Why?” Alastor asked, thrusting his hips lazily into your slick hole. 

“If you- fuck- if you put her in your lap we can- stop fucking doing that, you’re making it hard to think.” Lucifer struggled and failed to resist the urge to slowly work his cock deeper into you, nestling his hips so tight against you that his balls were resting against Alastor’s. Never in the last century did he think he’d be balls to balls, dick to dick with the one man he thought he couldn’t stand. “If she’s in your lap, we can spread her wider.” 

“What?” Alastor grunted as his cock slid through your walls, moving against Lucifer’s. “Is she too tight for you?” 

Lucifer moaned, thrusting lazily against the slide of Alastor, moving through your walls. “I just- golly, I just don’t want to hurt her.” 

Alastor shifted, cradling you with his arm as he looked down at your flushed, dazed face. Your lips were parted, saliva dangerously close to falling from them as you took shallow breath after shallow breath, body shaking like a leaf in his arms. 

Leaning down, Alastor kissed you, smiling as you responded, kissing him weakly. His clawed hand gripped your side before running up your chest, cupping your sweet breast. Your heart thundered in your chest, slamming against your ribs with such force that he could feel it under his hand. 

“I think she’s doing just fine, aren’t you, baby?” Alastor purred in your ear, once again using a pet name that you never would have expected to pass from his lips. 

“Ye-” Your agreement was little more than a sigh as the cocks slid against eachother, softly fucking into you. What the thrusts lacked in power, they made up with in the way you were stretched painfully wide around the two men. 

Never, even in your wildest sexual fantasies, did you consider how it would feel to have two men fucking into your pussy at once. It spread you so tightly around them that you were sure they were going to rip you apart. The pressure of their cocks against your walls had them hitting every delicate nerve, body already painfully sensitive from the two orgasms the men had ripped from you. 

“Why don’t you kiss your king?” Alastor urged, hand wrapping strands of your hair around his fingers as he guided your head down toward the smaller man, looking up at you with a love drunk look in his lust blown eyes. 

Your fingers trembled as you reached out, caressing the soft white skin of your other lover. Soft touches traced where the black of his arms faded into gray. You caressed the flexing muscles of his arm and shoulder as he resisted the urge to chase his release before coming to rest on his chest. 

The overwhelming fullness and pleasure of having them both moving inside you made it a battle to work your muscles, but you struggled to lean into him, whimpering as the cocks continued to push and pull inside you. Your body squelched with the sound of it, each pushing through the imperfect seal. 

Lucifer wrapped his arm around you, urging your trembling body to bend to him as he worked into your cramped, warm, wet tunnel again and again. His lips met yours timidly, unsure still if you’d really want him. There was no hesitation in your response. 

You sighed into the kiss as your lips melted into his, becoming one as you breathed eachother in. Lucifer found his confidence as you clung to him, deepening the kiss with a soft swipe of his tongue. In a matter of moments, he was inside you in another way, tasting you. 

The soft sounds of lovemaking slowly morphed, changing as the pleasure became overwhelming. The bed creaked with the force of moving bodies as you lay, caught between the two men you wouldn’t have dared hope you could have as they worked your body tighter and tighter. 

“She’s getting close,” Lucifer said, lips leaving yours to return to your chest. 

“Getting so much tighter,” Alastor grunted with the force of his thrusts, pushing through walls that tried to lock both men in place within you. “Going to cum for us?” 

“I c-can’t.” Tears ran from your eyes as each man continued to work inside you, pushing you deeper and deeper into the mindless sea of painful pleasure. “I can’t.” 

“You can,” Alastor promised, “You’ve taken us so good, you can do this for us.” 

Bodies slapped into yours, the sound of them hitting your sweat slicked skin coming louder and faster as they chased their single-minded goal. All you could do was hold on to them, whimpering and begging for something, anything, as they sought to it you would come undone for them one more time. 

You came as a screaming, whimpering mess, clinging to your lovers with everything you could. Your toes curled so hard that they cramped. The blunt edges of your nails bit into whatever skin you could reach, not nearly powerful enough to break their skin. 

It felt like you were coming apart at the seams as harsh waves of pleasure pulled your muscles tight. Alastor pulled your neck back, covering your parted lips with his as he used his kiss to silence your screams.

Each man was moaning, groaning as your body begged for thier seed. Lucifer was the first to succumb to the temptation, pace turning faster and faster. The slick side of his cock against Alastor’s urged him on, drawing him into a race to the finish.

Each powerful thrust knocked the air from your lungs. The cocks within you swelled slightly, demanding more room from the walls stretched beyond their limits. They twitched against eachother, cocks rubbing your walls as you clung to what little sanity you could manage. 

There was nothing that could prepare any of you for the feeling of both men reaching their climax at the near same time. Hot ropes of cum shot from both cocks, harshly twitching against eachother as you were left a moaning, sobbing mess between you. 

The men’s fingers dug into your body, gripping you as their thrusts turned harsh, each fighting to fuck their seed deeper into you. Their essence leaked from your opening, mixing and seeping from your body in a sticky mess that tried to glue your lover’s cocks together. 

Lucifer’s cock popped from your swollen hole, slipping his messy shaft along your thigh, rubbing against Alastor as he thrusted lazily into you, slowly coming to a stop as he pulled your back into his chest. 

Lucifer looked at you, hesitating for a moment before scooting into you, placing a soft kiss on your lips as he nestled himself within your arms. Behind you, Alastor nuzzled into the soft hair at the back of your neck, breathing in the scent of you. 

“Would you have really wanted me?” Lucifer whispered, looking so much like the timid, depressed man he was under all the pride, power, and status. 

“I do want you,” you whispered, mind still on the post orgasmic cloud, preventing you from thinking about anything too hard at all. “I want you both. It’s not fair.” 

“Then have us both,” Alastor whispered in your ear. “We worked together to get here.”

“Okay,” Lucifer whispered, looking to Alastor for reassurance. Though Alastor didn’t take his head from where he was tucked against you but Lucifer still could see the slight nod of Alastor’s head. “We can be a thing, the three of us.” 

“Okay,” you sniffled, sleep pulling you under as your body relaxed, trembles slowly beginning to come to a stop. 

What tomorrow would look like, you didn’t know. How this thing between the three of you would work out, you didn’t know. All you knew is for the first time in both your life and your afterlife, you felt safe tucked into their arms. 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

[mylovesstuffs]

Jeonghan is THAT type of boyfriend

This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.

As we all know, he's an absolute menace, and being in a relationship hasn’t tamed him one bit. But somehow, you love him all the more (as you should)

Jeonghan’s the type to casually suggest a board game for date night, only to absolutely destroy you at it and then give you his signature gremlin smile all while pulling you onto his lap as a consolation prize. He’ll tease, “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t comfort my sore loser?”

He’ll lean in after catching you looking at him, tuck your hair behind your ear, and whisper, “Caught you looking at me again. Can’t blame you, though, I’m pretty irresistible.”

Jeonghan loves playing the role of the clueless angel. He’ll act like he doesn’t understand why you’re flustered when he presses you up against the kitchen counter to reach something “too high,” murmuring, “Oops, sorry. Tight space, huh?”

He’ll pull you into bed on a cold morning, trapping you with his legs tangled in yours not letting you get up.

Jeonghan’s not above leaning in during a casual conversation, his lips brushing against your ear as he says something completely innocent but with a tone that leaves your mind spinning. “We should head home soon,” he’ll murmur as his hand trailing down your arm.

His fingers will trace random patterns on your bare skin.

Jeonghan thrives on seeing you squirm in situations where you can’t react. Like when his hand casually finds its way to your inner thigh under the table at dinner, his thumb drawing circles while he pretends to listen to the conversation.

Jeonghan? Oh, he’s the boyfriend who’ll untie your apron strings just to see you flustered in the kitchen, claiming it’s an accident when you glare at him. “Oops, my bad,” he’ll say with a grin, but he’s already planning his next move.

He’ll conveniently forget things you told him just to rile you up. “Wait, you said you wanted iced coffee? I thought it was hot chocolate,” he’d say, sipping on your perfectly-made order. Then, when you pout, he’ll offer his cup. “Fine, take mine. You’re so dramatic.”

He’ll swipe your pillow in the middle of the night just to make you fight for it, pulling you closer in the process.

Fake Innocence™”: He’ll pull pranks like swapping the sugar for salt in your coffee or hiding your favorite hoodie, but he’ll always act like he’s completely innocent. “What? Me? Nooo, baby. Why would I do that?” TT no, you tell me Jeonghan, why would you do that?

After an entire day of his endless teasing, pulling you close just to leave you wanting more, he finally pins you against the wall with that smirk of his. “You’ve been so patient, baby,” he whispers, his lips brushing yours, “Let me make it worth your while.”

DEGRADATION!!

Jeonghan’s the type to sneak kisses when you least expect it like when you’re mid-sentence, complaining about his antics. “You talk too much, baby,” he’ll chuckle, kissing you again. And just like that, you forget why you were mad.

He’ll always help you pick out a dress for your date, because he loves playing dress up with you.

Jeonghan is also the king of lazy afternoons so he always drapes himself over you like a human blanket.

He’s memorized every spot that makes you melt whether it’s a kiss on the back of your neck or a light touch on your lower back. And he’s not shy about using that knowledge to his advantage.

When you’re feeling insecure, Jeonghan turns off his usual playful side. He’ll cup your face, look you straight in the eyes, and say, “I don’t know what’s going on in that tiny head of yours, but I wish you could see yourself the way I do.”

[tripthelightfandomtastic]

Teach Me.

D.R.W x S.F.K x Reader

Author’s Note: This is my Christmas gift to y'all! I've put together a full version of the two part Wild Wednesday posts I wrote recently. I really am so proud of how these came out and I wanted to put it into an easy read so you didn’t have to scour my WW tags and risk it just kinda falling to the ether. I may do this again in the future, depending on how this goes.

Synopsis: Being in a relationship with Danny and both of you having long lasting sexual tension with Danny 's best friend, Sam. A beautiful night of showing Sam what makes you and Danny feel good.

Word Count: 2.7K (quick and easy threesome)

Pairing: Danny x Sam x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Foul language, oral, threesome, light dom/sub, raw sex (Wrap it before you tap your boyfriend and his best friend)

Teach Me. -D.R.W x S.F.K x F. Reader

All I can picture is being friends with Sam and dating Danny. Always having this constant sexual tension between you, and seeing it also with Danny and his best friend. After a drunken evening with Danny, you find out that Sam and him kissed on New Years once. It was a one time thing, but it felt good. You keep thinking about the idea of Sam and Danny kissing, and you wish to be in the middle of it one day.

Somehow, some way, you find yourself in the middle of your fantasy. Danny loves showing you off to Sam, showing what makes you feel good, and you can't help but pipe up. "Can I show you what makes Danny feel good, Sammy?" You ask, standing there in the middle of the bedroom, both Sam and Danny watching you. "Yes, please." He whispers, a little nervously.

"Sit on the edge of the bed. Both of you." You ask teasingly. The friend's look at each other before sitting, you can't help but look at them like this. So toned, soft skin, side by side, hard and wanting. You drop to your knees between Danny's legs, moving your hair aside. "He loves to watch the way I suck his cock." You smile at Sam as you take Danny's hard member in your hand. "I pump his cock slowly at first." You say as you demonstrate, Sam's eyes glued to your motions. "Then I lick his tip just like this." You let your tongue gently lap at Danny's tip, relishing in the attention as Danny moans, letting his head fall back. "Then I take him into my mouth, like this." You whisper, before leaning in and taking Danny's cock down your throat, slowly taking him inch by inch. Danny groans, his hand in your hair as you bob your head up and down on him.

"Fuck." Sam breathes, his hand slowly pumping his own cock. You slowly come up and off Danny's dick and look up at Sam, "You wanna try?" You smile up at him sweetly, heart slamming in your chest. "I can show you, again." You tease as you make your way between Sam's thighs, replacing his hand with your hand, wrapping around his achingly hard cock. It's so pretty, soft and warm against your palm. "I think you should show him baby, Sammy's a visual learner." Danny smirks as he leans in and kisses Sam's neck. Sam's eyes roll back in his head as he loses himself for a moment, sandwiched between his two friends. "Pay attention, Sammy." Danny whispers in his ear. "Yes, sir." Sam quips, a lazy stoner smile on his face.

Both boys look back at you. "I touch him just like this." You say, pumping slowly, watching Sam's thighs flex at your touch. "Then I lick his tip like this." "Mhmm," Sam's voice shakes as he watches Danny's hands playing with his nipples. You let your tongue explore the soft expanse of Sam's tip, loving the feeling of salty precum on your tongue. "That's my good girl." Danny grins as you pull off, letting a gentle bit of spit cover his tip and down his length. "Then take him deeper into your mouth." You repeat, bringing your open mouth down Sam's cock, pumping the rest into your mouth as you begin to take Sam's dick into your throat. Moaning around him as you do. "Fuck sake." Sam breathes, his hand tentatively touching your hair. "Go ahead Sam, show her how much you like it." Danny assures. Sam moves his hand into your hair, so gentle still as he moves your hair to the side and guides you along his length, your nails raking up his thigh as you do so. "God, you're so pretty." Danny whispers to you, "So pretty." Sam agrees gingerly.

Sam surprises you by guiding you off of him, "Can I try? Please?" He asks eagerly. Your eyes glisten from taking him deep, "Mhm." You respond, excited to watch. You move to be next to Danny's knee, watching as your boyfriend follows Sam's movements to be on his knees in front of him. You move Sam's hands up to relax on Danny's thighs. "Start here, be sweet and kiss here." You whisper in his ear, watching as goosebumps raise on Sam's skin. His hands relax onto both Danny's thighs, gently feeling the muscles underneath. He leans in and places tender kisses against the skin of both inner thighs. "Good boy." Danny coos, hand gently running over Sam's cheek to his jaw, thumb turning over his bottom lip, slowly. You could cut the tension with a knife.

"And you do just what I showed you." You whisper, watching as Sam moves a hand to Danny's cock. "So soft." Sam murmurs to himself, getting acquainted with the feeling. Danny sighs as he watches Sam pump his cock lazily at first, increasing in speed just a tad. Sam leans in on his own, gently kitten licking at Danny's cock. Danny lets out a hiss as he tries to control himself, locking eyes with Sam. You can't help but begin to touch yourself as you watch, just taking in the sight as Sam lets a little bit of saliva dribble down Danny's shaft, wetting it for his hand and bringing his mouth down the length. "Go slow, pretty boy." You whisper, moving closer to Sam, eyes on Danny as you reach around and tug on Sam's own cock. A moan reverberating from Sam's throat and around Danny, making Danny groan, his eyes flutter shut for just a moment.

"Good boy, Sammy." You whisper, your hand slowly pumping his cock, making him sigh as he begins to take more of Danny. "Fuck, Sam." Danny's hand relaxes into Sam's hair, he gently takes his hair up into a makeshift ponytail, using it to guide him up and down.

Sam gags a bit on Danny's cock, but presses on, a tear rolling down his cheek. "There he is, good job sweet boy, keep going, just like that." You rasp against his ear, pumping him faster now. You can tell Danny is close, the way he moans, how his head falls back, his lips parted. "Come on Sammy, wanna watch you cum." You smile as your thumb rolls over the tip of his hard cock, Sam hums around Danny's length, making Danny's grip in Sam's hair tighten. "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck." Danny mumbles out, "Want to watch you swallow it all." You say, egging Danny and Sam on, knowing just how bad they each want it.

Sam pumps Danny's cock into his mouth, using his hand for what he can't fit in his throat. "Baby the tip of his cock, Sammy. I know he loves it." You advise, also doing the same thing to Sam with your hand. You watch as he arches his back, moaning around the tip of Danny's cock.

Danny's hand is like a vice grip on Sam's hair, holding him still as he cums down Sam's throat. Sam eagerly swallows it all, every last drop, "Oh Sam. Oh fuck Sam." Danny whimpers as he cums, Sam can't help it, cumming in your hand. He pulls his mouth away, moaning and whining as he cums hard for you both.

You can't help but grin as you look at these two gorgeous men. Sam wraps his arms around Danny, his head in his lap, Danny hunched over Sam, playing with his hair as they both catch their breaths. "So good. You tasted so good." Sam whispers, turning to look up at Danny. Danny kisses Sam deeply, tasting himself on his best friend's tongue. Danny hums against his lips. "Had a good teacher." Sam breathes, looking at you. You blush, moving closer to the two of them.

Sam kisses you before giving you to Danny to kiss. "So can we do this again, soon?" You ask looking to them. "Of course. I gotta know what makes you tick next." Sam smiles against your neck. "Why wait?" Danny speaks, kissing your neck. 

"No time like the present. My girl has done such a good job, being so sweet to both of us, I think she deserves some of our attention, don't you think Sammy?" Danny coos in your ear, kissing up your neck, his hand cradling your jaw. "Mm, the teacher becomes the subject." Sam smirks, kissing up the other side of your neck. You feel like you could burst into flames with the way their touches feel on your body. "Y-Yes please." You submit without a fight, not wanting to wait for your turn after being so terribly teased from watching Sam suck off your boyfriend.

"You're gonna love playing with her, she's such a good girl for me. You're gonna be a good girl for Sam, baby?" Danny asks, turning your face to him, your eyes hooded with lust. "Yes, sir. I can be good." You whisper, a subtle quiver in your voice, you can hardly wait. "Good, pretty girl." Danny whispers against your lips, kissing you deep. He pulls away from you, looking over to Sam, "You want to ask her to lay down, Sammy? I don't think our girl deserves to wait any longer." Danny says, ever the mind reader.

"Lay down, pretty girl." Sam smiles, lending you a hand to help you onto the bed. You relax into the pillows, your heart slamming in your chest. The two boys kneel on either side of your body, their eyes feasting over your figure. You should feel semi nervous, but you can't help but feel so safe. You know they only want to make you feel good. Danny's hand runs up your inner thigh, up to your pussy. You sigh out a moan, "Oh Sammy, she needs it bad." Danny smirks as his fingers run up from your pussy to your clit, the collective wetness on Danny's fingertips make your mind melt as he begins to swirl your clit under his middle finger with ease. "Just feel how wet she is for us." Danny invites Sam closer, his hand dragging along the expanse of your inner thigh. You spread your legs wider, showing off just how much you need it. Sam's fingers glide gently inside of you, you moan as his long, slender fingers press ever so slowly inside of you. "Oh fuck." Sam whispers, his cock bounces, so hard with need again. "You're soaked." Sam smiles, his eyes holding yours, you can't help but blush. The sound of your own wetness fills the room as Sam's fingers slowly move in and out. "That's my girl." Danny smiles at you, his fingers on your clit combined with Sam's make you cry out, your eyes fluttering shut as your hips buck.

"Not yet, baby doll. We're just getting started." Danny grins, his hand moving away, prompting Sam to follow suit. You can't help but whimper in frustration. "Danny, please." You whine, your thighs pressing together for some sort of relief. "Spread your legs baby, let me show Sam how you like to cum on my face." Danny asks softly.

You follow his order, letting Danny lay between your legs, making himself at home while Sam moves closer to your hip so he can watch. Danny's hands run softly up your legs and rest on your thighs, his eyes closed as he kisses you on your thighs. "She likes it when you start slow, don't you, baby?" Danny speaks quietly between your thighs. The warm air from his lips makes you practically buzz with excitement. "Yes, sir." You smile shyly. "Kiss her just like this, she feels so soft and warm." Danny explains, kissing you sweetly, pressing wet, lazy kisses up both inner thighs. "Then, slowly, bring your tongue up through her folds." Danny says, his tongue gently trailing up your wetness, making you sigh gently at the sensation of his cool tongue. "You see? She loves it. Don't you, princess?" You nod quickly, "Mhmm." You whine. "Then a few more times, just like that." Danny says to Sam, almost ignoring your whimpers. Danny's hands go to your hips, pulling you closer, your legs propping up out of habit, giving Danny a place to bring his hands, pulling your thighs to lay against his shoulders. "See? She knows how she wants it." Danny smirks to Sam, who is now lazily pumping himself as he watches. Danny closes his eyes, his tongue moving quicker on your clit, your back arches as he hums out a moan against you. Sam lends a hand to Danny, moving hair away from his face. It makes you go crazy watching them like this.

Soon, Danny pulls away and sits back up, kneeling next to Sam. "You wanna make my girl cum for you?" Danny asks Sam. Sam nods quickly, "God, yes, please." Sam answers. The two trade places, and you're already a dizzy mess. "Kiss her thighs, get her comfortable." Danny says, his eyes flitting up to you, his hand on your calf as he watches from your side so he can watch.

Sam kisses your thighs, his eyelashes tickle as he looks up at you and then over to Danny. He follows Danny's instructions, moving his tongue to your pussy, licking gently through them. You and Sam both sigh softly, "She does taste good." Sam murmurs, almost to himself. You can't help but blush as Sam loses himself in tasting you. Lapping you up, ever so gently. "Faster Sammy, right against her clit, she'll-" as Sam follows Danny's prompt, your hand moves into Sam's hair, your legs spreading open. "She'll do that." Danny grins as your hand tightens in Sam's hair, earning a moan from Sam. "Good boy." Danny whispers before kissing Sam on the shoulder.

It feels so good, your legs begin to shake, "Oh god Sam." You cry out, "There you go Sammy, latch your lips around her clit and suck." Danny comments, Sam follows. You cry loudly, eyes squeezed shut as your legs clamp around Sam's head. Sam moans as he presses his hips against the mattress, "She's close, dig your fingers into her hips and pull her closer, she tries to fight it but she knows she's close." Danny eggs Sam on, knowing just how you like it. Sam's hands grip tightly to you, his tongue flat as he moves his head back and forth, Danny's hand on the back of Sam's head, whispering in his ear, "Good boy, just like that."

You are losing your mind, crying out Sam's name. Danny tells Sam to move his fingers inside of you, filling you up while he laps quickly at your clit. You can feel your release coming fast, Sam's long fingers brushing deep inside you while his plump lips latch around your clit. Your grip in his hair is tight as your hips buck, but Sam's mouth never leaves you. "There she is. Good girl, let it go. Let him taste it. Let Sammy feel you on his tongue." Danny says, his voice like silk in your ears. You can't stop until you cum all over Sam's mouth, "Don't over stimulate her, just let her come down slowly, lap it up gentle and slow." Danny says softly, his hands caressing your face and moving your hair from your forehead. "Such a good girl for us. Always so good." Danny whispers to you, kissing your cheek, up to your lips.

You search for your breath in the haze. Losing grip on what's real. Sam lays against your thigh, just like how he did Danny's. You play with Sam's hair as you both come back to life. Sam slowly sits up, lips, cheeks, and chin shining with your cum. Danny smiles, pulling Sam into a kiss with his hand holding Sam's jaw. "She tastes good on your tongue." Danny whispers against his friend's mouth.

Sam moves to you, laying beside your form, kissing you deeply, his tongue in your mouth, letting you taste yourself. "Mmm." You hum against his lips. The three of you lay in a heap, you cuddled in-between your lovers, their hands softly wandering your body. "You did so good, Sam." You smile, your fingers running through Sam's hair, he grins at you. "I had a good teacher."

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Tag list:

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(If you'd like to be added or your handle has changed lmk!)

[kathlare]

homecoming serenity

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie returns to London after a hectic travel experience and is welcomed by Lando, who greets her with a thoughtful gesture.

Wordcount: 1.5 k

Warnings: just fluff

December 23rd, 2024 - London, United Kingdom

It had been a long, exhausting day for Amelie. The chaos of the holiday travel season had hit her jet harder than expected, and delays had piled up on top of the already hectic schedule. She could barely keep her eyes open as she sat in the private lounge, looking over at her team, who were equally tired from the trip. The flight from New York to London had been pushed back twice due to the overload of air traffic, and now she was staring at the clock, knowing she wouldn’t be getting into London until 2 a.m.

But none of it mattered anymore. Not when she knew that Lando would be waiting for her, the one constant she could rely on. It had been almost a week since she saw him, and though they'd been texting and calling, nothing compared to being in his arms.

As soon as her plane touched down, Amelie was quick to gather her things, the anticipation making her heart race. She had missed him more than she had been willing to admit, even to herself. With her team in tow, she stepped off the jet, the crisp London air biting at her skin, but she hardly noticed. All she could think about was the warm, familiar presence waiting for her.

The moment she stepped into the arrivals hall, she saw him. He was there, just like always, leaning against the wall with a bunch of bright yellow tulips in his hand. She had mentioned once, long ago, that yellow tulips were her favorite, and he never forgot. The sight of him sent a wave of relief and warmth over her.

—Lan,— she breathed, a smile spreading across her face as she jogged toward him, her heart doing an erratic dance in her chest.

—Ames,— he said, a grin forming as he straightened up, the flowers in his hand now reaching out toward her. —For you, love.—

Amelie took the bouquet from him, bringing the flowers to her nose as she inhaled deeply. She felt her entire body relax, the exhaustion of travel slipping away.

—You’re perfect,— she murmured, her eyes locking with his.

Lando chuckled softly. —You look wrecked.—

—You think so?— she teased back, raising an eyebrow. —I feel wrecked.—

He reached out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering. —I’m just glad you’re finally here.—

—Me too,— she said softly, leaning into his touch for a moment, closing her eyes as she let herself enjoy the moment.

They spent a few more minutes exchanging soft words, catching up as if they hadn’t just spoken hours ago. But the rush of seeing each other after so many days apart left them both feeling like time had stood still.

Lando led her to the car, and they made their way to his place. The ride was comfortable, but the silence between them wasn’t awkward. It was the kind of silence they shared when they were content in each other’s presence.

Once they arrived, Lando opened the door to his flat and flipped the light on, his voice filled with warmth. —Home sweet home.—

Amelie let out a content sigh, her feet aching from the long flight. —Finally.—

Lando closed the door behind them and dropped his bag by the entryway before turning to face her. His eyes softened as they took in the sight of Amelie—tired, yet somehow glowing, even after all the travel chaos. The look he gave her made her heart flutter, like it had when they first became friends, and later, when they started dating. That deep connection still held them tightly, even after everything.

—You hungry?— Lando asked, his voice a little softer than usual. —I could whip something up, make you feel more at home.—

Amelie shook her head, too tired to even think about food. —Honestly, Lan, I just want to go to bed. I haven’t slept properly in… I don’t even know how long. I just want to sleep next to you, that’s all.—

Lando’s smile widened at her words, his heart skipping a beat. —You’ve got it. Bed, it is.—

He walked towards the bedroom, knowing that the second she saw the bed, she'd crash into it. But before they could reach it, Amelie stopped in her tracks, her eyes locking onto him with a playful, flirtatious gleam.

—You’re still so cute,— she said softly, her voice teasing. —I don’t even know why I’m still surprised by how much you spoil me.—

Lando chuckled, shaking his head as he took a step closer. —I’ll spoil you all night long, Ames,— he said with a wink. —But right now, let’s get some sleep before I do it properly.—

Amelie smiled, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she let go of all the stress, slipping into the comfort of his arms as they collapsed onto the bed. The blankets surrounded them, warm and soft, and she snuggled close, breathing in the scent of him—familiar, safe, and exactly what she needed.

—Missed you so much,— Amelie mumbled into his chest, her voice muffled but sincere.

Lando ran his fingers through her hair, the motion gentle and soothing. —I missed you more, Ames. More than you know.—

It wasn’t long before their quiet, contented breathing filled the room, both of them slipping into a peaceful slumber, lost in the warmth of each other’s presence.

But the peaceful night wasn’t meant to last long. At 6 a.m., Amelie was the first to stir, the sound of her phone buzzing on the nightstand pulling her from sleep. She groaned, rolling over to glance at the screen. Her makeup artist, Gla Tema, was calling, ready to start getting her prepared for the day.

—Shit,— Amelie muttered under her breath, rubbing her eyes as she sat up in bed.

Lando closed the door behind them and dropped his bag by the entryway before turning to face her. His eyes softened as they took in the sight of Amelie—tired, yet somehow glowing, even after all the travel chaos. The look he gave her made her heart flutter, like it had when they first became friends, and later, when they started dating. That deep connection still held them tightly, even after everything.

—You hungry?— Lando asked, his voice a little softer than usual. —I could whip something up, make you feel more at home.—

Amelie shook her head, too tired to even think about food. —Honestly, Lan, I just want to go to bed. I haven’t slept properly in… I don’t even know how long. I just want to sleep next to you, that’s all.—

Lando’s smile widened at her words, his heart skipping a beat. —You’ve got it. Bed, it is.—

He walked towards the bedroom, knowing that the second she saw the bed, she'd crash into it. But before they could reach it, Amelie stopped in her tracks, her eyes locking onto him with a playful, flirtatious gleam.

—You’re still so cute,— she said softly, her voice teasing. —I don’t even know why I’m still surprised by how much you spoil me.—

Lando chuckled, shaking his head as he took a step closer. —I’ll spoil you all night long, Ames,— he said with a wink. —But right now, let’s get some sleep before I do it properly.—

Amelie smiled, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she let go of all the stress, slipping into the comfort of his arms as they collapsed onto the bed. The blankets surrounded them, warm and soft, and she snuggled close, breathing in the scent of him—familiar, safe, and exactly what she needed.

—Missed you so much,— Amelie mumbled into his chest, her voice muffled but sincere.

Lando ran his fingers through her hair, the motion gentle and soothing. —I missed you more, Ames. More than you know.—

It wasn’t long before their quiet, contented breathing filled the room, both of them slipping into a peaceful slumber, lost in the warmth of each other’s presence.

But the peaceful night wasn’t meant to last long. At 6 a.m., Amelie was the first to stir, the sound of her phone buzzing on the nightstand pulling her from sleep. She groaned, rolling over to glance at the screen. Her makeup artist was calling, ready to start getting her prepared for the day.

—Shit,— Amelie muttered under her breath, rubbing her eyes as she sat up in bed.

Lando groggily shifted beside her, his arm reaching out to pull her back down into the warmth of the covers. —Noooo, don’t leave yet, Ames,— he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. His arm wrapped around her waist, trying to keep her in place, but Amelie gently nudged him off.

—As much as I want to stay here with you, babe, I have to get up,— she replied, her voice still laced with sleepiness as she tried to peel herself away from him.

Lando groaned dramatically, pulling her back toward him one more time before reluctantly letting go. He gave her a pouty look, the kind that always made her laugh. —I swear, you’re the busiest woman I know,— he said, running a hand through his messy hair. —Can’t even have you all to myself for one morning.—

Amelie gave him a smirk, her eyes half-lidded with sleep. —You’ve had me plenty of mornings, Lan. Don’t act like you don’t know the drill by now.—

Lando yawned, stretching his arms above his head. —Yeah, well, I’m still not over how lucky I am to have you back here. It's been too damn long.—

Amelie rolled her eyes, her lips curling into a smile despite herself. —You say that now. Just wait until I’m all over the place with press and events. I won’t have time to breathe.—

—I don’t mind. As long as you’re breathing next to me when you can,— he said, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he slipped out of bed and grabbed her hoodie from the chair, tossing it to her. —Go make yourself pretty for the press and I’ll make you breakfast, okay? You deserve it.—

Amelie chuckled, pulling the hoodie over her head. —You’re too sweet. Thank you.—

She reached out to touch his arm before heading toward the bathroom, feeling that familiar warmth between them again. Even after all the time they’d been apart, nothing felt forced or uncomfortable when it came to him. It was like they had always been right here, together, even if the world outside them moved at a thousand miles an hour.

Lando smiled to himself as he made his way to the kitchen, moving with quiet confidence, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. When Amelie was in "go mode," he had learned long ago that the best way to get her to relax was by feeding her—preferably something simple, something comforting. He pulled out the ingredients for her favorite breakfast: pancakes, just the way she liked them—fluffy and warm, with extra syrup on the side. A few strawberries to garnish and a side of fresh orange juice. It wasn’t the grandest breakfast, but he knew it would hit the spot.

As Lando worked in the kitchen, the soft hum of the morning seemed to settle into a quiet rhythm. He cracked the eggs, mixed the batter, and flipped the pancakes with ease, the kind of precision that always made Amelie smile. He knew what she liked, and in this moment, it wasn’t about extravagant gestures. It was the little things, the care he put into making her feel comfortable, that mattered.

Meanwhile, Amelie was in the bathroom, her face tired but determined as she began her morning routine. She scrubbed away the remnants of the long journey, her mind drifting back to how nice it was to be back here with him. It felt so natural, like slipping into an old sweater—comfy, familiar, and exactly what she needed.

She could hear Lando’s soft voice from the kitchen, singing some random tune he’d made up in the moment, likely an off-key version of a song she couldn’t quite place. It made her smile despite herself. The chaotic whirlwind of press events was about to begin, but right now, this—being with him—was the calm in the storm.

After finishing in the bathroom, Amelie slipped back into the bedroom, quickly throwing on her sweats before going into the kitchen. Lando was just plating the pancakes, his eyes lighting up when he saw her enter.

—Morning, beautiful,— he greeted with that grin she loved so much, that grin that never failed to make her feel special, even when she was running on barely any sleep.

—Morning,— Amelie replied, her voice a little hoarse but warm. She walked over to him, leaning on the counter, watching as he poured syrup onto the pancakes. —I’m starving. I can’t believe you woke up early to do all this for me.—

Lando shrugged, his mischievous smile tugging at his lips. —I wasn’t going to let you starve before you go off to another busy day.— He placed the plate in front of her, setting a fork next to it. —Eat. I know you won’t have time to eat later.—

Amelie picked up the fork, taking a bite of the pancake, her eyes fluttering closed as she savored the taste. —God, Lan, you really are the best,— she said between bites. —I swear, no one makes pancakes like you.—

Lando sat down next to her, his eyes softening as he watched her enjoy the breakfast. —I know. I’m pretty talented.—

She laughed, shaking her head at his cocky grin. —Always so humble, huh?—

—Well, someone has to be,— Lando quipped, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper. —And I do it for you, Ames. All for you.—

Amelie rolled her eyes, but her smile never faltered. She set the fork down and reached out to squeeze his hand. —Thank you, really,— she said, her voice more sincere. —For this. For everything. I know it’s been crazy for both of us, but just... having you here makes everything easier.—

He squeezed her hand back, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. —I know, Ames. Same here. I’ll always be here, no matter how crazy things get.— His voice softened, more serious now, as his gaze locked onto hers. —And after all this press stuff, you’ll have some time to just... breathe, yeah? I’ll make sure of it.—

She nodded, her heart swelling with affection for him. —That sounds perfect.—

Amelie finished her pancakes, feeling a sense of contentment wash over her. There was something about Lando, about being with him, that made everything feel like it was falling into place. As chaotic as their lives had been, as distant as they’d sometimes been from each other, moments like this reminded her that they were exactly where they were supposed to be. Together.

Once breakfast was done, Amelie quickly finished getting ready. Lando kept himself busy, putting the dishes away and pulling on his hoodie, settling onto the couch with his phone in hand as Amelie did her final touch-ups in the bathroom. He wasn’t in a rush. He knew she had a full day ahead of her, and even though he wished he could keep her all to himself, he was patient. He’d learned that patience was one of the best ways to love her.

By the time Amelie was finished, it was already time for her glam team to arrive. She kissed Lando on the cheek before stepping into the living room, finding her makeup artist and hair stylist waiting for her.

The glam team got to work quickly, brushing, curling, and primping her for the day ahead. Amelie was used to the routine by now, but today, the weight of the final press day before the premiere of Wicked felt heavier. She was ready for it to be over, to finally have a break, to spend time with Lando.

As the team finished, she glanced at Lando, who had his head tilted back on the couch, eyes half-closed but with a quiet grin on his face.

—Come on, Lan,— she said, standing up and stretching. —You’re coming to the premiere, right? No way you’re getting out of it this time.—

—I wouldn’t miss it for the world,— he answered, standing up to walk over to her. His hand found the small of her back as they made their way to the door. He leaned down, brushing a kiss to her temple. —After all, you’ll be stunning, and I need to be the lucky guy standing next to you.—

Amelie’s heart fluttered, her nerves from the day ahead momentarily forgotten. —You’re too much,— she whispered, a smile tugging at her lips.

As she turned to leave, Lando called out to her, his voice playful but sincere. —Just don’t forget, I’m always here, Ames. I’ll be cheering you on the whole time. You’ve got this.—

Amelie turned, her eyes softening as she looked at him. —I know, Lan. See you later.—

With a wink, Lando let her go, watching as she left for the press interviews. As soon as she was out the door, he quickly moved to gather the few things he needed before he would leave later to head to Merida. But for now, he knew he had to be there for her in his own quiet way.

[kyywritess]

CHAPTER 7: KNOW ITS FOR THE BETTER

pairing: aged up!katsuki bakugo x fem!reader

summary: After six intense years in Japan, YN LN has firmly established herself as a renowned gym owner. She's known by many pros for her charm, strength, and boxing abilities. She has a strong support system and amazing friends... her life in Japan was everything she dreamed it would be.

But everything changes one fateful night when a mysterious package appears on her doorstep. No note, no return address—just a plain box wrapped with a single pearly pink ribbon. As she unravels the contents of the box, she’s drawn into a dark, twisted mystery that seems to reach deep into her own past—a past she thought she had buried when she left her old life behind.

wc: 2.4k

warning: ANGST

an: I apologize in advance

---

If there’s one thing about Katsuki Bakugo, it’s that he gets what he wants. Ever since he was a little boy—whether it was a packet of spicy ramen he begged his mom for at the grocery store, a limited-edition All Might card, or becoming the Number One Hero—he made sure it happened.

He never considered himself spoiled. He worked hard to earn what he truly deserved. But as he stands at your doorstep, his sharp crimson eyes locked onto yours, he can’t help but think how utterly spoiled he is just to be in the presence of someone so utterly captivating.

When you said yes to going to the hero gala with him, it was as if the air around him turned lighter. Since the day he met you in that gym, he’d been drawn to you, like a moth to a flame. There was something about you—an allure, an unshakable pull—that stole the breath right out of his lungs.

And now, seeing you here, framed by the soft glow of your porch light, his chest tightens. You’re radiant. The long black dress hugs your curves like it was made for you, and those dainty white heels showcase your painted toes like a finishing touch. Your hair falls gracefully, brushing against your collarbones, and the smoky eyeshadow accentuates the depths of your gaze.

“You look gorgeous angel.” he murmurs, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. 

The nickname is new, unfamiliar, but it rolls off his tongue like it was meant for you. Judging by the way your lips curve into a soft, fond smile, he knows you don’t mind it one bit.

Standing on your tiptoes, you reach up to press a fleeting kiss to his cheek. It’s quick, innocent, but it’s enough to send his heart into overdrive. He feels foolish, like some lovesick teen, but he can’t help it. That small act of affection sets his world spinning.

“You ready?” you ask, your arm sliding effortlessly into his. Your touch feels natural, like it belongs there.

He nods, leading you toward the sleek limo waiting outside. It’s extravagant, almost out of place parked in front of your humble home, but it’s a small price to pay for a night spent by your side.

“Don’t trip,” he mutters under his breath as he holds the door open for you. It’s his clumsy way of saying, Be careful. His concern is subtle but endearing, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

The ride to the gala is quiet but charged with unspoken tension. Your eyes meet his in stolen glances, neither of you holding the gaze long enough to risk unraveling whatever fragile balance exists between you.

When you finally arrive, the flashing lights and deafening chatter of paparazzi hit like a tidal wave. Cameras snap, and voices rise in speculation about Bakugo’s stunning “arm candy.” Without a second thought, he shields you, pulling you close to his side as the chaos unfolds.

“You good?” he asks once you’re safely inside, his brows furrowed in that familiar way that somehow makes your heart flutter.

Your soft laughter is enough to disarm him. Reaching up, you smooth the strand of ash-blond hair that had fallen loose during the commotion. The simple act is so tender it nearly breaks him.

“I’m good,” you reply, your voice steady despite the flurry of emotions swirling inside you.

He watches as you decline a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, your smile lighting up the room as you opt for water instead. “You not drinkin’?” he asks, steering you toward a quieter corner of the grand hall. His hand lingers on your waist, hesitant but unwilling to let go.

Without missing a beat, you take his hand and intertwine your fingers. The gesture is so effortless, so casual, that it leaves him reeling. He struggles to focus on your words—something about whiskey and the bar—but all he can think about is the softness of your skin against his.

“Katsuki,” you call, snapping him out of his trance.

“Yeah, sorry.” He pulls you gently toward your table, ignoring the smug grins of his friends as they approach.

“Y/N!” Mina’s bubbly voice cuts through the din, her excitement palpable.

You greet her with a hug, laughing as Kirishima teases Bakugo, earning a sharp glare and a grumbled, “Shut the fuck up, Shitty Hair.”

Mina’s knowing smile doesn’t escape you. “I can’t believe he finally brought you to one of these,” she says, her tone loaded with implication.

You offer a modest laugh, claiming you feel out of place among heroes. But the truth is, this isn’t your first gala. You’ve been to countless events back in America—glamorous nights filled with laughter, expensive drinks, and the warmth of people you once called family. Yet somehow, this feels different. This feels right.

As the night progresses, Bakugo’s hand finds its place on your thigh. His thumb brushes slow, deliberate circles into your skin, a subconscious act of affection that sends your thoughts spiraling. It’s intimate, and it terrifies you.

Excusing yourself, you make your way to the bathroom with Mina. The cool air does little to calm your racing heart.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, willing yourself to keep it together. Your heart was racing, and you weren’t sure if it was from the whiskey or the way Bakugo’s touch lingered on your thigh like it belonged there. Every gentle circle his thumb traced sent your mind into overdrive, and you needed a moment to breathe.

Mina stood beside you, her pink hair vibrant under the fluorescent lights. She leaned against the counter, studying you with that mischievous gleam in her eyes. You could feel her smirking without even looking at her.

“You know, Bakugo’s single,” she said casually, but there was nothing casual about the way she was watching your reaction.

You froze for a second, then gave a nonchalant shrug. “I know.”

“And he’s been single for a while—like, years.”

“What are you trying to say?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at her through the mirror.

“I’m saying you’re either blind or stupid,” Mina said bluntly, crossing her arms. “Have you seriously not noticed the way he looks at you? Like you hung the moon or something.”

You scoffed, though it came out weaker than you intended. “He doesn’t look at me like that.”

“Oh, please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “The man is hopelessly in love with you, Y/N. Why do you think every girl who so much as breathes in his direction gets shot down?”

“Because he’s not the kind of guy to sleep around,” you said defensively, though a tiny part of you hoped Mina was right.

“Wrong,” she shot back. “All he did in his early twenties was hook up with randoms. That stopped the second you walked into his life. He hasn’t looked at anyone else since.”

“Mina, stop,” you whispered, your throat tightening.

“No,” she said firmly, her voice softening as she stepped closer. “I’m so sick of you two pretending you’re not in love with each other. It’s exhausting to watch.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, forcing you to confront feelings you’d been avoiding. You blinked rapidly, willing the tears to stay at bay. 

“I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. You’re it for him.”

That alone was enough to make the knife in your chest dig deeper. All this talk about love—it was suffocating. You couldn’t do it. You didn’t have the ability to love Bakugo, not now, not in this moment. Not when you knew what waited in the shadows, lurking, threatening everything and everyone you cared about.

Your time was running out. You could feel it, like a clock ticking relentlessly toward some inevitable reckoning. And Bakugo, for all his strength and fire, would eventually find out everything—the lies, the danger, the truth you were so desperately trying to keep hidden.

So if not telling him how you truly felt would spare you both the heartache, then you’d keep this secret buried alongside all the others. It was safer that way. It had to be.

“Thanks, Mina,” you said softly, forcing a small smile onto your lips. But it didn’t reach your eyes, and from the way Mina’s brows furrowed slightly, you knew she noticed.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.

You nodded, ignoring the lump in your throat. “Yeah. Just tired, I guess.”

Mina didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push. “Alright, but if you ever want to talk…”

You nodded again, grateful for her kindness but knowing you couldn’t take her up on the offer. Not now. Not ever.

Turning away, you smoothed down your dress and took a deep breath. It was time to rejoin the others, to put on the mask you’d perfected over the years. For tonight, at least, you could pretend. You could hold onto the illusion that everything was normal, that Bakugo wasn’t looking at you like you hung the moon, and that Moretti wasn’t out there, waiting to destroy everything.

Gathering every ounce of courage you had, you stepped out of the bathroom. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw him waiting by the door, his broad frame leaning casually against the wall.

“Katsuki?” you called softly, your voice breaking the stillness.

He turned his head, his intense crimson gaze locking onto yours. “Took you long enough,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth quirked up in a faint smile, softening the sharpness of his words.

“You didn't have to wait for me,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant even as your heart thudded against your ribs.

He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I know. Wanted to talk to you though.”

Without waiting for your response, he turned and started walking down the hall. You followed, your heels clicking softly against the polished floor. He led you through a set of grand doors and onto a balcony that overlooked the city.

The sight was breathtaking. The city stretched out before you like a sea of glittering stars, the lights twinkling against the inky backdrop of the night sky. A cool breeze whispered against your skin, carrying with it the faint hum of distant traffic.

You leaned against the railing, letting the wind play with the edges of your dress, but the soothing view did little to settle the storm in your chest. Bakugo stood beside you, his hands braced against the railing, his posture relaxed yet tense in a way only he could manage. His presence was grounding, like an anchor tethering you to the moment, yet it made everything infinitely harder.

He shifted, his gaze fixed on you rather than the view. “You okay?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

You nodded, though your stomach twisted into knots. “Yeah. It’s beautiful out here.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, though his tone said he wasn’t talking about the view.

You turned to face him, your chest tightening when you saw the way he was looking at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. It made what you were about to do all the more painful.

“Katsuki… What did you want to talk about?” you asked, your voice softer than you intended.

He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck—a rare moment of vulnerability. “You drive me crazy woman.” he muttered, the words tumbling out like they had been waiting years to be said.

“Kats—”

“No, let me finish,” he cut you off, his crimson eyes locking onto yours. “Since the day I met you, you’ve been in my head. And I’ve tried to push it down, tried to ignore this, but I can’t. You’re here now, standing by my side, and I just… need you to know how I feel.”

His confession left you breathless, and for a moment, all you wanted to do was throw caution to the wind and let yourself fall into him. But then Moretti’s face flashed in your mind, the threats he’d made, the lives he’d taken. And just like that, reality slammed back into place.

If you had to spend the rest of your life apologizing to him then you would.

Your grip on the railing tightened. “There is no ‘this,’ Katsuki,” you said quickly, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue.

His brows furrowed, confusion and hurt flickering across his face. “What?”

“I just… I don’t feel the same way,” 

“Don’t give me that crap,” he shot back, stepping closer. “I’ve been patient. Hell, I’ve waited for years, and I’m not stupid. I know you feel it too.”

You finally turned to face him, his crimson eyes locking onto yours with a ferocity that made it impossible to look away. “Feel what?”

“This Y/N” he said, gesturing between the two of you. “The way we just… fit. Don’t act like it’s fucking nothing.”

“It is nothing,” you snapped, trying to keep your voice steady. “Whatever you think this is, it’s not real.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it!” he barked, his frustration boiling over.

“It’s not bullshit!” you shouted back, the emotion in your voice betraying you. 

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t lash out or demand any more explanation. Instead, he took a step back, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “You don’t feel the same way,” he repeated, his voice low and strained.

You looked away, the weight of the truth too heavy to share. “It doesn’t matter. This—whatever this is—it can’t happen.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he exhaled sharply, turning away from you. “Right. Got it.”

He started to walk away, and you felt like the air had been sucked out of your lungs. Part of you wanted to call him back, to tell him the truth—that you were scared, that you were trying to protect him. But you knew you couldn’t. The less he knew, the safer he’d be.

You stayed on the balcony long after he was gone, the city lights blurring through your tears. And as the cold night air wrapped around you, you silently vowed to keep him safe, no matter what it cost you.

Because loving Katsuki Bakugo meant protecting him, even if it meant breaking your own heart.

---

TAGLIST: @emmaafinchh @faetoraa @iissza

[onlyymirknows]

When Jean Met Karina

My submission for Reijean Christmas Week, Day 1! Prompt: meeting each other's parents.

Read on AO3 (link)

Word Count: 7.1k AU: Modern, they're adults in an established relationship Genre: Angst w/ a happy ending (plus fluff and reijean banter) CWs: Reiner gets triggered, past emotional abuse, past character deaths (car accidents), past suicidal ideation, past homophobia, dropping of the f-slur

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

Reiner handed Connie a small notebook, “Everything you need to know is in here but feel free to text me if you got any questions.” He leaned down and traced a small heart on the glass tank, leaving visible smudges. The small turtle near his fingertip glanced at its owner for a second before lazily paddling away to rest on some driftwood.

“I’ve watched him before, remember?” Connie reminded Reiner with a small, exasperated laugh, “He’s in good, capable hands. Don’t worry.”

Jean, noticing the way Reiner’s jaw clenched, squeezed his boyfriend’s shoulder. This was their first time leaving town for Christmas and thus the first time they had to get someone to pet sit in the winter. The scariest season for a reptile keeper.

“Babe, I know what you’re thinking but we specifically got you a native species so you don’t have to worry about the heat as much. Besides, he’s a tough little guy.” Jean forced a grin, hoping to mask his own tense mood. Reiner returned a small smile accompanied by a soft exhale. Bingo. 

Then Jean turned to Connie, “Thanks for watching Bertl for us, Con. We’ll text you when we’re on our way home.”

“No prob, guys,” Connie beamed while ushering the couple to the door, “drive safe and see you next year!”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

When Jean slid into the passenger seat of Reiner’s truck he noticed a text from Connie, “try not to lose ur mind on reiner’s crazy mom k?” He scowled.

“What’s wrong?” Reiner pulled his door closed and started buckling his seatbelt. He turned the key in the ignition, the car engine purring to life.

“It’s nothing,” Jean muttered while buckling his own seat. He fiddled with the air vents while Reiner picked out some music on his phone. When Last Christmas began playing Jean couldn’t help but shoot a glare at his boyfriend.

“What’s with that sour expression?” Reiner asked incredulously, “It’s literally the 21st of December.” After a pause he added, “There’s no Mariah Carey on this playlist, okay? Just let me have this, Jeanie.”

Sighing, Jean looked out the window at the now moving pavement. “Okay, but once we get through this I get to choose the next playlist.”

Reiner laughed. “Yeah, yeah. As if I was going to torture you with 8 straight hours of Christmas music.” He glanced at Jean for a second with a warm smile while they waited at the red light letting out of their apartment complex. “Y’know, I love you in spite of the fact that you hate fun sometimes.”

Jean cracked a genuine smile for the first time that day. Maybe he did hate what many people would consider fun but it was only because he had taste. Unlike most of these Christmas songs that felt gaudy and artificial. Yet it was hard to deny the joy they seemed to bring his boyfriend so Jean disregarded his own preferences in the second half of December. Sacrifice and all that.

Indeed, his high school friends were confused when he brought a more “lowbrow” guy back with him from college. Then they saw the way Reiner made Jean loosen up and it all made sense. Somehow Reiner could convince Jean to try something new or give another thing a second chance. As if the blond were a siren and Jean a sailor who never dreamed of diving into the ocean.

Sometimes diving into the ocean to swim with a beautiful siren meant meeting a shark. In this case her name was Karina Braun and, as far as Jean was concerned, she was his enemy. Someone to challenge and fend off and—

“We can’t keep avoiding this, Jean,” Reiner paused the Christmas playlist, “do you want to talk about it now or when we’re closer to my hometown?”

The question broke Jean out of his thoughts and he bristled once the words registered in his mind. “What’s there to talk about?”

Reiner didn’t say anything as he merged onto the interstate. Instead he looked over his shoulder to check his blind spot before roving his gaze between his mirrors.

Jean rubbed his eyes, yawning, his own gaze fixed out the passenger window. When Reiner’s silence continued after they’d settled into the flow of traffic he turned his head. He couldn’t help but frown seeing the way Reiner’s fingers gripped the steering wheel, digits clearly tensed. Knuckles turning white.

“Rei, you good?”

“I’m fine.”

“Ugh.” Jean crossed his arms with a huff. “Look, I know I’m not the best at hiding my frustration. But I also don’t see what there is to discuss when you know damn well how I feel. I would’ve rather invited your cousin to come visit us. If it weren’t for the mem—”

“Don’t,” Reiner cut in firmly, his grip on the steering wheel tightening further, “we shouldn’t talk about that. Not right now… Maybe after we swap.”

“Right,” the brunet replied hoarsely, cheeks red, shoulders aching from suddenly tensing them hard as stone. He bowed his head, ashy brown locks slipping down and obscuring his face from view.

“But I shouldn’t’ve suggested talking bout all this right now,” the blond grumbled, “I shouldn’t’ve even said anything to begin with but I’m a dumbass and… yeah.” Reiner turned the music back on, keeping his eyes glued to traffic the whole time.

The two sat unspeaking for a moment, allowing the dulcet tones of Andy Williams to fill the space. Was it really The Most Wonderful Time of the Year? It certainly didn’t feel like it and, well, Jean knew he wasn’t helping. 

Despite his genuine intentions to help, Jean recognized how his stubbornness and results driven mindset could push the envelope at times. Sometimes to the point of causing more harm than good. And selfishly, he didn’t want to alienate his favorite person, so,  as the next song began, he placed a gentle hand on Reiner’s shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze.

“You’re not a dumbass,” Jean reassured, voice regaining its warmth, “I think you’re being proactive and I’m proud of you for how well you’re handling this situation in spite of my bad attitude.”

“As if you’re usually a ball of sunshine,” Reiner muttered, though Jean saw the way the corner of his boyfriend’s mouth twitched. “I guess I want you to at least try being nice. Just try. You know?”

“I will try,” Jean murmured, “but let’s talk about all this later so you can focus on the road. I think that’s a good idea.”

Reiner nodded, his fingers still wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. Jean turned up the stereo before reclining his seat and looking out his window. The snowy landscape rushed by, filling his vision with a blurred field of white. It was oddly beautiful. Mesmerizing, even. Maybe that’s why his eyelids felt so heavy… though it was probably just last night’s insomnia finally catching up to him.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

A sudden blast of cold air rushing into the cabin jolted Jean from his slumber. He looked up to see Reiner standing outside his open door and the expression on his boyfriend’s face instantly perked him up. Unbuckling himself he turned in his seat to tightly wrap his arms around Reiner who fell into the embrace with a shudder.

“I.. I’m so s-sorry for waking you, Jean,” Reiner whispered breathlessly into his ear, “I just… traffic slowed down to a crawl and I g-got this feeling that..”

Jean hushed him while running a hand up and down his back. Looking past to the world outside he noted they were in an empty parking lot attached to what was probably an office building. Perfect. He took a deep breath before turning his attention back to his partner. 

“It’s okay, I’m glad you woke me up. You did exactly what you’re supposed to, Rei. You did good. Really, really good.”

They stayed in each other’s arms for a couple of minutes while Reiner calmed his shuddering breath. When Jean felt that his boyfriend was sufficiently recovered he insisted on taking the wheel. Originally the two planned on each driving about half of the way there but Jean assured that he didn’t mind driving extra.

“You get full music privileges,” Jean announced as he buckled himself into the driver’s seat, “hell, even Mariah.”

“Jean… it’s o-okay..” Reiner protested while wiping his eyes, “you don’t have to listen to music you hate just for me.”

“But I want to,” he grinned and gave Reiner’s shoulder a playful shove, “I know you would do the same for me.”

“I think I already do that, actually.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean. I don’t really hate any of your music but obscure 80’s ska and Medieval French battle hymns aren’t my favorite,” Reiner hesitated, “sometimes I’m not really in the mood but… I mean…” he trailed off, his mouth forming into a thin line across his face.

“Let me guess, you don’t ask me to change it because you don’t want to be a bother?”

Reiner turned to look at Jean head on and nodded, his lips curling into a faint smile.

Jean huffed. Of course his self sacrificing boyfriend would listen to literally anything Jean wanted. It was true that Reiner was a lot less picky than him. Yet he also felt like a bit of an ass for never asking if Reiner actually enjoyed his more niche music choices.

He reached over to ruffle the hair on the back of Reiner’s head, rolling his eyes as he did so. “You gotta work on this with your therapist more, hon. I want you to tell me stuff like that. I’m here to please you as much as you’re here to please me. I expect some god damn equality in my relationship. Got it?”

The blond’s smile grew wider. “Loud and clear.”

Without another word, Jean leaned over the console while pulling Reiner towards him. Their foreheads connected with a gentle bump and a renewed smile on both of their faces. Jean tilted his head slightly, making a point to nuzzle the crook of his boyfriend’s nose. 

Reiner sighed contentedly in response. He lifted his hand to cup the side of Jean’s face before pressing a soft kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. A silent thank you from one to the other, sweet, but also vulnerable. Like a hesitant knock on the door of Jean’s world where Reiner sometimes felt out of place. Such as now when his emotions were still dizzying and fraught.

Recognizing the call, Jean pulled Reiner in closer, and began peppering kisses all over his face. Forehead, brows, nose, cheekbones, jaw, chin. And the lips, so many flurried pecks to Reiner’s chapped lips. Every one meant to convey the same thing—I want you. I love you.

“Aghh!” Reiner exclaimed through the attack. He let out wonderfully delighted laughs that set Jean’s soul alight with elation. “Mercy, mercy!”

After one final kiss on the mouth, Jean let Reiner go to lay back against the passenger seat. The blond heaved deep breaths, latent laughs slowly dying on his lips. “I love this side of you,” he mused while buckling himself in, “I’m honored whenever you let me see it.”

“Oh shut up,” Jean chuckled, “you make me sound like some humorless dolt.” He turned the key in the ignition then threw the car into reverse.

“Humorless dolt? Not at all. In I fact think you’re very clever,” Reiner replied smoothly, “witty, droll, piquant—”

“That’s enough, Cyrano. Now where do you want to stop for lunch?”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

The rest of the drive was relatively smooth. Free flowing traffic, no heated discussions, and Reiner chose a music genre both of them could agree on—80’s glam metal. Jean liked the fashion and showmanship while Reiner appreciated the cheese and catchy hooks. It wasn’t until Jani Lane started singing about secrets he just couldn’t tell that the dreaded topic returned.

“Are you sure you’re okay pretending to be roommates in front of my family?” Reiner asked after turning down the stereo. His voice cracked at the end, prompting him to busy himself with his water bottle to soothe his scratchy throat.

“Yeah, that’s okay,” Jean sighed.

“Are you positive? We don’t have to keep it a secret if you really don’t want—”

“I’m positive, Reiner. It’s seriously not a big deal.”

“And you’ll try being nice, right?”

“Oh course,” Jean insisted, albeit gently.

“…Okay,” Reiner moved to turn the volume back up when Jean covered the dial with his hand.

“Do you not trust me, Rei? To keep my cool?”

“It’s not that I distrust you, Jean. You have a cool head. I mean, I was surprised when your friends mentioned how much you fought with Eren growing up.” The thought of teens Jean and Eren fighting brought a smile to Reiner’s face. “But I know how strongly you feel about my mom. I don’t really blame you, either, it’s just that she’s not actually a villain.”

“I know that,” Jean responded tersely in spite of himself. In his periphery he noticed the way Reiner winced and he sighed again. With a softer voice he added, “I understand that she’s a person.”

“But will you keep that in mind when she says something ignorant? Or even just a little frustrating?”

“Reiner, I promise you I will do everything in my power to make this experience as stress free for you as possible. Trust me.” Jean glanced over at his boyfriend with a smile before returning his attention to the road. They were back on surface streets by now, mere minutes away from the Braun household.

The front door of the house flew open upon their arrival, before Jean finished pulling into the driveway, even. It was a teenage girl absolutely beaming from cheek to cheek, eyes scrunched closed in joy. From the passenger seat Reiner let out a quiet gasp and, without a word, hopped out of the car to meet her.

“Reiner!” She squealed excitedly, throwing her arms around his neck and letting him lift her up from the ground. “I’m so happy you came!”

“And I’m so happy to see you again, Gabi. You’ve grown so much!” He gave her a twirl before setting her back on the ground, his own smile dazzling brighter than the strings of twinkling lights surrounding the open doorway. 

Jean hadn’t seen his boyfriend this happy in weeks and he couldn’t help but stare in grateful awe at the scene. Then his eye caught another figure approaching from inside of the house and his mood immediately soured. 

It was Reiner’s mother, Karina. She was short with drabby blonde hair, deep set eyes, wrinkles, and a very familiar nose. Not exactly the face of evil but he knew how looks could be deceiving.

Reiner turned and hugged her with what looked like a beat of hesitation. Jean quickly got out of the car to join them, his protective instincts kicking into high gear. He heard the tail end of a sentence on his approach that made his jaw clench.

“…you’ve gotten so big, Reiner.”

Thankfully he caught himself before his face formed into the nastiest scowl, remembering the promise he’d made minutes earlier. Besides, Jean reminded himself, maybe Karina didn’t mean anything negative by it when she called her son big. Perhaps it was a comment on the fact that Reiner had gotten into weight training since his last visit.

“Thanks mom,” Reiner replied with an awkward chuckle, “I started going to the gym more regularly. So uh, let me know if you need me to lift anything for you while I’m here.”

Okay, so he was right to give her the benefit of the doubt. Except then Jean’s resolve almost faltered yet again when Karina greeted him, leaning past Reiner and smiling at him.

“Ahh so this is your roommate Gene, I take it? It’s nice to meet you, dear.” 

Of course she said his name wrong. Fucking Gene, as if he were a pair of denim pants. His hazel eyes narrowed dangerously, preparing the most passive aggressive response possible when Reiner suddenly jumped in with a correction.

“No, mom. It’s Jean. Kind of like fawn but with a J.”

“Oh!” She exclaimed with wide eyes, “I’m sorry, I had no idea. It’s wonderful to meet you, Jean.” Her expression softened back into a smile as her gaze moved to Reiner’s truck. “How about we get everything inside? It’s starting to get chilly.”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

“So Jean’s bags should go into the guest room, then?” Reiner asked as they carried the last few things inside with them.

“No, dear, that’s where Gabi’s staying,” Karina responded, “your aunt and uncle are out of town on a couple’s trip with the Grices. I offered to let Gabi stay here.”

“Isn’t it great, Reiner?” Gabi hopped excitedly between each foot, practically jogging in place. “Just like old times! Remember how my parents and I would stay over for Christmas Eve and we’d all wake up together the next morning?”

Reiner nodded, “I do remember. You’d kick me out of my room and I’d sleep on the couch.” Though the wording sounded bitter the smile on his face indicated he felt quite the opposite. “So I’m guessing I’m on the couch while Jean’s in my old room? I’ll take my stuff to the living r—”

“Ahh, no,” his mother interrupted, “Falco will be on the couch.”

“Falco?” Jean found himself asking, trying to place the vaguely familiar name.

“My boyfriend!!” Gabi practically shouted. Reiner looked surprised before quickly recovering into a warm smile.

“Also a family friend,” Reiner elaborated, “his parents are the ones traveling with my aunt and uncle. I’m guessing my mother agreed to let him stay over, too.”

“I did, yes. He’s currently visiting his brother out of state but he’ll be here in a couple of days. I know it’s… unusual but do you mind sharing a room?”

“I don’t mind,” Jean replied, practically holding his breath. Was this for real?

Karina lowered her voice so only the two men could hear her, “Thank you. I obviously can’t let those two share a room, even if they’re both 18. It wouldn’t be decent.”

Oh. Of course it was a concern about the teenagers having sex. Jean held in a sigh while Reiner hurriedly ushered him upstairs to his childhood room, saying something to his mom about coming back down soon for dinner.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

“Looks like we lucked out,” Reiner muttered after closing the door shut behind him, “though I’m surprised she didn’t insist on finding me a sleeping bag so we didn’t have to share the bed.”

“Maybe she’s trying not to push her luck,” Jean sat down on said bed and looked around the room. Any decorations Reiner may have put up as a teenager were long gone. Her son had been out of the house for close to a decade at this point so perhaps that was warranted but it still rubbed him the wrong way.

“Did you know your mom sanitized your room like this?”

Reiner shrugged and plopped down on the bed next to him. “No, but it doesn’t bother me, either. I don’t want to be reminded of the old days, anyway… it’s not like they were good.” As nonchalant as he probably tried to sound, the edge in his voice gave him away.

Jean frowned and wrapped an arm around Reiner’s shoulder, pulling him in for a sideways embrace. “Don’t say that, Rei,” he leaned over to whisper into his partner’s ear, “maybe you didn’t have any good days in this room but we wouldn’t be here right now if your entire life before college was exclusively miserable.”

“You’re right,” his boyfriend pressed their foreheads together gently, amber eyes closing, “I owed Porco a visit, anyways.” A single tear rolled down Reiner’s cheek as he took a shuddering breath, “Sometimes I can’t help but still feel like they’re both my—”

“Hey, hey, don’t go there,” Jean cut in, hands quickly cupping the other man’s face, “I… I understand, you know that. And I also get you can’t exactly help it sometimes but I’m also not gonna let you just say it. Because it’s not true. It was never true. Never.”

In his mind Jean thought the words he wouldn’t dare speak aloud right now. Not as Reiner began weeping quietly, tears seeping into the cracks between his own face and Jean’s supportive palms.

It’s not true, no matter what your mom told you.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

Over the next couple of days Jean found himself on high alert. Despite the fact that Karina never said anything outwardly hostile, he couldn’t help but notice her frequent attempts to get her son alone. As far as he was concerned, no good could come from such an interaction.

Thus he made sure to intervene every single time, practically gluing himself to Reiner’s hip. Somehow he managed to do so without any pleading expressions from his beau. No desperate glances silently screaming for Jean to behave.

Instead Reiner thoroughly enjoyed himself, catching up with his baby cousin and introducing her to Jean. Gabi, while initially a shock to the senses with her loud voice and frequent exclamations, quickly grew on him. She was spunky, reminding Jean of a younger version of himself.

All the while Karina stood on the sidelines, watching. Occasionally she made some attempt at joining in on the conversation but often failed to connect. Gabi also made some efforts to bring her in on some topic or another but the old hag was usually too clueless to contribute. Talk about satisfying.

Jean smiled every time she made eye contact with him, imagining how much Karina probably hated him for not letting her sink her claws into his man.

Everything changed when he woke up alone on the morning of the 24th. The moment he realized Reiner wasn’t there he grabbed his phone to check the time. It was 7:18, meaning he hadn’t grossly overslept. Then Jean noticed a text message from Reiner from around an hour ago.

“Gabi begged me to pick up Falco from the airport with her. Should be back before breakfast.”

He sighed in relief, happy that Reiner was occupied by Gabi and not his mother. Speaking of, Karina usually served breakfast around 8, meaning the three should be back soon. 

Jean got up from bed and commenced his morning routine: showering, brushing his teeth, skincare, and of course haircare. By the time he wandered downstairs in some comfortable clothes it was already 7:55. Reiner and the kids were due back any minute. He sat down at the kitchen table and did a crossword on his phone while he waited.

Karina stood by the stove cooking up something for all of them to eat. If Jean had to give her credit for something, it was her cooking. Even something as simple as scrambled eggs and bacon smelled absolutely divine coming out of her kitchen. Had she been any other person he would’ve jumped at the opportunity to learn her secrets.

“Here you go, Jean. I’ll pour you some coffee, too.”

A plate with some eggs, sausage, and toast suddenly appeared on the table before him. He looked up at her, surprised that she would serve him breakfast before everyone else was present. The past couple of mornings they always waited for everyone, no matter how much Gabi insisted she was dying of starvation.

As if reading his mind Karina spoke up again, “Gabi told me they were running late and would grab breakfast on the way home. So it’s just us two this morning.” She placed a decorative mug of black coffee next to Jean’s plate. 

The mug was Christmas themed with little reindeer flying through the sky pulling Santa’s sleigh. Except instead of being cartoonish it was elegant and minimalist. White silhouettes on a black background with smooth looping script wishing him a Merry Christmas. Okay, maybe he had to give her credit for her tastes in drinkware, too. It was a wonder where Reiner got his adorable but tacky tastes.

He sipped on the drink, still piping hot from the coffee press, while Karina brought her own plate over and sat across from him. They ate in silence, Jean practically gluing his eyes to his phone screen to avoid catching her gaze. Without Reiner’s presence there to rein him in, the temptation to tear into her only grew. 

He just had to hold out until Reiner and the kids came back.

“They probably won’t get here until lunch,” Karina suddenly stated right as Jean finished the last bite of food on his plate. The way she said it sounded so certain. Probably? That was definitely a lie for appearances. She knew they wouldn’t be back for a while.

Jean swallowed hard, eyes finally snapping up to look at Karina. “Why do you say that?”

“I asked Gabi to buy me some time, and so she lied to Reiner about when Falco’s plane landed,” she replied, expression stony, “I thought, if you won’t let me talk to my son then I might as well talk to you instead.”

“Oh yeah?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, “What did you want to talk about?”

“Are you the reason my son won’t answer my calls anymore? Why he blocked me on social media? Why I haven’t seen him since my mother’s funeral several years ago?”

“You’re damn right I’m the reason,” he declared, feeling a fiery heat ignite in his soul, calling forth the fury he’d contained over the past few days. One built up by years of watching his best friend suffer from deep emotional wounds primarily inflicted upon him by this woman. Jean clenched his fists, mentally preparing himself for what felt like an ensuing battle. 

She frowned, the wrinkles in her forehead growing more pronounced. “Why did you do that?”

“Why?” Jean laughed haughtily, his almond eyes brimming with deep disdain. “Because you make him absolutely miserable. He can’t help but love you as his mom but I saw the way Reiner deflated after every phone call with you. How he’d get so anxious about every little mistake he made. And, unlike you, I got Reiner the help he needed. I supported him through that process and eventually helped him find the courage to finally cut you out.”

“Then why are you even here?” She asked, eyebrows furrowing further in what looked like frustration, “And why for so long? Why stay here until after New Years?”

Jean scoffed, “It’s not to see you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“For Gabi, then?”

“No, if it was just about Gabi then I would have invited her to come visit us for the holidays. Falco, too. He sounds like a nice kid.”

Karina pursed her lips, mouth forming a thin line across her face. To Jean’s surprise, though, she stayed silent, evidently waiting for him to continue.

He hesitated, unsure if he wanted to elaborate. None of this was any of her business, after all. Except he wanted her to feel bad. To feel guilty for all of the cruel and messed up things she did and said to Reiner over the years. And, well, he only promised to make the trip stress free for Reiner who wasn’t there to bear witness… What if Reiner just never found out?

“We’re here to pay our respects to Marcel and,” Jean gazed at her with all of the intensity he could muster, “Bertholdt. Though you might know him better as that wretched sinner or, I don’t know, that disgusting faggot?” He paused for a moment, taking in the way she winced when he repeated her words back to her.

“I could scarcely believe it the first time Reiner told me about their deaths,” Jean spat, “how you screamed at him for killing Marcel. I mean, how dare you blame him for that? And for what? Because if he hadn’t skipped his extracurricular that day then he wouldn’t have been there to cause the accident?”

She bowed her head, staring intently at her hands to avoid confronting the deadly look on Jean’s face.

“As if Reiner had any control over the driver who ran the red light when they were all crossing the street. As if he chose to have his friend push him out of danger to take the hit himself! Marcel, a dear friend, died and you had no sympathy, no compassion for your son. It’s been 15 years and he still carries that guilt with him. Still blames himself.”

Tears of indignation started welling in the corner of Jean’s eyes but he quickly blinked them away. It’d be a cold day in hell when he showed any signs of weakness to this witch.

“And you didn’t even get him help! He watched a friend get hit by a car and you couldn’t be bothered to get him in to see a therapist. And I know you had the resources. Unlike Bertholdt’s father who wanted to get his son into therapy after also witnessing the accident but just didn’t have the right insurance. You realize that Reiner and Bertholdt practically held each other together after that, right?”

Surprisingly Karina responded with a single nod of the head. Yet she continued staring at the table, her expression unreadable. He knew he could stop here, having likely gotten his point across but fuck that. It wasn’t close to enough.

“If you knew how much your son relied upon that friendship then why did you tear them apart? Huh?”

Karina hunched further forward in her seat, elbows now propped up on the table so she could hold her head. She didn’t even attempt a response, which only served to piss Jean off more.

“We both know it’s because you walked in on them sharing a kiss! A simple peck on the lips and you lost your goddamn mind! You grounded your son for the rest of the school year and forbade him from seeing his best friend! They didn’t even know how they actually felt about each other but you didn’t hesitate to demonize an innocent teenager! One you’d known for years at that point, no less!”

Jean banged his fist on the table with a frustrated grunt, causing the dishes to clatter from the force. She flinched in response but still hung her head low, refusing to face his fury. He took a moment to catch his breath before continuing his condemnation. “The night Bertholdt died he was driving here to see Reiner. Not to have some secret affair but because your son was at the end of his rope.”

Finally she raised her head, looking at him with a hollow, wide eyed expression. 

“That’s right. Reiner started talking about hurting himself and his best friend rushed here despite your warnings in order to save your son…” for the first time Jean hesitated, temporarily uncertain if he should throw the finishing blow. Then he remembered the look of devastation on Reiner’s face the first time he heard this story and he knew it had to be done.

“Did you know that they were on the phone together? Bertholdt didn’t want to leave Reiner alone for a second, afraid of what might happen if he did. As a result Reiner heard all of it. The crash, the screams of pain, and then the emergency workers frantically pulling Bertholdt from the wreckage, shouting about the blood loss and—” 

“Stop!” Karina sobbed desperately, her suddenly visible eyes pleading with Jean to grant her mercy. The look on her face, the hint of remorse he sensed in her, made him take pity and skip the rest of the gory details.

“The only reason we’re even here talking right now,” Jean growled, “the only reason your son is still alive, is because he had other people to carry him through. First he had his friends here in town and then he went to college and found me. I saw how much he was hurting and I encouraged him to finally talk to a professional. Now he’s flourishing and I’ll be damned if I let you undo any of his hard earned progress!”

What he heard her say next didn’t make any sense. Jean couldn’t help but think he’d misheard Karina through her sobs and gasps for air. But then she said it again and again. So many times that it became unmistakable.

“Thank you.”

“What? Why the hell are you thanking me?”

“Because,” Karina suddenly reached across the table to grab one of Jean’s hands. In any other situation he would immediately pull away but his instincts told him to wait. “Jean, dear, I’ve been trying to get Reiner alone to ask if he would consider going to family therapy with me.”

“Wait, what?”

“After Reiner cut me off.. I was a complete mess. At first I was so angry. How could my baby forsake me like that? After everything I sacrificed to raise him. But then the anger, it turned into despair and I could hardly function. When I went in for a medical appointment, the doctor convinced me to see a therapist for my depression. It took years but eventually I realized how much I’d let down my dear son.”

Jean stared at Karina, too stunned to even notice that now he was crying. Not from righteous anger but from utter confusion. For all of the times he had daydreamed about putting this woman in her place he never imagined such a response.

“If you hadn’t convinced Reiner to shut me out I never would’ve gotten the help I needed. I never would’ve worked on my own issues and understood how I took them out on him. I failed him as a mother. I know that now.” She let go of Jean’s hand to grab a tissue box and set it on the table between the two of them.

“Hold on,” he watched as she pulled a tissue to dab at her eyes, “if you already knew you’d done wrong by Reiner then why did you let me tell you off like that?” Jean grimaced now as he thought back on the comments he’d just made. The fierce condemnations. The unapologetic jabs.

Karina smiled weakly, “Well… I guess I wanted to understand how you saw the situation as my son’s life partner.”

“That’s reasona— WHAT,” Jean bolted up from his seat, “what did you just call me!?”

“Reiner’s life partner,” she repeated gently, her smile widening.

“You knew this whole time!?”

Karina nodded.

“How?!” Jean slammed his palms down on the table, rattling the tableware yet again. 

This time, instead of flinching, Karina couldn’t stop herself from laughing. A goofy, genuine laugh that rumbled from her stomach and up through her chest. A laugh that sounded exactly like Reiner’s when he felt light and carefree. When he was happy.

“Gabi and Reiner are friends on social media, dear,” she finally explained after containing her amusement. “He isn’t shy about your relationship. And Gabi isn’t shy about, well, anything. I don’t think she realized that I wasn’t supposed to know when she told me.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Well,” Karina sighed, her smile quickly fading, “I… I didn’t want to stress Reiner. Or you, for that matter. With how bigoted I used to be, I wasn’t sure if either of you would believe me if I said I was okay with it, either.”

Jean nodded, finally allowing himself to smile. He sat back down at the table and leaned back in the seat. Without saying anything, Karina grabbed Jean’s nearly empty cup of coffee and brought back a fresh pour.

“We have a few hours still,” she reminded him, “If you’re up to it, I think it would be nice to start over.”

He considered her offer for a second, a smug smile crossing his face. “Sure but on one condition.”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

The last thing Reiner expected to hear when he threw open the door of his mother’s house after hours of waiting around at the airport was raucous laughter. Especially not Jean’s laughter, at that. He kicked off his shoes and hastily ran into the kitchen where he discovered Jean gleefully laughing at a photo album.

“Oh, that picture of him dressed as a yam?” Karina asked with a chuckle. She was back at the stove, putting the finishing touches on their lunch.

“Is that what that is?” Jean questioned with a wide, mischievous smile. His eyes were glued to a polaroid of a young Reiner wearing a lumpy reddish-brown blob of a costume. “Was this for some Thanksgiving play or something?”

Reiner froze in place, mouth hanging open. Wide eyed, he glanced back and forth between the duo, too shocked to speak.

“No, no” she replied cheerfully, “that was for Halloween. Reiner really, and I mean really, loved sweet potatoes back then. I borrowed his aunt’s sewing machine and tried throwing something together for him. It admittedly wasn’t very good.”

Jean cackled. He flipped to the next page, grinning at more pictures of the yam costume while sipping on some water.

“Hello Ms. Braun, thank you for hosting me,” a gentle voice suddenly came from Reiner’s side and drew everyone’s attention. Falco stood in the doorway of the kitchen holding a small tin. “Colt baked these cookies for us to enjoy.”

Without skipping a beat Jean got up from the table to shake Falco’s hand and introduce himself. Then he gestured for the young man to follow him to the stove where Karina once stood.

Reiner looked down to see his mother gazing up at him, a nervous smile adorning her face. She gently grabbed his arm and led him to the next room while Gabi passed them to join the others.

“Mom, what’s going on?” He asked quietly, eyebrows still stuck high on his forehead.

“I asked Gabi to keep you busy for a while so I could talk to Jean,” Karina let go of her son’s arm to rest her hands at her sides. That alone was unusual to him, having grown accustomed to his mother clinging to him when they were in such close proximity. She continued, “I’m sorry for the tricks but I realized I needed to get your boyfriend on my side if I wanted to talk to you. And yes, I’ve known this whole time. Gabi told me a while ago.”

“Gabi told you I had a boyfriend? But then why—” Reiner cut himself off and shook his head, realizing that it really didn’t matter why his mother played along with the roommate story. Not when she referred to Jean as his boyfriend without a shred of contempt in her tone.

“Reiner, I’m so sorry,” Karina looked away for a moment to wipe her watering eyes, “I know I hurt you so much.”

He blinked back tears of his own. Was this real? “It’s… it’s okay, mom, r-really…” Reiner stammered, suddenly overcome with an indescribable feeling of guilt. One that he often felt when thinking about his mother but never understood.

“My dear boy, it’s not okay. I am your mother and I failed you. After talking to Jean I realized that I failed you even more than I thought. I wouldn’t blame you if you never forgave me.”

“Wait,” he protested, “that man, my dad, took advantage of you when you were still just a teenager and then abandoned you with his child. And then.. grandma and grandpa, I didn’t see it back then but I see it now. I see how disappointed they were. You hardly knew peace a-and they treated m-me like an extension of you. I… I can’t b-blame you for wanting me to meet their expectations.”

Karina shook her head, choking back tears. Reiner could see the way she fought against her own desire to pull him into a hug and it broke his heart. As often as Jean had encouraged him to be angry at his mother, he rarely ever could. 

That guilt, he suddenly realized where it came from. And that was from the knowledge that his very existence made Karina’s life infinitely harder. How every little mistake he made was weaponized against her by his grandparents. The only ones he ever knew and also the ones who silently saw Reiner as a mistake. 

It’s not like they were wrong, either.

Yet Karina didn’t stop shaking her head in disagreement, fighting against her own emotions to find her voice. “None of what you said, about your father or my parents or my age,” she croaked, barely understandable, “none of that was your fault.” She muffled a sob with her hands. 

“You didn’t choose to be born, Reiner. And maybe… maybe I didn’t choose to give birth, but it’s not an excuse for how I treated you. Or how I treated poor Bertholdt. You were just kids and I… I had n-no idea th-that you… or that h-he… it’s all m-my f-fault…”

Reiner sucked in a sharp breath, immediately understanding his mother now knew about that awful night. Without hesitation he pulled her into a strong embrace, unable to contain his own sobs. Karina whimpered innumerable apologies and for once he let her without protest. 

Deep down Reiner somehow knew that both of them needed this. His mom needed to apologize for her wrongdoings. He needed to forgive himself for every one of those wrongs for which he had ever accepted the blame. This was them, finally healing. The first step of countless many in a journey that already felt infinitely easier.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

That night five of them sat around the kitchen table, laughing and playing some of their favorite board games. Karina sat out of some of the rounds but, unlike the previous days, she was very much part of the conversation. Jean still struggled at times to hold his tongue after she said something questionable but he cut himself some slack. He knew this was a process for him, too.

When he and Reiner finally retired to their room his heart felt much lighter. As did his boyfriend’s for that matter, (though he was a little tipsy, too.) It didn’t take long before Jean felt Reiner lightly snoring into the back of his neck, the latter insisting on being the big spoon that night. He smiled to himself as sleep gradually came to claim him, too.

Never in Jean’s dreams did he ever imagine liking Karina Braun. Perhaps it was a Christmas miracle. Or perhaps, as was sometimes the case, he assumed the worst of someone he never met in the process of fighting for someone he loved. He didn’t question it, however, just happy that he agreed to give her the chance.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

A/N: Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! If there is enough interest I might write a second part where reijean go on a double date with pokupiku and pay their respects to Marcel and Bertholdt.

[imweirdimjazzy]

Be my first

Pairing: Young Stanford Pines x Female Reader

Description: after a fight with an unexpected gremlin and meeting an interesting man with six finger hands, it had let down to quiet night with a small chat on the rooftop.

Warnings: none! :)

Word count: 1007

A/N: helllooooo! Yes i know…I’ve been gone again. Luckily I have been still writing through classes this semester. I know this isn’t Alastor (which btw yes I have something for him waiting) but I couldn’t help write Stanford pines one. I’ve been big Gravity falls fan since I was nine and I had always had crush on the nerdy man LMAO. Anyway I hope you guys enjoy this. it’s a little bit of scrap writing but I try to to make the best out of it!

Important note!: yes I know that Stanley wasn’t there at gravity falls when Ford was doing his research but I couldn’t help with the small sweet idea.

——————————————————————————

“What are you doing up here?”

The voice startled me. Causing me to slip a little before hitting my head on top of the roof of the shack. I somehow found my balance again and turn my head to Stanford behind me.

“Ford?”

“Sorry for scaring you! I just wonder where you were,” He climbed over the edge of the roof and sat by me cautiously, not wanting to get a concussion.

��No, no,” I sigh and grin rubbing my eyes to wake me up. It was almost four in the morning and thoughts were taking a toll on me.

With the day of chasing monsters that I always thought were only created by fictional authors who were bored with reality, were somehow real this whole time.

I knew coming up here in this small town I would eventually be hit with the strange occurrences. Although I assume it is with occasional old people, not meeting a huge gremlin.

“How’s your hands? He didn’t rough you up too hard, right?”

Ford’s eyes were taking a look on my scraped hands that had only brown scabs on some by the healing.

“I’m actually okay, surprisingly.”

“Surprisingly? If anyone was in your position they would’ve died of a heart attack just by looking at that thing.”

“Okay maybe I was a little scared seeing that thing and it’s weird—beady eyes.”

“Trust me there’s a whole lot more just beady eyes around this town,” jested Ford.

I let out a “pfft” sound and raised an eyebrow out of amusement. “What, are there like gnomes living in the forest too?”

Ford stared at me for a second and then narrow his eyes.

“Wait, how did you know there was gnomes here?”

“There’s gnomes too?!”

Ford and I stared at each other for another couple moments until we both started laughing.

We laughed for a solid moment and soon it started hurting our lungs for not breathing enough. It started to calm down and the both of us sat there stargazing for a moment.

“I just can’t believe it,” I said, almost out of breath. “So many creatures, beings or any animal just exist right out there. Waiting to be discovered or heard. Just so much to look after! It’s like even though you could’ve spent years here exploring you’re always gonna find something here to love. All of the old and new together.”

Stanford still had eyes on the sky, though I can feel him glancing from the inner corners to see me.

“Trust me I’ve been only here for two months and I’m still adjusting to all the weirdness here…but it’s amazing, isn’t it?”

“Amazing? Stanford, I’m jealous of you!” I exclaimed with a smile.

“Jealous?” He repeated.

“Yeah, you get to experience this everyday. Most people are out there with the most mundane and boring office job,” I scoffed. “You, Stanford Pines, don’t even know it.”

His glasses reflected a bright light for a second. Ford cackled and shook his head, with a wide smile. A smile that made me copy it without any try but a single pull on the inside of my chest.

“I suppose I just never thought I would hear someone say that to me.”

“Well, I’m honored to be the first.”

“First, huh.”

Ford twitched for a second and seemed stiff. Even without touching each other I knew there was something that caught him between each deep breath.

I see his six finger hand reach something inside of his tan trench coat. Slipping out a red journal. A trace hand written on with number two.

My curiosity caught me on the net, from there I analyzed the unique journal in his hand. With a small monocular peeking out the corners of the page.

The journal was small yet so big that seem had pages filled with something.

The little something being something I shouldn’t know.

“My six finger hands have always been the lead of my life ever since I could remember. Whether it meant me getting relentlessly bullied for my weird anomaly or it had made me the odd one out everywhere I go.”

The trace six finger hand on the book had stars bouncing off from gold color. Almost mesmerizing for anyone to take a peek.

Ford continues. “I thought I would never find a spot where my hands would seem normal, yet I realize now that after these years of pain, it was here. Meaning my anomaly isn't the only anomaly here.”

His hand out for reach and there it was in between us. Ford seems to be lost for a second until he peers to my hand on my lap.

Raising my hand and taking it near his, he carefully took it. With his fingers brushing the back of my palm and making sure my hand was flat. Placing the journal on my palm.

12 fingers secure on both of my hands.

“In fact,” Ford begans, “I think it would be much of honor if you were the first to read my journal.”

For a moment I felt my heart beat out of its chest but the small stars bounce back to me and the journal. Making it all too real for it to just be dream.

His hands pull away and felt with empty space without warmth, but a warm smile had arrive to my face.

“You really mean it?” I asked.

“I mean it.”

His hands left between the warmth of me and him. It felt empty, but my excitement withdraw me back to the journal in hand.

With lit eyes.

“Ford, the movie is about to play! You better come down!”

“We have burnt popcorn and candy, jellybeans to be exact!”

We both laughed catching the talking from Fiddlford and Stanley.

Stanford carefully got back up and hand out his hand for me.

No words were spoke expect my hand accepting his and both crawling to the attic window.

“We definitely talking about the book once the two fall asleep right?”

“Oh yeah, we will.”

[igetnosleep]

Christmas thing

No warnings just fluff I usually celebrate during the 24th also wrote this with DI Leon in mind but you can imagine who you’d like

Leon wasn’t used to the bright colored lights or the sparkling decorations you’d meticulously put up going as far as to rearrange the furniture in your shared home.

The holidays were quite usually after joining the DSO usually assigned works pouring over assignments and paper work that would flood his desk and fall over from the disorganized mess he’d created trying to find leads or giving up and getting frustrated.

Now after a few years and a much needed retirement he barely remembered what life looked like before you.

Before the meticulous decorations and the arguing over one stupid frosty decoration you can never decide where it should go because god forbid he puts it on the coffee table.

“It shouldn’t go there!”

“Well where else am I going to put it?”

Your name slips from his mouth with an attitude you really didn’t like, your face was loud with displeasure that he noticed immediately putting a hand up and clearing his throat lest he wanted to live through the hellish attitude you’d put up later.

He corrects himself your name slips out with a question prodding but no longer jabbing, acceptable.

“Put it in the kitchen.” A sigh of relief as he stepped closer to you slowly a little bit of pleading from him and you caved in standing on your tip toes and kissing him softly his shoulders relaxed and his mind forgetting about the ugly snowman.

That was in November not even the day after Halloween you started decorating to his dismay after taking down the Halloween decorations he’d find himself reluctant and somehow still willing to go up the death trap you called a ladder to put up the lights. He needed to get a new one it nearly broke.

His retirement was kind to him no longer finding himself missing the missions and the paperwork instead going grocery shopping for food your parents coming over now needing to accommodate the fact that your mothers pride was wounded because he didn’t want her in the kitchen.

“Can you let her help with the salad or something?”

“No.” He was serious he didn’t want your mom’s help she always took control when she was supposed to be a guest.

“She’s restless and I can’t keep beating her at card games she’s losing her mind.” He silenced your protests with a peck on the lips. You couldn’t argue with him after that your face buried against his arm as he put a generous amount of garlic powder in the sauce your eyes just staring at him pleading for a taste.

He couldn’t say no to you. Offering the spoon and watching your expression warm up as you covered your mouth so he didn’t see you fight off the heat as best you could only burning your tongue in the process.

It used to be lonely. He’d barely spoken during the holidays you life offering him warmth he didn’t think he was able to receive from anyone a part of him gave up before he met you all those years ago.

“What’s this?” He asked when you were getting ready for bed a box wrapped in decorative paper tied nicely with a bow he looked at you curiously his lip quirked up as you sat next to him arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“Wanted it to be a surprise.” You murmured a hand coming up and scratching under his chin kissing his shoulder. His hand came up to take it to kiss your palm his thumb feeling the warm metal of your wedding ring reminding himself that this wasn’t a dream you’re here; you’re real.

He chuffed opening it seeing an old watch his smile disappeared as he took it out the leather strap looked new the hands ticking like normal. He held it up to you “what?..what is this?”

He hadn’t seen it work in so long, maybe because it was the last thing the one thing he had from his foster father the man that raised him after the death of his parents. You kissed his temple murmuring “You never got it fixed.”

“I just…thank you.” He pulled you onto his lap his arms wrapping around you his face buried in your neck. You kissed his temple hand coming up and stroked his cheek.

[twiishaa]

twisha’s merry christmas event! late night hot chocolate with suna rintarou *ੈ🎄✩‧₊

suna x fem!reader, post-timeskip, hurt/comfort! one day, when suna's walking home from his late-night practice, he sees your apartment light still on. when he gets there, he finds you a little overwhelmed from the hectic season. hot chocolate and late-night deep talks go hand in hand, or so suna says.

in typical december fashion, the days were getting colder, shorter and christmas was around the corner—so naturally, things were getting busier as well. suna’s final practice of the year ended a little ove 15 minutes ago; he was now walking home in the cold, wintery air. checking his phone, suna made a mental note of the time. god, he hadn’t seen you in ages.  your schedules hadn’t been lining up for the past few weeks, and so you’d only seen each other for the occasional, hastily planned lunch date that definitely didn’t pay justice to your relationship.

The route he took very conveniently passed your apartment. the middle blocker looked up at your apartment building. suddenly, your room’s window caught his attention; he peered up at it—why were the lights still on? it was well past midnight, usually you were asleep by then.

then it hit him. suna knew you very well. he knew that when you get slumped in work, you stay up to try and finish it. he knew that your job overwhelmed you sometimes, especially when it was nearing the end of the year.

he was the only one in the street, but the swift turn he took made him feel a little self-conscious. unconsciously, suna picked up his walking pace a little, fuelled by the thought of seeing you again, and also by his concern for you—he couldn’t stand seeing his girlfriend upset! and, if he had guessed wrong, well—at least he’d get to see your face after a gruelling practice.

—

the papers strewn all over your desk were testament to the amount of work you had left to do. the clock had already struck midnight, your eyes had grown tired hours ago. christmas was always busy for you, but for some reason this year felt the worst yet. on top of that, you were running low on sleep because of some party the people living on the floor below you decided to host. honestly, all you wanted to do was sleep. and see your boyfriend—you hadn’t seen him properly in months.

with a deep exhale, the substantial amount of work and pressure overwhelmed you—you felt a sting in your eyes, and a wetness down your cheek. for some reason, the clock’s monotonous ticking seemed to quicken, silently mocking your sorry state.

—

as if the gods had heard your cries, you heard a gentle knock on the door. it was suna. you were confused, but a wave of reassurance washed over you from just seeing him again. there were tears beginning to form in your eyes, but you held them back as best you could.

“hey rin, how come you’re here? did practice finish late?” you said, seeing as he was carrying his gym bag.

suna laughed a little. “yeah, it finished later today. just thought I’d say hi to my amazing, beautiful, girlfriend—is there anything wrong with that?”

now it was your turn to giggle. somehow, suna could always sense your mood, and make you laugh; it was one of the many things you loved about him.

once you two sat down, suna brought up what he originally came for.

“hey, you good? you’re usually not up this late unless you’re like, having an existential crisis or something,” he sounded light-hearted, but you could tell from his eyes that he was worried, that he really cared for you.

something clicked in you—his words resonated and the tears from earlier started to fall down your cheeks. suna placed a comforting hand on your back, gently moving it up and down.

his voice was breathy, almost like a whisper. “hey, hey, it’s alright; everything’s going to be alright,” you just curled up into his side.

“I don’t know, there’s just so much work, and not enough time,” your voice came out muffled by his jumper. “and I just feel like, seasonal depression, you know?” suna chuckled at your choice of words.

“I get it,” he said, ruffling your hair a little.

—

outside, the snow started falling. this year, there was supposed to be snow pretty much every day leading up to christmas—which gave suna an idea.

“hey, should we make some hot chocolate?”

you sat up, a little confused. “hot chocolate? now?”

suna nodded eagerly. “yeah, now—don’t you know hot chocolate and late-night deep talks go hand in hand?”

“uhhhh, no? nobody says that?”

“well, my hot chocolate skills are unmatched, and I need to flex. we’re making hot chocolate.” he started making his way to the kitchen. being left no choice, you followed him.

—

the hot chocolate did well to calm your nerves, and suna was right, his hot chocolate skills were ‘unmatched’.

you two snuggled up on the sofa, when suna took your hand and squeezed it a little

“if you.. you know, want to say anything more, you can,” he said, looking away. you could still tell from his averted gaze that his cheeks were pink. stretching over, you gave him a peck on the cheek.

“just you being here is enough, rin,” you beamed at him, causing suna to smile back, albeit blushing. “now, let’s watch home alone.” you turned to grab the remote.

“let’s.” suna replied. “but the second one, I’ve watched the first one too many times with the twins,”

you laughed.

suna always had some way of brightening your mood, and you were grateful for it. the ticking of the clock from earlier had grown so quiet, it was basically silence to you. all the christmas lights from outside flooded the room as a dim, ambient light. you turned to look at suna, focused on the movie.

what would you do without him? you wondered.

taglist @cherrysurf @catientie @d0milol

⋆⁺₊❅ and lastly, here's a link to the taglists! merry christmas~‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡

[canirove]

Canary boy | Chapter 1

Summary: Most stories tell you about a normal girl who falls in love with a famous football player. But what if things were the other way around? What if she was the famous football player, and he was just a normal guy? 

Author’s note: I'm back with another Pedri story! 💃🏼 This one has been sitting on my drafts for a while because I wasn't too sure about part of the plot, but after giving it another read, it is finally ready to see the light 😁 I was in the mood to write something simple and just nice to read that, for example, had the same vibes as "Red and blue". A happy story with just some ups and downs and not big dramas. But I don't know if I managed to do it, you can let me know as you read it😅 Unless I'm forgetting someone, except for Fer (Pedri's brother) and Aitana, all the characters are made up and named after people I know in real life or that I follow on social media, so if there happens to be someone somehow related to Pedri in real life with that name, it is just a coincidence. Also the title is like a play on words because in Spanish you use the same word (canario) to talk about a man from the Canary Islands and the animal. I hope you like it, and as always, thank you for reading! 💜

Next chapter (coming out next Tuesday)

Masterlist

“Inés, can I use your phone to call my mum? Mine has run out of battery.”

“Again?” I chuckle, passing it to Carla.

“Yeah… I think I need a new one” she says while typing. “Wait, who is this Pedri you are getting notifications from?”

“What?”

“I just saw an Instagram notification saying that someone called Pedri has posted on his stories.”

“He's no one” I quickly say. “Aren't you going to call your mum? You know she starts getting worried if you don't do it right after a game.”

“She can wait. I, on the other hand, can’t. Who is this guy?” she smirks.

“Carla, stop it” I say, trying to retrieve my phone.

“You are blushing, Inés.”

“I'm not.”

“Yes, you are” she says, still smirking. “Let's see what he has posted, shall we?”

“Carla…”

“He is wishing happy birthday to one of his friends. Or his brother, you don’t know these days since they all call that to each other. But which one is he, the blonde or the brunette one?”

“Brunette. Now give me that” I say, trying to get my phone from her once again and only managing to hit myself with my bus seat. 

“He's cute. Is he someone random you liked or do you know each other?”

“He's a classmate.”

“Uuuh!”

“Carla, lower down your voice!” one of our teammates says from the other side of the bus.

“Sorry!” she replies. “I may have to join you in some of your classes if the guys are this cute.”

“They aren't. Now give me my phone.”

“Does he follow you back?”

“Yes.”

“Does he also like all your photos like you do? Like, wow, Inés” she chuckles. “You do fancy him.”

“I don't, Carla. Now either call your mum, or give me my phone back. I want to take a nap before we make it home.”

“And dream about Pedri?” she teases me while still scrolling on my phone. 

“Carla!” 

“Silence!” another of our teammates says.

“Carla… please” I repeat, this time lower.

“Ok, ok. I'll call my… No!” she gasps. Loudly.

“Girls, I don't know what you are doing over there, but please lower down your voice” Aitana says from the seat behind us. “It's been a tough game and some of us want to sleep.”

“It won't happen again, I promise” Carla says, turning to look at her with her best smile. “But you need to explain to me why the fuck do you fancy a guy who has a girlfriend” she whispers.

“I don't fancy him” I insist.

“Then why do you have his notifications turned on and have liked all his photos, this one wishing his girlfriend a happy anniversary included?”

“Because…” I say, biting my lip.

“Because you fancy him, you idiot” she says, hitting my arm. “Inés, why would you do something like this to yourself?”

“It's just a crush, Carla. Nothing else.”

“It better, because if you are wasting your time with a guy who is taken…”

“I'm not. Now call your mum or give me my phone back.”

“Fine. I'll call her” she says, giving me one last look before closing Instagram and finally calling her mum, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Thoughts about how she is right. About how I do fancy a guy who is taken, and about how I've done it for the past three years. 

When I finished high school my career as a football player hadn't taken off yet, I was still playing for Barça B. And since I didn't know if I would ever make it to the first team or for how long I could live off football, I decided to start studying journalism and have other options for my future. 

It had been during my first day at uni, that I had met Pedri. Not Pedro, no. Pedri (though legally he is called Pedro).

He was sitting a few seats to my right, his Canarian accent making him be the centre of attention while he talked with some of our classmates about the differences between Barcelona and Tenerife, his hometown. And even though back then he looked like a baby since he still hadn't grown a beard, you couldn't deny that he was handsome. If you ask me, he had and still has one of the most perfect side profiles I have ever seen. And his lips… Dear lord. If you Google kissable lips, you will definitely find his photo.

During those first weeks one of our teachers decided to make different work groups so we could get to know each other a bit more, and yes, you've guessed it. Pedri and I were part of the same one. That was how we ended up following each other on Instagram, because we had made a group chat so we all could talk and work on the different assignments. 

At first we didn't say much to each other, I was too shy. I just basically stared at him and giggled like an idiot when he said something funny. But then I made my debut with Barça's first team, and he talked to me. Like, alone, not with our other classmates present.

I still remember the way my heart started beating when he called my name after class and congratulated me, the big smile on his face, and how honestly happy he seemed to be for me. I'm pretty sure that was the moment when I realized that I actually liked him. That I fancied him. And then when we kept talking just the two of us between classes… Well, you can imagine. I was on cloud nine. A cloud that hit the floor and broke into a million pieces when a couple of months later at one of our classmates’ birthday party, I saw him making out with his now girlfriend, making me feel like the biggest idiot ever. 

He had been friendly with me because that was who he was, because he liked meeting new people and getting to know them. But since I am simply stupid, I had thought that he was doing it because he also liked me, because he fancied me. 

After that I started to attend my classes less often and to do most things online because I became part of the first team and didn't have much free time, which led us to stop talking the way we had been. But because like I said, I am simply stupid, I kept liking his posts on Instagram as if nothing had happened. The crush was still there and it wasn't going anywhere. It probably only grew as time passed and he started to look more and more handsome. Which is how I ended up turning on the notifications for his posts. Because I don't want to miss seeing his pretty face since now we only cross paths if I am lucky and can attend some of the most important classes, if we are meeting with the friends we have in common, or during exams season. 

“Inés… Inés!” Carla says, snapping her fingers in front of my face. “Did you fall asleep with your eyes open?”

“What?”

“I was telling you that I was done with my call” she says, giving me my phone back.

“Oh, yes, sorry. I guess I do need that nap” I chuckle.

“Yeah… Now you nap, and tomorrow we go out.”

“Out? Where?”

“Partying, of course” Carla smiles. “We have a couple of days off, which means that we can go out at night and find you a man who isn't taken.”

“Carla…” I sigh.

“No, I'm sorry. It's been decided. We are going out tomorrow, and you aren't going home until you've made out with someone. And hopefully someone blonde and with blue eyes so you won't think you are kissing your classmate. This is operation forget about Pedri.”

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“So you play football for a living?”

“Yep.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Nah, you are messing with me” the guy I'm talking to laughs. “Like, girls who like or play football are either tomboys or lesbians. Or both. Are you a lesbian?”

“What?” I say, almost choking with my drink.

“You definitely don't look like a tomboy, you are hot. So are you a lesbian?”

“I'm straight.”

“Then you definitely are messing with me” he laughs. 

“I… I'm going to the bathroom. Can you hold this for me?” I say, giving him what is left of my drink. 

“Yes, sure. I'll wait for you here” he smiles.

“Umm… yes” I say, turning my back to him and starting to look for Carla among the crowd. Why did I let her take me out tonight? All the guys she's introduced me to and that I've talked with have been so… so… Brainless. I'm pretty sure that if we put them all together, they wouldn't make a brain cell. 

“Carla!” I call when I see her chatting and laughing with a random guy. How does she do it? How is she able to act so natural around men? “Carla, hey!” I wave. But I do it without looking around me, and I end up hitting someone in the head. “Oh my God, I'm so sorry!”

“Don't worry, it's… Inés!”

“Pedri?” I say when the owner of the head I just hit turns around. 

“I didn't expect to see you here!” he smiles.

“Me neither” I reply with a nervous laugh, trying not to stare at him like an idiot. He looks so good tonight.

“Inés, what happened with… you!” Carla says, joining us and pointing at Pedri.

“Me?” he chuckles.

“I know you!”

“Carla, I'm going home” I quickly say before he starts asking uncomfortable questions.

“Already?” she and Pedri say at the same time.

“I'm not used to going out until this late, I'm tired.”

“Oh, c'mon, Inés” Carla pouts. “We just arrived!”

Which is a lie. We've been at this club for the two longest hours of my life.

“I'm sorry.”

“But…”

“Pedri, your… you!” a guy that looks pretty familiar says, now pointing at me. “I know you! You are Inés, Barça's centre-back!”

“I… yes?”

“It's her!” he says, looking at Pedri and giving him one of the drinks he was carrying. 

“It's her, yes. Inés, this is my friend and roommate Mario. Mario, this is Inés.” Oh, so that's why he looked so familiar. He is the guy he is constantly posting things with on Instagram. 

“Can't believe I'm finally meeting you in person!”

“Finally?” I ask with a confused look.

“Pedrito has made me watch all your games for the past couple of years” he laughs, squeezing his friend's shoulder. “But I don't regret it, you girls are amazing. Such a shame you didn't win the last game… It was a tough one.”

“Yeah” I say, my brain stuck on the fact that Pedri has forced his best friend to watch my games. I mean, Barcelona’s. That's what he probably meant, not just mine. 

“At least we didn't lose. I'm Carla, by the way” she says, extending her hand towards Mario.

“Carla López, Barcelona and Spain national team's goalkeeper. A pleasure” he says, kissing her hand and making her giggle. And I know that sound. It is the one she makes when she really likes someone. Great, just great. 

“You know your football” she smiles.

“I do” he smiles back, the way they are looking at each other making this encounter even more uncomfortable and awkward than it already was.

“Anyway, like I was saying, I'm going home” I interrupt them. “So if you'll excuse me…”

“Inés, you can't go home alone and at night. It can be dangerous!” Carla says.

“I'll call an Uber, I'll be fine.”

“That doesn't make it any better.”

“I'll go with her.”

“What?” Carla, Mario and I say at the same time.

“I'll go with her” Pedri repeats. “She's right, going on your own can be dangerous.”

“I… I… I mean, I…”

“But bro, we just arrived. What about your drink?” Mario asks him while I keep mumbling.

“I'll drink it” he shrugs before starting to chug it as if it was water and not alcohol. “Done” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and giving the glass back to Mario. “Are you ready, Inés?”

“Uh?” I say, my eyes fixed on his lips and on how they still are a bit wet, making them look even more kissable than they usually are. 

“You wanted to go home, didn't you?” Pedri asks me.

“Yes, I did. Yes.”

“Then let's go. Enjoy the rest of your night, guys. And behave yourself” he says, winking at Mario and making me gasp. 

“Inés… Inés, are you sure about this?” Carla asks me while Pedri and Mario keep teasing each other. “We came here to forget about him, and now you are leaving with him.”

“But as friends. Offering to accompany me home confirms that that's all he wants from me. To be friends.”

“That's him, yes. But what about you?”

“I want the same. Just friends.”

“Inés…”

“Ready?” Pedri asks me, ending our conversation.

“Ready” I smile. 

“Text me once you are home, ok?” Carla tells me, the look on her face letting me know that she doesn't agree with this. 

“I will, I promise. Good night” I say before following Pedri and leaving the club.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Pedri… Pedri, wake up.”

“Uh?”

“You have to wake up, c'mon” I say, running my hand through his hair. 

“No.”

“You have to.”

“Why?”

“Because we just arrived.”

“Urgh” he groans.

“C'mon” I say, touching his hair one last time before unlocking our seatbelts. Because we both still are on the Uber that is taking me home, not waking up together in the same bed, you little dirty minds (I wish that was the case, tho. Wait, who said that?). 

Just five minutes after we had left the club, the alcohol he had drunk in one go had started to affect him, and by the time we were in the car, he was properly drunk. It looked more like I was accompanying him home and not the other way around.

“Where are we?” he says, slowly getting up from my lap. Oh, yes. Because Pedri had decided that the best thing to do, was to take a nap while resting his head on my legs. The most comfortable and soft ones according to what he said a few times before falling asleep.

“My house” I say, opening the car's door. “You were accompanying me, remember?”

“Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes. I'm a gentleman” he says with a drunken smile.

“You are, yes. Now c'mon” I reply, leaving the car. 

“Fuck!” 

“What happened? Are you ok?” I say, turning around.

“I don't know. I think… shit” he says, looking down at his hand. He's bleeding. “Inés…”

“Is he ok?” the driver says.

“He's… Pedri!” I say, catching him when he starts falling against the car.

“I'm fine, I'm fine” he says, managing to sit down again. “Just not the biggest fan of blood.”

“Should we take him to the hospital? He's gone so pale…” the driver says.

“No, no hospitals. This is nothing” Pedri says. 

“Miss?” the driver asks me.

“I…”

“Please, Inés. It's just a scratch.”

“Ok, fine. But let's get you upstairs before you hurt yourself again.”

“Do you want a hand, miss?” the driver offers. 

“I can do it myself, thank you” I smile. Pedri isn't the biggest guy out there, and after hitting his head he seems to have sobered up a bit, so I think we can make it inside and to the lift. “But you've earned five starts and a big tip.”

“Oh, there is no need, miss. Just doing what anyone else would.”

“I'm not so sure of that. Thank you very much.”

“You're welcome” he says.

“Can you walk?” I ask Pedri once he is standing up again. 

“I can, Inés. Though your arm around my waist will be very welcomed just in case” he smiles.

“Yeah… umm… Ok” I say, doing as he has asked and starting to walk towards my building, his arm around my shoulders. “Comfortable there?” I ask him once we are inside the lift and after a bit of struggle to go up the few stairs in the lobby.

“Yeah” he replies, resting his head against the wall, his eyes closing again. Looks like the sobering up is gone.

“Pedri, don't fall asleep.”

“I'm not. I'm just resting my eyes.”

“Pedri…”

“Is that the tone you use on the pitch to order around?” he smirks, his eyes still closed.

“What?”

“I've seen you. You will be captain one day, Inés. You have what it takes.”

“Yeah, well… Pedri!” I say when the lift stops and he almost falls again. 

“I'm fine, I'm fine” he replies, opening his eyes. With the light inside the lift they look as if the brown had some bits of gold, and they are simply beautiful. 

“Ok, c'mon” I say, putting his arm around my shoulders once again and leaving the lift.

“You have a nice apartment, Inés” he says when we walk in. “Very cosy.”

“Thank you” I reply, trying to close the door and keep him from falling again. He is getting heavier by the second. “Why don't you lay down there while I go get something to clean your wound?”

“My wound?” he asks as he lets himself fall on the sofa.

“You hit your head when you were getting out of the car, remember?”

“Did I?” he says, his eyes already closed. “Oh, yes. I did…”

“Pedri, don't… fall asleep” I say. But he's gone. In just a few seconds, he's completely gone, one arm and one leg hanging from the sofa. “Great” I sigh while putting him in a more comfortable position and covering him with a blanket. Sleeping like that, he looks like a kid, like someone who has never done anything wrong in his life. And I can't help but run my hand through his hair again.

I think he has the softest hair I've ever touched even if now it is a bit sticky around his face because of the sweat and the blood from his wound. A wound that thankfully doesn't look too bad and has stopped bleeding, and that I guess we'll have to take care of tomorrow. “Sweet dreams, Pedri” I whisper, stopping myself when I am about to kiss his forehead. Like, what the fuck, Inés? That's… No. Go to bed. That's what you should do, go to bed too. 

Though falling asleep knowing that I have Pedri, the boy I've had the biggest crush on for the past three years, drunkenly sleeping on my sofa, is gonna be interesting to say the least. And when he wakes up…

[redfoxwritesstuff]

AN: What do we have here? Did we forget a couple presents under the tree? Merry Christmas Nyxy, happy Boxing day- I hope you don't regret it. That's it folks, we made it to the end of Smutmas! Did you like it? Or were you all too burned out on smut on the heels of Kinktober? Would you like to see this or a similar event next year? Above all, remember the biggest lesson learned here- don't lick doorknobs.

CW: Smut, religious trauma, pretending to be a priest, belly bulge, loss of virginity, anointing oil used as lube (Don't do this)

Summary: Vox is owed money and the price of business is high. He's not a businessman anyone should keep waiting. So when Father Francis does just that, Vox finds a rather entertaining way to pass the time while he waits around the church.

You make the perfect thing to pass the time with. Sweet, innocent and pure- you take every one of his lies at face value, trusting the new priest taking your confession in the place of Father Francis. The cost of forgiveness and absolution for your sins is high but… the new Father wouldn't lie to you, would he?

Vox straightened his suit as he stood from the pew. Parishioners milled about still, lining up to speak to the priest as if he could somehow grant them salvation into heaven’s pearly gates if they but only had a few more moments of his time. 

The idea alone had Vox scoffing, but he did what he did best and put on a showman’s smile. There would be people who notice him, remember him, but that was the price he paid for being him.

“Father Francis!” Vox held out his hands, palms out, and spread in greeting. Nothing to see here, folks, just a friend greeting the father. “It’s so good to see you.”

Father Francis greeted, wrapping Vox in his arms in a tight hug. The preacher patted Vox’s back, whispering in his ear, “Wait in the confessional box.” 

Vox nodded, walking confidently over to the booths. He made a point of admiring the ornate craftsmanship; the details carved deep into the wood while he also looked around to see if anyone was watching him. 

As soon as the coast was clear, Vox opened the door closest to him and stepped inside. The dim light inside was just enough to see by, not illuminating much in the way of details.

There wasn’t much inside the small booth, all things considered. The bench was simple and hanging on a small hook inside the door was a spare set of robes, much like those that the good Father wore on a typical day. 

“Mr. Vox?” Father Francis poked his head inside the door. 

“Do you have the payment?” Vox asked, keeping his voice low. 

“I need to make a run to the hospital. A parishioner’s father is not well, I- It’s urgent, Mr. Vox.” The man stood just inside the small booth, looking sheepishly at Vox. 

“You’re not trying for a delay, are you, old chap?” Vox made a show of looking at his nails, not wanting Father Francis to have any more attention than Vox deemed necessary. 

“No!” Father Francis repeated the word, softer as he looked around sheepishly. “Not at all. I’ll have the funds. I just- we don’t think he’ll make it more than a few more hours. It’s vital that he has his last rites. You understand, don’t you?” 

“Sure,” Vox waved his hand as if he was batting away a bug. “I’ll just wait right here. You won’t be long, will you?” 

“Make yourself comfortable in the chapel.” 

“Oh,” Vox laughed. “I’ll be waiting right here.” 

“No, no-” Father Francis laughed awkwardly as he reached for the door. “Someone will mistake you as a preacher. You-” 

“Good!” Vox said, a smile blooming on his face. “All the more reason for you to hurry back.” 

~~~~~<3

Vox sat, passing the time, playing what amounted to dress up. The last thing he wanted was to step out of the little box and have to deal with socializing. Instead, he put on the robes, dressing himself in the garb of Father Francis’ role. He admired the feel of the robes, how different they made him feel, only to freeze in place at the sound of door hinges squeaking. 

Someone stepped into the booth on the other side of the wall. Vox looked back and forth in a panic, hoping to find some sort of hint, something to tell him what he should do or say next. 

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” Your soft voice carried through the wall easily. You sat neatly on the small bench, head down, as you focused on your task. 

“Haven’t we all,” Vox whispered under his breath. 

“I’m sorry?” You looked up, eyes glanced at the mesh that obscured your view of the man on the other side of the wall. You couldn’t see much more than the basic shape of him sitting there. 

“Nothing,” Vox waved the question away, out of habit more than anything, not knowing if you could see him at all. “Carry on.” 

“It has been… it has been a while since my last confession, Father.” Your fingers twisted in the soft fabric of your skirt as you tried to will the tears back from your eyes. The air in the booth tasted bitter and stale on your tongue, but you forced yourself to take a deep lungful of it, anyway. 

“Tell me of your sins?” Vox urged, not knowing for sure if it was the right thing to say but wanting to urge you on. You had such a pretty voice. He couldn’t help but wonder if the face matched it. Hell, did your body match the voice? 

“I’ve… lust has plagued me,” you whispered, struggling to find your voice in the face of the horrible things you had been thinking. “I- the thoughts come to me during the darkness of night, during the devil’s hours. I focus on my prayers, but the thoughts- they even come to me in my dreams.” 

“And what are those thoughts, exactly?” Vox asked, leaning forward. 

“I beg your pardon?” Your voice wavered as you looked again at the mesh between you. 

“I need to know the details of your thoughts,” Vox said, eyes straining to look through the mesh to see the woman sitting on the other side. “How else can I offer you absolution?” 

“I-” you hesitated only for Vox to speak over your doubts. 

“You can trust me,” Vox said, smile spreading wide. “I’m just a man of God, here to help.” 

“Okay,” Doubt lingered in your voice, but you pushed on. “There’s been men- I’ve been noticing them. I’ve been noticing things about them and thinking-” 

“What have you been noticing about them?” Vox asked, scooting closer to the mesh, hoping to see something more than just your silhouette. 

“Oh.” The sound came out as a sweet little squeak that ran down Vox’s spine. “The… the way their pants rest on their…their bodies.” 

“What parts of their bodies?” Vox pressed. “You need to be honest and detailed or I cannot help you.” 

“Right,” you sighed the word, face and chest growing hot with the words you were going to say. “The way they rest on… their hips and around their… pelvis.” It took you a while to settle on the right word, unsure how… vulgar the good Father wished for you to be. “I also… notice the way their shirts fit across their chest or the way the muscles in their hands and arms move.” 

“And what does that noticing inspire?” Vox leaned closer to the mesh wall. “Our God made the human form in his perfect image, did he not? Isn’t admiring the beauty of it little more than worshiping of His greatest work?” 

“I-” You sighed, “Yes, I suppose, but… It makes me think of how it would feel if they… if they gave me their attentions.” 

“In what sort of way?” Vox had his face nearly pressed against the mesh now, finally seeing you, though poorly. 

“In…. romantic ways.” Your voice came meeker as shame washed over you. 

“How?” Vox pressed, needing more, wanting more. He could hear the shame in your voice, the watery sound of emotion threatening to choke your words. 

“I… I think of how it would feel to have their hands on my.. on my thighs or touching my breasts.” You choked on the words, face burning with shame as you ran your hands through your hair. Curling in on yourself, you willed the words to continue. If you couldn’t say it, he couldn’t help you. “I think of how it would feel if they kissed me and held me as a husband should hold his wife.” 

“And how is that?” Vox shifted, pants growing tighter under the robes. “You must be very detailed, my child. The devil is in the details and you do want me to help you, don’t you?” 

You whimpered, curling in on yourself more. Never had you felt so shameful sitting in this little booth. It had been a place of comfort for most of your life, but now? Shame was all you felt. It had been too long since you had come. That was what made your mind, heart, and soul weak. 

“I think of… the feeling of his skin against mine. I- Of the way his lips would feel on my skin… and what it would feel like to have them… have them take me to their beds and lay with me.” Tears welled in your eyes as you confessed to the good Father your sins. 

“Have you acted on these desires?” Vox asked, palming his hardening cock through his pants.

“I am pure,” you whispered, pleading with the priest on the other side of the thin wall to believe you. Your attendance slipped, but you were still godly. You hadn’t acted on the thoughts. You had done nothing forbidden. He had to believe you. God had to believe you, had to know. 

“Even to yourself?” Vox asked, pulling his cock from his pants, moving slowly to make as little noise as possible. Once he was free, head brushing against the inside of the robes, he wrapped his fingers around his shaft. A sigh whispered between his lips as he leaned back, shifting his hips toward the edge of the seat as he worked his fist over the length of him slowly. “Do you touch yourself to these thoughts? Do you indulge in the- the lust of them?” 

“I-” Tears ran down your cheeks. You were crying openly now, no longer making an effort to hide it. If you wanted forgiveness, you had to lay it all bare in front of the Father and in front of God. “I almost did, Father. Last night- That’s why I came here. Please, I do not wish to sin.” 

“Do you feel it?” he murmured, his voice low and deliberate as his hand began to move faster over his length. “That ache inside you, the one that refuses to be ignored?”

“Yes, Father.” You answered, though you were not sure you understood. The ache inside you was the demon, clawing at your insides, demanding your fall. 

“The cure is surrender,” he said, leaning closer to the mesh. “You have to open yourself completely. Let yourself be filled, every inch of you, until there’s nothing left but the purity of what you’ve accepted.” 

Your pulse quickened, your voice barely audible. On the other side of the thin wall, you could just hear a rhythmic rustling, almost. It was a ghost of the sound, as if he was rubbing his leg. “And if I can’t?” 

A slow smile curved his lips. “You will,” he said, his tone curling around you in sinful delight. You told yourself it was little more than the whispers of demons. “You just have to let it take you... wholly.”

“I’m scared.” Your voice was broken, strangled by fear and shame. 

“Oh fuck,” Vox whispered, precum smearing against the inside of the robe. “The price for absolution will be high, my child.” Vox struggled to keep his voice steady as he swiped a thumb over the head of his cock, smearing the slick fluid that hadn’t been wiped away yet. 

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” you cried, turning to face the man you could not see, tears dropping from your chin. The scraping of your nails against the wooden frame of the booth was loud in the small space, or at least it seemed that way to you and to Vox. 

“The cure for lust is to be filled with- with the Holy Spirit.” Vox said again, “This is a ceremony of utmost seriousness a-and we must begin it immediately.”

Vox was certain you would question him. There was no way you would just accept his lies. Surely he was too far off the accepted script, but damn, you sounded so sweet and innocent, sitting there crying in the other half of the box… and he wanted you. 

He wanted to take that innocence and grind it under his heel. It angered him in a way that he couldn’t explain that something as sweet and innocent as you could exist, untainted.

“What must I do?” you whispered. “I’ll do anything to be in God’s graces again, to be freed of this demon. Please, Father. Please, help me?” 

“Good,” Vox sighed, cringing as he tried to shove his cock away, settling on fastening his pants up over his shaft. The waistband pinned his head to his abdomen. “Stand up and close your eyes,” Vox said, smile growing wide and greedy. “Do not open them until I tell you. I’m going to lead you to a room where we can see to this ceremony.” 

“But Father-?” You stood, eyes fluttering shut even as you questioned him. You were, at your core, a good girl who listened to the authority of the Church. 

“Do you trust your God?” Vox asked, standing himself. “Do you trust in the power he has vested in me?” 

“Yes,” you said without a shadow of doubt as that feeling twisted your insides. It was a vile, uncomfortable feeling that had you shifting your weight from one foot to the other. 

“Good girl,” Vox said, stepping out of the booth. 

The church was empty. His eyes settled on the altar and oh, he would love nothing more than to push everything off of it and take you right on top of it. That wouldn’t do, though. It would be pushing you too far. 

He opened the door to your booth, finding you standing with your eyes closed. You were just as he hoped you to be. Perfect and meek and oh so good. You looked like a ripe fruit, ready for the picking. Perhaps you were an apple?

Vox was eager to spoil you for all that would come after him. “Keep your eyes closed.” 

“Why?” you asked, even as you continued to obey, walking forward as a hand wrapped around your arm at the elbow, tugging you softly out of the box. 

“Why, we must keep the sanctity of the confession.” A wicked smile spread on Vox’s face, though you could not see it. All you could hear was the soft care in his voice, promising you he was a man who cared about what’s best for you. 

Vox lead you carefully through the church. He wasn’t totally unfamiliar with the building. The altar was too risky, but Father Francis’ office- surely no one would go in his office without at least knocking first. He watched as he lead you, ensuring your eyes stayed closed each step of the way. 

You allowed yourself to be led, heart pounding in your chest as you squeezed your eyes closed. Fear kept trying to worm itself into your mind, but you pushed it back down again and again, reminding yourself that you were safe. You were with a man of God. 

“Where are we going?” you asked. “What happens next?” 

Vox shushed you. “I need you to show faith in your God.” 

Vox walked you into the office, your simple heels clicking against the hardwood floors. After directing you to stand where you were, Vox made quick work of cleaning the desk of the stacks of papers and books Father Francis left littered on the surface. 

Once the task was seen to, he returned to your side, placing a steady hand at the small of your back. “We’re just about ready.” 

“Can I open my eyes?” you asked. 

“Not now,” Vox said, smoothing down the hair at the back of your head as he walked you up to the desk. “You must show great faith as I exercise the demons of lust from you. You cannot open your eyes before I say you can. Are you ready and willing to offer your body up as a sacrificial lamb in exchange for absolution?”

“What is going to happen?” Your voice trembled as you once again reminded yourself that you needed to trust the Father. He would take good care of you, as was his duty. He wouldn’t harm one of his flock. Still, the very idea of giving your body as sacrifice terrified you. “Will it hurt?” 

“No,” Vox said sweetly, “I promise I will try my best to not cause you any pain.” 

“What must I do?” You tried to sound brave, tried to lean on your faith for the strength to get through the unknown trials ahead of you. 

“Bend over.” Vox brought your hand to the solid surface of the old wooden desk. “Lay over this. Whatever comes next, know that I am working as an agent of the divine to purge you of these sinful thoughts. You are safe in God’s house. The Devil cannot touch you here.” 

“Yes, Father.” You laid across the flat surface. Cold from the wood radiating up into you as you willed your breathing to slow, trying to be calm. 

What attempts you made at calming your nerves were undone as a large hand ran along your thigh, moving over the thick fabric of your skirt. You squeezed your eyes closed as the hand moved around your side, caressing up the curve of your ass. 

“Have faith,” you whispered to yourself as the hand hooked under the elastic band of your skirt and your panties. “Have faith.” 

“Yes,” Vox said above you. “Have faith. This is what must be done to purge you of your sinful thoughts. I must be able to see the areas where you long to feel the touch of sin to purify it.” 

“What should I do?” You asked again, not daring to open your eyes. 

“Just lay there,” Vox answered. “I will take care of everything.” 

He wasn’t surprised in the slightest to see the full coverage, modest panties fall to the ground around your ankles along with your skirt. What did surprise Vox was that your stockings were thigh highs, not tights that would reach up to your waist. A part of you enjoyed the feeling of something scandalous, a little sexy. 

You trembled, laying on the desk as your most private place was exposed. “Have faith,” you whispered again and again before whispering prayers. It felt right while you were being prepped for a ceremony that you should pray. 

Vox looked at your folds, moist but far from the slick pathway he would need your virginal body to be. 

“Stay just like that,” Vox said, running his hands over the naked curve of your ass before leaving you. 

Things clattered around you as the Father looked around the room, looking for something. You laid there, listening as you whispered your prayers. Even within the sanctity of the church, you could feel the siren call of lust demanding your attention. 

The feeling of the Father’s hand on your skin felt good, and that was sinful. That was why you needed him to purify you. You needed help. He had to help you.

You needed something, though you didn’t understand what it was your body was longing for as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. The change in position stimulated something between your legs, something sinful that had you shifting your weight again, thighs rubbing against each other as you did so.

Vox returned to you, standing back for a moment to just watch as your thighs moved against eachother. From between your puffy folds, he could see the glittering of slick starting to build ever so slightly, reflecting the dim light in the room back at him. 

You may have been a pure church girl, but your body responded like the slut you wanted to be. He smiled, knowing you were aroused even if you didn’t understand it at the time. 

“Move your feet apart,” Vox ordered, eyes locked on your folds as they spread, exposing your opening more. “Good girl.” 

“Please,” you whispered. “I need to be freed from this sin. I- I can feel it calling to me, tempting me even here.” 

“Sin cannot reach you here,” Vox said, opening the bottle of anointing oil and sniffing it. There was nothing to the scent that gave him any reason to believe it would sting or burn either your sensitive walls or him. “I am going to anoint you now.” 

Cold wetness dripped onto your core, running over folds and down your legs as you jumped. Vox shushed you, offering honeyed words of reassurance as he spread the slick oil over your exposed sex.

The strange sensation wasn’t unpleasant, and that terrified you. You trembled under his touch, body begging you to lean back, to chase the feeling of his hands running along your slick folds. 

“Isn’t this a sin?” You struggled to keep your eyes closed, wanting nothing more than to look back at the Father for reassurance. 

“It is a blessing,” he said, robes shuffling. “Keep your eyes closed and I’ll save you from the demons of lust.” 

“Okay,” you whispered, wanting to believe him. He was a priest. He was a man of God. He wouldn’t hurt you. He wouldn’t cause you to sin.

For a moment, Vox simply stepped back, admiring the view you made while he pulled the robes up, gathering it around his abdomen and tucking the fabric into the back of his pants. He carefully worked his fly down, trying to make as little noise as possible before he returned his hands to you. 

He gripped the globes of your ass, spreading you open for a clearer view of your slicked up hole. Fuck, he groaned internally. You looked tight. It would make sense. You were a fucking virgin, unspoiled even by yourself. 

Vox looked forward to ruining that. 

Vox poured some of the oil onto his shaft, smearing it around and slicking himself up as he watched your legs shake with how badly you wanted to close them. You were such a good girl, listening to him so well. 

He would reward you for that obedience. How many times could he bring you to orgasm? Would your body be responsive, or would you fight the pull of pleasure? Vox knew he was going to ensure you at least had one. Sure, this had very little to do with you but he was anything but a selfish lover. 

Vox rubbed the blunt tip of his cock through your folds, critical eyes cataloging every reaction of your body. He watched as your muscles tensed as he probed your entrance and jumped under your skin as he nudged your pretty little clit. 

The slick oil was far from a perfect lubricant but hopefully, you would soon relace it with your own natural productions. Vox pressed the head of his cock against your opening, parting the walls for the first time with such slowness he would consider it to be care. 

“What are you-?!” you gasped, spine pulling tight and lifting your head up off the desk as his bulbus head popped inside of you. The stretch of him burned. Your eyes shot open, though you did everything you could to not look over your shoulder. 

Hands rested on your bare hips, holding you in place. It wasn’t needed. You didn’t have anywhere you could have gone with the desk in front of you. 

“In order to purify you,” Vox said, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your lower back. “The oil must go inside the core of your lust. It must be placed with something holy.” As he spoke, he sank deeper and deeper into you. The way your body squeezed around him made it hard to think or breathe, but Vox knew he couldn’t afford any mistakes. You had believed everything he had said and he would not fuck it up now. “You understand, don’t you? I’m doing this for you, to save your soul.” 

“Yes, Father.” The words tumbled out of your mouth as you felt the front of his pants press into your ass. 

The feeling of something inside of you stole your breath away. You felt so full as his seated cock twitched inside you, spreading blessed oil onto your inner walls. Your mind screamed at you that this was wrong, that something was wrong, but you refused to think about that. The burning pleasure of his holy tool pulling from your anointed body was more important. 

You expected him to withdraw from you now, having used his most holy tools to anoint you from the inside out. Instead, he pushed inside you again, moving slowly enough that your walls allowed him to drag but not lingering. 

“What is happening?” You asked as his hips again nestled against your ass. 

“I carry in me the Holy Spirit,” Vox said, thrusting slowly into you again and again, feeling as your body adjusted to the intrusion. “It takes time for me to deposit it within you. Only then will you be pure again of sin, free of the demons of Lust.” 

Shudders ran down your body as you struggled with the full feeling of having something inside you. It felt wrong, but not unpleasant. You wanted more of it and for him to stop all at once. 

It was alright; you kept telling yourself that again and again. He was a holy man. It wasn’t fornication; it was a ceremony. He wasn’t acting as a man. He was acting as a vessel of the Lord. 

You struggled as he pushed into you. You wanted to chase the feelings he was giving you, the sensations whispering of pleasure you could only imagine if you just gave in. Surely, resisting the call of the pleasure was a part of the test. 

“Give in,” Vox whispered above you. “Relax. Let it happen.” 

“Oh-” your breath hitched, breaking the sound up into a gasp. Confusion warred with the pleasure of the ceremony. “Okay.” 

Vox looked down at you, watching as your body shifted up the desk with every slow thrust in. You were so tight wrapped around his cock. Tight, innocent, virginal as you whispered your sweet little prayers, begging for salvation even as he ruined you. 

Vox couldn’t help the grin that spread on his face as he slowly picked up his pace. Each thrust into you brought pleasure through you both, stroking nerves that no one had touched before. 

As his thrusts came faster, you couldn’t manage to take a full breath. The force of his godly hips hitting your ass knocked the breath from your lings. Each thrust hit you with a spike of pleasure, making your voice jump as he hit something inside you that seemed to act like a wall. 

“Oh, ow!” you jerked away from the feeling. 

“Shh,” Vox cooed behind you, pushing his cock deep into you, slowly pushing your cervix back to allow him to truly bottom out. Reaching around your hips, he ran his fingers over your oiled folds, searching until he found the nub of your clit. “Just relax. Your body will make room for me, for God. That’s the demon inside you.” 

It took everything in Vox to not laugh at the nonsense he was spewing, focusing instead on the way your warm body felt around him. 

“The demon?” You whimpered as his cock pushed against that painful thing again. 

“Yes,” Vox said as his fingers slipped around your oil coated clit. “Can you feel it?” He knew you could. There was no way your body could lie to him. He felt the way your body clenched when he hit your cervix. He felt the ripples of tensing muscles that irritating the sensitive end of your tunnels caused. 

“I can,” you gasped. “It hurts me. Will you chase it away?” 

“I will,” Vox promised as he worked his cock into you again and again. “You must submit and let whatever happens happen.” 

His body slapped against yours, the sharp edge of the desk cutting into your hips with each thrust. Pain shot up through you as he hit the demon again and again. Along with the pain, pleasure came. You tried to focus on the sensations, the pleasure that the blessing was giving you. 

Each thrust into you by the holy tool brought more and more pleasure. “Something’s happening,” you cried out as your muscles tensed. Something inside you felt like it was becoming brittle and ready to break. “Something’s-” 

“Let it happen,” Vox said. “It’s alright.” 

Your legs spread more, chasing the feeling of the blessing. It felt… so good. That was why this ceremony was a secret. If anyone knew how good it felt, they would think it was sinful. 

Vox was more than pleased to watch your feet inch further apart, giving him better access to your clit. That and a small pinch to the sensitive bundle was all it took to have your walls twitching and clamping down around his cock. 

“Oh,” Vox moaned, choking off the curse that so badly wanted to tumble from his lips. “That’s it.” 

Your fingers dug into the desk as your eyes clamped closed. It felt like the good Father was pulling your body apart, ripping every muscle fiber from another before putting them all back together again. 

“Good girl,” Vox whispered, riding the waves of your orgasm, thrusting through the sensitive walls as he waited for their waves of pleasure to calm. “You’re doing so good for me, for your- for our God.” 

“Is it- Are we done?” You panted, fingers twitching as his pace slowed. “Is it outside of me?”

“No,” Vox sighed, reaching down and wrapping a large hand around your leg. He lifted it, twisting and rolling your body so that you were spread wide, leg bent and hooked around his torso. Each thrust into you in the new position had his pants rubbing against your sensitive clit as his shaft worked into your tight hole. 

“No?” You whimpered, torn. You should have been disappointed, but you were far from it. You wanted the Father to continue his ceremony, working his tool into you repeatedly, giving you such pleasure. 

That was the demon talking. You knew that. That’s why you needed him to purify you. Only God’s blessing would save you from the demon within you, trying to pervert a holy ceremony. 

“Please,” you whispered, eyes slitting open as you looked at the ceiling. “Please, my God.” 

Vox smiled, hand running up your side as he held your leg to his torso. “That’s right, doll.” 

You could feel him pushing against nerves you hadn’t realized went untouched before. Each thrust into you stole your breath as you focused on trying to keep your eyes closed. Pleasure had nearly replaced all the pain and discomfort now. Each thrust into you was smooth and filling. 

“Oh, God,” you whispered, pleasure building as it had before. You knew now that when it reached its peak, something magical, powerful would happen. Was that something God had given you, something that was a part of the ceremony? Or perhaps it was something you could look forward to sharing when you married and gave your body to your husband. 

“Unbutton your shirt,” Vox ordered, struggling to push back his orgasm. He wanted to see you finish at least one more time. 

“Why?” Your protest came out more as a sigh than anything else, fingers acting before you had an answer. 

“The demon will leave through your skin,” Vox lied, pleased to see you doing as he said without question. The pleasure mixed with your faith, making you the perfect little fuckdoll. 

He pushed your shirt back from your body, exposing your white bra. Of course it was simple, covering the whole of your breasts. It was expected though he wished he could have seen them. 

All in good time. Perhaps after a second orgasm you’d be fucked too stupid to question why he needed to see your tits. It was just a matter of time. You were already getting there, one orgasm in. Virgins were so fucking easy. 

Each thrust pushed you against the desk. Your foot lifted off the floor, the toe of your shoe grazing the hardwood floor as he pushed into you again. A flush rose to your chest and face anew as you caught sight of the man working into you, handsome and unknown. 

“Father?” you whispered, watching his eyes leave your exposed sex and run up your body. “I don’t-” 

“Shh,” his voice came out soft, reassuring as he rocked his tool into you harder and faster. “You’re doing so good for me, my child.” 

“Who-” The tightening in your body stole the ability to question anything. Whatever had happened early was coming dangerously close to happening again. 

“Priest,” Vox groaned out the word and by god, you accepted the answer, moaning as his tool twitched inside you. “You’re going to be so pure, so holy.” 

The promise of healing, of forgiveness mixed with the promise of pleasure, sending you over the edge once again. Your back arched with the force of the muscle contractions, breasts pushing out as your toes curled in your shoes. Sweet moans flowed from your mouth. 

“Oh God,” you cried out as the handsome Father’s fingers dug into your thigh and hips. “Oh God. Bless me.” 

“Soon,” Vox whispered. “Soon, my child.” 

“More?” You whispered, as his tool twitched strongly inside your clinched walls. “Do we need to go more?” 

“Yes,” Vox groaned, watching the way your folds twitched with the power of your internal contractions. Your body was begging him for his seed. “Lay back now.” 

Vox helped you roll onto your back, passing your leg to his other side. He guided your other leg up, resting them both on his shoulders. Leaning forward, strong hands ran up your sides as he watched your eyes flutter, settling on him, dazed. 

There was nothing he had to fear now. You were far too drunk on his cock to think about what he wore under his robes or why you had never seen him before. He pushed the soft cotton of your bra up, freeing your tits from their confines. 

“What-?” The question was little more than a sigh as you watched him reach for a bottle on the side of the desk. 

“I need to anoint you,” Vox said, thrusting lazily into you. “Where the demon has wanted you to sin.” 

Warmth radiated off the hand he planted on the desk, tempting you to reach out for him. Cold oil splashed as it drizzled on your chest. The tool inside you twitched as a thin stream of oil ran over your breasts. 

Vox set the bottle aside, not bothering to put the stopper on before reaching out to you again. His warm hand smeared the slick oil over the mounds of your chest, fingers slipping over your nipples in a futile attempt to pinch the pebbled buds. 

You arched into the touch, begging for his blessing. Your hips rocked, forcing him to move inside you, seeking more. 

Once your skin was shiny with the oil, dim office lights reflecting off your curves, Vox’s hand returned to your hip. Finally, he began to thrust into you again. He watched, eyes roaming eagerly as he pounded into you with more force than he had before. 

Your body jerked harshly on the desk, no longer pinned in place by your legs as his hips crashed into you again and again. Each blow into you pushed against that thing, that sign of the demon inside of you. The pain was less, just as he had promised it would be. 

“Bless you,” you gasped as the pleasure of his tool hitting that place outweighed the pain. The demon was being purged from you with each thrust inside of you. “I want to be pure.” 

“You will be,” Vox grunted, pushing your legs off his shoulders. He pushed your legs down, causing your heels to click against the wooden floor. “I can see it inside you.” 

Vox was talking about the way his cock pressed out against your abdomen, but you, sweet innocent you shuddered, thinking he could see the demon inside of you. 

“Please,” you moaned the words. “Please, make me pure, make me holy. Please, I want to be free from sin. Please, Father. Please.” 

Your begging was just what Vox wanted to hear. His cock twitched and swelled, threatening to explode within you, but he pushed his orgasm back, focusing on anything else. He threw your legs back over his shoulders and leaned into you. 

He nearly folded you in half as the desk groaned under the weight. Dark hair that had once been so perfectly combed back fell into his eyes as he pounded his tool into you. The pleasure was overwhelming, pulling moans from your lips easily. 

Your breasts moved with every harsh thrust, tempting Vox to taste the oil he had smeared onto them. Your chants, pleas for your silly God to protect you, to bless you, went on and on as your body tightened. The force of your orgasm choked the words off, throat too tight for them to push through. 

“Vox?” The door to the office opened as Father Francis stepped into view. 

“Shit,” Vox hissed, jerking back from you just as his cock twitched, ropes of hot seed cascading from his tip as he slipped from your warm, milking embrace. 

Vox wrapped his hand around his cock, eyes only darting over his shoulder for a moment before he focused on working his hand quickly over his length. Cum shot out, splattering your folds before he adjusted the angle, salvaging the situation. 

“Oh God,” you cried out as his holy spirit landed on your stomach. Ropes of it shot out from his tool, landing on your chest and running down your oil covered breasts. 

“What are you doing in here?” Father Francis snapped before remembering himself. Vox was not a man to be fucked with. Certainly, Vox was not a man he could afford to fuck with. 

“I was waiting for you to return, Father. Entertaining myself.” Vox said, shrugging his shoulders as he tucked his softening dick into his pants. The sound of his zipper being pulled up was deafening in the small office. 

You rose up on your elbows, looking to Father Francis and the new Father with wide eyes. 

“Father Francis,” you said. “The new Father- he was helping rid me of…” your words trailed off as the new Father reached behind him, pulling the robes off and tossing them aside without a care.” Rid me of the demon of… Of lust..” 

“He’s no Father.” Father Frances said, handing the other man an envelope and ordering, “You need to leave.” 

“Don’t keep me waiting next time,” Vox said, winking over his shoulder at you as you scrambled to cover your body, pulling your shirt across your breasts and pulling your knees up to your chest. 

Panic ran through your veins like cold ice as you realized the man you had been with was no priest. The world wavered as tears welled in your eyes. He was no man of god; he was a demon personified and you? You were nothing more than a dirty sinner. 

Fornication was your crime. 

Father Francis watched Vox walk away as if he hadn’t potentially ruined someone’s life before looking back at you. It didn’t surprise him in the least that you had fallen for the charming lies; you were innocent as could be. 

“You are not guilty of the sins another enacted upon you. Our Lord forgives you for anything he may have led you to do. Go… Go clean yourself up.” Father Francis turned on his heel, walking out of his office as tears ran down your face. 

You were dirty, defiled. He had stolen your purity from you. God had let him take from you within his own house. You felt betrayed and worthless. The emptiness within you was crushing as you pulled your bra down over your breasts. 

It was on that day that you came face to face with the demon of lust in the church. You had been too weak to resist the temptation. You had lost the battle that day, but you walked out of the church with a renewed determination to live your life godly, sinless. 

Though you had the holiest of intentions, in the darkness of night, your hand crept up your thighs as you remembered what it felt like to be taken by the demon of lust. 

Thank you for joining us for Smutmas 2024! This year, smutmas was a colab between @redvexillumRedVexi and I with prompts provided by @nyx-umbrakinesisNyx. Together we make up the admin team of VoxTek Inc on Discord. We thank you for letting us smut up your holidays.

Nyx, Thank you for the prompts- We've had a blast perverting them, twisting them at times so out of shape they hardly look like what you expected.

If YOU would like your own prompts, reach out to Nyx either here on tumblr or join VoxTek and hit up the Prompt Goddess there!