#and one day she was whining because he was so friendly to me and he looks at the girl straight faced and says

[moeblob]

Karen: LMAO every guy I meet reminds me of my big brothers that's so funny except if Paul is already my brother and you're also a brother that's a bit awkward, huh Hot bartender: THATS MOVING REALLY FAST AND I LIKE YOU AS A PERSON BUT - Karen: having my brothers date would be SO WEIRD Hot bartender: Well on the bright side I literally cannot speak more than five words to him so we aren't dating because he's so cute

(Everyone else: that is somehow the most depressing bright side we never want to hear)

[monstersflashlight]

Commission for @lavender-constellation

A/N: Thank you so much for commissioning again! Means a whole lot <3 Hope you like it, it was super fun to write.

Request: Two Co workers in an office setting where they have to work closely together every day, one is a male!werewolf, the other is a fem!bunny girl that experiences heat. Bunnygirl is going through heat, trying to focus on the task and trying not to run to the bathroom to masturbate. Werewolf notices this, they have a convo about her being in heat, and werewolf offers to help her out. She almost says yes but says no and is afraid it would be unprofessional, he gets closer to her and rubs her clit and she relents for the chance at relief and to focus back on work. He fingers her and eats her out in her cubicle. Aaaaand more scenes of him “helping” her out until eventually they just start fucking at her apartment before work It becomes an at least twice a day thing for the duration of her heat, half the time in The cubicle half the time in his car, both trying to convince themselves it’s just so she can focus on work again,(though werewolf is a little smug about it) and the werewolf is just helping her out as a coworking favor, nothing more, but they’re both secretly catching feelings.

The key to productivity

Werewolf x fem!werebunny || heat, oral sex, fingering, knotting, semi-public sex, dub-con (kinda?)

You told your doctor you were feeling weird and the blood tests came back positive. You were going into heat, and your suppressants stopped working. He told you he could give you different ones, but you would have to ride at least two heats before that. You tried to argue that you couldn’t do it, you had to work, you had stuff to do… But there was no other way around it.

That’s how you find yourself in the middle of your stupidly boring desk job shift when the first wave hit. You think you are dealing okay with it, moving a bit more than normal, but everything is going as normally would. The world feels a bit off, but you convince yourself you can do it. Nobody has to know. You can ride the heat off and be okay after it. You can. You are a strong werebunny and you can get through that and more. Totally…

Surprisingly for anybody: you cannot.

Your cubicle coworker, a big werewolf that you might or might not have a crush on is the first one to notice. “Why are you so restless?” He asks in the middle of your day.

You turn your chair around and look at him trying to look confused as you deny it. “I- I’m not restless.” As you say it, you start feeling the blush creeping at your cheeks, your ears twitching.

“Yes, you are. And,” he sniffs the air, “aroused?” You blush harder. “Are you going into heat?” His tone is teasing and you want to kick that stupid grin off his face. “Can I help?” He grins at you, such a puppy gesture that you want to kiss his stupid snout as he shows you his canines.

“What do you mean?” You ask, confused. There’s no way he’s offering what you think he’s offering, is it? There’s no way a big handsome werewolf like he wants you, a werebunny nobody. No way.

But to your surprise, he just rationalizes it. “We need to finish this project today, and we can’t if you keep being jumpy and stressed and clearly restless. Let me help. Smelling how wet you are I bet it won’t even take that long.” The way he says it like it meant nothing should have been offending, but instead it turns you on more, your pussy twitching over nothing as you whined low. You cover your mouth instantly, embarrassed. “Come on, it’s just sex between coworkers, just some friendly... helping out.” His tone is teasing but there’s a hint of heat under it.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage of you just because I smell…” You lower your tone, “like arousal.” You have to spit the last part out because you are so embarrassed you don’t even want to know how red your face is.

“I offered, remember? Also, you smell fucking delicious, I could eat you whole.” His confession makes you want to squirm, your brain sending alarm bells because of butterflies taking flight inside your tummy, but you ignore them. “Is that a yes? Can I touch your wet pussy?” His smirk is even more teasing now, and your pussy twitches again, your clit demanding attention.

You blush as you ask: “Why do you need to be so… crude?” His words are turning you on but you don’t want him to know that.

He smirks bigger, all his teeth showing and making you squirm under his heated eyes. “You like it, I can smell the spike of arousal when I tell you dirty things.” He sniffs the air and makes a humming noise, like he’s savoring your smell.

“Yo- You can?” You choked out, surprised by that but also embarrassed about it.

“Yes, I can. Your smell turns sweeter when I talk about licking your clit and finger fucking your tight pussy.” You groaned at his words, his crudeness indeed doing it for you. Damn him for being so fucking hot and filthy. And damn you for finding it extra hot.

“Okay,” you whisper. “You can help me.” In the back of your brain, there’s a voice saying that is going to be a bad idea, but you ignore that too, the voice that tells you to let him fuck you senseless is a lot louder.

“Hell yeah!” His enthusiasm shocks you, but you don’t have time to say anything. “Come here.” He didn’t let you move your chair, he grabbed it and pulled, positioning it next to his across the cubicle. You groaned, the manhandling apparently doing it for you, too. Good goddess, why was everything he did so hot?

He parts your legs with a forceful pull, making you groan and cover your mouth with your hand, once again dying of embarrassment. He chuckles and goes for it. You were never so happy to have worn a skirt in your life. He doesn’t even take your panties off, he pulls them to the side and starts rubbing your clit like a pro.

You are muffling your sounds as he chuckles and keeps going, acting uninterested as you squirm under his ministrations. Not two seconds later he has a finger in your pussy as his thumb circles over your oversensitive clit. And then he adds a finger, and by the time he has three, not even a minute has passed. Your pussy is so eager to get his attention that it feels like it’s claiming him, like it doesn’t want to let him go. And you… You can’t deny how good it is, how fucking filthy it feels to be finger fucked in the middle of the work day, in your cubicle, by tour werewolf coworker who you might or might not have a crush on.

And when he leans down and whispers against your ear: “You smell so fucking sweet. Can’t wait to eat you out.” The way he just assumes that’s gonna happen it’s what does it. As soon as he says that, you are coming around his fingers. The dirtiness of the situation making you orgasm in less than two minutes, how embarrassing. When you come down from the high he looks at you and asks softly: “Do you feel better?” You nod, too shy to say something.

He gets back to work and so do you. And it does help, you feel a lot more focused for a couple hours. But after that you go back to being restless and needy, your pussy sensitive and your panties dripping wet. This time around he goes under the table and eats you out until you are panting against your hand and your chair is so wet you have to get tissues to clean it afterwards.

That continues for a couple days. It starts only in the cubicle, but soon turns into hourly toilet trips, he tails after you like an eager puppy. It shouldn’t make you so happy, but it does. He finger fucks you, sucks your clit and pinches your nipples. He learns every single erogenous zone in your body and plays you like a fine instrument.

Every. Single. Hour.

By the third day, he suggests following you home to help you out a bit more. He goes down on you for at least three hours, making humming noises as he enjoys himself. You try to return the favor, but he stops you, going down on you once again and grunting as he jerks off while at it. You can’t think of anything more erotic than him jerking himself off with his big paw as he eats you out until his face is shiny with your juices. Having him there… Like that… It’s driving you a bit insane.

It’s the day before your heat ends when you start feeling it worse than ever, the last spike of It making you feel restless and anxious. You won’t stop moving, your legs bouncing up and down non stop and making him look at you with concern in his eyes. He fingers you under your desk once again, making you come messily as his other hand rubs your nipples over your dress. But it’s not enough, not nearly enough.

He helps you out like that two more times before you start whining. It’s too much but not nearly enough, and his concerned face only grows and grows. You don’t know what to tell him, your forehead is sweaty and your pussy is so wet you can feel it sticking to your chair. It makes you feel disgusting, but you can’t do nothing but to roll your hips in an effort to relieve some pressure, without any luck.

“Let’s get out of here,” he tells you after hearing you sigh for the thousand times in ten minutes. His eyes on you only make the heat stronger, your pussy wetter.

You look at him, your eyes unfocused, brain fuzzy. “What?” You look at him scandalized. There’s no way he’s suggesting what you think he’s suggesting.

“You need relief and I have a perfectly big car outside with tinted windows where I can knot you sweet pussy and get you more… focused.” You blush hard at his choice of words, your ears twitching at the top of your head. He’s right, you know he’s right, but you’ve never been knotted, what if…

“I’ve never been knotted,” you confess. He growls at you and you blush harder, the heat in his eyes turning molten lava when he looks down at you.

“That ends today.” He pulls at your arm and you try to suppress a giggle at his insistence. “Let’s go.”

Before you can think twice about it, or more like before your heat-fuzzy head lets you understand what’s fully happening, you are naked and spread in the back of his car. He pushes your legs against your chest, folding you almost completely and going right for your pussy. You’d never know somebody who enjoyed oral as much as him, good goddess does he love to eat pussy, specifically yours… And you can’t complain about it. He’s great at it and you are cumming before he has even two fingers inside your pussy.

When he comes back for air and looks up at you from between your legs, his face is all shiny with your juices and his perfect fucking smirk is showing all his canines, making a spark of danger grow inside of you and sending your arousal even higher.

“Please…” You beg in a broken moan, that’s the only word you can get out. Your heat-induced brain is completely off line seeing him like that, seeing him like the representation of lust and deprivacy. He’s your best wet dream turned into reality, and it’s driving you insane.

He seems to see something in your face because he’s suddenly smiling tenderly at you and unbuttoning his pants. “Okay, okay, I’ve got you.” His dick is so big, you’ve seen it before when he was jerking himself as he fingered you in the cubicle, but nothing could have prepared you for the feel of it.

He starts pushing inside slowly but surely, his dick so big you want to scream, but he covers your mouth before you can do it. He starts fucking you at a slow pace, letting you accommodate his girth, but it’s not enough. It feels like torture for you.

You urge him to go faster, harder, but it’s just a muffled moan against his palm. He seems to understand you either way, chuckling and complying. He fucks into you deep and hard, hitting your G-spot with every thrust and making your eyes roll back into your head as he grunts with every thrust.

“Are you ready?” You nod fervently, licking his hand and rolling your hips against his dick buried deep inside of you.

Your scream is muffled by his hand when the knot starts expanding in you. It’s exhilarating, way more than you expected. So big, so much, so wonderful… And then he starts coming in you and you feel every little twitch and spur of his come, making you dizzy with pleasure as you come and come and come… It feels like the longest and strongest orgasm of your life.

When the knot goes down and he helps you get back into your dress, slowly caressing your body while at it, you realize two things: 1) You could never live through a heat without a knot ever again, and 2) You might be a bit in love with your werewolf coworker.

Fuck.

Reminder that you can also commission me (info here).

[luveline]

Hi there! I hope your day’s been going well :)

Could you maybe write something with Spencer where Reader faints? Feel free to ignore this if you’re not up for it!!

thank u for ur request! fem!reader, 1.6k

"It's so hot," you say, startled. The lobby of the hotel had been blissfully air-conditioned. The difference hits you immediately. 

"Don't worry about blazers or professional attire," Hotch says, though he quickly amends, "within reason."

You take off your jacket and follow the herd of the BAU into the black SUVs. The SUVs are even hotter than the outdoors, blistering ovens of heat that have you feeling nauseous instantaneously. Spencer rubs your arm with the back of his hand swiftly —it's a friendly touch to say he's here, but it's quick to prevent any unnecessary added heat. 

It's August in Texas, 107 degrees Fahrenheit. Emily smells distinctly of sunscreen from the front passenger seat. Derek, behind the wheel, looks hot around the collar. Spencer looks as though he wishes he'd had a haircut before he came, chin length curls tucked tight behind his ears. 

Despite this, none of them complain beyond the general whine every now and then. You try very hard to shut up and focus on the case with them, but as the day goes on, bumping you from hot car to hot crime scene (with all inclusive smells of gore!), you feel wobbly on your feet. 

"Spence?" you ask, sitting in a hard-backed chair in the police precinct. 

"Yeah?" He doesn't look away from the geographical profile he's building. You're supposed to be helping, but your notes are half-hearted, likely useless. "What?" 

"Do you have any water?" 

He pushes a pin into the left of the map and grabs a ruler. "No, sorry. There's a staff room by the bullpen, the secretary said to help ourselves. Actually, she said to 'go ham.'"

"Okay. I'll be right back. And I'll be more helpful." 

"You're plenty helpful," he murmurs, leaning down to follow the line of his rules with a pencil. 

You don't feel helpful, you feel awful. Head heavy, eyes aching, every step sends a jolt through your teeth and jaw, your skull like a mashed potato. You know you're a poor sight with sweat wetting your hair and a crawling sensation between your legs and the fabric of your pants. 

Letting yourself into the staff room, you're unsurprised to find a bone dry water cooler and a crate of water bottles with only one remaining. Spencer needs a drink too, and he has a thing about germs. You frown at the water bottle as though that might duplicate it, but when it doesn't, you're forced to take it and put it under your arm. You look around for a mug to at least have some tap water no matter how ill-advised that may be. They're all dirtied in the sink and on tables. Fuck. 

Spencer is super, super lovely to you. You wonder sometimes if he might ask you out, or at least want to, but most of the time you're sure it's just a little extra friendliness because he knows how it feels to be the youngest on the team, how patronised or lonely it gets. And the weight of trying to prove yourself every mission, it's almost as heavy as your head. 

"Hey," Spencer says as you open the conference room door. "I think I've worked something out. Could you call Garcia for me? I've got dry-erase marker on my hands." 

"Got this for you," you say, offering him the bottle. He takes it without looking. 

"Thanks. Are you feeling any better? I know you can be sensitive to the heat." 

"Maybe we can get portable fans on the FBI budget next year," you say wistfully, pushing a chair in at the table. You lean on it to grab the phone in the middle of a sea of papers and cases and jackets, black spots popping up in your vision. "My head's rushing." 

"Hey, guys," Emily says, sounding strangely chipper as she and Hotch trudge in. Her hair is in a tight ponytail away from her face. 

You try to greet them and end up hanging your head. 

"Y/N," Spencer chokes, alarmed.

You slump forward over the chair, desperate to keep your footing and failing. Your shin knocks into the chair and your hands grasp at the top of it, but you can't hold yourself up any longer, knocking your face into the chair as you collapse. A cheap tent in a strong breeze, you fall with little more than a weak sigh. 

You're hurting a lot when you come to, blinking like your lashes have been brushed with glue. The lights have been turned off, and a blissful chill soaks your hairline. Someone presses a water bottle to your lips and lifts your head. You drink half the contents in three gulps and get laid down again with the utmost care. 

"She's coming around," Hotch says. 

Your neck aches propped over a leg. Two deft hands hold your head still. 

"Don't move too much," Spencer says, his voice odd. You blink as his face moves into view upside down. "An EMT is on the way, okay? You passed out." 

You can't find your voice. Spencer strokes your cheek with his thumb, says, "Hey, can you hear me? Let's hear your voice. Talk to me." 

"You don't sound like yourself," you say hoarsely, each word tenuous. You wince at the bruising heat that radiates from your nose with each word. 

"I'm worried about you," Spencer admits. "It makes it hard to stay objective." 

"No, you sound funny." 

"I'm worried," he repeats. His smile is strained. 

"She's okay," Hotch says. 

You realise Emily's got your hand in hers when she squeezes it. "Have you had anything to drink today?" she asks you, fondly incredulous. 

"No, she hasn't, and I didn't say anything about it. I'm an idiot. I'm so sorry, Y/N," Spencer says. 

"Y/N's responsible for her own preservation, Reid. And it's been a tough case, with the heat. Let's not blame anyone for anything." You press your chin to your chest to see Hotch's anxious frown. "We will be having a discussion about this later." 

You turn your face into Spencer's thigh. "Oh." 

"Don't close your eyes," Hotch says. He employs a firm, boss-like tone that has you rushing to follow orders. "You hit your head." 

"I don't feel well," you complain, wanting to close your eyes.

"Considering your behaviour," Spencer says, one of his hands trailing down your face, neck, and collar, where he rests it genially, "you likely have a mild to moderate concussion. And you're dehydrated, so you'll be feeling the effects more severely."

"Why haven't you been drinking?" Emily asks. 

"I just…" You blink sluggishly. "I don't know… We don't take anything that isn't coffee with us places and…" You lean your cheek into Spencer's hand, not quite connecting that it's his hand, or that you're laying on the precinct floor. "They only had one bottle in the staff room." 

"Why didn't you drink it?" Spencer asks softly. 

"I knew you hadn't had anything to drink, either." 

"We could've shared," he says, sounding genuinely confused. 

"You don't like sharing stuff like that. Germs." 

Spencer's voice is barely above a whisper, "I wouldn't care about your germs, Y/N. They're your germs." 

You don't have time to ask him what he means, but you've ample time to think about it on loop when the EMT arrives. He props you up, checking you over thoroughly, shining a light in your eyes and deeming you concussed.

"You don't have to see a doctor," the EMT advises. "But we're happy to take you to the hospital if that's what you want." 

"Yes," Spencer says, as you say, "No." 

Spencer puts a hand on your shoulder blade. It is an extremely forward move on his part, so unlike him that you recognise how odd it is despite your foggy mind. "She should go." 

"She fainted, Spencer," Emily says. 

"Exactly! So she should go to the hospital and–"

"I didn't break anything," you say, waving a shaky hand at the small but concerned crowd of people you've attracted. 

"Luckily," the EMT says. "Drink plenty of water and take it easy. Don't be afraid to call again if you feel worse." 

Hotch walks the EMT out, needing to take a phone call. Emily goes with him, promising to return with a dry shirt for you to wear now that yours has been soaked at the collar by the water they'd been cooling you down with while you were unconscious. 

Spencer settles practically knee to knee with you in two of the uncomfortable chairs, his assessing gaze frankly perturbing. 

"You'd share germs with me?" you ask. 

Spencer's hand leaps across the gap to yours where it rests on your knee. His eyes, brown and sweet, have all the light of a blinding smile as his lips quirk into something more sheepish. "If it stopped you from fainting, yeah. And even if it didn't, I'd be stupid to care about germs when I…" 

You breathe out slowly. "When you what?" 

"Well," he says, looking down at your hands. "I guess I just wouldn't mind your germs, that's all." 

If he's saying what you think he's saying, he's doing it in the most Spencer Reid way possible. Concussed, your charisma fails you. You've no wit to tease him with. 

You fold your hand around his. "Thanks for catching me," you say gently. 

He squeezes your fingers clumsily. "You're welcome. But it was actually mostly Emily." 

[tropes-and-tales]

Dyin' for a Taste

Day 11:  Face Sitting (Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!) 

CW:  Idiots in love; pining; smut (oral, f!receiving); 18+ only.

Word Count:  4096

AN:  This was requested by an anonymous person!

AN2: When I say this is not edited, please know it is NOT EDITED. Full of typos and sloppy typing. Tropes is a fat-fingered old crone.

It starts with a joke.

The 141 is on a covert ops in the mountains.  It’s cold—the sort of cold that burns, that makes the bones ache.  You’re posted up in a perch, your sniper’s rifle at the ready if shit goes south.  The rest of the team is in the square below, waiting for the drop.

“My bollacks are gonna freeze off,” Soap complains over the comms, and you snort at the whining tone in his soft Scottish brogue. 

“Shoulda dressed for the weather,” you reply.  “Ghost probably has a spare balaclava.”

“And cover this handsome face?”

“Won’t be so handsome when your nose turns black from frostbite.”

You hear the tsch noise he makes over the comms, the very Soap, very Scottish noise of dismissal. 

“You’ll have to sit on my face then, hen, and warm me back up,” he says.

You’re rarely stunned into silence—you and the guys are always making off-color jokes—but when you open your mouth to reply, you only gape wordlessly.  The silence over the comms grows, expands, until Gaz—fucking Gaz—chimes in.

“I think she’s into the idea, bruv.”

And you can’t respond to that fast enough either, which leaves another long beat of silence over the comms, which likely seems like enough of an answer.

-----

The mission goes smoothly.  The team splits up as planned to avoid drawing attention.  You don’t see Soap again until a few days later when you regroup at HQ.

You think, perhaps, that he’s forgotten.  Maybe that’d be better.  You and Soap get along well, and sometimes he flirts with you, but he flirts with everyone.  It means nothing. 

And yet…

And yet, it’s Soap.  You might be able to lie to others, but you can’t lie to yourself:  you’ve spent many a lonely night with your thoughts drifting to him.  Turning him over and over in your mind. 

Soap MacTavish.  Handsome, almost unbearably so.  He could be a cocky asshole, be the sort of man who knows he’s hot and be insufferable about it, but he’s gregarious.  Friendly.  He’s a happy-go-lucky sort of man—or as much as someone in the One-Four-One can be.

-----

“Been avoiding me.”

It’s a statement, not a question.  Soap corners you in the mess hall, his blue eyes peering at you without guile.  He looks almost concerned.

“I haven’t,” you reply.  You try to shift past him, but he puts a hand out against the doorway, bars you with his arm.

“You have.”  He peers at you closer, his blue eyes somber.  “What’s wrong?”

“Why would anything be wrong?”

You thought, perhaps, that he’d forgotten…but those somber eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles, then smooth out as he schools his expression.

“Maybe you think my offer was wrong,” he says.

“I never said that.”  You duck under his arm, but he lays his hand on your shoulder and stills you again.

“You’ve never said anything about it.”  You don’t look at him, but you hear his gentle snort of laughter.  “Your silence is deafening.”

You feel your face start to heat up because he’s not wrong.  Too much time has passed now to address that moment in the mountains.  You should have said something then, spat out some rejoinder to signal that it meant nothing to you, that it was just another dumb joke between you and Soap.  But something about that dumb joke conjures up the mental image of you and Soap, and your face burns in embarrassment.

So you duck from his light grip on your shoulder and it makes him laugh again, then call out to your retreating form, “the offer still stands, hen.”

-----

A month passes, then another.  You get leave for a few weeks and go someplace warm, a beach with golden sand and soft breezes where you can relax and forget the horrors of what you see every day.

Then you’re back on base, then another mission.  Over and over, the same routine.

Through it all:  Soap MacTavish, the team’s Golden Retriever.  Always with an easy grin on his handsome face, a laugh, a joke.  He teases Ghost, he does a passable impression of Captain Price.  He gives Gaz a hard time about their rival rugby teams, but it’s always good-natured. 

He jokes with you, but that joke—the one about sitting on his face—becomes just a joke between the two of you.  You don’t know if the other men have forgotten it, but Soap only brings it up when you’re alone now.

At the barracks, in the rec room, he’s sprawled out on the couch and half-dozing, half-watching a rugby match.  When you walk past, he notices, sits up.  Beckons you over, tells you to have a seat…then thoughtfully strokes his face with that damned smirk and comically waggling eyebrows.

“You’re a jackass,” you call out as you leave the room, but by now, it makes you laugh…and it lightly stokes that ever-burning flame low in your belly.

-----

Another time, he sidles up to you at the range as you study your targets with their tight formation of bullet holes.  He points out one shot, high in the corner of the paper, off of the concentric circles of the bullseye.

“Missed one,” he says.

You scoff.  “One out of….many.”

He matches your scoff with one of his own.  “Might be losing your edge.”

“I’m not.”  You know he’s winding you up, but that missed shot galls you. 

“Maybe you’re stressed out.”

You set the target down on the wooden railing.  “Maybe you’re stressing me out, MacTavish.”

It’s the wrong thing to say.  His blue eyes light up in glee, and he only gets out the first part of his retort—You know what’s good for de-stressing—before you drop to one knee and start disassembling your sniper rifle, ducking your head and hiding your burning cheeks from him.

“…nothing wrong with it,” he finishes as you shut the rifle’s case, and you realize you’ve missed part of what he’s said.

“There isn’t,” you agree.  You stand up and lean a bit on the courage that sees you through each mission.  You look him square in the eye and add, “but you’re just flirting.”

He gazes back at you, a soft smile on his face, only a little teasing.  “Not just flirting.”

“Sure.”  You roll your eyes.

He makes his Soap-branded tsch sound, then he loops his arm around your shoulders to pull you in close.  He smells like…well, he smells like soap, clean with a hint of something herbal.  It’s nothing he hasn’t done a hundred times—in safe houses after a mission, walking out of a bar on a night out with the team—that companionable way he pulls you against him.

“It makes me sad when you don’t believe me, hen,” he chuckles, and it’s low, right by your ear, his warm breath fanning over you. 

You’re not sure what spurs your next move.  You’re a natural-born sniper; you take the measure of everything around you—the curve of the earth, the speed and direction of the wind—before you squeeze your trigger.  You’re the same with people, cautious and feeling out every angle of their intentions before you make a move.  But you know Soap, and the question around his joke is the only uncertainty.

Something makes you act without much thought.  Your rifle case in your hand, your other hand tucked in your pocket, and Soap’s arm slung around your shoulders…the moment is crystalized, will be an easy memory to recall in the years to come because this is when everything between the two of you changes.

“You know what?” you ask, and you don’t allow him to hazard a guess.  Instead, you gaze at him levelly, straight into those bright blue eyes of his and add, “alright, let’s do this.”

It’s comical, how the smile drops from his face, how his mouth makes a little “oh” of surprise.  His eyes scan your face, quick, like he’s trying to find the joke, trying to find proof you’re just having a laugh at his expense.

“Bonnie,” he starts to say, and his voice has a rough edge to it.  His voice is missing its usual teasing edge, and he pauses to study you.  You don’t know if he realizes it, but the tip of his tongue darts out, licks against his lower lip, like he’s really thinking of it now that it could be a reality.

“Bonnie, are you just…are ye fer real?”  His voice is lower and his accent gets thicker, and it sets a frisson of heat shimmering through your lower belly.

You refuse to blink.  Refuse to look away.  “I’m for real if you are.”

“I was never joking about that.”

“Then I’m not joking either.”  You swing your rifle case towards the barracks, playing at bravery but willing the fluttery feeling in your stomach to calm.  “So let’s go.”

Soap—gregarious, convivial Soap—says nothing else on the walk back.  He keeps his arm around your shoulders, though, and his hand settles against your bicep, rubs you briskly before gently holding you there, like he’s proving to himself that you’re real, that the moment is really happening.

-----

Your nerve wobbles a little when you get back to quarters.  Soap’s nerves must have a similar wobble, because he turns to you and his usual boyish grin is gone, replaced by a grave expression.

“You dinnae have to do this,” he says, “if you don’t want to.”

Part of you wants to back out, chuck him in the arm and say it was just a joke.  You could still back out.  Soap is flirty and gregarious, but hooking up would irrevocably change your easy relationship with him.  It could change the tenor of the team.  And yet…

…don’t you both face death every day?  Don’t you see the absolute worst of humanity?  Don’t your bodies bear the scars of your hard, unrelenting lives—countless scars, visible and invisible both?  Don’t you all operate in your own bubbles of loneliness, sleeping alone night after night but crowded out by the ghosts you all haul around?

Is it too much to ask for even a moment of connection, of not feeling alone?

You gaze back at him.  Sweet Johnny MacTavish.  Handsome but not vain, smart but not aloof, funny without being cruel about his teasing.  Is there anyone you’d rather be with?

“I want to do this,” you tell him, and there’s no hesitation in your tone.  “If you do.  If you really were just joking around, then no harm, Johnny.”

His somber gaze softens at your use of his real name.  “Wasn’t joking at all.”  Then he opens the door to his quarters and turns to you, invites you in with a sweep of his hand, and when you walk past him, he lays his palm on your lower back to guide you.

-----

In truth, you’ve never actually sat on anyone’s face.  It’s one of those funny sex acts that you joke around about but have never gotten around to, like sixty-nine (always seemed more complicated than necessary) or food-play (always seemed too messy). 

Soap, it turns out, has never actually had his face sat on.

And it’s adorable, how he sheepishly runs his hand through the longer stripe of his short-shorn hair and admits as much.

“Figured it cannae be that complicated though,” he says.  He huffs out a breath, and you realize how nervous he must be, and it gives you courage to take charge.

“Kiss me first.  Then we can figure it out from there.”

The tame command makes his face light up and he murmurs, “yes, ma’am” in his brogue, and then he does as you say.

If Soap MacTavish is generally the team’s Golden Retriever, bouncing around with a wagging tail, he kisses with far more finesse.  He cups your face gently, reverently and leans forward, brushes the lightest of kisses against your lips like he’s testing the waters.  Like he’s waiting for you to pull away, and when you don’t, he kisses you again.

It’s awkward at first, but only because you’re both so tentative.  It’s uncharted territory.  He must be aware that you’re crossing a line in doing this, you think, and he must not care either.  But the awkwardness melts away quickly because Soap is a damned good kisser, skilled in how he moves his mouth against yours, his tongue against yours.  One of his hands stays on your face, cupping you gently and steering you, but the other hand touches your waist, your hip, slides around to squeeze your ass gently before returning to the dip of your waist.

He tastes like something warm and spicy, like cinnamon or nutmeg.  Everything about him is warm, really:  the way he cups your face but runs his thumb over your cheekbone, the way his other hand holds you steady as he kisses you.  And the way he looks at you when he breaks the kiss, the almost-shy way he tugs at the hem of your shirt and asks if he can take it off.

He’s warm too—his body, his skin as you bare it with each article of clothing shed.  You strip each other in tandem, and the sight of him leaves you breathless.  He’s like something carved by a Renaissance sculptor, but when you smooth your palms over the dips and swells of his muscles, you find that he’s warm to the touch, wonderfully so, and a wave of lust almost takes you out at the knees by how much you want to feel his body against yours, under you or on top of you, every inch of you pressed against him.

Soap must feel the same way about you—he touches you just as gently as before, almost reverent, but his goddamned eyes practically shine when he looks at you, then groans out, “fuck, but you’re stunning, hen.”

He maneuvers you both towards the bed, and then he stretches out across it, and this is precisely why your sexual repertoire has always been lacking:  when a brutally handsome man is stretched out in front of you like a damned buffet, your mind singularly focuses on one thing, and you rarely remember that there’s other, more adventuresome things you could do.

You’re already turned on.  Ever since the two of you walked back from the range, you’ve been on a low simmer of lust, and the desire has ratcheted up with each kiss, with each little grumbling groan of Soap’s, with each sweep of his big warm hands along your body.

So you’re already turned on, so why sit on his face when his beautiful cock—perfectly sized for you, the ruddy tip already leaking precum—is also an option?

And Soap is no dummy.  He must guess at your internal battle because he says your name softly, pulls your gaze back to his face where he smiles that brilliant Soap-smile at you.

“Alright then?” he asks.  He pats his upper chest.  “You can sit right here, to start.”

It hits you all at once how intimate this is.  Fucking, hooking up—that’s one thing.  But sitting on your teammate’s face feels like you’re taking a further step into the unknown.  Oral sex, to you, is already more intimate than regular ol’ intercourse, but sitting on his face feels…even more intimate.  There’s a lot of trust on both ends:  he has to trust you not to hurt him, not to put too much weight or force on his face or neck.  And you have to trust him too, since you’re basically smothering him you with your pussy, and many men are precious little babies about eating pussy.

“I could just…”  You trail off and gesture vaguely at where his erection strains and bobs against his belly, and Soap snorts before he replies, “we could do both, hen.”

When you don’t say anything, when you don’t move, he adds, “c’mon, sweet girl.  I’m dyin’ for a taste of ye.”

The accent is unfair, you decide.  The accent is not fighting fair.  Soap’s Scottish brogue is charming in the best of times, but his bedroom version is thicker, at a slightly lower register, and it’s entirely unfair.  It easily dismantles the rest of your meager defenses, so you nod and then kneel on the bed.  But when you start to awkwardly clamor on top of him, he stills you for a beat and taps his mouth, says, “give me a kiss first.”

And the kiss is unfair too because it reminds you that it’s just Soap, one of your dearest teammates, a man who often holds your life in his hands and whose life you hold in your own.  His now-familiar taste of spicy warmth on your tongue, and his lips curving in a smile against yours when he whispers, “climb on up, hen  Don’t keep me waitin’ anymore.”

There’s no sexy way to climb on top of him.  Do you just kneel by his chest and throw a leg over him?  Do you straddle him lower and scoot up?  You split the difference, try to straddle him on his lower chest and scoot up, but then his one arm gets pinned.  Any other man?  It might be a deal-breaker being so clumsy, but Soap laughs underneath you—a genuine belly-laugh full of warmth that makes you giggle too.  He wrangles his arm free, then lays both hands on your hips and guides you the rest of the way.

This is unbearable intimate too, being so exposed to his bright blue-eyed gaze. You probably have tons of issues around previous men who didn’t eat pussy, who were grossed out by it, but Soap’s eyes practically glitter black with how blown his pupils are.  His face rarely hides its emotions very well (he’s a shitty poker player), and there’s no disgust in his expression at all.  There’s only desire, naked and apparent.

“Tell me,” he says, and his voice is a low growl that sends that frisson of heat straight to your core.  “Tell me what is working for you, yeah?  Don’t go quiet on me.”

You nod, and you wish you could think of something cool or funny to say, but Soap lifts his head a little and presses a plush, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of one thigh, then the other, where both are splayed in front of him, and before you can even beat yourself up for failing to think of something cool or funny, his mouth is on you in earnest.

Soap, a damned good kisser.  It translates to this, his skilled tongue and lips licking at you, suckling at you, swirling against you before he breaks up the pattern with an outright kiss, then resumes his routine.  He traces the tip of his tongue around the firm bud of your clit, the perfect amount of pressure before he snakes it lower, lapping at the arousal leaking from your entrance.  He’s unabashed about it, groans against your feverish skin, and you love him in this moment—love that he wasn’t joking after all, love that he had led you here, where you sit perched on him while he feasts on your cunt and seems to genuinely enjoy it as he does. 

Any other position, you’d lean down and kiss him, or pull him to you and kiss him.  Now, as he groans against you again, you reach down and run your fingers through the longer stripe in his hair.  He must like that, because he groans a third time, and his grip on your hips spasms tighter.

You remember what he asked of you, so when he purses his lips and suckles against your clit, you gasp out a startled “oh!” but then add, “fuck, Johnny.  Just like t-that.”

“Good?”  It comes out muffled against you, and he pauses his mouth long enough to gaze up at you with a smile.

“So good.”  You shift your hand, cup his stubbled chin slick with your arousal—a gentle movement that makes his smile soften too. 

“Like when you call me Johnny, hen.”  Now he sounds a little shy, like he’s edging close to something beyond a random hookup with face-sitting.

“Keep using your mouth like that and I’ll call you Johnny all the time,” you tease.

“Deal.”  And then he’s on you again, laving your sensitive folds with his tongue, his bit of stubble raising a warm burn against your inner thighs.  His hands on your hips pull you closer, and he encourages the slow, careful rhythm when you start to actually ride his face—a languid back-and-forth, mindful of his need for oxygen, while he eats your pussy with the fervor of a starving man.

Your orgasm approaches faster than you thought; you thought you might have to fake it, since you rarely come from oral alone.  But there’s something about this position.  You feel powerful in a benign way, in charge, but mindful of the man underneath you.  You run your fingers through his hair and Soap preens at the touch, just as he preens when you pant out praise for him, tell him how good you feel. How good he is making you feel.

He must sense it because his grip tightens on your hips, but his tongue moves faster and focuses solely on your clit—teasing with the tip of his tongue, then laving it with the flat of his tongue, then wrapping his lips around it and sucking.

“F-fuck,” you choke out.  “Johnny…fuck…I’m gonna…” but you don’t finish the sentence, you keen out a garble of nonsense as you come.

The heat in your belly pools over, spills over in a brilliant wash that courses through your veins, into your trembling legs and up through your body, makes your vision shimmer and crackle with sparks.  Your heartbeat, your panting breath are loud in your own ears, and you hear Soap groan but he sounds faraway.  He teases your orgasm, prolongs it by licking against you until you grip his hair tighter and hold his head still while you clumsily dismount, then flop gracelessly onto the bed beside him.

You feel boneless.  You feel heavy, sleepy, like you could sink into the mattress and sleep for days.  You close your eyes and feel the bed shift, and Soap disappears for a moment.  You hear running water—he must be cleaning his face, you think—but then the mattress dips again and he’s curling his warm body around yours, wrapping his arms around you as he pulls you to him, then settles the blanket over both of you.

“Good, yeah?”

You laugh.  “Yeah, that was good.  Especially for someone who’s never done it before.”  A beat.  “Give me a moment to catch my breath and then I can help you out.”

Soap chuckles above you, and you feel him press his lips to your forehead before settling again.  “No need.”

“But I—”

“Already came.”

The gears in your head turn slow when you’re sated from sex.  Coming makes you stupid.  “Huh?  When?”

Another chuckle, another kiss to your head.  “When I was eating you, hen.”

You turn your head and try to peer up at him.  He looks comfortable and sleepy too, content and sated.  “Seriously?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Told ye I was dyin’ for a taste.”  He shifts a little, pulls you closer to him.  He tugs the blanket more securely around your shoulders.  “If ye want a second round, I’ll need a few minutes.”

You appraise the situation:  the warm scent of Soap, the feel of his naked body pressed to yours, the warm little cocoon he’s created here in his bed.  Of course you want a second round, but you’re sleepy too, and the thought of sleeping with Soap doesn’t seem nearly as terrifying as it might have seemed before he had his mouth on your pussy.

“Or we could sleep,” you offer.

“Sleep,” he agrees.  “Round two tomorrow.”

The doubts from earlier start to surface in your mind, but they seem tiny and inconsequential when you’re wrapped up in Soap’s arms.  You feel sleep tugging at you—he’s already asleep, you think, breathing deep and even against you—so you chance to brush your lips against the bit of him you can reach and whisper good night to him.

But he’s not quite completely asleep yet because he kisses you back, another press of his lips against your head, and he whispers back, “g’night, hen.”

[adrienneleclerc]

The “Affair”

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina Wife! Reader

Summary: After adopting 8 dogs, Charles tells his wife no more dogs. However, as a veterinarian working in an animal shelter, it’s very hard for Y/N to turn down a dog. So when she comes home with a puppy while Charles is away but tries to make it seem like she had an affair…getting a 9th dog doesn’t sound so bad, right?

Warning: the usual spelling and grammatical errors, probably a lot of inaccuracies

A/N: i love Salma Hayek and the story she tells about rescuing Ochoa is so funny.

When Charles and Y/N first started dating when they were 20, he knew how much she loved dogs. The first time he went to her apartment, he saw her with two German shepherds.

“Muñeco! Please meet Sirius and Nova.” Y/N said, walking up to Charles, the two dogs following her.

"When you told me you had dogs, I don’t know why, but I pictured you owning like a shih tzu or maybe a Maltese.” Charles admitted, observing the German shepherds who began sniffing him.

“Why? You think because I am Latina I must have a white crusty dog?” Y/N asked, acting all offended.

“No no no, of course not.” Charles responded scared that me might have offended his girlfriend.

“I’m teasing. No, I got them from the shelter. You know how I’m studying to become a vet? So right now I’m just a vet assistant at the shelter and when I walked in for my shift, these two dogs tried to get close to me, they would whine when I would leave the room, when I would take them outside for their walks, they would follow me, I had to adopt them. No one likes getting big dogs from the shelter, pero son tan lindos.” Y/N said, petting her dogs, the dogs were wagging their tails, enjoying the affection. Charles's heart melted. He always wanted his own dog and by the looks of it, he might get his wish with Y/N.

"How did you come up with the names?" Charles asked.

"Well obviously Sirius is named after Sirius Black from Harry Potter, and Nova to fit the space theme. Since they were picked up from the street without collars, we named them at the shelter." Y/N said. Charles leaned down to pet the dogs. Nova began licking his face while Sirius was still smelling him, you know what they say about a male dog being owned by a woman. After a few seconds, Sirius joined Nova in licking him, Charles was as happy as he can be.

"They are so friendly! Think I'll be able to stay the night?" Charles asked.

"I don't know, Char, you just joined F1, shouldn't you be training?" Y/N asked.

"I have a few days before the Monaco Grand Prix, do you want to come?" Charles asked.

"I don't know if I can leave Nova and Sirius alone." Y/N asked.

"It's only a few hours, please?" Charles asked with a pout and puppy dog eyes.

"Fine, I'll see if my neighbor can check in on them." Y/N said and her and Charles kissed.

A year later, 2019, Charles joined Scuderia Ferrari and he was on his way to Y/N's apartment after he rested a day after the Suzuka Grand prix. He opened the door with the key she gave him and he heard barking.

"Nova, Sirius, its me, you know me." Charles entered the apartment, the two German Shepherds greeted him but he still heard barking. Thats when he saw a bulldog on the couch with Y/N. "Amour, you got another dog?" Charles asked.

"Charlie! This is Hiccup, i got him on Saturday." Y/N said, getting to hug her boyfriend. "Isn't he adorable? He has a lot of health problems because of this breeder, but he is the sweetest. Come meet him." Y/N said, holding Charles's hand to lead him to the couch, sitting next to Hiccup.

"Why did you name him Hiccup?" Charles asked.

"I was watching How To Train Your Dragon, he also had a case of the hiccups when i was...como se dice, revisando...checking him! Yeah, during his checkup, he was hiccupping." Y/N said. Charles pet the bulldog and the bulldog smiled, seemingly happy getting affection.

"He is very cute, but I don't think you'll have space for another dog, mon petit chou." Charles said.

"Hiccup wanted to be with me, he wouldn't let the other shelter workers walk him, just me, it was a sign, Charles." Y/N said.

"I'm sure it was." Charles said smiling. "I'm hungry, do you want to order something?"

"Can you manage ordering Chinese food? I have to give the dogs their bath." Y/N said.

"Sure, mon ange. Same as usual?" Charles asked.

"Yes please. Lets go guys, time for your bath." Y/N said and the dogs walked slowly behind her, not being a fan of baths.

Another year later, December 2020, Charles and Y/N now live together in his penthouse apartment. One day, Charles went with Y/N to her job since he was on winter break.

"Charlie, can you check if Shaggy needs his bowl to be filled?" Y/N asked.

"Sure, amour." Charles said, He was walking through the shelter until he found the gate with the name 'Shaggy' and he saw a fluffy old English sheepdog. "Hello, Shaggy." Charles said hello to the dog and Shaggy started barking, wagging his tail. Charles went to the supply closet to get the bag of dog food, Y/n bought the brand that was specifically for this breed and pour the food in Shaggy's bowl.

"Shaggy looks very happy." Y/N said appearing next to him. Thats when Shaggy started whining and pawing at her through the gate. "Hi Shaggy, como está mi perrito consentido?" Y/N asked in the baby voice, Shaggy lies on his back, showing that he is ready to receive belly rubs. Charles just observes this interaction.

"Are you going to adopt him, mon ange?" Charles asked.

"I would love to adopt him, but it's your apartment." Y/N said.

"Mon ange, it is your apartment too, I asked you to move in with me, it is your apartment too. We can get him, think of it as a Christmas gift." Charles said and Y/N hugged him.

"Can you fill out the adoption papers? I need to check up on a few cats in the other room. Wish me luck." Y/N said.

"Did you take your allergy medicine?" Charles asked. Y/N shook her head no.

"Thats why i need luck." Y/N said. She went with the cats while Charles filled out the adoption papers for Shaggy, since most people in Monaco want small dogs and the other shelter workers know Charles is doing this for Y/N, the process was easy and they were able to take Shaggy home the same day. When they left Shaggy went with Y/N to buy things he needs while Charles went to buy food for the both of them. Charles got home first and he said hello to Nova, Sirius, and Hiccup, place his takeout on the kitchen counter, and refilled their food and water bowls. Charles washed his hands to serve himself good and that’s when Charles heard the door open and he saw Y/N with dog food, a dog bed, and some new toys.

“Mom Ange, I could have helped you.” Charles said, getting the bed from her and placing it on the living room. “Why does he need new toys?”

“It’s why I do for every dog, Charlie, they get new toys, they only share when they want to, it makes them feel important and that they have a permanent home.” Y/N explained to Charles. “Okay Shaggy, meet your brothers and sister.” Y/N let Shaggy off his leash and all the dogs began sniffing each other. After they got acquainted, they started playing with each other, even sharing some toys.

“Come on, mon coeur, your food will get cold, it’s time to eat.” Charles said and Y/N went to wash her hands after seeing the dogs are getting along great. She sat down to eat.

“Muñeco, do you ever think about getting a bigger place?” Y/N asked.

“Eventually, yes. That way we can raise our future children.” Charles said.

2 years later, 2022, Charles and Y/N now have a huge villa on Monaco after they got married with enough room for their dogs to run around in the grass and a pool. In those 2 years, Y/N adopted 3 more dogs; a border collie, a Carin terrier mix, and an Australian shepherd. Charles was watching TV with their 7 dogs when the door opened and it revealed Y/N with a Euraiser dog, Charles stared at her and Y/N smiled.

“His name is Koda, his owner just abandoned him like straight up went to the shelter and dropped him off, no good reason, no toys for him specifically, nothing. Me dio cosa, Charlie, like you have no idea." Y/N said and since her eyes were tearing up, he got up to hug her.

“My love, I know you love dogs, and I love that about you, you have a big heart, but no more dogs.” Charles said, wiping her tears. Kids barked and Charles looked at him, Koda had his tongue out like he was smiling with his tail wagging. “Nice to meet you Koda, welcome to the family, meet your brothers and sisters.” Charles said. Koda ran to the other dogs. “Don’t be fooled by the size, Mickey is in charge.”

Koda was very happy with his new family. He was playing with Bailey and Bambi very politely using toys but full on wrestling with Sirius, he was very content. Mickey and Hiccup were just observing on their dog beds while Nova chewed on a treat.

“Promise me no more dogs, Y/N.” Charles said, cupping her face.

“I promise no more dogs, muñeco.” Y/N said.

And Y/N kept good on her promise, she was completely devoted to their 8 dogs, taking them to work sometimes for checkups, and it was all going well until.

Present day, 2024, Y/N was checking a Saint Bernard as a full fledged Shelter Veterinarian.

“Rebecca, where did you get the Saint Bernard? It has worms and I’m afraid he was in the same transport van as the pitbull mixes, I need to check them too.” Y/N said, lowering the Saint Bernard and giving him an oral medication to deworm him.

“He was around Nice.” Rebecca answered.

“Interesting. Have the pitbulls been showing symptoms of having worms?” Y/N asked.

“They are relatively chill, I’ll check them right now though.” Rebecca said. Moments later, another employee named Freddie came in with a dog crate.

“You guys won’t believe what I just found by the docks.” Freddie said.

“Why were you by the docks?” Rebecca asked.

“No reason, but look at this.” Freddie entered the vet exams room with Rebecca and Y/N and opened the crate.

“Oh my god, that’s a pregnant yorkie, who would throw a pregnant dog on the streets?” Y/N asked, petting the yorkie. “Looks like she has fleas too.”

“I’ll take care of her, your shift is over. I’ll give you updates on the yorkie.” Rebecca said.

“Thanks, I’ll come in tomorrow.” Y/N said, she said goodbye to her coworkers and drove home.

When she got home, she saw all her dogs playing in the yard but as soon and they saw her, they stopped playing and ran towards her.

“Hola mis bebés!” Y/N exclaimed, petting every single dog. She got their leashes to take all of them out for a walk so they're not cooped up in one area, no matter how big it is. They walked around Monaco, some children wanted to pet the dogs, other people took photos or videos of Y/N walking the dogs, the dogs were very well behaved and nonreactive, Y/N couldn't be more grateful. She walked back home, let the dogs off their leash, and washed their paws before they stepped foot inside the house.

Charles was away for the Imola Grand Prix and he said he was going to call Y/N when she got out of work. Just like he said, Y/N's laptop started ringing, she washed her hands and answere the video call.

"Hola guapo! How's Imola?" Y/N asked.

"It's good, I'm tired of press, you know? Sometimes they ask the same questions and I can't deal with it." Charles said.

"I'm sorry, mi vida." Y/N said.

"It's fine, darling. How are the babies?" Charles asked.

"Very good, I went to that bakery where they make pastries for dogs and they loved it. I'm going to look up recipes so I can bake it for them. My babies deserve the best." Y/N said and Bambi jumped in her lap. "yes Bambi, you're my baby." Y/N saod, petting the Australian shepherd. "As a kid i always wanted one, their coloring is beautiful, and now i have one. I know we can't bring all the dogs to the Monaco Paddock, but do you think we can take Mickey?" Y/N asked.

"What happened to treating the dogs equally?" Charles asked.

"Then can we bring all of them? I want them to know where their dad works. I also really want them to meet Roscoe, we can just hang around, I'll keep them entertained, also who wouldnt want to see dogs before practice or qualifying? Like come on." Y/N said.

"Y/N.." Charles warned.

"Okay fine, our children won't see where you work, but it is unfair, they're going to be all alone in the house." Y/N said.

"Yeah, with a dog sitter who will feed and play with them, walk them, and the dogs have the entire property to run around. I bought the villas so you wouldn't have to worry about the dogs as much and you worry about the same." Charles said,

"I can't help it, they're innocent creatures." Y/N said, hugging Bambi tightly and Bambi liked her face. "Look at her Charles, no thoughts behind those eyes."

"Alright my dear, I have to go, I love you." Charles said.

"I love you too." Y/N said and hung up her FaceTime and thats when she got a call from Rebecca. "Hey Rebecca, whats up?"

"Hey, so the mama yorkie is about 8 weeks along in her pregnancy, she seems healthy, but I am going to give her a diet for pregnant dogs, make sure shes getting a lot of protein and calcium for the last week of her pregnancy to make sure the birth goes smoothly." Rebecca said.

"Thanks for everything, you are the best." Y/N said and hung up. She made her dinner, making a small dog safe version for them of course, what kind of owner would she be if she didn't?

A week later, it was the Monaco free practice 3 and qualifying session, she was in the paddock with Charles since he just finished the free practice.

"You did great, guapo, I'm positive you'll make pole." Y/N said, kissing him.

"Thanks, mon ange, I just really want to win my home race and i'll have a better shot of winning if i make pole." Charles said.

"And you will, baby." Y/N said. She felt her phone vibrate and saw Freddie was calling. "Freddie, what's going on?"

"The mom is going into labor, we need you here, please! I'm still just an assistant!" Freddie panicked.

"Alright I'm coming, did she start nesting in her kennel?" Y/N asked.

"She's arranging chew toys and blankets." Freddie said.

"Okay, try your best to get her into the whelping box, I'm on my way now." Y/N hung up. "I'm sorry, mi vida, I need to deliver puppies, good luck on qualifying." Y/N kissed him goodbye and ran to her car, drove off to the shelter, and went to Nani's kennel, where she was in stage 1 of labor. "How long has she been like this?"

"About 2 hours." Rebecca answered.

"Alright, we just have to wait a little while, she should start dilating in about 4 or 10 10 hours." Y/N said.

They waited those hours and Nani succesfully whelped 4 puppies, 3 boys and one girl. Y/N helped getting the puppies out of the amniotic saca and cut the umblical cord to make the processs easier for Nani. She cleaned and rubbed the puppies until she heard them cry out, once they cried, she put them near Nani. Now Nani was feeding the puppies.

"Alright team, in 8 weeks those puppies could be adopted. Hopefull the mom will be adopted as well. Goodnight, I'm going home." Y/N said goodbye to her coworkers and drove home.

Once home, Y/N saw Charles in the living room watching 101 Dalmations.

"Ma belle, how did the delivery go?" Charles asked, pausing the movie.

"The mom delivered 4 healthy puppies, I couldn't be happier. How was qualifying?" Y/N asked.

"I got pole." Charles said. Y/N screamed in excitement and hugged him.

"i am so proud of you, we should get ice cream or go out to eat, I am starving, i didn't eat." Y/N said.

"Then lets go out, ma belle, I'll go call to see if they can prepare something so it'll be ready when we get there, I'll wait for you to change." Charles said and Y/N kissed him.

"You are the best husband ever." Y/N said.

8 weeks went by and in those 8 weeks, Y/N grew extremely close to Bubbles, the female puppy from Nani's litter. Right now, she was carrying Bubbles, comforting her after her first vaccine.

"Rebecca, he is going to kill me." Y/N said.

"What makes you say that?" Rebecca asked.

"He literally told me that I couldn't get anymore dogs. What do you think he is going to say when he comes home from Hungary and sees her on my lap?" Y/N said, holding Bubble in front of Rebecca's face. Bubbles licked Rebecca's nose.

"Aww come on, who would be mad at a little yorkie?" Rebecca cooed. "Its not like you're bringing home a Saint Bernard, or a Rottweiler."

"Rottweilers are so cute, I would absolutely bring one home if i could." Y/N said.

"You just have to make it seem like getting a puppy isn't the worst thing in the world." Rebecca said, giving the other puppies Chip, Mikey, and Donnie, their first vaccines. Y/N started thinking.

"I got it! I'll make him believe i am having an affair." Y/N said.

"Y/N, that's a little crazy even for you." Rebecca said.

"But it's perfect! I just need to set it up perfectly. Today is Friday, right?" Y/N asked.

"Yeah, why?" Rebecca asked.

"I am not cruel enough to make him worry during the important race events like qualifying or the actual race, during free practice should be fine." Y/N said before she sent the text 'Call me tonight at 8, we need to talk' and she showed it to Rebecca.

"Good luck with that." Rebecca said. Y/N filled out the adoption papers for Bubbles and bought everything a puppy needed, she carried Bubble everywhere because until she has all her Parvo vaccines, she is not touching the ground. Bubbles was wrapped in a blanket and was brought home. When she entered the house, all the dogs came up to her.

"Hello everyone, we have a new member joining the family, her name is Bubbles, everyone, be gentle." Y/N said, emphasizing gentle. She lowered Bubbles a little so everyone had the chance to sniff her. They all went their separate ways. Y/N got a text from Charles. 'What do we need to talk about?' Y/N responded 'It is crucial to our marriage that we talk.' She wants to worry him a little. Y/N had already established and good feeding schedule with her, she just needs to adjust her potty spot. When she checked that this is the time she usually does her business in the shelter, she took her outside and let her pee on the patch of grass thats near the pool. When she was done, Bubbles trotted right to Y/N and Y/N picked her up, giving her little kisses. Thats when she heard her laptop ring.

"It's show time." Y/N said, placing Bubbles on the couch with her blanket. "Watch her." Y/N told Nova and Nova moved to the couch, keeping her eyes on the puppy. Y/N answered the FaceTime.

“Petit Chou, what’s wrong? What do we need to talk about? Can’t it wait until I’m home?” Charles asked.

“No no, I have to tell you know, the guilt is eating me alive.” Y/N said, getting teary eyed, if she wants Charles to believe she had an affair, she really has to sell it.

“Mon coeur, you can tell me anything, what happened?” Charles asked, sounding very worried.

“This isn’t easy for me to say, I love you so much, you have to know that, but my job has me very stressed, I feel like I don't have a life outside of work because you are always traveling and I work late sometimes, we are like two passing ships. Please, have mercy on me, understand where I am coming from, I get so lonely when you're not here.” Y/N finished saying and she covered her face, just waiting to hear Charles’s reaction.

“Please don’t tell me you got another dog.” Charles said and Y/N uncovered her face.

“How did you know I adopted another dog?” Y/N asked.

“My love, I know you, you would never cheat on me.” Charles said.

“I could have.” Y/N argued.

“You love me too much.” Charles argued back.

“You didn’t believe me?” Y/N asked.

“Not at all.” Charles said.

“Oh come on, that was phenomenal acting, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Y/N said.

“I think you overdid it.” Charles said.

“Well i acted better than you did for that Shell commercial.” Y/N said.

“Forget about it, can i see the dog? Did you get a big one?” Charles said. Y/N moved off screen to pick up the yorkie.

“Actually she’s a little puppy, I named her Bubbles, apparently this awful person put her dog out on the street because she was pregnant so the mama yorkie was actually with us for a while, i supervised the birth, i was bonding with the mom and her litter, but i guess this one really liked me and she would seek me out. Isn’t she adorable?” Y/N said, putting Bubbles closer to the screen so Charles can see her in all her glory.

“She is adorable, can’t wait to meet her.” Charles said,

“Im so excited for you to meet her too! This is the first time we can raise a puppy together, i can take her with me to work for her vaccines, we need a lot of bonding time with her. I honesty hope the other yorkies get adopted though, they’re so cute! I would adopt them all if I could.” Y/N confessed.

“I know you would. Please let Bubble be the final dog, I really mean it this time, Y/N." Charles said.

"Okay, okay, i promised Bubbles will be our last dog...for now." Y/N said.

"Y/N!" Charles shouted.

"Okay okay, te lo juro juradito por las haditas that Bubbles will be our last dog." Y/N said.

"That's more like it." Charles said.

"So how was free parctice?" Y/N asked Charles, placing Bubbles on her lap, giving her a small chew toy since she's teething.

"Well what happened was..." Charles said.

The End

Hope y'all liked it! I know the buildup was VERY long but i wanted to show you how much Y/N loved dogs.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Jenni's Version) II

Jenni Hermoso x Child!Reader

Summary: Mama's dog comes home

Life in Mexico, you find, is not that different to life in Spain.

There's a few differences though. They don't speak Catalan here, or, not in the part of Mexico that you and Mama live. They speak their Spanish differently to you and Mama but everyone is very friendly.

You like your ballet teacher and you love your classes.

Life in Mexico is good, you decide.

Mama holds your hand all the time. She is happy and smiley and sometimes attacks you with kisses and cuddles when you aren't paying attention.

Mama still plays football and you come along to training but days off are spent in the living room together building a train track and playing with one of your new trains on it.

You've just packed away the trains you were playing with when Mama calls for you downstairs.

You hurry down just as Mama opens the front door.

Tio Rafael smiles to you as he steps inside and you hide behind Mama's legs.

He's your new Tio because he's Mama's brother. You've never had a Tio before because Mami had a sister and Tia Alba didn't date boys so you had no one in your life to become a Tio.

He exchanges words with Mama but you're focused on the dog by his feet.

You've meet Mama's dog a few times before Mama was Mama so you recognise him.

"Hi," You say softly and he leaps up at you, trying to lick your face," Stop it! That tickles!"

Tio Rafael bids goodbye to Mama, saying something about meeting up with her in a few days after sightseeing but leaves the dog.

You look at him.

He looks at you.

"Is Tio's dog staying here?" You ask and Mama laughs.

"This is our dog," She explains to you," Rafa was just looking after him in Spain for me. I thought, since I brought you home, I should bring him home too."

"He is little," You say as he explores the house, snout pressed to the ground.

"You're little," Mama says back with a little laugh, hoisting you up onto her hip," Alright, what movie did we want today?"

At the end of a day off, Mama sits you down with her to watch a movie together.

She calls it tradition and you like that.

You love it, actually, because Mama sits on the sofa with you and snuggles beneath a blanket. Sometimes, she'll rake her fingers through your hair and you'll go all limp and boneless.

Those times you don't get to stay awake. You always fall asleep before the movie is finished and it's hit or miss if you wake up in your own bed in the morning or in Mama's with her.

"Er..."

Mama usually helps you make this decision. You don't know why you struggle with choosing but you do so Mama puts you on her lap and shows you all the options.

"That one!"

You love movie night but not really for the movies. You love it for Mama and the cuddles she gives you and the way she smiles and the way she holds you close.

That's why you love movie night.

You couldn't care less about the movies. It's all about being with Mama.

The little dog she's brought home is not like Nala. Nala was fluffier than this dog and a girl as well. This dog has short fur and he's a boy.

You like him though and giggle when he leaps up onto the sofa with you and crawls into your lap even though you're sitting in Mama's lap.

He licks your face a few more times before curling up on your legs.

"He likes me!" You whisper to Mama, careful to not disrupt him.

"Of course he does," Mama says warmly," He knows you're family."

You grin at that, like every time Mama references that you're a family. It makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside and you lean back against her again.

Her arms wrap around your waist and her ticklish kisses flutter across your cheeks.

Mama's dog looks up as you try to wriggle away, shrieking with laughter.

He whines a little at you and rockets forward to hit Mama in the face with his snout, giving out a little yip of warning.

"Hey!" She laughs," She was mine before she was yours!"

But Mama's little dog sneezes in her face before curling up on your lap again.

He follows you to bed tonight too, when Mama takes you to your room and reads you a bedtime story. He jumps up onto your bed like Nala did when you were little.

He turns around in a little circle before settling at your feet, resting his head on your ankles.

Mama laughs. "Are you sleeping with Bambi tonight? Alright then. Don't keep her up all night."

"He won't," You say," We're tired."

Mama gives you a kiss on the forehead and pulls the covers up to your chin. "Love you, Bambi."

"Love you, Mama."

[stunies]

FLUFFTOBER DAY 19 — GHOSTS. ghost! hayato suo x f!readerﾉ sfw + fluff ﾉ no other warnings ﾉ link to october masterlist!

you seem to be the only one who doesn’t mind the ghost that’s trailing behind you. your friends want to hire someone to get rid of him, but you’re weirdly defensive over what’s supposed to be haunting you.

“I t-think something’s here.”

If you had heard these words come out of your friend’s mouth only a couple months ago, you’d probably feel some sort of dread or… fear. Anything else aside from endearment, at least. Instead, the confirmation that he’s still here with you only warms your heart and brings a smile to your face- much to her alarm.

“Oh, it’s okay,” you try to give her a reassuring smile, but it only seems to unsettle her even further. “Don’t worry about it. He’s the nice ghost I was telling you guys about.”

That’s right- they had genuinely chalked that up to a dragged out joke of yours this entire time. She almost wants to kick herself for being the first one to have to find out that his presence is, in fact, real. Very, very real.

“…Nice?” She’s hiding behind you now, clinging onto your jacket as some sort of safety precaution, you think. “You’re sure, right? One hundred percent sure…? That he’s.. a friendly ghost?”

“Mhm, I’m sure.” She isn’t quite sure why you look like you’re about to laugh in such a situation, but decides against bringing it up now. “We can leave in a second anyways. I just need to grab my wallet.”

This seems to relieve her, even if only a little.

“I swear he’s nice though, so you don’t need be so scared. Right?” You call out to whatever is lurking in the room, and something on your desk starts to roll. Your friend jerks her head fast enough to see that it’s a pen.

A red pen. Oh. How scary. It falls onto the floor with a light tap- his way of saying ‘yes,’ you’ve learned.

Your friend latches onto your arm with a nervous whine, and you laugh a bit. “You’ll hurry, right? Please?” Her voice drops to a low whisper, in case he can hear her. “I don’t want to stay near him any longer….”

A small frown tugs at your lips. Maybe this kind of thing was scarier for other people. You’re so used to him that it doesn’t really make sense to you anymore. “It’s okay,” you pat your friend’s head- the same way someone would comfort their dog. “I like him a lot. It’s nice to have him around, especially when it gets stormy. I’ve always been really scared of those— the thunder and stuff.”

She gives you a nod of agreement a bit too quickly, and you know she’s just agreeing so the two of you can get out of here faster. “I guessed his name a couple weeks ago,” you continue talking about him anyway, rummaging through your drawers to fish out your wallet, “but it took me a really long time to figure it out.”

“I wrote it down letter by letter, and he would move something when I landed on the right one.”

“O-oh… and..? His name is….?”

She wants to know if he’s an infamous ghost. Maybe it’ll confirm if he’s an evil one (she’s sure he is).

“Suo. That’s what we settled on, and that’s the name he responds to. Though I want to guess the other part of his name soon..” you say through a soft smile, as if telling your friend about finding love for the first time. “Ah. Found it. We can leave now.”

The name alone sends a violent shiver down her spine- goosebumps prickling her skin and it’s enough to make her just want to leave and never come back. “Let’s go then,” she grabs your arm, maybe a bit too roughly for Suo’s liking because you wince, and the light above the two of you flickers once.

A warning.

She ignores it somehow. “We shouldn’t be here any longer. And you too. He’s gonna start messing with your hea-”

A book on your desk crashes onto the floor, and her eyes go wide. A second warning, this time to keep her mouth shut.

“Come on already- h-hurry!” She’s tugging harder now- doesn’t listen when you tell her to loosen up the grip on your arm because it’s starting to hurt you.

Suo doesn’t seem to like that either, because the lights flicker much more violently this time. One, two, then three times before shutting off entirely, leaving you two alone in the dark and it falls eerily silent the next second.

“Ah..” you laugh sheepishly, hand gingerly rubbing at your arm. “Well, he’s mad now, so..”

dividers by @adornedwithlight

[nastyaromatherapy]

More Ethan Landry smut plsssss🙏🏼 I love your work

Awkward (18+)

Sex with a mutual friend becomes regrettable.

pairing - ethan landry x reader

one shot length, 2.4k+ word fic

warnings: PIV, tbh for once this is super vanilla so nothing to say

“Holy shit, I’m gonna cum,” Ethan groaned, slowing his thrusts as he emptied himself into the condom. You whined, having already came about thirty seconds prior, being left extra sensitive as he reached his high. “Fuck that was incredible,” he sighed as he lowered his chest onto your back, breathing down your neck. You both let out a synchronized sigh when he pulled out. “Mhm,” was all you were able to get out, fucked out and tired.

After getting a call from Chad, he quickly put his clothes back on and kissed your forehead goodbye. This left you sitting on your bed alone with your thoughts. Once the feminine post nut clarity hit you, you were burying your face into your hands. 

Ethan? Landry? Seriously?

You were embarrassed. It wasn’t that he was bad at sex - that was too far from the truth - and he wasn’t ugly either. You just knew that if y’all ever went public about this you wouldn’t hear the end of it.

Wait, public? That wouldn’t be needed because y’all just had sex casually. Although it didn’t help that you had feelings for him. You hoped he wouldn’t make it a big deal and would just move on from this. 

The next day you sat down at the picnic table you and the rest of your friends always sat at during lunch in your designated seat. Chad sat in front of you, Ethan next to Chad, Tara next to you, and so on. Only today, Ethan came to lunch sooner than usual and stole the seat next to you. Chad didn’t say anything, so he must’ve been informed about this already. God, did Ethan tell Chad you two had sex?

“Hey,” he said, being friendly. You just wanted to crawl into a hole. “Hey,” you said, looking down at the wood of the table top. Luckily, Tara came at the right time to save you. “Ethan, get the fuck out of my seat,” she demanded. Ethan chuckled, “What, are you in middle school Tara? It doesn’t have your fucking name on it.” Chad couldn’t help but let out a snort and Tara threw her hands up in defeat, plopping down next to him in Ethan’s usual seat. “I hear we’re being mean to Ethan, what’d he do this time?” Mindy asked, always getting a kick out of teasing him, as she walked to the table with Anika following behind. “Oh you know, he’s just being his usual pain in the ass self,” Tara said, giving Ethan the fakest smile which he returned. 

In between a conversation, when Quinn was complaining about her relationship problems, you felt Ethan snake his fingers onto your thigh. You quickly packed up your food and then pried away his fingers that were mere centimeters from your crotch. “Um you know what, I think I’m gonna go for a walk. See you guys,” you said, swiftly removing yourself from the table. That was awkward as hell.

You were laying on the couch, watching tv to help the godforsaken day go by faster. Tara emerged from the hallway, opening up a cabinet to grab a bag of chips to join you. “Ethan was being weird today, right?” She asked you, which immediately woke up your thoughts. “Oh, um, what do you mean?” You asked in a weak attempt of playing it cool. “I don’t know the way he totally stole my seat today? I mean yeah, he’s right. It’s not my seat. But why does he wanna sit there? He totally likes you,” she said once she plopped onto the couch, holding out the chips to you. You denied both her claim, and offer of snack. “No he doesn’t,” you spoke, although you knew he did, and you were holding back your blush. “Oh come on y/n, wake up! Especially since Chad didn’t want to defend me.” You shrugged in response. “Or maybe Chad wanted to sit next to you. Think about it.” You practically saw a lightbulb glowing above her head, and she started to nod her head in agreement. “Touché.” 

Right when the show started getting good your phone chimed, and you looked down to see Ethan’s contact photo. You quickly opened it. “Hey, are you ignoring me?” It read, and your stomach dropped. Shit. You quickly excused yourself to Tara and walked into your bedroom. As you were typing your response he texted he would be coming over to your place. Well, time to find a way to kick Tara out and keep Quinn from coming. As you walked out into the living room Tara called out, “Hey y/n, everybody’s gonna be hanging out at Chad’s place. You coming?” Fucking hell. Chad’s in on it. Of course he was, Ethan couldn’t do it without his wingman. “No thanks, I’m gonna stay here,” you said. It didn’t take long for Tara to leave.

You felt your insides twist from anxiety as you heard a knock on the door. You reluctantly walked up to the door and opened it. “Hey Eth,” you tried to say in an upbeat tone, but sadly it still came out pretty weary. “Y/n, I know you’re ignoring me,” he stated. You looked at the ground as he walked in, closing the door behind him. “Forgive me if I read shit wrong but I thought we had a good time and that we liked each other.” He said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “We do! And we did. It’s just,” you were at a loss for words. How could you tell him you would be embarrassed of being in a relationship with him without telling him? “You’re embarrassed of me,” he finished for you. You opened your mouth to protest and then you realized, he wasn’t lying. He sighed when he saw this, he had a little hope you would say something against it. “Well now that we’ve cleared the air,” he said as he started to walk out. “Ethan,” you sighed, which caused him to turn around. Before he could finish saying the word “yeah,” you were standing on the toes of his shoes, kissing him. 

He quickly got lost in it, picking you up slightly off the ground and returning it with equal need and lust. You found yourself on the couch on his lap, your cunt directly on top of his bulge that was poking at your entrance. His hands found stability on your hips and he guided you on his clothed cock, helping you grind against him. You felt his warm fingers inch up your shirt before you pulled away and said, “We can’t do this here. What if Tara and Quinn come home?” 

He wanted to say no, to take you here on the couch even with the risk, but it’s obviously not what you wanted. So, he had no choice but to comply and carry you to your room. He closed the door and locked it, and you giggled when he threw you onto the fuzzy comforter on your bed. “I guess it’s not so bad. Bigger surface, more ways to fuck you-“ He started to say before you threw a pillow at him. “Shut up,” you joked.

He climbed on top of you - hovering so he didn’t crush you - and kissed at the sweet spot on your neck. Your mouth went agape and you whimpered softly into his ear, the sounds rushing blood straight to his erection. He bit his lip as he let his hand trail down to your crotch, cupping it through your jeans. He couldn’t help but let out a groan when he felt the moisture in between your legs, he couldn't even imagine how wet your panties were, better yet your pussy. You were getting hot, so as he unbuttoned your pants, you removed your top, leaving your upper chest, glistening with sweat, exposed. You helped him kick off your jeans, leaving you in your underwear, which proved you weren’t planning on getting laid today. Your bra was well, a bra. Beige with slight push-up. Your panties were a navy blue and not the sexiest thing ever, slightly cheeky though. Point is, you were a little embarrassed, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. He was way more focused on the way your panties were dripping, tiny globs of white and clear residue collecting on the outside of your gusset. You were surprised he didn’t cum at the sight, noticing the way he was practically salivating and clawing to get your panties off.

He pushed your thighs aside, gaining sight of your needy sex. He spat onto your slit, noticing the way your hole fluttered open when he did so. “What, you like that?” He chuckled. Your face heated up. “Yeah,” you squeaked when he connected two fingers to your clit. “Y/n it’s fine if you don’t want anything serious. But just know all the amazing sex you’d be missing out on..” He started as he rubbed faster circles on your clit. “N-no Ethan, I want you,” you stammered. He hummed to himself as his fingers explored his parts, slippery yet sticky. It was easy for him to slip two fingers into your cunt, since you were already so nicely lubricated. He started thrusting his fingers slowly, and he smirked as he watched your pretty face sinfully contort. Your mouth formed into the shape of an o as your eyebrows pushed inward, your eyes squinting as well. “Is that right? You’re mine?” He asked as he curled his fingers against your g-spot, making you arch your back above the mattress. “Yes, fuck,” you moaned, which gave him a pleased expression.

He pulled his fingers out of you, and you silently groaned. He started to pull his shirt up above his head which you helped him with. You laid your hand on his toned chest, and he leaned down, interlocking his lips with yours. He groaned into the kiss, his hands reaching behind your back and unclipping your bra, throwing it aside. “Can I see your cock, baby?” You asked in that sweet voice that makes his mind go blank. He nodded, in a trance, before snapping back to reality and unbuttoning his pants. He stood from the bed, removing his jeans and tossing them to the side, long forgotten.

You crawled to the edge of the bed, laying on your stomach as you reached for that bulge in his boxers. Your fingers hooked his waistband and pulled them down, discarding them on the floor. You let out a soft moan as you watched his girth shoot up, free from its confines. He groaned as you wrapped your fist around it, stroking slowly from the base dotted in brown curls to the pink tip. You licked a stripe up his length, making his mouth falter open. “Fuck, stop. I need to fuck you,” he said impatiently, picking you up off the bed.

He held you in his arms, and you involuntarily wrapped your legs around his hips. Your cheek was pressed up against his pec as his hand snaked in between your bodies, grabbing his cock and pressing it up against your entrance. You inhaled sharply, preparing yourself for the stretch you had to experience yesterday. “Shit,” he grunted as he started to inch himself in little by little. You whined as your cunt widened to accommodate his size. “Pussy so fucking tight,” he panted into your ear before he pushed himself in entirely. You wrapped your arms around his neck for support as he started moving in and out of you, hands gripping your ass. He easily man handled you like a fuck toy, pushing you against him in time with his thrusts. “Ethann,” you whimpered out, turning your head to look up at him with glossy eyes. “Yeah baby? Wanna tell me how good I’m fucking your greedy pussy?” You nodded, letting out needy moans as he picked up his pace. “Mhm, so good.”

He smirked cockily as he watched you become cock drunk on his dick. He continued to hold you up with one hand, the other stroking your cheek as he leaned down to kiss you, but you could barely kiss him back, not when he was twisting every organ in your body. “Fuck you’re sexy,” he panted once he pulled away from your lips, staring down at your body that his cock found so much pleasure in. “Mmfph, please E. So fucking close,” you cried as you shut your eyes, getting lost in the pleasure. You whined as you felt pressure build up inside you. He sped up, pounding into your cunt relentlessly, helping you and himself reach an orgasm. You covered your mouth with your hand, just in case your roommates came home, and screamed into it. “That’s it, fucking take it,” he groaned before laughing to himself. You looked at him with a confused expression.

“I forgot the fucking condom,” he started to stop before you stopped him. “No keep going. Just, pull out,” you said. “Are you sure?” He asked skeptically, and you nodded in response. He started moving again, “fuck I’m close anyways.” You nodded in agreement. Your whines grew quicker, more excessive. And from the way you throbbed around his cock, he knew you were gonna cum. The second you squealed the words, “I’m cumming!” you convulsed, moaning curses as a trickle of clear fluid dripped from your cunt down your thigh. Remembering his instructions, Ethan pulled out  and came, groaning your name. His cum spurted onto your stomach and dripped down onto the floor. When the two of you’s breathing slowed down, he laid you on the bed and collapsed next to you. You both looked at each other and laughed, before leaning in for a sweet kiss. 

You got dressed, and so did Ethan, although the clothes did nothing to hide the sweat and must that radiated from y’all. On top of that, since the clothes were thrown so recklessly, they were far more wrinkled than when the day began. The two of you walked out into the living room, and you didn’t expect it to be a walk of shame.

Nevertheless, you found all of your friends staring at you in disbelief. Mindy mock gagged, and by reading Tara’s face alone you weren’t sure if she was happy or disappointed. Quinn was in shock and Anika just looked concerned. Chad however looked smug and held his hand out to Mindy who groaned. “Told you they were having sex. 20 bucks.”

[withahappyrefrain]

For Bob or Natasha! Dealers choice! 🎲

“I had a dream about you last night. Woke up hard/wet. Wanna hear about it?”

Why not both?? 👀👀👀

Your bed was an entanglement of limbs. Natasha's breasts against yours, Bob's cock in-between your legs. Her lips on yours, his on your neck.

They felt so good, their hands exploring your body. The pleasure was building, increasing and increasing until-

The sound of your alarm was downright cruel. You sat up in your bed, feeling sweat on your skin.

Laying back down, you tried to gather your bearings. But that was really fucking difficult considering you just had a wet dream about your two coworkers.

Fuck.

Bob and Natasha were your coworkers. You shouldn't be having dreams about them, especially ones where they're fucking you at the same time.

After transferring to Miramar, you received a warm welcome from everyone in the dagger squad, particularly the pilot and WSO duo.

They had to just be friendly; Bob because he was raised to be a gentleman, Natasha because having another woman was such a rarity.

That had to be it.

That's why they always checked in on you. That's why their touch seemed to always linger. That's why they would look at you and then whisper to each other.

Any thoughts that maybe, just maybe, it was something beyond friendliness, you tried to push away. And you thought you had been pretty successful.

Until this morning.

At work, you simply waved to Bob and Natasha and quickly sat down, not stopping for your usual chit chat. You could feel their stares burning into your back. But there was no way you could face them without getting flustered. At least not for a few days.

Then things could go back to normal.

You didn't outright ignore the two, but your conversations with them were much shorter and with very little eye contact.

Thanks to being a mechanic, you were able to whisk yourself away from their eager eyes.

The dream still plagued your thoughts. It felt so real. You shouldn't be thinking about it, hell, you shouldn't be hoping for a sequel as you lied awake in bed at night.

"Hey angel," Natasha's voice was smooth, almost seductive. She had found you outside the Hard Deck. You left to get air (and maybe to avoid being sandwiched in between her and Bob in a booth).

But your attempt was in vain. Bob appeared, standing behind you. With Natasha inches away, you were trapped.

"Did we do something wrong angel?" Bob asked, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

"Wha- no! What makes you think that?" Way to play it cool.

Nat's fingers skimmed the side of your shirt. You took a step back, only to bump into Bob. His large hands grabbed your hips, not only steadying you, but also forcing you to remain in your spot.

"It's just....feels like you've been avoiding us. And we really miss our favorite mechanic, don't we Bob?" There was a sweetness to her voice, one that was laced with mischievous.

Bob squeezed the plush flesh of your hips, "We do. Every time we've tried to talk to ya in the last few days has been cut short."

"We just wanted to make sure we hadn't done anything to hurt you," her fingers skimmed the side of your neck, stopping just before reaching your clothed breasts.

It took everything in you not to whine.

"You....you two have done nothing wrong. It's me, don't worry about it."

Bob chuckled, the sound vibrating against you, "We always worry about ya darlin'."

His words made you stop in your tracks, made you reevaluate every interaction you've had with the two.

"R-really?" You still asked, still needing that verbal confirmation to prove you weren't overthinking or misinterpreting.

Natasha smiled as she extended a hand to cup the side of your face, "'Course we do angel."

Bob gently squeezed your hips, as if to encourage you. After all, there was nothing 'friendly' about this.

You took a deep breath, "I uh .....I had a dream about you two the other night."

"What kinda dream?" Bob asked, his voice a near growl. Nat stepped forward, her body brushing against yours now.

"I...I woke up wet."

You don't know whose lips you felt first. Nat's lips were soft. As were Bob's, but his lips were thinner. Nat used more teeth, whereas Bob left open mouth kisses, his tongue tasting your skin.

Despite it being new territory, you were able to quickly distinguish between the pilot and the WSO.

"She's so soft Bob," Nat murmured, "Feel her tits, they're perfect."

His large hands moved up your body, cupping your breasts. Bob's fingers were swift and nimble, able to find your nipples despite the layers of clothing.

Just like up in the sky, they were a well oiled machine, able to alternate who would kiss you and where. Nat's hand wandered down, slipping past the waistband of your jeans.

You couldn't help but moan. Your body felt like it was on fire from being touched all over. Her fingers skimmed over your clothed core. Your hips greedily jerked upwards, trying to get more.

"Is she wet Phe?" Bob asked, in-between pressing a mixture of kisses and love bites to your neck.

Nat chuckled, obviously aware of how damp the center of your panties were, "She sure is. Tell us angel, what we were doing in that dream of yours?"

She withdrew her hand, allowing Bob to have a turn. You felt her fingers knead your breasts, as Bob was able to unbutton your jeans with just one hand.

"I....we were on my bed," you stammered, finding it difficult to focus with the way Bob was lazily drawing circles on your covered clit, "And I was...in between you two. K-kinda like this."

"You wanna make that happen? We can go somewhere private," Bob murmured.

"Can even go to your place if you'd like. Recreate that dream." Both their lips were covering your neck.

You nodded, unable to speak. All you wanted to do was focus on how good they felt.

"Well then, let's get going."

Fuck.

[crushribbons]

please for the love of all things good if you could write a smut abt bestfriend!sebastian where he sneaks into our dorm room in the middle of the night (for the 5th time that week) because he can’t sleep 🙏 thank you in advance

ohhhh so you speak my love language helllll yeahhhh

(went a slightly dif direction teehee xx 18+ ONLY!)

---

"Is this going to be an every night type of thing?"

"Mm, yeah, every night that your feet are this warm."

Sebastian's own feet (or rather, icicles) slid under hers and she hissed and tried to yank the duvet away from him. He whined, cuddling closer to her and setting her skin on fire in the process.

She stammered, "B-back off, you hog," and Sebastian wrapped his arms tighter. His frame tucked so neatly around her, she hated how natural it felt. He was so fucking cold--why was sweat beading across her chest?

He was humming under his breath. "Hogwarts, Hogwarts, hoggy warty Hogwarts! Teach us something, please."

"Don't," she groaned. "It'll be in my head all week."

Silence settled between them. The room felt heavy and still, and she was keenly aware of how her heart would thump every time Sebastian shifted around. Her owl sighed a wispy trill. She strained her ears towards the door, hoping to determine whether those were footsteps shifting around downstairs. Sebastian sensed her train of thought.

"Your parents went to bed ages ago."

"They still might have heard the door."

"We are twenty-one years old," Sebastian laughed, husky, in her ear. Fuck. "And your mother seems to think we ought to be wed to one another or some similar type of nonsense."

Words, her brain urged her. Say words. Now!

"She just loves having company for the holidays. She'd want me to marry a grindylow if it told her that her apple crumble was scrumptious."

A huff of air from Sebastian's nose hit the back of her neck, and she didn't need to see her own reflection to know she was bright red. She wished on every star that she could make out through the gauzy curtains that he had worn a shirt to bed. He didn't seem nearly as affected as she was.

How much longer could they toe this line? Seeing each other almost every day after work, visiting each other's family homes for the holidays, falling asleep at each other's flats and, as a result, far too often, crawling into the same bed with the sometimes muttered excuse, "Warmer this way."

All he had to do was say the word, any word, and she'd make this whole thing a lot less...friendly.

"What are these garments you adorn yourself in, m'lady?" Sebastian grumbled as he felt the foreign material at her hips between his fingertips. She swallowed back the moan that rose in her throat. Silly, getting this hot and bothered over a little physical contact. Then his hands were sliding down her hips inquisitively and the moan slipped out without warning. She scrambled to recover.

"Silk," she replied, her voice raspy.

"Too fancy for me," Sebastian sighed, and he let his body crumple completely into hers, and it was heaven and bliss, and Sebastian had finally warmed up so she let herself melt into him. Everything was blurring pleasantly around the edges of her vision: the room, the outline of the sleeping tawny owl by the window, the boundary between her and her dear, best friend Sebastian, who at that very moment was snaking one hand away from her waist and pressing it down between his hips and the curve of her ass.

"What are you doing?" she asked, and when Sebastian tsk'ed in annoyance, she realized exactly what he was doing and humiliation flushed her cheeks.

He tried to pull away from her a few inches, and she whined, "Hey--you're just getting all warm!" but she felt him shake his head. She rolled over to face him and he closed his eyes when she raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm, uh." He squeezed his eyes tight shut, then dared to open one and peek at her. "I'm sorry. I kinda got..." He gestured down to his free hand, which was currently doing its best to conceal...

Her cunt throbbed, wetness pooling. He was hard, and the hand pressing his erection down couldn't cover it entirely. She felt her lip slide between her teeth. Sebastian's chest, splattered with freckles and a light layer of chestnut hair, was rising and falling too fast. They locked eyes.

"Should we?" He didn't finish the question. He didn't have to.

Should we? she thought. She didn't care.

They fucked, slow and tender and hot and fast, until the orangey glow of dawn kissed the room. When she rolled her head to the side, hair mussed all over her pillow, and saw the tiny light filtering through the window, she laughed to herself, but it was pathetically choked off when Sebastian's nose pushed against her clit in perfect little circles. Her hips arched and she used the handful of wavy hair in her hand to pull him deeper into her. He chuckled into her pussy, and the feeling of his smile pressed against her weeping heat had her riding his face until she eeked out a broken, "Fuck, Seb, baby!"

He shushed her, although his face was still buried inside her, occupied with cleaning every last drop from between her legs.

"Have you got one more for me, darling?" he purred over her fevered panting.

"N-no! I d--!" Sebastian covered her protestations with a sloppy kiss, lips still covered in her, and her body suddenly found the wherewithal to endure one more mind-bending orgasm. She moaned and pressed her chest to his and he laughed again.

His cock slipped in easily this time. The first two, three? Merlin, four? times, his size had been almost too much for her. But a groaned, "Fuck, so tight for me, just like I always dreamed..." was what ultimately pushed her to the edge the first time.

What pushed her to the edge this time were the desperate, rough thrusts he fucked up into her with, and the gleam in his eye as he panted, "You'll be lucky if I don't keep you in this fucking bed all day, shit! I'm...f--fuck, I'm coming!" He grabbed her hips and pumped once, twice, three more times.

"In-inside me," was all she could get out before her body hummed with a high-frequency, white-hot pressure, and she collapsed onto Sebastian's chest. He held her tight while he filled her up, and afterwards did not pull himself out while they caught their breath.

"Hey," Sebastian said suddenly, breaking the hazy quiet that had settled around their intertwined bodies.

"Mm?"

She felt him smile to himself. "Nothing."

[mountainsandmayhem]

Shhh...Just A Little Bit More

Part Three (Soft Version)

DBF!Joel x Female!Reader - 18+

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 (Spicy Version)

Summary: Joel Miller caught you working where you shouldn't be after you promised to quit. Now he's taking matters into his own hands. Word Count 4.7k

CW: DBF!, Dom!, SoftDom!, use of nicknames (baby, sweet pea, baby girl etc.), Sub/Dom, DD/LG, use of a collar, use of toys. no use of y/n. no description of reader except for piercings. Praise, degradation. After care.

AN: THANK YOU for all your love on parts 1 and 2. I was in my feels when I wrote this, so this is the sweeter version of the two. I'd love to hear which version you preferred!

“Hey, buddy. It’s Joel.”

“Joel?” You can hear your dad’s muffled and panicked voice through the receiver. “Where’s my daughter? Why do you have her phone? It’s 5 am!” 

“Remember that time Sarah ran away to your house and you told me that one day I might be doing the same for you?” 

Your dad is silent for a while, a distorted higher pitched voice filters through before you hear your dad again, “It’s alright honey. She’s with Joel.” He lets out a deep sigh before adding, “I thought we skipped the rebellious phase with her.”

“She’s a good girl. I think she just needs some time to cool off.” Joel says, his voice is friendly and light.

You squeeze your thighs together and nuzzle deeper into Joel’s throat. You know what you need, and it isn’t to cool off. He and your dad have been friends since the day he moved in down the street. You were seven and Sarah was eleven, you thought she was the coolest person on the planet. Wonder what she’d think of you now, cuddled up against her dad after he just edged the fuck out of you after spanking you in an alleyway. You’re lost in your thoughts as Joel talks with your parents for a while.

A sane person would stop being so turned on right now. Fuck, I need Joel. So badly. Maybe I should rile him up some more. 

“I’ll come by this afternoon,” Joel hugs you tighter, bringing you back to the conversation. “Ya, if she wants to, I’ll bring her. She’s ok, just never seen her more - frustrated.” 

You squeeze his side, knowing he’s smirking about how frustrated and needy you truly are right now. He hangs up the phone and brings his lips to yours, kissing you harder this time. You moan into his mouth, hands roaming up his body to tangle in his hair. 

Holy shit, Joel Miller is kissing me. 

As you run your nails along his scalp he lets out a pleasurable sounding gasp. Oh, he likes that, he likes that very much. 

Got ya, you think to yourself. 

He pulls away to see you smiling at him. “This is why I usually tie naughty girls down,” his voice is completely different from how it was just moments ago. Deeper, more commanding, and it reverberates through you, right to your pussy. “Because they think they’ve found spots that will get them what they want. Let’s go home now, darlin’.” 

Joel’s front door has barely closed before he’s pushing you up against the wall, caged in by his arms and strong chest. 

Every bump on the drive home had you twitching, you tried your hardest not to gasp and moan but the combination of the gravel road, your insane state of heightened arousal, and the lack of underwear in your stiff denim shorts were all working against you. 

“Did you come on the drive home?” He says coldly, lips pressing against your neck, hitting that sweet soft spot just below your ear. 

“No, Joel,” you whine. 

His teeth graze your throat and you cry out, “It’s Mr Miller, don’t make me remind you again.” 

Your hands scramble for purchase as your knees start to give out, wrapping around the open flannel shirt he’s wearing over a fitted black t-shirt. 

“I’m sorry, Mr Miller. I don’t…” you trail off, you aren’t sure if you should say you’ve never been a sub before, at least not to someone this experienced. You don’t want him to stop, you love what happened tonight and you want him to show you and teach you what this all means. But even more so, you trust him to teach you. 

Joel stops kissing you, hands coming to your waist and lifting you so your eye level. When you wrap your legs around his trim waist you gasp out in a mix of pleasure and pain. Your poor cunt is begging for relief but you can’t barely stand your clit to be touched. His eyes look at you with concern. 

I deserve to go to hell if she tells me she’s a virgin. Fuck, you were so stupid when it comes to her. 

“I need you to finish that sentence, babygirl. You don’t what?” 

Your cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink, so shy compared to that bratty girl who told him to kiss his ass. Joel has the gut sinking feeling that you might have him wrapped around your little finger already.

Dangerous.

Very very dangerous.

Not to mention stupid. 

“I’ve just..” you start, he brings his hands to cup your face, moving a few strands of stray hairs that are stuck to your lips. “I haven’t had a Dom before. I don’t know what to do or what to call you.” 

Cute, Joel thinks to himself, she’s so fucking cute right now. 

“Well babygirl, when we are playing like this you do what I tell you, and if you don’t like what I tell you, you use the safe word. Do you remember it?”

You nod, biting your lip as you whisper, “Cowboy.” 

His face lights up with pride and in that moment you realize you’ll do anything to have him look at you like that again. And when he throws in a gravelly, ‘good girl’, any inhibitions you had go out the window. You are a good girl, you want to be his good girl…forever. 

He continues, “And when we are playing you call me Mr Miller. Otherwise, you can call me whatever you’d like.” He places a light kiss on the tip of your nose and you melt a little more into him and the wall behind you. “Do you have any other questions, baby?” 

Do you know what it does to me when you call me baby? 

Or kiss my nose or forehead like you have? 

Can you spank me again? 

Can you make me come? 

Can I suck your dick? 

How do you feel about anal? 

“Umm,” you press your lips together, eyes taking in every little bit of his face, trying to memorize this moment. “How will I know when we are playing and when we aren’t?” 

Fuck, if this girl lets me put a collar on her I’m going to come in my pants and then propose. 

“There’s my smart girl,” he praises, his coffee and caramel coloured eyes washing over you. “We can have a symbol, something I give you when we play. And when you’re wearing it you’re mine.” His voice sounds full of passion all of a sudden, each work almost sears itself onto your heart. 

Your heart is pounding at what he’s implied and you’re almost sure he can hear it. “What kind of symbol?” 

He puts you down and then gets on one knee to untie your shoes and help you slip them off. His warm fingertips trail up your legs as he stands before taking your hand in his. With his large palm encasing yours, suddenly you feel safe and loved, your pussy flutters at the promise of him taking care of you in a way that only he can. You know you’re going to be ruined for all other men. 

He leads you to his bedroom and it’s nothing like you remember when you’d play hide and seek while Sarah babysat you. Gone is the old wooden furniture and mismatched bedding. Replaced with a black metal bed frame, along with matching bedside tables and dresser, and the fluffiest white sheets you’ve ever seen. You so badly want to just sink in and get naked with Joel. It looks like it would be like getting fucked on a cloud or cotton candy and those thoughts are only solidified when he tells you to sit before he heads to the closet doors. 

He slides the barn door of his large walk-in closet open. The room seems to wrap you up in Joel’s scent, warm and spicy with a hint of vanilla. As he walks into the closet he toes off his boots and then slides his flannel off, placing it on a hanger. It might be your very neglected pussy talking, but you swear you can see every muscle in his body underneath that shirt and you unconsciously spread your legs a little bit. He reaches up above the clothing and pulls out a black box with a lock on it and then looks at you mischievously as he pads back over to you. 

“Sometimes,” he says gently, “A dom will give their sub a collar. When it’s on, we’re playing. You belongs to me. When it’s off, we can just act how we normally would.” 

A collar, definitely not sure how you feel about that. You don’t want to be like a dog with a black leather collar around your neck. He slides the numbers to enter the combination and then flicks the clasp open. 

To your surprise, he pulls out a dainty golden chain. It almost looks like a bunch of yellow paper clips strung together, and there’s a tiny lock pendant on the end. He runs the thin links through his fingers before looking over at you. 

“You don’t have to do this, I can just take you home and we can go back to how things were. Ultimately, you always have the choice.” If a stranger could see the way he was looking at you right now, they’d never be able to tell he was capable of the spanking he gave you earlier. 

“You’ll stop if I say ‘cowboy’?” You say, voice cracking, nervous and excited energy fighting for first place. 

“Always, babygirl. I’m here to dominate you, but I’m also here to take care of you. A good dom will always take of their sub.” 

“Then I want to. Please, Mr Miller. Make me yours.” 

He almost growls as he pulls you to your feet. You squeal as he hoists you over his shoulder, his hands strong on the back of your thighs as he carries you to the floor-length mirror at the end of his closet. He stands behind you as he works the clasp, placing the thin gold collar around your neck and then doing it up. He’s so close that you can feel his cock harden at the sight of you as he officially makes you as his for the first time. Joel's thick fingers trace along the rings, he thumbs the little lock pendant before he grips your throat just below your jawline. He applies pressure to your pulse point as his now black eyes come to meet yours in the reflection and brings his lips to your ear. 

With a growling, rough whisper he says, “You have five seconds to get naked and lay in my bed with your legs spread as wide as you can.” 

The instant his hand releases, you sprint to his bed, stripping your clothes as you go. He counts to five with authority and after what happened his truck, and now this, you’re sure you’re never going to be able to count without getting turned on ever again. 

“Such an eager little thing, aren’t you?” 

Desperate to hear him praise you, you lay on your back, planting your feet on the bed before letting your knees fall open. 

“Straighten your legs and put your hands above your head.” You position your body how he says, even though you’re completely exposed to him his eyes stay locked on yours. “This is how I want you when we start playing. Exactly how you are now.” 

He grabs another box from his closet and places it on the foot of the bed, eyes travelling up your toned legs, “I’m going to show you what you’ll be going to work with inside of you tomorrow if you decide to stay there. I haven’t forgotten that you were a brat tonight.” 

He opens the box and pulls out a black U-shaped piece of silicone and lays it on your belly. “Do you know what this….” 

He stops mid-sentence, eyes lighting up as they rake over your tits. They dance from each nipple, taking in the tiny barbell and the thin hearts that encompass each one. “You are a naughty little thing, aren’t you?” 

“I like pain,” you whisper, throat going dry at the admission. 

“My little masochist,” he hums. “As I was saying, do you know that is?” He nods his head towards the little toy. 

You shake your head, “No, Mr Miller.” 

“That goes inside your gorgeous pussy. One part pushes on your g spot, the other on your clit. I have the remote.” He holds up a small plastic remote with a few shiny buttons.

“Oh,” you moan, your lips forming in the shape of the word, nipples getting harder at the thought.

“I will keep it turned on low enough that you will not come. In fact, it might be more like torture than pleasure.” His eyes are sparkling at the thought of you squirming for hours.

“But I don’t want to quit,” you whine. You’re a glutton for punishment and you know Joel will dish it out. 

“How long is your shift?” He says, picking up the toy, the graze of his fingers along your belly sends an electric current through your body. 

“Four hours,” your voice is husky with need. 

“I’m going to get some lube and then put this toy inside of you now, babygirl. We’ll see how long you can last. Is that okay?” 

“Of course, Mr Miller.” You try to sound confident but in the bright lights of his room, you can see how dark and serious he looks. 

He lubes up the toy and then swipes some lube through your folds. Your back arches off the bed and you let out a loud high pitched moan when he hits your clit. 

Fuck. I’m gonna come with the tiniest vibration and it’s probably going to hurt. 

“So wet. So swollen. My poor girl,” he says mockingly, he’s loving that you’ve been suffering and on edge since the minute you saw him in that alleyway. 

The toy slides in and the pressure just from the silicone alone sends the air whooshing out of your lungs. You’re gasping for breath, your clit feels like it’s being zapped with electricity and you immediately slam your thighs together and start to whimper. 

A small, almost evil sounding chuckle comes from Joel as he holds up the remote. “Ready?” 

“No,” you gasp, rolling onto your belly. “I can’t. Please don’t.” 

“Are you going to quit?” 

You cry out in frustration into one of his fluffy pillows and then whisper a sad, “no.” 

The vibrator comes to life and the most intense mix of pain and pleasure floods your body. He’s right, the sensation isn’t enough to make you come, just enough so that you know it’s there. You bury your face deeper in the pillows, curling yourself into the fetal position, back towards Joel, as you try to breathe normally. 

Joel strips down to his boxers before shutting off the lights. He slips into the sheets, covering you up along the way. “Good night, baby girl.” 

“What?” You gasp. “Mr Miller. I….oh god…I c-can’t. It’s on.” 

“You may as well get used to it. You’re going to work with it in tomorrow. No more talking. Go to sleep.” 

Joel lays on his back, one arm behind his head, the other palm spread out on his chest. You flip around to face him, the early morning sun lighting his profile. There’s no way you’re going to be able to sleep, you shift your legs around. 

Maybe if they’re spread I won’t feel the vibration as much. 

That doesn’t seem to work so instead you squeeze them together. More pressure might make you come and then you can finally get some rest. Joel looks over at you as you jerk around silently. 

“Come here,” he says, patting his chest. You cuddle into him, one leg draping over his warm body. The arm behind his head wraps around your naked body. He feels so soft but hard against you. You can’t help but hump against his hip bone. You’re right on the edge. So close to tipping over it and coming. So very close. 

“Baby, it hasn’t even been four minutes, how are you going to last four hours?” He’s taunting you, trying to get you to beg. “You’re pathetic.” 

You can feel sweat breaking out across your body. This is torture, was right. You hate that he was right, but you hate even more how much he’s loving it. 

“Please,” you whisper. 

He pulls back to be able to look into your eyes. “What are you going to do for me if I make you come?” 

“Anything. Just. Please, Mr Miller.” You grind yourself into him harder, you’re so close that it’s almost unbearable. 

“Quit your job, baby girl.” He demands again. “I’ll tell your parents you’re going to work for me.” 

You start to pant as the pressure in your lower belly increases, you can feel wetness pooling inside of you, begging to be released. “I can’t take your money. Oh god - please - I ca-can’t. Hnnnnng. P-please.” 

A tear runs down your cheek and you’re not even sure why you’re crying, probably out of frustration.  

“You can. I’ll pay you to help around the house,” he holds up a hand, almost like he knows exactly what you’re doing today. “Not for the sex you’re guaranteed to get if you quit and come here.” He wipes the tear away and hikes his leg up to increase the pressure that’s already on the verge of making you pass out. 

Stars start to blur your vision as you whisper, “ok. I’ll quit.” 

Joel has you flipped onto your back, trapped under his weight before you can even register what’s happening. He’s kissing you deeply, tongue taking what it wants as your legs kick and shake under him. 

“Please!” You cry between kisses. 

His thick fingers slide between your puffy folds and the toy, you scream out as he pulls the toy from you. 

“Shhh…just a little bit more. I’m going to make it better,” he says gently, kissing down your neck, swirling his tongue around each nipple piercing. 

“Please. Please. Please, Mr Miller. Please. It hurts. I need, please.” You’re a mumbling mess and the words leaving your lips are practically incomprehensible. 

“I know. Relax baby. Breathe.” He says between kisses down your sternum, his tongue tracing your curves. When he finally settles in between your thighs he swallows hard, he wants to dive right in, make you drench his face as you come. “Look at me, darlin’.” 

His warm breath hits your pussy and you fight your hips from bucking up to his face as prop yourself up on an elbow and try to focus your eyesight on him. You didn’t know it was possible to be so turned on that you practically had tequila vision. 

His voice is serious yet calm as he says, “I’m going to make you come using my fingers and my tongue. Is that ok?” 

You nod your head and a faint ‘yes’, leaves your lips. 

“Can I lick and touch both the outside and inside of this beautiful, weeping, pussy?” 

His words from earlier echo through you. Ultimately, you always have the choice. 

Joel Miller would never do something you didn’t want and that sets your soul on fire. He cares. About you. Only you. Wants to do things for you. You are not a burden here. You are not a burden to him. 

“Yes, Mr Miller. Please. Touch me.” The room suddenly feels twenty degrees hotter, you can feel sweat beading on your skin. 

“What’s your safe word?” 

“Cowboy,” you hum, never taking your eyes away from his blown out obsidian gaze. 

“That’s my girl,” he says, sliding his ring and middle finger around your desperate entrance. You cry out, dropping your body to the bed. Pleasure. Overwhelming pleasure. “No no baby girl, eyes on me.” 

You somehow muster the strength to raise yourself onto shaky arms. His two strong fingers slide deep into your heat with minimal resistance and you immediately start gasping. Pleasure. Life altering, heart stopping pleasure. 

“Fuuuuck. Baby. So tight. Have you ever squirted before?” His cheeks are flushed with need. He might be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. 

Your breasts rise and fall with your ragged breaths. You shake your head and moan out a ‘no’. 

He smiles down at your dripping cunt, “I can feel it. Gotta relax for me. Just breathe and let it happen.” 

Nerves flutter in your stomach and then he curls his fingers forward, putting so much pressure on a soft spongy spot that you didn’t know existed. On instinct, your knees try to close but his wide frame keeps you open. You yell his name to the ceiling, he knows he should punish you for not calling him Mr Miller but you look so goddamn beautiful as you start to fall apart. 

“Breathe baby,” he says as he curls his fingers once, twice, three more times. You can hear how wet you are and the pressure becomes unbearable. Stars blur your vision again, the walls of your pussy squeeze tightly around his fingers and then it’s just a blur. A blur of all consuming pleasure. 

“That’s it. That’s my girl. Come for me. Soak me. Good girl,” Joel’s free hand pressed down on your mound as a wet heat leaks all over you. “Good fuckin’ girl. Let go for me.” 

You’re not sure if you’re screaming or not, all you hear and feel is Joel. Everything is Joel. Strong hands, deep gravel voice, warm vanilla smell. He’s everywhere and you never want it to stop. 

“Keep going. That’s it. You look so beautiful,” he says, licking a long stripe up your fluttering pussy, drinking up your juices. “Oooh yeah - gooood giiirrll”

Almost immediately after your orgasm crests it becomes too much. You’re so overstimulated that it hurts and your moans of pleasure become cries of pain. You forget your name, where you are, you even forget your safe word. But Joel knows, he always knows. 

He stops pumping his fingers and says your name, “look at me sweet pea.”

You blink slowly, you’re wrecked, barely able to keep your eyelids open, almost convinced they’ve been replaced with steel. You’re sucking in air, did you not breathe that entire time? 

“Breathe baby, you’re ok.” He says, stilling his fingers until you’re ready. 

“I’m sorry, Mr Miller. I know I called you Joel. I won’t do it again.” 

There she goes again, being so fucking cute. “It’s ok, darlin’ girl. I want you to let loose when you come.” He places a few light kisses along your thighs. The sheets and his t-shirt a soaked, he’ll need to change things before you both get some sleep. “I’m gonna pull my fingers out.” 

You fall back to the bed and fist the sheets to ground yourself as he slides his fingers out. “You did such a good job. Made a huge mess. I’m so proud of you, babygirl.”

Every bone and muscle in your body seems to have dissolved and all you can muster is a weak smile and a little whimper of thanks. “I need to get you cleaned up. Stay here.” 

Stay here? I have no bones. Where else will go? 

The sound of running water coaxes your eyes to close. The mattress shifts under Joel’s weight as he sits beside you, lightly trailing his finger down the bridge of your nose. “I’m going to carry you to the shower. Ok?” 

You let out an agreeable hum as he scoops you into his arms. His warm naked chest pressed against you. He walks into the shower with you, the steam warming your skin. He places you on your feet and guides you under the water with him. Water is hitting you from all angles. You open your eyes to see 3 showerheads in his large, modern glass shower. A large rainfall one above the two of you, then two down the wall. The bundle of fresh eucalyptus hanging from one head fills the shower with a fresh scent. 

His fingers fumble with the clasp of your collar behind you, “how are you feeling after what happened tonight?” 

You smile at the white and black tiled wall as the collar slides off your neck and into Joel’s hands. “Mmm - like I’m not gonna quit my job so we can do it again.” 

“Don’t think I won’t put this on again right now and make you regret that.” 

You giggle and press your body back into Joel’s. He’s completely naked behind you and you have the sudden urge to taste him. As you spin around and get to your knees he stops you, “don’t interrupt my aftercare, please.” 

“Your what?” 

He grabs the soap and a fresh wash cloth and starts to work it to lather. “I told you, it’s my job to take care of you.” It’s too early to admit it to you, but aftercare is Joel’s favourite part. He’s grumpy and rough on the outside, but he loves the tender moments after playing with his subs. Especially you, and that’s something he won’t even admit to himself yet. 

He runs the soft cloth over your arms and chest, using extra caution not to catch on your nipple piercings. I like these,” he says, eyes memorizing every inch of the skin he’s washing. 

“Thanks, you’re actually the first person to see them.” 

“That right?” He moves the cloth down your stomach before kneeling in front of you and washing your legs. “You know what I think you should pierce next?” 

“I have an appointment next week for something,” you tease. It’s not a lie, you have an appointment to get a second hole in each earlobe, but may as well play with him a little. 

“Oh? Don’t tease an old man like that, baby girl. What new surprise am I gonna find?” He brings the cloth up and down your other leg. 

“What do you want to find?” 

His hands grip your hips and he spins you around. You have a small bruise forming on your one ass cheek and his cock jumps at the sight. “Belly button,” he says. 

“Oh?” You say with surprise as he stands behind you and scrubs your back. You turn to look at him over your shoulder and add, “I was thinking of doing my clit.” 

Joel’s hands come to his heart as he moans. “Fuck me, baby girl. I’d have to leave the god damn continent until it healed.” 

You laugh as he brings his lips to yours. You’re suddenly very aware of the fact that you aren’t wearing a collar. But he’s kissing you and washing your body. Does this mean that Joel Miller, your dad’s best friend, might have the same sort of feelings that you have? Or is this just what he does with his subs after dehydrating them with his fingers and tongue. 

“Stay in the warm water while I change the sheets. I’ll be back,” you look over your shoulder to finally take in his naked body. His back is lined with corded muscle, water droplets filling the dips and grooves of his sculpted body. It looks like you could bounce your whole fucking bank account off his round ass. 

Am I salivating. I feel like I’m salivating. 

He wraps a white bath sheet around his waist before you get to see his front - as much as you loved being taken care of earlier you should have looked down. You run some shampoo and conditioner through your hair, rinsing it out just as Joel comes back, now in a pair of fitted boxer briefs. He holds up a towel for you, and after turning off the water you pad over to him for him to wrap you up and gently dry you off. 

“Thank you, Mr Miller,” you say instinctively. 

He smiles softly at you as he dries every inch of your skin. “Go lay down, babygirl. I’ll get some lotion and then you need to get some sleep.” 

When you walk out to his bed there’s a t-shirt and a bottle of water on the pillow for you. 

Fuck. I’m in love. 

Taglist:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 @keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot @lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @baar-ur @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog @pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde  @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya @javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @akah565 @pinkiec6-rubi @pedroshotwifey @iluvurfather@ashleyfilm @mermaidgirl30

[dawndelion-winery]

Thanks for the Flowers

You send them a little prank thank you text with flowers they never sent

Ft: Alhaitham, Arlechinno, Childe, Scaramouche, Wriothesley

Alhaitham:

You thought it would be a funny prank to send him a stock image of flowers and a small thank you

"Glad you like them."

He smiles to himself, but then immediately deleted his message when he sees the attached image

That wasn't the bouquet he sent

His smile drops so fast because who exactly is sending you flowers apart from him?

"Throw those out, they aren't from me. Don't you like the one I sent more? I got your favourites, my love."

He gives the house a cursory scan the moment he steps in through the front door

It's only after you've given him his welcome home kiss and a hug that he starts looking for the bouquet for some trace of who the sender might be

At first he doesn't believe you when you say it's a prank because he wouldn't put it past you to just want to allay his worries

He'll come around though, and then he's annoyed

"That's childish and you know it, you can have my attention if you just ask for it."

Arlechinno:

This is her sign to publicly announce that you're with her because this sort of idiocy wouldn't be an issue if people knew you were spoken for

Initially chuckles to herself as she glares at the offending image

"Do you like them?"

Of course she's not telling you the weren't from her if you like them

The poor sucker who sent them to you deserves no credit anyway

If anything, they deserve her personal thanks for helping her gift you something!

Of course she needs to know their name and face to express her gratitude in person <33

In a totally genuine and non-threatening way (lie)

She ends up coming home late that day, having scared off any of your potential suitors just to be safe

"Had some unsavoury business come up, dearest, sorry to keep you waiting. Have you had dinner yet? No? Shall we dine together?"

She never brings it up though, so you sorta forget to ever tell her it was a joke

Childe:

At first he doesn't process that he didn't send you the flowers

It's not like he doesn't pay attention, but he has his subordinates send you so much stuff as he comes across it that it's really hard to keep track

For all he knows it might have been something he came across and spontaneously thought of you liking it

And your likes were pretty much needs to him

"Love you, my pookie <33"

And then he stows his phone away

Only to remember he hasn't gotten you any flowers that day

"My honey drumlet darling-kins, there doesn't happen to be a note attached to the flowers, is there?"

When you insist that no, there isn't, and you've checked thoroughly, he makes a mental note to look into anyone who's ever had a crush on you

For a friendly spar, of course!

He just needs to make sure his competition is even worth noting (they aren't)

He comes home, thoroughly disappointed that none of them could even hold their own against him - few even dared to try, scared shitless by the sudden appearance of a harbinger demanding they fight

Sweaty and tired, he's all over you, whining about his day and how everyone wants you and can't take a hint that you're so happy with him ("You are, aren't you? I'm your favourite.")

Of course you cave and tell him it was only a prank

He scowls at first, but then breaks out giggling as he buried his face in the crook of your neck

"It doesn't really matter because I think they're all scared of me anyway. Some of them took one look at me and blanched. Unlike you, of course; the sight of me excites you, doesn't it?"

Ah. There's your bastard ginger.

Scaramouche:

"Wrong number, I think you meant to text your side hoe."

Sends you the most unbothered replies

Is actually overthinking

He knows logically this is most likely a joke because he swears he has seen that bouquet somewhere on the internet when looking for flower arrangement inspiration

But what if it's just a really similar layout and someone actually did send it to you?

Horrible. He doesn't want to think about it

But of course he does anyway

Brings you flowers because he planned to sneakily replace the stranger's bouquet

Wriothesley:

"Honey, please tell me this is a joke."

Seething inside

Who in their right mind dared to covet you while you were happily dating him??

Don't even try evade his interrogation, he needs to know every detail

From the exact time the flowers were sent to the arrangement and paper quality

Don't mind him, it's just a small investigation he'll carry out in his free time

The sooner you come clean the better

Not that you'll go unpunished...but hey, confessing to your crimes must at least lighten the sentence, yeah?

Taglist: @ryuryuryuyurboat @yinyinggie @mx-kamisato @chaosinanutshell @haliyarobin @irethepotato @boundedbyfate @favonius-captain @aqui-soba @tiredsleep @sadlonelybagel @mastering-procrastinating @lemeowade

[waitimcomingtoo]

Come See About Me

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Synopsis: Tom realizes he got you all wrong and slowly falls as he learns more about you during the press tour

Masterlist

“Oh shoot. I’m press with Y/n all week.” Tom said as he read an email from his team.

“Is that a bad thing?” Harry asked him.

“Not necessarily. I just don’t really know her that well. She was super reserved on set for the few days I shot with her. I wonder why they paired me with her.”

“Well, you’re the same age, right? The movie team probably just want to start romance rumors for publicity.”

“I don’t think that will happen. I barely got to know her during filming. I doubt anyone will see chemistry between us.” Tom replied. He started pacing around his hotel room and felt uncharacteristically nervous for the day ahead.

“Well for your sake, let’s hope you don’t see chemistry between you either.” Harry snorted.

“How do you mean?” Tom frowned.

“You know how messy relationships in the public eye can be. Just don’t go falling in love with this girl, okay? I do not want to watch you pine after your dark and mysterious costar.” Harry warned him.

“Psh. I won’t fall in love with her. That would never happen.” Tom scoffed and continued scrolling through his phone. He ended up on Instagram and saw that you had recently posted a photo. It was just a simple selfie in your hotel room which was probably just a few doors down from Tom’s. He found himself smiling and gave the photo a like. He may not have gotten to know you on set, but there’s no reason he couldn’t get to know you now.

“But if I did, why would that be bad?” Tom asked as he deep stalked your Instagram.

“The way I see it, there are two outcomes if you choose to pursue her. Option one is you get swept up in the excitement of promoting the movie and start reading into every little interaction between the two of you because that’s what the public is doing. So you convince yourself you’re in love with her and maybe she’ll even convince herself of the same thing. But once the press tour is over and you get to be with each other without any reason or purpose, you realize you never actually liked each other. And that’ll just end up breaking both your hearts. Even worse if only one of you realizes you never actually liked the other. God. That would be a nightmare.” Harry shivered.

“Okay.” Tom said slowly. “That was oddly specific. So what’s the other outcome?”

“You fall in love with her on this press tour and then it ends before you get a chance to tell her. So she flies off to film another movie and you’re stuck kicking yourself for not being honest with her sooner. And I’m stuck watching you whine about it.” Harry said simply.

“Or, hear me out, secret third option.” Tom proposed. “I fall for her and she falls for me and we have a great relationship. And maybe it lasts and maybe it doesn’t. But at least we gave it a shot. That could happen, right?”

“Maybe. But either way, she’s getting on a plane at the end of this press tour. And you can’t fall in love with someone who’s worlds away. Remember that.” Harry reminded him.

“I’m not gonna fall in love with her.” Tom insisted.

“Promise?” Harry asked skeptically.

“Yeah. Promise.” Tom said weakly. He looked at your picture one more time before shutting his phone off.

The next morning, Tom got into a black van that was going to take the cast to the building where the interviews were taking place. You got into the car shortly after with a huge smile on your face that Tom had never seen before. You were in a nice dress and full glam already, unintentionally earning yourself Tom’s full attention.

“Good morning.” You said enthusiastically as you sat in the seat beside him. He was slightly taken aback by how friendly you were being since he had only ever seen you being quiet and reserved.

“Oh, hello.” He smiled in surprise. “Good morning to you too, darling. How are you doing?”

“I’m really excited for today.” You admitted. “I haven’t done a big press tour like this before. I know they can be a little boring and repetitive but I can’t wait.”

“Yeah. These tours are pretty crazy. You get to see a lot of amazing places which is really cool. But you also get to answer the same question 100 times a day for a month straight. You’ll learn the highs and the lows pretty soon.”

“I’m ready for it all. But thanks for the warning. I appreciate any tips I can get.” You chuckled.

“You’re welcome. And don’t worry. You’ll get used to waking up at the crack of dawn and having a bunch of people you’ve never met poke you with makeup and hair stuff.”

“When?” You asked through a yawn. “Because I have a full face of makeup on before my brain is fully awake and it feels so very, very wrong.”

“Not soon enough.” He sighed. “I’ve learned to stay half asleep while the nice ladies apply my concealer.”

“Oh, so this complexion isn’t natural?” You teased and pointed to his face.

“Nope. You’re not the only one in full glam right now, darling.” He humored you, making you laugh.

“Careful. You don’t know if you can’t trust me yet. I might sell that piece of bad boy information to a news site and get you exposed.” You warned. It was Tom’s turn to laugh and he felt amazed that he had never seen this side of your personality before.

“I hope you don’t. I was just about to say that I’m glad I can share your first big press tour with you but now I feel we may have begun an enemies arch.”

“No. We can’t be enemies.” You whined playfully. “Because I was gonna say that I’m glad you’re here too. You always seem so relaxed and funny in interviews. I’m really hoping I don’t come off as nervous as I feel today.”

“Don’t worry. You won’t. It’ll feel just like a conversation.” He assured you. He was pleased to know you were a watcher of his interviews and wondered what else he’d uncover about you that day.

“Thank. I really appreciate you helping me with all this.”You said sincerely.

“It’s no trouble. If you have any other questions, just ask. I’ll help wherever I can.” He told you.

“Thanks, Tom.” You smiled at him. He smiled back and suddenly remembered what Harry had said the night before about not falling in love with you. Tom was just one conversation in and already struggling to keep his promise.

Once the van arrived at the building, you and Tom had makeup touch ups and were then sent into the junket room.

“Wow. I haven’t seen the poster yet.” You gasped and touched the poster with gentle fingertips. Tom watched you admiring it and smiled when he saw how proud you looked.

“You look good up there. I hope to see you on more posters.” He said and nudged you slightly.

“Like in Playboy?” You asked and looked insulted.

“What?” Tom gulped. “No, no, no. I didn’t-“

“I’m just messing with you.” You cut him off and nudged him back. He felt his hearts too racing and cracked a smile.

“You really had me for a second there, darling. I didn’t realize you had such a sense of humor. I guess I never heard you say much on set.”

“Thats because I found it hard to shake my character after filming all day. I guess I’m not used to separating that yet. I loved my character and all but I’m so glad to be done shooting her. She’s so dark and dramatic. It really affected my mood on set.” You told him as you both sat down in your chairs.

“Oh, wow. So you’re not quiet? You were just in character?”

“Quiet? I’ve never been described as quiet.” You laughed. “I was just in my emo phase on set because the material I was shooting was so dark. It bummed me out all day.”

“But you’re not bummed out today?” He asked with a coy smile.

“Fuck no. I’m ready to party.” You whispered to him just as the journalist came in. He burst out laughing at the unexpected expletive and earned himself a look from the journalist.

“Well alright then.” He chuckled.

That was the first of many times you made Tom laugh that day. The more interviews you did together, the more he learned about you and your personality. He paid attention to every anecdote and personal story you shared and was more and more fascinated each time.

When it came time for day two of the press tour, he could not wait to get back in there with you. The interviews were in the hotel that day and Tom got to the junket room first. When you got there, you handed him a hot cup of tea.

“For you.” You smiled and sat beside him. Tom looked at you curiously and you gestured for him to sip it. He took a sip and widened his eyes when he tasted it.

“This is exactly how I take my tea.” He said incredulous.

“I know. I was listening when you ordered at breakfast yesterday.” You said proudly.

“Thank you, darling. I really appreciate that.” He smiled fondly at you before taking another sip.

“Well I wanted to thank you for all your help yesterday.” You smiled shyly. “I was really nervous yesterday until we talked in the car. You made my first press day really memorable. So I did the normal courtesy of eavesdropping on you and brought you your favorite tea.”

“That was very kind of you. And you made my day yesterday a lot better than I was expecting so I should be thanking you too.”

“Then I’ll loudly tell someone else my favorite way to drink tea so that you can eavesdrop and surprise me.” You joked as the journalist walked in.

“How are you guys doing today?” The journalist asked to start the interview.

“I’m doing really well now that Y/n brought me tea.” Tom answered and took another sip.

“I’m also doing really well but because Tom didn’t bring me tea.” You said and looked at Tom to see if he found it funny.

“Why would that make you happy?” He laughed.

“Because I hate tea.” You shrugged.

“What? Don’t you know that is the worst thing you can say to an English person? And you just told me you had a favorite tea.”

“That was a joke. I actually hate tea.” You admitted.

“How can anyone hate tea?” Tom asked in exasperation.

“It’s just like hot, flavored water. I don’t understand what’s good about it. I hate soup too.“

“Soup too?” Tom gasped and pretended to clutch his petals.

“I think soup is so nasty. Why would I ever want to eat hot blended food?”

“If you hate soup and you hate tea, then what do you do when you’re sick?”

“I watch Fantastic Mr. Fox under my covers like a normal person.” You answered, making him laugh.

“This is very disturbing information to learn so early in the morning. You’ve surprised me, darling.”

“I’m sorry you had to find out like this.” You shrugged with a laugh.

The next day, Tom was pleased to see you already waiting in your chair for the interview to start. You were texting on your phone but looked up when he came into the room. Your makeup artists was touching up your lipstick so you couldn’t smile at him and opted for a wink. He found himself blushing at the wink and sat beside you.

“Morning, darling.”

“Good morning. No tea today?” You teased.

“I’ve already had my tea, for your information. I chugged it while I got my makeup done.”

You laughed but he wasn’t actually kidding about getting his makeup done. He was just happy that it made you laugh. Your makeup artists finished up and you checked your makeup in your phone camera.

“You look pretty.” Tom said before he could stop himself. You looked over at him in surprise before smiling.

“Why, thanks. So do you.” You said and shot him another wink. He blushed and looked down at his lap at the compliment.

“God, I’m gonna be thinking about lunch this entire interview.” You whispered to him.

“You didn’t eat at the craft service table?”

“I can’t eat that early in the morning.” You waved your hand. “It makes me nauseous. Now I’m wishing I did though. My kingdom for a cheese stick.”

“I hate cheese.” Tom grimaced.

“What? Even in stick form?” You asked him.

“Even in stick form.” He humored you. “And you can’t judge me because you hate the two most comforting foods on earth.”

“I’m judging you so hard right now.” You mumbled. Tom laughed as an idea came to him.

Before your next interview, Tom made a quick stop at the bakery across the street. You were already in the room waiting to start by the time he got back. He quickly fixed his hair before holding out a little brown paper bag.

“For you.” He said with a bashful smile.

“What is this?” You asked as you took the bag.

“Open it.” He said as he sat beside you. You gave him a curious look before opening the bag.

“Scone?” You gasped and looked up at him.

“Scone!” He smiled proudly.

“You got me a scone? Why?” You wondered and took the stone out of the bag.

“Because it was easier to find than a cheese stick.” He chuckled.

“I love you.” You cupped his chin before taking a bite of the scone. Tom froze and felt his face turn bright red at your words. You realized he had gone quiet and looked over at him.

“Sorry. Was it too soon to say that?” You asked with a mouthful of scone.

“I think so. Aren’t you supposed to wait three months?” He chuckled and touched a cold hand to his burning face.

“Too bad. The introduction of the scone sped up our relationship and now we’re in love.” You shrugged and took another bite. Tom laughed again and looked down at his laugh.

“So, uh, speaking of our relationship. Have you seen the way fans have been shipping us since our last few interviews hit the Internet? How weird is that?” He said and forced a laugh. He didn’t actually find it weird, he just wanted it see how you felt about the possibility of a relationship.

“I was actually deep into the fan edits last night to be perfectly honest with you.” You said through a laugh.

“Were you?” He asked in surprise.

“I was. And I heard that we’ve been secretly dating since May. Did you know that?”

“I did. I forgot to tell you. I’m sorry, darling. It must’ve slipped my mind.” He played along.

“That’s okay. I can’t be mad at you since you blessed me with a scone.”

The journalist came in once you had finished your scone and the interview began. Tom was barely paying attention to the questions and only focused on hearing your answers. He loved that he wasn’t getting to learn new things about you that he was too shy to ask.

“Unpopular opinion?” The journalist asked.

“A lot of people think cats are girls and dogs are boys but the real take here is that all seagulls are boys.”

“Woah, what? What makes all seagulls boys?” Tom asked you.

“A girl would never act like that.” You said simply, making Tom laugh.

“My unpopular opinion is that Y/n’s best movie is Look Mom, No Hands.” Tom said, making you burst out laughing.

“I know you did not just bring up my Disney Chanel original movie from when I was 11.”

“Yes I did. Because I watched it last night and I cried when you made the winning goal even after your glasses broke from the soccer ball hitting you in the face.”

“Oh my God.” You laughed. “The drama.”

“It was! The opposing team totally kicked it into your face on purpose because they knew you were the underdog. But nevertheless, she persisted. You made the winning goal and your team won the championship.”

“Wow. Way to spoil my movie from 15 years ago. And why were you even watching that?”

“Because I needed to know who I was working with everyday. It’s a part of your lore. Now that I know you’ve starred in a DCOM, I know I can trust you.”

“I was not the star. Bridget Mendler was the star. I was just the quirky best friend.” You reminded him, making Tom laugh.

“Well you were the only one I was looking at, okay darling? You were the star for me.” He said as he looked over at you. You smiled at his answer and nodded your head.

“Good answer. Favorite snack?” The journalist asked.

“Oh no. You’re gonna think I’m weird.” You smiled sheepishly.

“What? I could never, darling. What is it?” Tom asked and turned in his chair to face you.

“I put mustard on popcorn.” You grimaced.

“What the hell?” Tom’s nose scrunched in disgust.

“See! I knew you’d think I was a little freak.”

“Mustard? On popcorn? Why would anyone do that?”

“You’re thinking it’s worse than it is. Yellow mustard on lightly salted popcorn is really good, okay? Don’t knock it until you try it.”

“You’re gonna have to make it for me. Because I cannot imagine it’s good.” Tom shook his head.

“If I can get my hands on some mustard during this press tour, I will be at your door in a heartbeat.”

“It’s a date.”Tom replied, making you smile.

“It better be.” You answered, and he returned the smile.

Tom was fully in it now. Every second that he wasn’t with you, you were the only thing on his mind. You started spending your evenings together and grabbed dinner every night after your interviews. He was falling fast and getting worse and worse at hiding it. He posted a photo of the two of you that the paparazzi had taken while you were out to dinner and captioned it “I’d wait out in the cold all night just to take pictures of her too”. He tagged you and it wasn’t long before you were in his comments saying “he’s so obsessed with me it’s honestly embarrassing”. He smiled at the comment and wrote back “yes, and?” before going to bed.

The press tour was coming to an end and on the last day, Tom walked into the junket room to find only one chair in the room.

“Oh. No Y/n?” Tom asked his manager.

“Nope. Solo interviews today.” They replied. Tom faked a smile and sat in his chair. He hoped his disappointment wasn’t as obvious as it felt as he gave the interview alone. He did a few more solo interviews throughout the day and eventually got to his last one. It wasn’t long before the door opened up and you walked into the room with Tom’s water bottle.

“Hi. I’m crashing. Sorry.” You smiled sheepishly and walked into the room.

“That’s quite all right. Do you want a chair?” The journalist asked you.

“I’m good.” You smiled politely and sat on Tom’s knee. He immediately blushed and looked up at you.

“What are you doing here, darling?” Tom grinned.

“I finished early so I brought you juice.” You said and handed him the water bottle.

“What? No way.” He smiled in appreciation and opened up the water bottle to see apple juice inside.

“Juice!” You cheered.

“Juice!” He echoed. “Thank you, darling. What a nice surprise.”

“Well I had to get you back for the scone.“ You told him.

“So Tom, I have to ask about your Instagram post from yesterday. You tagged Y/n in an interesting place, Tom. Care to comment on that?” The journalist asked now that you had joined the interview.

“He tagged me there because it’s where you can usually find me.” You chuckled.

“Wait, I’m lost? Where did I tag her?” Tom asked. You and the journalist exchanged a look before you pulled out your phone to show Tom his own post from the night before. He had accidentally tagged you right on his crotch, making him turn red when he saw his mistake. And when he pieced together what you meant by what you had just said, he turned even redder.

“Oh my God. I swear, I’m just Instagram stupid. I didn’t mean to tag her there.” Tom explained.

“Yes he did. He tagged me in my location. Because that’s where I am.” You kept up the joke just to tease him.

“Where?” The journalist laughed.

“On Tom’s dick.” You shrugged. Tom covered his red face with his hands as you and the journalist laughed.

“People know that about me. If they can’t find me, they don’t ask “hey where’s Y/n?” because they already know where I am. It’s my happy place. My sanctuary. My home away from home.” You continued.

“No. No more. My mum watched these.” He playfully scolded you.

“Hey, you started this.” You reminded him.

“And I’m ending it.”

“Actually, I’m the one who has to end it. That’s all the time we have. Thanks guys.” The journalist said. The last interview was done, meaning the press tour was officially over. You stood up and adjusted your skirt before looking at Tom. He smiled softly but felt his disappointment return. The tour was over which meant today was his last day with you. He knew you’d keep in touch, but it would never be like this again, and that’s made him sad.

Instead of wallowing in his sadness, Tom did something about it. He stopped by the corner store before making his way to your hotel room. In his way there, he ran into his brother Harry. Harry took one look at the bag of popcorn in his hands and knew what was happening.

“You fell in love with her, didn’t you?” Harry snorted.

“Shut up.” Tom groaned. “I can still fire you.”

“You did the one thing you said you wouldn’t do. Now look at you. One your way to eat the most American combination of foods I have ever seen. You’re a disgrace to your homeland.”

“I couldn’t help it, okay? She made me fall for her. It’s all her fault, really. Now leave me alone. I have a girl to surprise with a disgusting snack.” Tom said and went on his way. He took a deep breath before knocking on your door. You opened your door for him and he held up his bag of supplies.

“Hey, you. What’s this?”You raised an eyebrow.

“Mustard and popcorn. You little freak.” He said with a teasing smile. Your lips curved into a smile as you stared at him.

“Get in here.” You instructed.

He went into your room and shut the door behind him as you poured the bag popcorn into two bowls. He did his best to hide his disgust as you squirt mustard over them both.

“Here. You’re gonna love this.” You said as you handed him his bowl.

“It smells like mustard.” He grimaced.

“Well, that’s 50% of the ingredients.”

“Okay. I’m doing it. I’m eating one.” He said and popped a mustard covered piece of popcorn into his mouth. You watched him as he chewed it and could tell he hated it.

“Well?” You asked.

“I’m gonna throw up.” He answered.

“Spit it out.” You laughed.

“No. You like this so I’m gonna force myself to like it too.” He said a begrudgingly swallowed the popcorn. You laughed at him but your smile slowly faded and you looked a little upset.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked you.

“I don’t know. I’m feeling kinda down tonight.” You told him.

“You are? What’s bothering you?”

“I guess I’m just sad the tours over. I don’t like when things end.” You admitted with a sad smile.

“I’m sad it’s over too. They usually exhaust me but I don’t know. I particularly enjoyed this one.” Tom replied sheepishly without meeting your eyes.

“You did?” You asked as you ate your popcorn.

“I did. Mostly because I enjoyed getting to know you.” He admitted and finally looked up at you. You smiled in surprise and scooted closer to him. Tom gulped and looked down at his lap. The tour was officially over so if he didn’t want you to get on a plane without ever knowing how he felt, he was gonna have to speak now.

“You know, before the tour started, my brother made me promise that I wasn’t gonna fall for you.” Tom admitted.

“What?” You laughed softly. “Why would he make you promise that?”

“I don’t know. He said it would only end in two ways.” Tom said and looked into your eyes with a sheepish smile.

“Which were?” You wondered.

“We get caught up in the excitement of the movie so we start a fling and then breakup when the tour ends.”

“Well that didn’t happen. So what was the other option?”

“I fall for you and never tell you. And the tour ends and you get on a plane and I regret it for the rest of my life. But I guess that option didn’t happen either since I told you.” He said as he never dropped your gaze. You stared into his eyes for a moment as you processed what he had just admitted.

“Well, what if there was a secret third option?”

“Secret third option?” Tom asked with intrigue.

“I mean, just because the tour is ending that doesn’t mean it has to be the end of you and me, does it?” You said and leaned in even closer.

“It doesn’t?” He gulped at your close proximity.

“I don’t think so. And look. You bought me food. That makes this is our first date.” You explained as you held up your bowl of popcorn.

“Well I’m happy to hear that but don’t expect a kiss with your mustard breath.” Tom mumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

“What was that?” You played along.

“I said you’re so pretty and I have a giant crush on you and want us to be together.” He said quickly.

“Much better.” You smiled and popped some popcorn into your mouth.

Tag List 🏷️

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@tom-hollands-wifey

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

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@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave​ ​

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

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@maybemona

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@pandaxnienke

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@freakofmusic25 @tomholland85

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@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep @white-wolf1940

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@mathletemadison  

@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr

@hallecarey1 @adayasgeorgia @blackwidowisthebest @imawhoreforu

@ciarahollands

@nellabellaa @pinklxmonade @boogywoogywoogy

[starrayblogs]

Scenario or Headcanons of Tmnt (bayverse) x reader who is very friendly and affectionate (maybe crush or beginning of the relationship) but when she gets affection (the boys are e one starting it) she malfunctions? I’m talking getting clumsy, flustered, blushing, stuttering automatically, kinda comical tbh lol

Thank you and hope you have a good day!

ahh, thank you so much for the ask! :3 i hope i don't disappoint, so here goes nothing!! also, likes and reblogs are appreciated as usual ✩

pairings: (bayverse) leonardo x reader, raphael x reader, donatello x reader, and michelangelo x reader (gender neutral)

will include: fluff

while you're usually the more outgoing one in terms of affection, it's not an excuse for your favorite turtle to be reserved with his. in fact, he has his shining moments!

Leonardo

i personally see leo's favorite form of affection is through a kiss

you frequently give him kisses when you see each other and when you're about to part ways after spending time with each other

leo's favorite place to be kissed is on his cheek. he thinks it's sweet and endearing!

he still remembers the first time you did it to him

"See you tomorrow." Leo bows his head down shortly, before he meets your eye again. He turns his back around to make his jump down the fire exit to your apartment, but he feels you tap on his shell.

When he turns around, he's surprised at how swift you are to plant a kiss on his cheek. It was soft, and he wished it lasted longer.

"Goodnight, Leo." you grin, holding your chin up on your palm as you wave the turtle goodbye.

you know he enjoys the gesture, and you enjoy doing it too him as well. so, it's a win-win situation

until, one night, leo decided to turn the tables around you

You just finished brewing two cups of tea for you and Leo. You held the mugs and carefully made your way back to the dojo, where Leo was sitting and having trouble meditating. You offered to make him a cup of tea, and decided to make yourself one too.

"Here," you offer him his mug, "is your tea. I made sure to brew your favorite pack." You smile at him as he takes his cup from you.

"Thank you." He returns the smile. You hum, taking a seat next to him and blowing the steam away from your tea.

You didn't notice that Leo hadn't stopped looking at you.

You were so focused on drinking your tea, you didn't register that Leo had gently pulled your head towards him.

Then, you felt him kiss the top of your head.

Out of surprise, you spit your tea back in the cup abruptly. This backfires on you, because the hot liquid splashes you in the face and you shriek.

"Oh my mutagen, are you okay!?"

you were flustered that night. when leo usually gives you affection, it's in return of what you gave him

however, that day, he did it without you initiating it first- which is what caught you off guard

leo jokes and laughs about that night as much as he can, making your cheeks red from embarrassment

there is one more thing, however

"I still can't believe you actually spat back the tea over that." Leo finishes his sentence after a while of laughing, while you were busy covering your face and groaning into your hands.

"Leo, pleaaaaase. I beg you to forget about it." You whine, albeit muffled.

And since you were covering your face, you had fallen for the tricks of the mighty leader. Which is using this moment to press a kiss on your head again while pulling you close to him.

"Oh my gosh– Leo!" You uncover your red face to look up at him. He just smiles back before kissing you on the lips this time.

Raphael

i like to think that raphael loves callsigns. however, there are different types to these nicknames

there's obviously the nicknames he uses on the bad guys to demean them

then there's the nicknames he uses on his brothers to annoy them

then there's the nicknames he uses with you (yet)

you see, when you first met, you were already calling raph different things

"Hey, hotshot, could you grab me a slice?" You ask Raph from the couch, turning yourself around to give him a pretty smile.

or...

"Raphie, have you seen my history notebook?" You come up to his room where he was doing reps. He nearly dropped the weights on his feet, had you not exclaimed in time for him to jump away.

it came natural to you to call him special nicknames

and it made raph soft. it made him feel special, because you never called his brothers the things you called him: hotshot, big guy, raphie, and, his favorite, handsome

but raph never showed how soft it made him, of course, it would ruin his tough guy reputation!

he thinks about the names you call him at the end of the day when he's laying in his bed

and, one day, he wakes up with the same confidence as you

You were pissed from school today. Your partner for the project the teacher gave for the period wasn't helping you at all and, somehow, they got all the credit.

You were heading down the ladder to the lair and when you turn your head around, you see Raph lounging by the table and watching the tv from afar.

You hurriedly get down the ladder and start stomping your way to the turtle, ranting about your day. You were standing next to him and obviously fuming, until...

"Slow down, gorgeous/handsome. Grab a slice, won't ya?" He smirks, throwing one hand behind the seat.

Your rant comes to a stammer as you feel your cheeks heat up. You slowly turn your head to the turtle, pointing a finger at him.

"E-Excuse me?" You stutter.

"I said... Relax and grab a slice, sweetheart." Raph chuckles, standing up from his seat and helping you into tour own.

He even had to help you eat, because somehow you were messing up eating a pizza from how flustered you were. He also waited until you could properly function again.

Only to call you with another nickname.

Donatello

personally, i don't see donnie as verbally or physically affectionate as his brothers

however, he is a sucker for acts of services

and it just so happens that you enjoy doing stuff for donnie. handing him beakers, writing down notes when his hands are too occupied, and bringing over food and telling him to take a break

"Hey, the guys ordered pizza." You step back in his makeshift lab with a plate full of pizza for you two to share.

You take your seat next to Donnie, who was soldering wires together for a new machine he was making. You hum, tapping on the table gently to break him from his focus.

You learned to not tap on his shell from the last time. You nearly got spilled with deadly chemicals...

Eventually, he pushes up his goggles and meets your eyes. His face softens into a smile and you could feel your heart swell with joy.

"Time to take a break, Donnie." You tell him, watching him set aside his project before you place down the plate of food to share.

"Thanks," he says, "I really would miss more meals if you weren't around." He adds, grabbing a slice. You click your tongue while shaking your head.

and once you're out of the lair, the rest of his brothers (without missing) collectively turn their heads to the lab to hear the squeal that echoes through the entire sewer

he goes to bed at night thinking of all the things you did for him that day

sometimes, he wishes he had the confidence you had to treat you just as fair

however, it's as natural to him as it is to you

You squirm uncomfortably on your chair because it was wobbling. That's unusual, considering Donnie does his best to make his workspace as comfy as can be to enhance his focus.

Donnie seemed to notice how uncomfortable you were and paused on his work. "Here," he stands up from his seat and guides you onto it. "Sit on my chair for now." He smiles at you before facing his work again. "I have a big suspicion that Mikey broke my chair bouncing on it earlier." He clicks his tongue as he rolls his eyes.

"Uh-Uh huh..." You reply softly, cheeks turning red and body turning stiff. You were so in your head, screaming about what just happened, you didn't notice Donnie glancing at you when he asked you to reach for his solder.

He chuckles and taps on the table space in front of you to break you out of your daze. You do, but there is still blush on your cheeks. "Did I do something wrong?" He asks softly and you quickly shake your head.

Michelangelo

this one is a bit difficult to write, considering mikey is the most affectionate of his brothers- but i realized something

other than april, vern, and casey, you're the only other human he's ever interacted with! what makes you different is that, you're more affectionate compared to the other three

he's not used to it! you're so sweet that he ends up freezing on the spot whenever you run up and give him a hug, which he returns ofcourse! after some stammering...

"Oh, hey Mikey!!!" You spot him at the bottom of the ladder as you make your way down and call for his attention. He looks up and grins, waving at you.

"What's up, my favorite human!?" He greets you back with just as much enthusiasm.

"Come on, catch me!" You yell and jump off from the ladder with the widest smile.

Mikey panics and quickly stretches out his arms to catch you. When you land in his arms with no effort, aside from a small 'umph!' from you once you landed, you're giggling and wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Nice catch!" You tell him, giving him a pat on his shell before asking him to put you down. You walked away to greet the other turtles, leaving the orange masked turtle in shock.

because you're the first human to ever be affectionate to him, he isn't as confident as he thought he would be when it came to this type of situation!

he likes you, definitely. so when his brothers find out, they all just laugh it up by saying its just his nerves.

mikey 'psh's them and says he doesn't get nervous around you

but sometimes he gets caught in the moment

You recently bought a new game and wanted to play it with the turtles! You got down to the lair and immediately invited the first turtle you saw, which so happens to be your favorite turtle.

"Mikey-angelo, my guy!" You grin and jump your way over to the couch, where he was. He greets you with the same enthusiasm and you two share a high five.

You mention the game and the two of you don't waste a second in getting it set up and handing each other the controllers. It was a multiplayer game and you two had to work with each other to reach the set goals.

You two played for a while and after an hour or two, you finally defeated a boss for the mission. You cheer from your spot on the couch and turn to high five the turtle, but...

He cheers louder and gets up from his seat, grabs you by the sides, and lifts you up. He spins you around in joy, and you would join him in cheering, but there was one problem.

You're so surprised by this that your face turns red as you admire the turtle's face. He had the widest smile, and you can tell how relieved he is to have defeated that boss. He looked so happy.

When he opens his eyes, he stops spinning you when he realizes what he's done. He begins to stutter as he awkwardly sets you down, and you turn your head in hopes to calm your blush by not looking at him.

Then he brings back your attention by asking, "let's order pizza?" You quickly turn your head back and nod frantically. You go for your pocket to pull out your phone, but it slips from your hand.

Mikey watches as you comically keep trying to catch your phone, but it keeps slipping until it falls on the floor.

You two stare at each other for a while, but it ends with the two of you eventually laughing.

"Who knew you to be the touchy turtle, Mikey." You comment between chuckles.

"I am! I am the touchy one! I just get nervous!"

[fraugwinska]

Since your the queen of fluff, I had to make this request.

It’s more an angst/comfort/fluff, but I want to see Alastor dealing with his girlfriend/lover having body dysmorphia. The comfort in O Mother Mine for him was beautifully portrayed and I want Alastor to provide comfort back. Cant wait to see what you write🩷💖❤️

This was - and still is - an ask that hit very much home for me. Struggling with my self image and a long, very taxing time living with an ED since my teens, I had to take my time writing this - Because with all this history weighing in my own back pocket, I wanted to write something my younger self would've found comfort in reading. Which is why there's a lot of my own experiences woven in. Thank you for this ask, my dear. And to all who fight the fight against their own head each day - I see you. And you are worthy of every bit and piece of love, external and internal. I let our dear deer take it from here.

TW: Explicit depictions & mentions of ED and body dysmorphia - 3k words

“Why don't you want one? Do they look bad? Don't you like my chocolate chip cookies?”

Niffty stared at you, her one big eye glazed and watery, and you felt that at her whining remark all eyes were on you. Shit.

You had been at Charlie's group therapy activities for hours by now, everyone was exhausted and hangry enough for Vaggie to intervene and propose a lunch break. You managed to discreetly dodge every dish that was going around the table, making sure to have an alibi piece of bread and a few leaves of salad on your plate, just in case anyone would look at you funny, and it was good that you did. You glanced around the table to find Alastor of all people staring at you from the other side, and pretending obliviousness you turned to Angel with a smile, laughing at whatever he said, and shoved a few bits of salad into your mouth. ‘See, I'm eating, all good.’ 

You thought the worst was over when the others pushed their dishes into the middle of the table with content sighs and filled bellies. But then Niffty had been hopping around, offering everyone the masses of cookies she had been baking with Pentious the evening before, and Niffty was just not dodgeable. 

“Aw Niff, of course I do, and they look amazing! But I'm so full, stuffed, I really can't take another bite.” Perhaps you imagined it, but you thought you heard a static crack of feedback and you shot a quick glance over to Alastor, but he was drinking his After-Lunch coffee with closed eyes, detached and apparently trying to drown out the babbling sinners around him. Irritated, you turned to the little, pouting cyclops girl again, your voice purposely louder as you said “Tell you what, I'll take one now and save it for later, okay? I can't pass up on your delicious treats, can I?”

That seemed to do the trick, and when you wrapped the cookie you took from a beaming Niffty into a napkin and slid it in your pocket, she and everyone else seemed satisfied and they turned their attention elsewhere - At least you hoped they were.

Another few long, dragging hours later Charlie finally released you all, and the communal groan of relief was only overlapped by the pitter-patter of multiple pairs of feet rushing behind Husk to the bar in desperate need for a strong drink. You were contemplating to join them, even if it was just for a glass of water, but that thought was instantly buried when Angel called over to you.

“Oy, toots, come on and drag ‘ya fat ass over here, I need ‘ya to tell sourpuss here to let me pluck his overgrown eyebrows. Bitch is starting to look like Frieda Kahlo.”

It was an innocent, friendly-meant remark. You knew that. Angel was your friend, you knew that. The laughter that followed his call was a reaction to his crassness. You knew that. But your already aching stomach twisted, and it took everything in you to keep your face from crumbling, and the smile on your lips felt fragile when you answered.

“No can do, Ange, I’m heading to my room. I feel a headache coming up. See you guys later.”

You hurried out the hall as fast as you allowed yourself without looking like you’re fleeing, passing Charlie in vivid conversation with Alastor, throwing her a dismissive wave of the hand when she broke off in the middle of her sentence to ask if you needed anything and ignored the red eyes that were burning your back as you speeded to the lift.

For a moment you felt safe inside the elevator, closing your eyes and leaning back against the wall to deeply breathe in and out to calm your racing thoughts when the doors closed. But then you opened them again, your reflection was staring back at you from the mirrored wide wall of the lift cabin. You stared blankly at the hated body in front of you, eyes mapping every curve that was too wide, every point your clothes wrinkled over a roll of fat. 

Oy toots, get your fat ass over here…Fat ass..Fat...

You ran out of the cabin the moment the 'ding' announced your arrival at your floor and the doors opened, vision blurry from the pooling tears. As soon as you slammed the door to your room shut and turned the key in the lock behind you, you sobbed, leaning your head on the hard wood of your bedroom door. Tears were streaking your face as you sank down to sit on the floor and wrapped your arms around yourself, shoulders shaking from suppressed and failed attempts to cry silently. The room was silent, but your head was loud. Too loud.

Honey, you can't go to school like that, you look like a stuffed sausage. Go back and change…

No, pumpkin, the hamburger is for daddy. You’ll eat a salad, like mommy. Don’t you want to be as beautiful as mommy…

A Bikini? Wow, someone's feeling brave today...

You'd look so beautiful babe, if you'd only lose a few pounds...

Oy toots, get your fat ass over here...

"Shut up, shut up, shut up." It was no use. Begging them to stop never helped. Your hands pressed down on your ears but they couldn’t silence the insistent, ghostly voices inside, louder and louder and louder, repeating the same sentences over and over again and you wanted to rip them off, just to maybe get them out, deafen them, make them…

“Stop that now, Darling." Two hands that were not your own were on yours, long fingers peeling them away from your ears and taking them in tender but firm grips to pull your arms apart. Those foreign hands were dark and warm and much bigger than yours, holding you by the wrists as they pulled you away from the door and back onto your feet. Without releasing them, you felt a chest pressing against your back as the hands on your wrists guided them into an embrace, cageing you with crossed arms in front of you in warmth and the firm, humming body of Alastor. "There now, that's much better isn't it. Now breathe, dearest, with me. Do it with me."

Your mind was a haze of scattered and pained thoughts and fears that were struggling and lashing out to the surface, but they quieted into soft whimpers and whizzing like a dying steam train with every steady, deep inhale Alastor took with you, his chest rising against your back and his breath steady in your ears. He waited a few moments after he had made you breathe normally again before letting go and gently turning you to face him, hands now on your shoulders as you avoided his eyes, but when he looked at your face and your tear streaked cheeks he wiped the wetness away from your skin with the pad of his thumb.

"Why did you come?" You sounded husk and defeated. You knew your jig was up. You've been found out. At last.

"How did I not come sooner would be the better question, darling." Alastor answered, leaving his hand cupped on your cheek, thumb still in mid-stroke as he talked to your averted face. His voice was clear, even-keel, just loud enough for you to hear. And you heard him all the better for not facing him, his signature transatlantic accent and theatrical flourish in his tone, always so strong and prominent, was missing entirely as he continued. "For a few weeks now I've suspected that something was not right with you, my dear. Though I didn't want to press the matter, today has confirmed this. You've not eaten any of the food prepared, spare the few bits of greenery that wouldn't even nourish the roaches that pester this hotel, and we both know you only did because you knew you were being watched."

Watched by him. You sighed quietly at the accuracy, finally turning to look at him, awaiting to find judgment and ridicule, though the red deer demon didn't move at all. He just carried on his stroke with the thumb under your eyes, which started tearing up again, his expression strangely soft.

"My shadows reported that you were hiding food given to you just to throw it away later, and I took notice how you constantly avoided reflective surfaces. Darling, your image must haunt you and I cannot imagine the reason why. I find myself asking: What would drive you to starve yourself, to hide from mirrors and cut your eyes to any remarks looking for underlying maliciousness?"

What a loaded question, asked so simply. And he seemed honestly confused. No smirk, no tilted head. You paused for a long while before answering him.

"You... you won't understand, Alastor."

"Then help me to, darling." He coaxed you, now moving both his hands to hold your face and pull your head closer to lean his forehead to yours, looking firmly in your eyes. And it dawned on you then that the radio demon, the overlord who never revealed weakness, never showed real emotions or shared much with anyone, the one demon who walked these halls smiling and sneering with menace and mystery and endless pride, was purposely and genuinely showing you that he cared.

Maybe it was the fatigue and the despair finally getting the best of your defense system. Maybe it was because he wasn't just anybody. Alastor was so many things but most importantly, he was your friend, had been ever since you and him found mutual interests in each other in countless nights that were spent in quiet by the fireplace in the hall. He liked your level-headedness, your ability to listen, really listen, patiently and actively. You liked his vivaciousness, the vast knowledge of him that he could share when one was just willing to let him talk. Yes, the others were nice, and yes, you felt close to all of them after a few months. But you felt the closest to him, proven by the fact that not Charlie knocked on your door, or Angel noticed you were paler and thinner than weeks ago. But Alastor. Maybe you just needed that final push and he had given it to you.

So you spilled. Through sobs, tears and sighs, you told him everything:

From your family that wouldn't stop comparing you with your thinner friends, fostering a hatred for food because of misguided care. You shared that your health became less and less important with every diet and lost pound, seeing your aching stomach as a sign of sucess. How you'd hate yourself for lack of discipline when you starved yourself so much your brain snapped and you ate any- and everything you found until you felt sick and disgusting. How your friends while alive were never intentionally hurtful, yet dismissive about your insecurities, complaining to you about their sizes while you felt like they were mocking you, being stick thin and conventionally beautiful. And you told him about your one and only boyfriend, who accepted the relationship under the pretense that you'd change to fit his preferences, always waiting for you to drop weight he saw as too much, to shape you the way he wanted you to be, threatening to keep you secret from his friends and family until you did. And you did. But you paid the bitter price - got cheated on while you counted calories, and when you finally reached the set weight he dictated, he left. Leaving you hungry and confused, thin and sick and so, so lost.

With every word his hold on you grew tighter and tighter. But so did yours on him. This time, it was him who listened quietly, never interrupting, and only at the mention of that asshole ex is when he made a sound, his ears went flat against his skull as a low growl rumbled in his throat, but his expression remained perfectly stoic, absorbing your words quietly. After you finished you leaned heavily against Alastors chest and hid your face there, feeling drained and guilty for soaking his expensive coat with your pitiful tears. Your entire body was numb with exhaustion and pain, so was the emptiness inside of you that your self-deprecating thoughts have been inhabiting for years, and you dreaded the response Alastor could give to your pathetic life-story.

"All those people have proven to you to be thoroughly disappointing." was what Alastor said first, speaking very softly with his chin leaning against your scalp. "It makes the blood call for revenge when thinking about the throes you've had to put up with. You don't owe anybody to change anything about yourself that you do not wish to."

You couldn't hold back another tear that rolled down your nose and onto Alastor's shirt, clinging tighter to him and shaking your head against his shoulder, nuzzling his shirt in desperate and trained denial of comforting words.

"Aren't they right though? I'm not like Charlie, or Angel, or even you. I'm not...they are so… just... look at me." You muttered and tried to push out of the hug to avoid looking him in the eye, but the demon didn't give.

"Oh, I am." He gave you a stern stare, unintimidating and almost tender as he pulled you back closer. "Darling, I am looking at you, more than you think. And all I see is a strong, intelligent and beautiful little sinner, so willing to give everyone more grace and gentleness than herself that she hides from every compliment she deems unworthy of her, ashamed of her lovely shape that was the source of so much torment." Alastor sighed, cupping your face in a loose grip, shaking his head in disbelief. "Everyone of us has flaws, we are inherently imperfect creatures, some more than others, and yet you've managed to convince yourself those flaws and imperfections define you in their entirety."

Your instincts told you to flee, to run from this kindness that was offered to you so alluringly. It has to be a trap, your head told you, don't trust those words, don't give in. And you almost tried to, your muscles tensed as if to bolt, your breath quickened as if about to run, your heart pounded as if preparing to fight his arms for release. But you didn't.

Maybe, a long forgotten voice spoke in your mind, maybe it wasn't a trick. Maybe he was earnest, like he had been the past couple months in your company. He's here now, isn't he? Holding you and reassuring you and calming you in a way no one ever had. He hadn't put an inch between him and you to allow your doubts space to creep back in, keeping you at his side - not just now, but over the last weeks continuously, had never spoken ill of you or tried to change you, had no agenda, nothing to gain from lying to you.

Alastor smiled when you sank back into his arms, and this time when he stroked your tears away, he let his fingers come to rest at your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. And without a word he leaned forward, eyes half closed, and kissed you on your cheek. His lips lingered for a moment, as if to wait for your reaction, asking a question without words. And you answered it ever so silently, turning your head to meet them with your own.

The kiss was a revelation of truth. Because he was kissing you the way you always longed to be kissed.

There wasn't passion in it, it wasn't hungry and fast or hard and demanding. It wasn't meant to make you hot or make your legs weak, but to tell you that you were cared for, that you were accepted exactly the way you were, imperfections included, and that all the days you've suffered for the wrong reasons were gone with the past and needn't to be re-visited. That you were enough. You always have been.

When he parted from you, Alastor looked content. More than that, actually. Not smiling wide as usually but with eyes sparkling in mirth that could have easily matched that of Charlie on a particularly good day. When he leaned into you again, you almost expected another kiss, but he reached into your pocket, pulling the napkin with Niffty's cookie inside out of your pocket, holding it up expectantly.

"Now, I think it's high time you feed yourself, darling - and you did promise our little Niffty you'd enjoy this later, which it is now."

You stared, first at Alastor, then at the baked good, the guilty conscience you've nursed for so many years creeping back into your thoughts.

"Alastor, I don't know... if I can."

He tilted his head contemplating, turning the cookie in his hand before he snapped it in half, handing you one half while he brought the other to his mouth and raised a brow.

"We'll share it then."

This gesture was everything. It was everything, because you knew he really didn't care for sweet treats. But he cared for you.

You took your half from his hands, feeling the corners of your lips pull into a small smile at the way he scrunched his nose at the sticky thing in his hands when you both bit in. But his free hand found yours, entwining your fingers as he suffered through his bite, and as you watched him him struggling to keep an unfazed expression, you thought that - while Niffty might've put in her best efforts - nothing she or anyone could make could ever sate your hunger more than his lips could.

Tagging my lovely testreaders @bapple117 and @macabr3-barbi3, who really encouraged and reassured me. I love you both, as well as the others in Bapples discord server (TRUST US and join NOW) who never tire of lifting me up when I'm struggling <3

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

MUM?

Pairings: single-dad!George Weasley x Fem!reader Summary: George hired you to babysit his daughter while he works, what if she calls you mum on accident in front of George Warnings: none I don't think NOTE: tell me if you want a part 2, because i would be down to do another one

PART 2

you've been babysitting George's little girl for about 5 months now for some extra cash and you couldn't help but notice she was a little angel that was just like her father

you had gone to school with George but you weren't in the same group, you were friendly but never really talked, so you were surprised when he remembered you when you came in for him to hire you.

he had called you in today because it was busy with the holiday coming up and you said yes.

so that's why you were in his lounge room, his little girl Chelsea on your lap with her stuffed toy as he spoke to you about what to do for the day until he gets off work

"and you can go out to the little café down the street for lunch, I don't really mind and yeah," he nodded his head, going off the list

"do you want her to bed at any particular hour?" you asked him

"no bed!" she yelled, playing with the stuffed bunny's ear

"you know what? it's the weekend, I can put her to bed after you leave" he replied

"alright, you good up here?" he cleared his throat

you nodded you head and watched as he leaned down to place a kiss onto Chelsea's head

"I'll see you both later" he smiled before going downstairs to the shop

you admired George for what he's doing for him and his family

after Fred's death he was left alone here and then his girlfriend dumped their baby on him and left, breaking up with him and tearing his life up even more

he's been left to provide for him and his little girl for 5 years now and after everything he can still put on a smile.

you felt bad for him and Chelsea, they didn't deserve any of that and you couldn't imagine how anybody would want to willingly abandon them.

"what do you want to do first, Chels?" you asked, lifting her off your lap

she struggled as she got off the couch before taking your hand in her small one, she took a few steps back and walked to her bedroom, you slouched down as you followed her

"sit" she said to you

you went over to her bed and sat down as she rummaged through her toy box

she turned back to you with a teddy bear in her hand and frowned

"not there" she whined before pointing the the ground on the purple and blue rug

"sit there" she demanded

you smiled and got off her bed, taking a seat where she pointed while she took a seat in front of you

"I'll be bunny" she started before handing you the bear "and you be mister fuzzy"

you took the bear and smiled at her before she began talking with a different voice, impersonating bunny

-

"what do you want to eat, Chels?" you asked her, looking at the menu of the little café George told you about

"pancakes!" she beamed, bunny in her hands

"sweetheart they don't have that" you looked down at her in her seat

"but daddy said they do" she frowned

"well it might be on the breakfast menu, is there anything you want that they have on here for lunch?" you questioned

she sighed and pouted

"fine" she crossed her arms

you read out what they have and she made her decision and got the chicken nuggets with chips

"what did you get?" she asked, shifting in her seat

you told her what you gotten and she hummed in response

"Y/n? do you like my daddy?" she asked you, giving you bunny as her milkshake came to the table

you smiled at the waitress and looked back down at Chelsea

"your dad is very nice" you blinked

"but do you like him?" she furrowed her eyebrows cutely

"sure" you replied shortly

"do you love him?"

"I barely know him" you laughed it off

"but daddy says-" she started

"-I don't think you should tell me what daddy said" you cut her off, thanking the waitress who put down your drink in front of you

"but-" she tried again but you handed her her milkshake

"how about you try your shake?" you smile when she took a sip

you and Chelsea talked about things and you told her a story of when her dad had pranked you in school that made her laugh and say her dad was mean, you decided to leave out Fred in case that made her sad or George hadn't told her of him, but you doubted he would do that

"can we go now, I wanna draw" she whined, swinging her feet

you had finished your food and had to pretend to eat hers for her to finish her plate

"alright alright, c'mon" you moved to get up from the booth and got her up

"I don't wanna walk" she cried

you slung your bag on your shoulder and picked her up and went to the counter to pay

you walked back to the shop with her in your arms

you entered the shop and saw George at the counter ringing up the products.

"there you guys are! have fun?" George smiled as he saw Chelsea. the shop wasn't rushed as it was when you left, so he had time for a light conversation

Chelsea grinned and reached for George

you passed her over and he groaned dramatically as he lifted her up

"daddy! I had chicken nuggets!" she smiled

"of course you did, you love them" he kissed her cheek, making her giggle

"what are you guys gonna do now?" he asked, looking at you and smiling

"I'm gonna draw!" Chelsea spoke excitedly

"ooh, what are you going to draw, sweetheart?" he rocked her side to side

Chelsea thought for a second before answering george

"a unicorn"

"well you better go and get to it!" he put her down on the ground and she ran up the stairs, being careful not to trip as he kept you there with him

"any problems?" he turned to you and raised his eyebrows

you wondered if you should tell him about what Chelsea was going on about, about what he apparently said for her to ask if you love him. but you didn't want to make anything awkward and end up getting fired

"no, there's never any problems with her" you shrugged

he shook his head amused by what you said

"what?" you chuckled, confused by what he was laughing at

"what do you that makes her behave like an angel?" he quizzed

"I don't know what you're talking about, I'm not doing anything?" you tilted your head

"the past babysitters said she was horrible, that she was awful and behaved badly, I'm just trying to understand why she's being so nice to you" he snickered

"well that doesn't seem like her, speaking of, I should probably go make sure she hasn't hurt herself getting up all those stairs" you frowned

"right, yeah, you go" he responded quickly, watching you as you rushed up the stairs to follow her, calling her name

-

"do you like it?" Chelsea asked as she picked her drawing up

you looked over at her and smiled at the art she made

"it's amazing, Chels! who are they?" you beamed as you pointed to the people to the side of the unicorn that you would see in a typical children muggle book

"well that's me" she pointed to the short girl in the far right

"then that's you and Daddy" she said as she motioned to the other two

you laughed it off and she went back to draw something else

"Chelsea?" you turned to her, she looked up and smiled brightly with teeth

"why are you so nice to me? I heard you didn't like the other babysitters you had before" you interrogated her

"becuase you're nice" she kicked her feet back and forth as she layed on her stomach

"is that it?" you raised your brows

"because daddy said you were nice" she replied

you sat up and watched her "when did he say that?"

"he says it a lot, he talks about you almost everyday" she giggled

you smiled and went back to scribbling on a piece of paper

"I'm bored" she sat up and let go of her crayons

"well what do you want to do?" you blinked

"can we bake something!" she stood up and started putting her things up, cleaning without having to ask her to do it

"are we allowed to?" you asked as you watched her

"daddy said we could do anything, and we did it like, last week" she huffed, taking your hand, waiting for you to get up

"alright then"

-

"crack the egg" you instructed, holding the bowl with one hand as you passed her an egg. she was sat on the counter with a little chef hat that she insisted on wearing

she banged the egg on the bowl and let the egg oose out of the shell, before putting it to the side

you picked out some of the shell and passed her the second egg, letting her crack the other one.

"alright, do you know what to do next?" you quizzed

"beat it" she answered

you got the mixer and did it yourself, her watching in anticipation

you kept mixing around the bowl until it looked good

you gave her the chocolate chunks and let her pour them in as you folded it in.

"alright, let's get you down" you let go of the bowl and picked her up and put her down on the ground, getting the tray ready

you scooped the cookie batter onto the tray and put it in the oven

"when will they be ready?!" Chelsea jumped up and down

"they won't take too long, but you have to wait until after dinner to eat them" you responded before hearing the door open

"I'm home" you heard George call

"daddy!" Chelsea yelled as she ran to him, jumping in his open arms

it was the usual time he closed the shop but you hadn't realised the time until now.

you smiled as you watched them

"what are you guys doing?" he grinned and he put her down

"me and mummy are making cookies!" she giggled as she went over to you.

your smile faded away and George's face turned beet red

your mouth hung open as you avoided George's gaze that was stuck on you

"honey, um-" George cleared his throat, he bent down to her level and looked at her

"what did you call Y/n?" he blinked

"mummy?" she mumbled, not knowing if she was in trouble or not

George kissed her cheek and whispered something into her ear, she apologised before running to her room

George stood up and looked at you awkwardly

"I'm sorry, that's never happened before" he sighed

you stayed silent for a moment, not knowing what to say

"I think she's just overwhelmed by the amount of time she spends with you, she might've gotten confused or just looks up to you and sees you as a mother figure. this is the longest that any babysitter has lasted so." he finished

"it's fine" you murmured, still a little shocked

"to be honest I'm glad she chose you to be her mother figure but if that makes you uncomfortable then i'll make sure it won't happen again" he smiled slightly, looking a little relieved

"it's ok, I wouldn't blame her, I think she's just confused too" you nodded vigorously

"do you want to um- would you want to stay for dinner? maybe" he asked

"if not, maybe with me, sometime?" he asked again before you answered

"are you.." you paused, once again, shocked "asking me out?"

"I mean, only if you say yes, and if I didn't just make a fool out of myself. I did didn't I? I'm sorry, forget I said any of that, it's been a while since I've-" he rambled

you'd be an idiot to turn him down, he was an attractive and funny guy, and a wonderful father.

"-I'd love that" you cut him off

"you'd love to go on a date with me? or both? I mean after seeing you with Chelsea I think I really like you- like is such a childish word isn't it? but i've grown some feelings for you and I hope you could reciprocate them" he gabbled

"I do" you smiled nervously

he stopped and looked at you for a moment, his face flushed and his smile faded before it came back again sheepishly

"great"

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