#so fingers crossed they're still the leads

[imaginespazzi]

Part 11: Free Fall

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10

How many nights did you wish someone would stay? (Lie awake only hoping they're okay?)

(In which an angst writer makes her comeback in more ways than one)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff if you squint?

Words: 8.0K

TW: Swearing (that's probably it?)

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Y'all are the sweetest people ever for being so patient with me but it's finally here! I'm hoping that I don't put y'all through this again but it is almost finals season so...fingers crossed. While you read this chapter, I'd like y'all to keep in mind how much you love me and how much y'all wanted a new chapter and of course my favorite phrase: for the plot! I tried to edit but I hate reading my own work back and so it's not as thorough as it should be and there's probably typos so lemme know. As always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see next. Have a lovely week my angels!

May 2025 

It’s her first ever WNBA game -Dallas Wings vs Washington Mystics- and the first thing Paige notices as she steps onto the court is that the two courtside seats right by the Mystics bench are empty. The sound of music streaming through the speakers clashes against the raucous crowds; the lights are dimmed and there’s a riveting thrum of energy swirling the arena in anticipation for a generational talent’s professional debut. Paige has spent the days leading up to her first game immersed in basketball. Since training camps, she hasn’t let herself think of anything except how to make sure the ball went through the hoops, how to make sure the person in front of her didn’t score, how to win. 

It’s easier that way. Because then she doesn’t have to think about how empty and cold her bed feels at night, doesn’t have to think about how much she craves to press call on a number she knows she should have blocked, doesn’t have to think about how the pieces of her shattered world are barely bound together by a tape of pretend. Paige can’t think of any of that and so she’s spent every second awake, clearing her head of all potential distractions and focusing on preparing for this moment. 

Except, the moment is here now. 

And all Paige can fixate on is the empty courtside seats. 

The memories come back to her in waves; the two of them in those seats, pressed together -as close as it could be acceptable for their façade of best friends to be- as they weaved dreams of it being their turn on the professional stage. If she listens closely, Paige swears that amidst the chaos, she can still hear the echo of a promise that had once been made casually in conversation. 

“When you play here for the first time, I’ll be right here cheering you on. Every single time.”

Another broken promise. 

The truth is that the last few weeks as much as it’s felt like Paige is walking on a carpet of roses, there have been countless sharp thorns woven through the petals. She’s tried to avoid them -focusing on what she had, instead of what she’d lost- but they’d found a way to perforate through her skin anyways. And Paige knows she’s bleeding but she can’t scream, so she swallows the pain away instead. Memories of the past are piercing her feet and it feels like she’s leaving a trail of it feels incomplete without you behind her as she navigates the journey through her present, stepping towards a future that would be nothing like the one she’d imagined when she’d been a naive girl sitting in those courtside seats. 

The courtside seats that are empty tonight. 

Really it’s exactly what she should’ve expected. And there’s something so final about this moment, like the last flicker of a candle that had burned in secret. Paige hadn’t even realized she was still holding out for something but as she drags her eyes away from the seats and towards her father and brother who are practically vibrating with pride, she can feel the tautness of the string that she’d held onto. Because she hasn't told them; hasn’t told anybody about the breakup. 

Something about vocalizing it had felt just a little too real and Paige had evaded any potential situation that would warrant her having to reveal the tirth. But it hits her now, looking at those damn empty seats that should've been -in another life would’ve been- filled by her other family, that the words she’d been too scared to say out loud -for fear of them being enshrined into reality- had already probably been spoken into existence by someone else. And it hits Paige now, that maybe she’s desperately holding onto a rope that has already been let go of. 

“You good Bueckers?” she whirls around to find Arike looking at her, eyebrows raised in concern. 

“I’m fine,” Paige lies; she’s gotten so incredibly good at that, “just thinking a lot of thoughts.”

Arike nods in understanding, “fair enough. But you got this dude,” she reaches out a hand to squeeze her rookie’s shoulder, “whatever you’re thinking, when you get on that court, none of it’s gonna matter. All that matters for 40 minutes is the game and that we come out of it with a win. You gonna help us win Paige?”

“That’s the fucking plan,” Paige smirks, earning her a matching one from Arike before the shooting guard saunters onto the court, ready for tip-off.

All that matters is the game. 

Paige sucks in a deep breath, letting herself look over at the courtside seats one more time. This is her reality now. There’s no point in waiting for a regretful phone call or a surprise midnight knock on her door because it’s not going to happen. She feels a sense of hollowed acceptance as she finally turns away from the seats, plastering on a confident smile as she takes her place in the Dallas Wings starting five. And Paige is faced with the same truth that she’d learned at a far too young age; that people would leave her but the game never would. 

***

Dallas wins the game by 17 points. Paige’s statline is 21 points, 6 rebounds and 8 assists with 2 steals and a block. It’s a respectable statement from the rookie and her teammates are overjoyed. She’s surrounded by them as they celebrate winning their first game of the season and there’s a sense of hopeful excitement about how the rest of the season could go. Her eyes go over the top of them to find the cute Dallas local reporter that Paige had befriended shooting her a congratulatory wink and she blushes a little bit, looking away bashfully. In the distance, Paige can make out a small crowd of people decked in custom Wings #5 jersey, whistling in excitement. Despite the home fans, their celebration still echoes around the stadium and the loudest cheer comes from her brother who stands next to her father, both of them beaming with pride. And It’s almost enough to prevent her eyes from wandering back to the empty courtside seats. Almost. 

***

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. With the quick transition from the college season into the draft, Paige hadn’t had found time to go home inbetween. And so when the Wings had been making hotel arrangements for DC, she’d opted to stay with her dad and Drew in Maryland instead. But as she stands in the doorway to her bedroom, staring at a wall filled with pictures that are an ode to the past - collages that are practically a shrine to her broken relationship- Paige finds herself longing for the cold, unfeeling exterior of a foreign hotel room. 

Paige’s life can be split into two parts. There’s the Before Azzi and then there’s the With Azzi. And the truth is that there isn’t much from the Before Azzi left in Paige’s life. Every inch of her current life has been touched by the brunette, illuminated by her presence and now, it’s tainted by her absence. Especially in Maryland. Since she’d met the Virginia native, the DMV area had always been synonymous with the Fudds for Paige and she can’t remember a time when she’d been here -when she’d been in this bedroom- and not had plans to see them- to see Azzi. 

She takes a hesitant step inside, eyes gliding over each photograph and it’s like she’s being transported through time. The memories are as vivid as ever, bursting with color as they ellipse her mind. Paige can picture every moment like she’d lived it yesterday. She can still hear their laughter echoing through the air, can feel the softness of their hands -their bodies- brushing against each other, can still taste the lingering sweetness of their lips meeting halfway as they breathed silent promises against each other’s skin. 

A silent sob wracks through Paige’s body as she brushes her fingers over the most recent image of them from December -the last photograph she’d had time to print out. It’s one that Drew had taken of them in the kitchen- Paige propped up on the counter and Azzi in between her legs, one hand on the counter with the other resting right against Paige’s heart. Neither of them had even noticed the little boy, too wrapped up in each other; they were in their own world like they often had been. Azzi’s head is thrown back in laughter -probably at some ridiculous joke her girlfriend had cracked- and Paige has that goofy - just for Azzi- grin on her face as she gazes at the brunette with nothing but adoration. 

The picture is from barely six months ago but they look so young to Paige, so innocent, so naive, so fucking happy, so completely unaware that in a couple of months, one hesitantly spoken word would dissolve that happiness into a puddle of rubble. 

No. 

She thinks that one simple word is destined to echo through her ears, like that unpleasant screech of nails scratching against a chalkboard, for as long as she still has the ability to hear. Paige hadn’t even really heard it at first; it had been said so softly, so quietly, so brokenly and she’d barely seen Azzi’s lips move. For the briefest moment she’d tricked her mind into believing it was just the sound of the wind around them. But then there it was again. 

Louder. 

Stronger. 

No.

Paige’s hands instinctively clasp around her ears, fingers tangling tightly through her blond hair, because she can still fucking hear it. Here in this bedroom, where every corner still holds a little part of Azzi -holds a little part of them- the sting of rejection is louder than it’s been since it had first hit. Because it’s not just the pictures. It’s all the little pieces of them they’d left scattered over Christmas break, thinking they’d come back to it together.

 It’s a set of Azzi’s earrings -one Paige vaguely remembers picking out for her when they’d gone shopping a couple of weeks before- placed delicately on Paige’s dresser. It’s the pink sweater -that neither of them are sure who it originally belongs to but like most of their clothes, is basically a shared item at this point- haphazardly thrown over a chair. It’s that stupid book they’d started reading together -Paige lying across her girlfriend’s lap, toying with her curls as Azzi read the story out loud- still lying on the nightstand, waiting to be finished. 

Despite being alone in her room, Paige finds herself rapidly shaking her head. Because she can’t do this. Can’t spend a night in this room that had barely ever been just hers, had always felt more like theirs. She can’t sleep on that bed, no when her last memory of it is being tangled in the sheets with Azzi on a cold wintry morning, their legs intertwined with each other as they’d giggled to themselves in between languid lazy kisses. And maybe it’s pathetic of her but she can’t find it in herself to unmake the bed, not when her last memory of the two of them in this room is her leaning against the wall, shamelessly checking out her girlfriend as Azzi neatly made the bed, chiding Paige for the nth time on the importance of tidiness. 

“When are you gonna learn how to make your bed,” Azzi had sighed. 

Grinning, Paige had wrapped her arms around her girlfriend from behind, slotting her face into the crevice of Azzi’s neck and brushing her lips against the patch of skin, “I know how to make my bed. I just never have to because I’ll always have you to do it for me.”

Except for the last few weeks, Paige has had to make her own bed and she fucking hates it. 

Breathing sharply, Paige slowly backs out of her bedroom, gently pulling the door shut. She leans her forehead against the cool mahogany frame, trying to calm herself down. There’s been a nonstop dull ache in her chest since that night but tonight feels different, like the cold hands of the past have managed to dig under her ribcage and squeeze her heart  -something sharp digging into her arteries- so hard that it hurts just to exist. Paige gives herself a couple more seconds, creating half-moons as she digs her nails into her palms, before she finally pulls away from the door, heading towards her brother’s room down the hall. 

“You know you really should start knocking before you come into my room,” Drew says with a mock annoyance that’s betrayed by his large grin, as Paige slips into his room, “I’m almost a teenager.”

Despite the heaviness that’s still lingering between her lungs, Paige suddenly finds it a lot easier to breathe. Her little brother’s bedroom is dark, save for red LED lights and dim glow of the TV. Drew is reclined on his bed, gripping a white gaming controller between his hands. 

“You’re always gonna be a baby to me Drewski,” she teases, stepping towards him to ruffle his hair, laughing when he ducks her hand and shoots her an irritated glare in response. 

“Not the hair,” he whines and then groans as his eyes flicker back to the screen, towards the game he'd been playing, “damnit Paigey you just got me killed.”

“Hey hey hey, don’t blame me for your incompetence,” Paige chides. 

Drew rolls his eyes, before reaching over to hand over the other controller, “you wanna play?”

Paige shakes her head, gently pushing his hand away, “nah I just-” she chews at her bottom lip, shuffling her feet with uncharacteristic nervousness, “I was just uh- just wondering if I could stay in here tonight? We could have a sleepover? Like old times? Just you and me.”

It’s heartwarming the way her little bother’s eyes light up -like he’s still the little boy that used to fit perfectly in Paige’s arms, not almost a teenager who’ll eventually be taller than her- as he nods excitedly, scooching over to give his older sister space on his bed. Paige crawls gingerly onto the bed, hesitating for a second, before she lays her head on her brother’s lap, curling into herself. Drew is warm and inviting and familiar and for a second she almost forgets that serrated pain shooting through her nerves. But then it all comes rushing back and Paige has to swallow harshly to keep herself from giving into the fresh new set of tears that are re-emerging on her waterline. 

“Paigey,” Drew whispers softly as he runs his finger through her delicate blonde hair, clearly sensing something’s wrong, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine Drew,” she means to keep her voice strong but it comes out as broken as she feels. 

“Paigey,” the little boy’s voice is more worried now, “should I call Azzi?” 

This time the whimper escapes before Paige can stop it as she tightly closes her eyes. She knows her brother means well; know that Drew doesn’t really remember Paige without Azzi- doesn’t remember a time before his sister knew how to heal without the brunette’s touch. He’d watched Paige celebrate all her victories with Azzi and he’d seen the same hold his sister in all her tragedies, putting her back together every time she broke with promises of you’ll have always have me. From the moment Drew was old enough to understand his sister’s feelings, he was also perceptive enough to understand that Azzi was always what she needed, no matter how she was feeling. And it’s still true, Paige thinks; she wants nothing more than to say yes, wants nothing more than for Drew to call Azzi, so Paige can tell her how much she fucking misses her- how much she fucking needs her. 

Perhaps it's pride or maybe it’s fear, but Paige doesn’t say what she wants. Instead she vigorously shakes her head in her brother’s lap, “n-no it’s fine. I’m fine. It’s late and Azzi’s busy-”

“Azzi’s never too busy for you,” Drew says indignantly, “I’m gonna call her.”

“Drew stop,” Paige’s voice is much firmer this time as she wraps a strong arm around her little brother’s knee, stopping him from moving, “we’re not calling Azzi.”

She could tell him now. After all, she’s going to have to when he inevitably asks why he hasn’t seen Azzi -why he hasn’t seen the girl who’s been a part of his life for more than half of it- in so long. But even though the words sit scratchily on the tip of her tongue, she still isn’t quite ready to spit them out; isn’t quite ready to confront reality. 

“Why not,” petulance coats Drew’s tone. 

“Because I’m fine and I don’t need- I don’t want to talk to her,” Paige lies. 

The little boy scoffs, “you always want to talk to her.”

He doesn’t know the way that simple sentence turns the cracked pieces of Paige’s heart into dust as she tightens her grips on his leg, “Drew please- please just let it go.”

“Why,” Drew argues stubbornly, “why can’t we call her.”

“We just-” Paige’s voice breaks, as she scrambles to wipe her tears before they can wet her little brother’s shirt, “we just can’t okay?”

And there must be something in her voice -the anguish that no amount of trying is able to hide- that Drew pieces together to understand that this isn’t a battle he can win, no matter how much he and Paige might both want him to. The young boy slowly droops his body back to its reclining position, his fingers returning back to Paige’s hair as he begins to stroke her head again. 

“It’s gonna be okay Paigey,” he whispers with all the hopeful innocence of a blissfully naive little boy, “everything gonna be okay.”

And god does Paige want to believe him. But the courtside seats were empty tonight. And she’s in the DMV with no plans to see the Fudds- to see Azzi. And she’ll never know the ending to that stupid book on her bedside table. 

She wants to believe Drew but Paige isn’t sure how anything’s ever going to be okay again. 

***

May 2033 

It should be a joyful moment -the three most important people in her life congregating together- but instead as Paige quietly observes the scene in her living room -Drew silently seething, Azzi fidgeting nervously with her thumbs and Stephie babbling away amidst it all- she feels suffocated by this heavy gray cloud of apprehension lingering above her head. If she’s honest with herself, she’s been on edge for a couple of days now, since training camp had begun to be precise. Since she’d moved to the Bay Area, everything else in Paige’s world had been eclipsed by Azzi and Stephie. The mother-daughter duo were all-consuming and if she’s honest with herself, Paige had been more than happy to let her thoughts -and her heart- be consumed by nothing but the two of them. 

It had been so easy to forget everything else and the tentative verbal three-way deal she technically had with the Valkyries and the Liberty had pretty much ceased to exist in her thoughts. That is until Angie Davis -the lynchpin in this agreement- had been selected, just as everyone had predicted, to the Valkyries. The Stanford PG had shown up to training camp with a shy smile and an eagerness to learn that all the rest of the vets on the team had warmly embraced. But all Paige saw in the girl was the ticking time bomb of a decision she’d forgotten she’d have to make. And it isn’t just the reminder of the decision that has Paige feeling at unease; it’s why she has to make this decision in the first place, the reason behind why she’d agreed to this deal in the first play, why she’d been so adamant for Talia to make sure she didn’t get stuck here. 

Eight years ago, Azzi Fudd had broken her heart and Paige has spent every moment since, trying to collect the shattered pieces and reassemble them. 

And the last thing Paige had wanted to do was give Azzi the hammer to smash her barely fixed heart again. 

That’s what it had felt like when Talia had first brought up the Valkyries offer. It wasn’t that she and Azzi hadn’t been in each other’s orbit the last couple of years -it was impossible not to- but since the breakup, they’d never been around each other long enough, never quite been in the right situations, for that opportunity to present itself again. But Paige had known that if she came to the Valkyries, it would be an inevitability. That belief had only been strengthened the day she’d visited the Bay Area. She’d been adamant from the second she’d gotten on the flight that she couldn’t be persuaded to join Golden State, no matter how much she respected the organization and how well she’d fit into their system; no matter how much she adored the city and its love for her favorite sport.

But then she’d met a little girl who had an identical smile to the one that had held her captive since she was fifteen and barely knew what love was. And if Stephie with her doe-eyed wisdom that Paige would look great in purple wasn’t enough, then there was Azzi. Paige had expected Azzi to tell her to decline the offer. In a way that’s what she wanted; the masochistic need to feel the sting of that rejection again so she wouldn’t be tempted to burn herself in the fire again. But the brunette had done the opposite and Paige had known by just how quick her resolve had succumbed, that she’d been right to fear the inevitability. And it was that fear that had prompted the verbal agreement with the Liberty; an escape plan she’d forgotten she’d devised. 

Because escaping had been the last thing on Paige’s mind the last few weeks. 

All of Paige’s fears and apprehension had seemed to take a backseat the moment Azzi had smiled -hesitant but real- and said she was ready to try, the moment Stephie’s tiny hands had fit perfectly into her own. 

But she can feel it all coming back now, bubbling to the surface and threatening to spill over like lava, wiping out this paradise she’s been in with Stephie and Azzi. It had started with the reminder of the Liberty deal but it’s Drew’s presence -his scowl directed at Azzi that feels like one of a brother still betrayed on his sister’s behalf- that had heightened it. Her little brother’s anger, and the genuine hurt that lingers behind it, feels like a dark reminder of Paige’s own heartbreak. 

Suddenly she feels like she’s 23, playing her first WNBA game and instead of celebrating a solid debut, she’s sobbing in her little brother’s lap over the girl who had walked away. 

“Miss Buecks,” Paige looks down to find Stephie crawling into her lap, “are we ready to order the pizza now?”

The little girl’s arms wrapping around her neck eases some of Paige’s discomfort as she smiles down at Stephie. 

“I’ve been ready for ages. You were the one yapping away,” she teases. 

Stephie pouts, “I don’t yap,” she turns her body towards Azzi, “Mama I don’t yap do I?”

Azzi’s own tense body seems to relax a little as she smirks at the two of them, “you definitely yap Stephie-”

“Mama,” Stephie protests, looking betrayed. 

“But not nearly as much as your Miss Buecks yaps,” Azzi’s eyes twinkle with mirth as Paige splutters, jaw dropping open with mock offense, “between the two of you, it’s a miracle my poor ears haven’t fallen off.”

“Just for that I’m not adding veggies to the pizza,” Paige sticks her tongue out, causing Stephie to giggle and Azzi to roll her eyes at the display of immaturity. 

Paige slips out her phone, pulling up their usual pizza place on doordash and quickly plugs in her memorized orders for everyone in the room as Stephie gets herself comfortable on the blonde’s lap. The five-year old leans her head back against Paige’s chest, who instinctively wraps her free hand around Stephie’s waist, keeping her securely in place. 

“So uncle Drew,” Stephie says with a grin, slightly leaning forward as she addresses the man sitting rigidly on the edge of the sofa, “did Miss Buecks yap a lot when she was younger too.”

“Be careful how you answer that,” Paige warns with a good natured glare in her brother’s direction, trying to lighten his mood. 

It works to an extent as a small smirk slips onto the edges of Drew’s lip, “oh she was a chronic yapper.”

“What does che-ronic mean?” Stephie asks, scrunching her nose in confusion.

Drew laughs, eyes glittering with mischief, “it means she didn’t know when to shut up.”

“Drew Thomas,” Paige guffaws, “you’re supposed to be my little brother, protecting your older sister’s honor and all of that.”

“Hey,” Drew raises his hand in surrender, “my older sister taught me to never lie, especially not to children.”

“Did you really talk that much?” Stephie asks, turning to Paige with wide eyes. 

“Don’t listen to him Stephie-bean,” the blonde says, brushing her hands through Stephie’s curls, “it’s all bullsh-”

“Paige,” Azzi hisses immediately as the older woman bites her lip to stop the curse word from escaping. 

“Bullsharks,” Paige amends, “fake news. False advertising. I was a calm and quiet kid for sure.”

Drew snorts, leaning back into the sofa and Paige lets out a soft sigh of relief at seeing her brother relax. Her eyes flicker over to Azzi, feeling a sense of calmness when she sees the younger girl’s nervous fidgeting has stilled and there’s a tentative smile on her face. 

 “You weren’t calm or quiet,” he says pointedly. 

“Was too,” Paige argues stubbornly. 

“Yes you were,” Drew presses, “Stephie if you don’t believe me, ask your Mama,” he turns to Azzi, “tell her Azzi. She literally yapped your ear off into becoming your friend.”

Azzi blanches, clearly shocked at having been so cavalierly addressed, and even Paige is a little surprised by the expectant “agree with me look” that Drew is giving the brunette after having spent the last moments practically glaring at her. But really it probably shouldn’t be that surprising. Because Drew and Paige are cut from the same material and letting Azzi into the folds seems to just come naturally to both of them. And it’s so familiar to when they’d all been years and years younger -two college students and a little boy - so familiar to the countless nights spent in Minnesota and DC and Connecticut where several silly arguments like this between Paige and Drew had ultimately ended with them both turning to Azzi -the forever moderator- in hopes that she’d side with them. 

She’d always sided with Drew -much to Paige’s chagrin, though she’d been secretly enamored by the relationship between her girlfriend and her brother- and this time is no different as Azzi shakes off the shock, replacing it with a cheeky expression. 

“Didn’t shut up for 14 whole hours,” she laments, her voice filled with teasing but she smiles at the blonde as if she’s reminiscing it, reminiscing the moment that began it all for them and Paige can’t help the hopelessly sappy smile she gives her in return. 

“14 hours? You talked for 14 whole hours, Miss Buecks?” Stephie’s eyes are comically large as she echoes the number. 

“Of course not,” Paige defends, eyebrows creasing as she glares at the other two adults in the room, “this is bullying. Stephie,” she whines, nuzzling her head into the little girl’s neck, “they’re ganging up on me.”

“There there Miss Buecks,” Stephie says diligently as she pats at the older woman’s cheek. 

“We’re just telling the truth,” Drew shrugs. 

“Exactly,” Azzi nods solemnly, “the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”

She grins, reaching her hand out for a high five and Paige watches as Drew raises his own hand, ready to reciprocate. For a second it feels like everything is coming together; like the past could just stay in the past. But then he stops midair. The easy smile fades from his face and the previous tautness comes rushing back. He pulls his hand back, turning away from Azzi, who’s face slowly falls back. The lightheartedness from mere seconds ago is replaced by the tension from before and that burden of all that’s happened between us returns as a heavy weight pressed against Paige’s heart. 

“Paigey used to yap a lot,” Drew says slowly, “like I said you couldn’t get her to shut up and then one day,” he pauses, angry eyes darting towards Azzi, “one day she just got quiet- she shut up- she stopped yapping all the time.”

“Why?” Stephie asks softly, her tone a mixture of concern and genuine curiosity. 

Paige’s arm tightens around the little girl in her lap as she shoots her brother a pleading look, “Drew-”

“Because someone-” there’s so much venom in the word that it makes Azzi visibly flinch and Paige wants to soothe away the creases forming in her forehead, “someone broke her heart. And it took years- it took years to get her back to normal, to get her yapping again. To get my sister back to who she was.”

There’s pindrop silence as Drew seethes at his own words and Azzi rapidly blinks back tears, until Stephie turns around in Paige’s lap, tiny hands cupping the blonde’s face as she tries not to let her emotions show in front of the little girl. 

“Someone broke your heart?” Stephie looks so upset by the idea that Paige wants to vehemently deny it, “how could anyone break your heart Miss Buecks?”

She means well -just a child concerned for one of her favorite people- but she has no idea of the dagger she’s just twisted in her own mother’s heart as a faint whimper escapes Azzi’s lips. Paige opens and closes her mouth, hopelessly looking at the brunette who’s digging her fist into the sofa, despair embedded all over her face. 

“Stephie-” Paige tries to say. 

“Don’t worry kid,” Drew cuts in instead, his voice steady and firm, “it happened once but I won’t-” his eyes burn with fire as he looks at Azzi, “I won’t let it happen again.”

“Stephie,” Paige says quietly after a moment, her gaze transfixed on Azzi whose doing her absolute best not to let her emotions show in front of her little girl, “sweetheart how ‘bout you show Uncle Drew around the house.”

“I don’t want to see the house,” Drew says petulantly as he stubbornly crosses his arms over his chest

“Yes. You. Do.” Paige grits out, trying not to curse when her younger brother rolls his eyes at her. 

“C’mon Uncle Drew,” Stephie says cheerfully as she slips off of Paige’s lap and reaches a hand out for the man instead, “Miss Buecks has a really cool house and maybe we can go steal some of her cool clothes.”

Drew sighs but he’s not immune to Stephie’s infectious energy. A hint of a grin sneaks through the cracks as he accepts the little girl’s offer. Stephie starts to pull him towards the staircase but the perceptive girl stops for a second in front of her mother, a cautious look on her face as Azzi musters up a grin to mollify the little girl's concern and Drew adamantly averts looking at the other woman. 

“Go on bean,” Azzi urges softly, keeping her shaky voice under control, “go show him the house.”

Stephie nods before gently pressing her lips against Azzi’s cheeks, eliciting a deep breath from her mother, before she practically drags Drew towards the staircase, already speaking a mile per minute.  

There’s a pause, filled with a combination of the quiet rumble of Stephie blabbering upstairs and Azzi’s uneven breathing. Then the tears that the brunette had been trying so hard to barricade behind her eyelids starts cascading down her cheeks and Paige almost trips on her own feet as she moves towards her. She falls to her knees in front of Azzi, gently brushing her against her cheek, before wrapping her hands around her tightly formed fists. 

“Baby don’t cry. Please I hate it when you cry,” Paige whispers softly, pressing her forehead against Azzi’s, “he’s just-”

“He’s right,” Azzi cuts her off, shaking her head. 

“Az-”

“He hates me-”

“He doesn’t-”

“He does,” Azzi presses, her tears falling faster now, “and he should. Paige I did break your heart,” they both flinch at the blunt statement, “and he doesn’t trust me because of it and he hasn’t forgiven me for it. I haven’t forgiven me for it.”

“Baby,” Paige echoes again, unsure what else to say. 

“Have you forgiven me?” 

The question lingers in the air as Azzi looks expectantly at her and Paige stumbles over her words, trying to find the right ones. She doesn’t really know how to answer the questions; hadn’t been expecting to be confronted with it tonight. Paige wants to say yes; she wants to take away Azzi’s guilt so fucking bad. These last few weeks had been so perfect, Paige had convinced herself she was over what had happened almost a decade ago. But if she’s honest with herself -if she’s honest to the memories of every night she’d spent sobbing into her pillows, missing the girl in front of her and resenting her for walking away- Paige doesn’t really know if she has forgiven Azzi. 

“Paige?” Azzi ask again, her voice breaking on the one syllable. 

Paige’s face crumbles as she looks at the girl defenselessly, “ Az, I-”

The doorbell rings at the exact moment and Stephie comes excitedly barrelling down the staircase as the two women scramble away from each other, trying to compose themselves. 

“Miss Buecks, Mama,” the younger girl hollers, “pizza’s here.”

Paige looks at Azzi who’s rushing to wipe away the remnants of her tears. She opens her mouth, desperately willing herself to find something, anything that could offer the girl in front of her some comfort; that could take their relationship away from the precipice of this cliff they’ve somehow found themselves on. But the right words don’t materialize and instead Paige closes her mouth and turns away, slowly heading towards Stephie as Azzi’s question continues to wreak havoc in her mind. 

And she wishes she could rewind the clock and freeze them where they had been just a couple of hours ago, freeze them in a moment where the past hadn’t weighed so heavily on the present. But perhaps the past had always been there and they’d simply just done a marvelous job ignoring it. Except tonight, they can’t seem to ignore it anymore. 

***

Paige thinks pizza has never tasted so terrible in her life. The mood at her basically unused dining table is numbingly sober; even Stephie has stopped her chatter, the little girl clearly picking up on the tense atmosphere around her as she quietly nibbles away at her slice of pizza. It’s in stark contrast to the innumerable dinners they’d had in the last three weeks; the three of them -Paige, Azzi and Stephie in between them- at the table or the counter or sometimes even the couch, raucous with laughter and smiles. Paige doesn’t understand how moments can shift like this; how last night could have been filled with giggles and grins and tonight is filled with nothing but a silence filled with too many unspoken words.

Her eyes flicker over to Azzi, who’s making a concerted effort to keep her own everted from both Bueckers siblings. The brunette’s question from before feels like a loud horn blaring in Paige’s ears, one that she can’t seem to find the off-switch for no matter how hard she searches for it. They’re barely a couple feet apart, sitting opposite each other with Drew next to Paige and Stephie next to Azzi, but the width of the table feels like it stretches for miles. Paige misses the warmth of Azzi’s body pressed against hers, misses the sly brush of their hands before their fingers would inevitably curl around each other’s underneath the table where Stephie couldn’t see. 

“Miss Buecks,” Paige swallows, trying to shake off the feeling of is this us crumbling again, as she diverts attention to Stephie who’s smiling at her with that cheeky grin that means she wants something. 

“What’s up Stephie-bean?” Paige asks and she’s convinced there’s magic in the little girl’s existence because despite the tightness she still feels in her chest, having Stephie close feels like a reason for her to breathe through it. 

“Can I have a soda?” Stephie asks, using the palm of her hands to frame her slightly tilted face as she juts out her bottom lip in a pleading. 

Paige grins, ready to concede as she often is with the little girl but Azzi speaks first, “no soda Stephie.”

Stephie pouts, “why not?”

“Because I said so,” Azzi says bluntly and Paige is taken back by the sharpness of it. 

“Mama please,” Stephie begs, “please, please, please.”

“No Stephie,” there’s a warning edge to Azzi’s tone but Stephie doesn’t pay much heed to it continuing to plead and the irritation on her mother’s face -clearly exacerbated by other things- gets more and more apparent. 

“Please Mama. Pizza just doesn’t go down right without soda,” the little girl argues, “can I please just have a little bit. Just a teeny tiny bit Please, please pretty please please-”

“Stephie, no” Azzi repeats, pinching the bridge of her nose as Drew and Paige exchange nervous glances. 

“Stephie, yes,” the little girl argues, stubbornly crossing her hands over her chest. 

“Ste-”

“I want soda. I want soda. Please, please, please, plea-”

“I said no Stephanie,” Azzi all but yells, startling Stephie into being quiet and making both Drew and Paige flinch. The little girl is wide-eyed for a second -not used to anything but her mother’s normally gentle way of dealing with her occasional brattiness- before her lips begin to tremble and big fat tears begin to spill down her cheeks. She scrambles out of her chair, beelining towards Paige and climbing onto her lap as she burrows her face into the blonde’s neck, wetting her shirt with tears. 

“Shhh, shhh sweetheart it’s okay,” Paige whispers to the little girl, gently rocking the two of them back and forth as she strokes her hair. 

She glances at Azzi, who’s adamantly looking, her face stone cold but regret gleaming in her eyes, “Az-”

“No,” the younger woman says immediately. 

“C’mon,” Paige says exasperatedly, “you don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

“If it’s about giving her a soda, I don’t wanna hear it,” Azzi warns, “you can’t just give into all of her demands all the time, you have to learn to say no and she needs to learn to hear it.”

“I hear you but Az it’s a Friday-”

“Paige-”

“A tiny bit of soda to start the weekend can’t hurt. In fact,” Paige smirks down at the little girl in her lap as she coaxes Stephie’s face out of her neck so she can wipe away the tears on her blotchy red face, “I think a little soda to start the weekend is probably good for you.”

She feels her heart soar when it makes Stephie giggle, letting out a couple teary hiccoughs in between as she clutches onto Paige. 

“I think so too Mama,” the little girl echoes, looking back at her mother with a timid grin. 

“Give in Azzi,” Paige matches the pleading smile on Stephie’s face as she turns her focus onto the brunette, “she deserves a little treat 

“I know what she deserves. I think I know what’s good for my daughter,” Azzi says steely and Paige feels something cold squeezing through her ribcage, “no soda Stephie. End of discussion.”

My daughter. 

The thing is Paige doesn’t even really think she has the right to be upset over Azzi’s statements. Really, it’s nothing but the truth. Stephie is Azzi’s daughter and Azzi definitely knows what’s good for her daughter. So why does it sting like this? Why does it feel like little shards of ice piercing into her heart, leaving deep gashes that have her whole body feeling like it’s freezing over? Paige knows why, knows that these past weeks had been enough to trick her mind into believing the mirage that Stephie was hers. But now Azzi’s flicked her fingers against it causing the whole fantasy to come crashing down and Paige feels herself slowly getting buried under the rubble of it. 

“Right," she says softly, trying to keep her voice steady, “she’s your daughter and you know best,” she ignores the tinge of guilt in Azzi’s eyes as she turns to Stephie who looks like she’s ready to protest again, “you heard your Mama Stephie. No soda tonight.”

“But Miss Buecks-” Stephie whines. 

“No sweetheart,” Paige says gently, shaking her head. 

The little girl narrows her eyes before letting out a frustrated groan as she slips off of Paige’s lap. She loudly stomps her feet, glaring at all the adults in the room before she angrily storms upstairs. It’s so unlike the usually even-keeled little girl that Paige thinks it’s probably a reaction to the tension she can sense between the adults. Her eyes drift over Drew -who’s chewing at his lips in a similar manner to how his big sister often does- before locking with Azzi’s and she feels that familiar guilt of there’s always collateral damage for our mistakes pooling at the pit of her stomach. The brunette breaks eye contact first, letting out a heavy sigh before she follows behind her daughter and Paige lets her face fall into her hands, 

It feels like everything’s in free fall, like during an earthquake when everything shakes and the books -the complicatedly tangled stories of the past and present- go flying from their shelves. Paige rubs at her eyelids, trying to make this helpless feeling go away. Her fingers are coiled tightly around a rope, just like they had been on that night eight years ago and just like that night, she can feel the tips of them starting to bleed. She can feel Drew’s gaze fixated on her; can tell he’s contemplating whether to say something or not. Swallowing, Paige pulls her face out of her palms to look at her brother, a decisively defiant expression on her face. 

“Something you wanna say?” she asks him, cocking her eyebrows as if she’s daring him to speak. 

Drew hesitates for a second before an almost identical expression crosses his face, “what the fuck are you doing Paige?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Paige replies airly. 

Drew narrows his eyes at her, “seriously?”

“Seriously,” Paige shrugs. 

“This was supposed to be a temporary arrangement Paige,” Drew says, ignoring the way his sister flinches at the reminder as he drops his voice lower so they can’t be overheard, “you were supposed to be with Golden State for one season, hopefully win a championship and then you’d be off to New York at the end. That was the plan but clearly all of that has gone flying out the window. You’re getting attached to this city, this life, to them.” 

A barely believable “of course I’m not,” flutters weakly off of Paige’s lip as she blinks rapidly at the accusation. 

“Oh for fucks sake,” Drew curses, “Paige your bed looks like it hasn’t been slept in, in days. There’s almost no groceries in your fridge or your pantry. From what I saw of the garden, it’s basically been left for dead. Your closet is half empty and it sure as shit isn’t because they’re all in the laundry because as Stephie puts it, Azzi says that their laundry basket is three times heavier than it used to be with all your clothes.”

“I-I don’t-” Paige stutters, “that- that doesn’t- doesn’t mean-”

“It’s been two months -if even that- two months Paige and I think you're in even deeper now than you were the last time,” Drew spits the last two words out bitterly like their flames on the tip of his tongue and the sparks of it singe Paige’s skin. 

“That’s not- I’m not-” she tries to justify but it sounds hollow to her own ears. 

“You are,” Drew says exasperatedly, “what are you gonna do when she walks away again? When she lets you go again, what are you gonna do Paige?”

Her little brother isn’t cruel but Paige swears she’s never heard anything more aimed to hurt than these perfectly directed arrows he’s launching straight at her heart. The defense of she’s not going to leave me stays stuck in her throats, battling against the harsh thoughts of she already has that are taunting her. 

“She- I- you- this- I don’t- you can’t-” Paige doesn’t even know what she’s trying to say; she feels like a fish spluttering outside of the water, desperate to breathe air that seems to kill her the more she inhales it. 

Drew looks away, his face crumpling slightly, a mixture of sadness and guilt gleaming in his eyes, and Paige can tell that he hates himself a little for being the one to cause her this torment, the one to make her face the darkest possibility of her reality. 

“I was there Paige,” he says softly, “I was the one who watched you break in ways that I didn’t even think you were breakable,” his voice snaps, “and I was the one who watched how hard you had to work to put yourself back together. I don’t wanna see any of that again.”

“Drew,” Paige whispers. 

“And it wasn’t just her,” Drew continues, “you lost her family too.”

Paige gulps at the reminder, “they were still there. They came to games. They were at my wedding.”

Drew shakes his head, “but it wasn’t the same and you know it. You lost her and you lost them and this time,” he bites his lip, like he wishes the next words weren’t sitting on his vocal chords, waiting to spill out, “this time, if you lose her, you’ll lose a lot more.”

“What do you-” Paige heistates, unsure if she even wants to ask, “what do you mean?”

Her little brother pauses, mouth opening and closing like it’s painful to speak, before his eyes drift towards the stairs and Paige feels her heart sinking even before Drew says the words she knows he’s about to say. 

“You’ll lose her daughter. You’ll lose Stephie.”

“No,” the whispered syllable is out before Paige can even stop it, “no, no, no, no-”

“Paige-”

“Stop it Drew,” the blonde says louder than she wanted to as she clutches at her heart, trying to keep it whole as the tears overflow over her waterline. 

“Stop what Paige? Stop saying things you already know deep down but are choosing to ignore? Is that what you want me to stop doing?” Drew asks harshly. 

“Drew-”

“There’s a reason you didn’t want to commit to the Valkyries and you know it. There’s a reason you only wanted to be here for this season.” her younger brother says firmly. 

“I know,” Paige whispers, “I know.”

Drew’s eyes soften, “stick to plan Paige. Let the Liberty be the end goal. You’ll be in New York by the end of October.”

Paige bites her lip so hard, she can taste that morbid taste of iron on her lips as she opens her mouth to say something. She’s not sure if it’s to argue with Drew or to agree and she doesn’t get a chance to find out. Instead there’s a sharp intake of breath and then a quiet, timid voice laced with accusation and Paige feels the blood drain out of her body as she slowly turns around to find Stephie and Azzi -their faces ashen with identical expressions of betrayal- staring at her. 

“Miss Buecks, you’re moving to New York?”

[skullamity]

All of this. I will also add that there are so many factors that go into determining what the right amount of testosterone for someone to take even is.

What's your age? Weight? Height? What were your levels like before starting T and is it possible that you have undiagnosed PCOS that could cause you to over-estimate how much you should be taking? Do you have other health issues (possibly also undiagnosed) that could be exacerbated by T if you aren't microdosing? How is your liver doing?

All of these are things that an endocrinologist keeps an eye on through regular blood tests. My first year on T I had blood tests every month or so and we adjusted my dose several times. Now I need blood tests once a year, and we are keeping an eye on my liver because of past issues with FLD.

I know at least one person who is permanently disabled because of an inattentive doctor who over-prescribed doses, which eventually lead to a stroke that absolutely could have been prevented. If a medical professional can get that wrong, what makes you think that some dude at the gym, even if you find this mythical gymbro willing to hook you up, is going to know exactly how much you should be taking. Is he going to send you for blood tests? And even if he's just a hook-up, what makes you think your average trans dude is going to know how to read those numbers, provided they can even access the right tests?

Where I live, if I want a blood test? I need a doctor or endocrinologist to send a requisition for it. There's still a layer of needing to involve a doctor, and if you are accessing T illegally, you are going to have to fess up because they WILL find out, because you are going to have to tell them why you want blood tests if you want them to give you that requisition form.

It pisses me off every time I see people online sneering and telling trans men to go find a gymbro to hook them up like it's easy. Even if you set aside the fact that outing yourself to one or more jacked strangers is a MASSIVE safety issue, you still have to contend with the safety issue of essentially flying blind as you inject yourself with what you HOPE is the correct dose, fingers crossed you don't have a stroke or take so much that it converts back to estrogen.

It does, in fact, need to be easier to access T. It would be wonderful if there were easier to access DIY options. But currently? There are not, and for most people, the risk of just doing this unmonitored, the risk of arrest, the risk of getting your ass beat or murdered? The risks outweigh the reward. Shady gym T isn't going to alleviate your dysphoria if you're dead, so please fucking stop telling trans men that they're pussies for not wanting to take this route.

While I have thoughts about the election that I haven't quite been able to put into words yet, I've seen a lot of misconceptions that "if DIY HRT is so easy for gymbros to get, it must be easy for trans men too!" and "Just go up to a gymbro and ask for his T!"

As the "trans gym bro" blog, I feel like I have to be the one to say

NO. IT IS NOT THAT SIMPLE.

First of all, because T is a regulated substance, it is hard for gymbros to get as well. That means even if they DID use T, they would NOT be sharing.

Secondly, there's "natty" culture. For those who aren't in the know "natty" is short for "natural". Being "natty" means you got your gains without the use of testosterone or steroids. There are those of the mindset "if you're not natty whatever, just disclose", but there are also those who look down on the idea of not being natty. Not to mention a lot of these gymbros strongly discourage the use of T in their circles because of the negative effects (namely the aromatization of T into E) of too much T. Basically, not every gymbro uses T, many actively discourage it, and those that do use T are likely hiding it.

Third, very few people are going to just bring their T into a locker room. Partially because of the previous point, but also because the locker room is just unsanitary, often don't have a proper disposal bin for sharps, and/or because the gym bans the use of steroids (sometimes needles I think?) entirely (this may not stop everyone but it's at least a deterrent).

Fourth, and very importantly, a large number of gymbros are transphobic. This varies from ignorant to actively malicious, and you never know which one you're going to get. To be fair, not every single gymbro is transphobic, but there is a large enough portion of them that are, such that you would be at substantial risk if you outed yourself to one. No transmasc in their right mind is going to risk outing themselves to someone who hates you AND is jacked as fuck.

There are other things preventing those who want testosterone HRT from accessing it also, such as doctors refusing to prescribe it to an AFAB person because "you'll ruin your body" reasons, those gymbros being a big part of the reason why T is a controlled substance, as well as it just being unsafe to use someone else's vial of T.

The point is though, we DO need resources for DIY T, ESPECIALLY in the current political climate in the US. Do NOT fucking ignore us because you refuse to acknowledge that not every gymbro is going to fit whatever idea of them you have in your head.

Anyway. I have to hit legs now.

[leixinyus]

Teshin Anusananan as Q

Wish You Luck trailer, dir. Chookiat Sakveerakul

[zephyrchama]

Water Wrinkles

Seven demon brothers sat solemnly in a circle around you. You did your best to ignore them. It wasn't often that you got to spend time at the human world villa, and you were intent on soaking up as much sun as you could before returning to the Devildom.

You reclined your beach chair back, crossing your arms under your still-wet hair. It was a gorgeous day. Perfect for being at the pool.

Leviathan let out a muffled sob. As the demon with the highest affinity for water, he blamed himself.

"Let us take you to a hospital," Satan insisted for the tenth time.

"They're going to laugh us out of the ER," you nonchalantly repeated.

Satan lowered his eyes and muttered, "I couldn't find any traces of a curse in the water... So how...?"

Asmodeus had his head in his hands, unresponsive. Sometimes his fingers curled around the ends of his hair. You briefly glanced over to make sure he didn't pull his hair out - that would be grounds for a real emergency.

"I can't bear to watch. Lucifer, do somethin'," Mammon whined. He was fidgeting all over the place and winced whenever he looked at your feet.

The oldest glared at you. You knew it was out of concern, but his fears were unfounded. Even Lucifer refused to listen to reason when he thought you were in danger.

"Actually, yeah. Lucifer, can you pass me a towel?" you asked. It was embarrassing having seven shirtless demons intensely staring at you. If they wouldn't let you go back in the water, maybe covering up would make you feel less self-conscious.

Lucifer didn't move. It was Beelzebub who plucked a spare towel off his younger twin and handed it to you with a shaking arm. He looked like a wet puppy, having been the one who first discovered your "condition" and swept you out of the pool.

Belphegor hadn't gone in the water that day. He only hogged the plush towels because of how comfortable they were and, following Beelzebub's lead, dumped them all onto your chair. Now he sat, wide awake. He was anxiously squeezing a loose chunk of concrete but at some point, without realizing, it got crushed to powder in his hand.

You had more than enough towels now.

"In half an hour you're going to forget this all even happened," you said to reassure the worry warts.

"In half an hour, you might be gone!" Mammon snapped back.

"You're going to be a wrinkled mess of skin and bones," Asmodeus weeped quietly.

Leviathan pressed his hands over his ears. Though, with nothing to cover his eyes he was forced to look at your wrinkled hands again. Based on the noises he was making, you'd think someone was torturing him.

"As I've said!" you reiterated. "All humans get wrinkly in water. Look, now that I'm drying off it's going back to normal."

Beelzebub grabbed your ankle, raising it for the brothers to observe at eye level. "I don't see a difference."

You didn't expect the sudden manhandling and slunk several inches down the lounge chair while the demons stared at your foot. Kicking and twisting your leg was futile. You modestly crossed your free leg.

"I think it's getting worse," Satan said.

"We need to take action," Lucifer decided.

Asmodeus was actively quivering now. Belphegor and Leviathan had crept behind you and started picking at your wrinkly fingers. You tried to swat them away to no avail.

"Give me 25 minutes! Literally! Probably even less, this will go away on its own! I just need to dry off."

"We need a solution now," Mammon asserted. The cogs in his brain were turning. "We need fire."

You tried to sit up, to jump up and stop Mammon before he burned the whole villa down in an attempt to dry you off, but Beelzebub had not let go and you stumbled. You grazed your knee on the concrete and winced.

A second round of panic overcame the demon brothers. Beelzebub let go, Lucifer picked you up, and Belphegor wrapped your knee with every available towel he could lay his hands on. Asmodeus and Leviathan were crying on each other's shoulders. Mammon came running back, oblivious to the second disaster that just occurred, with a flaming stick in his hand that Satan tried to keep at bay. If you got burnt on top of everything else, they'd probably go insane and destroy the human world.

In the midst of the chaos you caught a glimpse of your hand. It was practically dry. You couldn't even see the wrinkles anymore. You angrily wiggled in Lucifer's grasp as various hands fussed over you.

"Stay!!" you shouted over the clamor.

The brothers went tumbling to the ground, save for Lucifer who fought to stay rooted in place. You could finally hear yourself think again. There was primarily one thought on your mind.

"I just want to go swimming."

[itadorey]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 (𝐘𝐎𝐔), 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐃 (𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈), & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐆𝐋𝐘 (𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎)

pairing: gojo satoru x zenin!reader (gn) summary: gojo takes you to meet megumi, only to end up regretting it when the younger boy immediately takes a liking to you. genre: slice-of-life, fluff, humor, flirting, pre-relationship notes: same universe as "the man of your dreams" but can be read as a standalone!!, reader is part of the zenin clan and has prophetic dreams, megumi likes to make gojo's life difficult, tsumiki is not present here, megumi is the bad bc he bullies gojo :) wc: ~2.4k

"let's go!"

gojo blinks when your door swings open, his hand still up in the air and ready to knock as you brush past him. he doesn't move even as you begin to make your way down the hall, and you softly call out his name when you realize he isn't following.

"is there a problem?" you ask, your voice snapping him out of his daze as he turns to face you. he smiles lightly at the sight of you, taking in the way your head tilts to the side as you give him a questioning look.

"no, none at all," he responds, putting his hands into his pockets as he approaches you. "where are you off to?"

you give him an exasperated look, rolling your eyes as you turn away from him. "don't be coy, it doesn't suit you. i know what we're doing today."

"and?" gojo questions, giving you a sly look as he passes you. "what exactly are we doing?"

you sigh deeply as you catch up to him, hands behind your back as you bump your shoulder against him. "i'm meeting them today."

gojo gives you a faux curious glance, causing you to huff lightly before elaborating.

"fushiguro megumi and fushiguro tsumiki," you state, giving gojo a nervous glance. "that's who you're taking me to, right?"

gojo hums noncommittedly, bumping his hip against you as he turns down another hallway. you trail after him, nodding your head in thanks when he holds the door open for you.

"tsumiki won't be there today, she's at a friend's house. but yeah," gojo finally says, his voice unusually serious. "i just think it'd be good for megumi to meet a zenin who isn't..."

"awful?" you supply, raising an eyebrow when gojo shoots you a look. "horrible? rude? take your pick, they're all true."

"you said it, not me," gojo laughs, leading you off of school grounds. the rest of the walk is silent, and you find yourself enjoying gojo's company as he leads you towards the city.

the two of you come to a stop outside a well-kept building, and you take a deep breath as you look up at the sign hanging above the door. there's a slight tremble in your fingers as you grab onto your sleeve, and gojo silently raises an eyebrow when he notices the action.

"so?" he says, breaking you out of your thoughts. "how'd you know?"

"what?" you ask, your nervousness fading as you turn your attention to the white-haired sorcerer.

"that we were coming here?"

he's met with a dull look, and he does his best to fight off his laughter as you sigh in exasperation before motioning towards your head.

"prophetic dreams, remember?" you respond, reaching over to flick his shoulder. you frown when your hit doesn't land, and you shake your head when you remember the existence of infinity. "i saw this happening."

"oh?" gojo asks, giving you a sly look as he leans in close. "so you're still dreaming about me huh?"

you give him a flat look, refusing to give into his teasing. the smile stays on his face as he tries to catch your gaze, and you simply turn your attention back to the building as he slings an arm over your shoulders.

"shall we get this over with?" he asks, already leading you inside before you can even answer. a strangled noise leaves your mouth at his sudden movement, and gojo laughs it off as he ushers you into the elevator.

"what if he doesn't like me?" you ask quietly, wringing your hands as you spare a glance at gojo. he snorts at your question, crossing his arms and leaning against the elevator's wall as it begins to move.

"he doesn't like anyone," he scoffs, waving a hand in an attempt to dismiss your worries. "he's a brat but he's cute, i guess."

you laugh hollowly at his response, following him down the hall as the elevator doors open.

"ready?" gojo asks, coming to a stop in front of a dark, wooden door and unlocking it.

"no," you confess, your shoulders tensing up as he turns the doorknob.

"aw, that's too bad."

the first thing you see when you step through the doorway is a large, fluffy couch. the second thing you notice is the tuft of dark hair that pops up from the aforementioned couch, and you hold your breath as it makes its way around the couch and towards the door.

"megumi! i'm home!" gojo announces, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back as he pushes you further into the apartment. you can hear a brief grumble coming from megumi, and gojo's smile appears slightly strained as he looks up at the ceiling. "and i brought company!"

"who is that?" megumi asks, finally coming to a stop in front of the two of you. there's a moment of silence before you bow your head, introducing yourself and giving him a soft smile. there's a spark of interest in his eye when he hears your last name, and they narrow when they land on gojo's hands pressed comfortably against your back.

there's an awkward silence before you glance around, and you swallow harshly before gingerly attempting to pat gojo's shoulder. you hide your mild shock when you actually make contact.

"can i have some water please?" you ask politely, earning a nod from him.

"megumi, go get our guest some water," gojo says, biting back a smile as megumi scowls.

"i asked you, not him," you retort, crossing your arms as you turn to face him. "stop being a pain."

you feel gojo's fingers tense against your back, and he throws his head back to laugh as your expression remains unimpressed.

"are you two dating?"

the two of you whip around to face megumi, who watches the two of you with a conflicted expression. you can see the mild disgust in his eyes as he looks at gojo, and you hold back a laugh when his expression turns pitying as he faces you.

"no!" you deny, ignoring the way gojo sputters at the question. he makes no move to step away from you, and you decide to take the initiative and move closer to megumi while leaving gojo behind.

"good," is all megumi says, earning an amused laugh from you and an indignant scoff from gojo. you wave him towards the kitchen, taking a seat on the couch and smiling when megumi takes the spot next to you.

"how come you're here with him?" megumi asks once gojo is out of the room. you watch him for a few seconds, his green eyes boring into you as he studies you in return.

"he's helping me out," you say in response, confusion coloring megumi's face as he tilts his head. you're hesitant as you continue to speak, your voice a lot quieter than it had previously been. "i'm in a similar situation as yours."

"oh," he breathes.

"oh," you agree.

he shuffles closer to you as you sink into the couch cushions, and you can't stop yourself from patting his head, your fingers playing with the soft strands of his hair as he stares down at his shoes. you feel your heart lurch uncomfortably as you watch megumi, thinking about how unfair it is that a child is trapped in the same situation that you are. you can't help but feel thankful that gojo found megumi before the zenin clan could, and you remind yourself to thank him for his decision as soon as you can.

neither one of you notice the way gojo watches the two of you from the kitchen doorway, three bottles of water balanced between his hands as he does his best to not drop them.

"you wanna see something?" megumi asks, breaking the silence. you nod your head eagerly, earning a tiny smile from the young boy. he slides off the couch and brings his hands together, forming what looks like a hand shadow puppet. your jaw drops as two large dogs emerge from the shadows, coming to a stop next to megumi as his chest puffs up in pride.

"woah! that's so cool!" you say, reaching a hand out for one of the dogs to sniff. it eyes you warily, pushing the top of its head into your palm when it decides you're not a threat. the other dog approaches cautiously, and you find yourself giggling as the two dogs butt heads in an attempt to be pet by you.

"can you do this too?" megumi asks quietly, the corners of his mouth turning down slightly when you shake your head.

"no, i didn't inherit this technique," you say softly, playing with both dogs as they lay down on their backs. "you have a very impressive technique, you know?"

"what's yours?" he asks shyly, sitting down on the floor and leaning in to pet the dogs as well.

"i can see the future," you say, watching as his eyes widen. "but only in my dreams."

"woah!"

"here's your water!" gojo sings, throwing himself onto the couch next to you. he smiles widely as his sudden movement forces you to lean into him, and he ignores your annoyed grumbles as he hands you a bottle. you take it from him with a quiet thanks, and he wastes no time in tossing one of the other bottles to megumi, snickering when the younger boy fumbles with the bottle before it ultimately falls to the floor.

you smack him lightly as he leans forward to pet the divine dogs, pouting when megumi dismisses them right before he can make contact with their soft fur. you snort at the sight before jumping up from the couch, looking around the apartment as you step away from gojo.

"where's your bathroom?" you ask, nodding firmly when both gojo and megumi point towards the dark hallway behind you. "i'll be right back."

gojo's eyes remain on you as you walk away, and he only looks away when he hears a tiny scoff from megumi. he turns to face the green-eyed boy, raising an eyebrow when he sees him staring with his arms crossed.

"you like them," megumi accuses, a scowl on his face as he takes note of the way gojo looks down the hallway you've disappeared into. gojo stays silent as he thinks about megumi's words, only responding when he hears megumi speak again. "stay away from my clan."

"your clan?" gojo laughs, avoiding megumi's question.

"yes, the zenin clan," megumi says, looking at gojo as though he's the stupidest person on earth. "we don't need you to taint our bloodline."

gojo's jaw drops at megumi's words, and he leaps from his seat to glare down at him over his sunglasses. "listen here! you should be honored to have me be with someone in your clan. and besides, you can't decide who they like!"

"but you do like them?" is all megumi says in return, a smug look on his face as he glares back just as fiercely.

"i never—"

"is everything okay here?"

gojo and megumi turn to see you standing in the hallway, stifling a laugh as you watch gojo argue with a child. they both straighten up and nod, and you wander over to the couch as gojo plops back down on the cushion. you take a seat next to him when he pats the empty space next to him, leaning into him as he wraps an arm around your shoulder. he pointedly ignores megumi's glare.

"so," you begin, your eyes trained on megumi as he turns to look at you curiously. "i have to admit that you've appeared in my dreams. but i saw other animals surrounding you. can you summon different shikigami?"

megumi nods softly, an eager glint in his eye as he stands from his spot and looks over at gojo. you follow his gaze in time to see him nod at megumi, and you turn back when megumi clears his throat.

you watch as he summons a small crowd of bunnies, delight visible in your eyes as you lean forwards to grab one.

"megumi, you are so cool!"

gojo can't help the way his heart swells when megumi lets out a laugh.

"bye, megumi! i'll come back and visit," you promise, reaching down to pat the boy's head as he follows you to the door.

"promise?" he asks quietly, looking down at the floor.

"i promise," you state firmly, nodding once. he looks up to see you motion to your head, a kind smile on your face as you slip your feet into your shows. "in fact, i know it. i've already dreamt it."

your statement makes megumi's scowl soften, and the rest of your goodbyes are exchanged without incident. you sigh softly as you walk back down the street with gojo, a giddy smile still on your face as you think about your meeting with megumi.

things had gone better than expected, and you can't help but think how lucky you are to have found gojo, who in return led you to megumi.

"you know what?" you ask, holding back laughter as gojo hums in acknowledgment. "i think he likes me."

you laugh when gojo scoffs loudly, and he can't help but grin along as you bump him with your shoulder. a few minutes of silence pass as the two of you walk up the familiar road that leads to the school, and you steel yourself before finally saying what's on your mind.

"gojo?" you say quietly.

"yeah?" he asks in return, confusion on his face when you come to a stop. he freezes in place when you launch yourself at him, arms wrapping around his neck in a tight hug as you pull him close. his arms wrap around your waist in return, and he rests his cheek against the top of your head as he lets his eyes flutter shut.

"thank you," you whisper softly, squeezing your eyes shut as you feel his fingers splay across your back. "for helping me and for taking such good care of megumi and tsumiki."

your words ring in gojo's ear, and he leans back slightly to look down at you. your eyes have a slight sheen to them, and he decides to forgo teasing you in favor of holding you close for just a little bit longer. he never knew he could grow so attached to two members of the zenin clan.

"always."

rbs are appreciated <3 ty for reading!!

[ddejavvu]

Reader commenting on Spencer’s hands being cold, and he starts excitedly rambling about the best ways to heat them up, like putting them under armpits. Only to get completely thrown back when she stuffs his hands in her under boob to keep them nice and warm and strong :) <3

Your eyes are drawn to Spencer's hands when he starts curling them into fists, rapidly clenching and unclenching them in the chilly Chicago air. You're sitting cross-legged on the stoop of a witness's home, waiting for JJ to return from questioning her. She'd been uneasy with such a heavy government presence in her home, and you don't blame her for it, so you'd elected to stay outside with Reid.

"Cold, Spence?" You ask, and he nods sheepishly, his curls flying.

"I'm trying to get circulation back to my fingers," He explains, shaking his hands out for a brief second before curling them again, "Moving your fingers gets your blood flowing, but there's only so warm I can get in 30-degree weather."

You smile sympathetically at him, watching as his nails dig into his palms once more with a curl of his fingers, "Maybe we can bribe JJ to get us coffee on the way back to the precinct."

"They never give me the sugar I ask for," Spencer laments, shaking out his fingers once more, "I think they think I'm trying to steal their supply, but I really just like having eight packets in one cup."

The snort that you let out releases a puff of visible breath into the cold morning air. As it dissipates Spencer tries breathing into his hands, but his skin is still pale, nail beds dangerously close to turning purple, and you sigh resignedly.

"Come here, Spence," You hold your hands out, and he looks curiously up at you. His head tilts just barely to the side, and you're reminded of a confused puppy.

"Give me your hands," You urge, emphasizing the way that you're holding yours out. He does so without question, but you can tell that you've certainly improved circulation to his face, because his cheeks are blazing hot with a rosy blush when he obeys.

"Body heat really helps," You promise, unzipping the fabric of your FBI windbreaker. You hold both of Spencer's hands in your free hand now, but when your jacket is properly unzipped you lead his hands straight to your torso. They're posed on your ribcage, and Spencer stills, watching the way that they touch you with wide eyes.

"Under- there," You slip his hands up an inch, letting them slip into the space beneath your bra, your skin flushed with natural heat that soaks into Spencer's veins like sunlight to a wilting plant. Contrary to the body heat now flooding his limbs he's frozen, eyes wide and jaw slack as you stuff his hands beneath your chest.

"That better?" You ask, shimmying slightly in place and jostling his hands. Your bra slips further over the backs of his hands and only makes them warmer, enveloping him in even more of your body heat. He gulps, you actually see his throat bob, and nods silently, still leaned forwards to take in more of your warmth.

"Thanks," He breathes, trying very hard, and failing very miserably, to pretend like he's not about to combust.

You're almost certain that his hands are barely thawed at all when JJ steps abruptly out of the front doors of the building, and her boots skid to a stop in front of you and Spencer. You glance up at her with a warm smile, but Spencer yanks his hands away, wringing them out in his lap with wide eyes.

"Uh, she was- we were just... my hands-" Spencer babbles, and the more he struggles, the more her smirk grows over her face.

"His hands were cold," You explain, reaching out to grab them once more and squeezing the barely-tepid skin, "Let's hurry and get into the car, we can turn the heat on full blast."

You've seen Spencer exhibit a mild jog while chasing unsubs, his gun held at his side like it's a bag of bricks, but he skitters to the SUV faster than you've ever seen him move, leaving you and JJ behind on the steps of the apartment building.

"So, did he put his hands there, or did you?" JJ asks, and you don't need to see her face; you know from the mirth in her voice that she's still smirking as you stand up.

"I did," You grunt, trying very hard, and failing very miserably, to pretend like you're not about to combust, "He was shivering, JJ. What was I supposed to do, let him freeze to death?"

"No, no," She raises her hands in a gesture of surrender but her voice still contains that sadistic amusement, "You're right. A word of advice, though: next time, stick his hands between your thighs. It's a lot warmer down there."

[ellecdc]

how do you think the boys would react to reader telling them that she’s like NEEDY needy (iykyk)

would they do it, or just like get shy and walk off? or? 👀👀👀👀👀👀

mature content ahead: view discretion is advised

So, are they in a relationship yet? I'm going to go with they're in a relationship for this but if you meant they weren't you can feel free to re-ask

James:

chokes on his spit and nearly trips as he turns to look at you in shock (not unpleasant shock, mind you)

"You're what?"

He'd coo in sympathy after you had to embarrassingly repeat yourself in a whisper, rubbing your thighs together desperate for friction

"awe sweets. Okay, come on." and he's leading you by the hand - he's almost more eager than you are as he rushes down the hall

ends up on his knees with his face under your skirt in the closest bathroom - you'd be taken care of for sure 😩

Sirius:

biggest shit eating grin you've ever seen in your life and you almost regret saying anything

I think he'd tease you a little bit: "Awe, poor dolly's feeling needy, hm?" He'd coo in faux sympathy, the bastard

He'd make you tell him exactly what you're looking for. "What do you want, dolly?" 'touch me' "Like this?" and all he'd do is push your hair behind your ear

two can play at that game: 'Fine, I'll go ask someone else.'

He'd let out a horrified squawk and throw you over his shoulder. "Now now, let's not get hasty. I don't want anyone thinking I don't take care of my girl"

bent you over in the nearest broom closet and you both leave flushed and satisfied

Remus:

would smirk at you but continues reading through the first draft of his essay "really dove? now?"

he'd chuckle listening to you pout and get all breathy as you try to sit still "We've got homework, baby girl."

You'd get petulant and lean back in your seat with a huff, crossing your arms.

without even looking, he'd grab the leg of your chair and pull it over towards him - he'd keep his head low and continue making adjustments on his paper as he slips his free hand under your skirt and moves your panties aside.

"Awe, poor dovey - you really were needy weren't you" he'd lightly tease, murmuring softly so only you could hear.

your breath would hitch as he slipped inside of you, earning you a gentle shush as he threatens to stop moving his fingers.

"I'll take care of you but you have to be quiet; only I get to know how pretty you sound, yeah?"

gets you off with just his fingers in the library - makes up for it again later once he's done his essay

Regulus:

he's mean, I'm sorry

he'd make you wait all day

he'd go to class, to every meal, to quidditch practice barely sparing you a glance leaving you all the more desperate

it was painful for him too, mind you. Thinking about you being needy made him needy, and he spent all day dreaming of taking you over and over and over again

but he's a bit of a sadomasochist lol

he'd finally be all wound up after quidditch practice and would pull you roughly into his room and, like he'd been imagining all day, take you over and over and over again

to the point of over stimulation

"Come on amour, you can give me one more, yeah? Wasn't this what you wanted? Weren't you so needy?"

he got three more for his dirty talk alone

Barty:

no questions asked

'Barty?' "Yes Treasure?" 'I...I want, erm....I mean I...I feel kind of needy'

slams book shut and throws it over his shoulder where it lands in the fountain with a splash

"Where are you two going?" his friends ask bemusedly

"I'm going to treat my girl like a slut the way she deserves, Black; if you're not going to help, mind your fucking business"

you spend the rest of the day in his bed, fucking, smoking, eating, fucking, smoking, fucking, reading, fucking again

you'd hardly ever need to worry about feeling needy with him - whenever, wherever, however - consider it done.

[agnesafterhours]

trophy | lee know. smut.

As team captain, your boyfriend has his priorities straight. Minho doesn't take neither his training nor role lightly, and, sometimes, you like to tap into this inflexible side of his. (3.7k words)

CONTENT: smut, dom!minho but he's more persuasive than physically controlling, brat!reader, oral (female receiving), fingering (female receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, slight degradation kink. minors and empty blogs do not interact.

© all rights reserved. i do not allow reposting and/or translations of my work.

You shouldn't get under Minho's skin when he's training, you know that. The hurried whispers of his teammates leaving the field after matches told you this much. But still, it feels a bit unfair of him to make you sit here, after a whole game, having to watch as he leads his team through a “just, like, thirty minutes?” practice. Although annoyed, you understand why he's so hung up on practicing as much as possible—winning this game meant going to the finals, after all. You knew how much this meant to Minho, so you tried your best to be patient whilst sitting on the bleachers.  

Even though you're in a bit of a hurry to get him home, watching Minho play earlier makes it hard to deny that the field is his element, leading the team is his calling. You were completely stunned as you watched your boyfriend play—this being the first game of his you saw which you were actually rooting for his team. It was a bit of a rascal when the team captain introduced the cheerleader of their rivalling team as his girlfriend, but his mates eventually got over it. 

Your relationship with Minho was fun. You were together for a couple months and the freshness and excitement of it all never failed to make your skin tingle each time he looked at you in a certain way. Like the look he's giving you right now—chin up, eyes down, head slightly tilted.  

“I told you to wait.” His uniform's shoulder pads make him look even more intimidating, the bright spotlights behind him turning the white material almost blinding—his shadow casting on you. 

“I have been waiting! It's been like an hour, Min! And you said you'd take thirty minutes…” You hope a slight pout would help your case and soften his heart, but he simply turns his focus to the field for a moment, before looking back at you. Minho takes a few steps closer.  

“What’re you so eager to go home for?” He asks, voice a bit quieter. There's no need to speak this lowly when he's so close, especially when his teammates are so far away and everyone else has gone home by now—but you'll take advantage of whatever you can get from him. Even if it's just the feeling of his eyes on you. 

You look away, arms crossing under your chest as he smirks.  

“What? Cat got your tongue so early on, baby? Speak up.” 

“I'll tell you when we get in the car.” 

His eyebrows furrow. “I don't wanna wait ‘til we get in the car.” 

“Well, then maybe you should hurry.” You turn around, eyes lingering on him for a moment before you make your way to the parking lot. 

Your nerves make you jump a little when you hear Minho shout to his team they're wrapping up the practice—the parking lot getting darker and darker with the distance you put between yourself and the field's spotlights, a cool breeze awakening shivers up your arms as the night hugged you tighter and tighter. You (and the butterflies on your stomach) wouldn't settle until you felt Minho's presence. But you don't wait for him to catch up to you. You don't look back. 

The few minutes you sit in the car feel like hours, your phone's screen lighting up with a notification from your boyfriend finally seizing the constant checkups of your hair and gloss. 

min🖤: locker room  

You: why  im waiting for u  in the car 

min🖤: locker room:)  im waiting  

You: ive been waiting for longer  what if i just dont go 

You slam the car door shut, making a bee line to his location. 

min🖤: if you dont come you wont get what you want when we get home 

You: whatever 

The building's back door shuts loudly behind you.  

min🖤:  if you dont come ur gonna have made me end practice for nothing  

You: idc  ur already mad anyway  

You reach the locker room and as soon as your hand turns the door handle, you feel two hands on your hips pressing your back to the cold metal. 

Minho's tongue is in your mouth before you can even notice he kissed you, the cold air seeping through the open windows contrasting his warm palms on your skin. You're covered in shivers as he controls the kiss—one palm running up your chest to your neck until he reaches the back of your head, tilting it as he pleases.  

“Not mad enough to use numbing cream on you.” The bottle sits menacingly on the wooden bench. He spreads your legs with his thigh, pressing against your core. “So don't push me.” 

You're completely helpless, hands grabbing fistfuls of his uniform as he lightly pulls the hair on your nape every now and again—his mouth latching desperately onto yours. The room is dark, the campus so empty it almost feels like you're in a different dimension, completely by yourselves. Air fills your lungs for the first time in a while—you didn't realize you were that breathless until gasps fill the room as he kisses your neck. 

“I didn't even do anything.” He leaves a harsh bite at your words, sucking on the bruise a moment after. “Ah- I just wanted to congratulate you for winning-” 

“If you wanted to congratulate me”, his voice drips with sarcasm, “you would've sat there and wait for me to finish practice.” Minho hastily pulls the front of your tank top above your chest, not bothering to fully strip you out of it before his hand reaches under your bra, massaging your breast. “You would've been patient until I had the time to bring my pretty little trophy home, hm?” 

Air hitches in your throat when he rips your bra open, the cloth falling to the floor. You struggle through heavy breathing to talk back as he licks his thumb and brings it to your nipple. “I'm not just some trophy.” 

“You're not? What are you, then?” His lips leave your neck so he can look you in the eye, finally allowing to rest for a bit. You don't like the distance. 

You lean your head forward, chasing his smirking lips as he pushes you back against the lockers—the shuffling metal sounds strident in the dead quiet. Minho tilts his head back a bit, rejecting your kiss. “You didn't answer me.” 

“Because I wanna fucking kiss you!” You whine through gritted teeth, leaning towards him one more time. 

The grip he has on your hair stops you once again, but this time, he gets so close his lips touch yours when he whispers. “Tell me what you are, baby. ‘Cause sometimes you act like you're just a desperate little hole for me to fill." 

Minho's dilated pupils stare right into your soul. Your eyes shake but you don't look away. “I'm your fucking girlfriend. It's not my fault you're not good enough of a fuck that I'm never satisfied.” 

You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth.  

You see, Minho wasn't the type to growl his demands and manhandle you into whatever position he wants—he always tries reasoning with you. He lets you know what it is he would like to do, and if you don't comply, he'd show you why that was the best option for you in the first place. Minho gets off on proving he knows better, showing how he knows what's best for you. 

He takes a small step back, a click of his tongue letting you know his disappointment. “So I don't fuck you right? Okay.”  

“I just- I didn't mean-” 

“No, you're right, you're right. That's why I never make you come, right?” His sarcastic voice coming out a little bit breathless as he shoves your shorts and underwear down your legs, eyes fix on yours. You kick the clothes to the side with trembling legs, bambi eyes looking up at him. 

You didn't exactly know what the outcome of your stubbornness would be, but you did not expect Minho's knees to buckle—his gaze dead set on yours as he reached the ground.  

Suddenly, your boyfriend grabs your hand and latches it to the hair on the back of his head.  

“Why don't you fucking teach me then?” He speaks through gritted teeth, throwing your right leg over his shoulder pad—the unusual angle giving him all the access he needed and leaving you much more exposed.  

Unhappy with how limp your hand stayed in his hair, Minho grabs it once more, pushing himself against your core. 

“Come on, baby.” He mumbles, leaving wet kisses over your outer labia. When he looks up, resting his chin on the skin under your bellybutton, the dim light coming from the window makes his profile glow blue—pearly white grin hypnotizing you. Minho looked like an incubus—eager to suck the life out of you. “Where's your attitude, hmm? Show me what you like.” 

You can see your bare chest heaving with each breath as you look down at him. “Fin... Fingers?” 

He tilts his head to the side, big eyes full of mischief. “Fingers? You're asking?” 

“I… I don't-” 

“You don't know? Of course you do. You're just not thinking straight. Maybe it's stress, right? ‘Cause I'm not good enough?” Without a warning, the tip of his tongue lightly zigzags up and down your pussy. Up, and down again—avoiding your clit each time.  

“You see,” he says, letting his saliva mix with your arousal, “if I use my fingers now, you'll come too fast.�� Minho leaves a long peck on your core. “I know that's what you want, but what about dragging it out a little bit? I think you'd like it better.” He flattens his tongue and your body squirms as he licks up. “But I mean, I wouldn't know.” 

Minho's being painfully annoying, but you deserve it. He takes his time dragging his tongue through your core, lapping your arousal and smearing it on your cunt—making your legs shake every now and again. His right hand keeps your squirming hips still as the left one slowly caresses it's way up your body, until he reaches your chest.  

He's looking up at you the entire time, watching every single twitch and reaction to the flow of his tongue on you. When he finally latches onto your clit, you swear you lose your mind a little. Your hips stutter and he follows you promptly, big brown eyes burning through you. The sight of Minho on his knees being illuminated by the moonlight is so ethereal it's almost haunting, and at that moment, you know you'll never really forget this view—you'll never forget how he's making you feel. He really is like a incubus in a way, imprinting his mark on the back of your mind forever. 

Impulsiveness takes over and you force your hips forward, the hand in the back of your boyfriend's head thrusting him against your cunt. Minho's eyes turn impossibly darker, his smirk much more noticeable than before. When he closes his eyes and his eyebrows furrow, you already know you're gone—instincts making you hold onto his locks harsher than ever. 

The soft sucking turns progressively rougher, your eyes squeeze shut as his tongue draws figure-eights on your clit very softly in contrast to how quickly his lips are working the same nerve. 

When your eyes start to water from how overwhelmed you feel, the telltale begins. As soon as your body starts shaking and your hips squirm away from his hold, you open your eyes to look at him just in time to watch as he completely removes himself off of you.  

Your heart drops, hot tears running down your shamed cheeks as you wobble a bit, trying to find balance without his hands on your hips. 

“Fuck, can you even feel anything, baby?” You feel the ghost of gentle fingertips on your labia, following up and down the slit. 

You can tell through your watery eyesight and the poor-lit room that he's now paying attention to the way his fingers play with your cunt, smirk wiped clean off his voice as he watches your arousal coat his fingers. “If I try something like this-” He gently pushes his ring and middle fingers inside you, slowly curling the tip of his fingers in come-hither motion, low voice filling up the emptiness, “does it feel good?” 

Does it feel good? You're long, long gone. Minho's voice sounds like it's coming from inside your head, the stimulation feels like it reflects in white orbits in your vision. You can no longer force yourself to open your eyes—it's for the better, anyway. You'd probably pass out if you caught a glimpse of his pretty brown eyes by now.  

Does it feel good? You don't remember how you got yourself in this situation—you don't even have the brain power to form a phrase involving anything but religious chants of his name. You've become nothing but a warm body for Minho to touch and use as he pleases, you'd be satisfied with the smallest of touch he'd be kind enough to reach for.  

His pouty lips find your clit again and suddenly, fireworks start setting off in your insides way too fast. Your stomach muscles contract in a way that's entirely new for you and you feel like you'll fall to the floor if he doesn't support all your weight. Your start to feel your throat straining, the constant whining suddenly getting higher. Your eyes are shut so tightly you can see blobs of colour behind your pitch-black eyelids. You think you're out of it for a little bit, but you can still hear his voice. 

“Yeah, I don't think I'm doing it right.” The raspiness of his tone almost puts you to sleep—his fingers are still inside you, now pumping back and forth, very slowly. You can hear the embarrassingly loud gushing sound of his fingers moving inside you, and you open your eyes to find your boyfriend's face and chest covered in your arousal. 

“I, I-” You don't know exactly what you have to say, but his loving eyes and the kiss he pressed to your thigh were not helping you find it out. 

“You ruined my fucking jersey.” His lopsided smile makes your breath hitch. 

“Need you.” 

He tilts his head again. “Do you? Really?” 

Your head is heavy as you nod, and you try your best to not lose focus. You know what he needs to hear to finally drop the act, and you know you should give in before your body gives out completely, but there's a little twisted voice inside your head asking how far you can take this—your body seems to be addicted to the thrill, moans immediately spilling out your lips when his fingers pick up pace. 

“You're not satisfied?” He asks, voice sugary sweet. His pouty lips pepper quick pecks on your inner thigh, expectant eyes looking up at you. “I’m not sure I can help you, though. I mean, if it doesn’t feel good it’ll just get painful at some point.” 

You stutter your words through a strained voice. “I’ll let you know if it does.” It takes your entire being to attempt to sound demanding. “We can keep going for now.” 

An amused countenance takes over his sharp features. “Oh, we can? Alright, ma’am. Thank you so much for letting me know.” He stands up, and the sudden shift in atmosphere rising goosebumps on your skin as he now looks down on you. 

Minho stands tall before you, the lighting no longer illuminating his doll-like eyes—shadows now cover most of his face, long hair hiding his gaze. As if he can hear your heartbeat picking up pace, he gets close to whisper against your lips, eyes hazy as he looks down at you. “I think we gotta stretch you out a bit more, hmm? If it didn't feel good, you're probably still tight.” 

Good God, you hate this man. You know what he’s trying to get out of you—you’re just not sure if you want to give him the satisfaction yet.  

So, you look up at him with the sweetest eyes you can possibly muster. “Don’t worry, bunny. You’re not that big.” 

He stares at you for a few seconds, the smile on his lips doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Bench. On your back.” 

Although it seems you’ve worn his patience thin, you stare back. The cogs in your brain working their full capacity trying to figure out a way to make his life a bit harder. A disappointed sigh leaves his lips as he walks towards his locker, looking for his stuff to leave. 

As always, his action is effective. Minho really doesn’t need much to convince you to give in, after all, you know what you’ll get when you do. 

Silence fills the room as you discard your shirt all the way and lay on the bench, legs bent at the knees, heels resting on the cool surface. Anxiety bubbles under your sensitive skin when you hear Minho taking off his clothes. You rest you weight on your elbows to watch—his jersey was gone when you got to look at him, shoulder pads following suit. 

“What made you change your mind?” He opted to leave his white tank top on as he unbuckles his belt, one knee—supported by the bench—between your legs. The moonlight now shining entirely on him.  

“Don't like the emptiness…” Your voice trails off, and you don't mind staring shamelessly as he puts on a little show for you—one hand on your knee and running down your thigh, the other stroking his cock.  

He scoffs, “You say shit like this but doesn't like it when I say you act like a hole.” He taps his tip on your clit, earning a loud whine from you. “Make up your mind, bunny.” 

Minho stays kneeled before you, the cloth of his tank top so thin you could make out the lines of his chest and abs—the muscles on his pale arms shining iridescent in the lighting. 

Your boyfriend moved his hips, slowly grinding over your slit. Your eyes roll to the back of your head without much resistance, mouth watering with each nudge of his tip to your clit. “Whatever you said about me not being too big…” He leans down to leave a quick peck on your lips. “Keep that in mind.” 

With absolutely no warning and much faster than your brain would've been able to process, Minho buries himself as deep as he possibly can inside of you. He lifts your hips off the bench with ease, sitting on his heels—his hold on you so tight you bounced back against him with each thrust of his.  

The stamina of the man above you is unfaltering. You can't do much besides watch him: his biceps flex to support the weight of your hips every time he slams you back on his cock, veins prominent on his arms. Minho's face and neck are covered in the prettiest shade of pink—his wide chest, blushed with the same colour, is struggling with each breath he takes. The moonlight highlights the droplets of sweat sliding down his neck, and he can't seem to decide whether he wants to throw his head back or look down at where your hips align. 

Keeping himself together is the hardest when Minho looks down at you. He got his pretty girl all splayed out for him; her eyebrows furrowed in utter pleasure as the whiniest sounds constantly pour out of her pouty lips. The way your body reacts to him is hypnotic—it's so fun for him, how every little thing he does makes your eyes roll back. The power trip he gets when he watches your skin shiver wherever his hands touch is better than anything he's ever experienced. All because it's you. Because he gets you to feel like this. The fact you're so drunk on Minho gets him even more addicted to the feeling of your body shaking under him. So when your hips suddenly spring back to life rolling desperately against his and Minho's name seems to be the only coherent thought your brain can formulate, his desire increases tenfold. 

You have no control over how loud your moans or the smack of Minho's hips against yours are. He lowers you back on the bench and is fully above you in the blink of an eye—holding your face as he kisses you so deeply you struggle to keep up. His thrust become less timed but continue as deep as they were. Minho throws his head back, moaning loudly, but quickly brings his gaze back to your lips. His eyebrows are furrowed, lips touching yours as he whispers. 

“Come on, baby. You know how much I love to feel you coming around me. Be good.” 

Be good, be good. Of course you want to be good. When his lips touch yours again, euphoria explodes inside of you. Your eyes being squeezed shut seem to enhance your other senses a bit—you feel every inch of Minho's cock grinding inside you, his hands burning hot where they touch, his loud moans and the wetness spattering between your legs being the only things crystal clear in your cloudy mind.  

“Holy shit, fuck. I'm close, I'm so close.” He pants, face buried in your neck.  

Your weak hands gently soothe his back, you mindlessly mumble your words, “Wanna feel you coming inside me, love. Want it so bad.” 

His strong arms wrap around your waist when he comes, cock buried deep inside of you. Minho shudders with each movement of your hands against his skin, as you now gently scratch his back under his tank top. It feels like a long time has passed until he breaks the silence. 

“We're taking the numbing cream home, by the way.” He gets his face off your neck and rests his weight on his elbows. His right hand cups your jaw, thumb playing with your drooled lips. “You're not done paying for that attitude.”

[sturniqlo]

Piercings- C.S

summary: y/n has a surprise for chris which leads to something... more. BLURB

cw: cursing, SMUT; titty fucking, unprotected p in v (wrap it up), making out, creampie, hickies, oral!male, cum eating, fingering

an: looks like this concept won the poll but for the people who voted for the matt one, i WILL eventually post it @sturnluvs - wanted to be tagged (if u ever want to be tagged just comment)

masterlist

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"Hi, baby." Y/n walks through the door, making herself known to Chris. She can't help but bite her lip to suppress an excited smile. "Hi, babe. Missed you today. Had fun with your friends?" He walks through the foyer, seeing her taking her shoes off. "So much fun." She leans up to press her lips to his. He puts his hand on the small of her back and he bends forward slightly, making her arch her back. "I have a surprise for you." She murmurs against his lips. "Yeah?" He smirks. She hums.

After a couple more seconds of kissing they break the kiss. "Go sit on the bed." She ruffles his hair. "Okay, I like where this is going." Chris jokes, looking back as Y/n follows behind. "You're annoying." She laughs as she pushes his shoulders into the bedroom.

Chris follows past instructions and sits on the edge of the bed with her arms behind him. As she closes the door, she crosses her arms across her chest and walks towards her. "Close your eyes, baby." She whispers. "Okay." He closes his eyes and smirks. Y/n places each leg on either side of Chris' lap. "I'm loving your surprise so far." He starts to feel himself grow hard in his sweats. He pushes himself forward, eyes still closed, and puts his hands on her exposed torso. "You're about to love it even more I hope." She gets situated on his lap and reaches to the bottom of her shirt and carefully pulls it off.

"Fuck, did you take your shirt off?" Chris is definitely hard by now, and he fights the urge to take a peek. "Maybe." She says in a singsong tone. The cold wind hits her nipples making them pebble. She looks down, and sees that they look even better with a small silver bar between her nipples. She also catches a wet patch on Chris' grey sweats. "You're not wearing boxers?" He shakes his head. "Can I open my eyes now?" He asks. "Okay, go ahead."

Chris opens his eyes and is met with the sight of Y/n's tits in his face but, there's something decorating them. She got her nipples pierced. "Holy shit, babe." He moans at the sight and his dick gets even harder if that's even possible. "You like 'em?"She says. "Do I like them? Baby, I fucking love them. Oh my god." He slides his hands up to cup under each of her breasts. "Can I touch?" She nods. "Be gentle, they're a bit sore if there's too much pressure directly on them."

Chris gently swirls his finger across her left nipple and is in awe of her. "So pretty." He mumbles. Chris' gently puckers his lips and replaces his finger with his lips, leaving feather like kisses on her pebbled nipple. "Fuck, Chris." She whines. Her nipples even more sensitive. She feels her panties start to grow a wet patch. "Feels even better? Hm?" She nods and sighs with pleasure. Chris moves onto her right nipple, giving it the same attention.

Y/n slides her hand down to his bulge and squeezes. "You're so hard, baby." She gasps. Chris detaches himself from her and she lifts off his lap so she can tug his pants down. His cock springs out, his tip a bright pink leaking with pre-cum. "Can I?" He nods. She goes in her knees, and Chris scoots closer to the edge. Y/n grabs his dick. Spitting directly on it and watches it as it dibbles down, mixing with the milky liquid. "Please, baby." He whimpers. She kitten licks his tip before wrapping her mouth around his leaky tip. "Fuck, just like that." Chris grabs her hair and wraps it around his hand tugging gently.

She goes lower, taking as much as she can as tears fill her eyes from the pressure. "Doin' so good, lemme see my surprise, hm?" He pulls her hair so her mouth pops off. Instead, she pumps him in her hands as she arches her back. "You wanna fuck 'em?" He immediately nods. "Yes, yes, yes." He groans. "Go ahead, baby." Y/n says, pushing her chest forward, fixing her posture. Chris puts it cock in between here tits and Y/n gently squeezes them together. He start thrusting his hips forward and back.

"Holy fuck. Swear your tits were made for me." He throws his head back, moaning. "Yeah, you like fucking my tits?" She says, clenching her thighs together at the sight of a blissed out Chris. "Fucking love it." He moans. "Shit, squeeze me hard. M' almost there." She squeezes her tits hard together, loving the ache that comes with it. "Cum for me, Chris. Make a mess on me." With her words, he comes undone. "Holy- I'm cumming- fuck!" His cum paints her chest, she sticks her tongue out to catch any that lands on her face.

Chris, still semi-hard, throws himself back on the bed to try and catch his breath. Y/n gets up from her knees and unbuttons her jeans shorts and slides them down along with her thong. She climbs on his lap and leans over him. "That was hot." She says as Chris places his hands on her bare ass. He groans at the fact that she has taken her bottoms off. "Can I clean you up?" His eyes direct down to the cum on her collarbones and cleavage.

"Please do." She plants a kiss on his lips. They continue making out for a couple a minutes before Chris rolls them over without breaking the kiss and he's hovering over her. Disconnecting his lips from hers, she whines, Chris discards of his shirt before placing his lips back on hers. He breaks the kiss with biting her lip lightly and kissing down her jaw, to her neck, and licking his cum off of her. "Let me have a taste?" She pleads. Chris smirks, getting a finger and dragging it along a spurt of cum that landed where her boob starts. "Open up, ma." She sticks her tongue out, Chris placing his finger directly on her tongue, she closes her mouth around his finger and swirls her tongue around it, sucking on it here and there.

"Good girl." She lets go of his finger. He groans, going back to her neck. Kissing, sucking, biting. He leave a couple of hickies along her neck and on top of her tits. He loves seeing her littered with lovebites that he did and only he can see. "Want me to fuck your pretty pussy?" He whispers. Dragging a finger down her torso, stopping on top of her mound. "Yes, please, baby." She lifts her hips forward and his finger goes to her clit and she moans. "So greedy." He bits her neck. Rubbing her clit, she's a whimpering mess under him. "Let me stretch you first, yeah?" She nods fastly and he laughs. He drags his fingers down her slit and slowly pushes his finger in.

"Chris, oh my gosh." He slowly pulls his finger back and pushes it back in. "Want another?" He makes eye contact with her. Her eyes glosses over in pleasure and her cheeks a light shade of pink. "Yes, give me more." She whines. Chris wastes no time in inserting in middle finger. "Oh." She moans. "So wet, just for me right?" He continues to thrust his fingers in and out of her. The sound of her wetness makes his tip leak. "All for you. Just you, Chris." She brings her hand to the back of his head and kisses him and he fingers her.

Scissoring his fingers in her, makes her come closer to her orgasm. "Chris, I'm close. I want to cum on your cock." She pushes his hand away. Chris brings his hand up to his mouth and sucks his two fingers clean. Moaning at the taste of her arousal. "Ready?" He asks, as he lines his hard cock with her wet entrance. "Yes, so ready." He slowly pushes in until he bottoms out. "Oh shit." He pulls out until only his tip is inside of her. He slams his hips against her and they both moan loudly. "Fuck, Chris." As Chris thrusts his hips against her rapidly, he looks down to her tits and sees them bouncing, the shine of the bars between her nipples making him chase his orgasm faster.

"Fuck, babe. Look at your tits. So pretty." He brings a hand up and gently squeezes it. Y/n moans. "I'm so close." She feels the pressure in her lower belly. "Come for me, Y/n. Fucking wet my cock." He continues fucking her fast, his eyes looking up to her eyes and back down to her tits.

"I'm cumming, fuck- shit." She yells, baby hairs sticking to her forehead. Cheeks now a bright pink. "Fuck, I'm almost there." Chris groans, feeling her orgasm wetting his cock even more. "Shit, where do you want me to cum?" He says, out of breath. "Inside of me. Fill me up." She arches her back as she starts to feel sensitive. "Holy sh- I'm cumming. Fuck, fuck, fuck." He cums inside of her. Riding out his high.

Chris slowly pulls out, seeing the mixture of both of their cums leaking out of her. "Look that that, my god." He moans. Chris lazily lays down next to her. "I'm taking you like my new piercings?" She laughs. "Just a bit." He makes them laugh even more.

"Can I fuck them again?"

[suzukiblu]

Excerpt from the one where Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it.

(The read-more is definitely necessary, length-wise. I . . . got very into this idea and frankly this is barely a third of it so far, lol.)

"So, uh . . ." Kon says, skeptically eyeing the softly glowing rock in his hand. Metallo, like, threw it at his head. He has no idea why. "Is this supposed to do something or . . . ?"

"It's pink," Kara says leerily, staying very firmly back. Like, unexpectedly far back, in fact.

"Yeah, I'm not actually blind, thanks," Kon says, turning the rock over and squinting at it. It continues not to do anything, aside from the glowing thing.

"No, it's pink kryptonite," she stresses.

". . . it literally doesn't hurt at all, though?" Kon says. Though he probably should've figured it was some kind of kryptonite, given that Metallo had it and had apparently thought he could hurt him with it.

Seriously, though, his gloves are fingerless and he's got it right in his hand. It should be hurting him, if it's actually kryptonite.

"Pink kryptonite doesn't work like that," Kara says, edging a little farther back. They're floating a few hundred feet in the air right now, but from the way she's acting Kon's vaguely concerned that he might be about to explode or something. "It just affects our sexual . . . urges."

"Oh," Kon says, frowning in confusion. Weird, but . . . "Is that all?"

"I don't mean like it makes you horny, Kon, I mean like it makes you homosexual," Kara hisses, looking mortified. "And don't ask how I know, alright?!"

Kon . . . blinks.

"What the literal fuck?" he asks incredulously, just staring at her. "How does that even–are you telling me Metallo went and chucked gay kryptonite at me in the middle of a fight?"

"Yes!" Kara says, still clearly mortified. "So just–just stay over there with it until somebody shows up with a lead box, okay?! The effects will stop after we get it contained."

"Alright, alright. So then do you think the dude was flirting with me or is he just a fucking idiot?" Kon jokes, balancing the kryptonite on his index finger with his TTK. "Although I really don't think he'd be my type either way. Like, nothing against cyborgs in general, obviously, just the whole thing with him being a murderous supervillain who literally runs on kryptonite seems like it'd make us totally star-crossed. I want somebody I can actually commit to, you know?"

"Sure," Kara says, still eyeing the kryptonite with serious trepidation. It's really not helping Kon feel less like a time bomb, to be honest. Is there like some other side effect that he should be worrying about right now or something? Like, is he missing something here?

"You seem kinda high-strung about this," he observes, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Look, you'd have avoided it too if you'd dealt with it before!" she says protestingly. "So stay over there and definitely keep it away from Kal, I don't know if Jimmy ever really recovered from the last time."

"Oh, well, congrats to Jimmy, I guess," Kon says, since he can't really see a downside to scoring a one-night stand with Superman. Like, a downside for somebody who isn't literally his clone, he means. The clone thing would definitely make it weird.

Just it's also Clark, though, so he'd probably be the generous type in bed. Like, the sort to really take care of somebody. Be as gentle as happened to be appropriate but also be down if his partner maybe wanted it a little rough for whatever reason. And he'd definitely be able to go all night. Again, Kon isn't gonna go there himself, it really would be too weird, but he can make a logical conclusion. Extrapolate one. Whatever.

Then again he'd be down with Power Girl absolutely destroying him whenever the fuck she wanted to and she's genetically his . . . some form of cousin or something, he guesses. His half-cousin from another reality. So really, Clark's not even that weird an option. And like, all appearances aside Kon's a binary clone anyway, not even a one-for-one match, sooooo . . .

Actually it's probably weirder that he thinks Power Girl is so unspeakably hot but comparatively Kara is just . . . fine? Like, that's a little odd, isn't it?

Maybe it's an attitude thing. Or the costume.

Might be safe to blame the costume, yeah.

It's just such a good costume. Like, Kon aspires to reach that level of costume.

But really, all that aside he still doesn't even know what the big deal about temporarily going gay is, although to be fair he's also currently talking to Supergirl and not, like . . . literally any dude whatsoever. So like, who knows how weird this stuff might actually make him under those circumstances. Maybe it like fucks with inhibitions and stuff too?

Yeah, hell if he knows. He's really only dealt with green kryptonite before. He was vaguely aware that other colors existed and apparently did different stuff, but . . . this just seems very different, put it that way.

Maybe best to avoid Jimmy Olsen for a little while, Kon decides privately. The guy probably doesn't need that.

Besides, Clark apparently got there first anyway and Kon just really doesn't want to be worrying about measuring up. Miss him with that, thanks.

. . . although maybe he'll go visit Tim later.

Eh, no, Kara made it sound like the pink K's gonna stop affecting him pretty quick once they box it up, so not much point in bothering. Though maybe he'll visit just to hang, come to think of it; they haven't seen each other in almost a whole week. Well, he hasn't seen Tim, at least–who knows how much Bat-surveillance Tim's seen him through.

Kon should maybe sweep his room for bugs again. Note to self.

Although would it be weird to just like . . . keep the pink kryptonite, maybe? Since it apparently doesn't actually hurt anyone or anything? Because that could be, well . . . just interesting, that's all. Like, Kon is open to exploring that experience. Just–as an experience.

"Actually, you're surprisingly not high-strung about this," Kara says.

"Am I?" Kon asks. "I mean, it's not that big a deal, is it?"

She stares at him.

"Kon," she says slowly. "Pink kryptonite affects your sexuality. It makes you attracted to people you're not normally attracted to. It confuses you and everyone around you and it is really freaking embarrassing to explain afterwards."

"I've been mind-controlled into shaving my head and breaking my best friend's arm," Kon says, continuing to not really see what the big deal is. "That was embarrassing. And fucking traumatic. This? This is just kinda weird."

"Only kinda?" Kara asks incredulously. "You're one of the straightest guys I know! How are you just fine with this?!"

"I mean to be fair, that's probably making some unfair generalizations about straight guys," Kon points out. Kara stares at him. "What?"

"I don't even know how to respond to that," she says.

"Sorry?" Kon says, then tucks the pink kryptonite into his jacket pocket with a shrug. He's not trying to hide it or anything; just getting kinda sick of holding it. And it's that or he either ditches it somewhere or starts tossing it around and that'd probably be . . . just, well, absolutely epically stupid of him.

Or it seems like it would be, anyway. Whatever color it is, it's still kryptonite.

"I mentioned keeping that away from Kal, right?" Kara says.

"Yeah, on that note, are they like . . . done down there yet?" Kon asks, glancing down towards the mess of the street that Clark's standing on a few hundred feet below with a whole bunch of randos from S.T.A.R. Labs, for some reason. Somebody mentioned something about neutralizing Metallo's kryptonite heart without actually killing him, but mostly it was science talk and clearly theoretical anyway so to be honest Kon'd kinda tuned it all out as "not currently relevant", and that's all he knows.

"Definitely not," Kara says.

"I'm gonna call Robin while we're killing time, then," Kon says, pulling out his phone.

"You're going to call your closest male friend," Kara says. "Right now. While you've got pink kryptonite in your pocket."

"Yup," Kon says, already pulling up Tim's contact.

"Can you not see how that might be a bad idea at the moment?" Kara asks. "Not in any way whatsoever?"

"Well I'm not calling Impulse," Kon replies reasonably. Kara stares at him again, for some reason.

Eh, whatever.

He calls Tim.

"Hey, Conner, what's up?" Tim answers distractedly, which Kon doesn't hold against him because when isn't Tim distracted, really. Dude's got too much going on in that head of his, for real. He's just glad the guy ever picks up the phone at all.

"So apparently I'm gay right now," Kon greets conversationally, figuring he should lead with that just in case he actually is about to do something embarrassing to explain. "Pink kryptonite is fucking weird, man."

". . . uh," Tim says as Kara covers her face with her hands. "What?"

"Pink kryptonite makes you gay, Kara says," Kon says. "And we're both just kind of chilling above downtown Metropolis waiting for Kal to finish up with the science-y people so we can get said pink K locked up, so I'm bored out of my mind right now and calling you to complain about it."

"You're calling me," Tim says slowly. "While you're . . . gay."

"What, is he asking to come over?" another voice asks from the phone, sounding amused. It takes Kon a second to recognize it, but–oh yeah, that's the mysterious Bernard, isn't it?

Right, Tim has a boyfriend now. Kon's never actually met him on account of being the worst at secret identities and the whole thing that is Bernard living very firmly in Gotham, land of "no metas allowed unless you're either a supervillain or Batman's too dead to stop you", but he's heard him over the phone a couple times now, although they've never actually personally talked. So maybe thinking about Tim while being high on pink kryptonite isn't actually, like, kosher? Or polite. Or whatever.

. . . then again, Bernard did ask.

"I don't know, maybe?" Kon says thoughtfully, considering the idea. "Are you open to me coming over?"

"Yes," Bernard says.

"Bernard," Tim says.

"Babe, I know we're pretending I don't know you're an ass-kicking vigilante and all but come on, don't make me turn down Superboy," Bernard says wryly.

"We're–wait, pretending?!" Tim sputters.

"Pretending so, so hard," Bernard confirms, sounding nothing but fond. Kon's actually a little jealous of that tone of voice, he's gotta admit. Like–it's been a bit since anybody's talked to him that way, is all. "But like, if you actually thought you were being subtle maybe you shouldn't talk about kryptonite on the phone right in front of me or put themed emojis next to all your superfriends' civilian names in your contacts list?"

"Oh my god, you do that?!" Kon asks with a gleeful cackle, immediately forgetting everything else in favor of that absolutely delightful piece of information. "You're the worst! Batman just rolled over in his grave and Oracle is absolutely losing her shit on the other end of her wiretap!"

"B's not even dead right now," Tim says in exasperation. "And if O cared she'd have already hacked my phone and changed them. And for the record plenty of people put random superhero emojis next to their friends' names, that's a totally normal thing to do!"

"Usually the random superhero emojis aren't associated with contact pics that are dead fucking ringers for said superheroes," Bernard says, sounding amused again. "Just as a thing and all."

". . . anyway so you're gay today, how's that going for you, Conner?" Tim says as Bernard laughs gleefully in the background. "Triggering any unfortunate mental health crisises or anything? Making you worry about the validity of your masculinity? Because I can safely assure you that's all bullshit and you're fine."

"Naw, I know all that, being gay is just a thing," Kon says with a shrug. "Kara's being a little weird about it but honestly it's going way better than, like, the times supervillains mind-controlled me into being into them. Like just as an overall experience, I mean."

"Wait, how many times has that come up?" Tim asks in bemusement.

"I dunno?" Kon shrugs again. "I mean you were there for the Poison Ivy incident, and then Gorgeous Gilly happened to me a while later, which was, uh, genuinely horrifying because she tried to literally marry me during all that, so . . . I think just the twice, probably? But don't quote me on that, I don't even remember what I had for breakfast."

"And how is Kara being weird, exactly?" Tim says in his very unsubtle "assessing my teammate's psychological condition" voice.

"Oh, she's mostly just avoiding me?" Kon says, as a guy who's personally not really all that concerned with his psychological condition at the moment. "Because I've got the rock in my pocket on account of not wanting to just leave it lying around somewhere and she doesn't want to get affected by it. I don't know why, I don't really get why it matters."

"I mean it matters, definitely," Bernard says. "Like it very strongly matters to a lot of people."

"Fair, but I think we're all too invulnerable to really have to worry about getting gay-bashed or anything," Kon reasons. "Like, at least not as a heat of the moment thing."

". . . god can you imagine the world we would live in if every piece of shit gay-basher had to deal with the consequences of punching fucking Superman?" Bernard says feelingly. "For real."

"Oh, pink K's temporary," Kon clarifies. "Kal's not gay anymore."

"Hold up, I'm sorry, are you saying that at some point he was?" Bernard demands in obvious delight. "Is that what you're telling me right now?"

"I guess he was into redheads?" Kon says, tilting his head. "Slightly twinky redheads, specifically. Which I don't blame him for, I'm gonna be honest."

"Well now I know that forever, thanks," Tim says dryly.

"Alternate option: he could've been into Batman," Kon points out.

"Redheads it is," Tim says. "You just . . . redhead away over there."

"I mean I thought about it, kinda," Kon admits.

"Ngh," Tim says, for some reason.

"No thinking about Batman, though?" Bernard asks with a snicker.

"Not so much," Kon says, making a face. "Did consider having some Superman thoughts but I'm apparently not that narcissistic, surprisingly enough."

"Kon!" Kara chokes.

"Tell me you've never considered having Superman thoughts and I'll tell you you're a fucking liar," Kon snorts, shooting her a dry look. "Weren't you like totally naked when you first showed up on Earth? And then he found you like that and wrapped you up in his cape all nice and gentlemanly and took you home with him?"

"He is my baby cousin and you're being affected by pink kryptonite poisoning!" Kara accuses, her face bright red.

"Wait, is it actually poisoning me?" Kon says with a frown. "I feel like you should've led with it actually poisoning me, if that's actually a thing."

"Well no, not actually, it's physically harmless," Kara says grudgingly, folding her arms. "But you're still being affected! You're having Superman thoughts, of all things!"

"He just seems like he'd be considerate," Kon says reasonably. "Like, you know. Biblically."

"Ngh," Tim says, again for no apparent reason. Bernard sounds like he might be laughing. Or choking? Or maybe both; it's unclear.

"Please don't hit on Kal," Kara says. "Especially don't hit on Kal with pink kryptonite in your pocket. I don't want to know how that situation would end up."

"Ideally with him being considerate," Kon says. Tim chokes. Kara covers her face again.

"Does pink kryptonite affect your inhibitions too or are you just always like this?" Bernard asks curiously.

"Eh, pretty sure I'm just always like this, going by the things I've definitely still not been forgiven for saying to Power Girl," Kon says, idly tapping a finger against the side of his phone case. "Like, pretty damn sure at this point."

"That is unfortunately accurate," Tim agrees resignedly.

"So you're saying it is ethically okay to have Superboy over while he's gay," Bernard says in a promisingly speculative tone. Kon grins. Just a little, but yeah–definitely he grins. Kara grimaces, because she is absolutely no fun whatsoever.

Spoilsport.

"I did not in any way say that," Tim retorts dubiously.

"I mean that's what I heard, man, and I'm the one with super-hearing in this conversation," Kon says with a wider grin. "My inhibitions are all inhibited and my personal opinions of people are all the same, I'm just currently batting for the other team."

"So your normal opinion of me is that if you were gay, you'd come over," Tim says dryly.

"Yeah?" Kon says, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, obviously."

"How is that obvious?" Tim says.

"Because I already come over every time you let me," Kon reminds him.

"Oh yeah?" Bernard says slyly. "And how often does he let you come, exactly?"

"Not often enough," Kon replies honestly, and doesn't even bite at the obvious dumb sex joke Bernard so thoughtfully set up for him even though it is frankly painful not to.

"Ngh," Tim says. Kon continues not to understand the reason for him repeatedly making that same weird little noise, but whatever, he guesses. It's Tim, maybe he's stitching his own bullet wounds again or something. Guy's a multi-tasker like that.

"You know this would probably make for a fascinating case study about sexuality, actually," Bernard says musingly. "I mean, all I intend to do is abuse the situation to get into your very tight tights, but seriously, maybe we should all be taking notes or something."

"Ugh, hell no, Rob'll go full Bat if we let him do that," Kon snorts, then smirks. "He can take pictures, though, I know he's into that."

"Ngh," Tim says yet again, accompanied by a weird random "thump". If Kon didn't know better, he'd think he'd just fallen off a chair or something.

"Aw dammit, dude, I think I actually like you as a person now," Bernard says, sniggering. "Are you keeping the kryptonite? Please keep the kryptonite. Like, just for Valentine's and Tim's birthday, that's all I ask."

"Honestly don't know if Superman's gonna let me but I do kinda wanna," Kon admits. It seems pretty convenient, really. And definitely fun.

". . . and you're sure his inhibitions and opinions aren't being influenced in any way, Kara?" Tim asks suspiciously.

"He's really just like this, yeah," Kara says resignedly. "Well admittedly Kal spontaneously developed opinions on window treatments and used the word 'smashing' in cold blood when it happened to him, but that might've just been him sucking at flirting. Because he really does suck at flirting."

"What about when it was you?" Kon asks curiously.

"No one ever said it happened to me," Kara says.

"You kinda implied–"

"No one ever said it happened to me," Kara repeats, narrowing her eyes at him and doing an impressively bad job of acting like she's not blushing.

So it definitely happened to her, yeah.

"Okaaaaay, we'll pretend about that too then," Bernard says. "Well, what are your opinions on window treatments, Conner?"

"That I don't know what they are," Kon says.

"Sounds like he's in his right mind to me," Bernard says.

"He is absolutely not," Kara retorts dubiously.

"I really don't feel weird or anything, I swear," Kon tells her, since he still doesn't get the problem but also doesn't actually want to worry her either. "I don't even feel any different."

"Kon, you are hitting on your best friend and his boyfriend," Kara says. "Together. At once. Simultaneously, one might even say."

"You've met Wonder Girl and Arrowette before, right?" Kon says. "And both the Batgirls? And–"

"Oh my god, Kon," she cuts him off.

"Just saying," he says, then pauses for a moment and frowns consideringly. "Actually, question, how gay is this stuff making me, because while we're on the topic of threeways I kinda always wondered about what Starfire and Nightwing get up to together and if–"

"KON!" Kara yells, covering her ears.

"I'm just asking," he huffs.

"I don't know if it's actually possible to be gay enough to not be into Starfire," Bernard says musingly. "Like I can't imagine how it ever could be."

"Right?" Kon says.

"It's possible to not be into Starfire," Tim says. "Like, theoretically. Asexuals and aromantics both exist, for one."

"Do they?" Kon says doubtfully. "Like in general, sure, but when around specifically Starfire?"

". . . I can't technically prove you wrong due to a lack of reliable evidence but still," Tim says. "The possibility is there. If nothing else the multiverse is a thing."

"Last time I saw her she was wearing half a gold lamé bikini and I am not going to tell you which half or define how loosely I am using the term 'wearing'," Kon says.

"I said it's possible, not probable," Tim says.

"What about you, man, are you the gold lamé type?" Bernard asks with a teasing snicker. "Just while you're gay and all, of course. That's like, practically a cultural thing. Gotta be authentic to the experience, yeah?"

"That is in no way whatsoever a cultural thing, babe," Tim says dubiously.

"Please, like I've never worn freaking lamé," Kon scoffs. "I've worn collars and loincloths and leather and crop tops and enough unnecessary belts to tie up a Bat, lamé is nothing."

"Collars and . . . loincloths?" Bernard repeats, sounding confused.

"Yeah, this one time I crash-landed on a lost isle of beast-men and they kidnapped and enslaved me for a few months," Kon explains, waving a hand distractedly. "Frankly I count myself lucky they even let me have the collar, much less the loincloth."

". . . um," Bernard says.

"You, uh, never mentioned the collar part of that story before, Kon," Tim says, clearing his throat. "You very definitely never mentioned the collar part of that story before."

"Oh yeah, the prince kinda kept me as his pet for a little bit?" Kon tells him with an easy shrug. "Like he and all his buddies ganged up on me and then took me home with them, but I was kinda . . . feral, I guess? Technically? So like, collar and chain setup. But he was cool, he took real good care of me."

"Ngh," Tim says just barely faintly.

"Yeah you should definitely come over," Bernard says. "Tim, get the check. Conner, exactly how super is your super-speed?"

"You can just call me Kon," Kon says. "And . . . mach 3, last I clocked it?"

"Isn't that like two thousand miles per hour?" Bernard asks.

"Two thousand two hundred and twenty-three point three," Kon replies with a pleased smirk. "Faster than a speeding bullet. Or so they tell me."

"We'll just meet you at Tim's, how's that," Bernard says. "That work for you, Kon?"

"That works for me, Bernard," Kon confirms, smirking wider.

"Oh my god, Kon, you cannot possibly be serious right now," Kara says in exasperation, rubbing at her temples. "Just because you're temporarily gay doesn't mean you should do anything about it!"

"I mean, I'm feeling pretty serious?" Kon says, shrugging again. He still doesn't get why she's being so sensitive about this. "It's not like this is the weirdest thing I've ever done in pursuit of a good time. Like, holy hell, lemme tell you about the Ravers sometime."

"You're going to have to look Robin in the eye after this!" Kara says. "And work with him! And be a normal person in his presence! Normally!"

"I'm aware?" Kon says, vaguely bemused by her concern. Like he's never been normal around somebody he's slept with before, geez. "Tell Kal I ran off with the pink K, if he wants to lock it up in the Fortress or wherever I can bring it back tomorrow."

"Maybe Monday," Bernard says.

"Or maybe Monday," Kon amends.

"It's Thursday!" Kara sputters.

"So it's a long weekend," Bernard says.

"I'm not explaining this to Kal," Kara says. "I'm not explaining this to Batman."

"I really don't see why you'd have to," Kon says. "Rob, you cool with the long weekend thing? Not too much of an imposition?"

". . . I got the check," Tim mutters in obvious and absolute mortification.

Kon's gonna take that as a "yes".

"Cool," he says, grinning broadly. "See you soon, Boy Wonder."

He ends the call. Kara drags her hands down her face and continues to stay very far away from him and the pink kryptonite in his pocket.

"When you go back to normal and freak out and make everything weird with Robin and your team and even Robin's literal boyfriend, I'm going to say so many 'I told you so's," she swears vehemently. "So don't say I didn't warn you."

"Your objection is on the record," Kon says, then tosses her a lazy salute with another grin and takes off, kryptonite and all.

Best to just scarper while Clark's distracted, yeah?

Definitely best.

[gavramous]

gaz is out of commission after a rough mission. a broken arm, some bruised ribs, and a minor concussion have left him on bed rest in a hospital close to base. he gets visits daily, from his sister who happens to live nearby, and from price, ghost, and soap, keeping him up to date with the happenings at work.

the recruits are a pain in the arse, as always, soap tells him. price lets him know that there's no update on makarov at the moment, but laswell is chasing a potential lead, so fingers crossed. but ghost, after he's asked how gaz is feeling, usually just sits there, reading a book. not that gaz is complaining, because, if he asks, ghost will tell him what's happening in the story.

he apprciates it all, their comraderie, their care for him. they don't have to visit him so much, with their busy schedules, but they do, and he treasures their relationships.

it's ghosts 'turn' to sit with him for the day. they don't actually hold any sort of consistent order for when they visit him, but price said that one time, and it's stuck. ghost had walked into gaz's room with two apples and sat down on the chair to gaz's left. he immediately pulled out a mean looking knife - how he was able to get that thing through the hospital to his room, gaz has no idea - and starts slicing the first apple.

"how'r you faring then?"

"horribly, sir," gaz tells him. he's said this every day since he's been admitted. he's not really doing horribly. well, not physically, at least. sure, his ribs still ache, but he's mainly just bored out of his mind.

"mm, you don't look too good."

seems ghost is over his pessimism. "how kind you are to me."

ghost tuts, and holds out a slice of apple for him.

"what's this?"

"an apple, garrick, you're not that far gone, are you?"

"oh, full of jokes today, huh? obviously i'm asking why you're cutting me up an apple like you're my mum."

"ought not to question your mother so much, hm? just take it."

so gaz does. he's never one to turn down fresh fruit. through his chewing, gaz thanks ghost. ghost hums in acknowledgement, and there's silence as gaz eats. once he's done, ghost cuts and hands him another slice.

ghost breaks the silence after a bit. "it's weird, you know that?"

"what is?"

"your addiction to apples."

"i'm not addicted."

"no?" ghost challenges. "you eat at least one every day."

"what are you even paying that much attention for?" gaz questions.

"can learn a whole lot from observation." ghost shrugs as he hands him another slice.

"yeah? from eating habits?" gaz takes the offered slice.

"like you wouldn't believe." ghost is obviously joking. okay, maybe it's not obvious, gaz isn't soap, with his eerie ability to read ghost's jokes and moods like an open book with size 60 font, but he's getting there. and he's pretty sure ghost is joking right now. so he chuckles and says, "you're full of it."

ghost waves his knife in gaz's direction. "watch yourself, sargeant," he says, eyes crinkled slightly, pleased that gaz understood he was joking.

ghost is a little weird like that, gaz thinks. he's subtle and dry with his humour, leaving it up to others to figure out if he's serious or not, and he always seems pleased when people get he's joking. maybe it's his way of being seen. gaz is assuming now, he knows, but he's got nothing else to do, cooped up in this room. he enjoys trying to decipher the way his friends work every now and then. he feels he understands them better this way.

"why'r you fueling my addiction then?" gaz jokes back, "you obviously disapprove of my habits."

ghost doesn't answer. instead, after a minute or so, he asks, "you want another slice?"

"yes please."

he's hit with a wave of appreciation for ghost in that moment. he's found somewhat of a family in this team, and he'll value it for as long as they're able to work together.

[mythicalmaven]

Untamed Desires | Lando Norris

This is a sequel to Secret Desires(pt.1) & Revealed Desires(pt.2) -But it could technically also be read seperately-

Masterlist

So, I decided to make a part three, since a few of you asked for another sequel! :) Hope you all like it & let me know if you want another part, because if enough people want that, I can make work of that :)

↳pairing: Lando Norris x f!verstappen!reader ↳word count: 4,7K ↳summary: In which the story continues after the reader (Max Verstappen's twin sister) had a rather spicy text exchange with Lando, leading two them tangled up in the sheets, unfolding into an interesting morning in her bed. Followed by an awkward , yet hilarious encounter with Max (I wrote the interaction between the reader and Max in English. I know they're supposed to talk Dutch with each other, but it was too much of a hassle to write everything in Dutch & then put the English translation behind it lol. So that's why) ↳content warnings: reader is Max Verstappen's twin sister, Lando is her best friend, but also more, friends to lovers, sexual tension, kissing, dirty talk, smut, 18+ content (MDNI!), explicit sexual content, handjob, blowjob, p in v, making love, praise kink.

The soft glow of the morning sun started to peek through the curtains of your Monaco apartment. The apartment you shared with your twin, Max. You stirred awake, a gentle warmth wrapping around you, and it took only a second to recognize the familiar touch—it was Lando. You looked down at yourself and saw you were wearing nothing but Lando's shirt from the day before. The memories of yesterday came rushing back, a small smile creeping onto your lips as you felt the steady rhythm of his breathing against your neck, his breath gently tickling the shell of your ear. He stirred, pulling you even closer into him.

“Good morning, love,” he whispered, his voice still thick with sleep as he pressed a tender kiss into your hair.

You turned in his embrace to face him, his arms instinctively tightening around you as his hand moved up to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You smiled at him, warmth flooding your chest. “Hi,” you murmured, the butterflies that had fluttered in your stomach yesterday still very much alive, if not more so now.

Lando’s gaze flickered to your lips before returning to your eyes—the eyes he could get lost in forever. His heart skipped a beat, nervousness creeping into his expression. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice hesitant, like he feared you’d regret what had happened yesterday.

A soft giggle escaped you, rolling your eyes playfully. “Of course you can kiss me, sukkel,” (idiot) you teased, using the affectionate insult, “I thought I made that clear yesterday.”

He let out a relieved breath, resting his forehead gently against yours. “Just wanted to make sure you’re still feeling that way,” he said softly, his voice filled with warmth. “I didn’t want to cross a line... just in case.”

An idea sparked in your mind, and a cheeky grin spread across your face. Slowly, you trailed your hand up his chest, your fingers brushing lightly over his skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps as they ventured down to his lower abdomen. You paused there, feeling his breath catch in his throat at your touch.

Lando’s lips twitched into a knowing smile when he saw the mischievous look in your eyes. “What are you planning?” he asked, his voice low and playful.

Without answering, you pushed lightly against his abdomen, flipping him onto his back with a confident smirk. You moved gracefully, straddling him, your hips settling over his. You leaned down until your lips hovered dangerously close to his, barely an inch separating them. “Showing you just how much I don’t regret yesterday,” you whispered, your breath warm against his mouth.

Lando’s eyes darkened with desire, and before either of you could say another word, your lips met in a slow, tender kiss. His hands came up to cradle your face, holding you close as his lips moved against yours with an almost unbearable softness, as though he was savoring every second, every sensation. His thumb caressed your cheek, and you felt the heat of his touch seeping into your skin, making your heart pound in your chest.

The kiss deepened, but it remained slow, deliberate. You could feel Lando’s love in every movement of his lips, in the way his hands began to roam, one slipping down to your waist, the other tangling gently in your hair. His fingers threaded through the strands, and the tender pull made you sigh softly against his mouth. You felt him sitting up, pulling your body even closer to his, you still straddled on his hips. Lando's lips parted slightly, and you felt the soft glide of his tongue against yours, the intimacy of the moment overwhelming. The taste of him, the way his tongue explored you with gentle strokes, sent shivers down your spine.

Your hands weren’t idle either. You traced the outline of his jaw, letting your fingers travel down the curve of his neck and across his shoulders, feeling the strength beneath your touch. You pressed closer, feeling his chest rise and fall with each deep breath he took. Your hands traveled lower, caressing his sides before resting on his hips. Lando groaned softly into the kiss, the sound vibrating between your lips as his fingers tightened their grip on your waist.

Time seemed to slow down as the kiss stretched on, building in intensity but never losing its tenderness. Lando’s hands moved restlessly, like he couldn’t get enough of you. He pulled you closer, his grip on your waist firm as if he needed you nearer. His other hand, still tangled in your hair, gave a gentle tug, tipping your head back slightly so he could kiss you deeper. You felt yourself melting into him, lost in the slow, sensual rhythm of his mouth moving against yours, in the feel of his hands on your body.

The passion between you grew, and with it, Lando’s control began to slip. His kisses became a little more desperate, his hands more insistent as they roamed over your hips and down to your thighs, squeezing gently before moving up to your waist again. You could feel his need, the way his body responded to yours, and it made heat pool low in your belly.

As you shifted slightly on top of him, you felt something hard pressing against you, and you couldn’t help but grin against his lips. Lando groaned, his head falling back slightly as he bit his lip, embarrassed by his body’s reaction.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, breathless, his face flushed.

Your grin only widened. “Don’t be,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing as you ground your hips down slightly against him, feeling the way his body tensed beneath you. The friction between you only fueled the fire building between you, the kiss becoming even more heated as Lando’s hands gripped your hips tighter.

The sexual tension between you skyrocketed, the air thick with desire. You could feel Lando’s heart racing, matching the wild rhythm of your own, and the way his body responded to every little movement of yours sent a wave of electricity through you. But despite the growing heat, the kiss remained filled with the same tenderness, the same love, making the moment all the more intense.

Lando pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours as he gazed into your eyes, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and filled with adoration.

A teasing smile played on your lips as you bit down gently, eyes locked with Lando’s, your fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path down his chest. Without breaking eye contact, you gave him a gentle but firm push, guiding him onto his back once again. His breath hitched, anticipation crackling in the air between you.

You lowered yourself, your lips brushing softly over the curve of his neck, leaving a trail of delicate kisses that sent shivers through his entire body. Lando sucked in a sharp breath, his pulse quickening as your hand traveled down, pressing firmly against his chest for balance. The intimacy of your touch was electrifying. Every small, purposeful movement of yours had his heart racing, but there was something more—a nervous excitement that swirled through him, making his breath stutter.

Though you had shared this closeness the night before, it still felt new, raw, and it was enough to leave Lando slightly vulnerable beneath you. His hands twitched by his sides, unsure whether to grasp the sheets or pull you closer. That same nervous energy made him even more aware of every inch of his skin that was under your touch.

“You know… yesterday,” you murmured softly against his neck, your voice a sultry whisper that sent another wave of shivers down his spine. “You made me feel incredible, Lando. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

A soft moan escaped his lips, but he tried to hide it behind a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering closed as your hand drifted lower. “I—” Lando stammered, but the words died in his throat as your lips trailed down to his collarbone, and then lower, over his chest, pressing soft kisses against his warm skin.

“I loved every second of it,” you continued, your words making his heart pound faster, your lips brushing against him with each syllable. “You made me feel things I didn’t know were possible. Do you have any idea what that does to me?”

Lando’s breath hitched again, and he let out a quiet, almost desperate groan as your hand finally made its way to the waistband of his boxers, palming him through the thin fabric. His hips involuntarily lifted at your touch, a needy sound escaping his lips that he couldn’t suppress. The pressure of your hand sent jolts of pleasure coursing through him, his body reacting immediately to your slow, teasing touch.

“God, you’re—” His voice faltered, his head falling back into the pillow as he exhaled shakily. His fingers clenched the sheets beneath him, the tension in his body building as your hand moved over him, still with that maddeningly gentle pace.

You felt him twitch beneath your touch, the thin material of his boxers doing little to hide how much he wanted you. Your gaze traveled down his body, and you smirked at the sight of him beneath you, utterly at your mercy. You pressed another kiss, this time just above the waistband of his boxers, and he groaned again, his hips lifting in response.

“Do you want me to touch you?” you whispered against his skin, your lips lingering against his abdomen, feeling the way his muscles tightened under your touch. “Tell me, Lan”

Lando’s breath was shaky, but he couldn’t hold back anymore. “Yes.. I want… I want you, love. Please,” he managed, his voice barely more than a breathless plea. His heart raced in his chest, every nerve on fire as your fingers dipped beneath the waistband of his boxers, teasing him.

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, locking eyes as you hooked your fingers around the waistband. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the playful glint in your eyes, the way your lips curled into that teasing smile of yours. Lando’s mind raced, anticipation and excitement swirling together as you pressed a soft kiss just above the fabric, your fingers tugging slightly.

Lando lifted his hips eagerly, his body trembling under your touch, helping you slide his boxers down. His breathing was labored, chest rising and falling as his heart pounded with nervous excitement. Even after everything that had happened yesterday, there was something about the way you touched him now, the slow teasing pace you were setting, that had his body buzzing with anticipation, leaving him on edge.

You didn’t rush—your hands moved deliberately, almost reverently, exploring every inch of him as though you were memorizing every detail. Lando’s voice was raw as he praised you between soft moans, his hands tangling in the sheets, helpless under your touch.

Gently, your took him in your hand, your fingers wrapping around him, stroking him slowly, teasingly. Lando’s breath caught again, his entire body responding to you in ways he couldn’t control.

“God… you’re incredible,” Lando breathed, his voice shaky. He felt like he was losing control, his nerves on fire with every soft stroke of your fingers. “Please… don’t stop.”

You chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against his skin as your lips moved lower. “I’m not planning on stopping anytime soon,” you purred.

He let out another moan, louder this time, his hips bucking up into your hand. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice breaking with need. His fingers finally reached out, tangling in your hair, desperate for more, desperate for you.

Your touch grew firmer, more assured, and Lando couldn’t hold back the sounds that spilled from his lips. “Yes… just like that,” he panted, his head falling back against the pillow. “You’re… perfect.”

You smiled at his praise, feeling the power you had over him. Leaning down, you let your lips follow the path your hand had taken, placing a series of slow, sensual kisses along his length. Lando’s breath hitched, and he let out a deep, throaty moan as your tongue flicked against him, his entire body tensing under the overwhelming pleasure.

“Oh God, yes,” Lando gasped, his hand tightening in your hair. He was so vocal, every sound that escaped him only driving you to tease him more. “Please… please don’t stop.”

His hips lifted again, begging for more contact, but you kept your pace slow, wanting to savor every moment, every reaction. “You like that?” you asked softly, your lips brushing against him.

“Fuck… yes, yes, I do,” Lando stammered, his voice shaky with desire. “You’re… you’re driving me crazy.”

You smirked at his words, loving how undone he was beneath you. “Good,” you murmured.

You continued to kiss and tease him, taking your time, building the tension higher and higher until the room was filled with nothing but the sound of his labored breathing and the soft moans that fell from his lips. The more vocal he became, the more you wanted to push him to the edge, and you could feel the tension rising between you both, thick with desire.

Just when you sensed Lando was about to unravel beneath you, you lifted your lips from him, your breath warm against his skin as you kissed your way back up his trembling body. Your lips brushed along his chest, up to his neck, before you paused at his ear, your voice low, dripping with seduction. “I want you inside me, Lando,” you whispered, the words slipping from your lips like a promise, your tone sending a shiver down his spine.

“Fucking hell…” Lando’s voice came out in a shaky breath, a groan immediately following as he tried to steady himself. His eyes fluttered open, gazing up at you, and the sight had him nearly undone all over again. You were straddling him, still wearing his shirt from the day before. The way it hung loosely on your frame, the fabric just barely grazing your thighs, drove him wild. It was such a simple thing, but on you? It was the sexiest sight he’d ever seen.

Before he could fully process your words, he noticed you shifting, adjusting your hips. His mind raced, realizing too late what you were about to do. And before he could even react, you sank down on him, the sudden, overwhelming sensation making a loud moan tear from your throat.

“Fuck… baby..” he stuttered out, his hands immediately gripping your thighs as he tried to catch his breath. “That was… a surprise, thought I had to undress you first” His voice was thick with a mix of awe and desire, his eyes wide as he looked up at you, clearly blown away by your boldness.

A mischievous grin spread across your lips, a soft laugh escaping as you shifted your hips teasingly, savoring the way his body responded to yours. “I like to keep you on your toes,” you teased, your voice sultry as you rocked your hips just enough to make him groan again. “You like it?”

“Like it?” Lando barely managed to get the words out, his breath coming in ragged gasps as his hands roamed up your thighs, gripping you tightly. “I fucking love it.”

You could see the way his jaw clenched, his eyes dark with desire as he tried to hold on, his control slipping with every movement you made. The tension between you was electric, his hands gliding up your thighs to your waist, his fingers brushing over the fabric of his shirt that still hung loosely around you. He couldn’t take it anymore. With a shaky breath, he reached for the hem of the shirt, lifting it slowly, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours. “I want to see you,” he breathed, his voice low and filled with need.

You lifted your arms, allowing him to pull the shirt over your head, revealing your bare skin beneath. The way his eyes roamed over you, the hunger in his gaze, sent a thrill through you. His hands moved up to cup your breasts gently, his touch soft, almost reverent as his thumbs brushed over your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his voice husky as he leaned up to kiss you. His lips were soft, gentle, as though he was trying to convey everything he felt for you in that single touch. His hands never left your body, caressing you with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. “So perfect, baby,” he whispered between kisses, his lips trailing down your neck and over your collarbone.

You moaned at his touch, your hips starting to move again, grinding down slowly against him. The feeling of him inside you was overwhelming, the pleasure building with each movement, and you couldn’t hold back the sounds that escaped your lips. “Lando… you feel so good,” you whispered breathlessly, your hands sliding over his chest, nails lightly grazing his skin.

Lando’s breath hitched at your words, the way you moaned his name driving him wild. “Keep talking to me, love,” he groaned, his hands moving to grip your waist as you rocked against him, his eyes fluttering shut as he struggled to hold on. “You have no idea what it does to me when you’re like this… so perfect.”

You leaned down, your lips hovering just above his as you whispered, “You make me feel incredible, Lando. Yesterday, today… I’ve never felt like this before.” The words spilled from you with ease, knowing exactly how much it affected him. And it did. You could feel his body tremble beneath you, his grip on your waist tightening as a deep groan escaped his lips.

“Fuck… don’t stop,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire as he looked up at you, completely lost in the moment. His hands roamed your body, gliding up to your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive skin again. “I love seeing you like this… loving this.”

Your body responded eagerly to his touch, your movements becoming more deliberate as you rolled your hips, taking your time, savoring every second. Lando’s breath came in short gasps, his hands shaking slightly as he tried to keep his composure, but you could see how close he was to losing control.

“You’re mine,” he breathed out suddenly, his voice rough with emotion as his hands gripped your hips possessively. “You’re all mine… I don’t ever want to let you go.”

The intensity in his words, the raw emotion, made your heart race. “I’m yours,” you whispered back, your voice filled with just as much need. “All yours.”

Your words seemed to ignite something in him. Lando’s hands moved to your hips, guiding you as you rode him, his eyes never leaving yours, the intensity between you growing with every movement. The praise flowed from both of you freely, each touch, each breath, building the pleasure higher.

“Oh God, you feel so good,” you moaned, your head falling back as you moved faster, feeling the pleasure build within you.

“You’re perfect,” Lando gasped, his voice cracking with the strain of holding on. “So fucking perfect… keep going, baby, please.”

You could feel the tension between you rising, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable height. Lando’s hands moved up to your waist, pulling you closer, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he tried to hold on. “I’m so close, baby,” he stammered, his voice hoarse, his body trembling beneath you.

The praise, the way his hands moved over your body, only spurred you on, making you push both of you closer to the edge. His fingers found their way back to your breasts, squeezing gently as he murmured more praise, telling you how incredible you were, how much he loved watching you like this, how he couldn’t get enough of you.

The buildup was slow and torturous, both of you savoring every second, the connection between you deepening with every touch, every moan. The way he praised you, the way he told you how much he adored you, left you feeling breathless, the pleasure mounting with every movement.

The heat between you and Lando built to an overwhelming crescendo, your bodies moving in perfect sync as the tension finally snapped. You moaned loudly as your climax washed over you, gripping onto his shoulders for support as wave after wave of pleasure surged through your body. Lando followed right behind, his hands gripping your waist tightly, his eyes closing as he let out a deep, guttural groan. You could feel him pulsing inside you, his body trembling beneath yours as he fell apart, lost in the sensation of the moment.

Both of you were left breathless, chests heaving as you collapsed against him, your foreheads resting together. Lando’s arms wrapped around you protectively, holding you close as you both tried to catch your breath. The room was filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing, and you could feel his heart pounding wildly against your chest.

For a few moments, neither of you said anything, simply enjoying the closeness, the shared warmth. Lando’s fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, his touch tender and loving. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there as he whispered, “God, you’re amazing.”

You smiled softly, still trying to steady your breathing, your body buzzing from the aftershocks of pleasure. “You’re not too bad yourself,” you teased lightly, brushing your fingers through his damp hair.

He let out a soft chuckle, his chest still rising and falling with each breath. “I’m serious,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression filled with adoration. “You’re incredible, love. I’m so lucky.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, warmth spreading through your chest as you leaned in to kiss him again, this time soft and slow, filled with affection. “What a coincidence, I feel pretty lucky too,” you whispered against his lips in a joking tone, before pulling back slightly, your thumb brushing over his cheek.

A comfortable silence settled between you, filled with the unspoken understanding of just how much this moment meant. But after a while, you broke the quiet, the corners of your lips lifting into a playful smile. “I’m going to grab us something to drink. We could use it after… that.”

Lando grinned lazily, his fingers trailing down your spine as he nodded. “Sounds good to me,” he replied, his voice still a bit hoarse from all the moaning.

You carefully lifted yourself off of him, and he let out a soft sigh, watching as you reached for your discarded underwear. Slipping them on, you grabbed his shirt from the bed. Even though you had slept the whole night in the shirt, it still smelled like him, the familiar scent comforting as you pulled it over your head. The hem brushed halfway down your thighs, covering just enough to look decent, though it was obvious it wasn’t yours.

Lando’s eyes followed your movements, a soft smile on his face as he watched you get dressed. “You look better in my shirt than I do,” he said, his voice playful but full of admiration.

You flashed him a grin, grabbing his chin for a quick kiss before heading toward the door. “I’ll be right back,” you promised, feeling a little light on your feet as you made your way to the kitchen.

As you rounded the corner, your thoughts still filled with the warmth of the morning, you suddenly froze in your tracks. There, sitting at the kitchen island with a coffee in hand, was Max. His gaze lifted from his cup the moment he saw you, and a slow, knowing smirk spread across his face.

“Morning,” he said, his tone casual but dripping with amusement.

Your heart dropped, and a wave of embarrassment washed over you as you realized what you looked like—wearing nothing but your underwear and Lando’s shirt, your hair a mess, cheeks still flushed from what you’d just been doing.

Max raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his coffee, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “You know,” he began, his voice full of mockery, “next time you decide to screw around in the apartment, maybe remember it’s not just your apartment.” he stated, pointing at all the clothes that were scattered around the living room.

Your face went beet red as you stammered, “I—uh—I thought you wouldn’t be home until this morning.”

Max let out a low, sarcastic laugh. “It is the morning, sis,” he pointed out, gesturing toward the clock. “But I guess you didn’t realize that since you were too busy… fucking around with Lando.” He shot you a teasing look, his eyes flicking to the scattered clothes lying around the living room, confirming his suspicions.

You groaned internally, face flushing even more as you tried to defend yourself. “What? Why would you think it was Lando?” you blurted out, attempting to sound innocent, though it was clear Max wasn’t buying it.

Max rolled his eyes, pointing to the shirt you were wearing, the unmistakable Quadrant logo visible on the shirt. “First of all, you’re wearing his shirt,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “And second, I’m not stupid. I’ve already heard too much from Charles and Lando to know what’s going on between you two.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, Charles and Lando… talked about it?”

Max shrugged, smirking. “You know how Charles is, he couldn’t help but tease Lando about the whole drunk ordeal. And Lando isn’t exactly subtle. Trust me, it wasn’t hard to figure out.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands as you muttered, “Oh God, this is so embarrassing.”

Max chuckled, setting his coffee down. “Hey, relax,” he said, his tone softening. “I’m not mad about it or anything. Honestly, I’m happy for you… as long as he treats you right.”

You lifted your head, blinking at him in surprise. “You’re… okay with it?”

Max nodded, giving you a genuine smile. “Yeah, of course. But if he hurts you, I’ll kill him. Simple as that.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, feeling a little more at ease now. “Thanks, Max,” you said softly, appreciating his protective nature, even if it came with some teasing.

Before you could say anything else, you heard footsteps behind you, and you turned just in time to see Lando walking into the kitchen. He was wearing his jeans, but no shirt, since you were currently wearing it. His eyes widened in surprise when he spotted Max at the counter, his gaze shifting awkwardly between the two of you.

“Oh,” Lando said, scratching the back of his head as he stood there, clearly caught off guard.

Max looked him up and down, raising an eyebrow. “Morning, Lando,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement.

Lando swallowed, trying to keep his cool. “Morning… mate,” he replied, glancing nervously at you.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the awkwardness of the situation, shaking your head. “It’s fine,” you assured Lando, walking over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Max knows. I mean, clearly.”

Lando let out a breath of relief, though he still looked a little flustered. “Right… well, uh, do you need help with those drinks?” he asked, quickly changing the subject.

Max snorted into his coffee, shaking his head in amusement. “Don’t worry, Lando. I've already had my fun with mocking her. You two can carry on with your breakfast,” he said, making air quotes around the word.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the grin spreading across your face. “Thanks, Max,” you said sarcastically. “I hate you.”

Max gave you a wink, his smirk never fading. “Anytime, sis. Just… next time, maybe be a bit quieter. I don’t need to hear you two going at it all over the apartment.”

Lando went beet red, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, leaning into him as you both tried to recover from the awkward encounter.

⁺⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺ ⋆⁺

masterlist

[heavenbarnes]

Um hi! I saw your reblog with Spencer in his FBI bulletproof vest and in the tags how you said you'd fuck him with it on!! Do you think you could write something about that??

I'm thinking like Reader is on the team with him.. sees him in it one day and can't stop gawking over him. So, one case they're on they ride together in the Suburban and Reader makes him pull off somewhere because they can't wait any longer for him to fuck them. Like semi-public sex, riding him in the suburban. Or like, if you didn't want it to be semi-public, Reader and him could be at the hotel they're staying at and she makes him keep it on to have sex..

A lot of hard work

Spencer Reid x reader

Warnings/contains: no mention of reader’s gender, objectification (of one Spencer Reid), mentions of an unsub, Spencer is confident in this, inappropriate use of the FBI vest, swearing, dirty talk, humping, making out, semi-public, almostttt at the good stuff

I LOVE that you see my tags and I love even more you asked me to write from them! I hope you enjoy this! I did cut off right before the good parts so maybe, maaaaybe we could give it a p2

The adrenaline should’ve been wearing off.

It probably was, it was probably something entirely different twisting at the pit of your stomach.

Unsub shut in the back of the police car, SWAT retreating back in their trucks, the team were gathered around the hood of the suburban for a debrief.

A debrief you should’ve been listening to.

It was no use, as if you could hear anything over the blood rushing in your ears.

Hotch had his usual stern expression as he spoke, but the more you tried to focus on what he was saying- the more your eyes kept drifting just over his left shoulder.

This was fucking obscene.

All he was doing, all he was doing, was listening to your boss (like you should’ve been). His sunglasses were pushed up his nose, he had a few perfect curls falling across his forehead, as usual.

The sleeves of his shirt were rolled to his elbows and the high sun was glinting off the large watch on his wrist. Your eyes followed his, frankly perfect, forearms up to his hands.

Veins running just below the surface leading you to long fingers, all wrapped around the thick shoulder straps of his bullet-proof vest. The one that was spanned across his chest and sitting up on his waist.

Spencer Reid looked insanely fuckable with the vest on.

You were lucky Hotch had split you up when you’d arrived on scene. If you’d had to watch Spencer running before you in that vest, you think you might’ve had to ask the unsub to kill you next.

The sight was nearly obscene.

You’d managed, just and only managed to support your team and get the job done- putting your own debauched thoughts away long enough to be serious for a second.

But as everyone was dispersing from the scene, under orders to meet back in the bullpen for paperwork, you had a feeling it wasn’t over for you yet.

That feeling came with Spencer calling your name, simply gesturing towards an empty suburban as he flashed the keys.

When nobody else joined you in the back of the car, you knew there was no way it’d ever be over. Especially not when he sat in the driver seat, vest still firmly secured around him.

Dropping yourself into the passenger seat, you resorted to pressing one very warm cheek to the window in attempt to find some relief.

There was none to be found, not when Spencer was reaching one long arm behind your seat to reverse out of the spot- Lord have mercy.

You’d both managed to get some ten minutes into the trip before he’d piped up, before he’d acknowledged the obvious change in your behaviour.

“What’s going on with you?”

His eyes flickered off the road for a moment, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on his thigh as he moved through the streets.

You shifted, uncomfortably shifted as you tried to play it off. “Nothing, I’m-“

“And I’m me, so don’t try lie.”

Rolling your eyes like a petulant child, you crossed your arms as you sunk further into the seat. It was easy done, you’d discarded your vest the minute you got in the car, unable to cope with the way it was suffocating you.

“Spencer, just leave it.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes, you couldn’t see it through his sunglasses but you could tell by the way his face rose and fell. He sucked in a deep breath before deciding someone needed to go first.

“You were too quick to get away from me as soon as we arrived and then spent the whole debrief staring at me like you either wanted me under you or dead- so what is it?”

That might’ve been the quickest anyone’s ever been profiled.

All part of the ordeal of being known, being so well known.

You shifted your gaze just enough to check if he was letting it go, sure enough, he was still switching between you and the road. It’s never over.

Absolutely you could tell him, you could just lay it all out and absolutely he’d be fine with it. But there was still such a sick knot in your stomach about having to fess up.

Weighing up your options (one of which included throwing open the car door) you saw movement out the corner of your eye.

Spencer’s free hand left his thigh and came to rest on the top of his vest, pulling it down slightly as he did it and drawing even more attention to the definition of his forearm.

“It’s the vest,” The words literally fell out of your mouth. “I want- need to fuck you with the vest on.”

You half expected him to crash the car. It would’ve made sense if he’d slammed on the breaks or even swerved a little. But he didn’t.

Spencer kept the car straight, eyes steadily moving to your face as he slowly raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

Everything had gone quiet, like the world had stopped spinning. All you could hear was his simple question and maybe the odd voice in your head telling you this was a bad idea.

Thankfully, his voice was louder.

The moment his eyes went back on the road, his hand came off the vest to use his turn signal. He was pulling off down a trail road, industrial with an old factory at the base of it.

You knew it was abandoned, nobody had been there for years- it was on the map he’d annotated for the team at the beginning of this case.

Without a word, Spencer pulled up beside the building and the long grass. He put the car into park and removed his sunglasses before he ran a steady hand through his hair.

You’d been watching it all, slightly turned in your seat and studying his every move. There was no way you could help it. There was no way God could give you a man that looked like that and expect you to be normal about it.

All of a sudden, you saw Spencer reach beneath his seat. It rolled back slowly until he had a significant space between himself and the steering wheel.

Still, with no words exchanged, he brought his hand back to his thigh to pat it once- then twice. It was like a natural reaction for you, picking yourself up and scrambling across the centre console until you were situated in his lap.

Your fingers immediately closed around the straps of the vest, pulling him into you so your lips could meet with his. Spencer wasted no time in having his tongue in your mouth, immediately establishing his place.

It should’ve been embarrassing, pathetic really, the way your hips began to roll into his the minute he touched you. Large hands ran up your back, under your shirt and igniting your skin.

The vest was firm against your chest, almost keeping him from you but giving you exactly what you wanted. Pressing your forehead to his, you opened your eyes to get a good look at him under you.

He’d said you wanted one or the other.

You felt Spencer’s lips working up the front of your throat, teeth gently nipping at the skin as his hands worked down to the waistband of your pants.

You weren’t sure if he’d been as impatient as you- it was more likely you could give him a look any time of day and he’d be dropping to whatever position you needed him in. He was good that way.

As your hands splayed against the front of his vest, slowing inching down further as you continued to hump his lap- feeling him somehow getting even harder beneath you.

“Spencer-“ Your voice sounded breathy, desperate for him. “They’re gonna’ be back at the office soon.”

You heard him chuckle, the sound leaving his lips and reverberating off your throat. He nodded, just a little as his fingers began to work on the front of your pants.

He shuffled his hips forward, sinking down a bit further and giving you better access to his belt- the one you immediately began to undo.

“This is all for you, baby,” He sighed, feeling your hand reach into his pants. “You take whatever you need.”

[sapphire-writes]

The Au Pair (modern!HOTD) part 1

Part 1 ~ Part 2

pairing: Daemon x fem!Reader x Rhaenyra

summary: You take a new job nannying for a family on the Upper East Side. You find yourself intrigued by both parents.

warnings: 18+ (slight power imbalance as they're your bosses, sensual themes), language

word count: 3.1k

note: I've been in a Daemon x Rhae mood and this idea came to me and suddenly it is here, enjoy my loves!

When you looked up at the high-rise apartment building, you felt your stomach drop. You had always been that way with heights, whether looking down or looking up at something tall, the feeling of intense vertigo washing over you. You took in a deep breath to steady yourself, draining the rest of your coffee before walking in. 

Throwing the cup in a nearby bin, you popped a mint into your mouth to hopefully disguise your coffee breath. 

You’d nannied before but never au-paired. It seemed to be a little more intense, having you live with the family, and become a part of the family. But you had to get out of your current living situation, and the website was too tempting to pass up. 

You didn’t even think you’d get a response when you sent in your resume. You recognized the family name; old money, the backbone of Wall Street. It was too good to be true when you received an email inviting you in person for an interview.

Still, the thought of caring for three boys was nearly overwhelming. 

“You’ll only truly be a little help,” Rhaenyra had told you, after leading you through the foyer, giving you hot tea in a cup that felt so delicate it might break in your small hands. 

Rhaenyra had ushered you to the sofa, before sitting in the one directly across. She crossed her ankles, clad in a dark maroon suit, her silver hair striking against the wine-colored fabric. She was ethereally beautiful, the kind of pretty that takes your breath away. 

“Luke and Joff are the littles, they require the most attention,” Rhaenyra explained.

You take a sip of the tea, warmth flooding through you.

“How old are they?” you ask, blowing on the tea. 

“Jacaerys is the oldest, he’s nine, then there’s Luke who is seven, and little Joffrey is only four,” Rhaenyra tells you.

“No girls?” you ask and she shakes her head. 

“Daemon’s daughters Baela and Rhaena sometimes visit during the week, they’re nine as well. They live with their mother mostly, and often spend the weekends with us.”

“You have a full house,” you comment, smiling.

“Several,” Rhaenyra answers, mirroring your smile, “We have two apartments here, in the city, during the weekends we go to our house, outside of the city.”

“That’s wonderful, that you’re able to get away,” you tell her, “the city can be overwhelming.”

“I agree,” she says, “it’s nice to have an escape. So, tell me about yourself,” she cocks her head to the side, “what made you want this position?”

You sigh, deciding it's best to be truthful.

“Well, I’ve worked with kids before, on and off,” you begin, “some babysitting, nannying, I was a camp counselor for one summer.”

Rhaenyra nods, her violet eyes warm and inviting.

“I also, just recently lost my apartment,” you tell her, “it’s a long story, but I need to be out by the end of the month, so a job that comes with a place to live was very tempting.”

Rhaenyra smiles, and you nervously play with the rings on your fingers. 

“I can be really good with the kids, I think we’ll get along great.”

Rhaenyra looks you up and down as the door opens. The most beautiful man you’ve ever seen walks in, throwing his briefcase on the counter. His silver hair falls in front of his eyes as he leans against the counter, tapping his ring-clad fingers against the black marble.

“Daemon,” she calls, not turning around, “meet our guest.”

Daemon simply glances at you, busy with something on his phone.

“He’ll warm up, don’t you worry,” Rhaenya says, standing.

“I won’t let you down if given this opportunity,” you tell her, placing your teacup down and standing to leave.

“I know you won’t,” she says, taking your arm to lead you to the door, “let me discuss with my husband, and we’ll let you know.”

“Thank you, truly,” you tell her at the door, “It was nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Please, call me Rhaenyra,” she insists.

“Rhaenyra,” you say, and she leads you out.

Rhaenyra sighs, returning to the couch and flipping through your resume once more. 

“I’m shocked you let her leave,” Daemon says, dropping a kiss on Rhaenyra’s head, and squeezing her shoulder with a ring-clad hand.

“She’ll be back,” Rhaenyra assures him, “I’m taking it slow.”

“Surprising,” Daemon says, “with her calling you ma’am so sweetly.”

Rhaenyra merely glances up at him, smiling coyly at her husband. 

“I’ll give her a call this evening then,” Rhaneyra says, kissing the back of his hand, “officially offer her the job?”

“Call her now, if you like,” Daemon tells her.

“She’s probably still in the building,” Rhaenyra says with a chuckle.

“Even better,” Daemon says.

Rhaenyra hums, pulling out her phone.

“Someone’s eager,” Rhaenyra teases, earning a low growl from her husband.

After celebratory drinks with your girlfriends and packing all your shit into boxes, a car picks you up bringing you to your new home. You’re shown to your room by one of the housekeepers. It’s perfect for you, with large windows and a private bathroom. The bed feels like heaven as you lay on top of it. You can’t believe your luck. 

You’re introduced to the boys when they come home from school. While Jace is apprehensive, Luke warms to you right away, insisting on showing you his collection of Lego model sets. Dragons are his favorite at the moment. You spend the afternoon with them, and the day flies by. 

Only when you’re in your room later, fresh out of the shower and dressed for bed do you realize you’ve lost something rather important in the move. You silently curse, and pad down the hallway toward the home office Rhaenyra uses. 

“Mrs. Targaryen?” you ask, knocking on the office door.

Rhaenyra beckons you in, smiling, removing her blue light glasses and looking away from the computer. 

“I’m so sorry to bother you-”

“Nonsense, darling, what is it?” Rhaenyra says, lacing her fingers together, “and what did I say about addressing me?”

You blush, forgetting yourself. You find it easy to get flustered in Rhaenyra’s presence. 

“I’m sorry, Rhaenyra,” you correct yourself.

“You don’t have to say sorry,” she tells you.

Her tone is so sweet, so kind, and loving that it almost makes you want to apologize again. You release a breathy laugh instead. 

“I seem to have lost my hairbrush in the move,” you tell her, “you wouldn’t happen to have an extra one lying around?”

Rhaenyra stands, walking out from behind her desk and toward you. 

“Of course, come here,” she tells you, reaching for your hand.

It's warm and soft as she interlaces her fingers with yours, pulling you out of the home office and down the hallway. You haven’t yet seen Daemon and Rhaenyra’s room, though you realize this is about to change. She opens the door and brings you into their room. 

You can’t help but gawk at windows that stretch from the floor to the ceiling revealing the New York City skyline. The curtains are still open, revealing the sparkling city below. Daemon is already seated in bed on top of the covers reading, looking up as you enter with Rhaenyra. 

“Already?” he asks, and Rhaenyra shushes him.

“Our friend is without a hairbrush,” she says, releasing your hand and moving to enter the master bathroom. 

Daemon hums at her response, returning to his book. The bed is huge, big enough to comfortably fit the whole family if they wanted. The sheets are a deep gray, and look like they’re made of the softest silk. You almost want to reach out and touch them, feel the softness when Rhaenyra reenters the room.

“Sit,” she tells you, motioning to the bed.

“That’s okay,” you assure her, “I can-”

“It’s the least I can do,” she interrupts.

You want to argue with her. They’re letting you live in a gorgeous highrise on the Upper East Side and essentially want for nothing, and yet they’re the ones who are grateful? You suppose it just shows what good parents they are, wanting nothing but the best for the boys. It warms your heart knowing you can help support them in that way. 

Rhaenyra motions to the bed once more and you sit down on the edge. You know immediately that sleeping in that bed would cure any problems you’ve ever had. It’s so soft against you and you run your hand over the sheets. Rhaenyra sits next to you, crossing her legs. 

“Turn for me,” she says, and you move so your back faces her. 

She takes your hair, still wet from your shower, and runs her hands through it gently. You can feel her nails against your scalp causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. She moves the hair from your neck before gently beginning to brush through your hair. It’s so relaxing your eyes flutter shut. 

Daemon is watching now, closing his book and leaning his head back against the headboard. Rhaenyra meets his gaze and his eyes narrow. She flicks an eyebrow at him, continuing. Daemon sticks his tongue against his cheek before rising from the bed. You open your eyes as you feel him move, watching as you walk by you, stopping to press a kiss against Rhaenyra’s cheek.

He heads into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door as you hear the shower turn on. Rhaenyra places the brush on your lap.

“There you are,” she tells you, placing her hands on your shoulder and squeezing.

“Thank you,” you tell her earnestly. 

Her kindness brings tears to your eyes and you find yourself wanting to hug her, bury your face in the crook of her neck, and have her lavish your face with kisses. The thought brings a blush to your cheeks. She’s your boss. Still, as you get up to leave and bid her goodnight, you find your gaze falling to her lips. You look away quickly.

“Thank you again, Rhaenyra,” you tell her, “For everything. I’m really grateful for this opportunity.”

Rhaenyra smiles, smoothing some hair from your face.

“We’re happy to have you,” she tells you, “Goodnight, my dear.”

“Goodnight,” you tell her, leaving the room and heading to your own.

Daemon reappears with wet hair and a towel around his waist. Droplets of water cling to his chest and shoulders. Rhaenyra smirks at him.

“Enjoy your cold shower?” she teases and he chuckles in response. 

The following week is a test run, seeing how you handle the boys and their schedule. It’s easy enough-no scarily easy. The boys are a dream, so well behaved and respectful toward you, and enjoying the attention that is devoted to them while their mother and stepfather are busy working. 

Your schedule is simple. Wake up, make sure the boys get their breakfast, escort them to school, and then the rest of the morning and early afternoon is yours. Rhaenyra has assured you that sometimes she shall give you some errands to run, but for the most part, you’re free to ponder around different coffee shops and bookstores and attend your university classes. 

You pick up Joffrey first, as his daycare releases him in the early afternoon, and bring him on a walk. Then you wait for Jace and Luke to end their school days and escort them to their afterschool activities. You almost feel bad for Rhaenyra and Daemon, like you’re taking advantage of them somehow. It shouldn’t be this easy, right? It can’t be this perfect?

You’re still lost in your thoughts while you sit on a park bench watching Joffrey toddle about on a play structure as someone sits down beside you. You blink, pulled from your thoughts, giving her a kind smile. 

“You’re the new Targaryen AP, right?” the girl asks, smiling at you.

“Yeah!” you answer, telling her your name. 

“I’m Shae,” she tells you, “The Lannister’s Au Pair.”

You nod. You’ve heard that name before. Shae points at a little girl with golden curls on the swings. 

“Cerelle Lannister, one of the little lions I look after,” she says chuckling. 

She motions for your phone.

“Here, let me put in my number,” she tells you, and you smile while handing her your phone, “We have to stick together, you know?”

“Thanks,” you tell her, “I’d love to get coffee sometime and get some advice. This is my first time being an Au Pair.”

Shae raises an eyebrow as she adds her number. 

“Good luck with the Targaryens,” she tells you chuckling, “they can’t seem to hold onto an AP for more than a month.”

Your brow furrows and you glance at the boys. You can see Jace running across the soccer field and Luke on the other side with the younger boys. Joffrey plays on the playground, staying in your line of sight. You can’t help but smile.

“I don’t see why,” you tell her, “the boys are great. Very well behaved, impressive manners. Better than me.”

Shae laughs. 

“It’s Daemon and Rhaenyra I’d be wary of,” Shae tells you, voice lowering with the nature of the conversation, “the last girl they had was doing fine until suddenly she’s signing an NDA and being shipped out of New York. I never spoke to her again.”

A chill rolls through you. 

Jace calls your name, running over to you.

“Did you see what I did!” he says, a huge grin on his face, Luke trailing behind him.

“You were so awesome Jacey!” you tell him, ruffling his hair.

They’ve warmed up to you immediately. 

You keep thinking about what Shae said all night. When you join the kids for dinner, Rhaenyra and Daemon do not, as they ended up having to work late. When you tuck them in and return to your room you find a small box on your bed. 

You open it, revealing a small necklace. Dainty, and expensive, with a small pearl hanging off the chain. 

A gift. 

You pick up the card that goes with it.

For all your help, xx

There’s no signature. Though you suppose it must be from Rhaenyra. You blush at the kind gesture before retiring to bed for the night, curling up in the soft sheets with a book.

The next few weeks go smoothly, and without any fusses. The boys are lovely as ever and easy to drag around to different parks, activities, and school functions. They’re starting to feel like your little brothers, like your own children even. You journey with them to the weekend house, an hour outside the city, roasting marshmallows, swimming in the gorgeous pool, and taking them to get ice cream. It’s paradise, it’s a dream. 

You see Rhaenyra more than Daemon, though she was right. He does seem to be warming up to you, glancing at you more, checking in on you. Sitting with you when you’re at the counter for breakfast. Letting a hand drift across your back as he passes by.

You keep finding gifts. A silk robe, a new purse, a pair of earrings that match the necklace given to you. Fresh flowers by your bedside. It’s very sweet of them, to be so welcoming. Almost romantic. 

Later one night during the week, you can’t seem to find sleep.

You make your way to the kitchen, feet padding softly down the hallway. Rhaenyra had said to help yourself to anything, what’s theirs is yours. You’d been craving something sweet since dinner. Since moving into the highrise your palate has begun to adjust to the rich, expensive foods the chef makes and has begun to spoil you. You’re starting to wonder how you’ll ever go back to living normally when this job ends. It’s not something you want to think about. You’re determined to stay as long as possible. 

You open the fridge, the light bathing the floor in front of you. You look around, moving things trying to find a treat. Their fridge is crazy stocked, full of fresh fruits and vegetables, and green juices. Things that sound good any time but now. Now you need chocolate. 

“Looking for something?” a deep voice calls and you jump.

“Shit, you scared me, sir,” you say, holding your hand against your chest. 

Daemon moves toward you from the shadows, silk pajama pants hanging low on his hips. He’s shirtless and you make a point to look at his lavender eyes. They’re almost black in the low light, a smirk dancing on his lips. 

“I was just looking for something sweet,” you tell him, biting your lip.

“Something sweet, hmm?” he echoes, reaching around you to open the freezer. 

You back up, suddenly very aware of your choice of pajamas. Another gift you’d found waiting on your bed, a silky red set. The tank top hands low, the shorts hugging the curves of your ass and thighs. 

“Try this,” Daemon says, holding out some gelato.

You let out a breathy sigh. 

“What?” Daemon asks, tilting his head curiously.

“Everything here is so fancy,” you tell him, “even the ice cream.”

“Isn't it nice to have expensive things?” he asks, unscrewing the lid and throwing it on the black marble counter.

“I don’t know if I’ll like it,” you tell him, nose scrunching.

He chuckles, cocking an eyebrow. Daemon reaches for a drawer, pulling out a long silver spoon, perfect for ice cream. He dips it into the gelato before bringing his violet eyes to yours.

“Open your mouth,” he murmurs, holding the spoon out to your lips.

With his seductive tone, the roughness of his voice floating over you like silk caressing your skin, you instinctively part your lips, accepting the sweet treat. It’s cold and sweet as it moves across your tongue, sliding down your throat. A bit dribbles on your lips as Daemon removes the spoon from the confines of your mouth. A small remnant of the cream lingers on the spoon and Daemon places it between his lips. 

Your eyes are wide, watching him suck on it, and you can feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. He removes the spoon, licking his lips. You bring your hand to your lips wiping away the trace of cream that remains.

“Do you like it?” Daemon asks, voice gruff, eyes hungry for more than gelato. 

“Yes,” you breathe. 

He smiles and then places the container in your hand.

“Enjoy,” he tells you, before walking out of the kitchen. 

You stay still, standing dumb for several minutes after he leaves, feeling the container of gelato begin to soften the longer you hold it. Snapping out of your trance, you hurry back to your room, closing the door behind you. 

note: hope you enjoyed my loves! 😘

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[gojobbg]

can we have a gojo fic where his best friend is a girl, with a gung-ho personality, and she challenges him and makes him feel alive.

They kept their feelings for each other hidden so well for 10 years of their friendship since highschool.

a year of them not speaking, their friendship dissolved into nothing after a petty argument.

So when Satoru sees her walking in the bubbly way she always did at their highschool reunion, he pounces at her.

smutty, angsty, a bit heartwarming. have fun

OOO I like this! 100% gojo's kind of woman and honestly inspiration for his crackhead energy. Thank you anon for this req!

pairing: reader (f) x bestfriend!Gojo

synopsis: Gojo never imagined he'd ever see you again. You were the catalyst of his refined, carefree spirit. He yearned for you. And little did he know that you did for him as well.

warning: rated m for making out, fingering, eating out

a/n: I've been beside myself regarding whether I want this in the normal jjk world or a slice of life au. i think normal for more writing freedom

The first time Satoru Gojo saw you, it was during class intermission. Your high school was very kind and gave you all the teenager-equivalent to recess. They gave you the option to either hang out in the library, hit the gym, or lounge outside the back of the school.

Satoru was a simple teen, always choosing to go outside just to enjoy fresh hour for the hour you all had. He would sit right under the large willow tree at the backyard of the school, finding peace in the dancing of its branches and the shade it provided. But, it was routinely disturbed by Suguru Geto.

"Did you hear?" Suguru's steps lightly crunched the grass as he joined Satoru under the tree. Satoru had his eyes closed with his hands folded on his lap, embracing the final warmth of the summer before autumn truly took over. "Satoru?"

"I heard you," the white-haired wonder murmurs, "hear 'bout what?"

"The new girl that just transferred in," Suguru informs. Satoru didn't care much for rumormongering, but it was nice to have Suguru as a consistent informant on what goes on in their class. "Todays the first day, and she went ahead and challenged the leader of the wrestling team."

That's different. "Is that so," Satoru replies nonchalantly, his eyes still completely shut. "What a strange girl."

"She's quirky, but very beautiful," Suguru adds. "But she must be out of her mind to challenge a guy like that."

Satoru adjusts himself, crossing his arms behind his head. "If that's what she likes," Satoru couldn't care less. Suguru doesn't respond, and the two stay silent for a moment. But the silence was quickly interrupted when a crowd of students came out of the school, cheering and chanting emanating from them. "Hm?"

"I believe they're here for the fight," Suguru assumes. He scratches the back of his head, his forearm throwing his long, black hair to the side. "I'm guessing they're gonna wrestle in the sand pit there."

Satoru allowed one eye open to see the commotion. A crowd surfed through the backyard, with two students leading the pack. The first was a particularly muscly student, which could be safely assumed is the wrestling leader. But the next student beside him was you.

Suguru wasn't lying when he said you were quirky. No girl in their right mind would want to wrestle a guy with that stature. But he definitely wasn't lying when he said you were beautiful, too. The uniform hugged your body a little too well, but it was truly your face that caused Satoru to open both of his eyes.

Your expression was fierce with a shit-eating smile that Satoru couldn't help but become entranced with.

You radiated a sort of confidence that Satoru's never seen before. It could be due in part of the fact that Satoru wasn't a very social person. Despite being popular among your classmates, Suguru was the only friend he cared to have around.

The two friends watched, with Satoru being surprised at how eager he suddenly was. He leaned forward, his eyes glued at the sand pit where you and the boy stood, preparing for your tussle.

With another student as a mediator/referee, you listened closely to the rules and nodded. You smirked at your challenger, your heart practically tightening in excitement. "A clean fight, okay?" The referee repeats. "We don't want a teacher coming out and suspend us all."

Everyone laughed at the joke. "Lets get on with it, yeah?" Your opponent spewed. He was not amused one bit, considering his serious expression. "I don't like hurting girls."

You waive his concern, "don't worry, you won't."

He locked eyes with you, a glimmer of skepticism in his own. The referee stood between the two of you in the pit, his hand in the air to begin his count down. "3...2...1... Fight!" He shot his hand down and quickly escaped the sand pit.

The whole fight was a blur, but Satoru's jaw was on the floor when he witnessed the leader of the wrestling team on the ground, struggling to escape under your body. You had a toothy grin, your uniform completely scuffed with sand scratches ornate on your arms and legs.

Since that day, Satoru wanted to be known by you. You remember the boy coming up to you, his cheeks peachy and hands clammy when he introduced himself to you. Unlike all the other boys who found you intimidating, Satoru found you alluring. So, you pulled him into your own world.

"y/n, are you fucking insane?" Satoru's voice was shaky, nervous, all while still stable. The two of you stood on top of one of the biggest buildings in Japan. You have a knack for trespassing, and Satoru reluctantly followed your every move. Up until now, of course.

"Just a bit!" You glowed. You climbed up the abandoned crane on top of the building, your rough hands finding path in the bars and random equivalents of grips. "What's wrong, Satoru? You scarwed?" You teased with a baby voice.

You could see a teenage Satoru try to keep his cool, but quietly huffing and puffing when he thought you weren't looking. "it's dangerous, y/n," Satoru sounded distant behind you, his face going pale from how high you were at this point.

"It is dangerous, that's right," you yell back, your hands now gray from the accumulated dirt and dust. "But you'll never find excitement like this anywhere."

"Excitement or intense fear?" Satoru replied, his voice becoming a little louder. "I don't want anything to happen to you, y/n! Seriously!"

"Then come up here and guarantee it!" You muse. You make it to a comfortable spot to sit, turning around to look down at him. You felt the adrenaline bring you to the high you were seeking. You hands were rough and dirty, but your body felt strong and your heart was eager. You look down at the dashing boy below, "come keep me safe!"

"y/n, are you serious?" Satoru yells in dread. You nod aggressively with a wide smile. The tall boy stands there, his eyes distant with thought. You were humored from his trivial expression, his uncertainty fighting with his desire to live like you.

But you watched the nervous boy begin his trek towards you, his eyes never daring leaving the sky. You bounced joyously at his newfound bravery, causing him to emit nervous chuckles. Veins protrude his inner forearms, his breathing heavy from the effort and caution of his body. Once he was close enough, you happily offer your hand. His blue orbs held reticence, but your smile reassured him. His clammy hand meets yours, as you pull him up to the space beside you.

He creates a strong grip onto the crane, his fingers digging into the rusted metal. "are you happy?" Satoru murmurs.

"Aren't you?" You gush, nudging his shoulder gently. "Look over there." You point over at the city, and the clouds ornate between the buildings. The sun was setting, so the shadows of the skyscrapers were defined.

With a nervous gulp, Satoru looked down at the city, his bottom lip hung in awe. You watched as his nerves fade, and his hidden adrenaline finally coming forward. There was a shine in his eyes, and the way his white wisps of hair danced in the wind. A small smile pulled at the edges of his lips, and you swore to never forget the day that Satoru Gojo started his life.

Anyone with eyes could tell you that the two of you were meant to be together. A friendship transcending high school, the two of you were practically inseparable. Satoru would go find you during your work lunches, always swearing that he always gets a BOGO when in reality, he would buy you a separate lunch, opposite of the things he prefers to eat.

He was your adventure buddy, always down to follow your lead. Hiking the craziest mountains, parkouring on rooftops that you two were not meant to be at. He always had your back during paintball battles, your body rough but never shot out due to his diligent protection.

But the both of you were blind to one another's affection. The way Satoru grabs your hand whenever you two entered large crowds so he'd never lose you. The way you would fix Satoru's hair after every adventure, taking out the knots that has accrued, despite his grunts and groans. There are moments were he would just rub your hands, feeling the callouses collected since your younger years.

And you watched him grow, his confidence uncontainable. The quiet boy from high school was now a man full of vigor and ambition. Satoru has taken to exercise, his body beyond prepared for your adventures together. You couldn't help but stare at his muscles, the way his calves pulsated whenever he was reaching something high in the cabinets of your kitchen. Or the way his biceps flexed when carrying your groceries for you to the car. You could stare at him forever if you could.

Of course, until the day you couldn't stand to look at him.

"You can't be serious," you spat quietly. "When has there ever been a time where I've asked someone else before you?"

"Don't start," Satoru hums, "I asked her because someone said they'd be going on a work trip that weekend." He was sat on your couch, book in hand as you were fixing up the kitchen a bit.

You hung your head forward slightly, "and? You could still ask, 'Toru."

"If I asked you, you'd refuse to go on your work trip and just come with me to this skiing trip." This would be the very first time that Satoru goes on a fun trip like this without you. And he knows better than to ask anyone else.

"I'm an adult Satoru, I can make my own decisions," you hiss, "but instead, you've taken it upon yourself to decide for me." You begin to angrily organize your kitchen counter.

"Because I know how you are, y/n," Satoru begins, his soft tone begin to ramp up. "You'll want to go regardless of your work obligations. I'm sorry, but I can't let you be so careless."

"So why go without me anyways?" You ask, a bit of hurt in your words. "We go on these trips together, always. Why can't we then just coordinate this trip another time?"

Satoru closed his book and looked over at you, "the northern lights can be seen from Mt. Fuji this year. As much as I'd love to see them with you, you need to be more responsible and work. In turn, I don't want to miss this chance because you don't want me to go without you. It's a bit selfish, no?"

"Selfish?" The word left your tongue in distaste. "Me? You wouldn't have even wanted to do this if it weren't for me!"

"Quite bold of you for taking all the credit," Satoru lashes, his sunglasses sliding down to the tip of his nose. "I was eventually going to break from my shell-- you just kickstarted it early."

You eyes widen, narrowing down in appall from Satoru's words. The man that you watched grow up, that you helped grow up, was reducing your influence to a 'kickstart.' All of the solace that emanated from Satoru Gojo began to evaporate. "Leave," you muttered painfully.

This caught his attention, and Satoru took off his glasses. Blue eyes analyze your hurt expression, his eyes uncertain and almost... in disbelief? "y/n, you're being so dramatic. Seriously, it's not a big deal."

"To you, sure," you look away from him. You could feel your cheeks warm from the coming of tears. "Just leave, Satoru."

Satoru didn't hesitate, and rose from your couch, "you're being serious?" You don't look his way at all. Rolling his eyes, Satoru begins to grab his book and phone. "Whatever. So sorry for trying to be a good friend."

"Fuck off, Satoru," you spat.

"Yeah yeah, I'm fucking off," Satoru doesn't even hug you goodbye before he slams the door behind him. Neither of you realize it then, but that would be the last time you two saw each other, and exchanged words. Both of your prides did enough damage to eviscerate a friendship that you have loved for a long time. You cried that whole night, and the many weeks that followed.

"Shoko, is my dress okay?" You shyly pull down at the incredibly short red-dress you decided to model. Although it hugged you kindly (a little too much), it stopped just right under your ass. "I feel like if I bend over, I'll show everyone Earth's second moon."

Shoko, in a navy blue tube dress, chuckles between her cigarette pulls, "you look extremely sexy, if that's what you're asking."

"It isn't too much for this reunion?" You ignored her compliment.

Shoko shakes her head, "it's perfect."

Unknowingly to you, Satoru was already inside. His toned body was enhanced by a skin-tight, black turtleneck and black dress pants. His hair grew just a bit, tying it up in a ponytail as it would only make his tangling situation worse. He had red shades on, and a smile that could light up the universe. With a martini in hand, he was sharing laughs with all of your classmates from ages ago.

As he goes to take another swig of his drink, he almost chokes from the sight of you entering the school gym.

You entered in, no hint of shyness anywhere, despite your skimpy outfit. Many of your classmates were in awe, as the whole gym turned their attention to you. With infectious energy, you rush over with open arms to see the people you used to study with. His eyes drowned at the sight of you, your bubbly cheeks, your warm embraces to everyone who met your gaze. Even your laugh came back to his head, repeating itself like a metronome.

Satoru downs his drink, and makes his way towards you. Alcohol, combined with adrenaline, made Satoru move faster than he ever has. So swiftly, you even felt the breeze before his presence was known to you. Your eyes widen at the tall man with the white, wispy hair. His shadow, along with his gaze, swallows you whole.

You two could only stare at one another, having been a year since you've shared the same space. His hair, you thought. He was a little taller, his jaw slightly sharper. He smelled of cinnamon and hinoki wood. But his eyes... they didn't look quite like you remembered. They were dark and hollow. They appeared, in a word, empty.

Before you could begin the conversation, Satoru pulls you into his arms. A calmness washes over you, your tense body letting go. He held you just a bit tight, feeling as though your soul could fuse with his at any moment. He's so warm, you swooned in thought. Leaning down to your ear, he pulls a strand of your hair back and whispers, "can we talk somewhere?"

You silently nod, allowing for Satoru to hold you by your hand and guide you from the gym. You knew all eyes were on the both of you, considering that you two hadn't spoken for a year since your fall out. You didn't know what to expect, but you followed him obediently into one of the classrooms, a little far from the gym. He ushers you in, turning on the lights before pulling down the blinds of the classroom door window. The official windows of the classrooms were already shut, leaving the both of you completely isolated.

You slowly walk over to your old desk, remembering it was yours from the distinct, scratched in lily that was clearly never fixed. You turn around and take a seat on top of the desk, looking up and waiting for Satoru. But Satoru could only stare at you from a distance, unable to accept that you were here in front of him.

"Um," your voice sounds quietly, "long time no see, Sato--" before you could even finish, Satoru aggressively pushes the desks you carefully walked around and found his way to you. He grabs your cheeks in his large, rough hands and brings your face to his own. Lips collided, your nails digging frantically into the under of your desk. "mm--!"

An eager tongue slides between your lips, the taste of dry alcohol and lime intoxicating your own. He kissed you feverishly, his lips delicately chapped in the center. He closed the gap between the two of you, his toned abs pressing against your breasts. You then abandon the desk, ands latching themselves to the back of his shirt.

"'toru,--" you try between kisses and breaths, but Satoru was hungry. The way his tongue lapped around yours, the gentle pulls of your bottom lip between his teeth. Your hands snake to his firm chest, gently pushing him away without seeming disinterested. You look at him, trying to read his expression.

He was panting, but for the first time in your life, he was blushing. The empty eyes that briefly scared you were now lit up, just the way you remembered. His lips shined with your saliva, slightly agape to catch increments of air. "y/n," Satoru whispers.

"Satoru," you say with a firmer tone. You bring a hand up, fingers lightly rubbing your recently conquered lips. But his eyes wouldn't leave your gaze, causing your heart to lead a stampede. You realized you weren't ready to talk just yet. You pulled his shirt and brought him back to you, his face following suit, with lips rejoicing.

Satoru's hand curiously dragged its fingertips down your dress, finding its way to your thigh. He pauses, eyes opening to meet yours. Silent consent. You give yourself a few moments before nodding, allowing him to continue.

Butterflies delightfully tormented your stomach, as long, lanky fingers separate your thighs. They were cold, but your skin warmed them up as he found his way to your flower. You could feel his moans against your lips, his fingers curiously making its way between your homely folds. You perk up when your precum primes his fingers towards your cunt. They delicately filled you, three fingers finding solace in your warm, wet walls.

His lips leave yours, allowing for your moans and curses to escape. "ah--ah, s-satoru...!" His eyes widen at your sensual sounds. His breath hitched at the sound of his name from your mouth, your voice. This fueled Satoru, as he begins to finger fuck you more aggressively. The sound of your cum pierced the room as his fingers filled you up, and pulled out every other second. Your hands grip desperately at the hem of his shirt while you buried your face between his pecs.

"say my name again," Satoru demands in a whisper. "i've missed your voice so much, y/n. please, please keep saying it."

You blush, your eyes focused on the ever-growing bulge in his hands. It was just inches away from you, your mouth salivating at the thought of him. "s-satoru, satoru, f-fuck...!" He curled his fingers inside you, teasing your g-spot while also keeping the quick, steady pace of fucking your cunt. Your ears were heating up, your hands tightening their grip. "i'm... i'm...!" you could barely get your words out.

But Satoru knew exactly what you meant, a sinister smile playing at his lips. "perfect," he murmurs, completely removing his hand from your spot. You let out a disappointing sigh, but it is quickly waived when he suddenly holds your thighs, pulls your forward, and has your back on the desk. You look down, only for your head to writhe back in pleasure.

Pulling your panties down to your ankles, Satoru's lips introduce themselves to your pussy, his tongue lapping your folds. You could feel him dragging his tongue up to your clit, the tip circling around the sensitive bud. Your body writhes, with your hands desperately clinging onto his white wisps. His relentless sucking, hot breaths, and sporadic tongue work your pussy into an orgasm, your entire body tense and twitching.

Heavy breathes decorate the room, as Satoru takes out a handkerchief from his pocket and offers it to you. Your cheeks were a plum hue, but Satoru's face was completely beet red. You could feel his gaze on you as you got on your feet (weakly) and fix yourself up. He quickly gets on his knees, and pulls up your panties for you.

"Thank you very much," you quietly croak between breaths. But you noticed him not rising, with his head hung low. "Satoru? You can stand up no--"

"Y/N, I was wrong." His sharp admittance made you bite your tongue. You look down at him, unsure what to do. "I should have asked you first if you wanted to come with me. I should have never decided for you."

"Ah, Satoru, please--"

"No, I was wrong, and I regret it so, so much," his voice was shaky. "You didn't just kickstart it-- you were the reason that I needed to come out of my shell. And really, you were the reason why coming out of my shell was worth it."

You bring your hand down to his head, which makes him lower his head a bit more. "Satoru, take it easy, please..."

"I didn't enjoy myself at all-- I couldn't!" He exclaimed. "You bring me to life, and I didn't realize it until I saw those lights and didn't feel what I thought I would feel. The feeling I expected, I now realize, was because it was you I wanted to share that experience with."

You smile down at him, giggling to yourself a bit. "We were both wrong," you cooed. "Now please stand up. I don't want this to become a crying fest after you just ate me out."

Satoru looks up at you with watery eyes and a sheepish smile. His lips were still shining from your cum, and you couldn't help but get redder. As he got up and dusted his knees, he looked over at you with a smirk, "aren't you going to explain why you were also wrong?"

You looked up pensively before shaking your head, "nope!"

"Of course not," Satoru chuckles, his hands snaking around your waist, "now come here."

[owliellder]

Loving Takes Time

Leon Kennedy x afab Satyr Hybrid! Reader

MDNI 18+

Trigger Warning for the nature of the content

Description: Leon goes with Chris to just look at hybrids up for adoption, not really expecting to bring such a strange one home.

Warnings: Not proofread, Dub-Con, Unprotected Sex, Major Size Difference and 5-Year Age Difference, Leon is a PERVERT but he's still gentle 🫶

Tags: One-shot, Female Reader uses she/her, No use of y/n, Leon is 5'11", Reader is 4'0", Virgin Reader, Smut, Somnophilia, Picture Taking, Lactation, Fingering, Cunnilingus, Cowgirl Position, Belly Bulge, Dirty Talk, Ass Play

Words: 8.9k

Author's Note: Okay now I know this is a pretty strange/questionable one, but I've had this idea in my pocket for awhile and, once again, this is pure self-indulgence because if I could be ANYTHING in the world I would be a satyr 😭 They're the cutest little scampers!!!

Please forgive me for my transgressions 💔 I honestly felt so guilty writing this even though a lot of these tags reflect me (please don't hate me)

Cross-posted onto AO3

"I'm serious, we're just going to look!"

"Chris, 'just looking' always leads to either you or me getting something." Leon emphasized with hand quotes, giving Chris an incredulous look.

Both men were sitting in Chris' car that was parked in the relatively empty parking lot for the Hybrid Adoption Center. Leon had expressed *once* that he thought having a pet would be fun, but he knew a pet would be hard to manage with his field of work. He'd been partially aware of hybrids, yet he was less than convinced on the idea of having what was essentially a pet person.

"Look, I know. I get it-" "I don't wanna hear it. We're just here to look." Leon cut Chris off, waving his hand dismissively before opening the passenger door. "Even on the off chance I find one that I like, I'm in no way prepared to bring them home." He slid out of the car, Chris following suit. The older man followed Leon around the front of the car, shaking his head with a small chuckle. "Alright, alright.. Whatever you say, ya big grouch."

If Chris hadn't had to make an appointment to see the hybrids, then Leon would've found any excuse not to come. He did try, don't get him wrong, but Chris is notoriously persistent. A worm in his ear.

Once the two had made their way inside the adoption center, Chris confirmed his appointment to visit with the hybrids with a nice old lady who happily greeted them from the front desk. "There's still a couple in the back looking, but I'll let them know their time is up. Give me just a minute-" she quickly stood up and walked out from the front desk and into the back kennels.

Good. A little time to look around. Leon thought to himself with a small hum, moseying around the front room. He carefully looked at the various items; clothes, leashes, collars, bags of food, toys, treats, everything. He had a feeling that he was going to end up with some random puppy hybrid today, so it was worth it to look at all this ahead of time.

After only a few minutes, the old lady returned with the couple, nodding with a smile as they promised to come back once they'd made up their mind. Leon silently wishes Chris would give him the luxury of choice like they had.

"Leon! C'mon, let's go!" Chris happily exclaimed, only to be shushed by the lady. Apparently most of the hybrids are pretty sensitive to the sound as it echoes back in the kennels. At least the older man listened to someone here. "Lead the way." Leon held his hand up, letting Chris walk in front of him through the door to the kennels.

What they walked through were the puppy hybrids first, probably the most popular. And the noisiest. They were super excitable, which was undeniably cute, but at the end of the day Leon wasn't looking for a high-maintenance pet. He needed one with self-sustainability, and preferably one that wouldn't smother him either. The last thing he wants is to feel guilty every morning leaving for work. So a puppy hybrid? Out of the question.

Chris was quietly ooging out over every single hybrid they past, all the way through to the quieter kitty and bunny section. All cute, a cat hybrid seemed to be most aligned with what Leon wanted. None of them really caught his eye, though.

Near the end of their little walkthrough, Leon decided to look through the puppy kennels one last time, furrowing his brow when he noticed an empty kennel in the back. It being empty isn't what confused him, it was the kennel card still hanging on the chainlink fence that did it.

Making his way over, he carefully studied the card. No picture and a pretty vague description was provided. A... goat? They have a goat with the puppies back here? Reading on, he noticed that it said you were twenty-five years old, five years younger than he was. Guess you'd been there at the shelter for awhile too.

You weren't in the main kennel area, though. Probably hiding in the back. It was strange they had you with the puppies, they were so barky, but maybe they had no other place to put you? That's the most reasonable explanation.

Chris noticed Leon looking at the empty kennel with pursed lips, walking up behind him with crossed arms. "Out of everything here, you zero in on the kennel that has nothing in it?" Leon turned to face Chris, responding with a simple "... there's a goat in there" before going back to trying to see through the small square hole at the back of your kennel that led to the employee-only side, hoping to catch a glimpse of you.

"You're joking. A goat?" Chris raised an eyebrow, pushing Leon over to the side a bit so he could read your kennel card as well. "Aren't those for farms or something?"

"Yeah, I thought so too.." Leon hummed, crouching down next to Chris' legs as he continued to try and look through the hole. The old lady from the front desk soon made her way back to tell the two men that their time was almost up, only to find them studying your kennel.

"She's a shy one." She spoke up with a smile, alerting both men of her presence. "Hides when people come through the door, but she is easy to entice with a little snack?" The old lady noticed Leon seemed most interested and decided to bend down as best as she could to hand him a small peppermint candy.

"Okay..." Leon seemed a bit confused yet accepted the peppermint anyways, tossing it in his hand a couple times before slotting it through the fence. It didn't take long for you to appear, poking your head out through the square hole with your nose sniffing away. Perky goat ears and small curled horns, seemed standard enough.

It wasn't until you very cautiously stepped out, eyes on the three standing in front of her kennel that Leon seemed more interested than before. From your hips down you had fur, full blown goat legs that ended with the daintiest little hooves. He noticed your tail once it wagged a couple times at the scent of the peppermint. It made him crack a smile. Now that's interesting!

"Oh wow, she's..." Leon started to speak, his voice quickly trailing off as the suddenness must've started you. "Yes, she's a bit more 'animal' than the rest. The livestock usually are." The old lady seemed to know what he was going to say. It must be confusing to a lot of people.

"Small, too." Chris chimed in, arms still crossed as he looked down at you, watching you crouch low and stretch your arm to reach for the peppermint to avoid getting any closer to the chainlink fence.

"A pygmy goat. Regular goat hybrids tend to be a foot taller, but she's only about 4 feet. Very small little lady." The old lady chuckled softly, watching you scurry back through the hole to hide after successfully grabbing the peppermint. "I can take you into one of our meeting rooms if you'd like to get a better look?"

Before Leon could respond, Chris decided to just accept the offer for him, laughing as he watched the other man's face fall with annoyance. "Oh come on, don't be so sour." Chris firmly grabbed Leon's arm and hoisted him up from his crouched position before nudging his forward. "Lead the way, miss."

The colorfully painted walls of the meeting room were rather welcoming as both men wandered in. On the back wall sat a bench with some old cushions and blankets sitting on the seat. Chris took the liberty to sit down while Leon leaned against the wall next to it, grumbling quiet nonsense to himself.

The old lady excused herself to go retrieve you from your kennel, leaving Chris to poke fun at Leon for his sudden interest for only a moment before she returned with you on a lead.

She was right, you were small. "Alright, sugar, easy now." You were also very obviously nervous, hiding behind the elder woman's legs as she walked into the room with you. She gently pet the top of your head, fixing a few strands of your hair that got stuck wrapped around your tiny horns. "Just remember to move slow with her and you'll have the perfect little lap pet."

The old lady's voice was soft as she slowly made her way over to Chris, handing him the end of your lead as he nodded in agreement. You tried to follow the lady as she walked back out of the room only to be stopped by the lead, causing you to start whining with your ears pinned to the sides of your head as you stared at the now closed door.

"Hey," Leon was crouched down again, clicking his tongue to try and get your attention, "hey it's okay, she'll be back soon." You whipped your head around to look at him, freezing where you stood as you watched Leon reach a hand out. You sniffed the air a bit, staring both men down, almost as if you were sizing them up.

"Pretty cute, huh Leon?" Chris whispered. He was really laying it on thick and as much as Leon hated to admit it, you were growing on him. "Here, sit down on the bench and I'll give you her leash." As he spoke, Chris scooted to the side more to make room for the other man.

After carefully standing up to not scare you, he sat down on the bench next to Chris, taking the loop on the end of the lead as it was offered to him. Leon was a little nervous only because you were nervous, what if you bite?

It took some time, but with a lot of gentle coaxing and few extra peppermints provided by the old lady, you were soon standing in front of Leon's legs, chin resting on his knees as he scratched behind your left ear. During that time Leon had introduced himself to you, and though you didn't respond, your ears perking up to listen was enough confirmation that you heard him.

"You're breaking." Leon frowned at Chris' remark, eyes locked on your relaxed face. He could just barely see your fluffy tail wagging, moving his hand around to lift your head up as to scratch underneath your chin. The second he heard that happy little chitter from the back of your throat he knew it was over.

Chris gave a small 'oh' when he noticed Leon's smile forming. "You broke." The younger man only sighed in response, now using both hands to massage your furry ears. "I'll go get that lady." You jumped slightly when Chris suddenly stood, but Leon was quick to distract you with another peppermint.

The paperwork to take you home was relatively simple, thankfully. Leon took every recommendation from the elder lady about what items to buy, along with taking the blanket that was kept in your kennel. Something that already smelled like you would help ease you into a new home, or so he was told.

You were surprisingly easy on the ride home, both men staying quiet with the radio playing low just in case you panicked. Chris helped Leon set up all your stuff before bringing you inside, leading you over to where your blanket was laid out in the medium sized cage now set up in the corner of Leon's living room. You stayed in the cage as the men said their goodbyes, now left alone with Leon.

He gave you time to settle, only choosing to react to you once he noticed you quietly crawl out from the cage and begin surveying the living room from where he sat on the couch. "Hey there, little lamb."

His voice startled you slightly, making eye contact with him for a brief moment before offering him a shy smile. "Hi.." You whispered back in response, looking around as you slowly stepped over to Leon. He hadn't heard you speak until now, so this hopefully meant you were growing more relaxed around him.

"Quite the change." Leon hummed and you only nodded, looking off to the side as you rested your chin on one of his knees again. "It's a lot quieter here though, yeah?"

"Yeah..." Your voice was so sweet, even if just a whisper right now.

"Good." Leon cooed, reaching down to rub your ears. "How ya feeling?"

You shrugged, eyes still darting around the room even as they became lidded with the gentle caresses on your ears.

"What about a bath?" You looked back up into his eyes at the suggestion, eyebrows raising up. It had been awhile since you were given a bath..

Your reaction must've been enough as it prompted Leon to stand up, bending down a bit to hold onto your hand before leading you up the stairs and to the bathroom attached to his bedroom.

Luckily most of his living room and the bedrooms were carpeted, so he didn't have to worry about you slipping there. The tiled kitchen and bathrooms were another story as you immediately slipped with a yipe once stepping into the bathroom, furry legs shaking as you held yourself still as best as you could in an awkward half-splits position.

The man lifted your arm up above your head by your hand, lifting you up a bit in the process so you could reach the rug in front of the bathtub without anymore risk. "I gotcha, kiddo. Don't panic."

He kept one hand on the top of your head as a single to stay where you were while he turned the bathtub faucet on, plugging the drain once the water was warm enough. He was directed to buy a specific soap for you, so he used that to create some bubbles in the bath in hopes of giving you a little bit of fun.

You were carefully lifted up and into the water as soon as it was ready and the faucet was turned off, sighing softly at the warmth. You were always so anxious in the shelter which meant your muscles were always stiff. This was a nice change of pace.

"Wash off that shelter stink." Leon chuckled when you closed your eyes, sitting down on his legs before grabbing an empty cup to scoop and pour the soapy water over your head.

The attention you were receiving was unfamiliar, but definitely not unwelcome. His fingernails scratching your scalp was heavenly and you couldn't help but coo at the feeling.

"That good?" The man asked, smiling as you tilted your head towards his hands whenever he moved them.

"Mhm." You tilted your head back as he massaged his hands down your neck, using a clean washrag that he grabbed from underneath the sink not too long ago. He was able to get away with washing your whole upper body before asking you to stand up, offering his hand to you to use for balance. Along with the soap he bought for you, he also got a short bristled comb for your fur.

He kept his hand up for you, countering your pressure with a bit of his own so you felt steady while he began to lightly comb out the fur that started below your navel. What was once a dingy grey was now the cutest white fur on your belly and on the inside of your thighs, it was even on your butt and the underside of your tail.

While combing out your soggy fur, Leon had started to grow curious. All the other hybrids were just naked humans with a few specific animalistic features, yet your entire lower body was just goat.

He slowly spun you around at some point to comb your backside. "I need both my hands for this, love. Can you put your hands on the edge of the tub for me?"

You were reluctant to let go of his hand but agreed anyways, shakily placing your hands on the slippery white porcelain. It bent you over just slightly, which is what Leon needed to reach the rest of everything.

Unbeknownst to both you and Leon, your tail was quite sensitive at the base. He paused at the small gasp you let out when he grabbed your tail, giving you a worried look. "Are you okay? Did that hurt?"

"Uh-.. oh uh.. no it didn't hurt..." You weren't quite sure how to respond. That was a new feeling. It didn't hurt, though, that you knew.

Leon rationalized the reaction as him just startling you with the sudden grab. But then your tail wiggled faintly in his grasp as he slowly began to comb out your fur again, only leading him to wonder further.

He'd get the fur on the lower end of your legs last since you had to balance more for that, but right now he needed to worry about the thick patch of fur covering your genitals. Your little puckered hole was already on display for him which definitely didn't have him half-hard in his jeans since he had to lift your tail to comb the fur around it and you didn't seem too bothered by the exposure.

He let go of your tail, which stayed up, to pour another cup of water over your furry backside after noticing you begin to shiver, moving his hands lower to part the fur covering your pussy so he could comb that out as well. Unfortunately was a bit more tangled down there, probably due to the movement of your legs, and with it being denser fur, Leon had to take extra precaution when getting the tangles out.

He wasn't complaining though, your cute little pussy was definite eye-candy to the man. The bath was an easy excuse to touch it a bit, running the tip of his index finger through your folds a couple times before refocusing on detangling the fur around it. The little gasp you made mimicked the one you let out when he grabbed your tail. Interesting.

"Mr- uh.. Mr. Kennedy?" His eyes slowly drifted up to your face, noticing you were looking back at him from over your shoulder. "Don't worry, we're almost done, okay? You were pretty tangled down here, didn't wanna hurt ya."

Leon's words eased you some, finally letting your tail rest against your ass again as he moved down to the backs of your thighs. Not wanting to keep you in the cooling water much longer, the man hurried the rest of the bath up before rising you off with a detachable shower head.

It was amazing to him just how much water you held onto. He had to squeeze out the entirely of your legs, your tail, even your ears before he could wring out your hair. Seeing your perky nipples made it worth his while, however.

By now you were a shivering mess wrapped in two towels, standing on the rug as you would for sure slip on the tile when you were dripping water like this. Leon was so nice to you, setting up a small desktop space heater he had bought some years ago for you in front of your cage. He even carried you downstairs to the carpet.

The second the towels were taken from you, you immediately began to shake off the water, causing Leon to laugh.

"Hey, hey!" He held up the towels in front of his body as protection from your misting, laugh falling to a giggle when your tail vigorously wiggled. "Didn't know I took home a sprinkler system."

"Sorry-" You were still shaking off when you started to speak, so you waiting until you were done to continue talking. "Sorry, Mr. Kennedy. It's habit."

He folded the towel and draped it over his arm before patting your head. "Nah don't worry about it, sugar."

You leaned up into his touch, letting out a giggle of your own as he hooked a finger around the curl of your horn to move your head side to side playfully.

It was, again, surprising just how quickly you warmed up to the man. After you were mostly dried off from sitting in front of the small space heater, you started to follow Leon around as he moved about the house. Though you stopped on the edge of the carpet whenever he walked into the kitchen, he'll have to get some rugs for you, you were close behind him everywhere else.

Leon took a week off of work to allow you time to fully get to know your surroundings. He could more than afford the time off and it was nice to have a mini vacation away from work. Besides, you were fun to watch.

Just like he'd wanted, you were mostly self-sustainable, able to get your own food and go to the bathroom once he added rugs to tiled areas. He also bought a couple step-stools that had rails you could hold onto, one placed in the kitchen so you could move it about and the other in the master bathroom for you to reach the sink.

Leon did also buy a couple indoor cameras to keep an eye on you when he went back to work. You quickly learned where they were so you could ask him questions throughout the day seeing as he could talk through the camera back to you. You always made sure to ask if you could have a specific snack to eat, sometimes even telling him where you were going in the house if there wasn't a camera able to see you.

A few months in had lead to a very comfortable routine between you two; Leon would leave before you were awake, come home around 6-7pm, you would come running from wherever you were to hug his waist, he would make dinner while you two talked, the both of you would sit on the couch and watch a movie if it was a day he didn't come home exhausted, you and him would go to bed, and the cycle would repeat. At some point you even started sleeping in his bed with him, curling up towards the foot end of the bed next to his legs.

The weekends were spent going on walks to exercise your legs. You liked climbing and jumping around on big rocks, so hiking was always a good option. He also spent extra time cuddling you, massaging your little legs, playing with the split in your hooves, even experimenting with a gentle tug on your tail every so often. You always got so embarrassed with his teasing, it made him laugh.

When Leon had to leave for a mission, he would have Chris come and stay at his place. You didn't like this at first, it threw off the delicate balance between you and Leon, but just like with everything else, you settled after the first couple times he had to go on a mission. You were never told the nature of his missions, he didn't want you to worry or be upset if he never came back. This also kept you decently happy when he was away.

You really bonded with Leon and he bonded with you. How could he not? You were adorable.

As previously mentioned, you would always come running to greet him when he got home from work, which is why he was a little off-put not seeing you after getting home one day. It was the middle of the week and it had been a normal working day. You seemed alright on the cameras a few hours ago, having told him before he went on lunch that you were going to take a nap on his bed. It's been longer than your normal naps, so he was hoping you didn't get stuck somewhere and hurt yourself.

"I'm home, little lamb! Where are ya?" Leon yelled out, pausing to listen for any sign of movement before making his way back to his bedroom, but not before giving the guest bathroom and bedroom a quick glance on the way.

You had obviously been on his bed, given the sheets were all messed up, but where the hell were you?

It wasn't until he strode into his bathroom that he noticed his tall laundry basket was tipped over, some clothes pushed out the top which held the attached lid open a crack. He knelt down on one knee and knocked on the lid with his knuckle before lifting the lid up, eyes landing on you curled up in the bottom. Your eyes met his and you frowned, ears lowered as you turned your eyes down.

"Hey kiddo, what're ya doing in there?" Leon made sure his voice was anything but accusatory. "Did you get stuck?"

He glanced up a bit to make sure your horn wasn't hooked in one of the holes, and it wasn't.

"No..." You muttered, pulling one of his dirty shirts over your face. Oh now you were hiding from him, that won't do.

"C'mon, out with ya." His voice was gravelly as he lifted the lid up all the way and reached in, putting his hands under your armpits to pull you out along with the shirt you kept in front of your face. He held you so you were sitting on his forearm snuggled up to his stomach, reaching a hand up to pull the shirt away from you before tucking his other arm underneath your fluffy butt.

The position had you at eye level with him. He noticed your face was a little flushed, so he reached a hand back and pressed the back of it to your forehead. You didn't have a fever, that's good at least.

"You gonna tell me what's up?" Leon asked, scoffing playfully when you shook your head no and covered your face with your arms. "You'll be mad at me."

Leon's eyebrows furrowed with concern, carefully peeling your arms away from your face so you could look at him. "I would never get mad at you. You know that." He whispered, moving his hand around to support your back, thumbing rubbing soothingly at your skin.

It was true, he'd never gotten mad at you before. But this was different, you felt different. You were acting different and you didn't know why. You couldn't explain to him what was wrong even if you wanted to.

The dejected look that fell across your face as you averted your gaze was telling enough. He couldn't drag that information out of you, but he could hopefully make you feel better in the meantime.

Leon smiled and leaned forward to kiss your forehead, beginning the short walk back to the bed as he muttered against your skin. "Ya hungry? You've been back here awhile.."

He felt you nod, smiling as he gently placed you down on the bed. "Lay down and I'll bring you a snack. I'll even lay with you."

Your tummy fluttered at the idea of Leon cuddling with you, so you nodded again, much more enthusiastically this time. Your tail was wagging when he returned, quickly moving to press up to his side when he sat down next to you on the bed and handed you a sliced apple and some water.

It was little things like the laundry that Leon began to notice more and more over the next couple weeks. He would come home and have to go on what was essentially a hunt to find you because your cute ass was always hiding somewhere different; under his bed, in his closet, in the laundry basket again, and even right by the front door, somehow managing to pull down a couple of his jackets from the coat rack and make a little nest to curl up in.

Leon asked Chris about it one day at work while watching you pace around in the living room from one of the cameras, worried there was some lack of enrichment that he was somehow failing to provide. You were so happy before, but now you were right back to being the same anxious mess he saw at the adoption center all those months ago.

"You should call and ask that lady. She might know something." Chris shrugged, taking a sip from a can of soda. "I don't know much about goat hybrids, let alone females hybrids." He huffed out through his nose with a smile, but Leon only tightened his lips in response. Chris did have a point though, it could be something to do with your specific breed and gender.

Once Leon got home, he quickly found you with some of his dirty clothes under the bed again before giving the old lady at the adoption center at the call. The one thought he was avoiding was the possibility of you being sick to some degree. You were part prey animal, and those types of animals tended to hide their sickness. He learned this from trying to research what was wrong with you himself.

He stepped out of the bedroom and closed the door behind himself. You would sometimes skitter off to hide somewhere else after he'd already found you once that day, so he didn't want you disappearing while he was on the phone.

It was hard for Leon to explain over the phone what you'd been doing, but once he mentioned you making a nest out of his jackets did the lady know what the problem was. You were going into heat soon.

"Heat? The hell is that?" He scratched the side of his face, turning to look at the bedroom door to make sure it was still closed. Having that whole ordeal explained to him had him running a slow hand down the entirety of his face. Guess they can kick in for farm hybrids anywhere between 21-28 years old.

Of course. You were a girl. He really should've known all this when he first got you.

He had to help you manage it too. From what the lady said, you'd be a complete mess soon since you'd already been acting strange like that for a couple weeks now.

However, Leon wasn't completely opposed to the idea of *helping* you. In fact, he was a bit excited at the prospect of getting to explore you a bit more intimately. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he liked you. Liked you. Always so cute bounding around the house, snuggling up to him at night, giving him little pecks on his cheek when he picked you up. You were so hard to resist.

Not to mention that he couldn't keep his hands from straying whenever he helped you bathe. He would spread your pussy lips apart and use the excuse of making sure everything was clean to get a better view. Your little ass wasn't any safer with his thumb rubbing circles on it whenever he had to hold your tail up. You made the most precious noises when he touched you.

Alright, he could do this. Helping you with your heat seemed easy enough. All he needed to do was just take a week or two off of work again to tend to your needs. He definitely wasn't going to turn down getting to spend extra time with you. His little lamb.

About three days into his time off from work was when your heat fully started to kick in. You woke up in the middle of the panting, sweating, and restless, helping yourself out of the bed and down the stairs into the kitchen to drink some water. It helped for a short period, but when you woke up again, you were laying in a small wet puddle on the bed.

You started to cry because you thought you'd wet yourself, waking Leon in the process. He seemed confused, trying to make out what you were babbling about until you pulled the blankets back. Seeing the puddle made you cry more and Leon had to reassure you multiple times that everything was alright.

He sat up with his back up against the headboard and pulled you onto his lap, letting you weep into his bare chest. You were clearly a bit more emotional than usual, but Leon didn't mind, especially when he could feel a small wet spot forming on his boxers from you. He just whispered sweet nothings to you while rubbing your back, silently relishing in the feeling of your wet little cunt pressing on him.

Leon kept you up on his chest even once you calmed down, explaining your predicament the same way to you as the old lady had explained to him over the phone, faintly ghosting his fingers over the wet fur surrounding your crotch all the while.

He occasionally moved his hand around to pet and squeeze your fluffy ass cheeks, rub his thumb over your asshole again, or to stroke your tail, gauging your reactions. More emotional, even more sensitive.

You sighed and gasped at every touch, eyes having closed at some point during his explanation. Leon seemed to understand what was going on with you, so you didn't see much reason to worry. He'd make sure you were okay.

"You just need a little extra loving this week. That seem okay?" Leon hummed when you nodded, bringing his hand back down to part the fur covering your pussy. "Good. Who doesn't want some extra love, right?"

You jolted a bit when his index finger began to run up and down through your dripping folds, only relaxing again once his other hand came up to rub between your shoulder blades. "Easy, girl, easy..."

Your legs naturally parted further for him, tail staying lifted. "That feel good, little lamb?" Leon whispered, adding his middle finger to continue stroking your folds when you gave him a small moan in response.

"Yeah it does.. yeah..." A groan rumbled deep in Leon's chest, rubbing the tips of his fingers over your slit as slick consistently leaked from it. It had already started to drip down past your clit, saturating the fur on your stomach before eventually dripping onto his boxers, right above his bulge. It was wet from before, but feeling the new spot form was driving him insane.

Despite not being able to see it, the man spread your outer lips apart. He groaned when you whined and lifted your hips slightly, eyebrows furrowing again when your tail wagged a couple times.

"You like that?" Leon breathed out a low chuckle as he moved his fingers down to stroke your wet clit. "Like when Mr. Kennedy plays with you like this?"

"I-oh-.. yes, sir.." Leon paused to pull you up a bit further on his chest to kiss you, fingers quickly returning to massage your clit. You didn't quite know how to kiss back, so you just did your best to follow his lead. The kisses on your lips made you feel warmer than you already were.

His free hand had moved down your back to your tail, grabbing it firmly to so he could lightly tug on it. Your moans only increased in volume at that, panting with your lips still pressed on his. You were steadily leaking now, the combined feeling of his fingers on your clit while he stroked your tail causing you to gush. His fingers and the top of his palm were completely drenched.

"Such a good girl~..." Leon sighed, moving his fingers off your clit so he could pet the fur around your pussy. "You're so soft here, baby.."

You'd been blushing already, but his sweet words were only making it worse. Your pussy was aching now, hips jerking back subconsciously for his touch.

"Hmm? What is it, sugar?" He knew what you wanted, he just wanted to hear your delicate voice again. "P-please-.. keep playing with me, Mr. Kennedy..."

Oh, you were just darling. "Atta girl, using your big girl words.." Leon smirked, moving his index and middle fingers back to rub your clit. Your head was growing foggy now, face buried in the juncture of his neck to breathe in his scent. It was so strong there, musky and warm, reminded you of cinnamon.

He dipped his middle finger into your wet hole down to the first knuckle accompanied by a particularly rough tug to your tail, pulling a squeal from you in the process.

"I know, oh, I know~..." Leon cooed quietly into your right ear. His hot breath tickled, making your ear flick forward. "You're so tight, baby.. Squeezing around my big finger..."

He slowly sunk his finger into you further. Your legs were trembling on either side of his waist, small hands grasping onto his pecs as breathy moans and whimpers poured from your lips. Once he curled his finger, you came, whole body shaking as you let out a cry.

Such a pretty sight for Leon, watching you drool onto his chest, all dumb from just a finger. He could get used to this.

With lots of encouraging words and caresses to your tail he was eventually able to get two fingers into you, pumping them in and out of you, curling them every so often just to hear you whine for him.

The fullness was so new to you, and with the man filling your senses combined with the sensitivity your heat provided, it wasn't long before you were clamping down on his fingers again, cumming for the second time with a weak gasp that fell into whimpering and panting.

"There ya go.. easy, girl.." Leon moved his hand away from your tail to push your ear closer to his lips, kissing the soft inside as he whispered into it. He carefully removed his fingers from you to bring into his mouth, swapping his hands so the other was now flat on your lower back. Your slick tasted so sweet, like honey on his tongue. He'll be tasting more of that later.

He planted one last kiss to your lips before shifting down on the bed so he could lay back down, arms tightly wrapped around you as he rolled onto his side.

You fell asleep in no time, the sound of Leon's steady heartbeat soothing your fast one back to a regular pace.

You must've been feeling the effects of your heat come the next morning, considering you slept until the late afternoon. You just seemed more fatigued, totally understandable.

Before you'd woken up, Leon managed to do a bit more research of his own. He wanted to stay informed on how this whole heat thing would go, taking note of the various effects; hypersensitivity to touch and sound, fatigue, cravings, increased libido, lactation?, clinginess, flushed skin, and that excessive slick would last throughout the whole heat. Everything else would come and go in waves, apparently.

He was sitting on the couch, phone in his hands when you emerged from the bedroom, rubbing at your eyes with a small yawn. Without saying a word, you walked over and stood in front of his legs up. Leon could only smile as you crawled up onto his lap, pushing yourself underneath his arms.

You had your back flush against him, leaning your head back so it was resting between his pecs. Thankfully your horns were short enough that they didn't poke him.

Your furry legs were parted around his, arms hanging loosely at your sides with your tail tucked beneath your butt. There, you fell asleep again.

The man placed one hand on your leg to play with your soft fur, turning his attention back to his phone as he continued to read. Soon he was looking down at you, an idea in mind. He shook your leg a bit to see if you would wake up and you didn't even stir. Fantastic.

Smirking, Leon opened the camera on his phone and flipped it so it was front-facing. He'd gotten pictures of you in the past, usually more candid photos of you cuddling with him, but nothing like this.

He moved his hand from your leg to your crotch, parting the fur with his fingers to reveal your still dripping pussy. It was always nice to look at the cute pictures he'd gotten of you when he's at work or on a mission, so what's the harm in getting just a few more? He already knew he'd be missing this when he had to return to work.

Leon made sure to get the wet spot you were forming on his sweatpants in view, taking some pictures with and without his fingers caressing your glistening folds. He brought the phone up to give the photos a good look, smirk widening before bringing it back down to focus more on your breasts.

Lactation. They did seem a bit more pronounced than usual. Taking a simple video wouldn't hurt, right?

Once pressing record, Leon rubbed his free hand across your chest, gently massaging one breast at a time. He circled his index finger around one of your nipples before giving it an experimental pinch, his breath hitching when couple droplets of milk beaded from it. Oh wow.

He massaged the one breast a bit more firmly before moving to pinch your nipple again, groaning to himself as a few more droplets beaded and collected on his thumb.

Leon placed the phone down after ending the recording, hurriedly placing both hands on your breasts as he began to massage both of them a bit more firmly. Pinching both your nipples made you whimper in your sleep, though he barely registered it when his eyes were flooded with the sight of more milk droplets falling onto his fingers.

Jesus, thats amazing. He swallowed dryly, only continuing for a minute more until deciding to give your probably very sensitive breasts a break and let you sleep.

You woke up when Leon had to move you off of his lap, whining as you watched him stand up from the couch. "I'll be right back, little lamb." He shushed you, placing you on your side with your head on one of the plush decorative pillows. He needed to take care of his hard-on before he exploded and he can't really do that with your hot and wet little cunt pressing right on it.

The rest of the day was spent with Leon holding you up with one arm while he did chores, your head on his shoulder. You whined and complained and cried until he picked you up, wanting to stay as close as possible to the man.

Something about your heat must kick in at night because you were more awake after the sun had set, clinging to Leon like your life depended on it. You didn't understand, but something in you ached, you *needed* him. It was hard convey, so you just went back to whining and complaining as he got ready for bed.

"Baby, you gotta let me brush my teeth I-" he was cut off when you suddenly fondled him through his sweatpants. His scent was strong down here, you really liked it. The man spit into the sink before reaching down to place a firm hand atop your head. "Hey hey, careful with the equipment."

You giggled and wrapped your arms around his waist, the side of your face squished against his stomach with your tail wagging happily. He hummed and finished brushing his teeth. "Alright, go and hop in bed. Go on." He shooed you away with a playful grin, giving your ass a gentle smack when you turned to trot off.

Reaching around, you rubbed over the spot where he smacked your butt, looking over your shoulder at him for a brief moment. It made your tummy flutter like before.

You crawled into the bed and watched the bathroom door until Leon walked out, smile immediately returning as he walked over to his side of the bed. He got in next to you and sighed, laying with his arms behind his head. His eyes were closed but he could just tell you were leaning over him.

"What's up, love?" Leon hummed, peaking one eye open to look up at you. You weren't tired, you were achey. You can't sleep when you were achey. "D'ya need somethin'?"

You thought for a moment before nodding. "Yes-.. yeah.."

"Whaddya need then? You know how to use your words." Leon closed the one eye, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he felt you move to sit on his chest.

"Will you-... uh.. will you play with me again, Mr. Kennedy?" He could feel your tail wagging, soft white fur rubbing side to side across his skin.

He raised an eyebrow, yet his eyes remained closed. "Ask nicely, sugar."

You groaned, eyebrows furrowing with frustration. You wanted him to look at you but his eyes were closed, now he was making you repeat yourself. So mean. "Please, Mr. Kennedy..."

"Please what?" Leon's laugh only frustrated you more, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as you struggled to think. "Please play with me!"

Noticing your shaky tone, Leon opened one eye again, smirk falling to a kind smile. "Okay, alright, don't get your panties in a bunch."

"...my what?" You sniffled, blinking away your tears as he sat up onto his elbows. "Don't worry about it. Can you hop off for just a second, sweets?"

You nodded and slid off to the right, watching him shimmy off his sweatpants, left fully naked with a semi. He rolled onto his side and moved closer to you, pressing his hand to your chest to gently guide you to lay down.

"I'll play with ya real nice.." He grunted, watching your legs part for him as he slotted his head between them. He was craving the taste of that honey-sweet slick on his tongue, and after placing his left hand around the inside of your thigh, right hand spreading you open, he dove in.

Not wanting to waste a single second, he began to greedily lap at your folds, moaning in tandem with you as he swallowed every drop of slick you were oh so graciously offering to him. Your soft fur tickling his face was the last thing he was thinking about, tongue tracing every perfect inch of your cunt.

Your moans and gasps were music to his ears, chuckling into your cunt as he looked up to your face. So blissed out already. You'd be the death of him, though he'd die a happy man.

Leon wrapped his lips around your clit, swirling his tongue around it as he gently sucked. You were wiggling a lot, you needed to stay still.

Pulling away with a growl, he sat up on his knees and grabbed both your ankles with his hand. He lifted them up so your ass was lifted slightly from the bed before diving back down into your cunt. That was way better.

While his right hand held your legs up, his left hand wandered down to your puckered hole, occasionally dipping the tip of his thumb into it following a few circles around the rim. It was already wet enough from the mixture of your slick and his spit. Plus, it was right there just waiting to be toyed with.

His cock was throbbing for you, desperate to feel your tight, silky walls wrapped around him. He pulled his mouth away from you after a minute with a gravelly laugh, taking a moment to enjoy the sight of you with your legs held up, crossed at the ankles, along with your weeping pussy.

He was smart enough to leave his phone close by on the nightstand, so he was able to reach over and grab it without jostling you too much. This picture was going in his wallet, that's for sure.

"Mr. Kennedyyy..." you whined, weakly attempting to pull your legs from his grasp.

"Relax," Leon tapped the bottom of your hooves with his thumb before slowly letting your legs fall back to the bed. "Mr. Kennedy just wanted to savor the view."

He sat up against the headboard, patting his lap with a smile. It took you a second to recollect yourself enough to crawl onto him, Leon helping you by offering a hand for you to balance with.

"Perfect, riiiight there.." He sat you just right so his dick settled into the part in your fur that he made, then placing his hands on the point of your hips to begin leisurely grinding you down on him. The wet shlick from his dick gliding through your folds was absolutely divine. He had to keep himself from plunging into you.

"Pl-ease, sir..." you brokenly whined as his tip caught your clit, causing you to jerk your hips forward.

"No need to beg, my lamb. You'll get just what you need.." He moved one hand to grab your bicep to help keep you lifted up as he positioned his cock at your hole. "I'll be so careful, as gentle as I can..."

Your face contorted in a silent cry as he began to push you down onto him, rubbing soothing circles into your hips. "You're doing so well, sugar" He grunted, "my big, strong girl~.."

Leon was so careful, just like he promised you, giving you all the time you needed to adjust and stretch to his length. Your eyes were shut tight, ears pressed back against your head as you whimpered. He made you feel so full, it really did satisfied that achey feeling you had.

"God that's so hot.." The man whispered to himself, grabbing his phone again to take a picture of the obvious bulge in your tummy from his cock, putting his hand next to it for reference. He moved his hand over it and pressed gently, listening to your drawn out whimper.

"Oh I bet you're- fuck- just loving that, huh baby girl?" Leon growled at the feeling of your walls wrapped around him, slick started to leak down his shaft and to his balls.

Wanting to give you a bit more time, he started to grind you on him again. "Gah- noo, too- ngh~.. too full, Mr. Kennedy.."

"Yeah?" Leon purred, swiping his tongue across his bottom lip as he watched your face. "Too full?"

You nodded with a whimpered out "yes", hands clenched in fists at your sides, unsure of where to put them.

"But you're making Mr. Kennedy feel so good, sweetheart.." He barely lifted you up before letting you slide back down to the base, hands hovering close to your waist.

"...yeah..?" You panted, body starting tremble with adrenaline, nipples perked up. "Soooo good.." Leon responded, hunching over to pull one of your nipples into his mouth. Your hands flew to his arms, digging your nails into his skin as you gasped.

The man growled again at the taste of what little milk he got, furrowing his brow as he started to lift you up and down on his cock by holding onto your sides.

Your pussy squelched and dripped around his cock, dragging moan after moan from your beautiful lips. All he could do was focus on bouncing you now, leaning back to watch his cock disappear into your fur-covered cunt each time he dropped you down onto it.

He almost laughed when he saw your ears bouncing with you, but he didn't want to make you feel embarrassed. No, he'll save that for later when he shows Chris the pretty pictures and video he took of you.

Your walls quivered and clenched around him, tip bumping into your cervix, leaving him grunting as he neared his own high. Pulling out was going to be a difficult task, you cradled his cock so well.

He couldn't get you pregnant, right? No, surely not.

"Mr- ah! Mr. Kennedy..!" Your voice warbled, crying out for him as your tensed up with your orgasm.

"Oh shit.. yeah, yeahhhhh~..." Leon let out a strained groan as you tightened around him like a vice, rutting into you a few more times before spilling his load.

Most of it spilled out and around his cock since he continued to bounce you shallowly on it for a few seconds longer.

You breathed heavily as you tried to catch your breath, leaning forward to fall against his chest with a whine.

The two of you sat for awhile, Leon just soaking in the euphoria of it all. Soon, he delicately lifted you off and laid you next to him, brushing a couple stray strands of hair from your sweaty forehead.

He cleaned you off, but not before getting one last picture of your spent cunt dripping with his cum.

The man'll wait until tomorrow morning to get you in the shower with him. For now, he'll just pull you closer to him, pet the back of your hair while you sleep.

There's still about a week more of this heat of yours, then he'll have to head back to work. He'd stay home forever if it meant taking care of you.

Thinking back, that old lady from the adoption center was right. You did end up being the perfect little lap pet.