#distractingly sexy

[galaxseacreature]

[bringthesauerkraut]

Thirst post time!

I'm actually obsessed with how he's aging.

The still very blue eyes, the deep wrinkles & laughter lines, just how white his hair has gotten & of cors his stupidly distracting arms.

He lives in this weird land between a staggering lack of vanity (even though he acknowledges he's rich enough he could do something about it if he wanted) & an extreme amount of self loathing of his looks (even though he's always been extremely handsome)

He says he's just an old man now & yeah, he is. He's 62 in a few weeks but I think he's fucking beautiful.

(screenshots from the weekly show come from the jonstewartstuffblog)

[rushingheadlong]

okay, last post about the tank top (for now, until we inevitably get more photos) but setting aside the flailing and thirsting and excitement and everything else for a moment here

more than anything I am just SO happy that Brian felt comfortable enough to wear that tank top out onstage again without anything else over it

because he's obviously been using tank tops as his undershirt for the entire tour so far but even with everything being posted from soundchecks and hotels and his stationary bike we haven't seen him in just the tank on this tour before. he's wearing these constantly now, nearly daily, and until Halloween every image of him from this tour had been with an overshirt on or wearing a different t-shirt entirely.

and we know that Brian had(/has) body image issues and if you look at his entire wardrobe over the entire course of his life it's pretty freaking obvious that at least some of those issues are with his torso and shoulders. yes he's allergic to buttons but how many photos do we have of him actually shirtless compared to, say, Roger or Freddie?

more than that, how many times has he performed with Queen while wearing a tank top? I'll tell you right now you can count it on one hand and it's never been during a Queen concert specifically. the closest he's ever gotten has been rolling up his sleeves during the Q+PR years, or the handful of times he did the same in the 80s.

"we was glam!" Brian once said, and honestly that's probably a large reason why he's never worn tanks onstage with Queen before. because Queen's aesthetic is very different than that of his solo tours, and Q+AL is very different from Q+PR in that the glam vibes that Adam brings allow Brian to return to some of his own stage costume roots. Brian has a wild number of shirt and/or outfit changes during the show, and even the "street clothes" he wears on stage are sparklier than they ever were during the Q+PR years - not to mention that he's actually wearing costumes again, with the borhap solo outfits and the military jackets and everything else he does.

Brian may not be "fashionable" in the sense of being into fashion, following trends, etc. but he has always been extremely aware of how to follow the fashion in Queen specifically (and one day I'll write up that post about how Brian and Freddie continued wearing "costumes" onstage long past the point where Roger and John stopped....). it's really obvious when you look at Brian on the Magic Tour, where his stagewear is mostly just street clothes that vibe with what Roger and John are wearing, but he still pulls out those fabulous coats towards the end of the show to match the grandeur and spectacle that comes with a Queen finale.

Brian is clearly comfortable wearing tank tops in general but it's a very different matter for him to a) wear them publicly, where there will be photos and videos of it on the internet forever and b) wear them during a Queen show in 2023 when they match nothing else going on with his stagewear for this tour.

and I don't want to spend a lot of time on Point A because I am sick to fucking death of trying to get this fandom to understand that cracking "jokes" about the visible signs of natural aging (like the shoulder hair) isn't actually funny, especially when people are doing it on platforms that Brian himself is on like instagram

but with regards to Point B, like... there was just no reason for Brian to do this. there's no reason he couldn't have worn the Frank mask with the mirror ball suit, or if there was a reason he still could've worn an overshirt like he did when they had timing issues and he couldn't do his quick-change a few shows back.

but clearly Brian wanted to do this. he wanted THAT to be his Halloween costume specifically - not the mirror suit or his stagewear with a mask added, but a full outfit that was specifically unique for that moment in that show even if it was pulled from other clothing pieces he already had on hand.

it's a choice that, for about 20 seconds, made him completely visually different from anything anyone else had worn during that show. it's a choice that doesn't fully match Queen's aesthetic, either then or now, and it's a choice that's already generating some questionable "teasing" at his expense.

Brian has always had his physical appearance put under a microscope. from his height to his hair, the clogs to the unbuttoned shirts, by sheer virtue of the fact that he exists in the public eye Brian cannot wear anything without getting comments and critiques on it to some degree. and as he's aged those comments have naturally shifted to be about his aging - about his decision to dye or stop dyeing his hair, about how much skin he shows and how appealing the rest of the world finds that, how much body hair he now has and the small belly he's gained and everything else that comes along when you're a human being who's been alive for 70+ years.

but despite all of that, Brian wore that tank top on stage.

despite the dozens of reasons why this could have been a bad idea, despite the wildly varying opinions I've already seen, despite the aesthetic of Queen and this tour, despite the routine they already have for his outfit changes, despite the fact that this was always going to special because of the green lights and the Frank mask...

despite everything... Brian stripped down to that tank and stepped onto the raising platform without wearing any of his glam overshirts or special-made costumes, knowing that the thousands of people in that venue were waiting to get pictures and videos of that solo, and that he'd be opening himself up to very specific criticisms about his appearance by doing this.

and Brian was still confident enough, comfortable enough, in himself to do that during possible the highest-stakes moment in the entire show.

so yeah, I'm excited because there's new tank top content and I'm not above admitting that I personally find this sort of confidence very sexy even on a man of Brian's age

but I'm also just happy FOR Brian with this - happy that it went off without a hitch, happy that it has mostly been well-received by fans, happy that he seems to have had fun with it and, above all else, happy to see that any lingering self-doubts or body image issues aren't enough to stop him from giving us a moment like this.

[skzdarlings]

the heist team | the threesome series ; skz ; minho/reader/changbin

masterlist.

threesome series part 2/4.

pairing: lee minho/reader/seo changbin content info: sexual content. threesome. friends2lovers. very cheesy criminal heist shenanigans (very "we're in" style hacking and some laser grids lol). "fake" kissing, getting sexy as a distraction, giving sex directions, sexual tension that gets resolved. pussy eating, dick sucking, coming inside. purple haired minho bc meow <3

-

The camper van was the best idea you ever had.  It is much easier to enact dastardly schemes while inconspicuously hiding in plain sight. 

On the outside, the van looks like any civilian camper, but the inside is a veritable den of high-tech con-artistry.   It has a place for Minho to hang the get-ups for his grifting gambits, a compartment for Changbin to store his weapons and down-time dumbbells, and it has the sexiest, sleekest, most mouth-watering computer apparatus that has ever existed.  You love it more than anything in this world. 

Every job, you sit in the midst of your beloved computer screens, directing the operation while your boys do the ground work.  Despite knowing of your undying love for this system, your best friends and partners-in-crime are presently trying to separate you from your baby.

“Is she calling the computer her baby again?”  Minho asks from where he is getting dressed behind a curtain. 

“Yes,” Changbin says.  He is sitting in your computer chair with his arms distractingly crossed, his biceps bulging in his tight black shirt.  He is wearing a lot of lycra, having formerly anticipated he would be doing physical work tonight.

That all changed when you realized the nature of tonight’s job. 

You only ever target the obscenely rich, the kind of wealth that is obtained through its own nature of theft and villainy.  Tonight’s targets are a bunch of pompous elites celebrating themselves.  Upstairs is a gala kicking off a week-long set of dinners, auctions, and celebrations.   Downstairs is millions of dollars worth of art and antiquities, set to go up for auction the following day.  

It looked like a typical job, the kind where Minho could sweet-talk some fools while Changbin punched some security guards and you hacked the vault from the van.  The security system around the haul turned out to be far more advanced.  Operating with a form of artificial intelligence, it essentially learns as it goes, meaning hacking it from the outside is incredibly difficult as it will understand and respond to invasion.  It will be easier to outsmart from the inside, where you can reach your hand into its virtual heart and pluck its digital ventricles one by one. 

The boys do not have that kind of computer knowledge.  So now Changbin is in your chair, Minho is doing his make-up, and you are waving around an emergency cocktail dress. 

“Who’s gonna watch my baby if I’m in there!”  

“Yah! Rude woman!  You remember who helped you build this thing?” Changbin pats one of the computer towers to make his point.  “I can do the basic work in here, but I can’t do your complicated nerd things.” 

“I’m not a nerd!”  You definitely are.  You stare at the cocktail dress morosely.  “You’re forgetting something super important. That I am a total weirdo and I panic whenever someone looks at me! There’s a reason I don’t do the people side of things!  That’s what you guys are good at!”

“Technically I just hit them,” Changbin says. 

“You are plenty charming when you want to be and you know it,” you say. 

Changbin folds his hands behind his head, flexing all his muscles while grinning. 

“How charming?” he teases, cocky.  “Describe it to me.” 

“Shut up.”  You hit him with the cocktail dress to hide the fact he got you genuinely flustered.  “I can’t go in there.  People will know I don’t belong the second I walk in the room.  We won’t even get close enough to the computer bank for me to disarm it because they’ll get one look at me and throw me out the window.” 

“That won’t happen,” Minho says.   His changing area is behind you and you hear the metallic slide of the curtain opening.  “Because you won’t be going in there alone.”  

You don’t even have to turn around to know Minho looks devastatingly gorgeous; it is written all over Changbin’s shocked face.  His arms lower from behind his head and his cocksure expression shifts, his lips parting as he stares past you.  

Despite having the benefit of bracing yourself, you are still struck dumb when you turn and look at Minho.  It was always in the plan that Minho would serve as a distraction at the gala.  To stand out accordingly, he dyed his hair with temporary dye this morning.  The vibrant purple was more amusing than sexy when his hair was messy, but now it is neatly styled back, slick and off his handsome face.  He is dressed all in white, his asymmetrical suit partially slit at the side to show some skin.  There is an extra sparkle from his jewelry, plus the lightest dab of glitter in the sharper contours of his face.  He is practically glowing. 

He knows he looks good.  His mouth quirks in a little smirk at your expressions.  You and Changbin are both gawping at him, and it goes on long enough that his eyebrows lift and his smirk puckers with a surprised laugh. 

“What? Really?” he asks, still laughing at you. 

Changbin does an unexpected sign of the cross.  You hit him with the cocktail dress again. 

“Fine,” you say, mostly to have an excuse to duck behind the curtain because you think you might explode from lust and embarrassment and anxiety all at once.  “At least no one will be looking at me.” 

You step behind the curtain and snap it closed, leaving the boys to their banter. 

You like dressing up so this part is no problem.  The problem with parties is other people.  You wholeheartedly admit you are better with zeroes and ones than human beings.   

You try to focus on the fun elements of tonight: the dress, the glamour, and beating a high-tech security system at its own game.  It will be so fun to have a real challenge for once.  You know you can beat it but it will definitely push you more than your usual digital adversaries.

Also, you get to look at Minho looking like that.  Your view of the boys is usually through security cameras, nestled in your van surrounded by your operating system, so the proximity will be a treat. 

You open the curtain, scowling.  You do not enjoy socializing so you seldom have occasion to dress up, so you anticipate the boys will lovingly berate you.  But when you step forward, Changbin looks at you with the same dumbfounded expression he had for Minho.  Minho is sitting on the bench, knees apart and arm slung across the backrest.  His expression gets very serious when he looks at you.  He shimmies his hips, his knees parting further. 

“Turn around,” he says.  

The van feels so tense and quiet that you obey, more confused than anything else. 

Changbin’s gaze drops to your ass immediately, his jaw visibly clenching.  Minho tips his head like he is studying something. 

“Thank you,” Minho says. 

You face them again, hot in the face.  You cross your arms angrily. 

“What was the point of that?” you demand.

Minho lifts a single eyebrow.  “I wanted to see your ass,” he says, like it should be obvious.  “It’s a good one.  You should be proud.” 

You throw your sweatpants at his stupid smirk.  He catches it smoothly. 

“Can we just go already?”  You punctuate this with a stomp of your foot then storm out of your precious van. 

It is very strange being on this side of the operation.  You always have Minho and Changbin nattering in your earpiece, but usually you are sitting at your desk wearing proper headphones.  It is strange wandering around with a tiny bud in your ear, listening to Changbin report from your usual seat. 

You already have control of the hotel security cameras as they work on a separate operating system to the storeroom AI.  You replaced the live feed with a looping reel of empty rooms so the security team inside will not see you moving around.  It also gives Changbin a bird’s eye view of the gala and the rest of the hotel.  You feel anxious at not seeing it for yourself, but you are placated when Changbin whistles and teases, “You two are the best looking there.  You would be second best looking if I was there, so you’re lucky I’m not.” 

You and Minho both smile, your expressions fond.  

Minho gets you in the door with little more than a wink at the doorman.  You stay quiet, hiding your nerves as best you can.  Minho is a competent con-man and Changbin is plenty reliable so you try to focus on your own tasks.  First you need to get to the ground floor network base so you can get the AI to chase your red herring.  Once you are in, the AI will start responding, but with your virus acting as a decoy source within the building, you should be able to buy yourselves time to move onto the next phase of breaking down the system. 

“There’s a lot of muscle at this party,” Changbin says seriously, no doubt taking stock of all the burly security guards.  It is only natural Changbin would be as twitchy as you, also out of his element for the night.  “I don’t like not being there with you,” he says.  

“Easy,” Minho says in a calm voice.  You think it is directed at both you and Changbin.  He puts a hand on your lower back and gives you a knowing look.  “You’re doing fine,” he says.

You feel like terror is written all over your face.  It doesn’t help that Minho draws eyes the second you step into the hotel ballroom, men and women looking at him with the usual desire he draws.  They are equally curious to look at you, their eyes on where his hand rests intimately low on your spine. 

“I’m gonna hurl,” you say.

“Not a bad idea,” he says.  He smiles with so much effortless charm that no one would suspect he is whispering criminal tips.  “The best con,” he says, his lips brushing your ear, “is one that is close to the truth.”  You shiver as his fingertips brush up your spine.  He rests his hand on your nape.  “Look sick,” he says.  “We’ll say we’re looking for a restroom if someone asks.” 

You follow his lead, weaving your way through the party.  Looking sick is the easiest instruction to follow because you feel genuinely ill, your anxiety a toxic twist in your gut.  

Only when you are wandering the empty hotel corridor do you feel at ease.  You feel even more at ease when you find the ground floor network hub.  Your first obstacle is a regular alarm code, twelve digits in length.  It is obviously too long to guess so you physically unscrew the alarm box and start some manual fiddling.  There is no way to fully disarm it without also setting it off, but that’s where your own AI gadget comes into play.  You plug in your cypher scrambler and let it do its thing.  It flickers through numbers, seeking the correct pattern, learning from its errors.  You designed it yourself and though it is always accurate, it takes a while to pull the numbers.  You and Minho are forced to hover in the hallway while it gradually reveals each piece of the code. 

You are up to number seven out of twelve when Changbin inhales sharply. 

“There’s a waiter walking in your direction,” he says.  “It looks like he’s taking a shortcut to somewhere else, but you have less than two minutes until he’s on you.”

 “What!”  You start to panic immediately.  “My decipher machine could take longer than that, what do we—”

“Relax, relax!”  Changbin says at the same time Minho steps behind you and grasps your shoulders.  He makes little shushing noises while massaging you, not that it does much to help. 

“We’re good,” Minho says.  “It’s just a waiter, not security.” 

“I’m gonna get us killed,” you say. 

“By a waiter?”  Minho asks.  He gives your shoulders another squeeze.  “Is he going to beat us with a baguette?  Hey, hey, relax.”

You are a vibrating bundle of nerves.  Minho is not usually the type to dive into a hug but he turns you around and pulls you into his arms.  You wrap your arms around his middle and hug him back, hiding your face in his neck. 

“Yeah, that will work,” Changbin says. 

“Huh?” you say, lifting your head. 

Minho is staring into a security camera as if having a mute exchange with Changbin.  He nods in agreement, though you still don’t understand. 

“What will work?” you ask. 

“Distraction,” Minho says.  You just look at him with confusion. 

“Baby,” Changbin says in a soft tone, “listen to my voice.”

The sudden gentleness of his voice makes you shiver.  Your fingers are shaking when Minho takes your hand and rests it over his heart.  You look up into his dark eyes as he smiles at you with familiar fondness.  You open your mouth to speak but he shakes his head, shushing you gently.  His eyes drift to the side in anticipation of an intruder. 

“Baby,” Changbin says, his honeyed tone softening your nerves, “Minho is going to kiss you.  Just do what I say, okay?” 

Your heart skips a beat, your eyes widening.

“You trust us?”  Changbin asks. 

You nod, answering Changbin, gazing at Minho. 

It’s the truth.  You might be scared but you have been scared before and your boys always come through.  Even when the rest of the world left you behind, when you turned to crime to keep yourself alive, Minho and Changbin were there.  They have never let you down.  You trust them with anything and everything. 

Minho slips his hand around your waist, pulling you close to him.  You have been close before, sharing the van, sharing hotel rooms, but this feels different.  He looks at you with intent, his handsome face so close, a strand of dark purple hair curled over his forehead.  Your hand finds that patch of bare skin when you touch his side.  He is familiar and foreign at once, your Minho, and also a character, one who clasps his hand behind your back and ducks down to gently kiss your lips. 

“Take a breath, baby,” Changbin says with a little chuckle.  “You look like you’re going to pass out.” 

“Mmf,” is the noise you make, affirming that observation.   It makes Minho laugh, a breath against your lips. 

“Waiter is thirty seconds away.  You just want to look like a dumb, horny couple that wandered away from the party,” Changbin says.  “Listen to me, I’ll tell you what do.”

You nod, sucking in a breath when Minho kisses you again.  This time his mouth is a little more insistent, his lips coaxing yours open. 

“Close your eyes, baby,” Changbin says.  “Let your shoulders drop.  Minho has you, it’s okay.” 

You didn’t even realize how tense your shoulders were.  You listen to Changbin, letting yourself go lax.  Minho holds you, as promised, his arms sturdy around your waist as he kisses you deeply. 

“Let Minho move you,” Changbin says. “He’s going to lean you against the wall to hide the device, okay?  Put your hands on his shoulders.  Higher, baby, go around his neck.  Just like that.  Let him lead you.” 

Minho walks you backwards, carefully pressing you against the wall, hiding the dangling cypher scrambler with your bodies. 

“We wanna give our intruder a little jump scare, okay?”  Changbin says.  “Minho.”  

That is all the direction he gives Minho, trusting the adept con-man to know exactly what to do.  Minho does, his hands sliding down to your hips to pull them flush against his.  It arches your back.  Your hands are hooked behind his neck and you squeak, your fingers instinctively sinking into his hair. 

“God,” Changbin says.  The sudden dark colour to his voice sends a spark of heat shooting through you.  It clearly surprises Minho too, his lips parting with a caught breath.  “You both look hot.  Fuck.” 

Changbin takes a steadying breath.  You and Minho look at each other.  You get to see his smirk for a split second, then his mouth is on yours and it is no longer gentle and questioning.  It is a demand, hot and wanting, your lips opening with his guidance, your heart skipping beats when he licks in your mouth. 

“Do it back,” Changbin says.  “You want him to fuck you, baby.  Make him believe it.”

You think the him is question is the waiter.  Isn’t it?  You don’t even know where the waiter is anymore, if he’s around the corner or watching.  In the haziness of your kiss, it hardly seems to matter.  You kiss Minho back with the same urgency, pulling him closer, whimpering when he bites your bottom lip. 

“Fuck,” is the gentle whisper that Minho can’t fight.  His brow is crinkled, his eyes closed.  He kisses you again, his hands jumping up to gather yours.  He laces his fingers with yours and presses your hands into the wall on either side of your head. 

“Wrap your leg around his waist,” Changbin says.  “Like that, that’s it, you’re okay.” 

You lift one leg, shaky and unsure.  Minho catches you under the knee and pulls it more certainly around him.  He holds you there, his other hand grasping your throat very gently as he kisses and kisses and kisses you.  Your hands are still splayed open by your head, thoughtlessly awaiting direction.  Your fingers curl into your palm and you moan for real when Minho presses against you. 

Minho is a good actor, but the hard shape in his pants is very real.  When he grinds against you, so open and soft with your leg around his waist, it draws all those guttural sounds right out of you.  Minho makes one back, swivelling his hips in a maddening grind against you.  It is all too easy to imagine him fucking you like this, the effortless back-and-forth of his hips, your sweet sighs as he takes you, imagining Changbin there, his breath also stuttering. 

You do not forget he is watching all this, especially when he lets another low laugh and asks, “She feel good?”

“Yes,” Minho answers without hesitation, breathing the word against your lips. 

“Hold his face, baby,” Changbin says.  “Kiss him like you mean it.  Ask him to fuck you with it.”

You know what he means by that: to kiss Minho with fervency and heat.  You do obey, cupping his face with both hands and kissing him deeply, but the fuzziness of desire mixed with Changbin’s words makes your brain go screwy with want.  Not only does your kiss convey that desire, but words rush past your mouth, crashing into Minho’s lips in a breathless flurry.

“Fuck me, fuck me, please,” you say, your voice pitching up into a little whine as you rock against him.  “Want you to fuck me so bad, baby,” you say, thinking of both of them at the same.   You kiss Minho’s surprised, open mouth, your eyes closed, your voice loud in this hazy space as you say, “I’ve been thinking about it all night.  Need it so bad.  Please.  Want you inside me.  Want my mouth on you.  Come in me.  Come on me.  Take me, please.  I’m so hot and wet, it’ll feel so good, don’t you want to feel how wet I am?  Don’t you want to fuck me too?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Changbin says, followed by a rush of even more inventive curses.

Minho settles on another simple, surprised, “Fuck.” 

Then someone is clearing their throat.  Minho jumps, his hands clamping tighter around you, protective. 

“Oh, right, this clown,” Changbin says.  “I hate that he’s too far away too punch.” 

You giggle in spite of yourself, which is good because you think you might simultaneously die of embarrassment.  You drop your leg and Minho lets you go, pulling himself together faster than you. 

You let him do his thing, sliding a hand through his hair and smirking at the waiter as he saunters over.  He makes his little speech, something-something-something a moment alone with the missus, something-something sorry-sorry-sorry.   He walks the waiter back around the corner, giving you a knowing glance over his shoulder. 

Thank god your cypher scrambler has its act together, even if you are a mess.  It takes you longer to right yourself than it does for the scrambler to finish its job.  Your hands are shaking as you break into the hub, but muscle memory takes over when you have your mini-laptop open. 

Minho joins you a minute later.  Your entire body lights up like a firework when he steps close to you.  Nothing in his expression conveys anything more than professionalism – his queries are about the job and the job alone – but there is an ache between your thighs that won’t subside.  You know he feels the same way as you can see he is still hard despite how much he glares at the wall.  He adjusts his pants several times while standing in that closet of a hub with you.  You keep glancing at each other, your gazes heady, speaking volumes more than your polite conversation.   

When you leave and he puts his hand on your lower back, you shiver.  You think you might double over from the persistent thumping of your easily-distracted pussy. 

Changbin lets out a long sigh and a nervous giggle.  “Good work, team,” he says. 

You have worked enough jobs that you manage to set aside your personal feelings for the time being.  It is easy to lose yourself in your work, especially when you really have to fight the security system.  

You get inside the storeroom.  You know it is filled with more traps and alarms so you sit down beside the door and type away on your laptop.  You nearly break a sweat with the intensity of your work. 

“She’s hot when she’s doing her thing,” Changbin suddenly says. 

You lift your head and catch Minho’s eye.  He smiles at you.  “I agree,” he says. 

Your heart starts skipping beats again.  You look down at your laptop, feeling uncharacteristically shy under his gaze. 

“Don’t distract me,” you say, making both of them laugh a little.  You glare at Minho but there is no real animosity behind it. 

At least they both acquiesce, going silent while you work.  You manage to disarm most of the storeroom.  The best you can do for the remainder of traps is trigger their subsequent lighting rigs so you can see them all.  A labyrinth of blue light brightens the dark entry room, revealing each laser trigger that blocks your path to the locked compartments. 

You look up at Minho whose calculating gaze is already tracing each intricate beam. 

“Got it?”  Changbin asks.

Minho starts unbuttoning his suit.  “Always,” he says, smirking. 

Minho flips the blazer down his arms, revealing just a tight white crop top beneath it.  His jacket, shoes, and jewelry form a pile beside you.   Minho does a few quick stretches before confidently approaching the laser grid. 

Before his criminal life, Minho was a dancer, and a good one.   He draws the same graceful lines with his body now, making each manoeuvre look easy even though you know it is incredibly difficult. 

“He’s hot when he’s doing his thing,” Changbin says.

“Yeah,” you say, biting your lip and watching Minho move.  “Gotta agree.” 

Minho slips over and under each laser, twisting and bending and sliding with ease.  He pops up on the other side with a graceful twirl, throwing you a wink over his shoulder before flipping a switch on the control panel.  It powers down the censors so you can scurry across the room to join him. 

The compartment door unlocks with your final hacked access code, the door swinging open to reveal your loot.  Changbin gives a successful holler into your earpiece, making you and Minho duck with his volume. 

“I’ll bring the car around, baby,” Changbin says while you two roll your eyes but smile. 

You pack your fold out bags with your selections.  One key to success is never being overly greedy.  You walk away with a substantial victory nonetheless.    

You hurry out of the storeroom with your prize haul.  Minho gets dressed again, though he doesn’t button up his jacket.  He takes a second to catch his breath while you restore each alarm so nothing appears out of place.   When you are ready to go, he takes your hand, smiling.  You run hand-in-hand back down the corridor, making a few sharp turns until you find a staff exit.  There is a small drop so Minho jumps down first then holds out his arms for you.  Though you could make the jump easily, you still let yourself fall into his arms.  

He holds you close as he puts you on your feet.  You are riding the high of adrenaline and success, your heart soaring, which might be why you so easily surrender to desire.   You kiss him, sudden and brief but tantalizing.  He blinks back at you with surprise, his face scrunching with that astonished little laugh of his.   

You smile at him.  A line of sweat dots his hairline and you reach up, smoothing some messy strands of purple hair.  The gentle caress changes the whole shape of his face, his eyes heavy-lidded, his breathing harder.  You feel yourself change too, your heart pounding against his chest when he pulls you close. 

You got greedy with that kiss and greediness has consequences.  You are so distracted with each other that you don’t notice the security guards coming at you from the opposite direction. 

“Hey!” one shouts.  “What are you doing out here?” 

You and Minho look over, then at each other.  There is no time for conversation.  You grab each other’s hands and start running, your bags of stolen goods bouncing on your shoulders. 

“Hey!” the security guard shouts again.  You can hear their heavy footsteps thundering after you, fast despite their muscle and bulk. 

You turn the corner onto a backstreet just in time for the camper van to swing into view.  The door slides open and Changbin jumps out.  You pass each other, dropping hands so Changbin can dart between you.  

Panting, you and Minho watch as Changbin effortlessly takes down the guards. 

“He’s hot when he’s doing his thing,” you say, giggling.

Minho laughs, nodding.  “I agree,” he says. 

Minho takes the steering wheel so you can apologize to your baby for abandoning her.  Changbin jumps back in the van and the three of you drive away with another successful haul. 

Later, back at the penthouse, Minho takes the longest shower in an effort to scrub the purple out of his hair.  You are in your bedroom when he finally emerges.  You can hear him and Changbin talking in the living room.  By the sounds of it, the purple is still threaded in his dark brown hair, likely to last a few more days.  You smile to yourself, listening to their playful back-and-forth as Changbin teases him and Minho snarkily retaliates. 

It is tradition after a successful job to have a few drinks and relax.  Contacting your fence and taking care of business can wait until tomorrow. 

You can hear the usual music playing through the speakers, can hear the clink of bottles and glasses, can hear Changbin and Minho laughing and talking. 

You look at your reflection in the mirror.  Though you seldom have occasion to wear pretty luxuries, you have enough money at your disposal to treat yourself.   You have been changing in and out of different lingerie sets since you got home.  You think this one might be just right: a silky black set worn under a lacy black dress that falls to your thighs.  It is suggestive but arguably casual.  You could just be wearing it as pyjamas, right?  Sure.  Sure.  Totally normal pyjamas for a totally normal night.

The best con is one that is close to the truth, Minho had said.  Then he stuck his tongue in your mouth and you begged him to fuck you with Changbin’s help.  Even you, who is terrible at reading and understanding people, know what truth was in that charade. 

You take a deep breath and march to your bedroom door with determination.  You throw it open so hard that it smashes into the wall, startling the boys in the other room.  You ignore the crash and scurry into sight, avoiding eye contact.

“Hello,” you say.

There is a moment of prolonged silence then Changbin says, “Hi.”

You look up.  They are both staring at you, both wide-eyed, both in sweatpants and t-shirts with their hair undone and fluffy.  They look very casual and very surprised.  Minho is clutching a beer bottle and Changbin is holding a bowl of popcorn.  Both of them are frozen.

You smile a very awkward smile.

“Hello,” you say again.  “I am… I am… dressed.  For bed.  My bed.  For being in my bed, like this, as I am dressed right now.  I am going to that bed, now, like this.  You can… join me.  If you want.  If you don’t want, then, okay.  Hello.  And.  Goodbye.  Bye.” 

You run back to your bedroom and slam the door closed. 

Other than the soft music still swirling in the air, the penthouse is quiet.  You cannot hear the boys, not a comment, not a sound, not a breath.

Then you hear the popcorn bowl hit the ground and a bottle smash.  They shove and yell at each other as they stumble on the way to your bedroom.  You are standing awkwardly in the middle of your room, hands folded in front of you, waiting as they crash into your bedroom door and curse at each other. 

Changbin then very casually opens the door and they calmly walk inside. 

“Hello,” you say. 

“Hi,” Changbin replies. 

You wish thoughts could be hacked like a computer.  You cannot think of what to say or do next.  You just stare at them and they stare back, although their gazes are considerably less nervous.  Their stares are thirsty, drinking you in, looking from top to bottom and back again. 

“Turn around,” Minho says, his gaze low. 

You meet Changbin’s eye before obliging, slowly turning.

“Okay,” Minho says after a long moment, giving your heart plenty of time to go crazy in your chest.  “Thank you.” 

You turn back around, just as embarrassed as earlier but not angry at all.  You cross your arms over your chest, flicking your gaze between them. 

Minho reaches out and lightly punches Changbin on the arm.  Changbin looks at him and Minho gives him a look, one you cannot decipher.  You continue to stare at them. 

Changbin nods at Minho then looks at you.  He holds out his hand. 

“Breathe, baby,” he says.  “You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

You laugh but nod, taking his hand.  He wastes no time pulling you close, guiding your hand to his heart as Minho did earlier.  He holds your hand there and waits until you make eye contact so he can wink at you. 

“I know I am the best looking man you have ever seen in your life,” he says, making you laugh again, “but I’m me.  You trust us?”

You look at him then at Minho.  His dark hair is still tinted purple, his bare face open and soft as he meets your eye.  You smile and look back at Changbin, nodding. 

“Always,” you say. 

“Good,” Changbin says. 

He cups your face and you lean towards him, anticipating a kiss, but he gently turns your face aside.  You don’t even have time to be confused before Minho is kissing you.  He swiftly draws all those sweet sounds out of you, pulling you towards him.  Changbin steps behind you, holding your hips and kissing his way up your neck to your ear. 

“Baby,” Changbin says while Minho slows his kiss to something gentle but heated, his tongue swiping at yours.  “Listen to my voice, okay?” 

You nod, light-headed but eager. 

“Good,” Changbin says.  “Come sit in my lap.  Over here.” 

Changbin is strong enough to haul you around.  You barely have to move, letting yourself go soft in his arms.  He sits on the edge of the bed and puts you in his lap, spreading your legs over his thighs.   You stare up at Minho, out of breath, your thighs twitching to close for pressure.  Changbin slides a hand down, stroking your inner thigh and making you jump, his other hand tugging down your dress and immediately going for your breast. 

Minho sweeps a hand through his hair, taking a breath before stepping up to you. 

“Still want your mouth on him, baby?”  Changbin asks, reminding you of all the things you whispered in that heated moment.  

You nod, whimpering when Changbin slides his hands into your panties and touches you directly.  He circles and circles the most sensitive cluster of nerves, grunting and pressing his lips to your neck. 

“She’s so fucking wet,” Changbin says.  He slips his hand out of your panties and abruptly grabs Minho by the hand, tugging him closer.   Minho brings that hand to his mouth, licking your wetness off Changbin’s fingertips.  “Touch him baby,” Changbin says.  “You see how hard he is for you?”

You can see.  You can feel Changbin too, hard under you.  Their sweatpants do little to disguise it. 

You do not hesitate obeying, tugging on the waistband of Minho’s sweats.  Everything feels so dreamy and good, surrounded by touch.  It all seems to happen quickly; suddenly Changbin’s hand is in your panties, Minho’s dick is in your mouth, and Minho’s hands are tugging the straps of your dress down.   This ends with you drooling messily all over the end of his dick, sucking on the head and murmuring nonsense while Changbin makes you come on his fingers.  Then Minho kneels in front of you both, your legs end up over his shoulders, and you find yourself hurtling towards another orgasm on his mouth. 

You dress ends up somewhere, the panties too.  The bra is barely on, the straps hanging down your arms.  Changbin finally kisses you when you are on your back in the middle of the bed.  He lays between your open legs, his fingers filling you up as you continue to gush all over his hand.  You grab him, squeezing his biceps as he effortlessly moves that strong hand between your legs.  Minho climbs up too, his shirt somewhere across the room.  He grabs your hands and pulls them over your head, pinning them into the pillows before ducking down to kiss you.   You come for a third time before either of them even fucks you. 

Then they do.  Minho first, with you under him, listening to every direction Changbin murmurs in your ear.  You lift your legs around his waist when Changbin says, then touch yourself when Changbin asks, and shudder when Minho comes inside you like you earlier begged. 

Then Minho is behind you, holding you, touching you, protective and familiar while Changbin fucks you.  Changbin has a surprisingly filthy mouth, continuing to tell you how good you feel and how good you look.  Minho is quiet but fully entranced by you, his hands constantly wandering.  He slides one hand down and rubs you off while Changbin fucks you.  Then he leans over your shoulder and kisses Changbin on the mouth, making Changbin finish too.  

The music is still playing in the next room.   The three of you lay there in various states of undress, you in the middle, sweaty and messy, the boys panting and gently stroking your arms and thighs. 

“I love you guys,” you say.  It is incredibly cliché to make a love confession after several mind-blowing orgasms, but you don’t care.   You don’t need to play games or tell lies or be good at socializing, not with your boys.   You can just be your nerdy self, confessing your feelings even while drifting into sleep. 

You smile when you feel Minho kissing your cheek, Changbin giggling on your other side. 

“It will have to be big,” Changbin says.  “The biggest.”

“Hmm?” you ask, looking at him strangely. 

“The diamond we steal to put on your finger,” Changbin says, holding up your hand and circling your ring finger.  You laugh and try to pull your hand back but Minho catches it, nodding in accord. 

“I agree,” Minho says.  He kisses your temple.  “I know how criminals work,” he adds.  “You’re not getting stolen away from us.” 

He and Changbin exchange an affectionate glance over you, nodding at each other, then they are each kissing a side of your face as you squirm and laugh.  You swipe at Minho’s purple hair and kiss Changbin’s cheek, then nestle into their arms as they wrap around you, protective as always. 

[holycartoonwarrior]

She served so much body here they nuked her from the show for being distractingly sexy (ignore that guy next to her idk who that is)

[judenostopwaitkeepgoing]

Cursed CEOs 😈

18+ | Suggestive Content | MDNI! | CEO!Crown x Secretary!Reader

Imagine the members of Crown as your CEOs... 👔 🤭

CW: suggestive content / power imbalances / Alfons's and Jude's sections mention sexual harassment because of course w/ those two 🙃

(EN-released Villains only)

William Rex

Boss energy! "Sir" energy!

Will would look so suave in a suit. 😮‍💨 You would be so attracted to his commanding presence. Just sitting behind his big desk, giving orders to his subordinates, making a fuck ton of money... Yeesh.

He has such a powerful aura as a CEO, you can't help but be entranced. He’d definitely send you on all kinds of tasks that seem like they’re for him but are really for you.

"I need you to make a reservation at this restaurant for two for this evening."

"Oh? Do you have an important client dinner? I'm sorry I don't have that in the calendar..."

"Mm, yes, a very important client..." 😉

Harrison Gray

The more subtle, quiet, brooding type who seems genuinely attached to his work. His air of mystery and the distant authority he wields inexplicably excite you, making you want to learn more about him and do more for him. He carries a lot on his shoulders in private, but keeps up a relaxed demeanor in front of everyone. But you notice this about him and go out of your way to be helpful! And frankly, he is so turned on by that lol.

One night, he would be working late and you’d knock lightly on his door to say goodbye for the evening but he would find some excuse to make you stay late with him, and... well... 😉

Liam Evans

Sweetie alert! Liam is a kind boss. His employees respect and admire his understanding attitude and don't want to disappoint him.

All he wants, though... is to reward his star employee: you! He gets so distracted by you that he had to shift your desk assignment to be further away from him. But then he missed you so he changed it back! He's always lingering by your desk and asking you about your life outside of work. Over time he starts to flirt with you more and more, almost crossing an HR boundary more than once.

May or may not use his power to disguise himself and follow you around, who knows! Lol.

Elbert Gretia

Elbie isn’t exactly comfortable in positions of authority, so he’d be a very low-key CEO. He is a very good boss in most ways because of this. You can't help but worry about him, so you'd be super attentive, anticipating every task that he would like completed.

You often catch him watching you, taking in your brilliant competence. Unbeknownst to you, he's actually considering demanding that you not leave his office because he doesn’t want the other employees to see how sexy you look in your work attire...

Alfons Sylvatica

Sexual harassment incoming! Haha. Alfons would be the biggest HR nightmare lol. He would be the most corrupt boss you could imagine. Blatantly making you uncomfortable, quid-pro-quo-ing left and right for sexual favors from you, ‘disciplining’ you for shoddy work... you’d get so fed up with him, but even more fed up with the fact that you can't stop thinking about him outside of work... All you want is to please him, to hear him praise you, to show him how good at your job you can be... 🫠

Roger Barel

Distractingly hot boss! Also cocky!

And what's even worse is that he can tell that you’re totally flustered by him! And he loves every second of it!

He’d call you into his office to “check something” and end up getting you to come over to his side of the desk. As you bend over to check, you feel something running up the back of your leg... it’s the brush of his fingertips...

"Keep checking," he'd say, without taking his eyes off of your face, "we don’t want to have any errors in this report.”

Things would devolve from there lol.

Victor

... Victor in a suit and tie? 😵‍💫

He would be so effusive and complimentary. It'd start out just as praising your work but then he'd start praising your appearance, too... Calling you the sexiest secretary he's ever had and what not. It's technically inappropriate, but he's so playful about it that it disarms your cautiousness. Plus, occasionally he'll be really stern about something, and you have to admit... it's kind of hot! Your flustered reaction makes him chuckle to himself. He loves his adorable little secretary! 😙

Jude Jazza

If Alfons was harassing, Jude is downright abusive lol. You thought you knew what you were getting into when you applied to be his secretary, but even you are shocked by how fucking evil he can be.

He’d call you into his office and berate you for making the tiniest mistake, demanding that you do the same menial task over and over until you can’t see straight from looking at the files for so long. Even after the tenth or twelfth re-do, he'd still be unsatisfied. He’d have no choice but to punish you for being such a bad secretary.

He’d threaten to fire you... unless you perform some other “work-related” tasks... 😈

Ellis Twilight

Sweetest boss award goes to Ellis!

He’d want all of his employees to be ‘happy’ and would make sure to praise you and thank you for your work a lot. You might end up making a move in this situation, because he’d be too proper and kind to be overt about his attraction to you. But once he knows you are into him, you best believe he’s going to fuck you stupid over his desk!

"This is what makes you happy, right? I can't have an unsatisfied employee."

[impala-dreamer]

When I Think About You

A Supernatural Story

~ Even the sexiest of ideas can sometimes go comedically wrong...~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader, with Sam, Jack, and Castiel cameos

2,037 Words

NSFW, Sexy Comedy, Failed Stripper Routine, Accidental Indecent Exposure, Naked Dean.

Written for @jacklesversebingo "Failed Striptease/Lap Dance" square. Hope you enjoy!!

JacklesBingo Masterlist

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

‘Ditch the boys and hurry back…’

That was all her text had said and Dean could hardly keep his mind from skipping through a field of wild sex fantasies while driving back to the Bunker.

The guys in question were left to fend for themselves, believing Dean’s excuse of Y/N not feeling well for his quick escape. They’d get a ride back to Kansas when they were ready. Hell, Sam was no stranger to hot-wiring cars and Jack needed to learn sometime.

Dean pushed the Impala down the road, breaking eighty as his imagination ran rampant. The steering column protested by shaking violently, but he knew she could do it. Besides, this was an emergency. A mysterious, sexy emergency.

Forty minutes later, Dean Winchester burst through the garage doors and into the Bunker’s expansive hallway system. She must have heard the door slam shut, for her voice called to him in a sultry echo.

“I’m in here…”

Thankfully, ‘here’ was straight ahead once Dean skidded around a corner. His boots screeched to a halt as soon as he saw her. Y/N was stretched out on the glowing table in the War Room, her curves on full display as she lay on her side facing the door.

His eyes went wide.

His heart skipped three beats.

His blood rushed south and his jeans shrunk.

“Welcome home, Mr. Winchester.”

Her lips were stained a deep crimson; her eyes lined in devilish coal. Her body was covered in emerald and black satin that clung to every dip and hid only enough to make his mouth water in anticipation. Her tits were pushed up and full, her hips wide and straining against the thin material.

Dean swallowed hard and stared at her, his vision cloudy but focused. “Uh… hey.”

A smirk tipped his lips upward and she laughed gently.

“You’re too easy to ensnare,” she teased.

In lieu of a protest, Dean gave the denim at his crotch a tug, giving his boys some room.

Y/N smiled proudly and rolled onto her belly. “Have a seat, cowboy.”

There was a single chair by the table, strategically placed for optimal viewing. Dean licked his lips and complied, quickly taking a seat.

With a tap on her phone, Y/N flooded the room with the opening riff of a very familiar song and Dean let out a soft chuckle.

“The Divinyls? Really, Y/N/N?”

She popped up onto all fours and Dean’s gaze was locked on her gorgeous, hanging tits.

“Why not?” she asked in reply. “It’s a great song. And it says everything I want to say.”

Dean inhaled slowly and sat back, reclining as he rubbed his hands down his thick thighs. The song started in full, but he couldn’t hear much but the pounding of desire in his ears. “Is that so?”

With a sexy pout, Y/N spread her knees and sat back on her heels. “It is.” A hand ran slowly down her throat. “I hate it when you’re gone so long…” She teased a finger across her cleavage, entrancing him further. “Makes me crazy…” The hand dropped farther down and skated up her inner thigh. “Makes me… touch myself…”

A rumbling moan left his lips and Dean adjusted his jeans once more. The strain was distractingly painful, but he didn’t want to rush. “Fuck, baby…”

Y/N smirked and swayed with the music as she climbed onto her feet. High above him, she moved to the beat, trying to keep in time with the song while turning him on.

Her rhythmic timing was terrible.

“I don’t want… anybody else…” She sang along, her voice deep and arousing, but the lyrics and her feet wouldn’t work together and she stumbled.

Dean hissed in a cringe of worry but she righted herself quickly, carrying on with the seduction.

“When I think about you, Dean… I touch myself…”

She turned in place, circling her hips perfectly.

His mouth watered at the thought of sinking his teeth into her plump ass. “So hot, baby…”

His praise knocked her off course and instead of dipping down into a sexy squat, Y/N lost her balance and ended up back on her hands and knees.

Seeing nothing but lust in his green eyes, she bit back embarrassment and crawled towards him. She puckered her lips and batted her eyes.

“You’re the one who makes me come runnin’...”

With unexpected dexterity, Y/N hopped down from the table and spun towards him.

Dean spread his legs as she moved between them; held his breath as she ran a hand down his chest.

“You’re the sun who makes me shine…”

Dancing closer, Y/N lifted her knee to rest on the chair and give him a show, but she clipped his sack and Dean’s eyes went crossed.

“Holy shit!” She jerked backward. “I’m sorry!”

Dean held up a hand and shook his head; lips still sealed tight against a whimper. “We’re good. We’re good. Carry on.”

Carefully, Y/N picked up the beat again and wiggled for him. He smiled and she bit her lip coyly as she teased the strap of her bra off her shoulder.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he praised as feeling returned to his privates. “So hot.”

Blushing, she turned away and dropped the other strap. “Been thinking about this all week,” she cooed.

“Me too.” Dean shifted in the chair, watching as she slowly unhooked the clasps holding her tits in place. “Missed those beautiful ti-”

As she whipped the bra off, her elbow connected with his chin and Dean’s teeth clanked together painfully. The ringing filled his skull and he shook himself to clear away the stars circling overhead.

“Fuck!” Y/N rushed to him and gingerly held his face. “I’m so sorry, Dean. Fuck!”

He blinked up at her and cleared his throat, coming back to reality. “It’s uh… It’s OK…”

Her shoulders dropped. “No, it’s not! I almost gave you a concussion!” The embarrassment breached containment and ruined her plans. “I’m so sorry. I just wanted to give you a treat, ya know? Like, do something super sexy when you got home and I- I fucked it all up.”

The disappointment on her face broke his heart just as much as her elbow to the face had killed his erection.

Standing up, Dean wrapped her in his arms. He tried to ignore the fact that her naked breasts were pressed so enticingly against his chest.

“Baby…” He kissed her forehead. “You did great.”

She groaned.

An idea sparked in his head.

“Hey, why don’t you take a seat and I’ll show you how it’s done…”

His wink made her melt and Y/N sank into the chair, covering her bare chest with an arm.

The speakers were silent for a moment as Dean climbed up onto the table. He took a breath and turned his back to her, preparing. When the song started again, he grabbed each side of his unbuttoned gray flannel and whipped them open. He rolled his hips and tugged the fabric from his right shoulder and glanced behind him. Y/N’s sadness had vanished, replaced by a look of pure wonder. He winked again and she swooned dramatically.

Another rock of his hips and he switched sides, exposing the black tee on his left shoulder.

Y/N whistled. “Yeah! Take it off!”

“I don’t want… anybody else…” Dean took to singing along as the flannel left his body. He turned and tossed it at Y/N who caught it and buried her face happily in the musky fabric. “When I think about you…”

His belt buckle opened easily and Dean evicted the leather from its usual place with a flick of his wrist. The metal crackled on the table and Y/N sucked in a quick breath.

“OK, that was hot…” She slid down on the chair as her knees fell apart in a less-than-ladylike pose.

Dean grinned and reached behind his head, grabbing a fistfull of fabric. “You know it, baby.” In one swift motion, he pulled his tee up over his head and balled it up.

Y/N’s jaw dropped at the sight of his big bare arms and soft stomach. A lustful moan was stopped short when she bit down on her bottom lip.

The tee landed at her feet.

“I close my eyes and see you before me…”

Dean was so far off-key he wouldn’t be able to find the ring, but Y/N didn’t care. She couldn’t hear a damned thing above her own heavy breaths and racing pulse.

He kicked off each boot; let his jeans pool on the table.

“I touch myself… I honestly do…”

Y/N’s vision blurred everything but Dean. She was captivated and aching, practically drooling by the time he jumped down from the table and stood before her. Her body was throbbing, her nipples hard and ruddy.

Dean moved between her knees and set his hands on the arms of the chair.

“Like what you see?” he asked, rolling his body into her.

“So much…”

He dipped down on a trajectory for her waiting lips, but pulled back at the last second, leaving her needy and whimpering.

“Oh, you’re good at this.”

Spinning around, Dean gripped the chair again and lowered himself down over her lap. “I’ve had a lesson or two over the years.”

He arched his back and rubbed his ass against her panties.

“Let’s not discuss your past exploits right now…”

Perching lightly on her thighs, Dean grabbed her hands and placed them on his chest. “Whatever you say, baby. It’s your buck.”

Guided by his touch, Y/N’s hand fell down his body, enjoying the twitch of each muscle, the heat pulsing off of him. She shivered and felt the wetness drip between her thighs.

“I’m not paying for this,” she teased, reaching into the elastic of his boxers.

“Well…” Dean spun again and sank to his knees. He moved in for a kiss and her heart stopped. “I’m sure I can think of a way for you to repay me.”

This time, his lips landed and Y/N crumbled. Her blood sizzled as he licked into her mouth. She clawed at his thick shoulders when he nibbled at her throat and moaned his name as he rolled her nipple between his lips.

As the song looped for the sixth time, Dean kissed his way down her body and pressed his hot mouth against her covered pussy. She arched her back and moaned loudly, so ready for his tongue. She lifted her left knee and rested it on his shoulder; gripped the chair as he licked at the wet spot on her panties.

“Dean… fuck… I-”

“Just relax, baby.” Slowly, he licked her again. “I’ve got you.”

Her head fell back as his fingertips snuck into the hem of the emerald satin and she held her breath as he peeled the fabric down.

“Fuck-”

Dean grinned and licked his lips at the sight of her swollen clit, pulsing and ready for him. “Fuck…”

“Fuck!”

They hadn’t heard the big door open and close, hadn’t heard the footsteps thudding on the iron balcony as the guys walked in.

Y/N did, however, hear Sam’s gasping curse.

“Holy fuck!” She jumped in the seat, quickly covering her chest as Cas and Jack appeared at his side.

Startled but disinterested in stopping, Dean sat back a bit and looked up at the crew. “Hey guys!”

Sam rolled his eyes and Jack leaned over the railing to see what was going on. Quickly, Castiel laid his hand over his eyes, blocking the pornographic scene from view.

Concerned, Jack tried to squirm away. “What is it? Is Y/N OK?”

Dean, still toying at the edge of her panties, grinned up at the angel and his brother. “Oh, she’s more than OK!”

Disgusted, Sam threw his hands up and backed away.

Jack clawed at Castiel’s fingers, trying to pry them off.

The angel shook his head at Dean.

Y/N covered her face, then her tits, then her face, then gave up. “Hey, Cas?”

He cocked his head. “Yes, Y/N?”

“How hard is it to die from embarrassment?”

[nooooooio]

Thinking about that space orcs post and had my own idea

well considering that animals falling in love with or just being attracted to people seems to be a strange trend amongst both wild and domesticated animal species. (not common, but if i had a nickel.... id have like 7 off the top of my head) I would like to posit that humans could also be the "Space Sirens"

Think Orions from Star Trek. Or Deltans from Star Trek. i'd just think it'd be funny if humans got out there and met aliens and all the aliens were like "damn ok why they kinda sexy tho?". Even better if it was due to something mundane to us like empathy or eyes colors.

Naturally this doesn't pigeon hole humanity into being sluts all around, but it is a thing where humans are just distractingly beautiful. (Bonus points if it's primarily men/masculine and suddenly the toxic masculinity people now have to deal with catcalls and are being told to smile more)

[herboobsaregreat]

I was taking her to a holiday party and I told her to wear something distractingly sexy, yet classy.

[koshkamartell]

No One But Me

masterlist

previous

chapter warnings: oral sex, possessive!Joel, aggressive!Joel, mention of pregnancy (not reader).

You walk with Joel back to his house without saying a word. After the confrontation at the mess hall there is a sense of exhilaration flowing throughout your whole body; you feel so light and free like you're walking on a cloud, with your heart thumping but your mind blank, still not having processed just what happened. All you can focus on is Joel's firm hand against your back and how safe and protected you feel in this moment.

You huddle closer to Joel to shield yourself against the cold night wind that whips against your cheeks. The cold weather has not eased and the amount of snowfall that has graced the landscape recently most likely indicates that it will continue for a while yet. The warmth of Joel's body radiates onto you and you whimper, feeling like a kitten yearning for somewhere soft to sleep. When you press your face into his side and inhale, taking comfort in his familiar scent, Joel's arm wraps tightly around your waist.

At the house Joel shuffles into the living room and flops down onto his arm chair with a grunt. He bends forward to remove his boots while you slip your shoes off at the front door. Now that you are surrounded by the quiet privacy of the house, away from the din of the mess hall and the prying eyes of other people, your high begins to evaporate. The weight of reality sinks ontop of your head and pours a flurry of questions down into your brain.

You need to talk about it, you need to know.

"Why did you do that?" You ask quietly as you unwind the scarf from your neck. You hang it on one of the coat hooks by the door. "And for Rhi, too? I thought you hated my friends."

Joel manspreads and leans back into the chair, the muscles of his body visibly relaxing as he settles against the cushion. You watch him while you remove your coat, your eyes falling to the way he dangles one of his hands by the inside of his thigh, close to his crotch. It is so effortlessly and distractingly sexy - why does Joel have to be so handsome, so strong, so beautiful?

He tilts his head to the side slightly and regards you with an almost scornful air.

"You really think I'd let some asshole talk to my woman like that?" Joel scoffs. "Or to any woman, for that matter?"

You stand still by the door contemplating his words. You couldn't ever deny that Joel was overprotective, but to witness him defend you publicly - and your friend, who he had expressed disdain for in the past - had left you astonished. It was exciting to witness him assert his authority over someone else for your sake, to reprimand someone for merely speaking about you disrespectfully. It was also undeniably arousing.

"Didn't see no one else pull him into line," Joel added.

You bow your head and scuff your socked foot back and forth over the floorboard. The mention of this observation stung you more than you expected, perhaps because it was true. Oscar had not defended you; he hadn't even noticed what was happening because he was too busy flirting with Gayle. You knew you shouldn't feel disappointed. You had no right to feel failed by him, not when you and Oscar weren't even together, but especially because you were still technically with Joel. You needed to suppress these useless emotions, these feelings that were pointless to cling to when they seemed so nonsensical.

Joel had done what he vowed to do. He was trying to fix the damage he had caused, trying to show that he was sorry. He had finally given you what you had wanted all along. And although deep down in the depths of your heart you believed the destruction to be irrevocable, you now felt you had little choice but to carry on. You had a family with Joel and Ellie, and he had proved he loved you and wanted to protect you.

And Oscar, your sweet, kind Oscar...he had found someone to love, someone to spend his time with, someone who was actually worthy of him.

You had to accept that this was your life. You had to try rekindle some of the lost love you had for the man infront of you.

"Yes, that's true," you admit quietly without looking up. You toy with the end of your braid that hung over your shoulder, awkward and unsure what to say next.

"Don't matter, though. Only matters that I was there, baby." Joel assures you gently, as if offering you comfort from something that had upset you.

You glimpse at Joel from under your lashes and see how his large puppy dog eyes stare at you with sincerity, serious yet soft, silently beseeching you to understand his devotion. In this instant you can't help the endearment that tugs at your heart.

"Now come here," Joel urges with a pat of his large hand against his thigh. This command and your subsequent subservience is a well practiced dance for you and Joel now, and the resulting gratification has conditioned you to want it. You want to sit in Joel's lap, you want to feel close to his broad chest and soft stomach and hear his praise.

You saunt over to the armchair obediantly and demurely slide into his lap without saying a word. His big mitt comes to rest on your lower back to support you.

"There's my good girl." Joel murmers as his opposite hand reaches up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Despite having been in this exact position many times, your lower belly still flutters with arousal every time you are perched on his thick thigh.

"Tell me somethin'," Joel cooes in his honeyed Texan accent. "Did you like what happened back there tonight? You liked me tellin' that cocky piece of shit to fuck off?"

You did, and he knows it.

You bite back a smile and look down at your fingers fiddling in your lap. Joel is watching your reaction intently, focused on every microexpression that passes over your features. It makes you feel exposed and far too self conscious to answer his question or look at him, but in this situation you know he doesn't mind too much. Joel is savouring the flirtatious tension buzzing between you both - all part of the addictive, intoxicating game of seduction that he loves to enact with you.

Joel strokes his thumb over your chin and smirks proudly. "Yeah, my baby girl liked it, ain't that right?"

The gesture combined with the timbre of his voice makes your inner thighs clench together and a tiny whimper slip from your mouth. It is shameful, you think, how easily Joel can coax such a response from your body with just the pitch of his voice. Joel must be thinking along the same lines because he lets out a soft chuckle, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the way they do when he's genuinely amused by something.

"Just needed daddy to take control and keep you safe, huh?" He croons. You nod, certain that a pink tinge is now spreading across your cheeks.

"Show me them pretty eyes."

Joel's thumb and forefinger angle your chin upwards, directing you to look at him. The beguiling spell he's weaving has already begun to hypnotise you; your eyes are large and dreamy with desire while you chew your bottom lip, one of your hands now trailing up his chest to fist the collar of his flannel in a way that seems to beg him to keep going. Joel hums knowingly and shifts his hand to cup your jaw in his calloused palm.

"Want everyone to know you're mine, huh?Don't you worry, baby, I'll tell 'em," Joel purrs seductively, his hooded eyes flitting from your eyes to your lips and back again.

"Tell 'em you're mine and I'm yours. That I'm the only man who can take care of you and fuck you like you need. What do ya think of that?"

Your pussy clenches around nothing and you whimper softly. You are hardly aware of the way you're already squirming in his lap from being so turned on. Joel chuckles darkly and nuzzles his nose against yours.

"Reckon you'd love that," he whispers. "Everybody in town knowin' it's me who gets this pussy wet and beggin' to get fucked. "

You are so desperate for some kind of relief from your throbbing clit that your hips unconsciously grind down into his thigh.

"Bet you're fuckin' soakin' through your panties right now," Joel rasps.

His hand snakes down your neck and your breasts and roams over your belly to the waist band of your jeans. You exhale a breathy sigh and lean back into his chest, parting your legs instinctively and angling your hips the tiniest bit upward.

"Yeah, I know, sweetheart. Know how desperate that little pussy gets for me."

Joel's fingers slip under your pants and past your underwear, the pads of his fingers immediately meeting with your slick arousal. He groans into your neck and dips two fingers lower toward your opening to collect the wetness seeping out of you. Joel brings them back up to rub your clit in slow circles, the sensation of his lubricated digits making you moan softly and buck your hips. You can feel the hardness of his huge cock in his jeans underneath your ass.

"Yeah," Joel breaths. "So needy and I've barely touched ya."

Your eyes roll back and your hand reaches up to run your fingers through his hair "Yes," you whisper back. "N-need you so much."

Joel hums, a deep rumbling in his throat. He massages your clit at a steady, leisurely pace, occasionally stopping to plunge his fingers down into your pussy hole.

"I know, babydoll, I know. Need daddy to touch you and make you feel good, huh?"

Your eyes fall shut and you nod eagerly, your fingers tugging at his crown of greying curls.

"Please, please," you beg. "Make me feel good."

"I will," Joel murmers. His voice is now rough and husky with his own desire. "Get upstairs and strip, wait for me on the bed."

He retracts his hand from your pussy and pulls out of your underwear, making you whine and pout at the loss. His fingers shine obscenely with your slick.

"Do as your told," Joel growls.

••••••

He urges you to stand with a firm push of his hand against your back, then heaves himself off the armchair. You obey and scamper up the stairs to Joel's bedroom.

Not even five minutes later you are completely naked and laying your back in Joel's bed. He lays on his stomach in the middle of your open legs, still fully clothed, still the one in control despite having his head buried between your thighs.

Joel starts by licking a slow, thick stripe from your opening up to your clit. The sensation of his warm tongue caressing the most sensitive spot of your body forces a long moan to escape from your lips. You shiver momentarily and your back arches.

Joel groans hungrily and slowly laps at your clit, his thick fingers digging into the flesh of your inner thighs as he holds you open for him to devour. He continues the motion of his tongue over and over until you can feel the wet mess of your slick and his saliva drip down to your asshole.

Joel had always loved eating your pussy. But tonight he seems determined to take his time pulling you apart. His mouth works expertly to lavish you with such intense pleasure that you feel you'd float away if not for the tight grip of your fists in his hair.

You keen with every fat, languid stroke of Joel's tongue and then gasp when he occasionally stops to suckle on your sensitive bundle of nerves. The alternating actions have your whole body tensing and shuddering, steadily building up to what you know will be an explosive orgasm.

Joel stops and pulls his face from your exposed pussy to speak, his moustache glistening with your juices.

"Taste so fuckin' sweet, babydoll." He pants, his voice rough with lust filled hunger. "Want you to soak my face when you cum, alright?"

You nod, dazed and drunk, unable to form any words. Joel gives your inner thigh a firm swat with his hand to get your attention. You yelp and buck your hips, instinctively tugging on his hair that you still hold in your fists.

"Yes daddy," you gasp. "Yes."

Joel hums in approval and leans back in to continue eating your pussy. He presses his two thick fingers against your entrance and he swirls his tongue back over your clit, his nose bumping against your mound.

"Joel," you moan loudly. "Fuck, don't stop, please...f-feels so good."

Your hips rock in small circles, chasing the stimulation of his tongue, desperate for the tightening coil of your climax to hit its peak. When Joel slowly pushes his fingers all the way inside of you and curls them to hit your g spot, you cry out at the overwhelming pleasure. You are wrecked, totally devoid of any coherent thought and not able to utter anything but his name. Joel, Joel, Joel.

He begins to fuck you steadily with his thick fingers while sucking gently on your clit, making you wail loudly, your walls contracting tightly. It doesn't take much longer for your ecstasy to culminate in a fervent orgasm, heightened by Joel's unrelenting ministrations. You squeal and arch your back as you cum and gush into Joel's mouth, your vision bursting with stars.

"Oh my God, Joel," you choke out through panting breaths. "Fuck!"

Joel continues thrusting and sucking all the way through your climax, only letting up once your walls have stopped spasming and your moans are reduced to soft sighs. Joel cannot completely stop there, though; he prolongs your bliss with light swipes of his tongue over your throbbing clit until your legs shake and you mewl pathetically from the overstimulation. Only then does he stop and slide his fingers outside you, leaving your cunt a quivering mess.

Joel crawls ontop of your lax body and captures your mouth in a sloppy, passionate kiss. You are still delirious from your high but you can taste yourself on his tongue, can smell yourself on his moustache, and it is utterly intoxicating.

He kisses you and it is savage and desperate and loving all at once; nothing exists in this vacuum of carnality but you and Joel, just the heat of your bodies and the thundering of your hearts, seemingly forever entwined.

A week and a half had passed since the incident in the dining hall. Day to day life remained the same, although there were some small changes in your routine.

One of the other teachers, Mrs. Thompson, was entering her third trimester of pregnancy and had been experiencing progressively worsening morning sickness and swelling in her feet. She approached you before class one day and burst into tears as she recounted the agony of heartburn and regular episodes of vomiting, the pain of bearing weight on her swollen soles. Although Mrs. Thompson had three older children, the effects on her body from this pregnancy had been the most challenging. She confided that it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to persevere through the sickness in order to continue her work duties.

You understood right away that Mrs. Thompson needed your help in covering her shifts, and so you readily offered your availability before she could even ask. Mrs. Thompson was a good woman, always hard working and dependable, someone you looked up to in the community. You wanted to help alleviate her stress and make yourself useful, so you offered to swap your Wednesday at the library for her teaching shift at the school. You could switch your library day to a different day, perhaps even take on an extra work duty.

You ignored the sad ache in your chest and accompanied Mrs. Thompson to meet with Maria about your proposed roster changes.

Time to move on, you thought.

Joel wasn't supposed to see you tonight.

He was supposed to be spending the evening at Tommy's playing poker with a bunch of the guys that made up Tommy's social circle. Some were senior patrolmen, like Troy and Joel, while others were friends he had known since the early days of his arrival in Jackson.

Cocky, charismatic and idealistic, Tommy had always found it relatively easy to make friends and was a well liked and popular member of the Jackson committee. He cherished the commraderie of the community, ever grateful of the security and love it had bestowed upon him, and he did his best to nurture this brotherhood.

It was very clear that Tommy's personality was fundamentally different to that of his older brother's. Joel hated what he deemed as meaningless socialisation and avoided most gatherings, but for Tommy's poker nights he made an exception. Despite their differences and rocky history, Joel felt an undying loyalty to his brother and secretly treasured the time they spent together. He was also encouraged by Ellie, who threatened to kick his old ass if he didn't make an effort to participate for Tommy's sake.

Joel wasn't supposed to visit you tonight but with each passing minute he was becoming more desperate to see your face. He was falling more in love with you, losing more and more of himself in his obsession with you. He wasn't able to tolerate another night of giving you space. He refused to.

With the aid of a few shots of whiskey Joel was able to persist through three rounds of poker before making the excuse that he was tired and was going to go home. The men all protested and tried to persuade him to stay, playfully insulting his age and joking about his stamina in all areas of life. Tommy slapped him on the back with a knowing grin and told him to "get the fuck outta here".

Joel made his way directly to your place, stalking through the camouflaging vegetation on the makeshift path his boots had created from repeated trampling over the past year. He couldn't wait to see your pretty face and kiss you and run his hands all over your soft body.

Joel was about to sneak in through the side door of your cottage when he heard your voice floating along the late night breeze. He paused. It seemed to be coming from your front porch.

Why were you awake and who were you talking to?

Even with his good ear facing the direction of your voice Joel couldn't quite make out what was being said, so he skulked slowly along the wall toward the front of your cottage. He stopped at the very edge of the weatherboard exterior and peeked furtively around the corner.

Joel's entire body went rigid at the sight of Oscar standing at the end of your porch.

••••••

What the fuck is going on?

"I'm so sorry, I know it's late. But I just had to see you."

"No, it's okay, really. I wasn't asleep or anything." You sound slightly breathless.

The way you're self consciously tugging on the bottom of your sleep shorts and pursing your lips makes Oscar want to swoop in and kiss you. But he just nods and runs a hand through his dishevelled hair.

"Oh, good. Good." He mumbles.

There is a moment of silence while the two of you look each other up and down, soaking up the unfamiliar sight of the other in casual sleeping clothes. You crack a tiny smile at the fitted black sweat pants and loose grey sweater he wears, faded red block letters that spell HARVARD adorning the front. In turn Oscar's eyes scan over the length of your bare legs, the fuzzy mismatched socks on your feet, and the oversized pink sweater covering the top half of your body.

"Why are you here, Oscar?" You ask quietly. "Why do you need to see me?"

Oscar bows his head and swallows thickly, steeling himself for this very scene he had been dreaming of for weeks.

Okay, this is it, he thinks. Oscar lifts his head to look directly into your eyes and the words seem to spill from his mouth before he can properly articulate himself.

"I'm here because I just can't stop. I can't stop thinking about you. Because I hate myself for not telling you how I felt about you sooner."

Your eyes widen in shock and blink rapidly. "W..what? How you felt?"

"Yes, how I feel," he quickly corrects. "But please let me finish. I need to say this because it is eating me up inside." Oscar beseeches, his emotive brown eyes pleading with you. You nod your understanding and chew your bottom lip nervously as you wait for him to finish.

"I love you." Oscar confesses softly. "I've loved you since the first day I met you."

You gasp and cover your mouth with your hand. He sees the glimmer of tears welling just above your waterline and resists the urge to kiss your eyelids. It feels like an eternity that you are standing face to face on the porch of your cottage, gazing at each other in weighted stillness as if time has stopped.

The moonlight is the only source of illumination around you and its beams offer just enough light for Oscar to see your features. He didn't think it could be possible but you look even more beautiful under the soft glow of the moon.

There's a sudden crackling sound nearby that shatters the moment and causes you both to jerk your heads toward the street. A squirrel darts out from a shadow and scampers up a tree across the way. You let out a breathless, nervous laugh and Oscar turns back to you.

"I know you're with Joel Miller now and I shouldn't be here. But I just needed to tell you." Oscar says solemnly. "I came to the library today to tell you but you weren't there."

You sigh and wrap your arms around your waist, seemingly shrinking into yourself. "I changed my roster. I thought you wouldn't come, anyway." You mumble, looking out onto the street to avoid Oscar's gaze.

"Really? Why wouldn't I?" He questions, frowning with confusion. "I always meet you on Wednesdays."

You huff like you're close to exasperation.

"You stood me up the last time," you retort sharply. "And you're busy with Gayle now. I didn't expect you to."

His face contorts with a mixture of surprise and bewilderment. Stood you up? Gayle?

"I didn't stand you up!" Oscar blurts out. "I left you a note saying sorry, that I had to fill in a patrol shift for Joel. Didn't you see?"

It's your turn to look puzzled now and when you speak your tone is significantly softer and borders on apprehensive.

"What note? And...you filled Joel's shift?"

"Yes, I slipped a note under the library door that morning apologising. Tommy was desperate to get someone to cover Joel." Oscar explains with calm sincerity. You're staring at him now and he cannot quite decipher why you appear so timid all of a sudden.

"And I'm not with Gayle. Why would you think that?" Oscar reaches out to cup your elbow, no longer able to resist touching you, needing you to see him and hear him. "I hardly know her."

You allow him to hold your arm while you sigh once more. He notices your body shivering and how your bare legs are now prickled all over with goosebumps.

Shit, you must be freezing, but you have yet to invite him inside your home to escape the cold. Maybe you're not pleased that he's knocked on your door. Maybe it's time to go.

"I promise you, I am not with Gayle. And I'm sorry, both for not telling you about my feelings earlier...and for coming tonight," Oscar mutters awkwardly, pulling away from you. "Uhm, so...have a good night."

He turns to go but before he can walk away from your porch he feels a tug at the back of his sweater, then your sweet voice uttering a plea.

"Oscar, please wait, don't go."

When he whips back around and sees your bottom lip nervously pulled between your teeth and your eyebrows dolefully knitted together he wants nothing more than to enfold you into his arms and kiss you. Oscar is positive that if he were given that opportunity, to have that moment with you as his last on this earth, he would die a happy man.

"I'm sorry, Oscar," you croak. "I don't know what to tell you. You don't know how much you've meant to me these past few months, how happy you've made me. You became the best thing in my life."

"Are you...is what you're saying true?" He murmers in stunned disbelief. "Me?"

When you sniffle and nod your head, Oscar's heart is flooded with an overwhelming surge of adoration and relief. He's made you happy. That's all he ever wanted - your happiness.

"Your friendship has saved me in many ways, you know," you whisper. There's a hard lump stuck in your throat causing your voice to come out thick and cracked. "And for that I will always love you."

Oscar takes hold of your hand and you interlace your fingers with his as if it's the most natural thing in the world. You give his hand a small squeeze.

"But I am with Joel," you affirm. "And although things...well, they haven't always been so good. They really haven't been good."

You are crying now.

"But we've been together for over a year now. And Ellie's even given us her blessing. We are a family now. I...I just can't leave that, even if I wanted to."

Oscar feels at a loss as you unleash your emotions onto him. He is torn between wanting to comfort you and wanting to tell you to forget it, forget everything he confessed to you, to forget him completely.

"Pease understand that I just can't, Oscar." You sob.

And despite his own heart beginning to crumble and perish, he unlocks his hand from yours and pulls you into his tight embrace. You fall into Oscar and bury your face into his neck and wrap your arms around him. One of his hands cradles the back of your head while the other supports your lower back, keeping you pinned firmly against his front.

"I want you in my life," he whispers. "As my friend, as my lover...whatever you give me, I want it."

••••••

Oscar isn't sure how much time passes before he eventually extracts you from his hold. He knows he needs to leave. He bestows a final kiss on your temple and bids you goodnight, forcing himself to ignore your little whimper of sadness. Oscar leaves you alone in the darkness and retreats from your cottage without glimpsing back at you.

The unbearable pain of betrayl and jealousy crush Joel's heart like a vice. He shuts his eyes and squeezes his shaking hands into fists so tight that his knuckles turn white. His jaw clenches so hard that his head begins to pound.

For the first time ever, Joel is almost paralysed by an onslaught of emotion; he isn't angry or provoked into impulsive violence, but instead is genuinely hurt by what he has heard. He had given you so much, had tried so hard to change for you, and this is how you act? You're practically cheating on him right now, baring your soul to another man while bad mouthing him.

How could you?

Joel slumps against the side of the cottage and tilts his head back, trying his best to maintain control over his increasingly panicked breaths.

Fuck, not now, not now.

He loves you. You're his. When did you become so unhappy with him? Didn't you love him, too?

Joel shakes his head, willing his buzzing mind to silence itself, to allow him to breathe and rein in the hysteria that threatens to take over. He exhales a heavy, shuddering breath and feels some of the pent up pressure inside his chest disperse along with it.

He stays slumped against the wall while he rides through the wave of panic. It takes almost five minutes for the distress to abate enough for Joel to decide to abandon his plan to surprise you tonight. He goes back to his own house and gets drunk instead.

Joel meets you at your cottage for dinner the following night. You have made a lamb and vegetable stew specially for him as you've noticed it is one of the very few dishes that Joel consumes with zeal every single time. You still crave his praise - that groan of pleasure that rumbles in his throat as he takes his first bite always makes your tummy flutter and your heart beam with pride.

You aren't hungry but you join him at the dining table anyway, perched on the chair opposite him with a novel in your hand. You know Joel likes it when you are close by, keeping him company throughout even the smallest of tasks.

Joel is quiet during the meal, even more so than he usually is, but you don't pay much attention to his brooding. He is prone to sullen moods and you have become accostumed to the occasional bouts of grumpiness, now unfazed by Joel Miller's characteristic sullen sulking.

Maybe he had a bad day at work, or maybe he's just tired. Whatever the reason, you show no curiosity or concern, only paying attention to the book you're reading.

It's a paper back romance novel, a genre you had never really delved into before, but decided to take a chance on. The spine is worn and the cover is dog eared, but the picture depicted on the front of the book was enough to capture your interest. The artwork shows a woman dressed in a corseted gown collapsing into the arms of a handsome man above her. The swell of her round breasts peek out from the top of her neckline and her head is tilted back sensually as she gazes up at him.

When you had first spotted the book and studied the cover you felt a flutter inside the walls of your pussy. It was erotic, the way the characters were positioned, the passion and lust conveyed through their expressions. You thought there was a romantic quality to the scene, too, something in the way the man's hands cradled his lover, and that was what prompted you to give it a go.

You're so lost in the story that jumps to life from the pages of text that you don't even register what Joel says at first.

"Hmm?" You look up at him from the spot you were reading.

"Said I don't want you eatin' in the hall anymore." Joel says offhandedly as he scrapes his spoon against the ceramic of the bowl, not even looking at you, the words falling so casually from his lips.

Your brows crease at the sudden random remark and you look at him, confused. You lay your book open in your lap and clear your throat to speak.

"Uh, what do you mean? Why not?"

Joel doesn't respond to you right away, instead chewing the food in his mouth in an unhurried manner, then taking a long sip from the glass of water next to him. He still does not meet your eyes and it feels as though he is purposely ignoring you. You wonder if he is secretly enjoying the drawn out suspense from his lack of explanation, and irritation prickles your skin at his apathy.

"Joel?" You implore as you lean forward to catch his attention. "What do you mean?"

"Too many men there, don't want them lookin' at you." He states gruffly.

He scoops up the last bit of stew and eats it before dumping the spoon in his bowl and finally looking up at you. His expression is unreadable, almost blank.

You stare at him still frowning. As far as you are aware, no men look at you in the mess hall during dinner or any other meal times, and if they did then it did not perturb you as long as none of them spoke to you.

"No one looks at me, Joel," you say firmly.

"That's a lie and you know it," Joel spits out straight away.

The bitterness in his tone startles you. It makes you feel caught out and exposed.

Is he talking about someone in particular or is he just acting paranoid and possessive?

Regardless of what Joel is alluding to you still keep your eyes focused on him, not wanting to let him intimidate you. It seems impossible though, with the stoic way his eyes bore into you, and it takes all your will to not bow your head.

You do not want Joel to dictate what you can and can't do without a logical reason, and not wanting you to eat in the mess hall because there are other men around seems ridiculous to you. Well, it is ridiculous. Why had this not been an issue before?

Joel sits back in his chair and crosses his arms without breaking eye contact with you. He licks his tongue across his top teeth and clicks his tongue.

The atmosphere in the dining room is suddenly loaded with tension. You realise that whatever has been simmering inside Joel tonight is about to spill out from him. His jaw ticks.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say adamantly.

Joel scoffs and raises his eyebrows. "Oh, you don't? You didn't see how your little friend Estrada was starin' at you the whole damn time we were there?"

Shit.

That day at lunch time the dining hall had been teeming with people; among them were you and your friends at one table, Joel and Tommy at another, and Oscar and a few patrolmen sitting at another. You caught glimpses of both Joel and Oscar staring at you from time to time and you couldn't relax at all. At the time you had hoped the men hadn't noticed the other gazing at you, but now you knew Joel had.

You understand immediately that you will need to tread carefully with this conversation.

You look away from Joel and shake your head.

"No, I didn't," you lie.

You grab your book and push your chair back to stand, the legs scraping loudly against the wooden floorboards. You turn away to walk out of the room and hear Joel's chair drag as he jumps up to follow you.

"Where you goin'?" He barks.

"To bed," you bite back at him.

You hurry to the bedroom and push the door open. Joel is so close behind you that you can hear the heavy breaths of frustration huffing from his nose. He grabs hold of your upper arm and whirls you back around to look at him, your face close to his.

"Did you tell him you already got a man?" Joel asks accusingly, his firey brown eyes darting back and forth between yours. "When you were spendin' so much time with him behind my back?"

"Behind your back?"

"You know exactly what I'm talkin' about," Joel bristles. "His visits to your work, sneaking around to see you on his fuckin' lunch break."

Your breath siezes in your lungs and you stare back at Joel, incapable of masking the panic that briefly glosses over your eyes.

He knows.

Joel clocks the alarm in your expression, what he interprets as a silent admission, and snarls. "Tell me, did you tell him you're mine?"

You're suddenly struck by the absurdity of what Joel is asking you. How could anyone have known you belonged to Joel when he was the one who refused to be in an honest relationship with you? He had dictated the terms of your relationship this whole time, and yet here he was now, criticising you for keeping it a secret?

You shrug your arm out of his grip and raise your hands in an exasperated gesture. Your resolve to remain calm and navigate the conversation had completely disappeared.

"Well, what did you want me to do?" You snap. "Tell him I am taken but my boyfriend won't walk down the street holding my hand? You didn't want to publicly be with me so why would Oscar know you're my man? Seriously Joel, that is so unfair!"

Joel lifts his eyebrows, surprised at your little outburst. Just when did you become disrespectful like this? How did you get the balls to speak to him like this? Where had his good girl gone? Maybe he had been giving you too much freedom lately, was too lenient in allowing you to call the shots.

Maybe it was time to rein you in a bit.

Joel's eyes darken and narrow at you. You instantly recognise that look - the look of stern intimidation that challenged you to quickly rethink your behaviour lest you wanted some kind of cruel reprimand. The palpable change in his demeanour is disturbing but you cross your arms over your chest and boldly hold his gaze, lips pouted defiantly.

Joel runs his hand over his face and chuckles mirthlessly. "Christ, baby. When did you become such a goddamn brat?"

"All I did was ask what I was supposed to do." You argue stubbornly. "You know what? Whatever, Joel. I don't want to have this conversation."

"You really think you can talk to me like that, little girl?" Joel asks cooly, voice low and bordering on ominous. His jaw ticks in irritation.

"Like what?" You heedlessly snip back.

"Like you're forgettin' who you're fuckin' speakin' to right now."

The foreboding tone of Joel's voice combined with his icy, piercing glare causes a stirring of the familiar knot of anxious dread in your lower belly. It's all so reminiscent of the past episodes of violence he's inflicted upon you.

Was this the calm before the storm? There was no way you could do this again, no way you could endure whatever nastiness he was going to impose on you.

Your confidence deflates rapidly and you realise you need to change tact to diffuse the situation. You sag your shoulders and drop your chin in an effort to appear more submissive.

"I'm just confused about how...what you expected of me, Joel." You reply timidly. "I'm just asking--"

"No, see...you ain't," Joel shook his head. "You're bein' downright disrespectful right now. I suggest you watch your tongue."

Your strategy hasn't worked. You were too bold, too rebellious, and now you will pay the price. You gulp and instinctively step backwards to maintain some distance between you and Joel.

"I'm not," you protest weakly, hating the pleading inflection that comes across in your voice. "But you're getting upset with me for something that isn't my fault."

"And leadin' him on wasn't?" Joel growls, his fists clenching by his sides. Your mouth falls open in shock.

Leading Oscar on? By being friends and spending time together? The shock fizzles away and is replaced by anger; anger at Joel for his unfair judgement, anger at yourself for not having told Oscar how you truly felt earlier, anger at the whole fucked up situation.

"Lead him on? How? By being friends?" You retort. "Talking about...about books and-and music and whatever else friends talk about?"

It was so much more than that, you know. You're purposely diminishing the beauty of what you and Oscar shared, downplaying just how important the friendship was to you. If Joel found out just what Oscar meant to you then you would truly dread what may happen.

"Why the fuck do you need him for?" Joel booms. "I'm not good enough for you to talk about that shit with?"

You almost scoff at how ridiculous he sounds. It is like he is mocking you. Joel had never initiated any kind of discussion with you about anything meaningful - no profound conversations about music or books, no questions about your work or your passions, no display of genuine interest for anything that mattered to you.

However, Oscar was the complete opposite. He asked question after question about you and listened intently to everything you had to say. How could Joel be so ignorant to your needs and feelings?

Had he truly never acknowledged you as an individual, as a woman with a personality and dreams and desires?

"You don't like to talk about those things with me! Infact you don't like to talk about anything with me!" You argue back, rage and frustration once again swallowing your sense of self preservation and robbing you of your better judgement. "All you want to do is fuck me, Joel!"

Joel's reaction comes faster than you could anticipate. He reaches out and snatches your bicep tightly into his grasp, making you squeal in pain and surprise. He roughly drags you toward him and brings your face close to his, his lip curled into a snarl and his chest expanding wide.

His eyes appear black, pupils blown wide with wrath. It elicits a deep seated fear from within your gut, that ever present primitive fight or flight mechanism, adrenals in overdrive from the previous times Joel has unleashed his vehemence upon you. All of your courage drains from your body and you tremble, tears quickly filling your eyes.

"You better fuckin' quit this before I make you regret what the fuck you just said," Joel hisses.

"Let go of me," you whimper, "let me go right now."

"Not til you listen to what I have to say to you, you cheating little bitch," he growls.

You flinch at his vemon laced words but his iron grasp on you keeps you from recoiling away. You hang your head and begin to sob pitifully.

"From now on, you will not talk to another man. You will not look at another man. You are going to live at my house and you will come straight home from your work duties. You hear me?"

Joel gives your arm a tight shake. When you don't say anything in response he squeezes your flesh between his fingers, causing you to cry out.

"Answer me!" He barks.

"Y-yes sir," you sob in defeat, your tears falling directly to the floor as your head remains bowed.

Joel releases his hold on your arm and leans down to whisper into your ear, voice low and menacing.

"And if I see you with that son of a bitch ever again, I'll kill him."

taglist - @sofiparallel @harriedandharassed @kewwrites @romanarose @fan-fiction-floozy @anoverwhelmingdin @unknownsuser101 @shesarealcarpentersdream @sheeeeeppp @uncassettodiricordi @axshadows @puduvallee @gossipgirl-03 @mandoloriancookie @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @missannfairy @bean-security

[harrywavycurly]

It Was Just One Night: Date Night Convos

Masterlist: here

Tag List: @ihatepeanutss @sofaritsalrightt @emma77645 @ietss @1paire2vans @robyn-118 @josephquinnlover0 @mommymilkerfanclub @littlemoon-beam @lodeddiperrodrick @silkholland @shotgunhallelujah @prestinalove @allsortsedits @a1ex-ba1ex @eddiemunson-fanfic @josephquinnsfreckles @hiscrimsonangel @rustboxstarr @idkbbyx3 @silky-luxe @mrsjellymunson

A/N: I thought it would be fun to give y’all some conversations from Eddie and Reader’s date night✨

“Is…is that what you’re wearing?” “You told me it was a surprise and I like to be comfortable especially for surprises so yes…you can take it or leave it daddy-o.” “It’s just..the slippers with the sweatpants are so…-” “Distractingly sexy? Deliriously cute?” “Distracting…is a great word for it but it’s fine because we are just going to go see a movie.” “Our first date and you’re not only taking me to the place I work but…you’re taking me somewhere we can’t talk for two hours?” “Correction sweetheart I’d never take you to your own movie theater….and I know you like the snacks.” “Well then…let’s get going…what movie are we seeing? I hope it’s scary.” “It’s a limited time showing of the original Halloween…” “but you hate Michael?” “Yeah but you love him…”

“Are we having dinner after this?” “Why?” “It’s going to determine what I order…” “oh well yeah..yeah we are gonna go to dinner after this.” “Okay so I’ll just get a large popcorn…can I get a sprite or are you going to make me drink water?” “You can get a sprite…” “okay then a large popcorn and a sprite and some nachos.” “You’re going to get all that after I said we are going to dinner?” “Yes? I was going to add a pretzel and a hot dog but I didn’t…stop looking at me like that you asshole I’m almost eight months pregnant and I’m hungry all the damn time.” “Sorry…order whatever you want.” “Thank you…”

“Feel free to hold my hand if you get scared.” “You’re so annoying…just because I don’t like Michael doesn’t mean he scares me.” “I’m just saying…I’m here if you need someone to cuddle with.” “Do you want me to…hold your hand?” “It’s a date isn’t it? Don’t most couples hold hands and shit?” “Yeah…yeah they do…is this..okay?” “That’s not comfortable…that’s my grabbing popcorn hand…how about this?” “Jesus! You have to warn me…before you just put your hand on…my thigh.” “Sorry!” “But it’s…it’s fine yeah…that uh works for me.” “Look at us doing couple type stuff together…” “I think we actually…make a cute couple.” “Oh the cutest couple in this theater for sure.” “It’s still weird when we agree on things.” “Only because you make it weird Eddie…”

“I just think cheese fries are actually hard to perfect…everyone tries but few are successful..” “but Benny…he’s managed to perfect it somehow?” “Yes…just try one.” “If this doesn’t change my life then I’m going to be upset.” “Oh trust me baby daddy it’ll change your life.” “Oh..wow…yeah okay…I get the hype.” “Don’t get greedy..these are mine.” “I know you well enough to know you’d never share food with me….I’ll order my own.” “I’ll share food with you Eddie just not cheese fries.” “Really?” “Yes…just not cheese fries…or candy…or my secret stash of chocolate.” “What about a bite of your grilled cheese?” “I know what a bite means to you…so here just take half…I told you that the burger wasn’t what you wanted today.” “Next time I’ll just let you order for me.” “Next time? Is that your sneaky way of asking me on another date?” “I think this one is going good enough to maybe do it again?” “Yeah…I’d say so…” “so you’ll go on another date with me then?” “Yes I’ll go on another date with you.”

“So…mind if I come in and tell Dotty goodnight?” “Trying to invite yourself in on the first date? God Edward what kinda girl do you take me for?” “Don’t be annoying.” “Yes you can come-” “I’m sorry I just wanted to do that all night and you-” “who taught you how to kiss like that?…was it Nancy?” “I hate you.” “Sorry couldn’t help myself…come on and help me get ready for bed? I’ll let you tell Dotty your side of the date before I tell her mine after you leave.” “I have to leave?” “Edward James Munson you are not sleeping over on the first date good lord.” “I like it when you say my full name like that….so what nightgown is it gonna be tonight? Smiley faces or peace signs?” “Smiley faces please.” “Good choice…I’ll go make you some water while you go get changed.” “Okay…hey Eddie?” “Yeah?” “I had a really good time tonight.” “Me too sweetheart…me too.”

[msschemmenti]

girl next door 🏠

jemily x reader

summary: jj and emily play welcome committee

a/n: this is a part of this fic i’ve been writing with an oc as the reader. i just subbed y/n for the oc’s name :)

y/n sighed deeply, stepping out of the airport. The DC air was thick and her linen lounge set was the only thing saving her right about now. She gazed down at her phone, checking the status of her uber. The car inched through the line of vehicles and she leaned against her suitcase. This was it, a brand new start and she had a townhouse to unpack before her new job starts.

At twenty-six, y/n felt like she was finally making decisions of her own. An occupation change. A location change. And finally a relationship status change. A new life.The car slowed to a stop in front of a row of townhouses. y/n thanked the driver and slid out of the car. She looked over the yards, all filled with various bushes and toys . Lived in. She wheeled her suitcase up the walkway and rummaged through her purse for her keys. Once the door popped open, she stepped over the threshold. She sighed sweetly at all the boxes lining the house.

“Home, sweet home.”

-

It was well past eleven when Emily maneuvered the SUV into their driveway. The ride home had been a quiet one, but both she and JJ were honestly just ready to be home. Emily tossed JJ the keys and moved to grab both of their go-bags. As both women made their way toward their front door, they caught sight of the light shining two doors down. The bay window’s blinds were high and the light bathed a young woman in a shadow. She looked to be going through a box, leaning against a green couch. Emily was the first to stop and JJ was quick to follow. The house had been empty for about a year since their old neighbor got married. And with their jobs, they hadn’t even realized anyone was moving in.

“Huh, looks like we’ve got a new neighbor.” Emily mused.

“guess so.” JJ observed. She turned her gaze to Emily and nudged her toward the door. “Let’s wait until daylight. I’m exhausted and so are you.”

Emily rolled her eyes but allowed the blonde to push her toward the door. “At least we have the weekend off.”

“Thank god for rotation.”

-

y/n yawned behind her hand for the fourth time since waking up. She stood in front of the coffee machine waiting patiently as the warm liquid brewed. She had another day of unpacking and organizing ahead of her and she’d absolutely need some coffee to get her through it. She was clad in a pink cami and boy shorts and her hair was pulled high off of her neck. Her big framed black glasses rested on her nose and her feet sat snuggly in her fluffy slippers.

As her coffee finished brewing, y/n grabbed her mug and made her way over to the bay window. With the blinds open, she hummed contentedly as she watched the street come to life on a Saturday morning. She watched as everyone seemed to slowly join her in wakefulness. Cars driving by, dogs rushing owners, and a very distractingly attractive blonde running up the sidewalk that lined the townhouses. The ponytail bobbed as she bounded past y/n’s house. The coffee momentarily forgotten, she leaned closer to the window watching as the woman entered the house two doors down.

“Sexy neighbor. This place keeps getting better by the minute.”

-

JJ pulled her earbuds out of her ears as she walked through the house. She rounded a corner into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and found a sleepy Emily nursing a mug of coffee. She took a sip of her water before leveling the woman with a smirk.

“Guess who caught the new neighbor checking me out in her cute pajamas?”

“Oh that’s not fair! Of course you’d run right past her window looking like that. You’ve already established yourself as the hot neighbor.” Emily groaned.

“You should run more. Maybe you’d get checked out too.”

“What does she look like?” Emily asked.

“Rather adorable in the early morning. Can’t be more than twenty-five. Thick rimmed glasses, thick hair piled on top of her head, dressed in the cutest little pink boyshort set and slippers.” JJ recounted with a dreamy look in her eyes.

“How many times did you run by?” Emily whistled.

“I’m just observant. it’s my job. Are we gonna do the baked goods in a basket “Welcome to the neigborhood”? Or what?” JJ asked.

“We don’t bake.”

“Well yes that’s true. But we know someone who does…” JJ smiled already pulling her phone up to craft a message.

“Oh, tell her to bring some of those powdered strawberry eclairs she was mentioning yesterday too.” Emily nodded, taking her coffee upstairs to get dressed.

-

“Show me the house!” A voice floated through the laptop on the counter. “I really can’t believe you left me for DC. At least show me where I’ll be staying when I come to visit.” Grayson, y/n’s best co-worker/friend from Kentucky huffed.

“Alright, hold your horses. I’ll give you a tour.” y/n smiled and lifted her laptop to walk through the house. She showed Grayson the two-story home and everything she’d set up thus far. “Obviously the guest room is yours whenever you’d like it. Just let me know when because I’d like to actually have things prepared before then.”

“It’s so cute, gosh I can’t wait to come visit. How’s the neighborhood? Met anyone interesting yet?”

“Very homey for sure. Lots of families and stuff. I think it’ll be a good fit. I haven’t met anyone per say, but I can say there is a super hot blonde runner who lives two doors down.” y/n grinned taking a seat on one of her island stools.

“Hot blonde runner, oh you have to get all up in that. You need a new body to get under.”

“Oh my god shut up? I didn’t move to get involved with someone on my second day. But that doesn’t mean I won’t enjoy the view.”

“Is there an HOA meeting you can go to or something? You need to at least make some new hot friends to keep you company without me.”

y/n shook her head in disbelief and opened her mouth to reply when the doorbell interrupted her, “Gray, I’ll call you later. Someone is at the door.”

“Oh fingers-crossed, it's hot blonde. Bye love.”

y/n hung up and quickly made her way over to the door. She looked through the peephole cautiously and was shocked to see the hot blonde with two other women beside her. y/n fluffed her hair a bit and straightened her clothes out quickly before pulling the door open with a smile. “Um hi.”

All three women smiled and the colorfully dressed woman spoke first, “Hello sunshine! My name is Penelope Garcia and these lovely ladies are Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss. Your personal neighborhood welcome committee.” Penelope spoke, practically bouncing on her heels.

“Oh wow, hi!” y/n grinned letting her eyes roam the three women fully. Her eyes lingered on the blonde she now knew as Jennifer Jareau but as her eyes moved to Emily she was just as entranced by her beauty.

“Pen doesn’t actually live here, but Emily and I live two doors down.” Jennifer gestured toward the house she’d entered earlier that day.

“And we brought the typical baked goods basket.” Emily offered, extending the basket of pastries toward the younger woman.

“Well it’s lovely to meet y’all. Would you like to come in? I’m sure I’ve got something in here to go with these sweet treats.” y/n asked, gesturing over her shoulder.

“We’d love to!” Penelope jumped happily following the younger woman into her home. With JJ and Emily following closely behind. As they all settled in the kitchen at the island, y/n turned suddenly as if remembering something.

“Oh where are my manners, I’m y/n! Inviting guests into my home without even telling them my name, my mother would have my head.” The younger woman smiled sheepishly before grabbing plates and mugs for everyone.

“Oh your accent is just precious, where are you from sweetness?” Penelope asked eagerly.

“Haha, I’m originally from Georgia. But I relocated from Kentucky.”

“A true Southern Belle.” Emily mused, causing y/n to blush with a smile.

“Something like that. Thank you all for welcoming me to the neighborhood. My former co-worker Grayson was just saying I should get out and meet some people.”

“She worried about you?” JJ asked.

“Yeah, the move was pretty spontaneous. I know literally no one here and my closest relative or friend is in New York. Safe to say she’s a bit concerned.” y/n supplied, leaning against the counter to dig through the basket of baked goods.

“Well you can tell her you’ve met three awesome ladies who’d love to be your friend. Two of which live right on your street!” Garcia grinned and y/n reciprocated. y/n grabbed a few muffins from the basket and peeled the paper back to take a bite. The women watched as the younger woman’s eyes fell closed in pleasure.

“Oh wow, this might be the best muffin I’ve ever had in my life. Where did you get these?” y/n moaned, eyeing the three women. Both JJ and Emily seemed positively stunned by the sound and sight of y/n tasting the muffin. Penelope noticed almost instantly and jumped in to save them.

“I made them! I’ve spent quite a while perfecting my muffin recipe, so I’m so glad someone is appreciating my hard work.”

“Oh that’s amazing, you’ll have to show me how you’ve mastered it. I’ve always loved a sweet treat so I bake pretty often.”

“Oh that sounds great, these two are completely useless in the kitchen. I’m happy to know there’s someone on the street who’ll keep them fed. Isn’t that right Jayje?”

“We’re not that bad!” JJ whined.

“Emily is literally not allowed to stand near the kitchen.” Garcia deadpanned, causing y/n to giggle watching the women bicker.

“I’ll be happy to share, I’m still really bad about portions anyways. So you’d actually be saving me.” y/n said sweetly.

“We’ll definitely have to take you up on that.” Emily nodded.

“You all seem like really close friends, have you known each other long?” y/n asked curiously, offering the women some of the goods in the basket.

“We all work together, Pen and I for longer but all of us now.” JJ answered.

“Oh, what do you all do?” y/n asked curiously. “That’s a pretty low turnover rate, you must really like the job.”

“We’re all FBI Agents. Part of a Team called the Behavioral Analysis Unit.” Emily supplies, watching the younger woman’s face frown in confusion.

“FBI, like the FBI?” y/n asked incredulously. All three women nodded. “Can’t say I was expecting that at all. So you like actually fight crime with your badge and gun and everything?”

“I don’t do the whole gun or fighting thing, but These two? Absolutely. The amount of doors they’ve collectively kicked down is crazy.” Penelope mused nudging JJ playfully.

“Well, that’s hot.” y/n mused nodding as her eyes glazed over a bit. “You’ll have to show me your badges one day, I’ve always wanted to see one in real life.”

The younger woman took a drag from her mug and turned to throw her muffin paper away. As soon as her back was to the three women, JJ’s eyes were wide and gazing at Emily. Garcia was poking JJ’s side conspiratorially, and Emily was trying not to give into either woman’s knowing looks. The younger woman turned back to them with a curious smile before asking another question.

“So what exactly does being an FBI agent look like? You said you all worked for a specific group. The Behavioral Analysis Unit? What does that team do?”

Emily cleared her throat and answered, “We’re a team of profilers who work with local law enforcement teams to locate and detain serial killers all over the US.”

“Oh wow! That’s got to be some heavy stuff—lots of traveling. Thank you for your service.” y/n said with a salute toward the women. They couldn’t fight the laughter that bubbled between them and Emilly and JJ watched as y/n’s cheeks reddened and she giggled.

“Enough about us, I have to know what an adorable southern woman like you does!” Garcia grinned resting her chin in her palms.

“I’m in education, not as lively as chasing serial killers.” y/n answered sheepishly.

“Oh are you a teacher?” JJ asked curiously.

“Professor actually. I’ll be starting at state school this coming academic school year.” y/n supplied with a smile.

“You’ve definitely piqued my interest, what are you teaching?” Penelope basically bounced.

“Vocal Performance with a concentration in Musical Theater and Jazz.”

“A singer? You’ll have to give us a little show sometime. Em loves Jazz.” JJ winked over at the brunette.

“I guess it’s only fair since I’ve asked to see your badges. I’m sure we can arrange something.” y/n smiled warmly at the two older women.

“A professor? Forgive me, but you seem far too young to be a professor. How old are you?” Emily asked skeptically.

“I’d normally take offense but you’re right, I just turned twenty-six earlier this year. I’ve always been the youngest in the room, but I kinda love it. At the last school I taught at, everyone in my department was well over 50, I found that students really enjoyed a younger perspective.” y/n explained with a shrug.

“Makes sense. So you’re some kind of musical prodigy? Zoom through high school, undergrad, and your masters?” Emily continued.

“No, no. I was in a dual Undergrad and Masters program for music education and vocal performance so I was able to fast-track my road to being a professor. As far being hired so early, I’ve been told I’m rather charming.” y/n shrugged with a grin and a wink.

“I definitely see the appeal. I can’t believe you guys got such a fun and cool neighbor. All I’ve got is that mean old lady. Best believe I’ll be visiting way more often.” Penelope said facing both Emily and JJ. She quickly turned back to the younger woman. “We need to be friends, what are your socials?”

y/n smiled brightly at the tech analyst, “Of course, I’m y/n on everything.”

Penelope frantically pulled the accounts up and was quick to follow on all platforms, “Got it! We’ll have to get together soon before the school year starts and you get busy. I love meeting new awesome people.”

It wasn’t long before the women brought their little impromptu brunch to a close. y/n walked the women to the door and smiled softly as they turned to wave goodbye. As soon as the door closed Penelope looked at the other two women unimpressed.

“Come on you guys, you’re lucky I was here.” She groaned.

“Hey, what does that mean?” Emily scoffed in offense.

“It means I’m starting to wonder how you brought so many women into your bed. That was terrible flirting.” Garcia reasoned as they walked up the steps to their house.

“I wasn’t even trying then, thank you very much. Plus there’s a lot of thought and conversation that goes into something like that. She only moved in yesterday. We don’t need to overwhelm her. Plus we don’t even know if she’s into women.” Emily reasoned.

“She literally called you both hot to your faces.”

“No, she called us kicking down doors hot. She could have a thing for demolition for all we know.”

“Semantic. I’m calling it now though, she’s more than interested in women. Especially women in the FBI who wield guns and kick down doors.”

“Let’s hope you're right.” JJ finally added in collapsing against the couch with a dreamy look on her face.

[kitthenameless]

POV: Gale is mad at you while wearing a distractingly sexy open shirt

(Pirates and Rebels mod by Cerberry)

[venomtheally]

Watching Twin Peaks for the first time rn and I’ll admit I was kind of only half paying attention just now, but… can anyone explain why this scene of Harry explaining fish sex to Coop while gifting him a special fishing tackle thingy is coming across so romantic and/or sensual??? Like distractingly so??? Scored by the gentle synth music of Angelo Badalamenti… Harry softly and intimately explaining that horny fish won’t be able to resist the sexy tackle… HELP

[abyssal-ali]

Project #68 [Operation Concupiscence] - 4 (Final)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Ao3 Masterlist | Day 4: I can hear you moaning in your sleep and it's unbearable

Rating: M (Here comes the smut!) WC: 1.8k

TW: Demon AU, Demon Smut (e.g. wings & horns & tails; all the fun stuff)

Damian woke up much the same way he had the day before: Raven’s leg wrapped around his, his arms wrapped around her, purple-black hair tucked under his chin, morning wood pressing against her warmth.

With a silent groan, he rolled his head back onto his pillow. How was he going to approach this situation?

Cautiously shifting his hips revealed another exciting morning discovery: his tail had appeared and was twined around Raven’s ankles.

He carefully extricated his fifth limb and retracted it without disturbing his sleeping girlfriend (!), feeling rather accomplished.

That feeling was immediately dashed by horniness as she moaned, rubbing herself against his leg, her breasts brushing his arm.

He stiffened, restraining the impulse to return the action.

Raven’s nails dug into his back, her mouth dropping open. Her lashes fluttered.

Damian stayed frozen, unsure if he should help her out or simply stay where he was.

“Damian,” she repeated, a frown crossing her brow.

Unbidden, his thigh flexed upon hearing his name exit her mouth in such a sensuous manner.

Gradually, her violet eyes opened.

He was pleased to see she didn’t freeze like she had the day before. Instead, a small smirk crossed her lips. “Want a hand with that?”

“Hm?”

She huffed a laugh, moving back a small amount and nodding down to- oh, that problem.

“Only if you finally let me know what you sound like when you say my name like you mean it, Roth,” he murmured. “You were moaning my name in your dreams. It was unbearable.”

“Deal. But first…can I use your washroom? Morning breath,” she winced.

“Right. Yeah. Door on the left of my closet.”

Raven slipped off his bed, wiggling her hips with a sly smile as she went.

He took the opportunity to empty the pitcher of water he had on his nightstand and swirl a draught of breath freshener around his mouth before she returned.

Damian huffed, flopping back onto his pillows. Raven was his girlfriend. They’d slept together, in the literal sense. Could today get any better?

The answer was yes, it could.

Raven emerged from his washroom shyly, halfway to his bed before his brain restarted and confirmed that yes, his eyes were indeed taking in the glory that was his girlfriend’s nude body.

“Holy-”

He reached for her, relishing in the feel of the soft skin of her waist under his hands before he kissed her, lifting her up to straddle his lap.

~~~

Raven pulled back from the kiss, thoroughly seduced. “I thought I felt something this morning…around my ankle.”

A hint of colour swept across her boyfriend (!!!)’s cheeks. “That was my tail.”

Her eyes brightened. “You have a tail? I didn’t know that.”

“I usually keep it retracted or glamoured. No need for a potential weakness to get out.”

She hummed in understanding, threading her fingers through his soft locks as he kissed down her neck. The hums turned to moans as he catalogued which spots she responded best to.

“Do you want to know a secret,” she panted as he took her nipple in his mouth.

“Mmm,” he replied, swirling his tongue most distractingly around the nub.

Taking that as an affirmative, she continued. “I always thought tailed demons were extra sexy.”

Damian pulled away. “Why?” She traced each defined set of muscles. Azarath, he was such a beautiful creature. “Just imagine what you could do with a tail, al Ghul. They’re flexible, sensitive, delicate,” she licked up his chest. “Strong like an arm, to hold someone down. Limber like rope, to tie someone up. The possibilities are many.”

Damian’s fingers trailed teasingly up her inner thigh. “You make a substantial argument, Roth.”

She smiled, pleased, as his fingers found her core. “I know.”

Her head dropped back as he began rubbing small circles around her clit.

She reached down, feeling for the waistband of Damian’s sweats. Dipping her hand beneath, she wrapped her fingers around him, stroking in time to the pulses firing through her body.

He groaned, leaning forward to circle her nipple with his tongue. “You’re going to kill me, Roth.”

“You’ll be fine,” she panted, stretching around his finger. “Right there-”

Damian added another finger, immediately focusing on the spot she needed him. 

“Don’t stop.”

He kissed up her neck, biting at her pulse. “Come for me, Raven.”

With a strangled cry, she clamped down around his fingers, sparks whiting out her vision.

When she came down from her high, Damian had kicked his sweats off and was stroking himself slowly, staring at her with an awed look in his eye. He leaned forward, capturing her lips with his. “You’re so beautiful.”

Cupping his face with her hands, she returned him bite for bite, lick for lick, kiss for kiss. Slowly rolling until he was hovering over her, something at the edges of her vision caught her attention. 

She pulled away, finding his tail flicking from side to side nervously.

It looked like any other demon’s tail she’d seen: about half the length of his body; slightly tapering from base to tip, which was the typical rounded spade shape; a greenish tint to the skin covering it, the colour associated with the al Ghuls.

Unconsciously licking her lips, she tore her gaze from it back to her boyfriend. “You have a very nice tail.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you want me to even the score?”

He tilted his head in silent acquiescing question.

Raven shifted to her natural demon form, her pale skin turning a slightly darker grey shade, her nubby horns and second pair of eyes emerging, and her wings spreading. 

Damian matched her horns with his own pair, the shiny green and gold mottled material hardly longer than her hand.

“Your horns are pretty. It’s a shame you stay in your human form all the time.”

“So are yours,” Damian traced the curve of her wings, the light touch ruffling her feathers and sending a shiver of pleasure through her. “I always counted it a win when I could rile you enough that your eyes emerged.”

Lightly slapping his shoulder, she playfully scolded him.

His tail seized her wrist, and she fell silent, both pairs of eyes darkening.

“You like when I restrain you?” Damian rasped.

She nodded, fang poking her lip as she watched him move down her body until he reached the apex of her thighs, dropping kisses as he went.

“Don’t close your eyes,” he demanded, before opening his mouth and feasting on her dripping core.

Fighting to keep her eyes open, she focused on meeting his emerald gaze, small moans and whimpers escaping her bitten lips. He slid two fingers in, crooking them just right, and her hands flew to stabilize herself on his horns.

“Don’t you dare stop,” she growled. “Yes, Damian, there!”

His tail slapped at her breasts, the light sting reminding her to open her eyes.

He added a third finger, the stretch combined with his patient licking sending her over the edge for the second time.

Her shaking thighs loosened, freeing him from her clutches, and she leaned back against the pillows. His long tongue sensuously licked the remains of her pleasure off his face, his wink warming her core again.

Getting to her knees, Raven reached for his deliciously tempting length, hard and leaking precum. She opened her mouth, sucking at the head, running her tongue along the vein on the underside, fitting it as far down her throat as she could. 

Damian muttered curses and praises as he gathered her hair in his hand, gently holding it back from her face. 

Bracing her hands on his unfairly muscular thighs, she relaxed her throat, angling her jaw to take him even further. She only managed a couple bobs before he pulled out. 

“Want to be inside you.”

With a flap of her wings, he was on his back and she was straddling him, running her core up and down his length.

“Stop teasing, Raven,” he growled, hands gripping her hips tight enough to leave a mark.

With a nip at his collarbone, she slid slowly onto him, relishing the stretch he provided. 

“You’re so wet and hot,” he grunted, thrusting his hips up to meet her stroke for stroke.

“You feel so good,” she agreed, lifting one hand to play with her nipple.

Damian’s thumb brushed over her other nipple, freeing her hand to creep up his chest and rest at the base of his neck.

His eyes flew up from where they met to meet her eyes.

“Too much?” she rasped.

“No.” His other hand slid up between her breasts to return the favour. “You?”

She shook her head, clenching even harder as she rode him, causing a pained hiss.

“Please tell me you’re close.”

“After the first two? Yeah,” she sighed, plucking her nipple in time to the waves of pleasure building in her body.

She dragged her nails teasingly down Damian’s chest until she reached their joined bodies and began rubbing small, tight circles around her clit. The tip of his tail nudged her fingers away, taking over her pleasure.

Damian’s thrusts became harder; she shifted her hips so he would hit her sweet spot.

The building tension snapped and she came with a cry of his name, his climax following hers as he moaned her name.

Raven bonelessly slumped onto his chest, arms around his neck. “I don’t think I know my name.”

A breathless chuckle sounded in her ear. “I only know it because I don’t know anything else. Raven,” he kissed behind her ear. “Raven.” Her jaw. “Raven.” The edge of her mouth. “Raven,” he said tenderly, tucking her sweaty hair behind her ear. 

She stared adoringly down at him. “Damian.” She kissed him sweetly, stroking the planes of his cheek and jaw with her thumb. “I’m glad you’re my boyfriend.”

~~~

They showered together, enjoying the excuse to touch each other romantically, washing each other’s hair and lathering up their bodies. It may have been a bit more sensual than it strictly needed to be, but Raven put her foot down on another round; she was sore and hungry, and the aftermath would not be pretty.

Slipping into her jeans and sweater, she patted her flyaway hairs down and made sure she didn’t give off the air of “my rival-slash-best-friend and I are dating and sleeping together now and boy is it good” before she left his washroom and headed to the dining hall.

Damian was in his usual seat, but the secret smile and wink he gave her as she passed him made butterflies start fluttering in her stomach.

~~~

Professor Zatara called the pairs up to hand in their reports. Raven handed him their roll of parchment, but he called her back for a moment. 

“You and al Ghul got along okay?”

She nodded. “More than okay–we’re dating now.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” She headed back to her seat, smiling back at Damian.

Zachary Zatara prepared to collect his winnings from the rest of the staff. He hadn’t overtly made them confront their feelings, therefore he had no reason to be disqualified from the Roth-al Ghul dating speculation pot. No one could prove that he’d spelled the cauldrons to partner up certain students, anyways. 

Well pleased with his scheming, he settled in his chair to grade his parchments.

*A/N: As with all smut please be aware that it is fictional and should not always be reproduced irl. (I'm saying that Demon physiology allows for them to choose whether or not they wish to be pregnant, negating the need for protection of some sort.) Damian and Raven were only giving the illusion of choking each other but if doing so irl please be very careful with it.

[opbackgrounds]

Once Oda gets the sexy stuff out of the way, this fight has a lot of cool imagery and strategy. Just a lot of cool panels that get forgotten because the first half of this fight is so distractingly horny.