#cw: Hungover Reader

[alex-journal]

Drunken Sketches

Summary: The Straw Hat Crew reacts to a creative outburst y/n had as they were drunk. (Jinbe is part of the Straw Hat Crew) y/n Pronouns: they/them

cw: mentioning of alcohol, hungover, hungover reader -------------

It was a peaceful morning on the Thousand Sunny. Sanji was in the kitchen preparing a hungover breakfast for the Crew, while Jinbe relaxed on the deck, watching the sky and calm sea navigating the ship to the next island. Some of the Straw Hat Crew looked more tired or hungover than other, after their big party last night. Zoro seemed like nothing happened and as he didn’t drink two barrels of sake alone. Nami and Ussop on the other hand looked like they were the ones drinking too much, even tho they had two beer top last night. “Breakfast!” Luffy was the ray of sunshine as usual and was about to reach for the breakfast as Sanji stopped him.” “Hey! You know, not to eat until everyone is there, Luffy.” Only now, Luffy noticed that y/n was missing at the table. He asked Robin if she had seen them, but as she looked up from the newspaper, Robin shook her head, “No, the last time I saw them was before I went to bed. They were looking for paper.” “For paper? I saw them in front of sick bay..” Nami said, massaging her temple, looking up tired and worried.

With that as a clue, Luffy jumped up and went to sick bay looking for y/n. The Captain was hungry, and he didn’t want to wait any longer. “y/n!! Food!” As Luffy approached the door, he could hear y/n snoring loudly inside. When he opened the door, Luffy was surprised to find his friend lying on the floor surrounded by sheets of paper and colored pencils. Luffys laugh brought everyone up and rushed to investigate why their Captain was laughing so loud. When they joint Luffy, they saw a snoring y/n curled up, eyes closed, and hand over their eyes and ears to shut out the laugh and the sun. "What the hell happened here?" Zoro muttered. Nami and Chopper picked up some of the sheets of paper from the floor that surrounded y/n, hoping not one of their important Maps or documents were scattered there. As they looked through the pages, they saw that everything was ok, and realized that the drawings on them were actually quite good.

"These are amazing!" Chopper exclaimed, holding up a drawing of himself that y/n had done, complete with little antlers and a red nose.

"Yeah, look at this one of me!" Robin said, holding up a sketch of herself sitting in her chair, surrounded by books, she had picked up.

Usopp and Franky were particularly impressed by their portraits, which showed them posing dramatically with their respective weapons. "I always knew I looked cool, but I never thought someone could capture my essence like this," Franky said with a grin.

As they admired the drawings, Jinbe noticed something funny about the way they were arranged. "They're in alphabetical order," he pointed out. "Look, there's Brook, then Chopper, then Franky..." “yohohoho, how fantastic!” 

Everyone laughed at the realization that even in their drunken state, y/n had taken the time to arrange their drawings with care. They felt a warm sense of affection for their friend, even though they were too hungover to hear it.

"Let's not wake them up," Nami said, picking up one of the drawings and cradling it carefully. "We can put these in the gallery and surprise them, when they wake up."

The rest of the crew agreed, and they carefully gathered the pages of the gallery-worthy artwork. As they left the room, Chopper took one last look at y/n, who was still snoring contentedly on the floor.

"I'm glad they are part of our crew," the little reindeer said, before putting a glass of water and some medicine against the hungover near them.

As they settled back to the breakfast table, admiring each other's portraits, the Straw Hat Crew knew that they had another memorable moment to add to their collection of adventures. And even though y/n couldn't remember anything about their artistic endeavors the night before, they knew that their talent and creativity would be remembered forever.

[sticky-sugar]

try it. (matsukawa issei x reader)

tags/cw: roommates to lovers, somnophilia, fingering, mattsun sends porn as a coping mechanism, size kink if you really squint

word count: 3.1k

“i’ve always wanted to try that.” 

issei chokes on his beer when you speak. you point at the tv in explanation, as though he needs one. the scene playing has just started out with a couple in bed, spooning while they fuck. everything’s covered, but it’s easy to tell through the blanket that the woman’s leg is lifted, her back arching against the man’s chest while she cries out lewdly. 

“never been fucked in the morning?” he jokes, keeping his eyes trained on the screen so he doesn’t have to look at you. his laugh sounds awkward even to him. 

“mm-mm.” you shake your head, draining your wine glass, and he can’t tell if that’s a confirmation or a rejection of his guess. but he can tell that that wine bottle on the coffee table is empty, because you would never say these things to him sober. 

“not that part,” you explain. frowning when you realize there’s no wine left, you rise from the couch, disappearing from the room and padding down the hall. issei sighs in relief at the moment alone, running his fingers through his hair and tugging hard.

“she’s drunk,” he whispers to himself, a reminder. “she’s drunk, and she’s your friend. and you can’t afford rent anywhere else, you stupid fuck.” that’ll do it. he’s broke as shit, and you’re a good friend. he can steel his nerves with those facts. 

“she was asleep when he started,” you call from the kitchen. 

fuck. 

issei drops his head back, hitting it on the wall a few times with purpose. fuck, fuck, fuck. 

you come back in, and he straightens, yanking the throw blanket over his lap. you’re too drunk to notice. 

you’re too drunk to notice much of anything, really — including your own running mouth. 

“she was asleep,” you say again. “and he fucked her anyway—“ you rush to explain yourself, holding a hand out when his eyes find yours, wide and uncertain. “consensually, obviously.” 

that doesn’t help. he’d been assuming that, but you confirming it makes it worse.

somnophilia, his mind whispers, the word latching itself to you. 

“i dunno,” you shrug, your refilled wine glass brought to your lips. “i think it’s hot, i guess. i’d try it.” 

he really can’t afford rent anywhere else. 

—

you’re scouring roommate ads in a hungover daze the next morning. 

what is your problem?, you think, rolling over to groan into your pillow. you open your bank app, staring at the number in your checking account and wondering uselessly if it’s enough to afford a place on your own. one where you’ll never have to look mattsun in the face again. 

why did you tell him that?

your brain flashes through two bottles of wine and drunk admissions, and you switch over to uber eats, deciding that cooking is simply not an option today. standing in that kitchen for more then four seconds and risking running into him is not an option. 

you know why you told him that. you know exactly why you told him.

you told him because, despite every coping mechanism you’ve tried over the years of living with him, matsukawa issei persists in being the most attractive man you’ve ever met. 

you told him because you wanted to test the waters. why you would ever test the waters with somnophilia, of all things, and not something standard and vanilla like ‘making out with a friend just happens sometimes’ or ‘drunk hookups aren’t so bad’, you will never know. 

but you’d told him because you think about it. you think about him, doing things like that. things that aren’t standard or vanilla or easily explained or plausibly deniable. 

you think about matsukawa issei fucking you while you sleep. and maybe it’s happened one too many times. maybe now it’s all you think about, enough that it comes up in your stupid, drunk admissions. 

maybe — just maybe — you hope he might take you up on it, now that it’s out there in the open like that. 

but that’s just a maybe. so you’re looking for another apartment, on the very real chance that he’s going to call you a freak and never speak to you again. 

your phone buzzes in your hand. 

it’s a text from him.

[10:17 AM]

mattsun: [link attached]

your face crumples into a frown. “what?” you murmur, jabbing a thumb on the link and hoping it’s not a virus. 

your phone starts moaning at max volume.

you scream, slamming down on the side button to lower the volume as the video intro plays through. your eyes fly to the title.

milf fucked by son’s friend while she’s sleeping

there’s no fucking way he just did that. 

[10:19 AM]

mattsun: smth like that? 

“matsukawa!” you scream, rolling out of bed and storming out into the hall. he’s laughing loudly from his room, and you all but kick his door down. “what the fuck is your problem?!” 

he’s in bed, cackling gleefully and covering his face with his blanket — but his eyes are anything but shy when he looks at you. 

“just trying to ease the tension-“

“by sending me porn?!”

he shrugs and gestures to his phone. “im just saying, you’re not alone! at least—“ he glances down at the screen “—3.8 million other people are into it, too-“ 

you scream in frustration, turning and stomping back to your room. his laughter follows, echoing through your door even when you slam it. 

he does it for two weeks straight. every few days, you wake up to a new link, each video titled something more obnoxious than the last. 

guy takes step-sister while she takes a nap

mom wakes step-son up with a special surprise on his birthday

repairman finds sleeping beauty home alone

each one draws an irritated screech of his name and the echoing giggles of satisfaction from his room. 

you could stop it. in fact, he’s asked you more than once if you want him to. 

‘if you really want me to stop, i’ll stop, he’d said in your kitchen last week.

‘just say the word,’ he’d reminded you on his way out one morning.

‘i think you and i both know how important consent is,’ he’d murmured just two nights ago, leaning on your doorframe, his eyes hot on yours. 

you’d shivered under his gaze and pretended to be engrossed in something on your phone. you’d hoped he couldn’t see the way you’d pressed your thighs together, but when you looked up, he was already staring down at them. 

he’d met your eyes again and just hummed, flicking his dark eyebrows up at you before turning away. your phone had buzzed with a new link only seconds after his bedroom door had clicked shut.

you’re certain he knows why you haven’t told him to stop. that the truth is that you don’t want him to stop. you’re certain he’s testing the waters now, too.

because each video he sends you gets closer and closer to being about roommates. 

your phone buzzes in your hands. you wonder if he knows that you watch each one, waiting for him to pull the trigger on the one that sits unspoken in the space between you. 

he does, a week later.

— 

you’ve caught him, issei realizes belatedly. 

maybe he should have noticed after you started sitting closer to him on the couch. or maybe after you’d refused to tell him to stop sending you porn. or maybe even after he’d sent you something titled ‘roommate can’t help himself while she sleeps’ at 4 in the morning and you hadn’t called the cops on him. 

maybe he should have realized you’d caught him after any one of those. but he doesn’t. he doesn’t realize it, not until this very moment, as you’re standing from the couch and bending over to clean the table of empty beer bottles before bed. 

he doesn’t realize it until he realizes you’re not wearing any underwear. 

he glances at you shamefully when you bend at the waist, hoping you don’t look back and catch him. and then he coughs violently, choking on his own spit and drawing your attention. 

he waves you off, blushing furiously and not even bothering to stop his eyes from flying to your ass when you just shrug and bend over again. your pajama shorts have ridden up, but there’s no lacy edge on pink panties where there should be. 

yes, he’d noticed years ago that these shorts tend to ride up and not mentioned it. yes, he knows what kind of panties you wear. yes, he has a favorite pair. 

what are you gonna do if you find out, call him a pervert? he’d sent you roommate somnophilia porn and you’d made him coffee in the morning.

“‘kay, goodnight,” you mumble, and issei wonders if you’re shy about it or if he’s just hoping you are.

“g’night,” he breathes, eyes finding yours. you keep eye contact all the way out of the living room. your eyes drop to his lap at the last second, and he watches a grin stretch across your face just before you disappear from the room. 

he looks down at his lap, and then he swears under his breath. he’s visibly hard in his sweatpants. 

—

he feels like a pervert. he really feels like a pervert. 

he stands in the hall outside your bedroom, one hand on the knob, feeling like a pervert. it’s 2 in the morning, and he feels like a pervert.

he sighs to himself and turns the knob slowly — ever so slowly, because he knows how it creaks, and he doesn’t want to wake you. he pushes the door open carefully, and then he finds you in the dark, moonlight spilling over your body. 

you’re completely naked. 

you’re on your stomach, blankets draped over your lower half and one knee bent out toward the wall. issei can see the expanse of your bare skin and the swell of your breast, but you’ve got your back slightly to him, so he can’t see everything. 

but it’s enough. 

he breathes hard, stepping into the room and shutting the door silently behind him. he runs his fingers through his hair, tugging hard and giving a soft sigh as he pads over to you. 

when he lowers his knees to your mattress, it’s with his heart in his throat and his cock straining against his pants. you look so innocent, so sweet like this, even while he’s sliding the blankets off of your skin and exposing you in the moonlight. 

is he really allowed to want this as badly as he does? 

your breath is steady, only changing slightly when he braces himself behind you, propped up on one elbow. he scoots toward you, breath caught in his throat, and then slides his hand under the back of your knee. you shiver, probably because his fingers are ice cold, and he keeps his eyes locked on the side of your face. 

when you don’t give any other sign of waking, he lifts your leg and hooks it backward over his knee, opening your body up for him. 

he swears under his breath, staring down at you in the moonlight. 

you shift, adjusting to the new angle of your body with a sigh. your back presses to his chest, and issei has to press his lips together so he doesn’t moan at the sight of you. 

he keeps his eyes on your face when he slides his fingers along your inner thigh, watching you intensely as his icy fingertips dance close to the spot between your thighs that’s radiating heat. 

when he cups your bare cunt, your skin breaks out in goosebumps, but you don’t move otherwise. issei moans now, because your body knows what he’s doing, but you don’t. 

he’d had a feeling before — in the weeks between that moment on the couch and this moment right here — that he’d unlocked a new, previously untouched fantasy. that his reaction to your drunken admission might have been about more than just being attracted to you. 

he sees it now. now, as he’s sliding two fingers between your folds and watching as you remain completely unaware, he realizes that you’ve done something to him. that you’ve made him want to do this to you, tonight and every night after. 

it takes every ounce of his self-control not to shudder and moan in your ear when your pussy twitches under his fingers, reacting to him even when you don’t. 

he drops his head to your chest, eyes locked on your face as he takes one of your nipples in his mouth. your lips part, and he freezes, but the sigh that falls out is nowhere near conscious, so he keeps going, sucking and licking and grazing his teeth over the bud while he massages your cunt with his now-warm fingers. 

the first sign that you’re reacting is the growing ease with which he’s able to push his fingers against you. your entrance becomes slick, and he can’t help that he pushes his hips against your ass in response, seeking relief. he drops his touch lower and swipes the pads of his fingers through the mess there, spreading it all over your cunt. 

when he circles your clit, slippery and warm now, your breathing changes, harder and rougher. the rise and fall of your chest pushes at his mouth, and he latches on with fresh fervor, watching your brows furrow and your lips twitch at the onslaught of sensations. 

it shouldn’t be as easy as it is for him to push his middle finger past your entrance. 

“fuck”, he whispers despite himself, mouth slipping off of you with a gentle pop and eyes rolling back in his head. your walls pulse around his finger, warm and velvety and wet beyond belief. his cock twitches hard in his pants as he slides his finger in and out of you, searching for that spongy spot that’ll wake you up. 

he knows you might have wanted him to fuck you like this, but he can’t help himself anymore. he doesn’t have it in him to be careful anymore. 

when his ring finger joins his middle, it’s with intent. the push is rough, bullying your cunt open with the size of his fingers, no doubt longer and fuller than you can get on your own. 

you shift under him, a quiet noise of question leaving you, and he lifts his head, attaching his lips to the crook of your neck. 

“y/n,” he whispers, more a moan than anything else. “need you.” 

he sucks on the column of your throat while you come to, his fingers curling and spreading inside of you — his sloppy attempt to prepare you for him. 

“h-huh-“ your head lifts slightly, and then you’re slamming it back against the pillow, your back arching. “oh, my god, mattsun-“ 

he almost comes in his pants when you say his name like that. 

“couldn’t help myself,“ he starts, shaking his head and pushing his body against yours almost desperately. “you were so pretty.“ your cunt tightens around his fingers in response, and he files that away for later. keeps it in mind, the things that make you react like this. “need you so bad, y/n-“ 

“yes, god yes,” you breathe, a whine trapped in your throat. you turn your head, back still pressed against his chest, and drop your still-sleepy eyes to his lips.

the coil under issei’s navel tugs hard when he realizes how well he can read you. 

he pushes his mouth against yours eagerly, moan unrestrained when your tongue slides against his. he wonders if you know how often he’s thought of this moment, years of wanting you and craving the feeling of you coming undone under his fingers. 

“please,” you whisper against his lips, back arching when he pushes the pads of his fingers against that spongy spot that makes you whine. “more, mattsun.” 

he groans, shivering when you pull his bottom lip between your teeth. “not yet — it’ll hurt,” he murmurs, leaning on every molecule of self-control.

“i can take it,” you just say, pushing your ass back against his aching cock. “promise.” 

he never had that much self-control to begin with.

his moan comes out in a shuddered breath, overpowered by the sound of you whining when he slips his fingers out of you. he shoves his sweats down to his knees, meeting your eyes and seeing the urgency he feels reflected in your eyes. 

when he slides his cock between your folds, it’s with a choked groan and a heaving pant in your ear. 

“can i- are you sure-“ he stutters, already lining himself up at your entrance.

“please, please, please,” you babble, arching your back to make the angle easier on him. 

you come around his cock before he’s even halfway in. 

there are stars in his eyes by the time you’re done. 

you cry out for him, shaking and clenching down hard, and he can’t do anything except bury his face in your hair and keep your leg lifted high with a trembling hand. 

“fuck,” he breathes, voice tight. “fuck, y/n-“ 

“more, mattsun,” you sob. he thinks you might be the girl of his dreams. 

pushing the rest of the way in, he shoves down his own orgasm, fighting and kicking and forcing it away so he can last more than thirty seconds inside of you. 

he only manages a minute before he’s spilling into you with a stuttered moan of your name, face buried in your neck and head full of static.

you’re just slumped against him by the time he comes to his senses, breathing hard and synced with his.

“sorry,” he mumbles into your hair, ears burning with embarrassment. “i swear i usually last longer than that-“

you laugh, tired and still weak but bright all the same. “yeah — so do i.” 

he snorts, pulling out slowly and letting your leg drop closed, trying his best not to moan at the feeling. 

“are you sure that was okay?” he asks, a tiny inkling of doubt still seeded in his veins. you just giggle, whispering his name in fond exasperation.

“sorry, which part of me sleeping naked was a warning sign?” 

“shut up,” he mutters, curling himself around you and feeling the beginnings of exhaustion start to drain his energy. “i’m staying here tonight. i don’t do one-night stands.” 

you just turn in his arms and wrap your arms around his neck. “was i that good, mattsun? i was asleep for half of it.” 

you’re gonna be the thing that kills him, he just knows it. 

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

“hungover” - hotch x fem!reader

after a girls’ night in, you wake up next to your boyfriend.

1380 words - FLUFFY FLUFF

cw; mentions of alcohol and food, implied age gap?, typical hangover, jemily agenda (sry not sry)

a/n: I wrote this on my phone on vacation bc I have a serious problem

———————

The first thing you notice when you wake up is that you are not in your clothes.

You aren’t in your clothes. And you only realize it because of the scent wafting up your nose. Sea Salt Breeze - the cologne you’d gotten him for Christmas last year - emanates from the t-shirt that envelopes your upper half. You dip your chin for another whiff, breathing him in deeply. You want the smell inscribed into your brain.

You feel the bed dip and creak and you instinctively shut your eyes, playing possum as Aaron pads into the bathroom. The door whines as he shuts it most of the way, not totally closing it because he thinks you’re still asleep and that the sound of the door shutting will wake you.

Each of your senses turns on one at a time, like your brain waves run on dial-up Internet. You open your eyes and the room is mostly dark, save for the sliver of light creeping in through the outline of the curtains. You run the palm of your hand along Aaron’s sheets and marvel over how soft they are - Egyptian cotton, he’d told you once before.

Your head hurts, but only mildly. You’d certainly been drunker before, but last night was still up there. Penelope made her mojitos strong.

You slowly sit up in the bed as Aaron opens the door, flicking the bathroom light off in the same motion. Your eyes meet his and he cracks a small smile. “Thought you’d still be asleep,” he muses. You love his pale blue boxers and seeing the hair on his legs. His calves are crazy defined - he’s a runner, after all, but still. You rarely see him in anything but a suit and tie, so it’s always a treat. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

You shake your head, wincing slightly at the movement. Maybe you’re a little more hungover than you thought. “I was already awake,” you mumble, running a hand over your face. “Did you put me in your own clothes last night? I have pajamas in my drawer,” you point out, gesturing to the second drawer of Aaron’s dresser, the one that contains your set of pajamas, a few spare pairs of underwear, and a couple of emergency outfits, just in case you end up sleeping over at his place.

It happens more often than not, so you keep the drawer decently stocked at all times.

“You insisted,” Aaron climbs into the bed, reaching for you. He tugs you to him and you roll over onto your side, and then halfway onto your tummy so that your leg drapes over his and your palm rests flat on his chest.

You can hear his heart beating. It’s like a metronome, steady and guiding and calm. You feel his pointed chin nuzzle into your hair and then, his lips, quick yet effective, against your forehead.

Flashes of last night run through your head. You, Emily and JJ, over at Penelope’s apartment. A symphony of girlish giggles, talking about Emily and JJ’s upcoming wedding date, drinking at least three pitchers of mojitos among the four of you. Watching Dirty Dancing and gabbing the entire time, realizing it’d be a bad idea to drive yourself home, and calling Aaron to come get you.

When he arrived, you called him Hotch and apologized for him having to come get you, and he reminded you that he was Aaron and he was your boyfriend and he would pick you up anytime you needed it. You were determined to play the Dirty Dancing soundtrack on the ride home, fumbling with his phone until you found it.

You belted out (I’ve Had) The Time of My Life and demanded Aaron sing along. He admitted that he didn’t know all the words and you gave him a stern lecture until you started laughing so hard that you were in tears. Traffic lights reflected Christmas ornament colors in Aaron’s brown eyes as he drove, occasionally glancing over at you.

You swore you saw the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile as you berated him for not knowing the words to such a classic song.

And then, once you were back at his place, you sat on the edge of the bed and stared at your shoes dumbly until Aaron offered to help you take them off. “Laces too hard,” you mumbled, and Aaron just hummed in agreement before kneeling down to help you.

And then he helped you out of your clothes. He went for your drawer, and you threw a pillow at him. “The college t-shirt,” you demanded with these Bambi-esque eyes.

“Arms up, baby,” Aaron said as he slid his law school t-shirt onto your upper half. He saved that specific term of endearment for times like these, when he was taking care of you, when he himself was exhausted. You could tell he was, too, not only because he kept yawning, but because of that glazed-over look in his chestnut eyes.

You glance down at the words George Washington University, printed over your chest.

Aaron’s arms around you tighten for just a moment as he embraces you, and you dig your face a little further into his chest. “No Jack today?” You ask, your voice coming out croaky.

“At his grandparents’,” Aaron murmurs, and you yawn. He strokes your hair. “How’s your head?”

“I haven’t had any complaints so far.”

Aaron’s hand freezes in your hair, and you lift your head, smirking at him. His mouth has formed a straight line, but you snicker and you can tell he’s trying not to smile at your dirty joke. “Degenerate,” he calls you.

“Prude,” you tease back, inching closer to kiss his jaw briefly before laying your head back down. “It hurts,” you answer his question. “But not as bad as it could.”

“That’s good,” Aaron comments, his hand running through your hair again, gently, the world’s most relaxing and least effective hairbrush. It feels nice, but his hands are so big that his fingers snag on the tangles, accomplishing nothing but making you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Nothing wrong with that, though.

“Do you want some Tylenol for your headache?” Aaron asks, and you just curl up into him even more. He’s so warm, and sturdy, and it’s so rare that you get mornings like this. Either you’re both working or Jack has a soccer game or there’s something else going on. It’s nice just to lay around with him, to be mildly hungover and pretend like that’s the only thing going on in either of your lives.

“That would require getting out of bed,” you protest, and feel Aaron’s arms tighten around you. He’s a very doting boa constrictor.

“How about I get it for you, then?” He offers, and you shake your head and shift all your weight onto him. He chuckles, a deep, throaty noise you know you’re only privy to for about twenty minutes right after he’s woken up. “So that’s a no.”

“That’s a no,” you confirm, settling back in to your original position.

You lay like that with him, in comfortable silence, for a few minutes. Until it feels like you’ve melded into one being. Then Aaron finally shifts under you. “Honey, my arm’s asleep,” he whispers, as though he’s afraid to disturb you.

You slither off of him, then clamber out of bed with no amount of grace, going so far as to trip over the corner post of the bed. As Aaron sits up, you exclaim, “I’m okay!” and hold your hands out to steady yourself.

Aaron stifles a laugh and you watch him stand from the bed and he walks towards you, steadying you with one of those gargantuan hands on your shoulder. He then lifts that hand to tip your chin up. You step forward in a silent dance, wrapping your arms around his neck and standing on your toes to kiss him. “Oh, shit,” you murmur. “I bet I have really awful morning breath.”

He just blinks a few times, and then offers you a shit-eating grin. “Yeah, honey, you kind of do,” he admits. You lightly punch him in the pectoral and then head to the en suite to brush your teeth.

[ssahotchnerr]

hey i tried to see if requests are open but can’t see anything, so hungover!reader x hotch? 🙏🙏

remedies

cw; fem bau!reader, drinking mentions, hangover talk and symptoms, fluff <3

There was a brief moment of peace when you stirred. Being pulled from such heavy sleep, a moment of solitude, before you met consciousness with excruciating pain. Regret was the next sensation to sweep through your body, until your awareness vaguely focused elsewhere. You either heard footsteps nearing, or it was the repetitive throb in your head.

Aaron had a key to your place and he had let himself in. You hadn't answered any calls or texts, and he was partially worried (he had known you were going out the night prior, and did return home safely). His concerned look turned to a sweetly pitiful one as he saw you lying there, hazily blinking up at him.

"Hi sweetheart."

"Aaron?" Your head rose, your voice hoarse as it exited your lips, your dry throat to blame. You cursed your hangover for dulling the usual excitement whenever you caught sight of him. "What're you doing here?"

"We had brunch plans."

Your brows scrunched in confusion, as well as your eyes as they attempted to adjust to the light. "What time is it?" You could've answered your own question by peering at the clock besides you, but you didn't dare turn your head. The more you moved, the worse.

Aaron checked his watch, moving his jacket sleeve to view it, "Half past noon."

At his words, your eyes widened. The sudden shock interfered with your head, causing the pounding to only elevate.

"Oh god I'm sorry." You facepalmed by use of your pillow, the momentary darkness enhancing the dizziness behind your eyelids. "I'm awful."

"I wouldn't go that far." Aaron teased lightly as he sat on the bed besides you, his hand finding your back and sliding his palm along it softly. "Crazy night with the girls?"

"Penelope tried- created a new concoction of drinks." A wave of nausea hit you from the memory, your stomach swirling. You scowled in disgust, "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

Aaron hummed in response, another pitiful smile tugging on his face as you groaned. He felt bad you felt bad. He's had his fair share of hangovers, sure, but never one at the hands of Penelope.

"I'm never drinking again." With all you had left in you, you forced your head to lift to defeatedly meet his eyes. "I'm sorry. I did have an alarm set. Or... I think? I must've slept through it."

"No it's okay, I figured. Knowing them, we shouldn't have made plans for the following morning." He flashed you an understanding smile, his hand stopping and giving you an affectionate tap.

"Probably a good idea."

"I can take an accurate guess, but how are you feeling?"

"Like the jet ran me over."

"That bad?"

"Penelope called her drink moonlight mojito blitz." Again, you nearly gagged at the thought, Aaron himself made a face. "Or something of the sort. I don't know, it had a complex name one way or another."

"Lucky for you then, I have more simply named reinforcements ." Aaron offered, gesturing to your bedside table. "Gatorade, water, ibuprofen, which I'm judging by the strain on your face, you should take now." He reached for the container, dumping the tablets into his palm. "Down the hatch."

You weakly sat up against your pillow, holding out your own hand. As you did what you were told, he produced the Gatorade.

"Drink up."

You winced at the words, "I'm having flashbacks."

He laughed softly, the sound enough to soothe any hangover, or plainly anything. "Sorry, but I'm serious. You need the electrolytes, I won't allow dehydration if I can help it. You'll need to eat something too, but that can wait at least. Until-"

You finished for him, taking a generous sip. "Until the room stops spinning."

"That's right," Aaron offered you another small, closed lip smile. "Can I get you anything else?"

You peered up at him, playing up the hopefulness in your eyes. The visual was for effect really, you knew he would implement anything you asked, as he always did. "My favorite pillow?"

"Sure honey, where-"

"You." You grabbed his wrist, weakly tugging him towards you and trying your hardest to not let your grasp drop despite the downward, heavy pull. "You're my favorite pillow."

Aaron slid besides you easily, and before he was thoroughly comfortable or settled, were you clinging onto him. Your face buried itself into the skin of his neck, while one of your legs lazily draped over his waist. He molded just as equally into your body too.

Your head was still spinning - part of you feared it would never cease - but Aaron's contact allowed some sense of stillness. Like you weren't going to be picked up and somehow carried away; he would ensure you were close and grounded.

"Is this really all you need?" Due to your close proximity, you could feel his voice vibrating through his chest. "Can't I do anything more? Is the room too warm? Too bright?"

You shook your head, tightening your leg's hold on him. There was a playful tone in your voice, "I may need you to hold my hair back later."

"You say the most romantic things to me." Aaron chuckled, his lips tugging into a smile before pressing his lips atop your head. He quipped back gently, "Looking forward to it."

[girlgenius1111]

not what you think

barça x reader what are actually symptoms of a migraine and developing illness are mistaken for a hangover, unfortunately for r. alexia is not happy, and r is too out of it to argue with her punishment. fluff + angst ensue :) cw: mentions of illness, throwing up, etc.

-----

You felt awful. Sicker than you’d ever felt in your entire life. When your alarm went off, you wanted to unplug your phone from the charger and throw it across the room. There was a match this weekend, though. An important one. With a slew of injuries hitting the team, they needed you more than ever. And you were not about to let them down. 

This team meant more to you than you could express. They were the first people in your life to show you love, and care. Barça was the first place you felt like you belonged. And, for the first time in your life, you were really truly happy. You hadn’t realized, before, that you weren’t happy. You thought everyone felt the way you did. And then you arrived in Barcelona, and your entire world was turned upside down simply because, all of a sudden, people cared about you. It was amazing how much that could change in a person’s life. 

So, no. You weren’t going to call out of training because of a little migraine. Even though your migraines always preceded you getting sick, and trying to push through only made them worse.  You weren’t going to let anyone down. 

-----

To anyone looking in on the situation, anyone that didn’t know you very well, it would seem obvious that you were hungover. The team had a big win the other day, and a lot of your teammates had gone out to celebrate last night. You didn’t join them, of course, being only 17. You knew the rules; you weren’t to drink. You were lucky enough they let you live alone, and you weren’t willing to risk that privilege. 

When you walked into the locker room, sunglasses over your eyes, shoulders slumped, face pale, it was almost a deja vu moment. Pina, Cata, Patri, Jana, and a couple others had walked in similarly a few minutes earlier. Your older teammates took one look at you, and instantly came to the conclusion that you were, in fact, hungover. 

There seemed to be some unspoken communication between your captains, who fixed their glares on you instantly. Not that you noticed. You were too busy trying to drink water, hoping the throbbing pain in your head would lessen before you had to start recovery. 

That was the thing. It was supposed to be a chill day, just a quick workout to get the blood flowing, and then a lot of stretching. Alexia and Irene had decided, though, that the girls who had come in obviously hungover were to be punished. They knew what they were risking when they went out, and they did it anyway. So, they were sentenced to the regular laps. The girls were already outside getting started when you’d made it to the locker room, so you weren’t aware at all that it was occurring. 

You were confused, then, when Alexia approached you, a hard look on her face. It wasn’t how Alexia normally regarded you; it was known your captain had quite a soft spot for you, but the thought that you’d been out drinking was infuriating her, and she wasn’t in the mood to be kind. 

Once you looked up at her, she pulled the sunglasses off your face, throwing them into the cubby behind you with a scoff. 

“Up. Outside. Laps. You are already behind.” Alexia demanded, rolling her eyes when you squinted up at her in confusion. 

“Why?” You asked, voice raspy, which didn’t help your case at all. 

“Do not play dumb. Go.” Alexia said roughly. You stood shakily, and walked out the door without another word. 

You thought Alexia was angry that you were sick. You hadn’t thought it would be like this, at Barça, when you got sick, like it had been at your old club. Where you were expected to train through everything, and if you showed any weakness, you were pushed harder and harder. It appeared that Barça was just as you’d feared; too good to be true. 

You still didn’t want to make anyone angry, so you fell into step with your teammates, who all looked to be in varying states of misery, ignoring the confused looks they sent your way. They at least knew that you hadn’t gone out with them the night before. They weren’t sure why you looked so ill, or why you were running laps, but their own feelings of sickness were rather distracting, and they continued on without asking any questions.

You didn’t know how long you ran for. Alexia had said laps, and she hadn’t specified how many, so you supposed you were supposed to run until she said you could stop. The other girls eventually finished their laps, slowly making their way inside to join the rest of the team. You stayed out there, going around and around the field, practically a zombie on your feet. You felt so sick, so bad. You were surprised you hadn’t fainted, or thrown up. 

“Nena, enough. You can come in.” A voice called from the doors. You slowed down, practically falling to your knees, before you forced yourself back up. Your whole body was sticky with sweat, and your vision was weird. There was a blinding pain in your head, now, and you just wanted to lay down. You couldn’t show weakness, though. If anything, the state you were in only reinforced that message. 

You stumbled over to Alexia, accepting the arm she wrapped around your shoulders gratefully. She was still angry, though, still stiff against you. 

“Idiota,” she mumbled. You blinked a few tears away, knowing that crying wouldn’t help you at all. You tried not to be surprised that Alexia was acting in this way. It wouldn’t help to expect to be treated differently. You didn’t deserve it, and you shouldn’t have gotten used to it.

 “Are you going to be sick?” She asked after a minute, her voice still all stern and gruff. 

You took a deep breath. Strong. You had to be strong. “No.” You said firmly. 

“Good. Get in the gym, stretch, and catch up.” 

Alexia handed you a water bottle and gave you a gentle nudge towards the stretching area. You ignored the eyes of the team on you as you headed there, acting much more steady than you felt. Your hands were shaking, and the bright lights were somehow almost worse than the sun beating down on you had been. You were sweating, but freezing, as you began your stretching, the mumbling voices around you not meeting your ears. 

It was Jana that came to your rescue, approaching where Alexia was working on arms with Mapi, Irene, Marta, and Frido. It was brave of Jana, considering how angry her captain was with her for the previous night's activities. 

“Ale?” She asked tentatively, wincing when the icy glares of four of her teammates met her. Mapi was smiling of course, a sympathetic look in her eyes. 

“What?” Alexia asked, crossing her arms and raising an intimidating eyebrow at the younger girl. 

“Why is nena being punished?” 

Alexia looked at Jana like she was crazy. “Because she went out with you all and is hungover. Which we’ll be talking about later. It’s one thing to be idiots yourselves, but to drag a 17 year old down with you? I am disappointed, Jana.” 

Normally, those words would have made the brunette’s stomach drop. Instead, she was just more confused. 

“Nena didn’t go out with us. We’d never do that, she’s practically an infant. She’s not hungover, I think she’s sick or something.” 

It was almost poetic, how quickly you rushed out of the room after that. Realization was dawning across Alexia’s face, quickly followed by guilt, and the little group surrounding her was turning towards you just in time to see you bolt out the gym door. 

“Fuck,” Alexia muttered, moving to follow you out the door. She was stopped, though, by Ingrid pulling her back and shaking her head. 

“Ale, she thinks you're mad at her for being sick. Hang back for a bit, Mario and I will go.” 

The blonde looked like she wanted to do anything but hang back for a sec. Still, she trusted Ingrid, and what she was saying made sense, so she nodded her head and watched as the Norwegian walked out the gym door, quickly followed by Mariona.  

They found you in the bathroom, practically collapsed leaning over the toilet, dry heaving as there was simply nothing in your stomach to come up. 

Ingrid took charge of the situation, turning to Mario. “Get some water, and a couple ice packs. And tell the girls to stay out. 

Mariona saluted dramatically. “Yes ma’am.” Ingrid rolled her eyes, walking over to your crumpled form. 

“Hey, nena,” she said softly, stopping in her tracks when you reached a hand back, gesturing for her to not come any closer. 

“I’m okay, just need a sec,” you mumbled, before you tilted sideways, almost going headfirst into the wall. Ingrid moved fast, though, grabbing your shoulders and sitting down next to you. 

“Easy, honey,” Ingrid soothed, leaning you up against the wall and taking a closer look at your face. “What are your symptoms?” 

“No, I’m okay. Just help me up, I can finish training.” You insisted, although you made no move to stand up. 

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “No, tell me what you’re feeling please.” 

You sniffed pitifully. “Migraine.” 

The Norwegian sighed roughly. “Let’s get you home, yes?”

You pulled away from her, then, stumbling to your feet. “No, I can finish training. Ale is already mad at me for being sick, I don’t want to make it worse, let me finish training please.”

“No-” Ingrid began, before she was cut off by the frantic sound of the door opening. Mario had returned with some water for you, and Alexia had clearly lost her patience waiting, and followed her in. 

“Pequeña, I am not mad that you are sick, I am so sorry. I thought you went out with the girls and were hungover,” 

You were swaying unsteadily on your feet, all three girls watching you very carefully. “You aren’t mad I’m sick?” 

“No, of course not, nena,” Alexia replied, watching as your expression transformed from guarded and determined, to one that was terribly upset and tearful. You leaned, just barely, in Alexia’s direction, and she took her opportunity to wrap you up in a tight hug. It didn’t take long for her to realize you were crying into her shirt and she was sure she’d never felt more guilty in her whole life. 

“I don’t feel good,” you murmured pathetically. 

“I know, nena, I know.” Alexia whispered, frowning at the fever that was very clearly radiating off of you. “Come on, I’m taking you home.” She nodded meaningfully at Mario and Ingrid, who left the bathroom to grab your bag from the locker room. 

Alexia really only realized just how sick you felt when you nodded, resigned, and put up no fight when the older woman picked you up. 

You were practically limp in her arms as she carried you out of the room, eyes falling shut as you rested your head against her chest. You were clearly quite uncomfortable, eyebrows furrowed with pain, and Alexia decided to just take you right to her car; she’d worry about both of your bags later.

------

You were pretty out of it all the way home. So out of it, in fact,that you didn’t realize you weren’t being taken to your home until Alexia was carrying through the front door of her house. 

“Olgui, ven aquí,” she called. The blonde’s girlfriend appeared, the smile on her face disappearing at the sight of you. Alexia very carefully laid you down, allowing you to flop onto the couch. You were a little more aware now, aware enough to squirm uncomfortably when you realized you weren’t at home. 

“Ale,” you complained, the room being much too bright for you. You rolled into the cushions of the couch, hiding your face under a pillow. 

“What did you do to pequeña?” Olga wondered, moving closer when Alexia looked at her rather helplessly. 

“I made her run laps and she’s sick,” Alexia admitted. Olga smacked Alexia’s arm lightly, and the blonde rubbed it even though it hadn’t hurt. “I thought she was hungover!” 

“It’s hot out, Ale,” Olga scolded. “What’s wrong with her?” 

“She said it’s a migraine,” Alexia murmured, avoiding her girlfriend’s eyes as Olga glared at her. It was obvious that Alexia hadn’t really thought through bringing you home. She wasn’t good at taking care of sick people, and she knew it. Her worry had been in overdrive, though, and all she could think about was getting you somewhere safe and comfortable. Thank god for her girlfriend, who took charge right away, crouching down next to you and carefully pulling the pillow away from your face. You groaned in complaint, and Olga smiled sympathetically. 

“Hey, nena, can I feel your forehead?” 

“Okay.” You replied, sighing slightly at the feeling of the brunette’s cool hand on your warm skin. 

Olga’s eyebrows pinched with concern. “You’re really warm, did you take anything this morning?” 

“No.” You mumbled, pulling the pillow back over your face when Olga retracted her hand. At this, the brunette turned to her increasingly panicked girlfriend, listing off a series of instructions and things to bring to you. When she was done talking, Alexia ran off to the medicine cabinet, and Olga pulled you into a sitting position, insistently handing you water. 

You let the two women hover over you, making you take a fever reducer, put a cool washcloth on your head, and drink an obscene amount of water. When they were satisfied with that, and you seemed to be on the verge of smacking the next hand that came towards your face, Alexia decided to bring you into the extra bedroom, and let you rest. 

You flopped right out of her arms onto the bed, and Alexia softly reminded you to shout if you needed anything, before leaving the room. You almost instantly drifted off to sleep, not sure what time it was, but relatively comforted by the knowledge that Alexia would probably come check on you soon. 

------

You slept right through dinner, and though Alexia wanted to wake you up to eat something, Olga advised her to let you sleep the migraine off. So at 10, when you still hadn’t woken, she refilled your water, left a snack on the nightstand, and headed to bed herself. 

The blonde had been sitting in bed, staring off into the distance for at least 45 minutes, before Olga got tired of waiting for her girlfriend to talk about whatever was clearly bothering her.

Olga put her phone down, and turned to Alexia, getting her attention. “Amor, what are you thinking?” Olga asked quietly, bringing a hand up to the nape of her girlfriend’s neck and scratching lightly. Alexia was deep in thought, though she relaxed a bit when Olga spoke. 

“Thank you for helping her.” Alexia murmured. 

“Of course.” Olga said easily. She paused for a moment, studying the blonde next to her that looked, shockingly and inexplicably, close to tears. “What’s bothering you?” 

Alexia just shrugged, but gave in when Olga gave her a familiar look, one that told her to start talking. 

“You… you will be a good mother one day.” Alexia mumbled, cheeks flushing red with embarrassment. 

“Thank you?” Olga said, blinking at her girlfriend, rather confused. 

“I do not think that I will be.” The blonde admitted. 

Olga softened, leaning closer into her girlfriend. “Why do you think that, amor?” 

“I was completely useless earlier. I hurt her feelings, and then I didn’t know how to make her feel better. She’s 17, and I couldn’t do it. What would I do with a baby? I’d just mess it all up.” Alexia cried miserably, bringing a hand to her face to wipe harshly at her eyes.

Olga’s hand caught hers, the brunette using her sleeve to wipe the blonde’s face much more gently. “That’s what you’re upset about? That you didn’t know how to help pequeña?” 

“When I used to get sick, Mami always knew what to do and how to help. It came so naturally to her, and it comes s0 naturally to you. It is not like that for me.” 

Before Olga could respond, your voice called out from the extra bedroom. 

“Ale?” you yelled hoarsely, and it was obvious that you were crying. 

Alexia was out of bed like a bullet, sprinting down the hall into the guest room where you were. 

“Nena? What is it?” She asked, hovering over you uncertainty. You were laying on your back, eyes squeezed shut, tears running down your cheeks. 

“It really hurts,” you sobbed.

 Alexia sighed shakily, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Your head?”

 “Yeah.” You replied.

“I am so sorry, pequeña. What can I do?” 

“I don’t know.” You whimpered, in too much pain to really be embarrassed about how pathetic you were acting. You were desperate for something, anything to make it stop hurting. Alexia could tell you were beginning to panic, the pain in your head becoming overwhelming. 

“Nena, look at me.” She instructed. You blinked your eyes open, doing as she asked. “Do you need to go to the hospital?” 

“No, this is how my migraines always feel,” you told her. Alexia nodded, filing this information away for later. 

“Okay. Take a few deep breaths for me, yes?” 

Again, you blindly followed her instructions, breathing in through your nose, and out through your mouth. After a few breaths, you opened your eyes again, and looked to your captain for further guidance. 

“How long do your migraines normally last?” 

You thought for a moment. “Not longer than a day.” 

“I think if you go back to sleep, you’ll feel better when you wake up then, right?” She clarified, trying to look at this logically when she knew you could not. 

“Yeah, probably.” You mumbled back, trying to relax yourself back into the bed. 

“Good. How can I make you more comfortable?” Alexia asked softly, pushing a strand of hair out of your face. 

You were quiet for a moment, looking cautiously at Alexia before you shook your head minutely. “I don’t know.” 

The blonde studied you for a moment. “Yes you do. Tell me.” 

“It’s stupid.” You argued back, refusing to make eye contact with her. 

“Tell. Me.” Alexia insisted, poking you twice in the stomach. You jerked away, giving her a dirty look. 

“Can you stay in here with me until I fall asleep?” You asked finally, because the thought of being alone right now was overwhelmingly horrible. 

Alexia softened. “Of course, nena. That’s not stupid.” She slid into the bed with you, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulder, encouraging you to snuggle up to her. 

“It is stupid, I’m not a child, I'm an adult.” You grumbled, but you went practically limp against Alexia when she began to rub your back soothingly. 

“You might not be a child, but you’re still a kid. And needing someone to take care of you isn’t stupid.” Alexia insisted. 

“Okay.” You muttered, already half asleep. Alexia smiled to herself, glad that she could do one thing right, at least. It was only a few more minutes before you were properly passed out on top of your captain. Alexia settled in too, her eyes just beginning to slide shut when Olga gently pushed the door open, a completely adoring expression on her face at the sight in front of her. 

“No maternal instincts, huh?” She teased, moving to the other side of the bed to kiss her girlfriend goodnight. 

“Shut up.” Alexia replied gruffly, though it was impossible to miss the protective look on her face when she pulled you in closer, or the shy blush that lit up her cheeks when she looked back at Olga. 

“Goodnight, mi amor.” Olga whispered. Alexia returned the sentiment, watching Olga leave the room, her thoughts completely overrun with images of her and Olga, and their future. 

What was another kid to the one they already apparently had?

-----

soft but confused alexia :,)

haven’t finished flipped (ingrid x mapi x reader) but i did finish this so hope you enjoy ❤️🫶🏻

[swordsandholly]

Little Death

Incubus!Soap x fem fat reader | Ao3

NSFW | MDNI | cw: dubcon, noncon, drinking, biting, afab reader, blood, PiV sex, cunnilingus, anal, monsterfucking, size difference, kidnapping, dead dove

Word Count: 4.5k

You sit in your apartment on your worn out couch, sipping a glass of shitty gas station wine at some godforsaken hour in the morning. Just like you do nearly every night these days. Love Island plays loudly on the TV while you try to drown out the overbearing silence that seems to cling to you. It surrounds you at all times, everything just a little too quiet. A little too distant.

You knew getting divorced would be lonely. You didn’t expect it to be this bad.

Your eye connects with a piece of paper that’s been living on your side-of-the-road coffee table for the past… who knows at this point. The friend that gave it to you meant well. She intended it to be a funny, light hearted gesture. Instead, you just feel pathetic. The pitiable fat girl that can’t get a date. Not that she’d be wrong. Out of drunk boredom, or maybe sheer desperation, you grab the stupid cut out article. It’s some plasticky, cheap print with the title ‘How To Summon A Lover’ which is probably the laziest headline in the world for a supposed spell.

Are you lonely? The summary asks, Do you need some special company? Just follow these steps and get exactly what you’re looking for!

It’s stupid. It’s corny. Luckily - or unfortunately - you are just drunk enough to take part in stupid and corny. Your eyes graze over the materials list - paper, a red marker, a metal baking sheet, and a stick candle. Your brow scrunches. You suppose you can sacrifice one of your outdated, unused decor candles that sit on your mantle. You gather the supplies with clumsy, uneven steps.

Fuck your ex. Fuck him for making you this sad and pathetic. Fuck him for piling on the insecurity, for isolating you and taking nearly all your friend group. For all of it. You plop down on your rug, items in hand and thoughts swirling angrily.

Step 1: Place the paper on the baking sheet

Step 2: Draw a pentagram

You roll your eyes. Of fucking course it’s a pentagram. You do it, still.

Step 3: Write “I Light The Flame of Desire” on each side of the page

Step 4: Place the candle in the center of the paper

Step 5: Light the candle and concentrate on your intention until it burns out.

You regret picking up such a big candle.

When you wake your mouth is dry and your back aches. The sunlight offends your eyes when you attempt to crack them open. You must have fallen asleep on the floor at some point. You look down at the mess in front of you. The candle burnt the paper into almost nothing at some point. Thank god the article told you to put it on a baking sheet.

You feel so fucking stupid.

You stumble into the shower, allowing the hot water to help rouse you from your hungover, groggy state. That feeling of stupidity tickles the back of your mind. It’s not like you expected it to work - really, what’s making your heart twist and shame crawl up your back is the disappointment, is that it didn’t. At least you don’t have to work today. You don’t particularly feel like being around people. Not that you do the rest of the time.

As you turn to get out, fear strikes through you at a shadow in your periphery through the fogged shower glass. Just as soon as you see it, it disappears. You shrug it off, heart still thumping wildly as you towel off. Something in your gut churns as you do your best to get ready for the day. An unease that won’t leave as you make yourself at least appear like someone with their life together. A feeling that someone is watching makes your hair stand on end.

You send up a thank you to the universe that you managed to get up early enough to make it to the grocery store during quiet hours. While buckling your seatbelt, that shadow comes back. Right behind you, in the back seat. It’s gone as soon as you check the rearview mirror. You let out a shaky breath. It keeps happening. While you get your shopping cart, while you choose produce. Every time you turn an isle, it’s there. It sends shivers down your spine. Some black, effervescent shape that follows you worse than a shadow. That catches your eye even when you consciously try to ignore it. You really need to lay off the drinking.

As soon as you get home, you toss everything from the night before - including the baking sheet. Some superstitious part of you rears its head, telling you to walk the damn thing all the way to the outside dumpster rather than leave it to fester in your personal trash. You don’t believe in ghosts or spirits. You’re sure you just drank too much, that you slept strangely and it fucked with your head. That not speaking to anyone besides brief interactions with coworkers and customers for weeks on end has left you jumpy and off. Maybe you really should see that therapist your lawyer talked about. She’s expensive though, and not covered by your insurance…

You turn over another bottle of wine in your hand, wrinkling your nose. Not tonight. Not when you turn to put the bottle down and nearly jump into the ceiling at some shape moving to the living room from behind you. Only in your periphery, only vague images, leaving you uneasy. You toss and turn when you finally get into bed. It still feels like you’re being watched. Like there’s a camera just over your shoulder, or in the ceiling fan, staring down at you. For the first time since you were small, you bury yourself under the covers and screw your eyes shut, hoping it will save you from the monsters under your bed and in your head.

You stir at a weight dipping your bed. It’s slight, so slight you almost miss it entirely, until it isn’t. Until whatever it is moves again and you feel something brush over your legs. In a panic, still half asleep, you turn onto your back, fists flying through the air only to be caught by inhumanly large hands. You flail, kicking as a scream catches in your throat.

“Shh, sh, yer a’right.” A distinctly Scottish brogue coos, pinning you to the bed without so much as a grunt. You finally manage to open your eyes properly. He’s big - eyes a bright, unnatural blue with a wild light in them. When he grins at you it exposes long fangs where his normal canines should be. Two horns poke out from his head, the shorn sides of his haircut further exposing them. There’s an unnatural red tint to his skin, darkening to nearly pure crimson at the ends of his exposed limbs. A shiver runs down your spine.

“Wh- who the fuck are you?” You squeak, far less threatening than you might have liked.

The beast’s grin only widens. “Donnae ye know? Ye called me, after all.”

Your eyes widen to saucers as you stare up at him. Did- there’s no way that stupid spell worked! It was a cut out from a damn off-brand Cosmopolitan. It was stupid sleepover bullshit. It was - It’s wasn’t- You couldn’t have summoned a real, actual factual demon into your apartment. No, this has to be a prank or intruder or - or hallucination even.

You try to shove at his chest as soon as he retracts his hands, a weak attempt at escaping. Part of you expects to phase through him - to wake up in your quiet, dark bedroom. Except his hands are very much real and warm as they pin your wrists back against the mattress. The silhouette of massive wings block out the little bit of moonlight that might have otherwise drifted through the slit in your curtains. You can barely make him out, now. Those too-bright eyes glint like a cat’s as he stares down at you.

“Now, why did ye call me, little one?” He leans in, nose brushing against yours before ducking his head down to lick a long stripe up your neck.

Your face heats, mouth struggling to form words. “I… didn’t think it was real…”

“Tha’s not a reason.” Too-sharp teeth nip at the shell of your ear.

“I just… why do you want to know anyway?” You spit defensively, thrashing under him in a sudden burst of confidence - or desperation. You’re not sure. It does fuck-all for you, the beast pinning your thighs under his weight. A deep, warning growl rumbles in his chest. You freeze at the sound - some ancient instinct telling you to stop all action and pray it saves you.

“It’s no’ polite t’dodge my question, bonnie.”

You whimper involuntarily, his sharp teeth grazing the soft skin of your neck with just enough pressure to threaten a bite. The words tumble from your lips near incoherently, “I haven’t- I’ve only been with one person… for a long time. I’m nervous… about a second…”

He hums. Something brushes your shin - a tail, you think. You can’t make it out in the dark. “Whit’s yer name, doll?”

You blurt it, a little horrified at giving that information to some supernatural creature. For some reason you find yourself following it up with, “What’s yours?”

He laughs and mulls it over, jaw clenching briefly, as if he can’t make up his mind about what it is. “Call me Soap, aye?”

You snort despite yourself and he - Soap - quirks a brow. “Weird name for a demon.”

“Incubus.” He corrects.

You have half a mind to complain when he tears your nightgown off before you can react. The cloth rips fast, practically disintegrating in his rough hands. That’s until he climbs down the bed, taking one nipple between his lips and flicking the other. Your back arches, hands fisting the sheets. You let out an indignant ow when he bites down on the fat of your breast, leaving a mark just shy of drawing blood. Soap ignores it, continuing to lavish them with attention as he sees fit. Your thighs press together and you can’t help but squirm, becoming desperate for more in spite of the voice in your head telling you to run. He senses it, you think, moving down your body leaving nips and bites in his path before settling between your thighs. He takes your underwear off in much the same fashion, turning them to shreds in barely a moment. His wings disappear into the shadows - there but not simultaneously. Shifting in and out of your vison.

“Look a’ tha’.” He sighs. “Whit a pretty pussy. Cannae believe yer lettin’ her go unused.”

You whimper and attempt to close your legs, failing when those massive hands hook under your knees and push them up to your chest as far as they can go. His nails - near claws - dig into the flesh of your thighs. A gasp tumbles from your lips as his tongue drags through your folds. Soap places a light kiss your your clit before following with a harsh suck that leaves you twitching and whining. Part of you feels ashamed for enjoying this as much as you are - for lapping up the attention from this stranger like a starved dog - but it feels too unreal for you to really care. Too fictional to apply your real world morals or sensibilities.

You yelp in surprise when his tongue flicks over your back hole, causing him to chuckle and mutter, “Tha’s for later.”

He doesn’t leave you time to think on that promise. You throw your head back as he slips his tongue inside. Fuck, it’s deep. Unnaturally long - built to systematically pull pleasure from you just like the rest of him. You find yourself grinding down onto it despite yourself, pent up body giving into instinct and abandoning rational thought. You grab onto his stupid hair to further press him into you. He doesn’t seem to mind as a low guttural sound rumbles through his chest.

A thick finger circles your entrance, replacing his tongue in one swift motion. He doesn’t wait to add a second - the stretch causing you to hiss. His fingers are big. His proportions just on this side of incompatibly large. You wonder briefly, distantly, why his claw-nails aren’t hurting you. It’s hard to care much when the pad of a thick finger presses roughly against that spot that leaves you gasping. His lips wrap around your clit again, sloppily sucking and licking at the little bud as you careen closer and closer to the edge. Your back arches harshly, almost painfully, as you tumble over with a choked moan.

“So easy.” He chuckles. Your face gets hotter, an indignant pout forming on your lips. Rude. Your eyes drift over his body and, somehow for the first time tonight, you realize he’s already naked. Not a single piece of cloth in sight upon his arrival. You let yourself take in his strong torso, the thick dusting of hair from his chest all the way down to a healthy happy trail, down to-

“That’s not gonna fit!” You squeak, clumsily trying to back away. His cock hangs heavily between his legs; thick and veiny and already leaking. His hand on your sternum stops you in place. You’re sure he can feel the way your heart hammers away in your chest - practically beating against your ribcage. For a moment, you think you see sympathy in his eyes. Rather quickly you realize that warmth is, instead, hunger. An eagerness to swallow you whole dances across his sharp grin.

“We’ll make it fit.”

That’s all the warning you get before he’s bullying his cock inside you, inch by inch despite your shaky pleas to slow down. It burns, just crossing over the threshold into too much. Your teeth grind, a deep whine resonating in your throat. Your fingers claw at the sheets below you and your body jerks with odd shocks of pleasure and pain all tied up into one.

“Fuckin’ tight…” Soap groans.

“S’too much!” You practically sob, hips squirming to get away from the intrusion.

“Y’can take it.” His other hand grabs onto your waist to still you. You can’t stop the moan that forces its way past your lips as his hips meet yours.

You expect it to hurt when he fucks you - he doesn’t allow you time to adjust, each thrust practically punching the air from your lungs. Instead, it sends electricity up your spine. Your brows knit together, eyes screwed shut as warmth pools at the base of your spine. Soap hooks one of your legs around his hip, the other over his shoulder. You watch him through bleary eyes, the strange red of his hands contrasting with your natural, human skin. The way his hand nearly wraps around your thick calf. The way his core flexed with every thrust. The pleasured knot in his brow.

Soap lets your raised leg drop, pressing his weight down onto you and bracketing your head with his forearms. He smells so good - spices and trees. It invades your senses, leaving your mind somehow foggier than it already felt. He pulls you into a kiss. It’s not romantic, not emotional, just a searing exchange made up of messy teeth and tongue. He tastes like cinnamon. His fang catches your lip and copper coats your mouth. A light whine escapes him as he licks it up and sucks at the small wound.

“Please, please, please.” You pant rhythmically, chest heaving.

“Please, please, please.” He mocks, chuckling at your begging as he presses his thumb to your clit.

You practically seize, already overdone and so close to another. You’re babbling, you know that much, but the contents of your words are lost on you.

“Gonnae cum f’me?” Soap presses his nose to your temple. “Gonnae cum on this cock?”

You nod vigorously, nails leaving half-moons his strong shoulders. His thumb swirls your clit as he continues to spill filthy words into your ear. Things you’ve never thought of, otherworldly promises no man could keep, and groaned nonsense to match your own. Your climax slams into you. You practically howl, whole body shaking. Soap’s tongue drags up the side of your face, licking up sweat and tears. He’s not far behind, a growl rumbling through his chest; his hips stutter as he spills inside you.

You think, for a moment, as you desperately try to catch your breath, that it’s over. He’ll disappear off into the ether and you’ll wake up tomorrow from this strange dream. All of it a lonely, mentally unwell delusion that you can tell your therapist. After you book her. You really should if your brain is coming up with shit like this.

Except, he doesn’t stop. The slowed rocking of his hips immediately picks up again. He leans up, hands gripping your waist as you let out a long, keening whine. You try to shove at his hands, to kick your shaking legs. They’re clumsy. Weak and used and uncoordinated. The sweat on your palms leaves you slipping, unable to get a grip around his wrist. Soap just laughs - dark and unnatural. Far too entertained by your panic. A malicious spark lights his eyes as he stares down at you.

“S-soap!” You gasp, mind and body going into overdrive. “P-please! You don’t have to - you can - fuck - just stop!”

He laughs again, only speeding up - using the hold on your soft waist to fuck you back onto him. An anger flares up in you and you reel back, slapping your open palm against his face as hard as you can manage. It doesn’t do anything to deter him, his hips still slam full force into yours without so much as a stutter. His chuckle cuts off into a gravelly groan. “Do tha’ again.”

As much as you don’t want to give in to him, you do. You batter your fists against his chest, his arms, anywhere you can even slightly reach. You dig your nails into his hands. He just speeds up, lewd, wet sounds an loud slaps echoing in the room along with your moans and shouts. Soap pulls out just long enough for his arm to encircle your waist and flip you over as if you weigh nothing to him. You hardly get your bearings before he’s forcing his cock back in your cunt. His hands latch onto your hips so tightly you’re sure they’ll bruise, if not be crushed completely.

“Please! Fuck - Soap - please - st-” You choke out, barely able to lift your face out of the sheets to breathe. Your whole body tremors violently. You try to reach behind yourself for him - to get some purchase, but all you’re met with his a hand firmly planted between your shoulder blades to hold you in place.

“Whit? Ye think tha’ was all? Jus’ one round an’ yer done?” The beast condescends, voice rough. “Nae, we’ve go’ forever. Well, until yer body gives out, at least. Gonnae shove my cock down tha’ pretty throat next, I think.”

The hand still on your hip lets go. Gathering slick from between your thighs, Soap pushes his thumb against your back hole. You gasp and attempt to lurch forward, to get away, but it doesn’t work. You can’t move out from under the weight of him. You feel a glob of something land there, quickly realizing he spit on you just to gasp as his thumb pushes inside. Part of you hates that it feels good, hates the words spilling from his lips about your unused ass. The rest of you succumbs to the fullness as his thumb is replaced by a finger, then another, working you open.

You whimper, fear mixing with the ongoing growing pleasure in your gut. It’s all too much. You’re overstimulated, soft body bruised and exhausted. Filled to the brim. Soap drapes himself over you, removing his fingers with almost a pop, and sinking his sharp teeth into the crook of your neck. His arms bracket your head once again, nearly flattening your against the mattress underneath him. You cry out, tears streaming as you feel another climax approaching, your pussy drooling down your thighs.

Something deep in the back of your brain snap as you cum. You lose yourself to base instinct. The heat in the room and anger in your chest consumes you. The air burns as it enters your lungs, sparking and electrifying your skin. Your head turns, eyes locking on the strong forearm anchored just above you. On impulse you lurch up, sinking your teeth in as far as they’ll go. A dog with prey caught in it’s maw. Soap growls in your ear - deep and animalistic. His blood isn’t quite coppery, not like yours, it’s far too sweet. It only spurs you on, your fingers twisting so tightly in the sheets you hear threads pop. Your other hand reaches back to dig your nails into his upper arm, to scratch at wherever you can reach. The sounds tearing through your throat aren’t right. Aren’t human. His arm muffles them slightly, the grunts and growls becoming borderline screams as you cum again so soon.

Soap flips you again, tearing his arm away from you and planting his feet flat on the bed, using his inhuman strength to help bounce you on his lap. You snarl, nails digging into his pecs to draw more blood. It drips down your lips, onto your chest, it covers the pads of your fingers. It’s animal. You’re just an animal.

“There ye are.” He grins, eyes practically glowing.

You don’t think much of it, you can’t think at all, really. Not in words, or even images. Pure instinct drives every action, your nose flaring at the scent of sex and blood that’s filled the room. Your skin is feverish, limbs shaking. Frenzied. That’s the word. Frenzied and rabid as you reach for strength you don’t have an meet his thrusts.

The two of you keep going that way - for how long, you aren’t sure. At some point you end up on the floor, at another he holds you against the wall by your throat. At another you hear the bed frame crack in two. Claw marks and bruises litter your body - litter his, as well. He pushes his cock into your back hole, not caring about the minimal stretch. You don’t need lube, you’ve drenched the both of you enough. The last thing you’re conscious for is Soap moaning in your ear as your hands wrap around his horns, holding on with all you have as your lips meet.

When you wake, your body feels heavy. Buried under something - blankets, you think. Though, your blankets at home have never had this weight to them. It’s more than quilts - your fingers tentatively running over both the texture of soft cloths and thick furs. It feels luxury, buttery smooth under your touch. Briefly, you shut your eyes again, content to drift back into blackness out of this cozy dream.

When you do peek your eyes open, a shudder runs down your spine. This isn’t your apartment. You shoot up, looking around the odd bedroom. It’s strangely decorated. Modern but with hints of something more scattered about. The smooth, painted walls of a modern home and ornate, lit fireplace of a castle mixed with current and antique furniture alike. A large couch sits in front of the mantle with embroidered, thick blankets hanging over the back. There’s a cracked door that seems to lead into a walk in closet. The area rug covering the far half of the room is a rich emerald green embellished with flowing designs in various golds and darker tones. Drawings and random scrawl are pinned to the far wall. There’s an open sketchbook on top of an old, hardwood desk with similar designs carved into it as the mantle.

Panic begins to surge as you open the massive curtains on the wall opposite the mantle to reveal floor to ceiling windows. They’re heavy like tapestries. You realize quickly that two of the panels are sliding doors onto a balcony, though you hesitate to step out. It would only corner you further. The sky looks like fire - waves of clouds lit in orange and yellow hues. It moves to fast. Streams of flames twist and run across the sky, overtaking one another.

You swing open the only other door that doesn’t appear to be the main exit. All it leads to is a bathroom. Large and expensive but nothing abnormal. Except for your shampoo inside the shower upon further inspection. Memories flood you, the night before comes in flashes. Was it the night before? Time feels wrong. Everything feels wrong. You’re sore, eyes heavy and body weak. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, dressed in some gauzy, black floor-length thing that leaves little to the imagination.

Just as you exit the bathroom to look for somewhere else to hide or run, the main door opens. Soap steps in, adjusting the sleeve of his t-shirt. You freeze, as if he won’t see you as long as you’re still.

It doesn’t work, of course. Those bright eyes lock onto you, thick brows raising. “Bonnie? Yer up!”

He looks… different. Less demonic. Not that anything has visibly changed much besides the fact that he’s wearing actual clothes. He simply fits into the scenery better - the room made to accommodate him. You realize part of the strangeness of it is the furniture size; meant for someone much taller and wider than you. The light helps as well, defining the contours of his face that you couldn’t make out in the dark. You back away from him as he approaches, pressing yourself against the wall as tightly as you can.

“So glad yer up. Are ye hungry? I can-“

“Where am I?” You cut him off meekly, eyes darting around the room.

“Och, my home of course.” Soap grins as if that explains anything.

“Why?” It doesn’t come out like the demand you want it to, more like a plea. Your voice cracks and you can’t meet his eye.

He tilts his head, eyes watching you, raking over you from head to toe. A predator observing it’s prey - deciding how best to catch it. “Ye live here, now.”

“What?” You gasp, trying to back further into the wall as if you could phase through it should you just try hard enough. “No- no, please! You have to let me go home! I need to go home!”

Johnny shrugs far too casually for your liking. “A soft little thing like ye? Nae, think I’ll keep ye fer the time bein’. Never met someone who could keep up like ye can. Go’ a lot of pent up energy in there, hen.”

“I don’t-“

“Yer gonnae feed me fer years tae come.” He continues as if you didn’t say anything at all, “Besides, I’ve go’ some friends tha’ I think would like ye.”

[sadhours]

dirty laundry

billy hargrove x fem!reader

masterlist • requests open

cw: 18+ minors dni, established relationship, smut, public sex, swallowing c*m hehehe I missed billy

🧡🧡🧡🧡

it’s kind of fitting. after a weekend of partying, you had to do some laundry. so monday morning, 9 AM, you’re sitting in the laundromat beside your boyfriend. you’re hungover. billy smokes a Marlboro and the smell is making you nauseous. you’re nursing a sprite he’d bought you from the vending machine. he has a coke. you’re somewhat regretting not indulging in the breakfast beer billy offered you but the thought of the booze had made your stomach twist something wicked. the shitty speakers spill a tinny “dirty laundry” by don henley.

“this songs actually pretty badass,” billy mumbles around the butt of his smoke, tapping his scuffed motorcycle boots.

you frown, “i like don henley.”

your boyfriend laughs, it’s a loud bellow and you really wish you had that beer to dull the headache splitting your head. but you love his laugh.

“like him like you’d suck his dick or…?” he teases and you roll your eyes despite the way it pains you.

“no, not my type,” you grumble. “i like his music.”

there’s a liquor store two stores up. you keep rubbernecking out the window at it and your boyfriend picks up on it. he reaches over and squeezes your knee, “regretting not having a beer with me this morning?”

“a little,” you gripe, “the lights are too bright, your cigarette stinks and i’m so tired.”

billy leans close to you with a pout, eyebrows furrowed. he looks adorable, even though he’s condescending you. “want me to go get baby a shot and a beer?”

“would you?” you ask, all wide eyed in a silent beg you know gets him.

he smirks, leans forward and bites your nose. it pulls a giggle from you which is exactly what you need. “i’ll be back,” he grabs your face and squeezes it before pulling away and heading out the door, it chimes with his steps. you lean back and watch his ass saunter down the sidewalk in his too-tight Levi’s.

once he disappears into the liquor store, you bring your attention back to the washing machine. watching as your clothes spin in circles, which doesn’t do anything positive for the spinning happening in your gut so you look away quickly. billy’s hard to keep up with but you’ve never had so much fun in your life. and he’s so sweet, really, when he wants to be. you’d kind of saved him when you brought up him moving him after only a month of hooking up. you were shocked when he jumped at the opportunity but that was before you met neil. it makes sense now. your boyfriend is free to be himself, and you love every bit of him.

he’s quick in the liquor store, returning and hopping up on the row of unused washing machines opposite the chair you’re sitting in. he opens up the black plastic back and displays a little bottle of Jack Daniels.

“come get your hair of the dog, baby,” he says in a seductive voice, all low as he wiggles his eyebrows. you extend your hand and then his brows furrow, “I got you trained better than that. C’mere, girl.”

you exhale with a frustrated sigh but obey your sexy beyond belief boyfriend. standing up and taking the few short steps to situate yourself between his thighs.

“atta girl,” he purrs, opening the shooter and pressing it to your lips, “head back, foxy.”

you lean your head back, downing the shot in a quick three gulps. he hums, all satisfied as he watches. the whiskey isn’t sitting in your tummy the best but the way billy chases forward and licks a drip off your chin quells any sickness. he follows it with a filthy kiss, tongue dragging against yours as his right hand grabs the back of your head, knitting his fingers into the roots of your hair and tugs lightly. a helpless little whine escapes from your throat but billy swallows it, smiling into the dirty kiss. once he pulls away, he smirks, eyes darker than before.

“better?”

you nod, biting your lip as you look to him. billy retrieves the shooter he bought for himself and downs it easily, like it doesn’t make his stomach curl. then he hands you a tall can of beer, opens it for you before he does. you take an eager sip to get the bitterness of the whiskey off your tongue. billy chuckles, it’s deep and rattles his chest. he nudges his nose against yours, “i know that look.”

“s’your fault,” you mumble, cheeks hot as you admit, “‘cause you kissed me like that.”

billy hums, hooks his knuckle under your chin and tilts your head up a bit. “like this?” he whispers back before pressing his lips to yours hungrily. licks into your mouth like you’re not in public and has your spine tingling, thighs warm and cunt aching. you respond by kissing him back just as desperately, putting your beer down beside him before both your hands move to grip his white t-shirt. his mouth tastes like whiskey, cigarettes and Billy. You get lost in it, moaning pathetically as you make out like a couple of high school kids.

Then the dryer buzzes, loud and jarring. You pull away, groaning softly before strutting over to the machine. You open it, grabbing a cart and wheeling it over. You tug all the clothes into basket, reaching in deep and wiggling your ass because you can feel your boyfriends eyes on it. You don’t even realize he’s jumped off the washers and made his way behind you until he’s kicking the cart away and grabbing onto your hips.

“you missed something,” he tells you, all nonchalant.

“huh?” you peer inside the massive dryer but you don’t see anything. billy’s hips meet the fat of your ass, pushing your upper half deeper into the machine.

“it’s really in there,” he says, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your leggings. his other hand presses on the middle of your back, bending you over completely into the dryer. “almost there, you’re so close.”

you giggle, knowing exactly what you’re asshole of a boyfriend is doing. he pulls your leggings down to your thighs, moving his hand to rub your pussy through your underwear. you moan softly, still playing his game as you pretend to reach for the clothing he says in deep in there. billy’s impatient though, tugs your underwear down with your leggings. feels the slick collecting at your hole and hums, rubbing his fingers in circles at your entrance. his fingers are so thick, you can feel him stretching your hole just from the teasing. hangover suddenly forgotten, you’re spreading your legs and silently begging for him to slide inside you.

billy teases, “aw… keep reaching, baby… you’re almost there.”

his middle and ring finger slip inside your dripping cunt, the stretch delicious and intoxicating in their own right. he drags the pads of his fingers against your walls, pushing in and pulling out. your brains already fuzzy, eyes rolling back before your lids flutter shut. he laughs, soft and sultry as he fucks you with his fingers. out in the open. anyone can walk in here or hell, walk by and see your boyfriend bending you into the industrial dryer and fingering you senseless. the rush of it only make your cunt slicker.

he scissors his fingers, stretching your hole open wider as he smoothes his other hand over the expanse of your back.

“god, you’re so fucking wet,” billy exhales, his voice echoing slightly into the drum of the dryer. hits your ears something fierce. has you pushing your ass back at him. you moan out, nails dragging against the metal of the dryer as he finger fucks you open.

you don’t even hear the sound of his zipper or the shuffle of him pushing his jeans back. suddenly he’s pulling his fingers out and you feel the round, thick tip of his cock pushing at your pussy.

“fuck, billy,” you gasp, arching your back just slightly.

“atta girl,” he purrs, “so wet and desperate for my cock, yeah?”

“yeah— ah!” your response is hijacked by a moan, result of billy snapping his hips forward and completely sheathing his girthy cock in your fluttering hole.

he groans, a vibrating and sexy sound. let’s you know you feel so so so good for him. he doesn’t go slow, a hand on the small of your back and the other on your hip as he bullies his cock deep in your walls. billy always makes you feel like such a desperate slut. knows he can use and abuse your hole whenever and however. and how the fuck could you say no? the stretch is fucking unworldly. his cock is a goddamn masterpiece. crafted by the gods themselves to help please. if there ain’t nothing else to live for, billy’s cock is all you need.

once he’s inside you, you’re fucking gone. cockdrunk in a second. his hands move to knead at your ass as he pummels into you. rough and reckless. so billy. reality slips, you’re not even thinking about how the two of you are in a public place. fucking so filthy, so rough where there’s nowhere to hide. if you get caught, you get caught and you don’t fucking care. both so zoned in on getting off.

your hips slightly ache from where they bounce against the edge of the dryer but the sensation of Billy deep in your cunt dulls any pain. his cock pulsing as it drags in and out of your fluttering walls. you squeeze him, want him buried so deep and dirty.

“that’s it, slut,” he groans, voice deep as it bounces around the drum of the deeper, “taking my cock like a good girl.”

you whine back, not able to do much else. there’s no way you could form sensible thoughts. you ache to tell him how fucking good it feels but it’s useless, would fumble out of your mouth like word soup because billy fucks you stupid.

it’s a fucking joke when he moves his hand around your hip to rub at your clit. his goal is to get you to cum as quick as he can, because once those skilled fingers start strumming against your clit, your legs are shaking and your voice is uncontrollable in the moans bellowing from you.

“you gonna cum for me?” he chuckles, circles firm and quick against your clit, “so easy. such an easy slut for me, ain’t ya?”

“billy…” you cry in a plea, a whiny and pathetic sound. you’re on the edge, you can see it. each little stroke of his fingers and each drag of his cock against your tight walls threatens to toss you over it.

“ya wanna cum?” he spits, fingers working faster, “cream all over my cock, be a good slut for daddy.”

that sends you. a deep breath and sinking over the edge you go, crying out in absolute ecstasy as his cock works you overtime. drags your orgasm out with his fingers not letting up. you’re dead weight after, billy’s hands moving to your hips to hold you up as he barrels his cock faster and faster into your sensitive cunt. he pulls back rather quickly, grabbing your hair and pulling you out of the dryer.

“on your knees,” he instructs and you obey, hands on his thighs to steady you as you stick your tongue out flat. eyes wide and needy as you gaze up at your boyfriend. a curl has fallen into the center of his forehead, blue eyes dark with lust as he fingers move to grip his cock, jerking it in quick and firm strokes. “that’s it, good girl, yeah…”

he busts, spilling cum into your eager tongue. you love the taste of billy’s cum. abnormally sweet for a guy whose diet consists of booze and red meat. and when billy cums, he doesn’t close his eyes. he stares down at you, his lips part and you can see the swell of his tongue against his lower lip as he moans. you swallow, licking your lips so you don’t miss any.

he reaches for the back of your hand, scratching at the back of your scalp as he smiles warmly down at you. after a beat of lovingly looking at each other, you both get dressed. you plant a sloppy kiss on his lips before moving to transfer the load from the washer into the dryer. billy sits on the chairs and lights up another cigarette.

“you’re something else, foxy,” he grins, cheeks flushed all pretty.

[bunnys-kisses]

the wolff's mouse

torger "toto" wolff

cw: smut/pwp, wife!reader, nicknames, drinking/drunk!reader, daddy kink, size kink, ditzy!reader, age gap (20s/50s), missionary, dirty talk, pet names

bunny says: this is for the server, folks!

the liquor was smooth through your body as you walked along the edge of the pool. you were all giggles as you tried to keep your balance.

"maus." you heard toto's voice as you were moved away from the pool against his chest.

you held onto the front of his white shirt and giggled. you looked up and smiled, "wolf-y." you tried to get up on your tiptoes to kiss him. forgetting that reality that you were in the middle of a pool party.

someone had too many sangrias and was a ditzy little drunk mess by the pool. toto almost found it adorable, if you weren't so close to the pool. he didn't want his little mouse to hit her head.

he cupped the back of your head for a moment and pressed your face to his chest. you whined a little in his shirt as the rush of being drunk raced to your head. poor little mouse.

"what are you doing, maus?" he asked as he pulled you further away from the pool and towards the patio chairs. he set you down and crouched down beside you.

"i wanted to swim." you chirped and kicked out your feet a little. which only made you devolve into giggles. you were painfully adorable.

you were dressed for the occasion, in a pastel yellow and dark blue printed bikini that happily showed off your curves to the attendees at the party. you could catch any man's attention, but then they'd have to deal with the death glare from mercedes' team principal.

toto took your hands and looked at you, "i don't think that is the best idea right now." he rubbed your knuckles for a moment as he looked down at your hands, "don't stand too close to the edge, liebling. you could get hurt."

you looked at him and giggled, "toto, you worry too much!' and linked your fingers with him playfully, "i'm right as rain."

toto looked at you, you very clearly were not 'right as rain', you were drunker than a sailor and you still had more in your cup. thankfully he got it on a nearby side table before you downed the entire time. he kissed your hands lovingly and said, "how about we go inside for a little bit." his tone was tender.

"but the party."

toto leaned up to kiss you on the lips, "i know you're the life of the party." he leaned in a little more to your ear and said, "but papa wants you to not be hungover. verstehst du mich, liebling?"

you pouted for a moment before you nodded your head and let toto help you out of the chair. he kept close to you as he brought you inside. thankfully most were outside, enjoying the italian summer sun.

but toto's poor maus had too much liquor and too much sun. he worried that you'd get a sunburn as he brought you through the summer house and up to the bedroom you were sleeping in for the week.

toto stopped you by the foot of the bed before he undid the strings of your bikini and let it fall off your body was easy. nothing was keeping them held to your body.

his poor girl, the tan lines were going to be interesting in a few days. he placed his hands on your bare hips and looked into your eyes. they crinkled when he smiled, "good girl." he rubbed circles into your hips with his thumbs, "i know you wanted to party more, but papa has to take care of you."

you pouted, "i'm not even that drunk. i could prove it!" you chirped pathetically. you were his little drunk princess today.

"and how would you do that, maus?" he asked as he looked down at you. he lingered over you like a tall shadow, he was almost a foot taller than you.

"i could suck your dick!" you smiled at him.

he looked at you and smiled, "i think i've spoiled you, haven't i?" he asked as he held your chin to keep looking up at him. he chuckled, spoiled you rotten, you think you can get whatever you want if you suck my cock?" he shook his head.

he couldn't believe he let his baby girl become so spoiled, thinking she could get her way if she just got him off. he put you down on the bed and got on top of you. his belt was the first thing to come off.

he quickly worked the belt around your wrists, making sure his little angel would stay still. with your wrists bound, he looked at your naked body. his hands ran up your sides which made you squirm.

"this is why i didn't want you in that bikini." he said with a shake of his head, his eyes glued to your form, "everyone was going to stare at you. the most beautiful woman they had ever laid eyes on." he curled closer to you and kissed at your face with such affection, "i didn't want my little wife to get hurt. you had so much to drink, maus. you need to listen to papa or else you could get hurt."

his tenderness made you squirm, you could feel the stickiness between your thighs grow from his gentle yet strong words. he wasn't throwing his princess over his lap and smacking the cheeks till they bruised. he just thought you simply didn't know better, you weren't used to things being in such abundance.

you were toto's smaller, weaker, more innocent, painfully younger wife. toto felt a sense of protection over you as he captured your lips in his own and his fingers found their way into his hair. you moaned into the kiss and could feel your heat radiating off your body.

when he pulled away, you reached for his white shirt and started to undo the small buttons. you were growing impatient and like the brat you were, you dropped your hands back onto the bed and whined, "daddy!"

he chuckled, and leaned back upright to get the shirt off of his body. once he got it and the white undershirt off, your hands roamed his bare torso.

your core throbbed as you whimpered, "daddy, c'mon. i've been good!"

he smiled down at you and let the articles of clothing fall off the bed into a heap on the floor. his little sunshine goddess, his little maus. there weren't enough words in any of the languages were spoke that would accurately describe how he felt about you.

he got out of his pants without your help and your gaze lingered on the bulge in his briefs. his cock was painfully hard, which meant that you'd be feeling the length of him deep in your cunt.

he was a shower for sure. uncut and heavy. even after all this time of having sex with him, it still was a tight fit. he once said that it was like trying to fit into a tight parking spot. when you grimaced at his joke, he simply threw your knees to your ears and made you see stars.

"do you like what you see, schatz?" he asked curiously, he grabbed your bound hands and made you touch his cock through his underwear. its impressive size still made you gulp as you felt it up.

you weren't happy to admit this, but another time you were drunk at a pool party, you happily chatted with either lewis or george (you couldn't remember) that toto was in possession of the "nicest vienna sausage" then burst into giggles before you staggered off to find your husband. all you knew is that both drivers couldn't look their boss in the eye for about two months afterwards. the knowledge of it all was just too much for them.

you nodded, "i do, daddy. i think it's gotten bigger."

he chuckled as he pulled his underwear down under his cock, it bobbed and you swallowed at the sight of it. he said to you as he reached in to pet your soft cheek, "it's only to keep up with your insatiable appitite, schatz."

you pouted, the buzz in your head was strong as you said, "i'm not that greedy!"

he gave you a look, a stern one as he said, "maus, don't lie. you know what happens to liars." he said his eyebrows at you and watched your shift uncomfortably. he could tell you were getting hot all over.

"i'm sorry, daddy."

he got his underwear off and onto the floor with the rest of his clothes. it felt like the rest of the world turned off, he couldn't even focus on the sounds of the party outside. the music and chatter came through the open windows, but he was so enraptured by your naked beauty under him.

his hands grazed along your sides as he watched you giggle. you squirmed a little bit, such a ticklish little girl. he leaned in to kiss you, he was knelt between your legs and his hands were groping your breasts.

the kiss was sloppy and messy, it made you feel hot all over. having your handsome husband lingered over you, his tongue inside your mouth. his cock stood at full attention, eager to sink into you. he rubbed up against you, his hard cock pressed against your stomach.

the prodding made you heart race before he pulled away and you stared into those beautiful eyes. you shifted a little bit, the pleasure and alcohol made your thoughts murky. you seemed to be driven by the sole purpose of reaching orgasm.

he grabbed you by the thighs and lifted them, you held the position as he got an extra pillow under your hips for leverage. he licked his lips at the sight of you.

"beautiful, little maus." he laughed, "schatz." his tone was glazed with affection as he got fully between your legs and rubbed his cock up against your pussy lips.

you whined and tried to cover your face with your bound hands. but toto was not having any of that. he pinned down back down to the bed and loomed over you. his hard cock in his other hand, "don't hide from me." he said, his voice tinged with more lust, "i want to see my beautiful wife's face when i am fucking her." his words were filthy, "i want you to remember this face for when i am away and you get so needy. needy little girl."

you heart hammered as he rubbed his cock up against your pussy, almost sliding right in. you squirmed a little in anticipation but toto kept you down.

"no, no." he said, "you stay still."

"but wolf-y." you pouted.

he shook his head, "behave." it left an ache in you that was soon filled by his cock easing itself into you. he watched you wince and waited for a moment for you to adjust because he sank the rest of the way in.

his mind went blank for a moment before he snapped himself out of it to continue to push his entire length into you. he had your legs wrapped around his waist. he loved the feeling of your soft skin against his. you looked divine, flustered and drunk but yearning for him.

a carnal ache, the kind that left your head spinning. pleasure left you choked up as your moans were sweet noises to his ears. his lovely wife. how'd he get so lucky.

he kept you pinned to the bed by his hands on your wrist and started to thrust. he used his grasp on you as leverage. his cock was snug in your tight cunt, a proper fit. he thrusted in and out of you and it left you breathless. he heard you airy moans as he bullied his cock into you.

you were just so painfully sweet. his ditzy little maus, the little thing that had him around your fingers. he gazed at you lovingly, going in for searing kisses. he hips bumped against you as you back arched off the bed. you didn't have the strength to get out of his grasp.

even at his age, he still was able to pin you down and fuck the daylights out of you. make you see stars when the pleasure washed over you. a few moans got caught in your throat which on spurred him on to fucking you hard.

the iron rod bed frame hit against the white wall of the bedroom. the afternoon light came through the windows. you were a sight to behold in the glow of the day. his poor angel, you were a little sunburned.

but it was alright, papa would take care of it. just as he took care of you in every other way. his kisses were delicate across your cheeks and collarbones, as opposed to the pace he was fucking you in.

it was oppressive and strong, it made your stomach tie in knots as you felt the beating your heart in your ears. he held onto you and bounced you on his cock.

your squirming only fueled the fire in his gut as he pushed his cock in you to the root. he made sure that you firmly remembered the feeling of him inside of you. your expressions, from the bit of pain to the immense pleasure only made the older man more aroused by you.

his words were dirty as he rutted against you, "do you like when i fuck you? when it feels so good? you like when i have you pinned to the bed and fucking you like an animal. there are people outside that want to see and talk to you, but instead you are too busy taking your husband's cock like the good girl you are." he kissed at your draw, they were wet and made you hot all over, "beautiful, girl." he purred, "you know exactly how to make me feel good. it's not your fault that you got so drunk, you were just handed glass after glass. silly little thing" he chuckled lowly as he left a nice hickey on your neck.

you were on cloud nine, letting your husband fuck you. you felt the roll of pleasure in your gut the harder he thrusts. you were lost in a sea of lust as you felt your walls grip around his cock. two halves of a perfect hole.

you panted wildly and you tried to hold onto him, but he had you by the wrists. you were pinned under him, legs wrapped around his waist as he thrusted into you.

his pace started to stagger and you felt the heat in your gut pool. you whimpered and squirmed as much as you could. and before you knew it, you felt the rush of climax consume you whole. your noises were cut off by them getting caught in your throat and your head was throbbing from the rush.

"maus." he purred.

"wolf-y." you replied, your tongue felt heavy in your mouth.

he pushed further inside of you, bending your back to drill his cock into you. you could taste the precum in the back of your throat. he fucked you with little abandon until he felt the heightened experience of orgasm.

he came in you, and you accepted it like the good wife you were. you whined his name as he slowed down. his poor girl was already so overstimulated. he wanted to go for a second round but you were fucked out. your hair was a mess, partially sun burnt with the alcohol still in your system.

"poor, maus." he cooed as he held his cock inside of you for a moment.

he then pulled out and rubbed his softening cock up against your pussy for one last feeling of your sex. you were blissed out, exhausted under him.

"my little mouse is done for the day?" he asked as he palmed your breasts, feeling the mass between his fingers.

you nodded slowly, "yes, daddy"

"well you rest now, maus. i'm going to see how our guests are doing. if you feel better, you may join us again. but no more alcohol, it's not good for a girl like you." he kissed the top of your head before he got out of bed to find his clothes.

you remained snuggled up naked with the blanket over your head, you peeked out from the blanket and got a good view of your husband's ass as he was bent over to pick up his briefs. you giggled to yourself before you kept an eye on him.

his little spoiled maus. <3

[finniestoncrane]

PREWAR COOPER STUFFS ❤️‍🔥 DESPERATELY needing some fluffy morning after/Sunday morning routine with his wifey 😩👏 him being VERY grabby and just an absolute horndog dkfnfnrk (he is down bad for reader)

Morning, Sunshine

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 1k hello post divorce cooper, please hit me up, i'll make you eggs (also post-divorce barb i know you're a baddie but that's just my type so i'll make you eggs too pls lemme make you eggs too...ANYWAY) but please this is so cute and i have made it gender neutral as you corrected so everyone enjoy being cooper's little chef and getting caressed by this hungover idiot 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: suggestive things, mentions of alcohol, angst

Cooper stumbled into the kitchen, his feet shuffling on the floor as though they were made of lead, unable to lift them any higher. He groaned as the light from the windows assaulted him, and you smiled without turning to him, offering a brief, hushed 'good morning'. He returned the greeting with a groan. His entire body felt weighed down, the ache of sleeping in one position all night, lacked out in a drunken stupor after he had pawed at you and attempted to fuck the lingering stress out of his body.

And now he was in his own kitchen, messy from the small gathering of friends from the night before, stressed once more and hungover as shit to boot.

But there you were, by the stove, the source of the wonderful smell that had woken him up and had him drifting from the sancutary of his dark bedroom to face the world. Even when he was hungover, or sick, or just too damn tired to accept reality, he did it anyway. Who knew how many more mornings there were for him to see? That looming threat, the dark secret he had to keep to himself, one not even Barb knew was the real reason for their divorce. The source of his agonies, but also, the reason he felt so inspired to wake up each morning and spend as much of the time he had left with you as possible.

"I wasn't expecting you out of bed any time beforeat least midday, Coop."

"Then you shouldn't have started cooking something so god damn delicious."

His voice grew closer as he made his way, instinctually, towards you.

"I'm sorry, did it wake you up?"

"It did, but there's nothing to apologise for."

He was behind you now as you stood in front of the burners, a pan in your hand, your signature omelette cooking over the heat, your grip wobbling a little as Cooper looped his arms around your body. Everything he did stole your attention, pulling your focus with his charismatic personality, the way he commanded a room the moment he entered. And it didn't help that he had begun to kiss at your neck, letting his lips drag along your prickling skin as he moved down to your shoulder, nuzzling back into you as he sighed. The satisfied moan on the exhale had your stomach tensing, eliciting a soft moan of your own in reply.

"You want me to make you something to eat?"

"Please, darlin'. If that isn't a bother."

"Never is for you, Mr Howard. You get a coffee and take a seat, I'll be right with you."

Once he was seated with his mug, the morning newspaper to the side of the place setting at the kitchen island, you turned from the stove to plate up the omelette for him. It was the first you had properly looked at him that morning, and you could feel your breath hitching as you took him in. Even in this state, bedraggled, skin greasy with a sheen of sweat, hair unkempt and slicked back in messy waves, his breath, which you could smell over the countertop, still tainted with the cocktails he’d been making the night before. Even with all of that, he was still the most handsome man you had ever laid eyes on. And those same eyes couldn’t help but fall to his chest, his robe hanging open, exposing his torso down to his navel.

You wondered if he’d bothered to find any underwear to put on before covering himself with the short robe when he’d stumbled out of bed.

“Oh, sweetheart. You made this for yourself.”

“You eat first, I’ll make one for myself just now.”

Cooper flashed you a grin, one you remembered seeing so often in press photos, at promotional events.

“You really are a doll, know that?”

You returned his smile, turning back to the stove as he ate a few bites of the omelette with a satisfied groan. Cooper took a sip of coffee, watching you over the top of the mug. Every day could be the last. He didn’t want to believe it, but it always hung in the back of his mind. He’d lost Barb to Vaut-Tec, lost Janey, at least partly, to the divorce. He’d lost his sense of security to the war, his work to the paranoia that had burrowed inside of him. You were all he had now, and intended to cling to you with everything he had. Holding your hand tight at the party last night, clutching your body in the bed as he fucked you, passionate, desperate. His fingers entwined in yours as you slept, then holding you in his arms, your body smooth and warm.

Cooper stood up from his chair, unintentionally quiet to the point where you didn’t even notice he had moved until he was right behind you again, pressing himself against you so tight that you could feel the beginnings of his erection pushing into you. With a firm hand, he took your wrist, guiding you to set down the pan, switching the stove off and turning you in a choreographed spin so that you were facing him, your chests together, eyes trained on one another.

“You got enough ingredients for another, right?”

“Uh… yeah? Why?”

“I just think it might be ruined by the time I’m finished with you.”

His hands slipped down from your lower back, cupping both of your cheeks as he raised his eyebrows in a silent, questioning plea. Every moment with you was precious to him, every inch of your body worth placing a kiss to, worth tasting and savouring. Why not make the most of your time together by making sure you were as close to each other, as pleasured and satisfied, as possible?

So, when you blushed, biting your lip and giggling, he knew you agreed, and he took your hand and pulled you back to the comfort of the bedroom with you, hoping to relieve himself of a little more stress.

[moonstruckme]

I went out with my friends yesterday cuz one of them threw a party and it was so much fun but omfg I'm so violently hung over can I pls get a fic with any of the boys and a hungover reader them just cuddling her but also being like I told u not to have that last drink....3 drinks ago

Thanks for requesting!

cw: mention of alcohol, hangover

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 443 words

Peter wants so badly to be noisy and obnoxious, but he’s quiet because he loves you. 

“Hey, bub,” he says near a whisper, crawling up beside you on the bed. “I think it’s probably time to wake up, don’t you?” 

Despite his best efforts with the blinds, insistent threads of golden afternoon light sneak in through the cracks, and you turn your face into the pillow as you moan. 

“Aw, I know.” Peter’s unable to keep the laughter out of his voice, pulling down the covers to rub between your shoulder blades. “My poor girl. Who did this to you, huh?” 

Your reply is muffled by both pillow and lethargy. “Shuddup.” 

His laugh comes out for real now. You squirm away from the sound, trying fruitlessly to burrow deeper into your pillow as Peter drops a kiss on your shoulder, bare where his t-shirt has slipped off. 

“I’ve got lukewarm water and painkillers,” he says enticingly. “Breakfast of champions.” 

Your hand emerges from beneath the covers, reaching for them. 

“Uh, no.” Peter poorly contains another chuckle as he leans away from your searching hand. “You’ve got to sit up to have it, sorry.” 

It takes time and effort, Peter helping you with a hand on your back, and when your eyes meet his amusement makes some room for pity. 

“Here you go, baby.” He holds out the water and pills. You rub your eyes before taking them, little flakes of crusted-on makeup falling onto the sheets. “Drink it all,” he says when you stop after the sip it takes to down the painkillers. “You’re dehydrated, that’s why your head hurts.” 

Your mouth puckers distastefully. “I’ll throw up,” you worry. 

“Small sips,” Peter agrees, kissing your shoulder rewardingly when you take another. You’re looking at him now, too, eyes watchful and expression stiff with some kind of indecision. “What is it?” 

You hesitate a second longer before asking, “Can we hug?” 

“Aw-w-w.” It stutters out of him on a laugh, and your face goes pouty as Peter slides his hands around your middle, hugging you sideways and resting his head atop yours. “Course we can, baby. You’re really feeling shitty, huh?” 

You make a pitiful sound, leaning into his touch. 

“Wishing you’d stopped after that fourth drink like I told you to?” 

Now your whine has more bite to it. Peter holds you tighter so you won’t leave, smiling as he kisses your hair. 

“That’s okay, my silly girl. Lucky you’ve got the world’s most forgiving boyfriend to take care of you, huh?” 

“It’d be nice,” you mutter, “if he were the world’s least gloat-y boyfriend too.” 

“Well, we can’t have it all, sweetheart.”

[miniwheat77]

Seductive. (Captain Price x Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, smut, p in v sex, rough sex, age gap, (let me know if I missed any)

(Summary): Reader takes some advice from a friend on base and seduces her Captain.

(This has been in my drafts for forever, I hope you like it.)

Your eyes narrow as you look upon her, very clear fake laugh leaving her lips as she places her hand on his shoulder. He doesn't notice, but you do. You can see the look in his eyes as she does, what she's doing. It's working. She walks away from him and makes her way over to you. You're sitting at a table in the mess hall, sandwich in hand.

“What are you doing?” You ask your only friend on the base you worked on. Her name was Katy, the only tolerable female on base. She might've been a little bit of a barracks bunny but you usually ignored that. She was nice and funny and you got along with her quite well.

“What?” She says. “You’re totally trying to seduce him.” You laugh. After witnessing her chatting up your commander. “Yeah? So?” Your eyes widen. “What the hell. You whore.” She shoves you. “Oh come on, don’t be such a prude.” She rolls her eyes. “Katy. You know you can’t have relations on base.” You chuckle. “What they don’t know won’t hurt em.” She smirks. “You’re not interested in anyone at all?” She asks. “No.” You say, confused. “Lame. I was going to tell you how to get what you want.” She smirks. You roll your eyes. “I’ll let you know if I ever need your expertise, but you know I’m leaving soon.” She scoffs. “I know. It’s bullshit, you’re supposed to stay here with me.” She pouts. “It’s only for 6 months and I’ll be back.” You chuckle.

You’d been recruited for task force 141, and you were leaving in a couple of weeks. She was very upset that you were leaving but you were excited for something new. After finishing up lunch, the both of you returned to your posts. You weren't sure how you got recommended to be in task force 141, you hadn't even met anyone apart of it besides the few time's you talked to Laswell, but it wasn't her task force. It was different and you weren't sure if you were ready for it.

The two weeks leading up to the day you were leaving, were crazy. Almost every single day Katy convinced you to go out, you spent almost 2 full weeks hungover at work. It was awful, but it was some of the most fun you’d ever had. The time seemed to drag on, you were nervous and excited at the same time for something different. You were waiting on a bench patiently for your helicopter to arrive, the one that'd be taking you away. Katy was sitting next to you. Talking to you before you'd inevitably leave. She was worried but she'd never show it. She was good at hiding her emotions. She had been through a lot before she entered the military, so she was good at concealment. When the helicopter arrived, she gave you a hug and you finished your goodbye's to the other few acquaintances you had on base. They were sad to see you go, and they were worried as well. 141 went on some crazy missions and they were worried about you. "Don't get dead." Katy smiles, you could see the hurt in her eyes.

She was upset when you left but she’d be okay. She had guys on base to keep her company while you were gone anyways.

The ride to the base task force 141 was on took quite a few hours. They were off in the middle of nowhere in Iran. Working toward eliminating Hassan Zyani. The Iranian terrorist.

When you arrived on base, it was pretty early in the morning. "Hi." A man smiles. He's attractive, very attractive. You smile and take his outstretched hand. Shaking it. "I'm Captain John Price. It's nice to finally meet you." He smiles. His accent takes you a little off guard, forgetting that this base is going to have Military from all over. "Lieutenant Y/N Y/L/N." You smile. He nods his head. "I've heard a lot about you. A lot about how sharp you are for your age." He smiles. "Really? I didn't know that people talked about me." You chuckle. "Oh they do. It's nice having you here Y/N, I'll show you around.” He spins around on his heels and you know you'll fit in just fine here.

Your first few weeks with 141 were busy. Nonstop missions, always up to something. If you weren’t out on a mission, you were inside of an office helping people out with research and all kinds of paperwork. You spent a lot of time with your Captain and Laswell. They enjoyed your company and your expertise with technology. Your relationship with each of the members of 141, and those in alliance with 141 were close knit. You got along so well with everyone right away and they took you in as one of their own. Joking and playing with Soap, but knowing he’d ring someone’s neck for you. Slight gestures that always made Ghost smile under his mask. Sharing sweets with him, laughing when he didn’t like it and would spit it out. Catching him smoking with his mask slightly lifted. Him threatening to kill you if you tell anyone. His eyes would darken and he’d glare if someone said something slightly aggressive to you. Playing small pranks on everyone with Gaz, he was like your evil twin. But the couple times Price got stern with you he was always there to help the situation. Usually a “take it easy cap, she’s new.”

But you didn’t really mind when he got stern with you. If you needed correction, you’d take the advice.

The only thing that really started to bother you, was the growing feelings you felt for your Captain. You didn’t figure he’d go after you, significant age gap, the job you both worked in. It just seemed impossible. You wondered if he was married but ended up asking if he had any kids and he said no, he’d never even been married. Your heart jumped. Literally wanted to beat out of your chest in excitement. He was single. Your only concern now was the significant age gap. If he didn’t mind, you definitely didn’t mind.

You spent many nights up late, daydreaming. You thought about the way he smelled, the way he has to taste on your tongue. The way his facial hair would scratch at the skin between your legs. You were groggy most days but managed to hide it. Your Captain always kept everything professional with you. He never gave you a reason to have such a growing crush on him despite his protectiveness. He was a little rough around the edges, raised his voice sometimes, very stern. You day dreamt about that too, how rough he could be. His calloused hands moving with the curves of your body. Sometimes you had to excuse yourself to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face, get him out of your head. But not even an ice bath would take away the growing heat you felt between your legs when you thought about him. You suffered like this for longer than you liked to admit. Longing stares at him during meetings. Constant concern about him on missions. It was getting a little dangerous how you felt about him.

You sat on the edge of your bed. It was pretty late at night. You were running out of options. You had one left, and you were growing desperate. With a sigh, you pull your phone out. Quickly dialing her number.

“Hey Katy.” You smile as she answered. “Y/N! Hi! How is everything?” She asks. “Everything is great, but I need advice.” You laugh. “Oh? With what?”

You take a deep breath, standing up and stepping further into your room to ensure nobody would hear you. “Do you remember when you said to ask you, ‘when I wanted to get what I want’ you remember that?” You say. She squeals through the phone. “You like somebody? You’re going to try to seduce them? You whore.” She laughs. “Yeah, if I told you who it was you’d probably freak.” She looks confused but you can’t see it. “What?”

“It’s my Captain.” She gasps. “Y/N! You little minx!” She laughs. “Just.. tell me how to do it.” You breathe. “Okay okay.” She laughs.

“First, start being friendly. When he makes a joke, put your hand on his shoulder, on his knee if you’re sitting next to him. You can fake a laugh, but don’t be obvious.” She says. “I’m listening.” You smile. “Your base isn’t that strict right?” She asks. “No?” She smiles on the other end of the line. “In the morning, before you put your uniform on, go out to get coffee. I’ve done it before in just a tank top and shorts. But you have to track his pattern so you know where he’ll be. Make sure he’s in the room, you don’t wanna seduce the wrong one yknow?” She laughs. “When you’re training, just wear a sports bra and shorts. Tight shorts. Ask him to help you train, and don’t be afraid to make some suspicious noises when you’re working out.” She smirks. “When you’re stretching, whimper. They like that.” You’re laughing. “You seem to know a lot about this.” You laugh. “Of course I do.” She rolls her eyes. You take a deep breath. “Start with those, and I’ll think of some more.” She giggles. “Okay. You’re a life saver.” After some more sly words from her, you talk a little more about everything going on. Once you’re done, you say your goodbyes and hang up.

The nervousness you felt in the morning after the conversation with her was almost too much to bare. You made your way into the mess hall, shorts and a tight tank top just like she said. You knew your Captain didn’t sleep all that well so he was always the first awake. You make your way into the kitchen, your eyes burned from being tired but you needed this. Needed him to pay attention to you. When you step into the kitchen, rubbing your eyes tiredly, his eyes nearly bulge out of his head. He has to stop himself from choking on his coffee. He had never seen you dressed like this before. He has to kick himself for acting like a horny teenage boy, it was pathetic. You don't notice anything different about him as you finish getting your coffee, mumbling a small 'good morning' to him.

Over the next couple of weeks, you do as she says. When he'd make you laugh in any way, you'd put a light hand on his shoulder or thigh if you were sitting next to him. You'd come out nearly every morning in something revealing. He didn't seem to show any interest in you which sucked. You started to think maybe he just wasn't interested in you, but after more conversations with Katy, she said to keep up and not let up quite yet. To keep doing it for a while. So you did. It didn't take much to do it anyways.

“Morning Captain.” You say tiredly. “Good morning.” He smiles. He breathes out. He didn’t expect this, the way you looked under your gear. “Why are you awake so early Ah?” He asks. “Didn’t sleep good. Was thinking about working out but Soap is usually my spotter and I know he’s not awake yet.” You sigh. You laugh, sitting across from him at the table. You needed to try something else, so why not this? John perks up. “I could spot you if you need help.” He breathes. He’s trying not to sound too eager. “Oh I’d hate to ask you to do that..” you say innocently. “Oh, it’s no problem. I don’t mind.” He smiles. “Okay. I’ll go get changed and I’ll meet you in the gym?” He nods his head. “Sounds good sweetheart.”

You walk quickly to your room, changing into an even more revealing outfit. You wait around in the gym, doing your usual workout routine. When your Captain comes in, he freezes when he sees you. Sports bra, even tighter shorts. He breathes out, trying to collect his thoughts. Was he really this deprived? Thinking this way about you?

He sets all of his belongings down and makes his way over to you. “Ready?” He asks. Standing over the bench press. You nod your head. "You've stretched already right?" He asks. You nod your head with a smile. You lay down and get adjusted onto it. You grasp the bar, lifting it off of the rack and beginning to lift it up. “Let me know when it gets to be too much.” He says. You nod your head trying to breath through it. Katy’s words echo in your ear.

You start small, small breaths of air leaving your lips, and you get a tiny bit louder, very small moans escape your lips and you don't notice anything at first but as your whimpers got louder, breaths of air leaving your lips with each raise you do, you finally catch it. John stepping back. Having to adjust his hardening cock. The tightening he felt was uncomfortable and he couldn’t take it. You notice this action, having to stop yourself from smiling. It was fucking working.

Katy you devil.

You hang up the bar, struggling a little as you did so. “Did good Y/N.” He smiles. “Thank you, I’m trying.” You laugh. Your body had a slight sheen of sweat. He could see the way your cleavage looked. Beads of sweat. You probably tasted so sweet, he wanted to run his tongue along your skin. He has to shake the thoughts away. So dirty. It was fucking working. You were so surprised. John works out alongside you for only a few minutes longer before excusing himself to go do 'work' which you knew wasn't true. He was rock hard and needed relief, or at least to get away from you. The moment he leaves the Gym, you're picking up your phone to give Katy a call.

When she picks up, the first words out of your mouth are "It fucking worked!" to which she laughs. She asks if you hooked up but of course you say "Not yet." following this up by telling her what had happened with the Gym.

"Maybe you should surprise him in his office if that's where he went. Might walk in on a little something." She laughs. You laugh, shrugging it off. After a little more conversation, you make your way to his office. Maybe she was right. Maybe you might. As you approach you don't hear anything. But you think, he might hear your footsteps and it would be awkward for you to walk away, it'd seem suspicious. So without thinking you come up with some kind of lie and walk right into his office. Your breath leaves your body, a gasp leaving your lips. He gasps out, eyes going wide as he rushes to cover himself up. "Fuck, I'm so sorry." You gasp, rushing to cover your eyes. "I'll.. I'll come back later." You mumble. You step out and he groans in frustration, he needed to catch you before you got away.

He scrambles up to follow after you. Opening up his office door. “Wait- Y/N!” He calls after you. You stop immediately, turning around. “Come here.” He breathes. You nod your head immediately, following him back into his office. “I.. what did you need darling?” He asks. His face is blushing red, and he slicks his hair back, he hadn’t even put his hat on. “I.. I was…” you pause for a second. He’s standing right in front of you, hard. Little beads of sweat on his forehead. You glance down, backing up into his office door and closing it behind you. “I was going to ask if you needed any help. But I guess you answered my question.” You smile. His eyes widen at how forward you’re being, but he’s not going to deny this. He’s breathing hard, he seems nervous.

He takes a step forward and smashes his lips against yours, pushing you back into the wall behind you. He’s got a tight grip on you as he kisses you, teeth knocking against yours with the force of his lips moving with yours. He reaches for the shorts you still have on, pushing them down your legs. Once you’re bare, he lifts you up by your thighs, walking you over to his desk and sliding some of his paperwork off to set you down onto it. “Such a fucking temptress.” He breathes. He leans into you and you hold onto him by his neck, kissing him again. He’s got his hand wrapped around your lower back, hips rubbing into yours. The seam of his pants is stimulating you, making you moan out. He unbuttons them, unzipping them and pushing them low enough to expose his cock. Your eyes widen slightly at him. He spits in his hand, lowering his hand to slide it over your hole, earning a gasp from you. He slides his cock right into you, filling you completely full in one thrust. He clamps a hand over your mouth as a cry is about to leave your lips. “Stay quiet for me darling.” He chuckles. He holds it there as he begins fucking you, your body lurching with every hard thrust he takes. He raises your thighs higher up on his hips, pushing you further back into the desk, until the cold wood is pressed right up against your back. You clutch the edge of it, trying your hardest to stay quiet as he hammers his hips into yours.

“Been such a fucking tease-“ he grits his teeth. Holding onto your thighs. “Walking out there in basically nothing in the morning.. wearing those tight clothes- fuck.” He tilts his head back. Groaning out. “I didn’t think it’d work.” You look up at him, lazy smile on your lips. “You seduced me?” He smirks. You bite your lip, staying quiet. He snorts. “Bad girl hm?” He rubs at your clit with his thumb, and you tilt your head back once again. “Bad, bad girl.” He growls. Your knuckles are turning white with how hard you’re holding onto the desk, a death grip as he pounds you. He pushes a hand down around your throat, pushing down on you lightly. “You didn’t have to work too hard at it baby, just didn’t think you’d go for an old man like me.” He chuckles. “Oh… you have no idea.” You smile. You bite your lip lightly, gripping his wrist. He grits his teeth, he’s getting close. He draws his hand back, squeezing your breast, earning a whine from you. “Rub your clit.” He breathes. You look up at him, raising your hand. “Gonna show you how good I can make you feel.” He breathes. He pulls you closer to him, holding your thighs at a good angle. Instead of full thrusts, he starts grinding his cock into you perfectly. He rubs right up against the spongy spot inside of you and a cry leaves your lips.

He wants to tell you to quiet down, but he doesn’t care who hears anymore. You’re his, all his. “Oh my god-“ you cry out, letting your head rest back on his desk. “So tight on me sweetheart.” He grits his teeth. He keeps the steady pace, and your legs shake slightly as he pushes you closer to your high. “I- I’m gonna cum Captain.” You breathe. He smiles, “cum for me baby, that’s a good girl.” He growls. “Keep rubbing your clit.” He breathes. He’s right there too, praying you’ll cum before him. You tilt your head back, body lurching forward as you reach your high, and once he knows he’s ridden it out for you, he starts thrusting again. It only takes a couple until he’s spilling into you with a groan. You’re breathing hard as he helps you up, standing between your legs still.

“You’re a bad girl you know that?” He laughs. You smile. “Just for you though, Captain.”

“Good. Because I’m going to keep you to myself.” He laughs.

This was just the start of something scandalous.

[diejager]

Hello, i see that you're now taking requests, if i may ask, could you continued your human reader x hybrid COD men, please? I dont have any specific idea about the lore, i just want to see more of their interactions. If you're not mind or bussy of course, regardless, thank you!

Only Human pt.4

Pairing: Monster TF141 + Horangi & König x reader

Cw: wound/injury, fussing, overprotective behaviour, sneaking out, drinking, hangover, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 2,9k Note: I wrote this on and off so some parts might not make any sense… just uh.. sorry in advance. And I’m sorry for taking so long!!

Only Human masterlist

You were ashamed to admit it, but you liked their attention, the fussing and careful scurrying around you. You liked having them put their best into caring for you, big hands gentle and small hands meticulous for you, every aspect that made them so big and dangerous mellowed down to the danger of a small pup, harmless and adorable —they clung to you like bright-eyed and lost pups anyway, especially Soap, tapping into his inner wolf and acting as one more often than he did as a man when you got soft and cuddly. They were careful around you when you were wounded, you were human while they were hybrids with strength rivaling an army. You were slightly bothered that you couldn’t treat yourself, having a fellow medic patch you up with skilful and steady hands. 

You shot her a pained smile, bordering on a wince, and she laughed, her whole body wracked with laughter when you told her your supposed embarrassing story about how you got shot by sheer chance from people who didn’t even know how to hold a gun correctly. She was like an older sister to you, more experienced and face wrinkled from exhaustion and stress, long nights in the infirmary did little for the complexion. She talked you through the process despite you adamantly swearing that you knew it by heart from reciting it over and over for the men you worked with (she knew, but who was she to look a gift horse in the mouth when the occasion to tease her younger coworker?).

König sat you through all the hissing and teeth grinding you did, biting your lip until it bled to stop yourself from making too much sound, it graced König with little whimpers and groans that he wished were from another occasion. He held your hand, feeling your smaller one wrapped around his palm, fingers slipping between his and your dull nails sink into his knuckles, the skin dried and cracked from his lack of care. And when you started grumbling lowly about knowing how to care for the few stitches she gave you and making sure you didn’t get an infection or pull them, but she pushed on, ignoring both your annoyed grumbling and König’s amusement. 

When she was done, you were free to leave when the drip emptied it’s saline into your body, a little boost or recharge depending on how you looked at it until you showered and went to bed. Saline might help tide the nausea and confusion, but without true rest, you wouldn’t heal properly. You gave it half an hour or so until it stopped, giving you ample time to relax into König’s broad figure, his body moulding to fit yours. You slumped into his chest, back melting into the warm arms that wrapped a round your, careful about the needle and your freshly-wrapped thigh. He was warm and tender, a hand smoothing circles on your good thigh, coaxing you to close your eyes in exhaustion and pain. Your body burned despite the numbness and heaviness in your limbs, your nerves fried by the lingering effect of adrenaline, hungover from it and a throbbing wound.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to rest your eyes a bit, seeing that König had no intention of moving from his spot as your big, big teddy bear. Afterwards, you’d get something to eat after a relaxing and cleansing shower, it was well deserved at this point. You wondered if Horangi or Rudy cooked you something, they’ve always had such a meticulous hand in cooking, your rumbling stomach agreed with your thoughts, mouth almost salivating at the though of food. 

“We’ll get you something to eat after, ja?” You felt his shoulders shaken with quiet laughter, hearing your stomach growl embarrassingly loudly for a room without any audience.

“I’d like that.”

Price gave you the next few days off, letting you spend your hours of rest doing whatever you liked, be it read, laze around or sleep. You couldn’t do too many physical activities without affecting your wound, too much pressure or movement could aggravate it, break your stitches and force you into a longer down time when you could get fixed up faster and get back in action much faster if you didn’t play with it. 

You used your first day following whoever you stumbled into first, limping your way around the base until you found them running drills, once through an obstacle course with it’s walls, car tires, mud-covered crawls, the ropes and the many poles they had to scale or slide. It was a separate course built for hybrids, who’s bodies were more resilient that any of their parents, built for battle and triumph, but it was placed away from the others, the instilled fear of hybrids still so present in modern days. Despite being human, you liked training with them, passing the same course they did, you did so in need of being thought trustworthy, reliable and strong. 

And since you sat out on the drill, they got competitive, snarling and growling at one another, teeth snapping and butting heads in a show of strength. It reminded you of bucks showing off their broadness, the strength and power they had over other bucks —competitors to breed. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer hilarity of seeing them hiss and snap at each other without touching or sabotaging, like little puppies fighting for one toy, which you figured would be you at the end of this squabble. 

You couldn’t remember who bested the rest, but it was amusing to watch them run through the obstacle twice, sweating, panting and gasping, knowing full well that there were other things to do after this course. You limped along them, Gaz’sarm wrapped around your waist on the way to the shooting range where you’d - once more - watch them train their aiming and work out the kinks of a new rifle. He sat you against the wall and left you to the others while he got his rifle from the armoury, asking for a second pair of earmuffs to cover your ears. 

You watched on in amusement as they scramble to best the others, testing the new rifle they were given. The knock back on the weapon was worlds stronger than the usual one, but the shot was proportional to it, stronger and packing more power that dented the cement behind it with each blow. It was a powerful gun that would be used by hybrids and monsters operators like TF141 and KorTac, used as powerful breaching weapons or in higher case scenarios. To balance the strength of it, the sound was as loud as an explosion, a booming sound that rang in your ear despite the plugs that sat protectively over your ears. Fortunately, this session lasted much shorter than the prior one and you were left to do whatever you wanted while they did their weights.

Every day was a repetitive cycle, watching them train and doing something to spend your time. On the first day, you spent the time resting, body lagging behind the others and sloppily limping around the base with your eyes drooping on occasions and your body heavy with exhaustion. You figured that you’d watch any show on the rec room’s flat screen, mindlessly watching scene fly by without absorbing it in and hoping you’d fall asleep after a while. And you did, your lids closing when you felt something heavy cover you and warm bodies wrapped around you in a strong and comforting hold.

When König went to search for you, he found you cuddling up with Ghost and Alejandro, their bigger bodies slumped into you to cover you in their warmth. Alejandro had his arm over your shoulder, wrapping around Ghost’s back, and Ghost gripped his waist, arm slipping under you to touch Alejandro, one man pulling the other closer to squeeze you between them. It looked so cozy that König was almost jealous that he couldn’t join in, but he wouldn’t wake you up from your slumber, the dark bags beneath your eyes screaming your exhaustion. 

You had more energy the next day after spending many hours sleeping and catching up on it. You were practically on your toes the moment König knocked on your door, here to pick you up before breakfast. He stared at your wide smile and jovial expression, slightly confused about your unending mirth. While he wanted to stay with you, he had to leave you under Gaz and Rudy’s care, hoping that the two could help you spend that accumulated energy. 

There weren’t many things you could do with a limp, anything labourous or physically draining was impossible wihtouthurting your leg. That left them watching you play around with Rudy’s cadejos after you begged so prettily, flashing him an adorable pout and big, doe eyes until he caved. You were rolling on the carpeted floor, laughing and cackling at the dogs, fingers carding through the white cadejo’s mane, scratching the sensitive spot behind his floppy ears. You switched between the black and white dogs, giving them an equal amount of affection, making kissing faces and ridiculous sounds that had Gaz and Rudy chuckling softly, smiles bright on their lips. 

König was glad to see you less animated, resting your head on Gaz’s lap, nuzzling against his warm hand, nosing the calloused crease of his palm, and your feet crossed over Rudy, toes occasionally curling when his fingers skimmed over a sensitive patch of skin. You grumbled in your sleep, falling in and out of consciousness, lashes fluttering until they settled, arms swung around Rudy’s cadejos like you would with plushies, but with big and dangerous monsters. König thanked them for watching you, eyes softly admiring the trio before him, petting the dogs’ perked up heads, running over their ears and ruffling their fur. When he went to pick you up, you let out the smallest whine, unhappy about being moved from your comfortable spot between everyone. 

The next two days were spent cuddling in a restless pile of wolf and tiger, stuck between two attention seeking shifters, Soap loudly whining and demanding attention, his tongue lolled out and panting loudly, unlike Horangi’s calm and subtle way of getting your affection, rubbing his body against yours and wrapping his tail around your forearm. It was a push and pull, one bark here and one hiss there, two big bodies pushing and backing up around you while they rubbed heads and pawed at your good leg. König and you got a good laugh out of it before he had to leave, his desk calling his name and the mounting load of paperwork needing his signature. 

You eventually found yourself unable to move, limbs locked between those of striped and brown paws, their tensing and flexing arms, thick cords of sinewy muscle locked together in a mess they called a cuddle pile. Pulled from whatever you could have done and stuck in a warm and soft pile that shook and shuddered, Horangi’s soft purring and Soap’s low growls coaxing you to sleep. Eyes closing under the gentle vibration and watchful gaze, you dozed off without, blissfully unaware of two big, blinking pair of eyes that glared at anyone who made too much noise (poor Rudy got the scare of his life) when they wanted to get a drink or a quick snack from the room.

You woke up on someone’s back, slumped shoulders moving in a slow trot, furred paws choking out every step to your room with a Tiger beside you and König right behind you, his blue eyes squinted gleefully. It was all you could see of the smile that certainly curled the corners of his lips beautifully, a tender curl of scarred and jagged tissue to show his affection. You snuggled further into the mass of warm bodies, slept comfortably under caring and protective gazes that kept you safe - safer - that night.

Finally, seemingly missing the guiding presence of your captain, you had cheekily convoluted a day to sit in Price’s room with König’s help, leading you with a hand on your lower back after you insisted on walking. You were adamant that you could walk, frustrated and bored out of your mind that you couldn’t even walk around the base when all that you felt was a harsh pinch, stretch and ache of the stitched wound, the skin around it swollen and tender, and a bit of numbness in both your legs from the lack of use, being swiped off your feet and carried around for days. You limped your way into Price’s office, wearing a grin so wide it almost hurt before you thanked König with a hug, wrapping your arms around his and struggling to the couch pushed against the wall, all under Price’s arched brow and inquisitive gleam. 

“Company for the old man,” was all you’d given him, trying your luck with the grouchy captain that was often glued to his desk signing papers and pushing plans through.

While he made calls here and there, you helped read through the many reports he received from this base and the others working alongside him for the international ground, summarising them in shorter and informative pieces, a quick read of a few dozens of pages down to one or two. While working all day, you both managed to shrink the pile to half it’s original size, leaving him things only he had jurisdiction to sign and write up and you the more trivial affairs. König helped you around the base to supper, a solid arm for you to lean on when your thigh pained you too much to keep going, hissing under your breath at the stinging pain. He fussed about it, quick to pick you up and rush you to the infirmary to have it check despite it being mild and dry, stitch still intact and swelling smaller. 

Then you got sick of it, tired even, of all the fussing and overprotective behaviour. The constant looming over your shoulder, the fretting tone when they spoke to you and the constant strain on their face to not frown or wince at your grunts and hisses, it all annoyed you to the point of exhaustion. You felt as if the tables were turned, where you used to chase after them, med kit clipped to your hip and reminding them of their weekly checkups with you, you were now on the receiving end, stuck limping away from eight big and very worried hybrids. 

It almost made you feel bad for being so insistent as their medic, but they had this horrid habit of hiding away to lick their wounds despite the need of sutures or cleaning, seemingly gaslighting themselves about the severity of it. You took it better, letting them pamper and spoil you until the end of the third week: being picked up rather than walking, being fed rather than eating and being entertained rather than left alone. You were always - always - under watch in case you —what? Reopened the now closed wound? Ripped yourself a new hole when the skin had nearly closed completely? 

It was sore and sensitive, it was neither bleeding nor gaping. While you understood their concerns - as the medic of the TF- you hated the ceaseless surveillance. You’d ranted about it with your nurses, other medics that stayed on base and worked under you as aids and spare hands, and they listened feverishly whenever you were left alone, trusted by the hybrids who were acquainted by the many visits to keep you company on their own times. 

And their solution to your plight? To sneak you off base and into the familiar pub you spent your days. The girls helped you move around without your crutch, all huddled around the back of the pub with drinks and fries, chatting and laughing loudly in your drunken haze. The first round went down as easily as the second and third one, jumping from one subject to the other, random quips here and funny remarks there. You were a chatty crowd, and it didn’t help that most of you were drunk, already having your fifth or sixth beer, stumbling around and slurring your words. 

Their quickly made escape hadn’t lasted long though, perhaps an hour or two before any of the men started worrying and launched a search for you; and eventually, they did. They found you fumbling with your stuttered words, lids heavy as you stared back at Price’s exasperated frown. He sighed and mumbled lowly, the crowd around you parting as he moved in, his hands pulling you against him to leave. His hands were warm, soft despite the coarseness of his pads, lulling you to twist and turn against his chest, arms wrapping around the corded muscles of his back and nuzzled the ashy scent that lingered under his jaw with a sleepy groan.

You swore and damned the world. The lights were too bright, every sound too loud and your body too sluggish to do anything but slump against the soft couch of the TF’s rec room, stomach down and face buried between your arms. Someone was laughing - two or three voices - at your spitting words, hungover from last night and mind feeling heavy. Price was berating your for your reckless act, mindful of the loudness of his voice, keeping it low and quiet, nearly a whisper to your clogged ears. 

“Never doing that again,” you groaned, eyes squinted to keep any light out of your pulsing eyes, “Fuck.”

Price sighed. You somewhat regretted sneaking off, the guilt adding pain to your headache for worrying them so much.

“Sorry, Cap. I’ll just- ask next time.”

“If there’s a next time.”

He was angry.

“Yes, sir.”

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[cozage]

Coza! congrats on 2K followers. I like your smuts and i don't know what. idea I want.CouldI request for the Option 1? Reaction of Luffy + ace + Zoro + sabo + taking care of you when your sick.

I am actually very sick today so this one was nice to think about :) 

Characters: gn reader x Luffy, Ace, Zoro, Sabo CW: I didn’t proofread this forgive me for errors   Total word count: 860

In Sickness and Health

Luffy

He is worried sick about you. He spends the whole morning just trying to get you to laugh. 

He tells jokes, makes funny faces, and plays pranks on Zoro. Anything he can think of to get you smiling and laughing.

Sometimes he succeeds in getting you to laugh, but it quickly turns into a coughing fit, so he eventually gives up on the laughing endeavor. 

Instead, he climbs into bed with you and pulls you flush against his body. He holds you and whispers sweet nothings into your ears to lull you to sleep. 

He wipes the sweat off your brow and rubs your face with a cool rag when you get hot. Even when you're asleep, he still does it. 

When it’s time to eat, he doesn’t ask for your food. It’s probably one of the first times in his life that he hopes there are no leftovers. He knows you need the food to get strong. 

And when you finally get out of bed, he bounces with joy, excited to resume his normal routine with you again. 

Ace

Ace doesn’t know what to do when he wakes up and you’re the warm one in the bed. So he runs to get Marco. 

“They're fine,” Marco says. “It’s just a fever. It will pass.”

“Can’t you just heal them?!” Ace whispered, looking at you nervously. 

“With little things like this it does more harm than good. Let their body fight it. If it’s still bad in 24 hours, come back to me.”

Ace is so worried he doesn’t eat. He doesn’t leave your side. He had tried to cuddle up to you, but you had kicked him away. 

Now he sits on the floor beside the bed, his hand outstretched and intertwined with yours as you sleep. 

He only wakes you to drink water and to eat. Even though it’s the last thing you want, he makes you consume something to keep your energy up. 

After a few hours, he still hasn’t moved from his spot, and you finally allow him to rejoin you in bed. The heat is still miserable, but at least he’s a comfy pillow. 

The next night your fever finally breaks. And though you’re still miserable, at least he knows you’re going to be okay. 

Zoro

Zoro was surprised that you weren’t out on the deck by mid morning. You hadn’t had a particularly late night, so it strikes him as strange. 

As he opens the door to your room, you groan and roll away from the light. 

He barks out a laugh. “That hungover? I didn’t even see you drink!”

“Migraine,” you moan, pressing your hands to your temple as you speak. 

“Oh.” Zoro's voice instantly drops several octaves. “What can I do?”

“Just come lay here with me.” You stretch out an arm to him, beckoning him into bed. 

He has no option but to join you, his strong arms immediately wrapping around you and flexing against you. You feel safe in his arms, and slip into unconsciousness immediately. 

When you finally wake up, the sharp stabbing has left, but Zoro still has you firmly in his arms. 

“Are you hungry? Do you-“

“Shower,” you cut him off with your own words. “I’d really like a shower.”

So he leads you to the bath house and he gingerly washes your hair and your body as you keep your eyes closed, trying to minimize the effects of your migraine. 

When you finish in the shower, he silently takes you back to your room and the two of you lay around for the rest of the day, quietly talking or sleeping or just enjoying each other's company. 

Sabo

“Soup?” He whispered, cracking the door open just a tad as he held a bowl.

“How’d you know?” You groaned, throwing a pillow over your head. 

He laughed, deciding not to tell you how it was almost noon. He knew you weren’t always an early riser, but you were only in bed at this time if you were sick. 

“I called out, so we can-“

“Sabo!” You cried. “You shouldn’t have called out!”

“But you’re sick.” He held out a book. “I got you a new book and everything.”

You hummed in delight, taking the book from him and setting it down on the nightstand. 

“Do you want to be alone, or can I join you?”

You really didn’t want another body in the bed with you while you were feeling so gross. But you also didn’t want to be alone. 

“Can you just stay in the room?” You asked. 

“Let me grab some work, I’ll be right back.”

He worked quietly at his desk in your room, only taking breaks to fetch you water or food or anything else you would ask for.

And you fell asleep to the quiet scratching of his pen, sleeping well in the fact that he would never leave you alone when you needed him. 

[c-o-t-o]

Veiled Whispers - Zayne (Part 1)

Author: c-o-t-o

Character: Zayne x fem reader

CW: 18+ only, sexual content/smut, explicit language, drunkenness, dubcon, teasing, bdsm (some CWs apply to other parts)

Misc: ~1.7k words, Part 1. This fic is supposed to take off where the 5 star memory ends with Zayne.

About: After falling asleep to Zayne's kisses, you wake back up to him taking more care of you. Zayne drinks more than he realizes and starts making moves.

*Do not remove info or credit from posts when reblogging or sharing!*

You wake up on the couch, vision a little bit blurry and struggling to focus. You look over into the kitchen and see Zayne cooking. What time is it?

“Zayne? What are you doing?” You ask while rubbing your eyes. How long had you been asleep after he kissed you and let you fall asleep on the couch?

“Cooking.” He replies simply. You look at the table in front of you and reach out to grab the small bottle of wine that you were gifted to sip a little more, and notice that it's almost empty.

“Did you…drink this wine? I thought you didn't want any.” You pout and swirl around the remaining wine in the bottle before taking a small sip and savoring the flavor. It was very sweet, almost like a dessert wine. That's why it was so delicious to have, and hard to stop drinking.

“After you fell asleep and left me alone by myself, I got curious. I tasted the wine and did end up liking it. I see now, it's very good.” Zayne seems to be stir-frying something and it smells delicious. You end up finishing the little bit of wine that's left in the bottle and get up to get rid of it. You walk over to see what Zayne is cooking, and see that he is stir-frying some noodles with meat and vegetables. Your stomach growls when you realize that you hadn't really eaten in a while since the banquet ended.

Realizing that you and Zayne are about to have a nice quiet meal together, you get excited and set the table. You light a small candle in the center, set the dishes and utensils, and pour a glass of wine for each of you from Zayne's bottle that he was gifted and hadn't drunk from yet. Sitting at the table, head in your hands, you look up at him giddy as he serves you both your food.

“It's not good to go to bed hungry, you'll wake up feeling even worse. I suspect you'll be hungover tomorrow, so at the very least, you shouldn't also be hungry. Enjoy." He says, motioning to your plate. Still feeling somewhat drunk, you happily oblige and start eating.

“Zayne, this is delicious. How did you make this? I didn't even know that I had these ingredients in my fridge." You say between bites. The flavor was perfect, the meat tender, and the vegetables still crunchy. If he wasn't there to feed you, you probably would have just rummaged through your snacks and finished a bag of potato chips or something before falling back asleep on the couch.

“Well, I…” Zayne somewhat bashfully covers his mouth with his hand and looks away momentarily. "You don't realize where we are, do you? For a hunter, it's not very good to be unaware of your surroundings.”

You feel your face turning red as you stare at Zayne eating. Looking around, you suddenly realize you're at Zayne's house. You had been there many times, so drunk you didn't even remember that you were briefly home before falling asleep. Zayne tells you how he didn't feel right leaving you drunk at home alone, so he brought you to his place to keep an eye on you.

You enjoyed seeing this side of him, it wasn't often that he took care of you in a non-medical sense. Plus, you don't know when you'll ever get a home cooked meal from him again, so you savor every bite. Especially because he could have just left you at home and went his separate way. Thinking about how he had to have carried you out of your house to his car, and into his house… it made your heart melt and your longing for him grow even more.

You and Zayne continue to finish your dinner, talking about random things like work and the banquet, enjoying your wine between bites of food. At the end of the meal, the alcohol hits you once again. You hazily look up at Zayne, who is sitting there across from you, staring off into space. You think how it's so unusual to see him so unfocused, almost in a trance-like state.

“Zayne? You okay…?” You ask, moving your face into his line of vision so that he's looking at you. His eyes move to meet yours, when you think you detect the slightest hint of red on his cheeks.

“I… I had wine with dinner…” his voice trails off.

“Yes? And?” You ask confused. You thought it was pretty obvious that you were both drinking the wine that you brought home from the banquet.

“It's just… I had forgotten I already drank wine when you were asleep on my couch. I-” Zayne rubs his eyes while his head sways a bit. "I don't drink often, so when I do, alcohol tends to take effect fairly quickly.” Zayne’s speech is a bit slurred. You giggle and look back at him with a heartfelt smile, your chest aching with longing for the man in front of you who was always just out of reach. “Or, I might just be tired. It has been a very long day, and I'm still awake taking care of you at this time of night. Yes, I'm sure now, I believe I'm just tired.” Zayne tries so hard to convince you, or more likely himself.

You move your fingers over towards his hand and rest them on his. Zayne looks over at you with his head drunkenly tilted, looks down at your hand holding his, and back up at you. He quietly chuckles to himself, but you can see his eyes smiling, a drunken twinkle glistening in them. The blush on his face starts to redden, as well, making your heart flutter.

“I'm really glad I'm here, Zayne." You confess. “We don't get time together like this very often." You find that you've started subconsciously rubbing the back of his fingers with yours, almost in a self-soothing way.

With all sense of restraint gone from the alcohol, Zayne suddenly jerks his chair back, scraping the floor loudly. You jolt and sit upright in response. He stands up abruptly, walking over to you, and grabs your face with both of his hands. He stares so deeply into your eyes that, for a moment, you swear he could probably read your thoughts.

“I need you. Right now." Zayne says quietly and deeply, slightly slurring his words. “Come with me." He demands, starting to walk away from you. When you hesitate, confused about what just happened, he somehow whips around (you assumed with how drunk he is that he would have stumbled after doing that) and picks you up bridal style. Zayne holds you up like it's nothing, and you can feel his rigid arms and body against you. He brings you into his bedroom and nearly throws you down onto his bed.

Zayne tries to play it cool, but you see him slowly coming apart in front of you. He looks down at you on his bed, his hair falling over his eyes. He keeps trying to comb his hair back with his fingers, but it's no use. Eyes locked onto you, Zayne falls to his knees on his bed, and begins to slowly crawl over you. He needs you, and he can't fight off the urges any longer. Zayne after too much alcohol is a Zayne that becomes starved for your touch. And he WILL get what he wants, no matter how hopeless he may end up looking. To him, it almost doesn't matter if he doesn't look cool, calm, and collected anymore, as long as it means satisfying his desires. In the end, it'll be a win for him, anyway.

Zayne holds himself up above you now, looking down at you so directly. Not used to seeing him so lustful and forward, you look away bashfully.

Zayne grabs your chin and pulls it so that you're looking back at him. You hear him swallow hard, followed by a slight pant while he tries to catch his breath.

“Be a good girl for me, won't you?" Zayne whispers with a voice so deep that it vibrates through you. He leans in to kiss you, but stops inches away from your lips. “Doctor's orders."

Your face blushes HARD. And you immediately feel a burning sensation between your thighs. Zayne moves in closer and closer to your lips, still holding your chin. He gets so close that you can feel his breath on your lips… when he stops, chuckles, and pulls away.

You can't help but whimper out loud, fully expecting that he was going to kiss you on the lips. Slightly annoyed from the tease, you pout.

“Doctor's orders? I thought you were only ‘Doctor Zayne’ when we were in the hospital. You said you're just ‘Zayne’ otherwise." Your eyebrows narrow in frustration, your heart palpitations turning to heartache as you want nothing more than for him to actually kiss you.

Zayne lets your chin go, but runs his fingers through the back of your hair, fist tightening and grabbing your hair slightly. He pulls your head up towards him, making you gasp out loud.

“You’re in Zayne's house now. Or have you already forgotten? Under my roof, you'll follow my rules, including my doctor's orders.” Zayne slurs, but still with a hint of sharpness in his words. He smirks, looking you over with his eyes. You open your mouth to say something back to him, but are cut off. Still holding a fistful of your hair, Zayne leans down and licks your lips, pulling your bottom lip into a bite. His teeth pull away at your lip until it leaves his mouth. You gasp, and Zayne laughs quietly under his breath. Still gripping you with one hand, he drags the back of his other hand down your face.

“I'll give you what you want… yes. But you'll do the same for me in return. And what I want right now…” Zayne pulls your head closer to him, his other hand now grabbing your bottom lip with his thumb on your tongue, “Is your mouth.”

[bitterrfruit]

he wakes you up

waking up hungover after letting a cocky scottish stranger spend the night. indie sleaze!Soap x reader, no cw. 1.4k words, mdni an: never posted a part 2 to my old fic trainspotting, but i wrote a good chunk of it. sleazy brow ring johnny is still close to my heart so i thought i'd share a bit of it <3

You wake up slowly, sweatily, mouth dry and fuzzy like you had swallowed a lump of cotton – so delirious, for a moment, that you expect to hear your mother calling for you to hurry up or you’ll miss the bus.  

No, instead, you hear the sparkling white noise of running water. Can’t be rain, because the sun beams brightly through your open window – directly onto your face, blinding you, sending you spinning as you tug your thin pillow and hold it over your head to shield yourself.  

Groaning, your brain throbs swollen and heavy, your skull an iron vice. You force yourself to sit upright, hoping your feet on the ground will calm the swelling nausea, turbulent in the pit of your stomach. It doesn’t.  

Bathroom. Bathroom.  

You leap out of bed, sprinting to the door of the Jack-and-Jill bathroom that separates your and Katie’s bedrooms. Throwing it open, you tumble to the toilet, hair unfortunately coating the toilet seat as your abdomen lurches noisily – tossing a pitiful spoonful of pink, cherry-flavoured vomit into the clear water with a foul splash. Ew.  

The shower is running, you realise, in the subsequent post-puke calm. You would have expected Katie to say something to your intrusion, but after a year of living together you have very few boundaries left. You wonder what time she might’ve come home during the night – suppose the bloke she went home with must have been a disappointment if she didn’t even stay till morning. No surprises there.  

You hear the thud of the shower lever and the water shuts off. After a few deep breaths, you build up the strength to apologise for barging in, sitting on your knees on the tiled floor.  

“Sorry – hic – couldn’t hold it in,” you burp, rubbing your forehead, tearing off a piece of loo paper to wipe your nose. “How was–” 

“Mornin’, hen,” comes the low voice of a man, tired and gravelly. “How ye feelin’?”  

Not fucking Katie.  

You cock your head back in shock, swiping your matted hair from your face, as your eyes shoot to the polyester shower curtain being tugged open with a screech.  

Hairy legs jut out from the cubicle, big feet land on the shaggy bathmat. Your eyes follow them upward, thick thighs, rippling muscle under a layer of flesh and furry skin. Until your stare hitches on the cock hanging brazenly from a fine carpet of brown curls – thick from base to tip, uncircumcised but its meaty pink head exposed, a hefty vein running down the length of it. Looks heavy even soft.  

You choke on any words you might be able to utter – jumping from shock, to fear, to awe, back to confusion. Who… 

“Eyes up here, bunny.” He teases you, that gruff voice barely familiar.  

A response suddenly comes to you, remembering it vaguely, and your lips form the words as if it were a realisation.  

“They’re just as pretty,” you croak, staring into the void of space before you finally glance at the man’s face.  

The shaven head, the brow ring, the glint of that golden tooth sparkling from the cocky smile that puckers dimples into his cheeks – now, yes, you somewhat remember him.  

“Ah, good. Y’do remember.”  

Suddenly humiliated, realising how much of a fucking mess you must be – you look down at yourself, seeing your vastly oversized Strokes band tee that you do not remember putting on. Nor do you remember getting out of the miniscule body suit you had worn to the party, nor peeling off the fishnets that had been flossing you from front to back for the duration of the blurry evening.  

There’s probably makeup smudged into racoon-like circles around your eyes, there must be smears of your pink lip-gloss in the corners of your mouth. If you weren't so ill, you'd run and hide from him.

“Did I-” you stammer aloud, attempting to connect the dots. “Were you at the party?”  

He tuts, huffing disappointedly, as he reaches for the yellow floral towel hanging on the rail. Katie’s towel.  

“Och, dear,” he grunts facetiously, as he rubs it vigorously over his head, patting under his chin, chest, arms. Doesn’t seem to bother asking as he uses it to dry his balls, mammoth dick flopping around shamelessly as he does so. Your cheeks burn pink.  

“You weren’t?”  

“If I’m honest, hen,” he remarks, as he ties the towel nonchalantly around his hips, tucks it in just above his mound. Still brandishes that happy trail, and the sharp angled creases below his abs that carve from his hips to his cock. “Ye got me feelin’ a bit guilty.”  

“Why?” You swallow, doing your best to stop ogling him like a little animal.  “Did we…”  

He snorts. “You wish.”  

You frown, suddenly failing to suppress the admonishing smirk that curls in your lips. “We didn’t do anything?”  

He shrugs, rubbing the top of his buzzed head with his palm. “We had a wee bit o’fun,” he admits, a twinge of shame in his rumbling throat, “but no, nothing too regrettable.”  

You find yourself weirdly disappointed. “Why not?”  

And your slightly dissatisfied query seems to lift some weight from his shoulders, he returns with a grin. “You were a bit steamed, hen,” he says. “would’ve been dodgy of me to stick it in ye while y’were like that, eh?”  

“Mm,” you nod, concealing your chagrin, the memory of running into him on the road suddenly flies back to you, colliding with you like a slap.  

A complete stranger. Naked (mostly) in your bathroom.  

“Didn’t expect you’d be such a gentleman,” you gripe, a tad facetious. 

He smiles. “Disappointed, are ye?” He jibes, tilting his head. “Y’were definitely disappointed last night. Poor wee thing. Got all whiney.”  

You flush hot as that memory slithers back to you, too. Cheeks aren’t the only thing that burn at the thought. You suddenly harken back to the weight of his palm on your cunt, the mocking pressure of the heel of his palm grinding against your clit. Your stomach drops at the memory. 

“Did not,” you murmur.  

“Uh-huh,” he chuckles at you, sauntering in your direction, he holds out a hand for you. You smile bashfully as you take it, and he lifts you to your feet so deftly you’re almost lifted into the air. “Feelin’ alright?” 

You’re a little dizzy after standing so quick, you blink heavily as you swallow. “Mm. Been better,” you huff, “I probably look like shit.”  

He frowns at that, tutting in disapproval as his raffish eyes linger on your lips – you lick them, worried there might be a speck of residual puke in the corner of your mouth.  

“Ye’re havin’ me on,” he chides, disapproval in his tone.  

“Am I?” You groan, wiping under your eyes with your fingertips in the hopes of swiping away some running makeup.  

He shakes his head. “Far too pretty to be talkin’ like that, bunny.” 

With a grimace, then a snicker, you glance downward at the chipped pink glitter on your toenails. “That’s nice, but–” 

“Psh,” he immediately cuts you off. “Don’t y’believe me?”  

Reeling in awkward embarrassment, you cross your arms, digging nails into your biceps as you look everywhere but him. Through a strained chuckle, you answer, “Not really.” 

His attention is almost intimidating; an unwavering, low-lidded glare as a smirk tugs in his lips. Tucks a hooked finger under your chin, coaxing your head to lift just slightly enough to look along your nose at him.  

From his throat, he rumbles, 

“Need me to show ye how pretty y’are, hen?” 

Your skin turns molten, glowing and pliant, eyes glossy and eager as you stare up at him through clumped lashes. He simply wears that snide little grin, proud of himself, only growing prouder as he notices how flustered he’s made you. Fuck! 

Lips part to let words free but they turn sticky on your tongue, and he brushes your chin with his thumb.  

“Look at’cha,” he sneers, letting go of your face; using the tip of his thick finger to sweep a rogue hair from your forehead with a gentleness that you’re earnestly surprised he’s capable of. His tenderness is fleeting, though, because he chuckles; “Too easy.”  

Jaw agape, you only laugh as you cover your eyes with your palms. “God, you’re such a dickhead.”  

He hums, a giggle, swaggering around you before swinging a quick smack on your ass, making you yip – casual and in passing, such a brash show of lude badinage that you can only gawk at him as he wanders into your room.  

“S’why you invited me in, in’t it?”  

Crossing your arms, you follow him sheepishly, squinting as you step into morning sunlight. “I don’t think I can remember why I invited you in, to be honest.”  

“Mm, well,” he grumbles, “I’ll have t’remind ye, won’t I?”

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[9:12 am]

(cw: f!reader, Jaehyun is an asshole, angst with happy ending)

Yesterday had been a bad day. Scratch that- the last 14 hours had been bad. You had gotten home, tired from your day out with friends to find Jaehyun getting ready to leave.

“Oh, sorry I forgot to mention I had plans tonight. I’ll be back later, ok?” He had said casually, kissing your cheek before heading out the door for the night.

That had been right around seven. Then 11 o’clock rolled around and your texts went unanswered. 3 o’clock and your calls were being ignored. It had caused a huge anxious ball of nerves to form in the pit of your stomach which kept you up until now. Every time somebody in the hall would come home, you’d think it was Jaehyun. Someone in one of the other apartments would make a quiet noise and your head would snap toward the door. The caffeine from all the coffee you were drinking was giving you as much anxiety as it was energy. All your texts to mutual friends sent through the night had only been answered a few minutes ago stating they hadn’t been with Jaehyun all night. If he wasn’t with them then who was he with?

You started another pot of coffee when finally the front door opened. A haggard looking Jaehyun dragged his feet to the living room and threw himself onto the couch. “Oh my god! Jaehyun, are you alright?” You asked, rushing over to his side to not-so-subtly look for wounds.

“I’m fine,” came his voice, muffled by one of the throw pillows.

“Where were you? I called and texted you a dozen times. I was so worried.”

“I told you I had plans,” he sighed.

“Having plans now means you can stay out all night without letting your girlfriend know?” You asked while your annoyance for his nonchalance grew and grew.

“I had too much to drink and I had to stay at my friend’s house, ok?” He replied, standing from the couch to head to the bedroom.

“Why are you being so evasive? I texted all your friends and nobody was with you!”

He threw his hands up, turning to face you, “I hung out with a friend from elementary school, I went to her place, we had a few drinks, my phone died, and now I’m here. I’m at home. I’m hungover and I’m tired is that it?”

“But I talked to your friends from elementary school and they said they hadn’t seen you,” you reply quietly.

He groaned loudly, tilting his head back, “I hadn’t talked to her in a while. She sent me a DM and we started catching up and then she invited me to hang out.”

“So you hung out with a girl who you haven’t seen in years after she randomly messaged you?”

“That’s what I said, yeah,” he nodded.

“And you didn’t tell me where you were going, who you were with, and stayed out all night. How do I even know you’re telling me the truth right now?” You ask incredulously.

His eyes widened in surprise, “What are you trying to suggest right now?”

“I’m not suggesting anything Jaehyun. If your series of events sound fishy, then maybe it’s because they are.”

“I didn’t cheat on you,” he states shakily.

You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly, brushing past him to walk to the bedroom. You begin changing out of your pajamas and into an outfit to leave the house, wile he nervously gnaws on his lips. You stay silent and blank faced while you move around the room to get ready.

He finally speaks up while you grab your purse, “Where are you going?”

“Oh, did I forget to mention I had plans? I’ll be back later, ok?” You parrot his words back with a condescendingly sweet smile. His mouth opens but no sound comes out as you walk out the door.

You don’t return until early evening. You feel refreshed and relaxed, a weight off your shoulders, until “I’ve been calling you all day! Why didn’t you answer me?”

“I got busy. Decided I should hang out with one of my elementary friends who keeps swiping up on my stories and just see how he was doing,” you lie, moving to the couch.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Jaehyun deadpans, “You didn’t actually do that did you?”

“Who knows? But whether or not I did, why is it ok for you to act that way but not for me?” You ask, crossing your arms across your chest.

He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration, you can see the tips of his ears turning red, and some small, tiny, part of you is beginning to feel a little guilty about your actions. He sighs out deeply, “I’m sorry. I mean that. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that and I promise you nothing happened. Even if you didn’t think anything did, I want to reassure you that nothing happened with her.”

“Thank you,” you nod curtly in response, “I spent the whole day shopping by the way.”

“I promise I won’t ever do anything like that again either. Not just because it was totally out of line, but also because I remembered why I stopped talking to her. She was kind of a bully all those years ago and nothing has changed. She wanted to talk about all the drama and problems she had with people when we were 7- it’s been like 20 years!”

You laugh quietly, “why didn’t you answer my calls?”

“That’s the worst part! She had my phone in phone jail because I started texting you back while she started a movie. That’s why I started drinking so much, and she made me sleep on her floor because her couch was quoted not a resting couch. And! She told me she was gonna have a whole reunion party and I was the only idiot that forgot how rude she was as a kid and didn’t block her. So again, I’m sorry and I promise it will never- ever happen again. I will let you chip me like a dog and put me on a lea-”

You held up a hand, “Jaehyun stop talking please, I already got the full story and I’m not doing that. Let’s move on ok?”

He sighed happily, “I’m blocking her too. Her instagram, her number, her facebook, her MySpace, her twitter, her X, her profile on LinkdIn, her threads, her Pinterest-”

You laughed loudly, covering his mouth with your hand, “Stop! I get it!”

“And I’m telling everyone she’s still awful.”