#but i don’t mind scooping them out and i did for the most part

[akkivee]

stopped by to report that gencha’s purple yam cake was absolutely awful bro i’m so heartbroken 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

khichdi ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺

Summary: y/n wants to surprise lando, but her health has other plans for her.

⇗ ln x desi!reader ₊˚ෆ

⇗ fluff + sickfic ₊˚ෆ

masterlist ☾☼

y/n had been the first woman that lando felt like he was truly ready to risk it all for. he was never a person who could date someone who lived on a separate continent, but somehow, with y/n, he wanted to make it work. after almost a year of long distance, and only meeting on some weekends or holidays, y/n had decided to surprise him by visiting him in monaco. lando had felt happier than he had in a while, and as soon as he saw y/n standing at his door with her suitcase, he had wasted no time gathering y/n in his arms and twirling her around, whispering just how grateful he was that she was there. 

unfortunately, y/n had a habit of always falling sick for at least a day or two after travelling big distances. as much as she had hoped that the flight from india to monaco wouldn’t lead to her falling sick, her prayers had not been heard. the very night that she had landed in monaco, she could feel a fever coming in. as desperate as she was to ignore it, lando wouldn’t let her, and forced her into bed. 

she had slept the entire night, and then, had slept through breakfast. finally, at lunch time, lando shook her awake and asked her if she wanted to eat something. sleepily, y/n mumbled, “khichdi,” 

lando was confused. he had no idea what khichdi was. but, he also did not want to trouble y/n any further. whispering an “okay”, he left the room and headed towards his kitchen, where he was already FaceTiming y/n’s mum. 

lando had met y/n’s mum multiple times through video calls, and the first time he had visited y/n in india was also the first time he had met y/n’s mum. it had been far too early in the relationship to be meeting each other’s parents, but somehow, it had felt right. so, y/n and lando never questioned it. 

“hi, lando,” y/n’s mum’s voice rang through the house, and he quickly put on his AirPods. setting his phone against a kitchen appliance, he took a step back and looked almost scared. 

“what’s wrong?” she asked. 

“um, y/n’s sick. has a fever. she’s been sleeping for almost 14 hours now.” he said.

“oh no,” 

lando nodded, “yeah. but, also, i asked her what she wanted for lunch, because i know she hates soup and i can’t figure out what she would want to eat right now. and, she said something called khich- khichdi?” 

y/n’s mum nodded, “khichdi, yeah. its basically rice and lentils cooked together.” 

“right. i don’t know how to make it, so i was hoping that you could teach me?” lando almost seemed shy in his request. 

y/n’s mum smiled brightly, and began guiding him through the steps. lando had a fair collection of indian spices or as y/n called them ‘masalas’. y/n had stocked his house with all kinds of appliances, food, everything that she would need or she has in india. lando never questioned it, because it just seemed easier to already have all those things for when y/n would eventually move in with him. 

lando was scared out of his mind for most of the part. pressure cookers were loud, and honestly, a little violent in his opinion. he didn’t understand how his girlfriend cooked most of her food in such a violent and scary appliance. every time the cooker went off, lando resisted the urge to hide behind the island. he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of her mother just yet. he could do that after he had married y/n. then, y/n’s mother won’t be allowed to have a problem with him. 

after the terrifying process of making khichdi was done, lando bid y/n’s mum goodbye, and quickly scooped a decent amount of rice from the pressure cooker and into a bowl. putting it on a tray along with a glass of water and some meds, lando made his way to his bedroom. 

gently opening the door, he said, “y/n, come on, i made you lunch,” 

“five more minutes,” y/n said, as she turned and faced the other way. 

smiling at his girlfriend, lando set the tray on his bedside table, and sat down on the bed. he gently ran his fingers through her hair that had become wet from sweat. but that was good, because her fever was breaking. 

“come on, i made you khichdi,” he said. 

y/n’s eyes opened instantly. had she heard him correctly? she turned towards him slowly and stared up at his face. “you did what?” 

“i made you khichdi. you said you wanted that, so i made it.” 

y/n immediately sat up, and lando propped up pillows behind her so that she was comfortable. 

once she was settled, lando picked up the tray and settled it on her lap, making sure that it wouldn’t fall. all that while, y/n stared at him in wonderment. she looked down at the bowl, and there it was. khichdi. looking the same way as her mum’s khichdi. 

he offered her a spoon, and she took it gratefully. taking a bite of her khichdi, y/n’s heart was overflowing. it was the same as her mum’s. it tasted exactly the same, with just the right consistency and everything. 

“is it good?’ lando asked hesitantly. it was the first time he had cooked indian food. he didn’t want to get his girlfriend sick. or, more sick than she already was.

y/n looked at him with a smile, “it’s perfect. thank you. i don’t even remember saying that i wanted khichdi. how’d you make it?” 

lando smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “i- uh- called your mum. asked her how i could make it, and she taught me.” 

abandoning her bowl, y/n wrapped her arms around lando’s neck, hugging him tightly. lando reciprocated the hug. “i love you,” she whispered. 

“oh, baby, i love you too. are you okay?” he asked, worried that maybe he had crossed a line somehow. 

she sniffled and pulled back, “i’m okay. you’re just perfect, and i love you so much.” 

lando smiled at her, and pulled her against his chest. the two settled against the headboard, with y/n’s head on his chest as she slowly ate the khichdi. lando had pulled out his laptop and put on brooklyn nine nine for her. 

eventually, after she had finished eating, and he had forced the medicine down her throat, because she really did hate taking medicines, y/n had fallen asleep against his chest, wrapped in his arms, with his chin tucked over her head. lando had somehow never felt more at peace before. 

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

i hope you guys enjoyed this! ive had this idea stuck in my head for a while now. i'd gotten sick a couple weeks ago, and I thought of this and I was finally able to write it! i really hope all my desi girlies love this! i've also got a link for my taglist that you can find here!

[nanamincreampie]

Can I request that Sukunas baby girl takes her first steps and Sukuna misses it while he’s at work?

Context: So y/n and babygirl are at home while Ryomen’s at work. Y/n has been helping her walk for the first time and cheers for her but baby girl notices that her dad isn’t home. Usually when she does something cheerworthy, both her parents celebrate her so she gets upset and starts crying and won’t stop. 😭🩷. The thing that catches y/n’s attention the most is the baby’s stuttering while she’s crying. So soon as y/n rushes to Sukuna’s office, the floor is literally buzzing and cooing with empathy because the baby (who’s a perfect precious mixture of y/n and Ryomen) is fumbling and squealing over words. So when they realize she’s trying to say her first word, like 5 to 10 people rush to go get Sukuna at the same time and as soon as he comes out his baby girl says “dada!” And reaches for him with a gummy smile and it makes his heart swell tenfold and for the very first time everyone sees Sukuna’s BEAMING smile. (Albeit he’s smiling at y/n and his daughter proud beyond words). In the end it turns out the baby just missed her father so much she said her first word when attempting to call for him! 🥹🌷🥹 but like yeah maybe y/n could put her down and she toddles and waddles to Ryomen?

HEY I HOPE YOU DON'T MIND BUT I MADE THIS A PART 3 FOR THE CEO'S HIDDEN FLOWER (part 2)

Ryomen Sukuna x Black reader

The house was filled with warmth, the late afternoon sun casting a golden glow through the living room windows. Y/N sat cross-legged on the plush carpet, her hands outstretched as she watched their daughter stand, her chubby little legs wobbly, her tiny fingers curled into fists for balance.

“You can do it, baby,” Y/N encouraged, her voice dripping with excitement. “Come on, just a few steps!”

D/n, their precious ten month old who had been pulling herself up on furniture for weeks, let out a tiny squeal before taking a step.

Then another.

And then

A third.

“Oh my God, you did it!” Y/N gasped, clapping her hands. “You’re walking, baby girl!”

She reached forward, scooping D/n up into her arms, peppering her soft cheeks with kisses. The little girl giggled, basking in her mother’s joy.

But just as quickly, her tiny brows furrowed.

Her big, round eyes scanned the room, searching, expecting only to not find the one person who was always there when something exciting happened.

Her dada.

D/n’s lips wobbled.

A small, uncertain whimper escaped her.

Y/N noticed immediately. “What’s wrong, lovebug?”

Then, the floodgates opened.

D/n wailed.

Not her usual sleepy fussing, not her “I want a snack” whines, this was full-blown heartbreak.

Fat tears rolled down her round cheeks as she cried, her little fists curling into Y/N’s shirt. Her breath hitched over and over as she babbled between hiccups, fumbling over sounds that didn’t quite form words yet.

Y/N’s heart squeezed at the sight.

“Oh, baby,” she murmured, rubbing circles on D/n’s back. “You miss Dada, don’t you?”

The answer came in another hiccuping sob.

Y/N didn’t waste a second.

She grabbed the baby bag, secured D/n in her arms, and headed straight for Sukuna’s office.

The second she stepped through the glass doors of Sukuna’s office building, every employee noticed.

It wasn’t just because the CEO’s beloved wife had returned.

It was because she was carrying a tear-streaked D/n, who was hiccuping between tiny, stuttering cries.

“Oh my God, what’s wrong with her?” someone whispered.

“She looks like she’s been crying for a while…”

Y/N gave them a soft smile. “She’s okay. She just really, really wanted to see her dad.”

Several employees melted on the spot.

“She’s so cute, I might pass out.”

“I don’t blame her. I’d cry too if I missed my dad and he was Sukuna.”

“I’ll go get him!”

At least ten people bolted at the same time.

Sukuna was halfway through reviewing a contract when the door to his office swung open.

“Sir, your wife and daughter are here.”

His head snapped up instantly.

He didn’t even bother responding.

The chair scraped back violently as Sukuna shot up.

By the time Sukuna stepped into the main floor, the energy had completely shifted.

Y/N stood there, rocking D/n, who was still hiccuping and whimpering, but the moment her teary eyes landed on Sukuna, she lit up.

Her breath caught.

Her chubby little fingers reached forward.

“D-D… D-Da—”

Sukuna froze.

“D-Da… Da…”

The employees held their breath.

And then—

“DADA!”

A gummy, tearful smile stretched across D/n's chubby little face as she reached for him.

The room exploded in a wave of emotional gasps.

“She said it! She said it!”

“She said Dada!”

But nobody, nobody, was more affected than Sukuna himself.

For a moment, he didn’t move.

His crimson eyes flickered between Y/N, who was watching with teary adoration, and their daughter, who was desperate to be in his arms.

Then, he broke.

Sukuna grinned.

Not a smirk.

Not his usual cruel, sharp grin.

A real, genuine, beaming smile, one that reached his eyes and overflowed with pride and love.

The office erupted.

“Oh my God, he’s smiling!”

“Somebody get a picture, this is the moment of the century!”

“I’m gonna cry, this is so wholesome—”

Sukuna ignored them all.

In two strides, he reached for D/n, pulling her into his arms.

She latched onto him immediately, little fingers grabbing onto his shirt as she buried her face against his neck.

Sukuna kissed the top of her head. “Missed me that much, huh, baby?”

D/n let out a tiny, content sigh.

The office employees were losing their minds.

And then—

Y/N gently set D/n down on her feet.

“Go on, lovebug,” she encouraged, smiling warmly. “Walk to Dada.”

Every single person stopped breathing.

Sukuna’s eyes widened slightly as D/n wobbled, toddling her way toward him with shaky steps.

One step.

Another.

And then she fell right into his arms.

Sukuna caught her effortlessly.

Pride swelled in his chest.

His baby girl had taken her first steps, said her first word, all because she missed him.

And for the first time in his entire career, Ryomen Sukuna did not care about his employees not doing their work as they should.

Because nothing, not business, not power, not even his own reputation, mattered more than this.

More than them.

Y/N kissed his cheek, laughing softly. “Guess you’re her favorite, huh?”

Sukuna grinned, holding their daughter close.

“She’s got good taste.”

taglist: @slushycoookie @poopooindamouf @xxdiaqiaoxx

[giuseppe-yuki]

pranks

carlos sainz x meerkat shapeshifter!reader

w.c.: 1.5k

warnings: a few curse words?

part of my shapeshifting!reader series

summary: a prank kind of backfires on you and carlos

edit: bonus headcanons!

picture credits from pinterest :)

honestly, you thought your favorite mode of transportation must be riding on carlos’ broad shoulders. with such a tall vantage point, you could see farther ahead compared to if you walking on the ground. plus, you wouldn’t be trampled on by over-eager fans, you didn’t have to tire your legs out, and you’d be able to catch a whiff of the familiar smell of carlos’ cologne. 

you adjust your grip on carlos’ racing red ferrari kit, digging your paws into the soft material and curling your body around his neck. the paddock in suzuka was real pretty, with cherry blossoms framing the walkway.

carlos continues walking into the paddock, occasionally stopping to sign hats and merch. a few little fans asked to pet you too, and you gladly scurried down carlos’ arm to let them stroke your fur with sticky fingers that kids always seem to have. a child completely covered in george merch even stopped to hand-feed you a piece of fruit. 

when he arrives in his motorhome, he gently sets you down on the sofa. he collapses next to you, body sprawled on the couch. “ugh, that was exhausting.” he says exasperatedly. “there is still-” he checks his watch. “two hours until fp3?? i swear to god, my manager must have messed up the schedule.” 

he leans back into the couch, and then fishes a peanut out of the pocket of his jeans. your boyfriend always seemed to have a stache of your favorite meerkat-friendly snacks in his pocket. not that you minded- you were always down for a little snack now and then.

he flings the peanut at you, and you manage to avoid the flying nut by a centimeter. you whip your head back at him, glaring at him the most vicious way possible. 

his mouth is open, hand still frozen in the throwing position. “omg! i swear to god i did not mean to throw it that hard, mi amor.” he scoops you up and pats your tiny head. reaching into his pocket again, he takes out another peanut and hands it to you gingerly. 

you accept the peanut and crack it open, but continue to glare at him. while you munch on the peanut, carlos looks down at you with a glimmer of mischievousness in his big brown eyes. you knew that look- he only did that when he had a particularly funny prank that he wanted to pull (the last time he had that look in his eyes was when he came up with the idea to put 100 miniature rubber snakes around charles’ drivers room). 

“i’ve just had the funniest idea,” he exclaims. “since we have so much time on our hands, we should go to mclaren to annoy lando!” 

ever since being associated with carlos, you have been dragged into so many of his pranks around the paddock that a glance at your meerkat form has people wondering if carlos was planning another mischievous trick. it was the polar opposite of your normal human form. i mean, who would suspect carlos’ nice reserved girlfriend to also be his havoc-causing meerkat sidekick?

the mclaren employees shoot you both suspicious glances as carlos strolls through the mclaren motorhome. he creeps around corners and listens through every door. you hold on to his team kit with your sharp paws for dear life- you surely would have slid off already if you hadn’t. it’s only when he comes across a sitting area with two familiar figures that he stops. 

“you’re not very adventurous with food, are you?” you hear oscar say, holding what seems to be a red-bean mochi in between his fingertips. 

“well, i don’t wanna be,” lando shoots back, pushing the japanese snack away from him.

carlos creeps behind lando, and hands you several peanuts that he fished from his pockets. taking advantage of lando and oscar’s bickering, he lets you slide off of his shoulders. you bolt full speed towards lando and start throwing the peanuts at his head while screeching. 

he yelps, jumps out of his chair, and scurries behind a nearby table to hide. oscar, spotting your tiny figure compared to lando’s cowering body next to the table, starts cackling. 

a full hour hadn’t even passed for carlos to get that look in his eyes again. this time, you were busy piecing together a 2000 piece puzzle of ayrton senna in the mostly empty dining hall when you see him approach you.

“what now,” you say, raising an eyebrow. 

a wide grin splits your boyfriend’s face. “let’s go steal charles’ helmet!” he whispers, just in case charles or any of his team members are nearby. 

poor charles was almost always on the receiving end of carlos’ pranks (although you did hear about pierre somehow obtaining a snake and sneaking into charles’ room with it). you swear that it is going to backfire one day. 

nevertheless, you agree, leaving half of senna’s face and his car’s front wing done on the table. 

it was a really quick process, as you shifted, scurried past the mechanics and lifted charles’ signature red helmet off of the counter in one swoop. no one batted an eye as you pushed the helmet out of the garage and into carlos’ arms. 

“yess! good job, baby!” he cheers, once the helmet is in his hand. “now where to hide it?”

he looks around, before finally walking into the gap in between the aston martin and ferrari motorhomes. you scurry after him, paws hitting the ground at full speed. at the end is a little secluded space, surrounded on all four sides by walls or other teams’ motorhomes. he snickers, and sets charles’ helmet on the ground. pulling out his phone, he snaps a picture, ready to send to charles as a taunt. 

you proceed to turn, brushing strands of meerkat fur off of your flowy shortskirt. “not even a thank you, carlos?” you say, tilting your head. “i risked my life out there stealing his helmet!” 

before he can answer, you hear the clonk of a waterbottle dropping near the ferrari motorhome. standing there, mouth open in shock, stands charles leclerc, the owner of the helmet that you stole. “did you just-” he starts.

carlos, realizing your secret might get out through charles, marches through the gap, snatches the familiar white celcius water bottle from the ground, and yanks charles into the secluded space. 

you stand very still next to the helmet, not knowing if you wanted to bolt and hide in a hole so you’d never be seen again, or to slap carlos for exposing your secret, to his teammate, no less. you knew that carlos’ tricks would backfire one day.

“mate, please, please, please do not tell anyone about this!” carlos says, clutching charles’ shirt. 

once the initial shock has worn off, charles shocked expression turns into a smirk. “of course i’ll tell people about this! you literally stole my helmet and you expect me not to expose you for taking my things? besides, it’s a payback for pranking me so much! i still find those stupid rubber snakes that you hid in my room everywhere. i always have to call my girlfriend to help me get rid of them.” 

you step up next to carlos and charles, a confused expression on your face. “wait. so you didn’t see me turn?”

a look of understanding flashes across charles’ face. “ohhh!!” he remarks. “you mean the meerkat thing?”

“yes!” you and carlos both say simultaneously. 

“don’t worry, i won’t tell!” charles says, to both of your guy’s relief. “don’t you know, my girlfriend can shift into a hedgehog? no offense, i think that’s way cooler than a meerkat,” he states with a smug smile on his face.

“oi, pendejo!” carlos says, narrowing his eyes. “how dare you say that!”

you laugh, putting an hand on carlos’ shoulder. “it’s okay baby, i’m just glad this didn’t turn out into a bad situation!” 

charles shoots you an appreciative grin, knowing you saved him from potential physical altercation with carlos. it quickly dissipates, however, when he sees his helmet behind your legs.

“right, back to the helmet, how dare you steal it! fred would’ve killed me if i showed up to fp3 without it!” 

understanding the power charles has now knowing your secret, carlos apologizes. “we are sorry, charles. i promise i won’t ever steal any of your things again!” 

charles continues to stand there, waiting for him to continue.

“-and i won’t play any more pranks on you, i swear!” he says quickly. 

charles nods once, satisfied with carlos’ promise.

from side facing the motorhomes, fernando sticks his head into the gap separating the two teams. spotting you three standing there, he jokes, “you guys having a party in there, or what?” 

t-minus 20 minutes until fp3, charles sets his water bottle on the counter and pulls on his balaclava. across the motorhome, carlos is doing this same. when charles finishes adjusting the material over his head and nose, he suddenly sees a flash of fur on the counter. it’s you, bolting away like your life is on the line with his water bottle in hand. 

“CARLOS!” you hear him shout.

from your hiding spot in one of the engineer’s headphone cubbies, you see carlos scramble over to charles. 

“what? is everything alright?” carlos says, concerned. 

“your girlfriend just stole my waterbottle!” he whispers heatedly, pointing at you sitting innocently in the cubby like everything was normal, except for the fact that a white racing waterbottle, complete with a long straw and a “charles leclerc” sticker is sitting next to you. carlos laughs, “i mean- i did only promise that i won’t steal anything or pull any pranks on you; i didn't promise my girlfriend wouldn't!”

taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin @ale-522 @formula1-motogpfan @aceyalonso @my0hmary @mbappebby @rakshatos @heartsforleclerc @papaya-twinks @madkohi

[leth-writes]

Yandere batfam x reader part 4!

The cafe, Little Spoon, was extraordinarily quiet for this time of day; last time you had been the line had been out the door to get a drink, let alone sit at the tables and enjoy a meal. Yet, you supposed the complete lack of jobs and the constant villain attacks had created the perfect storm to kill most small businesses. In that light, you were happy such a small cafe was able to stay open, especially with the encroaching giants in the area. Sitting at the table, picking at your bagel with your head down, you felt shame. Having dumped your entire life story out for TIm and Jason to pick at, you felt weirdly hollow.

It felt like someone had scooped out your insides with a dull spoon, and you stared despondent down at your mangled bagel. Jason was texting again, and Tim was staring into the distance, lost in thought. You got the feeling you were the subject of his reverie. It felt weird, seeing them both so lost in their own worlds, especially after the intense way they had stared as you explained your reasoning behind choosing their family.

You didn’t know what to do now, and shame radiated through your core at facing the victims of your crime face to face. No matter how much you had apologized, and how much they had promised they didn’t mind, it still felt hollow, like you wouldn’t ever be able to make up for what you’d done.

“Well, I sicked Barbara on your landlord; if he’s got any dirt, she’ll dig it up.” Jason sighed as he plopped his phone down on the table, leaning back in his chair. “It’s probably a mafia connection. We’ll have to alert the … authorities.” Tim pondered, still half lost in thought and staring out the window. The idea of your landlord, the very one who had indirectly put you in this situation, and who you still hadn’t seen, having some sort of criminal connection had never crossed your mind; you couldn’t believe it was even possible. Hell, it was the type of thing to happen in film, not in real life! Yet, the more you thought about it, the more it made sense; it would explain the constant patrolling from the bats the last little while, you supposed.  You stared at Tim’s face in profile, noticing the sharp turn of his thin, high nose and his full, pink lips. You couldn’t believe you were soulbound, destined to have some sort of relationship that only time would reveal. You weren’t sure what your next steps were, but you felt guilty enough to do whatever Tim and Jason would suggest.

Jason abruptly stood up, making meaningful eye contact with Tim. “Hey, I’ll get you a coffee. Want anything else to eat besides that poor bagel?” He questioned you, a half-smile gracing his chiseled face. You shook your head mutely, unwilling to ask for even more. Besides, you weren’t feeling hungry, the anxiety killing any appetite you may have. Tim had turned to look back out the window, so you occupied yourself with glancing around the small room. The only other customer was a young Asian woman, maybe mid-twenties, with choppy black hair ending at the nape of her neck and flaming her face in floaty whisps. She was looking down at her phone, small mouth upturned into a smile, with her chocolatey dark eyes locked onto her screen. She was giggling slightly, evidently at the response from whoever she was texting.

As you attempted to get a closer look at her screen, both out of boredom and curiosity, Jason crossed your line of sight and sat a large porcelain cup and saucer in front of you. “Here,” he started, “It’s hazelnut. Drink up, then we can leave for the manor so you can meet the others”. You took a small sip as he sat down, looking behind you toward the door. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t really feel comfortable going to the manor. I can’t impose on your family, not after everything I did…” You responded, taking another sip of the rich, thick drink. Jason huffed playfully, rolling his eyes and smiling. “I told you it’s fine. You aren’t the first and you won’t be the last, but you’re definitely the cutest,” He smirked as you hiked your shoulders toward your ears in embarrassment. “Listen, the least you can do is meet the others. I’m sure they’d love to get to know you for who you really are, they’ve been curious for ages,” Tim turned toward you, staring earnestly into your eyes and gently gripping your free hand. 

“I… I don’t know…” You said hesitantly, pausing to take a large sip of the drink and glance out the window. What did you have waiting for you? Your apartment was empty and the neighbors weren’t exactly great company as of late, and the constant rejection while looking for work was definitely taking its toll. You yawned, overcome with a wave of sudden exhaustion. Your adrenaline must have crashed after it spiked earlier, you supposed. Through the fog of the exhaustion, you found yourself nodding along to their gentle affirmations as they led you out to the car that was now parked in front of the cafe. If you were more conscious, you would’ve questioned it, but the exhaustion wiped you out and you ended up passed out, laid over Tim’s lap as he ran his hand down your back and whispered reassurances.

Getting in the car was the final mistake that sealed your fate.

[silkscream]

bullfight of love

ੈ✩ choso x reader

ੈ✩ tags: flirting, masturbation, porn watching, vaginal sex, riding, soft sub!choso, 2000s au, coworkers, workplace relationship, film bro stuff

ੈ✩ wc: 4.7k

ੈ✩ a/n: i wanted to write choso being a weirdofreak pervert boy that's all. this is part of my fics for gaza <3 there will be a part two for this. do not ask me about a part two because it's already being made

Maki could kill you for being late again. Five missed texts, the final exaggerated with periods and exclamation points – and she never used proper spelling, let alone punctuation. It wasn't serious the way she made it out to be. 

Toji never cared about your track record. The bastard was never in the shop anyway, probably high off his ass in whatever shed of a place he lived in. Maki already hated her cousin enough for the rest of the crew, running that stupid video store like it was a real family business. It was a summer job to you and nothing else.

She sighs when she sees you walk through the door, handing you your name tag without a word before fucking off to the storage room to look at the new shipments.

“Don’t give me the silent treatment!” you yell after her. In response, you only get a middle finger, chipped black nail polish with half a skeleton decal hanging on.

It’s always slow on Mondays. Considering the new cinema that opened across the street, it's slow every day. You should’ve taken a job there, scooping buckets of buttered popcorn instead of telling off porn-stached men who continually mistook the shop as the old adult video store. 

You mindlessly watch Reservoir Dogs on the CRTV, shaken by the sudden flood of middle school students paving their way to the used video game section. Fumbling with the remote, you meet a hard-faced Maki once again. 

“You can’t put on Tarantino, dude. Kids are in here.”

“It was already on,” you shrug. 

Maki rolls her eyes and points to a small stack by the register – some John Hughes VHS tapes. Sixteen Candles. The Breakfast Club. Most shit that both of you hated.

“Gotcha.”

“Can you deal with the new kid, today? Toji didn’t scan all the new shit in like he was supposed to last week.”

“New kid?”

“Uh, yeah. Goth-ish. Like he got spit out of a Hot Topic or something,” she snorts. “No hazing.”

“I should be saying that to you.”

She scoffs at you before rushing back. You’d had a crush on her when you started working there, back when she still had an eyebrow piercing before she let it get infected. She had that Silent Hill look about her for lack of better words. Resting bitch face with a raspy pout. 

Your head swims a little, pounding from dehydration. The morning joint didn’t help, either, nor did the fact that you had to train a newbie today. 

It’s quiet after the kids leave, snatching up some forbidden R-rated movie that’ll traumatize them during a basement sleepover. You nearly doze off once the clock hits three, but loud footsteps bring you back to life. 

A boy that couldn’t be much older than you stares into you, narrowed eyes boring into your soul. You see the dark birthmark across his nose first, as if someone had slashed him with a blade in one straight swoop. He smells like cigarettes and his eyes are decorated with some reddish eyeshadow. Either that or he had the complexion of a sickly Victorian child. 

“Hey,” you deadpan. “Can I help you?”

“I’m the new hire,” he says. His voice is low. He reminds you of the goths that would hit on you at high school parties. He's prettier, though. 

You give him a once-over quickly – he’s taller than you expect, for some reason, and you notice the blooming swirls of abstract tattoos peeking from beneath his sleeves.

“You don’t sound so sure about that,” you smirk. 

He rolls his eyes and introduces himself. Choso. You repeat his name, tasting it on your tongue. He has half a mind to shake your hand but pulls away awkwardly. You take note of the silver rings adorning his fingers.

You tilt your head. “I like your, uh, space buns…”

“Uh, thanks,” he narrows his eyes.

“Okay, so… have you ever used a cash register?”

“Yes.”

“Great. That’s basically half the job.”

You show him the ropes – how to make sales and deal with teens. Cash drops and tracking inventory. You ask him what attracted him to the idea of working at a run-down video store and he says he likes movies and easy money. His brother liked the place, too. 

“You got the Human Earthworm series, boss?” he drones, bored.

“Yeah, think so. You like romance-horror or just terrible practical effects?”

He snorts. “My little brother likes it. Wants to have a marathon with me.”

“Cute.”

Hours pass and he’s gotten the hang of it. If anything, there are more customers than usual today, because you suppose that Choso is conspicuous in appearance and the teenage girls that hang around at the food court need something new to play with. 

It stirs something uneasy in your gut, the waft of saccharine perfume in the air. Girls with tongue piercings, lollipops staining their lips as they bend over the counter to talk to Choso. Ripe girls.

They probably thought he could buy them alcohol, take them for a joyride. He’d only offer them an aloof, blank stare in return. It makes you almost giddy. By the time night comes around, you tell them to fuck off like flies.

“Closing time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Choso mock-salutes, an amused smirk on his lips. Half-lidded eyes like a cat, maybe a stoner, though he didn’t smell like it. You saw him on his break anyway, sipping down an Asahi Super Dry in the back as if you weren’t looking.

He already knew his place, knew that you wouldn’t rat him out. It was the way something flickered in his eyes when you caught him. A taunt, a quiet challenge. 

You watch him count cash. Chipped black fingernails looked odd on his veiny hands like they were painted in a rush by a child. You notice scrawled pen on his pale skin. Smudged phone numbers.

“Getting hit on already?”

He glances at you and shrugs, hiding a smile. “Half were just from bored teenagers. Other half bored single mothers.”

“Any takers?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

You narrow your eyes. 

“Ha. Don’t be jealous.”

“I’m not,” you snort. “As long as we get customers I guess.”

“Oof. You’re cold. You don’t care how I get these people to buy these movies as long as they buy ‘em, huh?”

“You’re not whoring yourself out by being a cashier. Relax.”

He shrugs on his jacket. Crumpled leather, the kind that held the smell of smoke over generations. It made him look like Takuya Kimura in that way, maybe if his hair was down.

He grins when he finds you staring.

“We done for the night, then, boss?”

You roll your eyes at the nickname. “Uh-huh. Night, newbie.”

He smiles sardonically, looking out and noticing the rain. He curses inwardly, knowing that skating home would be a bitch, and the next bus to his side of town wasn’t for another half hour. He clears his throat.

“Leaving already?”

“Yeah. What, don’t have a ride home, kiddo?”

“Fuck off. I’m not a damn kid. I’m just not someone with a car,” Choso mutters dryly. “I work at a movie rental place for a living. I take the bus everywhere.”

“Sucks to suck then,” you smirk, saluting him goodbye. You throw him the keys. “I trust you to lock up then, yeah? See ya.”

He lets out a frustrated scoff but doesn’t bother to convince you, opting to watch you go. Once you’re out of reach, he sighs and turns, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking around the dim store. 

Yuuji was probably out with that sea urchin–haired punk again. He had to remind himself to save up for a car instead of constantly having to share their parents’ beat-up Toyota.

He could take advantage of the shitty TV in the office, maybe. Watch a stupid re-run while he waits, because he sure as hell isn’t going to wait out in the rain. He walks in and settles on the black leather couch straight out of an amateur porno. He snorts and looks through a fat stack of DVDs in the corner. 

His mouth twists when he picks up something with a racy title. His eyes widen when he realizes it’s an adult film.

“Holy shit,” he mutters, scoffing. He lets out a low whistle, glancing around the office as if someone’s out there, ready to jump him. It’s eerily quiet. He can’t even hear the pitter-patter of rain from in here.

He skims the back cover. It looks crude, but Choso has never really been one to turn down something raunchy. He liked stupid movies, gory ones, art films with weird unsimulated sex. He’d gotten off to In the Realm of the Senses when he was thirteen. Skimming through something this cheap shouldn’t hurt. It wouldn’t arouse him — it would be as entertaining and silly as watching a sitcom for him.

He inserts the disc into the DVD player and waits for it to load. There are no cameras in the office, he notices. Figures. The way you talked about the owner made it seem like the place was barely being held together if not for you.

And then, he thinks of you. He immediately thought you were pretty, not that he’d ever let you know that. Plainer than his usual type, but something was alluring about the curve of your mouth, the way you spoke. He liked that you didn’t take shit most of all. It was probably the hottest thing about you.

He knew better than to fuck around with a coworker, however. It never ended well and resulted in petty drama. He was too old for that shit, wasn’t in high school anymore — he was a man.

When the intro to the film finally loads, a woman in a skimpy, barely-there dress appears on the screen. It’s something vintage, for sure, given the grain. She’s in a love hotel. 

Choso fast-forwards through blurs of messy kissing, colored lights illuminating a heart-shaped tub. He pauses on a frame of the girl riding, her mouth wide open in ecstasy. He presses play.

After about ten minutes, he finds himself in a trance watching with rapt attention at the way the actress moves. His cock twitches when he realizes that she looks a little too much like you. 

She moans particularly loudly and his mouth parts. Something snaps inside of him. 

He has to pause it again. Jesus.

Choso feels like a pervert. No, he’s a man with urges, needs. It’s a pure coincidence that the actress in the porno looks like you of all people. It’s not like he sought her out himself. A movie like this shouldn’t even be in here.

He grits his teeth, hands clenching around the couch leather until his knuckles are white. He takes a breath before pressing play again and his eyes widen when the girl gets even louder.

Ah, fuck it.

He mutters under his breath, shifting on the couch. Glances at the blowjob lips on the screen, soft and plush. He thinks of you and swallows. He bites his cheek, conflicted.

Maybe he shouldn’t.

Then again, no one has to know.

He lets out a shaky exhale, trying to resist the pressure building inside him. It feels like trying to contain a geyser with a cup, and he hasn’t even touched himself yet. 

After contemplating for a beat, he sighs and unbuttons the fly of his jeans, using his other hand to press play again. A gasp escapes his lips as he watches the girl on the screen. The curve of her back, the bounce of her tits. She looks soft. He wonders if you’d be as —

No. No. He’s not doing that.

He spits in his hand and strokes himself, his breathing starting to come out in short, uneven pants. There’s a rush of heat in his gut as he watches. His head tilts back slightly, eyes roaming the ceiling before closing them as he attempts to calm himself down. It’s no use.

His breath hitches, eyes glued to the screen. He’s memorized by the slick flowing out of her. Fuck, he hasn’t gotten laid in a long time. It’s killing him.

It’d be okay if he pretended it was you. It’s not like you would find out. He could imagine fucking your face the way the guy was doing right now in the video, making the bitch gag and moan. Whimpering at being called a good girl. 

“Oh, god–” he mutters, his voice a strangled gasp. She really did look like you. Disturbingly so. When he’s done, he’ll have to wash his hands for five minutes straight from the shame. 

He pants, his grip on himself firm as he squeezes his shaft. Precum smears over his tip and he groans at the sound of the woman’s whimpers getting louder and louder. It makes his lungs seize. He’s getting close.

He doesn’t even register the jingling of the doorknob.

Choso’s head jerks up, his eyes widening in shock as his head turns to see you in the doorway blinking at him. 

“Oh.”

His throat’s dry. What a cruel fucking joke from the universe. There’s no coming back from this. Not when the video’s still going and he’s still half dressed, hand on his fly in mortification.

You tilt your head, smirking. “Nice cock.”

Choso’s at a loss for words, staring at you with embarrassment and utter daze. What the fuck?

“I, uh…” he chokes out, his voice rough and more high-pitched than usual. Face burning. 

He’s going to get fired. No – he has to quit before you even get another word in, save the little dignity he has, maybe convince Yuuji to move to another shitty town with him so he never has to see you again —

“Forgot my wallet,” you say, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

You walk into the room, peering at him. Your eyes fall on the TV, which is still going. The moans feel cheap and tacky now that he’s back in reality. 

Choso scrambles to press the stop button on the remote, his other hand moving to put a pillow on top of his leaking dick. His eyes flicker wildly between your face and the screen.

“You find that in here?”

“Uh… yeah… I, um—”

You snort. “Forgot to tell you that this used to be an adult video store.”

“That explains the selection,” he mutters sheepishly. 

You eye him carefully. He blushes. “Didn’t finish?” you taunt.

He feels too fucking humiliated to say anything, so he mutely nods instead. He fumbles with the zipper of his jeans underneath the pillow.

“Need some help?”

He gapes at you for a moment before looking away. You look amused as you scan his face. Was he hearing you correctly? Was he dreaming?

“Are you— are you offering?” he gasps out, dumbfounded. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done something like that in here.”

Choso’s jaw drops. 

He stares at you for a moment at a loss for words. Curiosity begins to win out over embarrassment.

“With… who?”

“None of your business,” you chuckle.

He doesn’t like that answer. His jaw clenches, knowing that it’s stupid that it hurts his ego a bit for no reason at all. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t press the issue as his gears turn back to your previous offer.

“Then you… uh… want to…? With me?”

“You want to, right?”

He swallows nervously, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks at your body shamelessly for a bit. He’s still so fucking hard. Finally, he nods shyly.

“Okay. Take your clothes off, then.”

For a moment, he wants to protest. This is the last thing he expects from you. Maybe it was a blackmail situation — if he doesn’t let you fuck him, would you fire him? 

He realizes that he doesn’t care either way if he gets to fuck you.

He pushes his jeans down with his boxer briefs, shoves the pillow in his lap away with a blush. Slowly, he strips off his t-shirt, leaving him completely exposed. He can feel your gaze on him, raking his chest and arms, the tattoos on his skin. He looks up at you again almost desperately. 

“I meant it,” you drawl. “You do have a nice cock.”

“Th-thanks…” he croaks. 

“Why so nervous?” you tease. “You were flirting with me all day.”

“Yeah, but–” he mutters, huffing defensively. “I didn’t think you’d actually—”

“Wanna fuck you?” you finish for him.

You say it so bluntly that it catches him off guard. He hadn’t really given it too much thought. You were somewhat receptive to his advances if he could call it that. It was mostly him being himself. His sarcasm was meant to be flirting, but none of it was that serious. He found you hot and interesting. He liked that you could keep up with him. 

When he started touching himself with you in mind, everything was thrown out the window. He wanted you, and would probably dream about you when he got home, but the guilt and shame of doing something so depraved in his place of work made him embarrassed. He wouldn’t have been able to face you on his next shift, and then you decided to barge in and ruin everything. 

And now, you’re offering yourself to him on a silver platter. It was absurd.

He narrows his eyes. “What’s in it for you?”

“I think you’re hot. Isn’t that enough?” 

“You… you actually wanna… uh–”

“Yeah, Choso,” you roll your eyes. “I wanna fuck you.”

He shifts on the couch, eyes roaming hungrily over your body as his breaths grow labored. He swallows a lump in his throat.

“Then… do it,” he mumbles.

You grin, moving to straddle his lap. His hands flex and he has to remember to not appear so eager. This is just a casual hookup with a coworker. One born out of bizarre circumstances, sure, but he needs to play it cool. He grips the edge of the couch.

“Don’t wanna touch me?”

He feels even more meek, if that was possible. He hesitates, throat bobbing as he swallows. He’d had girls in his lap before. Bouncing them on his cock until they cried. For some reason, he feels like the submissive one here just because you’re on top of him. 

“Uh,” he stammers. His voice is quiet, nervous. You think it’s cute. “I didn’t know if I was, uh, allowed to—”

“Go ahead.”

He holds back from kissing you. Instead, he smoothes his large hands over your hips, the curve of your waist. He lifts his hands to the edge of your shirt and hooks his fingers into the hem, slowly tugging it upwards. The reveal of skin is tantalizing, makes his mouth water like a man stranded in a desert. 

Sparks jolt the length of his spine as his fingers brush over the bare skin of your stomach. Fuck, you’re soft. He knew you would be. He pulls the shirt over your head and ogles stupidly at your chest. 

“Someone’s worked up,” you tease, playing with his hair. You undo his buns, leaving his hair down.

“Of course I am,” he mutters, his voice strained. “You’re sitting on my lap, looking like that—”

“Can I kiss you?”

His eyes widen. 

“Please,” he breathes. It almost comes out like a desperate whine. “I mean— yeah—”

You raise a brow, laughing. It makes his face heat up down to his neck. 

“Begging already? Thought you’d be more of a dominant type.”

You’ve thought about me?

“I— I am,” he grumbles. 

“Uh-huh. I’ll let you prove it later.” You lean in.

“Promise?” He looks at you with something eager in his gaze and your eyes soften. 

“Mhm.”

Finally, he captures your lips with his. You sigh into it and it makes his cock throb underneath you. He takes that as an invitation, his tongue immediately pushing past the plush of your lips. He reaches up to grab the back of your head and tangles his fingers in your hair as if he’s done it all before. It makes you moan a little in his mouth.

He moans back, pulling you flush against the hard planes of his chest. You pull back slightly, leaving him to chase your lips for a moment as he lets out a small huff of protest. When you look at him, his eyes are half-lidded, lips slightly parted and shiny with spit.

“You’re pretty,” you say without thinking. “Real pretty.”

He flushes, unable to form words. His expression immediately floods with disappointment when you get off his lap to stand. 

“Where are you going?” His voice would be whiny if it wasn’t so gruff from desire. 

“Relax, idiot.” You unbutton your pants, sliding them down slowly. He assumes you’re teasing him, which he doesn’t particularly mind. You’re a sight to behold. His cock twitches as his eyes look at your smooth thighs. 

“Get over here,” he huffs. You laugh, moving to straddle him. 

He doesn’t have time to react before you lean in to immediately nip at his neck. He lets out a moan, hips bucking involuntarily. You can feel his pulse quickening, the vibration of his moans underneath your lips. 

“Fuck,” he gasps. His fingernails dig into the meat of your waist. 

He can’t stay still. It takes him everything in him to not rock his hips up into you. It doesn’t help that he can already feel your wet heat hovering over his cock. His brain nearly short-circuits. He preens under you, grabbing at you like you’re going to fly away. 

“Be patient. Wanna play with you first,” you mumble.

Choso’s eyes flutter closed as you speak. You sound so fucking sexy right now, he can’t stand it. It’s better than the stupid filler plot he scrubbed through in that damn porno. Miles better. 

“Play with me,” he grits. “Fuck — later.”

“Oh, yeah. Forgot you were pregaming this before I walked in.”

He glares at you. It’s entertaining watching the expression melt off his face when you lift your hips and immediately slam down on him. The moan he lets out is guttural. His hands immediately find your hips.

“Hah – fuck,” you breathe. “You’re bigger than you look.”

Choso lets out a strangled chuckle, head falling back on the couch. It makes him look even hotter, the way his tattoos flex with his collarbone. 

“Told you I wasn’t a kid.”

Your laugh tapers off into a moan when he gives a small, tentative roll of his hips. Testing the waters. You’re so fucking tight that it’s making it hard for him to even think. When he hears you gasp at being filled by him completely, his eyes widen.

“Shit,” he gasps. “Wanna make you do that again—”

“H-Huh?”

His eyes lock on your face as he grins, grinding into you slowly. 

“That noise–” he groans, his throat taut and dry. “You made this little gasp—”

“Ah–”

“There it is,” he snickers. His eyes gleam. “Just like that.”

Your eyes roll back, mirroring the roll of his cock inside you. Your cunt clenches around him and it feels like fucking heaven. He can feel all your wetness drool into his lap. He had the urge to push you into the leather, cant his hips up like something rabid. 

It feels like his brain was going to fall out of his nose, the head rush in tandem with the blood pumping into his cock. Impossible tightness. Snug cunt, petals closing into a bud. 

When you wrap your arms around him, it almost feels romantic. It’s dangerous.

He kisses you, then. Quivers when he feels you getting lost in it, tasting nicotine in your swapped spit. He whimpers as you start to move your hips with more intention. You smile wryly at his reaction, pulling away, eyes fixed on where your bodies meet.

You’re a fucking wet dream while you’re riding him. The way your hair brushes messily over your jawline, the way your mouth parts with a gasp every time he feels you pulsate on his cock. Choso grabs your ass greedily and kneads it, mesmerized at the softness of your flesh. 

“God, you look so fucking good right now—”

His eyes flash as he watches you move. He tries to match your tempo, rutting up into you with frenzied effort. His cheeks are flushed as he nearly unravels himself for you, his expression raw and hungry. He leans in to suck on your tongue, descending his wet mouth down to your jaw, your tits. Oral fixation.

You can feel him deep in your stomach, buried in you. It’s as if he could pierce you through the throat. You’re sure that you’ll ache everywhere by the time you get home. You’d never taken a cock quite this big, never been this wet, your insides swirling around like a washing machine. Your guts all muddled with something that felt too warm for just lust.

“So fucking hot,” he mumbles, hands pressing into your bare thighs. 

All his preoccupations with you had disappeared. He didn’t care if you thought he was a pervert, since you were one too, in a way. Letting him fuck you like this when he barely knew you at all, yet a repressed part of his brain made his heart flutter at the thought of you. It didn’t help that he could practically feel your heartbeat with his cock.

It isn’t romance — it has to be the sex. He can’t think about it too much right now. Not when he’s in a state of delirium inside your cunt.

“Choso, I’m close,” you whine.

“Yeah?” he rasps. “Fuck, me too.” 

His hair is tousled and sticky. Eyes glazed, chest rising and falling rapidly.

He grabs at your hips, guiding them to grind on him faster. Your wetness makes it all so smooth — all buttery, no resistance. You feel full.

He feels like he’s being squeezed to death, to heaven. It sends him over the edge at the same time he feels your pussy clench around him. You tremble in waves as you gasp out a moan. It’s more like a choked breath. He can’t stop watching you as you come, the way your eyes roll back. 

A whine escapes his throat as he cums. Everything that seeps out is slick, feels like something new and primordial at once. Seraphic, he’d say, if he happened to be drunk. He certainly feels drunk.

Choso doesn’t expect you to kiss him so sweetly after such a vulgar affair. He lets out a long exhale into your mouth with eyes closed, letting his head fall back a little while your hands cup his cheeks. His body is all melted limbs, languid sex. 

“Jesus,” he mutters. 

“Hey.”

He opens his eyes and gazes at you through sleepy lids. He lifts a hand lazily, brushing the hair away from your face.

“Yeah?”

“Did you pick an actress that looked like me on purpose?”

He freezes. His hands tighten around your waist as he looks away.

“No,” he scoffs. “Just thought she was hot—”

You chuckle.

“I didn’t pick it, I found it,” he gruffs. “I’ll admit that… she looks like you… I guess.”

“Was I as good?” 

He scoffs again, his eyes flashing with a mix of playfulness and irritation. You were as much of a little shit as he was.

“You’re better,” he rolls his eyes. “I already told you what I think, dumbass. Real pretty.”

“Oh, did you?”

There’s a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “I’d be pretty pissed if you weren’t better than some stupid video—”

“Idiot. Those girls are probably like, Olympians at fucking. Porn isn’t like real sex anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he grins. He pauses for a moment, suddenly looking timid. “It’s just… a decent placeholder for when I… y’know.”

“Just call me next time.”

Choso’s eyes widen slightly, unable to hide his surprise. He sputters for a second.

“What? I’m, uh— not gonna call you every time I—” he groans, “That’ll be way too many times.”

You raise a brow.

“Wait, no— that came out wrong. I’m not some horny freak or something—”

“I mean, given how I found you…”

“That’s—” he stammers, unable to complete a sentence without his brain completely blacking out every millisecond. “That was a one-time thing.”

“Hope so. I don’t wanna fire you, newbie,” you grin.

His pulse quickens at your smile. 

“Like hell, you will. You’re too understaffed to fire me.”

PART TWO

[lighteyed]

it's no big surprise you turned out this way

steve harrington x fem mayfield!reader

[3.7k] steve comes over for family dinner. it is absolutely not your idea.

disclaimer- no mention of blood relation to max, no physical descriptors of reader, they are sisters in any way you want them to be. trigger warning for shitty parents and billy h*rgrove. this is not a billy safe space.

dividers by @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

thanks for reading if you do <3 enjoy teehee

You drop a kiss on Steve’s head in greeting, which he accepts with a thrilled, in-a-new-relationship, glowing smile, before dropping down beside him and subsequently dropping your news, or rather, your request that’s not really your request, on him. “Neil wants you to come over for dinner.” You tense at the utterance of your stepfather’s name, even if it’s your own mouth doing the uttering.

   His smile dissipates. Only a little, but enough for you to wring your hands together. You want to scoop all the words you’d just said back out from his ears and spoon them into your mouth again. Make him forget it’d ever happened. “Like, like family dinner?” He asks. He can’t fathom a world where he sits placid across the table from Billy Hargrove and passes him the salt respectably and doesn’t end the night with his fist colliding with his face (regardless of the outcome).

   “No, it’d just be you and him, he’s dying to take you out on a date,” you deadpan in response, shaking your head. Steve rolls his eyes, no malice intended. “Obviously family dinner, Steve. You, me, Max, my mom, Neil… Billy.” You force out the final name. He swears he hears your teeth grinding as you say it.

   “Don’t get grouchy on me.” He reaches over and smooths out the upset crease between your brows. Your shoulders relax in response. You’re always so wound up he’s made it his mission to give you that ease he knows you crave. He’s quite good at it, on days where he can steal you away and keep your mind occupied with the lovelier things in life. But there are some things he can’t spare you from, as much as he tries.

   Really, he can only keep you out of that house for so long before your family starts demanding their 17-year-old back.

   For the most part you keep away. Max roams the new mall all day with her friends now that June’s here and summer’s entered Hawkins in full swing, and you drive them there with your mom’s car if she doesn’t need it for the day, or Steve drives you all there and then home again if he’s not at work already that morning. If he has work you loiter in Scoops the entire day, lugging a stack of books acquired from the library and settling in a corner booth, popping your head up once in awhile to check on him and his misery in his new position in that ridiculous uniform. You brighten his days just as much as he brightens yours. And he really, really does. (And you like the uniform, as silly as it is, for the record).

   “’M not grumpy,” you deflate, pressing your forehead into his shoulder. He rubs your back in a nice, soothing way when you lean into him. Ever since he asked you out he’s been taking every excuse to touch you and you’re not complaining in the slightest. He has the softest hands you’ve ever held and they’re perpetually gentle and kind. All the love in the world encased in the hands of some boy from Hawkins, Indiana, a place you never expected to find a home in, let alone find a boy. The boy, if you thought about it long enough. Early days to be thinking about it but you did think about it. Often. For hours. You sigh quietly. “I can tell ‘em you’re busy, you don’t have to come.”  

   “Max knows I’m not busy,” he points out.

   “She doesn’t wanna be there, either. Look, I’ll just say you can’t come-“

   “But I can.”

    You lift back up, wary, but hopeful. A new flower poking its petals up from the earth, tilting right toward the sun.  “I don’t wanna make you miserable.”

   “That’s stupid,” he scoffs. He kisses your head this time, the perfumy scent of your shampoo fogging his brain up in a nice, lovey haze. “How could you make me miserable? You’re like, the best thing I’ve ever had, by a mile.”

   You smile in spite of your gloomy mood. “The fuckin’ Hargroves have an innate knack for misery.”

    “It’s a good thing you’re not a Hargrove then, hm, Mayfield?” He brushes your hair away from your face and  takes your chin in his hand, angling your face up properly to meet his, and he kisses you like he well and truly means it, firm and adoring. You can feel his grin seared into your mouth when you pull away, in spite of your reluctance and Steve’s attempts to pull you back in.

   . “You really wanna come? It won’t be fun. It’ll probably be shitty, actually.” You ask him in a tiny, hesitant voice, too overcompensating to someone who do anything you asked of him. Having Steve there sounds better than not having him there, and better than having to explain why he’s chosen not to come, but you know it’ll be weird. Worse than weird. After what happened back in November, him and Billy go out of their way to ignore one another, and it’s so deliberate it sucks the air out of a room. And even with that, Billy still makes it a point to direct snide remarks to you about Steve every chance he gets: alone, in front of Max, in front of your parents, in front of Steve himself while pretending he’s not there. And it’s gotten worse since you admitted to your mother in confidence that you and Steve were together now, and she told Neil, and Neil told Billy. But there’s no running from being at the same dinner table as him. You know you’re asking a lot. You wouldn’t be asking if Neil hadn’t insisted. In a loud, pointed voice, with a stare that unnerved you. You’d agreed to it hurriedly after that.

   “Well,” Steve leans back, playful, “want to is a bit of a stretch but I can make an exception for ya-“

   “Steve-“ you groan, pushing his chest, but he laughs, pushing himself back forward, smacking another loud kiss on your mouth.

   “Kidding, I’m kidding, c’mere,” his fingers grip your waist feather-light, tickling, as he laughs, and you can’t help but laugh too through your head shakes and faux-exasperated sighs.

  “I’m really asking you if you want to, I know it’s a lot asking you to make nice with Billy.” You interlace your fingers with his and he places them on your lap, all big brown eyes blinking up at you affectionately. You’re a sucker for his eyes. You can tell what he’s going to say before he says it.

   “Nothin’s too much for you,” he says in his sweet, low voice, another kiss pressed to your cheek, his stamp of agreeance left blazing there on your cheek.

   Late into the next day he arrives on 4819 Cherry Lane, as he has so many times before, but he parks right in front and gets out this time. He doesn’t sit by the wheel waiting for you to come running out, sometimes with Max in toe, usually by yourself, breathless and beaming, ready for him to whisk you away as fast as he can without breaking a million laws. He knows it’s not the gentlemanly thing to do, having a girl come to the car by herself instead of going up and ringing her bell, and normally he would, but you insisted he didn’t, not wanting to draw attention to yourself or him, and you were already waiting outside on the front steps when he got there most of the time, anyway.

   And this time, too, you get the door before he can ring the bell, almost ripping it off the hinges when you throw it open to greet him.

   “Thank God,” you mutter. You go to take his hand but remembers yours is sweaty and pull back. The sweater you’re wearing is pretty, complements your eyes and complexion and your everything, and your hair is down and soft-looking. He’d run his hands through it in other circumstances. “It’s not too late to make a break for it,” you lead him into the house quietly, throwing your head back and casting a dark look down the hallway. “Just say the words and we can flee, I won’t blame you.” He’s dressed so nicely, and you don’t even have the time to properly admire him. He did his hair all perfect (he always does but you can tell he put a little extra sparkle into it tonight), he’s in his nicest jeans that mold against his legs slim and fit, his sweater is a navy blue and it’s such a good color on him you might cry. You can see effort written in everything he does, tonight especially. His desire to make a good impression rings in your heart. You want to regard him warmly and turn your gaze on him with the utmost veneration but your skin buzzes with anxiety and it feels like one large, domineering fist is clamped around your intestines. 

   “It’ll be fine,” he says, squeezing your hand. He doesn’t even notice that it’s sweaty, though your anxiety is palpable and he amps up his happy exterior to balance you out. He’s probably just as nervous as you are, deep down. “Parents love me.” It’s an insistent sentence. “And I’m gonna turn on my charm.” He makes a clicking sound with his mouth and snaps his fingers around a little. You stare at him, blank. Neil is rumbling around somewhere in the distance and for the time being you are utterly immune to Steve’s banter.

   Not completely, but enough. “I don’t know if that’s the kinda charm we need here,” you pat his shoulder.

   “But it can’t hurt,” he points out with a raised eyebrow, pointing a finger gun at you.

   “Oh, it can hurt alright.” You steer him into the living room anyway. “Steve is here.”

   You announce it to the open air, waiting to see who comes when you call. Your mom, immediately, rushes out of the kitchen to greet him. She’s never met one of your boyfriends before. Her greeting is enthusiastic, to say the least. And she’s a hugger. It’s nice, actually, Steve thinks, no matter how embarrassed and nervous you are, to be embraced kindly by a mother. It’s familiar, like some distant dream from a faraway past. You have your qualms with Susan, he knows that, but he knows you love her hard, and that’s why you take so much issue with the way she lets herself be treated. It’s difficult to watch you grapple with all of this, all of the time.

  “It’s so nice to meet you, Steve, or Steven? Whatever you want,” she rubs his back as she takes him into the kitchen alongside you.

   “Steve is great, thank you, Mrs. May-“ he clears his throat, “Mrs. Hargrove, I mean.“ It’s hard to reconcile this woman in front of him with the domineering men bearing that same last name. It’s hard to distinguish her as anything but another piece of you and Max. A good piece.

   “The girls talk about you all the time,” Susan says, still smiling.

   “I do not,” Max huffs as she comes out of her room, abashed. She’s in a nice outfit, too. Not as dressed down as she usually is. She tugs at her tied back hair like it hurts.

   “Ma, how tight did you do her hair?” You ask, beckoning Max over.

   “It pops out of every scrunchie!” Susan says, patting her on the head with such clear affection it makes Steve ache a little.

   “Maxie.” You open your arms for her. She stands in front of you obediently as you loosen the hold her hair ties have on her unruly locks, smoothing them out nicely as you tie it back up again, looser.

    Everything’s so nice and homey that the shift in the atmosphere is almost imperceptible when a door creaks open a bit away from you four. But it’s there. He sees you draw back into yourself, your smile, at him talking to your mom and being so sweet, at Max, at the normalcy of this moment, sliding right off your face as Neil walks into the room. You’d almost forgotten him. You could’ve stayed in a bubble with your mom and sister and beautiful boyfriend forever. But Neil comes out from the hallway, from Billy’s bedroom, and Billy follows behind, fully clothed for once, his shirt buttoned all the way up his chest, his expression dark and cloudy. His jaw is tight as his gaze fixes on Steve.

   But Steve, so gracious, sticks his hand out to shake Neil’s, smiling like Neil’s spawn isn’t the worst person Steve’s ever encountered as he introduces himself. “Nice to meet you, sir. Steve Harrington.” He keeps his mouth upturned sweet and polite even when Billy snorts in the background. He doesn’t even look in his direction.

    “Nice to meet you, too, Steven.” Neil’s handshake is more like a clenched fist. You stare at their clasped hands like you want to commit murder. Steven.

   “Steve, not Steven,” you mutter. Max touches your arm in warning before Steve can. You can’t help it. If there’s anyone you’re defensive over besides her, it’s him.

   “Steven’s fine,” he chimes in, keeping that same old good-natured Steve smile on his face. He’s too appeasing and Neil has never deserved it. He rolls his shoulders back and talks to himself in his head. Just one night. For her, for her, for her.

  “It’s the name your parents gave you, of course it’s fine,” Neil claps him on the back, and you know he doesn’t mean anything by it but you and Steve both flinch. From the words and the tap alike. Neil ignores your remark completely as he continues to talk to Steve in a way that makes your skin crawl. He brings Steve over to the dining room table and the rest of you follow suit, settling in around each other. You make sure you sit next to Steve, but you second-guess it when Billy takes the straight across from him. Neil drones on. “Y’know, it’s interesting how all this time, you’ve been driving the girls around for months now, but this is the first time we’re meeting.”

    Steve checks on you out of the corner of his eye. Your jaw ticks. He squeezes your knee but before he can answer, you do it for him. “He’s been busy, that’s all.”

Neil looks toward you. For once. It is not a pleasant look. “For months?” He tucks his hands under his chin.

   “I know you don’t like having strangers in the house after you work,” you say, placating in a way that turns your stomach.

   “That’s true,” Neil says. “Billy doesn’t seem to get the memo on that, so I’m glad someone in this house is paying attention.” The degradation of Billy at the dinner table is nothing new. And you feel bad about it. You’d feel worse if he wasn’t so nasty and hateful to everyone because of it. Neil had run into Billy’s latest flavor, Miranda Brady from your Calculus class, while she was rummaging through the fridge the other night, and he hadn’t been happy. He was polite to her until she’d been hurried out the door by Billy, and then he’d reamed into him in colorful, awful ways. Max and Susan both hadn’t been home, but it was one of those nights where you had been, and you’d lingered by your bedroom door awkwardly, making sure it didn’t get too out of hand. You weren’t sure either of them even knew you were there. Accepting the praise seems wrong. You nod stiffly.

  Billy, however, turns his gaze on Steve, the first acknowledgement he’s gotten in months. “Say, Harrington, you used to be quite the ladies’ man yourself, yeah?” A sick grin creeps up on his face. Steve sees your hand tighten around your fork. You’ve barely shoveled your pasta into your mouth. Max gapes at her stepbrother, her mouth still full of food.

   Steve clears his throat. “I had a steady girlfriend for about a year, actually. I’m sure you remember that.”

   “Yeah, but I mean,” Billy rocks his chair back. “That’s not what they were calling you King Steve for, is it?”

   You lurch forward. Steve drops his hand over your knee again. “I think it was because of the whole captain of the basketball team thing. Or the captain of the swim team thing, I can’t remember when it started. Youngest captain the Tigers had seen in a decade, actually, when I got it sophomore year.” Steve grins again and the cocky charm he possesses but hardly uses much anymore comes out to play, just for a bit. You settle down again. You eat what’s in front of you, calmly. You hear Max gulp down her own food across the table. It’s almost cartoonish.

  “Max, chew first,” Susan admonishes gently.

   “I am,” she retorts, but she’s inhaling everything in front of her.

    Billy  cuts in. “See, that’s interesting, I thought it was because you hooked up with a lot of girls. Like half the class.”

   Steve doesn’t even blink. He takes a sip of his water. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

  “Are you trying to upset your sister?” Neil asks him with raised eyebrows.

  He goes quiet again, hardened. “No.”

  “It seems like you’re trying to.”

   His jaw ticks this time. “I’m not.”

   “Do you remember what I said to you? About a half hour ago?”

   His jaw ticks again. His eyes meet Steve’s over the table. Steve feels the merest twitch of embarrassment for him. He knows all too well what it’s like to have a dad who takes a weird sort of pleasure in berating his son. “Yes, I remember.”

   You stare down at your plate, pinching the skin of your palm.

   “If you remember so well, then you should stop talking.”

   Billy stops talking. Neil turns to Steve again. “So, captain of two athletic teams, that’s impressive. I’m sure your college plans are impressive as well.”

   Steve stutters in his answer and you hold your head aloft in your hands, suppressing a groan. Max finishes her food so fast, she’s excused from the table and gone within minutes of that conversation starting. You nearly fall out of your chair in your attempt to kick her shin under the table. She holds her hands up in her retreat while nobody’s looking, mouthing that she’s sorry at you and running away into your shared bedroom. You suppress a groan again.

   Outside, after another grueling hour of Neil dominating the conversation and making dinner unenjoyable for everyone, you walk Steve to his car, fiddling with your hands again. He props himself up against his window and wrestles you out of the knot you’re in.

  “That sucked, I’m sorry,” you say, knocking your foreheads together, your mouth drawn in a thin, perturbed line.

  “It was fine, you’re fine,” he whispers the last bit. That’s what you’re more worried about, after all. You’re worried he’s mad, planning to leave you for someone with a more normal family, people who are warmer, someone capable of being warmer. You’re plenty warm around him, but you suppose you could be better. You start running over all the things you could do better and all the ways he could do better in your head. “Stop thinkin’ so much. Everything’s okay.” He nudges your foot with his.

   “No, I know, it’s just, it’s awkward, it’s not fun, shitty way to spend your night, shitty way for anyone to spend a night.”

   “It’s okay. It was good. I was good, wasn’t I?” He kisses your palm where you’d pinched it earlier.

   “You were great, you’re always great.” You stroke his cheek, lingering on his lips for a second. “You look really nice, by the way.” You’d almost forgotten to tell him. “I like this color on you.” You smooth over and down his arms.

   “Yeah?” He grins, lopsided, tilting his head.

   “Looks good with your hair.” You reach up to tug on the strand that hangs down like an art form over his forehead. You’re the only one he lets play around about his hair.

   “You look beautiful, too, for the record.”

   “I was trying to make this about you.” You poke him.

   “I like when things are about you.” He pokes you back.

   “I hate when things are about me.”

   “Yeah, I’m trying to fix that.”

   You chuckle. “Good luck.”

   He gestures back to your house. “I’m makin’ progress here. I think I get you a little bit better now, after all that.”

  “And what exactly do you get?” You wrap your arms around his waist.

  “Why you’re always so tense and grumpy.” He cups your cheeks like he’s holding the most delicate thing ever to be held.

   “I’m not grumpy-“

   “Just tense, then.”

   You accept that, begrudgingly. “I’m pretty on edge most of the time, I guess.”

   “I try to talk you out of it,” he says softly, stroking your face.

   “You’re the best, I hope you know that.”

   “I try,” he says again, and you nod. “It’s not easy. Night after night.”

   “It’s not.” You bunch up his sweater.

   “I get it, you know? They’re not here as often as yours, but I get it.”

   “Dinner with yours next time?”  

   “Yeah fucking right.” He kisses you for it, though, because you mean it, you’d have dinner with them if he asked just like he did because you asked, a long and languid kiss that he hopes no one’s shifting around the curtains to be privy to. He withdraws first and says, “Your mom is sweet, I’d have dinner with her again.”

  “I’ll let you know when she’s free, take her out, show her a good time,” you tease.

    “If she’s anything like you I’m a goner,” he laments.

    “You’re a flirt, is what you are.”

     You kiss him again, beaming, heart swollen with affection.

    When you go back inside and Susan tells you how wonderful and handsome she thought Steve was, how good he seemed for you, that rush flows through you all over again. You even bring her in for a hug.

thank u for reading ur super hot n sexy n we're kissing rn

[lady-ashfade]

Yandere older! class 1A x Spider-Man reader (gn)

╰･ﾟ✧☽ ask: Yan Class 1a But Reader is Spider man! or yan! class 1a reaction to Us being a famous youtuder making edits of them! @serxinns

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: short, hcs, yandere behavior: stalking, obsessive, protective, aggressive, love sick, a few characters.

So, being a pro hero has its ups and downs. At the end of the day you just want to save someone and give hope, even if it’s just a little bit at a time.

Naturally a sarcastic, goofy, nerdy hero who takes it upon themselves to save the lower income part of the city is well loved. So you become a big fan favorite with so many fans, and merch being sold at almost every place.

Only, it’s not just civilians who are obsessed over you. It’s your fellow pros who take notice of everything you do.

I see them gushing over every time they see you on tv. Or rushing to the scene to try and help you whenever!! They also try and patrol the places you come to the most and try and work with you.

Mina speaks her mind about you on tv and interviews if they bring you up. How much she loves you and wants to work beside you more often. I think you save her somehow in a fight and scoop her in your arms before she can fall. You saved her and from then she just can’t stop think of you.

Deku of course has a whole notebook dedicated to you. Everything to your powers, how your schedule works, how often you are in one place, if you have a routine on where you go, how many special moves you have- he is a fanboy of course. He’s the number one hero, and yet he still stutters and gets on a rant when he is asked about you. (Has a whole room of your merch)

Bakugou believes only he should work with you. You’re not some weak person and can handle yourself, but if you did need help no one could be there like he could. If you work together on some things he acts like he doesn’t want to be there with you, saying how you should be handling this on your own. But he is so selfish for being there and keeping you all to himself. He refuses to walk like three steps away from you like a hawk.

Of course I have to mention your twin flame Sero. He is chill and so cool to be around. Everyone gets jealous because you both just swing around and have fun! You can relax together, keep each other safe- I believe you would call him something good in a interview and the rest would be so pissed- while he just sends them smirks.

Jiro is probably the most chill and kept in her obsession with you. Don’t get her wrong, she worships you but she is just too shy and tries to think about you instead of her own feelings. She gets really flustered when you work together, tries her hardest to inform you on what’s going on. (Asks you to sign her guitar)

Ochako is just like Mina and is just a fangirl. Everything you come out with she buys, even on the streets when she sees something. (She sleeps with a plushie of yours) While fighting she tries to protect you but you’re just too good and she ends up fangirling. Save her- and she breaks out into lovely giggles.

[anglsweets]

F.H ⭑.ᐟ – 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

‧₊˚ 🏹 ᵎᵎ now serving – RETIRED! Five Hargreeves x gn reader⭑.ᐟ mostly is sfw so no warnings

part 2 & part 3

⟢ sweet’s notes .ᐟ. this is my first time writing so just tell me anything about improvements

It’s late, and the world outside has gone quiet. The two of you are tucked away in your apartment, wrapped in that kind of comfortable stillness that only happens after midnight.

You’re sprawled on the couch, wearing one of Five’s button-ups, because according to you, it “fits perfectly,” and according to him, you just like stealing his clothes. Meanwhile, the man himself is in the kitchen, rummaging around like a raccoon in search of something sweet. Midnight snacks have become a ritual at this point because one he claims not to indulge in but somehow always partakes in anyway.

“Do we still have those sea salt chocolate cookies?” His voice drifts from behind the fridge door, slightly muffled. It wasn’t too sweet or too plain, and the sea salt to chocolate chip ratio balances it out.

You glance over, watching as he stands there with the fridge open, light spilling into the dimly lit room. He’s still in his slacks and shirt from earlier, sleeves rolled up, looking more like a disgruntled businessman than a retired assassin.

“We finished those days ago” you say, amused.

There’s a pause. Then, flatly “You’ve been eating them in secret. Don’t lie.” You raised an accusatory eyebrow.

“Right, because I’m the one with the sweet tooth.”

He peeks out from behind the fridge door, narrowing his eyes. “That’s slander.”

“That’s the truth.”

Five lets out a long-suffering sigh, then in a familiar whoosh, he’s suddenly next to you, a carton of ice cream in hand. He pops the lid open like this was his plan all along. “Luckily, I always have a backup.”

Against all odds, yes the hottie with a huge murder streak has a sweet tooth.

You roll your eyes but shift to make room for him, pulling the blanket up around both of you as he digs in, scooping out a spoonful before holding it out for you. This is his way of regulating his emotions after being sucked back into a twenty something body with the cognitive awareness of someone way over fifty.

You take a bite, humming in satisfaction as the cold sensation against your tongue muffles your voice. “Never in a million years did I think Five Hargreeves sharing ice cream with me would be the most romantic thing ever.”

In your defence Five wasn’t always the first person to come to mind when the words ‘comfortable’ and ‘vulnerability’ pops up. It was hard to imagine him sharing his domesticity with anyone.

And yet…

Five chuckles, placing the carton of ice cream between his thighs before sliding an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in closer.

He smirks, clearly pleased but trying to hide it. “You’re too easy to please.”

You nudge him playfully. “Hey, this is a rare sight. You, willingly sitting here, being normal.”

Five scoffs, scooping up another bite. “Normal is a strong word.”

“Okay, fine, normal-adjacent,” you concede. “Still, you’re the one who insists on staying up way too late every night.”

He shrugs. “Can’t help it. I like nights like this.”

His voice is softer now, the usual sharp edges smoothed out. He glances at you with that look, you know the one that betrays him every time. The one he gets when he forgets to guard himself, when he realizes, despite everything, you’re still here. That you chose him.

He sets the ice cream on the coffee table and shifts, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. His touch is careful, precise, like he’s mapping every detail of you with his fingertips.

“It’s nice, just… being here. With you.”

It’s such a simple thing to say, but coming from him, it feels like everything.

You smile, leaning up to kiss him gently, the soft glow from the TV casting shadows around the room. His hand cups your face, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles against your skin.

Five smirks against your lips. “So, is there a chance I might get lucky tonight?”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe, don’t push it old man”

He hums, deepening the kiss, his hand sliding to the nape of your neck, fingertips dragging just enough to make you shiver. His lips move against yours, exploring the contours of your mouth, wanting to taste more of you. He nips at your bottom lip, tugging it softly before you felt a swipe of his tongue, begging for entrance. The sweet flavour from the previous indulgences still evident on his tongue. A low growl rumbles in his chest as he pulls you closer, Five’s other arm wrapping around your waist to anchor you to him. His touch was feather-like, translating like an invitation to a world where only the two of you exist.

The ice cream is forgotten, condensation pooling on the coffee table, but neither of you cares.

You break the kiss with a soft giggle, and Five watches you, eyes dark, a knowing grin tugging at his lips. Your boyfriend’s movements seemed hesitant but the gleam in his eyes betrays the truth. Oh, he’s aware of what he’s about to do but unsure where to begin.

You lean in as of result, kissing along your boyfriend’s jawline down to his adam’s apple, feeling the scratchy light stubble along his skin. as his adam’s apple bobs up and down. The smell of his infamous cologne mixed with aftershave with the smell of coffee sticking to his sweater was something you could never grow bored of.

His rugged breaths fell from his lips while his other hand slides down to grip your ass, pulling your hips flush against his. You can feel the hard bulge through his pants pressing insistently against you. Five grinds against you, the friction making you drag out a delicious whimper as you feel yourself grinding your clothed parts against him like second nature.

The forgotten ice cream melts, forming a puddle of condensation on the coffee table, but that was the least of your worries right now. All that matters is the overwhelming horniness coursing through your veins

“Fuck” He grunts.

“Bedroom. Now”

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

Okay so my ADHD butt has stumbled upon your blog and became hyper fixated on the Warlords AU. Now it had me thinking, how would the monkeys would react to a neurodivergent reader (ADHD, ASD… etc.) with sensory issues. 

[Possible useful context.]

Sensory issues can lead to restricted diets (which can be unhealthy with lacking nutrition) and various other restrictions like clothing. For instance I physically cannot eat fruit because it feels slimy or it feels like I’m eating fabric, it gives me a sensory overload, but the way I get around that is making smoothies.

(I may not be using the right terminology sorry.)

Alright so if the warlords fall in love with someone with ADHD and sensory issues? Well they’ll find out during the first part of the journey of course. Aka when they are cursed and can’t do anything.

They’ll see how Spirit finds a way to make Reader eat something. Spirit makes sure Reader is able to eat and finds exactly what she is able to eat. If Reader tells her that she can only eat mashed/blended fruit then Spirit would take the time to make her smoothies so she has something to eat.

So when they inevitably courtnap their love they know what you will and will not eat. At least what they were able to see you eat. They will do whatever it takes to get you to eat a good and healthy diet. So to be honest they will give you what you like to eat for the most part. And if you can’t eat something they wont force you to eat it.

Basically whatever Reader has a sensory to the warlord duo will do everything in their power to make it so that she can eat and they will work around these things. They want you to love and depend on them and don’t want you to feel like they are lacking in anything. They will give you whatever you want/need to feel comfortable.

If Reader has an aversion to clothing? Well simple they’ll get you what you want to wear. They’ll hand make you any type of clothing that you want (Or have one of their troop make you something)

>>>

“I can’t eat that,” You muttered softly staring at the bowl of fruit sitting in front of you.

Both of the monkey cubs looked at you with confusion while Spirit nodded. She had known it was a long shot to get you to try something like this again.

“I’ll mash it up for you. Watch the cubs for a moment,” She smiled knowing that you felt bad for not being able to eat it as it was, but she didn’t mind at all.

“Thank you,” You smiled as you gave Peaches a few scratches which he fell into easily.

Plum butted his head against your arm to get your attention as he looked up at you with an adorable tilted head. Your eyes widened before a grin spread across your face.

“You are the cutest!” You gush which resulted in an offended sound from Peaches, clearly disliking the fact that HE wasn’t the cutest. You giggled as Plums chirped in your arms when you scooped him up.

“Here you go,” Spirit said as she placed the bowl of newly mashed fruit on the table in front of you. The only thing around was fruit so it was what you had to settle for.

“Thank you, I hate to be a bother but I am grateful that you are willing to mash the food I can’t eat,” You said with a smile not explaining what your friend already knew. Plum looked over as you set him down, he slowly pieced together what you meant as you continued your journey.

>>>

“I already told you, my wife needs her fruit mashed. You can’t chop it, or slice it. It needs to be mashed,” Wukong stressed out while gritting his teeth, he did his best not to yell that his troop but the monkey demon just didn’t understand.

“It’s just fruit, surely she can-,” He was cut off by the king.

“I SAID MASH IT,” Wukong growled before leaving the room in a huff.

He and Macaque had just gotten you back and he would NOT have his troop not serving you properly. He wanted you to be able to eat, to be able to feel comfortable in your new home.

Walking up to the garden area where you had decided to ‘hide’ he sighed when he saw Macaque sitting at a wooden table. His tail was moving in slow, gentle movements to show that he meant you not threat even as you hid behind a tree glaring at him.

“She still won’t come out?” Wukong asks with a frown.

“Give her time. It’s not every day that THE Sun Wukong and Six Eared Macaque take a human home,” Macaque replied calmly.

Wukong was grumpy and wanted to argue, but you had already thrown a rock at his head. It was better to let you calm down before anything else. That’s why he got you food… he left it in the kitchen FUCK!

“I’ll be right back,” He muttered storming back out of the room, not telling Macaque that he forgot the food that he went to go get.

>>>

So to put it simply the duo will do anything in their power to make you feel comfortable in any way that they can. They love you even with any sensory overloads that you may get.

Hope you enjoyed your answer!

[tea-potato-gt]

A Borrower at the End of the World Part 4

Word Count: 2700ish

Previous / Next / All chapters

***

Now...

Briar groaned, his head pounded like something was repeatedly beating against his skull. It did not help that he could hear the distinct whine of 8 year old Layla though the haze of his mind. It sounded like she was complaining about her feet hurting and she needed the bathroom. 

“Layla…” Briar groaned and tried to sit up, “stop that racket, you’re giving me a headache.”

Something large, solid and heavy pressed the Borrower into a wall behind him. Briar was suddenly squeezed from both sides. His movements were stilled as he tried to suppress the panicking scream embedded in his chest. 

I’ve just come back from the dead and I’m about to be crushed?!

Just as quickly as the large thing appeared, it disappeared. Leaving Briar to swing back and forth, trying to process what just happened and where he was. 

Based on the fabric surrounding him and the one warm wall behind him, (that had a suspicious constantly thumping rhythm,) he determined he was in the chest pocket of some bean. He swayed in rhythm with the bean’s strides. 

Briar didn’t know within who’s pocket he was hitching a ride in and he didn’t like the uncertainty. And he DEFINITELY did NOT like the fact that bean tried to stifle him down with just their stupid, giant, oafish hand. 

His bean kids knew Briar hated riding in pockets. Firstly, it took away his visual scenes. He couldn’t see anything out of the pocket. Only fabric. Sometimes he couldn’t tell which way was up or down. 

Secondly, it was too much trust, to go completely blind and rely on the kids to take him places. 

And third, Briar always needed to feel like he had control. When it come to living in a world where determining your fate is largely out of your hands, having choices are what kept him sane.

The borrower quickly realized that when it came to living with beings several dozen times his size, having the choice to pick where he wanted to ride (pockets or shoulders or hands) was just as important as breathing to him. The feeling came with CHOOSING where to ride. But here he was, a grown man, stuck in a pocket with no choices given to him. He did not like it. 

A loud gruff voice yelled, “Alright! Fine, you brat.” Aiming the comment at someone. “Let's take a quick break. Be back here in five minutes. Or else.” It was clearly a giant male nearby, Briar had never met before and he hoped he wouldn’t have to. 

The bean carrying Briar suddenly walked quickly in the opposite direction of the voice. The ride was bumpy, but Briar felt that hand come back, he kicked it as hard as he could to say, ‘no!’ Thankfully, it seemed the hand understood because it didn’t try to touch him again. 

Soon the bean stopped. 

A voice vibrated the chest behind him, “Briar, are you alright in there?” Briar could recognize that voice anywhere. 

“Jace?” Briar attempted to get up, but his constantly swinging prison made it almost impossible to stand properly. “Jace, let me out!”

Jace seemed to hesitate. He looked around to determine the soldiers were not watching him. He carefully pulled open the pocket and peered inside. There stood a very small, very angry man staring straight up at him.  

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Boss, there’s human soldiers everywhere.”

“To hell with them, I want to get out now.” If Briar wasn’t a 5 inch tall borrower and instead a full human man, he’d probably be the most intimidating guy Jace ever met. Sometimes (though the boy would never admit it) he was glad Briar was the small borrower he is. “I don’t want to look up at you like this, kid, it’s not flattering at all.” Which of course it wasn’t, Briar could see directly up the kid’s nose, which sure as hell needed a good cleaning.

Jace snorted, “I think I look good from every angle, thank you very much,” he said as he stuck his hand in the pocket to scoop the borrower out. Briar left his borrowing bag and cloak behind in the pocket, his body ached too much to hold that weight on his back.

When the boy finally pulled his hand from the fabric, Jace kept his other hand behind the borrower to hide him from the back and kept him at chest level so he was covered from the front. 

Briar was essentially fenced in. He didn’t like it. At all. “What’s with the mother henning, boy?” Briar asked nervously. 

“We escaped those monsters, but we’re not exactly safe yet. Especially not you.” Jace once again looked around to make sure they weren’t being watched. “We were rescued by a group of men, with guns, they are taking us to… well I’m not really sure where.”

“Why the hell are you following these Beans?” Briar was incredulous, “you should know better, boy, Beans are dangerous and NOT to be trusted!”

“Well… they won’t exactly let us leave-“ Jace’s worried thoughts were cut off by small hands pulling on his shirt. He looked down to find his sister staring up at him. 

She whispered as if her next words were the most important secret in the world, “Is he awake?”

Jace bent down to her level. He once again checked they weren’t being watched before revealing the small man standing on his hand. 

“Yes, he is awake,” Briar said mockingly, smiling at the giant girl. 

Layal almost cried tears of joy to see him alive and standing right in front of her. She was about to grab him from her brother's hands to give the borrower a hug. Then she noticed the state the older man was in.

“Oh, Briar, you’re hurt!” Layla could see the dried blood coming from his head and the scratches and bruises all over his small body. 

“I’m fine, kiddo, really.” Briar tried to assure her, but felt his legs slowly start to shake and ache under his own weight.

“No, she’s right,” Jace said. “You look terrible, Boss.”

“Well, you definitely ain’t winning any beauty contests anytime soon, Boy.” Briar retorted back, but he turned too quickly and lost balance, the borrower fell onto his bottom with a grunt of pain.  

“Woah, Briar, are you okay?” Jace asked frantically, bringing the small man closer to his face to check on him. 

“Stop it.” Briar held up his hand, “I’m fine.” With that, he ended the conversation. 

Jace let out an exasperated sign, he knew that Briar would deny his injuries forever if he could. Last year, Briar fell off a desk while borrowing and very clearly sprained his wrist. The man refused to admit it and kept trying to climb. When the kids asked him to relax so they could help him, he retreated into the walls for a week until after he was healed. Only occasionally talking to the kids through a crack between the bricks. When the kids asked him about it he denied it ever happened in the first place and threatened to leave for another week if they ever brought it up again. 

“Here, Lays, can you hold him? I have to use the bathroom before we start moving again.” Jace handed over Briar to Layla much more clumsily than the borrower would have liked. 

“I hate it when you two do that,” Briar grumbled from within the child’s grip. Being passed between the two of them, without his say so, was beyond annoying. He hated feeling like he had no control. Especially living in a world not made for him, he rarely had anything under control. He had become so comfortable around the kids, with their routine of listening to and respecting his choices that he often forgot he was almost powerless against beings their size.

Even little Layla, at 8 years old, was not so little. If Briar was standing on the ground, he came to just above her ankle and she could hold him like a doll. Like he was being held right now. 

Briar was weak, his body was small and frail, no matter how much brains or brawn he had, he could never measure up to the weakest and dumbest of beans. He couldn’t show weakness. Being weak meant he had no power, no respect.

The only way I can be seen as an equal to beans is if I have their respect. 

The hands beneath the old borrower began to shake slightly, and given there wasn’t much room on them already, Briar grasped the thumb for balance. “Layla?” He looked up at the child with silent tears in her eyes. “What’s wrong, child?”

“I was so scared we were going to lose you,” she said as she tried to stop herself from crying. Her voice shook along with her shoulders and hands. “Bad things always happen when we get separated.”

“Come here, child.”

Layla began to curl in on herself, bringing her red face to the small man in her hands. 

Briar reached up and placed his small hands on either side of her nose and tried to wipe her tears away. She leaned into his touch and let out a soft sob. Her body shook as she released the stress and fear she had been feeling since the monster ran them from their home. Since she and her brother were separated from Briar. Since the strange men with guns cornered the children and forced them to follow them to who knows where. Since the fear of Briar not waking up settled like a lump in her chest that festered until it spilled.

Layla didn’t know what would happen next, but as long as they all stayed together, she knew it would be okay. 

Layla lowered the borrower to her chest and placed her hand behind him, in their best attempt at a hug.

To Briar, it was warm and safe, being back in this kid’s hands. But as she slightly applied pressure to his bruised back, a bolt of pain went through his body and he let out an involuntary grunt. 

Layla immediately pulled him away, “I’m so sorry–”

“It’s alright, I’m fine,” Briar laughed through gritted teeth, trying to put on a brave face for the girl. “I should have warned you I’m still a little sore from my tumble.”  

Layla was clearly upset, and when that girl was upset, she had a hard time controlling her emotions as she began to cry harder. 

“Ah, don’t cry sweetheart! I told you I’m okay!”

But Layla only cried louder, getting the attention of the surrounding bean soldiers. 

One soldier yelled, “Quit that!” as he started running towards the girl. 

Panicking, Briar tried to shoosh Layla and calm her down to no avail. That bean soldier was coming quickly, with no spots to hide the borrower on the child’s person, he would be completely exposed. 

Before the soldier got too close, time seemed to slow down as an entirely new human hand wrapped itself around the borrower and lifted him away from the grasp of Layla. Before Briar could process that, he was thrusted into darkness and quickly released by the giant hand. Briar fell (to him) a couple feet, really like 3 inches, before he roughly hit the bottom of his prison. It was pitch black, the only light came from the opening at the top the Borrower had been roughly shoved through. He felt around and realized it was fabric, and on the other side was a solid wall of flesh. 

He was in a pocket. Again.

I’m going to murder that boy.

On the outside, Jace felt the borrower squirming against his leg. A shiver ran up his spine, he was so uncomfortable. He had never forced Briar into any of his pockets before today. It was always the Borrower’s choice, as the boy had promised years ago.

Earlier, it was different, Briar was passed out and Jace needed to put him someplace safe and hidden so those soldiers wouldn’t discover their smaller companion. But now, the man was fully alert and clearly pissed if the way he was thrashing was any indication. 

Jace pushed past his uncomfortable feeling and quickly placed his hands over his sister’s mouth and turned to the soldier, “I got her, don’t worry.”  

The soldier stopped just five feet in front of them, any closer and he would probably see the wiggling mass against the outside of Jace’s leg.

The man spoke in a gruff, irritated voice, “Make sure she doesn’t do that again or we’ll have every monster within 5 miles coming for us.”

“Yes, sir.” Jace said, clearly uneasy and wishing the soldier to go away. 

As the soldier turned he said, “Come along, we are losing daylight.” Then he walked towards their rendezvous point. 

“Alright, We’ll be there in a moment. Thank you, sir.”

Once the man was out of earshot Jace removed his hand from his sister’s face. He turned to her and angrily whispered, “What the hell were you thinking?”

Layla didn’t answer as her lips quivered and more tears streamed down her face. 

Jace sighed, he reached in his other pocket (the one Briar was not occupying) and pulled out a handkerchief. He proceeded to wipe the tears and dirt from his little sister’s face. “Stop crying, you’re just going to give yourself a headache and make me carry you.”

Pain suddenly raced up Jace’s leg. “Ack– hold on– Hold on, Briar! I’ll get you out, give me a second!” 

Briar thrashed and struggled as he was pulled from the darkness of the pocket. Even being brought out intk the light, he still struggled on principle. As he righted himself in the kid’s palm, he breathed heavily, his face bright red from anger. Too mad for words. Too mad for anything but to glare at the giant boy who currently held his life in his hands. 

“D-Did you just bite me?” Jace said incredulously. In all these years, Briar had never bitten either child.

“That’s the least of what you deserve!” Briar seethed, “Boy, if you do that to me again–”

“I’m so sorry, Boss! I-I promise, that won’t happen again.”

“It better not.” Briar spat. He relaxed a tad now that he was breathing fresh air. He understood Jace did it to keep the man safe, but Briar hated being confined, no matter who was holding him. 

“Get a move on, you brats! We need to go!” One of the soldiers yelled at the children. 

“Alright, We’re coming.” Jace yelled back. 

“Where should I– Where do you...” Jace left the question hanging, unsure what to do without further infuriating the man. 

“Put me in your bag,” Briar conceded. “I don’t want to be touched right now.”

Jace nodded silently. Using his free arm, he pulled his bag around his torso and carefully deposited the borrower into the front pocket of the bag. 

The front pocket of Jace’s bag was left empty for the expressed purpose of Briar’s travel space. Normally he would go there if he grew tired of traveling on one of the kid’s shoulders. Sometimes he just needed to be alone. The backpack zipper was broken so it could never close all the way, giving the borrower an out, a window, and a breath of fresh air. Before Jace put his bag back on, he carefully took out the Borrower’s belongings from his front pocket and set them next to Briar. “I’m sorry again, Boss.”

“I’m sorry too,” Layla finally piped up. 

“Let’s just go.”

With that, Jace cautiously looped his other arm through the backpack strap and began walking towards the soldiers. 

Layla quietly grabbed her brother’s hand. He felt her grip tighten as they approached the armed men. He squeezed her hand back in reassurance. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered to her and himself. 

Did Jace know that for sure? No. 

As long as the three of us stay together, everything will be alright.

***

See you Monday! :D

Previous / Next / All chapters

[ginkgo-phyta]

The Aftermath - Tantalizing Pt.2 / Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Words: ~3k

Tags/Warnings: AFAB fem reader in mind (one mention of breasts, dress, and longish hair), no warnings, really, maybe mention of rodents? this is a bit more on the fluffy side and my attempt at being funny and lighthearted bahaha, pt2 to a smut but there's nothing smutty here! other BAU members present (Emily, Hotch, Derek)

Summary: You and Spencer have been hiding your relationship from the team, but during a particularly steamy late-night rendezvous in Spencer's hotel room (specifically, on the desk), the two of you get interrupted by a knock at the door. For the sake of saving face, your relationship, and your dignity, the two of you must try to act like nothing indecent was ever going on. Even if that means coming up with a ridiculous story. Will it work?

Author's Note: Part two of Tantalizing, which is a small smut fic, but this can really be read as a standalone! If you haven't read it yet, though, I would love it if you did! :D

Silence flooded the room for a good thirty seconds while you and Spencer just stared at each other, wide eyed and horrified. 

Boom, boom, boom.

Another bout of heavy, rhythmic knocks caused you to jump in your skin again. 

“Spencer,” Rossi’s muffled voice oozed through the wood, concerned and hesitant, “are you okay??”

“Shit, shit, shit.” Spencer was losing his mind. He took his hand off your mouth, giving you a pointed look that screamed shut up as he moved away from you to begin fixing his clothes. “This cannot be happening…” he mumbled to himself, frantically trying to smooth down his hair, “What the hell do we do?” he directed towards you, his usual sweet timbre dripping with fear-laced desperation. He turned his attention back to his clothing while you scooped your bra back over your breasts.

You had slowly slid off the desk, wincing as it creaked ever so slightly, and started buttoning up your dress when an idea popped up into your head. “Follow my lead!” you whisper-shouted to the panicked doctor. Spencer whipped his head up to look at you in exaggerated incredulity, hands leaving their task of tucking his shirt into his pants to hysterically wave around at you.

“No, no! Don’t say anything-” he quietly pleaded, trying to quell whatever stupid idea you had. He bounded towards you hand extending to slap over your mouth again, but you grabbed his wrist just in time. 

“There’s a rat!!” you shouted towards the door.

Spencer threw his hands up and turned away from you, hitting them lightly down onto his thighs as he grumbled, “Unbelievable…” There’s a fucking rat?? 

A moment of silence settled the air while Spencer stood still, anticipating what Rossi could possibly respond with. He watched you straighten your dress skirt and deftly finger comb your hair into a low ponytail. 

Rossi finally called out your name, even more confused, “Is that you? I-” you could envision the older man glancing around the hallway with a stumped expression as he took in a breath, “What..What the hell is happening in there?”

You unintelligibly mouthed something to Spencer, urging him to back you up as you tiptoed around to the other side of the bed. 

“A-a rat, Rossi! There’s a rat in the room!” 

You mentally face-palmed as you lugged open the lone window in the room. Spencer didn’t sound nearly as convincing as you did. Clearly, you would have to be the one to sell this. You mustered up your most frightened voice, “It’s so big, I don’t know where it went!” Spencer rolled his eyes at the sight of you fruitlessly trying to wave the smell of sex out of the room with your hands. 

“This is so crazy,” he quietly yelled at you, “you should’ve kept your mouth shut!” 

“Oh yeah?” you challenged him with a raised brow, “And how would you have explained all the noises we were making, Dr. Reid?” That shut him up. Spencer wished the walls would just consume him.

“A rat???” David sounded even more confused. He called both of your names this time, “Just open the door, I’ll deal with it.” you couldn't tell if he was buying the excuse. 

“No!” Spencer yelled out a little too quickly. You made up for it,

“If we get down it’ll attack us again!” you started to climb up onto the bed, attempting to pull Spencer up by the arm to join you.

‘Again’, huh? Good addition. Spencer thought. Frustration slowly melted off his shoulders, amusement creeping into its place with every tug on his arm. This was absolutely ridiculous. Like, comically unreal. He felt like he just got transported into an early noughties romcom. With a shake of his head and light chuckle, Spencer clambered up onto the bed. He could hear Rossi mumbling from the other side of the door, whether to himself or to someone else was yet to be confirmed. 

“Why are we up here?” Spencer whispered through a smile, holding onto your arms to steady himself. It felt wrong to be on the bed with his shoes still on. 

“What, you’ve never heard of method acting?” it was clear you were trying to hold back laughter, voice breaking at the end of your question. You held Spencer’s shoulders and closed your eyes, lightly clearing your throat as you tried to center yourself. Spencer watched on in confusion. Suddenly, your eyelids flew open, serious gaze boring into Spencer’s amused one. “Spencer. We have to do this, you hear me? We have to convince Rossi there was no hanky-panky-ing happening in this room, alright?” 

Spencer started to laugh before you roughly sandwiched his face between your palms. “Hey!” you hissed, “I mean it!” 

Wow, you were being way more serious than he honestly expected. Well, as serious as someone who just uttered "hanky-panky-ing" can be. As your hands slid down to grip the lapels of his blazer, Spencer gave you a firm nod before mimicking your actions. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and reached into the corners of his psyche to find his innermost theater kid. He was going to do this wholeheartedly. Doctor Spencer Reid was going to act like his career depended on it…Hopefully.

The sound of shuffling and added voices outside the door caused your nerves to multiply. Your palms became slick with cold sweat, heart beat increased, breathing quickened ever-so-slightly. Your audience was growing. It was time to perform. 

“Y'all got a rat problem?” a new voice rang out, and you knew right away is was Derek fucking Morgan. You could tell he was trying not to laugh. 

Great, you thought, this just got harder. 

Before either of you could even respond, another voice spoke, “And you're stuck on- what- the bed?” Emily. And she was not holding back her delight. 

“Oh God,” Spencer muttered under his breath, “this better work.” 

“Just commit and it will!” you quickly spat out through gritted teeth before turning back to the task at hand. “Yes, a rat!! Guys, please help- OH MY GOD THERE IT IS!” you made sure to screech like a schoolgirl at the end. 

Spencer almost blurted out laughing at the sight of you jumping around the bed and clinging onto him with eyes screwed shut as if you actually saw the imagined rodent. You were even pointing into the abyss. The thumps of your solid fist hitting his back reminded him to pitch in and he let out a few yelps and yells as well, trying hard to quell his smile. Clearly his inner theater kid was not that experienced- and not nearly as talented as you. 

Immediately the sound of Derek and Emily’s boisterous cackles seeped through the cracks around the door. Half a pitch higher, and you were convinced the tune could shake the wood right off the hinges. 

It was obvious another idea popped into your head and before Spencer could ask what you were doing, you laid over the edge of the mattress, bending to reach under the bed for something. The entire time, you kept up your screams and random yells, throwing in an expletive here and there and kicking against the bed for good measure. Spencer dubiously stared at you, but the expression on your face ushered him to copy you and keep up the chaos as you pulled an ironing board out from the depths of the hidden space. 

What the hell? How did you even know that was down there? Spencer tried to help you lug the board up onto the bed with you, but he had to bob and weave out of the way to keep from getting smacked upside the head with it. 

“Guys, just-” Rossi tried to speak but a shrill command cut him off.

“Spencer!” you suddenly shouted. “Get it, it’s behind the desk again! Right there!” with that you shoved the ironing board into Spencer’s arms. The sudden push had the doctor stumbling back into the headboard but before he could even process what was happening, you guided him to hit the board against the desk you were fooling around on just minutes ago. 

Ohhh, I guess that makes sense. The thought flashed through Spencer’s mind as he realized you were trying to mimic the thumping sounds your earlier debauchery had created. 

You could faintly hear Prentiss and Morgan slapping each other's arms through their heightened hooting and Rossi trying to get them to shut up enough to get a word out. 

“Ok-Okay, kids! Hotch is getting someone to open the door!” He spoke to you. The older man was clearly choking back a laugh of his own, “Don’t worry, just calm down- Get it together!” He had obviously directed his attention to the agents beside him at the end. The sounds of amusement abruptly ended, but you could perfectly envision Emily and Morgan biting their fists to stop their cackles, shoulders shaking merrily in mirth. 

“Please, hurry!” Spencer yelled out, relenting his motions and settling one end of the board down on the floor. He leaned against it, breathing deeply for a second as his own shoulders shook in a contained chuckle. His arms burned from flailing around such a heavy object, beads of sweat began to line the back of his neck, but he had to admit he was actually having fun. He looked down at you sitting at his feet, also silently laughing. You had your legs tucked under you and your body hunched forward just a bit, face held in your hands. If he hadn’t known better, Spencer would have almost thought you were crying. 

You drag your hands down your face and look up at your lover, “I hope to God this works.”

Spencer’s smile grows and just as he’s about to reach down and smooth over your hair the sound of the electronic key fob being activated sucks in your attention. Immediately, you cling to Spencer’s leg and he grabs a hold of the ironing board again, positioning it to look like he’s ready to pounce. It took every ounce of both of your will powers to put on believably terrified faces. 

Derek and Emily basically pushed Hotch and Rossi into the room and the sight in front of them has them struggling to stifle their laughs again. One of Emily's hands immediately flies to latch onto Derek’s shoulder while the other covers her mouth, Morgan’s jaw slacks open. Both of them wished they had brought their phones with them to eternalize this moment with a picture. If painted, the scene before them could easily be mistaken for a Renaissance piece. Your face bore an expression of trepidation neither of the agents had ever seen before. Your hands tightly fisted the leg of Spencer’s pants and you seemed to cower behind him. Spencer was the highlight of the evening; stance wide and strong on the wobbly mattress, messy hair stretching in every direction, clothes slightly awry, and grasp on the absurd ironing board firm as he wielded it like Excalibur.   

“Oh my God,” Emily whispers with a little giggle. Her eyes meet Derek’s as he scoffs in disbelief and they share the same thought, “What in the world are they doing?”

Rossi and Hotch remain stoic and concerned as they look all around the room; up, down, side to side. Though, a little smile plays at the corners of the former’s lips. 

“Where’s the rat?” Hotch asks plainly while Rossi turns his head back to share a glace with the other team members.

Without missing a beat, as if your brain cells telepathically communicated with one another, both you and Spencer point towards the open window behind you, “It ran out!” 

“What? It’s gone?” Rossi spoke up, walking around the bed to peer out the screenless window. 

“It just left?” Hotch added hesitantly with an arch of his brow, hands sliding into his pockets. 

“Well, more like Spencer hit it out,” You quickly piped up, scrambling off the bed and helping Spencer do the same, “with this.” you motioned to the ironing board before clumsily sliding it back under the bed, trying your best to sound confident. “Right before you guys opened the door.” The two of you looked at each other and nodded in agreement.

“I can’t believe this,” Emily’s seal broke and she began to laugh, causing Derek to do the same, “you guys were making all that ruckus over a stupid rat?”

“Me either,” Derek swiped a hand over his head, smiling widely, “I mean, you seriously hit a rat out the window? Looks like we gotta get you on the bureau softball team, pretty boy.”

You looked at Emily wide-eyed in disbelief, shouting, “It was a big rat!” 

At the same time Spencer grumbled out, “It was just luck,” while he slumped down onto the bed. You remained standing.

“Ahem,” someone clears their throat, conjuring everyone’s attention to them. It was the front desk employee standing in the doorway, “Um, is everything okay?” they stepped further into the room, squeezing between Morgan and Prentiss. You could see a security guard lingering nearby in the hallway. 

Shit. Hotel staff and security are getting involved now…

“You mean, besides the fact this place has a rat infestation?” Emily mumbled under her breath, garnering a low-five from Derek. 

“Yes, everything’s fine now!” Spencer tries to diffuse the situation, noticing everything was becoming a bigger ordeal than necessary. “And there’s no infestation, I’m pretty sure it came from outside.” 

“Good save, Dr. Reid.” you thought to yourself with a bit of your lower lip. You made sure to maintain a naive facade, though. 

The employee wrung their hands together, “Right. Well, just as we instructed during check-in, please refrain from opening your window for the rest of your stay.” 

“Ooh, naughty boy.” Prentiss jokingly chided at Spencer.

Oopsies…You forgot they told you not to open the window in this room specifically. 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you apologize profusely, “it was me. I totally forgot. We’ll make sure to keep it closed now!” The receptionist simply offered you a tight-lipped nod in response before turning to leave, taking the security guard with them.  

“Well, looks like we probably won’t be welcomed back here.” Hotch quipped causing everyone to chuckle. He looked over the room once more before motioning to all the files scattered around the floor, “Clean this up and go to bed- in your own rooms.” he added quickly. “We’ve got an early morning, remember?” 

You and Spencer nodded quickly and watched as your boss walked off. David ensure the window was tightly shut before coming back around to take Aaron’s previous spot, “What were you guys even doing this late?”

With a scratch to the back of his neck, Spencer jerked his chin towards the few papers left on the desk, “We were working on the coded messages the unsub left.” It wasn't entirely a lie.

“It got stuffy so I opened the window,” you added, rubbing your suddenly tired eyes, “...then that monster came flying in.” 

You rolled your eyes at Emily and Derek simultaneously snorting.

Rossi just nodded for a second, processing the information before speaking, “It didn’t bite you guys, did it?” 

“No, but I swear it crawled over my arms.” You feigned a shiver, crossing your arms and rubbing your hands against them as you plopped onto the edge of the bed next to Spencer.

Rossi winced at the image, throwing his hands up with a, “Alright, buona notte!” while leaving the room. 

That left the four of you- Emily and Derek sauntered up to the two of you with the most shit-eating-est grins you had ever seen in your life.

Prentiss spoke first, hands glued mockingly to her hips, “You guys woke up the whole floor, you know that? I mean, if it was just a little rat, you couldn't have just left the room?” you narrow your eyes at the bout of laughter that rolled out of her frame. “Plus,” she kissed her teeth, “now the staff are pissed off. They’re probably gonna kick us out.”

“I’m glad you find my genuine terror sooo amusing, Emily.” You glared up at her, “Like I already said; it was huge and it literally touched me! If you guys aren’t gonna help clean up,” you gave Derek a pointed look, “then please leave.” You childishly straightened your back and tilted your chin up to appear more formidable. 

Emily chuckled and shook her head, “Nuh-uh. Your mess, your cleanup!” and with that she followed her supervisors and took her leave. 

Morgan remained standing in front of both of you, his deep brown eyes glinting in the soft white light emanating from the hotel sconces. A beat passed as he looked between you and Spencer with a smirk.

“Rat, huh?” he reached down and ruffled Spencer’s hair before giving you a quick wink and turning to leave, closing the room door behind him. 

And then there were two.

With deep sighs, both you and Spencer let your bodies go limp, dramatically dropping back into the mattress with little bounces, laying shoulder to shoulder. You stare up at the popcorn ceiling for a minute in silence before you feel Spencer gently grab a hold of your hand.

“D’ya think they bought it?” 

You turn your head to meet his gaze, “...Not at all.” 

Instantaneously, you both break out into melodious and boisterous laughter. The ludicrousness of the entire situation settled in and although you were exhausted you couldn't stop laughing until your sides split and oxygen became hard to acquire. Although the night was mortifying, there is always a silver lining. It was the most incredibly amusing, lively, and joyful time you’ve had in quite a while. And at least JJ and Penelope weren’t witnesses to it.

As he calmed down Spencer adjusted to lean up on his elbow, “Well, in that case…” he pushed a stray hair out of your face, peering down at you with a warm smile and an unmistakable glimmer in his eyes.

He didn’t even try to finish his sentence before he pounced on you, bringing you into his arms and nuzzling quick kisses into the side of your neck. You let out a playful shriek and tried to roll him off of you, giggles bubbling back up inside your belly. 

Eh, cleanup can wait.

[sturniozo]

Savage Love Part Two

Matt Sturniolo x reader Mafia AU

A/N: I’m so happy y’all like the first part it’s insane!!! I have so many plans for this fic tbh hehe I have so much ready already but I want to finish tutor as well which only has a few parts left but asshhhhhh thank you guys for all the praise on part one you have no idea how much it means to me!!!

masterlist

“You’re joking.” Emma says. I just stare at her. “No fucking way. Matt Sturniolo took care of you while you were drunk! A total stranger!” She smiles. “That’s a scoop!”

“Yeah, it’ll get you something big.” I nod.

“Not me, you. Too humanitarian for my writings. But you, with your do good and help the planet and its people look on life…. An article about the most ruthless and powerful man taking care of a helpless stranger while she’s intoxicated! That’ll get you something big!”

I smile at her. “I’ll have to get to writing it fast. Kyler doesn’t like old news. I’ll need it out by tonight for it to be any good to him.”

Kyler is our boss, the editor of our newspaper. Even though it’s a small newspaper outlet, our boss is a hardass, and I’m honestly surprised he hasn’t fired me already.

~

I set the stapled sheets of the freshly printed article on Kyler’s desk.

“What is this?” He asks without even looking up at me.

“It’s my article. Matt Sturniolo has a soft spot.” I bite my lip and Kyler looks up at me, seemingly intrigued.

“Matt Sturniolo?” He asks. I nod and he picks up the article, quickly reading and flipping through it. I had made sure to not mention it was me that Matt had taken care of, and made it seem like another person had told me about it. “Where did you get this?”

“Anonymous source.” I reply. Kyler nods and hands it back to me. “Send it to print and have it on a middle column that’s free.” He looks back at his computer and I take the article and quickly leave.

I smile to myself as I take the article to print. I tell the guys exactly what Kyler told me to tell them and they nod, taking the article from me and shooing me away.

I go back to my desk and sit down, not able to wipe the smile off my face. I look over my computer and see Emma, on the phone with someone I assume is another person she’s crossed when writing an article about them after they slept together.

Not long before the end of the day, Kyler comes out of his office for the debrief. Everyone tells him their scoops and he gives them the yes or no. Then it comes to me.

“Do you think you can talk to that anonymous source again?” He asks me.

I hesitate but Emma answers for me. “She definitely can!”

“Good. I want confirmation on the rumors that Matt Sturniolo is the head of the Mafia in New York. Can you get it to me?”

“She sure can!” Emma answers for me again.

“Get me confirmation in a month. I want updates and articles until then.” Kyler demands. He then surveys the room before leaving back to his office.

“A month? How am I supposed to get that information in a month?” I ask Emma.

“Well, you have his number don’t you?” She tells me.

I sigh. “I guess.”

“You guess?! Use the number! Call him! He’ll do it now!”

“Really?”

“If you don’t get that article in within a month, Kyler will fire you!”

I sigh again and pull out my phone and the card Matt had given me. I dial the number and put it on speaker for Emma to hear.

“Hello?” The other end says.

“Hi, is this Matt? We met at the party, you took me to the hotel room when I was too drunk to stand?”

“Dollface, I’ve been waiting for your call.” Matt says and my stomach flips in circles. “Did you change your mind?”

I laugh softly before saying “I guess you can say that.”

“Meet me tonight at 7, at the hotel.”

“Alright.”

“Bye dollface.” He says before hanging up.

“Dude, that was so booty-call-esque.” Emma says and laughs. “I thought you weren’t a hook up type?”

“I not. But I need this story.”

“I know. I’ll help you.”

“Help me?”

“You’re going into my territory. You’re sleeping with people for information.”

“Not people, just Matt. And who know is he’ll even tell me anything.”

“Oh he won’t tell you anything. You have to pick things up on your own.”

“What?” I laugh.

“Like if he takes a call after sex, what he says, who’s in the other end. Or if he says he has a meeting, ask who with. And keep hooking up with him. The more you hookup, the more he’ll be willing to share with you.”

I take a deep breath. “I can do this. I can hook up.” I tell myself.

The truth is I don’t think I can just hook up. The only guy I’ve ever been with and had sex with was my high school boyfriend, who cheated on me and made me feel like I wasn’t good enough half the time we were together.

“You got this.” Emma says

Tags: @stargirlsturniololover @sturniolobessed @eyelessdemon @sturnioloenthusiast @sturniolopookie @urmommysbathroom @qwertytit @whatever1021 @chrisfavoritepepsi

[sunlightmurdock]

jake has been trying to bed from the hard deck for months now and how are you supposed to resist that man for so long. but being the absolute asshole that he is your apprehensive that he’s going to be rough or uncaring in bed and he picks up on it right away and shows you just how much of a texas gentleman he can be. 😙

“Did your date stand you up?”

You close your eyes and curl your fingers around the stem of your glass, trying your best not to do your biggest, most irritated sigh.

When you open them again, he’s unfortunately still there. Toothpick between his lips, he grins at you.

“Can’t imagine why, darlin’ — you’re such a ray of sunshine, after all.” He teases.

Jake has been trying to fuck you for months. It’s been like this the whole time. You denying his advances, the two of you mocking each other in response. Until tonight when, unfortunately, your date did stand you up. And he’s there. And he already has a tab running behind the bar, so you let him buy you a drink. Just one drink.

Apparently when you’re feeling this low, that’s all it takes. You both know exactly what it means when you ask him to walk you home. But, he’s handsome and you’ve seen his muscles on more than one occasion — you can put up with a quick, rough fuck. It’ll get your mind off of tonight.

So, when you’ve got him in your bedroom and pulling your shirt over your head, you’ve got a good idea of what to expect.

“Can you stop looking at me like I’m gonna tell you to shut up and bend over? — It’s putting me off my game.” Jake mumbles unhappily, fingers trailing your bare waist with one hand as his other scoops your hair away from his neck so that he can lean forwards and kiss your throat.

“C’mon, Hangman, you don’t need to pretend you’re a gentleman. I know you, remember.” You scoff, reaching down to unbutton his shirt, leaning your head back so that he can continue to kiss your neck. He’s good at that. But, a talented mouth isn’t enough to impress you yet.

Jake pulls back and looks at you, brows knitting together as he gives a small shake of his head. He scoffs. “Pretend? — Sweetheart, you wouldn’t know a gentleman if he was standing right in front of you.”

Wow, his mouth really is talented. Closing your eyes, you lean your head all of the way back and sigh happily as he sucks a deep kiss into the curve of your shoulder. But, the bickering doesn’t stop there.

It still hasn’t stopped when he’s got you completely out of your clothes and his broad shoulders keeping your thighs apart, his green eyes staring up at you.

“So, what makes a guy a gentleman, huh? — If you’re such an expert?” Jake questions as two of his fingers trail an intricate path through your folds, being careful to graze your clit every now and again but not enough to be satisfying. He’s the only guy in the world who would dare to ask that while he’s nestled between your legs.

“Putting his lady first. Not being an arrogant asshole. Complicated stuff, Hangman — wouldn’t expect you to get it.” You shrug, closing your eyes as he leans forwards and presses his open mouth eagerly to your soaked core.

Hangman, as it turns out, is full of surprises. After he has made you cum twice on his tongue, which it turns out is just as talented between your legs as it was against your neck, he’s cocky enough to sit back on his knees, wrap a hand around his cock and tell you to ask for it nicely.

Then, you’re annoyingly delighted to learn that his tongue is most definitely not the most talented body part that he’s got. Whimpering into his neck, grabbing desperately at his thick shoulders and squeezing your legs around his hips, your mind blanks on what it was that ever made you dislike him in the first place.

Even more annoyingly, he peppers your shoulders, your forehead, your jaw with kisses as the two of you come down from your highs. He grabs a damp cloth and cleans the mess from your body gently and hands you a glass of water that he had grabbed from the kitchen.

“So, how about you let me show you how a real man takes a lady on a date?” He smiles at you, pulling his boxers up around his hips as you sit, still trembling in your bed.

[gublernatural]

spencer!dad with a teen daughter, theyre having an argument (bad grades, behaviour, sassy etc) but in the end she feels bad for her actions and apologises. fluffy/happy ending please <3

the only way to comfort your daughter most of the time was to remind her that spencer was a statistical anomaly.

there was such a small chance of him having such a big, beautiful brain, and it was completely unfair of her to hold herself to the same standards he held himself to. but, she did it anyways. and this caused a lot of tension in the house. especially since she started high school.

claire, your oldest child and only daughter, has been gifted. she was years ahead of her classmates, already taking calculus 1 instead of the algebra her friends were in. but being in these classes came with a lot of work on her part. and you did not mind helping her, but keeping up with the way schools change how they taught or trying to do the hard math she was doing wasn’t going too well.

so, spencer stepped in.

“you’re looking for the derivative here,” spencer spoke, frustrating clear in his voice. “that’s what i just said!” claire exasperated, throwing her arms up and tossing her pencil down the table. “you’re not listening to me!” you could hear the frustration and the hurt in her voice. you wished you could step in, but you knew you’d be no help.

“if you knew that, you shouldn’t have asked for help.” spencer rolled his eyes, growing equally as frustrated. “stop being rude, claire. i’m just trying to help you.” communication had never been spencer’s strong suit.

from your place in the kitchen, you could see the way spencer’s face was getting redder and redder, not liking the way his daughter was talking to him. “hey guys,” you called, quickly hustling around the kitchen to throw together a snack plate, “why don’t we take a break? i have a pre-dinner plate for you guys!” you did your best to cover up the real reason why you were interrupting them. hearing them go back and fourth broke your heart, you knew they didn’t want to argue with each other and it really did upset both of them.

“i gotta get done, mom.” claire deadpanned, once again rolling her eyes. “be kind to your mother.” spencer demanded. “dad!” she shouts, needing spencer to just be quiet.

“claire, go to the living room.” you pushed, shooing her away. they needed space from each other. they were too alike for their own good.

“you didn’t have to do that,” spencer sighs, accepting defeat. “yes, i did, spence. you gotta be nicer when she asks for help.” spencer nods, not really caring for your opinion.

claire had disappeared to her room, working on assignments for other classes. she doesn’t come out until you call everyone down for dinner. she asks her little brother, benny, to switch seats so she could sit next to spencer.

as you’re in the kitchen scooping everyone’s plate, you hear claire talking to her. “dad, i finished the homework.” she says, not elaborating. “yeah, how’d it go?” he smiles at her. the anger he was feeling washed away just as quickly as it came. “yeah, i had mixed up the different variables a few steps up. i had to resolve it like six times.” she explains. “great job, claire bear.” claire smiles.

claire was like her father, never one to apologize despite knowing she was wrong. neither of them would say the words “i’m sorry”, but the way they shared a bowl of chocolate ice cream for dessert was more meaningful anyways.

[angstywaifu]

The Lost Sister - Part 35

Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time.

Garrick Tavis x OC (Ophelia Riorson)

NSFW. 18+. SMUT. Signet Use. Unprotected Sex. Oral (f receiving)

The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

I had only seen Garrick lost for words a few times in my life. But this had to take top spot. Even above him finding out I was alive after all those years. Back then I hadn’t looked entirely like me. The red hair a stark contrast to the black hair he had seen me grow up with. Back then I hadn’t fully felt like me. Like something was missing. And now, standing in front of Garrick with my hair its natural black, it felt like I was. Bodhi gives me a brief smile and nod before quickly leaving Garrick and I alone. It was one thing Bodhi was always good at. He always knew how to read a situation or moment. And he knew this moment was just for Garrick and I. Garrick who has not moved a single muscle, still frozen to the spot staring at me. I step forward cautiously, as if trying to approached a startled animal. But honestly with how Garrick is looking at me, he almost is a startled animal. Frozen to the spot, not knowing what to do.

”I was expecting a reaction of out this, but I wasn’t expecting to leave you speechless.” I tease as I stop in front of him, placing my hands on his shoulders as I run my hands down his arms.

Despite the heat, Garrick shivers under my touch. His breathing coming out shaky and uneven as he just stares at me.

”To be fair sweetheart, the last time I saw you with this hair, was the last time I thought I saw you alive.” He says softly as he captures my hands in his. “I thought I'd lost you forever." His voice trembles slightly as he lifts my hands to his lips, pressing a tender kiss against my knuckles.

”But you didn’t.” I say softly as I cup one of his cheeks with my hand, Garrick immediately leaning into my touch. “I’m here. Alive. And I’m not going anywhere.”

”I know, but I still wake up every day pinching myself to make sure it’s real. Make sure you really are here with me. So excuse me if I need a moment to make sure this is actually real when you look like…” Garrick’s eyes move down my body, before landing on my exposed leg in the slit of my skit. His hands grabbing at the material. “How did I not notice this?”

”And you’re meant to be the observant run. Must have really got you good.” I tease.

”You did. In more ways than one.” He muses

I go to ask what he means, but I feel the tug of his emotions. I open my mind to them, and know instantly what Garrick wants. As if knowing I’ve reach out to his emotions, Garrick pulls me flush against him.

And with one swift movement, he captures my lips with his own, pouring all the love and longing he's been harbouring into our kiss. His hands wrap around me tightly as if afraid I might disappear again. "I love you," he murmurs against my lips, his voice thick with emotion.

"I love you too," I respond, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. His gaze is intense, filled with relief and unspoken promises. I can't help but smile at him, my heart swelling with the love I feel for this man. Holding onto him tightly, I whisper, "And I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

And with that Garrick bends down, scooping me up into his arms before walking us over to the dorms. With how fast he’s walking, I don’t complain about him picking me up. There was no way I would have been able to keep up. Within minutes he’s kicking his door closed and placing me on his bed as he kneels in front of me. His hands caressing the exposed skin of my legs, trailing down to start untying the boots I had opted for over the slippers most people wore.

His movements are slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine. It's as if he's afraid that any sudden movement might shatter the moment. After the boots are off, he gently caresses up my leg, his mouth leaving a trail kisses up the inside of my leg. Each kiss causing me to shiver in anticipation of what's to come. Garrick grips the back of my legs, pulling me to the edge of the bed, sliding my underwear down before hooking both my legs over his shoulder as he manoeuvres the skirt to leave me completely open to him. I barely get a glimpse of the hungry look in Garrick’s eyes before his mouth is on me.

”Garrick” I breathe out, my hands tugging on his curls as his arms hook around my thighs, holding open as they try to close around his head. His hands sure to leave marks from how tight he was gripping me.

Within seconds I can barely keep my self upright, laying down on the bed as profanities fall from my lips. Garrick was licking and sucking like a starved man. My thighs shaking much quicker than normal as Garrick adds his fingers to the mix. Curling them with every thrust. Hitting a spot that has my eyes rolling into the back of my head, back arching off the bed as I grind on his face.

”Eager, Mo Gradh?” He breathes out, replacing his tongue with his thumb as he stares up at me.

His hazel eyes blown out, curls dishevelled from my hands, and my arousal glistening on his lips that have formed into his signature smirk.

”Always eager for- Fuck!” I moan out, eyes rolling back in my head again as he adds another finger.

I barely hear his chuckle before he dives back in, pretty much making out with me. His tongue dragging along my folds, his lips wrapping around my clit and sucking sharply before alternating between harsh sucks and lightly flicking it with his tongue. It doesn’t take long before I’m clenching around his fingers, trying to ride his face more. Each thrust of his fingers bringing me dangerously close to the edge.

”You want to cum sweetheart?” He asks, his voice low and gravelly. “C’mon then, finish for me Mo Gradh.”

As if my body was waiting for the words, I become a shaking moaning mess as I ride Garrick’s fingers, my legs clamping around his head as I arch fully off the bed. I can barely hear Garrick over the intense pleasure racking my body as he rides me through my high. His fingers not faltering once as he prolongs it, dragging it out as long as he can. I barely register the bed sinking before Garrick pulls me into his lap, pulling my chest flush against his as he starts to undo the corset of my uniform. His arousal very evident between my legs. I open my eyes slowly to see him smiling down at me as I rest my head against his shoulder.

”Welcome back to the land of the living.” He teases as his fingers trail down my now exposed back, causing me to shiver.

”Was I out long?” I mutter as I lazily stroke up and down his chest.

”Long enough to undress and pull you into my lap without any response.” He muses as he unclasps my skirt, letting it fall to the floor with my corset.

”Maybe I need to dye my hair black more often.” I tease as I sit back, looking him directly in the eyes.

Garrick hums in agreement before burying his face in my neck and slowly kissing down my neck. “You are never changing your hair from black again.” He growls into my neck, his hands tightening on my waist.

”You going to tie me down to make sure I don’t?” I tease, grinding down on him, his teeth biting down on my neck causing me to gasp.

”Oh don’t give me ideas sweetheart.” He mumbles into my neck.

Garrick’s hands go to grab my wrists, probably intent on pinning me down. But I was quicker. I reach into his mind, tell his body to lie down, hands above his head. And he does. Garrick’s eyes going wide with panic as he tries to sit up and move his arms. I giggle as I rise on my knees as I hover above him, reaching down between us to line us up. Instantly Garrick’s eyes go from panicked to aroused. Garrick opens his mouth to speak, but I quickly lower myself onto him, my arousal from earlier make it very easy to sink down onto him in one smooth motion. I feel Garrick’s mind fight against my control. Wanting to reach out and place his hands on my hips. To guide me up and down as he thrusts up into me. But I command him not to. Watching as he fights between being aroused but also wanting to be in control. I hadn’t told him I had started to master my control over people. Only recently turning Carr’s janky puppet like movements into smooth almost believable movements. I place my hands on Garrick’s chest, using it as leverage as I slowly move up and down, feeling as Garrick fights my control more as his head rolls back into the bed, his back arching off the bed with the little amount of movement I let him have. Every second that passes I watch as he struggles against the control, wanting more freedom. After a few more minutes of watching Garrick be a mixture of blissed out pleasure and struggling against my will, I let go of his mind. It takes a few seconds for Garrick to realise he’s got full control, his eyes going wide as he goes to fight against my will but his heads fly out and grasp onto my hips like he’s been trying to for the last few minutes. His cocky grin appears on his face as he moves into a kneeling position, holding me in his lap as I wrap my legs around him. His hips lazily thrusting up into me as he buries his head in my neck.

”I don’t know if I should be impressed you can do that now, or if I should fuck you stupid for putting me through that torture.” Garrick mumbles into my my neck.

”How about you be impressed later.” I breath out, arching into Garrick as he bites lightly on my neck.

”I like the sound of that.” He muses.

In true Garrick fashion he’s manoeuvred us into a new position within seconds, a squeal escaping my lips as my back lands on the bed. My hands above my head, trapped in the tight grip of one of Garrick’s. I pout up at him as he laughs at me.

”Two can play at that game sweetheart. Time for you to get a taste of your own medicine.”

Cocky bastard.

I could have spoken out loud, but there was something satisfying about seeing the initial shock in Garrick’s eyes whenever I spoke in his mind. And as usual I see the fleeting panic in his eyes before the cockiness returns. His free hand manoeuvres my legs to rest on his shoulders. A favourite position of his, cause it always hit the perfect spot. And with the cocky glint in his eyes I knew I would be a mumbling mess within minutes if that. Garrick moves his hips slowly, easing me into the new position. I was already squirming against him, my arms fighting the grip he had on my wrists above my head. Each thrust just hitting that perfect spot. Just enough to have me satisfied, but also wanting move.

”P-please Garrick.” I mumble as I arch off the bed.

”Do you want me to go faster Mo Gradh? Want me to fuck you stupid?” He teases.

I gasp as he reaches between us, fingers lightly caressing my clit. Causing me to squirm and writher beneath him. Gods he was being cocky tonight.

”Y-yes. Please Garrick.” I plead.

And he does. Both hands moving to grip my hips as he lifts them up off the bed before thrusting into me. My hands finding purpose on the bed beneath us as I grip onto the sheets tightly. I thank the gods we regularly check the sound wards we put on Garrick’s room as I moan his name loudly, followed by a mix of profanities. Which only spurs Garrick on as his pace increases, to the point I barely get a break between his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside me. The familiar feeling building between my legs happens way quicker than normal, but gods I was not complaining with how good it felt. As I open my eyes to look up at Garrick, I see him blissfully looking down at me, also close to being done. His hazel eyes blown out. His cheeks thoroughly flushed. And a few of his curls stuck to his forehead. I’m so lost in his eyes I don’t see his hand move before his fingers meet my clit again. I cry out as I arch my back, eyes rolling back in my head as I tip over the edge. I vaguely hear Garrick cry out my name as he falls forward, bracing him self on his hands either side of me. His hips slow down their pace as he rolls to his side, pulling me with him as he pulls me into a heated kiss. I whimper against his lips as he slowly pulls out of me, his arms constricting around me as he pulls me closer.

It feels like our bliss only lasts a few seconds before we hear doors slamming and commotion outside. Garrick and I break apart, trying to listen for what could be going on. I go to relax back into Garrick’s embrace as the noise settles down. But a bell sounding in the distance has us both sitting bolt up right. We’re under attack.

@riorgail @going-through-shit @fw-gt @bbkissme99 @xceafh @leptitlu @came-to-laugh-but-cried @onthewaytotimbuktu @daardyrnitta @lovemesomevesey @mxtokko @krowiathemythologynerd @callsign-blue @1islessthan3books @side-angel @wolfbc97 @just-an-ace-elf