#THAT HAS STRINGS on the tea bags

[theinkbunny]

”oh you want to keep that? It’s so girly are you even trans?”

(Rant in tags if you wanna read it ig)

[sunsherbet]

Insomniac

In which spencer reid offers to help you with your sleeping troubles.

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

CW: 18+, incorrect depictions of insomnia i think, post!prison spencer, aka freaky/confident spencer, praise, fastburn, fingering, not beta read

A smooth string of steaming water pours from the Keurig and you dunk a lavender tea bag into the clay mug. The water pulls the bag deeper into the mug like exhaustion pulling at your heavy eyelids. You press your palms into your eyes and let out a sob-like sigh in frustration.

It must’ve been the fourth time this week that no matter how hard you tossed and turned, sleep simply wouldn’t come.

The Keurig lets out a low whirr and you move your tea onto the island. You lean against the granite countertop and sip the warm liquid, dunking the teabag a few times for good measure.

Lavender tea was your newest attempt at curing your insomnia. Last night there was white noise and the night before was a weighted blanket- neither offering any meaningful relief. Your days have been a blur of restless naps and excessive caffeine, both efforts falling short in battling the relentless fog of sleep that clings to your mind.

By the time you reach the bottom of the mug, it’s clear—the tea has done nothing to increase your melatonin. You’re no more tired than before.

In your sleep deprivation and anger at another failed attempt you launch your mug into the wall. It shatters upon impact and you slide down the length of the counter in exasperation. Ever since you had moved to Washington DC, sleep had been a struggle. Maybe it was the bright lights and constant buzz of the city or maybe it was simply that feeling of homesickness you’d found nestled in the basin of your stomach since you moved away from home.

The sudden knock at the door breaks your thoughts, and you get up on shaky legs to answer it.

The clock above the stove reads 2:45 A.M. and you distantly wonder who could be at your door during this hour. Despite your exhaustion, you manage to gather enough sense to peek through the peephole. A man stands there, his floppy brown curls spilling just under his ears. He’s got gold wire glasses sitting at the edge of his nose. He wears a short-sleeve white shirt, light grey sweatpants, and brown bunny slippers. Those bring the first smile to your face all night.

Deciding a man in bunny slippers probably isn’t a murderer, you unlatch the door and crack it open just enough for you to slip into the hallway.

“Hi, is there something I can help you with?” You ask, trying to subtly adjust your Kohl’s pajama set.

“I sure hope so,” He gives a boyish smile and you feel something squeeze your heart. “I heard something shatter through the shared wall and wanted to make sure you were ok?”

Shit.

Of course, you’d woken him up, you threw a mug at the wall.

Seemingly sensing your distress he rubs a hand against his neck and says, “I was up anyway so don’t worry about waking me up or anything. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

And of course, he’s the sweetest man ever.

Maybe it’s because it’s late and you're tired or maybe it’s because his smile is so warm it makes your cheeks heat but you can’t seem to lie, “Honestly? I threw a mug at the wall because I tried drinking lavender tea because the stupid internet told me it’d help me sleep but it didn’t and now I’m in the same situation I’ve been in for the last few weeks where I can’t seem to fall asleep for the life of me. I was irritated and mad and upset and I’m exhausted but can’t sleep and so no I’m not okay.”

You finish your tirade with a long inhale and peek at his reaction through squinted eyes. He’s looking at you from under those stupidly attractive glasses and you feel your legs clench involuntarily.

Fuck. Now, you’re tired and turned on.

“You’ve been having trouble sleeping?”

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t mean to go off like that. I think the lack of sleep is making me a bit loopy.”

Spencer shakes his head, “Did you know 12% of adults in America have insomnia?”

“Do you have a stat for how many of them chuck purple mugs at their wall because of it?”

He seems to mull over this for a bit before leaning in and saying conspiratorially, “No, but I may have something that can help you get some sleep. You know, before all your mugs are gone.”

There’s a glint in his eyes that makes your heart flutter and before you know it, you’re nodding and opening your door further.

You hear his footsteps as you walk into your apartment and when you turn to close the door he’s so close you feel his breath on your skin.

Spencer swallows and your eyes trail the motion. The moment feels oddly intimate so you whisper your question, “So, what did you have in mind.”

“It’s been shown that when sex involves orgasm, it can help people fall asleep. Following sexual climax, the body releases hormones, such as oxytocin and prolactin, that promote feelings of satisfaction and happiness. At the same time, the production of cortisol — a hormone that induces alertness and excitement — decreases following orgasm. This combination of hormonal processes makes people feel tired and ready for sleep.”

Your mouth goes slack and you feel a familiar shiver of arousal. It’s almost concerning how attractive you find his knowledge of something as trivial as cortisol production. “Are you suggesting we have sex?”

He seems at least a bit flustered at your bluntness and gets rosey. He nods, “I hope you don’t find this rude, I just know what it’s like to have trouble sleeping and I found sexual stimulation profoundly helpful.” When you don’t respond he backs up, “I should go-”

With a rise of your toes, you’re gripping the collar of his sleep shirt and slamming your lips together. Spencer steadies you with a hand on your waist and gently guides you to the door. He tastes like coffee and toothpaste and he smells like cinnamon. Everything about him envelopes you so wholly that you have no choice but to surrender to it. His lips latch onto your neck and he alternates between soft kisses and gentle sucking.

You throw your head back but instead of making contact with the wall, you feel one hand shoot out to cradle it as his other drags your leg around his waist.

“You sure you wanna do this pretty girl?” He murmurs against your collarbone.

Nodding you helplessly roll your hips against his as you say, “Yes, please.”

He grins, “Well since you’re being so polite.”

Between his fluffy words and soft kisses, you’re fuzzy on when or how but you end up lying against the couch with his leg slotted between your thighs.

Spencer’s fingers trail against the hem of your sleep shorts and with a desperate nod of consent you lift your hips so he can pull them off you.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do baby, I’m gonna help you cum as many times as it takes for you to feel tired. Are you okay with that?” Spencer asks, allowing featherlight touches between the crease of your legs.

You start to nod but he shakes his head, “Words please.”

You whine and let your head thump against the plush sage sofa. You’re almost boiling with need and you feel a wet patch growing on your cotton panties.“Yes, Yes I’m okay with that.”

Before you know it Spencer is sliding your underwear to the side and slipping a finger up and down your slit. He drags some wetness from your center and uses it as lube to circle your clit. You let out a soft moan at the feeling, feeling your thighs tremble.

“Shh, I know baby but we can’t have you waking up the other neighbors like you did me now can we?” Circling your clit with one hand he uses his other to pinch at the peaks of your nipples through the thin material of your shirt.

Maybe it’s because of his deliberate and strong strokes or maybe it’s because you’re exhausted and this is the only semblance of peace you’ve had in days but you find your release within moments of him touching you.

The next morning you wake up from the first restful sleep in days and a pleasant soreness in your legs.

[lavenderleahy]

Yeah yeah yeah tommy's letting buck set the pace but it's he who does it. It's tommy who says I love you first. Buck is scared, a little, or at least overthinking it. He remembers how he rushed moving in with Taylor, trusted Natalia too quickly, loved Abby too intensely. He's waiting for.... well, he's waiting to make sure tommy is in this as much as he is.

And tommy, well tommy is being fucking patient and it's driving him nuts. He wants to be respectful and let buck set the pace, but he knows almost immediately that buck is it for him. At 45, he has a string of failed relationships and a lifetime of regrets behind him. He no longer wants to wait and beat around the bush - they say "when you know, you know," and tommy knows.

But months pass, and nothing. Not even a whisper of those three words tommy so desperately wants to hear. And then his birthday arrives. Tommy walks through the doors to his home after a shift, ready to throw his bag down and relax. He and Buck have plans to celebrate in a few days when their days off align, so tommy isn't planning on celebrating. But when he enters his living room after chucking off his LAFD jacket, he finds Buck, standing and waiting with a huge smile on his face and a balloon in his hand.

"Happy birthday, babe," Buck says as a greeting.

Tommy walks into Buck's arms, accepting the hug he is given. He's flabbergasted and stunned speechless. Buck hands him a giftbag, and he opens it. Inside are some of his favorite things. A box of earl grey tea, a book about military choppers, two cans of lime la croix, a giant snicker's bar, and a bag of seasoned pretzels.

"This isn't your full present yet," Buck explains. "I know we're celebrating later, but I couldn't let today go by without...."

He's unable to finish because Tommy sets down the bag, takes Buck's face in his hands, and kisses him. When he pulls back, he stares at his boyfriend's face in awe. "I love you," he says.

His heart catches in his throat. He didn't mean to say it out loud - the words just slipped out. But his terror is short lived when he notices that Buck is not as freaked out as he is; in fact, he's not freaked out at all.

Buck's face is full of relief, and he smiles. "I love you too," he responds, and pulls him in for another kiss.

[moonstruckme]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do poly!marauders with a clumsy s/o? Thank you!

Thanks for requesting love!

cw: blood

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

“I’m going to purchase one of those leashes for unruly toddlers,” James says, thick lashes nearly touching as he squints down at your hand. “And I’m going to keep it around my wrist at all times.” 

“It won’t be as good at catching me as you are,” you point out. You do your best not to wince as he picks a piece of gravel out of your palm, but his eyes flick up to you anyway, an apology in them. 

“No, but at least I’ll be able to keep you close.” 

You laugh a little. “I trip whether you’re nearby or not.” 

“Beg to differ.” He sounds bitter, but James has always had a terrible poker face and the uptilt of his lips betrays him. He spreads ointment over the cuts on your hand before bandaging it. “If I was with you, this would’ve never happened. Guaranteed.” 

“Yes, it’s all your fault.” Remus comes in from the kitchen, maneuvering carefully so as not to get the hot mug he’s carrying anywhere near James. He sets it next to your thigh on the bathroom counter. “Jamie,” his tone is chiding, a bit tired, “why have you started with her hands? She’s bleeding down to her ankles.” 

“It’s nearly dried anyway,” you say, looking down at your shredded knees. Remus feels too bad for you to give you one of his worse reprimanding looks, but his eyes convey tremendous exasperation nonetheless. 

“Because I knew she’d need her hands to hold her tea,” James replies, bumping Remus’ hip lightly with his. “Ease up, I’ve got it. Did you make yourself some tea too?” 

Remus glances towards the kitchen the way an old captain might gaze at the sea. “I thought about it…” 

“Do that,” James says. He finishes up with your other hand, bandaging it carefully. “Actually, would you mind just putting a kettle on? I’ll have a cup, and Sirius might want one too.” 

You frown at that, but neither of your boyfriends see, Remus going into the kitchen with renewed purpose and James smiling slightly to himself as he finishes wrapping your hand. 

“One of these days,” he whispers, backing up a bit so he can work on your knees, “you’re going to have to sit on the couch and feed Remus chocolates for all you put his heart through. We’ll be lucky if the next time you fall he doesn’t have an attack.” 

“What’s Sirius coming here for?” you ask. 

“Well, he does live here.” 

You give him a look, but he doesn’t glance up from cleaning the blood off your shin. “He’s supposed to be shopping with Marlene.” Accusation and betrayal line your words. “You texted him?” 

James looks up at you now, sympathetic if not quite sorry. “You know I had to. He would’ve murdered me if he’d come home and seen you all bandaged up and nobody had told him.” 

“You could take him,” you grumble. 

He laughs. “I don’t know, sweetheart. He fights dirty.” 

You laugh too, though it’s more a humorous huff. “He can’t come home every time I trip,” you say, twisting the string of your tea bag around your index finger. “It’s not like I need to go to the hospital.” 

James works a larger piece of gravel out of your knee, eyebrows knit together by compassion. “He worries,” he says simply. “He wants to come home every time you hurt yourself, though if you recall, I didn’t tell anyone about you banging your head on the microwave door yesterday, or about when you fell on the stairs last week.” He looks up, grinning when you shrink, abashed. “But when you fall this bad, it’s a bit harder to hide. Sorry, lovie.” 

It’s a double apology, for ratting you out and for the sting of the ointment he smears over your knee. You hiss through your teeth. “Fair enough,” you say. James smooths a large band-aid over the series of shallow cuts, kissing the skin just above it for good measure. “I just don’t like to worry him. Any of you, if I can help it.” 

He shrugs. “I don’t think you can,” he says. You get what he means. Remus is a worrier, Sirius even more so, protective by nature and nurture. And each of your boyfriends cares about you too much to ignore how often you hurt yourself, even if you really think they should be desensitized to it and annoyed with you by now. “But I’m trying to get you cleaned up before he sees you, so hopefully that’ll help.” 

Like James has just issued a summons, the rumble of Sirius’ bike comes from outside. James grimaces as it slows to a stop. 

“I hate that fucking thing,” Remus growls from the kitchen. 

James shoots a sad smile in that direction. You think that you might not single-handedly cause Remus’ heart attack if Sirius gets there first. 

“Where is she?” Sirius calls as soon as he comes in the door. “I assume there’s a blood trail for me to follow?” 

James chuckles. “I told you it wasn’t that grim,” he shouts down the hall, and a second later there are heavy footsteps coming toward you. You brace yourself. 

“Fucking hell.” He halts just in the threshold of the bathroom, then seems to change his mind, striding over to you. His eyes are glued to the bloody mess of your uncovered knee. “Darling, what did you do?” 

You knew what to expect from him, and still your voice comes out smaller than you mean it to. “I missed the curb going out to get the mail,” you say. 

Sirius’ eyes lift to yours, widening. “You fell into the road?” You nod. “You could’ve been hit by a car!”

“There weren’t any cars.” There are almost never any cars on your street, and he knows that. 

“You’re lucky there weren’t,” he says anyway, holding his hand out. You place one of yours in it obediently, palm up. There’s a bit of blood marring the beige bandage, and Sirius makes a terribly soft pitying sound. “Your poor, lovely hands.” He runs a careful finger over the covering. “How bad was it?” he asks James.

“I told you, not horrific,” James says, finishing with getting the debris out of your knee and twisting the cap off the ointment. He looks up to be sure you’re ready before he starts smoothing it on.

“Stitches?” 

“Oh, tons. She’s held together more by thread than skin at this point.” 

You roll your eyes, but Sirius coos, “My poor sweetheart,” and grabs hold of your face to plant a kiss on your lips. You must look as pleasantly surprised as you feel, because he does it again, bending forward to avoid bumping his hip into your knee. 

His thumb sweeps across your cheek as he pulls away, brows furrowed. “Does it hurt?” he asks, and now the mirth has disappeared from his tone. You don’t know how Sirius does that, going from teasing to not in a blink. 

“Not so badly,” you tell him. 

He hums, stroking your face again. “Would you tell me if it did?” 

You feel your lips twitch, and Sirius’ eyes narrow like he knows your answer before you’ve spoken. “Probably not,” you admit, “but it really doesn’t.” 

He stares you down for a minute, murky eyes scanning yours for traces of untruth, his dark brows lowered. You reach up to slot a piece of hair behind his ear, and he cracks, mouth kicking up at the corner. 

“Alright, drink your tea before it gets cold.” 

“I’ve actually made tea for everyone,” Remus calls, not from the kitchen this time but from the living room. “And snacks, so please come eat them.” 

James grins, touch moving up the back of your knee to your thigh as he stands. “Excellent,” he says eagerly. “You’re all fixed up, m’love. Let’s go take care of Rem now.” 

You start to hop down from the counter, but Sirius says, “Wait, wait!” and grabs you by the hips, keeping you in place. “Can you walk?” 

You nod, because duh, your legs are scraped, not broken, but Sirius looks to James, the both of them frowning thoughtfully. 

“Best not to risk reopening them,” James decides, scooping you up off the counter. 

You huff a laugh, rolling your eyes. “Thank you,” you say, rather than this is deeply unnecessary and you��re being ridiculous. James seems to hear both anyway, planting a sloppy, smiley kiss on your cheek. Sirius, satisfied, follows you down the hall. “I didn’t mean to make you my manservant, I swear.” 

“Happy to do it,” he says. “Now drink your tea, it’ll make Rem feel better.”

[whorekneecentral]

Family's Growing

Kylian Mbappe x Fem!Reader

Warnings: kylian has baby fever, dirty thoughts, baby talk, breeding, oral (f!receiving), fingering, penetrative sex (p in v), breeding/pregnancy kink goes burrrr, daddy used in a sexual context, begging, creampies, finger fucking and sucking lol, cum play.

Word Count: 1,615

Author's Note: okay I'm finally back on track with these - yes I know Tuesday is over but please look past that lol.

merry smutmas series

--

Kylian finds himself swooning over how good you are with his niece and nephew, the thought of having a family with you spins around his head. 

Christmas was a time for family and that seemed to be the only thing on your boyfriend's mind.

The two of you had gone over to his parents' place for Christmas dinner, all of his cousins were there as well as their kids. Kylian was not the favourite uncle for no reason, all of them knew they were getting good gifts in bountiful amounts too.

The tree in the living room that was once full with presents were now opened, the floor covered in wrapping paper. It was only two kids, his cousin's son and daughter, and Ethan if you counted him as well; and yet, it seemed like Kylian had bought the entirety of Paris for them.

Kylian watches as you lay on the floor with his niece and nephew, the three of you putting together a tower made of legos, whispering and giggling as you built the tower.

He smiles to himself as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. A part of him isn't sure what he did to be so lucky, to have a career as great as his and to have a girlfriend who's so loving and kind and supportive. You loved his family like your own, right now was a prime example.

Seeing you with kids always did something for him, you had a maternal nature about you, anyone who met you could see that.

The thought crossed his mind many times, how nice it would be to start a family with you. You two had spoken about it ages ago, when you began dating. You both decided that you'd revisit the idea when you were more stable in life and that you were now. Both you and Kylian were stable in careers, you two lived together, you had been together for a while and you had the means to raise a child.

He couldn't see where it would be a no.

As much as he wanted a kid with you, the idea of making a kid was much more appealing.

Clothes on the floor, hands all over each other, watching as you begged him to cu- "You okay?" Ethan asks his older brother, breaking his thought.

Kylian clears his throat. "Yeah," he nods, a smile on his face as you glance over your shoulder at him.

"They love her," Ethan nods towards you with the kids, "y/n's always been good with them."

"She was good with you too," Kylian teased his brother. You two had begun dating just before his World Cup win, the two of you barely 18 years old and Ethan was 12 - still a child in his brother's eyes and he always will be.

Ethan rolls his eyes at his brother's comment.

After some time, the kids started to get tired which was their parents' signal to head out. You and Kylian left not too shortly after that as well.

Your boyfriend finds you in the kitchen after he changes for bed, his arms wrapped around you from behind whilst your elbows propped on the counter as you waited for the kettle to boil.

"Something on your mind, baby?" You asked him, twirling the string attached to your tea bag.

"Just thinking."

"About?"

Kylian hums. "Kids."

His answer catches you off guard, you turn to face the man with a confused look on your face. "Kids?"

He shrugs, smiling. "Seeing you with the little ones today, I don't know - it got me thinking. It'd be nice to have our own, don't you think?" His hand rests on your hip, thumb disappearing under the hem of your shirt.

A glance at your boyfriend's hand, your eyebrows raised. "Do you really mean having kids or making kids?"

You can't help the laugh, kissing your boyfriend. The man wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him. Kylian picks you up, holding you tightly as he kisses you and carries you over to the couch.

Kylian puts you down, sitting on the couch for a moment as he looks at you. You take that as your sign to undress.

The silk shorts sliding down your smooth legs, pooling by your ankles before you step out of them, you pull off the tank top and that leaves you in the blue set he loves. You reach behind to unhook your bra but Kylian stops you, “leave it on.” 

He pulls you by your waist back to him, his hand slipping down to rest on your ass before giving it a smack. You’re quiet, looking down at your boyfriend on the couch. 

He puts you to lay on the couch, he’s sat between your legs with one on either side of him. You’ve propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him and Kylian drags his fingers up your thigh, moving to your clothed pussy. 

“I like this,” he tells you, fingers rubbing over the blue lace. 

You smile, “I know.” 

He pulls the panties to the side, his eyes fixed on your pussy. He gives you no warning, pushing his fingers into you. The sound leaving your mouth was like heaven on earth to him. 

Kylian's fingers curl upwards, your back arching at the feeling. 

“Keeks, please.” your hand reaches down to wrap on his wrist but he swats your hand away, managing to pull both to rest on your stomach and his free hand over your hands, pinning them to your stomach. 

You try to wiggle your hands away from him, trying to grab on something. “Behave.” He tells you, adding another finger. 

Your face twists, pleasure all across it and our hands stop wiggling, he smiles, satisfied. 

Kylian can feel it; he knows you’re close, you’re squeezing on his fingers, your thighs trying to close, trying to squirm away from the pleasure. 

He can feel your eyes on him, he reaches for the blue lace you’re wrapped up in and tugs it down your legs, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes. He shifts to lay on his stomach between your legs, leaving a trail of kisses as he works his way up to your cunt. 

Your eyes meet his, he knows you’re looking. He wants you to look at him. 

Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair. 

Kylian knew you like the back of his hand, gripping your thighs to keep them in place as his tongue lapped your clit. Your hips buck, your way of saying you want more, he gives in. 

"Please," you whimpered.

"What, mon ange ? Tell me."

You look at the man between your legs. "Fuck me."

There was no hidden meaning behind it; no scolding, no need to hurry him up - you wanted him and that was it. 

“Gonna let me fill you up princess? Hm?” He asks, shifting to line himself up with your cunt. You nodded eagerly, your leg hitching on his hip.

At this point, you can’t do much except lay there and take it; not that you don’t want to because you do, you really do. 

The tip of his cock brushing over your clit before moving to push into you. Your back arches, hips jutting forward to meet his.

Hard and rough, not enough to hurt you but enough to tell you that he's in charge.

Kylian wanted to hear you.

His hand now on your chin. “C’mon amour, let me hear all those pretty sounds you make.” He says, the angle you were at puts him deeper than before.

The slightest movements and you can feel it in your stomach. It’s like he can hear your thoughts because his hand moves from your chin to your stomach. His big hand spread over your stomach, “you’d look so pretty with a baby in you, hm?”

Kylian lets you fall back onto the couch, both of his hands on your hips. “Maybe I should fuck one into you.”

His name falls from your lips like a prayer, he could listen to you say it over and over again. You were close enough that you could taste it.

“So good for me, you take it so well.” He whispers to you, kissing under your ear.

“Uh huh,” you breathe, leaning back against him, your legs felt like jello under you. Your head drops back onto the couch, begging him to let you cum.

He lets you drop back, back arched for him once again. He feels you cum around him, the wetness covering his cock. It’s not long after, followed by a few sloppy thrusts, that Kylian cums too.

The tip of his cock brushing between your folds, spreading his cum all over your pussy.

He pulls away, smiling at the whimper he gets from you. His fingers replacing his cock, covered in his cum when you roll over, he sticks his fingers in your mouth and he doesn’t have to tell you what to do.

“Good girl,” he hums, watching as your tongue laps over his fingers. Kylian pulls his fingers away, leaning down to kiss you. A mess of the two of you, not sure where one of you starts and the other ends.

You lay there for a while, Kylian on top of you, your leg tossed on his hip as his head rests on your sternum. Your fingers drag over his shoulders, the man humming quietly.

"We should do that again," he whispers.

You laughed, "keep it up and we'll end up with a baby by next Christmas."

Kylian nods, kissing you. "Let's try again then."

--

taglist: @nosugarallspice  @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16  @books-and-netflix-pls  @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade  @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @trentsfav @trentsmyfave @noturbabe22

[seancekitsch]

Can I request Jayvik x Reader? I'm so excited you want to write for Arcane

another little shortie but i like this dynamic 💖

Jayce hums a happy tune despite his lateness, excited that today was going to be the beginning of a new project in the lab. He knew that Viktor and you were already at the lab setting things up, having gotten up way earlier than him this morning. But even with his lateness, he has treats. For you there’s a garlic bagel with chive and onion cream cheese and a hot cup of tea, for Viktor a chocolate croissant and some sweet milk, and for himself an iced mocha and bacon egg and cheese on an biscuit with hot sauce. He shifts the bag under his cup carrier, yanking the door open with a free hand as he concludes his song, ready for the greeting and praise the two of you will give him when he shows off the breakfast haul.

Only, he’s not greeted with hugs or loud greetings or praise for remembering everyone’s breakfast order. Instead he hears hushed voices, quiet moans coming from the far side of the room.

Viktor has you on his lap, your cardigan discarded on his desk as he presses sloppy kisses to your neck.

“Right there?” he asks you, and then dives back in, Jayce can see that with this kiss his tongue even darts out to lick at your pulse point. You encourage him with a moan, throwing your head back.

“Should I be jealous?” Jayce speaks up, placing the food and drinks on one of the tables as he steps forward. You dont break away from Viktor or his kisses, but you do call out his name, an excited moan of a noise that beckons him closer. You unwrap one of your arms from Viktor, holding it out until Jayce reaches out to grab it, and you easily pull him in closer to the embrace.

“We got bored waiting for you,” Viktor explains, his lips wet and shining in the lamp light, “So I started conducting my own little experiment. You see, I wanted to find out what spots made her… react the most.”

“Wanna test his hypothesis?” you ask, and then your lips press against his thumb, kissing from the base to the tip , letting the his thumb rest on your bottom lip. Jayce knows this game of yours, and plays along gladly, pressing his thumb past your teeth, letting it settle on your tongue. Greedily, you start sucking on his thumb as Viktor goes back to attacking your neck, no doubt leaving marks on your pretty skin. It’s almost too much already for Jayce, who wishes neither of you had left the apartment this morning so that you could continue this on the nice fluffy bedding instead of Viktor’s desk. Either way, Jayce practically short circuits when you hollow out your cheeks around his thumb, locking eyes with him as if daring him.

Jayce pulls you up from Viktor’s lap then, his earlier guess correct as you cry out when Viktor’s teeth graze your neck a little too harshly at the action, and Jayce takes the time to kiss you deeply. His tongue is quick to slide between the seam of your lips, hot and hungry and still tasting of the sip of mocha he had on the way over. You kiss back eagerly, but you always do, always showering your men in endless affection and attention. Your hands tangle in his hair as you pull on the shorter strands at the base of his skull, everything to work him up but—

“Wait! Shit,” Jayce pulls back from you as a string of mumbled expletives leave his mouth, “breakfast is gonna get cold if we don’t eat it quick.”

He grabs the bag and passes out each of your items, and you follow suit to grab yours and Viktor’s drinks to bring back to the desk, taking your seat back on Viktor’s lap.

“Oh Jay, you shouldn’t have!” you tell him, “my breath is gonna be so stinky after this!”

“Eh, I like it,” Viktor shrugs, and the two of you look at him as if he’s gone mad.

“What? It is… endearing. It is your stink,” he explains, and unwraps his chocolate croissant before either of you can respond.

“So we’re gonna continue this little experiment after we fuel up?” Jayce asks, taking a seat on top of the desk.

“As long as both of you take extensive notes,” you tell him, and both of your men agree to that.

[s4kura-tr3]

Snow day

Summary: the JJK men have a day off from work because of the snow

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Sukuna, Toji, Megumi, Yuji

Gojo satoru

The snow is falling thick and fast outside your window when you wake up, a rare silence blanketing the usual city chaos. You squint at your phone, scrolling past a string of notifications until one catches your eye—work is canceled. A snow day. You barely have time to process this before the bed dips beside you.

��Guess who doesn’t have to be an adult today?” Gojo’s voice is smug, even as his arms wrap lazily around you from behind. His hair’s a mess of white, almost blending into the snowstorm outside, and his grin is somehow brighter than the sunlight streaming through the curtains.

You mumble something about wanting to sleep in, but Gojo has other plans. “Oh no, no, no, no,” he says dramatically, tugging the blankets away. “We’ve been granted a day of pure, unadulterated freedom! This calls for celebration. Come on, lazybones, get up!”

Despite your groans, you’re soon bundled up in layers and dragged outside. The cold bites at your nose, but the sight of Gojo spinning in the falling snow—arms outstretched, head tilted back like a kid seeing snow for the first time—melts your initial reluctance.

The day unfolds with Gojo’s chaotic energy as the driving force. First, a snowball fight. It starts off tame until he begins bending the rules, using his Infinity to block your throws and conjuring impossibly large snowballs that he somehow claims are “fair game.” You manage to catch him off guard, pelting him square in the back, and he dramatically collapses into the snow like he’s been mortally wounded.

Then comes the snowman-building competition, which quickly devolves into Gojo attempting to sabotage your progress while insisting his lopsided creation has “character.” By the time you both admit defeat, your cheeks are flushed and your gloves are soaked through.

Back inside, the warmth is heavenly, and Gojo insists on making hot cocoa. It’s overly sweet—because, of course, he dumps half a bag of marshmallows into your cup—but it’s perfect. You curl up on the couch together under a blanket, your feet tangled as you watch the snow continue to fall outside.

“Days like this are rare,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. He presses a kiss to your temple, his hand finding yours beneath the blanket. “We should make it snow more often.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes at his absurdity, but you can’t deny it—you wouldn’t trade this day for anything.

Geto Suguru

The morning starts with an unusual stillness. You’re lying in bed, half-buried under the warmth of the blankets, when you notice the faint blue-gray light filtering through the curtains. Snow. Lots of it. You reach for your phone and find the notification waiting: work is canceled. You sigh in relief, sinking deeper into the mattress.

Beside you, Geto stirs, his long, dark hair spilling over the pillow. He opens his eyes just enough to look at you, a lazy smirk curling on his lips. “What’s got you smiling?” he murmurs, his voice husky with sleep.

“Snow day,” you reply, tilting your phone to show him the screen.

He hums, eyes closing again as he pulls you closer. “Then there’s no reason to get up, is there?”

For a while, neither of you moves. His steady breathing and the muffled quiet of the snow make it easy to stay curled up together, his arms wrapped loosely around you. Eventually, though, the outside world calls. “We should do something,” you say, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Something like breakfast?” he offers, his voice teasing.

The two of you make your way to the kitchen, where Geto puts together a simple but satisfying breakfast. He moves with an easy confidence, brushing his hair into a loose bun as he hands you a steaming mug of tea. The two of you eat by the window, watching the snow drift lazily to the ground.

Afterward, Geto pulls on a coat and convinces you to do the same. “Come on,” he says, lacing his fingers through yours. “Let’s go see what it’s like out there.”

The streets are quiet and blanketed in pristine white. The city feels transformed, the usual chaos muted by the snow. Geto leads you to a nearby park, where the two of you walk along the snow-covered paths, your boots crunching softly with each step.

At one point, he stops to brush the snow from a bench and gestures for you to sit. “Stay there,” he says with a small smile, before gathering an armful of snow and rolling it into a ball. You watch as he builds a snowman with meticulous care, crafting its features with the same precision he brings to everything.

When he steps back to admire his work, you can’t help but laugh. “It’s… interesting,” you say, noting the lopsided grin he’s given it.

“Artistic,” he corrects with mock seriousness, his dark eyes gleaming.

You join him in the snowman-making endeavor, and before long, you’re laughing and throwing snow at each other. Geto isn’t one to start a snowball fight, but he doesn’t hesitate to retaliate when you toss a handful of snow at his back. His throws are deliberate, always landing close enough to make you yelp but never enough to truly soak you.

Eventually, the cold drives you both back inside. Geto sets about making hot chocolate, insisting on doing it properly—none of that instant stuff. The scent of melting chocolate fills the apartment as you wrap yourself in a blanket, watching him work with quiet appreciation.

When he finally hands you a mug, he sits beside you on the couch, pulling the blanket around the both of you. The snow continues to fall outside, but the warmth of his presence makes everything else fade away.

“You know,” he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face, “we should have more days like this. Just us. No work, no distractions.”

You smile, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Agreed.”

The rest of the day passes in cozy contentment, the snowstorm outside making your shared warmth feel all the more precious.

Nanami Kento

You wake up to the soft patter of snow against the window and the unmistakable stillness that only comes with a snowstorm. For once, your alarm isn’t the thing pulling you from sleep. Instead, it’s Nanami gently nudging your shoulder.

“It’s snowing,” he says quietly, his voice low and even. “And work is canceled.”

Your eyes flutter open to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, already dressed in his usual crisp manner, though his tie is noticeably absent. He’s holding a steaming cup of coffee in one hand, the other resting on your shoulder.

You groan, rolling onto your side. “So why are you up already?”

“Old habits,” he replies with a faint smile. “But since we have the day off, I thought I’d make us breakfast.”

The promise of food is enough to pull you out of bed. By the time you join him in the kitchen, the smell of fresh coffee and something sweet fills the air. Nanami is at the stove, flipping pancakes with the kind of precision he applies to everything. He hands you a plate as soon as you sit down, topped with golden pancakes and fresh fruit.

“Fancy,” you tease, drizzling syrup over the stack.

“I don’t believe in wasting time,” he replies simply, though there’s a softness to his tone.

After breakfast, the two of you linger at the table, sipping coffee and watching the snow pile up outside the window. It’s peaceful, and for once, there’s no rush to go anywhere or do anything.

When you suggest going outside, Nanami raises an eyebrow. “You know it’s freezing, right?”

“Exactly,” you say with a grin. “That’s what makes it fun.”

It takes some convincing, but eventually, he relents. Bundled up in scarves and gloves, the two of you step into the snow-covered streets. The neighborhood is quiet, and the fresh snowfall makes everything look almost magical.

Nanami is hesitant at first, but he humors you when you start gathering snow for a snowman. He helps you pack the snow into firm, perfect spheres, muttering something about “structural integrity” that makes you laugh. When it’s done, you declare it a masterpiece, though Nanami gives it a critical once-over.

“It’s lopsided,” he points out, but there’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

You stick your tongue out at him, and just when you think he’s about to argue further, he surprises you by scooping up a handful of snow and lightly tossing it at your shoulder.

“Did you just—?”

Before you can finish, another snowball lands near your feet. Nanami is already walking away, but you catch the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “You started this,” you say, gathering your own ammunition.

The snowball fight that follows is short-lived but full of laughter, and by the time you both head back inside, your cheeks are flushed from the cold and exertion.

Nanami insists you warm up properly, so he brews a fresh pot of tea while you change into dry clothes. The two of you settle onto the couch, wrapped in a shared blanket, with steaming mugs in hand.

And for the rest of the day, you enjoy the quiet comfort of each other’s company, the world outside forgotten in favor of the warmth you share.

Toji fushiguro

The day starts with the sound of excited little footsteps racing down the hallway. You barely have time to register the noise before Megumi bursts into your room, his cheeks pink with excitement and his hair sticking up more than usual.

“It snowed!” he announces, pulling at the blankets. “A lot! Come look!”

You groan softly, still half-asleep, but the sound rouses Toji, who’s sprawled beside you, his arm draped lazily over your waist. He opens one eye, glancing at Megumi with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“It’s too early for this, kid,” Toji grumbles, though there’s no real bite to his tone.

“It’s not!” Megumi insists, tugging harder at the covers. “You promised we could go outside if it snowed!”

Toji sighs dramatically but finally sits up, ruffling Megumi’s already-messy hair. “Alright, alright. Go get dressed. And wear that coat I got you, not the thin one.”

Megumi bolts from the room, and you chuckle as you sit up, stretching. “Looks like you’re on snow-duty today.”

“Not just me,” Toji says, smirking as he leans over to press a kiss to your forehead. “You’re in this too.”

After breakfast—a quick affair of toast and hot chocolate, because Megumi can’t sit still long enough for anything else—you all bundle up and head outside. The snow is pristine and untouched, and Megumi’s eyes light up as he surveys the sparkling white blanket covering the yard.

Toji starts off by helping Megumi build a snowman, though his version involves packing the snow so tightly it could probably survive a hurricane. Megumi insists on adding little twigs for arms and a crooked smile, and when you laugh at the result, Toji smirks. “It’s got character,” he says, echoing Megumi’s words.

Once the snowman is done, Toji takes it upon himself to teach Megumi the “art” of snowball throwing. He crouches low, showing him how to pack the snow just right. Of course, the first snowball Megumi throws hits you square in the arm, earning a triumphant cheer from the little boy and a low chuckle from Toji.

“You’re supposed to aim for me, kid,” Toji says, scooping up a snowball of his own.

But instead of throwing it at Megumi, he tosses it gently at you, a teasing smirk on his face. “Gotta defend yourself, sweetheart.”

What follows is a chaotic snowball fight, with Megumi enthusiastically teaming up with Toji against you. You hold your own for a while, but eventually, Toji sneaks up behind you and lifts you off the ground, giving Megumi the perfect shot. Both of them laugh as you pretend to be defeated, and Toji sets you down with a satisfied grin.

Eventually, the cold starts to seep in, and you all head back inside. Toji insists on making something warm, so while he heats up soup in the kitchen, you help Megumi out of his snow-soaked layers and wrap him in a cozy blanket.

The rest of the day is spent in comfortable warmth. Megumi curls up on the couch between you and Toji, his head resting on your arm as the three of you watch a movie together. Toji’s hand rests lazily on your leg, his thumb rubbing small circles absentmindedly.

As the snow continues to fall outside, you glance over at the two of them—Megumi, fighting to keep his eyes open, and Toji, looking more at peace than you’ve seen in a while.

Sukuna Ryomen

The snow falls steadily outside the wooden shutters of your Heian-era home, blanketing the courtyard in pristine white. You watch from the veranda, wrapped in layers of silk, as the delicate flakes settle on the trees and roof tiles. The world feels quieter, slower—a rare reprieve from the usual hum of life.

Behind you, Sukuna lounges lazily against the wooden frame of the door, his dual eyes watching you with a mix of amusement and curiosity. He’s draped in his usual attire, though he’s added a thick haori over it, more for style than warmth. The cold never seems to bother him, but you’ve noticed he enjoys the aesthetic of snow days as much as you do.

“You’ve been staring out there for an eternity,” he drawls, his voice a low rumble. “What’s so fascinating about frozen water?”

“It’s peaceful,” you reply, glancing over your shoulder at him. “Don’t you think?”

He snorts, pushing himself to his feet with a grace that belies his size and presence. “Peaceful isn’t exactly my style.” But he steps onto the veranda anyway, his sharp gaze sweeping across the snowy courtyard.

You stand together for a moment, watching the snow fall in companionable silence. Then, without warning, Sukuna smirks. “Let’s see how long your ‘peaceful’ moment lasts.”

Before you can react, he’s scooped up a handful of snow and hurled it at you, the cold shock of it catching you entirely off guard. You gasp, stumbling back, and he laughs—a deep, rich sound that echoes through the still air.

“Did you just—?” you sputter, brushing snow from your sleeve.

“Of course I did,” he says, entirely unapologetic. “What will you do about it?”

Your reply is swift: you gather a handful of snow and toss it back, aiming for his shoulder. He doesn’t even dodge, letting it hit him as his grin widens. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

The courtyard quickly becomes your battlefield, snowballs flying back and forth as Sukuna alternates between playful teasing and outright mockery of your aim. When you manage to land one squarely on his chest, his expression flickers with surprise before morphing into approval. “Not bad,” he concedes, though his retaliation is immediate—a perfectly formed snowball that sends you running for cover.

Eventually, the game winds down, and Sukuna strides over to where you’ve taken refuge beneath a snow-covered tree. His hands are empty now, though his smirk remains firmly in place. “Had enough?”

You huff, brushing snow from your hair as you glare at him half-heartedly. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he says, leaning in closer, his breath warm against your chilled face, “you still choose to stay.”

He pulls you back inside, where the warmth of the brazier offers relief from the cold. Sukuna settles beside you, pouring tea with surprising care, his claws handling the delicate porcelain with ease. He hands you a cup, watching as you sip, your hands still trembling slightly from the cold.

You huff, brushing snow from your hair as you glare at him half-heartedly. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” you say, echoing his earlier words, “you still choose to stay.”

For a moment, his expression softens, the corners of his mouth lifting in something almost resembling a smile. The snow continues to fall outside, but the warmth of his presence fills the room, chasing away the chill of winter.

Megumi Fushiguro

The soft glow of morning light filters through your window, accompanied by the faint sound of snow tapping against the glass. You stir, glancing outside to find the world covered in a thick, pristine blanket of snow. The usual chaos of the city seems muted, as if the snow itself has called for a pause.

Megumi is already awake, sitting cross-legged on the floor by the heater, a book balanced in his hands. He glances up when he notices you stirring.

“Snow day,” he says simply, his tone calm but his gaze lingering on the window.

You sit up, stretching with a small smile. “Guess we’re both stuck inside today.”

He hums, turning his attention back to his book, though you catch the faintest flicker of interest in his expression.

After a quick breakfast, you’re the first to suggest stepping outside. “We should enjoy it while it’s fresh,” you say, tugging on your coat.

Megumi raises an eyebrow. “You do realize it’s freezing, right?”

“All the more reason to appreciate it,” you counter, grabbing his scarf and tossing it to him. “Come on, I’ll even let you stay grumpy about it.”

With a resigned sigh, he pulls on his coat and follows you out. The cold air nips at your cheeks as you step into the snow-covered yard, your boots crunching softly with each step. Megumi’s hands are shoved into his pockets, and his dark hair is dusted with snowflakes almost instantly.

“You know,” you say, bending down to gather a handful of snow, “you could try to have a little fun.”

He glances at you, unimpressed, until you toss the snow at him, the powdery flurry landing harmlessly on his arm. He blinks at you, his expression unreadable.

“That’s how you want to do this?” he asks, his tone flat.

You grin. “Absolutely.”

What follows is a snowball fight you’ll remember for a long time. Megumi, true to form, doesn’t hold back once he decides to participate. His throws are calculated and precise, leaving you scrambling for cover more often than not. You manage to land a few hits of your own, but his sharp reflexes make him a formidable opponent.

At one point, you’re hiding behind a tree, trying to catch your breath, when you hear him approach. Before you can react, a snowball lands squarely on your back.

“You’re predictable,” he says, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“And you’re annoying,” you shoot back, though you’re smiling, too.

Eventually, the two of you call a truce, retreating to the house to warm up. Megumi sets a pot of tea on the stove while you drape a blanket over your shoulders, both of you still laughing softly from the morning’s antics.

The rest of the day passes in quiet comfort. You sit by the window, sipping tea and watching the snow continue to fall. Megumi joins you, his book in hand, though he seems more interested in the view than the pages.

“You’re not bad at snowball fights,” you remark after a while, breaking the silence.

He glances at you, his expression neutral but his tone light. “And you’re not bad at being a target.”

You roll your eyes, but the warmth in his voice makes you smile.

Yuji Itadori

The morning starts with Yuji shaking you awake, his excitement barely contained. His grin is as bright as the sunlight reflecting off the snow outside.

“Wake up!” he says, his voice bubbling with energy. “It snowed overnight! Like, a lot!”

You groan, trying to pull the blanket over your head, but he’s persistent, tugging it away and practically bouncing on the bed. “Come on, you can’t waste a snow day! We have to go outside!”

His enthusiasm is contagious, and soon enough, you’re bundled up and stepping out into the winter wonderland. The world feels quieter, softer, as if the snow has wrapped everything in a cozy, white blanket.

Yuji immediately runs into the snow, stomping around like a little kid, his breath fogging up in the cold air. “This is awesome!” he exclaims, spinning in a circle and throwing his arms out wide.

You laugh, watching him with fond amusement. “You act like you’ve never seen snow before.”

“Not like this!” he says, already scooping up a handful to pack into a snowball. “Besides, it’s more fun when you have someone to share it with.”

Before you can respond, the snowball hits you gently on the arm. You gape at him, feigning shock. “Did you just throw snow at me?”

He grins, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “What? It was an accident!”

“Accident, huh?” You bend down to grab your own snowball, and his eyes widen.

“Wait—no, no, no!” he laughs, dodging as you throw it at him.

What starts as a simple snowball fight quickly turns into an all-out war. Yuji is surprisingly agile, darting behind trees and ducking under cover with ease, but you manage to land a few hits. His laughter echoes through the air, warm and infectious, as the two of you chase each other around the yard.

At one point, you trip and fall into a soft pile of snow, and before you can get up, Yuji flops down beside you, both of you breathless and grinning.

“You’re ruthless,” he says, brushing snow off his coat.

“And you’re too competitive,” you reply, nudging him playfully.

He sits up, gazing out at the snowy expanse with a soft smile. “This is nice,” he says after a moment. “Spending time like this, with you. Feels… peaceful.”

You smile, leaning into his shoulder. “It is. Even with you pelting me with snowballs.”

He laughs, wrapping an arm around you to pull you closer. “Hey, you started it.”

The rest of the day is spent in a mix of playful chaos and quiet moments. Yuji insists on building the “ultimate snowman,” which ends up being a slightly lopsided creation with a goofy face that makes both of you laugh. You take breaks to warm up inside with hot chocolate, sitting by the window and watching the snow fall in comfortable silence.

By the time evening comes, you’re curled up on the couch together, a shared blanket draped over both of you. Yuji’s head rests against yours, his usual boundless energy replaced by a quiet contentment.

[mischiefmanagers]

Azriel Fic Rec Library pt. 2 🦇💙

I'm back with another list of one hundred Azriel x Reader and Azriel x OC fics for the Azriel lovers out there! these are in no particular order. enjoy!! ✨

🌼 personal favorite 🥀 angst 💞 fluff 🔥 smut

by @ellievickstar

River Side Confessions 💞

by @itsphoenix0724

Peony 💞

Gardenia 🥀💞🌼

Hold Me Gently 🥀🔥

by @azrielslostshadow

I see you 💞

lemon tart 💞🌼

by @imaginesmai

i love you 🥀

right around the corner 🌼

Something new 🔥

by @daycourtofficial

Cassian is a Nosy Busybody Who Can’t Keep to Himself 💞

We’re Bumping Booties, Having Us a Ball 💞

Prophesize Me 💞

Love Potion No. 9 💞

Everything is Not As it Seems 🥀

Your Love is My Drug 🔥💞

by @lidiasloca

even in sickness 💞

by @bubbles-for-all-of-us

only you my girl 💞

Pretty like the wind 💞🥀🌼

by @gothicbabydollz

more than a distraction 🥀🔥

by @azrielslightintheshadows

Princess 🥀

Best mistake 💞

Scary mate 💞

Failed proposal 💞🥀

Oops 💞

by @thesunloveschips

Eye of the Storm🌼

by @azriels-shadowsinger

Confessions 🥀

by @writingcroissant

As a Trophy 🥀🔥

by @tadpolesonalgae

Milestones 💞

The Secret World of Borrowing

Unchained 🔥

The Dregs of Tragedy

by @spellbookd

Little Mouse 🔥

by @serpentandlily

Untouchable 🥀

Mystique 💞🌼

Arcane 💞🌼

Scared to be Happier 🥀🔥

by @angelshadowsinger

Assistance 🔥

by @batboylover

mating bond snaps with a stranger 💞

Rhysand's Sister 🥀

protective w/ pregnant mate 💞

degradation gone wrong 🔥🥀

by @sxnktaalxna

Threads

by @mika-no-sekai-blog

Mirror, Mirror 🥀

Not my cup of tea 🥀💞

by @florencemtrash

The Artificer 💞

by @readychilledwine

Losing Forever 🥀

Love and 100 Other Lies 🥀💞🌼

Cat and Mouse

Whispers in the Dark 🔥

Lollipop

The Last Cabin on the Left 💞

Past and Future - Threefold 💞

Breathe 🔥

by @sarahs-library

Forgotten 🥀

by @parkerslatte

Drawn to You 🥀💞

Strings That Bind Us 🥀💞

Not Fated 🔥🥀

by @fieldofdaisiies

Just a Little Bit of Your Heart 🥀💞

by @fairydustblossom

losing control 🥀💞

encroaching promises 🥀🌼

by @mxigo

soul sick 🥀

by @leafsandstarlight

Bad Idea, Right? 🔥🌼

Never the One 🥀

Inadvertently Yours

by @jeannineee

Resolve 🥀

by @lure-of-writing

forgotten anniversary 🥀

by @danikamariewrites

Binx 💞

I Just Feel You 💞

Back Off 🥀💞

Alone? 💞

I'm Married 💞

Combined Aesthetics 💞🌼

by @theostrophywife

in my head. 🔥

by @cosmic-whispers

Control 🥀

by @artists-ally

Only Me and the Devil Know🔥

Train Wreck 🥀🌼

Smoke on the Water

by @soulessjourney

Autumn's Whispered Secrets 💞

by @aroseinvelaris

Guardian Angel 💞

by @pricklepearbloom

Late for Dinner 🥀

Baked With Love 🥀💞

by @moonlightazriel

Fake it until you make it… 🥀💞

by @lalacliffthorne

sleepy in the library 💞

sunday mornings 💞

when Azriel has a nightmare 🥀💞

by @whisperingmidnights

To Long-Forgotten Gods 💞🔥

by @sapchat

We Are Not Our Fathers 💞

by @thelov3lybookworm

Don't grieve 🥀

Babysitting 💞

by @throneofsapphics

bad idea 💞

by @throneofsmut

Size Difference 🔥

Hunter/Prey 🔥

by @shadowdaddies

The Greatest Casualty 🥀

by @fever-fluff

Home

Cats Out of the Bag, Claws and All 🥀

Take my Hand 🥀💞

by @thevanserrras

Tricks For Treats 💞🔥

by @moonlightazriel

Mask Off

by @azsazz

Midnight Muse 🥀💞🌼

by @acourtofmenandthirst

Love You In The Dark 🥀

[suugarbabe]

[Chapter 7]

Word count: 5.4k

Warnings: SMUT, dom!reader, sub!mattheo, male!masterbation, 18+ content below the cut, MDNI!!

Warmth. That’s what you felt pressed against your back and across your middle as you slowly started to blink your eyes awake. You were confused at first, thinking maybe you were dreaming the sensations that you felt, but looking down at your waist and seeing the tattooed hand that was splayed across your stomach confirmed: Mattheo had stayed through the night. You stretched your arms out in front of you, stretching out your muscles from sleep and the other previous nights activity.

Mattheo must have thought you were trying to get up from the action, his arm that was wrapped around you instinctively pulling you closer to his chest. His face burrowed into your neck, breath fanning against your skin as his breathing stayed even. You allowed him to embrace you a little longer, getting lost in your thoughts, thinking about what everything in the last 12 hours meant. Were you and Mattheo together now, like officially together? Would he tell the others? Were you even allowed to talk about it? You tried your best to fall back asleep, if only until Mattheo woke up, but your mind wasn’t slowing down.

Reluctantly peeling his arm from you slowly, you slipped from the bed, putting on your slippers and heading down to the kitchen. You knew Gimball would make your morning tea for you if you asked, he often makes it for you before you even wake up, but he must have known not to do that this morning. You also didn’t have a house elf at your old place, and you liked the routine of doing some things for yourself still.

As if he expected the change in routine, you walked into the kitchen to see Gimball working on breakfast, but your favorite mug and tea bag sitting on the counter while a kettle was on the stove. “How did you know I’d be down here, Gimball?” You questioned the small elf playfully. Without ceasing his movements he replied to your question, “Gimball knows many things Miss Birdie, especially that Master Mattheo does not like to be disturbed in the mornings.” You smiled at this, cheeks tinting the slight pink at the realization that Gimball knew Mattheo was in your room. Ripping open the teabag and placing it in your mug, you tied the string to the handle before walking over to the whistling kettle.

“You’ve known Mattheo a long time, hmm?” You asked it as if you hadn’t seen into Mattheo’s memories, wanting to see what the elf might say. With a snap of his fingers an array of plates and kitchenware appeared on the large center island, “Gimball has been with the Riddle family for three generations, he remembers Master Mattheo’s birth, taught him his schooling. Master Mattheo is a good man, good man Miss Birdie.” You hummed in acknowledgement, smiling as you poured the hot water into your mug, “Was he good in school?”

You were just fishing for any knowledge about him now, anything you knew he probably wouldn’t tell you, at least not right now. Gimball nodded as he set up all the breakfast food and teas for everyone, “Oh yes, Master Mattheo is very smart, very smart indeed. Very observant, but I’m sure Miss Birdie has already come to knowledge of that.” You huffed out a laugh, nodding your head, “Oh yeah, almost too observant for his own good if you ask me.” Gimball let himself smile at your statement, something you didn’t see him do often. With another snap of his fingers, the food arrangement disappeared from the center island. You knew it was now on the large dinning room table, awaiting everyone in the house as they individually made their way down.

Gimball looked at you again, “Master cares very deeply about Miss Birdie.” You nodded your head, “I know Gimball, he really looks at us like a family. It’s a nice feeling.” Gimball shook his head, waving his small finger in the air, “No, Miss Birdie misunderstands Gimball. His care for her is different than the others. Master Mattheo is not always good with his words. Sometimes he cannot express how he feels properly. Master was not allowed to say his feelings when he was little.”

You opened your mouth to ask him to explain further, to tell you what he meant by his last few statements but the opening of the kitchen door caught your attention. You turned at the intrusion, only to see Mattheo standing in the doorway, now completely clothed for the day in a pair of black slacks and a white button up rolled to the elbows, displaying the veins and tattoos that decorated his forearms. You were clearly gawking and if Mattheo noticed (which he probably did) he was polite this morning and chose not to acknowledge the fact.

“What’re you doing in here?” was his question instead. You turned back around, only to see Gimball had apparated away. Turning back to Mattheo you held your mug up to your lips, taking a small sip, “Tea.” He quirked an eyebrow, “You know Gimball would’ve made that for you.” You nodded, “I know, but I like to do it myself sometimes.” Mattheo held the door open for you to exit, following close behind you as you did so. “You left me this morning, woke up to an empty bed and pillows that smelled like you,” he whispered in your ear, giving your hip a light squeeze. You smirked at this, not being able to help your quip back, “Mmm, what a bummer of a feeling. Thankfully I was still in the house and you didn’t wake up like that only to find me gone for days on end.”

Mattheo’s eyebrows shot up, his tongue running along the inside of his cheek as he suppressed a smirk. “We’ve got an attitude this morning I see,” he spoke as he sat down next to you at the table. You shook your head, “I would never get an attitude with you, Mattheo.” He huffed out a small laugh then, pilling food onto his plate and choosing not to respond. Soon the others started to trail in, thankfully most of them still in their sleepwear making you not feel like the only one.

Once finished with breakfast Mattheo placed a small kiss on your temple, stating he needed to go to the club early to take care of a few things before the night started. He took Pansy and Draco with him, leaving you at the table with Blaise, Theo and Enzo. The three wore devious smirks, Enzo’s eyes down at his plate avoiding yours. Theo, however, had no shame, pointing his fork at you while he talked, “So, sorella, have a good night?” You glared at him, “Fine, thanks.” Theo gave you a knowing look, “Enjoy it with anyone else?”

This question caused Enzo to choke slightly on his sip of orange juice, the other two men not holding back their laughter. “Serves your right, Enzo,” you stated harshly. The lanky man held up his arms, “Hey, I never said anything!” You rolled your eyes, “But you were smirking like you thought you knew something and obviously agree with Teddy.” Blaise tapped his fork on his glass, grabbing everyone’s attention, “Alright alright, lets stop teasing the poor girl. If anything did happen, which were not saying it did,-”

“or didn’t!” Theo pointed out. Blaise nodded, “Or didn’t,” you rolled your eyes, “can we all just agree that tonight is going to be interesting as hell. Well for us,” he gestured between himself and Theo and Enzo, “maybe not for you, Birdie.” You furrowed your brows in confusion, not understanding the implications of his statement. “Why is tonight going to be interesting for everyone but me, Blaise? What’s happening?” Theo couldn’t stop himself from laughing, clutching his stomach and rearing back in his seat. Enzo gave you a sad smile, “Because there’s a new dancer coming tonight. The one you covered for quit and Pansy said the new one is coming for her first shift this evening.”

You shrugged your shoulders, stuffing another piece of fruit in your mouth, “Okay, so? I don’t care about that. I only danced that one time because Mattheo said I couldn’t. I like bartending with you Enzo. Why would a new dancer make me upset?” Theo leaned both elbows on the table, clasping his hands in front of him as his tilted his head to the side, “Because this girl is proper fit, like, thank you fucking Salazar fit.” You rolled your eyes, “Again…so? All the dancers are fit, Teddy. You’re just a horndog.” Blaise jumped in, “Mattheo used to have a reputation…with dancers.” You stiffened slightly, but waved your hand telling him to continue, “It’s stopped since you came around, for some reason,” he raised his eyebrows slightly, “Everyone’s just curious to see how it will go.”

You placed your fork on your place, dabbing your lips with the napkin from your lap before standing, “Mattheo’s a big boy. I don’t control him, he can do what he wants. Like I said, there’s nothing going on between us, I’m just like the rest of you guys to him.” Theo snorted at this, while Enzo groaned. Blaise just shrugged his shoulders, “Whatever you say, Birdie. Just know if you feel like fighting, I’m on your side.” You couldn’t help but laugh at everyone’s dramatic reactions, “Thank you, Blaise, but I’m sure that wont be necessary. Everything’s going to be fine.”

And it appeared so for the first few hours you were at the club. You and Enzo worked together restocking the bar while Blaise and Theo sat on the stools, going over plans for different ‘business trips’ and other ordeals. You didn’t push it, but did try to sneak a glance or two at what they were working on. You had grown apparently too close to Theo those few days because he immediately caught you. Giving you a playful scolding for even trying.

Nothing seemed a bother until you went to put up two new bottles of rum and nearly slammed into the side of Enzo. “What are you-” you went to question but Enzo’s large hand palmed the top of your head like a basketball and turned it until your line of vision was the same as his. Immediately you felt like your body was on fire with rage.

Across the club Pansy was standing with Mattheo and a brunette woman. She was wearing what you would barely consider clothing in a skirt so short it was practically knickers and a top that was so small you figured there had to be a spell put on it for her breasts not to be spilling out. But that wasn’t even the bother as most of the dancers dressed in similar attire. What was bothering you was the way Mattheo was interacting with her.

It wasn’t like he was coming on to her, but it wasn’t like he was being her boss either. Though it was very apparent that she was coming on to him. Touching his arm, twirling her hair between her fingers, biting her lip. And Mattheo wasn’t helping, leaning slightly in to her touch, giving her a devilish grin. “What a fucking slag,” the words slipped from your mouth before you could stop them and Blaise nearly choked on his drink.

“Mattheo or Trixie?” Theo asked, knowing that using the girls name would probably instill more rage in you. Your eyebrows shot up, a scoff leaving your lips. Enzo groaned, “Oh c’mon, Nott. Don’t rile her up more.” You opened your mouth to respond but it only dropped further in shock when you saw Mattheo tuck a stray hair behind Trixie’s ear. The three boys followed your gaze, all beginning to mumble amongst themselves about how everything was going to play out.

Jealousy is a sexy look on you, Princess, Mattheo’s voice rang between your ears as your eyes snapped to meet his. The fucker had the audacity to smirk at you before giving his attention back to the girl. You slammed a glass down on the counter, not breaking it but definitely causing a sound loud enough for all eyes to turn to you. “Oi, watch it, Birdie. Do you have any idea how much those glasses cost?” You hadn’t noticed Draco walk up to the bar before your actions, too focused on the growing grin Mattheo wore at your increased rage.

Then an idea popped into your head, a definitive way to get back at Mattheo being a right prick. You walked from behind the bar, coming now to stand in front of Draco who only eyed you suspiciously. “Hi Dray,” your voice sickly sweet, “Have any dinner plans?” Draco looked to the other three boys, obviously asking for an explanation of your question. Theo rolled his eyes but Blaise only chucked, “She’s plotting something to get back at Riddle. Seems like your her pawn, Malfoy.”

Draco raised his eyebrows as he looked down at you, “This true, Darling? You trying to use me to get back at cousin? What’d he do- ohh, I see now.” Draco glanced over top of you at Mattheo still talking with Trixie, his focus slightly less strict now that he noticed you grab hold of Draco’s bicep. Meeting your eyes again Draco shrugged, “You know what, fuck it. Matt’s been a dick to me lately, serves him right.”

You sealed happily, clasping your hands together, “Seriously? Oh, Merlin, thank you so much!” You wrapped your arms around Draco’s middle, smushing your face into his upper abdomen. “Easy, there. Don’t want him to kill me before we get to the main event,” Draco joked. You pulled back, smile still evident. Enzo just shook his head, “You sure bout this, Angel?”

Nodding, you walked back round the bar, “Oh I’m sure. Wanna go around 9, Dray? There’s no way he’d leave in the middle of busy hours. You can handle the bar yourself tonight, right Enzie?” You turned to your friend with pleading eyes. Enzo nodded, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll make Pansy help if needed.” You hugged Enzo now, who let out a low chuckle and patted your back.

“I’ll leave a dress for you in the dancers changing room, you’ll get dressed here and I’ll make sure he sees you before we leave,” Draco was looking down at his phone as he spoke. You nodded, “Okay, sounds good.” He sent you a wink before walking back towards the office. You looked at the clock, noting you had four hours to get through before you could implement your plan.

Those hours seemed to drag, Enzo constantly reminding you to not watch the clock and just work. When you saw it was 8:30 you gave Enzo’s arm a light squeeze to let him know you were going to get ready. In the changing rooms you saw a garment bag with your name etched on it. Always showing off money, huh, Draco, you thought in your head. Unzipping the bag your face was graced with a smirk. Inside hung a velvet ruched bodycon minidress in a deep emerald green. The chest a sweetheart neckline with a slightly deeper plunge.

Slipping it on you were delighted with the outcome. The dress contouring every curve of your body, hiding the insecure bits and accentuating your assets. Doing your hair in loose waves and applying some light makeup, you slipped on the black heels Draco had included and walked out of the changing room, nearly running into the one person you’d hoped would see you.

Grabbing hold of your waist, Mattheo eyed you questioningly, “Where do you think you’re going?” You rolled your eyes, which only irritated him further, “Don’t worry boss, I’m not dancing. I’m just going to dinner.” This didn’t make Mattheo stop worrying, if anything he worried further. “Dinner? With fucking who?”

“With me, cousin,” Draco walked into the hall, clad in a pair of sleek black trousers and a black button up, “My, my, you look ravishing, darling.” You peeled Mattheo’s hands from your hips, turning to the blonde boy now, “Thank you, Dray. You ready?” Draco nodded, holding out his arm for you to take. You looped your arm in his, glancing over to Mattheo once more to see his face in a deep scowl, jaw clenched. You smirked, flashing him a wink. Jealousy looks sexy on you, Matty, you thought to him just as Draco apparated to the restaurant.

As expected, dinner was wonderfully expensive and posh. Draco surprisingly keeping conversation with you quite well. You even complimented him on it, “I didn’t think I’d ever see this side of you Draco. It’s…nice.” Draco snorted slightly, “Figured I’d give an effort since you’re going to be my family one day.” You smiled, “Awh, aren’t we already family Dray? All playing house in that big manor?” Draco shook his head, smirking now, “I meant with what’s going on between you and cousin.”

You rolled your eyes, “Why does everyone keep saying shit like that? I’m sure he doesn’t treat me any differently than any of the other girls he’s shagged.” Draco’s grin grew two sizes, “So you guys have fucked? More than once or…?” You glared at him, “You’re insufferable.” The blonde just smiled more, “You know I’ve known him my whole life, seen him with a lot of girls, and I mean a lot of girls-” You cut him off quickly, “Thank you Draco, move on please.” He snickered lightly, “I’m just saying, I’ve never seen him act like he does with any other girl he’s been around except you. He’s kind of always seen women as a means to an end, like they’re just there for him when he wants them to be, then he can throw them away when he doesn’t.”

A frown painted your face, not wanting to see Mattheo in that kind of light, but knowing Draco was likely telling the truth. Draco continued, “He’s protective over you, not like he is with the rest of us. It’s like…possessive. Obsessed. He used to be really off the wall wild with every trip we made with the business, but now he’s doing more strategic planning, like he doesn’t want anyone to get in to much danger, like he has something to look forward to when he gets back.”

Your chest warmed with this new information, “You’re really close with him.” Draco nodded, “We were best mates growing up. Mum’s are sisters, but his was always off with his dad, you know him,” you nodded with a grimace, “so he would stay with my family a lot. Even had his own room at mine. I know we call each other cousin but he was practically a brother to me growing up, until I went away to school. His dad didn’t let him go to Hogwarts, wanting to train him like some sort of secret weapon for the war.” You nodded your head, remembering the memories you intruded on with Mattheo.

“He used to beg me to teach him everything I learned during summer Holiday. He caught on so fast too. Used to keep my old textbooks and practice with Gimball while I was away. When the war came he was really conflicted. Hell, we all were. I’m surprised you even came to the club after everything that happened. Didn’t you know…about us?” His question caught you a little off guard. Sure, you had known of Draco in school, he made it practically hard for someone not to know him. And you knew slightly of the others, just that they were similar to Draco, purebloods with family members that were devoted Dark Lord followers, but it had been a few years, everyone kind of grew up, looked a little different. Everyone but Draco, sticking still to his signature looks.

You shrugged, “I knew of the club, knew it was wizard ran, but I didn’t know by who. I definitely didn’t know you guys worked there. Had no real clue about Mattheo at all until Pansy told me. Voldemort definitely kept that secret well.” Draco nodded. You looked up from your plate now, meeting his eyes, “If Mattheo really saw me in the way you imply he does, why was he flirting with a dancer earlier today.” Draco’s lip twitched like he was holding back a smile, “Sometimes old habits die hard. Sometimes we get scared of the feelings we have because they happen so deeply, like nothing we’ve ever had before. And sometimes, when we’re especially stubborn, we just need someone to put us in our place. Take charge, so to speak, to prove to us that they reciprocate what we’re feeling, even to the deepest of depths.”

You quirked an eyebrow at his words, questioning if you were really understanding what he was saying. Draco sighed slightly, “I know Mattheo. I’ve seen him in many stages of life, many emotions, good and bad. He’s never allowed himself to feel as deeply about a person as he does for you because he knows once he starts falling, he’s never going to stop. If you feel the same, you have to show him. If you want what he wants, prove it to him. But you have to play his game. Don’t be a pawn, be a gamekeeper. Show him who’s boss, I’m sure he’s tired of the title.”

Draco paid the bill before taking you both back to the manor. Like a gentleman he walked you to the steps leading up to the rooms. “Thank you for tonight, Draco. It was lovely.” Draco smiled down at you, placing a friendly hand on your shoulder. He leaned in close, giving you a peck on your cheek and whispering in your ear, “Anytime darling.” He gave you a curt wink before walking toward his office on the main floor. You turned round, heading up the steps and walking into your room.

He had probably hoped to startle you, but you had almost expected him to be there waiting for you. “Have fun tonight, Princess? Fuck my cousin? Was he good?” You huffed a laugh, taking off your jewelry and setting it atop your dresser before turning to face him. “Don’t be brash, Mattheo,” you looked him over, sitting in the chair in the corner of the room. His hair was disshelved like he’d been running his hands through it. Which he had been while waiting for you and Draco to come home. The thoughts in his mind spinning wildly about what could have happened.

You walked towards him across the room, him standing to meet you when you pushed him back down, crawling into his lap. “Draco and I just had dinner,” your fingers started to delicately undo the buttons of his shirt, all the way down before pushing it off his shoulders, “just like I said before we left.” He grunted, unconvinced, his hands going to your waist but you pushed them off, “I didn’t say you could touch me.” He tilted his head slightly, looking at you with a sly grin. You reached between your bodies, unbuttoning his trousers and sliding down the zipper.

You stood up then, Mattheo going to follow once more but you tsked at him, “Sit and take off your pants, briefs too,” you leaned down and whispered in his ear, “I want to see all of you, Matty. Can you do that? Can you be my good boy.” Mattheo felt his cock twitch at your words, at your directions. He wasn’t sure what was happening but he knew he wanted to find out. You walked back towards the bed, just a few feet away, slipping your dress off your shoulders to reveal your bare breasts and black thong to the man across from you.

Mattheo couldn’t help but groan at the site, his cock standing at attention as you slid your panties down your legs before you climbed onto the foot of the bed and turning to face him, legs spread open wide so he got a full view of your glistening cunt. Mattheo groaned at the sight. “You can touch yourself, Matty. Go on,” you encouraged and he followed directions, instantly grabbing hold of his thick cock and pumping himself, “Show me what you wish you were doing to me,” you let your hands cup your breasts, squeezing them lightly causing Mattheo to groan at the view, his eyes rolling, “because tonight you don’t get to touch me at all.”

His eyes shot open then, hand stilling on his length. You pouted at him, mocking his frown, “Don’t stop now, baby. I was enjoying the view.” You lightly slid your hand up the insides of your thighs, giving yourself goosebumps. Mattheo watched with hungry eyes as you took two fingers and glided them through your folds, coating your fingers in your slick before rubbing your clit lightly. “Keep touching yourself, baby, let me see you,” you started applying more pressure on your bundle of nerves, slight whimpers leaving your mouth as Mattheo started slowly guiding his hand up and down his length once more.

When you slid two fingers inside of yourself, eliciting a gasp from your lips you didn’t miss Mattheo’s low, “Fucking hell”, glancing a look at his desperate eyes. Pumping your fingers you couldn’t help but tease him more, “You’re being such a good boy for me, Matty. Oh, fuck, my fingers stretch me so good, but not as good as when I’m stretched around you, Oh, god, Mattheo.” Hearing his name fall from your lips while he watched you pleasure yourself was his idea of torture. Your hips bucked against your hand, your clit hitting your palm with every grind and building the familiar heat in the pit of your stomach, “Fuck, Matty, I wish I was about to come on your cock, but you just had to misbehave this afternoon, didn’t you?”

His nostrils flared at your words, speech stuttering as his thumb swiped over his slit, eyes glued to your fingers pumping in and out of your cunt, “I-I’m sorry, Princess. I didn’t-”

“Shut up,” you moaned out, looking up to see himself pumping his cock faster. You could tell he was close by the amount of precum leaking from his tip. “Stop touching yourself,” you commanded. Mattheo groaned, but listened to instructions. When you saw he had stopped your bucked your hips faster, chasing your high until you were tumbling over the edge into your orgasm, “Fuck, oh fuck, yes.” Mattheo’s dick twitched at the sight of you coming undone, your thighs quaking, clamping shut on your hand as you rode out your high, still pumping your fingers in and out of yourself before you slowed down, catching your breath and making eye contact with him.

You slid your fingers from your cunt, your juices glistening to where Mattheo could see it across the room. “Come taste, baby,” you held your fingers out for him. Mattheo clambered over quickly, immediately latching his lips to your fingers, tongue swirling around your digits to get every last drop. His lips left your fingers with a pop, hands going to grab your thighs to spread them back open for himself. You slapped his hands away, scooting yourself backwards until you reached the head of the bed, leaning against the pillows.

You spread your legs wide, patting the space between them. “C’mere, Matty. Come sit right here, back to me.” Mattheo crawled over to you, lips quickly attaching to yours in a feverish kiss. His palm against your cheek and fingers splayed on the back of your neck holding you steady as his tongue explored your mouth, groaning at the taste of you still on his tongue. With all the mental strength you could muster you push him away, slapping his face lightly.

Immediately Mattheo started apologizing, “I’m so sorry, Princess, I couldn’t, fuck, I just couldn’t help myself.” You shook your head at his ramblings, making a spinning motion with your finger indicating to him to turn around and get in the position you instructed him to be in before. Mattheo turned around, lying against your chest. You delicately ran your nails along his thighs, his cock twitching at the action. “I was going to let you cum, maybe even help you, but you broke a rule.”

You grabbed Mattheo’s hand, guiding it back toward his aching cock. As he stroked himself again you ran your nails lightly up his sides, his muscles twitching in your wake. You continued to talk to him, tease him and get him further to the edge, “Last night you were so good to me, making me feel so full.” Mattheo let out a low groan as you trailed kisses along the side of his neck, his strokes becoming quicker, “Love it when you grip my thighs, spreading them open as you sink your big cock into my tight little cunt.”

Mattheo let out a shuddered breath as his thumb swiped over his tip. You grab his wrist then, stopping his movements. He let slip a pathetic whimper, begging you for release, “Fuck, please, Princess, I need to cum so bad.” His chest was heaving, head resting back against your shoulder. You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp, “Do you deserve that, Matty? Do you deserve to cum after blatantly flirting with that fucking slag right in front of me, hmm?” Mattheo groaned, “Fucks sake, I said I was sorry, you went out with c-cousin I should be p-punishing you.”

He stuttered over his words as you raked your nails up his thighs again, massaging just near where he wanted your touch but not giving in. “We just had dinner, just talked. If you thought it was anything more you would’ve hurt him by now.” You released his wrist, allowing him to pleasure himself once more. “Go on, baby,” you wrapped one arm around his shoulders, the other grabbing hold of his hair, pulling his head back with force. “Tell me who you’re thinking about when you touch yourself, is it her or is it me?”

Mattheo let out a guttural moan, “Fuck, Princess, it’s you. O-only you.” You started kissing up his neck again, biting the taught skin before licking to soothe it, making sure to leave a few marks. “Every time I think of you, fuck, and now I have the image of your tight little cunt stretching around my cock so perfectly. I never want anything else, oh gods.” You could tell he was close now, hips bucking into his hand. You brought your lips close to his ear, breath ghosting over his skin, “Cum for me, baby. Be a good boy.”

At your command a deep grunt left his throat, hot ropes of white shooting from his tip and on to the duvet in front of him. Coming down from his high he relaxed into you further, chest heaving as his breathing slowly evened out. You ran your fingers through his hair, kissing his temple. “Fucking Salazar’s sake, Princess, you trying to kill me now, hmm?” You smiled into his skin, “You did this to yourself, sir.”

He smiled lightly, “I said I’m sorry, Princess. Merlin, if I'd known this is what would happen from some simple flirting I would’ve never started.” He turned round, resting his head on your chest now. You hummed lightly, “I think you more than liked what just happened.” Mattheo pinched the side of your bum lightly, causing you to squeal. He turned his head, resting his chin atop your chest before leaning up slightly and catching your lips in a chaste kiss one, two, three times before laying his head back down.

You stayed like that for a moment before he broke the silence, “The boys say I’m growing attached to you.” You smiled slightly, hands running through his messy curls, “Do you agree with them?” He nodded, “Scares me how much I care about you, Birdie.” You frowned slightly, though he couldn’t see it, “Why does it scare you?” His eyes fluttered shut, you playing with his hair soothing him. He slid his hands beneath the underside of your shoulders, holding you as close as possible, “Means I’ve got something to lose.”

[wystericwoes]

Stress relief-

Even pros need coping mechanisms.

Pro Hero Bakugo x Reader

Warnings: Sex, Cursing, catching feelings but in denial, being used for sex but not really, there will be a part 2

Mostly GN reader but a lot of fem references... especially in the smut part

While mistakes weren’t often, even Bakugo was still human. And when he fucked up, the whole office felt the ripple effect of his fury.

His friend and by happenstance, neighbor Denki, would sometimes stop on by for a visit or for a hero collaboration; and happened to walk in on one of these moments.

“Yo! Katsu-“

He narrowly dodged a stapler flung past his head.

“DAMMIT! SHIT!”

He took in the scene in front of him. Interns and secretary’s hiding out of Dynamights rampage followed by a path of office supply themed destruction.

He rushed up to him to try and calm him down before he accidentally injured someone and got a lawsuit.

“Woah! Dude! What’s going on?”

“THAT SLIPPERY FUCKER GOT AWAY!”

“Uh… who??”

“THAT SLIMY SWAMP RAT LIZARD VILLAIN THATS BEEN RUNNING AROUND!”

Denki managed to slightly grab him by the shoulders and pull him into a private break room to separate him from the innocent bystanders, closing the door and blocking the handle.

“Dude you gotta chill out! You’re gonna hurt someone!”

It had been a long road for Bakugo and his anger issues. He had come a long way since his youth, and Denki had witnessed most of the growth first hand. And he knew how dangerous he could be when he got like this.

He took a deep breath beneath furrowed brows and aggressively plopped into a seat.

Denki sat across from him, sliding him a bottle of water.

“Alright you wanna tell me what happened?”

Bakugo chugged the bottle before slamming it onto the ground.

“This stupid fucking bank robber keeps terrorizing MY NEIGHBORHOOD and he’s been getting away every single time! I feel fucking useless! And all because of his stupid reptile bullshit quirk! How can I can I ever be number one if I can’t take down a SINGLE PETTY CRIMINAL ON MY BLOCK?!”

Denki took a deep sigh.

“Look man, I get it, but you’re taking it out on your agency and they don’t deserve it.”

Bakugo slouched back and crossed his arms, brows furrowed and teeth grit.

“You gotta find some kind of stress relief before you kill someone dude! You have any hobbies?”

“Work is my hobby. And I somehow still keep fucking up at it!”

“Well I mean something outside of work- when I get over stressed from work I always just go fuck around.”

“You’re a sleaze bag.”

“Look I’m just saying, when was the last time you got laid?”

He sat in contemplation for a dull moment… Bakugo was no virgin, but no playboy either. He just never really had the time or interest. He didn’t like people, and most everyone knew him at this point. Too many gold diggers or secret journalists trying to make him into a marketable tabloid.

“See there’s your issue. You gotta go get out there dude!”

He tched.

“I don’t have the time.”

“Katsuki. We both know that’s bullshit.” He grinned

“I’m just not into anyone right now.”

Denki dragged out a long groan. “Ughhhhh! Please don’t tell me you’re still limiting yourself with your stupidly high standards.”

“All I want is someone who’s hot and has a head on their fucking shoulders. If I wanted to fuck a brainless meaningless hole I’d get a sex doll.”

“So you’re seriously trying to tell me that there’s not a single woman you’ve found pretty and had interesting conversation with?”

He went back into thought. And to his frustration, someone did pop up. The cute little tea shop owner he started to become a regular too a few months ago.

It was so secluded and special, and so precious compared to the rest of the shit hole of a part of town that it was in.

He found it completely on accident, following a string of crimes which led him questioning the locals.

When he entered the secret oasis where that bell rung as he stepped foot in pushing the door open, he was almost awestruck. It was no bigger than a single room, but it was so beautifully laid out and decorated. You could tell that whoever owned it really loved it, like it was their pride and joy. Plants strewn across the walls and little vases on each table, you could tell they were all thoughtfully and meticulously taken care of. The water fresh, the leaves healthy. Atop the windows were hanging glass decorations, causing rainbows to speckle across the walls of strewn art and paintings. It looked magical, he could spend all day in here.

“O-oh hello!!” You rushed out a door behind the counter, messily tying your apron.

“I wasn’t expecting customers this early on a Tuesday haha… what can I get for you?”

He was dumbfounded. Between the lighting framing your face and the scenery around him, he felt so at peace.

“I-“

He found himself almost speechless. He felt like he walked into a magic secret garden, walked through a door to a different world. Especially with how ugly the outside was. Guess you could only afford to live in the poor part of town.

“I’ll uh… take a coffee.”

You tied your hair back swiftly as you worked your way to the espresso machine.

“Alrighty!” You began working your way around the station and whipping something up.

He looked around a little more before settling into a chair and watched as you worked behind the counter. It wasn’t until he saw you pouring something into a cup that he realized he never told you specifically what to make.

He almost spoke up until you started strutting over with a cup of something that smelled amazing towards his way.

“I took a lucky guess. Go ahead and try!”

You placed it in front of him and watched intently as he reluctantly smelled the mystery drink, and took a sip.

His eyes slightly widened, and he downed the whole thing in one go, not even caring that it burned.

“Careful that’s still hot-!”

But he was done before you could protest.

“Are you okay?!”

“…I’ll take another.” He embarrassingly wiped his mouth and looked away.

You sighed in relief and then started laughing.

“You scared me! How did you not get hurt?”

“How did you make a drink so damn good without knowing me?”

He sounded almost accusatory.

“Ah..! Well…” you shyly looked away.

“You a stalker or somethin’?”

“What! No!! I just got a good read on you. Do… you want me to share?”

He looked at you blankly, his signal of approval to continue, but his piercing gaze made you nervous.

“Okay see I noticed that when you came in up you looked in a hurry so I decided to make something that wouldn’t take too long… Then when you just said ‘coffee’ I knew you didn’t have anything particular in mind. Which either meant you didn’t know yet or didn’t actually come in here for coffee… so I knew it had to be something simple. But you didn’t seem quite like the type to just like plain black coffee, weirdly enough, I figured you were more complex than that! But I also could tell you wouldn’t want something overly sweet. So I went with a dark chocolate mocha extra half shot of espresso, for a semisweet yet strong mix, and then I added a touch of cinnamon for some subtle spice and extra flavor…’

You nervously fiddled with the hem of your apron. You knew it was unprofessional and risky to make something without someone asking.

“Well fuck me…”

It was just surprise after surprise. He had even forgotten why he had come in here.

“So… you said you want another?”

And thus begun his frequent ship to your small business. He went in at least twice a week, and he always tipped twice whatever he paid. You two had so many conversations and funny stories shared between the two of you. It became a part of his routine, one that was private and special to him. You were so tucked away and secret; it was like he had you all to himself. No one else worked there, and he hardly saw any other customers. And even when he did, you always gave him special treatment. You’d chat at his table, let him try new pastries, sit and listen to him talk about his day for much longer than you should. Yet somehow… he had never considered sleeping with you.

In his own daze remembering you, he forgot his idiot friend was there, smugly grinning with raised brows.

“Sounds like you thought of someone…”

“Shut up! What the hell are you even doing here?! Go back to your own damn building!”

“So I was right!!”

“Fuck off!!!” He threw the finger as Denki walked out laughing triumphantly.

Fucking idiot. What does he know? He didn’t see you like that anyway. It wasn’t like he didn’t think you weren’t attractive… he just didn’t think you deserved to be nothing but a one night stand. But also… he did have a point.

He took a deep frustrated sigh as he rubbed the crease of his brows.

“…fuck it.”

You were counting the cash in your register as that familiar sound of the bell dung.

“Sorry we’re cl- oh!”

You looked up to see it was just Dynamight.

“It’s just you! Haha… sorry, I close early because of the crime recently. Come on in! Just your usual?”

“I’m not here to order anything.”

“Oh… is everything okay?”

“It’s fine.”

He seemed colder than usual; and it made you nervous. An awkward silence followed by prolonged eye contact, until he slowly walked up to the counter where you were counting, causing you to freeze.

“Do you wanna go out sometime?”

“F-fuck!!” The pro hero was buried between your thighs on his king sized bed, gripping your hips like his life depended on it.

You bit your hand as the other tried not to grab to harshly in his hair.

“Hah… hah…. I- Bakugo…mmngh!”

You squeezed your thighs around him after your second orgasm of the night, pitifully moaning and whimpering as he lapped everything you had to give up.

He came up and pulled your hand from your mouth.

“Why do you keep trying to stay quiet? It’s just the two of us.”

“I’m just… hah… embarrassed..”

You didn’t know how to feel having sex with one of your regulars after one date.. how were you going to go to work and look him in the eyes after this?? Have you no decorum?

“I’m just.. worried that you’ll stop coming to my shop after this…”

He gave you a perplexed look.

“The hell you talkin’ about?”

“W-well now that we’ve…”

“You think I was just trying to fuck you or somethin?? Like I’m some kind of fuck boy?”

He looked angry.

“No! I just… it seems kinda hard to stay professional with a customer after doing this.”

“You’re a fucking idiot if you think I’m gonna stop coming to your shop just cause we slept together once.”

He crawled upwards to you and held your face.

“I just worry-“

He pulled you in for a kiss to shut you up. It was messy but coordinated, you heard a grunt in the back of his throat as his hardened cock pressed against between your legs.

“You worry to much, you’re stressing me out. Just relax.”

You moaned as he pulled away and nodded. Totally at his mercy.

“Are you ready?” He slid his boxers down.

“Fuck yes.”

He smirked,

“That’s the first I’ve heard you curse.”

Before you could protest he kissed you again. It was sloppy, and full of yearning. He rubbed his cock between your folds, letting the tip rest at your entrance for a brief moment as he pulled his face back and grabbed your hips.

You couldn’t bite back your moans as he slid himself into you. A perfect fucking fit, the stretch burned in such a good way, and hearing his pants as his rested inside you for a brief moment, just basking in the moment.

He moved one hand back to your though and pushed it back, letting himself get a good look of himself fully inside you.

He cursed under his breath. you reached down to rub your clit but he grabbed your wrist and placed it above your head, moving his other hand to do it for you.

“You think I can’t do this?”

He started slowly rubbing circles into you with the rythym of careful thrusts. Each one was experimental, testing the waters of what you could handle.

You two were so in sync it drove you crazy. You subtly thrusted your hips into him, feeling his pubes tickle you each time he bottomed out. He was darker blonde down there, following a gorgeous happy trail that made you drool.

He released his grip from your wrist and held onto your hips so he could steadily increase his pace.

“F-fuck… Bakugo….!”

“Call me fucking… hng… Katsuki.”

You fluttered around him when he said that, making him bite his lip.

“Don’t… fucking do that…”

“Sorry Katsuki..”

Oh you knew what you were doing. And it was taking him all his willpower to not fuck you as hard as he could right now.

He put his hand over your mouth which made you whimper, he decided to fuck you hard but slow, and each time he thrusted you moaned.

You bit his hand, he hissed in pain and watched as you moved it down to your throat.

“Didn’t take you for, a brat.”

“Mm… didn’t take you… as a- sadist-! Ah!” He started going faster with his pace.

“So you wanted this then huh? Acting all fucking innocent..”

He started squeezing on the sides causing you to go lightheaded in the best way.

“For so… hah!! Long! Mng… I’m still surprised you chose me..!”

“Don’t talk like a fucking- idiot- hnn.. youre fucking sexy”

“Mmn! You’re so fucking.. hot.. Katsu…”

He growled at the nickname, whether it was intentional or not.

“Don’t hold back… I can… I can take it.”

You moaned into his ear, knowing he wasn’t going all out yet.

Cursing under his breath he switched both his hands underneath your thighs and put your legs over his shoulders, and he did what you asked. He didn’t hold back.

You couldn’t even think straight. You couldn’t form a coherent thought, it was nothing except him fucking you ruthlessly. His tip kissed your cervix causing a good pain, reaching the deepest parts of you.

“Ah! Ah! Ah! F-fuck!”

Your moans were endless. Blending in seamlessly with his grunts and pants. He wasn’t very vocal, but you enjoyed his sounds nonetheless.

The sounds were filithy, you could feel your wetness leaking out onto his sheets and every noise between the two of you. Nothing else existed outside this moment.

You were in a pleasurable trance that was suddenly cut off as he flipped you over onto your stomach; pinning your wrists behind your back as he fucked you even harder from behind.

The sight of your ass smacking against him and your hands pinned against your back drove him fucking wild. He reached his head down and started biting on your shoulders to hold himself back, your whimper from the pain only made it worse though.

“Mm! Ah! Ah! K-katsu..ki!!”

He growled in frustration, feeling an odd sense of possessiveness every time you said his name.

“M’ gonna mark you up, and fuck you so good you’ll never forget it…”

He started leaving a crude trail of hickeys and bite marks across your shoulders and neck.

“Mmn! Kat- Katsuki…l-let me…-!”

You started to roll over, wanting to see his face, he caught on and picked you up turning you around without leaving inside you, placing you on his lap as he sat upright against the headboard.

“Think you can fuckin ride me baby?”

You whimpered at the name, placing your hands on his shoulders as you started to move up and down. Your pace was no where near as controlled and fast as Katsukis, but neither of you were complaining.

You started to get faster and faster as you felt his dick press up against your sweet spot, desperately chasing that sensation. He could see what you were trying to do as he started or fuck himself up into you, getting a hold of your hips and taking charge.

“Couldn’t take it huh?”

“Sh-shut up… you didn’t give me a chance!”

“I saw how needy you were getting. Just let me take control yeah?”

You dropped your face into his neck, biting the nape to suppress your moans as he started fucking you faster.

You stayed like that for a moment before you started to get close and moved your fingers to rub against your clit, once again he shoved your hand away and took it over.

“What did I hah.. say… before?”

You only moaned in response, gripping one hand onto the nape of his neck and the other onto his chest like you were scared of falling.

He wrapped one arm around your waist and pulled you in closer, rubbing frantic yet gentle circles on your clit while repeatedly hitting your g-spot.

“K-katsu…ki! I can’t.. I-I’m gonna…!”

He fucked you as fast as he could so he would cum at the same time as you.

“Do it…”

He groaned one last time in your ear and it sent you over the edge, he fucked you through your orgasm until your body was shaking, and then he bottomed out one last time.

“F-fuck…!” He moaned out as you felt his dick twitch as he finished inside you.

Both of you sat there still, the adrenaline winding down as you both breathed heavily, basking in the afterglow and silence for a moment before you pulled him closer into an intimate hug.

The silence was comfortable, and part of you both wish you never had to leave.

“Mm.. could go t’ sleep like this..”

“Could you now?”

“Mhm.” Your body fell limp into his.

“We should probably use the bathroom first.”

“Mm. Probably.”

“Mm… Yes. Cmon”

You groaned as he pulled out slowly, all the slick between the two of you pooling into a sinfully delicious mix under you.

You squealed as he lifted you up and carried you to the bathroom bridal style.

“H-hey!”

“Im not letting you get a UTI. Go piss and then we’ll hop in the shower. I hate sleeping in sweat.”

“Ugh you’re no fun.”

You reluctantly left his arms to go use the toilet, knowing he was right.

You rested asleep on his chest, as he gazed at the ceiling, listening to the lull of cars outside the window and the sound of your rhythmic breathing. He had one arm lazily strewn over your back, and the other under his head.

He looked down at your sleeping form, and felt something unfamiliar within him… something sentimental, caring, protective.

He slowly and carefully rolled down the sheet to reveal the marks he left on your body and smirked. Closing his eyes and drifting off.

[quintinh43]

All My Heart | Quinn Hughes

Summary: Quinn has been off the ice for two weeks, and he isn't dealing with it well.

Pairings: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety/panic (attack?), general questioning of existence. Feelings, Angst, the whole roster basically.

Notes: yall please be careful reading this one! I did not mean for it to go the way it did but here we are. Please please please keep the warnings in mind, and if ever you need to stop reading please do. Take care of yourselves first loves. More notes at the end!

Wc: 1.6 k

---

Quinn felt like he was going insane. He'd been off the ice for two weeks due to an upper body injury, and it felt as if the restlessness had buried itself beneath his bones. He currently lay in bed, staring at the ceiling with tired eyes and a mind that wouldn't relax.

His foot shook incessantly beneath the blanket as he tried to fall asleep, but the thoughts kept whirling. He had been having trouble sleeping since he'd been benched. The constant string of anxious thoughts preventing his mind from quieting down enough for him to slip into a blissful sleep.

"Quinn." You grumble, voice laced with sleepiness. His constant foot shaking had been pulling you in and out of sleep since the two of you had settled down for the night. But you had kept quiet in the hopes that he would be able to fall asleep eventually.

"I'm sorry," Quinn whispers sheepishly, his fingers start drawing soothing circles into your waist, from where his arm is wrapped around you. "I didn't mean to wake you," he murmers, pressing his lips against your hair in a gentle kiss.

"It's alright, love. But can you please please stop shaking your foot?" You mutter, still half asleep.

"Yeah, sorry baby," he murmers sheepishly. He stills his foot, and somehow, the thoughts become ten times more intense. He's going on a full week with a total of maybe four hours of sleep. It's fucking hell. He's been getting snappy during the day. Although you mostly leave it be, because he usually apologizes right after, and you know he doesn't mean when he says it, and it's just his anxiety about not being able to play.

Deciding that there is no use in trying to sleep, he waits until your breathing evens out into a quiet snore before untangling himself from you and slipping out of the bedroom quietly. Quinn finds himself in the kitchen, with no plan on what to do. It's nearly three in the morning.

He settles onto the floor in favour of stretching. Hoping that it will help calm him at least enough so that he's no longer obscenely jittery. Unfortunately, it does nothing useful for him. His next idea is to watch a movie. Maybe something stupid and mind-numbing will put him to sleep.

He makes himself a cup of chamomile tea and sinks into the couch, turning on the first Despicable Me movie. It's perfectly stupid enough to get him no longer thinking about hockey. Except, then there's a freeze-ray. And then Vector's in-house shark aquarium is reminding him of the Canucks.

He pauses the movie and puts down his empty mug on the coffee table with such a deep sigh. It feels as though his bones are rattling. He presses his palms to his eyes in desperation, wishing oh so terribly that he could be skating and playing hockey. He feels chained, having not been allowed on the ice for so long.

His second home, his freedom. Where it feels like he's flying. Where he feels invincible, like he can do anything. Quinn springs up from the couch, and he's pacing. He paces around the living room with such fervor that he might wear a hole into the floor.

He needs to get on the ice. Now. Or he's going to rip his hair out. And then, on top of being injured, he'll also be bald. Which would be the second worst thing to ever happen to him. The first being the fact that he hasn't been allowed on the ice for two full weeks.

With no coherent plan, he creeps around the apartment, throwing his skating equipment in a spare duffle bag. He's grabbing his car keys and slipping on his shoes when the bedroom door opens with a creek.

"Quinn?" Your voice is tired and confused. You're hugging your arms around your body to protect yourself from the chill of the apartment.

Quinn looks like a deer caught in headlights. His hair is sticking up in every which direction, his eyes are red from exhaustion, and his eyebags are so so dark. He's wearing two different shoes, and for fucks sake he's not even wearing a shirt.

You amble over to him cautiously, gently tugging the duffle bag from his hand. You can see the blades of his skates sticking out of the bag. "Baby, what are you doing?" Your eyes dart over to the time on the microwave. It's 3:47 am.

"Y/n" he breathes, it's desperate and pleading, and all you want to do is wrap him in your arms and take away all his pain and worries. "I need to go- I need to get out. I'm going insane." He whispers. There's a tremor in his hands as he runs them through his hair.

"Ok, my love, we're gonna go. Let's go put on some proper clothes first." You say lacing your fingers with his and tugging him towards the bedroom. He sighs, squeezing your hand tightly. Like he needs the physical reminder that you're with him. Otherwise, you'll disappear.

You successfully coax him into a hoodie and a touqe and pull a pair of sweatpants and one of Quinn's hoodies over your (his) t-shirt. Making sure Quinn is wearing the correct set of shoes, you grab the keys off the hook, sling his duffle bag over your shoulder, and grab his hand. As soon as your hands are linked again, his grip is tight. And you wouldn't have it any other way.

You throw his bag in the back seat and slide into the driver's side while Quinn slips into the passenger seat. As soon as he can, he grabs your hand again. You hold your intertwined hands tucked under your chin while you drive.

"Talk to me, Quinn," you murmur softly, stroking your thumb over the back of his knuckles.

Quinn sighs shakily. He wants to talk to you. He really does. But he's so used to burying everything down, to not be a burden. He's the oldest. He's supposed to be the leader, the strong one. He knows in his heart that if there's anyone he can talk to, it's you. You don't push. You know he'll talk when he's ready.

His leg is bouncing, and he's running his hand through his hair nervously as he formulates his thoughts into coherent sentences. "I feel like i'm going insane," he mutters. "i need - i need to get on the ice. It's my freedom. I feel chained to existence because I haven't been able to skate for so long."

Your heart breaks for him as you squeeze his hand, letting him know that you're listening.

"I'm sorry, that doesn't make any sense," he sighs.

"No baby, it does, I get what you're saying," you say softly.

"It's like, I'm being punished for something. Am I a bad person?" His voice is cracking, and if you thought it impossible for your heart to break further, you were just proven wrong.

"No, Quinn, you aren't a bad person. Injuries are inevitable. You didn't do anything to deserve this. I promise you, my love." You kiss the back of his hand, hoping that your lips can pour all your love and reassurance into him.

"Where are we going?" Quinn asks, squinting curiously at the rapidly passing treeline. You had exited onto the highway a little bit ago, with no plan or intention.

You shrug your shoulders, "No idea, I'm just driving."

Guilt washes over Quinn like a tidal wave. He tugs his hand from yours and covers his face, with embarrassment and exasperation at himself. He sighs into his hands, and all of a sudden, the emotions are too much again.

"Quinn?" You glance at him with concern. He's breathing deeply, trying to keep the anxiety from spiking again.

"I'm so sorry, I woke you up and dragged out at such an ungodly hour. And fuck- you have work in the morning. Baby, I'm sorry, I'm sorry -" he sounds like he's on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Quinn, baby, look at me." Your voice is so gentle as you wrap your hand around his wrist and tug it away from his face, "You are the most important thing to me. Forever and always, especially especially right now. Please, please, please, don't beat yourself up about it. I would drop everything for you in a heartbeat, my love."

His breathing is still shallow. You rest his hand on your chest and take deep, slow breaths. "Copy my breathing, Quinn."

It takes a minute for his breathing to match yours, "Good job Honey" you smile, keeping his hand pressed against your chest.

"Can we go home?" He whispers, intertwining his fingers with yours.

"Of course, baby, whatever you want." You take the next exit and head in the direction of your shared apartment. The drive is mostly silent, only the sounds of deep breathing and the occasional shuddering sigh fill the car.

As soon as you're back in the apartment, Quinn is pulling off his hoodie and toque, "I need you to lay on top of me," Quinn all but begs.

"Alright, lay down wherever you want." You say, stripping if your own hoodie and sweats. He lays on the floor. The bed is too soft. He can't handle the sinking feeling. You lay directly on top of him, and he let's out a relieved sigh, his arms tightening around your waist.

"Love you so much, Y/n," he murmers into your cheek.

"I love you too, Quinn, with all my heart," you say gently, stroking his hair soothingly. He falls asleep within half an hour, and you pass out right after him.

And when the two of you wake up, if you take him skating. Well, that's no one's business but your own.

---

I know I said I probably wasn't gonna post for like a week and a half cause of school, but the inspiration hit, and I wrote this in like... an hour. So if it's really bad, well...

And just cause I haven't said it before, everything I write is purely fictional! I don't know how the hughes act in real life! I am simply writing them as characters.

I might end up taking this one down, so...

Anyways. Please take care of yourselves, yall. Leave comments! And as always, Love Soph.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Code of Conduct 4

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss has a difficult time keeping his personal life from bleeding into his work. 

Characters: Steve Rogers, this reader is known as Rosie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

“Are you sure you want to keep working?” You ask Mr. Rogers as you bring in the printed report he requested. 

“Yeah, can’t really go home...” he mutters as he takes the report with a brittle smile. 

“I guess, but you could... take some time for yourself. I can call your one o’clock,” you offer. 

“Rosie, you’re wonderful. But I need the distraction.” 

“Okay, I—can I get you anything? A tea? When I feel down, I have this lavender chamomile in my desk that helps me feel better.” 

He looks at you, his blue eyes sparkling. You really can’t handle him crying. His eyes are already pink and puffy from the tears he hid in his closed office. 

“You’re so sweet,” he sniffs. 

“Look that over and I’ll steep the tea,” you insist. 

You leave him before your ingrained sympathy can have you joining his pity party. You feel awful for him but lost too. You’re not sure how to handle all this. Relationships have always been a bit of a mystery to you. You have lot of friends but never found anyone to be more than. 

You take your time in the break room. You smell like vinaigrette. It’s another reminder of the chaotic morning. The kettle pops and you pour the water over the tea bag. You bob it up and down with the string and make your way back to Mr. Roger’s office. 

He thanks you as you set it down and warn him it’s hot. He runs his thumb up and down the edge of a page then looks up at you.  

“Anything else, sir?” 

“You... you said you feel down sometimes?” He asks. 

“Oh, well, yeah, but everyone does.” 

“But... about what? Why would you feel down?” He lowers the stapled papers onto the desk. 

“Just... things, sir. Nothing big. It’s just the way people are.” 

“You-- you have everything, Rosie. You’re so bright and bubbly. What could make you sad?” He pivots his chair towards you. “Who do I gotta give a talking to around here?” 

“No one, sir. Really. I guess I just need a pick-me-up from time to time.” 

He nods and looks down. You hover on the other side of his desk. You should get back to work but you don’t know if you should leave him. 

“I get lonely too.” He lifts his chin up. “Even when Peggy’s right next to me. I get it.” 

“Sir?” 

“You said you’re not married, right? I—I'm sorry if I assumed--” he cringes. “Wow, I’m so embarrassing.” 

“It’s... it’s fine. I have friends and we have lots of fun. My friend Missie, she’s really cool. She lies to tie-dye. We do that sometimes. And you,” you perk up, “you have Mr. Barnes, right? He told me that you twohave known each other forever.” 

“He told you that?” Rogers tilts his head. 

“Well, sure, he’s a bit chatty when he stops by.” 

“He is?” A brow arches curiously and ripples his forehead. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re so easy to talk to. Even with someone like him.” 

“Erm, I guess. I just try to see the positive. You know. Um, I don’t mean to presume because I can’t begin to know but I know Peggy loves you. And you have a good job and you can fix this, Mr. Rogers. You could try counselling or I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t know much,” you shrug. 

“We did counselling,” he picks up the mug and blows the steam away, inhaling the scent. “She stormed out of that too. We’ve tried a lot of things. A second honeymoon, a vow renewal, everything.” He looks down and his shoulders slump. He looks tiny even though he’s a big man. 

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to overstep.” 

“You didn’t,” he inhales and pushes his shoulders straight. “You’re right, I can do something. I can put myself first. I think... I think I need to look into leaving.” 

You blink. You’re speechless. It feels like too much. Not his suggestion, just that he’s saying it to you. You’re fine getting him coffee and sorting his schedule but you haven’t been trained for this. 

“You should do what’s best for you, sir.” 

He nods and tastes the tea. “It’s good, Rose,” He sets the cup down. “Thanks. You’re... you’re too good to me.” 

“It’s just tea. I’ll let you enjoy it in peace and I gotta get back to it.” You smile. “Let me know if you need anything else.” 

“Will do,” he utters glumly. 

You slowly turn away and stride out. You feel a tugging in your stomach. Like guilt. You feel bad leaving him like that. Yet, you don’t know what else you can do for him. Missie would know. She always knows how to make things better. Maybe you could ask her but it’s a long story. 

Hm. 

You take out your phone and open up the conversation. You giggle at the kitten pictures she sent you last night. It takes several attempts to get it right; ‘hey, Miss, what would you do for someone going through a break-up? Tryna do something nice. Thx <3’ 

You’re sure she’ll come up with something, even without all the details. You tuck your phone away and turn back to your screen. As you do, an email pings into Mr. Rogers’ inbox.  

You click on it and open the attachment. The legal letterhead has your blood cold. Before you can react, you hear Mr. Rogers exclaim.

Oh no, he’s already seen it. Divorce papers. 

[jqafterdark]

Seeing S/O in Lingerie Reaction

From a request in my main blog, this has no smut but VERY SUGGESTIVE so... yeah ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Sebastian Moran, William James Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes, and Louis James Moriarty

Tag/s: Historically inaccurate lingerie

Sebastian Moran

The man whistled as soon as you entered his field of vision.

He looked like a kid in a candy store.

Straight up GRINNING from ear to ear.

If you're showing him a variety, he'll inspect every single one of them.

It's almost alarming how focused he looks.

Little do you know, he's thinking about how to use whatever lace or strings your outfit has to his advantage in the bedroom.

The minute you're within his reach, Sebastian pulls you to his lap to get a closer look.

He takes his time to take in your figure while his hands roam through your body.

Even as you walk away, his eyes never leave your figure.

Like you were one of his targets on missions.

He would definitely tease you, wanting you to get riled up as much as he is.

What's more annoying is he wants you to say that you want to do it before he continues.

He's torn between taking it off or just doing the deed with it still on you.

Whatever position you're in, he definitely has a good view of you.

A mirror might be involved.

"I'm back-" Sebastian abruptly stopped as your eyes met in the mirror, wide in shock.

His eyes traveled down to your new short silk nightgown and stockings, going up and down before smiling.

"You could have just said so," he chuckled, removing his coat as he walked up to you.

You quickly grabbed whatever was closest to you, in this case, a hairbrush, and pointed it at him as you kept a distance.

"Oh no, you don't! Last time, I chased the target through the city with a limp!" you muttered, keeping your distance as your eyes never left him.

"Do you have a mission tomorrow?" Sebastian innocently asked, making you pause.

"...No...?"

"Then that settles it," he smiled, quickly hugging your waist.

"SEBASTIAN!"

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle. Wouldn't want your pretty outfit to rip, now do we?"

William James Moriarty

When you asked him to come with you to go underwear shopping, he was shocked, to say the least.

But he quickly recovered and agreed.

You definitely have his attention now.

While his eyes kept following you while he drank his tea, his smile was different than it usually was.

It was more... devious, so to speak.

While he keeps his composure, a lot has happened in his mind.

While you were picking some things, William acted like a perfect gentleman.

Holds the clothes you picked, heartfelt compliments to boost your confidence, over all the best boyfriend you could ask for.

Almost too good to be true. And it was.

He might have thought of a few scenarios on how the two of you could get away with it in the store.

It helped that it was a pretty private dressing room, considering the store was made just for the nobles, where it was just you and him.

Even the workers were far from earshot, attending to the other customers at the front.

But he didn't continue since he saw you enjoying your little date and didn't want to ruin your good mood.

It didn't help that you would ask him for help to put some of them on, though... Or take them off.

Besides, he has the whole night planned just for the two of you, and he's making sure no one would bother you two.

You hummed happily as you swung the bags in your arms, satisfied with your purchases.

"I'm surprised you agreed to go shopping with me, Will!" you mused as you turned to William, "Didn't you have a meeting later with everyone? Wouldn't you be late?"

William gave you a smile as he grabbed your hand, "The meeting was moved since some of the professors were out sick,"

"Is that so..." you trailed off, shrugging off his response.

William quietly chuckled, remembering the surprised expressions his comrades had when he said the meeting was canceled and assigned a new mission to everyone.

The manor was now empty until morning.

"Well, whatever! I can't wait to try these at home," you beamed, looking down at your new haul.

"Indeed," William agreed, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

Sherlock Holmes

He never saw the appeal of the lingerie until he saw it on you.

Now, lace is his favorite thing on your body.

The first time he saw you in lingerie, it was like he shut down.

He didn't say a word, but his eyes were glued to you as he reached his hand out to you.

When you walked up to him, he eyed every inch of your body, engraving the image of you in his mind.

To him, you looked ethereal.

Like beauty personified.

When he did speak, it was soft and breathless, as if you rendered him speechless.

And when you did it, the sight of you in lingerie and covered in hickeys he left is now his favorite thing.

He gets more possessive whenever he sees you in lingerie.

And surprisingly more gentle and slow, wanting to enjoy every second of it.

Now, every time you buy a new set, he likes having a private fashion show.

When you bring him to a lingerie store, he is not embarrassed at all.

Hell, he'd even pick out a few things for you.

You can tell his compliments are genuine with how serious his expression is.

"Sherlock?" you called out, slowly walking up to him.

His eyes were completely wide as he looked at you.

"Sherl?" you called out again, but no response as he continued to stare at you.

You bit your lip as you covered yourself, feeling self-conscious wearing nothing but a bustier with matching underwear.

"Don't,"

"Huh?" Sherlock quickly grabbed your hands, pulling them down to your side.

"Don't hide it. You look beautiful," Sherlock breathed out, mesmerized by your outfit as his eyes slowly looked up at you.

You felt your face flush as you looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

"You're staring too much,"

"I disagree,"

Louis James Moriarty

You almost gave the man a heart attack.

He was not expecting to see you in lace and sheer one night after a long day of house chores.

Was it an unwelcomed surprise? No. Definitely not.

That night, he was just hoping to have some downtime with you after working the whole day.

So when he saw you by your dresser half-dressed putting on stockings, it was like the man turned into stone.

Minutes later, Louis came back and saw you in your robe, relieved to see he was okay.

His face became completely red when he remembered what happened and apologized for walking in on you.

Even though you forgave Louis, he's still scolding himself for liking what he saw.

What's more, his eyes would gaze over your robe when it would slip.

Explaining why he slammed his head on the table was interesting, to say the least.

So when you told Louis it was okay for him to look, he was still shy. But you would catch him stealing glances your way.

He tries to compliment you, say anything coherent for that matter. But he just mutters something while looking at the ground.

However, the moment he got more confident, his hands would not let you go.

Suddenly, he's fluent in dirty talk and knows just what to say to get you in the mood.

And he makes sure you know just how beautiful and alluring you looked that night.

"I truly apologize..." Louis muttered, a cold towel over his head as you chuckled, tying the robe tightly around your waist.

"Don't be. I'm just surprised," you reassured as you removed the towel, making Louis meet your eyes.

You weren't sure, but you swear you saw his eyes tracing your robe down to your chest.

His face turned completely red instantly, making him turn away.

You breathed out a smile as you hugged him tightly, kissing the top of his head.

"I'm really not mad, Louis!" you giggled, swaying side-by-side.

"Besides, that was for your eyes only, you know?" you grinned, making the man freeze as steam came out of his face as you snickered.

"Please don't tease me..."

[python333]

hi! i’m not sure if you’re taking requests atm but if you aren’t feel free to ignore this!

anyways, i was thinking what would it be like if you were back on base and did something nice for everyone and made their fave coffee/tea while you’re all relaxing after a long mission? like how would the 141 react and what would you make for them?

that’s all but i hope you have a great day and i absolutely love your writings!! they seriously are so detailed and amazing, you do a beautiful job w each one💌

unwind — python333

— — — —

synopsis the 141 + you are back from a super long mission and u make them their fave coffee/tea!!

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader.

word count 3.6k

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign], gaz being a little shit.

note thank you so much for the req!! i am taking them right now, but apologies if i post them 2+ days after i get them, my writers block is slowly creeping back into my mind and im fighting it off the best i can! also, thank you for the compliments :3 ilysm youre too nice!! i saw ur reblog of bedbound too and i was so sjdfksdfks!! hope u have a good day too and hope you enjoy this fic, it's all fluff and way too in depth descriptions of making tea/coffee!!

As soon as the electric kettle clicks, signaling to you that the water inside of it has been boiled, you unplug it and pour the water into a mug you’d pulled from the cabinets. It still surprised you that there were any mugs left, with how many people kept stealing to put on their desk to hold pencils—by people, you mean Soap, and only Soap—but you weren’t complaining. 

You set the kettle back down once the mug is filled up just an inch below the brim and grab the tea bag you’d grabbed earlier, wrapping the string around the handle of the mug a few times before putting the bag itself into the water. Almost immediately, you see small tendrils of dark brown flow out from the drowned tea bag into the originally clear water. 

As that happens, you walk the small few steps over to the small fridge from the kettle and open it, grabbing the small carton of cream and closing the fridge shut. You walk back over to the mug and unscrew the cap of the carton, pouring some cream into the mug, adding a half inch of height to the liquid already in the mug before screwing the cap back on and setting the carton down.

You don’t bother to grab a spoon and mix anything yet, instead reaching over to the small terracotta container beside the coffee machine that contained sugar, and taking off the lid. 

You think for a moment if you should grab a spoon for this, but ultimately decide against it, instead just tipping the container over the mug and letting what you hope is two teaspoons of sugar spill over into the mug.

Afterwards, you put the lid back on the container holding the sugar and set it back next to the coffee machine, and grab the cream to put back into the fridge. 

Once the cream’s been put back, you open the drawers in the counter and grab a small spoon, one that’s just tall enough that it won’t be fully submerged in the tea, and put it into the mug.

You close the drawer and give the tea a few stirs before picking up the mug, being careful of the scalding heat and holding it solely by its handle. You carefully walk out of the snack bar extension of the kitchen and head towards Price’s office. 

After a year or two of working with him, you’ve learned a lot about his tea preferences—he likes Yorkshire tea, the original one, not the gold. He only likes cream and sugar in his coffee, just to make it smoother and make it a bit sweeter, but doesn’t like it too sweet.

You vaguely remember him telling you he’d never had honey or any other sweeteners besides a bit of sugar in his tea, and remember more vividly you thinking, God, that’s such an old person thing to say, but not saying it out loud. 

Once you’ve reached his office, you knock a few times and Price’s tired voice calls out, “Come in!” 

You open the door, careful to keep the mug from spilling in your hands, and walk in, closing the door behind you. Price looks up from his computer, presumably writing a report on the mission you’d all just come back from an hour or two ago, and offers a small smile when he sees you. He’s about to say something before he catches sight of the mug in your hands. 

“Did you…” He doesn’t finish his question, but you know what he was about to ask, and you nod in response. 

“If it’s too sugary let me know,” You tell him, setting the mug down a safe distance away from his computer, “I can remake it.” 

“I won’t make you remake it,” Price looks at you, almost offended, “You didn’t have to make me anything in the first place, but thank you, I really appreciate it.” 

“No problem,” You hum, walking away, saying over your shoulder, “Hope you like it.” 

You open the door without another word and walk out, closing it behind you, heading right back to the snack bar. Now for Soap. 

Soap typically preferred coffee to tea, despite tea’s popularity in Scotland. He’d told you that he really couldn’t taste the difference between different coffee blends, but upon hearing that there was a Scottish blend, he declared he’d only drink that one, because of course he did. 

He pretended he could tell if the coffee he was drinking was of that Scottish blend, but you knew he couldn’t. How did you know? You’d only ever given him Scottish roast once. Every other time since then, it’s been French roast. 

He’s never really used a coffee machine for himself, going to cafes or coffee shops most of the time for coffee, keeping his usual coffee order written in his notes app because he couldn’t remember it for the life of him.

He’d sometimes modify his order if certain coffee shops didn’t do certain things that he usually got, but his order stays mostly the same every time he gets coffee. Medium (or grande, if he’s at Starbucks) latte with a double shot of espresso. 

Typically, he’d get some shortbread too, but you didn’t really have any in the base, so he’d have to do without it today. 

Once you enter the snack bar, you grab another mug from the cabinets above the counter and place it under the coffee machine. You open the cabinets right by the ones that contained the mugs and grab a bag of ground French roast, pulling it out and putting it on the counter. 

You open it up and find that there’s conveniently already a small cup in there to scoop the coffee grounds up, and use your free hand to grab a new coffee filter from the same cabinets you got the coffee grounds from, swiftly putting it into the machine. 

You use your other hand to scoop up some coffee grounds and put them into the filter, closing the top of the coffee machine afterwards and turning on the machine. You’re grateful there’s more options listed on the small digital screen that lights up on the machine than just plain black coffee, not really in the mood to try and steam milk right now.

You tap on the ‘latte’ option and watch as the screen changes and hear the coffee machine start to whir. 

As it does that, you put away the coffee grounds and open up the cabinets that contained mugs once again, pulling out a small espresso glass and setting it onto the counter.

You wait patiently for the coffee to brew, and once you hear the small beep sound from the machine that signals that it’s done, you pull away the steaming hot coffee and set it down right next to the coffee machine. 

You quickly put the espresso glass under the machine and start it up again, this time tapping the ‘espresso shot’ option—surprised that’s even an option, honestly—and hearing the familiar whirring noise start up again. It doesn’t take nearly as long as brewing the latte did, the small beep coming much sooner than it did just a minute or two earlier, and you pull away the small espresso glass from the machine almost immediately after you hear it. 

You pause for a moment, looking at how much the latte part had filled up the mug, and look around for a moment before opening up the same drawer that contains the eating utensils and grabbing a straw, putting the straw in the still hot latte—is that a good idea? No. Did you do it anyway because you physically can’t think before you act? Absolutely—and taking a long sip of it.

You pull the straw out once the liquid in the mug is at a good inch below the brim and then pour in the espresso shot, setting the glass down after you do so.

You look around for a second for a trash bin and find one just a few steps away from you, quickly throwing out the straw you’d used and then walking back over to the empty espresso glass, picking it up and setting it down by the sink. God forbid we get a dishwasher in here or something, You think absentmindedly as you pick up the mug and carefully walk out of the snack bar with it, Would it hurt to at least get some dish soap in here or something? 

You make it out of the snack bar without burning your fingers and start the much longer walk to Soap’s sleeping quarters. You’d caught him walking out of his office in that direction earlier, so you can only assume that he’d gone there. 

Once you make it there, you knock on the door a few times and wait for Soap to call out to you and allow you to come in before twisting the door knob and opening the door. He’s laying on his back on his bed, thumb paused on his phone screen as he looks over at you as you enter. He notices the coffee and sits up a bit, grunting as he does. 

He wasn’t really as talkative after long missions like the one you’d all been on earlier—usually it took him a day or two to be more social and back to himself, so you didn’t take much offense to him not greeting you as loudly as he usually did. 

He nods at the coffee, “Is that for me?” 

“Mhm,” You hum, handing him the mug, “Be careful, it’s hot.” 

“Got it,” Soap carefully takes the mug into his hands, and softly blows on it before looking at you again and grinning at you, “Weel, thank ye for this. Ye really didnae hae tae.” 

“Price actually said the same thing,” You muse, almost to yourself, before speaking a little louder, “No problem.”

“Oh did he?” Soap asks, raising an eyebrow, before his expression shifts and he feigns confusion, “Wait, how come he got a drink afore me?”

“Because his office was closer to the snack bar,” You explain, crossing your arms. 

“… Nae, it’s definitely ‘cause ye hate me,” Soap disagrees, shaking his head in mock disappointment, “And tae think I thought we were friends.” 

“It is no— you know what?” You begin to argue, before sighing and rolling your eyes, “I do hate you, and we were never friends, you ungrateful piece of shit.” 

Soap laughs, quieter than he usually does but it’s still a genuine laugh. He looks down at the coffee again and back at you, before saying, “Thank ye. Again.” 

“No problem,” You replied, walking back towards the door and opening it, walking out of Soap’s sleeping quarters and closing the door behind you. Now for Ghost. 

Ghost typically liked tea more than coffee, but you think that’s just the British in him talking. Realistically, you could give him either or, and he’d say a polite ‘thank you’ and move on.

From years of being apart of the 141, any preferences or additives he liked to put in his tea or coffee slowly dissipated and instead he just drank either one plain. Which should make the tasks you’ve forced yourself to do today easier, but knowing you, you just couldn’t take the easy route with this. 

You remember a conversation with him that happened several months ago where you had been talking about your own tea and coffee preferences. Ghost had commented that he didn’t often put any additives in his own hot drinks anymore, but back before he’d joined the military, he liked to drink keemun tea occasionally with nutmeg in it. 

Keemun tea—which was fucking expensive by the way, costing around sixteen pounds for twenty tea bags in every store you could find them in—wasn’t too hard to find, so the next time you went on leave after that conversation, you’d bought a box of bags of keemun tea leaves and some ground nutmeg. 

You didn’t let Ghost know about it, and kind of forgot about it just a week after you bought it, but now the memory of you buying it and storing it in the snack bar behind a few other boxes of tea bags has resurfaced and it’s the only thing you think is appropriate to give Ghost at a time like this. 

You get back to the snack bar and almost robotically you pull a mug out from the cabinets above the counter and set it down on said counter, deciding to grab another one just so that you wouldn’t have to do it later, and setting that one down right next to the other. You open the cabinet beside that and move some of the boxes out of the way to find the keemun tea box in the very back, right where you last left it. 

You snatch it out of the cabinet and open it, pulling out a small packet and opening it up to pull out the tea bag inside. You go ahead and put the tea bag inside of the mug and put the tea box back in the cabinet, closing the small cabinet door afterwards.

You then grab the electric kettle that’s right by the sink and pop open the lid, putting it under the faucet and turning said faucet on, waiting until the water fills a quarter of the kettle. Once it does, you turn off the faucet and put the kettle down right by the outlet on the wall. 

You put the lid down and wait for it to click into place before you plug the kettle into the outlet and press the small button below the handle to turn it on, and listen as it starts to make a small whirring noise. You don’t waste too much time just standing there, waiting for the water to finish boiling, instead putting the other mug you’d pulled out from the cabinets under the coffee machine and turning it on. 

You tap on the ‘decaf flat white’ option and watch the digital screen change and another whirring sound starts up, now coming from the coffee machine.

You were starting to make Gaz’s while making Ghost’s drink because Gaz often made the mistake of drinking his coffee before it was cool enough to not burn his tongue, so if you made it earlier, it’d have more time to cool, and Gaz wouldn’t have to wait as long before drinking it, therefore solving the whole ‘burning-his-tongue-because-he’s-impatient’ problem he has. 

Gaz liked simple flat whites, and sure, he liked tea too, but nothing could top a good flat white for him. He’d get them anywhere and everywhere he can, and you honestly admire his dedication to getting a flat white everywhere he goes. 

The coffee machine finished up quickly, a small beep sounding from the machine as it stopped its whirring and a few more drops of coffee made it into the mug before it completely stopped. You pull the mug out from under the machine and set it aside for now, just waiting for the water to finish boiling in the kettle. 

Once the kettle clicks and the whirring from that machine stops, you unplug it and pour some water into the empty mug you’d picked out for Ghost, waiting until it’s filled up about a half inch below the brim of the mug before taking the kettle away from the mug and pouring the rest of the unused water into the sink. 

You set the kettle down beside the coffee machine where it belongs and check the drawer below the one that held the eating utensils, looking through some of the spices and drink additives in it before finally finding the ground nutmeg you needed. 

You unscrew the cap and tilt the small spice jar over the mug, letting some of the powder spill into the mug before tilting it back and screwing the cap back on. You put it back in its spot and close that drawer, now opening the drawer above it and grabbing a small spoon, closing that one after you’ve grabbed the spoon and putting the spoon into the mug to mix the spices in it around a bit. 

You leave Gaz’s mug on the counter, hoping that nobody steals it while you’re away, and instead pick up the mug meant for Ghost, carefully walking out of the snack bar with it. 

Ghost’s office is fairly far away, but you still manage to get there without burning your fingers or anything on the mug. You knock on the door a few times and wait for Ghost to call out permission for you to come in before you open the door and walk in. 

Ghost immediately looks over at you and spots the mug in your hand, but ignores it for now, instead opting to ask, “Did you need something, [c/n]?” 

“Not really,” You shrugged the best you could while holding scalding hot tea, “Just needed to give you this.” 

You set the mug down on Ghost’s desk before he can say another word, and watch as he eyes the mug with curiosity and confusion. 

“What’s this?” He asks, carefully picking up the mug, holding the top up to his nose to smell it. Before you can answer his question, you see his eyes widen and he questions a little louder, “Is this… keemun? With nutmeg?” 

“You can tell just from the smell?” You ask, mildly impressed, watching as Ghost’s gaze turns into one more in awe of the mug. 

“Yes, I can,” He mumbles, smelling the brim of the mug again, before looking over at you, “How did you know I liked keemun with nutmeg in it?” 

“You told me about it, like, a few months ago. Six months ago, maybe? I dunno.” 

“How do you remember a conversation from six months ago?”

“It was an important conversation, I guess?” You shrug, crossing your arms. 

You watch in silence as Ghost eyes the tea and you take that as your sign to leave, walking towards the door, stopping right in front of it to twist the knob to open it before you’re interrupted by Ghost. 

“Wait—” You turn your head and look at him over your shoulder, and immediately upon seeing his face, you think, oh my God is he tearing up? “Thank you, [c/n]. I really appreciate it.” 

You offer a small smile and reply, “Yeah, no problem. Enjoy your tea.” 

You open the door without another word and close it behind you, taking a deep breath before continuing down the hall back to the snack bar. 

You’re relieved when you get there and see the mug, still steaming a bit, still on the counter. You quickly walk over to it and pick it up, walking right back out the door with it and heading straight for Gaz’s sleeping quarters. You remember him being so tired from the mission—you don’t know whether to hope he’s asleep and getting some rest, or to hope that he’s awake so you can properly hand him his coffee. 

Once you make it to his sleeping quarters, you knock on the door, and there’s no response for a few moments, making you think he might actually be asleep, but then you hear Gaz’s drowsy voice call out, “You can come in!” 

You open the door and see him rubbing the sleep from his eyes and sitting up on his bed, looking over at you. His lips twitch up into a small smile once he sees you and he lets his hand drop into his lap. 

“Hey, [c/n].” He looks over at the mug you’ve brought with you, before raising an eyebrow, “You brought something for me?” 

“Very bold of you to assume it’s for you,” You close the door behind you and walk closer to him, “But yes, it is.” 

Gaz perks up a bit at that and happily takes the mug off of your hands once you hand it to him, and his smile grows significantly bigger once he sees you’ve brought him a flat white. 

“It’s decaf, don’t worry,” You say, as if reading his mind, “I figured you’d still want some sleep after drinking it.” 

“Always so considerate,” Gaz sighs teasingly, raising the mug to his lips like you’d thought he would. Thankfully, his tongue doesn’t burn this time after he sips the coffee, and you let out a small sigh of relief at the fact. 

“You know me,” You respond dryly, crossing your arms as you watch Gaz take a few more sips of the coffee. 

“Thank you for this, by the way,” Gaz thanks you, taking another sip of the coffee before stating, “I hope you know you’re my favorite now.” 

“Your favorite what?” 

“Just my favorite, in general,” Gaz hums, “This is the best flat white I’ve ever drunk. Ten out of ten.” 

“Thanks,” You thank him flatly, “It was made with love and a coffee machine I learned how to use yesterday.” 

“I can just taste the love in it.” 

“Not the coffee machine?”

“Well, it’s a bit concerning if someone can taste the coffee machine in their coffee, innit?” Gaz raises an eyebrow at you before taking another sip of his coffee. 

“Not if it’s the one I used.” 

“Whatever you say,” Gaz mutters, taking yet another sip of his coffee, making you huff out a small laugh. 

“You enjoy your coffee,” You say before walking back over to the door, closing the door behind you as you walk out and letting out a tired breath, starting to head back to your own sleeping quarters.

[samthestrangerthingsfan]

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: established relationship, Eddie is an emotionally constipated lil guy who's scared of his own feelings, adorable nervous energy, so much fluff its gross

AN: BRUV i wrote this in about a half hour ago and now its up and i BARELY edited this so please be gentle! I love you guys, have the best weekend!

I can’t fucking say it.

Eddie has been pacing back and forth in his room for the past 45 fucking minutes.

He’s tried saying it looking in the mirror, looking at his feet, hell, he even tried staring out the fucking window.

Nothing.

He can think it—that’s the easy part. Those three little words play in his head like a god damned broken record.

When he’s not around you, he’s thinking it. When he’s just left you, or on his way to you, he can feel it on the tip of his tongue.

Oh, but when he’s with you? It’s like a big flashing neon fucking sign buzzing in his brain:

EDDIE MUNSON LOVES HIS GIRL.

It should be easy, no? To look you into your dreamy eyes and tell you.

Let’s try this again.

Eddie bounced back and forth on each foot, shaking the nerves from his hands. “C’mon, Munson. Don’t be a chicken shit…”

He let out a few quick breaths. “Okay, okay…”

Eddie’s brain is screaming at him. Telling him to say the fucking words he’s been thinking and feeling for the past 4 months.

Really the past 3 years he’s knowns you, but that’s neither here nor there.

He feels out of breath just sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands.

“I can’t fucking say it, holy hell.” Eddie scrubs his face, feeling like a complete coward.

Always running from what scares him.

He heard the door of the trailer open, and the familiar chime of your keychain follow.

“Eds? I’m back! and I got you a surprise!”

Whatever nerves he was feeling vanished. You’re the most calming presence Eddie’s ever met. Like…a warm blanket. A cup of tea on a rainy day. Lover's lake, right as the sun was starting to rise.

Magical. Healing. Golden.

You were everything to him, and he couldn’t even fucking tell you.

“Babe?” You called again, looking for him.

“Y-Yeah! Yeah, in here, sweetheart.” He stands quickly. Drying his sweaty palms on his pants.

You round the corner into his room, and Eddie swears you get more beautiful every time he sees you. You smile at him, “Hey, handsome.”

“There’s my pretty girl.” He says without a second thought. “You and Buckley have fun at the mall?”

Eddie pulls you into him completely, and you melt. He’s so sturdy and strong but so, so gentle with you. You inhale him, he inhales you.

Home.

“I did, Robin keeps me from flying too close to the sun,” you laugh. “I did, however, get you a little something.”

Eddie pulls back, looking at you. “What? Why?”

You’re beaming up at him, “‘Cause I love you, ya silly goose.” You bend down, and grab the bag at your feet. “Here, opening it!”

Eddie doesn’t even have time to process how easily you’d say it.

You’ve never once pressured him—never made a big thing about saying it. It came with no strings when you said it the first time.

You’d spent the day with him, doing nothing particularly important. These were Eddie’s favorite. It’s just him and his girl, no sharing you with Robin or Dustin or any of those other gremlins.

You had an early shift the next day, so you kissed him goodbye, and grabbed your bag. Eddie kissed you once for every step you took toward the door.

“Baby, nooooo,” he whined. “I’ll let you sleep, sweetheart. No funny business, scouts honor.”

You laughed, “Oh, you were Boy Scout?”

Eddie shifted his feet, “I could’ve been.”

You kissed him deeply at the front door, “I’ll be back before you know it."

“Fine, fine,” he said dramatically. “I’ll just be here…alone…wallowing in my sorrows.” Eddie flopped back and fell backwards over the couch.

Your giggle echoed off the walls of the trailer. “I love you! I’ll see you in the morning!”

The door shut behind you, and Eddie shot up like a rocket, and stiff as a board.

You love him.

You said you loved him.

And he didn’t say it back.

It’s haunted him since.

Eddie took the bag from your hands, and pulled you gently to follow him. You sat down together on the edge of his bed.

You spoke to him as he opened it, “Okay, if you don’t like them, just be nice because it took me 40 minutes to decide between two sets and this one spoke to me and I wanted—“

“Honey, honey.” Eddie chuckled. “Take a breath. Whatever it is, it’s perfect." He tapped your nose gently, "‘Cause it’s from you.”

Eddie unwrapped the tissue paper, revealing a black acrylic case. He removed the lid, and his jaw nearly hit the floor.

“Holy shit, baby.”

Inside the case, was a brand new set of black onyx and ruby red DND dice.

“You like ‘em? Robin almost left me in the store because I just couldn’t decide—“

Eddie put the dice down quickly, grabbed your cheek, and kissed you tenderly.

He brought his other hand to your face as well, cupping it gently as his mouth moved over yours

When he was done with your mouth, Eddie kissed your nose, your cheeks, your eyes, your chin, any part of you he deemed not smothered in affection enough.

His lips had barely left your skin before he spoke, “I love you. God, I love you so much, sweetheart.”

Your smile—it could light up the whole town.

“Y-Yeah?” You asked hopefully, “You do?”

Eddie nodded, his hair tickling you cheeks. “I really, really do, baby. I love you. Thank you for thinking of me. For taking the time to do something that I never woulda done for myself. Thank you for just…” Eddie sighed, kissing your forehead. “Just for being mine. Christ, I’m so lucky.”

It wasn't about the gift.

Eddie had it all when he had you, and now he's going to make sure you know it.

[gothghostiie]

babysitter!reader chronicles continue because I babysat the whole weekend and obviously cannot catch a break

cw: comfort, reader has a strong reaction to things breaking, gn!reader

thinking about price being gone overnight, having you sleep over so he doesn't stress about coming home. he knows you don't mind sleeping on his couch and he knows his little munchkin is safe with you. you get to spend the morning with the baby who decided to wake up extra early, making some easy breakfast for both of you, hanging out the whole day, it's routine by now. in the afternoon you make a snack and decide to make some tea for both of you - the little one definitely got it's love for tea from John.

It's all good and well, until you have to put the infant down for a second to fill the electric kettle with water. you put it right next to the sink and put the little one down, telling them that they'll be right back in your arms, just let you boil the water. the baby coos as you stand up and turn around: just to be met with the sounds of crashing and clattering, and with the sight of glass shards. you immediately pick up the baby and stumble back, eyes wide as you try to process what the fuck just happened, your heart racing and your hands shaking. you have to do everything in your power to not let out a string of courses as you look at the broken kettle, trying to figure out what to do.

you decide the best course is put the baby to the safety of it's high chair while you pick up the big shards, it goes just fine until you grab the vacuum cleaner to get the small shards. the baby starts fussing, making grabby hands at you, your heart clenches. so now you're vacuuming, baby on your hip, holding on tightly. its all fine until you put the vacuum cleaner away and have a moment to gather your thoughts, the waterworks start flowing big time.

you try your hardest to hold back as you make the tea and the food, sniffling while the occasional sob falls from your lips. the baby keeps looking at you confused, touching your face and tilting their head, babbling softly as if trying to ask why you're crying. you just keep a hold of them and try to smile at them, sitting down to eat with them as you try to figure out how to tell John you broke his electric kettle.

tears are still flowing as you type out a text, not brave enough to tell him face to face. you almost wanna throw your phone out after the text is sent, but you just put it into your pocket. you distract yourself with housework, with the baby, still occasionally tearing up, when your phone vibrates.

its a simple message from John; 'be home soon.'

you can feel the nausea rise in your belly, hands trembling again as your mind goes a mile a minute. he didn't even say anything to you telling him the kettle broke, just that he's home soon. your head goes from anything to you're being fired to you'll end up never being allowed around any child ever. you try your hardest to distract yourself, cleaning up a last time before putting on a kids' movie and sitting on the couch with the baby. you're fidgeting with your fingers, you're nervous, anxious, almost near tears - your heart stops when you hear the keys jingle in the door. you freeze up, glancing at him from your place on the couch as he walks in, boots thudding heavy on the floor. he stretches with a groan, putting down his bag and hanging up his jacket before making his way over to the two of you. he stops right in front of you, arms crossed as he bends down - just to coo at his baby.

"there's my little angel, missed me?" he smiles softly, but quickly frowns as he seed the expression on your face. he knits his brows, staying leaned down to the two of you. "hey, whats the matter? you look like a kicked puppy, love." he chuckles gently, trying to coax a smile out of you, but it doesn't work. you look down at the yawning baby, grabbing at John's arms, wanting to be held.

you mumble another apology, causing him to huff in confusion before it dawns on him. "love, this isn't about the broken kettle, is it?" he asks, sighing softly as you keep quiet. he finally picks up the cooing baby, it immediately nuzzles into him. "wait here." he mutters softly, putting the sleepy baby down for a nap in the nursery before coming back to you. his arms are crossed, hes frowning, you barely even look at him; not even when he sits down next to you. "c'mere, bird." he murmurs, patting the side of his thigh, lifting his arm.

your eyes widen a bit, you hesitate before scooting closer. a strong arm wraps around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. "there there. you're okay love, it's alright." he says softly, quietly, as if talking to his little one. "there's no need to be scared, yea? I'm not angry." you glance up at him, still unsure. he kisses your head gently. "it's just a kettle. I'll get a new one tomorrow." his strong hand keeps a hold of your arm, caging you against his side, the other resting on your knee with the thumb rubbing gentle circles.

you mutter another apology as tears threaten to spill again, he shushes you gently. "no, no. none of that. and no tears either, bird. its okay. these things happen." he holds you tighter, soothing you gently as you nod. he holds you like this until he feels the tension in your body lessen, finally accepting his words and that he's not mad. he presses another kiss onto your head.

"just do me a favour next time.." he hums, his tone teasing as he bites back a chuckle. "if you don't like my kettle, tell me. no need to break it.