#like i have been thinking ab this prompt for months

[incorrectquotesideas-deactivated]

Person A: Do you want a beer? I’m paying.

Person B, going through the restaurant’s menu: No. Ugh, where’s the good stuff?

Person A, half jokingly: I thought you were an alcoholic.

Person B: Exactly. I’d need at least, like, four beers — without food — to get slightly buzzed, and my stomach can’t fit over 2 beers in it. I’m small. I’ll have a rum, neat.

[beefcakekinard]

Oooh, what about BuckTommy and Missing Them from the intimacy prompt list 👀

40. missing them

"I miss you," Buck murmurs, quiet in the barren cavern of his hotel room. It's fine - nice, even - but the impersonality of the beige walls and stark white linens only serve to remind him that he isn't where he wants to be. On the other end of the line, Tommy hums softly, and Buck can hear the rustle of his sheets.

"I miss you too," Tommy says. Buck presses his phone tight against his ear - holding Tommy's voice as close as he can. "We've already gotten through one week, we can do one more."

Buck sighs. When he'd signed up for this workshop eight months ago, he'd been single, and two weeks of union-paid travel to Pasadena had seemed like fun.

"You're in bed?" he asks. He stares up at the popcorn ceiling from on top of his king-size hotel bed and tries to ignore the drag of loneliness through the centre of his chest.

"Yeah, finally. Feels like I barely got to sit down all day."

Buck licks his lips. "What are you wearing?"

"Seriously?" Tommy laughs and Buck closes his eyes to better picture the smile he knows is scrunched into Tommy's face. He can't help smiling in return at the thought.

"Well," he says, dragging the word out, "I have missed you..."

Tommy laughs again. "Or certain parts of me, it sounds like."

"Hey, don't sell yourself short. It just so happens that I miss many parts of you."

They giggle together for a moment - and in that bubble, it's almost like Tommy's right there beside him.

"How about this," Tommy says after a beat of silence. "You tell me what you're wearing, and we'll go from there." He drops his voice a little as he flirts and Buck's body responds automatically, his dick giving an interested twitch in his shorts.

"I'm wearing boxers, and- and your sweater," Buck says. Tommy's next exhale is heavy.

"Which one?"

"It's a grey zip-up."

"Hmm." Just that noise from Tommy's throat makes Buck squirm in place, his dick filling out as he thinks about how Tommy's imagining him. "Unzip it."

Buck complies. As he loses the cold, heavy line of the zipper down his torso, air-conditioned hotel air rushes in over his chest and stomach. His nipples pebble and his abs clench at the sudden chill. He keeps his eyes closed, his face pressed to the side with his phone tucked between his cheek and the pillow. He has both hands free like this, and he trails his fingertips lightly up and down - through his chest hair, down, following his happy trail to the waistband of his boxers, then back up and over again.

"It's open," he says, a little breathless. He knows Tommy likes when he sounds like this, and hopes it's affecting him.

"Good. Pinch your nipples for me." Buck follows the direction, and can't help the gasp that pushes into his lungs.

"That's good, sweetheart," Tommy continues. "Take your shorts off."

Buck pushes his boxers down to his knees and kicks them off and away. His cock rests hard and full against his stomach, framed by the open sides of Tommy's sweater. He licks his palm and takes himself in hand, closing his eyes again, the better to focus on the whisper of Tommy's breathing on the other end of the line.

"So what are you wearing," he asks again, smiling when Tommy snorts. He hears the familiar snick of the lube cap and stalls his hand for a moment, building a picture of what Tommy could be doing - getting his big hand slick before wrapping it around himself, maybe.

"I'm not wearing a thing, baby."

And that - he can see it so clearly in his mind's eye, the way Tommy must look right now, reclined in his soft blue-striped sheets, stroking himself, holding the phone up to his ear. Buck squeezes his cock and groans, starts moving his hand again, with purpose, when Tommy chuckles.

"What are you thinking about?"

"You," Buck says, gasping when he presses his thumb under the head of his dick the way Tommy likes to do. "What you look like right now, what- ah- how you're touching yourself." He presses harder against his phone with his cheek, pushing it down into the pillow and bringing his face close to the bunched-up hood of the sweater he's wearing. It smells like Tommy - like his shampoo, his laundry detergent, his aftershave, all spun together to overwhelm Buck's senses. He moves his hand faster.

Tommy groans and Buck could swear he feels it, through the phone, into his ear, down his throat. "I'm-" Tommy pauses. Grunts. "I'm fucking myself with the dildo you bought, wishing it was you."

And that- that's- Buck can't help the sound that pulls - from deep in his chest, low, needy, shaped vaguely like Tommy's name. He inhales and takes in a lungful of Tommy. He exhales and puts some sound into it for Tommy's benefit. He moves his left hand, unclenching it from where he'd been clutching the sheets, and he cradles his balls, tugs them just the way he likes.

"God, Tommy-" All he can think about is the last time he fucked Tommy, almost two weeks ago now, how Tommy looked with his legs spread, curled around Buck's waist; how he took it and took it until he came, untouched, how he clenched around Buck's cock and moaned when Buck came inside him. Buck moves his hand faster again, everything gone slick with the amount of pre-come he's leaking, dripping down his hand and stomach. He's getting close, he can feel it like a rising tide, like a wave just about to crest.

"I'm gonna-" he says, breathing heavily into his phone. "Tommy, you're- I'm-"

"Evan," Tommy rasps, and that does it. Buck comes with a stuttered moan - the wave crests, breaks, flushes to shore and he loses himself, for just a moment. His brain catches back up to the present just in time to hear Tommy gasp his name one more time, followed by a drawn-out moan, then finally heavy breathing. They sit in the quiet, catching their breath together.

"How much longer did you say?"

Tommy chuckles, and Buck knows he's smiling by how he sounds when he says, "Just a little while. I'll keep the bed warm for you."

Buck's heart swoops in his chest at the thought. He can get through this week. On the other side of it, there's a bed with blue-striped sheets, and a gorgeous man waiting for him in it.

[sellasstories]

CLOSE (III)

word count: 6.0k

pairing: paige bueckers x azzi fudd

⚠️warnings⚠️

implied smut, angst, mentions of a panic attack, swearing

prompts:

what happens when two best friends with strong, undefined feelings quarantine together (part 3: pazzi)

in other words, the pazzi covid fic

“We haven’t done anything fun in a while,” Azzi remarks one night while she and Paige are getting ready for bed in her room.

“Huh, you’re right. What were you thinking?” Paige asks disinterestedly as she climbs under the covers.

“Oh, you know,” Azzi makes eye contact with the blonde as she steps out of her shorts. “I have a few ideas.”

Paige almost chokes on her saliva. “Like what?” she asks, pretending like she’s not blushing furiously.

“Like going to the park,” Azzi rolls her eyes and Paige notices for the first time that she’s put on jean shorts instead of pyjamas.

“But why? We go like every day,” the older girl retorts.

“Because we should go right now. Alone, without my annoying ass brothers. Plus, I’ve never been at night, maybe it’s better.” Azzi’s logic might be slightly questionable, but Paige is already standing up.

“Okay, I’m down. Let me go get changed.”

Azzi watches her best friend leave, marvelling at how easy it was to convince her. Obviously, Paige was going to agree because she’s always game for an adventure, but Azzi was fully expecting the blonde’s usual stubbornness that came up whenever the younger girl suggested anything.

Come to think of it, Paige has been quicker to agree recently. Azzi wouldn’t necessarily bet money on it, but she’s pretty sure it started around the time that she started flirting with Paige. Really, she doesn’t mind (if anything, it’s made her life easier), but she’s starting to worry that it’s actually affecting Paige in a profound way. Azzi would have to be blind and probably stupid to not pick up on the intensity of her best friend’s reactions, but that doesn’t mean she’s able to tell if they’re due to Paige being flustered or uncomfortable. The problem is that now that she’s started, she can’t seem to stop.

Technically, nothing’s happened, but Paige is definitely looking at Azzi differently, and the ambiguity of the older girl’s responses prevents Azzi from having full confidence in her own actions. She should be better than this — she knows she’s better than this — but there’s something undeniably addicting about allowing her true feelings to be put out in the open, even only slightly.

It’s with all this in mind that Azzi finishes getting dressed, electing to curl her eyelashes and put on lip gloss for the first time in months. Already feeling antsy, she sits on her bed, tapping her fingers on her thighs as she waits for Paige. Azzi soon opens Snapchat out of boredom and is pleasantly surprised at what she sees in the camera. Her cropped tank top showcases both her abs and cleavage (both very deliberate decisions on her part), and — she’s not sure if it’s the makeup or the adrenaline — she looks confident, maybe even… seductive?

Smirking to herself, Azzi reclines onto an elbow and takes a photo from high enough to showcase all of her accessories. She barely looks at it before captioning it, ‘I’m ready ;) waiting for you’ and sending it to Paige.

Paige, face already heating up as she opens it, is so focused on saving it that she forgets to respond. Frantically getting ready, she almost slams her bedroom door shut in her haste to see her best friend up close.

Azzi hasn’t moved for her bed, nor has the smirk left her face. “Photo so good it left you speechless?” She notices a smudge of mascara on Paige’s eyelid and her smile gets wider. Clearly, she wasn’t the only one putting effort into her appearance tonight.

Paige’s heartbeat is going crazy, and it’s definitely not from her sprinting to her best friend’s room. “More like I didn’t want you pestering me to get ready faster,” she makes herself roll her eyes.

Azzi stands up and stretches, making her shirt ride up even higher. “That’s why you saved it, right?”

Paige looks at her shoes. “Accident?” She doesn’t even sound convincing to herself. “Anyways, shouldn’t you grab a hoodie or something before we head out?”

“It’s summer, I’ll be fine,” Azzi reassures the blonde. “Besides,” she grabs the front of Paige’s hoodie, “I can always wear yours if it comes to that.”

“Let’s just go,” Paige groans. She doesn’t bother denying Azzi’s claim because they both know it’s true.

•••••

“Fuck, I think we forgot the ball.”

“I thought you were bringing it!”

“It’s fine, we can do other stuff,” Azzi shrugs. “Playing when it’s this dark is probably dangerous anyway.”

“Always so practical, Az,” Paige says sarcastically. She easily avoids the younger girl’s attempt to smack the back of her head.

“Whatever, race you to the swings!” Azzi’s already running.

Paige really should win — she’s in sneakers compared to Azzi’s slides — but when the dark-haired girl reaches the play structure first, the smile on her face makes Paige feel like a winner, too.

The girls swing in silence for a few minutes before Paige has to speak. “You know what swings are for right?”

Azzi looks at her quizzically. “No? Swinging, I guess?”

“When I was a kid, everyone would go on the swings to tell secrets. We literally called them ‘Secret Swings’!” A look of betrayal crosses Paige’s face as her best friend’s confusion intensifies. “Wait, did you actually not do that?”

“I’ve never heard of it,” Azzi says. “Must be a Minnesota thing… or you’re full of shit.”

“How could you say that,” Paige pouts. “It was like, my whole childhood.”

“I’m just saying, you’re kinda obsessed with learning my secrets lately,” Azzi teases her.

“Am not,” Paige retorts. “I just wanna learn more about you because you’re my best friend,” she says in a high-pitched voice.

“You’re so stupid,” Azzi can’t hide her smile at Paige’s antics. “Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t actually have any deep dark secrets. The closest thing was-” she pauses, not sure if she’s comfortable saying it yet, “-what I told you when we were drunk. And that’s out of the bag now, so you officially know everything about me.”

Paige isn’t satisfied with her best friend’s answer. “Fine. If you’re gonna be boring, I’ll tell you a secret,” she looks at Azzi, waiting for her to make eye contact before continuing solemnly, “I really like you.” Seeing Azzi’s raised eyebrow, her eyes widen as she’s quick to add, “as a friend, I mean!”

Azzi clasps a hand to her heart, choosing not to comment on Paige’s darkening cheeks. “While I’m touched, I may have already known that,” she says sarcastically. Even though they’re alone at the park, she lowers her voice to a whisper. “You coming to live with me kinda gave it away.”

“I don’t like this game anymore,” Paige jumps off the swing and dramatically falls to the ground.

Giggling, Azzi follows her lead but stays upright, offering the blonde a hand. Paige allows herself to be pulled to her feet, confused when Azzi doesn’t drop her hands.

“Can I tell you a secret, P?” She leans to whisper in Paige’s ear. “I really like you, too.”

It speaks to how much has changed that Azzi feels comfortable not adding the ‘as a friend’ distinction like Paige did, content to drop her hands and run off in search of their next activity. Paige picks up on her wording, of course, and she can do nothing but stand there speechless as Azzi’s silhouette disappears into the darkness.

Azzi’s prior worries about the dangers of playing in the low light don’t seem to extend to tag as she’s happy to start an unexpected game in the empty field by the playground.

They chase each other back and forth, laughing every time the other slips on grass still wet from a storm the previous day. After one such time, Azzi thinks she’s gotten away as she runs up a hill, only to discover a fence that would be too hard to climb with her current footwear. Seeing Paige approaching, she runs along the fence until it changes direction.

“You’re literally cornered, there’s nothing you can do,” Paige says gleefully as she gets closer.

Azzi almost makes it. She slips through Paige’s outstretched arms, but the blonde is quick and an expert at reading her. The next thing she knows, Paige has tackled her and they’re tumbling into the grass and rolling down the hill.

They come to a stop, both seeming to realize at the same time that Paige is on top of Azzi in a way that has their bodies pressed together and their faces much too close for friends in their situation. Paige makes no move to get up, and Azzi doesn’t push her off as they stare at each other, panting slightly.

Paige reaches out to pluck a strand of grass from Azzi’s hair and is disarmed by how calm the younger girl seems to be. She knows that her own heart is nearly beating out of her chest, but her best friend appears content to stay where she is, seemingly unbothered by their position.

Facing skyward in the grass, Paige thinks that Azzi belongs in the moonlight. For a fleeting moment, she imagines closing the distance between them to press her lips against her best friend’s. Instead, she settles for another kiss on the younger girl’s forehead.

When Paige pulls away, Azzi’s looking at her like she knows the answer to a question Paige hasn’t even thought to ask yet, and it sends her mind scrambling. Can she see how this is affecting me… does she know how I feel? Oh fuck, what if she’s uncomfortable?

That last thought has Paige scrambling to get up, despite no discernible change in Azzi’s body language. The dark-haired girl extends a hand up so Paige can pull her to her feet.

“If you’d stayed there any longer, I’d have no choice but to think you liked having me under you,” she says with a laugh, walking off to find a shoe that went missing in their scuffle.

For the second time that night, Paige is left speechless as Azzi walks off into the darkness.

They decide to go home soon after and Azzi, wanting to get the grass off, gets in the shower. She’s surprised to find her bed empty when she gets out, expecting Paige to be there as usual. Confused, the dark-haired girl goes down the hall to find Paige’s door locked with no light or sound coming from the room.

“Paige…?” she calls out softly. Getting no answer, she sighs and begins to make her way back to her own room. This is so weird. Come to think of it, Paige had maybe been a little closed off on the walk home, but Azzi figured it was just because her best friend was tired.

Paige listens to Azzi’s footsteps fade away from the door. Her breath shakes as she tries to hold back tears. She’d pushed it way too far with Azzi tonight, there was no way around that.

The blonde mentally berates herself for her actions. Azzi’s tone was always the same, it was so clear that she was joking, so why had Paige almost kissed her? She doesn’t know how she let things get to this point, but she does know that it’s time to set some rules with herself.

Even as she resolves to put up firm boundaries, Paige still finds herself subconsciously missing Azzi’s comforting presence next to her. As much as she hates it, Paige realizes that she has to find ways to distance herself from the dark-haired girl in spite of their inevitable proximity.

They don’t talk about it, but neither Paige nor Azzi sleeps well that night.

•••••

Azzi thinks that something must be wrong with Paige. The blonde has always been a physically affectionate person — really, they both have, at least with each other — so it’s almost impossible for Azzi to miss the space between them as they’re sitting on the couch watching some random movie. She almost thinks she imagined it because Paige still lets Azzi cuddle up against her, though there is a certain stiffness to the arm that wraps around her.

And it keeps getting worse. Azzi doesn’t know how she’d barely noticed them before, but the absence of gentle hands on her hips, arms thrown over her shoulders, and brushes of fingertips the next day is glaringly obvious to her. She can’t pretend that it doesn’t sting a little.

She considers asking Paige if she’s mad at her or something, but decides against it. Apart from whatever this is, her best friend is acting mostly normal, still looking at Azzi with the usual radiant smile and bright eyes (“that look like she’d give you the world,” Azzi’s mom had once said). So Azzi lets it go. This is fine.

And it should be, except… Azzi just wishes she knew what was going on. Needs to know, almost. She tries to think back to the night in the park, when her best friend started acting weird. Nothing stands out to her as abnormal. As much as she wants to ask Paige what the problem is, the blonde’s unwillingness to address it gives her pause.

While Azzi can’t remember anything like this ever happening to them, she’s not quite ready to start panicking. No one else has noticed the slight change in their interactions, and she reasons sadly that they might just be getting older or something. They’ll be fine, they have to be.

•••••

After a week, Azzi’s almost made peace with this new version of Paige. Thankfully, they still observe their routines and end up cuddled in Azzi’s bed watching some new show that has caught their eye.

If Azzi always waits for Paige to lay down so she can make sure they’re as entwined as possible, nobody needs to know. And if she thinks she feels Paige’s heartbeat speed up when she lays her head on the older girl’s chest, that’s a secret that she’s happy to keep.

This particular night, Azzi’s eyes are stubbornly refusing to stay open, and she decides that it’s Paige’s fault. Azzi’s head is in its usual spot on her best friend’s chest as she lays on her side. Paige’s large hands are rubbing soothing circles on her back, occasionally dipping low enough to graze the exposed skin where her hoodie has ridden up. She doesn’t know what caused it (she hadn’t even asked), but she isn’t complaining because Paige’s hands feel really good and this is the first time in a while that the blonde has touched her first.

Realistically, there was no reason that she couldn’t drift off. It had happened many times before, and it’s not like Paige would complain. But Azzi likes this time, their time, when she allows her imagination to run wild just for a little while as the pounding heartbeat beneath her echoes in her ear. So she fights to stay awake, even as her breathing evens out and her body relaxes even more.

Paige looks down at the peaceful expression on the younger girl’s face, and it almost physically hurts how beautiful she is. She can’t help but stare, a million thoughts running through her mind. Feeling brave, she plants a gentle kiss on the top of Azzi’s head, hoping that somehow her best friend will understand everything that she put into it.

Azzi doesn’t say anything, but her lips tilt upward in a soft smile. She snuggles closer and drapes an arm and a leg over the blonde.

Paige feels the gradual change in the rise and fall of Azzi’s chest, and it doesn’t even occur to her how crazy it was that she knows exactly what it means: Azzi is very close to falling asleep.

Quietly, she fumbles around for the TV remote and pauses the show, not wanting to risk waking Azzi up. The younger girl shifts slightly again and Paige holds her breath for what feels like forever.

Finally daring to exhale, she slowly returns her hands to Azzi’s back and sinks further into the pillows. The soft glow of the TV continues to illuminate the room, and Paige continues to look at Azzi.

Later, she’d come up with a million excuses for what she’d said. It was late, she was tired, she wasn’t thinking. But maybe it was simply an utterance of the truth that had been building, because it felt good to say out loud, even if it didn’t change anything.

A confession whispered in the dark, loud enough to cut through the thick fog of sleep in Azzi’s brain.

“I wanna kiss you so bad right now, you know. Like, for real.”

An answer muffled by her face still pressed into Paige’s chest.

“Do it, then.”

Paige’s heart stops. She’s pretty sure she actually forgets how to breathe as Azzi’s eyes open and she lifts her head.

Azzi props herself up on an elbow. “Did you mean it, P?” Her eyes droop as if she’s just asked the most unimportant question in the world, not one that could completely ruin their entire friendship.

Paige is frozen, her blue eyes wide with shock. “I-” The lump forming in her throat stops her from answering, and that’s honestly fine, because she doesn’t know what she would’ve said. All she can do is stare helplessly, desperately blinking back tears.

Azzi’s gaze softens. “Baby, it’s okay,” she soothes, her voice still gravelly. Rubbing her eyes, she pushes herself up into a sitting position, sliding her leg all the way over so that she’s straddling Paige.

“I’m going to kiss you now, okay? Unless you don’t want that,” she says gently. She leans forward to tuck a strand of hair behind Paige’s ear, getting a whiff of coconut and vanilla. She used my shampoo. It’s so domestic, and the realization further solidifies in Azzi’s mind that what she’s about to do is right.

Azzi looks down at Paige, unable to keep the excited smile off her face, knowing she’s wanted this for years now. As she places a hand on Paige’s cheek, the blonde gives a hesitant nod, and it gives Azzi the confidence to connect their lips.

It’s tentative and new and honestly, a little scary. Despite her outward demeanour, Azzi’s heart is racing just as fast as Paige’s as their lips move against each other. But as they both relax into the kiss, a sense of calm settles over them. This feels safe. This feels right. This feels like them.

Their foreheads stay pressed together as they break apart and inhale. Azzi wants to roll her eyes at the stupid smirk on Paige’s face, but she settles for kissing it off, finally able to do what she’s wanted to so many times before.

Paige’s hands roam Azzi’s body, touching everywhere she’d told herself she couldn’t. Azzi starts to plant sloppy kisses on Paige’s neck, but eventually the blonde feels the weight of the body on her start to press down more.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Az?” She pinches Azzi’s side.

Azzi barely lifts her head from where it’s buried in the crook of Paige’s neck. “Hmm?”

“You’re just gonna fall asleep, like right now? Really? Is kissing me that boring?” The older girl says exasperatedly.

“Yes,” Azzi deadpans. She lets the silence drag before breaking down into giggles. “We have so many nights to do this, and I’m exhausted.” She drops her head back onto Paige’s shoulder. “Talk to me tomorrow or something.”

Paige isn’t really mad, of course. She’s quite content to let her eyes fall closed as she holds Azzi in her arms.

—

Katie opens the door to wake them up the next morning. If she notices the way Azzi might be suspiciously holding Paige’s face or the way Paige’s hands might be suspiciously low on Azzi’s back, she doesn’t say anything. Closing the door, she smiles to herself. That can be a conversation for later. Right now, she’ll let Azzi enjoy something new for once.

—

Azzi is, in fact, not enjoying herself in the slightest. When she wakes up to an empty bed, she figures that Paige has somehow gotten up before her even though that has never happened in the entire history of their friendship and gone to help with breakfast. When she walks into a completely empty kitchen, her heart sinks. Where the fuck is Paige?

Wandering the house, Azzi is disappointed to find everyone’s door shut, including Paige’s. She doesn’t understand.

Azzi is getting tired of this weird cat-and-mouse game. She figured that kissing Paige would clear everything up and finally put a stop to it, but apparently she’d overestimated her best friend’s intellectual capacity or something, because why would she leave?

Breakfast is… awkward, to say the least. Paige is disturbingly polite and formal, visibly stiffening every time Azzi addresses her. Thankfully, no one comments on it, but Azzi is almost positive the tension is so thick that even her brothers have picked up on it.

When Tim suggests a ‘family day’, Azzi thinks that maybe she doesn’t give her parents enough credit. Now, her and Paige will have to interact, but at least they can avoid the awkwardness that would certainly come with being alone. She’s still super upset with her best friend, but she’s smart enough to know that anything she wants to say to the blonde right now wouldn’t help the situation.

—

Paige spends the day in her head. She’s really trying her best to act normal, but there's been an ever-growing knot in her stomach since she woke up in a panic at four in the morning.

After getting out of Azzi’s room as fast as she could without waking the younger girl, Paige had spent several hours in the bathroom as she hyperventilated. Then the tears had come, not stopping until she was crying so hard she was gagging over the toilet. Why did I say anything?

As far as Paige is concerned, Azzi’s response meant nothing good. Either she’d kissed Paige out of pity, or it meant so little to her that she hadn’t given it a second thought. Clearly, the dark-haired girl didn’t want to go further than kissing her, and she hadn’t even done that for very long (as evidenced by how quickly Azzi went to sleep).

The realization that Azzi must see this as nothing more than something best friends could do had haunted Paige as soon as it had dawned on her. It all made sense really, why Azzi had never addressed the flirting either. It had to be nothing more than a game to her. The worst part is that, in spite of everything, she still craves Azzi’s touch and comforting presence beside her.

Paige can’t even say anything. It’s not fair to tell her best friend how far from a game it is to her. And it especially isn’t fair to tell her that she accidentally broke Paige’s heart.

—

As the day goes on, Azzi calms down a bit. Paige is still acting distant, but it doesn’t feel like it’s coming from a place of malice. The younger girl figures she knows her best friend better than basically anyone in the world, and the only way she could describe Paige’s behaviour would be ‘scared’.

It’s not something she’s familiar with because Paige is hardly afraid of anything, but the haunted look dimming her normally bright eyes quenches the flames of anger in Azzi’s heart to give way to worry.

Her instinct in the morning had been to drag Paige somewhere to talk it out, but because of family time, she’s had to settle for small gestures to get the blonde out of her perturbed state.

They’d teamed up to play board games and Azzi had actually gotten a couple laughs out of Paige and a high five when they won. She’d also accepted Azzi’s offer to be teammates in 2 on 2, and Azzi had breathed a small sigh of relief when their chemistry on the court was still as good as ever. Her own concerns had eased a little when the blonde had brought ice cream bars out of the freezer after dinner before Azzi even asked for one.

All of this led to the ultimate test — going up to Azzi’s room for their nightly ritual. Paige initially claims to be too tired, but after some urging from Katie and Tim to ‘complete the day’, she relents and reluctantly makes her way upstairs. She sits stiffly at the edge of Azzi’s bed, still not sure what to say.

“You can pick the show today,” Azzi suggests, standing up and walking across the room to her closet. “I’m just gonna have a quick shower before we start it, okay?”

“Okay,” Paige replies automatically. When Azzi leaves the room, towel in hand, the blonde sits frozen in place for a few minutes before panic overtakes her again. While Azzi had been acting totally normal, Paige had barely been able to keep it together even with the buffers of the rest of the Fudds. So there’s no way she’s going to be able to get through several hours alone with Azzi.

Coming to a decision, Paige stands up abruptly and makes a beeline for her room. Finally safe behind her closed door, she can’t dispel the guilt for what she knows is a situation entirely of her own creation.

—

Azzi steps out of the shower with a clear head. She won’t push too hard, but Paige is not leaving her room tonight until they’re on the same page about the kiss and what it meant. These good intentions are dispelled the moment she steps into an empty room. Getting dressed as quickly as possible, the anger from earlier in the day comes flooding back despite her efforts to quell it.

She only makes it through four deep breaths before she’s flinging her door open and stomping walking down the hall. She expects Paige’s door to be locked, but can’t help trying the handle to confirm her suspicions. When it doesn’t budge, she insistently taps her knuckles against the wood.

“Paige Madison, I’m not doing this with you again, so help me God.” She doesn’t raise her voice, conscious that the whole house is in bed, but her tone tells Paige that she means business.

Azzi hears shuffling and a long sigh before the door opens slightly.

“What is it?” Paige stares at the floor.

“You know what,” Azzi says exasperatedly. “We clearly need to talk about this.”

“Do we? Talk about what?” Paige says evasively.

“Paige, you can’t even look at me.”

“Fine,” The blonde sighs dramatically again. “Can we at least not do this right here?” Azzi clearly isn’t letting this go, and Paige will take any extra time to get her thoughts together that she can get.

“We can do this wherever you want,” Azzi says flippantly. “But you have to promise you’ll actually talk to me, I can’t do this with you anymore.”

For the first time that night, Paige’s eyes meet Azzi’s. “I promise I’ll talk to you,” she says in a small voice. “Can we go to your room? It’s farther from everyone else.” She doesn’t want to explain the real reason: being in Azzi’s space brings her a fraction of the comfort that the girl it belongs to does.

“Then let’s go.” Throwing a pointed look in Paige’s direction, the dark-haired girl grabs her best friend’s hand and drags her down the hallway.

Paige immediately flops down onto Azzi’s bed. “I changed my mind, I don’t wanna do this anymore,” she covers her face with her hands. “Can we actually just go to sleep?”

Feeling a weight on her stomach, Paige uncovers her eyes to find Azzi straddling her. “That is the last thing we should be doing,” the younger girl argues, “and you promised me. We don’t break promises.”

Azzi grabs Paige’s hands, pinning them to the bed. Paige can’t control the flash of heat that shoots through her body. When did this get so fucking confusing?

“I’m keeping you here until we’ve figured this out. I know where my head is on this, but I need to know what you’re thinking,” her voice softens, “and I don’t like seeing you so stressed.”

Paige is once again kind of in awe of her best friend. She’s both impressed at how mature Azzi is being about this, and shocked that Azzi doesn’t seem to realize the effect that their current position is having on her.

“You should think about where you're sitting,” she pouts. Her breath catches as Azzi shifts slightly on top of her. “How am I even supposed to focus right now?”

That was bold. Azzi wasn’t doing anything on purpose, but this is the closest to an explanation that she’s gotten, and she’s willing to work any angle to fix this. It’s not like I don’t want this, too. She stares down at the older girl, a challenge in her eyes.

“Maybe I did think about it. Can you handle this, or do you need me to move?” Azzi doesn’t even sound remotely apologetic.

“I can handle it!” Paige answers a little too quickly, earning a smile from the other girl.

“Don’t panic, I’ll go first while you think,” Azzi decides. “I kissed you because I like you, obviously as more than a best friend. I have for a while, actually-”

Paige cuts her off. “How long?” She has to know.

“Years, P, but that’s not important,” Azzi sounds mildly annoyed again. Paige, wisely, lets her continue. “I’ve spent too much time trying to figure out if it’s normal for friends to act like we do, but I don’t want you to kiss me because you’re bored or anything like that. I need you to know that this actually means something to me, okay?”

Azzi leans in and Paige closes her eyes, only to feel the press of Azzi’s lips on her cheek. She opens her eyes as Azzi starts to kiss all over her face.

“Your turn,” Azzi whispers in her ear. Paige shivers as the younger girl’s lips brush her ear. “Then we can do whatever you want.”

Azzi lets go of Paige’s wrists to run her hands down the blonde’s arms. The drag of nails against pale skin isn’t especially suggestive, but goosebumps still cover Paige’s body as she considers what exactly Azzi means. She shakes her head to clear it, certain that she sees a simmering hunger in her friend’s eyes that wasn’t there a few minutes ago.

Paige swallows thickly. “I’m sorry for avoiding you,” the older girl begins sheepishly. “You were just confusing me and I didn’t want to overstep or scare you or mess up us, which I guess I did maybe but I never wanted that and I-”

She cuts herself off with a sharp intake of breath as Azzi begins to kiss her neck. It reminds her of the previous night, only this time Azzi doesn’t seem tired at all as she grinds her hips down in tandem with the rough kisses.

“Keep talking, baby,” the dark-haired girl stops to say. “You’re doing so well.”

Paige doesn’t know if it’s the praise or that name, but she feels heat bloom in her cheeks and travel down her body. The panic that had risen when she started talking subsides slightly.

Paige opens and closes her mouth, searching for the right words. “I like you a lot, too. I kissed you because I really wanted to… I want to all the time.” Feeling embarrassed, she looks away. “I think I always want too much with you. You mean everything to me, honestly.”

Maybe it wouldn’t make sense to everyone, but Azzi understands and it’s all she needs to hear. Paige, already having turned her head as far into the pillow as she can, doesn’t notice her best friend breathe a slight sigh of relief.

“Mmm,” Azzi nips playfully at Paige’s ear, “and what do you want right now?”

Paige glances down at the way their bodies are pressed together before she looks up at Azzi. They lock eyes, and there is only one word that encompasses everything she’s feeling. “You,” she breathes.

And finally, Azzi doesn’t press for more as she allows their lips to meet again. They’re both a little more sure than last time, and they fall into a comfortable rhythm with Paige’s hands on Azzi’s waist as the younger girl tugs insistently on her shirt.

In fact, there’s not much talking at all as they shed the rest of their clothes, then only the occasional whispered curse slipping from Paige’s lips as Azzi’s fingers and mouth finish what she started the previous night.

When they kiss again and Paige tastes herself on her best friend’s lips, it’s better than anything she’s ever dreamed up. And if Paige is a little nervous to return the favour, Azzi pretends not to notice as she gently guides the blonde’s hand between her legs, kissing her all the while.

—

Azzi is relieved to not wake up alone, realizing with a start that she’s wearing significantly less clothing than would be appropriate if anyone were to come in. Her frantic scrambling wakes Paige, who looks a little disoriented.

The blonde rubs the sleep from her eyes. “Hi,” she says softly, a content smile settling on her face.

The sound of her voice calms Azzi down. “Hi,” she responds, unable to keep a cautious undertone out of her voice.

Paige doesn’t register it as she’s too busy admiring the dark-haired girl. “You’re so pretty in the morning,” Her brow furrows. “And at night, and always, but especially right now.” She reaches for Azzi and her eyes slide closed.

“Go back to sleep, you sound stupid,” Azzi giggles. Locked once more in her best friend’s embrace, she can’t suppress her giddiness at how easily the words had flowed from Paige’s lips.

When they do finally get up (due to the incessant rattling of Azzi’s locked door), there’s a certain shyness as Azzi helps Paige put her clothes back on, but none of the awkward tension that had followed their first kiss. They talk in whispers until Azzi’s eyes drift to Paige’s neck and shocked laughter shatters the quiet.

“Everyone is so gonna know,” Paige panics as she examines the marks that have already begun to turn purple. “Your dad is gonna kill me or something!”

“You didn’t do anything, or at least it doesn’t look like it,” Azzi replies with a hint of pride. “It’s not a big deal, just don’t draw attention to them and no one will notice.”

—

Seeing Paige sit down to breakfast in a hoodie with her hair down (both things she’s done only a handful of times during her stay, and never together), Katie has no doubt that what she saw the previous day was, in fact, exactly what it looked like. She shoots Tim a look that says ‘I told you so’, and they both struggle to hide their smiles.

“Why all the layers? Are you getting sick, honey?” Katie bumps Paige’s shoulder as the blonde stands up to get a drink.

“Nah, I’m fine,” Paige mumbles as she looks at the floor. The blush that instantly colours her face has Tim choking on his coffee with suppressed laughter.

Azzi isn’t sure how her parents figured it out, but their playful jabs at Paige’s choice of attire don’t scare the younger girl as much as she thought they would. They know, and it’s okay. At least her brothers still seem to be completely clueless.

Paige, on the other hand, looks petrified as she struggles to explain to a still chuckling Tim why she doesn’t want to go swimming on this particular day. Even after shooting her best friend a pleading look, the only help she gets from Azzi is a reassuring squeeze of her hand under the table.

It’s a small gesture, all things considered, but it speaks to how far they’ve come that Azzi doesn’t think twice about it, and Paige doesn’t have any lingering urge to pull away.

Maybe they really will be fine.

[beforeimdeceased]

IM SO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT PART OF CRYBABY

CRYBABY! - (E.W) PT7

pairing: mean/cruel ellie x sensitive/emotional reader.

synopsis: make it go away…

warnings: cunnilingus + fingering (r!recieving)

a/n: oh wow. oh wow. this was actually quite fun to write and i wanted to cry half way through because ironically enough my ex is being mean to me lmao 😭 i’m trying to cut contact and she’s just teasing me like “oh is she really leaving this time? really??” i’ve had ENOUGH

And I'm already actin' like a dick, know what I mean? So you might as well stick it in

masterlist.

the party is nothing like their usual after parties, but to be fair, you hadn’t been to one of these in months. crowds of people in their best clothes grinding against each other. dina onstage djing while jesse dances behind her. whispering sweet things in her ear. you spot a clear target in the crowd and walk down the stairs towards her.

flashing hues of red, blue, green, and purple cloud your vision as you struggle to approach abby. she decided to show her fucking face again, remembering she was your ride back home. once you push through everyone, you tap her broad shoulder and pull her to the side.

“where you been?” you lean against her, clearly gone. not in an intoxicated way, but a mental way. she could see it in your face. in your eyes. in the sunken areas underneath. in the way you were leaning like you were in pain. you fix your posture, putting more walls up. you could tell she was seeing through you.

“are you okay?” she furrows her brows, holding her hand out to touch your cheek. you dodge it. “why the fuck wouldn’t i be?” you spat. she places the tips of her index and thumb finger on the bridge of her nose, scrunching her face, and sighs. “i should’ve never said that to you. i was still mad at ellie and i took it out on you. i’m sorry—“

“oh fuck it. who cares? everybody keeps treating me like a punching bag and you know what? punching bags don’t have feelings. i don’t want to feel anymore i just—“

she’s looking at you horrified now. watching ellie take full effect over you. all her cruelty submerging itself into your brain. slowly acting as a parasite on the you she used to know. pieces of that girl were being lost. she was watching it happen in real time.

“i—fuck i need to get you out of here.”

“but i just got here abs. and we haven’t seen ellie—“

as if it was on cue, ellie appears from a gap in the crowd. her eyes meet yours, and she rushes over to you as she watches abby wrap her arms around you and try to lead you out.

“wait. let me talk to her.” ellie grabs your arm.

“you better fucking let go or you’re gonna loose all your fucking fingers.” abby chimes up, pulling you towards her. ellie laughs. “i don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but you only get one of those. and that was it.”

“oh really?”

“guys seriously.” you pull out of both of their grasps. “enough. i’m not a fucking baby. everybody always treats me like i’m some fucking fragile fucking baby. fuck off.” you look between the two of them. “we’re at a goddamn party, so let’s party.”

the music is louder than it was before. you let it take over your body, taking one of each girls hands into your own and leading them into the crowd. body grinding against them to the beat of the song.

“listen, i really need to talk to you!” ellie yells over it. abby is behind you snaking a hand around your waist to pull you closer to her. maneuvering her body to move the way yours was. “no way in hell is that happening.” she yells back for you.

ellie’s thinking about how hard she wants to punch her. while she’s looking at the way she’s holding you. while you’re smiling. while she balls her fist up and her knuckles turn white. while her breathing starts to calm when she focuses on your hand still in hers, prompting you to dance.

“we’ll talk after this then, okay? at the hotel?” her tone is hopeful.

she’s being such a party pooper. prying you for an answer, making it hard for you to enjoy the moment. you feel a rush of emotions creeping in. another memory, another after party.

a very unhappy ellie that’s made a simple mistake onstage. an unnoticeable strum of the wrong string. it was fucking her up. she was drunkenly stumbling around until someone had started to help her sober up. then she stumbled across you. sweet, angelic, kind, perfect and happy you. enjoying the fucking party. ofcourse, you’d left crying that night.

you feel the tears welling up but you swallow them down. “fine let’s go talk ellie, since you’re begging so fucking much. i’ll be right back abs.” you reply.

she leads you to a secluded bathroom in the far back. holding your hand and dragging you along like purse. she closes and locks the door, leaning against it.

there are fucking tears threatening to spill, you can hear it in her voice when she speaks up. “i don’t—fuck i don’t know what i’ve done to you.”

you scoff.

“no i mean i do. i fucked you up. fuck. how do i fix it? what do you want me to do?”

you’re transported back again. another bathroom, holding ellie as she cries into you. switches to screaming at you, then crying into you again. blaming you for the guitar string mistake. blaming you for her forgetting the lyrics onstage. telling you that you’re truly useless, and she has no idea why dina and jesse drag you around with them.

why won’t it go away?

“make it go away.” you look into her glossy eyes. interlocking your fingers with hers and looking up at her with desperate eyes. a little bit of the old you slipping in before your face molds into a devious expression.

“make it fuzzy. make me forget. make it go away.”

she’s confused at first, and then she laughs cockily. she’s laughing as you pull her closer. she’s laughing as she pushes you up against the counter with a fervor, finding your low grunt of pleasure pure ecstasy.

her lips crash into yours, hands grappling into your waist. “i’m sorry.” she pulls away then dives back in. “i’m sorry.” she kisses your cheek. “i’m so fucking stupid.” she kisses your jawline. “let me fuck all of this away, okay?” she whispers into your ear.

your mind is growing fuzzy with her hands all over you. tugging up your shirt to kiss and lick and smile against your skin, down your chest to your stomach. tugging on your pants and your underwear. spreading your legs, pushing them apart before attaching her lips to your dripping cunt. tongue slipping in between your folds spreading your wetness to your clit.

you slip your hands into her messy hair, tugging when she sucks harder. slapping her tongue against your bud. the vibration of her humming hard against your heat. she’s eating you out and she’s being so fucking sloppy with it. she’s making a mess of you. making your legs tremble underneath you. you hadn’t realized you’d been crying out for her. actually crying. tears of pleasure were spilling down your face as you moaned her name.

she pulls away when she realizes, hands cupping your face to wipe them away. “i’m making you cry again.” she states.

you open your mouth to respond, but you’re cut off by a moan getting pushed out of your throat when her fingers slip into your sloppy sopping hole. curved to hit a spot that was pure euphoria. better than drugs. better than revenge. you were intoxicated. feeling a knot in your stomach start to build as ellie stares into your teary eyes.

she looks like she’s about to say something but she chooses to kiss you instead. on your forehead. on your neck. on your tear stained cheeks. on your pouted lips.

in, out. in, out. at an unsympathetic pace, she’s pounding into you so hard you can’t think. she’s doing exactly what she promised. she’s making it all fuzzy for you. she’s helping you forget. she’s helping you feel something other than pain.

you feel yourself coming undone, throwing your head back as you reach your peak. her lips are at your ear as she whispers softly.

“there you go baby. i got you. it’s okay. i’m sorry. just let it go.”

and you do. you let it all melt away as the pleasure pins and needles run up and down your body. as your eyes roll back. as you forget. forget the hurt. forget the past. forget how to feel.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Say It Again

Title: Say It Again

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Syverson x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2.4K

Prompts: Captain Syverson + Female Reader + Phone Sex + "Hmm, you're not very patient, are you?" + Smut, requested by @summersong69

Summary: Your man surprises you with a call, and you surprise him with a show.

Warnings: masturbation (f/m), Daddy kink, phone sex, Facetime sex, mention of bodily fluids, lovey-dovey Sy

Beta: @peyton-warren

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Sweet Treats Event 2024 Masterlist

My Masterlist

It wasn’t easy having your man halfway across the world, but Sy was serving his country, and you loved him for that. It had been months since he was in your arms, but he always made sure to call, text, or send you a good old-fashioned letter whenever he could. His most recent letter included some spicy polaroids of him that drove you wild. 

You took the photo of him smiling at the camera and lifting a barbell over his head and hung it above your desk in your home office so that whenever you looked up at your corkboard, you were smiling back at your man. You could tell that this picture was taken at the end of his workout as his chest hair was plastered to his pecs with sweat and a pinkish hue dusted across his nose and cheeks. You were always a fan of his hairy chest; tangling your fingers through the curly, dark hairs was a favorite pastime of yours.

Then there is the other photo he sent. This one is your favorite, and it stays in your nightstand’s bottom drawer along with your sex toys. Amongst your vibrators, dildos, butt plugs, nipple clamps, and various other erotic aids is a Polaroid that is pure pornography.

In this most sacred image, Sy managed to take a picture of his gorgeous, hairy chest and his groin. But not only is he shirtless, but he is also holding his fat cock in hand as it leaks. The evidence of his orgasm litters his abs and pecs like a goddamned Jackson Pollock painting. How he managed to take this selfie is a mystery to you. 

You just can’t get your mind off of the fact that he wrote the sweetest letter to go with it. All lovey-dovey and ‘I miss you’ and then this erotic art falls out from between the pages. You almost gasped when you saw it, but instead, you bit your lip and whimpered before taking the picture into the bedroom and promptly masturbating to it.

It had become a habit of yours to think about that specific photo non-stop when you thought about moments with Sy. The thought of his deep baritone would lull you into a headspace where all you could think about was the way he whimpered and gasped for air every time he came. It turns out that the more you missed him, the sluttier and more willing you became.

Until one afternoon...

You sit in your home office, checking your email on your day off when you are interrupted by the sound of Sy’s ringtone. Runnin’ Red Lights by The Cadillac Three starts to play, and you smile before picking up your phone and accepting the call.

“Hey, baby! I didn’t expect to hear from you today. How are you?” Your cheery, bright voice denotes your surprise at hearing from your man.

“Well, today was a helluva day, and I needed to talk with my woman,” he drawls, his accent coming through the phone thick and sexy.

“You sound exhausted. What time is it there? It’s a little before two in the afternoon here,” you share, concerned that Sy is not getting enough rest.

“It’s almost eleven here. I should probably be sleeping; everybody else is. I just can’t seem to calm my mind. I figured the best cure to relax me was talking to you,” he hums. “Plus, I haven’t talked to you since before I sent my last letter, and I gotta know how you liked the photos.”

Shameless flirt.

“You ain’t even gonna ask how I liked the letter? Just straight to the porn you sent me.” You chuckle as he ignores subtlety.

“I already know you liked the letter because I’m a great letter writer. What’s on my mind at this very second is the thought of where you put the pics,” he muses, the smile on his face evident in his voice.

“Of course. I see your priorities are right on track,” you reply, playing along. “Well, if you must know, I am looking at the workout photo right now. I’m sitting at my desk, and it is staring down at me from my corkboard.”

“Uh-huh, let’s call that the ‘safe for work’ pic. What did you do with the other one, girl?” His voice sounded so deep and dark as if he had moved his mouth closer to the phone.

“For that one, I have to go to the bedroom,” you purr.

“Go on to the bedroom and get it for me,” he presses, and you can only imagine the look on his face is probably one of smug satisfaction.

You get up from your desk chair and walk across the hall to the bedroom. You sit on your side of the bed and reach into the bottom drawer of your nightstand. “Alright, baby, I am in the bedroom. Just reached into the bottom drawer of my nightstand, and would you look at that? The ‘not safe for work’ pic is in there, along with all my favorite toys.” 

“Why don’t you go ahead and put me on speaker and then set your phone down in the charging stand?” he instructs, calmly yet strongly. You do as you’re told and tell him so. “Now I want you to take out a toy and play with that pretty pussy for me. And I wanna not only hear it but see it as well, so how ‘bout you accept my FaceTime request?”

You’re so busy trying to choose what toy to take out that your head whips up to see the incoming request. You momentarily wish you were wearing something a little more enticing, but then you remember this is the same man who can’t get enough of you, no matter if you are in your Sunday best or a big t-shirt and house slippers. You accept the FaceTime call and pick up your Big Boss vibrator and some lube, placing them next to you.

“There’s my girl, looking sweeter than Christmas morning,” he says, a big smile plastered on his face as he sits at a desk with one hand scratching his beard and the other out of view. He’s out of uniform, wearing a blue pullover and one of his favorite baseball caps.

You bite your lip, knowing that hand is probably wrapped around himself right now. “Christmas morning, huh? Well, how about I open your present for you, then?” You stand and turn your phone slightly on the charging stand so he can see you clearly as you undress for him.

You start with your old college sweatshirt, pulling it over your head so only your slinky camisole is left, hiding your upper torso from view. Hooking your thumbs in your sleep shorts, you slowly move them down your legs about halfway before turning around and bending over so he can see your cheeky undies barely covering your ass.

“You are teasing the hell outta me, but fuck if it ain’t the sexiest shit in the world,” he breathes, his arm visibly flexing as he appears to stroke himself.

You take pity on him and hold the bottom of your camisole, pulling it up your belly and letting it flop your tits out so he can see them bounce before tossing it to the ground. Next, you slide down your panties and kick them to the side before crawling back into bed. You adjust the phone again to make sure he can see you sitting with your legs spread as you pick up your vibrator. You turn it on the lowest setting and tease your nipples a bit, unable to keep quiet for long.

“That’s it, baby. Let me hear all those noises. Fuck, you look good enough to eat,” he purrs, so eager to see what more you have to show him.

“Fuck, it feels so good. Wanna play with my pussy for you, Daddy,” you offer, already feeling your eager hole leaking with arousal.

“Yes, baby girl. Play with your pussy for Daddy,” he insists, licking his lips as he watches you.

“Yes, Daddy,” you whimper. 

You apply some lube to the vibrator and begin to slide it between your folds, letting it catch on your clit a few times and holding it there for a few seconds before moving the tip down to your entrance. You breathe in deeply before pushing the tip inside of you, staying still for a beat, then pushing it in further up to the hilt. You groan, and your eyes cross as you turn up the vibration speed.

Once you get your bearings, you look back up at your phone. Sy has repositioned his phone so that you can see him leaning back in his desk chair as his cock sticks out of his pants, his hand almost a blur as it rubs up and down his length. His pullover is rucked up and over his head, but his arms are still in the sleeves.

"Fuck, are you gonna recreate the pic for me, Daddy? Wanna see you cum all over that hairy chest while you watch me.” You babble, fucking yourself with your vibrator with deep, slow strokes.

"Hmm, you're not very patient, are you?" He tsks at you and removes his hand from his cock. Crossing his arms, he lifts an eyebrow as he waits for an answer.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I just miss you so much,” you whine, your sloppy pussy filling the room with a squelching sound. “I need you so bad.”

“Keep fuckin’ that pretty little pussy and cum for me first. After you cum, I’ll cum. You know how this works. Always make my girl cum first,” he warns, leaning back in his seat and lazily stroking himself as you watch. 

“Yes, Daddy,” you gasp, pressing the button to increase vibration speed again. You bask in the higher intensity for a moment before leaning back on your elbow and planting your feet with your legs wide open. This gives you a better angle with which to hit your g-spot every time you thrust the toy inside yourself.

You mumble nonsense as you fuck yourself silly, your slick coating the toy and making it easier to dive deeper inside your pussy. Sy is there to cheer you on as you start to make the familiar moans of ecstasy that he knows only come before you explode.

“That’s it, baby girl. I can tell how close you are. Let go and cum for Daddy so he can cum for you, baby. Don’tcha wanna be a good girl for me? Come on, baby. You sound so damn wet for me right now. I bet I could slide right inside you with how fuckin’ sloppy that pussy is,” he rambles on, playing with his balls as his hand flies over his length.

Your tongue practically hangs from your mouth as you piston the vibrator in and out of you, hitting your g-spot over and over until you can’t hold it in any longer. Your breath hitches, your hand freezes, and you let out a wail as your body convulses and your walls flutter around the thick, vibrating toy. 

You gasp for air as you ride out your high, slowly moving your toy in and out of yourself. Blinking yourself out of your stupor, you look up to see Sy transfixed on you. He sees you watching him, and his hand moves impossibly faster, focusing on the head of his cock.

“Oh, baby girl. You looked so perfect cumming for me. You ready for me to cum for you now? Ugh, fuck, I’m gonna cum... I’m gonna-fuck,” he blurts, his hand working his dick through his orgasm as rope after rope of thick, white cum spurts from his tip. 

Just like in the picture, his chest is soon covered in cum. It just keeps coming, leaking over his hand to drip on his balls. The sounds of his gruff moans are music to your ears. His chest heaves as he dips his head back before looking back at you and smiling his goofy grin.

“Damn, girl! What you do to me should be goddamn illegal,” he yawns, stretching his arms out to the side.

“Haha, yeah, I must be such a bad influence on you. Might I remind you that you are the one that got us into this predicament? I only do what I’m told,” you tease, moving your lube and toy to the side to clean in a bit.

“Oh really? You gonna play the innocent game? Alright then, on that note, I need to get cleaned up, and so do you, sweetness. I’m suddenly exhausted, and I’ve got a meeting at the crack of ass in the morning, so I’m gonna let you go, ok?” He yawns at the end of his sentence, his eyes already starting to droop.

“Alright, baby. I love you.” You dare to clip your usual goodbye to see what he does.

“Unt uh, girl. Say it again and say it right. Come on,” he prods, his hand making a ‘come hither’ gesture.

“I love you to the moon and back and twice around the sun,” you profess, smiling wide as you say it.

“There it is. I love you, baby. You are my other half, my special person, and my very best friend,” he drawls, his tiredness showing in how his accent sounds thicker than normal.

“Sleep well, baby. I’ll talk to you soon,” you hum, beaming at the love of your life.

“Enjoy the rest of your day, love. Buh-bye,” he breathes, waving at you.

“Bye, baby,” you say, waving back. 

He winks at you before ending the call, sending your phone back to the lock screen. The photo you took at the beach years ago is staring back at you. Sy is standing with his back to the ocean, arms crossed, with a smug grin on his face. It’s your favorite photo of him—well, at least it was until he sent that picture that sits in your nightstand drawer. 

But you can’t exactly put that photo on your lock screen, can you?

A/N: This was almost too fun to write…oof, that Sy really gets my biscuit buttered.

[simpxxstan]

hi i would like to req cheol x fem!reader with the song you are in love by taylor swift. thank you!

congrats on 500 followers btw 🫶🏼

this is part of my 550 followers celebration event (closed now)!

thank you for this request, really hoping you like it! i'm not a swiftie so i was unsure of how to interpret the song prompt. hope i did it justice! posting very very late, thank you for being patient for so long <3 happy bday month to cheollie!!! i love him so much and this couple too. i think i might write a few more drabbles for them later lol

genre: coworkers to lovers, friends to lovers, fluff

word count: 3.3k words

warnings: reader is fwb with an oc (not seungcheol).

"you are in love!" your best friend says. "yeah, i know." you sigh, "that's why i've been ranting for so-" "no, silly! not with jay. you're in love with seungcheol!" you had laughed off her words, wondering if she'd become tipsy way too fast into your girls' night.

but when you're lying in your bed later that night, the thought lingers in your mind- the alcohol clearing up and making you progressively more sober as the cold air from the open window hits you, while your friend snores soundly next to you.

"think about it." "i am thinking ab-" "no, you've never really thought about this before. think about it clearly." you'd laughed heartily at her faux-wisdom, which always appeared after finishing two cans of beer.

but she's right. you have actually never thought about this. you've been so obsessed with getting jay to like you that you've never really given a second thought about seungcheol... and what he really means to you now.

"i'd expect more from a stats major and a data analyst, honestly. aren't you supposed to be logical and rigorous-" you slap her arm while doubling over with laughter, knowing full well that she's imitating the words of an infamous professor in your college. "i am being logical. we're just coworkers."

were you?

now that you think about it, certainly not. you're more than coworkers. more like friends. more like best friends. in fact, he's the closest friend you've made since your days in college. just coworkers don't buy each other their favourite drinks when the other has a bad day. just coworkers don't hang out for hours after work nearly every other day. just coworkers don't invite each other to parties with their separate friend groups. just coworkers don't have inside jokes that prevent you from forming friends with anyone else in the office.

your mind travels back to last thursday, when seungcheol had saved your ass for the nineteenth time this year when you'd arrived late by preventing the boss from noticing.

and the thursday before that, when seungcheol had dropped you home after he'd found out that jay had made you cry during an argument in the break room just before work got over.

and the thursday before that, when you'd gone with seungcheol to taste the menu at three different banquets because he was busy planning the wedding of his best friend, joshua, and needed an unbiased taster.

did just coworkers know everything about each other? including his dentist appointment's dates, the last time you went grocery shopping, the last time he went to watch a movie, the vitamin supplements you eat after breakfast, and so much more.

you smile in the darkness. no, you and seungcheol could never be just coworkers. you're best friends, nothing less of that.

but love?

ah, no. you'll bet your life on this one. you've been in love before. and what you feel for seungcheol is nothing like it.

_

your heart hammers in your chest as you ring the doorbell again, the weight of the melting cake heavy in your hand. you distinctly remember jay telling you that he'd be home tonight, then why wasn't he responding to his calls nor opening his door?

you're answered about twenty minutes later. you're sitting on the stairs in front of his flat when you hear him walking up the stairs... and there's someone else's voice too. a female voice.

"y/n?"

words get caught in your throat when you see mina, the new intern fresh out of a college, walking right beside him, arm looped in his, a hickey prominent on her neck, freshly bruised.

"why are you here?" she asks you, and you wince.

"i wanted to surprise you... for your birthday! sorry, i- i didn't know you had plans."

jay smiles as he looks at mina next to him, and pulls her closer. "no, mina actually surprised me too. and we went out dancing. sorry, have you been waiting for long? you should've call-"

"i did."

jay pulls out his phone and checks it. "oh shucks. you've been calling for the last twenty minutes," he takes a step forward and leans in to kiss your cheek, lightly. "you can join us for dinner? i'm sure mina won't mind." mina definitely minds, because she looks like she's going to shoot you down in a matter of seconds.

"nah, i'll just leave. happy birthday though. i can see you had a good one." would you be petty if you didn't give him the cake?

"sorry for making you wait for so long, y/n-ah."

one year and four months.

"no worries, man. enjoy your night. bye mina!" and you smile, like the stupid people-pleaser you are. at least you brought the cake with you.

_

"what's up?" seungcheol opens the door and you smell the heavenly aroma of fried noodles from his kitchen greet you.

"thank you for opening the door."

seungcheol raises an eyebrow at you. "why would i not open the door? you're literally-"

"yeah no, that's cause jay didn't. he went out with mina, it turns out." you stuff the cake into his fridge and stand next to him where he's cooking in a wok.

"mina? intern mina?"

"yeah. they made out too... so i'm guessing it wasn't friendly."

seungcheol scoffs. "mina joined, like, last week."

"two weeks."

"he switched you up for her although he's been with you for a year and a half."

"she's twenty-two, cheol. i'm pushing thirty. i'm not sexy anymore." you bite your lip as you look at the word puzzle in the newspaper on the coffee table. seungcheol doesn't reply immediately, so your heart sinks a little further. even if he doesn't subjectively find you sexy, he could just say it to console you. well, but it's a stretch to even expect that from-

"you're the sexiest woman i've ever met." seungcheol says, his voice softer, as he plops down next to you, holding two bowls filled with the fried noodles. he begins to eat wordlessly, legs propped up on the coffee table, almost inhaling the food. if you move your leg a little, your bodies would touch.

you don't reply. you can't reply. you start eating the food too, relishing the flavours in silence.

"want some more? there's more egg bits towards the bottom, i know you-"

"it doesn't matter if you think i'm the sexiest woman. clearly he doesn't."

"is jay the only person whose opinion matters?"

"are you really asking me that?"

"what i am asking you is that you've wasted one year and a half pining over a man who doesn't care for anything more than sex, and you still hope he's worth your time?"

your breath stutters. seungcheol's staring at you, and you feel shameful and self-conscious suddenly. all the fire and rage from your earlier comments dissipate and you sigh.

"you think i don't have a chance at all?"

"jay is an asshole, y/n. i think that you shouldn't care about him at all. but that's just what i think. my opinion doesn't ma-"

"shut the fuck up," you extend a hand to grab his wrist and make him look at you again.

seungcheol does look at you again but doesn't say anything.

"my best friend says i like you."

seungcheol's fork clatters in his bowl and you both turn to look at each other.

you have no idea why you say that. sure, it's been on your mind all day, all evening, and suddenly you feel like you're on your toes around him through the day. even when you two sat together at work, you'd become oddly conscious of his presence in your periphery, which has never occurred to you before.

"do you?"

and you have no idea why he says it either. in all the million possible options of things he could've said right now, you'd never imagined him asking this to you right on your face.

so you have nothing to say, except a very shaky, a very feeble, "i don't know."

_

the next day, two things happen.

first, seungcheol isn't talking to you. well, he is talking. but not properly. talking like could you press the elevator button or do you want some grapes or did you read the mail.

second, jay's talking to you a lot. he follows you into the break room and apologises again for standing you up on his birthday night.

"it's okay really. i hope you had a wonderful time with mina." you don't make eye contact, not really interested in listening to his whining, instead more focused on making the espresso you know that seungcheol craves during the afternoon.

"i... just wanted to clarify. there's nothing between us, you know. nothing going on." "you don't have to clarify that to me-" "i know. but still. wanted to know if it's all good between us." you push your tongue into your cheek to stop a curse from coming out. finally you pick up the two mugs of coffee and face him. "yes jay, all's good." jay smiles widely. "so are we on for the annual company dinner for this weekend?"

shit. you'd forgotten about that.

"umm-"

"but we go every year!" and jay throws you those puppy eyes that bring out the wrinkles next to his eyes that were the first reason you'd fallen for him.

it, surprisingly, doesn't make you feel weak in the knees.

"i'll confirm by tonight, okay? gotta go."

you head straight to seungcheol's desk and put down the cup of coffee on his desk, making him look up from his desktop.

"do you have a plus one for the company dinner?"

his eyes widen, and he responds after a moment's pause. "no. but-"

"will you come with me?"

"what?"

"will you be my plus one?"

"but you're going with jay?"

"who told you that?"

"you did, genius. that's all you could talk about on monday."

you cringe internally. you don't even know why you do that- talking so much about jay, thinking so much about jay, just... caring so much for him. is it a parasocial thing? like people crush on their celebrities and make imaginary daydreams about taking care of their crushes? because jay certainly hasn't recicprocated even a tenth of your affection.

or maybe it's because of the sex. it is natural for friends with benefits to end up liking each other. well, in your case, liking the other without the other liking you. perhaps it's the physical intimacy. perhaps it's the consolation that you may be pushing thirty but you're still attractive enough to be on the market. perhaps it's the attention he gives you during your hookups. and perhaps it's the lack of attention from anyon-

wait.

you don't have a lack of attention. you have friends.

so it's not the attention bit.

is it specifically male attention?

but seungcheol is male. and he gives you a lot of attention, but only as a friend. you may be the sexiest woman he's ever met but he would never hook up with you. he's way out of your league.

"i don't want to go with jay." you finally respond back, clicking your tongue.

"huh? isn't that like your dream?"

"seungcheol. don't push it."

"i'm the one pushing it? i tell you not to like him, and you're mad at me. i tell you to like him, and you're still mad at me. what am i supposed to say, y/n?" and he pouts. fucking pouts at you like a little boy who's not allowed to eat sweets, and your heart breaks into a million pieces. you know he's not even trying to fake his cuteness (like jay does sometimes) and yet there's something so adorable about him right now that makes you want to-

fuck.

"just answer me, cheol. please. yes or no?"

"when have i ever said no to you?"

your mouth twists as you nod. he hasn't. ever said no to you.

"i'll tell jay i'll be going with you then."

you turn around to walk away, but seungcheol pulls you back, grabbing your wrist and pulling you up close to his chest so that you have to tilt your head up to talk to him. "what?"

"is this some let's make jay jealous mission?"

"what?!" your eyes go wide and you scoff.

"of course NOT. what do you think i am? i'm not that desperate."

seungcheol sighs.

"whatever you say, darling."

_

seungcheol looks as good as ever when he comes around to pick you up and drive you to the company dinner that weekend.

"red suits you," he says, taking in the dress you've brought out from your mother's closet specially for this event. this dress is made to impress. it's the dress your mom wore at the party where she met your dad for the first time, and you've heard from dad countless times how enchanting she looked in the dress. you're hoping you'll do the dress half the justice, but clearly you haven't inherited your mother's body proportions, so it doesn't look as good as it did on her. and yet, the plunging sweetheart neckline allows you to wear pretty accessories that you hardly get to wear to work. it is really a dress to impress. somehow, something inside you wants to impress.... someone. and for some reason, you don't think it's jay.

the car ride is silent. it's extremely uncomfortable because you don't remember the last time you spent ten minutes in the same space as seungcheol without talking to him. you knew you shouldn't have raised the my friend thinks i like you shit. but you've raised it and now you can't go back. his question still lingers in your mind, and it feels like a challenge.

do you like him?

when you look at him in the moonlight, his jawline is shaved clean and his hair is slicked off his forehead. it's not like you've never realised before this how handsome seungcheol is. in fact, it was the one of the first things you'd noticed about him. he's got an aura about him that's so attractive from the outside. but as you grew closer to him, the attraction somewhat wore off into a casual comfort... where you can exist in the same space with him without double taking at his beautiful smile or wondering why his dimples are so cute.

but that's not to say that his appeal is lost on you.

under the moonlight, he looks godly.

''i heard jay's going with mina." he finally tells you when he parks into the parking lot.

"good for them." he looks at you and cocks an eyebrow, and you shrug.

you're about to open the door and step out, but he quickly grabs your hand across the car, and pulls you inside.

"umm. y/n, i don't know what you're doing. but i- whatever i said that day- look, i don't like jay because i think he's rude to you? but apart from that i'm sure he's a great guy and you should like him if you want to. and i have no right to say anything about it-"

"what?" you're so confused by his little monologue.

"sorry i'm saying this poorly. what i mean is, please don't let what i said that night make you avoid jay or anything."

"this isn't about that."

"it's not?" he tilts his head in query.

"no. this isn't about how i feel about jay."

"it's not?" he asks you again, his face more confused. you're tempted to smile at the cute confusion on his features, but you know it'll make him mad for spoiling this serious moment.

"this is about how i feel about you."

_

seungcheol does not utter any more words to you after that. there's still a very prominent confusion on his face, but he masks it well with his natural charm.

but you're not confused at all for once. everything seems to become clear to you with 100% HD clarity. for some reason, it all makes sense now. why your best friend thinks you're in love with seungcheol.

because you've never been in love before.

you've always fallen for the toxic type of person, like jay. relationships that are more about hookups and drunken fights than emotional bonds and care. and your past experience has made you feel that love is nothing smooth. it's always been a rocky path for you. push and pull, where you're both pushed around and pulled to meet to other's conveniences.

but being with seungcheol is so... different.

there's no loneliness. no push and pull, no compromise. only laughter and memories. he makes you smile you more than any of your love interests have made you smile. he makes you laugh ever so often. he takes care of you when you're sick. he cooks for you whenever he comes over because you can't cook to save your life. he wrote you a birthday card. he bought matching t-shirts from a thrift store because you both happened to like the design. right now, when you see the way he's talking to another colleague, his pretty lips articulating every word clearly, your heart warms with fondness. a stray hair sticks out, and you fix it back. he doesn't notice. or he pretends not to. when jay comes around within your periphery, he pulls you closer, and you can't help but smile again. something about everything he does is so endearing.

it's not a eureka moment.

and yet, it feels good to feel love for real for the first time of your life. you can die tonight happily, knowing you're capable of real love. because you know you do love seungcheol. for all his pouty tantrums and all his whining complaints, you love him the most in the world right now, and you simply cannot imagine choosing a life without him.

"do you want to dance?"

seungcheol's been deliberately avoiding eye contact, but now he looks at you like a deer caught in the headlights.

"no."

you giggle at the sudden reply. "why?" his frown deepens, and you tug at his lips with your fingers. "you don't look good when you frown." "it doesn't matter." "it does." "no one's looking at me." "no one's looking at me either." "shut up. jay's boring holes into your dress with the way he's ogling you." seungcheol's face flares up, and you're mildly amused. "and what about the boy i want to ogle?" "huh?" "you. you're so handsome, cheol." his eyes unfocus from jay and back at you, his eyes wide and lips slightly parted.

"what are you doing, y/n? why are you playing with my heart?"

"i'm not, though? i'm just telling you how i feel."

"and how's that?"

"i feel like dancing with you under the moonlight. i feel like going on a long drive with you. i feel like hugging you on the warmth of your couch until we fall asleep. i've never done these things, seungcheol, will you come with me?"

"never danced? fuck, you're not being treated right."

and he shows you. he takes you to the centre of the hall area, where the roof's glass so that it's slightly isolated from the result of the expanse, and the moonlight's shining in like a spotlight. there are only a few people dancing there, mostly couples. but seungcheol and you dance at the very centre, lost in each other's eyes, forgetting that this is a public place. it doesn't matter. nothing does. except him.

you are in love, your best friend's voice floats into your mind. and you smile as you look into seungcheol's eyes, realising she was right all along.

so you tell him.

"i love you, cheol."

seungcheol stutters in his step for a second. but it doesn't matter. your pace was anyway too slow. he pulls you closer against his chest, and cups your cheek with one hand. "what's that?"

"i told you this night's about you. and i've realised it now. i am in love."

and when seungcheol kisses you later that night, you're downright thankful you've finally realised your feelings. because how did you ever think you'd survive without his cherry kisses?

[hwangyeddeongie]

This just randomly came to mind but headcanons of Yeji with a muscled masc gf? Idk why but I feel like she’d be an absolute sucker for people fitting that description🎀

omg this ask got me out of the gutter at first I thought it said “Yeji AS a muscled masc” and I was like fuck yeah and then I saw it was “Yeji with a muscled masc” and now I might need to write two versions bc 😩

as a muscled girl who’s always been self conscious about not being “feminine enough” this was healing to write, so thanks for the ask! sorry it’s so short :(

yeji x muscled!fem!reader hcs

Fluff, Suggestive

-you have a habit of wearing baggy clothes in general, just because they’re more comfortable to you than short or slim fits

-so yeji doesn’t actually know how ripped you are until you guys are a few months into your relationship

-she knows you’re strong from the way you squeeze her when you kiss and how you can pick her up with ease, and she loves it

-influenced by chaeryeong, she decides she wants to start going to the gym

-you already have a membership somewhere, and offer to go with her for the first few sessions to help her out

-she agrees, elated to do something she knows you’re passionate about with you

-you wear your usual attire, a hoodie and shorts with a sports bra underneath

-but for some reason, it’s warmer inside the gym than it usually is, which prompts you to take off your hoodie a few minutes into your workout

-you finish a whole set of pull ups before you notice yeji is staring, mouth agape

-“what?” you say as she walks over to you from her station

-she reaches out a hand and runs her fingers over your bicep, and then squeezes it

-“I didn’t know you were so…muscular.” she blushes, staring in awe

-after that, she insists on you wearing less covering clothing

-goes FERAL for muscle tees

-like you only wear those if you’re purposefully trying to rile her up

-tbh also loves it when you wear tops, she’s a sucker for your abs and will poke them whenever she gets the chance

-will 100% stare openly at you, only a little embarrassed when you catch her

-“are you checking me out?”

-“am I not allowed to appreciate that my girlfriend is the hottest person alive?”

-buys a gym membership, but she’s barely getting any training in, considering the only time she goes is with you, and she just spends the whole time checking you out

-likes to trace the veins on your hands and arms

-thinks it’s the hottest thing when you pick her up effortlessly or pull her in by the waist

-she squeezes your biceps a lot, esp when you hold her by the waist

-absolutely refuses to let you wear anything more than shorts and bra at home (honestly she would prefer you without anything on, but she’ll settle for this for now)

-overall she just loves your muscles

-because she loves you!

[minkdelovely]

kinktober — day XV

prompt: gender swap

revelations

���your hands were on my hips

your name is on my lips

over over again

like my only prayer”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Alastor x Lucifer ; RadioApple ; MDNI 18+

tags/warnings: top!lucifer x bottom!alastor, alastor has a vagina, oral (alastor receiving), outercourse, no penetration orgasm 🦌✨

word count: 2.3k

summary: alastor and lucifer, back in their own bodies, have found some footing in their new routine. but there’s been something on alastor’s mind that he just can’t shake, which leads to surprising discoveries for the new lovers.

author’s note: can you believe we’re halfway through kinktober already?? this is a continuation of @macabr3-barbi3 body swap prompt <- please be sure to read this first to get the full experience ♥️ i was very excited to finally take a swing at this, and i hope you enjoy it! if there’s any takeaway, it’s that i will make alastor a cute little mess whenever i can 😈 quote is from burning desire by lana del rey.

coven: @fraugwinska @hazelfoureyes @macabr3-barbi3 @sugoi-writes @synamartia 🕯️♥️

the coven’s kinktober masterlist

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“I’d like us to try something different this time...”

Lucifer hums in response, too lost in the stupor Alastor’s scent puts him in to form words. You’d think after a month of intimacy that he’d have grown a tolerance for it, but the angel feared he had actually gotten weaker now that he didn’t have to stave off his desires.

He felt that same wave of relief pour through him, remembering how he pleaded with Alastor’s voice: Please don’t regret this. Lucifer had spent many nights following this in gratitude, eagerly receiving and reciprocating Alastor’s passions. They had both made good on their proposition to attune each other to their tastes, and Lucifer was currently indulging in one of his. It wasn’t just Alastor’s scent that drove him crazy, but also the sounds he made under Lucifer’s touch. Eliciting a myriad of gasps and moans from the demon as he laid claim to the delicate, tantalizing flesh under his mouth.

Alastor’s neck was always hidden behind a high collar, making the skin there particularly sensitive. The evidence of Lucifer’s ardency was easily hidden, and the King found his eyes wandering to that collar often, as if seeing through the cloth to his markings underneath.

Mine.

Leave it to Alastor to give him a possessive streak.

“Lucifer, are you listening?” Alastor’s voice was breathy but the irritation it conveyed managed to cut through the fog in Lucifer’s mind.

The subtle bite of Alastor’s claws on his ribs was enough to finally draw him away from his lover’s delectable neck, readjusting himself in Alastor’s lap to look at him properly. Learning how to make Alastor cum wasn’t the only thing Lucifer had learned over these last few weeks. Pissing Alastor off was a sure fire way to end up falling asleep alone with his hand down his pants.

“You wanna try something different.”

Maybe he had said it too directly, or the eye contact was too much, but he didn’t expect to get the reaction he did out of the demon. Alastor’s face flushed pink, a gorgeous rosy shade that accentuated the handsomeness of his face. Fuck, he was so effortlessly endearing sometimes. Lucifer felt his cock twitch between his legs when Alastor broke eye contact. Bashfulness was a rarity on the Radio Demon, and it made Lucifer salivate. Something primal in him waking up that he didn’t know was there until recently.

“Hey, come on, you know you can tell me,” Lucifer said sweetly enough, caressing Alastor’s face. Though the glint in his eyes was anything but, exposing the hunger he was trying to keep at bay.

Rushing Alastor into things never ended well, while patience always paid off.

Alastor relaxed under Lucifer’s touch and turned back to him, but his crimson eyes remained apprehensive. “I’ve been thinking… about our first time.”

How could Lucifer forget? It was one of the best mornings in his long existence. But he stayed silent, waiting for Alastor to continue.

“And as much as I enjoy fucking you to oblivion,” Alastor emphasized this with a squeeze to Lucifer’s hips, some confidence returning to his face and static-laden timbre, “I’d like to… try that out again. In my own body this time.”

It took Lucifer a second to catch on, but the smile that spread on his face was eager when he realized what Alastor was suggesting.

Lucifer was also quite fond of the way Alastor took control in the bed. He had always been a bit spoiled this way, being claimed by his lovers and basking in their affection. It was nice to let someone else take the reins and turn his mind off while his body bloomed like an evening flower, so long as the florist knew what they were doing. And, boy, did Alastor know what he was doing.

But the opportunity to turn the tables was too enticing to pass up. How could he, really, when Alastor was being so charmingly coy about it? Their first time was never too far from Lucifer’s mind, and it filled him with more happiness than he expected that it was the same for Alastor — perhaps even more so, given this request. How long had he been holding this back?

Lucifer brought his other hand up to Alastor’s face and stood on his knees to kiss him. It seemed to be answer enough for the demon, his large hands fervently gripping Lucifer’s hips in response. They stayed this way until Alastor had to come up for air, hot puffs of breath permeating the space between their open mouths as Lucifer gently guided him to lay down. Alastor was still panting as Lucifer began to unbutton his shirt, planting kisses on each patch of exposed skin as he made his way down.

“You’ll feel a bit of a tingle, but I promise it won’t hurt,” Lucifer said into Alastor’s stomach, relishing the way the muscles twitched under the tickle of his breath.

A radiant, golden light enveloped them for a moment, followed by the promised tingle and then… nothing. Or, well… not nothing. Alastor’s pants felt looser in the groin but tighter on the hips, his budding erection all but gone as the ache of his arousal swelled. The heat he felt in his lower abdomen was familiar but his desire was now inside, a subconscious clench of his new sex alerting him to how empty he felt. It was a sensation he had only experienced the one time in a body that wasn’t his, and the thrill of discovery made him tremble; his mind gone cottony with this sudden onset of need and submission. Unable to form the words required to convey his want, a whine choked him. Amplified by an involuntary roll of his hips against Lucifer’s chest.

The air around them shifted, oppressive and electric; alerting the animal mind buried deep within man that something was coming.

It took all of Lucifer’s self control to stop him from tearing Alastor’s pants to shreds in his need to unveil what awaited him underneath. But he managed somehow, his kisses on Alastor’s belly gone feverish as he quickly unfastened the belt embellishing the demon’s slender waist. Lucifer gave it a harsh pull and flung it away as if it had bitten him, unconcerned with whatever patch of floor it decided to land on as he unbuttoned the offending pants. Only then did he manage to calm himself some, giving a final kiss to the supple flesh protecting Alastor’s newly formed womb before looking up at his disheveled lover.

“You don’t know how much it means, trusting me with this,” Lucifer said, his sincerity potent with reverence as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of the Overlord’s pants and underwear. “Thank you for letting me take care of you Alastor.”

He was rewarded with another bashful display, Alastor’s ears pressed tightly against his head as he swallowed thickly. Glazed eyes and the pink flush of his face and tufted chest diluting the insolence of his retort. “Quit fussing and get on with it already.”

There were a few canned responses that came to Lucifer’s mind: Patience is a virtue, be careful what you wish for. But as they say, actions speak louder than words.

With a snap of his fingers they were both divested of clothes, and Alastor gasped as the cool air collided with his molten core. He didn’t have the opportunity to complain about it before Lucifer knelt down, devoutly kissing the inside of Alastor’s left thigh as his hand kneaded the other. Alastor sighed but his stomach tensed, a small spurt of liquid trickling out of him as Lucifer’s mouth made its way closer to the spot he desired it most.

Lucifer paused to admire the sight before him, earning a frustrated mewl from the demon. Alastor was ethereal, purveying a softness Lucifer honestly never thought possible, even after all the new facets he’d uncovered over the last month. But as he set his gaze on Alastor’s gorgeous cunt — adorned with a soft down of red and black hair — the domineering urge which was so new to him writhed under his skin, begging to proclaim its territory.

Finally, he brought himself to Alastor’s center. Unable to resist the need to smell the demon’s intoxicating arousal before extending his tongue, lapping up the juices collected there as if in offering. Alastor jerked in reaction, keening with relief as Lucifer groaned, quickly settling himself between Alastor’s legs to start his ministrations in earnest. He hiked those gorgeous long legs over his shoulders, firm tongue swirling over Alastor’s clit with a measured pace that belied his eagerness. It wouldn’t do to overwhelm the poor thing.

Alastor seemed to be doing well, though. Cursing between soft moans while his hips rolled against the angel’s mouth. Lucifer sighed into that delicious heat as Alastor’s fingers found purchase in his blonde hair, a feeling of wholeness washing over him that he hadn’t felt in centuries.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” Lucifer lamented before his forked tongue dove back into its newfound Eden.

He felt like he was floating away from himself, lost in the saccharine taste and sounds of his lover. The demon’s scent now fully bloomed, perfuming the air with the verdant musk that had tortured Lucifer since their first meeting. How easily the angel was reduced to his baser natures, the need to revere and praise woven into his very being reminding him of his place. In this instance it didn’t matter — nor did he ever think it would when it came to how he felt about the sinner beneath him. Lucifer would weather whatever storms Alastor threw his way, so long as the days ended with them in the safe harbor of their bed.

Lucifer’s tongue had just pressed up to focus on the sensitive inner nerve when a low, drawn-out bleat from Alastor caught them both off-guard. Alastor’s hands quickly detangled themselves to clasp over his mouth with Lucifer’s head popping up to follow, his hair ruffled like unruly feathers. He took in the look on Alastor’s face, beet-red with embarrassment, and felt the expression on his own soften with an overwhelming affection. Nothing they had tried so far had managed to pull a sound like that from Alastor — but Lucifer wasn’t completely surprised. He wrote the book on cunnilingus, after all.

Despite the swell of pride, he managed to keep his wolfish grin to himself. If he wanted to keep this going, he’d have to save the gloating for later. Though his cock throbbed, leaking desperately from Alastor’s modesty as his brain finally registered his own painful arousal. Lucifer thought absently that it was a miracle he hadn’t already finished against the sheets.

“You okay, honey?”

Alastor nodded his head, squeezing his eyes shut to hide from Lucifer’s earnestness. Another wave of endearment poured through the angel, coating his veins like syrup as he journeyed up to gently remove the hands from Alastor’s mouth. It wasn’t without resistance though, Alastor stubborn as always to have his way. But Lucifer won in the end, bringing one hand to his mouth with an adoring kiss that made Alastor wriggle, feeling more exposed than ever despite his eyes still being closed. The soothing tone of Lucifer’s amused chuckle mingled in the air with frayed static as he leaned down to place a kiss to Alastor’s hot cheek.

“If you need to we can — ”

“Don’t…,” Alastor interjected, unsteady, “don’t say it. It’s too embarrassing. Just — ah!”

Lucifer provided an interruption of his own, taking advantage of Alastor’s closed eyes to rub his erection through warm slick. His wanton moan of alleviation quickly tarnishing any form of superiority he had managed to gain as Alastor whined below him, eyes flying open from shock. Lucifer rolled his hips again and they cried out in unison, the air between them humid with their desire. A hiss escaped through Lucifer’s teeth as Alastor moved his hips to meet him, and he was now genuinely concerned that he might not even get the chance to enter before the onset of his climax.

But his body had other concerns, overriding the alarm bells in his mind as he ground his cock against Alastor’s folds. Their combined fluids making it all too easy to stimulate their most sensitive parts. Lucifer was writhing, helpless against his instinct to follow through. The luscious heat from that swollen, wet cunt — he wanted to curse and worship himself for using such an effective spell.

He wasn’t the only one enjoying themselves more than expected. Each whine, squeal, and bleat from Alastor goaded Lucifer on. Reinforced by the steady rolling of his hips, craving the friction of Lucifer’s hard length against his sex and lower belly. 

Alastor’s claws dug into the tender flesh of Lucifer’s ribs, mouth open as he panted between moans and sobs, his abdomen quivering from the building tension of pleasure. They were beginning to lose rhythm now, each of them chasing down the relief they needed so desperately.

“Lucifer, please — please, I…!”

“Mm-me too — hah… fuck!”

Lucifer cried out as he felt the first ropes of his release escape him, Alastor’s blissed out face seared into his mind before his vision went white. Somewhere in the fog he could hear Alastor calling his name through heaving breaths as their bodies rode out the high, clumsily rocking against each other until they were twitching from oversensitivity. Lucifer blinked back the haze until his lover came back into view, collapsing on top of him before he kissed every part of Alastor’s face his lips could touch.

It wasn’t until Alastor shuddered that Lucifer realized the salt on his tongue was from tears and not sweat. Lucifer shushed him, pressing a tender kiss to Alastor’s temple as he pet his hair to soothe him.

“If you mention this to anyone, I’ll tear your heart out and eat it in front of the entire city,” Alastor threatened, words muffled as he hid his face in the swoop of Lucifer’s neck; his usual venom reduced to petulance.

Lucifer laughed, the heart in question fluttering as he sank into Alastor’s embrace. “You know… we really need to work on your pillow talk. Lucky for you that I believe in second chances.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

banner by @synamartia ❤️‍🔥

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold, @krak-jj, @tremendoushearttaco, @redfoxwritesstuff, @chibistar45, @kaylopolis, @cutiebimbo, @lousypotatoes, @rfox1998, @cosmiccandydreamer, @hyperfixations-keep-me-going, @cherry-cola-100, @wonderlandangelsposts, @catticora, @velvette3, @sailorsmouth, @reath-solia, @junieshohoho, @cxrsedwxrlds, @littlebluefishtail, @nxcxllxsevens, @swagkittybear

[hornyhornyhimbos]

Happy By The Poolside

pairing: steve harrington x afab!reader

summary: while they wait for the annual pool party to start, steve knows exactly how to keep his lover happy by the poolside ☼♡

word count: 1,477

warnings: MINORS DNI (18+ CONTENT) oral f!receiving, fingering f!receiving, semi-public sex (sex by the pool), nicknames (baby, sweetheart), edancy appearance because i said so, allusions to steve jerkin it in the bathroom, no pronouns or reader descriptors used other than reader wearing a bikini, color coded speaker tags!

genre: fluffy, established relationship smut ♡

extra notes: did y'all really think i'd let fourth of july go by without slutty 'i <3 swimming' steve?

beta read by: @lcvingprentjss (love u sm)

masterlist | location smut prompts | ask box

it was hot. it was oh so hot. but it wasn't the 80° heat that had you feeling that way. no, what had you feeling that way was a certain brunette boy in big sunglasses and loose-hanging shorts.

you all but stared as steve emerged from the pool, blue swim trunks settled low on his waist, accentuating the trail of hair on his lower belly and the dips of his adonis belt. you practically drooled as he shook out his wet hair, beads of water flying about and landing in various spots on the concrete and your chaise.

he reached for the towel that he'd tossed at the end of the chair, a few loose droplets of of water falling onto your feet as he did so. you'd been happy right where you were, enjoying a magazine as the sun rays beat down on your body, fingers crossed that you'd have a tan after this, not a nasty case of sunburn. steve had been pouting half the morning, trying to get you in the pool with him, but you hadn't budged, saying you were happy by the poolside, waiting until the rest of your friends had arrived for the pool party.

still, even an hour after you'd sat down on the chaise, he wasn't letting up. "baby," he said, somehow managing to make the term sound conspiratorial, "are you sure you don't want to join me?"

you shook your head, putting this month's edition of cosmo to the side and taking off your sunglasses to meet his gaze. "everyone should be here soon. then you'll have plenty of time with me in the pool. it's not like dustin would ever let me miss the annual chicken fight."

he chuckled at your statement, but took your hand in both of his and gave you that look, the one he always gave you when he was determined to get you to do whatever he wanted. "come on, baby. please?" his bottom lip puckered out like a child in a candy store. "just for a few minutes?"

"nope," you answered, putting your sunglasses back on as the sun moved further overhead. "i only have so much time today to start on my tan. besides, they'll be here any minute."

in protest, steve pulled you up from the chair and tugged you toward the pool. "come on, at least dip your toes in."

you supposed you couldn't argue with his compromise. he walked around to the steps, slowly submerging himself in the pool once again, while you sank onto the concrete, dipping your feet into the contrastingly cool water. you chuckled as steve went limber, letting the small waves of water carry him through the pool. "you're missing out," he stated, like it was an absolute fact.

"i'm perfectly fine right here, my little fish," you teased. you kicked your feet softly in the water, watching as tiny ripples floated to join the bigger ones that carried steve. from this new angle, the sun was hidden behind his neighbors' trees, prompting you to place your sunglasses to the side and get a better look at steve: the once dark blue shorts now a beautiful cerulean, just a tad darker than the water he floated on, his normal wavy tufts now a sea of dark curls, the way his skin practically sparkled in the sliver of sunlight that wasn't hidden behind his neighbors' sugar maples. you watched as beads of water slid down his stomach, dragging along every crevice and line of his abs. you'd be lying if you said the sight didn't have you turned on.

steve must've noticed the way you'd been staring, forcing himself upright again and wading through the water toward you. unbeknownst to you, that little red bikini you had on was doing a number on him, his inner monologue and thoughts being driven by his little head at this point. he made his way over to you, placing a delicate kiss on your leg, looking up at you through water-matted eyelashes. "baby," he said, his tone teasing this time.

"hmm?" you hummed in response, afraid your voice would betray you if you said anything more.

his eyes flicked between your eyes and the place where your thighs squeezed together. you needed him, and you both knew it. "you okay?"

you managed to nod, the friction between your legs not at all aiding the want that had taken over your body. "i'm good," you said sheepishly, a blush creeping up your skin.

"are you sure? because," he paused, placing his giant palm on your knee and pulling your legs apart. he smirked at the wet spot he'd unknowingly created on your bathing suit. "you seem like you could use some help over here," he finished, his hand making its way up to your thigh.

the logical part of your brain managed to take over for a moment. "steve, people will be here any minute," you protested, despite the irrationally horny side of your brain that was currently fistfighting the logical side.

"then i'd better be quick," he said, his hands inching toward your bikini bottoms.

he left a space of availability in the air for any more protests you might have. after all, even though you were in a very established relationship, consent was always key. but you made no more argumentative comments, only approving moans and the occasional, "please," as he pulled your bathing suit down.

his lips met your clit with soft licks at first, giving you time to respond with just how hard and fast you needed it. your hands met his hair, tangling in the wet curls as you pulled him closer to you, letting out a soft moan as he suckled your bud.

he pulled your bikini bottoms all the way off, setting them aside on the concrete before meeting your pussy once again. your legs wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you again. his damp hair settled on the sides of your thighs, sending a shiver up your spine.

his tongue worked itself in heavenly figure eights around your core, while one of his hands met your entrance. he toyed at your hole with his fingertip, waiting for some kind of approval to continue.

you gave him exactly that, letting out a whine that sounded like an attempt to say, "please, stevie," but was nearly incoherent. he slipped one finger inside you, the sensation absolutely intoxicating.

he left a series of open-mouthed kisses on your clit, his digit continuing to bury itself inside you. he moaned at the taste, and the vibration had you inching closer to your release. your fingers curled into his hair while your toes curled into his back as his finger reached that sweet spot deep inside you.

the logical part of your brain took over once more as you spared a quick glance at your watch. "steve, they're gonna be here any second," you said through moans, hands pulling so hard at his hair that you were surprised you hadn't ripped it out yet.

"patience, baby, patience," he reminded you, immediately diving back into your cunt. his finger was accompanied by a second, his thrusts only becoming faster and deeper with every flex of the digits. your eyes had started to roll back and your toes had started to curl even harder. you were close, oh so close, and you both knew it.

the familiar rumble of eddie's truck trumpeted from what sounded like a few houses down. "steeeeve," you let out, ever so close to your orgasm.

his fingers drove impossibly deeper into your cunt, his mouth only parting from you to say, "cum for me, sweetheart."

as if on cue, your orgasm rippled throughout your body, pain and pleasure taking over all of your senses. a moan escaped your lips at the last possible second as the truck turned off outside the fence.

steve left one last open-mouthed kiss on your core before rushing to pull your bottoms back on. "you let them in while i go, uh, fix something in the bathroom."

you giggled, watching as steve padded toward the back door. surprisingly, you managed to compose yourself between the fifteen feet that lied between the pool and the gate, a smile making its way onto your lips as you let your friends in. "hey, guys," you greeted, moving to let the trio in.

mike entered first, while eddie and nancy stepped in behind him, eddie's arm tossed around his girl's shoulders. "you okay?" nancy asked, seemingly having noticed your wobbly legs.

"i'm fine," you answered. "just stood up a little too fast. got a little lightheaded."

steve chuckled as he closed the glass door behind him, making his way inside the house and heading toward the bathroom. if you thought that was lightheaded, just you wait until the after party…

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @rupsmorge @writer-in-theory @esoltis280 @liberhoe @wifeyreid @serenity-lattes-reads

[ibetonlosinghuskies]

hey I was wondering if you could do a fic about either p or a and reader. I’ve been thinking about this for a while but idk how to write. It could be like reader is dating p or a and is also good friends w the team and they all go out to the lake or in a boat. reader is having a good time and they are all in the water in swim suits having fun. one of the girls on the team suggests that they take a photo and everyone is down including reader but then someone says that they want to post the photo on socials and then readers mood changes and offers to take the photo instead of being in it. reader is mid sized and has body image issues and is insecure especially being in swimsuits with all athletes and thinks she looks bad and doesn’t want people to see her on socials because she has had people bully her before for how she looked. and then p or a notices and like comforts here. sorry this was really long 

i absolutely adore this prompt, thank you for suggesting!! i’m not saying i waited till charm came out to release this but…yk i had to throw a clairo song in regardless (ty for being patient w/me)

as a tall girlie, who grew up mid-sized myself, this hit so close to home.

second nature (azzi x fem!reader)

summary: just the prompt :)

dislcaimer: as always, everything i write is fictional!

word count: 3k +

trigger warnings: body image issues, bullying, mild anxiety.

cw: just fluff

author's note: please know all of you are SO SO beautiful and loved, just the way you are. i love you, enjoy <3

azzi was an amazing girlfriend.

patient, sensitive, and effortlessly supportive, she had a way of making everything okay. you'd only been dating for a few months, but she made it feel like you'd known each other for years.

you told her everything. azzi had a presence that made all your feelings spill out of you. sometimes, you'd talk for hours about whatever crossed your mind. and she'd listen, nod, eyes soft like every word out of your mouth was sugar.

with azzi, you felt truly heard.

not to mention, she's drop-dead gorgeous. you sat on the dock, book in hand, admiring the way the afternoon sun kissed her skin. azzi wrestled with her teammates in the water, splashing water into each other's faces.

god, they looked like a hollister ad.

shadows catching the perfect angles, their bodies long and slender. the subtle flex of their abs as they laughed, a gap between their thighs—all things you noticed, all things that made your insecurities flare up. you couldn't help but compare yourself, a familiar feeling of inadequacy building in your gut.

why can't i look like that?

every once in a while, azzi would dip her head under the water, arms outstretched in an effortless butterfly stroke. she'd emerge to the surface, soft brown curls dripping beads of water like pearls.

she must've felt your stare because she turned quickly, water falling off her shoulders. "hey, babe! come join us!" she calls out, treading water confidently.

you hesitated, fingers tightening around your book. the thought of being in a swimsuit around all these athletes made your stomach churn. you imagined how you'd look standing next to their toned bodies, the comparison making you want to disappear.

you thought about hiding between the pages of your book, slipping between the cracks. but her invitation was clear, she wanted you there, with her.

azzi examines your expression, giving you a slight nod. the softness of her gesturing giving you enough confidence to set your book aside.

you took off your swimsuit cover slowly and modestly. trying to stall, you folded the cover into a perfect square, your hands shaking slightly. you took a quick breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

please don't let them stare. please don't let them judge.

eventually, you made your way to the water's edge, dipping your toes in. the water had a sharp coolness, making you acutely aware of how warm your skin had been. you felt exposed, vulnerable, but comforted under azzi's gaze.

"there you are!" ice grinned, splashing water in your direction. "was worried you were gonna stay on that dock all day, girl."

you laughed weakly, trying to shake off your insecurities. these were your friends. azzi's teammates had been welcoming to you from day one. but still, you couldn't help but feel like the odd one out, even if it wasn't apparent to them.

“hey, don’t splash her!” azzi pouts, splashing water back at ice dramatically. she wades through the water over to you, then reaches to cup your face. her thumb strokes your face, wiping off whatever drops of water had splashed you, which was maybe like a drop or two. however, you appreciated the gesture, savoring a moment of her touch.

she's so gentle with me.

"are you good?" she searches your eyes. "i know the water is a bit cold," her voice apologetic, eyelids fluttering awaiting your response.

she always knows when something's wrong.

you nod, giving her a small smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. azzi's hand slides down your arm, your hands interlocking. she tugs at your hand pulling you further into the water, her touch insistent but patient.

she always seems to know exactly what you need—a gentle push but never a shove.

you allow her to guide you into the water slowly, grateful for the calmness she carries in her touch. you focus on the warmth of her hand, an anchor against the tide of your insecurities.

"there you go," she murmurs, smiling at you. "you're doing great."

maybe this won't be as bad as i thought.

the water lapped around your waist, a gentle hug causing your swimsuit to cling even closer to your body. but the feeling was minuscule in contrast to the loving waves of azzi's smile.

as you looked around, you noticed a volleyball net stretching across a small section of the lake. the net swayed gently with the ripples of the tide, a makeshift court across the sparkling water.

"hey, you two," kk called out, splashing in your direction, holding a volleyball at her waist. "come play with us!"

the same way they do every time, azzi's eyes lit up with a competitive flare. "wanna show these losers how it's done, babe?" she smiled, squeezing your hand.

before you could answer, ice waded over, "alright, let's pick teams. i call dibs on first pick!" she pointed directly at you, her smile wide and welcoming. "i want our newest member on my team!"

a warmth spread through your chest at being chosen first, a feeling of belonging you've longed for all your childhood. but before you could take a step towards ice, azzi interlocks your arms, pulling you closer.

"no way," azzi protested, her voice playful but firm. "this one's mine," she smiled at you, glancing down at your lips for a moment. "you can't split us up."

ice raised an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side. "oh? and who made that rule?"

"i did, just now," azzi declared, sticking out her tongue. her playful and clingy gesture gave you butterflies. it was something small, but it felt good to be picked first. to be chosen.

especially by her.

paige, treading water nearby, let out a laugh. "dude, trust me," she said, shooting ice a knowing look. "you don't wanna argue with her."

"we'll take aubrey too," azzi smiles confidently, waving her over.

before you knew it, you were caught up in the game. the rules seemed to change every few minutes, with paige declaring random new scoring systems that had everyone laughing and arguing.

their competitiveness was contagious, fueling your focus. you felt proud to be keeping tempo with these pro athletes. each play felt like shedding a layer of doubt, your movements becoming more natural, more assured.

as the game wore on, the sun slowly dipped in the sky, casting a warm glow across the water. finally, both teams were tied, and the next score would win the game.

ice served the ball, sending it arcing high over the net. the ball sailed towards you, and out of the corner of your eye, you could see azzi positioning herself near the net.

"azzi!" you called out, setting the ball in her direction.

azzi moved with fluid grace, jumping to meet the ball. her hand connects with the ball, spiking it straight down over the net. the ball hit the water with a satisfying splash.

for a moment, silence.

then azzi face lights up with excitement. she runs over to aubrey, who was the closest to her, raising her hand for a high five.

almost immediately, azzi's eyes found yours, and her smile grew even wider. she ran towards you, her pace quickening with each step.

before you could process what was happening, azzi reached you. she wrapped her arms around your waist and lifted you up, spinning you both in a half-circle. water droplets flew off your bodies like tiny jewels, catching the late afternoon sun.

"that's my girl!" azzi beamed, her face close to yours, eyes shining with pride.

she pulled you in closer by the waist, her lips finally meeting yours. her lips soft and sweet, tasting like lake water and honey. her kiss like a tidal wave, washing away your uncertainty. for just a moment, in her arms, the world seemed to fade away—and with it all your insecurities.

a wave of gratitude flooded your body. standing there, you realized you were part of the team, no different from any of the polished athletes all around you.

i belong here. with them. with her.

the brief moment was interrupted by a splash of water from the other side of the net. "girl boo, this isn't a cutest couple contest," kk teased.

"be glad, 'cause we'd win every time," azzi shoots kk a look, before pulling back to look at you from arm's length, "i mean, look at my girl."

maybe i've belonged all along.

azzi looked at you like you were the only girl in the world. her gaze was a gentle blanket, wrapping you in her soothing presence. her eyes, soft brown cotton, coating every self-detrimental thought that raced through your mind.

how did i get so lucky?

"race y'all to the boat!" paige shouted, already sprinting towards the dock.

a chorus of laughter and protest erupted as everyone splashed through the water to follow. azzi grabbed your hand, her touch still feeling electric after all this time.

"come on," she giggled, tugging you along gently. for once, you weren't thinking about how you looked or what they were thinking about. you were just in this moment, hand in hand with azzi, surrounded by your friends.

the sun glinted off the lake's surface, laughter echoing across the water. azzi helped you into the boat, offering her hand, still breathless and laughing. once everyone reached the boat, ice pulled out her phone. "alright we need a group picture," she smiled. "the lighting is perfect."

suddenly, the carefree feeling evaporated. the group gathers together, posing effortlessly, you felt your body stiffen. as the camera snaps, suddenly you're not on the boat anymore.

you're eleven, at a sleepover. a group of your friends gathered around you, a tangle of skinny limbs and bright smiles. holding each other on their backs, posing for a group photo. you just stand awkwardly to the side.

your heart begins to race, pounding against your ribcage, like it's pleading for some sort of escape. your smile feels like you're lying through your teeth. gritting them together, attempting to hide your self-doubt.

you're fifteen, you just posted a photo on instagram. a wave of cruel comments flooding your socials. each pointing out a different insecurity. some you didn't even know you should be insecure about until then.

your throat tightens, constricting every word you wish you could say. the world around you seems to shrink, the walls of the landscape closing in on you. the sun suddenly feeling like a spotlight on your body.

last summer, your mother's hand on your shoulder, heavy with judgment. she suggests trying a new diet, a different hairstyle, a new workout routine. like you were a project to be fixed.

a wave of nausea rushes through you. you're hyper-fixed on your body—the way your thighs touch, how your swimsuit clings to your curves, the urge to cross your arms over your stomach.

the world around you blurs, spinning with each click of the camera. you blink rapidly, trying to regain your focus, to hide the tears threatening to well up in your eyes.

"y'all mind if i post this?" ice's voice cuts through the fog of your thoughts. she turns the phone around to the group.

you take a step closer, your knees buckling underneath you. as you peer at the screen, your breath catches in your throat. there you are, surrounded by toned, athletic bodies. the contrast feels stark, and painful, like a slap to the face. your eyes search your body, focused on every perceived flaw. you didn't just see them—you saw everything you felt you'd never be.

is this really how others see me?

"actually," you speak up, your voice soft and hesitant, "why don't i take another one? that way you can all be in it together."

you force a smile, hoping they don't see through it. "i'm not really photogenic anyway," you add, laughing weakly.

as you reach for the phone, your eyes meet azzi's. there's a flicker of concern in her gaze, a silent worry. you look away quickly, afraid that she'll break down years of carefully constructed walls with just the flutter of her eyelashes.

you snap a few photos, trying to steady your heart rate. behind the camera, you could hide, disappear between the clicks of the shutter.

"you guys look great," your voice feels distant and uneasy. you hand the phone back, turning away from the group. a few moments later, you feel azzi's hand on your shoulder.

"hey," she calls to you softly, "is everything okay?" her eyes, warm and concerned. you can feel her empathy through her fingertips, slowly stroking your shoulder.

she knows.

you force a smile, but your eyes remain cold. "yeah, of course," you lie. "just thought you all would want a pic together."

azzi's brow twitches, she looks unconvinced. you can almost see the gears turning in her mind, trying to read your expression. "alright, if you say so," she says, nodding slowly.

"i'm gonna change back into my clothes," you say, your words slurring together quickly. her concerned gaze never leaving your eyes, she gives your hand a quick squeeze before letting you go.

you make your way to the small bathroom on the boat, locking the door behind you. the confined space feels both like a sanctuary and a prison. the walls concealing you from everyone but trapping you with your thoughts.

you turn to the mirror, and immediately wish you hadn't. your eyes traced every flaw, magnifying them in your mind. the way your swimsuit digs into your skin, the fullness of your body, the curves of your shoulders. each detail feels like a mistake, begging for attention.

why can't i look like them?

with shaky hands, you reach for your bag, pulling out your clothes. as you change, you try not to look at your reflection. the thought of your own reflection sending waves of nausea through your body.

you let your hair down, letting it fall around your face and shoulders. it's a small comfort, a curtain to hide behind. from your bag, you grab a bit of makeup—a little concealer, some mascara. anything to feel less vulnerable, less exposed.

maybe if i just tried harder...

but no matter what you do, the girl in the mirror still doesn't look like the athletes outside. and even if she did, you probably still wouldn't see her as such.

instead, you saw a vulnerable little girl staring back at you, burdened by the weight of her own inadequacies. your eyes clouded with judgement and self-hatred, you've never truly been able to see yourself clearly.

you close your eyes, taking a deep breath. when you open them again, you force yourself to turn away from the mirror.

as you step outside the bathroom, you nearly bump into azzi. she steadies you with a hand on your arm, her touch sweet but firm.

"hey you," she says softly, her eyes searching yours. before you can respond, she leans in and kisses your cheek. she moves her hands around your waist, slipping something into your back pocket.

"for later," she whispers with a soft smile, before rejoining the group.

with a mix of curiosity and anticipation, you reach into your pocket, feeling the edges of a folded piece of paper. the top reads, "to the most beautiful girl in the world." your heart skips a beat as you read it:

"things i love about you:

the way your eyes crinkle when you smile

the kindness you show to everyone you meet

how your eyes light up when you laugh

the way your hair frames your face

your passion for everything in your life

the softness of your skin

the way you always make me feel loved..."

the list goes on, each point listing a different aspect of you. your heart swells at her words. all this time, you felt like she had to tolerate all your flaws, but the truth was evident.

she saw you, all of you, and loved you effortlessly.

by the time you finish reading it, tears have welled up in your eyes—happy ones this time.

you fold the note in your pocket, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. azzi's words settle over you, each one a gentle reminder of how she sees you.

as you help the group pack up, azzi approaches you again, phone in hand. "before we go," she says softly, "can i get a picture of just us?"

before you can respond, she tosses her phone to one of her teammates and scoops you into her arms. your thighs wrap around her waist, feeling weightless under her touch. you let out a surprised giggle as she carried you over to the ledge, wrapping your arms around her neck.

"smile, beautiful," she whispers, leaning in to kiss your cheek. you can't help but beam at the camera, the soft pressure of her kiss sending chills down your spine.

this time when you see the photo, everything looks perfect. your smile is genuine, the sunset glistens in the background, azzi's supportive hold of your body envelops your body.

azzi sets you down, her fingers tapping her phone a few times before turning to show you. she's already set the photo as her lockscreen.

"perfect," she says, looking at you rather than the phone. "just like you."

as you walk hand in hand towards the car, the knot of anxiety in your chest begins to unravel itself. azzi's note sits in your pocket, her feelings tangible against your skin. and for the first time, you start to see yourself as she always has—beautiful, worthy, loved.

as azzi starts driving again, her hand finds yours, her thumb stroking your hand.

she brings your hand to her lips, kissing your knuckles. the gesture is so tender, so simple, that it catches your breath. it feels like the first few drops of rain after a drought.

the burden of your appearance was never a burden to begin with.

her focused gaze on the road, the sunlight fading but still flickering through the windows. she hums to herself, like the quiet after a storm, clearly happy to just be in your presence.

the constant comparison, all of your perceived flaws, every way you find yourself lacking—it doesn't define you.

under her touch, you are defined by the way you love, the character of your heart, the beauty of who you really are.

[colibrie]

Mosaic Moments

Prompt 3, Leo: Not made of stone.

Art by @trilobitepunch

3. Not made of stone (Leo, Casey Jr, brief Donnie cameo)

"Woooowe! Now that was a great run!" Leo exclaimed, chest heaving gently as he skidded to a stop. His muscles throbbed with a pleasant burn, chest gently heaving with the welcome effort of exertion. A thin veneer of sweat cleansed his skin, gently pulling at the slight breeze that blew by the roof.

"Hah yeah," Casy huffed as he came up from behind, face flushed and hair stuck to his face. The humans thin shoulders jumped as he folded over, hands braced on his knees as he sucked in deep breaths of air.

"You good bro?" Leo asked, only half teasing as he stretched his arms above his head, casually nudging Casey Jr with the side of his foot. "Way you're sucking wind someone would think you were the one stuck in bed for over a month and a half."

"Hey, not all of us get to be freaky strong mutants," Casey shot back, a broad grin taking any away any heat that may of existed as he pushed himself upright. "You definitely don't run like someone whose been bed ridden. Then again, you always did heal fast. It was useful for the resistance but it drove uncle Tello and Master Michelangelo crazy trying to keep Sensei in bed long enough to meet minimum rest standards."

The shift was barely perceptible. If he hadn't been raised by older versions of the turtle he was sure he would have missed it. The suble tightness that crept into the corners of Leo's smile, forcing them wider in a way that was to plastic to be genuine. The way the light in his eyes dimmed ever so slightly, even as he let out the perfectly light chuckle to cover.

"Yeah, future me is like six kinds of amazing. Must have been a crazy time."

"It was the apocalypse," Casey replied slowly, mentally trying to make sense of these shifts.

Had it been mentioning sensei? In the aftermath of the Krang invasion Leo had initially had a hard time hearing Casey mention his future counterpart. But they had worked through that. They had talked, under the cover of night when the rest of the lair had been at rest. He'd apologised to the younger turtle for putting so much pressure on him. Leo had accepted with apologies of his own, and had eventually coaxed him to give more details about his life with sensei, stories both good and bad. They'd laughed, they'd cried. They were good...weren't they?

"Must all seem pretty tame now in comparison," Leo said casually as he leaned into his stretch.

"Yes and no," Casey responded, watching carefully as he pushed his hair away from his face. "There's certainly less explosions, and the lack of zombie krang chasing us on our morning run is nice. But other things are crazy. Like how rich everyone is. Uncle Tello used to tell me stories about it, and he had a million folders of ideas and inventions that he'd imagined but lacked the materials to make. Seeing how easy it is to get things here, I get it now. He'd be over the moon, and probably lock himself in the lab for a whole year!"

There. A slight flinch, shoulders hiking a few centimeters up towards his tympanum.

"Heh, once an egghead always an egghead I guess. Anyway, we should-"

"Leo, what's wrong?"

"Uh...Nothing?" Leo replied questioningly. "I mean, I'm kinda hungry. Wanna swing by Run of the Mill on the way back? We can-"

"I thought we were past lying to each other," Casey challenged, a tiny bud of frustration building beneath his ribs as he pinned the turtle with a look.

"I'm not lying Cas, everything is fine now, right? Apocalypse averted, city is in repairs, everyone is healing, and Donnie finally paused updating the security system long enough to eat something other than caffeine and applesauce. Everyone is happy."

"You're avoiding my question. Master Michelangelo said you'd..."

He did not even need to look for the flinch this time. Leo turned away.

There was something here he was missing. Something in his words. But what? It wasn't like he'd never told red eared slider about the future. About the family he'd lost.

About Master Michelangelo.

About Uncle Tello.

About how...

"They all die!"

His heart hit the floor, stomach doing flips as he stared at the mosaic of barely healed pain spiderwebbed across Leonardo's shell. They had talked about a lot of things in the aftermath of the apocalypse, but they had never discussed what had happened in the tunnels beneath the tower. About the fate he'd revealed.

"They all die!"

"Every single one of them."

"The world needs Master Leonardo, and all we have is this guy."

"Leo, I... I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what man? Everything is fine." Leo replied, voice smoothly polished. He did not turn around.

"I've been talking about the future this whole time and..and we never really talked about it like that."

"Sure we have. You were telling me about it yesterday."

"I was talking about Sensei yesterday," Casey corrected, "we've only discussed the...others... once."

A falling pin could have sounded like a gun shot in the quiet that followed.

"There's nothing to talk about there," Leo said eventually.

Gone was the polish, the glitz and the glamorous glow of humor. Leo's tone was flat, a blank slate for this single fact to be engraved.

"I think there is," Casey replied carefully, biting his lower lip hard as he sought the for words that would fix the situation. "The way I told you about what happened to them was... not ideal..."

"Hey, you did what you needed to do to get the message through my thick skull. I don't hold it against you Casey. "

"Yeah, that's partially why I did it. But...I think I also did it because I was mad at you."

The atmosphere between them felt tense enough to explode, and Casey found himself tripping over his words in the haste to get them our before the fireworks could begin.

"I was angry at you for not being Sensei, and I was scared that I was going to fail the mission he and Master Michelangelo sacrificed everything to give me. The mission that could make uncle Tello and Raphel's death mean something. I threw their deaths in your face, and it was...I didn't mean to... I didn't think it would still be effecting you this badly..."

"You didn't think learning my whole family died because of my stupidity would effect me? Jeez Casey, I know I'm an self-centered idiot sometimes, but I'm not made of stone either. "

The words were light, but underneath them was brittleness, fine cracks poised to shatter at the next misstep.

"No!" Casey panicked, desperately backpedaling for the a way to sooth the hurts he'd intentionally and unintentionally afflicted. "I just meant that-"

The soft beeping of Leo's com cut him off mid sentance, and the young terrapin answered it before he could regather his scrambled thoughts.

"What's good Dee?"

"I need to go to the junkyard for some parts, but Raph won't let me go alone incase Repomantis "shows up for a showdown". To appease him I volunteered you for the buddy system. Tell Junior to head home and meet me there in ten minutes," Donatello replied, his voice that perfectly painful bend of familiar irritation, excitement, and affected disinterest.

There was something else there too. Something Casey had never had a name for beyond donnieandleo. He'd grown up hearing donnieandleo in good times and in bad. In the early hours when Sensei would grumble and drag the soft shell into his own bed to ensure he got at least four hours of uninterrupted rest. In the curses that had flown from his uncles lips when he'd fought to keep Sensei from bleeding out after amputating his arm. It was like a secrect code that only they could speak, one that remained uncracked up until the day his uncle had died.

Whatever Donnie was saying now, Leo read loud and clear.

"Fine, but you owe me a smoothie after. Extra large."

"Says the guy who still owes me pizza for that bet from last week."

"Uuuugg fine, but I'm gonna need some serious food to make up for this. On my way."

"Leo, we need to-"

"Sorry Case, duty calls," Leo cut in, never looking back as he walked towards the edge of the roof. "You head back and get some lunch. I know Mikey has a new recipe for you."

"Leo stop! Just let me explain."

"No need. Heard it loud and clear, I promise."

[aurumacadicus]

My partner dumped me yesterday, so could you please if you have time or inclination today, write a fluffy or sexy V-day prompt with WinterIron? I need some serotonin.

That's crummy my dude. Anyway Tony's bodysuit is this one.

--

Tony had been freaking the fuck out since January fourteenth. JARVIS had asked him if he wanted to make plans for Valentine’s Day, since they needed to be made well in advance for such a popular holiday. Sure, it would be around four months that he and Bucky had been together, but was that early to do Valentine’s Day? He could admit to himself that he was pretty damn committed, but he knew that he went all-in way too quickly. He just wasn’t sure that Bucky was that committed. He’d said ‘let’s see where this goes’ and while he seemed to have fun, Tony couldn’t tell if that was in a ‘Tony’s comfortable enough around me, hot, and amenable’ way or in a ‘hey, this could be forever’ way.

He split the difference and bought the biggest Whitman’s Sampler he could find (Bucky and Steve had a fondness for the boxes, even if the recipes had changed from 1912), a nice watch, and an upgrade for his bike. Bucky still got finicky going out in crowds sometimes, so he wasn’t going to try and take him out on one of the busiest nights of the year. Chocolate, dinner in, and maybe some wine to end the evening with would be fine for a four-month relationship. Probably.

Tony had also splurged and bought himself something lacy. He and Bucky hadn’t been intimate long, just a couple months, but he thought, if there was a time to surprise him, maybe it would be on Valentine’s Day. If Bucky didn’t like it, he could play it off as holiday fun and then hide all his other lingerie, he figured.

Bucky had said he’d be busy until dinner time, but that was fine. Tony had to work that day, too, and if he was focusing on paperwork, he wasn’t focusing on whether he’d done too much, or too little, or the way the lace was pressing into his skin under his suit. It was fine. Everything was fine.

Except, when he was putting the bags of takeout on the counter to plate up, then he got self-conscious about the way the lace felt over his hips, around his chest. This was still new, he reminded himself, rushing back to his bedroom. Four months! What was he thinking?! He was gonna scare Bucky off. Sure, Bucky was open to new things in the bedroom, but maybe Tony had to ease him into full lingerie sets that cost more than Bucky’s entire wardrobe. Besides, he didn’t even know if Bucky liked Valentine’s Day. He’d had plans today, after all. Maybe he was only coming up for dinner because Tony thought it was special.

Okay. It was going to be fine. He just needed to change out of his suit and lingerie. He could put on one of his band tees and jeans. Bucky said he liked it when Tony looked… comfortable. Was that a compliment, Tony wondered, movements slowing to a stop. Was it a good thing to be called comfortable? It must be, he thought, hands slowly returning to the buttons of his shirt. Bucky always smiled slow and syrupy at him when he said it. He obviously liked it. Right?

…Right?

Tony hesitantly glanced in the mirror. He’d decided on a lace bodysuit, figuring a one-piece would draw attention away from the mess that his chest was. It also helped hide the fact that his abs maybe. Weren’t as defined as he would have liked anymore. He unbuckled his belt and shoved his pants down around his thighs, turning to look at the back. Well, at least his ass still looked nice, he figured, frowning. Maybe he should go with the red silk thong instead of the whole… lace ensemble. He could try again when they were further into their relationship, probably. The thong would be fine. Everything would be fine.

“Tony,” Bucky said, sweeping into the room.

Tony spun toward him, surprised, mouth dropping open in shock. Bucky did not typically barge into his personal quarters. Usually, he sent a message via JARVIS or text. He still hadn’t gotten changed. And now Bucky could see everything, from his open shirt to his pants around his knees.

And Bucky appeared to be looking, if his wide eyes and gaping mouth were anything to go on. He was holding a large bouquet, Tony noticed distantly. Pinks and reds and pops of orange and yellow. He hadn’t gotten Bucky any flowers. Should he have?

“Well,” Bucky said, dropping the bouquet and approaching him with long, sure strides.

“Bucky?” Tony asked nervously, shuffling backward.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to take a romantic bath, but I see you’ve got the romance covered,” Bucky continued, as if he hadn’t heard him.

“You’re coming at me very quickly,” Tony squeaked, nearly tripping as his feet got caught in his pant legs.

Bucky’s face took on the focused expression he got when he was fighting, eyes sharp, every movement carefully calculated—predatory came to Tony’s mind. “And you’re going to be coming very quickly,” he told Tony seriously, and Tony squawked when a moment later, he found himself sailing through the air toward his bed.

Then what Bucky said actually registered, and he only had a moment to screech before Bucky leapt on him like a wild animal.

[reidingrainbow]

momentarily breaking out of my absence to participate in this month's cm fic challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins :3

i've had a wip cooking for over a year and even though it's still not done, i'd like to at least post this first chapter for the prompt!

-

Night Changes

[ Rated M for minors keep out ] 4038 words | moreid, mostly case-fic?

CW: trans male pregnancy (specifically spencer), nausea/emeto warning, canon typical violence, mentions of homophobia

summary: morgan and reid find out they're expecting in a... less than ideal fashion

Friday nights are always a treasured time for Spencer and Derek. After a long week at work, all they can think of is coming home to one of their apartments and falling into each other. It usually entails a delivery from their favorite local restaurant, a cheesy television show, and Clooney sitting at their feet waiting for them to drop something for him or curled up on the sofa with them. 

But other nights, nights like this, they need a little extra time to themselves. Nights like this involve Clooney being nowhere to be seen, some movie they’ve seen a thousand times, and maybe a glass of wine.

The only sounds to be heard in the room are the low drone of the television and Spencer’s soft gasps, his little hitches of breath and whimpers as Derek’s lips lave over his neck and collarbone. Derek eases the thinner man out of his lap and lays him back on the couch, his lips slowly traveling down his chest and abdomen and stopping to nip at his sharp hipbones. Spencer whines and attempts to buck his hips up into the touch, but Derek effortlessly keeps him in place with one hand. The other busies itself with unbuttoning Spencer’s pants, fingers moving deftly while he captures Spencer’s lips in a passionate kiss. Derek’s fingers slip inside Spencer’s boxers, inching closer to his throbbing–

On the kitchen counter, their phones chime in unison. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Spencer mutters, forehead still pressed to Derek’s. Above him, his boyfriend chuckles and presses an apologetic kiss to his lips before crawling off of him. They redress themselves and make an honest attempt to not look like they’d just been called into work in the middle of what was almost sex, but in the back of Spencer’s mind he knows they’ll probably figure it out anyway. He shimmies his binder back on and tucks in his shirt. While he buttons his pants back up, he notices that they definitely feel more snug than they did the week prior. He thought he’d been imagining things when he began to struggle closing his pants over the past few weeks, but now his growing waistline is undeniable. He sucks in his stomach to button the closure and lets out the breath as a sigh. “I think I need to lay off the take-out,” he says to Derek, following him into the kitchen to find his cardigan.

“Oh yeah?” Derek says, already at the door putting his shoes back on. “You and me both, pretty boy. I’m not sure how much longer we can eat like we’re in our twenties.” He pats his stomach for emphasis, as if he doesn’t have the world’s most glorious set of abs hidden beneath his silk button down.

Spencer huffs a laugh and buttons his cardigan back up. “Maybe I should cook more.” He pads over to the door in his mismatched socks, where Derek is holding his bag for him.

Derek smirks. “So we can live off of ramen? I’ll take my chances with Thai every night.”

“I can cook more than ramen,” Spencer insists. “Rossi taught us how to make his spaghetti and you even said yourself I did a really good job.” With his shoes on, he takes his bag from Derek’s waiting hands and follows him out to the driveway.

“I thought we were gonna stop eating like college students! Can you make anything that isn’t pasta based?” Derek says as they climb into his car. Spencer scrunches his face up and shakes his head as they buckle in. “That’s alright, next time we go visit my family my mom might be able to teach us a little somethin’.”

Spencer smiles. “Sounds like a plan.”

Spencer and Derek step out of the elevator for the second time that day, only two hours after leaving for the night (precisely two hours, thirteen minutes, and forty-five seconds, but who’s counting) and enter the bullpen to meet the rest of the team, where JJ is lamenting about her similarly ruined evening. Derek makes a quip about “dusting off the cobwebs” that earns him a swat on the arm from Penelope, and soon enough the team is called up to begin the briefing.

Any lingering thoughts of the evening’s earlier activities are thoroughly squashed within the first 60 seconds of the round table meeting. Spencer blames the crime scene photos, the images of the deep, cross-hatched cuts on the victims’ backs, for the wave of nausea that washes over him and sends a shiver down his spine. He flips through the rest of the file in hopes that averting his eyes will untangle the knot in his stomach. It doesn’t. He breathes deeply through his nose, trying his best to stay focused on the details of the case.

He drops a hand below the table and lets it flap at his side; he needs to stim through the feeling but the thought of calling attention to himself is only serving to make the sickly feeling even worse. He manages to make it through the meeting without incident and no one seems to have noticed anything was off about him. Some part of him, distantly, wonders if anyone would check on him if they did notice. He squashes the thought before it can fester.

The meeting can’t be over soon enough.  As soon as Spencer stands, his body suddenly feels infinitely heavier. Exhaustion has crept up on him and taken him by surprise. He brews another cup of coffee before they take off in hopes of making himself feel slightly less like a zombie.

The coffee does, in Spencer’s professional opinion, absolutely fuckall. He finds himself drifting off during their second debriefing, trying in vain to fight off sleep but his eyelids feeling heavy regardless. Aaron gives them their assignments for when they land and suggests that Spencer lie down. Spencer opens his mouth to insist he’s fine, he can just make more coffee, but before he can manage any words he’s overtaken by a yawn. Defeated, he retreats to the couch at the back of the plane. He refuses to lie down, insisting he’s not that tired. When he closes his eyes and leans back, it’s just to rest them for a moment.

“-ise and shine, pretty boy, we gotta get movin’,” comes a voice above him, Derek’s. Spencer wakes slowly, scowling up at Derek while he comes back to himself. He’s fully lying down, not sitting up like he remembers, and there’s a pillow under his head and a blanket draped over him. “Come on Reid, don’t make me carry you.”

Spencer sits up, finding he doesn’t actually feel better after his nap; he feels worse, actually, like finally sleeping made him realize how much he still needed to sleep. He reaches a hand up to Derek and he takes it, pulling him off of the couch and onto his feet. He ruffles Spencer’s hair, smiling fondly when he sleepily attempts to bat his hand away. “Let’s get to the hotel, you can snore in my ear all night.”

Derek starts moving and Spencer quickly grabs his bag and follows after him. “I do not snore,” he insists. He hears the older man chuckle in front of him. “I don’t!” It only serves to make Derek laugh harder; he definitely doesn’t mind the teasing, then, if it means he can hear his love’s laugh.

“You do, but only when you’re exhausted,” Derek says. “What’s got you so tired?”

Spencer shrugs and follows him to pick up their luggage. “I’m really not sure, it just snuck up on me. I was fine all day, even earlier tonight,” Spencer flushes a little, despite his exhaustion. “I even had coffee and still almost conked out during the meeting.” Derek hums in acknowledgement, patting him on the back and letting his touch linger, only for a moment, before he turns to head to the waiting SUVs. Spencer sighs, longing for the warmth of his hands on him again, before following after him. The faster they reach the hotel, the sooner he can rest in his arms.

-

Spencer wakes up the next morning still feeling absolutely wiped of energy, despite spending the night snoring in Derek’s ear as predicted. He trudges through the morning, only just alert enough to be coherent but nowhere near his usual self. The trip to the local bar is helpful, at least, and provides some useful insight into the town and its residents.

When Spencer and Derek arrive at the police station, Spencer briefly greets the sheriff before hightailing it to the coffeemaker. This time the coffee does help, if only a little, and soon Spencer can feel the fog lifting from his brain. Within no time he’s back to his usual self, putting his 20,000 words per minute to use going through all of the case files and relaying any useful information back to the team. They hit a stride in their investigation, working for a few hours and making good progress.

Spencer feels his stomach lurch, feels a shiver run up his spine, and he blanches. Oh God, he thinks, please not here, not now. These waves of nausea have come and gone sporadically for the past few weeks, but this is the closest he’s felt to actually throwing up. The thought of it makes him anxious, which in turn makes him more nauseous, which worsens the anxiety, effectively locking him into a hellish negative feedback loop.

He mentally cycles through everything he’s had to eat today to figure out what could possibly be disagreeing with him this strongly. He comes up empty, recalling only the two cups of coffee he had right there in the station.

(He wonders, then, if he should have taken up Derek’s offer and taken a few bites of the granola bar he’d had for breakfast. The train of thought is quickly derailed by his disgust at the thought of biting into someone else’s half eaten food, and it does nothing to quell his nausea.)

Whatever it was, it isn’t sitting well now. Spencer peels off his cardigan in an attempt to stop sweating, but to no avail. His stomach lurches again, dangerously, and he shoots up out of his seat. He barely mumbles out a “Need some air,” to the rest of the team before he bolts out of the police station. He distantly hears a familiar set of footsteps falling in behind him, but he doesn’t pay it any mind until he’s outside. He takes a deep breath of fresh air, one hand cradling his sensitive stomach and the other flapping nervously at his side.

“Everything alright, Spencer?” Derek asks, laying a hand on the small of Spencer’s back. Spencer isn’t facing him but he doesn’t need to to know those thick eyebrows are drawn up in concern, eyes soft in the way they always are when they’re on him. His hand is warm, large, easily spans over his lower back. He’s rubbing a gentle circle and oh- that feels good, Spencer hadn’t even noticed how much his back hurt.

Spencer swallows thickly and nods. “Yeah, I’m alright. Just felt a bit nauseous for a minute there, I didn’t want to puke in the bullpen and those bathrooms…” He wrinkles his nose in disgust. “ I’d rather take my chances out here.” He turns and gives Derek a small smile. Derek returns it with a grin of his own and Spencer wishes more than anything they weren’t on duty so he could lean over and kiss him.

“I told you, you should’ve had a bite of breakfast,” Derek says, his grin never fading. “You can’t run on coffee alone, pretty boy, you need actual food.”

Spencer rolls his eyes, laughing despite himself. He turns to fully face Derek, the other man’s hand sliding from his back to loosely hold his hip. “You wanna test that theory?”

“No, I just want you to eat something,” Derek teases. “Maybe your body is trying to tell you something.”

“Like what?”

“That you should stop being so hardheaded,” There’s no bite behind it, and Derek brings the hand on Spencer’s waist up to gently pat his cheek. Spencer instinctively leans into his gentle touch, only barely, before the door to the station slams open behind them. Derek stiffens and rips his hand off of Spencer like he’s been burned and Spencer himself takes an almost comically large step backwards, far enough that he slams into the railing behind him, and shoves his hands into his pockets. Officer Vicky, overenthusiastic and perky and so, so nosey, looks up at them expectantly from the doorway.

“Everythin’ alright out here, agents?” she asks, her voice clipped. Her eyes dart up and down their bodies quickly, trying to catch them out. This isn’t their first time in the bible belt and it won’t be the last; they know how to snap their masks back on quickly, instantly switching back to coworkers whose closeness falls well within plausible deniability. 

“We’re fine, thank you,” Derek says, returning the officer’s plastered on smile with one of his own. “We’ll be back inside in a minute.” Over his shoulder, Spencer presses his lips into a line and gives a small nod.

Officer Vicky takes the hint (for once) and heads back inside. Derek and Spencer sigh in unison, then chuckle a little. 

“You sure you’re alright, sweetness?” Derek asks, once more because he can’t help it.

“I’m fine, really, don’t worry about me. I’ll even try to eat lunch today,” Spencer replies. Seeming satisfied with that answer, Derek relaxes and they head back inside. 

They take their seats at the table, Spencer’s being on the table, and dive back into the case files. “Alright, where were we?”

-

Spencer likes to pride himself on his excellent planning skills. He goes through every step of the operation, analyzes every possibility, tries to think of everything that could possibly go wrong.

He does not, however, consider the possibility of being shot in the neck tonight.

It’s funny, he thinks, how he always knows that someday, something horrible could happen to him on the job. It has, in fact, quite often. Being kidnapped and drugged, watching his girlfriend die in front of him, being infected with anthrax. These things happen; hazards of the job. And yet, every time something does happen to him, he’s blindsided by it.

He’s not thinking any of that, though. He’s not thinking much of anything as he crumples to the ground. Distantly, over a whistling kettle and the gunfire and the ringing in his ears, he hears Derek scream his name. Hands are on him, whose hands, he knows these hands. Before he can identify them, he’s propped up into a sitting position. Everything is blurring together – all the sounds, his vision is dark around the edges. Someone is holding his neck, Alex is there. She’s telling him to keep his eyes open, which is very unfair, because he’s never wanted to close them more in his life. She’s telling Ethan to stay with her… Ethan? That can’t be right, he could’ve sworn his name is Spencer. Who is Ethan? Spencer is cold… and tired…so tired. He closes his eyes.

When he opens them again, he’s staring right into the sun. No… it’s a light. He’s in an ambulance. The sirens…  They remind him of the tea kettle noise he heard earlier.

“What?”

It’s Derek’s voice, coming from his left. Spencer’s hand reaches toward him before his eyes follow. “Do you hear it?” he slurs, his tongue feeling too heavy in his mouth to form the words. He’s dizzy, and everything is far too loud, and he’s about to close his eyes again when Derek grabs his hand and holds it tight. Spencer squeezes back, weakly, but it eases the concerned crease of Derek’s brow minutely.

“Spe-Reid.” Derek says, catching himself. Last names only while in the field. “Reid, you gotta stay with me, eyes on me-” The EMT says something that catches Derek’s attention, but he quickly redirects it back to Spencer. “That’s good, stay with me.”

Spencer closes his eyes.

When he opens them, he’s in a hospital bed surrounded by figurines and Alex and Penelope are there, making an honest attempt at pretending they haven’t been staring at him.

To say the rest of the night is a whirlwind would be an extreme disservice to the word “whirlwind.” Spencer doesn’t know the probability of being shot twice in one night by two different people, and he could almost definitely calculate it if he wasn’t so tired. He’s been up all night; between being stirred awake for check-ins every hour and the multiple attempted murders, he hasn’t had much of a chance to do more than doze off.

Penelope has stepped out of the room, stating that she needs water and the room still smells like gunpowder and she desperately needs to be where the gunpowder smell is not, leaving Spencer and Derek alone for the first time since that morning.

Spencer shifts over in the bed, motioning for Derek to come join him. The older man lowers the guardrail on his side of the bed and climbs in. Spencer immediately turns to face him, slotting his body up against Derek’s like they’ve done countless times. Derek’s strong arms wrap around him, one hand coming up to stroke Spencer’s hair while the other remains free for Spencer to hold, interlocking their fingers and resting their hands in the space between their chests. They don’t share words, as they often do when they cuddle, but instead opt to silently enjoy each other’s presence. Both men are worn out, exhaustion seeping into their bones, and this little moment between them is enough. The calm quiet, Derek’s warmth, the sound of his heartbeat… it’s enough to nearly allow Spencer to sleep properly.

“Knock knock,” comes a voice from the door, in time with the actual knocks on the glass door. Spencer’s doctor – his real doctor – is standing in the doorway, clipboard in her hand. “I’m so sorry to interrupt you guys, but I need to check in with you after that whole fiasco.” 

Spencer reluctantly pulls away to allow Derek to slip out of the bed and give the doctor room to work. She works quickly, taking his blood pressure and checking his breathing, and as soon as she’s completed her examination she moves out of the way so Derek can take his seat on the bed with Spencer.

“Alright,” she says, thumbing through his chart. “Everything looks good, I’m glad you weren’t hurt.” She moves to leave but turns back to Spencer. “Did I have a chance to go over your bloodwork with you after the surgery?”

Spencer shakes his head and Derek glances between him and the doctor, thick eyebrows upturned with concern. “No, you didn’t go over it with me… are my levels abnormal?”

“There’s nothing urgently wrong, aside from your incredibly low iron. Try to get more iron into your diet, you’re in danger of becoming anemic – but that’s not what I wanted to bring up with you.” She switches her attention to Derek, where he’s perched on the end of the bed, looking more anxious by the second. “Are you his partner?” Derek nods, and she turns her attention back to Spencer.

“Doctor Reid, are you aware that you’re pregnant?”

A beat. Another beat. A beat, that’s actually Spencer’s heart coming to a complete stop, scientific improbabilities be damned. “I-” He’s having every possible thought at once, he’s sure of it. “The-” Derek whips his head to look at him, expression unreadable. Spencer’s face is surely cycling through expressions at random, like the five stages of grief in roulette. “I’m…” His heart is pounding in his ears, he’s never felt every emotion at once before and it’s all so much. “Baby?” is what his brain finally settles on as a response. 

Spencer barely processes that he’s moving, slowly sitting up and reaching a hand towards the doctor. “May I see my chart?” He asks, his throat suddenly going dry. She nods and hands him the folder. He flips it open and Derek leans over to read along with him. He quickly gives up, however, because he can’t keep up with Spencer’s speed reading. Spencer’s finger moves across the page, his lips mouthing along with his reading. He soon finds what he’s looking for and freezes.

Pregnancy Test – Positive. 60-62 days [9 weeks]

Spencer blinks at the paper. Blinks again, like what he’s looking at will change. “Nine weeks?” He asks quietly. He’s not sure who exactly he’s talking to. Is he really so disconnected from himself, obsessed with his job, that he didn’t notice anything was off? For over two months?

The doctor nods, keeping her expression neutral in line with their reactions. Spencer hands the folder over to her and she slips it into the pocket at the end of the bed. “I’ll leave you two to discuss this privately. You should be ready for discharge soon, a nurse will come by later with some forms for you.” She leaves, and Spencer barely processes it. His mind had stopped moving the moment he was given the news.

Spencer is distantly aware of Derek reaching out to him, taking his hands in his own. They cling to each other like a lifeline because, in this moment, all they really have is each other. Spencer’s whole body feels numb, and he’s sure his face is reflecting it, but when he looks at Derek… he still can’t tell how he feels. He looks… scared. That look in his eye, a look of fear and uncertainty, it looks out of place on him.

Derek takes a shuddering breath. “What are we–” He’s cut off by his phone ringing, his work ringtone. He sighs, suddenly looking so, so tired, and reluctantly lets go of Spencer’s hands to check it. “It’s JJ… I don’t have to go, I can stay here with you. They’ll be okay without me.”

Spencer opens his mouth to reply and finds nothing comes out, no matter how hard he tries. 

[It’s okay,] he signs. [Go, the team needs you.]

Spencer briefly wonders why, even now, he can’t say “please stay, I need you” just this once. He chooses not to examine it.

Derek sighs, looking down at his still ringing phone. “Alright, pretty boy. I’ll be back soon, I promise. We’ll talk about this tomorrow, after we’ve both had some good rest.” He stands up, leaning over to place a kiss on Spencer’s forehead, then his nose, then his lips. Spencer’s whole body visibly relaxes, and he presses his hand, middle and ring fingers touching his palm and his remaining fingers up, into Derek’s chest. “I love you too,” Derek murmurs against his lips. He pulls away, and Spencer watches his demeanor switch from that of his doting boyfriend back to the FBI agent.

Penelope returns right as Derek is leaving, and Spencer must do a much worse job at hiding the fact that he’s having a crisis, because she is immediately at his side asking him what’s wrong. To be fair, his inability to mask has caused countless uncomfortable situations in his life, but nothing prepared him for the sheer panic that fills his body while trying to come up with a believable lie to tell the only person who always manages to see through his excuses (who simultaneously cannot keep a secret for more than a few hours). Penelope must pick up on his shift in mood, however, because she stops questioning him and takes her seat next to the bed. Spencer crosses his arms over his stomach and curls in on himself, facing away from her. 

Penelope watches Spencer, all furrowed brows and bitten fingernails and nervous energy, and sighs. She knows prying will just agitate him, but she’s getting stressed out just watching him stare into the middle distance and chew on his fingers, not unlike his mother. She’s not sure how to make him feel better, which she hates, because making people feel better is, like, her whole thing.

Maybe more jell-o will help.

[wosowrites]

Tattoo Tour (Ona Batlle x Reader )

Warnings: none! pure fluff

A/N: I had to invent some meanings to Ona’s tattoos bcs obviously i don’t know what they all actually mean. UPDATE: this fic rly flopped oops

Prompt: reader and ona play for man united and are doing a tattoo tour video for manchester uniteds youtube chanel.

"You guys ready?" The media manager asks, looking between you and Ona. "Yeah, let’s do it!" Ona answered, her spanish accent making your heart melt for her. You two had been together for over a year and a half now, but every day, your love for her grew even more.

"Okay, 3,2,1, rolling!" The woman behind the camera said. "Hey red devils! I’m y/n y/l/n…" you start saying, "and I am Ona Batlle…" Ona finished, "and today we are doing a tattoo tour. We both have a lot of tattoos. I think i have 9 and Ona has… 8?" you say, turning to Ona. "Sí, eight." "Right, so we’ll be showing them off to you guys, and explaining what they mean. So… let’s do it!" you finished the introduction and the camera woman cut the video taping. "Which tattoos do we show first?" Ona asks, turning to you. "Uhmm… I think i’ll start with my arms. I have three on my left and two on my right." You told her. "Okay, i’ll do my back first." Ona said. "But we should show our matching tattoo at the same time." She then added. "Yeah, of course."

Ona started unzipping her training jacket, leaving her in her sports bra. Ona had always been very comfortable with her body, often posting more revealing pictures on instagram, you were always the one behind the camera. So, you follow suite, unzipping your training top, revealing a red, manchester united muscle tank so that you could easily show your arms. "Giving the fans a show, eh?" Ona whispered lovingly into your ear. "Aren’t you to one with your abs out?" You answered, looking down at the shorter girl. "Yeah, but you have guns." Ona said, poking your bicep.

Little did they know, the camera had started rolling already. "Guys, we’re rolling." The camera woman said, laughter in her voice. "Oops… sorry." Ona said, blushing. "Okay! Ona is going to start, she’s going to show us the three tattoos on her back, while i’ll show you the ones on my arm. Then we’ll move on. Good?" You said, turning to your girlfriend at the last part. "Muy bien." She answered. "You start." You told her.

Ona turned around and started talking about her tattoos. "I got the lion when I was 22, a few months after I met y/n actually. I think it’s kind of a reminder to stay fearless, while still being kind and caring. Lions are known to be protective animals and y/n always calls me protective even though she’s 10 times more protective than I am." Ona says, laughing as you roll your eyes. "When your girlfriend is teeny and gets thrown all over the place on the pitch, you get pretty protective." You simply answer. "Ha, ha." Ona says.

A camera man comes up to the duo to get a close up of the artistic lion on Ona’s back. "Then I have this sentence right here." Ona said as you traced your finger under the sentence. "It’s in spanish but it translates to 'love should be a two sided coin' and it’s something my abuela always used to tell me. She’s never cared that I like girls, as long as the one I love loves me just as much." Ona explained.

Once again, the camera zoomed in on the sentence. "Okay it’s a short video so show yours y/n/n!" Ona said, giving you her full attention.

Despite your strong build, you were known in the world of women’s football as a pretty shy person, so every time Ona’s eyes met yours, your blush would give you away. It was something you and your best friend, Jessie Fleming, shared. "Okay. Sure." You said, turning to the main camera. "First things first. Almost all my tattoos have stories behind them, so bare with me. Speaking of, my first tattoo is a bears head." You say, turning your left bicep towards the camera and pointing to the tattoo that was about the size of your fist. "This was actually my first tattoo, which is kind of weird because usually people opt for a smaller one as their first. But I kind of just went straight for it. My teammates at UCLA used to call me bear, which is weird when you don’t know the backstory. Bears are used in two common expressions. Soft like a teddy bear, and strong like a bear. And they always used to say that those sentences both described me." You say, a camera coming and filming the tattoo up close.

You don’t notice Ona smiling at you, her eyes almost twinkling. "Then on my forearm-" you say, turning your arm to show words. "-I have the words rationed trust. That’s kind of simple honestly, never trust just one person. Then, on the back of my hand I have butterflies. Butterflies are my favorite animal. I’ve had butterflies land on me during football games like… three times. They’re just really special to me." You say, smiling at the two butterflies. "I’m gonna hurry this up a bit to get back to Oni but on my other arm I have two tattoos. One of which i’ll let Ona explain. but on the back of my arm I have a bike. Which is matching with Jessie Fleming, who’s one of my best friends in the entire world. We got them after our first year of university because we would bike everywhere, all the time and it became one of our favorite activities." You finished explaining, smiling at the camera.

You looked at Ona, staring at her as though she was the most mesmerizing person in the universe. Which, to you, she was. "A lot of people have caught on to this but we’ve never actually confirmed it. We both have a tattoo in the crook of our arm that says lover. We’re pretty big Taylor Swift fans and well, yeah." Ona says. "Plus this one here is really corny. She always says how people would tell her not to get matching tattoos with partners because what if you break up. And she always says 'the pain of getting the tattoo removed would be nothing compared to the pain of loosing Ona. So I don’t care.' " Ona quotes you. "Hey! Now everyone’s gonna think you have me wrapped around your pinky." You pout at her. "Oh but I do." Ona joked, all thought she wasn’t really joking.

Ona then explained a couple more of her tattoos, and you pointed out the whale on your rib cage, the human heart on your upper left back, the olympic rings on your hip bone, and the daisy, rose, and orchid bouquet behind your ear.

Finally, the video wrapped up, and you and Ona were free to go home.

THE WEEK AFTER:

"Oh my god guys you need to see this." Alessia Russo said, rushing towards you and Ona. Ella was right beside her, smirking. Alessia was on tik tok and pressed play on a video. It seemed to be a fan page for you and ona. the username was onaxy/n and in the caption it said 'I will never ever get over how y/n looks at Ona.'

The song playing was MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT by Elley Duhé, and at the beat drop, clips from the tattoo tour video were played, edited in sync with the audio. Clips of you looking at Ona with so much love in your eyes, the clip of you tracing Ona’s tattoo with your index, clips of you smiling down at her like she was the only person in the world.

"People are obsessed with you two." Ella said as the edit ended. "Is that how you look at me?" Ona said, smiling at you. "I don’t know! I didn’t notice I was doing that." You answered, your cheeks burning. "It is. All the time." Lessi answered, smiling cheekily. "Ha! You looove meeee!" Ona said, teasing her girlfriend. "Don’t get cocky Ona, you look at her like that too." Ella said, giggling and rushing off with Alesia. "You were saying?" You said, smirking at your girlfriend. "Te amo, bebé," Ona said, kissing you sweetly.

[ronearoundblindly]

Dominance & Sleepy Sex for Fools Rush In Steve! <3

Loved your most recent one with Curtis btw 😘🖤

💜💚💜

Thank you! I'm so glad you enjoyed Curtis's dirty headcanon (for the legit-dirty man).

Now to FRI Steve, the tricky and ever-growing love of my life! Prompts from this dirty ask game.

While there are several stories in the Fools Rush In series that are suitable for all ages, this headcanon is not. MINORS DNI, please.

D - Dominance

This is a story of a very slow evolution. Steve develops excruciatingly over months and years in the FRI series--which I do love, for the record, I love to detail every little thing that makes him understand his body, his love, and how to show it--but that's for a reason.

He has the specific problem of his senses. It makes him a better soldier to feel less, be more immune to pain, and be affected very little by those hormone fluctuations in response.

Throughout Do You Two Fondue? and This All Day, we see him come into his own as a sexual partner. That blossoms further when he's finally married to Keeps (unlocking his first kink, sorta, when he gets to call you 'Mrs. Rogers' and 'my wife'), and throughout his isolation in Dignity of His Choice, Steve realizes he's not terrible for having fantasies and wanting sex.

He's...slow to initiate anything.

What I haven't gotten to write yet is Steve being exposed to a Hydra gas (sex pollen) that reduces him to his basest, most animalistic desires, and it takes a lot of therapy and talking to shake his learned-shame. He's been conditioned to believe things like dominance and anal can only ever be wrong/disrespectful to the one he loves. (It's important to specify that Steve holds himself to this standard and no one else.)

So, please enjoy a snippet where our soft!boi admits that he might be interested in more than his so-far-pretty-vanilla intimacies.

excerpt from Not A Perfect Soldier But A Good Man

“It’s still you and me, Steve. Doesn’t matter where and it doesn’t matter how. I feel just as safe and loved now as I did before. I know you think you hurt me, but I can’t watch you hurt yourself anymore.” “But I remember it.” His voice is so quiet you think he can barely hear it, but you’re so focused. Your hands cup his face and raise his jaw, but Steve won’t look at you. “We remember a lot of things th—“ “You don’t understand,” he interrupts, the words wet from his closing throat, his long lashes shimmering with tears he’s straining to keep squeezed in. “I…”  There’s a beat before Steve sobs one huge release and reins it back in just as fast. The whiplash of keeping himself together forces him to his knees, planting him right at your feet.  He grabs your legs, pressing his forehead to your closed thighs. “I liked it,” he whispers, likely hoping he’s too far away and too quiet for you to hear. “God help me. I liked it.”

FRI Steve never becomes what I would classify as a Dom, however. He gets better at initiating and steering sex in a way he's excited about, but I can't see him regularly and entirely taking the lead in bed.

S - Sleepy Sex

The short answer: yes.

He gets much more comfortable with the slow and easy enjoyment of morning sex.

Please enjoy another snippet from the upcoming tale about soulmarks:

excerpt from Something Wrong Is Something Right

He drags a light few fingertips across your arm, making you shiver and snuggle into him more. There’s another faint whine before you bury your head in his pec and breathe deeply. Your heart rate increases. So does his. It’s a testament to how in-sync you two are now that before you even say a word or look up at him, your arm slides down his abs and you rock your hips closer to him. Ok, now Steve’s just plain excited. He loves morning sex. Tired-You turns into a rag doll in his arms and gets loud. He feels powerful and a touch controlling, but really it doesn’t take much to get both of you off even lazily when it’s this early. You let out that little sigh, the one that pairs with the perfect hug, but as Steve has learned over the years, it really pairs with any genuine embrace between you two. It’s contentment and freedom and the invitation he’s all too willing to receive.

(I couldn't fit it in because the snippet would be too long, but one thing I just melt over is that he's categorized your scent between three levels of arousal...which, I mean, oh my, fucking swoon, am I right??? No? Ro's a perv? Ok, yeah, that checks out.)

Steve does not usually wake you up already between your legs or anything; that's a bit aggressive for him. Like, he'll rub on you but won't put his tongue or cock in you until you're aware enough to look at him.

He's been given consent to, several times, but he enjoys the participation--sharing the experience--more than just the act of getting off.

Since in FRI, Steve is a super soldier, it's unlikely he's ever completely asleep if you are significantly moving around, so you can't surprise him with a blowjob. He is finicky about those. Again, that feels impersonal and distant compared to having his arms around you.

He goes for runs so early that Steve's amazed you two have as much morning sex as you do. It turns out that's a great way to make you tired enough to fall back asleep, and you can spread out happily on his still-warm spot while he heads to the gym. You can even shower with him when he returns! Yay!

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Dirty Asks Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

This completes the TWENTY-SIX dirty asks from the past week. WOOHOOOOOO, we did it, gang!!! Now right back to the drawing board/notebook/multiple scrivener projects...anyway, you get it. Thanks for reading 💕

[joonkorre]

your body be pressure

@drarrymicrofic prompt: texture Harry’s really weird about Draco. Or Malfoy. Or both of them. AO3

“Can I. Can I—erm. Sir.” “No.” “Oh, yeah, sorry. I’ll just…” Harry snatches his sweaty hand back. “You’re adorable,” Malfoy says, as if Harry finally learned what ‘sit’ and ‘roll over’ mean, and he’s Malfoy because he’s not Draco, not really.

Draco, Harry thinks, hysterical, Draco wouldn’t talk like this. Draco would have his ribs poke out through an old blouse obviously knicked from Parkinson’s dresser. Draco is, right now, somewhere, off with Potter. “But, erm,” Harry shakes his head, blinks hard to see better. It doesn’t do much. His face has gotten so warm that his glasses fogged up. “Do you let him?”

Malfoy shifts. He isn’t TB pale, not any longer, and the texture of his skin is too much under Harry’s fingers. Too human, bumpy in places, scarred in others, 40-year strong, and he’s forced to acknowledge that Draco isn’t only some spectre of a man haunting the Ministry front desk. Within a few years or 12 hours, Harry won’t be able to hide behind the vending machine and pretend to judge his banal existence anymore. “Great question,” Malfoy’s grey eyes crinkle at the edges, and those minute lines stay long after. “I do.” Harry feels like he’s back in his Trainee days. “So then, why—” “You’re still exclusively fucking women at this age,” Malfoy says. He shifts again, strong thighs moving around Harry’s hips, one socked foot brushing up Harry’s calf. Probably doesn’t even mean to. Harry shivers, almost forgetting to be defensive. “You don’t know to handle me, no, not like he does. And...” Malfoy trails a finger down Harry’s torso, tracing the dips and divots of his abs, seeing something that isn’t there. When he glances up again, what he finds on Harry’s most likely stupid, gawking face makes him chuckle. Makes him bring both hands up, large and calloused, spread them on Harry’s shoulders and up Harry’s neck, and with barely a hint of pressure, pulls him down. “We wouldn’t want to cause a time paradox, do we, Auror?” Malfoy says, low into his ear. “What do you mean,” Harry mutters, “sir.” “I mean,” Malfoy continues, “my Harry likes to stretch me out.” Even after all the strength training and conditioning, Harry’s elbows still nearly give out on the soft mattress. “He takes his time and, well, he does it in this particular way that feels just perfect,” a thumb rubs behind Harry’s ear, nudges against the cartilage. “I’m a decent instructor, as you've seen earlier today. I can teach you how. But you see, I didn’t let him. He’s the one who made me like it.” “Oh,” Harry stares at the stubble on Malfoy’s jaw. “It took work,” Malfoy says, casual as you please, “but my Harry’s stubborn, y’know. He kept trying, and Merlin help him, he succeeded. Now, if he taught me my likes and I teach you to apply them on me, then really, wouldn’t that create quite the troubling conundrum?” Malfoy’s head turns, and Harry raises his eyes to see that dark, almost patronizing gaze on him. Foolish boy, it seems to say. Such a simple concept, yet Harry needed it to be spelled out to finally understand. “I’m sure I can figure it out myself, Unspeakable Malfoy,” Harry says. A heavy drop of sweat makes its merry way down his temple. Malfoy's brows jump, approving. “Your enthusiasm is commendable,” he says, “but we have no room nor time for mistakes. I’ll save my pleasure for someone who knows how to coax it out.” Harry’s jaw clenches. Despite himself, his cock leaks onto the soft of Malfoy’s stomach. Underneath which—he knows—lie strong, capable muscles that Unspeakables shouldn’t ever really need, the lab-dwelling lot they are. Harry wants to be angry about it. He can’t. Furthermore, he doesn’t give a rat’s arse about this time paradox business. He looks at Malfoy and his thinning hair, corded neck, bulky arms that Harry’s been training for months to achieve, and wonders if he’s always been a tits man or if it’s all Malfoy and his too-tight chest holster. The man’s very presence has caused ripples in the web of space-time that Harry won’t even bother to parse through, why don’t they skip the bullshit and— And what? What does Harry do with a bloke beyond cracking off and sucking his tits some and maybe wanting to burrow into his underarm? An older, hotter, more experienced one at that, who’s the future version of yet another bloke whom Harry’s already feeling so bloody bizarre about? Malfoy moves his hand, the action slow and dreamy to Harry. His wrist is thick. Scar on the side. Briefly, Harry considers finding a reason to grab Draco’s wrists and see if his fingers connect, bony as they are. That is, when Draco finally comes back from wherever he ends up. Whenever Potter's done with him.

Heat shoots up Harry’s neck. It’s not until he’s leaned back up that he even realized Malfoy has pushed him at all. “Sir—” “Such deference toward your superiors, young Auror, I’m impressed,” Malfoy says, amused. Harry wouldn’t be surprised if Malfoy knows exactly what he’s been thinking about. “I ought to reward you.” Harry blinks, watching Malfoy’s legs lift from his hip, closing together and turning to the right. Malfoy reclines insouciantly—big word, the only word he can think of—among the old, three-week-unwashed pillows propped up Harry’s headboard as though taking his rightful place, might as well be holding a sceptre and orb while he’s at it.

Like one of those swotty paintings, Harry thinks, squeezes the base of his twitching cock. Though the monarchs in such paintings wouldn’t pose like this, stocky body dipping in an arch that shows off the sheer broadness of those shoulders, the extra skin folds at the waist, then hips and round arse and thick, massive thighs with hair all over. Malfoy’s so big everywhere, filling up Harry’s vision, and he has to scoot back slightly on his knees or he’d be right back in Fifth year and cum too fast. Not that he otherwise feels adult with this Malfoy around. Draco’s knobby spine would break if he tries Malfoy’s pose. Or it wouldn't. They never talk, haven't shagged, Harry’s popping down for a notepad or a mint not enough justification to put his hand on Draco’s neck and see if it fits, so he has no idea if Malfoy's flexibility—Malfoy’s everything—is inherent or hard-earned. Harry reckons he should get extra pillows anyway. In case he needs them. Malfoy murmurs an incantation, and he reaches down to grab the meaty underside of his left thigh, fingers curling just enough to lift the handful of flesh an inch or so, sweat-slicked skin parting from the right thigh with a squelch and opening a small, dark crevice between his legs. Thin strands of lube clings on before separating noiselessly, dripping down, down his left thigh. Slow, meandering, dotting the wrinkled sheets. Harry has started stroking himself, eyes most definitely wide and bug-like behind his glasses, and he forces his hand to stop.

Malfoy's sac lies cushioned between pillowy flesh. Harry's thumb itches to touch, trace the raphe just to see how it feels, and maybe Malfoy would reward his curiosity and let him do it again with his tongue. He looks back up, meeting Malfoy's gaze. “Surely this is a suitable alternative?” Malfoy's eyes widen as though he doesn't know how Harry would answer, ring glinting on his hand. Harry swallows dry, throat clicking, and crawls forward.