#i have other gif packs i need to get around to posting lol

[little-diable]

Our suffering ends now - Tommy Shelby (smut)

It truly has been a while since I’ve last posted a Tommy fic, but I love how this came together. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: She has mourned his death for the past years, all until her boss speaks of him, leaving (y/n) to wonder how she could have been betrayed like that, blindsided by lies. It’s time for her to return to the man she has believed to be dead.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, reunited lovers, some angst and crying

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (3.5k words)

Trees blurred past the window she sat close to, hands holding onto the book she carried with herself. Her eyes burned from being awake for so long, having to change trains every few hours, set on making it to him before night would break. Hours ago her heart had raced in her chest, pounding against her ribcage as if it was trying to flee from her. And she couldn’t blame it, knowing that what she was about to do would be uncomfortable, scarily so. 

This journey broke more promises than she could count with both of her cold hands, and yet she hadn’t been able to fight against the need to see him again – after all these years. She could still hear Ada’s and Polly’s voices speaking to her, forcing her to leave that one cruel night years ago. With tears rolling down her cheeks she had given in, watching the two women pack her bags before accompanying (y/n) to the train station. A foolish mistake she had been forced to live with. 

She was torn between hurt and anger, not understanding how the two women she had once loved like her own sisters could have betrayed her like that. For years she had lived with the knowledge that her lover was dead, that he hadn’t made it home after the war. Lies, nothing but lies she had been fed. 

If it hadn’t been for her job she would have kept believing the lies, not doubting what she had been told by the two. If it hadn’t been for the way her boss had spoken of him, she wouldn’t have stopped grieving the loss of the man she had once promised to love until her death. If it hadn’t been for the sinking feeling growing deep within her, she wouldn’t have purchased the train tickets that very night before calling the only man she had kept in touch with. 

Her legs ached as she rose to her feet, ready to step out of the train in hopes of spotting him. A deep breath was sucked into her lungs as (y/n) started moving, holding onto her suitcase while the cold evening air wrapped itself around her. 

“(Y/n)!” The smile widening on her lips only grew as her eyes spotted Alfie, rushing towards him to throw herself into his arms. He held onto her, hugging her as if they hadn’t seen each other in years, even though it had only been a handful of weeks. His comforting scent wrapped itself around (y/n), cozying her along as he slowly parted from her. “You haven’t aged a day.”

“You fucker.” The words rolled off her tongue before she could stop them, earning a few shameful gazes from couples brushing past the two. But Alfie’s loud laugh distracted her enough to keep smiling at the man she had crossed paths with years ago, instantly learning to love him like a brother. 

“Come, come, let’s get some food into your system and then you can tell me all about why you have summoned me to Birmingham, yeah?”

…

“Pain has never suited you, and yet it never dims your beauty.” (Y/n) raised her eyebrows at him in an almost mocking manner, drawing a smirk onto Alfie’s lips. She pushed herself further into the couch, legs tucked underneath herself while Alfie sat close to her, waiting for her to finally shed some light onto her mysterious behaviour. 

“You remember what I told you about him, don’t you?” A sigh left Alfie at her words, eyes momentarily fluttering close as if his annoyance was already getting the best of him.

“I told you I would marry you, there is no reason to mourn a life with a husband you never had. Say the words, Alfie marry me, and I will, yeah? Is this why you so desperately needed to see me, pearl? Because of some boy who fell at war like so many others?” Her jaw muscles began to tick in anger, a fire started to burn in her eyes at his words. (Y/n) had to let go of a few deep breaths, trying to keep calm before this could spiral into another fight neither of them would win.

“He’s not dead.” It was a simple sentence, and yet it carried more pain than all others she had spoken in a long time. It almost felt as if every single vowel had sharp teeth, scratching at her tongue as they rolled right off the strong muscle to leave behind wounds that wouldn’t fade. 

“What? Did his ghost suddenly appear at night? Did God speak to you-,” the sharp call of his name interrupted Alfie, forcing him to quieten down with anger tugging on his features. For a moment, neither of them spoke a word, letting a heavy silence fill the room. Ever since their paths had crossed, she had told Alfie all about him, without ever telling him his name, he knew nothing but the endless moments she could still remember, the love she had been fortunate enough to experience. 

“I heard it at work, my boss spoke of him and his brothers. He’s alive, I’ve grieved a man who was never dead all because I believed lies I had no reason not to believe. That’s why I called you, if somebody could help me find him, it’d be you.” Tears welled up in her eyes, rolling down her cheeks as if the sky itself was crying for her and all those horrible years she had lost to mourning him.

“What is his name, (y/n)?” Seriousness clung to Alfie as he asked the one question he had never dared to ask, shoulders tensed, lips pressed together as if he already knew the name she was about to whisper.

“Tommy Shelby.” All Alfie did was stare at her, making goosebumps appear on her arms as he shot to his feet, turning his back on (y/n) while a sound torn between a groan and a shout tore out of him. She was close to flinching, not understanding why he was reacting that way. 

“I can’t take you to him, (y/n). You’ll take the first train home tomorrow morning.” (Y/n) mimicked his movements while an almost hysterical laugh clawed out of her. Slowly, Alfie turned back towards her, both stared at one another, waiting for the other to break first. 

“I won’t leave, not before I see him again. What do you even know of Tommy, Alfie?” With two quick steps he had reached her, hands finding her warm face to cling to her. Pain was swimming in his pupils, a pain that reached far deeper than she could imagine. His calloused thumb stroked her skin as he softly shook his head at her, seemingly fighting to find the right words.

“Tommy Shelby is a devil, yeah, he’s a man who’d kill you without needing a gun nor a knife. He’s not the man you once loved, go home, forget about him and allow me to show you glimpses of a life you deserve to live, pearl.” (Y/n) pushed herself into his arms, cheek pressed against his chest to listen to his racing heartbeat. She clung to the man she wished she could love like a lover, a man who’d treat her well enough to offer her the world. And yet her heart couldn’t let go of Tommy, of the life she ached for like a starving woman dreaming of a soup to warm her aching body.

“Take me to him, Alfie, this is a decision that’s only mine to make.” 

……

Her fingers were interlaced with his, feeling his thumb stroke the back of her hand while she shifted her weight from one side of the pillow to the other. Both were staring at the door, waiting for the sound of somebody knocking on the wood to reach them. With her breath hitched in her chest, (y/n) had problems breathing, tensing even further as the sound could finally be heard. 

And then her eyes found his frame, a man dressed in a sharp suit, in a thick dark coat and a cap whose shadow hid most of his features. Alfie rose to his feet, hiding her behind his frame as if he was still giving her the chance to turn around and leave, “Tommy, I’d say it’s a pleasure to see you again but we both know that’d be a lie, yeah.”

“What am I doing here, Alfie? I don’t have much time.” Silence began to stretch itself through the room, a silence that was filled by the sound of (y/n) clearing her throat. Alfie was forced to step aside as she rose, forcing all eyes onto her. For a moment nobody spoke, icy eyes wandered over her features, forcing her to straighten her spine and to blink away her tears. She struggled to believe that he was real, he had changed, had grown older and yet he still looked like the boy she had sworn to marry. 

“Tommy,” his name left her like a whisper, a sound that made him take a step back as if his personal hell was awaiting him. He kept staring at her until Alfie pushed himself closer to (y/n), forcing Tommy’s eyes to flicker from her to his enemy. “Do us a favour and give us some time alone, please, Alfie.”

It took Alfie a second to give in, staring at Tommy for a few more seconds before he reluctantly left the room. The door fell shut with a heavy thud, making her jump while it began to dawn on her that she was finally alone with Tommy, just like she had imagined for all these years. 

“It felt like a dream, you know, to hear your name again after all these years where I grieved you, believing you to be dead.” (Y/n)’s voice trembled, shaking with every further word she spoke. Her wide eyes clung to his confused features, watching his expression harden. She took a step closer, halting in her step as he shook his head, forcing her to stand still once again.

“You don’t need to lie to me, (y/n). You left without a word, forcing me to return to an empty home.” A sob left her, rumbling through her louder than intended. Now it was on her to shake her head, to cover her mouth with her shaking hand while bile filled her mouth. It felt like a cruel joke, allowing her to see through the game Ada and Polly had played on both of them. 

“Tommy, they told me you died, they made me pack my bags, made me leave home to start my life all over again in a different city hours away. I didn’t leave on my free will, why should I? I was ready to marry you, to start a family, you have to believe me.” She tried to move again, successfully this time, coming to a halt right in front of him. (Y/n) allowed herself to cup his cheek like she had last done the day he had left to fight in a devastating war. His piercing eyes kept staring at her glassy ones, watching her tears fall.

“Who’s they?” It was a simple question, a question rasped out with pain dripping from the words. Her tongue kissed her teeth, all too aware that this situation was about to spiral into another heartbreak. 

“Ada and Polly.” Nothing but a whisper, words that made anger widen on his handsome features. His gloved hand found hers, gently pushing her hand from his cheek to get some more distance between them, clearly hurting (y/n) with the simple action. 

“It’s good to see you again, (y/n), now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a busy day ahead. I hope Alfie takes good care of you.” Tommy turned from her, ready to leave the room while she choked on another sob.

“He’s nothing but a brother to me, Tommy. I never loved another. I can’t even bear the thought of being close to somebody who isn’t you.” He halted in his step, letting the words wash over him before wordlessly leaving the room. Leaving (y/n) behind with another cruel sob leaving her.

……

It had been hours since she had seen Tommy, hours she had spent with her cheek pressed to Alfie’s chest, drowning in the tears that didn’t seem to stop rolling. He had clung to her, had whispered comforting words to try and soothe her pain, without any luck. All until the phone call that had reached him, asking him to bring (y/n) to the Garrison at 4pm, not followed by any explanation. 

And so it came that she was leaning against Alfie as they stepped into the empty place, letting her eyes wander through the room. She found herself distracted for a moment, until her name was shouted by Arthur’s familiar voice, forcing her into a tight hug that made her chuckle in delight. 

Her body shook as they were led towards a room in the back, allowing her eyes to meet Tommy’s icy ones. A cigarette was held between his lips, the smoke engulfed him as if his shadows had moved up his body, whispering commands to him. It took Alfie a moment to let go of (y/n), to press a kiss to her hairline, eyes drawn back to Tommy, “If I find her crying again, I won’t hesitate to finally put a bullet between your eyes just like God intended, yeah?” 

It felt like a deja-vu, reminding her of their conversation hours ago after Alfie had left. She didn't dare move as Tommy kept smoking, intensely studying her. He leaned back in his chair before he reached his hand out, wordlessly urging her closer through the now empty room. (Y/n) moved slowly, feeling her heart skipping beats as he pulled her closer, forcing her to stand between his thighs.

“I dreamt of you, back in France. You were the only thing keeping me alive. I even prayed, to you or whoever would fucking bring me back to you. And then you were gone. They said you couldn’t wait any longer, that you couldn’t endure the pain.” He had his eyebrows furrowed, no longer able to look at her. A sigh left (y/n), she leaned back against the table to get a better view of his hard features, feeling how torn he was.

“They told me you died, that there was nothing left for me here. I didn’t get a chance to protest, they packed everything up and then I was suddenly on a train up north.” Her words drew his eyes back to (y/n), looking at the woman he had always loved, even as he had tried to hate her. Tommy tugged on her hand to pull her into his lap as if he still needed to convince himself that she was real, not a trick of his tired mind.

“They will pay for the hurt they’ve caused you.” It was a promise, filled with darkness and hurt, but (y/n) didn’t find it in herself to worry. Not when she was this close to him again, finally. 

“Is it true what Alfie told me? Did you get married?” He swallowed before his hand moved up her thigh, coming to rest on her waist. The silence told her everything she needed to know, leaving her to wonder how that woman had managed to capture his heart while (y/n)’s had been missing half of hers.

“I did, her name was Grace. I loved her, and yet it was no love like ours. Nothing could ever be like that.” A soft smile tugged on her lips, trying to forget about the woman who had once been at his side. Alfie had told her of her, of every detail he had picked up on over the past months, stories (y/n) was desperate to leave behind. 

Whatever it was that urged her on to move, it grew stronger with every passing second, until her lips ghosted over his. Tommy instantly reacted, searching her lips to press a hard kiss against them. He tasted of whisky, of cigarettes, and tea, nothing like the kisses they had last shared as young adults, tasting of a bright future that had been dimmed weeks later. 

The kiss grew more passionate as she began to shift around, wrapping both arms around his neck while her legs rested on either side of his. Their tongues fought for victory as his hands moved up her sides, tracing the body he had longed for in cold and dark nights. She was his warmth, the warmth that had been robbed from him beneath the surface of the earth, hiding away in tunnels that would forever haunt him. 

“Tommy,” she mumbled his name against his lips as both sucked air into their lungs, unable to stop clinging to one another. “Touch me, prove to me that you’re real. Let me feel you, please.”

His grip on her grew tighter, icy eyes watching her for a moment before he kissed her again. His hands found the seam of her dress, pushing the skirt further up her thighs with his hands finding her warm skin. A groan tore out of him as he touched her through the fabric of her undergarments, drawing a soft moan from her parted lips. 

Tommy spoke no warning as he stood up to place her down on the table. They held eye contact, wordlessly communicating while he pulled her undergarments down her legs, hand instantly drawn back to her heat. He touched her with care, gently brushing through her slip to collect drops of arousal. 

(Y/n)’s head rolled back, eyes fluttering close as he began to circle her pulsing bundle. Even though her mind struggled to figure out if she was truly experiencing this, if her lost lover was back to bring her pleasure, she didn’t find it in herself to care, to ask any other question. 

He looked like the devil, towering over her while pushing two fingers into her tightness. Tommy had been the last man she had allowed to touch her, and yet it felt so different to be touched by him, a new sensation she was already addicted to. He moved slowly, curling his fingers against her swollen spot while his thumb kept rubbing her pulsing bundle. 

She choked on his name, calling it out into the evening as if she was trying to summon him. He marvelled at her while he brought her pleasure, reminding her of all those times he had imagined this happening, aching for her while other women warmed his bed. And yet they hadn’t been her, no other woman had ever managed to make him feel this alive, eliciting a love for life deep inside of him. 

“I need you, all of you. Make love to me like you once did, Tommy.” He fumbled with his belt, freeing his hard cock from his trousers before brushing through her slit again. His hand found her throat to pull her in for another kiss the second he sank into her, feeling her walls flutter around him. 

It felt as if the world was ending, as if this was the last thing they could experience before their lives would end. And yet, (y/n) could only pray that death would be this beautiful, this comforting, finding herself in the arms of her lover. 

Tommy moved with care, fucking her softly for a few thrusts before he picked her up again to sink back down on the chair. He allowed her to take what she was aching for, fucking herself on his cock while his strong hands supported her. Every now and then his hips began to jerk, forcing his cock deeper into her tightness. 

“Heavens, I missed you, Tommy. I missed you so much.” Her eyes were too tired to cry again, and yet she felt as if she was whimpering for him, for the time lost, and the dreams that had been buried six feet under. His hand kept a possessive hold of her throat, keeping (y/n) close to whisper to her. 

“You’re mine, (y/n), no lost time will ever change that.” The second his thumb found her bundle again she was done for, ready to let go with his name bleeding from her tongue. He held onto her as she came, knowing that he wouldn’t last much longer himself. 

It hadn’t been long since he had last found comfort with another woman around, and yet it hadn’t nearly felt this good, this intense, this right. Tommy forced his eyes to stay open, to watch her fall apart as he followed moments later, imprinting himself on her walls. 

For a minute or two neither of them spoke, letting go of heavy breaths while their bodies stayed connected. Gently, he helped her off his lap, only to pull her back in the second he’d redressed. Neither of them could let go, scared that the other would leave their side otherwise. 

“What will happen now, Tommy?” She was scared to speak the question, didn’t want to be pushed away by the one man she’d never be able to stop loving. His hand pulled her back against his chest, chin placed on top of her head while alighting a cigarette. 

“Now you’ll find a new home here, with me. Our suffering ends now.”

[skbeaumont]

Just a Graze | Joel x Reader oneshot

One-shot Joel/Reader. Previously posted in two parts but thought I'd make a masterpost for this one.

Summary: Joel comes back injured, and while you patch him up the tension that's been building for several months threatens to break.

Tags/warnings: dirty talk, explicit content, language, injury detail (not explicit), MDNI, sexual tension, PIV, oral (F receiving), FILTH

Word Count: 4.3k

Joel’s bleeding when he gets back. The screen door clatters shut behind him, wire shuddering against the wood, and you look up from the table. His face is set, a solid frown painted across his features – nothing unusual – but there’s a downward turn to his mouth that you recognise as a pained expression. He steps in and leans against the counter, one hand on the warped wood, the other pressed against his shoulder. Blood seeps through his fingers, clotting around his knuckles, staining his jacket red.

“I’m okay,” he says as you spring up from your place at the dusty kitchen table, “it’s just a graze.”

“Bullet?” You ask, ignoring his attempts to wave off your concern.

“Barbed wire,” he says, letting you lead him further into the cabin, toward the misshapen couch, “stupid mistake, I didn’t see it.”

The shotgun clatters onto the floor at his feet as he collapses onto the couch with a groan. He doesn’t protest as you pull his fist away from the wound, your hand warm against his wind-chilled fingers. The cut isn’t deep, but the wire has torn through his jacket and shirt down to the flesh of his shoulder, leaving a jagged cut that’s oozing blood.

“You must be getting old,” you say, standing to search through your pack for the first aid kit, “your eyes are going as well as your ears.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with my eyes. Or my ears.”

“Sorry?”

“I said, there-” he notices your grin, the glint of mischief in your eye. He sighs heavily. “You’re a damn pain in my ass.”

You huff out a laugh and pull a kitchen chair across to sit opposite him. You open the first aid kit – which is really no more than a small washbag stuffed with a bottle of Lysol and a handful of bandages – on your lap, pull out the disinfectant and start unscrewing the cap. “Can you take your jacket off?” You ask, and he nods, starts unzipping it and pulling it off of his uninjured arm. He winces a little as he peels it past his bad shoulder, shakes it down his arm and lays it over his lap, frowning at the gash in the fabric.

“I can patch that up when we get back to Jackson.” You say.

“Ain’t going back ‘til we’ve something to bring back.” He replies, and now it’s your turn to sigh.

“We’ve got two deer and a whole family of rabbits, Joel. There’s nothing else out here for us to get.”

“We both saw that clinic complex, and I ain’t arguing with you about this again. Winter’s well on its way, and we need as much medicine as we can get to make it through. I almost got in today – would have, if I hadn’t got caught on that damned barbed wire. We’ll both go back tomorrow.”

He fixes you with a hard stare, one that makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, though whether it’s through fear or something else, you’re not sure. You’ve been partnering up for a couple of months now, going out on hunts and supply runs, growing slowly closer over long hikes and cold nights camping out under the stars.

At first, he intimidated you. He was cold, harsh; a solid bulk of a man who never smiled and rarely spoke, except to tell you to keep your voice down or stop walking so loudly. But then, gradually, he’d started loosening up around you. A few weeks ago he’d cracked a smile at a joke you’d made – something stupid about a bird in a tree, the kind of joke your dad used to make when you were a kid – and then that smile had grown into a deep chuckle a couple of days later, and then a conversation, whispered and illusive, under a starry sky last week.

This latest trip outside Jackson had been the most enjoyable yet, conversation flowing easily between you, and you were starting to suspect that the strange swooping feeling in your stomach that arose each time he looked at you, or bumped against you as you walked had a lot less to do with how intimidating he could be, and a lot more to do with him.

Now, locking eyes with him over the opened bottle of Lysol, his eyes dark and with an argument boiling up between you, that feeling blossoms into something hot and delicious, stirring a fire in your belly that makes you bold.

“From where I’m sat,” you say, tipping the bottle of Lysol so that the disinfection pours out onto a clean swab, “you don’t seem to have much choice about what we’re doing next. You’re hurt, and I need to patch you up, so stop arguing and take your shirt off.”

He opens his mouth to argue but shuts it again, eyes flicking up to your face. A hint of red creeps up his neck, settling high on his cheeks, tinging them scarlet in the low light of the cabin. You keep glaring at him. He lets out a long breath through his nose and moves to unbutton his shirt. The shirt is old, vintage, even – probably older than you – with mismatched buttons and a crumpled, frayed look. It comes apart easily, Joel’s fingers working down the buttons nimbly until he reaches the bottom. He pauses there, looks up at your face. You look away, because heat is creeping up your own neck now, hot and unbridled, as he pushes the shirt off of his shoulders and lets it fall open onto the couch behind him.

After his dark eyes, the most notable thing about Joel is his stature. He’s tall, and broad enough to fill any room he’s in. You’ve seen him lift grown men like they weigh nothing, watched him pick up a dead deer and throw it over one shoulder without so much as a stumble. Last month you went out on horseback to scope a potential hunting ground, and, sitting behind him in the saddle, you couldn’t see anything past the triangular bulk of his shoulders, your hands clasped easily around his waist. So, yeah, you know he’s strong, could tell anyone that the man is built. But when you look at him in the half-light with his shirt off, uncovered by layers of leather or plaid, the sight still sends blood rushing to your face.

His shoulders are broad, curving into thick biceps that tense as he raises a hand to scratch, self-consciously, at the back of his neck. There are small scars littering his chest, running down in narrow white slices to his belly, which is softer than the rest of him, sloping and scattered with coarse hair that continues below the buckle of his belt. You want to press your face into it, kiss the contours of his bellybutton and the plains of his chest, up to the juncture of his throat, which bobs as he swallows, eyes shifting to catch yours.

“You gonna patch me up or just stare?” He asks, and there’s something teasing in his voice, something that causes heat and slick to pool in between your thighs. “I- you’ve got a lot of scars.” You say, stupidly, tipping more Lysol onto the cloth you’re holding.

“Had a lot of run-ins with barbed wire.” He replies, the words turning to a hiss when you press the wet cloth to the cut on his shoulder.

“Should be more careful.”

“Now where would the fun be in that, darlin’?”

Oh, that’s new. You’ve heard him call Ellie pet names before, laughed when she rolls her eyes and shirks away from his affections, all fifteen years old and too cool to be coddled. But he’s never called you anything but your name – never so much as shortened it to a nickname like almost everyone else does. You flick your gaze from his wound to his face. His eyes are dark, expression unreadable, but the intensity of his gaze makes you look away, cheeks reddening. You pull the cloth away from his arm and start wrapping a clean bandage around his shoulder.

“Sorry,” he says, after a pause. “I forget, sometimes. Recently.”

“Forget what?”

“That you’re young enough to be my-” He cuts himself off here, “that you’re a hell of a lot younger’n I am.”

This makes you laugh out loud, a huff of breath exhaled. You’re still opposite each other, him on the sofa, knees spread wide, you in the kitchen chair. If you inched forward only slightly your own legs would be between his.

“Old days I’d have been old enough to drink and drive, and more than old enough to flirt, Joel.”

“That what you want? You want me to flirt with you?” His voice is low, almost a whisper.

You shrug and hold his gaze. “I think it’s what you want too. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I can’t see you.”

You have. He thinks he’s being discrete, but you’ve seen how his eyes linger on your legs, how he can’t help but drop his gaze to your chest when you wear something low cut. A few weeks ago you’d seen him adjust himself in his jeans when you stripped down to your underwear to bathe in a stream you’d come across after two days out searching for supplies.

“And how’s that?” He asks. You have to hold yourself back from leaning forward and kissing the worried crease of his mouth.

“Like you’re a man dying of thirst and I’m an oasis.”

He scoffs at that. “Shoulda been a writer, sweetheart.”

“And how does this story end?”

“Ends with you walking away from me like you should’ve months ago. This,” he flicks a finger at himself and then you, “ain’t happening.”

“Why not? You want it, I want it. I don’t see what the problem is.”

“Problem is,” he slides his arms off the sofa, reaching back to pull his shirt back up over his shoulders, “you think you know what you want, but you don’t.” He starts buttoning the shirt, fixing you with a stern look. “Trust me.”

He tries to stand but you put your hands on his knees, holding him in place.

“No way,” You say, your heart thumping in your chest, “you don’t get to decide what I do or don’t want.”

“What do you want? You want me to fuck you? Want me to spread your pretty little legs out across this couch and make you come on my tongue?”

Yes. God, yes.

“What if I do? What if that’s exactly what I want you to do?” You slide your hands further up his legs, holding him down on the couch. If he wanted to, he could push you off easily, but he doesn’t. When your fingertips reach the tops of his thighs he slides his hands over your wrists and pins them where they are, stopping you moving any higher.

“Find someone your own age, sweetheart. Someone whose knees don’t creak when the stand up. Someone who can make you happy.” And then he’s standing up, moving your hands off of him with ease, stepping around you in the kitchen chair to stride to the other side of the room, the tension collapsing in on itself as he tells you to get some sleep, that there’s more work to do tomorrow.

*****

The next morning brings rain. It hammers against the walls of the cabin and drips in through the leaky roof. Joel stands at the window, one hand on his hip, silently looking out at the downpour.

“Tell me you’re not considering going out in this?” You say, moving up behind him to peer out at the lashing rain.

“Might ease up later.” He says, turning to face you. “There’s enough to do in here to keep us occupied, anyway.”

“Guns?” You ask.

“Guns.” He agrees.

Joel’s fanatical about keeping the guns clean and working. It makes sense, you suppose. You don’t know much about his past, about how he and Ellie ended up in Jackson, but what you’ve heard, the snippets Ellie’s confided in you over quiet conversations, makes for grim listening. To Joel, those guns mean the difference between life and death.

And so you both sit at the kitchen table, meticulously cleaning Joel’s shotgun and your pistol, passing cloths and gun oil between you. You make casual conversation as you go, neither of you touching on the events of the previous evening. After he dismissed you last night you’d gone straight to bed, tucked yourself into the dusty single bed in the bedroom while Joel took the couch. Your dreams had been hazy and pleasant, and you’d woken up flushed.

You’re sliding the magazine back into your pistol when Joel jumps and swears, pulling his hand back from where he’s trapped his finger in the loading mechanism of the shotgun. A tiny bead of blood wells up and spills over his fingertip and he sighs heavily. You reach out and take his hand in yours to examine the cut. It's tiny - you've seen paper-cuts do more damage - but Joel's frowning like he's in pain.

“You’ve gotta stop being so clumsy.” You say.

“I’m not clumsy.” He replies, letting you turn his hand in yours, watching you watch his thick fingers, take in the breadth of his knuckles.

“No?”

“No. It’s-”

You're not sure what makes you do it - maybe it's frustration still boiling over from yesterday, maybe it's the way Joel looks at you as you clasp his large hand in your own smaller one -  but before he can finish speaking you pull his arm across the table and wrap your lips around his finger. You snake your tongue over the pad of the digit and the noise he makes then - a breathy, broken groan - sends fire surging through you, heat coiling between your thighs.

“Distraction.” He finishes.

When you pull your mouth away and place a wet kiss to the palm of his hand, he slides his fingers across your jaw and up into the mess of your hair. His hand is hot against your scalp, curving around the back of your neck, leading you forward so that he can fit his mouth against yours across the table.

Pleasure flutters out from the pull of his fingers in your hair, and his lips are soft and dry until he opens his mouth to you, guiding your tongue into his mouth, pressing his into yours. It’s slow at first. Tentative, as though he’s waiting for you to push him away. But you’ve never wanted anything more, and when you moan against his lips he stands, bracketing your face with both hands to pull you up from your own chair.

It’s a messy walk backwards from the table. You bump against the broken coffee table, pull away from his mouth to curse and rub your shin, but then he’s falling back onto the couch, pulling you down into his lap so that your thighs are bracketing his legs.

You pause like that, looking at each other, both breathless and dazed, lips bruised.

“This what you want?” He asks again, placing his hand at your jaw gently. His fingers are thick, hand so large that his thumb rests at your temple and while his index finger sits under your chin.

“I want you, Joel. Please.”

When he kisses you again, it’s hungry and animalistic. All pretence of hesitation is gone. He presses his mouth to your throat, lets his teeth scrape the delicate skin below your ear.

“This is still a bad idea.” He says, voice breaking when you roll your hips against his. ”Shit.”

“Please, Joel.” Your voice sounds tiny, shrill to your own ears, desperate and pathetic, but Joel bites at the juncture of your neck and it doesn’t matter, nothing matters except the feel of his hands on your hips, guiding you against him, pulling your clothed cunt against where he’s impossibly hard in his jeans.

“I’m gonna take this off.” He says, pulling at your shirt, tugging it up over your head. “And this.” He runs a hand over your covered tit, pinches your nipple beneath the thin fabric of your bra, rolls it between his finger and thumb while his other hand slides up your back and unclasps it. It falls between you, forgotten immediately.

“Fuck, darlin’, look at you.” He says, running the knuckle of his index finger over the swell of your chest, down along your ribs and across one hip. He lets his hand fall away, brings it back up to the side of your face, pulls your lips back to his and drags your bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth.

Pain and pleasure blossom through you, make you scrabble at the buttons of his shirt, fingers shaking as you try and get them undone. He helps, slides the shirt off of his back, careful where his shoulder is still sore. He balls it up and casts it across the room, then grips your hips and lifts you, turning you onto your back on the sofa, pressing himself between your open thighs. The change in angle presses the seam of your jeans against your clit, a jolt of pleasure rocking through you.

“You ever done this before?” He asks, hovering over you, dipping down to press a chaste kiss against your collarbone.

“I ain’t that innocent, Joel.” You reply, gasping when he pulls your nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth. “Have you?”

This earns you a deep chuckle, a hushed whisper against the back of your neck, “I’ve been doing this since before you were born, baby.”

And, fuck, that shouldn’t turn you on so much but it does. It has your hips lifting up, seeking out friction. Joel notices and slides down your body, dropping onto his knees on the floor. He runs one hand up the inside of your thigh, presses his thumb expertly against your covered clit.

“I’m gonna take these off now, and then you’re gonna come on my tongue. That sound okay?”

You nod, voice lost as he undoes the button on your jeans and pulls them down in one motion, pushing them away in the direction of his discarded shirt.

“Look how wet you are for me already.” He glides two fingers over the front of your soaked underwear, up to the waistband to hook them off.

And then he leans forward, presses light kisses up your thighs until he reaches your cunt. He pauses, blows a cool strip of air against you that has you trying to close your legs, but his hands are there, pinning them open for him. When he seals his lips over your clit and drags his tongue over it you thread your fingers through his hair, pull at the black-grey strands. You squeeze your eyes shut but he pulls away, chastises you gently.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart.” His voice is like molten chocolate, rich and dark, pulling you back so that you gaze down at him.

He swipes his tongue over your slit, gathers the slick that’s pooling there. He’s like a man possessed, eyes dark, hair standing up on end from where you’ve run your hands through it, cursing and moaning as he slides his tongue over your clit, starting up a firm and consistent rhythm that has you bucking against him. His hands are gripping your thighs hard enough to leave bruises, his forearms corded with muscle, biceps flexing up to those impossibly broad shoulders.

“You gonna come on my tongue?” He asks, hardly breaking away from you to grunt out the question.

“Yes, Joel, fuck, please.” You can’t seem to form a coherent sentence, can hardly force yourself to keep your eyes on him where he kneels between your thighs like you’re an altar and he’s a lonely priest begging for repentance. It’s this thought – the idea of him worshipping you, tongue lapping over your clit, his eyes blazing with lust – that tips you over the edge. Your cunt clenches around nothing, body wracked with pleasure as you come, hard, on his tongue. He grins into your cunt as he feels you come apart against him, continues pressing sloppy, wet kisses to your pussy as you come down from the high, limbs shaking. When you finally push him away, overly sensitive and buzzing with pleasure, he rocks back on his heels, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Your pleasure is painted across his face, his greying stubble wet with your slick.

He crawls back up onto the couch between your thighs, dips his head to kiss you. You taste yourself on his lip; on his tongue when he sweeps it against the back of your teeth, heady and sweet. He presses himself against you, drags the front of his jeans over your bare skin. The buckle of his belt catches against your bare stomach and you hiss into his mouth, reach down to unbuckle it. It comes off easily, falls to the floor with a dull thud, and then you slip your fingers through the buttons of his jeans, undo them quickly, desperate to get them off. He stands briefly, pushes them the rest of the way down his thick thighs and then kneels back between your legs. Immediately you slide your hand into the waistband of his briefs. He feels like velvet wrapped around steel, hot and delicious in your fist. He groans into your mouth as you palm him desperately, sliding delicate skin over the head of him, feathering the pad of your thumb against his slit. When you draw his cock out you break away from his needy mouth to look. He’s big: thick, curving slightly to the left, head already weeping precum.

“Fist feels so good wrapped around my cock, sweetheart.” He tells you, “You gonna let me fuck you?”

It’s the easiest yes you’ve ever given. He chuckles darkly at your needy reply, pushes his briefs the rest of the way off and wraps his own fist around his cock. He slides himself over your cunt, coating himself in your juices. Then he’s notching the blunt head of his cock against your entrance, sucking in a breath as he pushes in gently, slowly, stretching you out deliciously.

“Good girl,” He murmurs, easing himself deeper, feeling you flex and clench around him, “good fucking girl.”

He stills when he’s fully seated inside you, sucks at a spot under your jaw that makes you gasp with pleasure, runs one big palm up your body to paw at your breast, trying to collect himself, twitching inside you with the effort of staying still.

“Cunt’s so goddamn tight, baby.” His voice is broken, pitchy and breathy against your ear.

You run your hands over his back, feeling out the breadth of his shoulders, the thin scars that lace across them, his muscles bunching and flexing beneath your fingers when he finally – finally – starts to move inside you, rocking his hips into yours, dragging himself all the way out and then gliding back in. The head of his cock hits something inside you that sends white hot pleasure jolting through your belly. The cabin is silent now – the rain has stopped – the only sounds are your frantic breathing and low, breathy moans, and Joel’s whispered praises as he rocks against you.

Good girl, so fucking good for me, letting me fuck you like this, cunt so tight around me, could come just thinking about it.

It’s dirty and sloppy and fucking incredible. The power you’ve seen him exert on infected and drunkards and raiders suddenly coiled over you, his muscles pulling you taunt against him when he changes the angle, sits up, pulls you with him so that you’re riding him, his cock somehow buried deeper in your cunt, your thighs bracketing him. You can feel yourself growing closer to release again, pleasure notching up in your belly like fire spreading. Joel shifts slightly again, makes space for his hand to come between you, places his thumb against your clit and presses, draws out slow, gentle circles that match the pace of his thrusts.

“Need my thumb on you clit while my cock’s buried inside you, sweetheart? Gonna come again just like this, huh? Dirty fucking girl.”

His words are like fuel on the fire and within seconds you’re moaning and shaking, cunt clenching around him as you come, harder than before, on his cock. Joel fucks you through it, keeps the steady pressure on your clit.

“Gonna make me come in this tight little pussy,” He says, and you know you shouldn’t, know you should make him pull out, but he feels so good inside you that you grind down on him telling him yes, please, fist your hands into his hair to pull his mouth against yours. The kiss is desperate and messy, all teeth and tongue. He hisses into your mouth as you buck your hips and drive them down on him, and then he’s swearing, fingers digging hard into your hips.

"Jesus, you feel so fucking good, baby, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna- shit.�� He pulses inside you, painting your cunt with his come, hot and wet inside you.

You continue rocking against each other, slowly, coming down from the high. When he slides out of you and shifts away the old sofa groans out in protest, springs creaking. It makes you laugh, breathless, racking laughter than drives away the sudden realisation of what you’ve just done, of how you’ve indelibly changed the way you look at each other, the relationship between you.

“That was… fucking hell, Joel, that was incredible.”

He’s looking at you sideways, his hair still a mess, stubble still coated with your slick. He’s naked and vulnerable and you think it might just be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. When he leans across to slot his lips against yours you grin against him, trying not to think about what happens next.

[honeekyuu]

stuck. [tsukishima kei x f!reader]

>>Tsukishima is the kind of best friend that makes you want to leave him, but you just can't bring yourself to.

or

You end up confessing in the middle of a fight and he fucks you to show you how much he really cares.<<

______________________________

tags: smut, fluff, angst, best friends to lovers, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, rough sex, alcohol/drinking, college au, tsukishima kei is a dick, drunk sex, unprotected sex (dont do that), creampie, dom/sub undertones

a/n: ahahahaha this was my first hq work posted on ao3, and it is everything Mean Best Friend Tsukishima Kei that i needed. i hope you enjoy!

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

------------------

“Okay, I’m done! How do I look?”

“You look like shit.”

You sigh, trying not to let him get to you. 

Tsukki’s always been this way - dismissive, nonchalant, indifferent. Through middle school, he’d been sarcastic. He’d been snarky and brutally honest. And in high school, he’d only gotten worse. 

Anyone else in your position might have left him already. People you’d known in school had told you to find someone else, a better friend. Best friends don’t treat each other the way Tsukishima treats you , they’d said. His teammates had been in the habit of scolding him whenever he’d go too far, whenever he’d push your buttons a little too hard. The only one who could see your side had been Yamaguchi, and even he’d had his reservations at times.

But other people don’t know Tsukishima Kei. They know the Tsukki that would refuse to share his notes with you after you’d been out sick. The Tsukki that would steal parts of your lunch and hold it high above your head, far out of your reach, and call you mean names with a cruel smirk. The Tsukki that would often leave you behind after school and head home without you, leaving you to text him and wonder where he’d gone.

They don’t know that the same person would show up at your house with his notes, walking you through calculus and poetry lessons himself because he knows you learn better with a teacher. And, even though you never called him out for it, he would show up the day you’d been out sick, too, just to check on you. Just to watch movies in bed with you, waving off your concerns about him getting sick. He hated being sick, but he would ignore your complaints and force you to relax - because you’d only ever get sick when you overworked yourself, which meant he hadn’t been watching over you closely enough. 

They don’t know that Tsukki would secretly swap your lunch out for his own - better, homemade food that wasn’t the cafeteria slop you were often forced to buy because your parents weren’t home a lot. He would watch you push the food around on your tray while you’d laugh at something Hinata had said, identifying at least 3 things you were allergic to on that plate. So he would reach for it, leaving his own (allergen-free, thanks to Akiteru) lunch open for retaliation while he’d use his height as a way to take out his frustrations on you - his irritation that you never seemed to put yourself first, choosing starvation over just simply asking your parents for money before they go out of town.

And the times he’d leave you behind - well, half the time, it had been an accident. It was impossible to remember your packed schedule, all your clubs and student council meetings lumping into a vague ‘ Y/n’s busy ’ block of time in his mind. The other half of the time, it was because he needed to be alone. It’s not that he’s an asshole and loves to make you suffer - in fact, he would often call you later the same night, apologizing in his own, special Tsukishima Kei way and explaining himself. He gets overwhelmed easily, overstimulated by too many people, too many responsibilities, too many social expectations. So he would disappear as soon as he was allowed, needing to be alone with himself and no one else.

So, the people in your life had known a different version of Tsukishima than you do. Where they’d seen a bully, cold and unrelenting even for his best friend, you’d known nothing more than an introvert, expressing his care in a way that was unrecognizable to anyone but you.

Care that had carried over into college, the last three years filled with a Tsukishima Kei that even you hadn’t expected. A version of him that walks you from the library to your dorm at night, despite his increasingly hectic volleyball schedule. A Tsukishima who calls you in the morning on his walk to class to make sure you haven’t overslept, because - even if the calls consist of nothing but your crabby morning disposition, berating him for pulling you from your slumber - he knows you’ll thank him later, as you often do.

A Tsukishima who lets you drag him to parties, even though he hates them to his very core. He lets you tug him along to your dorm, lets you force him to sit through the hour-long ordeal of choosing your outfit. Lets you spin in front of him when you’re done, clearly pleased with yourself, and ask him how you look.

Lets you throw a pillow at his face when he tells you that you look like shit, even if he wholeheartedly believes otherwise.

“Tsukki, can’t you say one nice thing to me? For once?”

He scoffs when you put your hands on your hips, turning his gaze back to his phone as he lounges on your bed like it’s his own. It might as well be, with the amount of time he spends in this room.

“That would require you to have something worth being nice about, wouldn’t it?” He smiles mockingly when he catches the irritated twitch of your eyebrow.

“You’re a dick.”

“Nothing new about that.” Tsukishima watches as you turn back to your closet with a huff, taking the time to look you over appreciatively. No , he thinks, his eyes lingering on the curve of your breasts and the way your dress hugs your hips, the material tight but soft. His hand itches with the urge to touch it, to find out for himself. It’s not that you have nothing. It’s that you have too much.

He sighs, sitting up, and runs his fingers through his hair.

You have too much, and it’s fucking annoying. 

His eyes flick to you again, his own irritation growing. You’d always been too good. Too perfect, too overwhelming. He’d hated falling in love. It had sucked. High school had sucked . Having you cling to him every day and finding himself clinging right back. Not understanding these complicated feelings he has - ones that want nothing more than to hold you in his arms, against others that would tell him to push you away with his sharp tongue, to protect himself from this terrifying feeling. 

And now that he’s accepted it - it had only taken him the entirety of high school and at least a year of college - he almost hates it more. Being so close to you and somehow still feeling like he can’t breathe because it’s not nearly close enough.

So he stands, shoving his phone in the pocket of his jeans, and stares you down when you finally turn back to him.

“Can we go? The sooner we get to this stupid thing, the sooner I can go home.” He thinks he sees a flicker of hurt flash across your eyes, but that can’t be it. He’s said worse things before. You always bounce back, a retort on the tip of your tongue for everything he could throw at you. You always match him, blow for blow.

So why, then, can he see your jaw clenching as you turn away from him? Why does he feel like you’re pulling your jacket off the rack with more force than usual? Why are you leaving without responding?

What the fuck ?

-

Fuck Tsukishima Kei . 

It’s the only thought in your mind as you down the shot, wincing as the alcohol slides down your throat. You’d lost count of the drinks you’ve had about an hour ago, when the thought had been something more like ‘ Fuck Tsukishima Kei. Stupid fucking idiot. Never thinks before he speaks ’.

Clearly, you’d mellowed out a little, but the anger is still there, simmering in your chest and threatening to rise every time he gets close to you.

The walk to the frat had been silent, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about your mood, only scrolling through his phone and occasionally glancing over at you. You’d felt the irritation crawling under your skin with every pass of his eyes over you, but you hadn’t returned any of his gazes, only looking forward to getting to the party and being with other people.

But he hadn’t let you wander off so easily, his tall form following close behind as you’d tried to find some of your friends from class. You can tell he’s been trying to silently check on you, like he always does when he knows he’s bothered you. 

He’d brought you drinks, only smiling emptily when you’d glared up at him. It shouldn’t have made your heart skip that he’d done nothing more than offered you a drink, tapping his own red solo cup against yours and matching you shot for shot. It shouldn’t affect you when he does the bare minimum. 

He’d danced close to you, one hand on your waist and his warm chest pressed firmly against your back. You’d hated it - feeling so safe in the arms of someone who had derived pleasure from picking on you your whole lives. And even if that’s not true - even if you only take into account all the ways that he’d taken care of you, celebrating all your accomplishments with you and holding you while you’d cried about your failures - you still shouldn’t be feeling that familiar tug of nerves in your stomach when he presses his hips against your ass, slipping his fingers through yours and pulling you close.

And when that hadn’t worked - when you’d held your ground and managed to cling to your anger from earlier - he’d even tried to talk to you about it. That isn’t normal for him by any means, but you could see the confusion in his eyes when he’d leaned down to be heard over the music, mumbling his question against the shell of your ear.

“Are we okay ?”

It had taken everything in you to resist him, to resist the pull that is Tsukishima Kei. The same pull that had kept you next to him all these years, through all the teasing and the poking. The pull that kept reminding you that he’s just bad at expressing his feelings. He’s just bad at being nice. He’s just bad at holding his tongue.

But that doesn’t mean you have to sit and take it every time.

So you’d only smacked his hand away and glared when he’d cupped the side of your face, trying to get you to look at him. Stomping over to the bar, you had asked the frat boy for a shot of something random. 

After downing it, you try not to look back but fail miserably - you might be pissed, but you’ve never been immune to him. You probably never would be.

Glancing back, you can see his blond head in the sea of people. He’s trying to make his way to the bar, but his head is whipping to the side at the sound of something. A tall guy - you recognize it’s someone from his team - appears at his side, clapping his shoulder, and you can only assume he’d heard his name being called.

They start talking, Tsukki seeming distracted but drunk enough to at least pretend he’s interested in the conversation. You look away just as he’s turning his head back to you - you won’t be caught looking his way again tonight.

Luckily, there’s someone stepping up beside you, catching your attention with their bright smile.

“Y/n?!” 

You blink, startled by the recognition. But when you finally see who it is, you can’t help but beam.

“Oh my God, Bokuto?!” You leap toward him, wrapping your arms around the man’s neck and dragging him into a hug. You feel him laugh against you, his arms sliding around your waist and pulling you in tight. When you step away, he keeps you close, hand on your hips.

“What are you doing here?! You don’t go here, do you?” 

The man shakes his head, grinning down at you and pointing over his shoulder.

“Nah, I’m just visiting a few friends over the weekend.”

You glance past him, seeing a group of boys that seem like they could be familiar to you, but you can never tell - Bokuto Koutarou is friends with everyone.

When you look back, you catch his eyes wandering down the length of your body, his gaze snapping up to yours when you clear your throat. He has the decency to look ashamed.

“Sorry, Y/n - You’ve just, uh… grown up a lot since high school.”

You flush deeply, something that makes him grin when he catches it. 

At least someone thinks I look good tonight .

You’re smiling flirtily up at him, feeling confident enough to drag this conversation out. He seems to notice, an interested glimmer in his eye. But then he’s glancing over your shoulder, and his eyebrows are raising in surprise.

A hand wraps around your bicep, much tighter than necessary in your opinion. You barely have time to spot the blond hair in your peripheral vision before you’re being dragged away. You can only wave at Bokuto, who looks a little disappointed but mostly just amused.

Tsukishima only lets you go when you’re outside, his hand dropping from your skin like you’ve burned him. You whip around to face him, more than ready to yell at him on the front lawn of this frat house. But he’s already walking away, in the direction of your dorm.

“Dude, what the hell? You didn’t even say hi to him - he’s one of your closest friends!” You stalk after him, determined to figure out what could possibly be going through his mind. But he won’t answer you, just shaking his head and mumbling something that sounds vaguely like ‘exactly ’ as he makes his way down the street.

You scoff, turning back to the frat. He’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re just going to follow him home quietly.

You start to head back to the party, but you barely make it five steps before his fingers are closing around your wrist and tugging you back to him. When you look up, enraged at his entitlement, you see that he’s incensed, staring down at you with wild eyes. He looks pissed, which he has no reason to be. But there’s something else there, something that’s contributing to this almost panicked anger sitting just below the surface.

“Tsukishima, what do you want?” 

He bristles at the use of his full name, golden eyes narrowing as he stares down at you.

“You’re going home.” He punctures every word with barely concealed irritation, finally turning and dragging you back down the street. You don’t say anything this time, feeling that previously mellowed out anger returning full force as you stare at the back of his head.

The walk back is just as silent as the walk to the party had been, but this time you feel ready to explode. You’d been annoyed before, bothered and hurt by his words and the way he treats you.

Now you’re just ready to pick a fight. Which means you’ll probably say something you’ll regret if you don’t get away from him soon and take some time to calm the hell down.

When you get to your door, you’ve already got your keys out. He’d let go of you in the elevator, finally realizing that he’d been gripping you way too hard. You might just be able to get inside without him following.

But the second you unlock the door and slip inside, not a word said to the blond as you try to shut the door behind you, his hand is slamming down on the wood. He stops your attempt, staring down at you with annoyance.

“You’re joking, right?” And then he’s pushing into your room with an angry sigh, letting the door swing shut behind him. You only step back, crossing your arms over your chest as you look him over.

“What do you want?”

“What do I wa- What is your problem tonight ?” He squints down at you, eyebrows furrowed. When you only raise yours, his jaw is clenching. “Why the fuck are you so mad at me?”

“Because-” You stop yourself, taking a deep breath in order to maintain some semblance of control. “Because you’re an asshole, Tsukishima-”

“Stop fucking calling me that, Y/n-”

“-and maybe I’m just not in the mood for your shit tonight!” You yell over him, clenching your fists against your body. You need him to go. You cannot let him see you cry.

“I’m always an asshole! How is tonight any different-” He’s taken a step further into the small bedroom, and you take a step back, feeling overwhelmed. You’re immensely glad you don’t have a roommate, so they don’t have to deal with the mess that is your friendship with Tsukki.

“Tonight isn’t any different, you dick. It’s the same as it always is. I’m just tired of it tonight.” You feel yourself growing angrier when he just laughs, throwing you a mocking smile as he paces the room. He’s definitely drunk.

“Oh, excuse me, I didn’t realize I needed to account for Little Miss Y/n’s fucking mood swings whenever I open my mouth-”

“What the fuck did you just sa-”

“I just didn’t take you for someone who’s sensitive-”

“Well, maybe I am, you fucking asshole! ”

You’re definitely drunk, too.

Tsukishima stops short, taking you in. He can’t hide the shock on his face when he sees you - the way your hands are shaking at your sides, the quiver of your lip as you try your best to stand up to him. You’re trying so hard not to cry, he can tell.

Wow, I really am an asshole.

“Y/n… I-”

“Did you really think I would still want to go to that party once you’d made it clear how much you didn’t want to go? That you think it’s stupid to hang out with your best friend on a Friday night doing something she wants to do - because your idea of a good time is so different from mine that you would try make me feel like a fucking idiot for it?” 

Tsukishima’s starting to panic - had he made you feel that way? He’d just been talking. He hadn’t even been thinking about how it would make you feel - he’d thought nothing could hurt you, that your friendship is guaranteed and that having you next to him is a given. 

Now he feels like he’s losing you. 

“Maybe, once in a fucking while , it wouldn’t hurt you too much to tell a girl she’s pretty when she’s just spent an hour trying to look good for you.”

The frustration on Tsukishima’s face drops, and he’s left staring emptily at you. 

That’s what this is about? 

He stares for a while, his eyes just flicking back and forth between yours as he thinks of how to take that. It makes you nervous. You’d said too much. 

“Fuck this.”

You blink, staring up at him in disbelief. What is that supposed to mean?

“What do you- mmh -” 

Tsukishima had crossed the room in just two steps, taking your face in his hands while you’d been preparing to yell at him again. And then he’d smashed his lips to yours.

Your heart jumps into your throat, and you let out a noise of shock, muffled against his mouth. Your eyes remain wide open, flitting in a panic over his features as you feel his lips move against yours. His brow is furrowing behind his glasses, and you’re realizing that you still haven’t kissed him back. You push against his lips experimentally, watching that wrinkle between his eyes all but disappear when he feels it, and you think it looks a lot like relief.

He’s nervous.

Your body moves of its own accord, hands sliding up his chest to grip at his shirt, and your eyes slide closed when you feel one of his hands fall to your waist. He nudges you backward, and you feel the hard surface of your closet door against your back.

Tsukishima slides his tongue against your bottom lip, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he feels you inhale sharply in response. He takes advantage of your surprise, pushing past your lips and brushing his tongue against yours. When you slide your hands up and around his neck, tugging at the hair there, he groans and leans down. 

Planting a hand on the door behind you, he angles his head, slotting his lips against yours. He presses his hips into you, and you can feel how hard he’s getting. You sigh into his mouth at the feeling, smiling when his body reacts to the sound, his cock hardening against your thigh. 

Tsukishima Kei might be impossible to read sometimes, but he never could hide from you.

He drops his mouth to your neck, latching onto a spot under your ear and using his other arm to pull you flush against him. The sounds you’re making are clear now, soft gasps and whimpers echoing in your tiny dorm room.

“So stupid… ” 

You barely hear him, too busy wondering why it had taken so long to feel his lips on your skin.

“The only person in the world that can see right through me, and you were stupid enough to believe what I said. ” He mumbles it into your ear, taking your earlobe between his teeth and sighing when you moan against him.

“You’re so mean…” Your breath catches in your throat when you feel his hand drop to your leg, pulling the fabric of your dress up slightly. He grips at the back of your bare thigh, brushing against your panties and kneading into the plush skin just below your ass.

“What were you gonna do, Y/n, go home with Bokuto?” Tsukishima all but growls the question against your neck, dragging your thigh up and wrapping your leg around his hip. He feels your dress slide up, feels your warmth against his jeans. He’s desperate to get out of them.

“Y-You called me ugly-”

“I never said that.” Yes he had. He knows he had. He just hadn’t realized you would take it to heart. Now he hates himself for even saying it. For pretending you aren’t the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

“Bo said I looked good… Figured I might as well go for someone who’s actually attracted to me…” You whimper when Tsukishima presses his erection against you, your thin panties useless against the rough fabric of his jeans.

“Does it feel like I’m not attracted to you?”

You breathe out a laugh, clinging to his biceps as he sucks another bruise into your skin.

“How was I supposed to know, you dumbass? You only ever say mean things, and I thought I could get over you by-”

“By what?” He’s getting irritated again at the thought of what could have happened tonight if he hadn’t brought you home. If he’d left you alone, like his brain was telling him to. If he’d given you space and just texted you in the morning. 

“You thought you could just fuck some other guy and get over me?” He lifts his head, grinning cruelly when you look up at him, your lip trembling. “Because I didn’t call you pretty tonight? Because you were tired of me being mean all the time?”

You nod, a gasp leaving you when he wraps an arm around your waist and hoists you up so you’re eye-level, slamming you back against the closet door and pinning you there with his hips. Your dress is bunched up around your stomach now, leaving Tsukishima with a perfect view of the wet spot on your panties when he glances down. His grin widens, an evil glint shining behind his glasses.

“But it seems like you like it when I say mean things, Y/n.”

You whine in protest, growing louder when you feel him rut involuntarily against you at the sound.

“This is different, Tsukki-”

“Is it?” He’s distracted when he asks, too busy steadying you in his arms so he can lift you up and away from the closet. Making his way to your bed, he drops you unceremoniously on the mattress, smiling when you yelp. He removes his glasses and leaves them on your bedside table, dropping to his knees at the edge of the bed and wrapping his arms around your thighs so he can drag you toward him.

You sit up, taking his face in your hands and pressing your lips urgently to his - even on his knees, he’s tall enough to be eye-level with you. You feel his fingers, long and calloused, drift up your thighs and hook into your panties while he nips almost affectionately at your bottom lip.

“Tsukki… ” You whisper against his mouth, but he’s quick to shake his head, mumbling back to you.

“Not that. ”

You’re a little surprised - you never really call him by his first name. He’d found it uncomfortable the one time you’d tried it as a joke. But if he’s asking, then-

“Kei .” His pulse quickens under your fingertips when you murmur against his lips, his kiss becoming more full, and you realize just how much he likes it.

You pull away and press kisses to his face, peppering them across his nose and cheeks. It’s a moment that’s far softer than either of you had had before, one that has Tsukishima’s heart beating a little too hard in his chest. 

God, he hates being in love.

He pulls away from you, planting one hand on your chest and shoving you away from him. You fall back onto your elbows with a noise of surprise, bouncing lightly on the mattress. Tsukishima only reaches for your panties again, tugging them down and smiling to himself when you lift your hips to help him. 

He throws them somewhere over his shoulder, refusing to break his attention. Planting his hands on each of your knees, he pries your knees open slowly, glancing up at your face for any signs of discomfort. When he finds none, his gaze flicks back down to what’s in front of him.

And then his breath is cutting short at the sight of you lying bare in front of him. You’re glistening, even in this dark room, and his cock is suddenly unbearably hard. 

He’d been thinking about this moment for far longer than he’d ever care to admit. 

“Well, isn’t this just the prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen?” 

You throw your head back at his words, moaning loudly. 

“Oh, shut up.” You know Tsukki’s slept with his fair share of girls since you’d started college - being a popular volleyball player has its benefits. You’d done the same, hoping to squash down that jealousy in your own, twisted way. To hear him praising you like this - like you’d always wanted - has you clenching and squirming from the desire coursing through your veins.

“First you get mad because I’m too mean, and now you’re mad because I’m being nice?” He tilts his head, his voice mocking. “You really need to make up your mind.” 

And then, before you can let out some kind of snarky quip, he’s dipping his head and dragging his tongue over your slit in one long stripe. 

You gasp loudly and moan out his name, falling back onto the mattress as your hands fly to his head. You bury your fingers in his hair, tightening your grip when he does it again, licking through your folds before latching onto your clit, pulling the nub gently into his mouth.

He moans loudly against you when you mewl and pull his hair. The vibration on your clit makes you squirm, and you’re involuntarily rutting your hips against his face. He only laughs against you, his breath tickling your skin, and wraps an arm over your hips to hold you steady on the bed.

He pulls his mouth off of you, and you lift your head to look at him in annoyance. He smirks, holding eye contact while he brings his other hand to your folds. When he runs his fingers through them, stopping briefly to circle your clit, you whimper. And when he drops his middle finger to your entrance, nudging gently at it in question, you bite your lip and nod furiously, just wanting him to touch you already-

“Oh my- Kei-” Your head falls back when he slides his finger in and drops his mouth to your clit to suck on it. He sets his pace with his finger, thrusting into you and curling gently up toward himself, repeating the process until he can tell by your squirming hips that you’re starting to feel something.

And then he’s pushing another finger past your entrance, his cock twitching when you moan at the stretch. He’s been painfully hard for a while now, and all he wants is to be inside you of already. He doesn’t realize you’re feeling just as impatient, only noticing when your hands drop to his shoulders, tugging on his shirt.

“Kei …” You pout down at him, your eyelids fluttering when he thrusts his fingers into you again. His fingertips are brushing against a spot you’ve never been able to reach yourself, his fingers much longer than yours. You think you might become addicted to his hands soon. But you only pull again on his shirt with a whine, hoping he’ll get the message. 

Luckily, he does, because he’s pulling away to rip his shirt impatiently off his back, wiping his mouth with it before throwing it to the floor. He unzips his jeans as he makes his way up to the bed, pausing to scoop you up into his arms and tossing you closer to your pillows so he can climb on top of you.

When he pushes his mouth to yours, you’re moaning. He tastes like you, something he’s apparently proud of, because he’s just smiling against you and shoving his tongue past your lips. He drops his mouth to your neck again as he fumbles with his jeans.

“You taste so good, you know that?” He latches onto your skin, sucking harshly. “So much better than I’d imagined.” He pushes his pants just past his thighs, growing impatient. You gasp quietly when his cock brushes against you, the sound changing to a moan when Tsukishima runs it through your folds, sliding against you.

He lifts his head to look at you, his eyes searching yours in a moment of astounding clarity given the insanity of this whole night.

“You sure?”

Your heart jumps when he asks. He’s got the tip of his cock nudging against your entrance, clearly holding himself back. But the way he’s looking at you makes you realize he wants this to be done right - after all, this had started with the two of you fighting. He doesn’t want you to regret this later and be even more upset with him.

He doesn’t want to lose you.

The idea that that’s what been hiding behind Tsukki’s eyes tonight - that vague panic that you couldn’t put your finger on - makes your heart sing and your stomach swoop with butterflies. You can only nod, cupping his face and bringing him down to your lips. His kiss is gentle and full of something that makes your nerves worse, something that makes you feel more than sure.

“I want this more than anything.”

Tsukishima’s heart skips, and he’s swearing softly against your lips. He hovers over you, keeping his mouth on yours as he presses his thumb against the head of his cock, guiding it past your entrance.

You gasp together as he pushes slowly into you, a moan pulled from your throat when he bottoms out and breathes out your name. The fog in your head - a mixture of alcohol, arousal, and nerves at the realization that you’re having sex with your best friend - worsens considerably when he drops his head to your neck, making an admission against your ear.

I’ve wanted this for so long …”

You whimper, curling your fingers into his hair and holding him close as he pulls out slowly just to slide into you again. You moan at the slow stretch, feeling his shaky breath against your ear.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you…” Tsukishima doesn’t know why he’s choosing now to have this conversation, when you very well can just talk about it after. But there’s a strand of fear twisting around the butterflies in the pit of his stomach, and his mouth is moving without his permission. He needs you to understand what this means to him.

“I didn’t know it would hurt you… I didn’t mean it…” His hips are still slow, moving languidly against yours. He’d expected this to be rough - sex is only ever rough for him - but he needs to concentrate on what he’s saying. And you feel so good like this, so warm and tight around him.

You’re having the same problem, your head completely empty as you feel him push into you inch by inch instead of all at once. You can barely hear him, your ears ringing and your skin overheating while you try to process that this is actually happening - that you finally have Tsukishima Kei the way that you’d always dreamed about.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, Y/n.”

Your heart stutters when you realize what he’s been saying. Even with everything else going on right now - even as his hips are picking up the pace, even with his breath shuddering against your skin as he moans quietly in your ear - he’s distracted, trying to apologize. Trying to make things right between you.

“It’s okay…” You whisper forgiveness into his hair, but you feel him shake his head, his grip on your hips tightening.

“It’s not. I shouldn’t hurt you. Not you…” He gasps quietly into your neck, his hips stuttering momentarily before he returns to his previous speed. “S-Sorry… You feel really good… Trying to focus.”

You flush, clenching around him and pulling him closer when he groans. You think about what he’s saying. ‘ Not you ’?

You’re about to ask what he means, but he’s mumbling another admission against your skin, this one much more intense than the last.

“I love you, Y/n… So fucking in love, it hurts…”

You inhale sharply, your heart stopping in your chest. But then there’s a moan ripping from your throat, because he’s hitting a spot in you that you didn’t even know existed, the tip of his cock bumping up against something that makes the coil in the pit of your stomach twist harshly.

“I- fuck - Tsukki, I love you, too…”

Tsukishima lifts his head then, staring down at you with surprise written all over his face. You can only breathe out a laugh, moaning quietly while you giggle.

“What, you’re shocked? I just told you I almost went home with Bokuto just so I could stop thinking about you.”

His eyes darken at your words, and his hips are snapping harshly against yours. You moan in surprise, feeling your stomach flip at the way he’s looking down at you. He seems to remember now just how this night could have gone.

He sits up, knocking your hands away when you reach out for him with a whine, and pulls out of you completely. Slipping off the edge of the bed, he wraps his hands around your thighs and tugs you toward him roughly. He only smiles mockingly down at you when you slide across the mattress with a quiet yelp, pulling your hips flush against his.

When he slips into you again, the soft, caring Tsukishima is gone, replaced with the Tsukki you’ve always known. The one who has no problem running his mouth just to get to you.

“That’s it then, huh? If I hadn’t dragged you home, you’d be wrapped around another man right now?” He slams into you, watching with delight as you cry out and arch your back. He keeps this pace, his grip on your hips bordering on painful as he drives his cock into you.

“Tsukki-”

“What did I tell you? ” His tone cuts through you, yanking hard on that coil in your navel and setting off a fresh flurry of butterflies.

“I- Kei -”

“You think you can forget about me that easily? You think I would let you?” 

You’re writhing under him, hands gripping your sheets tight as you gasp with each hard thrust of his hips on yours. The sight makes Tsukishima’s hips stutter, and he feels his orgasm coming on. He drops his thumb to your clit to push you closer to the edge, throwing his head back with a moan when you clench around him.

“Kei, please- feels so goo- ah- ”

“S-Shit, Y/n, I’m not gonna last… Where should I-” Tsukishima almost loses it when you claw at his hands on your hips, latching onto his wrists as you moan.

“Insi-Inside… Inside, Kei, please…” You look up at him, taking in the flush of his cheeks, the way his eyelids flutter when you clench around him. The way he bites down hard on his bottom lip and moans after a few seconds, breaking his hold on you so he can slam his hands down on the mattress on either side of you, his hair falling into his face as he pants down at you.

“Fuck -” He reaches down, brushing his thumb over your clit again. When you tighten around him this time, he’s letting out a choked gasp and your name, and you’re suddenly filled with warmth as his hips stutter, as he spills into you. He drops his head to your shoulder, his breath shaky as he thrusts into you, riding out his orgasm.

And when he’s done - when his cum is dripping out of you while you squirm, feeling full but unsatisfied - he sits up, pulling you against him again. He wraps his fingers around your wrists, smiling breathlessly when you cling to his forearms, and uses you as leverage when he draws his hips back and snaps them harshly into yours.

You cry out, feeling yourself throb the more he all but drags you down onto his cock and tries to draw your orgasm out of you. He releases your wrists, his thumb circling that little bundle of nerves while his other hand grips the back of your thigh, spreading your legs even further. 

When he changes the angle of his stroke, you’re gasping, unable to handle all of the sensations he’s causing in your body. There’s too much going on, too many feelings happening, each of which is bringing you closer to the edge. You slap your hands down over your face, trying both to muffle your moans and also hide your face, feeling embarrassed that your body is reacting so strongly to everything Tsukishima does.

He only coos down at you, his tone almost insulting.

“Oh, is my baby going to come?”

You whine loudly at his words, so rude but so endearing - your stomach swoops as the coil tightens, but you nod anyway. His low chuckle reaches your ears.

“Let me see you, then.” When you don’t respond, only moaning into your hands with each thrust, he clicks his teeth at you in annoyance. “Come on, Y/n. I wanna see how pretty my best friend looks when she comes on my cock.”

Tsukishima beams when that does it, your back arching as you cry out his name. You screw your eyes shut and fumble desperately for his hands. He slips his fingers through yours, holding tight when you come, your walls fluttering around him. He fucks you through it, inhaling sharply when you become impossibly tight, and then drops down over you when you're done, pressing his lips to yours.

You let out a sob against his mouth, your limbs heavy as you try to catch your breath. 

“Tsukki …” You wiggle uncomfortably, wrapping your arms around his neck and clinging to him. He laughs against your neck, pressing kisses to your skin. And then he leans up again, pressing his lips to your tiredly.

“Let me get you cleaned up.” He snickers when you whine but joins in on your soft gasp when he slides out of you, both of you sensitive. Stripping you out of the dress that’s been bunched up on your stomach this whole time, he leaves you on the bed, kicking his jeans off as he makes his way into your connected bathroom. When he returns, it’s with a wet rag and a gentle hand on your thighs.

Tsukishima scoops you into his arms when he’s done, setting you carefully against the pillows and climbing into bed with you. Your head is still empty, and you reach your arms out uselessly for him, mumbling his name. He only smiles, pulling you against his chest and kissing the side of your head.

“You okay?” When you nod sleepily against his chest, he smiles, tugging you closer. “Not too mean?”

You giggle, planting a kiss on his neck.

“I like you a little mean.”

Tsukishima snorts, shaking his head.

“I know you do. But still…” He meets your eyes, suddenly shy, his cheeks flushing. “I’ll be better from now on. Less ‘ toxic boyfriend ’ and more ‘ insufferable but still cute ’.”

You beam at his words, your heart skipping.

“Boyfriend , huh?”

He rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh, I’m sorry - I forgot you and Bokuto were basically married.”

“Oh, right, I should probably tell him the wedding’s off-”

“You’re a dick.”

[only-luce-the-goose]

The Prank

A/N: my first formula fic!! My requests are open if you have someone you want me to write for!

Arthur Leclerc x Norris Reader

Trope: Dumbasses (best friends to lovers)

Warnings: Swearing, kissing, nothing else really

This is based of something I was on Twitter (I refuse to call it X): person a says “I came up with a good prank”. Person b asks what it is, a says “we should kiss”. B says “I don’t get it”, a says “imagine them walking in to see us kissing and just being like “WHAAAAAT??” B says “oh, that’s hilarious. We totally should”

Synopsis: You and Arthur have been best friends since he saved you from a bully when you were kids. You grew up in the Leclerc household, so they knew you very well. You followed Arthur around the world for his racing career. You guys had been given the nickname "Terrible Two's" for all the pranks you pulled around the paddock. Sometimes you pulled them on each other, sometimes you teamed up and pulled pranks together but there was one prank that really topped off the rest of your pranks.

"Y/N!!!" Arthur shouted from the shower in your shared bedroom. He walked out as you hit record on your phone, filming as he appeared. He had his towel wrapped dangerously low around his waist, his hair was dyed a deep red with remnants of the dye dripping down his chest. "Seriously?" he scolded "I have to go to the Ferrari pit tomorrow and my hair is bright red!" You could see the fury in his eyes as you laughed. "Yeahhhh, you're gonna be matching the cars". He crossed his arms over his muscly chest and scowled "Stop filming me, idiot" you rolled your eyes and chucked "Whatever, moron" you said as you stopped recording. You posted it to your story, with the caption "Ready for @ scuderiaferrari tomorrow!" and tagged him in it.

You heard Arthur's phone buzz from the vanity in the bathroom as he headed back in to dry off. You stood up to pack up a bit from your day, getting as ready as you can for tomorrow. This time he came out in a pair of checkered sleep pants, saw you stand up in front of your suitcase and lunged at you, tackling you into the bed. You shrieked as he started assaulting (tickling) you. "St-st-op Art- arty" giggled out. "You turned me red, then posted it for the whole fucking world to see. You deserve this" After successfully kicking him onto the floor, you noticed your phone vibrating in your pocket.

You swiped accept on the call as you answered "Ah, my favourite Leclerc brother. What can I do for you Charlie?" You heard Arthur shout and "Oi" from the floor, making Charles laugh. "I just needed to see Arthur's hair" he grinned. You flipped the camera around and showed a Shirtless, red-haired Arthur lying on his back on the ground. Charles burst out laughing "good to see the support, brother" he got out in between laughter. "I'll leave you to whatever you're doing, y/n. Thank you so much for Arthur's hair" he chuckled as you said goodbye and he hung up. You leaned over the side of the bed, making eye contact with the boy on the floor "wanna get Charles tomorrow?" you asked him. "The day I say no is the day the world ends" he replies. You laughed as you rolled under your covers, Arthur standing up and getting into the bed next to yours, agreeing to come up with the prank tomorrow.

I was lying awake in bed, I couldn’t sleep. All I could think about was how Arthur came out of the shower earlier, his glorious torso on display, towel so low you could see his v-line. All I wanted to do was go over and kiss him silly, he’s so hot when he’s cranky. My crush on his has lasted years and he has no idea. I couldn’t ever tell him, it would ruin our friendship and I don’t ever want to lose him. If we’re friends forever then so be it. I put my earbuds in and put on a good playlist, drifting off to my favourite song.

I woke up the next morning with a crushing weight on my chest and hair tickling my nose. It wasn’t until I felt the fingers tickling my ribs thats I started wriggling around, trying to get the giant on my body. “Arty what the fuck” I grumbled “I was having a really good sleep you prick”. He chuckled and rolled off me, lying next to me a pulling me body into his. I looked up, nearly bumping his nose with mine. I was really hoping he couldn’t feel how fast my heart was beating. “We have a prank to plan”

After you finished getting ready, you hopping in the car with Arthur and headed towards the paddock, brainstorming pranks in the car. “I came up with a brilliant one” Arthur tells you. “Ooo what is it?” My curiosity peaked. We haven’t been able to think of any good ones for Charles all morning. “We should kiss” he said nonchalantly. If I had a drink I would have choked on it, instead I stuck to internally freaking out while my heart started beating out of my chest. “Umm what? I don’t get it. How is that a good prank?” I stutter.

Arthur laughs “just think about it. He walks into his drivers room to find his younger brother and childhood best friend making out, our hands all over each other. You could sit on my lap and we could really go to town, Charles would walk in and freak out. He might even faint!” It hurt a little to think that Arthur only wanted to kiss me for a pranks, but there ain’t no way I’m passing up and opportunity to kiss my crush, even if it isn’t supposed to mean anything.

“Ohhh I get it, that’s would be fucking hilarious. We just have to time it really well and make sure no one sees us go in there” I add on. Arthur agrees “that’s it then, the perfect prank” I chuckle at his declaration. We pull up the paddock, scan our passes and make our way in, making small talk with people but never straying too far from each other.

We saw Charles doing some media before he needed to go in and change into his fireproofs and race suits. I tapped on Arthur’s and should and pointed at his brother, explaining my thinking. I agreed and we rushed inside the Ferrari garage, making our way to the drivers room. I hung around the front of it, keeping an eye out Charles so we could start making out at the perfect time.

A huge group of people made their way, signalling that Charles was moving closer. You could hear him and Carlos talking about the track as they came closer. I quickly slipped into his drivers room, finding Arthur already sitting on the bench. I walked over to him as he patted his lap, “hang on” I semi whispered. I could hear that Charles and Carlos had stopped walking, they couldn’t have been too far from the doors. Once I could hear Charles getting louder I looked back at Arthur, “you ready Arty?” I asked. He nodded and pulled me into his lap.

I moved me knees to go on their side of this body, my right hand slide to the back of neck, sliding my hand though his hair and I grabbed a handful of his fluffy hair. My left hand sling around his broad shoulders. His left hand dipped under my shirt to hold my waist, his other hand wound around my neck. He offered me a kind smile as he used the hand around my back to guide me towards his lips.

It started with small pecks, quickly moving to Arthur slipping his tongue into my mouth, exploring while he got the opportunity. Moved myself closer to him, gripping his hair harder which caused him to let out a low moan. I heard the door to the driver room open as I kept making out with my best friend. The hand around my neck moved to ass, moving me to grind on him a bit.

Charles and Carlos stood in the doorway, dumbfounded before Carlos turned to Charles and said “told you they had a thing for each other, cabrõn” and walked off. Charles stared at his friend as he walked off. He looked back at us, still making out as he walked in. He slammed the door shut, making us jump. “What the fuck is going on? Why are you making out? Why are you doing it in my drive room? Oh my god I need to sit down” he rambled.

I got off Arthur as we started cackling, Arthur turned to me and said “told you it was a good prank, he’s absolutely freaking out” I laughed and looked back at Charles. He looked at us like we just old him Santa wasn’t real. “Wait, this is a prank?” He asked as we nodded “I thought I wouldn’t have to listen to Arthur whine about you anymore y/n but this is going to make it so much worse” I was about to ask something when Arthur grabbed my arm and dragged me out.

Once we got outside the garage I stopped Arthur. “Hang on, Arty. Just stop for a second” he stared at the floor. “What did Charles mean when he said you were whining about me?” I asked him. He tried to deflect the question and walk off. I grabbed his hand, turning him to me and lifting his head the make eye contact with me, asking my question again.

Arthur sighed, putting his hands on either side of my face and kissed me. It wasn’t desperate like the previous make out. It was slow and loving. “I don’t really know to say this, now that Charles has outed me, but I’ve liked you for years. The more than best friends kinda like. The reason I came up with that kissing prank was to get the chance to kiss you, even if it is supposed to be to mean nothing.”

Arthur kept rambling, struggling make eye contact. He looked at him, then smashed your lips into his “I like you more than I best friend should too. I have for years” you smile against Arthur’s lips as he kissed you.

[ventismacchiato]

O4 stuck with you — screaming and fighting !

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

You and Scaramouche were dragged backstage and away from prying eyes, faces flushed and chests rising as the adrenaline from the argument on stage had yet to wear off. The dressing room was still, only filled with you both throwing insults at one another. The rest of your group members shared sheepish looks with one another, deciding to let you both get it out of your system.

As soon as the door was tightly shut you whirled around to face Scara.

“You just always have to get the last word, don’t you?” you asked, stepping closer to him.

“You’re the one who started yelling at me, I was just defending myself,” Scaramouche replied, his tone equally heated, but his posture was much more composed than you. 

“You’re the one who told me to give up,” you accused. 

“Yeah, give up the trophy so I could hold it,” Scara sighed.

“Yeah, as if you deserve to hold it.”

“Now that you mention it, I do deserve it more than you.” 

“You don’t know what it’s like to actually work for something,” you glared, voice laced with contempt, “You probably get everything handed to you by your mom.”

He glanced away, abruptly uncomfortable. “You shouldn’t talk. Your voice is even more unpleasant when you’re whining.” 

Naturally, you kept talking

“That’s the only reason you’re even here with the rest of us,” you continued, letting your jealousy cloud your senses, “I can’t be the only one who thinks that.”

Scaramouche’s face hardened. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he muttered, shoving his way past you to leave the dressing room before turning around one last time.

“Nobody even knew she was my mother until I became a trainee. I used a different name on the application forms. But if hanging onto that little fact makes you feel better about being so pathetic then be my fucking guest.” 

And with that he slammed the door behind him.

You hated the way he could make you inexplicably self-conscious. It used to be a foreign sensation, one left behind long ago in insecure adolescence.

You stood there, breathing heavily, as the door swung shut. The room was silent, everyone stunned by the intensity of the confrontation.

Lumine stepped up and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, slowly guiding you outside to cool off. 

“We’re also gonna head back,” Aether awkwardly laughed, grabbing Childe and Kazuha by their collars and dragging them out.

“So, that just happened.”

“Shut up, Venti.”

“We really need to broaden your vocabulary, Y/n. Your insults could be better.”

“You too, Fischl! Zip it!”

stuck with you!

masterlist — prev | next

begging u guys to let me use ur usernames as fans in this au pls let me make u a crazy stantwt user xx but pls comment on the masterlist so i see it

also everyone saying scara keeps eating yn up w insults is sending me 😭😭

title from the way i loved you by ts it suits scarayn so well

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

notes — 👍 leave me comments and asks instead of begging for updates pleek i need motivation to post more

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[forever-rogue]

I saw this one post on Twitter of how this girl’s bf pre-padded her underwear for her when she was in the shower and I thought it would be a cute idea if you wrote something like this for Eddie?

AN | No, but this is so sweet! Eddie would totally be that boyfriend. 💕

Warnings | Language, Reader has period

Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.6k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You groaned as you flopped onto your bed, tired and hungry, and feeling like your insides were eating themselves. You laid there for a moment before, wondering if you could kick off your pants and just continue lying there. It was a feeble attempt and didn’t get you very far and it just made things even more uncomfortable. 

“Fuck,” with a heavy sigh, you rolled onto your back and stared at your ceiling, breathing in and out slowly in order to attempt to quell your internal turmoil, “fuck.”

Before you could get up, your phone buzzed next to you. When you grabbed it and saw that there was a new text from Eddie, you immediately felt better. And then remembered that you were supposed to spend the night at his place tonight. Now you weren’t so sure that you should. Not that you were weirded out by having your period in front of Eddie, or that Eddie would be grossed out by it, you were genuinely feeling terrible…and mildly worried about Eddie witnessing you having your period.

But you really wanted to see Eddie. It had been a few days since you’d seen him, both of you busy with work and other fun adult things, and you’d been missing him a lot. You were going to see him, you decided, he was worth dealing with a little pain. 

You texted him back and let him know that you’d be over soon, but also warned him that your period had started. Just in case you got there and fell asleep within minutes after eating a bar of chocolate. 

After you managed to peel yourself off the bed, you packed your overnight bag and headed to Eddie’s apartment. If there was anything that could make you feel better it was Eddie and motrin. You’d consumed the one and were only a short drive away from the other.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie opened the door for you before you even managed to knock, a pretty smile on his face and his big brown eyes alive and bright. 

“Hey baby,” he took your bag from you before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling in you for a sweet kiss, “missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too,” his sweet words always still managed to make your face warm up. You wrapped your arms around him and hugged tightly onto him, causing him to laugh softly. He set down your bag before hugging you back just as fiercely, before taking your face in his hands and peppering your face in gentle kisses.

“There’s my girl,” he whispered as finally managed to put a proper smile on your face, “I’m sorry you’re suffering. But I’m glad you’re here so I can hopefully make you feel better.”

“Just seeing you has made me feel better,” you promised, “besides, it’s not like you made me get my period.”

“No…but I can help you get rid of it,” it took you a moment to catch onto what he was saying - until you saw the smirk and raised eyebrow on his face, “for a while anyway.”

“I…Eddie,” you playfully shoved him as the two of you laughed, your face warm at the idea of getting pregnant by him, “first of all - you’re the worst. And second of all, let’s get back to that discussion in a few years.”

He didn’t say anything but he managed to make a small sound in the back of the throat, that sounded almost strained. He was immediately struggling not to let his mind wander too far in that direction just yet, “yeah - yeah, c’mon. Tell me how to make it better. Have you eaten? Are you hydrated? Need a nap?”

“Yes…ish to both of those,” you offered him a sheepish expression as you walked into the kitchen to get yourself some water. He trailed after you with an incredulous look on his face. He definitely wouldn’t have been able to handle it as well as you, “I’ve been working and dying, Eddie. I haven’t had time to worry about anything!”

“Well, how about you let me make it better? I’m going to make dinner and you’re going to take a nice, hot shower,” he started to usher you towards the bathroom, “I’ve heard that can help. So hopefully it does. I got that body wash and shampoo and conditioner that you like too. You’re here enough anyway, figured it’d be nice for you to have some stuff here.”

“You did that for me?” you turned around and looked at him with wide eyes as he slowly nodded.  Your heart warmed; you had been spending more and more time at his place and it was nice to have things moving in that direction. You did want to move in with him soon - everytime you imagined your future it was always with Eddie. You sighed softly, “that’s so sweet, Eddie. Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he insisted, “I just want you to be comfortable and feel better.”

“Do you know one thing that would help even more?” you offered him a coy smile which was answered with a soft laugh.

“You want some of my clothes for pajamas?” he asked as you nodded eagerly, “one step ahead of you. I’ve got a fresh towel and clean clothes for you in the towel warmer.”

Before he met you, he’d never have even considered a towel warmer. Hell, he didn’t even know that people actually owned them. It seemed like such a ridiculous luxury, and maybe it was, but he was willing to listen. You’d insisted that he needed one and that they were totally worth it…the next time you were over at his place, he’d bought a towel warmer. 

“You are amazing, Eddie Munson,” you pulled him in for a kiss and let your lips linger against his. His arms wrapped around you without hesitation as he kissed you a few more times, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” his big brown eyes grew soft as he practically turned to putty in your arms, “now go and get comfy and warm and I’ll make dinner.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie had gone in and turned on the shower, turning it to the perfect temper. You’d shaken your head at him, but before he left you to your own devices, he helped you to gently strip off your clothes. It was such a small, intimate thing, but it meant so much to you. Once you were rid of all your clothing, Eddie held your hand as you stepped into the shower.  He gave you a small kiss before heading back to the kitchen to finish dinner. 

When Eddie had said that he’d purchased a few of your things to keep at his place, he wasn’t kidding. Along with the things he used, where all the things you loved and kept at your own apartment were in the shower. He was always doing things like this, things that he thought were so small and insignificant but that meant so much to you. 

You took your sweet time to get clean, relishing the feel of the hot water on your skin before reluctantly stepping out of the shower. Once you stepped out of the shower and opened the towel warmer, you were greeted by the sight of a big, fluffy towel along with a fresh set of Eddie's clothes. They happened to be some of your favorites that you often stole from him. 

But it was the sight on the countertop that caught your eye and piqued your curiosity. It was clean underwear that happened to have a fresh pad stuck to it. You raised an eyebrow but your heart melted at the gesture. Eddie had this planned all along. 

You dried yourself off and slipped on the clean underwear and clothes before slipping out of the bathroom. You heard Eddie in the kitchen, singing softly to himself as he shuffled around. You loved this man. Truly, fully, so much that it made your heart ache. 

He stopped as soon as he heard you, looking up to catch your eye and offer you a small smile. He looked so pretty with his hair piled on top of his in a bun, sporting a pair of gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. It was ridiculous the effect the simple clothing had on you.

“Hey baby,” he whispered softly, “feeling better?”

“Much,” you confirmed as you went over to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “thank you for everything. The underwear…where did you get that idea? I wasn't expecting it, but it was really nice. No one’s ever done anything like that for me.”

“It wasn’t…a big deal,” his cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink as he tried to play it off, “I, umm, I saw some people mention it on twitter and yeah. It was just an idea. You’re dealing with enough right now, so it just seemed like an easy thing to do.”

“Well, I appreciate it very much,” you promised, gently nudging his hip with yours, “I appreciate you very much, Eddie. Thank you.”

He mumbled something in response as he focused his attention on his pan. He wasn’t one to look for praise and you knew that the attention sometimes made him shy. You made sure he knew just how much you loved and cherished him. 

You grabbed some plates and helped him to finish up dinner. He tried to protest but you ignored him; you wanted to help him. You liked working together, you were a team after all.

When he grabbed plates and piled them with food, you were excited to see that he had made your favorites. He had really gone all out just to make you feel better. 

The two of you took your time eating, before moving to the couch and cuddling up next to each other. You were tucked into Eddie’s side with his arm around you, your favorite place to be, with a big, warm blanket thrown over the two of you. Eddie had let you take your pick of what to watch and you’d settled on a true crime documentary. He never understood why you were able to relax to such things, but he never questioned it. He just enjoyed it along with you. 

You made it about halfway through the first episode of the series before you felt yourself nodding off. You tried to fight it but eventually gave in and let yourself fall asleep. Eddie hadn’t been surprised, but glad you were able to relax. He paused the show and made sure you were as comfortable as possible as he let you sleep for a bit. Before it got too late, he’d wake you up to go to bed. 

Eddie pressed a kiss to the top of your head, making sure you were as comfortable as possible. You were still semi-aware, in that almost asleep but still mildly awake state, and you were almost positive that you heard Eddie singing softly under his breath. It was sweet, warm and rich, and you were pulled into the siren’s call of slumber and fell asleep.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before you were gently woken by Eddie. You blinked a few times to clear away the bleariness and found him smiling at you. He gently brushed some of your hair out of your face, brushing his knuckles tenderly against your cheek.

“I think it’s time for bed, huh pretty girl?” he whispered as you nodded meekly. Getting into bed and wrapped up with him sounded like almost heaven. You slowly climbed up and off the couch, stretching slowly to wake up your tired bones and muscles. Eddie follow up suit before wrapped his arms around your waist and slowly padding along with you to his bedroom, “wanna know a secret?”

“Tell me,” you murmured as he pressed a big kiss to your cheek, causing you to laugh softly.

“I always sleep better with you,” he confessed softly, almost unsure if he should have admitted it to you, “I can’t wait till we can sleep together every night.”

That was enough to make your heart flutter with excitement and nerves. Eddie was definitely part of your future, but it still made you feel good to know that you were part of his too. 

“Me too, Eddie,” you promised and then you remembered your current predicament, “oh. Are you sure you want me to sleep in your bed?”

“Umm,” he looked at you, brows creasing in confusion, “yes? Why wouldn’t I?”

“What if I….bleed on your sheets or something?” your face warmed up as you tried not to think about the embarrassment you’d feel if that actually happened, “I don’t want to make it gross.”

“Baby,” so soft and tender that it almost made you cry, “I’m not worried about a little blood. It’s not disgusting or gross at all. If it happens, we’ll wash the sheets and call it a day. The only thing I’m worried about is making sure you’re doing okay.”

“I….yeah,” you looked at him with teary eyes and he smiled fondly at you before wiping away the tears that rolled down your cheeks, “I’m doing alright. Because of you - you’ve made me feel a lot better.”

“And to think you were going to cancel on me,” he tutted softly as he ushered you into the bedroom and started to turn down the bed, “you know you never have to hide anything from me.  I want to hear everything, all the good and all the bad.”

“I know,” you admitted softly, “it seems so silly now.”

“Well you are a member of the silly goose society,” he kissed the tip of your nose as you snorted in amusement, “anything else you need before we get in bed?”

“I just have to use the bathroom and then I’ll be good to go,” you started padding towards the bathroom. Eddie trailed after you, already reaching into the cabinet under the sink to grab a fresh pad for you. You reached for it to replace the one you had just tossed into the trash but Eddie didn’t let you take it, instead sticking it into your underwear for you, “thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he whispered, “it’s not a big deal at all. Need some painkillers or anything?”

“I just need you,” you grinned, washing your hands before letting Eddie pulled back towards the bed.

“You’re in luck,” he slid under the covers, holding them up so you could get in after him, “I’m all yours and I’m ready to cuddle.”

“Sounds perfect,” Eddie immediately pulled you into his arms, tangling his limbs with yours. You relaxed and melted into him, his warm body having a soothing effect on yours, “I love you, Eddie.”

“I love you too, baby,” he wrapped his arm around your waist and pressed a row of kisses to your shoulder, “get some rest. And if you need anything at all, just tell me, okay?”

“I will,” you squeezed his hand, “promise me you’ll always tell me if you need anything too.”

“I promise always,” he said through a yawn that you ended up echoing, “good night, sweetheart.”

“Good night, Eddie.”

[hanckocks-dagger]

(In other words)

masterlist

John Hancock x gn!Reader

Description: While high on Hancock's couch, you get ready to tell him you're leaving Goodneighbor tomorrow. Trouble is, the thought of kissing him just keeps distracting you.

Tags: First kiss, getting together, Hancock is a simp. Reader could be viewed as SoSu or not. No pronouns used for reader, no use off y/n

Warnings: Recreational drug use (jet), smoking, canon typical swearing.

Cross posted on my ao3!

You were leaving Goodneighbor tomorrow. Sitting idle made you antsy, and it had already been several days since the urge to wander had struck. You'd only stuck around because... well.

"You want another hit?" Hancock asked from the other end of the couch, head lolling on the back of it, dark eyes turned to yours, canister of jet held out to you.

After a long moment of consideration, your jet-addled brain working overtime to comprehend, you shook your head mutely. Hancock shrugged his shoulder and stuck the canister into his mouth.

"Fhoot-eulf," He said incomprehensibly around the spout, then pressed down on the mechanism. His whole body sagged further into the couch, somehow managing to look even calmer than he had after the last three hits of Jet. Even if ghouls really did have higher chem resistance than lowly humans like yourself, you were sure Hancock topped them all. You'd had one Jet to his four, and he'd also spent the morning working his way through a Brandy bottle, which you'd always found made your heavy-limbed high feel a little more like paralysis than a comforting buzz.

Probably a good ten seconds after Hancock had spoken, you let out a muffled, "hmm?", cheek smushed into the couch so you could keep staring at him.

Those black eyes, momentarily distracted by the Jet in his hands, turned to find yours again, crinkled at the corners. His smile, ever charming, lingered on the verge of turning mean. He did like to tease you about being a lightweight.

Instead, he leant to the edge of the couch and hooked you by your socked feet, tugging them into his lap, dragging you a few inches closer to him.

"Nothing, sweetheart."

He patted one of your knees placatingly, the way one pet a startled a horse. Or (you thought, a few painfully slow seconds later), that was to say, the way one used to pet a startled horse. Seeing as they were extinct now, or possibly mutated into something hideously unrecognizable.

Hancock's hand, warm on your knee, disappeared after a minute. Or after a few seconds, seeing as trying to keep a grasp on time on Jet was a losing game. He dug into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Ever generous, he offered you one. You nodded, but could seem to make your hand rise up to take it from him.

He grinned, placing it between his lips. You wanted to disagree with this, but your vocal chords didn't want to respond either, and no words were coming to mind anyway. Sober, you would realize these were the classic signs of the Jet comedown, that momentary disconnect between body and mind, which unnerved you enough to take a few days off before finally succumbing to Hancock's next offer.

High, though, you were left to watch as Hancock raised the lighter to the cigarette, lighting it with a deep inhale, before plucking it from his mouth and passing it over. He blew the smoke teasingly into your face, laughing when you scrunched your nose in distaste.

"All the drugs a person could need. A warm bed, semi-clean streets." He said, a new cigarette between his teeth, "Honestly, I don't know why outsiders are always badmouthing Goodneighbor. Best fucking place in the Commonwealth."

Slowly, like an overloaded computer rebooting, your body came back online. You picked the cigarette from your lips, flicked ash from the end of it, ignored the thought of how it had been in his mouth before yours.

"You might be a bit biased, Hancock."

He laughed back at you, gravelly, that mix of ghoul and smoker and just pure... him.

He had been dropping these comments increasingly over the last few days, probably picking up at your unease. It was probably why he had suggested the two of you stay up in his office getting high for the night instead of going down to the Third Rail. Crowds made you antsy, the heat from bodies and the din of echoing small talk reminding you all the more of the open, fresh air you were missing.

Hancock was clever, he knew what was coming even without you spelling it out for him. Over the months since you'd discovered Goodneighbor, you'd been crashing in the Statehouse whenever you found your way to this area of Boston, preferring it to the stifling atmosphere of Diamond City. (Or so you told yourself, the truth might be you preferred the company).

He also clearly knew some of the affinity you held for him, the way you'd let him charm you into sticking around almost a week after you'd planned to leave.

"Still," He said, "One of the better places to be, hmm? Well, as long as you stay on the Mayor's good side." He winked at you.

Yet, he was too proud to come right out and beg for you to stay.

You could always ask him what he wanted. But you worried that his answer might be enough to sway you.

"Oh yeah," You deflected instead, ignoring the spark his wink shot down your spine, ordering your traitorous heart not to beat faster. "Heard the guy's a bit of a dick."

"Oh, he's a lot worse than that," His hand snuck back onto your leg, making a slow path up your calf, "But not to pretty things like you."

It was your turn to laugh, ignoring the heating in your cheeks, ignoring the goosebumps his touch left in it's wake. "John," You said, mock scandalized, "I thought you were an intellectual. Is a pretty face really all it takes?"

He had been slowly easing closer to you, or maybe he had been pulling you closer to him. When he leant over to stub his cigarette, his shoulder brushed yours.

"'M not easy. But I'm smart enough to know that when you find something this pretty in an ugly world, you hold on tight." He'd moved in close, hand reaching your upper thigh. With the other, he plucked the cigarette from your lips, down nearly to the filter, and flicked it to the side, not breaking eye contact. You could feel his breath tickling your nose, smelling like cigarettes and the slightly metallic taste jet left in your mouth. It made you lightheaded, entire mind screaming that he was about to kiss you, finally, after months of flirting and opportunities neither one of you had taken.

Instead, though, he squeezed your thigh and pulled back, eyes trained on you, a curious glint in them, like he was watching your reaction.

For just a moment, like you were a magnet following his pull, you followed after him, hand sliding downwards as if to bring his hand back to where it had been, keep it there, keep him there.

Then, the rational part of your brain, offline since before you'd accepted that hit of Jet, kicked in, screaming at you about everything that could go wrong. Taking this from a friendship to... something more would complicate everything. You didn't have the time or the energy to spend on a relationship, you didn't want to be chained to a settlement. If word got out about your... whatever it would be, you might lose out on deals with some of the seedier members of the community, you might lose trust with others. In other places, a relationship with a Ghoul might even be enough to have you barred from entry.

But, a traitorous voice from the back of your mind whispered, none of those really mattered. The truth of it was, after everything that had happened to you, if you were to let this go any further and something were to happen to him, it would break you.

So, you pulled back, shutting your eyes and taking a steadying breath. Your hand, halfway to grabbing his, stopped and balled into a fist, dropping back to your side.

You wracked your brain for something to say, something joking to diffuse the tension and return things to the way they were.

You heard Hancock shift besides you and allowed yourself a little breath of relief, assuming he'd gotten the hint and backed off, tired of waiting for someone who chickened out at every opportunity.

Instead, though, you were surprised to find his warm hand on your cheek, felt the corner of his hat press softly against your forehead. You opened your eyes, found him looking at you, almost desperate.

"Maybe I'm wrong," he started, voice pitched low and quiet, less sure of himself than you were used to, "In which case you just tell me. But I get the feeling it ain't that. I see the way you looked at me. I know you know how I've been looking at you."

You swallowed, traitorous body responding before your mind can butt in. You nodded, hand coming to grasp onto his bicep, wanting more than anything for him to move closer, to remove the patch of air the two of you were both breathing.

"So tell me," His voice had dropped to a whisper, like he was speaking with a startled animal. "Why won't you kiss me?"

You exhaled, a shaky thing. For some reason your eyes stung, and suddenly you were fighting off the urge to cry. Your grip on Hancock's arm tightened, not wanting him to let go.

Words escaped you, but you worried he'd take your silence the wrong way. You used your free hand to move the front of his hat high enough that it wouldn't poke you and leant your forehead to his. You shut your eyes again, partly to hide the tears that you couldn't seem to stop from forming, partly to embrace the moment better.

Hancock's thumb stroked slowly across your cheekbone. He whispered your name. Worried your voice would break, you nodded against him, eyes still squeezed shut, afraid of moving from this moment, of going forward or pulling back.

Quiet, he said, "Please kiss me."

You dug down, finding the person who sleeps under the open sky of the wasteland, who fights off hordes of ferals, sneaks through Gunner camps, takes on Deathclaws and survives.

You pressed your lips to his.

Warm, softer than you had envisioned, just like the man himself. Hancock's other hand rose to your cheek, so he was cupping your face in his hands, pulling you even closer. You let him take the lead, tilting your head gently, licking against your lips. You opened your lips for him easily, your hands wrapping around the back of his neck, leaving the two of you chest to chest, you halfway in his lap as he licked into your mouth, ravenous as if he had been starving for you.

You never wanted it to end, wanted to spend every moment of the rest of your life pressed to him, feeling his hands on you, his lips on yours, his tongue exploring your mouth.

When the tears slipped out, you almost thought it wouldn't matter, thinking you could keep the kiss going, sure you would survive without breathing, so long as he didn't stop kissing you.

But then a hitching sob rose from your chest and you were pulling away despite yourself, tucking your wet face into the crook of his neck. His hands wrapped around your waist, settling you properly against him.

You swallowed any other rogue sounds, blinked rapidly to try to rid yourself of the tears, trying to pull yourself together so you could face Hancock again. One of his hands was rubbing soothingly along your back, the other having worked it's way up to your hair, gentle fingers smoothing out tangles, rubbing along your scalp.

It took longer than you would have liked to pull yourself together, and a bit longer than that to gather the courage to look at Hancock, sniffling lightly.

His smile was tight, self conscious, as if he genuinely believed you could have been crying because of his kiss.

You didn't even let him get through his dejected, "That bad, huh?" before you were spitting it out, desperate for him to understand that it wasn't his fault, "I'm leaving Goodneighbor tomorrow." You got it out fast, as if it left a bad taste on your tongue.

He blinked, insecurity fading from his expression, replaced by genuine confusion.

You continued, desperate to repair your faux-pas, to make him understand your thought process, why it would lead you to tears; "This just... makes it that much harder to go."

You ran your hand down his chest, anxiously fiddling with the stitching on his lapels, "Hanc- John, please believe me, I've been wanting to do that for fucking ages, I just-"

The gentle press of his lips against yours cut you off, a quick press of heat and then gone again. This time you did chase after him, managing to get in a peck against upturned lips before he was pulling away.

It was your turn to be confused, pulling back to look at his smiling face, wondering if all that drug use had finally fried his brain.

"That's what's got you so worried?" He asked, voice soft.

You blinked at him before giving a small nod, expecting him to tell you to just stay with him, pressure already building behind your eyes as you imagined explaining to him that you just weren't made for sitting idle.

"So, then, when do we leave?"

"We?" You whispered, not trusting your voice.

"If you're alright with delaying the departure a bit, I should probably wait for the ne'er do wells to sleep off the hangover to give a little speech, pretty sure it's bad form for the Mayor to up and vanish. Then again, it's me we're talkin' about, they should know better than to–"

You pressed your lips to his, partly from exhilaration, partly for him to shut up long enough for you to process the information he'd presented you with. You'd never considered asking Hancock to leave his town. In your mind, he was Goodneighbor, the very best of it.

You pull away, running a finger across Hancock's cheek, feeling the muscles jump under you as he gives you a soft smile.

"Are you sure?" You ask.

"Love, I'd like to see anyone try to stop me."

Notes:

Thanks for reading! Please leave me a comment, or request something, or just come chat with me!

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Moves

Hozier x fem!reader

Author's note: loosely based off Suki Waterhouse's Moves. It was also supposed to be SMUT, but apparently that wasn't meant to be.

Author's note 2: y'all I meant to post this earlier but got distracted.

Summary: Y/n has had feelings for Andrew for a while now, and she's pretty sure he feels the same. Can one night change everything?

Warnings: unrequited love, but also, more requited than not.

She likes him – maybe its a little more than like, at this point. She adores the colour of his eyes, the way they’re green when its bright out, but then when they meet at dimly lit pubs or he hangs around late at night and neither of them bothers to turn on an overhead light, they’re this dark, hazel hue. She is thrilled by his laugh – not the polite courtesy chuckle he spares when someone tells a joke that isn’t even funny – she means that full bodied sound that erupts from his throat when they’re watching that one episode of that one show, the way he rocks backwards a little and rests his hand over his chest. And there’s something about the way he says her name too, that makes Y/n giddy inside, especially when she picks up his call late at night, while he’s on tour and the rest of the band is asleep but he can’t seem to keep his eyes shut without her voice being the last thing he hears before doing it.

Andrew told her that once;

"I don't think I could sleep if I tried....I need to talk to you first. Hear your voice so I can just...."

"Just what?"

He paused, hesitating, "nothing, I just like the way you sound. That's all."

Y/n could have sworn that it would have been the call that changed everything. She'd held her breath until around two am, when he finally yawned and said he was going to try to get some sleep.

He must feel the same, Y/n determined shortly after that. Because friends don’t sling their long arms around your shoulders, or kiss your forehead right after pulling you against them.

Friends don’t have moments where their lips get so close to the other’s that it won’t expend any real effort to make them to touch.

Andrew was the one to pull away that night and apologize profusely before blaming it on the liquor. She’s never told him, but she wishes he hadn’t. She thinks about it so painfully often that she swears the memory is burning a hole into her heart – the ache of what could've been, but isn’t.

Y/n is thinking about it tonight. They’re sitting on Andrew's back porch, a bottle of wine shared between them. The backyard is illuminated by the light over the wide, glass door that separates his kitchen from the deck, and the blue hued, inground lights that give the pool that sits between his house and the foliage bordering the woods a glacial glow. Off in the distance, she can hear crickets and the occasional rustle of some other, nocturnal creature moving through the trees.

The mood would be entirely romantic if it weren’t for the smell of barbeque and booze clinging to the thick, humid air. It's why they’re outside; its unusually warm and sticky for an Irish October, but Andrew has informed her its becoming typical for this time of the year. He also said that being outside helps, but Y/n thinks that was just an excuse for them to sit outside in hopes that the fresh air would sober them up.

But she doesn’t particularly mind – even if she’s been bitten by a couple mosquitoes.

Everyone else is long gone, and he'd asked her to stay back for a few more drinks while she helped him cram leftovers into his fridge. Its not unusual for her to be the only one left at his place – or vise versa – so Y/n is used to being alone in Andrew’s presence. In fact, she thinks she prefers when its just the pair of them, occupying a quiet space saying nothing but whatever pops into their somewhat inebriated minds;

“I read this poem that made me think of you.”

“I bought you a jacket, but I forgot to pack it.”

“Have you read that book I told you about?”

“Would you read this thing I wrote?” He asks after a couple hours of them going around in circles of menial chatter. Of late, everything Andrew writes is about her, and while he’s thought of telling her that more times than he can count, he can't seem to force the words out of his mouth. It isn’t even that he’s intimidated by her – that would be far too uncomplicated for an overthinker of his caliber. No.

He could never be intimidated by Y/n anyway; he’s known her for too long, too well. She’s the person that puts him most at ease; his heart doesn’t quicken when she touches his arm the way she’s touching it now as she says, “Of course, I’d love to.” In fact, the tick in his chest slows when she does that, he isn't nervous or worried or anything, he's just…. happy. And though her hands are usually so cold, Andrew swears there’s a tingle permeating the thin fabric of his grey Henley when she touches him.

Their eyes meet as Y/n promises to read what he’s written and she finds herself drawing in a shallow breath. There’s something else on the barest top of her liquor-stained tongue, but its refusing to break past her lips;

“I’ll read anything you write. I’d do anything for you, really.”

“Great, great,” Andrew beams suddenly, straightening his back before standing with purpose. “I’m gonna get it, wait here.” He doesn’t wait for Y/n to respond, not even with a nod, before disappearing into the house.

While he’s gone, Y/n tops off those sleek, stemless wine glasses with the remainder of the chilled Sauvignon Blanc and takes a sip of hers, hoping it’ll help combat the sticky heat that’s surrounding the property. She knows she probably shouldn't have anymore; her head is already fuzzy and there’s that tell tale film over her eyes. The one that makes lights stretch out like shooting stars and makes you feel like you're walking through a dream. Andrew must not be any better either, because he stumbled over all too familiar steps on his way back into the house.

“Got it,” he announces as he returns to the patio, raising the notebook over the head in triumph. Andrew is less than graceful when he retires next to her again, dropping the book into her lap. After a lengthy sip of his wine, he leans back onto his elbows. “It's the last thing in there,” his cheeks heat up, the dusty red colour creeping up his cheeks, towards his ears.

He’s a funny sort of drunk; chatty and able to make a joke of literally anything. He’s flirty too, yet somehow retaining his usual reserve. When they venture to pubs, he’ll flirt his way right into a one night stand without even realizing it, and then slink back to her side, rattling off an excuse involving the words, “ehm, well, she isn’t really my type.”

“Yeah? What is your type?” She’d ask, eyes challenging him.

He’ll look at her for a bit longer than usual, squirting his eyes a little as his waning smile fades completely. “Doesn’t matter,” he’ll eventually say dismissively, covering his words with a swing of his drink before changing the topic.

“Its not finished yet,” he mumbles as Y/n finds the page.

“It looks finished,” Y/n frowns, looking down at the way he’s signed the bottom of the page, the way he usually does after scrawling out the final words.

Andrew shakes his head, “ehm, I mean….the idea. I’m not done with the idea.”

“Oh.” They lapse into easy silence when she starts reading, meticulously scanning every line, barely restraining herself from ghosting her thumb over his hurried, untidy penmanship. Y/n can feel Andrew’s eyes on her as she reads. He's still laid back and propped on one elbow as he steadily sips his wine while she tries to get her hazy mind to comprehend everything on the page.

Its a love song or a profession – or she’s pretty fucking drunk and has lost all ability to to comprehend words.

No, its definitely a confession. A beautifully written one. Of course everything he writes is always much akin to poetry; but with this, every word is strung together like tiny bulbs in a reel of fairy lights. Each one in perfect harmony with the other. They’re carefully chosen, as if just one were missing its entire, delicate balance would be pitched into uncertainty.

“Andrew….” He sits up, draining the last of his wine as she lifts her head from the page.

“Is it bad? The worst fuckin’ thing I’ve ever written?” He chuckles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he flashes her a lopsided smile.

“It's beautiful,” Y/n rasps, suddenly feeling like the air’s been knocked from her chest, or like she’s been running too fast. There’s something besides the night’s oppressive heat surrounding them, something fragile and precious. Part of her wants to say something else, she can see on his face that he’s aching for more, but Y/n is absolutely terrified that if she does, it’ll be the wrong thing and the moment will be shattered into a million little pieces, scattered across the forests behind his house by an unexpected breeze, the way it happened on a night all too similar to this one.

“But?” Andrew is the one that dares to speak, the word uttered softly and with the weight of reproach clinging to its single syllable.

God, what if he’s ruined everything? What if the reason he’s never been able to tell Y/n the way he feels is because a morsel deep within him knows she doesn’t return his feelings. Andrew doesn’t even know if she’s interested in a relationship – or anything adjacent – right now, she doesn’t talk about going on dates and or fancying anyone.

What if the reason she never talks about other men is because she’s somehow gathered how he feels and is trying to protect him from the hurt? That would be awfully cruel, but he supposes it's the kindest thing she can do without ruining their friendship.

“But….” Right before her, in a matter of seconds, a dozen emotions cross Andrew's face and Y/n realizes that, if she’d been in front of a mirror the night he told her he likes hearing her voice before he goes to sleep, this is what she might have seen reflected in it. That cautious hope, with a bit of fear sprinkled in.

Upon realizing that there's no ‘perfect’ thing to say, Y/n hastily leans forward and rests her lips on his, in a chaste, close-mouthed kiss. He’s shocked at first, she can feel it in the way he stiffens. But after another couple breaths spent like that, Andrew wraps an arm around her, flattening his palm on the center of her back. As he relaxes, Y/n deepens the kiss, deserting the book in her lap to cup his face. His beard tickles the inside of her hands, just like she’s always imagined it would, and his tongue and lips are sweet with the wine’s fruity notes.

When they break, faces only inches apart, Andrew lets out a shaking breath while Y/n holds onto hers. “God….I don’t think I would’ve ever done that,” he admits, shoulders rising and falling with deep, heavy breaths.

Sometimes he wishes he had her courage, but most times, he’s glad its hers.

A hint of a smile tugs at her kiss-swollen lips. “I know,” she laughs softly, the sound airy and musical.

Her eyes are twinkling, like two stars plucked from right over the vast bed of darkness hung over their heads. Andrew is certain that no two stars have ever shone brighter, so its fitting that they belong to her – the most dazzling person he knows. Setting his glass down, he lifts his free hand to her cheek, rough pad of his thumb tracing her lips. “I’ve been thinking about it for a damn long time,” he admits. It's hard for him to put a definite number to it, it might as well have been very soon after they met.

“Me too,” Y/n rests her hand over his wrist, offering it an affectionate squeeze.

“I think…..” he trails off, struggling to keep a firm grip on his thoughts. His imagination is running a little wild right now; his mind is already churning out thoughts of his future as it changes shape. It's funny to him how one thing can change everything else.

One kiss, and he swears he’s seeing the rest of his life. Holding it.

“Sshh, we don’t have to talk about it tonight,” Y/n whispers. Talking complicates – they’ve been talking for too damn long anyway, and knowing Andrew, his brain is already three weeks ahead of him. Its sweet actually, because every plan she’s made for her future has been built around him, and now suddenly, he’s doing the same thing. “Lets just….”

“Just what?”

“Do this,” in an instant, Y/n closes the space between them again and seals her lips over Andrew’s. That time, he responds immediately, pulling her against him until the only thing left for her to do is slide her leg over his thighs and shuffle into his lap, pressing her chest to his and draping one arm over his shoulder while she keeps her other against his cheek. The way his beard scratches the area around her mouth makes her smile, and she thinks its something she'll get used to quickly.

All of it is so close to being as commonplace his arm slung around her shoulders and the sound of his voice coming through her phone while there’s a timezone and entire ocean between them. The way his mouth moves against hers, the heat of his hands as they hold onto her waist, the sound of his voice as he says;

“I’m glad you stayed.”

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

ee congrats. What about a blurb or headcanons, whichever u want i suppose, of fake dating with Frank Castle having to infiltrate something or another? ^_^

Faking It.

frank castle x female reader

warnings - cursing. allusions to sex.

written for my 5k celebration - post here, masterlist here, inbox here.

He’s got his hand on your ass.

Sure, the two of you are playing a couple, undercover in a Mr & Mrs Smith style mission. But surely there’s a thousand other places he could put his hand.

You look at him with a scowl on your face and he winks, all cheeky and boyish. Heat crawls its way up your skin, and you beg yourself to calm down. It’s fake. It’s all pretend.

When you enter the ballroom of the gala, it’s packed with people. Frank winds a hand around the back of your neck, steering you in the right direction. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

You’re laughing and playing fake niceties to an old couple at the bar. They’re telling you how beautifully in love you look, and all you can do is rest your head on Frank’s shoulder and sigh wistfully as they coo. He pulls you into him with a hand on your ass, and you resist the urge to elbow him in the ribs. He knows he’s riling you up. That’s why he’s doing it.

It’s becoming a game, now. Who can wind the other person up more.

Frank is sat on a fancy leather couch, sweet talking a middle aged woman in a long purple dress. You approach, and take the spot right on his lap, wiggling your hips to get comfortable. He hisses in your ear, fake smile still on his face, and the satisfaction you feel is unparalleled.

You’re out in the hallway coming up with a plan when two men walk past, eyeing you suspiciously. You do what any logical woman would do - smash your lips to Franks and hope he doesn’t question it. He kisses you back with much more passion than necessary, one hand around your neck and the other one on your stomach, pushing you backwards into the wall. You bite his lip as hard as you can and he groans, all deep and pretty, and you’re starting to think this plan has backfired massively.

“Damn, girl.”

“Had to think on my feet.”

“Don’t think your feet were the body part you were thinkin’ with.”

You punch his arm as hard as you can, laughing when he grabs it in pain.

“Let’s get that fucking info and get out of here. I’m sick of everyone telling me how handsome my husband is.”

“He is though, isn’t he?” he teases as he grabs your hand, walking back into the crowds of people unaware of your scheme.

Your fingers stay intertwined for the rest of the evening. He squeezes every now and again, once or twice, and you figure out the code pretty quickly. It’s a silent communication, and it works. In no time, you’ve got what you needed, slipping out of the front door and down the huge winding driveway.

You snatch your hand away, and smack his ass as hard as you physically can.

“What the fuck was that for?”

“Revenge. You grabbed my ass way more than necessary tonight.”

He laughs, and you hate the way it makes you smile.

“Good kiss, by the way.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re a good kisser. Even if you did draw blood.”

“I’m about to draw a lot fuckin’ more if you don’t shut up, Frank.”

He chuckles, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“Might suggest we play a couple every time we go undercover. This is kinda fun.”

[redroomreflections]

Out of Office

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: R gets a special surprise to her office

The Loud House Universe (this is not an au of the au. This is real life =))

W/c:3.8k

Play this when you read it https://open.spotify.com/track/4isk4UYRcmslphcTq61xUg?si=1vKGqQ_uQ2-Go9CEdnRq_g

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI

One of the perks of being the Assistant District Attorney of New York City is having your own corner office. The large windows offer a stunning looking of the bustling skyline of New York City. Of course the perks go beyond just the offices. There’s the satisfaction of tackling high-profile cases, the thrill of courtroom victories, and the respect that comes with the title. Today, you’re enjoying one of those benefits that’s seeming to be more like a con.

This meeting was boring to say the least. The topic had been on a rise of criminal activity in the area and how to prevent it. Normally, you would have been all ears. However, this meeting was anything but normal. It was the first meeting after the holidays and your coworkers were still in the post-Christmas mood.

The usual professional atmosphere was gone.

You sit in a chair across from the head of the long table, listening as best you can to the discussion.

"How about we continue this tomorrow?" Alex Cabot, your DA and overhead suggested. "Y/n? Any objection to that?"

You look up in surprise, wondering if you had missed something.

"No, not at all."

Alex smiles at you and then at the other two women.

"I think that's a good idea." You agree. "I'll get back to you with my thoughts on the Coleman case."

The three other women begin packing up their bags and heading out.

"Thanks for the meeting." You say as you get up and gather your things. "It was very informative."

Alex chuckles, clearly seeing right through your fib. "You used to be a much better liar than that."

"I'm just trying to be polite." You smile. "After all, we are in a room full of lawyers."

Alex laughs. "That we are. I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Tomorrow."

You leave the room, feeling like you could breathe again. You head to your office and stop by your assistant's desk in order to check mail and messages. The meeting was supposed to be thirty minutes and lasted more than an hour. You were more than tired. You were ready for the day to be over.

"Hey Y/n, a message came in for you earlier." Your assistant, Haley says. "You still need to review the police report for Jones and Jones. Also, an interview with Cass Daniels."

You sigh and look down at the file you're holding.

"Great, I'm swamped. Is the file with the Jones's case available?"

Haley nods and hands you a brown folder.

"Anything else I can help with?"

You shake your head and smile. "Unfortunately, not this time around."

"Hey, y/l/n, “ Your colleague Doug Stone greets. He does a little jog over to the desk.

"Hi, Doug, " You return. "Just the man I was looking for."

He looks confused. "Really?"

You hand him the file. "I just spoke with Alex. She says she wants you to handle the Jones case."

"But what about the-"

"I already reviewed it and made notes." You interrupt. "Just make sure to check out the new witnesses and that'll be it."

"Okay, so no problem." Doug nods, looking unsure. "Anything else I can do?"

You smile and shake your head. "Actually," You smirk. Just to get under his skin.

"Oh no," Doug shakes his head.

"I need you to get me a copy of the police report." You finish.

"You have one."

You shrug. "I think it would be a good idea to double check."

Doug rolls his eyes. "You know I came over here to see if you could ask the misses to go ahead and make some of that special eggnog she made over the holidays. Special order just for me."

You move to rebuttal when you hear a familiar husky voice behind you. You turn to see your wife standing there with that familiar smirk on her face. Natasha stepped further into the floor, her presence commanding attention. She had chosen a slightly floral midi dress that hugged her curves, the soft fabric contrasting with her typical demeanor. With her red hair pulled back and her eyes sharp and observant, she exuded a mix of elegance and strength.

"You can ask me yourself," Natasha grinned. She stepped closer to you and wrapped her arm around your waist. You landed a quick kiss to her head before looking over at Haley with questioning eyes. She's supposed to remind you if something important like your wife visiting.

"Sorry," She apologizes, quickly. "I was just about to tell you."

"It's okay, Haley," You wave off, smiling. "What brings you by, baby?"

"Can a girl come visit her wife in her office? I'm sure Tammy comes to see you all the time right, Doug?" Natasha tilts her head.

"Uhh..um, yes," Doug stumbles over his words.

Natasha gives him a smile. "Good." She looks up at you. "So, how's your day, babe? I didn't catch you at a bad time, did I?"

"Not at all," You answer.

"Actually, y/l/n has some errands to run," Doug cuts in.

"And Doug has a case to take over," You reply. Natasha looks suspiciously between the two of you.

"We're not going to have a problem, are we?" She asks.

"Of course not." Doug assures.

Natasha nods and smiles. "I'd hate to have to break up this lover's quarrel you two are having. But I would like to spend some time with you before your lunch is over." By the look in her eyes, you know exactly why she's come to your office so unexpectedly.

"Not a problem," You nod.

"I'm free for the rest of the day," Doug says. You send him a glare. "I'll just get a start on those files." He adds before making himself scarce. 

You give him a thumbs up. "Perfect. Haley, cancel my meetings for the next hour."

"Sure thing,"

You take Natasha's hand and lead her down the hallway towards your office.

"I love it when you get bossy," Natasha whispers, biting her lip. You feel the blush creeping up your neck.

"That was nothing," You wave off. You walk before her into the office to clear up a few things on the couch. The last thing she needs is to see how messy you are at work. "Where's Luke and Paige?"

"I left them with my mom today," She says disinterestedly.

"Oh, that's cool then," You nod.

"Now do you want to hear about Luke's diapering schedule, or should we talk about other things?" She steps over to you. It's then you notice the heels she's wearing. Those sexy Manolo Blahnik pumps in a deep blue that accentuates all of her curves.

"I think I want to talk about whatever you want to talk about," You answer honestly. You place your hands on her hips and pull her close. She giggles, placing her hands on your chest.

"Good," She leans in for a quick peck. "You're in a good mood today."

"That's because you're here." You hum. "You taste good."

"Lemon and ginger," She smiles.

"That's what it was. You taste delicious." You lean in again and capture her lips in a deeper kiss. Your tongue glides over her lips, coaxing them open. "Mm, I think you should surprise me in the office every day."

"If only I could." Natasha sighs. "Your coworkers would get tired of me or become jealous of you."

"I don't care." You whisper against her lips. "I only care about what's happening right now."

"Oh, is that so?" Natasha bites her lip.

You nod and reach around, smacking her ass. "That's what you're here for right? You couldn't wait for me to come home?"

"Something like that." She grins. She leans forward to kiss you again. This time as a distraction while she unbuttons your silk button down with her nimble fingers. Her lips are soft and warm against yours.

You pull away from the kiss and smirk. "We can't have sex in the office."

"That's a first." Natasha chuckles. "Why not?"

"I don't know if I'll want to stop after one round," You sigh when her hands find bare skin underneath your shirt.

"Hmm, we'll have to be quick then." Natasha murmurs, pressing her lips to your neck.

"I don't know," You groan when her teeth scrape across your pulse point. "You're quite loud."

"I guess you'll just have to keep me quiet," Natasha bites down on your neck. You let out a whimper, your body shivering.

"Damn it, Tasha," You growl.

She pulls back and flashes you a wide grin. "Do you think you can keep me quiet?"

"I don't know if I want you to be quiet," You open your eyes.

"Oh, is that so?" Natasha grins. She pulls your shirt down off of your shoulder, revealing your lacey black bra. She moves to do the same to the other side.

"Natasha," You warn.

"I'm just looking," She says as her eyes roam over your torso. "Admiring."

"Yeah, admiring is going to get us in trouble," You shake your head.

"Fine, fine," She steps back, taking her warmth and heat with her.

"Are you pouting?"

"I am," Natasha lowers her hands onto her hips. "You're denying me what I want."

"Come here," You offer a hand. She takes it and you lead her over to the couch. You sit down and pull her onto your lap. She settles her knees on either side of your hips and rests her hands on your shoulders. You begin rubbing her thighs, smoothing your hands across the smooth nylon of her leggings before you rip them. The sound drowning out the harsh breaths both of you are taking. You're so glad this office is at the corner and also doesn't have glass windows. Of course, she always gets what she wants.

"I thought you said we can't have sex."

"We're not," You murmur, your eyes focusing on the swell of her breast. "But we can do other things."

"Other things," Natasha nods. "Like what?"

"Just sit there and let me touch you," You say, pulling her down for a kiss. "You don't have any objection to that, do you?"

"None," Natasha says softly, her breath fanning over your lips. At the first press of your thumb against damp panties, Natasha lets out the sharpest squeak deep from the back of her throat.

"Told you that you would be loud."

"Shut up." She moans, her hips canting forward, chasing the contact. You give her another rub through the soaked material, her wetness seeping through. "Are you going to tease me?"

"Yes," You answer simply, kissing the exposed skin of her chest.

"Fuck, baby." Natasha groans.

"Shhh," You tsk, "Be a good girl and stay quiet for me."

"I want you inside," Natasha lowers her head to look you in your eyes. She reaches behind her back to unzip herself. She lifts her dress over her head and drops it onto the floor. She leans back over you and presses her chest to yours.

"I have a feeling this isn't going to end well." You groan, your eyes focused on her soft and supple breasts.

"I don't think we're going to get caught."

"Maybe." You murmur.

"Y/n, are you listening?"

"Huh?" You snap out of your daze. It's then you feel another wave of arousal as she releases her hair from its ponytail. She leans back on her hands and gives you a smug smile.

"Are you listening, Mrs. Romanoff?"

"I'm listening," You swallow thickly. You can't help but take her in.

"So, how about it?"

You look at her confused. "How about what?"

"I knew you weren't listening," Natasha laughs.

"I was thinking about how gorgeous you are," You admit. "How sexy you are. All the things I want to do to you."

"Oh yeah?" She grins. "Like what?"

"Well," You start, running a finger across her cheek. "First, I would have you sit there and watch as I undress."

"I'm interested," She looks you over. You should probably take those pants off unless you want them to be ruined with her juices. Not that you would mind it that much.

"I would go slowly. I would leave on my heels and my bra."

"Your bra?" She arches a brow. "No, take off your bra."

"Are you going to be difficult, or can I finish?"

"I'm sorry, continue," She waves a hand.

"Anyway, I would leave my heels and bra on. Then I would lay back on the couch and spread my legs for you. I'd want you to use your mouth and fingers."

"Mmm," Natasha hums.

"I'd have you fuck me with your fingers until I came all over them." You whisper, tracing her lips. "Then I would do the same to you. Just how you like it."

"How many times would you make me come?"

"Until you can't take it anymore." You answer. "Then I would clean you up with my mouth. Would you like that?"

"Fuck, yes," Natasha moans, her hips bucking against yours.

"Are you turned on, Tasha?"

"I'm beyond that," She admits. "I've been thinking about this since this morning."

"Yeah? You couldn't wait to have my hands on you."

"No," She whines.

You tap her thighs, instructing her to lift up so that you can strip yourself of your clothes. You rush over to the office door, locking it to ensure you won't be disturbed.

"What are you doing?" Natasha calls.

"Just making sure no one comes in and sees you like this," You explain, stepping back over to her. "They can't see what's mine."

"Would you let them watch?" She dares to ask.

"No," You growl, pulling her into your arms.

"And here I thought the idea would turn you on." She teases, trailing a finger along your collarbone.

"It does," You answer truthfully.

"But," She raises her brow.

"It turns me on to know that they can't have you," You admit. "Only I can touch you and see you."

"Touching has been minimal," She raises a perfectly arched brow.

"You're right," You smirk.

"How about we fix that," She whispers.

You nod and sit back down, taking her with you. You help to slide her panties off, tossing them to the side, before you get an idea. You pull her over to your desk, her eyes following yours quizzically before you bend her over. Your hands rub against the expanse of her back. You can't take your eyes off her perked-up ass and pussy on display for you.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting an idea."

"For?"

"This," You say, sliding a finger inside of her. Her walls tighten around the intrusion, and you let out a low moan.

Natasha's back arches and she hisses. You know it's not a sound of pain but pleasure. She wasn't expecting you to do it but she for damn sure loves it.

"I knew you'd be turned on by this," You tell her. You pump your finger a few more times before adding another.

"I am," Natasha agrees.

"Is this what you want, Tasha?” You slap her ass. "For me to fuck you like this. Have you dripping all over my desk?"

"Y/n," Natasha groans. "Stop teasing and give me what I want."

"What do you want, Natasha?" You question, curling your fingers. Twisting them as you thrust back into her.

"I want you to make me come."

"Not yet." You tell her. "I want to hear you."

"Baby," She whines, her hips rocking against the desk.

"What is it?"

"You're driving me crazy." She pants. "You have no idea what this is doing to me."

"I have some idea," You say cheekily as you watch your fingers, glistening with her slick, slide in and out of her with ease.

"Stop teasing and fuck me," She hisses.

"You want me to fuck you?"

"Please, y/n." She moans. "I'm so wet for you."

"I know," You hum. You push her legs open a bit wider. "Stay still for me."

"Fuck," She whimpers.

You lean over and pepper her back with kisses. Her skin is so warm and soft. You wish you could take your time, but you're both already on borrowed time. You speed up then, using your hips to add the slightest bit of force behind your thrusts. You know she likes it, her body shivering beneath you.

"That's it," She coos.

You place a hand on her back and move your thumb to her clit. You begin rubbing it in slow, circular motions. Natasha turns her head against the cool surface of the desk, her nipples becoming hard pebbles against the wood.

"I love seeing you like this," You whisper. "Taking everything I have to give."

Natasha's only response is a deep whimper. Not good enough for you.

"You love taking my fingers," You taunt. "But not as much as I love giving them to you."

"Shit, y/n, fuck." Natasha's body begins trembling. Her breathing becomes uneven. Her pussy walls fluttering against your fingers.

"Are you going to come, Tasha?"

"Yes, fuck." She cries. "Make me come, baby."

"Fuck, I love it when you call me that." You groan. You add a third finger, pumping faster. Her body quakes as you hit the right spot. Her toes curl as her orgasm tears through her body. Her moans are unbridled now, and you reach forward to press a hand against her mouth. That seems to turn her on more. Her body shaking beneath yours. Her body jerking from the aftershocks.

"Are you okay, baby?"

"I'm better than okay," She grins. "But if you don't fuck me again in the next five minutes, I'm leaving."

"Turn around," You instruct her. You help her on shaky legs to turn around and sit on your desk. This is going to be a bit more difficult to maneuver but you do. You drop to your knees and grab her thighs to pull her to the edge of the desk.

"I've need to taste you all day," You murmur to yourself.

"Baby," Natasha whimpers, her fingers resting atop your head. "I need you."

"You have me," You reply before swiping your tongue through her folds. She's so warm and delicious.

"Don't tease," She gasps, her legs trembling.

You look up at her from your place between her legs. Your eyes never leave hers as you wrap your lips around her clit, sucking.

"Just like that," She adds the gentlest bit of pressure for you to bob your head. The slurping noises for added effect have her head dropping down she can't handle it. "So close, baby. Don't stop."

"Never," You murmur against her. "I love this. Love eating you out."

"Y/n," She gasps, her hips lifting off the desk.

"Come for me, Natasha," You coax her.

She's so close to the edge, and she can't help it. She's helpless against the orgasm that rips through her body. She can barely hold herself up as you suck her through the orgasm, lapping up the juices spilling from her.

"Fuck," She whimpers.

You stand and kiss her, your tongue tangling with hers.

"Let me," She finally pulls back. She pulls you down to the floor before she pushes you onto your back. Rug burn be damned.

"Tasha," You gasp when she wastes no time in slipping two fingers inside of you.

"You're so wet," She groans. "I love you." She nuzzles your neck.

"I love you too." You murmur, reaching down to guide her thumb to your clit. "Harder."

Natasha's body covers yours. Her lips latch onto your neck. Her teeth scrape along the flesh. You know you're going to have a hickey there tomorrow. It doesn't matter. You're hers and she's yours.

"Tasha," You groan. "Please."

"Shh," She whispers, her other hand caressing your breast. She pinches your nipple, delighting in the shiver that runs through your body.

"Please," You beg her. "Make me come."

"Anything for you," Natasha smirks, curling her fingers. She thrusts harder. Faster.

"Fuck, I'm going to come." You warn her, your body tensing.

"I've got you," Natasha tells you. "I've got you, baby." She coos as you whimper pitifully.

"Don't stop," You beg. "Oh my god, don't stop."

"Never," She growls. "Come for me, y/n. I want you to soak my hand."

You cry out as you reach your peak. Your back arches off the carpet, and you ram yourself onto her fingers. You don't want to lose this feeling.

"Fuck, I can't," You sob.

"You can," She whispers, her breath fanning across your lips. "One more. Come on, baby."

"I can't," You sob. "Tasha, please."

"I've got you," Natasha promises.

Your body begins shaking as a second orgasm rips through your body. You're unable to form words as you're consumed by your desire. You don't even remember that you're at work and the possibility that if anyone were to come by your office, they could probably hear you.

"There you go," Natasha smiles, her eyes focused on you. "I'm right here, baby."

"Tasha," You whimper.

"Right here."

"Don't move," You pant.

Natasha uses her unoccupied hand to open the bottom drawer of your desk and take out a towel.

"What are you doing?" You ask her.

"I'm going to clean you up," She says, gently wiping your inner thighs.

"Thank you," You whisper.

"Always," She smiles.

"You're so good to me."

"You're pretty good to me," She winks, kissing the top of your head.

"What time is it?"

"Time for us to get the hell out of here." Natasha laughs.

"You're right," You sigh. "Can we go home?"

"I was thinking maybe we could order a pizza, put on a movie, and have dessert later."

"I think I could deal with that." You nod. "I can't walk just yet."

"I'll carry you," Natasha teases with a smug look. 

"Shut up," You laugh, swatting her away. "You know you're a little cocky after we fuck."

"And you're cute."

"Stop," You groan.

"I don't want to," Natasha replies.

"What do you want?"

"You," She answers. "Always."

"I'll be yours forever."

"Forever," She repeats.

"We should go," You whisper.

"I'm ready when you are."

"Let's get out of here."

Coming out of the office would be a little awkward. You should probably open a window. Your cheeks heat up at the thought. It was some of the hottest sex you had with her, and you can't believe that it happened here.

"You look nervous," Natasha notes.

"I'm not," You say.

"Liar."

"Tasha, come on. Let's go home."

"Whatever you say," She grins, taking your hand in hers.

"You're annoying," You mutter.

"And yet, you still love me."

"Unfortunately," You grin.

"I heard that," She calls.

"I meant for you to hear it."

"Brat," She says affectionately.

You really do love her.

[cheolhub]

YOU GET ME SO HIGH — VERNON CHWE ࿐

summary. smoking with your best friend (who you totally don’t have a crush on) is super fun till all you can think about is him… well, doing him, to be more specific.

wc. 6.2k

warnings. recreational marijuana use!!, dubcon (kinda? sex while high), bf2l + idiots to lovers, kinda fluffy!! weed is referred to as ‘green crack’ several times lol, fingering, hehe big d!ck!vernon, mentions of masturbation, unprotected sex, pet names (baby), brief tit worship, naked confessions, vernon is kinda shy, jealous, nervous & rlly likes boobs and reader is v needy lol <3— MINORS DNI 18+

note. havent seen anyone write for vernon in like 3 years so here’s my lowkey cringey, poorly-written, self-indulgent fic that i was supposed to post for his birthday 2 months ago ++ guest appearance from weed dealer!cheol bc yeah :3

if you had told vernon that his best friend was someone he’d met in a biology lab–one that he was accidentally put into his freshmen year– he’d say you were a liar. nonetheless, it’s true– you’re his best friend and you have been for years now. in your fourth and final year of university, you still sit on the balcony of your apartment with him like you have every other day for the past three.

“happy birthday, vernon,” you smile cheekily, passing him a snack-size ziplock baggie. “i got you an eighth since you’re always begging to smoke my shit.” 

he laughs and gives you a lazy smile, “Y/N, my birthday was over two months ago… plus, you know you didn’t have to get me anything.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes, “hansol vernon chwe, you are my best friend, of course i had to. and… i was waiting for a few of my checks to hit, that's why it’s a belated birthday gift.” you take his hand, placing the bag into it. “now take it and don’t smoke it all in a day, got it?”

he nods, eyes softening, “thank you,” he says. “must’ve cost your broke ass a fortune, though, so next time– don’t get me anything.”

you giggle at the joke that’s actually, not really a joke. “i really don’t think you have any room to speak– who here has a real job?” 

he rolls his eyes, “my job is real, thank you very much.”

you chuckle, shaking your head. “reselling limited edition vinyls for seven times what you bought them for isn’t a job, vernon, that’s called being a dick.” you tell him. “and actually, the prices weren’t too bad. cheol gave me a discount.”

vernon almost visibly clenches at the name of your awfully-sweet dealer. though he can attest, cheol is only ever sweet to you. every time he’s bought from your favorite supplier, he’s been a total asshole and upcharges him for no reason which is one of the basis’ why he’s always smoking your stuff. you always tell him it’s karma for selling records at such a high price, but vernon begs to differ. he knows that cheol just doesn’t like him and he has a gut feeling that it’s because of you. 

“oh yeah? how’d you get him to do that?” he asks, but he’s pretty sure he knows the answer. the answer being cheol has a thing for you.

you bite your lip, looking over your apartment balcony. “mmm, he showed up here while i was… you know…playing around…and…”

vernon knows you well enough to finish your sentence for you. “masturbating?”

“vernon, be modest!” you whine, hiding your face in your hands. “you knew, you didn’t have to say it!” 

he chuckles, “it’s normal, Y/N, we all do it. no need to be embarrassed over it.”

it’s true. everyone does it. but not everyone masturbates thinking about their best friend. he thinks that might just be him. 

“yeah, but you’ve probably never done it thinking you’d be finished before your hot drug dealer shows up at your apartment.” you blush. vernon doesn’t say anything for a while and you’re afraid you’ve made him feel uncomfortable (even though he claims you never have). you bite the insides of your cheeks before uttering, “can you pack a joint or something?”

truthfully, vernon doesn’t mean to be so quiet. he’s just trying to imagine you in that state without letting his dick get hard, though it’s proving to be extremely difficult. you probably looked so pretty in cute short shorts and a shirt that you could see your nipples through. or worse, you were wearing a tank top that was snuggly wrapped around your torso where you could see everything. he wants to be a gentleman, wants to be respectful… but, god, your tits are out of this world.

he hums trying to rid the dirty images in his head, taking your box of goods to grab the grinder and paper cones. “finish your story.” he urges.

you look at him, searching for signs of discomfort, but there is only that stoic look he always wore. with a sigh, you continue, “anyway, i was… you know… and he texted me and said he was here– i was a mess–”

he can imagine.

“–and i think he could tell ‘cuz when i got down to his car i was so disheveled and was about to start crying. i literally looked like i got edged or something,” you mumble, twiddling your thumbs out of embarrassment.

you’re painting a picture for vernon and he has to bite back a groan. 

it’s not the first time you and vernon had talked about sexual things. there had been several conversations on the topic. he knew almost everything about you except for… you know… what you tasted like and how tight you are– his vivid imagination couldn’t give him all of those pleasures. 

“and, vernon, i kid you not, he literally knew. he was all smug and shit,” you groan. “it was kinda humiliating.”

you remember how much wetter you’d gotten the moment you slipped into his car. he was calling you all types of things– all types of pretty pet names–and you’re genuinely surprised it didn’t escalate further because the sexual tension was heavy.

“and then i told him i wanted a quarter– an eighth for me and an eighth for you– and he told me he’d give me a special strain of sativa for half the normal price.”

vernon’s eyes widened, “half the price?”

“that’s what i said!” you exclaim. “pretty sure it’s because he could see my tits… i wasn’t wearing the best outfit …”

of-fucking-course he could see your tits. vernon holds back a groan, seeing as his suspicions about you in a tank top that night was right. instead, he chuckles airly. “now who needs to be modest.”

“stooop, just grind the weed.” you cry. 

vernon does as you ask, muttering, “maybe he laced it.”

“cheol wouldn’t, i’m pretty sure he just likes me.” you humbly reply, shooting daggers at your best friend for even suggesting that. “plus the strain was called ‘green crack’ or something like that… it was from the ‘st. patty’s day special.’”

“saint patrick’s day was like 4 weeks ago.”

“well then he was either trying to get rid of it or my tits must’ve made him feel generous.” you joke, giggling a bit at vernon’s poker face.

vernon is hiding it really well, but he’s filled with so much annoyance. your stupid dealer doesn’t deserve to see you like that. hell, vernon doesn’t even think he deserves to see you like that, but, fuck, he wants to. so badly. seeing you all hot and bothered with your tits on full display would be a dream come true. 

“would you fuck him for free weed?” he asks all of a sudden, making you blush furiously. he knows now that he doesn’t want to hear your answer when your mouth parts in shock. 

“vernon! what kinda girl do you take me for?” you put your hand over your chest as if it’s something you wouldn’t do. you break your facade when he gives you a knowing look, mouth cracking into a grin. “probably, i dunno. he’s kinda scary but i feel like he knows how to please a woman– i can’t say the same about a lot of other men.”

he internally rolls his eyes. cheol doesn’t know you the way he does. vernon could please you, he knows he can. 

he switches the subject back to the packed joint in his hands to keep from spiraling. “wanna spark it?”

you shake your head with a hum, “mmh-mmh, belated birthday boy gets the first few hits.”

he smiles, pulling the joint to his lips taking the lighter, igniting it with the pressure of his thumb. he lets the flame burn carefully through the paper, inhaling a large rush of smoke. he holds it in for a bit before he blows it out– away from your face– creating a white, potent-smelling cloud.

you reminisce while watching him. your balcony is like home to you and vernon. contrary to your neighbor's beliefs, smoking isn’t the only thing you do. you laugh and cry and talk for hours about people you hate and people you love. sometimes, you’ll do homework out here and when vernon is bored at his own place, he’ll come over to yours to keep you company. he provides a comforting presence and never-ending encouragement while reminding you to take breaks.

 it’s where you told him about your puppy crush on soonyoung from your statistics class and it’s where he told you about how he awkwardly lost his virginity to a girl during orientation week. it’s where the two of you are always together– it’s kinda like your place.

and watching him after all these years, you’ve never really realized how attractive your best friend was. well, that’s a lie. you’ve always thought vernon was likely one of the prettiest men to ever walk the earth, but if you truly admitted that, then you’d have to admit to the other things. things like how kind and considerate he is and how he’s boyfriend potential and how you totally don’t have any type of feelings for him whatsoever. it’s not a crush, you constantly have to remind yourself, it’s admiration for your best friend. there’s a difference.

but those admirable traits are things you can’t think about because he doesn’t see you that way. there’s no reason why you should see him that way if it’s not reciprocated. it only makes sense and prevents brutal rejection from the most perfect man on earth, aka your best friend. 

but your not-crush manifests itself sometimes. like when he smiles at you or when he randomly places his headphones over your head and tells you to “listen to this song” or when he spends the night in your bed because he’s too lazy to drive home. it gets harder and harder to hide every day. 

he passes the joint to you with an even lazier grin and you take it, parroting his actions. you let the smoke fill your lungs, hold it there, and exhale, shutting your eyes just as he did. 

and vernon thinks you look like a goddess. how could you make a simple action seem so attractive?

you take your hits, passing the joint back and forth till it suddenly hits you. all at once, you feel your body start to ache, your tummy flipping in anticipation, your mind fogging over leaving your entirety to buzz. you shift a bit and you feel your cunt dampen causing you to let out a sharp exhale.

“you good?” vernon asks, his deep voice filling your ears.

then you look at him. like… actually look at him. his face is a bit tired, his eyes red from the weed coursing his system, and his hair a bit disheveled from running his hand through it too much (this is why he wears the beanies)-- nevertheless, he looks fucking fantastic. 

your usual munchies are replaced with strong, burning sexual desire. just at the sight of your best friend, your pussy is soaking through your panties and your shorts.

“‘sol,” you murmur out the nickname. “do you feel… different?” you ask, eyes fluttering and lips parting.

you’re truly unaware of how seductive you look and how it’s slowly taking years off his life. vernon has been rock hard in his sweats for a solid 15 minutes now. and, yes, he feels extremely different. turned on to say the very least. 

“mmm, a little,” more like a lot. “maybe it’s the strain you got,” he mumbles, implying what he had said earlier was true.

it makes sense that cheol provided you with a strain that feels like you’re smoking a fucking aphrodisiac, but you’re starting to wish you were alone so you could at least do something about it. 

for a split second, you think you might be fine, then you’re hit with yet another wave of arousal, your core pulsing at the ideas that are incessantly popping into your head. ideas of him taking you right now, sitting on his face, sinking onto his cock– it’s too much. 

“vernon,” you say breathily and he freezes, pulling the joint away from his lips. “i… i think…”

you try to think about how to kick him out kindly so you can have some much-needed alone time, but you can’t– you can only think about having alone time with him. alone time that leads to shoving his hand down your pants. 

stop, you tell your hazy brain.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” he asks, scooting closer to you. 

his scent floods your senses– a mix of weed and his cologne causing sensory overload in your poor brain and aching core. 

he’s internally worried that you’re greening out. though it doesn’t happen as much as it did when you first started smoking, there are rare occasions when you take more than you can handle. 

“c-can… you do me a favor?”

“‘course, anything.”

“vernon… it… i…need your help.” you whimper, leaning into him. “please…feels like ‘m gonna die.”

you’re being dramatic. 

he furrows his brows in confusion, panic becoming apparent on his features. “what hurts, Y/N? how can i help you?”

you take his hand in yours, slowly guiding him to the ache in your body. you gasp when his warm fingers come in contact with your clothed cunt. “here… it hurts here.” you exhale.

vernon has definitely lost it. his hand is between your thighs and your smaller one has moved to tightly wrap around his wrist. you’re a mess– he can feel it. he can feel the warmth radiating from your core, he can feel how you’ve soaked through your panties and how it’s seeped through the thin pair of shorts. he’s holding his breath and he fears he may pass out before getting a chance to touch you like you deserve. 

“y-you’re not in your right mind, Y/N,” he whispers, afraid his voice may betray him. “you smoked too–”

“uh-uh, it’s okay– vernon, it’s okay, i want you… please,” you whimper, grip around his wrist tightening as you buck your hips slightly for more friction. 

you want him. you… want him. 

“but–”

you’re growing frustrated, “if you won’t… then i-i think you should go ‘cuz i need… i need to be alone.”

vernon takes this as an implication that you need to fuck yourself if he won’t fuck you and he’ll be damned if he’s not the one making you see stars. 

so, he asks one more time, “Y/N… are you sure?”

“yes… yes, ‘m sure. ‘m so sure, please, ‘sol,” you beg, using the nickname that makes him fold every time. 

he doesn’t hold back, putting out the joint in his hand and leaving it in the ashtray. his now-free hand cups your cheek, pulling you in for a kiss. you moan, eagerly allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth as your hands needily fist at his shirt. 

despite having smoked, vernon’s lips are soft. softer than the lips of men you’ve kissed before. and he still tastes good even with the pungent lemony flavor lingering on his tongue– overwhelmingly good. it seems that he’s just as eager and turned on as you are, too, nearly devouring you whole. you can’t help but fall in love with the heated, now-sloppy kiss.

and vernon truly feels like he’s died and gone to heaven. he’s not sure if this is even real or if the weed has him hallucinating… it wouldn’t be the first time, but you biting down on his bottom lip has him coming back to earth and lets him know that you’re real. that you are very much real and very much grinding on his fingers desperately. 

“vernon,” you pant, pulling him closer by the shirt in your grip. “please, more— feels good, but i need more.” your hazy eyes look into his and you see how they’ve darkened.

“fuck, Y/N,” he groans and his voice has you clenching around nothing. “we need to go inside…”

you’re both sure that this might ruin your relationship, but you decide it’ll be a problem for tomorrow. right now, all either of you can think about is getting off on each other. 

that’s why you’re quick to stand on your feet, holding out your hand for him to take. when he stands, grunting, you pull him into your apartment and leave all of your goods on the balcony without a second thought. 

you drag him to your room before attacking him with another kiss and pulling at the ends of his shirt. you’re a bit disoriented, swaying and stumbling over your steps, but when your legs hit the bed and you nearly fall, vernon’s quick to catch you by the waist. 

“careful,” he murmurs, gently laying you on the plush mattress. you scoot to the head of the bed, laying on your back as you wait for him. 

he takes your expectant face as a sign to remove his clothing and he does so quickly, knowing how impatient you are at this very moment. his shirt comes off and then his sweats, leaving him in boxers where his bulge becomes… apparent.

you have to hold your breath at the dizzying sight of his naked torso and the massive tent in his underwear.

you make grabby hands at him, urging him to come take care of you on the bed. he obliges, getting on your bed, hovering over you while his own head spins. he’s truly unsure if this is actually his real life or if he’s having a dream sent from the gods above. 

he decides not to wait any longer, taking control of the situation by placing his lips on your heated neck. his lips trail down, leaving sloppy, wet kisses on your skin, reveling in how you desperately whimper for him though he’s barely doing anything. 

his hands reach for the hem of your loose top– one that might actually be his– pushing it up and tugging it over your head and arms, leaving your chest bare before him. he groans before diving to your tits, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, sucking and tugging at the bud hungrily. 

you gasp at the sight. you’ve never seen vernon so eager to do anything in the time you’ve known him and now he’s making out with your tits as if it were his last day on earth. 

that’s hot, you think to yourself. so hot– you’re so fucking hot right now.

you can’t see it, but you feel his hand come down to your sleep shorts, digging in past the elastic band of both the satin fabric and your cotton undies. his fingers dip into your lips, running them through your soaked folds. 

“you’re so wet.” he hisses. 

you whine at the contact, apologizing softly, “‘m sorry– can’t help it.” 

his fingers find your hole, circling it before easing two of them inside. “don’t apologize, baby. it’s really hot.” he whispers, the pet name slipping past his lips without completely registering. 

you clench and moan at the domestic name. “fuck, ‘sol,” you whimper. “a-again… call me that again…”

his face burns, whispering out, “you like when i call you ‘baby?’” 

knowing vernon, it was meant to sound like a genuine question, but being in the state you’re in, it sounds so seductive… so enticing that it has your back arching. you nod your head, an even darker blush falling over your already-red cheeks. 

you let out a clipped, “yes.” and he just moans, thrusting his fingers in and out faster, digits stretching your tight, gummy walls out to prepare you for his cock. 

he wonders how you could be so tight because, holy fuck, you’re squeezing around his fingers like you’re trying to trap them in there. 

you whine softly, “vernon, please give me more…”

he definitely just fucking died. 

his cock twitches uncontrollably in his boxers, begging to be set free, but he decides to give you another finger instead. vernon knows he’s… a bit on the bigger side, and judging by how you feel right now, there’s absolutely no way he’ll easily fit inside of you. the last thing he wants to do is hurt you. 

so he slowly pulls his hand out of your shorts and helps you out of them. he throws them to the side and has you spread open. he huffs at the sight before taking three of his fingers back to your hole. he pushes them in gently, groaning at the tighter fit. your moans are bouncing off the walls and vernon looks up to see your mouth hung open with your head thrown back against your pillow. 

he checks on you, throat dry at the sound, sight, and feeling of you. “i-is… are you doing okay?” and when you just whine, he bites the inside of his cheek anxiously. he remembers your fondness for the pet names from a few minutes prior, so he tries again. “baby… does it feel good?”

and he’s not sure what to expect, but when your body jolts and your hand's fist at the sheets, you get even tighter, clenching around his fingers desperately. you really do have an affinity for being called ‘baby.’ 

your brain is jumbled, intoxicated from the weed and his fat fingers stretching your cunt open. “‘m okay… f-feels so good.” you tell him breathily with a whine bubbling in the back of your throat at the feeling of his fingers pushing further into you. “fuck, vernon– it’s so good.”

and it’s true, you don’t think you’ve ever experienced pleasure this intense before, but you remember your senses are heightened by 10 because of the drug. that ‘green crack’ is insane.

he moans at the confirmation, curling his fingers up and fucking your messy cunt, the palm of his hand bumping against your clit with every thrust. he feels a rush of your honeyed arousal soaking his fingers and he swears he might cum before he can even get his cock in you. 

you gasp loudly when you feel his pace quicken, eyes squeezing shut. an array of mewls and high-pitched whines shamelessly slip past your lips. “oh! fuck, i’m close, i’m so close, vernon.” you warn, wet walls clamping around his curled fingers.

he exhales sharply, voice low when he urges you, “cum for me, baby.”

his voice and harsh thrusts are more than enough to throw you over the edge, stomach knots unraveling. you gush all over his big fingers, pussy pulsing as it’s doing its best to push his digits out, but he continues his ministrations to work you through your blinding orgasm.

feeling you cum may have been the best thing life has offered him. 

“fuck, that’s it– are you okay? did that feel good?” he asks breathily, pulling out his fingers, a string of arousal connected to your hole following them out. he bites his lip at the sight, keeping a moan bottled up. he wants to taste you so bad… and the cum on his fingers taunt him. 

you nod your head, still panting, “w-was so good, y-you’re really good… don’t usually cum that fast…”

“really?”

you shake your head, “t-told you that guys don’t really know what they’re doing most of the time.”

he shakes his head in disapproval, “well… you deserve the best.” 

“... like you?” your heart races and the weed from earlier still lingers like a cloud over your brain. you look at him, the soft light from the moon illuminating his flawless skin. your eyes trail down his torso, eyes landing on the big bulge in his boxers again. 

he chokes, masking the sound with a nervous chuckle, “me? i-i’m not…no.” your eyes widen, realizing you’ve completely misread him, feeling panic flood your body. you quickly shut your legs, arms coming to cover your bare chest. 

he’s quick to notice that you’re starting to spiral, though, so he re-registers what you said and then what he said and his eyes widen, too. his words come out rushed as he attempts to do damage control. “no! not no, as in i don’t see you in that way, but no because you deserve the best and…”

“but… you are the best, ‘sol…” you tell him softly, hugging yourself tighter. “and before you say anything, the weed is wearing off– think you finger-fucked it out of me,” you joke to lighten the mood, but when you see he’s still frozen, you internally cringe at yourself, continuing. “i’m being serious. i’m in my right mind and i’m telling you that you’re the best because you are. you always have been.”

he shudders nervously, “Y/N… don’t.”

you frown at him, turning your head away to look at your window instead, mentally face-palming yourself. “did i make it awkward again?” you ask nervously. you don’t even wait for his response, continuing your anxious ramble. “can you just forget i said anything? and that i made you do this? i…i don’t wanna lose you– i never want to lose you.” you whisper. “you’re my best friend.”

he shakes his head incessantly as if he’s trying to tell you something with the simple action, but you aren’t even looking at him, so he takes a deep, shaky breath. “no, you didn’t make me do anything. i just mean don’t say things like that if you don’t really like me because i…” he trails off and you turn back to look at him, concerned by his sudden halt. “Y/N, i… like you. so much. i have for forever now, but you were always talking about soonyoung or cheol and then there was that whole thing with that pretentious art kid– minghao, i think– i dunno.”

what!?

you look at him incredulously, eyes wide and lips parted in genuine shock, “why didn’t you tell me…?”

he sighed, hands coming to rest on your thighs. “it seemed like i never really had a chance… you’re my best friend, too… and i didn’t want to lose you either.”

you sit up, exclaiming, “but you’ve liked me this entire time and i didn’t even know?!”

he gives you a small grin and a shrug, “what can i say? i’m discreet.”

you scoff, sitting in silence for a few seconds before opening your mouth again. with your voice meek, you say.“i wish you would’ve told me.” you inhale sharply, continuing to hug yourself tightly. “i like you, too, you know… i just didn’t think you liked me back so i tried to not like you– which is really hard, by the way, because you’re annoyingly pretty.”

“sorry, i’ll try to stop being so pretty.”

you playfully slap his bare chest, “i actually hate you so much.”

he jokingly sulks, placing a hand over where you hit him. “aw, baby, you just said you liked me.”

you shudder, body naturally leaning into him as your mind gravitates back to your not-so-innocent thoughts. “i do… and i’d like you a little more if you kept calling me that.”

his breath hitches as you get closer and closer, “yeah?”

“mhm…”

he whispers against your lips, a cheeky smile on his, “you’re such a baby.”

“you’re so mean,” you hum, letting your lips graze his. “am i not your baby?”

he rests his forehead against yours and looks into your eyes for any sign of playfulness. you seem to be serious so he asks, “is that what you want?” he’s nervous you can hear the way his heart is about to pound out of his chest. 

“duh… idiot.”

“okay, cool.” he says nonchalantly even though he’s internally freaking out. “you’re my baby.”

your heart skips a beat and your cunt dampens again at the title, “okay, cool.” you parrot casually as if your heart wasn’t about to lurch out of your chest. “you can… kiss me. if you want…”

vernon utters a soft ‘right’ before finally closing the gap between the two of you. his lips mold to yours and you know for a fact that there is no one else on earth you’d want to kiss. his big hand comes to cup your cheek and you melt under the touch, mouth opening for him to slip his tongue into. 

naturally, the kiss heats up and before long, you’re whining into his mouth, hand blindly reaching for his clothed cock. he groans the second you find the aching hard-on, nimble hands stroking him through his boxers. 

“Y/N,” he pants breathily in between kisses. “are you… sure you wanna… do this?”

you think it’s sweet that he keeps checking on you, and sure, you’re still a bit fuzzy from the after-effects of the ‘green crack’, but you need him to give you what you want. so you nod, breaking from the kiss to lay back in your original position under him. 

“please fuck me, baby,” you beg in the most sultry voice you can conjure up. when he stays frozen, you pout. “hansol, please.”

he curses, quickly getting his boxers off and revealing the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen. precum beads at the slit of his flushed tip and prominent veins run through the length. he’s so big, surely enough to have you see stars. you’re starting to feel grateful that he prepped you because his dick would have completely ruined you without it.

“‘s big.” you simply state, bottom lip finding sanctum in between your teeth as you gawk at it. 

“you think so?” he gives you a wobbly smile, stomach-churning at the subtle praise. he moves in between your thighs and spreads you out for him. “is it okay?”

you blush, nodding your head, “mhm, don’t worry,” you tell him. “i’ll let you know if i need you to stop.” 

he nods, huffing softly, “do you have any condoms?”

you chuckle breathily. “not for your size… but it’s okay, i’m clean and safe. you don’t need one. you can pull out if it makes you feel better.”

his throat runs dry– fuck, fuck, fuck. he’s fucking you raw?! how the hell is he supposed to last hitting it raw?! you were already tight around three of his fingers and he can’t even imagine how you’d feel wrapped around his cock.

he realizes he hasn’t replied in a few seconds when you say his name softly. he sees you growing restless under him and he apologizes and nods again dumbly. 

he runs his tip through your folds, moaning when he finds you’re just as wet as you were earlier. he aligns himself with your leaky hole, slowly pushing himself inside of you with a groan to find that you’re still so fucking tight.

you’ve found that, despite vernon’s laid-back and chill personality, he’s quite loud in bed. he’s nothing like you expected and you’re pleasantly surprised. 

when his cock slides in between your tight walls, the both of you are instantly a mess, panting and moaning in pleasure. your walls envelop him so snugly that you fear the thick veins that adorn his length will imprint into them.

“fuck, vernon.” you moan, praying the burn in your pussy melts to pleasure soon so he can fuck you the way you want it. the way you need it. . “your cock.”  

he hisses, pushing in past the resistance. “you feel so good, baby, oh my god.” he grunts, head falling back at the way you hug him. “god, i’ve wanted this for so long– wanted you for so long.”

you cry, clenching around his girth because, god, you’ve wanted him, too.

when he finally bottoms out, you both pause to take erratic breaths, positively going feral over each other. he attempts to recollect himself and check up on you again. “are you–”

you don’t even let him finish, nodding your head vigorously. “yes, vernon, just need you to move, please.” you plead. “need you to fuck me– please, need it so fucking bad.”

you’re so needy for him and he knows it’s because of the last bit of weed that looms, but he can’t help but wonder if you’re like this on a normal day. if you’re always begging for a cock to fill you up. not that it would matter– he’d do anything you asked of him. you’re so fucking pretty to him and his brain is constantly yelling at him to cater to every single one of your wishes. the chokehold you have him in is so tight. 

tight like your pretty cunt that’s now gracefully swallowing his cock with every thrust of his hips. your room is full of panting, moans, and the lewd squelch of your wet pussy taking him. it sounds better than any song he’s ever heard and, if he’s being completely transparent, he hopes to experience this for the rest of his life.

vernon unexpectedly comes down, craning his neck to latch his mouth around your nipples again, stimulating you there, too. you’re sure the position is a bit straining, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he moans loudly into your chest. his hand plays with the other nipple, switching every minute to give both of them love and attention all while his cock steadily rams in and out of you. 

your hands tangle in his hair, smothering his face into your tits while he moans and whines some more into them. 

and when he adjusts slightly and his tip hits that spot, the one that makes you crumble in seconds, a sob wracks through your entire body.

“there! shit, baby, right there, please.” you gasp, back arching into him. 

vernon asks breathily, removing his face from the comfortable spot on your chest, “there? that’s it?” 

and you nod, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace as you feel the pressure build-up at the bottom of your tummy. he continues to hit the spongy spot inside of you, bringing you closer and closer. 

his own face is pinched and he can’t stop the soft whines that come out of his mouth. you just feel fucking amazing. 

“a-are you close? i’m not gonna last long.” he pants out. 

and you weakly sob out a reply of ‘yes,’ hand moving to toy with your swollen clit. the action immediately has the tightrope inside of you coming undone for the second time in the night. you mewl out his name, clamping around him tightly and coating his cock in slick cum. 

it’s like a chain reaction that has vernon cursing and pulling his dick out of you. he eagerly fists at his cock, jerking himself off till he releases all over your puffy pussy. he’s moaning softly, prettily calling out your name. his heart pounds rapidly and his entire body twitches at the feeling of release. 

his eyes finally open after a few seconds of trying to regulate his breathing. he sees the way your cunt is dressed in white and how you're slowly, but surely, coming down from both of your highs. 

“hey,” he whispers. 

“hi,” you mumble, eyes fluttering open. your hands reach for him and he can’t help but find you so cute. “c’mere.”

he smiles, leaning down to kiss you again. unlike your past few kisses, it’s soft and innocent. loving. he parts after a minute or so, hand moving to sweep the hair out of your face. 

“are you sure you’re alright?” he whispers. “i feel kinda bad…”

“don’t, ‘sol, i wanted it. i’m really happy.” you tell him sincerely. “are you alright?”

he sighs, “i’m really happy, too… i just wish i would’ve taken you out on a date or something before… fucking you.” 

you shake your head, “we did it kinda backwards, but, seriously, i’m just happy you’re here… happy that you’re mine.” he blushes, moving to hide his face in your neck while you giggle. “if you wanna, we can go on a date now?”

“where?” he mumbles into your neck.

“7/11– channie’s working so that means free big gulps and rollers… you know, since some of us can’t afford to eat real food because of their ‘job.’”

vernon scoffs, pulling his face out of your neck and giving you a stern look. “dude, it’s a real job–”

you laugh, effectively cutting him off. “okay, scammer– if it’s a real job, why are you always stealing my fucking weed instead of buying your own?” 

“because weed is scarce these days and your bitch ass dealer hates me– why should i have to pay $20 for a gram when you only pay $5?” he nearly cries. “and, since we’re on the topic, i don’t like him. he’s too friendly with you.” that’s code for “he obviously wants to fuck you.”

“you’re jealous of cheol!”

he groans, rolling his eyes, a tiny pout appearing on his face, “so what if i am?”

you coo, “aw, baby,” hand coming to cup his blushy cheek. “you don’t have to worry about him,” you relay to him, voice laced with sincerity. “you’re the only one i want.”

he goes a little bug-eyed at your words before clearing his throat and nodding. “good. that’s good.” 

you raise an eyebrow, “just good?” 

“no… it’s great…” he mumbles cutely. “you’re also the only one i want.”

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

[moonlightspencie]

Sleepover

Description: Hotch wants the reader, but doesn’t know how to tell her. Maybe a night in will be of some assistance.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Warnings: none (but this is full of domesticity, jealous!hotch, mutual pining, and so much fluffy fluff)

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: originally posted on tumblr. then it resided on ao3. now it’s back on tumblr. (fun fact: it’s my favorite hotch fic i’ve ever written and my second favorite story i’ve done of all the fandoms i’ve written for. hope ya like it still)

If there was one thing Agent Aaron Hotchner was not, it was unprofessional. But, oh. If there was ever a time he wanted badly to be unprofessional, it was this moment right now. Y/N stood next to him, leaning in close to whisper in his ear as they stood in the kitchenette, looking out into the bullpen.

“You look exhausted. You need to go get sleep.”

He glanced down at her. His face was so close he could almost feel her breath on him. It was everything in him to not lean in and—

“Hotch, seriously. You can’t even focus for more than a minute at a time,” she laughed, shaking her head.

“I’ll be fine. It was just— a long case,” he finally managed.

She turned away, arms crossing. “You need rest. You beat yourself up more than anyone during this one.”

“I have a little boy at home to take care of before I can even think about sleep.”

She sighed, turning fully to face him. “Hotch.”

“Y/N,” he retorted.

“Fine. You know what?”

He turned towards her, arms crossing to mirror her.

“What?”

“I’m coming home with you.”

His heart stopped and face dropped. It took him a moment to process what she’d just said.

“Um,” he took a second to clear his throat, “I—Excuse me?”

She laughed, music to his ears. “That sounded so inappropriate. I’m sorry. I mean, I’m going to come watch Jack for you. You’re gonna get rest.”

“I’m your boss.” Hotch watched her face for a moment. “You don’t need to watch my son while I sleep.”

“You’re also my friend, and I’m offering my time, you’re not taking it. Besides, I’ve watched Jack a hundred times before.”

He only sighed, looking back over the bullpen, now nearly empty.

She turned again, leaning over. “You’re not gonna win this one.”

“Fine, but you need to get sleep at some point, too.” He looked back to her. “As soon as Jack is asleep, I want you to get rest yourself.”

“Will do, boss.” She smirked.

“Okay, go get your things, we’ll leave in a few minutes,” he said, watching her for a moment as she walked off.

She went to her desk, beginning to pack up what she needed, but not before Derek had to come over to stir things up.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he said, leaning against her desk on one arm. “Leaving so soon?”

“Soon?” She laughed. “We just had a hell of a case, I’m getting out of here.”

“Oh, man.”

He shifted, crossing his arms over his chest and sat against the desk.

Hotch walked towards his office, trying not to watch the pair talking. He tried to not pay attention how she smiled at him as he spoke, and how he always seemed to have the right words to say to get her to laugh.

“Why, what’s up?” She slung her bag over her shoulder.

“I was thinking about going to the bar. Wanted to know if a pretty lady wanted to tag along.”

Hotch threw his things in his bag quickly, trying to not think about Y/N talking to someone much younger… Childless… Not a widow. Someone he knew she’d be with more easily.

“Oh, so you only wanted me around for my looks, huh?”

He laughed, throwing his head back a little. “You’re worth a lot more than just that, sweetheart.”

“Aww, such a sweet boy,” she said, griping his shoulder. “I got some other plans for the night, though.”

“Oh yeah? Doing what?” He straightened up with a smirk.

“Ready?” Hotch asked, walking up behind her at the desk.

“Yeah, let’s go,” she responded, turning towards him.

Morgan’s face was stuck in a state of shock.

“Whoa, now hold on—”

“I’m going to watch Jack,” she said, cutting him off with a chuckle. “Don’t get too riled up, now.”

He smiled, almost laughing. “Alright. I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Morgan,” Hotch said with a curt wave. Y/N followed his lead, and then they were on their way out.

“So,” Hotch started as they stepped out of the elevator and walked outside. “You and Morgan?”

Y/N raised her eyebrows in shock. “What?”

They began walking to his car.

“Are you two… Because there are some forms you’d really need to sign if—”

“Hotch,” she stopped him, standing by the passenger side door as he waited by the drivers. “That is so not happening.”

“Okay, I just…” he trailed off with a shrug, opening the door as she did and getting in.

“He’s a flirt. There’s nothing going on between us.” She settled into the seat, buckling up. “Besides, I’m too busy trying to take care of you.”

She laughed and he couldn’t help himself but to join in. He pulled off, and started towards home.

“Thank you, by the way, for doing this,” he said, not daring to look at her with how nervous he suddenly felt about bringing her to his home.

“I just want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

“Jack is going to love this.” He chuckled, turning down his street. “He really looks up to you, you know? Thinks you’re hilarious.”

“Well, he’s not wrong. I am pretty funny.” She smiled. “I am, admittedly, a little sad I only get to hang out with him for a few hours, though.”

“Yeah?” he asked, pulling into the lot of the apartment complex.

“Yeah. He’s a great kid.”

As much as he didn’t want to admit it for how childish it felt, he got butterflies this time when he turned to look at her. Before he could think about it too much, he turned the key and opened the door. She followed suit, walking behind him until they reached his door. He opened it for her, and she looked around.

“His aunt should be dropping him off here in a few minutes,” he said, closing and locking the door behind him. “If you’re hungry or need a drink, you’re free to get anything from the kitchen.”

“Thank you.” She smirked, watching him. “Why don’t you go get ready for bed?”

“I will.”

He chuckled, feeling like a little kid with the way she spoke to him. Then he paused, considering something for a moment.

Apparently the moment was longer than he realized.

“You got something on your mind?” she asked.

“Would you like to stay here for the night? I have a guest room, and this way you won’t need to catch a ride home. I could just take you to work tomorrow.”

“Oh,” she said, glancing down at her bag. “I don’t have anything to wear. I mean, I have my go bag at my desk that I could always use for an emergency, but for the night—”

“If you need something, I’m sure there’s something of mine you could…” He paused, realizing what he was saying. But before he could backtrack, she had to go and flash him a smile again.

“If that’s okay with you, it’s okay with me.”

“I’m sorry if that sounded inappropriate, I—”

“Did you not hear me agree?” She laughed. “You worry too much, boss. Now go get dressed.”

He nodded, turning for his room. She walked over the couch in the living room, sitting down and leaning her head back. It wasn’t long before she heard a bedroom door open, and there stood the great Aaron Hotchner in an old t-shirt and baggy pajama pants.

“That’s a good look on you,” she said, looking up at him from where he sat.

He felt a blush creep onto his skin, and tried really hard not to think about it. He walked a little closer as she stood up, handing her a nearly folded pile of clothes.

“I brought you these. The shirt is extra baggy and comfortable, and hopefully the pants will fit well enough. They’re adjustable.”

“Thank you so much, this’ll be great.” She smiled up at him. “Room is down the hall? I’d like to get dressed and set my bag in there before Jack gets here.”

“Yes, right across from his room.”

“Okay, sounds great. Now, you go to bed. I’ll be here.”

He gave her a slight smile. “Right. Thank you, again.”

“You know it’s no problem. Now, goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he said, walking off.

She grabbed her bag and the clothes, walking off towards the guest room. She set her bag down near the door, closing it to dress. She stripped out of her work clothes, slipping on his t-shirt first. She took in a deep breath and smiled: It smelled like him. She finished pulling on the pajama pants and made them comfortable as needed.

She grabbed a makeup wipe out of her bag and wiped her face, calling it good for an unexpected night out. Then, she heard a knock at the door. She walked out, looking through the peephole to see Hotchner’s sister-in-law Jessica standing outside with Jack. Y/N opened the door.

“Hey!”

“Y/N!” Jack squealed, throwing his arms around her. “What are you doing here?”

“Dad needed to get some rest, sweetheart. So, we get to hang out for the night,” she said, looking down at him with a hand rested on his back. “Thank you for bringing him.”

“Anything for my little man. It’s good to see you again,” she said with a smile, accepting a quick hug from Jack before he bolted off.

“You too, Jess. Have a great night.”

She waved a goodbye and was out the door. Y/N locked everything back up, and popped her head into Jack’s room.

“Hey, buddy.”

“Hi!” he said, turning around from where he stood at his dresser. “I’m gonna get dressed for bed. Then can we watch a movie? I already ate at aunt Jess’s house.”

“Yeah, of course, little man.” She nodded. “Do you want to go in the living room or…”

Jack paused, giggling. “Why are you wearing dad’s clothes?”

“I’m staying the night, bud. I needed pajamas.”

“You are?” he asked, eyes wide. “Can we go watch the movie in your room?”

“Yeah! Why don’t you finish getting dressed and brush your teeth, and then you can come in, okay?”

“Okay!” he exclaimed, quickly grabbing his clothes.

She turned, walking across to hall and into the guest room. She pulled the covers back, crawling underneath and switching on the T.V., finding her way to Jack’s Netflix profile, smiling at some of the shows he’d been watching. She picked an old movie she loved as a kid. It wasn’t long before she heard a door open, and little footsteps whipping around the other side of the bed. He crawled up under her arm, pulling blankets up to cover him.

Jack was watching intently, the movie only half over, when the creaking of another door piqued their interest. Hotch’s head popped into view a second later.

“What are you doing up?” Y/N asked.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He gave a shy smile, then turned to Jack. “How are you doing buddy?”

“Y/N said she’s staying over!”

“Yeah, she is.” He smiled, stepping inside the room. “How’s the movie?”

“I like it a lot. Come watch!” Jack said, patting the bed next to him.

“Buddy, I’m not sure that’s—”

“Please, dad?” he pleaded.

Hotch looked to Y/N, almost asking permission without saying a word. She nodded. He shuffled a little, hesitantly walking around the bed to Jack’s other side. He lowered himself on the bed, pulling the covers over his legs. Jack slipped out from under Y/N’s arm in favor of leaning on his dad’s shoulder. It wasn’t long before Jack was snoring, and as Y/N looked up to see if Hotch thought it was just as cute as she did, she noticed he’d fallen asleep, too. They looked so sweet sleeping there together that she couldn’t help but pull out her phone and take a picture. She set the phone on the nightstand, making herself more comfortable as she focused her attention back on the movie.

Early morning light filled the room when Hotch woke up. He glanced down to see his son cuddle up against him and smiled. He was still fast asleep. Then, he looked up. Y/N laid asleep, her body curled up on her side, facing him and effectively caging Jack between them. Her breath came soft and even, and he admired how she looked in his clothes as he saw her in the light for the first time. She was so close, and he longed to get closer, but couldn’t think on it long before her eyes started fluttering open.

“Hey,” she greeted, voice soft with sleep, and a tired smile gracing her face.

“Hey,” he said back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep in here.”

She chuckled, rubbing her eyes. “No, it’s fine. I think he was happy to have you here.”

Hotch smiled, looking down at his son. He was out like a light.

Y/N leaned over, gently kissing Jack’s forehead before slowly and quietly getting out of bed. Hotch watched her, heart aching at how much he wished all of his mornings could start this same way. He shifted out of the grip of his son as she stretched out at the end of the bed, leaving the room with her.

“It’s still early,” he said, walking to the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”

She trailed behind, taking a seat at the counter.

“That depends. Are you gonna make me breakfast if I am?”

“If you’d like.”

He smirked at her, and she smiled back.

“Tell you what, you work on the food, I’ll get coffee started,” she said, getting up and walking towards the counter.

He wordlessly agreed, pulling out some boxed pancake mix and stovetop sausage links. She removed the old coffee filter from the machine and set in a new one, filling it up with grounds. Hotch mixed up the batter quickly, heating up a pan.

The coffee pot filled, and pancakes were formed. Y/N poured two cups, preparing one to her liking and one to Hotch’s. Then, footsteps came shuffling into the room.

“Morning, sunshine,” Y/N said to Jack, smiling at him. “You want some juice?”

He nodded sleepily and climbed up onto a chair at the counter. She poured him some orange juice and set the cup down in front of him. He took a sip, watching his dad finishing up breakfast.

“Is that pancakes?” Jack asked, trying to peek around to see the pans.

“It sure is,” Hotch replied, throwing some pancakes on a plate and pouring out a few more.

Y/N set down the two coffee mugs on the counter, and took her place next to Hotch to move the sausage links around in the other pan.

“Almost done?” she asked him without looking up.

He moved the rest of the pancakes to the plate.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said, glancing over and turning off both burners.

Hotch grabbed three plates, setting them down next to her so she could split up the sausage links. As soon as she was done, Hotch set to putting a few pancakes on each plate, and Y/N grabbed butter and syrup out of the fridge. He prepared Jack’s for him and set the plate in front of him with a fork. He then waited for Y/N to start the working on her own before he prepared his. She took a seat first, leaving a seat in the middle for Hotch. They ate quietly, sharing a few words when Jack wanted to talk about what he got to do at school the day before, and what he was looking forward to for the rest of the week.

“Hey,” Y/N, nudging Hotch’s arm as she pushed her plate away from her. “Could we get to the office a little early? I’m gonna have to get dressed there since my go bag is there and all.”

“Of course.” He nodded, sipping at the last of his coffee. He then turned to Jack. “Can you go get dressed to go to school, please?”

“Yeah,” he said, hopping off the stool and running off towards his room.

“I think I’m gonna put on my stuff from yesterday till we get there,” Y/N said, sliding off of her stool. “Not sure walking into the office in your pajamas would be a great look.”

“Maybe not the most professional outfit,” he agreed, laughing a little as he walked around the counter, putting dishes in the sink for later. “For the record, I think you look beautiful.”

She paused, feeling heat rise to her cheeks and butterflies in her stomach.

“Thanks,” she said quietly, arms crossing over her chest. “Looks better on you, though.”

And with that, she left to go change. Hotch waited in the kitchen for a moment, almost in shock, before heading off to his room to get ready for the day.

It wasn’t long before they were both showered and ready to go, Jack practically running out the door when his aunt arrived to take him to school. Hotch and Y/N drove to work in a comfortable silence, only the sound of the radio playing low. They arrived at the BAU, and went straight inside. Hotch went to his office, and Y/N was reaching for her duffel bag when the glass doors opened.

She looked up, not expecting anyone else to be there so early.

“Hey, what are you doing here? We don’t start for another half hour,” she inquired.

“Just needed to get some work done early. But I could ask you the same thing.” Derek smiled at her, then glanced at what she was wearing. “Hold on, aren’t those your clothes from yesterday?”

He inched closer, a slight smirk on his face.

“Yeah, I was just about to go change.” She held up her go bag.

“Mhm.” He crossed his arms. “What happened to just looking after Jack for a while? You decide you were finally gonna get after—”

“Derek!” she interrupted, laughing. “No! I just stayed the night with Jack in the guest room.”

He raised a brow. “And that’s all? Baby girl I know you’ve had a little crush on Hotch since you walked in here.”

She bit her cheek, looking away for a moment. “You’re nothing but trouble, Morgan.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

He stepped closer.

“Okay, fine.” She huffed out a sigh and lowered her voice. “We had breakfast this morning, with Jack.”

“And?”

She paused. “He also slept with me and Jack, but it was an accident. He didn’t mean to fall asleep there. We didn’t even touch one another, it was totally platonic.”

“Well, I am sure Hotch wouldn’t be sneaking into bed with me if I was watching his kid.”

“It wasn’t like that,” she said, shaking her head. “He’s totally not into me. You know how he is with work policy, and besides he is way out of my league.”

“You need to think a little higher of yourself.”

“Yeah, whatever.” She laughed again. “Now, out of my way so I can get dressed. I don’t need any more questions from the rest of the team.”

“Alright.” He stepped back holding up his hands.

“And Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“Do not tell anybody.”

She pointed a finger in his direction as she spoke. He only chuckled, taking a seat at his desk.

She went to the bathroom, changing out of her old clothes and throwing on some new ones suitable for work at the office. She put on a little makeup, threw on some deodorant, and called it good. She stepped out to a slightly more full bullpen, only a couple more people had arrived. She shoved her go bag under her desk, and walked over to the kitchenette table where Derek, Hotch, and Emily were talking.

“How’s it going, guys?” she asked, taking the seat next to Emily, across from Morgan and Hotch.

“Talking about yesterday’s case. The daughter of the last victim made it safely to her grandparents’ house,” Emily said, sipping at a mug of coffee.

“That’s awesome. I’m glad she had them to go to,” she said, leaning forward on the table.

“You need coffee?” Emily asked, looking to Y/N.

“Oh, no thanks. I got my share this morning.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you did,” Derek said, holding back a smile.

“Morgan.” Y/N glared at him.

Hotch caught her eye for a moment afterwards, questioning. She slightly shook her head in amusement.

“What happened?” Emily asked, a curious smile on her face looking between Y/N and Derek.

“Nothing, he just doesn’t understand boundaries,” she said with a pointed finger. “Trying to blow things way out of proportion as always.”

This time she glanced at Hotch first, rolling her eyes a little. He smirked, looking down at his hands.

Emily watched the little interaction with interest.

“Does it have something to do with these two?” she inquired, looking back to Derek.

Y/N and Hotch spoke over each other.

“Nothing happened,” Y/N muttered.

“What?” Hotch questioned.

Derek looked to Hotch. “Can we go talk?”

Hotch furrowed his brow. “May I ask what about?”

“It’s nothing. It’ll just take a couple minutes.”

“Alright,” he said, standing up and nodding a quick goodbye to Emily and Y/N.

Derek followed after, throwing a devious look Y/N’s way.

Emily leaned over, speaking more quietly. “Something I should know about you and Hotch?”

“No,” she chuckled. “Derek is just… Himself.”

“Something had to have happened.” Emily turned in her chair, and made Y/N face her. “Spill.”

“I went to watch Jack last night so Hotch could get some rest. We had breakfast this morning with Jack, and he accidentally fell asleep next to Jack and I while we were watching a movie.” She sighed. “I told Derek, and now he’s freaking out about it like something happened.”

“Y/N. You slept at his house.”

“To watch his kid.”

“Wait, you said he fell asleep next to you and Jack.” A smile crept on her face. “Was that on a couch or in a bed?”

“Emily,” she groaned.

“Y/N!” Her eyes went wide. “How can you still think he’s not interested in you?”

“He’s not.”

“You’re both blind.”

Hotch led Derek to his office, only leaving the door a little cracked.

“You wanted to talk?” he asked, leaning against his desk. Derek stood in front of him.

“Yeah. About you and Y/N.”

“Morgan.”

“Hotch, I know you don’t want to admit it, but I know you’re into that girl.” Derek crossed his arms over his chest. “She told me about last night and this morning.”

“She was watching Jack. Nothing more.” Hotch shook his head. “This isn’t an appropriate conversation for work.”

“Work doesn’t start for another ten minutes.”

Hotch only stared.

“Look, I just think you should ask her out.”

“I’m not going to do that.”

“Why not?” Derek let his arms drop to rest on his hips, tilting his head.

“I’m her boss,” he replied, straightening up.

“But what is really the harm in trying?”

“She’s—” he started, and then paused, shaking his head.

“She’s what? Amazing? Gorgeous? Smart?”

“She wouldn’t be interested in someone like me. So, it doesn’t matter anyways,” Hotch said, glancing down. “We start the day in 5.”

“Great, that’s plenty of time.” Derek paused a second. “Why would you think she’s not into you?”

“I’m— I have a child, and I’m a widow. She doesn’t need all of that on her plate. Plus, she’s young. She’d be better off with somebody your age,” he said, looking up again to catch Derek’s eye.

“Man, you are so blind.”

Derek chuckled, shaking his head.

The day started as usual. The team had a briefing, and then went to work at their desks for a while. Today was going to be a slower day, and everyone seemed to be thankful they could get home at the end of the day. At lunch, Y/N noticed Derek and Emily talking quietly: she thought it was awfully suspicious.

“Hey, you two,” she called out, walking over to Emily’s desk. “Why are you being so quiet, it’s weird.”

Derek glanced up. “Nothing.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, turning to Emily in question.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing.”

“You two are bad liars.” Then, she had an idea. “Hey, Reid.”

His head popped up, looking to her. “Yeah?”

“You’ve been sitting here next to them, what are they talking about?”

He looked lost, glancing around. “I—Uh… I have no clue.”

“Now, see, you I believe,” she laughed, ruffling his hair as she went past.

He frowned, quickly smoothing it back out. She headed off towards Hotch’s office instead, trying to ignore the whispers that has started back up.

She knocked quietly on the open door.

“Hey, you busy?”

She popped her head in to see him eating a sandwich at his desk.

He shook his head, swallowing a bite. “No, come in.”

She closed the door and went to sit at the chair by his desk.

“Derek has been weird all day. What did you guys talk about earlier? I can’t get an answer to save my life.”

His eyes went wide.

“What?” she questioned, noticing Hotch going more on-edge.

“Uh, it was— It was nothing. Just a work thing.”

“You know, you’re a really bad liar, too.”

He chuckled, looking away. “I just don’t think this is the right time to talk.”

She furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

He glanced up at her, looking her in the eyes, searching for an easy answer.

“It was just— It was about last night. And this morning.”

She groaned. “Great. I knew I shouldn’t have told him anything.”

Hotch just sighed, looking at her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think he’d say anything,” she offered as an apology.

“No, it’s okay. It’s just that…” He let out a slow breath. “He brought up something that I think I want to talk to you about. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

“Okay, what is it?” she questioned, straightening up in her chair.

“He, uh, brought up everything from last night and this morning. And he brought up how that’s not something that I would normally do. Or something you would normally do.”

“Oh. I didn’t mean to make you uncomf—”

“No, it wasn’t that. It’s just,” he paused, watching her for a second. “I need to know if you feel the same way about me that I feel about you.”

Her heart was racing and heat rose to her face. She was breathless.

“W-what?”

“I’m so sorry, I know this is inappropriate, but…”

“What are you asking?”

“I just need to know how you feel. About me.”

He looked at her, almost pleading for the answer he deeply wanted.

“I’m— I think you’re amazing. I think you’re a wonderful father, and I’ve never met someone who makes me feel the way you do,” she began in a ramble. “I didn’t want to say anything because I know you’re so out of my league, but after talking to Derek this morning, and Emily, I just… I don’t know. I want to hope.”

Hotch furrowed his brow, and Y/N took in a breath, ready for rejection.

“You think I’m out of your league?”

“I mean… Yeah?” She tilted her head. “You’re really incredible.”

He couldn’t help but smile.

“Y/N, for profilers I don’t think we’ve been very good at reading one another,” he said quietly. “I thought I was the last person you’d ever be interested in.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m a widow, I’m older than you, I have a son…”

“A son that I love. I’d do anything for that kid.”

“I know.”

He smiled again, watching her. She couldn’t help but to smile back.

“As for the other stuff, I couldn’t care less. You’re so much more than that.”

“Really?”

“Really,” she continued to smile at him. “We really are pretty dumb, huh?”

“Very, apparently,” he agreed with a nod.

She checked the time. “Lunch break is almost over. I better go.”

He nodded again. “Yeah. Talk more later?”

“Of course.”

She waved a goodbye, walking towards the door. With one hand on the handle, she felt something grip her arm and spin her around. She was met with Hotch’s lips on hers, a kiss that took her breath away. They broke apart after a minute, both smiling like giddy teenagers.

“When I tell you that’s all I could think about doing this morning…” she began.

“Me too,” he agreed, looking into her eyes as his hand stroked her cheek. “Especially when I got to wake up to you in my clothes. It was killing me.”

She giggled, leaning in for one more kiss. It was slower this time, more gentle. She backed away afterwards, just enough to be able to speak against his lips.

“I think maybe we should thank Derek and Emily.”

“And let them feel like they won?”

“Good point.”

He let her go to get back to the bullpen, but as she attempted to turn the handle of the door, she was knocked back into his chest. Of course.

“You’re welcome,” Derek said with a smile after assessing what must have just happened.

“You don’t get credit for this,” Y/N laughed.

“Mhm. But it’s totally on me,” he said, raising a brow. He started walking back out, but not before… “Don’t you two take too long in there.”

FULL MASTERLIST

[longing-for-the-past-times]

finding out it's your birthday

task force 141 x reader

synopsis: It's your birthday, but you don't know how to tell your teammates about it

notes: don't really know how to properly describe this, but it's based on this request and my personal experience of having to spend my birthday at work (no, I did not bring them baked goods, just sweets from the shop). Really short, not proofread, no plot.

comments and reblogs are always appreciated🙈

warnings: none

find it on ao3 masterlist

"and now I am dreaming and you're singing at my birthday// and I've never seen you smile so big" - moon song

There were a lot of potential ways you could have spent your birthday, but running through the narrow hallways of the base with a heavy backpack slung over a shoulder definitely hadn't been one of them

You almost crashed into other three operators, including König from KorTac who had the common sense to place his heavy hands on your shoulders in an attempt to steady you before you ran him over in your rush to get to the meeting room

Laswell had advanced the hour the post-mission debriefing was supposed to take place and it ended up clashing with your own schedule, the one day you decided to organise your actions into one and now you were late by almost 5 minutes. Which wouldn't seem like much to some, but being a member of Task Force 141 meant you needed to uphold a certain standard.

But it was your birthday and even if you were 99% sure no one was actually aware of it, you'd spent the morning baking oat cookies and muffins, and carefully packing them into casseroles. You also tried to bring them to the destination with minimal damage, but now you could only hope there was something edible left of the baked goods.

"I'm sorry I'm late!", you meekly excused yourself, taking a seat between Ghost and Soap and blushing slightly when feeling Price's judging glare.

"Anyway, as I was saying when you tried to infiltrate through this crack in the perimeter…"

Slightly tapping your left foot against the floor, you couldn't focus on Laswell's words. What if they didn't like the cookies - you were never able to make them both soft and chewy - or what if the muffins stuck to the muffin liners? Did you put too many chocolate chips in them?

"Y/N? What's your take on this?"

You looked at Price with an alarmed expression, panic bubbling up in your chest upon seeing the questioning looks of the others. You didn't catch the last part of the question - were they asking about your birthday? Laswell must have known, she was the one responsible for all the intelligence after all.

So you did what seemed the most logical thing to do. You opened the backpack and placed the plastic casseroles on the table, unaware that everyone else in the room was literally frozen in place.

"So yeah, it's my birthday today and I made some cookies and muffins and thought it would be nice to share them with you and… that's not what you were talking about, is it?"

Your words trailed as you realised that the timing wasn't as ideal as you planned. At least, now you were sure they hadn't known: Price's eyes were widened comically, and Gaz was repeatedly blinking at you in confusion and disbelief. Soap let out a thunderous laugh as he instantly pulled you into a bear hug and Ghost… you couldn't tell his expression under the mask, but the blank look in his eyes meant he was probably still wrapping his head around it

"How about we forget any of this happened and I do it again after the debrief is over?" A blush spread on your cheeks as you tried to put the casseroles back into the backpack, but you were stopped by Gaz's firm grip.

"Are you kidding? It's your birthday, we should celebrate - go out for drinks and do karaoke and-"

Price and Kate shared a knowing look between themselves and shook their heads in defeat. Before being able to ask them what was the matter, Kate closed the laptop and began to stuff the files back into the manilla folders

"Happy birthday, Y/N! We will resume this tomorrow. And now tell me, what kind of oats did you use for the cookies, plain or instant? My wife's been trying to make them this chewy, but she never seems to get the recipe right."

It was your turn to open your mouth in disbelief when you saw Price joining Kate at the table, securing a casserole of oat cookies just for themselves

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?", he asked in a gentle tone, fishing breadcrumbs from his moustache.

"I… It's not that important, I mean…"

You couldn't help but flinch when someone placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it slightly, as if in reassurance. You turned your look to Ghost, who was holding a pink muffin in his gloved hand. His mask was lifted up to his nose, revealing his tight-lipped smile:

"Don't ever say that again, ok? That is all the more reason to celebrate it. You were the one who got us out safe from the bunker after all…"

And you could swear you saw his lips twitching into a smile, a playful glimmer dancing in his eyes as he bit into the cupcake

[sillylilreader]

a fateful hue (Shoto Todoroki x Reader) (Soulmate Au)

sorry I haven’t posted in a bit :/ haven’t felt well tbh

Summary: In a world of soulmates, where you experience color upon finding your soulmate, you discover yourself entangled with a certain dual toned employee after a rather amicable breakup.

Warnings: angst, fast paced, alcohol, breakup, not a happy ending,

It was a lousy morning, for a lousy day, for an even lousier night. You’d lost your job, your boyfriend, and even your wits all in one day. 

Your job had been threatening you with termination for months now, saying you’d taken too many days off, been late too many times. Today was the last straw, as you showed up at 7:31, instead of 7:30. It was silly, really, that this was the nail in the coffin for them. Surely, someone else had fucked up worse that day. But alas, you had received the boss’ rage in the end, as she kicked you out with your box of little decorations and doodads. 

As for your boyfriend, you knew it was over long ago. You’d known each other for ages, stayed together for the familiarity. But as soon as you shared your first kiss, your first touch, you knew it wasn’t gonna work. You both pulled away with the oh so familiar look of disappointment. As soon as he called you, voice filled with a suppressed excitement, you knew he’d found his soulmate. You let him go, with not so much as an ‘oh no’, and just like that he was packed up and gone when you returned home.

‘The least he could’ve done was clean up…’ you thought to yourself, a slight anger bubbling in your tummy, as you returned to a trashed apartment. 

The apartment wasn’t trashed per say, but there was a slew of trash left in his wake. Anything he didn’t need was left behind. The familiar emptiness of the home left you hollow, feeling little like a home and more like just a room.

You were never one to dwell on the little things, moving through life at a brisk pace. But as you neared your thirties, getting steadily closer by the day, you found yourself becoming more and more desperate to find your soulmate in life. Your now ex boyfriend and you had thought you were being revolutionary by settling for each other, but as made apparent by his absence, neither of you were that happy with the other.

Maybe you should have fought harder.. You wondered. But, deep down, you knew he wouldn’t have stayed for you. It’s not that you thought you weren’t worth it. But you knew if you were in his shoes, you would have done the same.

As the sun went down, you decided a good bit of alcohol would do you some good. Anything to warm the ache in your heart, as you found yourself drowning in your own sorrow. You put on your warmest coat, trekking outside into the monochrome glow of the lowering star. 

Shadows crossed your path and blended into the pavement, making eerie shapes as you walked on by. 

You soon found yourself in the nearby liquor store, scanning the bottles on the rack, looking for something familiar. You were so involved in your search, that you barely registered the dual toned head of hair behind you. 

“Miss..?” they mumbled out, in a voice soft and monotone, causing you to jump in place and nearly knock over the display stand.

You whipped around, almost bumping into the stranger. “Sorry?” you stuttered, embarrassment flushing your cheeks.

The dual toned eyes met yours, two shades of gray, matching the white and gray hair. “Are you looking for something… specific?” It was then you noticed the familiar employee uniform.

You also couldn’t help but notice the beauty of the man. He wasn’t just handsome, he was gorgeous. His bone structure was perfect, and beneath his uniform, he was seemingly fit.

Your brain stumbled over the words, struggling for maybe a minute too long. 

“Um... not really…” you paused momentarily, desperate to continue a conversation with any living being. “…do you have anything for a, um, breakup..?” You tried to maintain composure, even tried for a laugh, but as the words left your mouth, you’d finally realized the weight of your situation. Your lips trembled and your eyes watered, the burden of your body becoming heavier.

The employee reached a hand out in your direction, as if to help you with the weight, but he seemed to think better of it, retracting his hand at the last moment. A frown graced his features, an expression you thought shouldn’t look so perfectly poised on anyone. 

“Um... we have some… stronger options, this way,” he gestured to your left, offering to lead you down the aisle. You sniffled, gratefully accepting the help, following him down the lane. 

Your footsteps fell, quietly in sync with each other. It was a short walk, very short, but as you wiped away your forming tears, you thought you caught him sneaking glances at you. 

If it wasn’t for your shitty circumstances, you’d be flattered by such a pretty guy checking you out. 

I mean, come on, he looked your age, he had a calming air to him, and he even seemed to be a gentleman.

 ‘No, he’s just doing his job…’ you thought, disappointed in yourself. Getting yourself interested in someone so soon after your break up? Bad luck, you don’t want to treat someone as a rebound. 

As you reached the section of stronger alcohol, a brand known for its near toxicity, you turned to thank the boy, but he had already wandered off to continue helping customers. 

You found yourself a bit disappointed at his absence.

Afterwards, you quickly picked out your poison of choice, and made your way to the checkout, surprised to find him waiting for you there.

You waved, softly as if you were scared to disturb him, as you placed your product on the counter. 

“Thank you. For showing me, I mean… I know it must be tiring to deal with unaware people all day..?” You ended your sentence, as if it was a question. Embarrassment crept up your back as you floundered to save your mistake.

He scanned the product, a slight beep filling your ears. It would annoy you, if it weren’t for the boy in front of you.

He simply quirked an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile on his face. “No worries… Happens all the time,” he muttered absentmindedly. 

Once he had bagged the item, he turned to you. “It’s on me..” he spoke carefully, as if he might surprise you again.

You read his nametag carefully as he spoke, barely registering his words.

“Oh! Really? Well, thank you… Todoroki.. It was nice meeting you..!” you smiled, as wide as you could given the circumstances. You were sure he could see the sadness in your eyes, but it didn’t matter to you.

“Yeah, you too…” he waved, carefully, as you left, his gaze following you out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t long before you found yourself wandering back to the liquor store. You were intoxicated, not blackout, but close. You weren’t sure why your feet led you this way, but you were sure you had to get there. 

It had been weeks since you’d last seen him, or even been to the liquor store, but after a night on the bar, your feet drug you ever closer to his place of employment. 

Was this creep behavior? Yeah. Were you following through anyway? Also yeah!

As you were met with the familiar buzz of the neon sign, illuminating the sky around you, you found yourself questioning your motives. What did you hope to get out of this? Another small greeting? Todoroki didn’t seem like the social type, and surely wouldn’t appreciate a random stalker.

Sober you would be stopped dead in your tracks by this realization. But drunk you? They saw this as an opportunity! Maybe he would think you’re special, showing interest in him.

As you took your next step forward, into the shop, a hand grabbed you from behind, covering your mouth, and pulling you into the back alley roughly.

You squirmed and kicked against the strong hand, to no avail. You tried to scream, but nothing escaped you. 

As you began to run out of air, and the lights dimmed around you, you heard a door swing open and a quick set of footsteps. A loud crack went off, and you were dropped to the hard ground. 

As you regained complete consciousness, you were met with dual toned eyes, watching you wearily. 

“Are you alright?” a worried voice reached your ears, as his gaze raked your figure, looking for any injuries.

You quickly collected yourself at the sound of his voice, Todoroki’s voice, no less.

“Mmyeah..” your speech slurred, much to your embarrassment. Your brain was foggy, and you still hadn’t processed the attack. 

Your eyes quickly found the body of your assailant. He was a big dude, with dark hair and, apparently, darker motives. As you searched again for your savior, you caught Todoroki glaring down at him with the utmost look of hatred.

As if sensing your gaze, he perked up, meeting your eyes. “Let me help you up..?” he held a hand out in your direction. You gently waved his hand away, getting up yourself. You almost swore you caught a look of disappointment, faintly visible on his features.

It was then you realized just how beautiful he was, perfect bone structure and sharp eyes. His long lashes fanned across his cheeks so gracefully, you almost thought it was mascara, or falsies.

In your drunken staring stupor, you came to the conclusion that the moment had become awkward. Your cheeks flushed, as you tore your gaze away, hands coming to cover your darkened cheeks. 

His bicolored eyebrows knit together, as Todoroki watched you closely. “Can I walk you home?” he muttered, fidgeting with his phone. “At least let me take care of the 110 call..?”

You nodded faintly, grateful for the help.

As the two of you padded home together, you found yourself admiring him more, and more. You didn’t know much about him, but surely he was a kind soul if he helped you out. Anybody else would have turned the other way. And it was surely helping that he was so good looking.

You hiccuped, covering your mouth, flustered. Todoroki met your gaze, a confused look on his face as his eyes fell on your hand, hovering over your lips. Quickly, a dark hue dusted his cheeks and bled into his ears, as if he had an embarrassing thought. 

“Whatcha thinkin ‘bout..?” Your speech was slurred, bringing heat to your cheeks. “Anything interestin?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he mumbled, a surprising bit of humor laced into his tone. Was he laughing at you? 

You frowned, small enough that nobody would care, but big enough to notice. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Soon enough you found yourself placed in front of your apartment, both of you lingering together.

“Come inside..?” you muttered, barely loud enough to be heard.

His cheeks lit up, dusted with a heavy blush, eyebrows knitting together. “Sorry.. I.. I dont..-” 

Your eyes widened at the implication you made. “No! Not what I meant, ‘m sorry,” your words came out jumbled together, further embarrassing you. 

You sighed, dissatisfied at his lack of a proper answer, and slid down the door to your apartment, head in hands. You felt his careful stare on the top of your scalp, care and uncertainty filling his mind. 

“I guess.. I could come in for tea..?” Todoroki winced as he said it, ever so slightly, a ghost of an expression, really. What was he thinking? You were some stranger he barely knew. He was aware of some connection to you, but was it worth the risk? 

Apparently, it was.

As your face lit up, he knew he made the right choice. Your cheeks flushed, and your features displayed a look of excitement as you raised your head to meet his look. You nodded excitedly, rising from the ground, and clumsily unlocking your front door.

At your reaction, he flushed, a deep gray dusting the tips of his ears. Todoroki averted his gaze, eyeing the lights that adorned the apartment building, illuminating each doorway. 

As you lead him through your front door, he couldn’t help but notice the state of the place. The place was cluttered beyond belief, with little memories hidden everywhere, hard to let go of. His attention fell on a specific doodad, a small cat figure, each side a different color. The left half a pale tabby, the right a dark, patchy hue. 

He tenderly picked up the cat, inspecting it. Holding the dual toned feline, he caught your attention. 

“You like it..?” he nodded in response, a slight look of intrigue in his eyes. “You can have it,” you slurred, plopping down on a loveseat.

“I can’t accept this,” he shook his head. “It’s yours.”

You gingerly patted the space beside you, as you reassured him, he could keep the figure. Todoroki sighed, squeezing into the love seat with you, careful not to touch you. You felt a little hurt at the implications of his fear. You absentmindedly twiddled your fingers, humming to yourself. 

You two tried your best to make small talk, chatting amongst yourselves. You found his quiet nature endearing, but couldn’t help but want him to open up to you.

Wouldn’t that be special? It’s always nice getting someone to trust you. 

“So about the tea?” he gestured towards your kitchen, catching your attention. You instantly rose from your seat, so quickly in fact, you found yourself falling forward.

Todoroki reacted in the blink of an eye, extending an arm to catch you by the wrist. 

As soon as his skin came in contact with yours, your sight erupted into beautiful colors. Every hue of the rainbow made its way into your vision. Todorokie must have noticed it too, as his grip immediately loosened, causing you to drop to the floor.

As you rubbed your head, feeling the pain from the impact, you took in your surroundings. Todoroki stood over you with his hands to his chest, looking terrified. “I need to go…” he mumbled, under his breath. 

You instantly sobered up, hurt clear across your features, and not from the fall.”Huh..? But, surely you see it too?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I need to leave,” And just like that, he sped for the door. “Goodbye..” he muttered, letting the door slam shut behind him.

You let your head fall back to the floor, ignoring the dull throbbing pain it brought. The real pain resided in your mind, your heart. Of course your soulmate would flake out on you.

You drowsily picked yourself up, the cold, hard floor trying to pull you in as your skin peeled off it. You made your way to the bedroom, haphazardly taking off your clothes and throwing them onto the carpet. The bed welcomed you in, dragging you into its warmth. You found yourself drifting off rather easily, thoughts and disappointment consuming you.

[frenziedfireworks]

Heightened Senses

George Weasley x Reader

Summary : Your boyfriend George loves experimenting in bed. It's always a surprise.

CW : SMUT, 18+, blindfolds, temp play (wax), praise kink, vibrator use, multiple orgasms, creampie

A/N : Sorry day three is late! I'll post four soon as well :^)

masterlist

You sat in bed waiting for George to be done in the shop. He had mentioned to you about how he had something to show you tonight, specifically in bed. You couldn’t help but be excited, listening as everyone left and the twins packed up.

You could hear the bedroom door swing open and you jumped up, running towards your boyfriend.

“Woah love! Someone's eager.” George grinned, hand rubbing at your cheek as you wrapped your arms around him.

“I wanna see my surprise.” You grin as you rubbed your thighs together in anticipation. Anything that had to do with George ‘experimenting’ always was a wild ride. From his lust potions to the peculiar candies he would always make you eat. 

“Okay okay, let a man get through the door.” George pulled you along with him, sitting you against the bed. He shuffled across the room and grabbed at a blindfold. 

“Can you strip for me and then let me put this on you?” George gave you a soft smile, nodding as you felt yourself getting nervous. You did as he asked, slowly pulling away at the fabric as he watched intently. 

“Good girl. Let me put this on you now.” George’s hand rubbed across your chest, pinching at your nipple lightly.

“That’s not my face George.” You breathed out, biting at your lip as he laughed.

“Observant as ever, my dear. Let me get to it then.” George’s rough hands tied the blindfold around your head, immersing you in pitch black. His fingers trailed around your thighs before they were gone at once. You could feel his presence stepping away and you reached out.

“Where are you going?”

“Just grabbing what I need. Here I’ll leave you with a gift.” You could hear the start up of the vibrator and the silicone head pushed against your core. Moans left your lips as you squirmed against the toy. 

“George..” You felt yourself growing wetter by the second, your hands pulling at the bedsheets. You faintly heard a chuckle across the room where your ‘supplies’ was held. The vibrations only got quicker by the second, sending you closer to your approaching orgasm.

“Look at that.. Already so prepared.” You felt George lean next to you on the bed, his fingers trailing down your stomach. His digit rubbed against your nub giving you the little push you needed to cum.

“So pretty. If I didn’t have other plans for tonight I’d eat you out for hours.” George hummed and you felt him adjusting on the bed. Even as you came down from your orgasm your body was on guard for whatever was next. You couldn’t possibly guess what it was and it was obvious George did not want you knowing. Your senses tracked George’s movements to the best of your abilities but you still jumped at his random touches around your body.

“I’m gonna put something on you and you're gonna tell me what it is, okay?” George whispered against your ear and you felt yourself clench. 

“Okay..” You trailed off, your body awaiting whatever he had in mind. You felt his hand smooth across your stomach and then a slow warm substance ooze onto your flesh. His index finger moved it against your torso, almost as if he was painting. The heat and his touch only added to your need, your brain fighting for its last thought.

“What do you think, darling? Do you need more before you guess?” George didn’t wait for a response, your back arching as he placed a few drops against your nipples. You paid attention as it spread against your tits, your pleasure and senses heightened.

“Is it wax George?” You could smell a faint scent of vanilla against your skin and George dropping lower against the bed.

“Yes love. My smart little kitten.” George cooed as he trailed more of the wax against your legs, moving it incredibly close to your cunt. Your want only grew as you felt his breath against your sopping snatch. 

“George, please.” You begged, adjusting your legs closer to where you could feel his head. You could hear a short laugh and his grip tightening.

“You want my tongue or do you want me?” 

“You. I want you George.”

“Good choice.” 

You felt a smack hit against your side as he stood up, your body yearning to see his cock spring free from his trousers. You could imagine the red tip leaking with precum, his vein protruding on the underside as it smacked against his stomach..

“George..”

“Give me a second dear. These buttons aren’t as easy as they look.” 

Within seconds you felt his member rub against your folds, his groans echoing in the room. His fingers flicked at your tits before sliding in, filling you to the brim. 

“Oh fuck.. You’re so wet. You liked your little surprise, didn’t you?” His hips smacked into yours, giving you one long pump before waiting. Your mind felt as if it was on the verge of breaking, his teasing being too much to handle.

“Yes.. Loved it George. Loved it almost as much as your cock.” Your voice pleaded and he seemed to understand. He began his thrusts, starting off slow and steady. Your arms scratched at his back as you desperately wanted more. You let out a few whines as he sank into you, hoping he wouldn’t make you beg more. Sadly, you knew he would.

“Is something wrong darling?” You could hear the smirk in his voice as he thrusted in once more, only adding to your impatience.

“Faster, George. Need you to be rough.” You submitted, your last nerve slowly fraying.

“Is that it? Princess needs to be fucked faster? I can do that. Let’s have you watch as I ruin you.” George’s hand removed the blindfold, your eyes adjusting to the light and his handsome face. He smiled down at you before winking.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, love.”

As soon as he spoke his hands dug into your sides, bringing you down onto his prick with a brutal pace. Your eyes rolled back into your head as he continued to use you, his pace almost inhuman. 

It wasn’t long until you found yourself close to reaching your second high, your body bouncing against his. You could feel his hips stuttering, alerting you that he was just as close.

“I’m close George.” You moaned out.

“I am too. Fuck! I’m gonna fill you up..” 

George’s pace became erratic as you came against him. Your body shuddered in pleasure as he spurt his cum inside, his arms caging you against his form. Your breaths slowed and he tumbled to the side of you, cuddling you into his chest.

After a few minutes to catch your breath you heard him speak up.

“So.. Did you like it? Reckon we can try it with ice in a few hours?” 

You could only snort. Leave it to George to experiment all night.

[seungrem]

Han Jisung x m!reader

‘Close Enough’ ~*+

summary: Before leaving for the day, han asks reader to check a supposed injury that he has. While examining the boy, reader uncovers his true intentions.

( normal smut, top!han x bttm!reader, intern!reader x idol!han, mutual feelings/crush )

a/n: posting this just to hold u guys over until i finish part 2 of chan’s fic :))

emoji code:

🌱 ( oneshot / short fic - around 3k words )

❄️ ( smut, minors DNI, 18+ )

☁️ ( y/n )

likes, comments, & reblogs r appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

After an easy day of wrapping up a project, it was now 2 am- meaning that ☁️ could finally go home. A member of the staff, the boy quickly assisted his team in packing up their equipment from the home.

Though the majority of the staff began to leave, ☁️ decided to check in with each member before he left as well. Saying his goodbyes to all but one, the boy approached the last room down the hall. ☁️ slowly drew closer to the door, knocking lightly. While waiting for a response, he repositioned the bag around his shoulder to sit comfortably.

“Han? Are you in here?” ☁️ opened the door, slowly inching into the room. A dim, orange lamp was on, but there was no sign of the idol. He looked around the room to make sure Han wasn’t hiding, which he’d done many times before.

After seeing no sign of him, ☁️ turned around and walked back out of the room. He slowly pulled the door, walking out with his back against the hallway and shutting it lightly.

“What are you doing?” Han asked with a bit of confusion. In the distance, ☁️ turned to see Han put a hand into his grey jeans, though his black shirt was barely visible due to the hallway’s dimness. Han raised an eyebrow and tilted his head.

“Ah, I was looking for you. I wanted to check in with everyone before I left.”

“There is something I need you to check.. but most of the other staff left, and the members are sleeping. I don’t wanna make you stay later.”

“Oh, no, I honestly don’t mind. What is it that you need?” ☁️ watched as Han walked towards him, the idol then grabbing his hand as he walked past. Han placed the boy’s hand on his chest as the two sat on the idol’s bed. As the door slowly closed itself, ☁️ looked at the boy in confusion.

“I hurt myself today while filming. Do you remember when I.. you know..”

☁️ nodded and would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so flustered. That orange hue glistening across the side of Han’s face made it too easy to admire him.

“So.. would you mind getting rid of the knot in my chest?”

☁️ tilted his head in confusion. “I don’t think it’s possible to get a knot in your chest, Han. Are you sure it’s a knot..?”

Using his own hand, Han directed ☁️’s hand around his chest. The boy felt two large bumps, but he was sure it was just Han showing off his pec muscles. Remembering the incident from earlier, through, ☁️ thought about how hard Han had actually fallen.

“I’m sure, when I landed I hit my chest.. Please, it hurts, ☁️.” Han practically whined at this point, and it wasn’t like ☁️ didn’t believe him. He released his hand from Han’s grasp, thinking about the different medical products that he had in his bag. Pulling it off his shoulder, he dug his hand into the pocket to find the analgesic (pain relieving) cream.

“I have topical analgesic in my bag. Let me rub it on so the pain goes away.” ☁️ twisted his torso to face the rest of the bed, taking things out of the bag until he found the cream that he was looking for. ☁️ felt Han’s gaze as he took out a small tube.

“Anal- what?”

“What?” ☁️ stopped what he was doing to look over at Han, visibly baffled. The idol gave the boy next to him a suggestive smirk.

“You want it?”

“Han, what the hell are you talking about?”

“What do you mean?”

“Shut up and lay back.” ☁️ instructed as he took the tube from out of his bag. Han climbed onto the bed, him then taking his shirt off. The boy’s skin was smooth, but his body was much more toned than ☁️ thought. The orange lamp’s soft glow against the room’s dimness made Han’s abs seemingly pop out of his stomach. His pecs were noticeably large, too, with a noticeable bruise on the left muscle.

Shaking his head, ☁️ climbed onto the bed- only an inch or two next to Han. ☁️ sat on his knees as he spread the cream on his hands, and then across Han’s pec. Han couldn’t help but smile as he felt ☁️’s fingertips softly brush against his chest.

“Am I hurting you?” ☁️ asked as he continued to focus on the pec muscle.

“Nah, you’re making me feel really good.” Han said, placing a hand behind his head. After a minute, Han’s skin absorbed the cream and there was nothing else to rub in.

“All good?” ☁️ asked, him looking up from the bruise to the boy’s smiling face.

“I think something else hurts too, ☁️.”

“What hurts, Han?” ☁️ asked, rolling his eyes. He knew he was falling victim to the idol’s charm.

“Could you feel right here?” Han flexed his right arm and used his left hand to point at the muscle. ☁️ huffed, though he placed a leg over Han’s waist with a smile. He leaned over Han’s upper body while feeling the bicep.

“Feels normal, Han..”

“Oh.. How about you feel right there? That seems sore..” Han looked down at where ☁️ sat on top of him.

“Here?” ☁️ placed both of his hands over Han’s abs.

“Nahh, lower.”

☁️ moved his hands down to Han’s jean button. “Here?”

Han smirked and placed both hands behind his head. “Close enough.”

☁️’s body turned hot as he slowly unbuttoned Han’s jeans. With help, ☁️ pulled the boy’s jeans down and yanked them off, him throwing them aside. He took his own pants off, then climbed back on the bed to hover over Han.

“Does it hurt anywhere else?” ☁️ asked, placing a hand on each side of Han’s head. Han placed his hands on Car’s waist as the two locked eyes.

“How about I check you out, hm? I’ll make sure there aren’t any bruises that I need to take care of.” Han tugged at ☁️’s top, helping him take it off to expose more of his skin. Han felt up the boy’s torso carefully as ☁️ placed himself on Han’s waist again. The boy slowly rubbed against the bulge he sat on as Han looked at him expectantly.

“Maybe there’s one thing you can help me with.”

☁️ lifted his ass off of Han, twisting his head and torso to look behind him. He lifted his left ass cheek up with his hand, Han noticing and grinning. The idol licked his lips as he lifted his upper body from the bed. Grabbing both of ☁️’s asscheeks, he placed kisses along the boy’s neck and chest.

“If you bend over,.. then I’d really be able to help you.” Han whispered between kisses. With ☁️ already whimpering at the sensations, he immediately did as suggested. The boy lifted his legs over Han to turn his body around. After, ☁️ softly placed his head on the bed, him then raising his ass in front of Han.

The two now in their underwear, Han lifted his entire body to kneel behind ☁️. The idol pushed the erection in his boxers into ☁️’s ass, brushing against it slowly. He placed a hand on each side of the boy’s hips, vigorously gripping them. Too horny to think, ☁️ couldn’t help but whimper as he pushed his ass into Han’s erection.

“Is that where you want me to relieve your pain? Seems like it hurts pretty bad..” Han slipped his hands down into ☁️’s underwear, fondling his asscheeks.

“Just hurry up.” ☁️ muttered as he reached behind him, pulling his underpants down to his knees. He looked behind him as Han fumbled with a bottle of liquid and small square wrapper. Han rubbed the liquid on his fingers, then across ☁️’s asshole, it dripping down. ☁️ yelled out when Han shoved two of his fingers in directly after, slowly moving them back and forth.

“Ah- You couldn’t warn me?”

“You said to hurry.”

Han’s snarky response caused ☁️ to roll his eyes and rest his head on the bed again. He lightly moaned as Han continued to slowly finger him, though he quickly became impatient.

“Han, just put it in.” He mumbled, though Han grinned at the instruction.

“If you say so.”

Han pulled his fingers out of ☁️’s ass, and quickly yanked his underwear off. ☁️ turned his head to admire Han’s muscular body as it lined up behind him, the boy turning him on even more. ☁️ felt Han put the tip of his dick against his hole. Without warning, Han shoved his entire length into ☁️, causing the boy to cry out in pain. The idol leaned over the boy to cover his mouth. He rested his chest against ☁️’s back, placing his mouth beside the boy’s ear.

“Not so loud, I don’t wanna share that moan with the other members.”

“Why’d you shove it all in?” ☁️ whispered on the verge of tears.

“You asked.”

Han lifted his body off of ☁️’s back, his hands gripping the boy’s hips again. He pulled out slowly, moving his dick in and out so that ☁️ could get used to it. ☁️ continued to moan out as Han’s big dick stretched his hole with each stroke.

“Good?” Han placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Yea,” ☁️ responded, still whimpering.

Han pulled his dick almost all the way out, and paused. Wondering why he stopped, ☁️ felt another hand grab his shoulder. Just as the boy was about to turn around, Han thrusted his dick entirely into ☁️ again, making him yelp. He continuing fucking ☁️ quickly, causing the boy to release loud moans. Han covered his mouth with one of his hands, the sound of ☁️’s ass clapping against his hips making him go feral.

☁️’s legs spread apart as Han continued to thrust into him, with muffled whimpers filling the silence. Han finally began to slow down, him releasing his grasp on ☁️’s face. The two caught their breaths as ☁️ pushed Han’s dick out of him.

Han laid in front of ☁️ on the bed, wrapping an arm around the boy. “Did that help, or do I need to try something else?”

☁️ still catching his breath, he pulled Han’s face into his, the two locking lips. As they sloppily made out, Han lifted the boy up and off the bed. ☁️ wrapped his legs around the idol as they continued to stick their tongues into each other’s mouths.

Han walked to the other end of the bed, the two separating their faces as he placed ☁️ down in between the pillows. The idol climbed on top of him, the two rolling over so that Han now laid with his back on the bed. ☁️ sat on top of Han again, grabbing his dick and placing it in between his asscheeks. Han helped push down ☁️’s thighs as his dick went all the way inside of the boy.

☁️ moaned out loudly as he began riding the boy under him. He placed both of his hands on Han’s chest as he hopped up and down. Han smiled as he squeezed ☁️’s asscheeks in response, directing them up and down as he rode him.

After speeding up and slowing down, ☁️ leaned over to make out with Han. The idol moved his hands from the boy’s ass to his chin, holding his face as the two kissed.

☁️ lifted their faces apart, him then running a hand through Han’s hair. The idol pushed the boy closer to leave hickeys on his neck, him then kissing his collarbone.

As ☁️ leaned over Han, the idol thrusted his waist upward, shoving his big dick back into ☁️. Out of breath and a moaning mess, ☁️ placed his hands on each side of Han’s head and took the dick that Han was shoving inside of him. Han’s waist clapped against ☁️’s ass as he thrusted into him, each one becoming more aggressive and sloppier than the last. Han’s big dick and grin were making ☁️ leak despite him not stroking.

“It’s my turn to give you cream.” Han whispered hazily as he threw ☁️ off of his dick. ☁️ fell on his back, watching as Han climbed back on top of the him. The idol stroked his dick aggressively as he leaned over and shoved his tongue into ☁️’s mouth. ☁️ wrapped an arm around Han’s neck as the idol stroked his big dick, Han’s chest brushing against his. Using his free hand, ☁️ jacked his off too.

After a minute, Han’s muffled breath became whimpers, him throwing his head back as he came all over ☁️’s stomach. The idol stroked over ☁️ some more before collapsing on top of the boy. Han rested his chin in the boy’s shoulder, laying all of his weight on top of ☁️.

“Think that took care of those knots?” ☁️ asked as he stroked Han’s hair. The boy’s legs were spread apart as Han’s twitching dick rested in between them.

“Close enough,” Han muttered, his face pressed into the bedsheets. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

☁️ smiled at the comment and continued to play with the boy’s hair. “Don’t make these little injuries a habit.”

“Why not, don’t you like me, too?” Han questioned, his voice still muffled by the sheets.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Seemed you really liked helping me out with my bruise, either way.”

Han lifted his body off of ☁️, rolling over and dragging the boy with him. ☁️ was now laying on top of the idol, the two locking eyes.

“Maybe next time you can me out instead.”

“I see a bruise on your neck, so.. how about tomorrow?” Han smiled as he placed his hands on ☁️’s ass, fondling his cheeks. ☁️ smiled back bashfully, giving the boy a quick kiss on the forehead.

“Maybe.”

likes, comments, & reblogs r appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

a/n: old draft, hope u enjoyed :) since u guys want part 2 of chan’s fic so badly i’ll start working on it ♡