#every time I hear this I get it stuck in my head for like two weeks straight

[m0llygunn]

'tis the season (eddie munson x fem!reader)

summary: your sweet neighbour addresses a christmas card to both you and eddie — the only issue? she's never met eddie... so how does she know his name? eddie decides that 'tis the season for all your neighbours to know his name

cw: 18+!, christmas adjacent but you don't have to celebrate, smut, oral, fingering, pinv sex, idk mentions of dying of embarrassment, friends with benefits to more (slightly ambiguous ig) an: just a quick lil thing!!! if you liked it pls tell me or i'll pass away from lack of attention wc: 2.4k+

You didn’t think twice about it — a Christmas card that your next door neighbour dropped off to your apartment, addressed to both you and Eddie. 

You should have thought twice about it — because you’ve never introduced lovely Mrs. Mabel to Eddie, and Eddie doesn’t necessarily show up to your apartment during the day time.

What you and him do… it’s more of a night time thing. You call him — sometimes he calls you — and then he drives over. Sometimes you pretend you need something fixed, sometimes it’s a jar lid that's stuck, one time it was your bedside table that was jammed — but him coming over to introduce himself to your 70 year old neighbour is highly, highly unlikely. 

So when you got the card, maybe you should have thought twice about why his name was on it — but you didn’t. You were on your way out and Mrs. Mabel had left it taped to your door. You slid it into your purse, and then when you got home, you had put it down on your countertop with the thought of opening it after putting away the few groceries you had bought.

Then you just forgot about it for the night. A candle was lit, the lights were dimmed, and Eddie was speed dialed. 

When he showed up, you were pouring drinks for the two of you in your kitchen — that’s when he saw the card. 

“Oh?” he hummed, smiling as he slid his finger along the edge of the rustic brown coloured envelope, picking it up. “What's this?”

“Oh yeah!” you remembered. “Mrs. Mabel dropped that off earlier, I forgot to open it. It's a christmas card,” you beamed. 

“Well, good thing you waited. It’s addressed for both of us,” he winked. 

You didn’t understand the wink. 

You didn’t understand why he was so smug either, and you didn’t ask, you were too distracted by the kitschy card, with drawings of cats wearing Santa hats wishing you and Eddie a ‘Meowy Christmas’ and a ‘Purrfect New Year’. 

It was only after drinks were drunk, your bedroom was visited, and Eddie said something odd, that you started to question what exactly he meant. 

His skin was still dewy where you laid your head on his chest. Both of your breaths were labored. His hand was splayed across your back, feeling extra warm. 

“So… I take it that all your neighbours know my name?” He said it like he was teasing you. You didn’t understand why, but it seemed loaded.

“No? Why would they all know your name?”

“Hmmm,” he hummed, and you could hear the mischief in his smile. He was up to something, but your eyelids were heavy, and his hand started to rub up and down your spine, and with the way your body vibrated, you could not have cared less. Whatever he was getting at could wait. 

And it did wait — one whole week. Then you finally understood, and you really cared — because what the fuck. 

He came over earlier than usual. He hadn’t even called, he just showed up, and with flowers. Flowers. Eddie doesn’t give you flowers, he gives you orgasms. That’s what you thought this thing was between the two of you — nothing more than late night hookups. Not flowers. 

And then he dropped the bomb that he was making you dinner. Dinner. He was being so sweet, and he brought you flowers, and he was making you dinner. You can’t even remember a time where you had seen him before the sun set. Flowers. Dinner.

As he found his way through your kitchen, he made sure to get in every little touch and graze possible, even ones that were so obviously unnecessary. Like when you were washing vegetables at the sink. He pressed himself behind you, wrapping his arms around your body, caging you in against the sink, washing his hands in the most inconvenient position ever. It was incredibly inefficient, and it got the front of your shirt wet, but that was another thing. He peeled your shirt off you right in the kitchen. With a giggle — because this whole ordeal had left you undeniably smitten — you complained that the cotton of your shirt was cold and stuck to you, so his solution was to spin you around and lift it right up from your waist, up your chest, and over your head. 

As the fabric passed over your face, you shut your eyes, only to open them to Eddie pressing a kiss to your lips. The shirt was thrown to the floor, his hands found your cheeks, and you were walked backwards until your bum pressed to the countertop. His body pressed to yours, his belt buckle jutting in the bare skin of your belly, his shirt sticking to the lace of your bra. He kissed you stupid right in the middle of your kitchen. 

When you thought you were moving onto the next part of the night — forgoing dinner and heading straight to the bedroom — you were wrong. 

“What’ya doing?” he murmured against your mouth. You had reached around him, blindly finding and spinning the burner off. 

“Making sure my apartment doesn’t burn down.”

“It won’t. We’re right here.” He pressed a string of new kisses to your lips, and you could feel his smile through every single one. 

Your makeout session did not move to the bedroom. 

When the timer went off, he parted from you with a final peck to your lips, and ‘for good measure’, another one to your cheek. From there on out, you… you were useless. Just a pair of wobbly legs being ordered around by a thoughtless brain. You spilled things, and knocked things over, and clattered dishes, and eventually Eddie put you on watch duty — or as he put it, ‘sit there and look pretty’ duty. 

It didn’t get better either. He kept looking at you. Looking at you with dark eyes that you know too well. Dark eyes that felt deeper than anything you’ve felt before. Dark eyes that made your stomach swirl and your thighs clench. Dark eyes that you wanted in the bedroom, right now. 

You tried to get him in the bedroom. From your spot sitting on the countertop, you tried to hook a pointed foot around his thigh as he stirred honestly over a steaming pan. You tried to give him the same eyes back. You tried — oh god, you tried. 

And you know what he did? He set the table. Lit a candle, set out glasses, lined up forks and knives. Got you a new shirt to wear. Filled your plates, got you both napkins, pulled your chair out for you. 

You wanted him more than anything. 

And then you got him. 

The table was never cleared. Clothes were shed before either of you were past your bedroom door. Your hands were tugging at his boxers, and you wanted to show him how much you appreciated his kindness — how much you enjoyed the impromptu flowers and dinner. 

He had other plans. 

He laid you down and spread you out. Put his mouth to use — held both your hands as he did it too. It had your chest squeezing in a soft way, and your hips moving in a way you could not control. 

“Eddie,” you moaned, as he licked at your sensitive spot, pushing you just over the point of too much pleasure. You already came once but he decided that you deserved much more than that. 

“Am I making you feel good?”

“Mhm, so good, Eddie — fuck,” you gasped as your pleasure quickly became overstimulating. He rearranged your intertwined mess of hands, taking both of yours in one of his, freeing up the other to move down your body and meet his mouth at your core. 

Two fingers were pushed into your already convulsing cunt. You barely had a moment to come down, and he was barreling past that point, moving you onto your next orgasm. His fingers curled, and your whole body tensed.

“Eddie — E-Eddie,” you said, voice rising as your hips began to buck, thighs jerking.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Eddie,” you whined, like it was a real answer and not just his name. Like he should know what he's doing to you — and he does, but to your ignorance, this is exactly what he wants.

“I know — I know, feels good, huh?”

And it did. His fingers felt great, but him properly filling you up felt better. As soon as he sunk his length into you, you were a goner. 

With your legs folded, ankles sitting over his shoulders, blankets gathered where you fisted them in your hands, and your toes curled tightly, Eddie fucked you. Sincerely, amorously, hard.

Every snap of his hips to yours, every crude, wet noise, every creak of the bed, was hidden well beneath the way you panted and whined — and Eddie just goaded you on.

“Yeah? Right there? That's where it feels good?”

“Yes, right — right there,” you answered devotedly.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Tell me how you want it,” he grunted, bringing a soft hand to your cheek and running it upwards, pushing back the baby hairs on your forehead. 

“Harder,” you answered, meeting his gaze. 

“Harder…?’ He smiled, trailing off to prompt you. Just as he did, he let his hips find yours with extra vigour, grinding upwards into you, his cock pressing right against your g-spot with the perfect angle to get a full-body reaction from you. He continued, rolling his hips in a quick rhythm, giving you exactly what you asked for, harder. 

“Eddie,” you gasped, body being pressed up the mattress with the sheer force of his thrust. 

“You like saying my name don’t you? Hm? Sounds so pretty when you say it.”

You should have put it together right there. But you didn’t. You just got louder.

“Eddie — fuck — Eddie!”

“I know. I got you, baby,” he replied, eyes never leaving your face as he purposefully did exactly what he needed to do to get his intended reaction from you. 

“Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!”

One final press of his pelvis to your sensitive clit, one final graze of his cock to that special spot inside of you, one final gasp of his name, and you were coming. Coming harder than you had tonight, harder than you ever had in your whole life. 

You wished you could have stayed in that moment forever. 

Pleasure coursing through you, spreading everywhere from your ten fingers to your ten toes, your mind blank apart from the pure adoration you had for the man who laid overtop of you, cumming inside of you at that very moment. The man who surprised you and brought you flowers and cooked you dinner. 

Oh, and not to mention how, in that moment, you were so blissfully ignorant to a spectacularly embarrassing fact. So naive, so ignorant. So stupid. 

Eddie was a sweetheart. Continued to be a sweetheart, actually. After giving the two of you time to settle, he eventually got up, helped clean you up, cleaned himself up, and then got back into bed with you to cuddle. Cuddling has been a normal thing for the two of you, but his smile as he cozied up close to you, with the way his lips rounded at the corners, and his dimples were so deeply set, it was not the normal, bliss-filled, post-orgasm smile. It was different, it was mischievous, and a touch unsettling. 

“What?” you eventually caved, smiling back at him as he gave you a dramatic side eye paired with a raised brow — he's been waiting for you to ask him what's on his mind. 

He grinned at you, canines poking out with all his glee. He dropped his head to your fluffed pillow, tugged you in closer, and looked at you like he was about to spill some hot, gossipy pillowtalk. 

“Think all your neighbours know my name now?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, weaving together in the centre, because what does that have to do with anything? ‘What?’ sat on the tip of your tongue, but just as he wiggled his brow, giving you a pointed look, waiting for you to put it all together, it finally hit you. It hit you like a brick to the head. A brick to the head off of a three story building. Beyond painful. 

The reason Mrs. Mabel, dear, sweet, elderly, Mrs. Mabel knew Eddie’s name to write it on your Christmas card: thin walls, his talent, your loud mouth. 

“No,” you gasped, jaw dropping.

“No?” He scrunched his forehead upwards, eyes widening, leaning in even closer to you to absorb the full extent of your shock. “Because I think they do,” he smirked, voice rising with amusement. Finding your waist under the blankets, he curled his fingers into your flesh. You squirmed, grabbing his hand and holding him still. This is serious. 

“Eddie,” you frowned, squeezing his hands before pushing them out from under the blankets and away. He let you, watching you through bright eyes, loving every minute of your humiliation. 

“Yes, sweetheart, that is my name,” he practically sang. 

“That’s so embarrassing.” You let your body shrink into the mattress, turning to hide your face in the pillow. You whined out a long groan, ridding your body of every ounce of breath in your lungs. If you were a lucky person, you would have suffocated. Died right there and rid yourself of all your mortal shame. 

“Nobody complained, I think they’re fine with it.” His hand became a heavy weight of your waist, coaxing you out from the pillow while rubbing your back.

“I’m not fine with it,” you said abruptly, nearly giving yourself whiplash as you turned your neck to look at Eddie. “Mrs. Mabel… she… she — ”

Eddie finished your sentence — “She gave us a Christmas card. She’s not upset,” he smiled, leaning in once again, this time to press a kiss to your forehead. 

He's wrong. You know it, but you don't have the will to fight it. So instead you rolled your eyes, sighing as you laid your head back down to your pillow. 

“You’re so annoying.”

“Oh really?” Eddie teased, his mischievous tone contradicting the gentle way he pulled the blanket up for you, covering your shoulders and tucking it under your chin. “I don’t recall me being annoying a few minutes ago?” He took a deep inhale. “Eddie! Eddie! Eddie —” he began to chant, voice pitched up mockingly, volume way too loud. 

“Shush,” you scolded him, jumping forward, fighting to free your arms from the blanket to smack both of your hands over his mouth. His voice vibrated behind your palms, and his laughter stuck to your skin as you forcibly shut him up. 

Your neighbours clearly already knew his name, but if they didn’t, they definitely do now.

thank you for reading! happy holidays <333333

[kiemiu]

my boyfriend's a vampire | ( fem!reader ) fluff + soft hours. established relationship headcanons wc 1.6k (library) + (request)

one. who gained an inevitable infatuation with you because of your uncanny resemblance to a past lover he had hundreds of years ago. you were walking home late at night, lost in your own world while completely in tune with whatever music blasted through your headphones. you were so distracted that you wouldn't even realize a mugger chasing you. highly unsafe, he thought.

it seemed like easy prey to him, he didn't even pull out his usual over the top techniques, he just followed closely behind until you were in a more secluded area. his footsteps got quicker and quicker, and he got closer and closer, until he was barely a wisp away. he grabbed your shoulder, whipping you around. you let out a shrill scream in return, both of you stuck frozen in place. you trembled in fear, while his grip on your shoulder loosened, and fell to your elbow. "mon cherie?" he quietly whispered. your face so familiar, those same plump lips that he missed so much coated in a sticky gloss, your hair the same length as the last time he saw you take your last breath, and your scent carrying solemn memories. you came back to him, at last.

your wide eyes looked at him in fear, your figure physically recoiling away from him the more he stood frozen in shock. your visible discomfort snapping him out of his trance. "oh, um—yo-you dropped this." he muttered out, revealing the lip gloss in his palm that he had snagged from your purse without you noticing. you quickly accepted it before scurrying away, your head whisking behind your shoulder a few times to make sure he wasn't following behind, yet as soon as he saw you slow down your pace, he began to follow you until you reached home.

two. who is your personal shadow. wherever you go, he's not too far behind. always closely analyzing your every move. not in a scrutinizing way, but with pure fixation. after seeing you pass in such a horrific way centuries ago, the simplest tasks keep him infatuated with you. he'll watch you fix a pb&j as if you're completing a once in a lifetime mission. "you don't have to watch me write my essay, matt." you quietly murmured, your eyes remaining trained on your computer screen, even as warmth creeped up your neck from the pressure of his gaze. being caught in the act as well as the simple mention of his name made him shy away from your peripheral vision, resorting to floating behind you. "you just move with such eloquence, mon amour. i can't help but stare." he'd admit quietly, the brush of his lips tickling the lobe of your ear, a small smirk making its way on his face at the sound of your quickening heartbeat.

three. who doesn't sleep but will cuddle you from sunset to sunrise. he knows how important it is for humans to get their sleep, finding that it keeps them healthy and from going completely insane, he ensures that you follow a strict sleeping schedule. usually, when nighttime falls and the moon makes an appearance, he has little to no acception of you staying up past a certain time. only every now and then will he let you bend the rules, but it's very rare. he wants you to maintain the best health possible and will take every measure to make sure you keep it. after having a particularly vicious nightmare one night, matt swore to stay close to you even when you're asleep. you tell him that he doesn't have to do it but he continues to do so anyway, finding comfort in a routine with you, yet never admitting it. always saying "oh, please. the best sleep you get is when you're with me."

four. who is hesitant to feed on you when he starts to get hungry out of fear of hurting you. you've offered plenty of times and each time he's turned it down without an argument. it's not like he doesn't want to, because he absolutely does. hearing your blood rush in thick streams through connected veins has been the main reason on why he's so hesitant on keeping you close, yet he still continues to. even when it drives him mad. albeit pouty, that he won't drink your blood, you've offered animals in the woods behind your house, but he simply refuses to ever feed on animals, having too intense of a fondness for them, you'll sometimes catch him talking to them but you never question it. his hunger only satiated by mutilating muggers and sleazy men in the dead of night when you're fast asleep, always making it home in time to clean himself up and sneak back into bed without you noticing.

five. who lets you dress him in todays' fashion and will unwillingly be your test dummy for wigs and makeup. as time went on, matt grew out of his outdated blouses and followed suit on whatever fashion was popular. he didn't dive too deep into the trends, only wearing what he liked and assumed was more fitting. pilgrim shoes weren't exactly today's fashion and it hadn't been for years. his once colonial style had slipped into a more business casual flair. you liked his style, but you also liked to persuade him into a pair of baggy jeans every once in a while. when you weren't doing that, you were using him as a mannequin to style your wigs on or as a test dummy for new makeup looks. "princesse, this isn't even my shade."

six. who communicates to you telepathically. he's not really one for words unless he's writing them down, and he made that known so you wouldn't be put off by his silence. yet it did startle you when he randomly started to communicate with you telepathically. it became a habit for the two of you, sometimes being in completely separate rooms but still managing full blown conversations with each other. there has been a handful of occasions where you've introduced a friend to matt in your head and not out loud. it's a handy way to communicate, you just have to find a healthy balance.

seven. who writes you love letters. not being that big of a talker or one for boisterous romantic gestures, matt resorts to writing you love letters. everything he feels but can't say has been transferred onto delicate pieces of paper. there are piles and piles of letters addressed to you, some delivered to you, others kept locked away. the ones he keeps locked away are letters that no lady should see. they're shameful, white sheets being stained with red ink as he explains every primal desire that haunts him whenever he sees you, feels you. sometimes he'll go back and re-read said letters, flustering himself at how feral he sounds. he will never let those sheets of paper ever see the light of day. the other letters, the more light-hearted and sappy ones, he'll fold up and put them in different places for you to find throughout your day. under your pillow for you to read before you go to bed, on the fridge door handle, wedged in a flower bouquet, etc.. they can range from a short 7 word sentence to a 1200 word document. all of them oozing words of love.

eight. who loves your obsession with his fangs. he always watches with a fond smile as you cuddle close to him and poke at his fangs. "they're so sharp.." you'd mutter, gently sliding the nail of your finger down one. he'd jokingly bite at your finger as if he'd actually bite it off, making you retract your finger in fear with a shrill squeak, his laugh at your reaction making you laugh with him. with his sharp teeth he makes good use out of them, opening bottles, slicing through bags of chips, cutting fruit, carving pumpkins, etc.. he also likes to do a stereotypical vampire kiss where he dips you down and playfully bites your neck. never hard enough to draw blood, but enough to tickle you.

nine. who turns into a bat to avoid arguments. every time he senses one of your conversations starting to go left, his walls start to build up. sometimes he feels cornered and doesn't know how to react in those situations, he never did even with a millennia of experience. so, his go to mechanism is to turn into a bat. 'bats can't talk so you can't be mad at him' not to mention, how utterly adorable he is in his bat form, hanging in the corner of the roof, all bundled up, his doe eyes warily peaking out past his wings. he knows exactly where to hit the weak spots and will take advantage in his favor. he won't leave his bat form unless the situation is really upsetting/serious to you or until you've calmed down.

ten. who can't lose you again. he knows as a human that your time is extremely limited and precious. but for you, it doesn't have to be. everytime he hears you complain about abnormalities that only humans go through he suggests the idea of turning you. "you know, you wouldn't have to go through any back pain as a vampire." you laugh it off, underestimating how completely serious he is. matt has already dealt with the loss of you one time and he refuses to go through it again. being without you changed him for the worst, so, he'll take any and every measure possible to keep you around. even if it means turning you into a vampire while you're at your most defenseless.

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 🧛🏻 : @emely9274 @ginswife @chrisstvrns @conspiracy-ash @sturnina @lovetaylorrussellgrr @nervoussagittarius @sacaydia @chrissturnsss @hearts4werka @chrisprincesss @koilaniazul @starsforu @sturn777 @sturniolosiphone @chrisfavoritewhore @sturnsmia @leaningoutthewindow @certainfestivalnerdshepherd @dominicfikeenthusiast

[soo0hee]

Fallen for you

Pairing — Lee Seokmin [DK] x gn!Reader

Summary — You weren't happy about having to go Ice Skating knowing very well that you were not good at it, but maybe it was just what you needed to get your man

Genre — fluff, friends to lovers au

Warnings — tension, first kiss

Word Count — 0.8k

Rating — sfw 🍵

A/N — Here comes your Secret Santa with your gift @lovetaroandtaemin , i hope you like it!✨️

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©soo0hee on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

„I will fall.“ You deadpanned unimpressed when you stared at Seungkwan who held up the Skates for you to take.

“I will. Fall.” You said again, you words almost like a promise for the future but your friend yet again waved your concern of to force the skates into your hands

Not entirely sure how you had gotten roped into Ice Skating with your friends when you loathed the cold with your entire being, but somehow there you stood. Wrapped in your winter coat, a scarf so big you could use it as a blanket around your neck and a hat with cat ears that Seungkwan had gifted you the year before placed on your head.

The worst thing wasn’t even the cold or that you would surely fall flat on your face as soon as you would step on the ice, no. It was that you would do all that not just in front of your friends but also in front of the one guy you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front off. Seokmin wouldn’t laugh at you, that you were sure off. But you’d still rather roll over dead then stalking around like a new born fawn learning to walk.

But knowing your friends, they would not let you just stand at the side and watch them so you accepted defeat. (More or less at least)

“I WILL FALL, BOO SEUNGKWAN!” You tried one last time, now sitting on one of the benches that were provided to slip the skates on and not daring to move a muscle.

You could hear them snicker at you, most of them already cruising around the frozen surface and kindly flipped them off. Jun gave you one right back with a bright smile which earned him a tongue stuck out at him.

Seungkwan rolled his eyes.

“Come on y/n! The ice will have melted by the time you get on it…”

Asshole.

“Aish Dkkkk, get her on here already….”

You would kill him.

The blond boy would die at your own hands sooner rather then later!

Wanting to wipe the shit eating grin off his face when Seokmin did in fact listen to him and came to the barricade of the rink where you were still sitting in your internal panic that you prayed to god, did not show on your face.

“I don’t want to…” you pouted up at him but only received a shake of his head with that dazzling smile on his face that always left you star struck. You watched in defeat how he Seokmin stepped of the ice to bend down, take your hands in his and pull you to your feet.

“Come now, I’ll help you.” He snickered at your reluctance.

“But Kyeom-ah–“

“Just keep holding my hands. I promise I won’t let you fall.”

His words had your cheeks heating tremendously but they shut you up and you followed his lead onto the ice.

The first step already proved to be quite the struggle as you quickly lost your footing upon contact with the frozen water.

Seokmin, slowly gliding backwards never let go.

“Just trust me.”

He guided you further along, preventing you from falling with every step you took while gentle praises for staying upright rained down on you. It made you blend out Seungkwan, Jun, Vernon and Gyu almost entirely. Eyes solely set on him just like his were on you.

“Take one step after the other, slowly. We have time so we don’t need to rush anything. One and two and one and two…”

You shivered, this time not because of the cold.

Following his instructions it was like you were in trance. Completely absorbed and concentrated you bit your lips, not noticing the way Seokmin’s eyes flickered down and neither did you notice how it affected him.

The man almost melted at the sight.

“Just like that and just keep your balance.”

“Isn’t that what I got you for?” you questioned shakily when your knees buckled.

Vernon, leaning against the barricade with the boys shook his head at the two of you.

“God how obvious can these two be?”

Jun and Seungkwan snorted at his words.

They watched the spectacle and how their friend carefully loosened his grip on you. Watched how you panicked, slingered and toppled down to the icy floor, pulling Seokmin right on top of you. They didn’t see how in the split of a second your lips suddenly touched his nor did they hear how you stuttered out a hasty apology that Seokmin simply ignored in favor of properly kissing you again.

The boys watching had to pick their jaws up from the floor at the sight.

“What even-“ Jun cursed with wide eyes.

Wide eyes that mirrored yours own.

“Don’t apologize. You have no idea how long I wanted to do this, so don’t say you are sorry because I’m not.”

“I told him I would fall.” You whispered into the space between your faces.

“For me too?” he asked tilting his head gently with a smile that almost blinded you.

“For you I have fallen ages ago.”

[lovelybucky1]

Oooohh i have a request!:

Playing “never have i ever” or something like that with logan and wade (maybe along the lines of a boring friday night with nothing else to do) and you admit to never having an orgasm by anyone but yourself

Flash forward you’re in logan’s arms and wade is eating the fuck out of your pussy, and then they switch 👀👀

i’ve written something similar two the second part here, but i love the never have i ever idea! // divider from @strangergraphics

boredom isn’t something heroes are used to. there’s always something happening somewhere, someone needing to be saved. but tonight, everything is quiet. the three of you were suspicious at first, but you checked every police scanner, news outlet, and all of your contacts and came up with nothing. the bad guys had decided to take an evening off, and now you were stuck with nothing to do.

you, wade, and logan all sit around in the living room with bottles of beer. you and wade stare at the mindless gameshow on tv while logan rests his eyes. you’re definitely bored, but wade is restless. it’s like he’s itching for something to do, like his body is physically unable to handle the inactivity.

“why don’t we play a game?” wade asks, startling logan awake.

the two of you look over at wade. “what kind of game?” you ask.

“i don’t know, ‘never have i ever?’”

logan rolls his eyes, then shuts them again. he’ll deny any “old man” comments, but he really is one. you elbow logan in the side and he opens them again.

“come on, it’ll be fun,” wade pleads.

“it’s not like we have anything better to do,” you say to logan. reluctantly, he agrees.

you reposition yourselves in the living room. you sit on the couch, leaned against the arm with your feet in logan’s lap, who sits on the other end. wade sits on the floor by the coffee table, his beer on the table without a coaster next to him.

“this is your game, wilson. you start,” logan says before taking a sip of his beer.

“no, don’t drink! you only drink if you’ve done the thing i say,” wade scoffs. how can logan be so old and still know nothing about fun? “okay, okay. never have i ever… gotten arrested.”

you furrow your eyebrows at him while logan takes a drink. you’re almost certainly wade has been arrested before. “i don’t think you’re playing this game right,” you say. “you have to say things you’ve never done.”

wade scoffs. “i haven’t been arrested, thank you very much. all the cops who’ve tried have mysteriously ended up with broken noses.”

you roll your eyes at him. “my turn now? never have i ever… cheated on a partner.”

both of them take drinks, wade with more shame than logan. ugh, men.

then it’s logan’s turn. “never have i ever worn a dress.”

you figure it’s targeted at you, just because logan’s a dick, but to your surprise, wade drinks too. logan raises his eyebrow at him, silently urging him to elaborate.

“you wish you saw that, huh, peanut?” he taunts instead. logan makes a face at that.

“i’m thankin’ god i didn’t have to.”

you play a couple more rounds, all three of you exchanging stories and sipping from your bottles. it takes a lot to get them drunk, but you’re starting to feel it. there’s a collection of empty bottles, mostly beer, but halfway through the game, wade decided to up the ante with some liquor.

it’s wade’s turn again and he says, “never have i ever been with two guys at once.”

he means it as a joke. he doesn’t expect anyone to drink. there’s no way logan would do something like that, and you’re too innocent. that’s why his eyes practically pop out of his head when you throw back the shot.

the game turned sexual a few rounds ago, but it was pretty mild stuff. talk about doing stuff in public, kinks, freaky shit like that. nothing as interesting as this.

both wade and logan turn their full attention to you, eager to hear this story.

“what?” you play dumb.

“two guys at once?” wade asks. you shrug.

“it wasn’t anything.”

“nah,” logan says, sounding interested for the first time all game. “you gotta tell us.”

you sigh. “it was a while ago. i met this couple at a bar and they said they were looking for a third. i had nothing better to do and they were both hot, so…” you trail off, shrugging again.

“give us the gory details. how’d you do it? daisy chain?eiffel tower? double cowgirl? triple spooning? come on, tell us,” wade rambles.

“you’re a fucking perv,” you tell him and he doesn’t deny it. “it was just normal dp.”

logan raises an eyebow. “that stands for double penetration,” wade tells him.

“i know that. i’m just wondering how you took it all,” logan says.

you’re used to this kind of talk from wade. the man thinks with his dick so much that you question if he even has a brain. you’re not, however, used to this from logan. he’s no prude, but he usually doesn’t participate in these kinds of conversations with wade.

“must’ve been a tight fit,” logan adds on.

you look between the men and their interested faces. you’re still pretty bored, the game having grown stale a while ago, and now you’re a tipsy. you want something exciting and right now, you’re feeling bold enough to persue it.

“do you wanna see?” you ask them.

wade and logan share a glance, but it only takes a second before they’re replying “yes” in unison.

[gamerexdrex]

"Hey! Let me go you oversized lizard!" Screamed the farmer, struggling against your grip.

Honestly, if it wasn't to prove to the stuck ups at the council, you would have never bothered even looking twice at this human, much less putting up with her screeching; but alas, sacrifices must be made for your tesis.

But it's damn hard when the human has been biting at your fingers. You are not sure why she thought it was a good idea, it has only been bothering you and might hurt her teeth.

When you finally, FINALLY, make it to the old castle, your are about ready to sleep a hundred years; but it isn't the time! You need! To teach! The human!

You land on the patio of the castle, with plenty of space for practice, and gently put the raving human down.

"Listen human-"

WACK

The human somehow found a large stick in the five seconds you've been in this place and immediatly hit your eye.

You should have just horded gold like your mom

"Listen-"

WACK

"human-"

WACK

"do you-"

WACK

"want-"

WACK

"to learn-"

WACK

"magic"

She stops in her tracks, and looks at you confused. "Soooo you are not going to eat me"

Your eye twichs "If I wanted a meal, I would have eaten the king's whole army of horses"

"Oh"

There is a bit of awkard silence

"So when do we begin?" She beams

You smile

"When I finish taking a nap, give 5 minutes and we'll start."

.....

You scribble the runes yet again, and once again, nothing happens.

The dragon seems even more disappointed than before somehow.

"It should work now, I don't know how this is possible"

You stare and can't help but feel frustrated with yourself. it's supposed to work, you two have been trying up until sundown.

It's probably your fault nothing happens.

You can hear the dragon's voice above you "let's take a break, shall we? Maybe when our heads are clear, we'll find a solution"

You wonder if the dragon is either very positive or very stubborn

After a fire and a couple of sheep the dragon got from...somewhere for dinner, you stare at the stars. You don't think you've seen this constelations before

"I'm sorry"

You turn to the dragon, surprised.

"I brought you here against your will, told you I would teach you magic, and we have yet to get a reaction from the runes" He lowers his head "So I apologise little human"

After a moment of shock, you smile sadly "It's alright, I guess I just wasn't cut out for this"

"Don't say that human; acording to my research, every human has the capacity to channel magic; and we did everything right"

You bite your cheek "If you say so" you look over the runes "what does it say anyways?"

You don't notice the dragon freezing in place but you do notice when he speaks up

"What"

Confused, you turn to him "well, yes? I don't know what we are writing so..."

He stares some more "Isn't this common knowledge? There are books written by you humans! That's how I know you could do magic!"

Is your turn to stare

"Quick question, how are those books?"

"There are just a little over a hundred yea-" the dragons stops and, after processing the imformation a bit, slams his head on the ground.

"I forgot to account human ages, of course I did"

You sit besides the dispairimg dragon "Soooo I assume meaning and understaning are important for magic"

"Mhm" He answers, head still on the ground "We've been writing the true names of spirits and powerful beings. You summon or imbude the strenght of those entities by writing them on this language. But it only works if the entity is understood to be powerful."

You ponder for a bit, and run to grab your big stick

"Can you tell me your name?"

The dragon looks up "huh?"

"Or at leats how it would be written in that weird old language, I have an idea"

The dragon looks at you a bit more, shrugs, and begins writing on the ground with it's claw

You carve the runes on the stick, now with the understanding that this is the name of your teacher.

Once finished, you looked at the letters and something odd happens. They begin to shine.

You aim at the sky, and a blast of purple light comes out of the tip of it, so strong that it send you flying. You are caught by the dragon. The hairs of your neck are standing up.

There is silence

"Y-you did it"

"I did it"

"YOU DID IT"

"I DID IT"

You both begin to laugh, of delight, of satisfaction, of relief, of excitement.

You did it

The other dragons laughed when you shared your thesis that humans should be capable of learning magic. Infuriated, you fly off to capture a human and teach it the ways of magic.

[kamitv]

▷ (S)CREAM VI

Synopsis . In which your ‘killers’ soon realize you’re not stuck with them but they’re stuck with you… / Pairings . (Separate) Ghostface!Geto x f!reader, Ghostface!Gojo x f!reader, & Ghostface!Choso x f!reader / Content . afab!reader, three/foursome, squirting, non-curse au, oral sex, reader gets kinda passed around, men teasing one another, dirty talk, unprotected sex, established relationship, lowk feral reader, cuck!Geto, rough sex, praise, overstim, degrading, tw: spitting, pet names, filth (cùm eating), pussy slapping, teasing, a hint of knife play, etc . / wc . 9.6k (oops!)

A/N: Sorry this is late, but anywho! I <3 Ghostface. Art creds to @aransmind [MDNI]

“You want me to wear that and chase you around the estate?”

“Yeah, and when you find me…”

“I fuck you instead of killing you.”

“Mhm!” You hum cheerfully to your rather concerned boyfriend whose lap you’re currently sitting on.

Those dark raven strands of hair framing his gorgeous face sway with the light tip of his head to the side as his naturally slim eyes narrow at your overly excited expression, “And I’m doing this, why?” Geto questions.

You let out a giggle, which only confuses him even more. “Because Scream is my favorite franchise and Ghostface is hot… Duh.”

It’s as if the man only falls for you more and more every day. Geto’s been with you for roughly two years now and yet you’ve never revealed this sudden… mask kink you clearly have. He likes the Scream franchise just as much as you do and the idea of chasing you around and eventually fucking you in costume definitely excites him.

So there you are; sitting in his lap and pouting, steadily snaking your arms around his neck and pulling yourself in close before you plant a chaste little kiss on his lips.

“C’mon Sugu, I know you’ve thought about it before,” You point out to him in a low purr as your lips depart from his.

The hands that’d been calmly resting on your hips suddenly grow intrigued as they slide up to your waist and give you a soft squeeze, “I really haven’t.” He admits honestly. You can see it all in his eyes that he silently agreed to this the moment you brought out that stupid mask.

At his soft admission, a gleaming smile spreads across your face, “Okayy, well you are now… So is that a yes or what?”

He pretends to think for only a moment longer, glancing off to the side in faux thought before landing those pretty lilac irises back onto you, “Yeah, sure. Tomorrow's Halloween so, we can do it then.” Geto tells you.

And that was all it took. 

Halloween night was here before you even had time to fully prepare for it. The entire day you weren’t able to stop thinking about the moment Geto would walk through the front door, dressed in all black with that overly attractive ghostface mask cloaking his equally beautiful face. 

Your heart was racing in anticipation as the sun began to set outside and the clock ticked closer and closer toward the time of which he would return home from work. You knew he’d be there no more than thirty minutes after and all you could do was wonder how this all would go down.

Clad in only one of his oversized white t-shirts, you distracted yourself by mindlessly scrolling on your phone as you awaited the moment he’d get home. Any second now and you’d hear that lovely security chime go off—

You jump a little in your bed when your thought is cut off by an incoming unknown number. If you weren’t buzzing with excitement before, you damn sure are now because it’s clear your boyfriend is going out of his way to play into this with you. There are practically small hearts in your eyes as you tap that enticing green button on your screen to answer the phone.

Biting back a smile, you’re quick to bring the phone up to your ear, “Hello?”

An almost low-quality distortion to the person’s voice is instantly recognized by you—it wasn’t Suguru’s voice at all, it was that infamous voice changer that spoke to you. “Why don’t you wanna talk to me?” A man asks, and you know this line all too well.

Hell, you know the entire dialogue. This is exactly why you sit up in your bed and hold back that smile of yours like your life depended on it. Tilting your head into the phone, you glance around your bedroom, “Who is this?”

“You tell me your name, I’ll tell you mine,” The ‘mystery’ man continues. 

You had to slap a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from giggling right then and there. Your dark little fantasy was becoming true right before your very eyes and it had a sliver of excitement slipping down your spine. Sliding out from your bed, you take small steps toward the nearby window and glance outside.

Scoffing softly, “I don’t think so.” You quote, straight from the first Scream. You’ve seen the movie enough times to recite the whole thing word for word, even his lines.

It’s a bit off-script how things go from here on out but, that’s the goal.

“Aw, you’re no fun.” He purrs. Even with that damn voice changer, you’d recognize that purr any day. You know this is your boyfriend and that only has your body heating up with each passing second.

Now you’re left to improv a bit. “Think so?” You reply as you pull your bedroom curtains closed and turn away from the window.

“Oh I know so, sweetheart. It’s Halloween night and you’re doing nothing to celebrate.” The man on your phone points out. 

You’re walking out of your room now and taking a careful peek into the dimmed hallway. “And that makes me not fun? What am I supposed to do to celebrate Halloween aside from dressing up and maybe handing out some candy?”

He chuckles. “You’re a smart girl, I’m sure you can figure something else out.”

“Let me guess,” Your brows raise a little, “I should be watching scary movies?”

“That depends. You like scary movies?” There you are, right back onto the script.

“Uhuh,” You hum in response with a slight nod as if he could see you.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” And there it is, infamous line one of many. You nearly let out a dreamy sigh knowing that it’s nothing but your boyfriend on the other end.

Allowing yourself to smile this time, you trek down your hallway and towards the staircase. “Uhhh, I dunno,” Of course you know, but where’s the fun in saying it so soon?

“You have to have a favorite. What comes to mind?” Every scratchy distorted-pitched word that pours from the man’s mouth has anticipation bubbling within you.

You sigh. “Uhmm, Halloween!” As you recall that answer straight from the movie, you turn to your staircase and allow your eyes to scan the first floor of your home.

Most of the lights are on so it’s not too dark or anything but you really are curious whether or not Geto has made his way inside already.

“Y’know, the one with the guy with the white mask who walks around and stalks babysitters?” You quote flawlessly yet again. You’re such a fanatic for the Scream franchise that you’re loving every single second of this.

“Yeahh,” He purrs again, making your heart involuntarily flutter.

You begin to slowly descend down the flight of stairs, “What’s yours?”

“Guess.” He orders on the other end.

Pausing halfway down, you glance over to your kitchen. The light is still on and everything is exactly the way you left it. “Uhm, Nightmare on Elm Street?” You soon reply.

“Is that the one where the guy had knives for fingers?” The way your boyfriend knows every word to this just as well as you do makes your stomach churn in affection just a bit. 

Your voice turns enthusiastic and you continue your steps down, “Yeah! Freddy Kruger.”

“Freddy, that’s right.” He continues, “I like that movie—it was scary.”

“Well the first one was but the rest sucked.” You’re downstairs now, looking around at the way all the blinds in your home are open. Did you leave them like that for this exact reason? You don’t remember.

“Mhm,” ‘Mystery’ man hums and you swear you can picture the smirk on his face as he utters the next infamous line. “Soo, you got a boyfriend?”

You pull your lower lip into your mouth for a second before smiling, “Why? You wanna ask me out on a date?” Now you’re making a right to enter your living room, heading toward your couch placed in the center.

“Maybe. Do you have a boyfriend?” He asks again.

You pause for a second. This literally is your boyfriend so, surely he wants you to play into this question, right?

“No.” You chirp simply.

You can hear the smile on his face even through that stupidly attractive voice changer, “You never told me your name.”

You know what comes after this and you can’t help but begin to look around as you plop down on your couch, “Why do you wanna know my name?” 

It’s silent over the phone for a long couple of seconds

“Cause’ we wanna know who we’re looking at.”

Your heart surprisingly sinks as those words hit your ears. We? That’s not… how that scene goes. He was supposed to say that he wants to know who he’s looking at. There’s no we? Where the hell did he even get that from??

For the first time since you picked up this damn phone and started this whole thing, you’re actually a bit nervous. Chuckling loosely, you try to play it off as your eyes glance around your living room, “What do you mean, ‘we’?” 

There’s a shuffling over the phone for just a moment. Then, you hear that distorted voice again, but the pitch is slightly different. “C’mon, princess. You’ve seen the movies, you should know by now that there’s hardly ever only one killer.” The man says. 

Eyes all over every corner of the house, heart thumping slightly in your chest, you can feel your anxiety rising within. “I… I don’t understand.” You murmur softly.

And then… all the lights go out with a loud noise coming from somewhere outside. If you weren’t shaking in fear before, you damn sure are now. Your eyes go even wider and you move to put your phone on speaker, clicking your flashlight on right after. 

“S-Suguru, this isn’t funny! I like the movies ‘nd all but I’m not the biggest fan of being scared, you know that.” The person(s) on the phone can hear the clear trembling in your voice as you stand up and point your flashlight to whatever area your eyes land on, searching for any signs of anyone.

There’s a snicker over the line. “Oh but this iss funny, sweets.” The tone changed again—it’s still distorted in that famous Ghostface pitch, but it’s not Suguru nor the person who’d said something before. “You look sooo scared right now.”

Aw hell, that lets you know he (or they) can see you right now. Which is just great considering you can’t see shit aside from darkness and the few areas of your house that your light lands on. You’re scared to leave the living room but… you’re also terrified of staying right where you are. You don’t know how many Ghostface’s are in your house right now and you don’t know what the hell Suguru has planned for you tonight.

“Stop playing around! Turn the lights back on and quit this scary shit, Suguru.” You huff out into the call, taking one step to your right and hearing the floor creak below your foot.

The house is eerily quiet—which is ridiculously concerning considering how he-, they can see you but you can’t see them at the moment. How the hell are they talking to you without you hearing them? They are in your house now, right??

“You said you wanted to get fucked by Ghostface, baby.” The voice returns, as does that natural purr, letting you know it’s Geto talking once more. “You never said how many…”

You slowly walk around your couch and shift your flashlight toward the blinds, trying to get a look outside your windows. “Are you serious? That sounds insane. How many of you are there?!” Your gaze flicks toward the nearby staircase and you only scare yourself as your eyes get lost in the darkness of your home.

Geto’s still talking, “Including me, there’s three of us. How does that sound, hm? I’m obviously not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to but, you do know who we all are.”

You swallow thickly. “Do I?” This time your words leave in a whisper and you swear you hear a shuffling coming from upstairs.

Lord knows you’re scared out of your mind right now. But, it is comforting to know that whatever this is, your boyfriend is in control of it all. You trust him more than anything, so there’s no real reason to be scared… right? 

“Mhm. So how ‘bout we play a game?” Your boyfriend requests, and the sound of him smiling again is heard through his tone.

You stop walking entirely and your eyes are fixated upstairs as you flash your light up there. “Okay Jigsaw.” You snort, “What… What kind of game, huh?”

He sighs, almost sounding as though he were sitting back against something. “The one you and I were going to play. Y’know, you run around ‘n hide but if I find you, I fuck you. Let’s continue that but… with two others.”

“Suguru, you’re gonna let two other guys fuck me?” You’re beyond baffled by this whole thing. Never in a million years would you have expected this from your boyfriend. This is the same man who got mad a while ago for the way some guy who was all flirty with you at a restaurant…

Geto hums deeply, “S’long as you’re okay with it and they find you before I do, yeahh.”

“I didn’t know you were into that…” You reply, moving a hand to tug his shirt further down your body. Knowing that there was more than just him in the area right now made you a bit self-conscious.

“Didn’t know you were into masks but the Ghostface thing really does it for ya’, huh?” Suguru snaps back with that sass you know and love.

“I mean…” You shrug, “Yeah.”

“Right. So then, the game is simple. You try to hide and whoever finds you first; fucks you.”

“That’s it?”

“Oh, nooo. There’s more to this baby…” You swear you hear a creak upstairs—coming from somewhere down the left end of the hallway. It gives you the chills as Geto continues. “See, I know how loud you are when you cum so… tonight, I want you to be nice and quiet.”

You gulp, “What happens if I’m not?”

“Another one of us will find you.”

“Oh—“

“…And join in.” He steadily adds on with an amused smile on his face that you obviously can’t see right now.

Your heart races at the thought alone. “Oh.”

Just for extra consent, Geto tilts his head against the phone, “That alright with you?”

“Yes… but, wait do I still have to be quiet even if there ends up being two of you guys fucking me…?” You lean to the side a bit and aim your light toward the direction you heard the creak, spotting no one and no signs of life whatsoever.

“Yep.” Geto replies with a teasing pop of the ‘p’.

“But—“

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll do fine. After all,” The voice changer clicks off and Suguru’s tone is nice and clear with you, “Y’know whose cock you’re supposed t’get loud on.”

You feel yourself throb at the sound of his voice without that stupid filter, puffing out a little sigh in reaction to his lewd words. 

“Oh, and by the way…”

“Huh?”

The voice changer clicks on one last time and he chuckles. “They’re already in the house.”

——

Okay, you knew Halloween was one of Suguru’s favorite holidays but shit you didn’t expect him to go all out like this.

Not one, not two, but three Ghostfaces in your home searching for you right now? You’re lucky the house is big and there are plenty of places to hide but fuck is your anxiety through the goddamn roof as you sit in the empty tub of your first-floor bathroom. The door is shut but not locked and you’ve got the tub curtain pulled closed, just in case one of them does happen to stroll in.

Obviously, this wasn’t the best hiding spot in the world but you wanted them to eventually find you. You were scared in the beginning because of how unexpected this was but now you’re just as excited as you were when you first received that infamous phone call and recited all the lines with your boyfriend.

As soon as the call had ended, you clicked your flashlight off and snuck around in search of a hiding place—which is roughly how you ended up where you are now…

Now you’re left wondering who would find you first. Well, that and who the hell is under two of those masks. You suspect one of them is Gojo Satoru since that’s your boyfriend’s best friend but the other guy… you’re not too sure. Geto said you knew him but that still doesn’t help much.

Your boyfriend has a lot of friends that you know. Which one does he trust enough to let them have their way with you??

After maybe fifteen minutes of sitting in the tub, you start hearing someone outside the bathroom door. Footsteps shuffle by and you can tell the person went off into your kitchen. Then you hear the sounds of doors and cabinets opening, all of which make your breath hitch.

It’s so nerve-wracking and exciting waiting for someone to swing open the bathroom door. The footsteps soon pass it again and you let out the faintest sigh.

…Only to hear those steps halt not too far off from the door. Then, they turn and your body stiffens up entirely as each thump against the hardwood floor draws closer and closer to the door. You can’t see it because of the shower curtains but, there’s a shadow at the bathroom door.

Then you hear a small clinking sound, followed by a very soft… thump? Almost as if someone were leaning against the bathroom door to listen.

It was so scarily exciting that you had to move a hand over your mouth to keep yourself as silent as possible. After which, it’s all so very motionless.

There’s no sound, safe for someone walking around upstairs, and you just know someone’s outside the bathroom door right now. Your heart sinks into your ass the moment you hear that doorknob turning torturously slow until it’s lightly pushed open. 

Then, there are but two soft steps taken inside and you don’t hear it but the door is closed behind whoever just entered.

They could be coming in to just use the bathroom… riiiight?

That’s extremely naive of you to think but a girl can only hope. Another step is taken deeper into the bathroom and that soft clinking sound you heard before is getting louder. It’s faint, almost like… jewelry or… necklaces slapping against one another gently. Jewelry… Necklaces… Which one of Geto’s friends do you know wears a lot of jewelry...? C’mon, think.

Necklaces… rings maybe… piercings—

The very second it clicks in your brain who this might be, you practically flinch right out of your skin as you spot a knife slowly moving to slide the bathtub curtain open. As the curtain is pulled open, you’re met with the tilted head of someone in a Ghostface costume.

Your eyes are all wide on them and you genuinely have no idea where on your body this guy is looking but the mask is actually quite scary when it’s all dark and neither of you is making any sudden movements.

His head slowly angles to the opposing direction, just like Ghostface often does in the movies, and you gulp loudly. The curtain is pinned to the wall by the knife in his hand and you think you’re sweating.

“Scared?” His voice is deep. Familiarly deep. It quickly confirms your suspicions of who’s face may be lying beneath that iconic mask.

With your eyes all frantic along what’s covering his face, noticing the bits of blood and cracks decorating it, you swallow thickly yet again. “Choso?” Your voice is hardly above a whisper and the air feels so heavy with tension.

His hand moves away from the wall and the knife, which you hope is fake, is placed on the edge of the tub with a soft tapping noise emitting into the still air. Then he takes that same hand and lifts it to pull his mask up to the right side of his face, revealing his expression to you as he crouches down to your eye level. You quickly feel your fear die off and it’s replaced with… something else as you study his face. There’s fake blood splattered on his skin, makeup extending the tattoo along the bridge of his nose, and piercings that stand out against his facial features.

“The tub, really?” He whispers to you, chuckling softly and flashing this kind smile at you that makes you feel overly warm inside. “S’this the best you could do? Y’know if I was a real killer you’d be dead right now, right?” Choso teases, all of his words kept in a low voice.

You roll your eyes and shift against the cold tub flooring, “I wouldn’t have hid in here if you guys were real killers, I’m not dumb.”

His lips curve into this sexy yet lazy smirk and you can feel your heart fluttering in your chest. You had a thing for Choso way back before you started dating Geto and it seems as though your body hasn’t forgotten why. “Yeahh?” Choso chastises with another tilt of his head, “Think you would be the final girl?”

Leaning forward a bit, you nod. “No, I know I would.”

Choso lets out a hum before biting his lower lip for a moment. Then, he lets it fall from in between his teeth and you think you’re in a trance. “Oh she’s cocky, huh?” He teases.

You smile at him and then push up to stand on your knees. Leaning all the way forward, you slowly reach for the knife and take it into your hands. Then you move to hold the tip of it right underneath his jaw and the sound of his breath hitching hits your ears just right. 

You openly stare at his lips and watch the way his smirk slowly transcends into a full cocky smile. “Y’know that’s not fake, right?” Choso hushes out to you.

The knife is carefully caressing his skin as you trace it up slightly to his chin, “It’s not?” You ask innocently, placing your free hand on the edge of the tub and watching how he slowly moves to sit on his knees so that he’s looking up at you.

His face is all pretty from this angle, big brown doe-eyes batting up at you so softly, such a pretty face of dark innocence presented before you. Who’s really the ‘victim’ here—you or him?

“Nah,” Choso whispers, “That’s a real knife.”

“Why would you carry around a real knife?” You ask in an equally soft tone as your brows twist up in confusion.

He shrugs. “Honestly, I was gonna ask if you were into a bit of knife play…” 

His words make your mind stray away from the situation at hand. Your imagination is quick to push out ideas and all sorts of scenarios that could have occurred with this knife of his had you not looked so scared when he first saw you…

“Are you?” The question in return makes Choso’s gaze flicker into something way more lustful than it was moments before.

He scoffs, “Am I? Why would I ask you about it if I wasn’t.”

“So… What, you wanna cut my clothes off of somethin’?” You ask carefully, steadily slipping the tip of the knife along his jawline.

Choso just barely nods his head in response.

“Y’know it’s funny you say that and yet you’re the one on your knees with a knife held up to your chin right now.” You point out with an all-knowing grin plastered all over your face.

Choso bites back a laugh. It’s cute that you think you have the upper hand here. “You and I both know that could easily change in a matter of seconds.” He claims.

And y’know, maybe it’s because you found yourself turned on by this whole game or maybe it’s simply because you wanted to fuck Choso but either way—you do not shy away from testing that theory. All you said was a simple ‘prove it’ and you found yourself in quite the position moments later.

It was one thing that Choso managed to easily gain a hold of the knife once more but it was another thing entirely that he was able to swiftly and quietly get you out of the tub and into his arms. All without even so much as grazing you with that sharp weapon too.

It was almost impressive, in all honesty.

Somewhere in the mix of all that, he ends up placing the knife down and soon has you sitting on the bathroom counter. Well, had you sitting on the bathroom counter—it quickly becomes a lot more than simply that.

Choso used that lil’ knife of his to cut down the center of your (Geto’s) shirt and was quick to have you all exposed to his overly greedy eyes. You were wearing nothing more than this lacy black set beneath that oversized shirt so it wasn’t much to get you unclothed.

One second he was cutting your shirt open and the next his lips were on yours. Then his pierced tongue was in your mouth and your arms were around his neck, tugging him closer to you and feeling his hard cock poking you through the thick layers of black clothes between you and him.

Which is exactly what led to the way you are currently.

Choso now has your legs spread wide open for him and his clothes are hardly even off, safe for the black cloak-like jacket that slipped off of his shoulders and the way his pants have been tugged down. He’s got on this black compression shirt and you spot the layered chains/necklaces hanging from around his throat that you heard earlier. Now leaning back slightly against the mirror behind you with your eyes set down between the two of you, you’re left watching the mean slap of Choso’s leaky cockhead against your clit. 

“Cho,” You whispered out pleadingly. He’d been doing this for the longest—tapping his thick cock against your clit and then rubbing it from side to side against you, feeling the way you leak onto the counter below and hearing those faint whines escaping your throat.

Then he has the nerve to have the sluttiest expression on his half-revealed face, eyes all low-lidded and glued to your exposed pussy, bottom lip locked in between his teeth as he holds back his own breathy sounds of pleasure, and brows all tense as if he’s not the one torturing the two of you like this. “Shiiiit,” Choso rasps out, sliding his cock down slowly and pressing his fat tip against your weeping hole. “Suguru was right, this pussy is s’fuckin’ loud ‘n messy…” He breathes.

Your lips are all parted and all you can do is pant softly as he lifts his tip away and then slaps it against your cunt again, listening to the shlick tapping sound that comes from your sex.

Almost in a daze, he glides his cock up and down your wet folds, “Look at herrr,” Choso purrs, “All wet f’me. Can’t believe he’s lettin’ us fuck you.” His hips push forward a bit and you feel the way his heavy shaft glides against your cunt instead of inside like you so desperately want him to.

You have to suppress the needy whine that threatens to escape your throat, holding one hand slightly over your mouth. “Choso, please.” You whisper beneath your palm.

He pulls his hips back and angles his tip back down to your entrance, pushing forward ever so slightly and teasing that tight ring of muscle, not trying to really push himself into you at all. “What is it, princess?” Choso taunts, smirking as he lifts his eyes up to your face, “Want me to fuck you?”

You throb at his words, nodding as if a second longer would have you pronounced dead. “Please,” You whine, trying your best to wiggle your hips forward.

Choso leans forward and moves his lips right up your ear, his breath all warm and tickly against your skin. “Yeah? Y’want my cock inside you that badly?” He says with another faint push of his hips. Every word that leaves his lips has you dripping all over him.

It’s not until you move your hand away from your mouth and place it on the counter space behind you, and whisper, “Yes Choso, just put it all the way in already, I’m losing my fuckin’ m-mind…” Your last word leaves a little shaky due to the way he suddenly moves a hand over your lips.

Pressing his palm against your mouth, you grow confused until you look over to the bottom of the bathroom door and see a shadow moving by. Yet another Ghostface was nearby.

Choso, not yet wanting to ruin his alone time with you, presses his lips further against your ear, and his other hand grips your thigh tightly. “M’not ready t’share you yet so, be really fuckin’ quiet f’me, alright?” His warning confused you for half a second before you felt him roll his hips forward with a sharp snap at the end, stuffing you full with every hard inch of his cock in one go.

Your eyes tear up and your mouth hangs open under his hand, a strangled moan escaping your throat. Choso’s dick is so stupidly big, reminding you of your boyfriend in more ways than one. Unlike Geto though, Choso’s got this ruthless right curve and just drags against your sweet spot with every small movement he makes, the rest of his cock felt throbbing and twitching wildly against your sodden walls.

He lets out a choked grunt against your ear and you can feel him humping his cock deeper inside you with these small maddening little thrusts. “Does he even fuck you? S-Shiiit…” Choso lets his thoughts be vocalized against the crown of your ear and you only squeeze around his girthy shaft. “S’fuckin’ tight.. God-, fu-uck…” His voice has this pretty lil’ crack at the end that makes you soak his cock even more, sloppy juices leaking all out from where the two of you are connected.

Choso has to tug his hips back a bit and he completely forgets that he recently heard someone walking by the bathroom as he mindlessly thrusts right back into you. Your eyes meet the back of your skull and you groan into his palm. The wet gurgles and squelches from your pussy are what draws attention to the bathroom, if any.

Which is something you can’t even control, especially not with the way Choso goes from short grunts in your ear to moaning delightedly against your skin and fucking his thick cock into your sinfully warm cunt. Deep and almost passionate strokes are made into you and he can’t help but rid his hand from your mouth at some point. Moving it back to your thighs, he sprawls your legs out even wider so his cock can dig deeper into you.

With your jaw still hanging open, the sounds of him fucking you against the counter slowly grow louder and louder. You’re trying not to moan but it’s so hard with him—Choso knows how to use his cock all too well and his eyes are studying your face so he knows where exactly he should be thrusting. Just the slightest shift of his hips causes drool to leak from the corner of your lips and that makes him flash this fucked-out little smile.

Choso leans up closer and his body sandwiches against yours for a moment. You swear you can feel his angry cockhead prodding at your guts because fuck is he in there deep. Not to mention how orgasmic it is to feel him drag his pierced tongue against your chin, lapping up the mess of drool from your face before shoving the muscle into your mouth and forcing you to suck on it.

That leaves your moaning drowned out for a bit and Choso takes the opportunity to pound himself into you like a damn madman. Your legs quickly begin to feel like jello in his hands and you couldn’t even focus on sucking on his tongue anymore. Then, he pulls his mouth away, just barely, and the two of you are staring deep into each other’s eyes as his pace gets faster. His hips are so sharp against you and you can feel his weighty balls slapping against your ass with every mean and pronounced thrust.

Your breath mingles with one another and you’re both so fucked out that you don’t even realize you’re a lot louder now until you spot the bathroom door cracking open in your peripherals. It barely makes a sound as it’s pushed open slightly and all you see is yet another person wearing a Ghostface mask—the sight alone and the clear eye contact you make with them leading straight to your orgasm.

The second Ghostface stands motionless, doing nothing more than watching the blissful way your eyes lull to the back of your head and you release this sweet moan of Choso’s name. Choso, oblivious to being watched right now, is so close to emptying himself inside you.

“F-Fuck,” He huffs, tipping his head back and looking up to the ceiling for a moment. “So tight… I’m gonna c-cum if you keep squeezin’ me like that.” His voice fluctuates here and there but by the time your eyes roll back into place, the bathroom door is shut and that second Ghostface is now standing right behind Choso.

You flinch and Choso chokes out a grunt at how tightly you just clenched around his cock. The second Ghostface is slow to lift his mask up a bit, only revealing his mouth with this recognizable snake bite piercing that has your cunt gripping onto Choso even tighter. Then, the man leans to Choso’s ear and practically scares him into cumming inside you.

“What do we have here, hm?” Gojo whispers, making Choso’s hips stutter against you. He then reaches a gloved hand around Choso and your neglected clit is met with his thumb swatting over it, “Can’t believe you found her first. S’not fair…” Gojo hums softly with a slight pout.

You have this dumbfounded look all over your face and you may be fucked out of your mind but you swear Choso’s cock is almost harder inside you. The two of you curse in unison as Gojo rotates his thumb against your clit in a sensual circle motion, making you clench again and Choso rolls his gaze back—only the whites of his eyes visible to you.

“K-Keep rubbin’ her like that,” Choso pants with a soft moan. “She’s so fucking tight… I’m gonna die in here, s-shit.” He curses dramatically.

Gojo flicks his thumb upwards against your clit with a nasty trickle of your slick oozing out onto Choso’s cock. “You’re not gonna die, Cho,” He says in a chastising tone with a smile on his face, taking his free hand to pull his mask further up so that you can see his eyes. 

You watch the way Gojo looks over Choso’s shoulder and stares at Choso’s lengthy cock disappearing in and out of your slobbering pussy. Gojo feels his own dick throb against his pants, pressing himself a bit closer to Choso and moving to talk into his ear. “I mean look at her,” Gojo directs, leading to Choso focusing his hazy gaze onto your face. “You’re already fucking her to tears, you’re not gonna die, heh. You’re fuckin’ her good.”

That last praise is what causes Choso to slump forward against you and roll his hips harshly against you—followed by which is a thick spurt of cum as he finishes inside you with a broken groan pouring from his lips. All as Gojo keeps his thumb on your clit, despite his hand getting squished in between you and Choso’s body. 

Then Gojo smirks and leans in toward Choso again, “There ya’ go, good boy. Let it all out inside her. Jus’ like that…” 

You don’t think you’ve ever been this… ruined before in your life. Watching Gojo tease and praise Choso like that while you were still being fucked and your clit was being stimulated led to you abruptly squirting. Choso’s cock slips right out of you and Gojo removes his hand just so that both of them could watch you let out that filthy lil’ stream.

Choso’s completely out of it as he watches your pussy spasm wildly. “Holy…” He whispers, hardly able to finish the rest of his statement.

Gojo clicks his tongue, “Suguru didn’t tell us you were a squirter. Or, has he never made you do that before?” He asks, slowly lifting his eyes up to your face.

You look like you’re about to pass out, your body all sweaty as you lean back against the mirror again and pant heavily. “He… hah, f-fuck, h-he has.” You squeak out softly.

Gojo hums before looking back down, allowing Choso to step (stumble) back slightly past him so he can catch his breath. Then, once Choso is completely out of the way and the space between your legs is left vacant—Gojo lets out an alarming chuckle.

He watches the way Choso’s cum dribbles out of your overstimulated cunt, glob after glob leaking out so prettily that Gojo can’t help but crouch down to get a closer look. Your eyes lazily follow his snowy head of hair and watch as his face is repositioned in between your spread legs. He moves his gloved thumb to your pussy lips and sloshes that mix of you and Choso’s cum around against you. 

Then, Gojo flicks his gaze up to you and you gulp. He looks you dead in the eyes before spreading your lips further apart with his thumb and leaning forward. Your jaw drops in shock as Gojo cups his mouth against your pussy and suckles the mess from Choso into his mouth.

You whine, “S-Satoru—oh, w-wait,” You’re left gasping as you shoot a hand down to his hair and grip him tightly.

Gojo groans deeply and you feel his tongue lap against your saturated cunt leisurely. Moving up and down in a sloppy filthy manner, your legs are trembling while Gojo cleans you up casually. 

Choso’s sitting on the nearby toilet seat now, batting his lashes at Gojos actions in shock. “Satoru you… you know I just—“

“Mhmm,” Gojo mumbles into your pussy, pulling his lips back just barely to allow a cool slap of air to hit you. Then, he swallows. “You both taste really,” Gojo leans back in to kiss your cunt, “Mmph… fuckin’ sweet.” He murmurs against you before slithering his tongue inside you.

Your back arches and your legs move to close around his head as your fingers tug desperately on his locks of hair. “S’toru,” You mumble, “Fuck. Please… mgh, n-needa’ break. I-I can’t—“

Gojo tilts his head and smiles into your honeyed slick, “Sweetheart,” He rasps against you, suckling on your taste for a moment longer before pulling off with a wet pop! “I jus’ got here ‘n you want a break from me already?” He says, pushing out his bottom lip to pout. “That’s so mean.”

Before you even get the chance to argue with that, he’s diving right back in and eating you out like a man staved. Sucking, licking, kissing, spitting—Gojo’s between your legs in some kind of trance as he drools all over his current meal. He’s such a messy eater too, his actions quickly leading to the lower half of his face being coated with remnants of you.

After a bit, Choso seems to have collected himself and he’s soon standing up. His pants have been hastily pulled up and you’re too lost in the overstimulation Gojo’s giving you to realize Choso is approaching you too. When your eyes lift, you see Choso with his Ghostface mask back over his face and his phone held in his right hand.

Cocking his head to the side, he looms closer to Gojo and sneaks a, now gloved, hand into his bright white tufts of hair, prying his mouth away from your cunt with a harsh tug. You watch with teary eyes as Choso holds his phone up to Gojo’s face, and hums out a low, “Smile.” With the voice changer turned on.

Gojo sparks a toothy grin and his expression is all high in pleasure. He looks faded out of his mind, simply off of eating you out alone. The flash from Choso’s phone lights up the bathroom and within the picture he just took, only your legs are visible dangling over Gojo’s shoulders. They’d just recreated that infamous photo you see around this time of year all over your socials. Usually, the victim would be laid out stomach first on the floor and Ghostface would tug their head up by their hair but, this definitely works too.

“Atta’ boy,” Choso praises after he’s taken the desired amount of pictures. 

Gojo looks up to you and he’s pretty sure he can see little hearts in your eyes as you glance back and forth between him and Choso. “You don’t mind, do ya’? We wanna have somethin’ to remember this by,” He tells you.

You simply shake your head no and both of the men in front of you smile. Choso then nods his head a little before using his grasp on Gojo’s hair to shove him back down in between your legs—earning a surprised hum from your throat and a muffled groan from Gojo’s. 

Despite the little Surprise, Gojo gets back to work with his mouth and you end up leaning forward a bit in surprise. Choso moves over to the side a bit and he feels you drop a hand to Gojo’s head to give him a light push away so he can ease up on you. In contrast to this, Choso steals your attention by wrapping a free hand of his around your throat. Your eyes shoot up to him and you’re met with the eyes of Ghostface since he’s got the mask back on.

Purposefully, he does that head tilt again. So slowly does it tip to the side as Gojo’s teeth graze your clit, causing you to let out a pleasureful yelp. “Fuck!” You gasp, to which Choso removes his hand from Gojo’s hair.

Creeping up along your body, Choso grabs a greedy handful of your breast before leaning in. “That was loud, princess. You’re gonna get us all caught,” He snickers to you.

Your bottom lip quivers and you think the sight of it makes Choso feel bad. He takes his hand off of your tits for just a second to pull his mask up and then returns his gasp. Both of you have the same idea in mind but it’s you that reaches for him this time, tugging him in so that his lips can meet yours again.

And then it’s just sloppy from there on out. Anyone with ears could walk past that bathroom, or anywhere down stairs for that matter, and hear the sliding of lips over one another followed by gurgled gasps and barely muffed goans. Choso’s making out with you while he plays with your tits in his hands and Gojo’s still lost in between your legs.

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire and your head is beginning to spin from how good you feel everywhere. It only gets worse when the two start muttering praises out to you.

Dragging his lips down to your chest, Choso hushes out these elated whispers, “C’mon pretty girl, don’t tap out on us jus’ yet.”

Then there’s Gojo who moves to suck on your inner thigh. “Yeahh, don’t tap out. Let us make you feel good, baby.” He hums into your skin.

The counter beneath your ass is a slippery wet mess just like the bottom of Gojo's face and all the way down his neck with the way he let your juices trickle along his skin as he ate. All three of you get a little lost in the moment for quite some time. So much that you all seem to forget there’s supposed to be a third Ghostface.

Who, unknowingly, ends up silently opening the bathroom door and catching the way his two friends have his girlfriend all spread out ‘n ruined like some slut. Geto swore he almost came in his pants at the sight alone. You don’t seem to notice he’s standing there and you’re the only one facing him. His eyes are all over your wet expression, watching and listening to you moan two other guy’s names.

He didn’t even want to say anything. Geto just wanted to remain where he was and watch because lord knows if he joins in he won’t last longer than a few seconds. So, he does exactly that—going completely unnoticed there for a while. 

Up until Gojo pulls his mouth off of you for a second. He looks up to see Choso decorating your chest in hot kisses and wet hickies, the two of you constantly making eye contact with one another before he moves his lips to yours again. Fuck just watching you two was hot. So hot that it makes Gojo wonder where the hell his best friend is at and why he’s missing out on all this.

Which is what leads to him turning around to glance back at the bathroom entrance, quickly spotting Geto standing there leaning against the door frame. Well, shit. It’s in that moment that Gojo realizes he sees the appeal in the whole Ghostface thing because fuck is his best friend just as hot as everything and everyone else in this damn room.

After Gojo, you’re the next person to realize your boyfriend is now present, and then Choso seconds later. Each of you have this face as if you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to but that little detail is irrelevant given how Geto could care less about how he was the last to find you. And sure, he may have watched you run into the bathroom earlier and could’ve gone in there to scare you a while ago but, watching Choso and Gojo eventually find you and then listening to them interact with you from outside the bathroom was far more entertaining.

—

So, one thing led to another and…

You find yourself laid out in your bed all over again, this time accompanied with three men. Geto was the first to get himself situated—seating himself not too far away from the bed and telling you to “put on a show for him”.

By this point, who were you to even question him? If Gojo and Choso were leading things before, they damn sure aren’t now because it’s you who’s ordering them around and letting them know where you want them. Starting with you on all fours, showing off that arch that Geto has had you perfect over the years. Then your legs part slowly and Gojo’s behind you in a trance as he watches you move a hand to spread your cunt open for him.

“You spoil us, sweetheart,” Gojo rasps in a low pitch, voice slightly hoarse from how long he’d gone without talking earlier. 

You wanted to focus on him some more but a pair of fingers are placed on your chin and your face is quickly redirected to the second man of need. The moment your head turns, you’re met with Choso’s fat cockhead right in front of your face. Batting your lashes, you’re slow to look all the way up to him and see the way he’s smirking down at you.

“‘Could get off on that look alone, y’know.” Choso comments deeply in reference to your wide glossed over eyes and how close his tip is to your lips.

Gojo’s behind you frowning at the way Choso stole your attention yet again. In an attempt to, at least, have your mind on him once more, Gojo simply pushes his hips forward and eyes the sloppy part of your pussy spread against his pink tip. He hears it, Choso hears it, they all hear the way you gasp softly. It’s like they’re all hyper aware of every sound or slight movement you make.

Immediately after, your hips are wiggling back and Gojo’s quick to palm the fats of your ass. “Finally givin’ me some attention now, huh?” He quips.

You pull away from Choso’s touch just to look back at Gojo. “Suguru should’ve told you guys, I hate bein’ teased.” The way you force yourself back on him not even a second after that last word is leaving your lips has Gojo’s jaw falling and his fingers curling into your skin.

“W-Woah sweets, you could’ve warned me f-first…” He stammers, eyes dropping down to your greedy cunt swallowing up his lengthy inches of cock like it’s nothing. Gojo had to bite back a whine as he listened to the syrupy squelches that came with each backward push of your hips. “Fuuck, don’t stop. Give it t’me, baby.”

Gojo doesn’t even have to move yet and you’re already letting off a shaky moan, driving your hips back carefully and feeling him fill up every inch of your cunt. He’s all dazed while he watches his aching cock delve deep inside you, inch by inch—you take him like you were fuckin’ made for him. 

The man is just dazed. He understands why Choso said he was gonna die earlier becuase fuckin’ hell he’s not even all the way in yet and you’re already clamping around his veiny shaft with no intention of ever letting go. And the goddamn arch you have, they way your ass looks all pretty backing up against him—

Gojo’s thrusting forward before he even realizes he is and his hands slide up to your hips to hold you nice ‘n steady. Your legs shake and your jaw mirrors his with the way it just hangs open. Then there’s your eyes and the way they roll back, a delicious moan exiting from deep within your throat.

He definately fucks you harder than Choso was earlier because you can feel his cock everywhere—he has you so stupidly full and dumb on his dick within seconds, landing a mean hand down onto your ass amid his thrusts.

“Ohh fuck, Suguru y’had this pussy all to yourself all this time?” Gojo grunts. “…S-Selfish bastard.”

Gojo’s hands are arguably slimmer than your boyfriends but his grip on you is just the same. Hence why you can’t do anything as he tugs you back to meet his rough pounding. Hell, all you’re left with is a brain full of nothing as your head turns to face forwards and you unconsciously look up at a stunned Choso.

His hand is wrapped around his cock and despite being right in front of your face, he’s definitely jerking off to they way Gojo’s fucking you (or maybe just to Gojo himself, who knows). When Choso does look down, you see his brows twist up and his lips part.

Your mouth is already hanging open so clearly you’re silently offering to help him, right? Which is why he angles himself toward your gape mouth and grunts, “Open up f’me pretty girl, nice ‘n wide…”

And you do, widening your mouth for him to slide his cock in steadily. Choso hisses at the sensation, the underside of his cock gliding down the center of your slobbering wet tongue so lewdly that it makes his teeth grind together. God, if you weren’t every bit of perfect like this. He watches the way his dick fills your mouth and feels how ridiculously tight your throat is as he eases his hips forward.

Almost in unison, Gojo and Choso and up tossing their heads back—one letting out a guttural groan and the other releasing a sweet moan. You’re soaked just about everywhere. Your pussy is sobbing and dripping around Gojo’s cock and your mouth is hardly any better with the way drool is dribbling down from your chin and onto the bed.

All as your boyfriend is losing his ever loving mind. 

Geto came twice in his hand already and yet he’s still bucking his hips up into his fist. He’s never been this hard in his life. Something about watching you get absolutely ravaged by his two friends just make his dick throb in ways he cannot explain. You look perfect too, so damn angelic despite the rather sinful situation you’re in. There’s a creamy mess of cum slicked up and down Geto’s length from the thick tip to his base.

You’re busy getting fucked to tears (again) by Gojo and Choso, one of which has a heavy hand on your head encouraging your throat further around his curved cock and the other keep’s snapping his hips against your ass with his weighty balls grazing your clit every now and then. 

You’re all so screwed. This is like something straight out of a damn porno and yet you didn’t care. Hell, you could hardly fathom enough thoughts at the moment to care.

And of course all three of them are just babbling all sorts of things to you, teasing you, taunting you, making you dizzy with pleasure.

Gojo’s back there spreading your ass apart and watching how wet you’ve gotten his dick, smiling sinfully at the sight. “Look at this pretty girl,” He grunts, “Takin’ my cock so. fucking. well. ungh.”

Then there’s Choso, nodding along as if he agrees with Gojo’s groaned words. His fingers are buried into your hair and by this point he’s fucking your face at the same rate Gojo’s fucking your cunt. “Her throat’s even better—shit. Y’should see how her lips look wrapped around me right now. Especially when I get,” Choso pauses just to give his hips one tortuously slow push, making you deepthroat his angry cockhead. “Right here, f-fuck.”

Again, Geto’s on the side just losing himself at the moment. You make the mistake of glancing over at him and his eyes lock with yours. Geto’s bottom lip is quivering and you watch his hand jerk himself off faster, his legs shifting open and closed as he overstimulates himself. Some nerve you had to look at him as if you don’t have two cocks inside you right now.

“M’gonna cum,” Geto’s muttering to himself over and over in some fucked-out little mantra. 

Watching his head toss back and the way his Adam's apple bobs up and down is probably one of the sexiest sights. The Ghostface mask is all pulled up and his hair is splayed out in a mess of strands.

You end up gagging around Choso when Gojo hits your sweet spot for the sixth time in a row, your fingernails clawing against the sheets below. That’s all it takes for Choso to pull out and come undone all over your face without warning. In his defense, he wasn’t expecting your throat to tighten around him like that so suddenly…

Geto’s not too far behind, cumming in thick ropes with a sexy groan of your name leaving his lips—a sight you barely get to see because then Gojo’s leaning over you and your torso is suddenly pressed down against the bed for a moment. Then, you’re tugged up by a harsh grasp of your hair and Gojo’s fucking you even rougher than he was before, pressing his lips right against your ear.

“Fuckin’ slut,” He degrades so suddenly, wraping a free hand around your waist just to swat a finger over your clit again. “Look at this mess,” Oh, he’s just mean all of a sudden. Gojo lets go of your hair and turns your face toward him, leaning in and… licking the remnants of Choso’s release off of your face, again.

Your breath hitches and you wish you could have said something snarky but then you’re shoved right back down onto the bed. Gojo shifts his gaze to Choso, who flinches at the sudden eye contact, and then motions for him to come closer.

Once he does, Gojo grabs him by the jaw and pulls him in. “Open your mouth,” He breathes out hotly.

Choso bats his lashes at the man but doesn’t hesitate, parting his lips and taking the extra step as to sticking his tongue out. Gojo spits right onto the center of it and then smirks, “Good boy, now swallow it ‘n taste yourself f’me.” 

It’s right about then that you release for the nth time of the night, followed by you squirting again due to the exchange you just heard between those two men. Then, as you wait for the stars in your vision to clear out, you hear Choso gulp loudly.

Half-way smiling to himself, Choso scoffs. “Guess you were right… I do taste pretty sweet.”

A/N: ty guys so much for 6k followers here btw!! much love, mwah.

[pseudowho]

18+, MDNI, Shinazugawa Sanemi is a filthy monster

Full of hot air. Annoying piece of shit, waste of time--

You and Sanemi approached the safehouse, scraped and bloody and pissed off. You felt every scrap of annoyance as an electric frisson over your skin, made irritatingly worse every time he brushed against you.

You stuck a palm out, trying to shove him further away from you, and only succeeded in shoving yourself further from him, so bizarrely immovable was he. His face, already stormy, snarled.

"What's your fucking problem?"

"Stay out of my space Shinazugawa--"

"--you're the one fucking staggering--"

"--yeah, well, it's hard carrying the whole team--"

Sanemi laughed, mirthless. Now bracketed by arching wisteria, in a tunnel to the door, he hammered his fist on dark wood, turning his back to you.

"Yeah, alright kid, the circus called--"

"What the fuck are you talking about, Shinazugawa--"

"--yeah, yeah, they want their clown back--"

The pair of you were too busy bickering, sniping and biting, to thank the elderly woman who let you in. She rubbed a single wizened hand down her face.

As you stormed away to the baths, the old woman caught Sanemi, saying something to him that made him spit feathers, apoplectic and vengeful. You didn't care to listen, and instead shut the sliding door, sunk yourself into the awaiting hot bath, and stuck your head briefly underwater to scream.

Somewhat calmed, but still brittle and fractious, you encased your body in a fine white robe, leaving your clothes aside to be de-bloodied by the house staff. Stepping out, you were greeted by the old woman who had welcomed you inside.

"Come along, dear. It's a good thing you two are married, I only had one room--"

You frowned, uncertain, and about to open your mouth to argue back before being unceremoniously shoved into a room, the woman a little too eager to escape from you before you could throw vitriol at her.

You turned on the spot, flustered, in a handsome traditional room. A large, squashy bedroll lay upon the floor...and Sanemi sat upon it, looking pugnacious and nonchalant.

"...get out of my fucking room, Shina--"

"Shut the fuck up. It's our room for the night."

You faltered, short-circuiting and drawing your robe closer to yourself, feeling so naked. Sanemi continued, stripping his uniform top off, throwing it aside. You felt yourself flush hot from head to toes, despite yourself, at his chest and back, all hewn stone and sculpture. He still didn't look at you as he continued.

"They only had one room. They were about to turn us away, so I convinced them we're married. You're welcome."

You fizzlecracked with rage, burning with mortification.

"You? Married to you?"

Sanemi bristled, offended. "What the fuck's that supposed to mean--"

"Oooo I'm your little wifey now am I? Lucky little Sanemi, so fortunate to have such a lovely wife protecting him in battle--"

"--you are such a pain in the ass--"

"--I'll be your dutiful wife, shall I? Here, let me take your clothes, dear one, I shall wash them--"

Sanemi stood slowly now, his shoulders hunched beneath something dark, approaching you like a tiger on the hunt. You continued your relentless mockery, furious at having to share a room with him, as if you could hide how badly you dreamed of him at night, when you weren't tearing each other to shreds--

"--cook meals for you, rub your shoulders and listen to all your woes. Such a perfect little wife--"

You felt yourself shoved back to the wall, squeaking as Sanemi's sweat and blood filled your nose. One strong hand clamped over your mouth, a forearm planted above your head. He panted, seething under your constant barrage of abuse.

His voice was so low, you could barely hear but for the tickle of his breath on your neck, and you shivered to feel him lock you in place, planting a knee between your legs.

"Yeah. That's it. You'll be my little wife. And I'll be your doting husband...if you don't want to sleep in the fucking forest for the night."

You trembled, raising your hands to press weakly at his chest, certain you couldn't hide it now, the longing behind the mockery--

Sanemi didn't move, a shudder running through him as your palms grazed against his nipples. His voice continued, gravelly under the strain of your plush body, caged against his.

"I'll listen to you tell me about your day...and I'll be interested, too. I'll actually listen."

You felt a blush smatter across your breasts, barely contained by your robe and not unnoticed by Sanemi as he continued.

"I'll tell you I missed you...and you'll take the piss out of me like always, but it's just because you missed me too and can't find the words to say it."

Your breaths came hot and fast, tear-filled eyes glimmering up at him as he deconstructed you, foreplay through playing house.

"And I'll pull you close...much closer than this...more like this--" Sanemi pressed his whole body flush to yours, and you groaned. Sanemi caught it in his palm, feeling his cock harden against his thigh at you, trapped like a little rabbit beneath him.

"And I'll kiss you...until you're squirming, and begging me for more. And I'm a devoted husband, so I'll undo your robe...and slip my hands inside to squeeze you so hard, you bruise, until you're all wet and peachy for me..."

Your head swam, feeling yourself wetten as if by some Pavlovian magic. You clamped your thighs around Sanemi's knee, his eyes dark to feel the heat of your empty core against him.

"...and I'll get you ready with my fingers...'cos I'm big, y'know? And you're great at taking me...but I like to feel your cunt shaking around my hand, while I fuck you with it."

Your fingernails pressed crescents into his pecs, now, supple and pliable against the wall as he fucked the fight out of you with his words, all this time just tearing each other to shreds just to avoid telling him and now what for if it never worked all along were you always so fucking obvious--

"And then...I'll use some of that soaking little pussy cream to cover my cock, jack it off it a few times to get it ready for you, but I'll lick the rest off 'cos I know you like that--"

You moaned into Sanemi's palm, squirming hard enough to free one breast, and Sanemi cursed under his breath, his voice rough and wavering as he drank down your trembling curves.

"...and 'cos I'm your husband...I'll fuck into you all at once. And I'll fuck you, and fuck you, until you're yelling out my name, but it won't be Shinazugawa anymore 'cos that's your name, too, wife, it'll be Sanemi instead...or something like that, anyway, 'cos I'll be honest, you'll be too fucked out to talk properly when my cock's splitting you in half. Finally. A way to shut that fucking potty mouth of yours."

Your hands trailed up his chest, beginning to wrap around his neck, involuntarily rubbing your clit over his knee with a shaking moan, throbbing with the promise--

Sanemi released you, stepping away abruptly, leaving you cold and gasping and wet against the wall.

"As your husband, anyway. Not that I am. So shut the fuck up...and go to bed."

You sunk to the floor, stunned and speechless, unable to form a single comeback. You gasped up at Sanemi, his back to you as he undid his hakama. His head, all ruffled white spikes, came up once more with an ah! of realisation, and he shot his final, critical hit.

"...and I'd cum inside you. Obviously. Doting husbands like you all round and pretty and full of their seed, right?"

[writersdrug]

Bartender Simon when a customer yells at reader for a mistake?

I love the way you guys think LOVE keep em comin!!

It starts when he's restocking his bar, carrying crates with fruit, bitters, coasters, and straws. He comes down from the pantry upstairs to a decently relaxed lunch crowd, when he hears the second half of the customer's tantrum.

"You expect me to eat this?! It's bloody raw!"

"I'm so sorry, I can take it back aga-"

"You already did that - went to the kitchen and stuck it under the warmer for a few seconds and thought I wouldn't notice, huh?"

"No sir, I gave it to the che-"

"I don't want to hear fucking excuses, just go fix my damn burger. I'm paying for this shit, aren't I? And you're working for my tip. So fucking work, cunt."

Humiliation isn't enough to describe what you feel - there isn't a strong enough word for it. Claiming you're a liar, saying you grovel for tips, yelling at you in front of your other tables, calling you a cunt - it makes your eyes sting with oncoming tears, staring at him and using every muscle in your jaw to keep from spitting insults back at him. You want to throw the food in his face, but instead, you grab his plate and storm off to the kitchen before he can see you cry.

The man scoffs, looking at his watch. "Fuckin' great..."

Simon's still standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding his crates and staring daggers at the man. He knows what it's like, being berated by customers. He says "that's customer service for ya" and moves on. But for this wanker to berate you - he sees red. He sees his next target.

He swiftly crosses the restaurant floor, boots thudding against the old wood as he drops his crate behind the bar. Soap's already yelling about the asshole when he pushes his way into the kitchen.

"Order it fuckin' rare and ye get fuckin' rare, bloody clipe- talkin' mince, bawface bastard-" he slams the burger back onto the grill with a tense arm, continuing to grumble as it sizzles. "Cookin' ye a nice strip o' shoe leather-"

You're sitting on an overturned crate, sobbing into your hands, pen and notepad on the ground beside you. Price is on one knee, one arm around your shoulder and the other on your leg - you'd never officially met the owner of the pub, but now was as good a time as any, you suppose.

"Wot happened?" Is all that Ghost could say without going off on a rampage. He's saving that for later.

"He fucking embarrassed me, that's what happened!!" You snap, looking up at Simon. Your eyes are red and puffy after only crying for a minute or two, cheeks wet from your tears. You hug your arms around your middle and choke on a sob. "Told me his fucking burger wasn't cooked, so I sent it back- then he tries to say I never even gave it to Soap?! Calls m-me a cunt in front of my tables?! Make me fucking work for his money - I don't want his goddamn money!!"

Price shushes you, worrying your anger might be leaking through the kitchen door - he doesn't want the same customer to hear you bad-mouthing him, although it's rightfully deserved. He rubs your back gently as you drop your head into your hands again, shoulders shaking as you cry.

Simon's seething - he's already moving before his brain can catch up, still stuck on the picture of your teary face. He marches behind the line and reaches across Soap, picking the burger right off the grill.

Soap makes a shocked sound. "Ye gone mad, LT?!"

"Table six?" Ghost asks, holding the sizzling burger patty in his hand, grease dripping onto his forearm.

You stare between his face and the patty - your crying stopped, your face now replaced with a stupefied expression. "Uh- yeah."

And like that, he's off; he shoves himself back out onto the floor and makes his way towards the customer who yelled at you. The burger burns his hand, but he doesn't even notice the pain. He drops it onto the table in front of the man, who yelps in disgust. "What the fuck-"

"Better?" Ghost says, hands clenching into fists at his sides as he looked down at the man, now stuttering and blubbering in shock. Specks of grease are freckling his white dress shirt.

"Are you- is this a fucking joke?"

"It's your fuckin' burger."

"I can't believe this-"

"Then get the fuck out my pub." Ghost growls; he grabs the man by his arm, ripping his blazer off the back of his chair, and drags him to the front door. The other customers look with wide eyes as he busts the door open with his shoulder and throws the man onto the sidewalk. He wheezes as he hits the ground, and Ghost throws his blazer at him next.

"If I ever see your face in 'ere after this, 'm throwin' you out again and keepin' your bullocks as a fuckin' souvenir."

The man stares at him, flabbergasted, as Ghost walks back inside. People are focused on their meals now, heads down and pretending they didn't see Simon body a man to the ground - the guy deserved it, after all.

Simon huffs, picking up the burger from the now-empty table. His hand stings a bit, but he has years of callouses built up to keep any real burns from settling in. He gently kicks the chair back into place and starts heading back to the kitchen, when he sees you.

You're staring at him with wide, wet eyes, standing in the entryway to the kitchen and mouth slightly ajar in awe. You've fully stopped crying, but there are still tears on your face from before. Eyeliner and mascara are smudged a bit, but it only makes Simon's fondness for you blossom.

He gently nudges your shoulder with his elbow as he pushes past you. "Take a fifteen. I'll watch your tables."

You stare after him as he throws the burger into the trash, grabbing a fresh towel and wrapping his hand. Wide back facing you as he looks at Soap, who stares at him with a frustrated sigh.

You're horny now. Horny for Simon - and you're definitely relaying this entire shebang to your friends tonight.

[fairy-writes]

Hi!! I saw that you write for Arcane and had a really cute idea for Vander. I don’t really see a lot of fics where you get to see Vander’s reactions to the reader either playing with the kids or comforting them, so I thought a fic centered around that might be cute? (I think also having a bit of slow burn would be sweet, like both Vander and the reader like each other but don’t do anything about it until getting a little push from the kids because they ship).

ONE LITTLE PUSH

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Arcane: League of Legends

Pairing(s): Vander x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Bit of a Slowburn, Fluff, Getting Together, Reader is Smaller than Vander (but who isn’t?), Sibling Bickering

Notes: VANDER MY FAVORITE

(No, but seriously, contrary to popular belief, he’s my 1st favorite over Viktor)

JUST IN TIME (kind of) FOR SEASON TWO, LETS GOOOOO

__________________________________________________________________________

Vander wasn’t quite sure why you stuck around for so long. 

In fact, he wasn’t sure why you stuck around in the first place. 

But… As Vander watches you with the kids. His kids. He begins to understand why. 

You were kind, unyieldingly so. Even as Mylo grew to start picking on Powder, even as they fought, you were kind and patient and offered them the unending gentle love they all so craved. 

The love he couldn’t afford to give them because who could be gentle in the Undercity? Especially in the depths of the Lanes?

You could. 

Vander was in the middle of pouring a drink when Powder tumbled into The Last Drop. She was covered in bruises and dust from something. Or someone. She barely met his gaze as she clambered to her feet and all but sprinted into the back where they all slept. Vander looked through the multitude of customers and spotted you. 

You had obviously seen Powder go bolting, worry twisting your face as you glanced toward the bar and met his stare. You arched an eyebrow, and he shrugged. You rolled your eyes and sighed before smiling in jest and getting up from where you had been tinkering with the jukebox. 

Vander finally manages to get away from his chatty clients and makes his way back into the back room nearly fifteen minutes later. 

Only to pause by the door. 

“—ylo hates me! He does, I swear!” Powder cries, and you hush her gently, dabbing what looks to be some of the antiseptic you have lying around on her cuts and bruises. Disinfectant was hard to come by, especially in the Lanes, but you were seemingly magic in the sense that you always knew who to talk to to get some. It seems you had worked your magic yet again. 

“Did Mylo say that he hates you?” You ask gently, whispering a quiet “sorry” under your breath as she flinched with the sting of the antiseptic. 

Powder pauses, thinking what had to be her earlier conversation over, 

“Well… No…” She mumbles, and you hum, 

“Can I give you my honest opinion?” You ask, and she stills, looking up at you with wide eyes before nodding. 

“Aren’t you always honest with us?” She asks. You chuckle at that. 

“I suppose I am. But I don’t think Mylo hates you. Does he find you a bit annoying? Maybe. But every big brother thinks that about their younger siblings. I know mine did.” You say, and Powder mulls your words over and over and over in her mind. 

She always did overthink things. 

“I didn't know you had a big brother.” She says eventually, and you let out a loud laugh at that. 

“You are a silly girl for focusing on that. But yes, I came from a big family. And guess what? I was the baby of the family. Just. Like. You.” You say, emphasizing your words with a pinch to her side. Powder squeals with laughter and wriggles away to escape your dastardly tickling. 

Vander hangs his head with a huff and a smile before turning to head back to the bar counter. He can hear your conversation continue as Powder escapes your grasp.

“Now, where did you get all these bruises from?”

“Um… Vi taught me parkour from Topside down…”

“Powder! You’re like seven!”

“Seven and a half! And she said I was ready!”

Ever since you began to stick around, you had become something of a parent figure to the four little children Vander had come into care for. 

To Vi and Powder especially. 

So when Mylo burst into The Last Drop with the words of a fistfight on his tongue, you were the first one out the door. 

Vander was close behind. 

Mylo led you and Vander deep into the Undercity. In fact, it was so far into the Undercity that Vander was worried they were getting into some dark territory. 

Like… Really dark territory. 

But soon enough, the sounds of a fight were heard, and soon after, you were deep in the throng of a multi-person fistfight. Everyone paused for a second when they saw you and then stopped altogether when they spotted Vander not far behind. 

You began to pull people off and shoved them out of the way. You did this again and again, ducking under a few stray punches until you managed to unearth Vi. 

She wasn’t looking too hot. 

Her face was bruised and swollen, and the fifteen-year-old spat out a wad of blood as she bared her bloody teeth and prepared to fight again. 

At least until she saw you. 

It was as if the tension had been released from her shoulders. 

She all but slumped into your grasp, and you stumbled back a step with the sudden weight. Vander yanked the last person away from you both and scooped up his adoptive daughter. She leaned her head into the crook of his neck and was obviously fighting back tears. 

Mylo was hunched over, hands on his knees, and wheezed from all the sprinting. 

“Vi? Violet, can you hear me?” You said as soon as you all returned to The Last Drop, and Vander set her down on the couch. Powder and Claggor had been found a block away, fighting off more thugs from whoever sent them after the literal children. 

He would've pummeled them to a pulp if Vander hadn’t hung up his gauntlets years before. 

Vi’s head lolled from side to side, and you shone a pocket flashlight into her eyes, watching as her pupils dilated and contracted. You were experienced at this, taking care of people, even more so than he thought. 

Were you a doctor deep in your past? 

As Vander thought about it, he realized he didn’t know practically anything about you. Your past, your likes, dislikes, he knew you were good with machines and medicine and that you came from a big family. But that was it. 

And that hurt his heart. 

You ended up ushering everyone out of the room while you worked on caring for Vi. Vander closed the bar early and was in the middle of putting chairs on tables when you emerged. Powder, Mylo, and Claggor dropped what they were doing. They scampered to your side, a chorus of “How’s Vi?” erupting from the kids. You offered them a tired smile and patted their heads. 

“She’ll be okay. She’s resting right now. You can go in and see her if you’re quiet.”

And then it was the two of you. 

Vander set the final chair on top of the table and meandered his way over where you were sitting at the bar, head in your hands. 

You looked tired. 

“Is she really okay?” He asked, and you grunted, rubbing at your temples. 

“She has a broken nose, fractured left arm, some bruised ribs, and a concussion. Which, all things considered, she’s very lucky. It could’ve been a lot worse.” You say, and he sighs, 

“Did she say why she got into the fight?” He replied, and you shrug, 

“She was protecting Powder. Then, more people started showing up until it was an all-out brawl. That’s when we stepped in.” You say, and his shoulders sag. 

Vi was going to be okay. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever said it. But thank you. For everything you’ve done. Taking care of them and all that.” He says, and you just hum. 

“You guys gave me a home after everything. I’m just repaying my debt. Well… that and I love those kids.” You say, and he arches an eyebrow,

“After everything?” He inquires, and you glance up sharply as if not realizing what you had said. 

Eventually, your gaze casts downward, and you run a hand over your head and through your hair. 

“I was a doctor in Piltover before the rebellion. I was caught trying to help the Undercity before they were officially citizens and cast out.” You say, and his arched eyebrow raises even higher. 

“A doctor? Were you any good?” You bark out a dry laugh at that,

“One of the best!” Your voice cracks as you speak, and he feels his heart splinter into pieces. 

Vander should’ve known that Claggor and Mylo were up to something when they came in with sneaky grins on their faces. 

The Last Drop was all but desolate. It was the wee hours of the morning before the people of the Undercity awoke to begin their day. But the door was unlocked, and the kids were allowed to run in and out as they pleased. 

Which they had been doing a lot in the last hour or so. 

“Vander!” Mylor clamored for his adopted father’s attention, waving an excited hand as he scampered up to the counter. Claggor hung behind, ever the stoic young man. But there was mischief in their eyes and curling the corners of their mouths. 

Vander slung the rag he used to wipe the counters down over his shoulder and leaned on the bar counter. 

“What did you do now?” He teased, and Mylo all but squawked. 

“When have I ever done anything?!” Vander just stared, 

“Do you really want me to answer that?” He asked, and Claggor snickered at Mylo’s deflated expression. Mylo quickly spun on a heel and jabbed a finger at his adopted brother, 

“Not a word outta you, Claggor!” He snapped before spinning back as something dawned on him.

“You gotta come with us!” He demanded, and Vander glanced between the two of them. 

“Why?” He asked, and Mylo let out an exaggerated groan.

“No questions! Just come on!” He grabbed Vander’s hand and tried tugging him around the counter and toward the front door. 

Vander relented, locking the door behind him as he followed the two boys. 

Only to realize very quickly what was actually going on. 

His first tip-off was hearing Powder and Vi’s voices, yours mixed in as you asked where you were going, why they were taking you, and what they were doing. 

Vi answered no questions. Powder just chirped excitedly. “You’ll see! You’ll see!”

The six of you met in the middle of the street, Powder dragging you by your hand as you followed behind patiently. You glanced up from listening to Powder, and your gazes met. Vander felt his heart skip a beat as he took in your appearance. There wasn’t anything particularly new, but you looked like you had cleaned up some. Your hair was pinned neatly back, and your clothes looked ironed. 

You looked… Really nice.

“Vander? What’s going on?” You asked, and Vi nudged you with her good arm. Her fractured left one was still healing carefully under your care. 

“We’re setting you two up.” She teased, and you stared dumbly. 

“Setting us up how?” You asked, and now it was Powder’s turn to blurt out an answer, 

“On a date!” 

Before the two of you could react, all four kids all but disappeared around the corner in a cloud of dust. Leaving you facing Vander and utterly alone. 

It was safe to say he was panicking just a little bit. 

“Vander? Do you have any idea what they meant?” You asked gently, and he scrubbed a hand down his face. 

“My guess is they want us to go on a date.” He said, fully prepared to hear rejection. Because who would want to go on a date with him? A middle-aged man with a stained past. His lungs twisted as he heard you take a step closer. 

A smaller hand slipped into his, and he looked down from where he had been staring at Topside. 

Your eyes were lit up, not with disgust at the proposition he was proposing. 

But they were filled with hope for the future this relationship would bring. 

[lovebugism]

how abt eddie x shy reader , she meet’s wayne accidentally & she brings like sm food for the week he LOVES HER but shes so shy

a request deep from the archives that i haven't stopped thinking about since i got it hahah please enjoy xoxo — you spend a fluffy morning in with the munsons (established relationship, fluff, 1.2k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Eddie rouses from his sleep like a king on a sunken-in couch. 

Saturday morning cartoons play on the TV just ahead of him, mostly on mute ‘cause you’ve got the radio going in the kitchen. Something soft and soulful and too low for him to hear. The trailer swells with the scent of something sweet, of syrup and cooked sugar. 

Speaking of sweet…

His flushed cheek rubs against the arm of the couch when he looks up to find you. He can see you just over the top of the counter, like a scene from a movie. You’ve got a bowl of something wedged in your elbow, and you stir at it with your free hand — half-distracted because your nose is stuck in an open recipe book on the counter. Your glasses fall slowly down your nose. You try to push them up again with your shoulder, but they slip back down a second later.

Your gentle humming fills his ears, and Eddie figures this is what heaven must be like. There’s no greater nirvana than this.

He rises and stretches and walks the very short distance to the kitchen. Still warm with sleep, he wraps himself around you, chest flush to the expanse of your back. “Whatcha doin’?” he lilts, muffled into your sweater.

“Cookin’,” you answer in the same tone, only softer and a little more sheepish.

Eddie breathes hard once. You think you feel him smiling. “Dumb question, huh?”

“Did you sleep good?” 

“Too good to be passed out on the couch for an hour.” He lifts his head to prop his chin on your shoulder. It bobs against you with every word. “You were supposed to be sleeping with me, by the way.”

“I tried. But then I wanted to make you breakfast.”

“Correction. You wanted to make Wayne breakfast.”

Your giggling is as soft and sweet as the cinnamon concoction you’re stirring at. “Well, I don’t want either of you to starve, actually. So sorry for making sure the Munson’s are taken care of.”

Eddie’s chest swells. His heart starts to warm so much he’s scared it might burst. He tucks his face back into your neck and holds you tighter. “Don’t apologize, sweet thing. ‘M just being stupid.”

“That nickname’s not gonna stick, Eds,” you tease, tilting your head until your cheek meets his wild hair. “You can stop trying now.”

He scoffs and pulls back from you. His eyes, still softly swollen with sleep, are wide and glittering. “Why not?” he shouts, a bit too loudly to be so close to your ear. “You’re sweet and you’re my thing— it’s literally the perfect nickname.”

“You’re thing?” you echo with a distant laugh. “I’m not a toy, Eds.”

“Not all the time—” His boyish giggling is followed by a scoffed breath when you elbow him with your free arm. You shove him away halfheartedly, pushing him out of the tiny kitchen. “What?!” he exclaims, laughing loudly.

“Get out of the kitchen!”

“What’d I do?”

“My french toast tastes good ‘cause it’s made with love, and you’re tainting it.”

“How? I love you more than anything in the whole wide world.” He gravitates back to you despite your efforts to keep him away. He plants a smacking kiss to your lips and grins wide when he pulls away. “See? Now it’ll taste extra sweet.”

You’re glaring at him one moment, then happily accepting another one of his kisses the next.

The front door opens, squealing in protest and rushing in the cool morning air. It’s unsurprisingly Wayne. His work boots stomp heavy on the carpet. He holds a greased hand over his forehead. “My eyes are still closed,” he jokes, voice deep and gravelly. “You two have about three seconds to stop touchin’ each other.”

Eddie scoffs but steps back from you anyway. “That was one time!” he argues boyishly. “And we weren’t even doing anything!”

Wayne laughs a sharp breath, just like Eddie had, but a little bit gruffer. He forgoes the petty banter and shoots you a smile — tightlipped, barely-there, and weighed down by the exhaustion of the graveyard shift. “How ya doin’, sweetpea?”

“Good,” you answer, shrinking into your shyness. “I’m makin’ french toast.”

“That’s my favorite,” the older man grins. “How’d you know?”

“‘Cause it’s my favorite,” Eddie insists.

“It’ll be done soon,” you tell him, all quiet in your sheepishness. “If you wanna get changed or whatever.”

Wayne heads to the hallway, stopping short in the kitchen to muss at Eddie’s curls and pat you gently on the shoulder. “Thank ya, sweetpea,” he murmurs, voice dripping with fatigue. His accent always gets real heavy when he’s tired.

“You’re welcome…”

Eddie doesn’t say anything until he hears the bathroom door shut. “So Wayne can call you sweetpea, but I can call you sweet thing?” he asks, features swirled with offense.

“It’s different!”

The boy follows you to the cabinets like a lost puppy. Then, when you have trouble reaching the vanilla extract on the top shelf, he leans over you to grab it. “No, you just have favorites,” he argues, passing you the small container.

“That’s not true!”

“Whatever,” he grumbles, still pouting as he leans against the counter beside you. He mourns the lack of your attention when you give it all to the french toast mixture on the counter. You spoon in the vanilla with a practiced touch. “…Are you staying over again tonight?” he mutters, shier than you are now.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “If it’s okay with Wayne, then—”

“Wayne! Sweet thing’s staying the night— is that okay?” Eddie shouts before you can blink. The trailer rings with the volume of his voice.

“Eddie,” you scold quietly.

The bathroom door squeaks open. A grunt sounds from the hallway, a nonverbal answer you’re not totally sure what to make of. The man returns in the pajamas he pulled from the hall closet — a thin t-shirt older than Eddie is and a pair of plaid pants.

“I’ll make dinner before your shift tonight,” you tell him with a soft grin that neither of the Munsons can say no to. “I promise.”

Wayne makes another scoffing sound. A laugh, maybe. A smile hints at the corner of his bearded mouth as he pours himself a coffee across the counter — in the painted mug Eddie made him for Father’s Day, several years ago now. 

“Well— In that case, I’m afraid I have to insist on you stayin’, sweet pea.”

“Thanks, Mr. Munson.”

“Call me Wayne,” he tells you, playfully chiding in a parental sort of way. He gives you a pointed look over the cup he sips from and heads back towards the living room. “You’re feedin’ us too good to be so polite all the time.”

You smile to yourself and laugh a quiet, slightly forced laugh.

The sofa squeaks when Wayne settles onto it, sprawling out the same way Eddie had before. Too tired to reach for the remote on the coffee table, he watches He-Man re-runs with heavy eyelids.

“Alright, sweet thing— what do you need me to do?” Eddie asks with a clap of his hands, making a very pointed effort not to drop the nickname. You get all flustered when he calls you that — smiling softly to yourself and then ducking your gaze to hide it from him. You’ll have to pry the name from his cold, dead hands.

You turn to peer at him from beneath your lashes. “You dip the bread, and I’ll fry ‘em?”

“Sounds like a plan, sweet thing.”

“Eddie.”

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

bad idea, right? | f. odair

masterlist

summary: after receiving a late-night call from your ex-boyfriend, finnick odair, you can’t help but agree to meet with him. what happens when you mix a sound-proof train car and an ex you haven’t seen in months?

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: rough-ish smut, a teensy bit of angry sex, swearing, unprotected sex (zon’t zo that), kinda ooc finnick, choking,

notes: based on 'bad idea, right?' by olivia rodrigo. i lost the person who sent the request so sorry this took so long to come out!! i don’t know if i like how this is written, but smut is smut so… enjoy :)

word count: 4.6k

Neon beams of light pulsed in time with the heavy bass blasting throughout your unnecessarily large home in the Victor’s Village. District Two. Masonry. Big houses.

Two shots of tequila and some other very unnatural concoctions were soaking deep into your brain. Everything was swaying—the room, the people, even you. Your small group of friends danced by your side, keeping together to avoid the creeps that might have entered your home. Although, to you, entertaining a stranger that night did not sound like such a terrible idea.

You felt lonely. Undeniably and pathetically lonely. The alcohol only enhanced your emotions and libido, leading you to search the room for anyone who interested you enough to take them upstairs. But there was no one, because in reality there was only one person you really wanted, and he was no longer yours. He hadn’t been for months.

Replacements had come and gone, but they never stuck. None of them made you feel the way he did.

“Excuse me!” an exasperated voice yelled. “Would you please get out of my way?!”

To your right, your housekeeper, bless her poor deafened soul, was pushing through a crowd of intoxicated partygoers and heading straight for you.

“Claudia!” you shouted over the music, tugging down your short black slip dress out of respect for her modesty.

The elderly woman stopped in front of you, her disapproval of the vibrant scene clear as day. You always paid her double in exchange for putting up with the chaos whenever you threw a house party, which was almost every weekend.

She hovered close to your ear. “There is someone on the phone for you!”

“Did you get a name?!”

After she shook her head, you escorted her through the thick crowd of dancers, into a quieter room and thanked her before beelining for the landline.

With a heavy sigh, you brought the corded phone to your ear and said, “Whoever this is, you better make it quick. I’m not nearly as intoxicated as I need to be and in dire need of another shot.”

Over the scratchy static, you could hear a quiet chuckle—a sound you had spent months trying to forget, along with the person attached to it. How many drinks did you have again? The alcohol must have messed with your mind because this could not be real.

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” the caller said, his voice low and amused.

Everything you had longed to forget came rushing to the surface at an overwhelming pace. Wisps of hair the colour of a dying fire. Eyes resembling the sea. Arms that once acted as a life jacket. A dangerous mouth that had explored every inch of your body.

No. It couldn’t be—

“Finnick.”

********

Stupid. This was so fucking stupid. You were attempting to sneak out of your own party. A good old Irish Goodbye in your own house. With luck, you would make it out the front door without being caught by your friends, or worse, Claudia. Now that would be scary.

Water flushed through your system, a weak attempt you made at sobering yourself up because meeting up with your ex while drunk was a recipe for disaster. Then again, so was meeting up with your ex in the first place. Nothing will happen, you thought to yourself, we are just going to talk.

A thought even more unbelievable than thinking you would be able to be able to escape the watchful eyes of your friends.

Your high-heeled foot had just crossed the front door when someone called your name. “Damn,” you muttered, turning back around.

Valeria, your closest yet heavily intoxicated friend strutted over to you, her feet wobbling every few steps. “You sneaky little minx,” she slurred. “Someone said they saw you on the phone. It was him, wasn’t it? He asked you to go see him.”

“Just as friends. No, not even. As acquaintances.”

“Oh, my sweet, sweet silly friend.” She grabbed you by the shoulders. “We both know you aren’t that foolish.”

You looked away because you knew damn well that she was right.

“Look, I get it,” she continued. “Your hot, he’s hot.” You smiled. “You both have a history. I just want to make sure you know all the outcomes of what you're about to do. I’ll be here for you if things do get messy but expect a well-versed speech of me saying ‘I told you so’ afterwards.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Val,” you laughed, prying her hands off your shoulders. “I really do appreciate your concern, but I promise all we’re going to do is talk.”

“Alright, but if things go south, call me. Immediately!” she called a little too loudly as you took subtle steps away from the front door and onto the street. “Have fun with your innocent little ‘talk’!”

“Thanks, mum!”

You waved goodbye as you walked down the street, body buzzing with exhilaration and apprehension. Finnick had told you his train stopped in the district’s station for the night. He and his new victor were travelling throughout Panem for the Victory Tour and were currently in District Two. You didn’t know much about his tribute, only that they were a she. The thought of Finnick spending all his time with another girl had that green-eyed monster inside you writhing.

Enough to make you agree to meet with him after midnight while moderately drunk and slightly horny. What a fantastic plan.

District Two’s train station was a short distance from the Victor’s Village, but it was long enough to cause you to remove your heels. You finally reached the train, barefoot and with the wind softly blowing your hair. Finnick had specified a particular door to knock on so as not to alert the peacekeepers residing within the train. So, you knocked. And then you waited.

Your heart was pounding; your hands were trembling. Not long after, a dark figure appeared behind the door’s tinted window. With a click, the door opened and revealed a shirtless smirking Finnick Odair.

Oh, fuck me.

He was even more gorgeous than the last time you saw him. His crossed arms bulged with thick muscles as he leaned against the doorframe, gaze shamelessly roaming over your scarcely dressed appearance before settling on your face. The amusement in his expression was ever-present and ever-growing.

“Finnick,” you greeted.

“Y/N.”

He extended his hand, inviting you inside the train and hesitantly, you accepted. Sparks of electricity travelled up your arm, starting from where his and your hand connected. Some things never changed.

Empty silence welcomed your presence as you entered the train car. Patterned silver vases of white roses were placed atop every available surface. Meticulously crafted chandeliers lit up the room with a golden haze. To your left was an arrangement of black leather couches surrounding a small silver table; further down the car was a rectangular mahogany dining table decorated with fruit and unlit candles.

Somehow a single train car was more luxurious than your entire house.

“Is every one asleep?” you asked, running your fingertips along the pure gold that lined the couches.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes following your movements. “Every room on this train is sound-proof, so...”

You nodded, unsure of how else to reply. Conversations usually ran smoothly between you and Finnick. They were effortless. But that was when you were together. Four months must have passed now since you last spoke.

“Are you and what’s-his-name still together?” he asked.

“No,” you said bluntly. “I broke up with him last month.”

“My sincerest condolences.” His sympathetic tone was as transparent as glass. Sarcasm always was his favourite pastime. “Guess he just couldn’t satisfy your needs.”

Turning around to face him, you leaned against the couch’s arm, jaw clenched and eyes glowering with agitation. “Is there any specific reason why you called me here?”

He raised a glass of rich amber liquid to his lips. “Can’t two old friends just reconnect?”

“Old friends,” you scoffed. “That’s what you call it. From what I remember, the last time we saw each other, we were having goodbye sex in your bed. And in the kitchen and the lounge and on the balcony.”

Something sincere overshadowed his teasing nature, revealing itself in the tension in his facial muscles and the glassy haze that clouded his eyes. Reminiscence. “It didn’t have to be goodbye,” he spoke softly whilst holding your gaze.

You blinked. There was a short pause and only the quiet hum of the lights sounded in the room. You were the one to end the relationship, not the other way around much to your friends’ disbelief. Over and over, you had been asked the same question: why on earth would you break up with Finnick Odair?

Well, behind closed doors, he was incredible. He was loving, affectionate, and thoughtful. He would collect seashells for you that he found on the beach whenever he went fishing, leave hand-written poetry and heartfelt love letters whenever he left for the Capitol, and mother of fucking Christ was the sex just downright extraordinary.

But as previously stated, it was all behind closed doors.

Finnick never wanted to be seen together in public and on the off chance you were, he would practically neglect your existence. Only your most trusted friends and Finnick’s family knew about your relationship. No one else. Eventually, the secretiveness created a deep void inside you that not even the sweetest love letters and seashells could fill. You couldn’t remain with someone who seemed ashamed to be with you in public.

So, with a heavy heart, you said goodbye.

In fear of becoming too emotional, you disregarded his weighted words and crossed your arms. “So,” you began, “how’s the Tour been so far? You must be pretty ecstatic one of your tributes actually won.”

He bounced back fairly quickly. “I suppose it’s always nice to watch someone you trained live for a change,” he said, placing his drink on a nearby table. “Plus, she’s got a lot of charisma. A natural with the speeches and interviews, so I don’t need to do too much coaching.”

And there it was again—that green-eyed monster. “Charisma, huh?” You just couldn’t help yourself. “Is she pretty too?”

Finnick tilted his head, visibly surprised by your blatant jealousy. “She just turned sixteen,” he stated with a small smirk tugging at his lips. Well, no one told you that bit of information. Awkward. “Careful, Y/N. You sounded a little jealous there.”

You pushed off the chair, heading back toward the door you entered through. Maybe this was a bad idea. “Alright, I’m leaving now.”

Just as you turned the handle, a set of rushed footsteps thudded behind you. The door opened a mere crack, sending in a cold draft that caused your body to shudder.

“Wait, just—” A swift hand came over your shoulder and pushed the door shut, eliciting a startled gasp from your lips. You could feel Finnick towering over you, the warmth of his skin spreading onto your cold back and his breaths fanning down against the bareness of your shoulder. He was so close. “I just needed to see you before I leave tomorrow morning.”

Slowly, you turned around, coming face-to-face with the man you shouldn’t have loved. His burning gaze was a stark contrast to the icy metal door your back was pressed against. Tension pulsated in the small space between you and him. The intense attraction that had first brought you two together came rushing forth; trying to fight such a magnetic force was impossible. You needed connection—touch.

This night would not end with just a simple innocent chat, you knew that now.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. “You needed to see me?” you asked. “Finnick, if you want me to stay, don’t beat around the bush. Tell me what you really want.”

Silence. He continued staring at you and you could see a scheme forming behind his mesmerising green eyes. Then the scheme was unfolding. He leaned down to your level, to your lips, his half-lidded eyes never leaving your mouth as he just barely allowed his lips to brush yours. On instinct, you tilted your head upwards.

“I want you,” he whispered.

You didn’t waste a second to respond. “Then take me.”

He was quicker than a bullet train. Finnick’s lips caught your own and were burning with fiery desire, evident in his haste to wrap you up in his arms and practically merge your body with his. Flames licked just beneath your skin, setting your nerves alight with passion and lust. You burned together in an inferno fuelled by each other’s touch.

Logically, this was wrong. Finnick was your ex-boyfriend and for good reason. But as your hands clung to every inch of him that they possibly could, as his tongue and yours danced fluidly with one another, and as your body buzzed with pure adrenaline, you were willing to abandon all your morals in exchange for five more minutes in his embrace.

A moan travelled from your mouth to his own as you felt him bite your lower lip. You could already feel that familiar throbbing sensation between your thighs and the wetness that exposed how much you craved him. You knew he felt the same. His sweatpants left little to the imagination.

Your hand slipped between your connected bodies, travelling down Finnick’s firm stomach, gliding over his small trail of hair and finally into his pants. Your fingers curled around his cock which already leaked with precum. He was just as desperate as you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound sending tingles down your spine.

You left his lips to press a wet kiss to his neck. “I wonder how many times you pretended your hand was my own,” you purred, leaving another kiss on his clavicle. “How many times you tried to recreate the warmth you only feel when you're inside me.”

His mouth hung open, letting out quiet uneven breaths as you stroked his length, your pace so quick that he already felt an overwhelming urge to release into your soft unrelenting hand. The sound of your voice, so sexy and lustful, combined with your swift pressured movements had his stomach tensing and contracting with a devastating build-up of pleasure.

“Too many times,” he admitted in a strained voice.

You sucked on the warm pulsing skin of his neck, this time receiving a groan that buzzed on your lips. His hands grabbed at your hips for support, roughly kneading the softness and satin in his large palms.

“This dress—fuck!” his voice broke as another hand slipped into his pants, cupping his balls as the other twisted with each stroke of his cock. “Sweetheart,” he chuckled breathlessly. “You look like a fucking siren.”

Your soft lips pecked at his toned chest before pulling away and looking up at him through your lashes. Euphoric delirium was prominent in his eyes. “You should’ve seen everyone staring at my party,” you said. “I wish you saw how badly the men wanted to fuck me right there on the dancefloor; how they undressed me with their eyes. Maybe then you would understand the mistake you made by never showing me off.”

Aggravation blazed in his aroused eyes which only made you so much hornier. Before you could pump another stroke, Finnick had ripped your hands from his pants and spun you around, pinning your body against the wall with his own, his hard cock pushing against the plush of your ass.

“I do understand,” he growled into your ear.

He abruptly started sucking hard kisses onto the side of your neck which had you gasping for air and tilting your head to allow him further access. One of his hands cupped your breast, massaging it with rough fingers and pinching your peaked nipples between his fingertips. His other hand travelled around your hip, wandering beneath your revealing dress and slipping into your lace panties.

You cried out when two fingers plunged into your soaking hole without warning.

“Know what I wish?” he asked, fingers curling in and out of you at such a rapid pace that the wet noises could be heard throughout the entire room. Blissful tears threatened to spill down your face. “I wish those guys could see how you looked right now with my fingers fucking you.” The hand on your breast moved to your throat, applying enough pressure on your carotid to make your head pound with dizziness. “I wish they knew you only enjoy being fucked by me.”

Your walls squeezed around his fingers, pulling him even further inside. Your untouched breasts were squashed against the train door and the fabric of your dress rubbed against your sensitive nipples. Finnick’s cock twitched against you and his hand was constricting the blood flow to your head. Yeah. Nobody else could make you feel better than this.

Finnick plunged his fingers inside again with a hard thrust which forced a broken moan from your lips. “Isn’t that right?”

The heel of his palm dug into your clit and your entire body was overcome with pins and needles; your knees buckled and hit the metal door. That would definitely bruise. You hoped it would—you wanted a reminder of this night.

“Yes!” you gasped. “Finnick, only you. Only you.”

“That’s right.”

Your moans started to rise in pitch, signalling the orgasm which was rapidly closing in. But right before you could come, Finnick’s fingers slipped out of you and out of your now-drenched panties. Your orgasm began to fade due to the lack of friction until it disappeared completely, leaving you feeling frustrated and neglected.

Turning back around with a flushed face, you witnessed Finnick sucking your juices off his fingers with a pop. His grin was conniving, self-satisfied with his actions which proved how desperately you wanted him to fuck you. That smug bastard. You would give anything to wipe the amusement off his beautiful fucking face.

And, well, you did.

“Fuck you!” you exclaimed, shoving him backwards.

“Fuck me?” He raised an eyebrow, smirk twitching at his lips. “I already know you want to.”

With a frustrated cry, you shoved him again, but this time he caught you in his arms and fervidly crushed his lips to yours. You squirmed and writhed and resisted but eventually melted into his embrace when you remembered you wanted this. You wanted this so badly.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as both your bodies continuously curved into one another, neither of you being able to remain still for more than a few seconds. The taste of brandy and you were on Finnick’s tongue as it swirled around your mouth; the flavours, which were polar opposites, sweet and savoury, mixed together to create something utterly carnal.

With the knowledge that this was probably a one-time thing, your kisses became bruising and frantic. Finnick alternated between kissing your lips, your neck, your jaw, and any place he could possibly reach. You hung onto every sound he made, every hot breath he took.

The two of you stumbled around the train car, lips never leaving one another, hands grabbing at every inch of flesh they could reach. You bumped into walls and multiple glass ornaments and laughed together when Finnick just barely caught one before it shattered on the floor.

Eventually, you ended up down the opposite end of the train car. Your back hit something hard and you gasped in surprise. The dining table. Finnick gave a quick glance at the table before pressing another kiss to your lips, this time a little more tenderly.

“Turn around,” he said, and you did.

You immediately felt him press himself against your behind. You stared ahead, chest heaving and swollen lips tingling, waiting for any more commands. His hand walked around your thigh, over the mound of your pussy, and then grazed up your stomach. He left a trail of warm tingles between your breasts before continuing upward to move your hair from your shoulder where he placed another warm gentle kiss.

Finally, he splayed his hand flat between your shoulder blades and pushed, bending you over the table until your torso lay flat on the cold wooden surface. Finnick hiked your dress up to your hips and crouched down, caressing your outer thighs before sliding your panties down to your ankles.

The air hit your bare skin and you exhaled a shaky breath as you anticipated his next movements. As he rose to his feet, he trailed kisses up your leg, ending with a soft bite to your ass which earned him a small giggle.

You could hear him tug down his sweatpants which hit the floor with a muffled thud. Your breaths continued to shake with nerves, coming out in soft pants. Finnick held onto your hip with one hand and held himself in the other. No words were spoken. Both of you wanted this—needed this.

Next thing you knew, your panting breaths had stopped altogether. Finnick’s cock had slid between your folds, filling you up in one single movement, and you both released a relieved moan in sync. Your hands pressed against the tabletop as your body began to rock with his thrusts. You weren’t going to make love or whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ears. No. This was pure unadulterated fucking.

Finnick started off fast; neither of you had the patience for a slow build-up. You didn’t even bother caring about the fact that he wasn’t wearing a condom. His hand had lowered to your mid back and the other gripped your hip as your warmth swallowed him over and over.

“Oh god,” you gasped.

The sensations that overtook your body were eagerly welcomed. You had tried to replicate the sex Finnick gave with other men after your relationship ended, but none seemed to compare even the slightest. You weren’t sure how a single human being could provide the sensations of nirvana, how one could master the skills of bringing another person to such an incredible high, but Finnick could. He always could.

It was only at this point that you realised how badly your body had been in withdrawal from his touch. The feeling of him inside you was like a drug. Addicting. Definitely not healthy.

You had tried fingering yourself to replicate his cock, but it was a pathetic attempt. Finnick could hit a deep spot inside you that no one else could like it was some secret forbidden location that only he held the key to. He made your body feel full. Stuffed. Complete. In a way that made you feel like you were going to burst into an explosion of white heavenly light.

Your nails scratched at the wood as he continued to pound into you, cock gliding against the ripples of your inner walls. There wasn’t a single inch of space left inside you. He fit like your pussy was where he belonged.

“Always feel so fucking good,” he muttered between thrusts.

His pleasure was always vocal, voiced with heavy breaths, grunts, and groans. Sometimes he even whimpered, especially when you edged him. He didn’t mind you being more dominant at times, but right now was not one of those moments. Being bent over and fucked into a table was not in any way, shape, or form you being dominant. This was Finnick being in control and it felt incredible.

“Finnick,” you said. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop!”

In response he grabbed your other hip and pulled you back into him, burying himself even deeper inside you with each thrust which had you crying out his name again. He hunched over your body, hips still pounding behind you, and sucked harsh kisses on your shoulder. He left behind red and deep purple marks on your shoulder, moving to your neck, and then grazed your earlobe with his teeth.

He returned a hand to your throat, forcing the both of you into a standing position. His fingers squeezed, reducing the blood flow into your brain which enhanced the explosion building up inside you.

“Harder!” you cried.

Both his cock and his hand increased their vigour. Stars were sparkling in your vision. You were almost completely sober now, yet you felt entirely drunk. Drunk on Finnick. He reached his free hand between your legs and your body fell back into his, only remaining upright from his support.

His fingers rubbed side-to-side on your clit, so hard and fast that his hand almost blurred in motion. Your moans rose an octave as your stomach began to tighten. A fire burned within your muscles, so pleasurably excruciating that you thought they would liquefy inside you. Your pussy clenched around Finnick’s cock, walls fluttering with each of his pounding thrusts.

“Come, sweetheart,” he purred into your ear. You could hear how much he struggled to contain his moans as he talked. “Come on, I know you're close. I can feel you.”

You nodded mindlessly and curled your arm backwards around his neck, in need of something to cling to. As the feeling inside your stomach intensified, your eyes squeezed shut and your hold around his neck tightened until you were almost choking him. With every ounce of strength that he had inside him, Finnick increased his pace until he fit multiple mind-destroying thrusts into each second that passed.

He was almost animalistic with his pounding and unrestrained groans of pleasure. And you were so close, so, so close to falling over the edge. His hand was constricted around your throat; the other assaulted your clit, and his cock was mercilessly hitting that swollen spot inside you. Any second and—

“I’m go—I’m gonna come!”

A potent cocktail of pleasure, ecstasy, and release washed through your body, unravelling the tension inside your stomach and exiting through your stuffed hole. Your juices coated Finnick’s cock with warmth as you repeated his name over and over.

You could feel him twitching inside you, spilling himself onto your clenching walls whilst bending you over to senselessly fuck you into the table. His moans were so loud, so fucking attractive, but may God have mercy on both of you if the room wasn’t actually soundproof.

Neither of you could stop. You came an immeasurable number of times; your hands left marks on Finnick’s body as he did on yours, and every surface in the room had been tainted with your sin. You clung onto one another, desperately prolonging your night together that would most likely be the last. Ever.

*********

“Don’t leave again.”

Your fingers stilled as you strapped on your high heels. You glanced up at Finnick—who now had his sweatpants back on—from the gold-lined leather chair you sat in.

“Finnick…” you sighed.

“Please,” he said. Crouching down in front of you, he gently took your hand into his own. His face, which previously reflected nothing but pleasure, now looked at you with pained desperation. “I’ll explain everything to you. Why I was always in the Capitol. Why it was too dangerous for us to be seen together in public. All of it.”

The mention of danger took you aback. You had thought he never wanted to be seen together because he was embarrassed, not because it was… dangerous. Brows furrowed together, your eyes flickered between his, searching for any hint of deception, anything that might reveal malicious intentions. But when had Finnick ever been malicious towards you? Never. All you found in his eyes was sincerity.

“I can’t lose you again,” he whispered, lowering his head.

After a few seconds of contemplation, you realised there wasn’t a chance in hell you were going to walk out on him again. Life would mean nothing without Finnick beside you.

Your fingers sat under his chin, lifting his head to meet your gaze. The two of you exchanged a look of vulnerability, signifying an era of newfound understanding and reconnection.

You whispered in response. “You’ve got me, Finn.” 

tags: @tayrae515

[princessbrunette]

can’t stop thinking about babydaddy!rafe taking toddler!daughter out for the day because you have plans — and he’s not really sure what the best way to entertain a toddler is, so he takes her to the drive-through zoo.

she seems happy enough in her car seat in the back, the buzz-cut kook checking her through the mirror every so often until they arrive there. “alright, y’ready to see some animals? huh?” he coo’s, craning round to look at her as she squeals and bangs her chubby fists in excitement. “yeaaah. you look excited. looove animals, just like mommy — don’t you?” he pulls into the ticket booth, scanning the code on his phone before they let him in, rafe’s large expensive car crawling slowly up the cobblestone.

it’s hard to know if she’s enjoying the sights at first, blinking her big round eyes at the sights that pass her. until of course, she’s confronted with her favourite animal. the animal she was most excited about when daddy told her they were going to the zoo.

“camel!” she yells, and rafe lets the car sit still, the two gazing out their assigned windows at the dusty animal boredly inspecting some grass. “camel from the book, daddy!” she babbles in baby talk, and though he’s got no clue why she’d be so excited over a camel of all animals, or what ‘book’ she’s babbling about — he entertains it anyway.

“thats right, peanut.” he croons, turning in his seat once again to look her way, sunglasses rattling against his chest where they hang from his polo. the camel comes a little closer to the car, and despite your strict instruction — rafe unwinds his daughters window just a tad. “look at thaaat, huh?”

“camel! camel!” she clasps her hands together — the spitting image of you and rafe smiles, all warm and genuine. it was a real shame you couldn’t come today. the camel looks right through the window at his little girl before spitting in disinterest on the ground and continuing to trot away. rafe kisses his teeth.

“yeah walk away from my little girl, rude ass bitch.” he lets slip. it’s quiet, but he knows he shouldn’t say it anyway. luckily for his little girl, she didn’t seem to mind or notice the camels disinterest, happily humming to herself as rafe continues to slowly drive the car along the cobble once more. there’s a couple of seconds of silence — and just as rafe is about to fill it, asking if she’d wanna see the monkeys next, your daughter speaks up.

loud and unabashed, she grins. “bitch!”

rafe blinks, head whipping round to glance at her. “oh sh— uh, nah. honey we don’t uh, we don’t say those things alright? s’a bad word. your mommy will kill me if she hears y—”

“bitch! bitch bitch bitch!” she giggles, clapping her hands together. rafe presses his lips together at his only mistake.

“hey, language kiddo.”

the rest of the day is spent filled with distractions for his little girl. ensuring she forgets all about that naughty word by buying her whatever useless stuffed animal from the drive in zoo, whatever chicken nuggets from the restaurant that she’ll barely nibble on, repeating whatever silly joke that makes her cackle. he’s convinced it works, and soon — even rafe forgets all about the incident.

she’s practically asleep by the time rafe’s handing her back to you at the end of their day.

“was everything okay? did you take pictures?” you smile, looking tired from whatever chaotic day you’d had but still beautiful nonetheless. rafe blinks himself out of a stare quickly, going to answer.

“no yeah, loads uh… i’ll send ‘em through when i get home.” he nods, wiping his hands on his pockets watching the toddler stir, now back in her mothers arms. she gives you a tight cuddle before sleepily craning round to look at rafe, hair all messy and one eye still stuck shut.

“say bye to daddy.” you coo quietly, bouncing her a few times. she’s seemingly too tired, instead offering a tiny fist to wave at him in parting. he smiles, eyes flickering away from you to catch her hand and press a kiss to it before backing up— taking in the perfect family that was just out of his reach before turning back around to walk back to his car, fishing for his keys in his pocket.

then, comes your daughters voice. raspy and sleepy — yet clear and unmistakeable.

“bye bitch!”

rafe slowly spins on his heel, just in time to watch your face turn from confusion, to horror, to pissed off. at him.

[rosenclaws]

Jinx (or 5 times you mess things up in front of Logan and 1 time you don't) || Logan Howlett x Reader

summary: You bring bad luck and have all your life and when you meet Logan you expect him to react the same way everyone has. To your shock he doesn't. That doesn't stop you from making a fool of yourself in front of him though. Many. Many times.

warnings: flirty logan, swearing, reader has mutant fire powers, fighting, logan has ptsd in water, he lashes out bc of it, possible ooc but idc, fighting, injury, comfort, blood, explosions

wc: 5k

a/n: Okay so I fucking LOVE arcane and I thought about a fic where the reader is like Jinx in the sense of she just has really bad luck all the time. She also has fire powers because I think they're cool and after that one drabble I wanted to do more with it. This is my longest fic so I hope you like it!!!

The First meeting

You might be the first mutant with a nickname that is more of an insult than a call sign. It started when you arrived here. Just a teenager looking for a place to call home. The mansion was that home and you loved every second of it. Your fire wielding powers were dangerous but exciting and with the help of the teachers you sort of learned how to train them.

But for some reason you didn't get some cool fire nickname you got stuck with Jinx. It's not your fault that bad things just happen around you. Really. You don't do anything to cause them on purpose but the bad luck seems to just follow you where ever you go.

You got the nickname after you managed to break the fountain. Seriously though how can that be so fragile. All you did was kick a soccer ball and you might have taken its head off.

Bad things just seemed to happen over and over again. You might have set fire to some curtains. Or the carpet. Or smashed a vase or two.

Even when you graduated and became a teacher things just happened. Missing papers, breaking pencils, the ceiling caves in because a family of fat racoons decided to make their home there. Things that were out of your control just happened.

So they called you Jinx. Was it lovingly? Maybe.

No one has kicked you out yet so that's a good sign. They do tend to avoid standing too close to you though. Which honestly is for the best.

It was a commotion in the main lobby that catches your attention today. The sound of a gruff voice peaks your interest. Peering into the room you see Rogue and Storm talking to a man.

"It's good to see you Logan." Oh! Wolverine.

You missed his first stop by the mansion. You were off doing something else for Charles when he was brought here originally and you were supposed to fly back to help as usual. You flight got canceled due to weather. So by the time you came back he had already gone.

You heard Rouge gossiping with the other students about him. She mentioned he was handsome but fuck he was even better than you thought.

You lean forward a little more and end up losing your balance and falling flat on your face. The three of them look at you and you wave, trying to save yourself some embarrassment. You can see Logan looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Jinx! Come meet Logan." Rogue calls you over and you stand up. Brushing yourself off as you walk over.

"Nice to meet you Logan." You hold out your hand but he just looks at it.

"Jinx?" He says instead. A smirk on his face as he speaks.

"It's a nickname, don't you have one too Wolverine?" He chuckles and you have hope that you're charming enough. Most of the time something really unlucky happens when you meet someone for the first time.

"Will I see you around Jinx?" If you didn't know better you'd say he was flirting.

He steps closer to you and you stumble back in surprise. He's intimidating with his broad shoulders and animal like grin. You let out a small scream as you trip on your feet and fall backwards. Right into Scott. Scott falls like a domino and you hear a crack.

"Scott! Are you okay?!" You rush to his side but suddenly a beam of energy shoots through his eyes.

You feel someone grab your arm and pull you away from him. Ducking your head as the beam shoots into the door. Scott closes his eyes but the damage is already done. The front doors of the beautiful mansion were destroyed. Everyone waits in silence as Charles appears from his office holding an extra pair of glasses for Scott.

"I'm so so sorry. I didn't mean to bump into you." Apologies tumble out of your mouth as Scott fixes his new glasses.

"Don't worry about it, It was an accident Jinx." He places a hand on your shoulder and smiles but you can tell you fucked up. Again. You smile back but it falls once he leaves.

"I'm sorry about your door Professor." You mumble as you look at the destruction.

"It's alright, we'll get it fixed." You slowly walk off, letting people asses the damage.

You pass by Logan who watches you as you slink back to your room. You had hoped that maybe you could have gotten to know Logan before he found out how you got your nickname.

So much for first impressions.

2. In the kitchen

The next time you encounter Logan is in the kitchen. Despite your inherent unluckiness you still loved to cook. Sure you had cuts and burns from all your attempts but your dishes ended up pretty good. You're making a stew this time. Band aids are already on some of your fingers as you stir the pot.

"Smells good." You let out a scream as you drop the spoon into the soup. The fridge opens up and you see Logan rummaging through the shelves.

"Beer's behind the peas." You mumble as you try and fish out the spoon.

"Ow!" You hiss as you burn yourself again.

The hot metal spoon burned your hand. Logan watches as you put your hand under the sink and put some cold water on it.

"Ironic I know, the mutant with fire powers burns herself when cooking." You mutter catching his amused look.

He walks over and takes your hand, pressing his cold beer to the small burn. You sigh as the cold drink sends relief through your hand. You get a better look at Logan like this.

He's just dressed in jeans and a tank top. His muscles are practically bulging through the already stretchy fabric. He's got this dangerous aura around him that makes you hesitant at first. Not to mention the whispers about him. How violent he could be, the things he’s done. Everything he’s been through. But you didn’t care.

"So is Jinx because your clumsy?" He asks as he checks on your burn.

"Kind of, more like unlucky things just seem to happen to me I guess." Your eyes are focused on where Logan's hand is holding your wrist.

His hands are rough but his touch feels so nice. His grip is firm but not enough to hurt you. The fact that he's even helping you is bizarre. Anyone else would just chalk it up to you and let you deal with it yourself.

"I'm surprised you haven't run for the hills yet. You know, the first day you meet me I end up destroying the door." To your surprise Logan laughs.

"Technically Scott destroyed the door." He counters.

"Yeah well I broke his glasses." You take your hand away from his beer and turn your attention back to the soup.

For some reason Logan doesn't leave. He watches you as you cook and you like the company. You tense as you feel him get closer to you. His chest almost against your back as he peers over your shoulder. He's so close. You take a wooden spoon this time and stir the soup. Lifting a little bit to your lips.

"Can I have a taste?" Logan asks.

You turn your head to find his face incredibly close to yours. Really close. So close that you can barely focus on anything other than his lips. You don't notice the burner getting more intense as all your focus is on Logan.

"Shit!" Logan hisses as the soup practically explodes all over the kitchen. Soup splatters every possible place including your clothes. Making a massive mess.

"Dammit!" You turn down the burner and see if there's anything left you can salvage but there's nothing. You must have caused the burner to go haywire.

"I'm sorry Logan." You say defeatedly as you wipe soup from your forehead. Logan takes his thumb and wipes the soup off your cheek.

"Tasty." He says as he licks his thumb. He doesn’t break eye contact. Enjoying the effect he’s having on you.

You stand with your mouth open as he walks off like he didn't just do that. The flames on the burner get bigger once again and you turn it off. You grab the roll of paper towels and start to clean.

The faint touch of Logan's thumb still on your mind.

3. In the garage

After your kitchen disaster you found yourself wandering the mansion instead. It had been a couple weeks but you decided to avoid the kitchen for now. Now you had too much free time on your hands. That's how you ended up here, in the garage. Except this time it was you who found Logan. He was working on his motorcycle. Shirtless. Okay that's totally normal right? You think to yourself as you sit and watch.

"When did you learn how to ride?" You ask as you watch him screw in something to somewhere, you don't know too much about motorcycles.

"Long time ago." He answers gruffly as he wipes his forehead with a rag.

"Like ten, twenty, a million years ago?" Logan chuckles and stands up. Your eyes trace the veins on his arms as he puts his hands on his hips.

"More like a hundred." He sits on his bike and turns it on. He's double checking everything and notices you looking in awe.

"You ever ridden before?" He asks and you shake your head.

"Alright then come here." He gestures for you to get on and you perk up. He gets off and holds the handle bars, letting you get on. You're extra careful. This bike looked expensive and Logan had just spent hours working on it. The last thing you wanted to do was jinx things. Again.

"Woah." You giggle as you run your hands along the smooth metal.

"So you put one foot here and the other stays on the floor." He guides you gently and you do as he says. You place your hands next to his on the handlebars.

"When I was a kid I this bike. It was purple with a basket in the front." You tell him. You loved that bike. Rode it whenever you could. You had the bruises to prove it from the amount of times you fell off.

"I rode it into a bush once. Got these bumps all over my skin." Logan takes his hands off the bike leaving just you holding it up.

"Well it's no purple bike, but I can take you on a ride one day. There's this diner about twenty minute away if you’re interested.” He offers. You grin and tighten your grip on the handles.

"Sounds like you're asking me on a date." You say boldly.

Before Logan could say anything there's a loud bang. Backfire from something but it scares the hell out of you. Without thinking you heat up the bike and jump off of it. Logan tries to grab it but the handles burn his hand. You watch in horror as it falls on its side. You try to stop it but it only ends up landing on your foot.

"Fuck!" You grab your foot as pain shoots through your body. That thing is heavy. Logan clutches his hand for a second before the burn heals. He picks up the bike and kicks the stand open so it can stay up on its own. Your eyes brim with tears when you see the dirty and scratches that have ruined the newly cleaned shiny metal.

"Logan I'm so sorry." He sighs and walks over to you.

"Your foot okay?" It hurts but it's not broken. You try to set it down but you can't. The pain is too much. You try to hide it but he sees right through you.

"Let's get you to the lab." You try to protest but he doesn't listen. Helping you out of the garage and to the lab. Ignoring the fact that you just caused him even more trouble. As you get patched up he leaves. You hang your head low as you think of a way to make it up to him.

Later that night Logan can't sleep. The nightmares don’t let him. So he makes his way back down to the garage. He needs to start over on fixing his bike anyways. As he approaches the door be notices the lights already on. To his surprise he finds you there. Fast asleep with your head on a chair.

You're body is uncomfortably kneeling on the ground. Your foot is wrapped and there's crutches leaning against the wall. There's rags and wax sitting by your side and his bike looks brand new. He kneels down and shakes you awake.

"Hey there sweetheart." He says as you open your eyes.

You mumble something incoherent and shut your eyes. Logan bends down and picks you up in his arms. He carries you back to your bed laying a blanket over you as you melt into your pillows. He elevates your foot before he leaves. People may call you a Jinx but you've got a heart of gold. He goes back to the garage and cleans up everything, making a mental note to take you on that date when you're foot is better.

4. Ice Skating

It took a month for your foot to finally heal up. Broken no, fractured, yes. It was a pain trying to get around on crutches but Logan ended being your own personal transportation. He would help you get down the stairs, reach the high shelf, drive you to the store. Whatever you needed he was there.

He even took you to that diner. Sharing a milkshake and cheese fries. He looked past your nickname, sure he called you Jinx but when he did it felt sweeter. He had seen your unluckiness first hand and yet he still chooses to be by your side. It was all you ever wanted.

Sure you had friends at the mansion but you could tell they thought of you as a small burden, a nuisance. They were still kind to you but you always saw their faces when something went wrong. With Logan there was none of that. He embraced every part of you. Now with your foot all healed and the winter starting to settle over the mansion you were all clear for winter activities.

Your favorite one being ice skating. A large pond was the perfect place for you and some of the kids to go. Logan had tagged along but only did so because you begged him to go. Pretty please with a cherry on top was enough to get him to chaperone.

You skated along with some of the kids. Others had set up an ice hockey game. It was pure childhood joy. Something that these kids didn't get all the time. Logan was sitting on a bench by the edge of the pond just watching. You skated over and put your hands on your hips.

"Come on Logan, you can't just come to the lake and not skate." You whine. He raises an eyebrow and stays put on that bench.

"I don't do skating sweetheart, or lakes."

"Ten minutes, just ten minutes and I'll leave you alone." You pout and clasp your hands together. He stares at you for a moment before relenting.

"Fine." You let out a happy cheer as he laces up the pair of skates you got for him. You hold out your hands as Logan struggles to balance on the skates.

"See, you're a natural." Logan wobbles and lets out a string of curses as he tries to walk on ice.

"Shut up." He says with no bite in his voice.

Your fingers interlock with his hand as you start slow. This was hell for Logan but seeing your smile made it worth it. You skate around the lake with him, laughing when he glares at the kids who laugh at him. Seeing him so out of his element was funny.

"Okay that's it I'm done." He grunts out as you come to a stop near the middle of the lake.

"Thank you for trying." You know he's not really having fun but it meant a lot he was willing to even get on the ice for you.

"Teacher! Jinx!" A loud cry comes from the kids. You gasp as you notice the ice starting to crack. You made sure the ice was thick enough. You triple checked how could this be happening. You see Logan start to panic so you take action.

"Everyone stay calm!" You yell out.

"If you can make it off now then do it. If you're too far away then I need you to get on your stomach and spread your legs out. Then slowly crawl to the edge. Anyone who is off the lake help pull others to safety." You stay as calm as you can as you make sure everyone is safe. To your relief the ice stays intact as the kids make it off. Now it's just you and Logan. There's fear in his eyes as the cracking gets louder.

"We need to do the same thing Logan. It's going to be okay." The two of you get onto your stomachs and army crawl towards the edge. A student with super speed has already gone to get help thank goodness.

"Fuck." Logan panics as the ice starts to give way. You grab his hand as he starts to freeze.

"It's okay it's okay." You're close to the edge but not close enough.

You yelp as the ice breaks and both of you plunge into the water. You try to keep your grip onto Logan but he's sinking fast. The water is bringing back horrible, horrible memories as he struggles to breathe. Your head barely bobs above the surface as you see familiar faces running towards you.

Water fills your lungs as you scream when Logan's claws nick your arm. He plunges them into the dirt. Trying to pull himself up and out. Your body is becoming numb and every movement hurts. A pair of hands drag you out of the water. You cough violently as you grip onto the frozen grass. Trying to catch your breath. Logan's eyes are wide as he does the same.

"Are you okay?" You reach out to him but he snaps.

"Don't touch me!" He snarls and your heart plummets. His eyes are unfamiliar as his teeth bare like an animal. For the first time since you've met him he's angry with you. Really fucking angry.

"I'm sorry I..."

"I'm sorry Logan, I didn't mean to scratch your bike, I didn't mean to explode the fucking soup. Is that all you can say?!" He shoves off the people trying to help and stands up. His face cold and unforgiving as he looks down on your shivering body.

"You really are a fucking Jinx." You let out a sob as Logan walks away.

A fluffy blanket feels like ice against your skin as you're ushered back to the mansion. You hear Storm trying to talk to you but everything sounds like white noise. Your heart is stomped and crushed right in front of your eyes and you can't even blame him.

You're nothing but bad luck.

5. On a mission

There's no more accidents around the mansion anymore. Probably because you've locked yourself away since the ice skating incident. With the school on a break you didn't need to teach so all you did was stay in your room. Only leaving in the dead of night.

You just couldn't face the mansion anymore. You were embarrassed, upset, and heartbroken. Logan was supposed to be different. You wanted things to be different with him but apparently the universe decided you can have nothing good. It was only a matter of time before he saw the truth. His words repeat in your head over and over.

The anger, the fear. You caused that. Students and teachers alike would stop by your door but no one could get you out of your room. Sometimes you swear you hear the sound of his boots outside of your door. But he just stands there and then he leaves.

You can't cause any more problems if you stay here. Only issues for yourself and that's okay. Professor Xavier would pop into your head every now and then just to check up on you but this time what he needed was urgent.

The moment you walked through his office doors you could feel everyone's eyes on you. Especially a certain someone's who’s brooding in the corner of the room. Even with everyone here he's just overwhelming. You keep yours forward, not sparing a glance to him or to anyone.

"Thank you for joining us." Charles smiles warmly.

Apparently there's a mission and they need your help. Why they would send you out there you don't know. The targets had a fire mutant too and the best way to fight fire is with, well with more fire. The moment you stepped on the jet you could feel the nerves.

Everyone was worried something would go wrong with you around. Keeping your eyes glued to the ground you take a seat as far away from everyone as possible. Counting your fingers over and over as you wait to land. Someone makes there way over to you, their boots are oh so familiar.

"Hey." You look up to see Logan. He's holding onto the seat next to you for dear life.

"Don't worry I'm not gonna touch anything." You mumble as you try and somehow make yourself smaller.

"Listen I just wanted to talk." The plane jolts and Logan slams his fist against the wall. He freezes up again, fear creeping up onto his face. Just like on that frozen lake.

"We're hitting some turbulence. Logan you need to sit down." Scott commands.

Logan's lips turn into a growl but he sits down anyway. His hands clutching the armrests of the chair. Apart of you wants to go and comfort him but you would probably just make things worse. So you close your eyes and wait for it to be over. The turbulence calms and eventually the jet lands with everything and everyone unharmed.

The goal was to shutdown a group of mutant hunters and rescue their victims. The worst part was they had mutants on their side too. Good money you guessed. It shouldn't be too hard of a mission but knowing yourself anything could go wrong. You followed the team in, fighting with everything you had.

Logan had stuck by your side since you got here. Keeping his distance but always watching you. His super senses and metal claws made him their number one target. Suppress the Wolverine. They were no match for him though. But Logan's focus seemed to wane as they sent more people after him. A mutant who could make copies of himself did their best to confuse and take Logan down.

"Watch out!" You shout and Logan dodges another attack.

However you get shoved to the ground before you can say anything else. You send a blast of fire at your attacker but they wave it off. So this is the other mutant. The two of you become locked in combat. Fire meeting fire with no clear winner. It isn't until Jean’s voice shouts through your comms that you find the upper hand. They had found the kids and were bringing them back to the ship. It was a losing battle and you think the hunters were staring to realize that. Calling for a retreat.

You can't let them get away. If they get away then all of this is for nothing. They'll rebuild, they'll hurt more people. You notice a gas tank nearby by their vehicle. You were always good at making things explode. Usually on accident but fuck it, might as well try on purpose now.

"Get to safety and get out of here!" You run past the team as you chase after the retreating foes.

"Where the hell are you going?!" Logan calls as he helps a kid get onto the jet.

You ignore him, running as fast as you can. Just one big blast should get that thing exploding. God this was so stupid but its the only thing you can think of. You fucked up the door, you made a mess of the kitchen, you hurt Logan. All you do is ruin things. You're a Jinx and for once you can try and do something good. Even if it kills you.

As the car starts to drive past you channel all your power and launch it at the gas tank. For a second its like everything is in slow motion. You hear Logan roar, turning back only to see him running towards you. Suddenly everything gets really hot and then.

Nothing.

In the medbay

The first thing you feel when you can finally feel things again was how uncomfortable you were. An itchy blanket, itchy arms. Your back hurt and your head was killing you. When you opened your eyes all you see are the bandages wrapped around your arms and legs.

There were cards and flowers sitting on your bedside table and to your left was Logan. He's got his feet up on your bed and he was squished into a chair. His head bowed and his arms crossed. You try to sit up but start to wheeze. The heart monitor starts to beep wildly and Logan jolts awake.

"Sit back down." He pushes you back onto the bed and you try and breathe. After a little bit your heart rate steadies and Logan seems to calm down.

"What happened?" You ask and Logan clenches his jaw.

"You blew yourself up that's what fucking happened." Your memories were slowly getting pieced together.

"I blew up the gas tank. I wanted to stop them from escaping." You say as you recount what led you to the hospital bed.

"Well you stopped them and then almost killed yourself in the process. You had severe burns, a concussion, you were bleeding everywhere. I picked you up in my arms and you were coated in blood." He growls.

The words I'm sorry almost fall out of your mouth but you remember what Logan said that day on the lake. If you're being honest you aren't sorry either. You did what you thought you had to do.

"I'm a Jinx Logan. You said it yourself. I used my destruction to help this time." Logan winces when you remind him of his harsh words.

He wasn't in the right state of mind when he said them. Flashbacks of drowning, of the pain he went through. Being submerged in water and sinking were usually the scenes of his nightmares and for it to happen in real life. It was awful. But that doesn't change the fact he lashed out, he hurt you.

"I was wrong. I shouldn't have said that." Logan gently brushes the bandages on your arms. The scar from when he cut your arm in the lake peeks out from your bandages. He let his fear get the best of him in the water.

"I've hurt a lot of people, sometimes on purpose. Sometimes on accident.” His eyes never leaving your scar. “You’re not a Jinx. You’re perfect.”

"I still make a mess." Logan cups your face and studies a stitched up wound on your forehead.

God when that gas tank exploded. Even he was blown back by the force. He ran to your still body. Ash and pieces of metal were scattered across the field. You're lucky you didn't get fucking impaled. Your body was limp. Dirt and blood caked your face so much that he couldn't tell where you were hurt.

He carried you back to the jet, your blood staining his suit as he laid you down. He listened for your heartbeat for a second he swore it stopped. The longest second of his life as he waited to hear that soft beating.

"Why are you still here?" You just don't understand. How he can be sitting here after everything you've done. All the problems you caused.

"A little mess isn't gonna scare me sweetheart, I like your mess. I like you." He tilts your chin up and kisses you. You're taken by surprise but it's certainly welcome as your eyes flutter closed.

The heart rate monitor starts to beep faster as Logan leans over you. Your fingers rake through his hair as you pull him closer. Logan's grip tightens on the hospital bed railing. He's too lost in the taste of your lips to notice. You tug on his hair and his claws shoot out, cutting one of your IV wires.

A loud beeping blares through the room as Logan jumps back from you. You cover your mouth and laugh. Not even in your sweetest moments can you catch a break. Logan sheaths his claws and shakes his head in disbelief, joining in your laughter.

Jean rushes in with a panicked look on your face. It morphs into confusion when she sees the two of you laughing as your IV drips to the ground. She quickly fixes your IV and gives both of you a scolding for not letting anyone know you were awake.

"Keep your hands and claws to yourself. I'll be back later Jinx." She eyes Logan who puts his hands up. Smirking at you as she leaves.

"You know we could call you something else." Logan suggests. You think for a while before shaking your head.

"I think I like it." It reminds you of your faults yes but this has something that's followed you for the longest time.

You supposedly bring bad luck but you can try and counteract it every day by doing something nice. Plus maybe with Logan your luck might turn around. Maybe. As long as you steer clear of any lakes.

"Alright, but I think sweetheart has a nice ring to it." He says with a grin.

"Oh you want everyone to call me sweetheart?" You tease. Logan leans over and kisses you again.

"No. Only I get to call you that." Bad luck you may bring but Logan doesn't care.

You're a Jinx but you're his jinx and he loves every part of you. The good and the bad. So what's a little bad luck? If it means he gets to be yours then he'd happily be your lucky charm for the rest of your lives.

[kenacoki]

Tease Me Please Me

//Pairing// Eddie Diaz x Fem!Reader

//Summary// If there’s one thing you love more than firefighting it’s getting under Eddie Diaz’s skin. That, of course, can only end one way for you.

//Word Count// 5.40k

//Request//

//Warnings// munch!Eddie Diaz, recording during intercourse, borderline exhibitionism, dirty talk, kitchen sex

//Dividers// sister-lucifer

Entering the station, you take a moment to yourself to bask in the quietness of the house. The fire station was fairly empty at the moment, with it being morning and all. The only person seemingly out is Eddie, who’s cleaning the firetruck.

You smirk to yourself as you approach him, "What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” You call out, before leaning up against the side of the firetruck.

Eddie, who’s focused on his work, seems to pause for a second at your voice, before realizing it’s you. He looks over, shaking his head with a small scoff, his annoyance not being genuine.

"That’ll never get old to you, will it?"

You smile up at him, crossing your arms as you lean your head on the truck.

“Of course not; Nothing wrong with a little harmless flirting, Eds." You chuckle to yourself as you begin to admire his appearance, watching the way his muscles flex as he works on polishing the firetruck.

As you call him by the nickname you’ve picked up from Buck, he once again pauses, this time fully turning to look at you.

"Harmless for you maybe, I’m the one who has to actually deal with it."

You tilt your head to the side as you shrug, your grin growing larger as you continue to tease him, "Come on Eddie…I’m not that bad, am I?"

Eddie’s eyes meet your gaze as he sets down his rag, "(Y/n). You flirt with me every chance you get. I’m pretty sure that Buck, Chim, and Hen have a bet on when you’re gonna jump me."

You hum, acting oblivious as you shrug again, “And here I’d hoped I was subtle.”

“Yeah,” Eddie lets out a low chuckle, his eyes never leaving your face as he leans against the firetruck as well. "About as subtle as sirens in the dead of night."

You fake a pout, “I mean, it’s not my fault you’re insanely attractive, Eds.” You take a step closer to him, sticking your hand out as you lightly brush your fingers against his mustache.

“So, do you plan on keeping the ‘stache?”

Eddie’s eyes widen as you touch his face, the light, delicate caress sending a shiver down his spine. He sighs, keeping his eyes on yours.

“I-I don’t know.” He stutters out, the sudden proximity and the way you’re looking at him makes his breath catch in his throat for a brief moment. His gaze drops to your lips for a fraction of a second, before he clears his throat and pulls away. “Why? Don’t like it?”

Your face softens as he leans into your touch, your heart practically pounding as your eyes lock onto each other’s.

“Oh no,” You pause for a moment, letting your hand fall away as you admire his face, “I like it. A lot, actually.”

Surprise flickers in his eyes, but only for a moment. Still, you notice it. Before he can say anything else, the sound of footsteps echos from behind you guys

You turn to look behind you and see Bobby emerging from his office, a small grin on his face.

“Good morning you two. Did I interrupt something?”

“No, Cap,” Eddie instantly straightens, clearing his throat and glancing away, trying to act casual. “Just finishing up here.”

Bobby hums, seeing right through Eddie’s act, his smile growing as he turns to you. “And what about you?”

You chuckle, sending another smile in Eddie’s direction, a hint of mischief in your eyes. “Just keeping him company.”

Eddie glances back at you, eyes narrowing slightly at the look on your face. He opens up his mouth to say something but is interrupted by Bobby continuing.

“Listen, I’m gonna have you guys hang back if we get any fire calls today. Eddie, I want you to be able to show (y/n) how the ambulance works on medical calls.”

You give Bobby an affirmative nod, “Sounds good to me. Hear that Eds? Sounds like you’re gonna be stuck with me all day.”

“Great.”

Bobby chuckles again, shaking his head at the two of you as he grabs a clipboard for his office and walks back inside.

The smirk immediately reappears on your face as you take a step closer to Eddie, looking up at him with wide (e/c) eyes.

“Aw come on, don’t look so grumpy.” You give his shoulder a playful shove; trying not to let your thoughts linger on how hard his muscles feel under your touch. “You get me all to yourself, shouldn’t you be happy?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, shaking his head in mock annoyance, though he can’t help the smile that curls at the corner of his lips. “Oh, I’m ecstatic.”

You grin wider, knowing you managed to get him to smile. You give his shoulder another pat, letting your hand linger for a moment, before stepping back again. “That’ll work for me.”

You give him a wink before turning and heading in the direction of the locker room to change.

Eddie watches as you walk away, a mix of amusement and irritation playing across his features. Suddenly the sound of Buck and Chim’s voices breaks his gaze, and he quickly averts his eyes, getting back to work on cleaning the truck.

A few moments later, you reappear, now in your uniform. Leaving the top unbuttoned just enough to barely expose the skin of your chest, but still technically fall within the dress code.

You open your mouth to call out to Eddie when the station alarm suddenly starts ringing.

Eddie’s head snaps in your direction at the sound of the alarm, immediately noticing your outfit. His eyes roam over the exposed skin of your chest for just a second before averting his gaze. Buck, Chim, and Hen appear from the loft and rush past you guys to the fire truck.

Chim, Hen, and Buck are about to hop in the truck when Bobby stops them, averting his attention over at you and Eddie.

“(y/n) Eddie, dispatch said that this call was just a small structure fire, and no injuries were reported.”

You nod as you glance toward Eddie, “So you want us to stay back?”

Bobby nods, “That’s right. If we need anything though, we’ll let you know through the radio.”

Eddie lets out a small sigh, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Got it.”

You glance over at him, your eyes lingering on his for a moment before looking back at Bobby, “We’ll be on standby then.”

Bobby nods again, patting the side of the ambulance before turning to get into the firetruck. Buck sends both you and Eddie smirks, wiggling his eyebrows as he follows Hen and Chim into the back of the truck.

Eddie ignores them, moving to lean against the back of the ambulance, crossing his arms.

The sunlight makes his brown hair almost shine. His dark brown eyes have an almost golden look. Despite having been up since the early morning, he is still somehow effortlessly attractive. His uniform shirt hugs his upper body in the most delicious way, his muscular build being noticeable through the thin fabric.

You're snapped from your daze as Bobby flips on the lights and sirens and swiftly pulls out of the station.

You let out an internal sigh as you drink in the sight of him, your head filling with thoughts of how the fabric would feel against your fingers. You had only been on the job for a few months, but you somehow already wanted to do unspeakable things to this man. You take a step closer to him, leaning on the back of the ambulance.

“What do we do now? Just…wait?”

As you step closer to him, Eddie’s head turns to you, his eyes roaming over you for a moment before he speaks. There’s a slight hint of tension in his voice, though he tries to play it off.

“Yeah.” He lets out a huff of air, his eyes darting out to the street before settling back onto you.

You hum, looking over at him and tilting your head slightly so that you’re looking at him dead on. You continue to admire him, your eyes slowly raking over his face.

“So…how long do you think they’ll be gone for?”

Eddie sighs as your gaze lands on him, your smirk already telling him that you most likely have something in mind.

“If it’s just a small fire then I’d say probably an hour and a half.”

A mischievous look fills your eyes when he says an hour and a half. You bite your lip to suppress a smile as you push yourself up off the ambulance, moving to stand directly in front of him, your bodies nearly touching.

“An hour and a half, huh? That’s an awful lot amount of time for us to be…alone.” As you speak to him, your voice has a low, almost sultry tone to it; it takes everything in him to not shiver.

He lets out a shaky breath, glancing around for a brief moment before focusing back on you and clearing his throat.

“And what do you suggest we do?”

Your smirk softens into a more suggestive smile. You reach up and brush a strand of hair out of his face, your fingers ever-so-slightly grazing his skin.

“Well, I could think of a few things.”

He lets out a quiet gasp at your touch. His muscles are coiled, and you can see the way his jaw clenches in a halfhearted attempt to stop himself from reacting.

He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly, "You really need to stop doing that, (y/n).”

You move even closer to him, closing the tiny amount of space that was left between your bodies. Your hand moves, instead coming up to rest on his chest, just above his heart.

"Doing what, Eddie?" You look up at him, feigning innocence as you tilt your head to the side.

He can feel your body against his, the warmth from your skin sending jolts of electricity up his spine.

He looks down at you, a look of frustration and desire in his eyes, “You know damn well what I’m talking about.”

You bite your lip, holding back a chuckle as you see the look in his eyes. You can tell he’s fighting a losing battle, slowly giving in to his desires. You brush your thumb across the logo printed on the fabric of his uniform, feeling the hammering of his heart.

“Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.” You hum.

"(Y/n)." he mutters, his voice a low, strained warning.

His resistance just adds fuel to the fire inside you. You want to see him lose control, want him to finally give in to the obvious tension between you two. You let your hand slowly trail down his side, lingering on his hip before coming to a rest on his thigh.

“Yeah?”

Eddie's breath hitches as your hand trails down his body, his hips twitching involuntarily when you rest your hand on his thigh. He swallows hard, the feeling of your body so close to his and your hand on his skin sending a shiver through his entire body. Your breath on his face does absolutely nothing to help him.

It takes every last ounce of restraint he has to not spin you around right here and—

“Well,” you abruptly distance yourself from Eddie, a sly smile curling on your lips. “I'm starving, so I'm gonna go fix myself something to eat."

He looks at you, blinking rapidly, his mind fighting to come up with a response while you smirk at him. However, all he can manage to say is a quiet “uh”

"Have fun being all alone, Eds." you wink, before waltzing away towards the kitchen.

He lets out a frustrated huff of air, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Half torn between wanting to give in to your games and wanting to just grab you and slam you against the nearest wall.

Reaching the loft, you open the fridge and pull out a small pack of bacon. Cutting it open, you plop a pan onto the stove and lay a few slices onto the hot metal.

As you wait for your food to cook, you pull out your phone. You scroll through your Twitter to pass the time; completely oblivious to Eddie’s figure sneaking behind you, until it’s too late.

“You think you’re so damn funny, huh?” His breath feels hot against your neck as he murmurs in your ear, his voice low and dangerous.

Your eyes widen slightly, but before you can muster anything his body is pressed up against your back, his arms caging you against the counter in front of you.

A chill goes down your spine as you hear his voice, low and gravelly in your ear. The feeling of his body pressed against your back makes you shiver, the combination of his words and his breath on the sensitive skin of your neck makes you go weak in the knees.

“Depends on what you think is funny.” You manage to gasp out.

"You're a tease, (y/n). A goddamn tease." He growls in your ear, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin, sending a wave of heat through your body.

A shiver runs through your body when you feel his lips press against your neck, the feeling of his teeth nipping at your skin making you let out a sharp gasp. Your head tilts to the side almost involuntarily, giving him more access to your neck.

You grip the edge of the counter in front of you, trying your best to keep yourself upright.

"Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?" Eddie mutters against your neck

You let out a shaky breath as you turn your head towards him, the look in his eyes dark and full of desire. His thumb moves from your chin to your bottom lip, gently tracing the soft skin there.

You know you should reply to him, say something clever to keep up your usual attitude, but your mind is suddenly empty of anything but him.

His teeth lightly nip at your skin. You arch your back as best you can with the way he has you pinned against the counter.

"F-fuck, Eds—"

“I'm about two seconds away from bending you over this counter, don't push your luck." Eddie grins against your neck, his lips moving to bite at the sensitive spot just behind your ear.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, sweetheart?" He murmurs, his voice low and full of desire. "Bent over the counter for anyone to see."

"Eddie, I-You can’t—" You gasp out, your back arching farther into him. You can feel his body pressed up against yours, his hips grinding into your backside.

Eddie hums against your neck, his hands running down your sides until they find the edge of your shirt, slipping underneath and trailing up your stomach. His touch sends jolts of electricity through you.

"Is this what you wanted, sweetheart? You wanted to drive me crazy, to have me lose control?" His breath fans against your skin.

Eddie's words make your head spin as your body responds almost instantly.

"It worked though, didn’t it?”

Before you can even realize what’s happening, Eddie’s spinning you around and bending you over the kitchen island so that you're facing the entrance of the station.

The feeling of his hips pressing against your backside makes a full-on moan escape your lips, his body heat almost overwhelming.

“Voy a hacerte comer esas palabras, princesa.” He growls into your ear.

Jesus Christ.

His Spanish makes your head spin, the low, sultry tone of his voice as he murmurs the words into your ear nearly sending you over the edge. You feel him press up against you, his hips rolling into you, the feeling of his growing arousal against your backside making a shudder go through your body.

You let out another moan, his name on your lips between gasps for air, “Oh my god.”

"You never know when to quit, do you?" He mutters against the back of your neck, his lips delicately trailing kisses down your spine.

You whimper at his touch, your body responding to him as if he's a drug and you're hopelessly addicted.

"It’s like you enjoy being a little minx, huh? Teasing me all day, getting me all bothered.”

Your mind is hazy, your thoughts consumed by the feeling of his lips on your skin, the sound of his voice in your ear, the touch of his hands on your hips.

"F-fuck,” you stutter out before biting down on your lip, trying to hold back another moan.

He rolls his hips into yours again, his body grinding against yours.

The friction from his hips against your clothed core has you gasping again, your hands gripping the edge of the counter for support. You feel like you're on fire, your entire body thrumming with heat and desire, and all you can think about is him.

“Eddie, please...” you gasp out, your head spinning from the combination of his touch and the sound of his voice in your ear.

Then suddenly, you feel him shuffle behind you. Confused, you crane your neck over your shoulder only to see him grabbing your phone. He leans back over your shoulder, bringing your phone up and holding it to your face. You can barely focus on the screen, your eyes unfocused and dazed.

"Unlock it."

You blink, the request taking a moment to register in your foggy mind. Still, you unlock your phone with shaky hands, managing to type in your passcode through your daze. You don’t know what he’s planning, but at this point, you’re so far gone you don’t even care.

He opens the camera app on your phone before propping it up a few inches in front of you; it perfectly captures the two of you.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his voice low in your ear. “Now let’s see just how much you regret your little game.”

Your eyes grow wide when you comprehend what he’s doing. The thought of it has you suddenly even more turned on. He hits the record button and roughly tugs down your tight uniform bottoms and sinks to his knees.

Your breath hitches at his actions. You can see yourself on the phone screen, your face flushed, your (e/c) eyes darkened with lust, your hair already slightly messy from the way he had you pinned down against the counter.

You try to turn around to look at him, but his hand finds the back of your head, "Keep your eyes on the camera, carñio."

Your breath catches in your throat at the pet name. You'd never seen this dominant side of Eddie, not to this extent at least.

"Y'know, you didn't even ask me if I wanted anything to eat."

Your mind is a hazy mess, your eyes half-lidded as you keep them focused on the camera. You’re at his mercy, and you find that you don’t mind it one bit.

You let out a gasp as you feel his hands move up your thighs, nearing where you need him the most, your breathing stuttering and your body shaking with anticipation.

“But that’s okay,” he continues, “I think I’ve found something much better to eat.”

You hear his words, but you’re too caught up in the feeling of his touch to process them, your mind still trying to regain some lucidity as his hands move even farther up your thighs, just barely grazing the lacy hem of your (f/c) underwear.

“God, you’re beautiful, sweetheart.” He murmurs, voice low and full of need. His hands grip the skin of your thighs, his touch slightly rough.

“And look at that, you’re soaking through your panties, carñio.” Carefully, he drags your underwear to the side, exposing your soaking folds to the cool air.

The feeling of his hands as they slide your underwear to the side has you trembling, your legs shaking as you try to keep yourself upright. You feel him sink to his knees behind you, his breath fanning against your skin, the proximity of his face to the core of your being has you clenching your teeth.

You can’t see his face, but you can feel his presence, and the anticipation is nearly enough to make you cry out.

Eddie runs his hands up your thighs, his touch firm and sure. Then, you feel his hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh. You shiver, your body growing hot in anticipation.

You can’t help but gasp as he lets his tongue run up your thigh, so close to where you need him most.

"I swear to g-god, Eddie. If you don't do-" Your words fail you as his tongue slowly breaches your wetness. He holds your hips steady as his tongue dips deeper, just barely breaching your slit.

"M-Motherfuck—" You moan out, your voice growing louder from the sudden pleasure.

Eddie pulls away from your folds with an obnoxiously dramatic pop, "You gotta stay quiet, princesa. Don't want the team to come back and hear these pretty noises, do we?"

You bite down on your lip again, trying to restrain your moans. But it's practically impossible with the way he's slowly teasing you.

"Y-you're being mean." You say, your words coming out shaky from your attempts to stay quiet. You can feel your clit throbbing with desperation.

"Mean?" He mutters, his breath fanning against your skin. "Me? Not at all. I'm being...very generous."

At an agonizing pace, he slides his fingers through your wetness, just missing your sensitive bud before bringing his fingers to his lips, his tongue licking around the digits.

"You taste so sweet...como el cielo.”

You let out a strangled whimper, your body begging for more as his hands continue to wander. He presses a kiss against your clit, the friction of his mustache making your eyes roll back.

“Please,” you gasp out, your voice just above a whisper. “Please, please, please…”

Eddie hums at your words, letting his tongue just barely brush against your sensitive bud. You swiftly cup your hand over your mouth to muffle your noises.

You look absolutely debauched as you catch sight of yourself in the camera. Your hair is falling in messy wisps across your forehead, uniform bunched around your hips, face flushed, and eyes darkened with lust; The sight of yourself only serves to heighten your arousal. Before you can say anything, you feel two of Eddie's thick fingers press into you, drawing a high-pitched whine from the back of your throat.

"F-fuck—" You bite down on your hand to keep yourself quiet. "More, Eddie—Now."

“Bossy little thing,” He growls as you speak, his fingers curling inside you. “You're not the one in charge here.” he gives a harsh suck against your soaking folds.

You glance at the camera, still recording the two of you. Eddie’s right; and that made something in your stomach turn violently.

You grip the counter, your fingers clenching and unclenching at the edge. You let out another moan, your eyes squeezing shut from the immense amount of sensation.

“So beautiful like this, sweetheart,” he mutters, his words partially muffled against your skin. “Aching and dripping for me. All mine.”

He curls his fingers again, pushing into the spot that makes you cry out, and you barely manage to muffle your cries against your hand.

“God, you’re so loud.”

"Eddie! P-please, please! M’sorry for earlier." You slur deliriously with pleasure, eyes brimmed with hot tears.

He can practically taste the desperation in your voice, feel the tension rippling through your body as he pumps his fingers inside you. He pulls away, standing and smirking, watching as your walls flutter around nothing.

“Are you?”

You nod eagerly, your head hazy with lust, but your mind is just lucid enough to know that your answer will have an effect.

“Yes—” you gasp out, your breathing heavy. “I’m so sorry! Please, Eddie, I’m sorry. I promise I won’t tease you anymore, just please!”

Eddie hums, low and satisfied. He runs his hands up your thighs, watching as they shake in his grip.

“We both know that's a lie, cariño.” He says, his tone slightly mocking. He leans in closer to you until his mouth is right by your ear.

“You know what they say, cariño. Payback’s a bitch.” He gives your shoulder one last teasing bite before dropping back to his knees.

Your mind is still reeling from his words, trying to catch up with the events that just took place. But that all quickly changes the moment you feel his tongue thrust into your soaked slit; replacing where his fingers had previously been.

You wail in delight. Your eyes clench tight once more as Eddie lets out a deep moan from behind you, your sweet taste flooding his tastebuds once again.

He grips your hips to keep you from moving too much, his mouth working you with a newfound fervor as you struggle to keep yourself upright.

"Jesus…just a little more, m'so close—"

This only serves to ignite Eddie. Hearing you admit how close you are, all because of him. The way you’re now falling apart at his touch makes him growl against your skin; the vibrations almost send you over the edge.

He reaches around, harshly rubbing at your sensitive bud as he pulls his mouth away, "Fuck, best meal I've ever had..."

“Oh god—“ You try to choke out, but the words quickly devolve into another whine. “Please, E-Eddie, I’m gonna—”

And right at that moment, a loud, familiar sound fills your and Eddie’s ears; the sound of the firetruck pulling up outside.

"Oh shit." You mutter, your (e/c) eyes growing wide. You glance back at Eddie, your breath catches at the sight of his face.

Eddie’s pupils are blown wide, his face red and sweaty, hair sticking to his forehead. He gives another shaky breath before his eyes lock onto the camera still pointing at your form. For a moment, he considers stopping the recording, but...

Maybe it’s the way you look, all breathless and needy. Or how your uniform is pulled down, completely exposing your bottom half. All Eddie knows, at this moment, is that you two can’t stop.

“Eddie, W-We can’t—“

“We can.” Eddie says, his voice firm.

He reaches out, grabs the camera from the island, and holds it inches from your face, his voice still firm.

“You see this? You see what you look like all flushed and whiny, princess?” You can hear him give a low noise, his voice slightly shaky. "tan hermosa, tan perfecta, toda mía."

You spare one last look over your shoulder to Eddie. His chin is practically dripping with your juices, his lips red and swollen.

His dark brown eyes meet yours. As you open your mouth to speak, he suddenly dives right back in. Going to work with a newfound vigor.

You feel your hips arch slightly against his mouth, your legs shaking and your breathing coming out in quick gasps. You clench your teeth, trying to keep yourself from crying out.

Your hands, which had been gripping the counter, quickly move to cover your mouth, trying to muffle your series of pathetic whines.

You bite down on your hand, as hard as you can to keep from moaning, but the more you hear your teammates' voices, the harder it is to keep yourself in check.

You listen to Buck's laughter, you hear the deep rumble of Bobby's voice talking about dinner plans, you hear Hen's voice as she enters a conversation with Chimney—

All you can think about at that moment is that at any second, any one of them could walk into the kitchen and see the two of you.

Shamefully, that thought is enough to send you over the edge.

Your body feels tense as your climax washes over you, "F-fuck—E-Eddie!"

Your legs are shaking more than ever, so much so that you're sure if Eddie wasn't holding you up, you would have fallen to the ground. Wave after wave that rolls through you, Eddie’s tongue is there to accompany it.

It’s too much. Everything’s overwhelming. You’re overstimulated, your brain is fuzzy, and your body is hot. You’re sure if this continues any longer, you’ll break. The sounds of the team outside seem to fade into the background for a moment.

"Goddamn Eddie, p-please.” You can barely hear your voice over your ragged breathing.

The rest of the team's voices echo through the station, you swear you can hear footsteps coming closer to the kitchen. You feel tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as he finally lets up.

He pulls away, wiping the back of his hand against his mouth, his face flushed and sweaty. You breathe heavily, leaning forward on the counter, your body still shuddering from the aftereffects of your orgasm.

You're about to try and fix your uniform, to make yourself look at least a little presentable when suddenly, you hear footsteps clambering up the loft stairs. You panic and start to scramble to pull your pants back up and as you manage to, Eddie swiftly slinks beside you so they don't suspect anything.

You see Buck’s head of curls as he clambers up the loft stairs, "You guys cooking?" he chirps.

Before you can open your mouth to speak, Eddie pipes up.

“Yep, figured that we’d go on and get a head start on dinner.” He says, leaning casually against the counter. Y’know, his tone is surprisingly calm for a man who had just had his head buried between your legs.

Buck smiles right back, seemingly clueless to what had been going on mere seconds before.

"Alright! Lemme know when it's ready, I'm starving."

He quickly turns back around and disappears, and you let yourself breathe again. You feel Eddie's hand fall to the small of your back.

"You did so well." He whispers in your ear, his voice low and gravely. "I'm proud of you."

You give him a weak smile, trying to keep your breathing under control, but it doesn't help that every nerve ending in your body is still on fire. Everything is still so sensitive, and you can't help but shiver at the feeling of his breath on your skin.

He turns you so you're facing him, and you practically collapse into his chest. Immediately, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to him. You bury your face into his shoulder, inhaling the intoxicating scent of his sweat and cologne.

"Y-you're a dick, sometimes.” You mutter, still trying to calm your breathing as he steadies himself, you look down at the front of his pants and then back up to him. "Do you want me to...?"

Catching your drift, Eddie's cheeks suddenly flush with a light pink dusting.

"I uh—I a-already..." He stutters for a moment, trying to find his words.

You raise an eyebrow at his reaction, and your lips pull into a sly smile.

"Really? I didn’t even touch you.” You tease him, your finger slowly moving down his chest.

He swallows, his Adam’s Apple bobbing in his throat as your hand slowly makes its way down his chest. He looks away, his cheeks still a dusted pink as a shiver goes through him.

"Yeah well,” He stutters, "Can you blame me?”

You can't help but giggle at his response, your face splitting into a grin as you look up at him. You reach up and pat him on the cheek.

"You're cute when you get all flustered."

His blush deepens at your touch, and he lets out a huff, trying to hold on to any shred of composure he has left.

“I am not flustered, I-I don’t get flustered.” He says defensively, finally meeting your gaze.

“Really? Cause you look pretty flustered to me.” You say smugly.

"Oh, shut up, cariño." he murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

You give a soft hum, "Never, Eds. I'm gonna enjoy this for as long as I can."

"I'm gonna make you eat those words later, princesa."

You raise an eyebrow at him, fighting the shiver that runs down your spine at the nickname.

"Is that a promise?" You say, leaning your body a little closer to his.

He grins down at you, a cheeky look on his face, "It's a guarantee."

[wonderjanga]

Island Retreat

Some JL members get stranded on an island.

Marvel: “I caught couple rats and a rabbit.” *holding the rats by their tails and the rabbit by its legs*

GA: “Ooh nice. I got a deer. Can I have a rat or two? They taste like stringy chicken.”

Marvel: “Sure!”

WW: “I brought back a bear.” *points behind her to a bear*

GA and Marvel: “Woah, Wondy you’re the best!”

The reason Marvel didn’t get anything bigger was because as Billy, he’s used to catching rats and pidgins so he stuck to what he was used to. GA just was just hunting, and Wonder is just Wonder. Now, of course as Marvel, he could’ve catch bigger things. This was utilized when Arthur, Diana, and him made a challenge of hunting and ran around trying to hunt the most. Diana won with a warthog, three deer, a rabbit, and a snake.

So, here’s the squad: Marvel, Green Arrow, Wonder Woman, and Aquaman.

They turned this into a vacation guys. They’re playing beach ball with a makeshift ball. They’re using the radio they’re supposed to be using to radio for help, for music. They’re chilling.

Aquaman: *stops paying attention to their beach ball game and doesn’t even notice as it smacks into his head as he’s looking to the water*

GA: “Dude…? Why’d you throw our game? Now we’re behind those two.” *looks to where Arthur’s looking*

Marvel and WW: *also look over to the water*

*silence*

Dolphin: *suddenly pops up out of nowhere tugging a crate with him*

Aquaman: “Oh my god…” *rushes over*

GA, Marvel, WW: *confused*

Aquaman: *opens crate* “Alcohol!”

All of them were later chilling on the beach, drinking cocktails of their choices…

GA: “The is the life…”

Aquaman: *Agreed. It’s nice to have a couple days away from Atlantis and being a hero. Speaking of which, Cap, I’m honestly surprised you’re so chill about this.”

Marvel: “Whatcha mean?”

GA: “Dude, you never take breaks.”

Marvel: “Wha? Of course I do.”

WW: “Brother, the other day I heard Bruce discussing with Clark about the fact that out of the six years you’ve been on the team, you’ve never once asked for some kind of leave.”

GA: “Wait really??”

Marvel: *silence* “I don’t see how it’s a bad thing.”

Aquaman: “It is a bad thing, pal. That’s not normal. You don’t have any family you need to visit or spend time with?”

Marvel: “No, not really. Junior and Mary are in the hero bizz so we spend a lot of time together already. Then, as for you guys, I see you almost every day since I go to the Watchtower a lot.”

GA: *gasp* “You consider us family?” *sounds touched*

Marvel: “Yes? Is that bad?” *sounds self conscious*

Aquaman: “Not at all. I for one am happy to be apart of your family.” *sounds proud*

WW: “As am I. I’m happy we’re siblings, brother.”

When the four were finally found, they got scolded by Bats and Supes.

Batman and Supes: *standing side by side*

Batman: *bat-glaring them all*

Supes: “What is wrong with you?! You can’t just shipwreck and then not contact us! Why didn’t you use the emergency radio?!”

GA: “There was an emergency radio?”

Supes: “Yes!”

Marvel: *whispers to Arthur in Atlantean* “Is he talking about the radio we used to play music?”

Aquaman: *whispers back in Atlantean* “I think so.”

Supes: “What’re you two saying?”

Marvel and Aquaman: *simultaneously, and in English* “Nothing.”

Supes: *starts ranting again*

WW: *whispers in Greek* “What were you guys saying?”

Marvel: *also switches to Greek* “The radio. We think it was the one we used to play music.”

Supes: “Guys! I can still hear you!”

Marvel: “Sorry Mr. Superman.”

WW: “Apologies, Clark.”

Supes: *starts ranting again*

GA: *in Italian* “What were you guys talking about?”

Marvel: *in Italian* “Remember the radio? We think that was the SOS radio.”

Supes: “GUYS. Stop whispering in languages we don’t understand—”

Batman: “I understood two out of those three.”

Supes: “—In languages I don’t understand!” *looks to Bruce*

Batman: “They weren’t using the SOS radio to signal for help.”

Aquaman: “We were using it for music.”

GA: “Arthur! You snitch!”

Aquaman: “What? They were gonna find out anyways.”

Supes: “Why were you guys playing music???”

WW: “We had what one would call a vacay.”

Supes: *takes a deep breath* “Okay. Marvel, go sit over there.” *points to a couple feet away from the other three*

Marvel: “What? Why?”

Supes: “Because you speak to many languages! Now go.”

Marvel: *pitifully walks over there*

Supes: “Now, back to what I was saying.” *starts ranting again*

[januaryembrs]

SWEET AND RIGHT AND MERCIFUL | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

request: my DARLING @avis-writeshq says: OMGGGG EM CONGRATS ON 3K !!! soooo deserved and i’m so so happy for you!!! please may i request tea for sunshine!reader 🥹🩷 maybe the moment when she realises just how much she likes him (perhaps she was in heavy denial beforehand)? I LOVE YOU SO MUCH THANK YOUUUUU 🩷🩷🩷

description: The Sunshine rookie Spencer had heard so much about is the first one to make him laugh since he got out of prison.

length: 4.1k

warnings: Lucky Strikes episode, talks of humans eating humans, cm gore, blood, violence etc. UnSub gets creepy with reader. sex jokes, spitting water.

author's note: dedicated to @avis-writeshq because she is my GIRL when it comes to Spencer Reid x Sunshine brain rot, and also because she requested a Drabble for them but I couldn't stop writing and here we are with a full ficlet.

It had been three weeks, three painfully long weeks since Spencer Reid had returned to the BAU, nearly ten years since she’d seen him lecturing at Pennsylvania. He looked different, but then Emily had said quite literally on her second day that their endgame was getting him out of prison for a crime he didn’t commit, and it seemed only natural that being a fed in a foreign jail would knock someone around. 

She’d been too nervous to speak to him on their first day working together, had stuck to Luke’s side like glue because he was closest in age to her and he didn’t seem to mind the way she could speak a hundred miles per hour. They had only really had any contact when she was chatting with Garcia in the kitchenette at lunch, when she was talking to the tech whizz about the crochet set she’d bought even though she couldn’t seem to wrap her head around the way everything bobbed and weaved and bobbed again, and how the woman on youtube seemed to make the tiny bumblebee seem so achievable while hers looked like a yellow turd. 

He’d come up behind the two of them, his footsteps deadly silent despite the fact he had sneakers on, and she wouldn’t have even known he was there had Penelope not lit up with glee at seeing Reid poking around their office again. 

“Coffee, honey?” Penelope asked, looking over the girl’s shoulder, and it was only when he murmured a ‘mhm’ that the rookie noticed he’d crept up behind her, leaning over to grab his mug from the cupboard, and she hopped to the side immediately. 

“S-sorry, just shove me out the way next time, my mom says I have zero spacial awareness.” She said with a nervous laugh, and he didn’t seem to care as he granted her a small glance, pushing the button on the coffee machine and clunking his mug beneath the tap. 

“Have you met our newbie, Spence?” Penelope asked, friendly as ever even though the women caught the way his jaw seemed to feather with clenched muscle, like he was holding himself back from snapping, and his eyes were tired as he looked over at Garcia, barely flicking his gaze to the new face despite her prompt, “This is Y/N, she’s joined us from cold cases,” 

“Hi,” The woman chirped with a quick wave, despite the fact he was stood only a foot away from her, “It’s nice to meet you after everyone’s spoken so highly about you, Penny said you like invented the term genius,”

Spencer pursed his lips, trying not to make a backhanded comment about how dumb that sounded because of course he didn’t invent it, of course it was coined in the mid seventeenth century from the latin gignere to mean ‘exceptional natural ability’, and the last time he checked he wasn’t even born then. But he stopped himself, because she was just being nice, and it wasn’t her fault that he hadn’t been sleeping or that he couldn’t eat dinner without waiting to hear a buzzer go off to let him know when it was meal time, and it certainly wasn’t her fault that she was just a few decibels too loud with her cheerful tone and smile that he could hear in every syllable. 

So he just gave her an awkward smile, and an acknowledging nod, the whir of effort from the coffee machine slowing down as his drink finished pouring, and he grabbed his mug, not even caring that the ceramic scolded his fingertips because he’d felt so much worse before and gotten through it. 

“I’ll catch up with you later,” He said coldly, not returning the sentiment, and he’d turned before he could see the way her smile dropped, her brows creasing in worry as she watched him head back towards his desk.

“Did I say something wrong?” She asked with a small voice, and Penelope wrapped an arm around her shoulder giving her a kind squeeze and a sad smile. 

“It’s not you, sweetie, he’s just-” Garcia swallowed, her own pout growing over her red painted lips, “He’s not like the Reid we used to know, he’s struggling,” 

And so she nodded, chewing at the inside of her cheek with a frown. It felt silly to have her feelings hurt, except she’d been thinking about the day two agents from the BAU came to give her sociology class a talk on geographical and societal factors compelling crime, how she’d headed straight to her tutor that evening to swap her major to criminology. Because she’d hung on every word Agent Hotchner and Agent Reid had said, which definitely had nothing to do with the fact the younger of the two was so dreamy in his glasses and tweed jacket. 

She’d been excited to meet him again after nearly ten years, maybe even thank him for changing the trajectory of her entire life. He was still handsome, and despite the fact she’d grown up since then, had only thought about him as that hot guy who gave a lecture in her class that one time, she still had felt that silly fluttering feeling in her chest the second she saw him talking with Emily in her office the morning he got back. 

And he’d look at her like she was a girl scout selling cookies; a passing face, a summer temp, no one worth getting to know.

She pretended like she wasn’t the slightest bit disappointed, he’d been to prison for god sake. The guy had bigger problems than a little nobody girl from another department.

Things weren’t much better the day they got the case.

“You might want to cover your eyes for this bit, my little sugar plum,” Penelope said, looking at the rookie with soft eyes, and Emily smiled at her gently, knowing the girl had a bit of an innocent streak, not completely unlike Penny when she’d started the job. 

“Why? I’m sure it’s nothing-” She cut herself off when Penelope clicked onto the next page, and the image of a woman who could only be described as utterly butchered flicked onto the screen in full size, “Oh,” 

“Oh, indeed, rookie,” Rossi said with a wince, looking at the mulch of blood and muscle where her legs had been removed, and her fingers severed clean off as if with a carving knife. 

Luke looked up at the girl, where she’d gone a little peaky, and he patted her back gently, sliding his bottle of water over to her without a word. 

“All the telltale signs are here,” JJ said on a sighed breath, images of the rest of the crime scene flicking up on the screen.

“Pentagram, legs and fingers gone,” Rossi agreed, Luke and Matt looking between the team with a questioning glance, as she downed a sip of the water. 

“There’s even one neat aspect right here,” Emily said, the tip of her finger pointing to one of the pictures of the floor outside the bathroom stall where the body was found, “Her earrings and jewellery are laid out equidistant on the floor,”

“Sure as hell looks like him,” Rossi said, and she cleared her throat, looking to the older man on her left. 

“Like who?” She asked, her eyes snapping to Spencer who opened his mouth to speak, which seemed to be the only time he ever did bother making conversation; when there was a body on their hands.

“Floyd Feylnn Ferrell,” He said, as if the original case had only been wrapped up last week, but then with his memory she wasn’t exactly surprised, “A psychotic cannibal who’d been killing under the radar for years,”

“He killed ten prostitutes and then moved up to low risk victims,” Prentiss added, the rookie’s eyes wide. It wasn’t anything she’d never heard of, but it never made it easier knowing something even worse was coming after the murders. 

“He kept slipping through the cracks and avoiding justice so people referred to him as ‘Lucky’” JJ said, her eyes darting over the crime scene photos that seemed to take her back ten years to when they’d seen almost an identical set of photos, like Hotch was about to call ‘Wheels up in twenty’ any minute now.

Rossi sighed, looking at the younger girl who watched him wide eyed, “Have you eaten today, rookie?”

She shook her head dumbly, “Why?”

“Because the worst of it was he owned a barbeque joint,” Her face dropped even more, if that was even possible, “And he fed one of the victims to the search party,”

Her hand flew to her mouth, blinking at the seasoned agent in terror, because that was something she hadn’t ever thought would enter someone’s mind until she heard it. As simple as it sounded, for someone who had seen cases going back twenty, thirty years, some particularly heinous in nature, there were new lengths she didn’t realise a human could ever go to, let alone would.

Penelope stopped, shutting her laptop lid and glancing at JJ in a plea for help, as the thought of what had happened after the Ferrell case rushed to the front of her mind, when the guy she’d thought wanted to take her out on a date shot her. 

“I have a computer…” The blonde trailed off, heading for the door to the office room with a dazed look in her eyes, and the rookie watched her leave, her neck and palms clammy as she thought about what Rossi had just said. 

“I think I have a computer too-” She rushed, and she bolted from her seat before she could think of anything else, dashing after the technical analyst because she feared she was going to throw up if she didn’t get a breath of fresh air. 

Spencer watched her hair swish as she scurried out the room, and he wondered how long she would last if she couldn’t stomach just a few photos. He had struggled with the gore at first, sure, but he’d never ran. Maybe he was being cruel, but he couldn’t say that a girl like her exactly fit the part of an FBI agent, she seemed… pure, like driven snow, and if anything he’d hate for the bloodied parts of their job to stain a girl so squeaky clean.

Emily nudged his shoulder, nodding towards her retreating figure when he looked up at her questioningly, “You keep an eye on her in this case. She’s still learning,” 

And Spencer grit his teeth, because he hated the idea of babysitting when he had a dozen of his own problems, but he nodded indignantly. 

He just hoped she didn’t make things too hard for him. 

–

The door swung open behind Ferrell, the UnSub’s sister, the midday Florida heat boring down on her back, Spencer bristling at her right as Luke pocketed his badge. 

And then there he was. The guy from the photo, his thick, wiry glasses exact matches to the ones he’d been wearing the day he got caught, though she supposed a mental facility didn’t exactly have funds for replacements. 

“It’s no problem, Lori, I’ll speak with them,” His voice was a strong southern twang, and almost chillingly calm. His sister looked over her shoulder at him, the woman fretful as she glanced between the four agents, ten years of troubles on her shoulders. She sighed, running a hand over her neck nervously and headed back inside to be with her son, leaving them alone with their suspect on the doorstep, “You’ll have to wait, I’m on my way to church. It’s right around the corner so I’m within the thousand permitted yards from the monitoring station,”

He quickly glanced at where Matt and Luke stood behind her, the former with his arms crossed over his chest as he eyed up the thin, twiggly guy who looked like the type to live in his mother’s basement until he died, not the type to cannibalise and murder. 

His eyes darted over to where Reid towered over him, familiarity flicking in his face as he looked at the agent, and he smiled slowly, like something out of a horror, the uncanny valley of a face so normal when she knew he was so sick somewhat terrifying to her. He fed one of the victims to the search party. She heard it rattling around her skull as she saw the whites of his teeth, and she imagined him ripping into her then and there, her hands shaking.  

“Hey, I remember you. Where’s your friend, Agent Morgan?” Floyd said, and she felt Spencer tense up beside her, which she guessed meant it was a sore subject as she jumped into the conversation, her lips moving before she could think better of it. She’d always had a habit of talking too much when she was nervous, or to fill gaps, or when she could tell someone was uncomfortable, she’d always been told it was one of her more irksome traits. 

“You wouldn’t mind if we took a look around, would you? Just while you’re gone?” She asked politely yet, for once, she regretted ever opening her mouth the second he turned his attention on her.

She felt something cold and dreadful run down her spine as he looked straight at her, his sepia eyes trailing down over her neck, running over her body and down to her hands that fidgeted at her sides.

They waited on baited breath, her stomach flipping with sickness as that manic smile drew even wider, trained solely on her, a thought privy only to himself somewhat amusing to him. She felt herself lean away without even meaning to, incidentally feeling Spencer’s arm bump into hers as she did, and the three men seemed to tense up as they watched Ferrell smell the air, savouring every second of it, his eyes blown wide with something unreadable. Lustful yet starved, like he was on a four day fast standing next to an open roast. 

“You’re awful pretty for an agent,” Floyd said, that drawling accent of his turning her stomach, and his eyes trailed down over her calves, and she cursed herself for wearing a midi skirt. But she hated jeans on her thighs, hated the way Florida air clung humidly to her skin when she didn’t let it breathe, but she thought she might just hate the way his mouth filled with saliva more, “Do you like running, agent?”

“Sometimes,” She whispered, shrinking in on herself even more as he took a step out of the home. 

And Spencer felt his chest drop at the sound of it. She sounded petrified. But then, he would be too if someone his size looked at him like he was a five-course banquet. And he regretted ever thinking of her as babysitting, as defective, because she was clearly trying her best, and this was where it had gotten her. Right on the UnSub’s menu.

“I bet you do a lot of running, chasing after bad guys, huh?” Floyd pushed, leering towards her with another smell of her perfume, and she could have sworn his smile only widened into something cheshire cat-esque. She nodded with a worried gulp, her breath picking up when his hand began moving up to where a rogue stray hair fell out of her bun, running over her collar bone, her heart beating so wild and heavy beneath it. 

And it was enough for Spencer to act, because within the blink of an eye, he’d side stepped in front of the rookie who seemed frozen in her spot, and Floyd’s arm was shoved away where it hit Spencer’s bicep. Ferrell was forced to stop looking over her clammy skin with heavy swallows like he was imagining just how she would cut and marinate, and instead was confronted with a frown that could send any man scarpering, Spencer’s lips pressed into something furious, his shoulders seeming only more broad than they usually did when he purposely blocked Ferrell’s view from her. 

“You’d better get going, Floyd,” Spencer said, his voice a deadly sort of calm, and his arm stuck out behind him to keep her where she was as he spoke, “You’re going to be late for church,” 

And Floyd listened, despite his smarmy smile as he dared a look at her when he passed by, despite the fact his eyes trailed back down to her jugular like he was ready to sever it there and then to string her up and cure. 

Spencer’s hand fished around his pocket, glaring at the back of Floyd’s head as he strolled down the street, tossing the keys to Alvez, “Take her back to the car, don’t let her out of your sight,” 

And the two of them listened while he and Matt swept the house, because anyone would be insane not to when Spencer looked so angry he could have put a hole through Ferrell’s head without blinking an eye.

–

“Eating people, who eats people, what on earth is that all about,” She muttered, the four of them in the SUV heading back to the station. She sat at the front with Spencer where he drove because Luke and Matt were gentlemen and had offered her the extra leg room, and Spencer had zero qualms because he was under strict instruction to keep an eye on her. 

She did that alot, he realised. Muttered when she was thinking about something. Where he went deadly silent when troubled, too focused on sorting through the mental files that seemed to be so resistant to organise these days, she was his entire opposite, always talking or humming a tune under her breath or playing an invisible set of piano notes on her knee, something to always keep the space filled. 

He’d hated it the first few days, the sound like a blaring alarm coming from over by her desk, cutting through his limited attention span, grating on his nerves and making him have to bite his tongue to stop himself from yelling at her to shut the fuck up. But then, it wasn’t exactly personal to her, even the sound of the coffee machine had been enough to pull at his hair in frustration. At twelve years old, it spluttered and whirred and kicked back at every drink it made, every second of it winding Spencer’s patience up like a jack in the box.

But he found himself listening in on her mumbles, glancing over at how her frown screwed up her doe eyes, her lip pulling between her teeth whenever there was a tiny pause in between her words, before she started again. He’d quickly realised it was the easiest cheat in the book to know when something was bothering her, that she was so much of an open book, not at all cold and guarded like him or so many other profilers he knew, that he wouldn’t need to bother deducing her like she was his next UnSub to know what was wrong. She would just tell him as it was, wear everything vulnerable on her face. 

“Something the matter?” He pressed, Luke also keeping a close watch on her from the back seat as she shook her head to herself, and her head snapped over to the driver’s side, her expression entirely caught even though she’d not exactly been subtle about her turmoil.

“M-me? “ She pointed to herself, and Spencer nodded, trying not to smile because sometimes she could be clueless, not the dumb kind but something sweet, naive, and he found himself somewhat jealous that she didn’t need to be the smartest person in the room to be worth something, she could just be herself, “Yeah, I guess I just,” She huffed, running her hands over her skirt, “I don’t get why anyone would want to eat someone else, it just-” She shivered, not in a theatrical or fake way but like a ghost had walked over her grave just thinking about Floyd smelling at her. 

“Some cultures used to cannibalise other members of their society as funerary practices as early as twenty-four thousand years ago,” Spencer said, and she stopped fidgeting to listen to him, “There’s evidence that the Magdelanians in North Europe used to turn their dead’s skulls into cups they would then drink out of,”

“That I can understand, those guys were probably starving and it’s not like they can just chow down on a damn sabertooth as an easy lunch or something,” She said, and he bit his lip from stopping her to explain that the two of them were about four thousand years apart from one another, “But like, when there’s a burger king or taco bell on every corner, why are you eating women. Who eats women for breakfast lunch and dinner, like raise your hands which one of you would ever eat a woman,” 

Luke sniggered, and Matt smirked at the innuendo of it, the double meaning of her words flying entirely over her head.

“I dunno, Alvez, do you like eating women?” Simmons asked, a smug grin in his words as the boys cackled childishly, and Spencer rolled his eyes with amusement. 

“Pretty partial to it actually,” Luke chimed in, and she whirled in her seat to look behind her of scepticism, “How about you, Reid?”

“You guys are so weird,” She murmured, and Spencer took a quick glance off the road to see her looking entirely baffled, her feathers ruffled at the fact she was left out of the joke. 

“They’re talking about oral sex,” He explained, because he remembered when that had been him for the longest time, and how it had made him feel like the butt of every punchline to not understand why everyone would smile at him knowingly, yet he found himself doing the exact same to her, his lips twitching at their corners.

Spencer watched her scoff, looking back at the two grown children in the back, “I take it back, you guys aren’t weird, your gross. Why can’t you be mature like Spencer?” She huffed, sitting back in her seat and fixing her skirt, “See if you were grownups like Agent Reid and I, you’d know the term isn’t eating a woman, it’s called focalratio,” 

Matt pulled a face of confusion, flicking his eyes to her, “Isn’t that to do with a camera lens?” 

“Do you mean fellatio?” Spencer asked, trying his hardest not to smirk because he didn’t want to make her feel stupid, except she just waved a hand at him.

“That’s what I said. I see why they call you Doctor Read and not Doctor Listen,” She giggled at her own words, watching the trees go by her passenger window, almost entirely oblivious to the way Spencer’s face cracked into a grin, something easy and charmed in his chest. 

And for a moment, he saw exactly what Penelope had been talking about when she wouldn’t stop talking about how likeable she was and how it was harder to hate her than it was to love her. 

Luke took a sip of his water, the bottle nearing the end as the Florida sun warmed it up, and he figured he might as well finish it before it became stagnant and undrinkable. 

“Actually the term fellatio describes only male genitalia, the female equivalent would be cunnilingus-” Spencer explained, and he knew she was listening because he felt her eyes on the side of his face as he spoke, except he was cut off by the sound of her screaming so loud he nearly slammed on the breaks then and there. 

“LUKE!” She yelled, and when Spencer looked, she had water dripping down the back of her hair, soaking her shirt to her skin, her black bra straps suddenly clear as day as they pressed against her dove white top. Alvez looked mortified, and he found himself apologising between coughs, water dribbling down his chin where he’d been so shocked to hear that word coming from Spencer’s mouth that he’d completely forgone swallowing and simply spat the whole thing out right through the gap between the headrest and the seat. 

And Spencer laughed; it was quiet and foreign and nothing on the roaring cacophony coming from Matt in the back, as her and Luke descended into a squabble, her proclaiming him as a disgusting alpaca man as she tried to dry herself off with his jacket. But she caught it, the small chuckle coming from her left, and she looked at him, the sodden shirt almost forgotten when she saw him laugh. 

She thought then that she wanted to make him laugh like that a million more times. And she knew she had it bad for Spencer Reid all over again.