the reflection of the sun on the windows of the train is casting light in rivers + woods + streams + fields . anyway photons are made of angels .

[6:17 a.m.]

gojo satoru x reader

you’re pulled out of your dreamworld by long fingers at your forehead. they brush away a few flyaway strands of your hair before gently rubbing over your brow bone. when you attempt to peel your eyes open, you can already tell it’s too early.

it’s still dark, the sun not having graced your small room with its presence yet. but even through your sleepy gaze you can make out the brightness of satoru’s eyes. they’re uncharacteristically soft, crinkling a little as they notice you stirring from slumber. they narrow with amusement as you let out an irritated groan.

“satoru…it’s too early.”

you say his name with emphasis, and he chuckles quietly.

“i know i know. go back to sleep, pretty thing.”

your curiosity heightens, and you squint as you attempt to look at him. he looks like your boyfriend alright, with his snowy white hair, bright cerulean eyes, and lopsided smile. but he also looks familiar in a way that is oddly unfamiliar. the tight black shirt he has on accentuates his built physique, and the baggy pants tied loosely around his slim waist — it’s different.

for a second you think you see a faint scar running across his lips, but it’s gone in an instant. you’ll choose to blame it on your sleep addled brain.

“where are you going?” you mumble to him, reaching your hand out to take his own. his long fingers squeeze yours reassuringly.

“gotta go take care of something real quick.” he answers, the smile still present in his voice.

“always working.” you pout, pulling the blankets closer to your chin. “i only just got you back. you owe me for all that missed time, so don’t stay away for too long.”

satoru blinks, his smile gone before he reaches down and cups your face in his two large hands. he presses a chaste kiss to your forehead before leaning further down and planting one on your lips. there is no barrier between the two of you - no infinity, and he relishes in it for a second longer.

“okay sweetheart, after i come back from this i’m all yours, yeah?” he sighs, smile reappearing like it never left, though this time it is much more subdued. his fingers tremble against your skin for a second, but then you laugh and he’s back to normal.

“good.” you grin, eyes fluttering shut again. “as it should be.”

the warmth of the cocoon you’ve made is all too inviting, and you don’t have anything against falling into it. the darkness of the room and the allure of the dreamworld you were in just a few minutes ago is all too powerful. you’re just about dozing off again when satoru speaks up once more.

“i love you, sweets.” he says. there’s an odd tone to his voice now, almost somber but not quite. you’re too absorbed in sleep to really notice, but you hear him, and an easy little smile graces your face.

“mmh, love you too, ‘toru. come home soon, okay?”

your words are squished into the pillow, and satoru only smiles down at you. once more he reaches down to drag his fingers over your cheek, before pulling away. he swallows thickly, before nodding his head.

“alright baby. i’ll come back to you soon. wait for me, yeah?”

a/n: bc after today, we all needed this....

Interlude No. 6 | hjs x reader

Interlude No. 6: Joshua has been away for three long, agonizing weeks, so really, it's not your fault that you wrap yourself around him as soon as he gets home.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~2.6k | Pairing: hjs x reader | Genre: smut

Warnings: bigdick!josh, softdom!josh, eye contact, fingering, piv sex, creampie, mention of bruises but it’s about the feeling not the appearance

Reader Notes: has breasts and a vagina, cries a lil bit

It’s late when Joshua finally gets home, late enough that you should be saying early instead. 

You don’t hear the key turning in the lock from your place on the couch, but you feel his plush lips pressing against your forehead and the big, soft hand he rubs up and down your arm to wake you. 

You force one tired eye open and blink up at him blearily, a sleepy smile stretching your lips when his face comes into focus. “Hiii,” you beam, shifting onto your back and reaching out to take hold of his shirt and start tugging. 

He laughs fondly and shakes his head, letting himself be pulled on top of you on the sofa before breathing, “Baby, I told you when I’d be home. Why didn’t you sleep in the bed?”

“Feels too big when you’re gone,” you respond as you wrap your arms and legs around him like an octopus, pouting when he continues to hover above you instead of letting his body sink into yours. You know he probably wants to shower, wash the hours of travel off of him, but you’ve missed him so much and all you want is to feel him pressed against you, real and warm and here. 

His face softens and he drops down onto his elbows, his chest brushing yours with every breath, his body getting closer and closer until he’s splayed out on top of you, fully relaxed and squishing you into the couch. You love the weight of him, love feeling your heart speed up to match the beat of his, love being able to breathe in his comforting scent, especially because it’s faded from the sheets with him being gone for so long. 

When you first started dating, he made sure you knew that he’d be traveling for work at least once a month, but this is the first time he’s been gone for more than two weeks and you’re almost desperate to have his traces back in your shared apartment. You’ve missed washing his mug along with yours, and singing in the kitchen with him as you cook and dance together, and giggling yourselves to death over all your little inside jokes. 

More than that, you’ve missed his presence. You’ve missed the way he can instantly soothe or rile you up, the way you sleep intertwined no matter how warm either of you get, the way he can decipher your needs with a single look. He’s the most caring, intuitive person you’ve ever met, and the sheer longing you’ve felt for him these past three weeks has you set on keeping him in your arms. 

He seems to have accepted his fate, his face buried in your neck as soft breaths flow out over your skin, the pattern growing deeper and deeper until you’re sure he’s asleep. He must be really tired, you think, he never goes to sleep without washing up first. 

You feel a little bit bad that you didn’t let him shower when he had the energy, so you’ll only let him nap for a few minutes before waking him up and dragging him to the bathroom. 

.

You startle awake when Joshua moves from his place on top of you, the shifting of his weight and the absence of his warmth enough to pull you from slumber. 

“C’mon, baby. We can’t sleep out here,” he murmurs, taking your hand and rubbing his thumb over the back until you nod up at him and roll off the couch, your limbs numb and your back aching. 

He pouts sympathetically at your grimace, walking behind you and rubbing your shoulders with a firm touch, his long, skilled fingers hard at work. You step into the dark bedroom and skip the bed, heading straight for the en suite and pulling him along when he moans in displeasure and reaches yearningly toward the cushy duvet. 

“Shower first,” you remind him, and he seems to remember how many hours he was in recycled air on that plane, stripping his clothes off with urgency. You turn the water and shower light on in the meantime, sitting on the edge of the vanity and watching with tired eyes as he slowly reveals his skin to you. 

He glances over just as he steps out of his boxer briefs, his eyes catching yours and a small smirk quirking the corner of his lips as he makes his way over to you. “Did you get too distracted to take your clothes off? I can help you with that, don’t worry.” 

“Babe, I already showered. I was just going to hang out with you while you washed up,” you whisper, staring up at him and watching his face fall into a pout as soon as you finish speaking. 

“But I’ve been gone for so long and I missed you so much,” he takes hold of both of your hands and tugs them to rest under his chin, blinking those big doe eyes at you until you groan and let your head drop back. 

“Fine, but if you get my hair wet, you’ll be in trouble,” you teasingly warn him, your words bringing his smirk back. 

“Baby, I think I’ll like any punishment you could think to give me,” he steps closer and leans in, practically speaking into your mouth before pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss. You let your eyelids flutter closed, the familiar pressure of his mouth stealing every last bit of tension from your body. Then his hand cups your cheek to hold you in place as his tongue glides along your bottom lip, and suddenly, you’re wide awake. 

“We’re supposed to be getting clean, Joshua,” you pull away just enough to remind him, your arms twining around his neck in clear opposition to your words. You can’t help it, though. It’s been three weeks since you’ve had him, since you’ve had more than your toys and your own hands, and you can already feel the heat stirring in your belly after just one kiss. 

“Which is why we should get dirty now, not after,” he murmurs, his voice and his words so convincing, you wonder if he was put on this earth just to tempt you. When his other hand reaches down to hook under your knee and pull your legs open, his hips filling the space and his hardening dick pressing against your center, you know he was. 

You can’t find it in yourself to care, not when he grinds himself into you with a bitten back groan, his fingers squeezing the sensitive underside of your knee and his breath hot against your lips. You want him to kiss you again but he doesn’t, and you realize he’s waiting for a response, one you’ve forgotten to give. 

“Okay, okay, you’re right, just-” 

He leans in and swallows the rest of your words, his lips locked with yours and his palm warm on your cheek. His thumb stretches over to pull your chin down, opening your mouth for his searching tongue, the gesture making you sigh out a shuddering, needy moan. He groans in return, pressing closer to you and hitching your thigh up on his hip so he can dig his thick cock into your covered pussy. 

You whimper brokenly, fighting with yourself about whether you should pull away and finish your sentence or just let him ravish you. But you do still need to be able to get clean later, and if you leave the water running, there’ll be no heat left. 

So you shift your hands to his chest and push him away, even though everything in your body calls for the opposite. 

“What’s wrong?” He pants, his brows furrowed and his hands immediately soft on you. 

“Just shut the shower off, babe, we’re wasting water,” you urge him, sliding back to your feet and rushing to take your clothes off as he reaches into the cubicle and turns the spigot. When he faces you again, he stops short, just staring at your naked body in the steamy air, his gaze dark and heavy on you. 

You hop back up onto the vanity and spread your legs, and that spurs him into action. He’s in front of you in two steps, his fingers fever hot on your inner thighs as they smooth up to the mess between your legs. You’re so wet for him, you can feel it, air clinging to the slickness and making you shiver before his hand covers the whole of your cunt, the heel of his palm hard against your clit and his fingertips slipping inside. 

“Fuck, baby, missed this perfect little pussy so fucking bad,” he moans to you, two of his fingers sinking into your already fluttering walls, your inner muscles clamping down on them when he pulls them out only for you to whimper when he pushes them back in. 

“Yeah?” You whine, wanting to hear more but not having the words to ask for it with his long, thick fingers knuckle deep inside of you. 

“Yeah, thought about you every damn night, most mornings, too,” he chokes out a self-deprecating laugh, as if he thinks you don’t miss him just as much as he misses you. 

“I have t-to make myself not call you whenever I want you, or I would,” you gasp as his fingertips find that patch that makes you squirm. “I would be calling you all the time.” 

He grins affectionately and coos a soft, “Baby,” just as he works a third finger inside of you, curling all three into your sweet spot. Your head tilts back, breaking the eye contact he so loves to keep, and his other hand curves around the back of your neck to hold your head up for you, his forehead pressing to yours and his eyes intent. 

“Keep looking at me, baby. I missed you too much not to see you now,” his voice wavers but his fingers never do, their aim precise and more than enough to ruin you, especially when his thumb sets on your throbbing clit and starts to rub swift circles. 

“Will you cum for me? Please, I wanna feel it,” he begs, all traces of his earlier cockiness gone. 

All you can do is nod, though you can barely even do that with his grip on the nape of your neck, so you force out, “Yes, Joshua, yes, yes, yes,” just before your vision whites out and your pussy locks down on his fingers, a small gush of arousal leaving you and pooling in his palm. He works you through it, his gaze heated and covetous, and when you finally stop clenching and whimpering, he drags his fingers out and wraps them around his cock. 

You want to look down so bad, but he’s still holding your head up and you know he wants your eyes on his, so you don’t look away. The first graze of his hot, leaking dick is enough to make you jump, the head brushing over your sensitive clit before he lines himself up. He starts to push inside, and now you’re grateful for the eye contact because it means you can watch him as he finally gets to feel you again. 

His lashes flutter, his eyes roll back, and his mouth drops open on a long, deep groan when he bottoms out inside of you. His grip on your neck is harsh, as is his grip on your thigh, but you love when he leaves bruises, love the little points of tenderness that act as a reminder of when you were connected with him in every way. 

More than that, you love how the first time in a few weeks feels like the first time period, his cock thick and long enough to stretch you even after three fingers and an orgasm. You’re sure you’ll ache tomorrow, but you don’t mind even a little bit, not when it means you get to welcome him home with your heart and your body. 

“Can I move, baby?” He whispers through gritted teeth, his gaze back on yours and his cock twitching inside of you. 

“Yeah, please,” is all you can manage, your nails digging into his shoulders and your thighs straining as you make room for him to thrust. He withdraws a few inches, just far enough that when he angles your head down, you can see the gleam of your arousal on his cock. 

“Watch,” he encourages you, his fingers firm on the nape of your neck as he slides back inside with a sharp buck of his hips. The fullness makes you gasp, a zip of electric pleasure shooting down your spine at the sight of him buried deep inside of you, where he’s meant to be. The rhythm he builds is fast, relentless, almost frantic, like he thinks you’ll disappear if he doesn’t fuck you into the bathroom counter. 

It’s exactly what you need, his urgent pace too much for you to keep up with but not too much for you to take, his cock bullying through your tightening walls to fill you again and again. You love this push and pull, love the rocking of his hips into yours, love the way it feels to be one with him, to be whole. You’ve missed it, missed him, and before you know it, tears are burning in your throat and bubbling up over your lower lash line. 

Joshua presses his forehead to yours and you feel his eyes on you, know he can tell they’re not tears of pain but tears of relief, and he just releases your neck and thigh to wrap his arms around you, tugging you into his chest even as he continues to fuck in and out of you. 

“Love you,” he moans, his voice shot and his hips speeding up. “Love you so fucking much.”

“I love you,” you warble back, clinging to him with everything you have as that coil starts to wind tighter and tighter in the depths of your belly. His cock twitches inside of you, leaking precum, and you know he’s just as close as you are, so you drop one hand from his shoulder and tuck it between your bodies, swirling circles over your clit. 

One of them catches just right, and paired with his perfect cock, it’s more than enough to push you over the edge. You drag him with you, your rippling walls sucking him in deeper and practically milking the cum from him as you gasp and whine. He answers with groans and whimpers of your name, the combination of his voice and his weeping dick making you shiver in his hold and tighten up just a little bit more, your aftershocks overlapping each other so much they become another orgasm. You shiver your way through it, burying your face in his neck so you can cry in peace. 

You catch your breath together, your chests rising and falling in tandem, Joshua’s hands petting you anywhere they can reach. They journey from the bottom of your spine to the top, over your shoulders, along your neck, into your hair, and then reverse, soothing you into a state not far off from sleep. 

“I’m gonna turn the shower back on, baby,” he murmurs to you, and you nod, forgetting that means he needs to pull out. When he starts disentangling himself from you, you can’t help but whimper and hold him tighter, needing him close now more than ever. 

Thankfully, he seems to understand, gently shushing you and breathing, “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. We can stay like this as long as you need.” 

…

“Can I eat you out in the shower, though? I thought about it the whole flight home.”

“Babe, your flight was, like, nine hours.”

“Yeah, and?” 

AN: ending line is not an ariana grande reference lmao

Seventeen Masterlist

Main Masterlist

how about jealousbf!heeseung who takes you to the empty soundproof vocal rooms and stuffs you full with no mercy after you looked at jay a little too much while they were doing their dance practice

tags: front man heeseung, wannabe groupie reader, he's not her bf !! non idol au, they're just in a band !!

wc: 1k

looking at jay was never an issue until heeseung was looking at you.

who would blame you though? it's not your fault Sunghoon always brought you to band practices. it's not your fault that Heeseung never really paid attention to you before they managed to finesse their way onto a label.

then again, it's not like you knew that Heeseung was always looking. You always seemed to share a gaze between him and everyone else too, so it wasn't really a competitive thing until he noticed you consistently looking at jay more and more.

Hah, always the fucking guitar players too. What do they have that he doesn't? Aside from skilled fingers?

Arguably, Heeseung's fingers are quite skilled too. Just because he's the front man doesn't mean he can't fuck like a guitarist.

So, well, it all really started when you didn't show up. It's rare that you don't, honestly, and all the members seem to miss you when you're not there but man.

Jay sure is a fucking asshole.

"I think she wants me." He joked that one day, nudging Sunghoon and watching them both nod in confirmation that yeah, it's probably true.

"I could take her into one of the soundproof rooms, none of you would even know." he said on that same day, giving Heeseung the idea to do it first.

After all, it's not like he hasn't seen you disappear into sticky bathrooms or dingy band van's at several small town shows with other bands and their members. Why would he be any different? Why would Jay be any different?

Exactly. You're a wannabe groupie and Heeseung is far too willing to feed into your fantasy of fucking a rock star now rather than later.

Jay likes the chase. Heeseung likes the hunt.

And so, that next "practice?" Of course you showed up. Bright eyes, slutty outfit, doe eyes blinking in awe at a bunch of guys who haven't even debuted past a burned CD with shit sound quality? Heeseung approaches you.

Being the front man and all, it's not hard to get you alone as the members take their time doing their own work on the new song. Heeseung's vocals were all finished, and Jay was too wrapped up in his guitar solo recording to notice you eye fucking him again.

"Welcome back, we missed you last time." Heeseung starts in a sweet voice, opening his arms out for a hug.

You kind of quirk your brow at him because, well, you've known the dude for like two years by this point but never has he done more than an awkward side hug while covered in sweat and the scent of musk and alcohol after a show or a hard practice session.

"Oh?" You question, surprised by the grip he holds on you.

"Wanna come with me somewhere?" He asks again, even though the question felt more like a demand in the way he immediately starts dragging you away from the recording studio and into the hallway.

You don't really say much, being more of a go-with-the-flow person than anything. You just shrug, following him into what you obviously know is one of the sound proof rooms they've used previously to practice the noise music.

Working out the kinks of a song doesn't always sound so good, yknow? Nobody really wants to hear that shit til it's ready either.

And it's not like you're stupid or anything. You know what this is, when he steps inside and closes the door behind you. In fact, you're entirely down for it despite not really knowing why the band's front man suddenly wants to be alone with you.

"Hah," Heeseung smirks, watching you already start to slip your shirt off. "I knew it."

You just kind of look at him.

"Well, what else would I expect after being dragged in here?" You ask, pausing your movements and allowing your shirt to fall back into place against your waist.

"I don't know?" He laughs back, rolling his eyes at you briefly before boxing you up against the wall. "Jay?"

You smirk.

"Honestly? Yeah. We've been eye fucking each other for ages." You laugh, brushing Jay off entirely. "Didn't expect you to be the one to come after me."

"Well, if you would have stopped staring at his fingers for thirty seconds maybe you would have noticed it."

"What can I say? He moves fast."

"And you think I would? You've seen what I can do with my tongue, right?"

You pause, noting all those instances during shows where he definitely treated his tongue like some sort of mating ritual. Licking up his microphone, flicking it between his fingers, even going as far as flattening it at multiple city girls that seemed to want a bad boy for the night.

"Don't think I have, actually." You roll your eyes playfully, blinking at him innocently. "Care to elaborate?"

Man, he elaborated.

Without another word, actually. Which was a bit of a shock to you, considering he likes to rasp those vocals all night through song and shrieks. Ah, the sounds are so much different vibrating when his tongue is buried into you, moving faster than you'd have expected.

What's worse? You never really noticed how pretty his vocals could sound until he was muttering out words of degradation towards you. He went in raw, explaining that it's his right. That he should be the first to feel your pussy squeeze him dry. Whispers questions of how many other men have been in you like this. Asking if you've always been this breathless for them. Asking why you're not screaming loud enough for Jay to hear, even through the soundproof room.

In reality, your throat is dry from allowing yourself to be loud for him. Rasping and panting confirmations of his filthy words, only to feel him plunge into you harder, harder, harder. Like a mantra of a song he only wishes he could write.

The proof of having you before Jay could, the proof of fucking you better than anyone else could.

By the end of it all, to Heeseung? Doesn't really matter if every other member of his band has a turn with you know. He's only gonna ask what his dick tastes like. He's only gonna ask if they fucked you cross eyed too. Because he knows the answer will be no.

Why?

Because you keep coming back for more. Up until Jay takes note, mentioning a month later to Sunghoon, right there in front of everyone,

"What's gotten into her? She practically ignores me."

And of course Heeseung smirked, giving him the answer he probably didn't want to hear.

"Me."

Luke Alvez x Reader: Concussed

Request: do you think you could do some type of situation with luke where he has to clean a cut on your forehead or something? like that cute awkward moment 😭 (i hope this makes sense)

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: blood mention

A/N: Plsssss I miss him sm, enjoy!!

Every single day, you fought actual, literal bad guys for a living. The worst of the worst– the kind local police needed help handling. You drew your weapon more than you could keep track of and chased unsubs down the street at least once a month. 

And yet, it was the bird feeder that did you in. 

To be fair– you figured technically, it was the ladder that you were standing on in a feeble attempt to hang the bird feeder that was the real culprit. But as you sat in the grass with a bruised ass and ego, you figured the details weren’t really that important. 

Once the initial shock from the whole ordeal wore off, you slowly started to stand up– emphasis on the slowly. Because it became inherently clear as soon as you tried to move that you’d been hit in the head harder than you initially thought. 

“Fuck,” you hissed as soon as your fingers grazed the sensitive spot on your forehead. When you pulled your hand away, you were horrified to see the thick, crimson liquid coating your fingers. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you winced, bracing your hands on your knees while you stood the rest of the way up. 

“You try to do something nice… like feed the fucking birds, and look what happens,” you muttered to the universe. “You fall on your ass and get concussed by a goddamn bird feeder.”

A concussion would definitely help explain the absurd amount of talking you were doing to absolutely nobody. 

With what little dignity you had left (which was practically zero) you picked up the smashed bird feeder from the ground and trudged across the lawn towards the open garage door. After setting it down near the overflowing trash bin, you dragged your feet the rest of the way inside. 

You made it about two feet before you heard a knock coming from the front door.

Frowning, you wondered who the hell would be knocking at your door at 11 o’clock on a Sunday morning. Your curiosity made you forget all about your almost-certain concussion, as you slid across the kitchen towards where the knocking continued. Because you weren’t a total idiot (bird feeder to the forehead aside) you peaked through the curtains cautiously, hoping to catch a glimpse of your visitor. Everything inside of you loosened the moment you laid eyes on Luke– the newest member of your team and your neighbor only four houses down (which you’d learned from a brief conversation with him only days ago). 

He was dressed in a plain, gray T-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts, his muscular calves on full display. You watched for only a moment longer, trying to control the butterflies suddenly flying rampant through your stomach. Luke had only been a part of the team for a couple weeks, but you were already learning that he had this sort of effect on you. Something about his smile– or the way he laughed, or the way he told the funniest jokes, and always knew what to say when someone was having a tough day– or the way he so obviously cared about the people you helped and was always so empathetic… Come to think about it, you adored just about everything about Luke. 

Before he could catch you gawking over him through the window like an absolute lunatic, you snapped the blinds closed and made your way to the front door. As soon as you swung it open, you were faced with arguably the most handsome man you’d ever met. 

“Luke, hi!” you greeted happily.

But his face went from excited to horrified to angry in the blink of an eye.

“Y/N, what the hell?

His beautiful, warm eyes went dark as they swept over the length of you. And that was the moment you remembered what you currently looked like–

With all the excitement of seeing Luke, you had totally forgotten that you’d fallen off a ladder and mauled by a bird feeder only moments ago. 

His shock quickly turned to anger as he took a step forward, so that he was standing right in front of you. “Who did this?” he asked, his tone solid and protective. His hand hovered near your jaw but didn’t quite touch you. 

“What?” you shook your head, and winced as soon as you did. “No–”

“Y/N, who did this to you?” 

“No one–” you said quickly. “I mean– I did. Not on purpose–” you clarified. “I fell.”

“You fell?” he asked in disbelief, his tone softening just the slightest bit. 

You nodded. “I was trying to hang the bird feeder, but the ladder slipped on the leaves on the lawn. It was stupid–”

“Jesus,” Luke winced as his fingers ghosted along the edge of your jaw. You couldn’t help the sudden, sharp inhale through your lips the second that you felt his touch graze your skin. “I could’ve helped you with that, you know. Why didn’t you ask–”

“Because I didn’t think bird suet would be the death of me today,” you admitted feebly. You hoped the dirt and blood from your fall was at least hiding the blush creeping up your neck and cheeks.

A soft chuckle escaped Luke’s lips, but the look of concern remained. 

“That’s a pretty nasty cut,” he said. “Let me help you clean it up.”

“Oh that’s okay,” you waved him away. “You don’t have to do that–”

“Did you even notice that you had blood all over your collar?” he asked, nodding slightly. 

You look down quickly and groan as soon as you see that your beige pullover was stained in a dark shade of crimson. 

“I think you’re probably a little concussed,” he added. “At least let me make sure you’re not dealing with anything worse. I used to help the medic sometimes in the field. Plus– I brought homemade muffins.” 

Your eyes widened at the sight of the plastic container being raised in Luke’s other hand. “You brought baked goods?”

“Muffins– yes.”

A wave of emotions washed over you. You didn’t have the best dating history– there was the guy who kept you a secret from his entire family (wife that you had no idea about included), then there was the guy who would cancel all your dates to spend time playing video games with his friends. And how could you forget about the guy who would conveniently “forget” his wallet every time you went out. 

And now here you were– standing in front of a man you’d known for only a couple of weeks and he was bringing you homemade muffins. 

“I–” you stammered. “I don’t– I can’t–”

“Woah,” Luke said, taking another step forward. “Maybe you should sit down. I think you’re more concussed than we thought.”

You shook your head. “I’m not concussed. Or… I probably am. But I mean, I’m just shocked–” you admitted. “No one’s ever done something like this before.”

“You said pumpkin muffins reminded you of home– and then you said later that day that you were feeling homesick. So–” his voice trailed off. You thought you might have detected a hint of embarrassment in his tone. 

Your eyes widened even more. 

“This is making me sound way creepier than I am–” Luke stammered. “I just… I was baking anyway, and I had a can of pumpkin just lying around... I didn’t go out of my way or anything in a weird way…”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” you said, meaning it. “Seriously, Luke. Thank you. I don’t… I don’t know how to repay you.”

“How about letting me help clean that cut up?” he asked, throwing you a cheeky grin. 

The corner of your mouth curled into a smile. “Fine,” you agreed, finally stepping back to let him inside. After closing the door, you turned to find him setting the plastic container down on the counter. 

“Where’s your first aid kit?” he asked. 

“Uh, under the sink in the bathroom,” you said, still convinced you hadn’t processed any of this yet. 

“And the bathroom is…” his voice trailed off. 

“Oh–” Luke looked so damn natural standing in your kitchen, you forgot he’d never actually been here before. “Down the hall, last door on the left.”

“Got it. Be right back.” With that, Luke was taking his uncharacteristically long strides down your hall before disappearing in the bathroom. 

For the first time since answering the door, you raised your hand and touched your temple. Wet liquid still coated your forehead, despite how much time had passed since the accident. Maybe it was a good thing you were agreeing to let Luke help. 

He was back in an instant, holding a damp washcloth and the small first aid kit you’d ordered online months ago, but hoping to never use. 

“In here,” he nodded towards the kitchen. “The lighting’s better.”

You nodded, realizing he really didn’t have to explain. You and your concussed brain would follow him just about anywhere. Your eyes really widened when he patted the counter, indicating that he wanted you to sit on it. 

You didn’t even question his logic though. Instead, you swiftly slipped onto the lip of the granite counter and waited aimlessly while Luke fished around your first aid kit for what he needed. You were level with him now, your gaze trailing down the length of his thick, muscular body. You studied the lines and curves of his skin better. You noticed every crease– every laugh line, every freckle. God, was he always this beautiful? 

Out of nowhere a smirk spread across his lips. “You’re staring.”

Blinking harshly, you tilted your head towards the ceiling, the bright light hitting your eyes and making you wince. “Fuck,” you grunted, dropping your head and squeezing your eyes shut. 

“Shit, you okay?” he asked carefully, dropping the kit to cup your cheek carefully. You felt the pressure on your neck ease as you allowed yourself to lean into his touch. 

Carefully you opened your eyes and nodded. “Yeah– just the light.”

“You’re definitely concussed,” he stated, eyes traveling from yours to the cut on your forehead. “Did you hurt anything else besides your forehead?”

“Is the gash not enough?” you asked dryly, missing the feeling of his touch the moment he moved his hand. 

Luke chuckled. “Oh, the gash is plenty. Just checking, though. Here–” you felt his touch against your face again. This time, his fingers grazed along your chin, tipping it slightly. “Can you lift just a bit for me?”

You nodded and moved your head in the direction he gestured. “'Atta girl,” he said, your stomach churning at his praise. You felt him press the washcloth to your temple gently, swiping up dried blood. As he neared the actual wound, you found yourself tensing up. But when you gripped the sleeve of his T-shirt, Luke didn’t even mention it. Instead he traced his thumb up and down your jaw soothingly and whispered reassurances. “I’m sorry, I know, I know–”

“It’s okay,” you said through gritted teeth. “It’s my own stupid fault. Too bad you didn’t show up just a few minutes earlier, you might have actually gotten to see the show.”

“So remind me again how this happened– you fell off a ladder?”

“Well, sort of,” you explained. “I was trying to hang my bird feeder– on the tall branch. But the ladder slipped on the leaves, which I’ve been meaning to rake for weeks now… and when I fell the bird feeder sort of fell too… on my head.”

You dared to steal a glance towards Luke. The second you did, you noticed him biting back a smile. 

“You can laugh,” you said defeatedly. “It’s completely ridiculous. A little stupid, too.”

“It’s not stupid,” he said, composing himself. 

“We took down a six foot unsub last week,” you reminded him. “Yet the bird feeder is what does me in.”

“Well… when you put it that way,” Luke smirked. 

“If anyone at work asks, you have to lie for me,” you pleaded. “Tell them it was something heroic.”

“I’ll tell them you saved a baby bird from a tree. Instead of letting it fall to its death, you broke the fall with your forehead.”

“That makes me sound so noble,” you laughed. 

“Get ready,” Luke warned as he dabbed some alcohol on a gauze pad. 

“Shit,” you muttered, trying to brace yourself, not even thinking as you moved to grip his bicep. 

“Squeeze as hard as you need,” he said softly. “Ready?” 

You weren’t. But you nodded anyway. 

The stinging sensation ripped through you, causing an onslaught of swear words to escape your lips. You gripped Luke’s arm desperately, your fingers digging into his skin. If you weren’t completely consumed by pain, you would’ve noticed how strong his muscles felt beneath your touch. 

“Almost done,” he murmured, dabbing a few more spots before finally setting down the gauze. “There. Breathe.”

You nodded, your eyes still snapped shut as you attempted to inhale and exhale.

“Good job,” he soothed. When you opened your eyes, your breath hitched when you noticed how close Luke’s face was to yours. 

His jaw tensed, shadows dancing across his face, and you immediately wished you could lean forward and just kiss that look of concern right off from his lips. Your eyes lingered on them for a beat too long– because you heard Luke clear his throat and tilt his head back. 

Embarrassed, you looked down at your hands folded in your lap. 

“Last step,” he said quietly, pulling a large bandaid and some antibiotic cream from the first aid kit. 

You nodded, shaking yourself out of the desire before holding your head up to give him better access to your cut. Carefully, Luke placed the cream and bandage over your cut. “There,” he murmured softly. 

His hand shifted on its own accord, fingers moving to brush loose strands of hair that had fallen into your face, before traveling down the length of your jaw, chin and neck. 

God, he really was beautiful. 

Luke smirked. “Thanks.”

“What?” you whispered. 

“I think you’re beautiful, too.”

Oh, shit. Had you really said that out loud? And was that the concussion speaking or just this intense, surreal intoxication you felt for Luke?

Involuntarily, you sucked in a breath, and then you did something you knew you wouldn’t have been brave enough to do unless you really were concussed– you leaned forward and pressed your mouth against Luke’s without a second thought. It was a soft brush at first, testing to see if he wanted to pull away. When he didn't, you slid forward on the counter and wound your arms around his neck. 

Luke’s other hand, the one that wasn’t cupping your face like he was afraid you’d break, landed on your hip. His fingers dug into your side as he pulled you closer to him. Your body fit against his like it was made for kissing him. 

Your hands found their way to the nape of his neck, where you twisted your fingers amongst his curls. He moaned in approval, and you smiled into the kiss–  into him, and it was nearly devastating when he pulled away and didn't smile back. 

And then Luke was sinking his teeth into his bottom lip and taking a step back. “You’re concussed,” he said. “I’m sorry, this can’t happen– you’re… not in the right state of mind.”

Embarrassed, you slid off from the counter and wiped your mouth with your sleeve. “I’m sorry–” you stammered. “I didn’t realize you didn’t want to–”

Before you could slip past Luke– to run or hide or whatever the hell you could think to do– he shook his head and gently placed his hand on your hip, guiding you until your back collided with the counter. “I want to,” he said clearly, lowering his forehead so that it was pressed against yours. “God knows I’ve wanted to since the day I met you.”

It took a minute for his words to find meaning in your own brain. But as soon as they did, you looked up at him hopefully, your eyes widening. “Really?”

“Fuck, yes,” he rasped, his thumb wiping a tear you hadn’t even realized was falling. “Are you kidding me? I don’t just bring pumpkin muffins to anyone… That was my attempt at making a move.”

“Instead I got clocked with a bird feeder before throwing myself at you,” you groaned. You leaned forward and rested the non-injured side of your head against Luke’s chest. 

“If I didn’t think you had a pretty severe concussion, I would more than welcome you throwing yourself at me,” Luke assured you.

You scoffed. “The concussion may have given me the courage to throw myself at you, but I’ve been wanting to do it way longer.”

You felt his chuckle vibrate beneath you. “I’ll tell you what…” he began, his hand sprawling out against your back. “You still want me after you’re not concussed, and you won’t have to throw yourself at me ever again.”

A shiver ran down your spine– your body thrilled with the idea. “Deal.”

“In the meantime, how about I hangout here? Make sure no more bird feeders fall on your head.”

You smiled against his chest, unable to contain the feelings he elicited inside of you. “I’d like that,” you admitted. 

₊˚⊹ ⏱︎ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴍᴇ? ⏱︎ ⊹˚₊

♡ ft. multi. (written w toji and atsumu in mind idc). ♡ wc: 1.8k // nsfw minors dni! // ♡ contents: afab reader she/her pronouns, gendered pet names, sleepy sex, could be vaguely dubcon reader is very tired, mutual masturbation kinda?, dirty talk, established relationship, "just a sadistic little game"

―୨���⋆ ˚ (⸝⸝ᴗ﹏ᴗ⸝⸝) ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 two seconds ago you were fast asleep, the cutest thing in the entire world. he just really had to tell you that, that's all. 𐰁 𝗓 ᶻ (⸝⸝ᴗ﹏ᴗ⸝⸝) ˚⋆୨୧―

you know it doesn’t make any sense, but before you’ve even woken up you swear you can hear his request like a dream, hazy and light and mumbled against your skin. when you open your eyes and try to take in your surroundings, the subtle smirk on his face and the tangled blankets around you and the breeze of the fan, his voice is skipping in your head.

“baby, hey, need something.”

you bring your palm to your half-closed eyes, hoping that the soft pressure of the side of your wrist and backs of your fingers will rid you of some of this confusion. your attempts to produce a questioning hum are caught in your throat, not enough energy for the vibrations to travel completely to your tongue. you swallow, his name getting trapped right alongside them. 

if you were any more awake, you could see how he’s looking at you, clock the mischief sown into every one of his features and the way that he’s dragging his nails down your side, digging them into the fat of your hips. he leans down to kiss you and it lingers longer than a typical wake-up peck does, much longer actually. 

“can you do something for me?” he asks, and when you don’t answer right away, your thoughts lost to the recency of slumber, he tries again, “need you to touch yourself.”

surely you didn’t hear him right. 

“what?” you croak, voice weak as you push your hair out of your face. you breathe a laugh, a smile beginning to form on your lips. the earnestness of his request isn’t registering with you, not in this state. “baby, what?” you sigh, blinking slowly up at him.

“was just laying here watchin’ you sleep, thinkin’ bout how cute you are ‘n how cute it would be if you were playing with yourself like this,” he says, kissing the corner of your smile that’s now fading into shy confusion, a soft warmth spreading through your chest and cheeks. 

“i-,” you huff, “hm?” you ask, moving to sit up, but he presses a kiss into your shoulder before coaxing you to stay in this position. he grips the side of the blanket, peeling it off of your body, untangling it from your limbs and kicking it to the side. it’s cold. you open your mouth to pout, reaching for the blankets on instinct, but he shakes his head. he drags his fingertips up and down your arms, pulls the hem of your sleep shirt up over your chest, watches the bounce of your tits as they’re exposed. 

“shit,” he groans, “you look so fucking good.” the cool wind from the fan is ghosting over your skin, previously warm from the blanket and newly warm from the wa y your boyfriend is talking to you this morning. “god, look at your pretty nipples getting all hard, fuck. your body’s reacting before you can even think, huh?” he asks, kissing the side of your neck.

he’s right. your brain is two steps behind, the whimper comes from your throat before the feeling of his tongue on your neck even registers. your hand is moving before you remember making the decision to succumb to the moment, to his asks. in fact, both of your hands are moving, one crawling down your stomach and the other scratching at your own throat and chest. 

before you’ve even snuck your hand in your waistband, he presses a kiss to your ear. “y’know what else i was thinking about?” the hum is not lost this time. it’s high-pitched and curious and the cutest thing he’s ever heard. he laughs, low against your skin. “thought about being kinda mean to you.”

this wakes you up a little more, turning your head towards him as your hands stop roaming. “what do you mean?” you ask, your first full sentence of the morning. 

“start playing with yourself, pretty, then i’ll tell you, huh?” he coos, and you almost object but you see the look on his face and it’s screaming to test him, so you don’t. 

you slip your fingers underneath the waistband of your panties, using your two to spread your lips apart. fuck, when did you get this wet? while he was talking to you? as you were waking up? before that? you whimper as you press the pad of your middle finger into your clit, pushing it between your sticky folds until the tip just barely enters your fluttering hole.

you press your head back into the pillow, already coming undone just by teasing yourself. you’re so enveloped in the feeling of your own fingers that when you feel his lips on you again, on your shoulder this time, you jump a little.

“that feel good?” he asks, absolutely drinking in the sight. you answer in quick nods and panting exhales. “good enough to come in a minute?” 

“minute?” you question, almost stopping, but even in your state, you clock the seriousness in his tone, or maybe you’ve just known him so well for so long. instead, you start moving quicker, not teasing yourself anymore, but rubbing small circles against your sloppy clit. 

he notices the change in your pace and he smirks. “you’re so smart, aren’t you?” he kisses you again, “yknow that there’s a catch here, huh?” you nod. you’re not sure you could’ve formulated it into words like that, but yes, whatever he just said. “thought you’d look so cute like this, fumbling to make yourself come so quickly, all disoriented and needy.” 

you can feel his cock straining against his boxers, pressed up against your hip, softly grinded into your side as you quietly moan around your own fingers. “thought it’d be even better if i gave you some higher stakes, really made you try.” 

“what stakes?” you ask, trying to focus on the conversation as you slip two fingers inside of yourself, pushing deeper and deeper, curling against your walls, attention split between hanging onto of his every word and feeling the pleasure build in your core.

“good question, baby,” he praises, hand slipping into his boxers, sucking in air through his teeth as he wraps his fist around his length. “you make yourself come in less than a minute or i won’t touch you for a week.”

your mind flashes back to the last time he gave you this exact trade-off. you didn’t take it seriously then, rolled your eyes, laughed a little bit, called his bluff. you know better now. your movements, once lazy and teasing, are now as direct and intentional as they can be while your body is still waking, muscles still warming up.

still, you’re driving your fingers inside of you quickly, switching back and forth between fucking yourself and playing with your clit, your other hand groping at your tits, rolling your nipple between the pads of your fingers. what you thought was going to be a lazy morning has turned out to be just a sadistic little game. 

“good girl,” he says, eyes moving all over your body. he doesn’t even know where to look. no matter where his gaze falls, he wins. your face, screwed in determination; your hand kneading at your tit, thumb flicking over your hard nipple; your fingers fucking in and out of yourself. 

he doesn’t even need to see what’s happening beneath the fabric of your panties, he’s throbbing in his palm just watching the outline of your fingers. he can see your knuckles straining against the cloth and the dark spot growing bigger and bigger as you keep fingering your needy hole.

“time’s almost up, pretty girl,” he says. he starts counting down. in between numbers, he asks, “does my baby want some help?” 

you whine at the thought of his hands taking over or just adding to the sensations. you nod, a strangled, “yes, please, fuck, please, baby.” the longest string of words you’ve said all morning. 

he doesn’t touch you though, leans in closer, breath soft against your ear, “next time i think i’ll just fuck you, make you come as the first thing you get to do when you wake up.” your inhale gets caught in your throat as you nod along to his words, closing your eyes tightly to focus on every syllable. “can see how messy you are through your panties ‘n i can’t believe i’m not deep inside of you right now, feelin’ it all on my cock.”

“but next time,” he says, “10,” he interrupts himself, “i don’t think you’ll need a whole minute, not if you have my cock, right?” he asks, “9,” he interrupts again, “probably only need 45 seconds, huh? 30? you could do that, right?” he grunts, “8.”

you move your hand from your tit to his forearm, trying so hard to hold on, but you can barely form a fist. everything is so much, the pleasure and the frustration of telling your fingers to move and the delay between the actions and fuck. 

“7,” he says, “god, i could come in a minute too, just from feeling your creamy pussy on my cock and seeing you like this.”

you don’t need the 6 extra seconds, he can keep em. you come around your own fingers, imagining them as his cock even though they’re nothing in comparison. your body is on fire and your core is tight and he can’t keep his hands off of you right now. you look as cute and perfect as he thought you would, as he envisioned all morning, as you come against the, now soaking wet, fabric of your panties.

the come down takes twice as long, you’re convinced. you exhale, mind finally running at what feels like a normal pace as you take note of your state, of your hand in your panties and the mess on the insides of your thighs and your boyfriend with a devilishly proud grin on his face. “fuck,” you say, voice steady once again as your eyes close in bliss. you move to roll over or sit up, but you only get as far as starting to move your hand from between your legs when your knuckles brush up against something. 

when you open your eyes again, you see him towering over top of you, a slow hand being placed on your hip, the other maneuvering you onto your side as he picks up your leg and puts it on his shoulder. “told ya i could come in a minute too, right? from feelin’ your creamy come-,” he grunts as his flushed head presses inside of you, “fuck, your sloppy, fuck,” his hips stutter as he snaps them against your skin, “perfect snug fuckin’ walls around me, shit.”

“gonna time me?”

♡ think' bout: toji, atsumu, geto, tsukki, gojo, oikawa, + ur fav ♡

♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

i need need NEED whiny, whimpery, desperate nerd!anakin. like yes baby, you’ve never felt the touch of a woman, i’ll ride you like a cowgirl now🙏🙏

Ask and you shall receiveeee<3

—————-

pairing: reader/nerd!anakin

a/n: Oml I don’t know how this ended up so long. Also this isn’t proofread so ignore any mistakes.

You almost didn’t know what to think when Anakin offered to tutor you. He sat beside you in class, more often than you had realized. Kept his eyes on you longer that you had even paid attention to, yourself in your own little world. But when he kept noticing your inability to focus in class, your dwindling grades shown on the papers and short assignments you submitted being handed back to you, he couldn’t even help himself from inserting himself into your little world.

So when you had agreed on a whim, you didn’t know what to expect. You and Anakin had never really talked much, occasional glances here and there, maybe asking to borrow a pencil every once in a while but that didn’t prepare you for the two of you being alone together.

You had almost forgot about his offer until he showed up at the door of your campus apartment late in the afternoon, some apology on his pretty plump lips about being caught up with his roommate. His blonde curls a mess on his head as if he had been dragging his fingers through it, the button up he had been wearing all day hanging loosely off of his body, even when it was usually all put together and tucked into his pants.

Your fingers played with the doorknob to your apartment door, a sudden wave of nervousness washing through you as you let him in. The black lacey tanktop you wore suddenly feeling too small, too bare without something to cover the pieces of your skin. But when you noticed the way his eyes traveled your body, you felt it go away…

The words spoken from his lips falling on deft ears, the numbers and names passing through his pink lips all being forgotten as you watched him struggle slightly. His fist clenched gently around the pencil within his hand, the small glances across your bare shoulders and the nervous looks back to papers in front of him. The way that he couldn’t help but let his eyes travel the curve of your breasts, a small stutter escaping him as he cleared his throat. Letting a small deep laugh fall from his lips, making you laugh softly too even if you found your own self distracted by him.

God, why didn’t you see this all before?

He was beautiful, more that you had given him credit for. Even with the wire-framed glasses sitting atop his face, shielding parts of his eyes, the deep blue of his irises drew you in. The way his pupils dilated as he looked you in the eyes, as his eyes traveled down your body. You didn’t understand why you hadn’t truly seen him before…

Maybe that’s how you ended up the way you did.

Stopping him mid sentence, the words halting from his lips as you dragged your fingertips gently down his forearm. Heat pooling in the pit of your abdomen at the small inhale he took simply at your touch. The way he looked so confused and flustered down at you as you touched him, your innocent doe eyes staring up at him as if you were doing nothing wrong. Looking as if you were simply waiting for him to finish explaining whatever he was talking about…But then you got impatient.

“Can I be honest with you, Anakin?” You asked softly, your dark eyes meeting his own as your fingertips traveled down to his wrist. Grazing against the soft skin near the sleeve of his shirt, loosely grabbing ahold of him. Watching as his eyes darted down to where you made contact with him, his eyebrows furrowed in the cutest little look of confusion.

He blinked as if he didn’t believe this was happening, looking as your fingers wrapped around his wrist, the way you were leaning into his body. The curve of your breasts visible from the hem of your tanktop. Two small peaks pushing out from underneath the dark fabric, Anakin wasn’t even sure if he remembered how to breathe in that moment, nevertheless remember how to form words…

He nodded so fast as soon as his brain started working again, his eyes fixated on your body. The curve of your hips, the way the long skirt you were wearing was riding a slit up your thigh. God, he couldn’t find the words when it came to you.

You couldn’t help the small curve to your lips, your eyes traveling the expanse of his face, enjoying all of this too much. He was so easy toy with. One glance, one movement, a few words escaping you and he was already yours… Even if he didn’t know it yet…

“I’m having a little trouble focusing…I don’t know why, I don’t know if it’s just because I’m sort of in a mood but I don’t really think we should study anymore tonight.” You said innocently, tilting your head softly as your fingertips grazed his own. Traveling the back of his hand, grazing the rough but soft skin of his palms. The words soft like velvet and forming on your tongue so easily, almost as easy as it was to make Anakin stop all together.

His eyebrows furrowed intensely, his eyes blinking faster than he could even take in what was going on…Your fingers on his own, your touch against his body. The way he watched the fall and rise of your chest across your skin, his breaths much more shallow than your own. What are you doing to him?

His eyes could barley meet your own, not when you were toying with him like this. He knew your game but he couldn’t bring himself to believe it. Why him? Why now? This couldn’t be happening…

“W-what would we do instead? Of studying I mean…” He muttered out, a small shake of his head at the way all the thoughts were pouring through his head. Too many, too fast. Too many possibilities and yet he still only wanted one.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft little laugh, your eyes meeting his own once again. Burning into his, feeding that desire that filled him. Drawing in further and further out in him. He always wanted you, there was no secret in that for him. But now, he couldn’t even describe it.

That draw he felt towards you, like a moth to a flame he followed you. He couldn’t stand his day without seeing you even if you didn’t see him back. He knew you even when you didn’t want to be known…He knows you enough, felt you enough that you didn’t even have to say the words on the tip of your tongue. That very alive desire that lived in you, that was burning beneath your skin, he felt too. He could feel it on you. That burning touch as your fingertips grazed his skin, the heat of you gaze falling across his lips. It was a miracle he didn’t give all of himself to you then…

Anakin couldn’t fight the pathetic little moan that slipped from his throat as your lips finally met his. His hands eagerly making their way up you body as you settled onto his lap, neither one of you wanting to take this slow. The taste of your lips, your sweet scent filling his nose, it was enough to drive him mad.

“Please…” He begged, his voice so soft and airy as he pulled away from your lips for the slightest moment. His warm breath fanning you lips, his hardening cock protruding so painfully from the confines of his light pants. Dragging and pushing up against you with movements of your body against him, struggling underneath the tightness of his belt.

He needed you…There was no sense in denying that.

His whiny little voice brought a small smile to your lips, only egging on your want to tease him. To make him bend and snap to your will as you knew he would so easily do for you. Even if you knew what he wanted, even if he asked so nicely, nothing could make you give him anything so easily. That small break in his voice, the breathless words falling from his lips. It was all worth it to deny him even if you could give him all he wanted so easily.

“Please what, baby?” You questioned him softly, your voice taunting him as you traced your thumb so gingerly over the side of his cheek so sweetly. Acting as if you cared so dearly for him even if you weren’t yet giving him what he so desperately wanted from you.

He spoke your name like curse from his lips, the softness of his skin underneath your fingertips as you chuckled at his frustration. Only drawing him closer and closer to the precipice of insanity as his hands bunched up in the fabric of your black tank-top, his fingers brushing up against your hips. Completely ignoring the way your skirt bunched up around your thighs, just solely fixated on your lips and the heat between your legs that rested against him. His lips drawing closer and closer to your own because he couldn’t get enough of you. His palms wrapping around the curves of your hips, dragging them against his clothed cock. A small whimper escaping his lips at the warmth of your core even through the layers between you. His lips just barely grazing your own.

The suddenness of his movements caught you off guard, a small pleasured gasp making its way out of your lips at the friction between your legs, your body falling into his movements, your mind dizzied with the way he felt against your heat.

He chased after your lips with his own, the heat of his breath fanning against you as his eyes burned into your body. So eager, so desperate to taste you, to feel you…

But you couldn’t let him go so easily…

You tilted your head gently away from his lips, watching his face change as he pouted silently. His pretty plump lips closing around nothing in defeat as his eyes left the gaze of your lips and looked dazed into you own. Not missing the way his tongue darted out and licked his bottom lip, wetting it as his tried to connect your lips again. Silently daring you to meet his tongue with your own, to have your tongue against his lips.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you babydoll?” You questioned softly, a small curve to your lips as your fingers brushed his messy curls away from his forehead. Your left hand burying itself into the curls at the back of his head, brushing your fingers through it.

He let out a small disgruntled sound at your words, feeling so humiliated to be beneath you like this. Begging for any ounce of attention, for more of your touch. Your lips…But at the same time, he couldn’t deny the fire it lit inside of him. The burning feeling he felt all the way down his body, his cock twitching in his boxers at the mere sound of your voice.

He nodded, not trusting himself to open his lips but still a small whimper escaped him anyway.

“Then use your words…For me?” You gingerly asked him, his pupils blown as he stared up at you. Nodding again in acknowledgement. “Now what is it you want, Ani?”

“To-to use me…Please…I need you.” He pleaded.

“Use you? You poor little thing…You want me bad, baby, don’t you?” You teased him, you fingertips caressing his face as you looked down at him. You were so in awe of him, the way he begged so nicely for you. The way he gave into you so easily. He liked so pretty beneath you that you couldn’t even resist his words.

You guided his hands to the buttons of his shirt, watching his nervous hands fumble with them. His eyes flickering up at you as his chest heaved shallow breaths. The sight of him struggling so obviously made you smile, you hands clasping over his own and getting them done in half the time. Your lips molding over his, his tongue eagerly meeting yours.

There was something about the way he pulled off you rshirt, his hands nervously tracing up your ribs. Clasping over your breasts as he kneaded them within his hands, his mouth gently sucking and tasting each one. Eager eyes meeting your own before you pulled him back into our lips. Kissing him all teeth and tongue as you grasped him within your hand. Running your fist down his warm length, your thumb tracing over to sweet drops of precum at his tip. Trying to contain yourself as you felt him pulse within your palm.

The way he writhed as you let beads of your spit fall onto his length was enough to make you go dizzy. Obsessed with the way he pulled his hips back from it but also bucked himself into your hands, a small moan falling from his lips as a small sheen of sweet coated his forehead. The corners of his glasses fogged up ever so slightly because of the heat of your bodies, the warm breaths he struggled to contain between his lips.

He stilled completely when you slid down on his length, his whole body tensing at the feel of your heat wrapping around him. Suffocating his cock, your warm velvety walls draping him in your slick. He was afraid to move, afraid to make a sound besides the small struggled cry that escaped his throat as your hips met his own. The feel of you driving him so much closer to what both of you were chasing and he was far from ready yet. He didn’t want to disappoint you.

Anakin’s hands clutched your bare thighs, fingertips pressing into your skin. Holding you in place while you let out a small pleasured gasp as he bottomed out inside of you. Your eyes met his as you felt your hips connect, both of you lost in the feeling of your bodies meeting.

Your fingertips made their way up the bare expanse of his chest, gently caressing his skin. Feeling his body relax into your movements, him looking up at your eyes. Watching the way you cared for him in the way your fingers slid across his body, the way your eyes met his own. He knew he would never be able to move on from this, to think of anyone else this way. Not when you felt so good around him, not when you buried his length so deep inside of you... He was yours, completely and utterly yours…

“Relax baby, you’re such a good boy…” You praised him, your fingertips brushing across the the soft skin of his cheek before you gently took of his glasses. Setting them on your nightstand before you looked back down at him, a new look passing across Anakin’s eyes before his lips parted. His hips bucking into your own, drawing out a soft moan from both of your lips.

You braced yourself on his shoulder, drawing your hips slowly together. Fixating on where he ended and you began, feeling the heat flow from his body into your own. You loved the way he kept closing his eyes ever so softly as you slid down against him, his body lost in the newfound pleasure you gave him. So utterly lost in the feel of you, your body molding against his.

You drew your lips together as you started riding him at a faster pace, a whimper against your lips as your tongue slid across his. Tasting him on your lips, wanting so desperately to be a part of him, to be closer to him than his pulsing cock inside of you. In your frenzied haze, through the small moans falling through your lips, it hardly felt like enough. To be this close to him drove you crazy but you couldn’t help but want more. More of his body meeting your own, more of his pretty cries against your lips.

You couldn’t get enough of the way his eyebrows furrowed as your hips met, his eyes clenching shut as you started to become too much for him. Not being able to focus on anything else but the way he fit inside you so perfectly as you wrapped around him. His pretty lips open and ready and you couldn’t help but bring your teeth against his bottom lip, biting the skin softly as he groaned into your mouth. Bucking his hips into yours.

That burning coil inside the pit of your abdomen kept getting stronger and stronger, lost in the way he felt against you. Lost in the way he looked so pretty beneath you as his cock pulsed inside of you, him not being able to hold back the sounds of pleasure coming from the depths of his throat.

Both of you were so close, chasing the high of each others bodies. Chasing the warmth that filled you as he hit that spongy spot deep inside of you. Moans falling from your lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Moaning into each others mouths as you both gave yourselves to the desire that burned through you

Anakin’s lips parted as he grasped your hips, looking up at you between furrowed brows, nibbling at his lip as he tried to hold himself back. “Don’t stop…Fuck.”

The sound of the curse falling from his lips drove you wild, your cunt clenching around him as you felt his body intense beneath you. The muscles of his abdomen contracting as he bucked his hips into yours, brushing his hips into yours as he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. A struggled gasp coming out of both of your lips as shots of his warm cum filled you.

You couldn’t help but cry softly as his cum filled your walls, contracting around him at the sheer and utter filthiness of it. Meeting the peak of your own release as you buried him so deep inside of you, coaxing both of you through your orgasm. Burying your fingernails into the skin of his back, loving the small little hiss he let out. The small involuntary cry that fell out of both of your lips as his hips moved on their own accord and bucked back into your cunt when your bodies were still so sensitive.

Both of you tried to regain your breaths, your bare bodies clasped to one another’s. His arms loosely held over your waist, your hands resting against his chest as you rested your forehead against his as you tried to calm down your beating heart. Finally pulling away to look down at him, his eyes looking so deeply into yours. A bunch of emotions swirling around in his, his lips parted as his breaths started to become less shallow, feeling the rise and fall of his chest underneath your fingertips.

You couldn’t up the corner of your lips as it upturned, a small smile making way onto your lips as you looked down at him. “You look so pretty like this…”

Your words were enough for him to smile back, a small deep chuckle falling from his pretty plump lips as he looked back up at you. Everything said in his eyes, everything said in his body still against yours.

He was yours…

✩ ˛˚ . NAGI SEISHIRO ; — you think it’s cute how much your boyfriend seems to enjoy your cuddles.

warnings! none! sfw & ticklish lil spoon nagi, hes written as a pro football player in this. ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! i’m sorry i just had to get this soft lil scenario out of my mind <3

as big as your boyfriend nagi is, 190cm and looming — a pro football player with the physique to match, you thought it was cute the way he loved being little spoon.

there was something charming about it, about the way he always seemed to flop down next to you when you were lying in your shared bed — reaching blindly behind him until he can grab hold of your wrist and pull it around his waist instead. you push yourself closer and you hear the snowy haired striker sigh when your chest presses against his back, snug and tight.

“you sleepy, seishiro?” your voice is light, a little dreamy and it makes nagi’s eyelashes flutter with his next slow blink, nodding into his pillow as his hand stays wrapped tightly around yours to keep you in place around him. “was practice hard?” you ask again, squeezing your arms around your boyfriends waist and he shudders before he’s nuzzling himself even closer to you.

“eh, yeah. all the running is such a drag. jus’ wanna relax now.” his words are muffled from where his cheek is pressed against the pillow but you still hear him mumble something affirming under his breath when your hand traces under the hem of his shirt, letting your fingernails smooth along the plains of his toned abdomen as he whimpers. “hey, keep doing that. just for a while, feels sooo good.”

so you do, you push yourself closer until your lips are pressed against the dip of nagi’s shoulder, bathing the striker in featherlight touches along his chest and stomach until his breathing turns a little softer. your hands trace to his sides and he twitches slightly at the ticklish touch before he’s groaning and sending you a drowsy, lidded look and a pout from over his shoulder. “ah, that’s mean.”

“you’re ticklish?” you giggle as you press your lips into your boyfriends neck from behind and he presses back into you again before he’s turning to send you another look, one that you recognise as a wordless little request for a kiss despite the way his messy bed head rests along his features.

“nah, ‘m not.” nagi huffs against your lips when you lean in but he almost whines when you pull away a few moments later, his hand around your own squeezing slightly like he’s trying to bring you back into him. “why’d you stop? no fair.” he sighs followed by another pout and you can’t help but smile at how needy he seems to get when he’s sleepy before you’re giving him another.

“okay~” you sing into the next kiss but the tender moment only lasts a second longer before you’re deliberately swiping your fingers along your boyfriends sides again, laughing when it makes him jolt slightly followed by a long, drawn out huff.

“ow, y’re such a pain.” you feel nagi pull your hand away from him before his huge figure is turning to face you, sleepy features pulled into the cutest frown before his arms are looping around your waist and he’s pulling you close so he can nuzzle into the crook of your neck instead.

“you’re so mean!” you reply and you hear him grumble something into your skin when you pinch at his before its followed by a featherlight press of his lips against your collarbone, like he’s doing damage control despite the way your words were a joke. but he’s sleepy and you’re warm so he’s just trying to make you feel better anyway.

“don’t you want dinner?” you already know what the answers going to be so you busy yourself with brushing through his hair, making his eyes close softly as his lashes kiss along your skin with each of his slow blinks. his hands push under the hem of your shirt and you think it’s cute the way he seems to instinctively draw little shapes into your skin, wobbly hearts and little choki outlines that seem to grow messier the more he melts into you. but they keep his hands busy when he’s not playing video games.

“nah, jus’ wanna cuddle here for the rest of the day, ‘m comfy now so moving would be bothersome.”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

I have you / Dean Winchester

→ dean winchester x reader, 1,4k words / fem reader

; in which certain feelings are made known, tongue tied and flushed cheeks♡

You watch absentmindedly from across the diner as Dean leans casually against the counter, a grin plastered across his face as he chats to the female server.

His T-shirt rides up ever so slightly as he leans forward and you cough awkwardly, shifting in your seat to face away fro him, pulling the sleeves of your sweater over your hands as if to climb further inside it. Sam, who’s sitting opposite you with his nose buried in his notes, peers up to gives you a knowing look.

“He’s just being Dean,” he says calmly, nodding his head in his brothers direction. You freeze for a second, feeling caught. Sam doesn’t take his eyes off you for a prolonged second, wondering if he should reassure you some more but decides against it. He can tell you feel uncomfortable and so he moves his gaze from you.

It’s not that you don’t appreciate Sam’s attempt at comforting you. He had noticed your affections for Dean a while ago, watching the way you’d lean into him for comfort on every case or how you’d laugh at every stupid corny joke. You swallow, shaking your head slightly. It didn’t do you any good to keep pining after him.

It’s then that Dean returns to the table, a tiny piece of paper gripped in his hand. Your stomach does a painful flip when you notice it. The servers number? You look away again, focusing on the parking lot outside. Dean however takes notice of this, sliding into the seat next to Sam. Sam didn’t bother looking up at his brother and simply slid over a handful of pages, to which Dean rolled his eyes.

Dean instead turned his attention to you, mirroring you as he tries to figure out what you’re so intently looking at.

“What’re we looking at?” he says, startling you. He’s leant across the table, propped up by his elbows as he looks toward the parking lot and then back at you. He gives you a closed lipped smile when you don’t say anything.

“Y/N?” he murmurs softly. He’s close enough that you can smell his cologne. It overwhelms you a little and you sit back in your chair. His eyebrows knit together in confusion and he too sits back.

“Just thinking,” you reassure quietly, giving him your best “I'm okay” expression. It feels like a grimace. He searches your face for a moment and then nods, apparently accepting your words at face value.

—

The next evening, you find yourselves holed up in a motel, two rooms between three of you. You try not to look too alarmed at this at the front desk, the bags slung over your shoulders suddenly feeling like dead weights.

“Sam, can I bunk with you,” you ask instantly as you’re leaving the reception kiosk, hoping he can detect the pleading in your voice. Dean frowns at you, scratching his cheek with the back of his hand. Sam begins to agree when his brother interjects, stepping closer to you.

“What about me?” he pouts. Your heart pangs and you try to appear nonchalant, shrugging. He frowns again and Sam, who’s trailing behind you both, chucks the second set of keys at him. "Here,".

Dean catches it with his spare hand and mutters something you don't quite catch. Sam hums in agreement.

You decide to walk in front of the pair, needing to get in bed as soon as possible. Your whole body felt heavy and your feet dragged as you made your way down the hallway.

Dean follows you closely. It’s then that you recognize the right door number and plop your bags down on the door mat finally, groaning as your shoulder twinges.

“You okay?” Dean asks, his hand coming up to rest on your arm gently. You flinch for a second, not realising he was that close behind.

“Y-yeah,” you mumble, trying to ignore the way your arm felt hot under his touch. He rounds you now, standing opposite you at the doorway. He’s looking at you with an unreadable expression, lips pursed.

“Are you?” you ask him awkwardly. His stoic exterior breaks at that and he blinks at you, almost like he’s offended at the question.

“Am I okay?” he scoffs. He doesn’t answer you, unlocking the door instead. With ease, Dean pushes it open and gestures inside. You now blink back at him, not moving. "Ladies first," he deadpans.

“I’m sharing with Sam,” you say lamely. Dean ignores you, hiking your bags over his shoulder and entering the room. You glance back over your shoulder and see Sam entering the room on the far left. He turns back to close the door and shoots you an apologetic look. Traitor, you think.

You sigh, admitting defeat and walking inside the room, closing the door behind you. It’s nothing special, dank and small. Two beds are pushed against the far wall, sad beige comforters draped over cream white sheets. Dean is sat on the furthest one from you, jacket now discarded and hanging over the bathroom door. He's wearing a greyish blue shirt underneath, the short sleeves hugging his biceps tightly. It's your favorite on him. You shift from one foot to another, not knowing where to place your hands.

He’s placed your bags at the foot of your bed. You stand in the entrance for a moment too long and Dean notices. He always does.

“Are you going to sit down or am I gonna have to put you to bed myself?” he asks. You flush slightly, cheeks pink and move hurriedly towards your stuff, muttering a quick sorry as you do. Dean huffs loudly.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” he asks exasperatedly. His upper body is turned toward you. You don’t miss the note of worry in his tone and you feel guilty.

Usually you’d play along with playful banter or his flirty comments and he wasn’t used to your solemn expressions and your sad eyes. It made his heart twist in a way he wasn't used to. It was painful and he didn't like it.

“I’m just…”you struggle for the right words to say, feeling tongue tied. Admitting your feelings for him was just out of the question. God you wished Sam had roomed with you like you’d asked.

Dean waits patiently and when you don’t finish your sentence, he pushes himself off the bed. You’re perched on the end of the bed now and he crouches so that he’s almost eye level with you.

“Is it something I said, or did?” he questions you. Again, you feel guilty. You shake your head quickly, lips pressed together in a tight line. He makes a “hm” sound that sounds pained and you break.

“I’m just not feeling my best,” you lie, trying your best to meet his gaze as he listens. “It’s not you,”

Dean doesn’t respond for a moment and you think perhaps he’s bought what you’ve said. However he scoffs again. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

His tone is somewhat harsher than you think he means but his face is soft, lips slightly parted as he silently pleads with you. You fidget, not sure how to answer him. “You know I care about you,” he whispers. He’s closer then you had realized. So close that you swear he must hear your heartbeat quicken.

“Did you call that girl?” you ask weakly, taking a sharp intake of breath as you spoke. Dean stares at you blankly for a moment.

“Girl?” he says, bewildered. You nod slowly.

“The girl from the diner,” you say, eyes trained at the tv stand just past Dean’s head in your line of sight. You fidget again.

“Why would I call her? I have you,” he says. You can’t help but laugh at that, it sounding shrill and foreign given the mood. It echos against the silence of the room. It seemed just like Dean to lighten the mood by giving you some line, something to cheer you up. But when you finally look back at him his face is serious. There’s no sign of amusement.

“She gave you her number though, right?” your voice is barely audible. He hears you though and a small smile pulls at the corner of his lips. He half rolls his eyes, clearly bemused.

“And that means I have to call her?” You look at him. So he wasn’t interested in her after all. Maybe Sam was right, he was just being Dean.

He cups your cheeks lightly with his callused hands all of a sudden and you feel like all the air leaves you. “I have you,” he repeats. You feel dizzy.

“Don’t I?” he asks softly. He searches your face as if worried you don’t agree. You notice the way his shoulders have tensed.

“Yes,” you breath. His shoulders relax and he flashes you the most Dean smile imaginable.

negotiating 

tasm!peter x reader 

summary: you wake up on peter’s chest. 

warnings: ‘tis just fluff

a/n: welcome to “verity is sick in bed so here comes an influx of blurbs” 

*

when you wake up, it's to peter's heart beating beneath your ear. 

a gentle lull in the dark; a trick he's playing on you. 

because you really shouldn't be asleep at three in the afternoon. and you'd promised him that you'd finish the movie. 

these are the thoughts you wake up to--head throbbing a bit more than it usually does. 

peter's heart laughs at you. it responds with a gentle call back to sleep, telling you that there's no need to be awake when you can fall back into the arms of not having to do a single thing. it sings to you, knowing how fragile your resolve is. 

and it would be nice. 

but you flinch awake, eyes opening all at once. 

you're right on top of peter, so he jolts with you, releasing a breath into the world. 

"woah," he says, hand around your back pulling you even tighter. "you okay?" 

his other hand is on your head, drawing a picture you'll never get to see. you almost keen into the touch. 

you blink away the sleep, looking up at him to find soft eyes on you, a smile, and a crinkle of concern. 

"how long was i asleep?" 

peter hums, rubbing a hand on your back. "about a half hour. not long." 

you frown. "is the movie over?" 

"i turned it off. we'll finish it some other time," he's smiling at you, just enough to ease that shame into your chest. 

you groan into his, tasting cotton. 

"i'm sorry, peter," you say, not that he can hear you, "we were going to finish it." 

peter laughs. his hand is still on your head, still tempting you with the idea of letting it drag you back down. he pulls you even closer, letting a kiss fall right beside his hand. "we were never going to finish it." 

"what'd you mean?" you mumble, into his shirt. 

"i just wanted you to lay down." 

you lift your head, only slightly. "this was a trap?" 

"yeah," peter purses his lips. "you weren't going to settle down any other way." 

"you tricked me with cuddles?" 

you can see it on his perfectly sculpted face--the effort not to laugh. 

"mutual benefits," peter says, simply. 

you push his hand off of your head and he scoffs. 

"i'm not cuddling with you anymore," you tell him, pouting. 

you both know that his hand is still wrapped around your waist in a makeshift hug. and you both know that you haven't moved an inch. 

still, peter's eyes soften. "i did it for you," he claims, with a face that is too sweet. 

you scowl. "you're a liar." 

he only smiles, brings his spare hand to trace your jaw. and he doesn't answer, because he has no excuse. 

"you wanted me to fall asleep so that you didn't have to spend time with me." 

peter laughs at the pure absurdity of that sentence. 

but you're still frowning, so he ruffles your hair. 

"on the contrary," peter says, close to your ear now. voice low enough that you know he's only saying it to you. "i wanted to cuddle with you on the couch for a little while." 

"you lured me in with a movie." 

his sweet words hold nothing to your stubbornness. especially when you've only just woken up. 

and you just completely ignore the hand on your back, rubbing tense places you'd forgotten existed. 

"you didn't want to watch a movie," peter claims. 

"maybe i did." 

"you fell asleep." 

"maybe i was listening to the movie." 

peter snorts. "you were snoring." 

"i do not snore, peter parker." 

the corners of his eyes crinkle, amused at you. at the angle you're at, you can see when he swallows. you can memorize the indents on his skin, sculpt him out of nothing. 

"you do snore," he says, softly. "it's adorable." 

"it's not adorable." 

peter looks up at the ceiling, and you watch his eyes as they move from place to place. "how would you know?" he asks, looking back at you. 

and you just about forget that you're arguing with him. 

you swallow. "i have an app." 

peter raises a brow. "an app?" 

"yes. it records me while i sleep." 

"does it?" 

"and i don't snore." 

at least peter's laugh is quiet. "you trust this app more than you trust me?" 

you pretend to think about it for a moment. 

to think about falling asleep at just the sound of his heart. 

"yes." 

peter mock drops his jaw, frowning. "and i thought you loved me." 

"what gave you that impression?" 

peter proceeds to stare at you for so long that you burst out giggling into his chest. 

and you can't see it, but he's smiling at you in a brand of adoration that is completely his own. he's completely entranced in every single beat of your heart. 

"i'm sorry for tricking you," peter says, to just your head. "but you were tired." 

"i thought you wanted to cuddle." 

"like i said: i got to cuddle and you got some more sleep. joint interest." 

"a breach of contract," you argue, looking back up at him. 

"how?" 

"you're supposed to bring me to bed when i fall asleep on the couch so that i'm not sore. paragraph seven." 

you feel peter's chest vibrate in a silent laugh. 

"i was acting as your bed. that's better than just throwing you on some mattress." 

"you are literally hard as stone." 

"...i'm going to take that as a compliment." 

"there is no fat here. just rock-hard abs," you poke his chest, laughing when he squirms just a little. 

"you know, you weren't complaining earlier when--" 

you groan into his chest and peter wraps you in his arms again, hugging you like he's not sure what else he can do. 

you lean into him, enjoying the warmth. 

enjoying the sound of his heart as it races below you. 

peter mumbles something that you can't hear, but you look up at him, questioning eyes. 

he shakes his head like he's changed his mind about something. "do you want to go to bed?" he whispers, thumb rubbing against your cheek, laughing when he feels you twitch beneath it. "you didn't sleep for very long." 

"can we just stay here?" 

you cuddle into his chest again, now allowing his heart to lure you. 

"sure, bug," peter says, softly. "whatever you want." 

and you fall asleep to the sound of his heart; clenched in your grasp. 

*

my masterlist here. 

tags:  @moonlarking-blog​ @v1ci0us​ @preciousbabypeter​ @alexxavicry​ @directioner5life​ @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah​ @localrockstargf​

under the mistletoe

♡ nct dream ﹒ gender neutral!reader genre fluff warnings one suggestive joke on chenle’s note if yall have any requests let me know 🫶 happy holidays if u celebrate ! ( masterlist )

you can’t control the grin that takes over your face as you and mark get closer to the front door, glancing up to make sure the mistletoe is in place. “so i should be home by three, but if plans change, i’ll text you,” mark turned, blinking in confusion at the happy look on your face. “why do you look so happy to see me leave?” you giggle, shaking your head in amusement as you point up to the ceiling above your head. he follows your gaze, blinking rapidly as his cheeks glow red. he stutters as he looks back to you, watching you take a step closer and press a soft kiss on his cheek. he stares at you as you pull back, a warm sensation tickling his chest before suddenly growing confident at the sight of your blushing cheeks and shy giggling, “i think you missed.”

renjun doesn’t know how many mistletoes he’s hung around the dorm, but he’s going to start throwing hands if he doesn’t get you under it. his jaw drops from across the room as he stares daggers at you and jaemin, who knows what he’s doing, standing under the mistletoe. jaemin glances up, directly at renjun before tapping on his cheek teasingly. you breathe out a laugh, leaning up to give him a kiss but before you can, he’s shoved out of the way. you watch in surprise as renjun takes his place, batting jaemin away when he jokingly tries to get his place back. he waits for jaemin to walk away before he says, “the world must hate me or something. how have i gotten everyone but the one person i want the most under the mistletoe?” your brain buffers, “what?” he grins cutely, “i want you to kiss only me from now on, okay?”

jeno doesn’t know how he got to this point. “uh,” is all he can offer as he stares up at the ceiling above your heads. he points at the mistletoe unhelpfully, “mistletoe,” he states the obvious. “oh, really?” you can’t help but tease, pressing your lips together to prevent yourself from laughing. his cheeks tint red at your words, scratching the back of his neck, “look, it’s just a dumb tradition, we don’t have to. none of the guys are looking so it can be our little secret.” you pout, tilting your head, “oh, you don’t want to kiss me?” his eyes widen, “i- no, that’s not what i meant. i do want to kiss you but if you don’t, then that’s—” you cut him off by leaning in, pressing your lips softly against his and making him make a confused noise back before kissing back. you lean back after a few moments, opening your eyes to see jeno leaning forward to chase after your lips. you giggle, “you taste like eggnog.”

there’s a tap on your shoulder and you turn, frowning once you see haechan with a devious glint in his eyes, hands hidden behind his back. “can i help you?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him. “yeah, actually,” he clears his throat, finally revealing what he held and lifting his hand up. you look up, face deadpanning as you see the mistletoe. it dangles above your heads teasingly, haechan smirking, “you know the tradition, don’t you?” you huff, crossing your arms, “a dumb tradition and an easy way to get mono.” haechan pouts, “i don’t know about you but you’re the only one i wanna kiss, baby.” you shake your head, going to walk away but he catches you by your arm, dragging your name out, “come on, it can be my christmas present! and it’ll be familiar and easy since y’know, we’ve already—” you roll your eyes, wrapping your hand around the collar of his shirt and tugging him to your level to smash your lips together. he wastes no time in dropping the mistletoe and pulling you closer to him by your hips, tilting his head. you pull back a few moments later, slightly breathless as you push him back, “good enough?” he grins a little lovesick smile, “i might need a few more presents.”

as soon as jaemin opens the door for you, there’s a burst of laughter coming from the boys towards you. you frown, glancing down at your outfit. nothing was wrong, so you look to jaemin who chuckles hesitantly. “uh..” he goes to speak, but haechan beats him to it, yelling, “look up, lovebirds!” you look up, feeling heat rise to your cheeks at the mistletoe hanging above your heads. your eyes connect with renjun, who is grinning so hard you think it might split his face in half. you immediately know that he’s the one who planned this, and your eyes narrow at him threateningly. you look back to jaemin, who is shuffling in place slightly, looking away from you. such a stark difference from his usual confident self, that it bursts your own confidence. “well?” you say, and he looks at you. “aren’t you going to kiss me?” you ask and he slowly smiles, “i’ve been wanting to since forever.”

“now how did that get there?” chenle fakes a gasp, a shocked look on his face as he stares up at the mistletoe somehow attached to the roof of the car. you follow his gaze, hiding a smirk behind your hand, “how does this keep happening?” you ask in faux shock, glancing around for any more. he shrugs, “must be fate,” is the last thing he says before pulling you into a kiss by your chin. you say in between each kiss, “i— can’t— wait— until— you— get— caught— under— one— with— your— members—” your giggle is caught by his mouth again, hand cradling your cheek. he breaks away, pecking your lips once more before saying, “i saw a video where some girl had her belly button pierced and the piercing was a mistletoe.” it takes a second, but your eyes widen and you gasp, making him burst into laughter at your expression. “chenle!”

“i should be playing in the winter snow,” jisung’s sweet, deep voice fills your ears as you rest your head on his chest, some cheesy christmas hallmark movie playing on your tv that neither of you are paying attention to. “but imma be under the mistletoe, with you, shawty, with you.” his fingers tap gently on your back and there’s some shuffling before mistletoe appears in your vision, held up by a nervous jisung. you giggle, glancing between the blushing jisung and the mistletoe. you put your hand over his, lowering the mistletoe and leaning up to press a kiss to both of his cheeks, “you don’t have to have mistletoe for me to kiss you.” he giggles back, a shy, soft smile on his lips as he grabs you by the back of your head softly and pulls you in for another kiss.

More fae!Gaz, he's so boyfriend, he's always there when you need him. Even if you didn't know he'd be there or that you'd need him! That's just how great he is!

You duck under an awning to escape the sudden downpour, already soaked to the bone. You look out at the pouring rain, tip your head to try and get a glimpse at how the clouds are moving, and sigh. You'll just have to wait it out. You wish you'd brought your umbrella.

The door beside you chimes, and there's the click fwump of an umbrella being opened. You glance at the man looking out at the rain, you recognize him. You've had a few conversations with him. Not friends, not even acquaintances, but not strangers either. What was his name again?

Something whispers through your mind, bounces and echoes: Gaz, Gaz, Gaz.

"Gaz?" You confirm. He turns to looks at you, and his eyes spark with recognition. He smiles and you smile back.

"Hey there sunshine," Gaz grins, his eyes drag over you, bounce across your chest and the way your soaked shirt clings to you, "gone for a swim?"

You laugh, shake your head and then shake it harder to try and get some of the water off it. You don't know how rain always feels so much colder and wetter than regular water, but you can feel it drip off you thickly. Gaz laughs, it sounds like chocolate. You don't- you don't know how to describe it. It's like chocolate. Rich and sweet, but dark with a hint of bitterness that makes you want to hear it again and again. You find yourself staring at him, pushing your hair off your forehead to stop the water from rolling down into your eyes. Already you've had to blink away the drops that settled on your lashes.

"Didn't bring my umbrella," you explain. Gaz nods, the cocks his head back towards the shop door.

"S'why I stopped in for one."

"Smart, don't know why I didn't think of that." You watch the rain fall for a moment, before you're struck with recollection. "We live in the same building right?" Gaz hums.

"You knocked on my door for a cuppa once." You nod and he shifts his grip on the umbrella, holding it between you. "You asking to share?"

"Could save me a few pounds," You're only half joking, stepping closer until your shoulder brushes his.

"What if I'm not headed for the tube?" You look up at Gaz, watch him cock a brow curiously. He never loses his smile. Something itches in the back of your mind, warning you against friendly strangers. Something else quiets it, pets the scared animal into submission with that soft echoing whisper: Gaz, Gaz, Gaz.

"Then you can just drop me off at the nearest station and be on your way," you reason. That seems to amuse him, something sparking in his eyes that lights up his smile. He's warm. Green. Natural. You can smell the dirt of a nearby flower pot, the dust of the city. Petrichor, your brain supplies. The smell of dust after rain.

Mentally you kick yourself. From a fucking Doctor Who episode ya numpty. Trying to sound poetic when you're just quoting a damn- and it's not even an episode you liked! Ugh.

Gaz taps your forehead, two gentle taps that make you blink. There's something familiar in the gesture, friendly in a way that's overly friendly for how close you aren't.

"Looked like you were getting lost in there," he says when you smack your hand against the tapped skin.

"Well throw down a rope then," you grumble. Your therapist is right you gotta start being more present. This is why you get caught in the rain, too busy day dreaming.

"How about I get you home first," Gaz jokes.

"Just to the station is fine," you tell him, hurrying to stay under the umbrella as he starts walking. Gaz shrugs, the umbrella shifts, and you press closer to avoid soaking your shoulder a second time.

"I'm going home anyway, may as well take you with me."

You roll your eyes. An alarm bell rings in the back of your mind, smothered by a thick magic that whispers to you: Gaz, Gaz, Gaz.

Confessions

Vash x Reader tags: nsfw, plant-vash biology, female reader, smut, feelings.

// sorry for any mistakes, i'm sleep deprived lmao //

The first time that you saw Vash, you assumed he would be a passing thing, a person who would take up too much space in your mind before fading away like everyone else. That's how it usually goes, anyway.

Funny, you think, that you're so incredibly close to him now. The fact that the two of you happened to meet in a tavern the same night you saw him wandering through town and you helped him escape a gunfight, well, that surely cemented the fact that you would follow him practically anywhere.

Now, nights like this are nothing but an ordinary, pleasant routine. You've both been drinking a bit too much, both relaxing after a long day of travel. You laugh at him as he stumbles around the fire after digging through your pack to pull out blankets, his grin spreading when he finds you right where he left you.

"Good! You're not asleep yet!"

"Not yet." You yawn, "But it is getting pretty late."

He nods and plops down beside you after spreading out a blanket for you both to rest on, spreading his long legs out. You glance down at him, brow raised.

"You're not tired?"

He shrugs, "Nope."

Laughing, you splay onto the blanket beside him. Your arms brush and with that touch, like always, there is a spark, a live wire. You gulp and throw an arm over your eyes, wishing these damn feelings would just go away already.

"You feel sick?" He asks.

"No." You huff, "That's not it."

"What is it, then?"

You lower your arm and look at him, "Can't tell you. Secret."

He blinks in that usual way of his, all wide-eyed. Then, he drags you closer, wrapping his arm around you with gentle strength. You instantly relax, your head dropping to rest on his chest. This is always nice and you should accept it as it is. You should just accept that this is all you'll get and you're fine with that, especially if it means that you won't lose him.

A soft brush of his fingers on your lower back makes your stomach flip. A flutter rises and you gulp, shifting a bit at the tingles running up the length of your spine.

"I can't really go to sleep with you touching me like that."

He lets out a soft noise of surprise, "Oh! Right, sorry."

You chuckle, "I didn't mean that you should stop."

Soon, though albeit slightly hesitantly, the touch returns. He brushes his fingers along the curve of your back, against your ribs and you jolt. The movement brings your crotch closer to his thigh and you let out a soft noise, which leaves you slightly mortified. He goes very still, his touch halting before he continues with seemingly more confidence.

He runs his fingers lower until they're pressing a bit into the dip of your waist. Your hips move against his thigh and you shut your eyes, praying neither of you will remember this in the morning. But you know that, without a doubt, there's no way you won't. Regardless of the drinks, you're both very much aware of what is happening.

You bury your face against his chest as you grind against him softly, your voice more timid than it's ever been when you call his name.

"Is this too much?" He asks, quietly.

"No. No, this is fine."

He laughs, a deep rumble against you. It's different than any laugh you've heard from him before. There's nothing goofy or fake or self-deprecating about it. It's husky. It's heat.

Suddenly, as you begin to feel spikes of pleasure, he stops. You wince and go to pull away, thinking you've overstepped or misunderstood. But he simply keeps holding tight to you as he shifts.

You blink up at him, caged in by his arms, overwhelmed by the sight.

He's flushed, his cheeks rosy and his pupils dilated. His eyes are flitting around your face and dipping, his hand running beneath your thin shirt to travel against the skin beneath. You gulp and open your legs for him to settle better, gasping when he presses against your so fully.

"You make the prettiest sounds." He says, his voice soft and gentle and quiet between the two of you. "I've heard you before, you know. Late at night, when you thought I was sleeping. I never knew what you were thinking about but I hoped-"

He brushes his thumb against your nipple and you bring your hand down to place it atop his, feeling him explore, feeling the way his fingers curl around your breast.

Your voice wavers, "I usually think about you."

At your confession, his eyes shoot up to your own. He presses against you harder, though you aren't sure that he's even aware of it. In a flash, he's lowering his lips to yours, taking over each and every one of your senses. You're consumed by him, by his mouth, by his roaming hands and his tongue. He pushes at your shirt and you loathe the brief moment your lips part as it lifts over your head, moaning when he finds you again. You pant when he begins to trail his lips down the slope of your throat, pressing his teeth and tongue against the rapid beat of your pulse. He brushes over your chest until he's taking a nipple into his mouth and you wish you could do something else with your hands. Instead, you bring them to your mouth as he travels lower and lower, pushing your pants down and off. "I'd like to hear you." He spreads your legs, holding tight to your thighs. He pushes his fingers into the plush of them, his breath ghosting over your core. "Please." You take your hands away and glance down, stomach curling pleasantly when you see him already looking back. He keeps his eyes on you during the first swipe of his tongue against your clit, smiling when you jolt and call out for him. "There you go." He kisses your thigh before dipping, his tongue running along your folds eagerly. You let out an embarrassingly loud yelp but he doesn't let up, not until you're dripping and leaving his mouth and chin shining. He flicks his tongue over and over, sucking at your clit, pushing in deep. Your thighs begin to quiver and he presses harder, no doubt leaving impressions and bruises. You don't mind. On the contrary, you hope they linger for days after this. Just as you're drawing close to the edge, he rises. He trails kisses back up, pressing his lips into your soft stomach, grabbing hungrily at your hips and plush sides. When you open your mouth for him, he tastes like you. The kiss is heavy and slick, breath hot between the two of you, both of you tasting like alcohol and sweets. You bring your hands down blindly, searching for the loops of his belt, for the pop of the button. When his shirt goes, you trail your touch over his scars. You shiver and you press a kiss pointedly against a deep one on his chest, making sure he knows that you aren't put off by any of it. When you look up at him, he is looking down at you. "Are you-" "If you're going to ask if I'm sure," You raise your legs, eyes fluttering at the touch of his tip on your entrance. "then, yes. I'm very sure. I've been sure for ages now." He snorts a laugh and nods, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead as he begins to push in. Immediately, you notice that his dick feels...different. You've only been with two other people and although each time had been less than extraordinary, you know what a dick feels like. You glance down between your bodies, eyes catching on the feint luminescent glow as it buries inside of you. Ridges catch and tug but it isn't unpleasant. Instead, as he seems to shift inside of you, you feel an intense burst of unexpected pleasure. You gasp and grab onto his upper arms, digging in, mumbling an apology but unable to loosen your grip. He presses your chests together, teeth brushing against your throat before he bites, just once, just hard enough to make you arch against him. This makes it much easier for him to push inside of you entirely, both of you pausing. You feel the shift within you and it's all hard and velvet and there's something moving against your clit- "Vash." You moan, "It's...I'm-" He begins to thrust but the attention to your clit doesn't leave and when you open your eyes, you see that his hands are planted on either side of your head. Whatever is brushing repeatedly over you is part of him, undulating and stimulating. "Feel good?" He asks breathlessly, jolting you up and down with his thrusts. "Do you need me to stop?" "No, please." You shut your eyes again, bursts of pleasure radiating throughout your body. "Keep going, Vash, please." He thrusts harder, his dick prodding at the plush, spongy part inside of you. His breathing has thickened as he buries his face against your throat, tongue brushing the bite, his teeth grazing it. "So pretty." He says, his hips snapping as your breasts bounce against his chest. "You're just-" You gasp loudly as he reaches a hand down and grabs hold of your hip, digging his fingers deeply. "You've always been so beautiful." You gulp, strong emotions swamping you. You'd never accepted what you've known for months now: that you like him immensely, that you love him deeply. "I think," You try to speak between the thrusts, eyes rolling as he pierces a part of you that makes you see fucking stars. "I think I'm in love with you, Vash." He speeds up, his voice a whimper, his lips finding yours. He breathes against you, he whispers things you can't understand and suddenly, all at once, you are falling to absolute pieces. Your entire body shakes as your orgasm overwhelms you. You tighten around him and he groans, pushing hard, pushing so damn deep. Your lashes flutter and your eyes grow damp with the overwhelming feeling. In a flash, which you will later blame on euphoria, you think you see the spread of the cosmos sprouting from his back. There are feathers and there are stars and whisps, dark like gunsmoke, spreading above the two of you. Blanketing you from the world. He spills inside of you. It's hot and it's thick and you feel him grind into you over and over as if chasing the feeling to the last possible moment. The entire world goes quiet, all a buzz and vibration, as slowly you return from such a height. When you're back to yourself, you feel him sliding in and out of you slowly. He's growing soft inside of you but neither of you wants to part. You wrap your legs around him, keeping him close until you can't anymore. You glance down and see the bioluminescence spill out of you. He drops his head to your chest, skin slick and damp with sweat. Luckily, the desert is always cold at night. It cools you both down until bumps are breaking out on your skin and Vash is grabbing another blanket, sliding out of you to wrap you both up within it. The fire has begun to burn low but you know he'll get up at some point to keep it going. For now, however, you're glad that you can turn in his arms and bury yourself against him. Your confession returns to the forefront of your mind and you think you might be sick, that you might wake up and find him gone now that the truth is out. You do your best to pretend that you've already fallen asleep, evening out your breaths and losing the tension in your shoulders. After a while, you assumed he would unwrap himself from you. But instead, he continues to hold you close, pressing kisses on the top of your head, his voice low and soft. "I love you too." He brushes a thumb against your jaw and traces the slope of your cheek. Those words, confessed beneath the stars and within the endless dunes, ease your worries. You nuzzle closer, hoping he thinks you're doing it unconsciously. Tomorrow, you're sure you'll both need to talk. But for now, as you allow yourself to be held so tenderly, you finally succumb to a deep, much-needed sleep.

Wait I love girldad!hotch so much. Hotch x Reader where they have a baby girl? Since it's christmas maybe a cute family xmas moment with them and Jack?

god, i love girldad!hotch too 😭

fandom: criminal minds pairing: hotch x fem!reader rating: e warnings: none

this isnt as christmassy as i really wanted but this is where the story took me?? 🤷‍♀️ anyway, i hope you enjoy it! <3

it was relatively late when you finally dragged your tired feet through the front door of your home. later than you usually get home, anyway. 7 pm isn't usually late for most people, but you're usually home by 4, 4:30 at at the latest. a holiday party fiasco kept you later than normal and you could've snuck away sooner if it hadn't of been for your boss stalking and lurking his way through the building.

as you step inside and kick off you heels, you're immediately hit with two things. 1. something smells so good and, 2. your daughter has once again been possessed by the loudest screamiest demon to ever travel the dark realms.

you quickly shrug off your coat and drop your bag off at the door and make your way to the smells and noises. you travel down the small hallway, taking in the christmas decorations that adorn the walls, you trail by the big beautiful christmas tree thats fully lit and standing so tall in the living room, and then you finally round your way into kitchen where you see your husband with your nine month old daughter strapped to his chest, the carrier straps crisscrossed along his back giving it away. he's bouncing her as he speaks while stirring whatever it is he's making on the stove. you lean against the door frame with a smile listening to the cuteness in front of you.

your daughter's screaming has calmed down now, it's now just a hiccupping cry accompanied by little sniffles here and there. you see hotch use his spare hand to bring it up to cup the back of the little girls head.

"i know, baby, i miss her too, but she'll be home and we'll both be so happy, huh?" he steps away from the stove and starts swaying her, his hand never leaving the back of her head. he turns a little giving you access to her little face and you can then see her big beautiful brown eyes staring up at him and the worlds biggest frown on her face. even from this distance you can see her face is red from screaming and she still has globs of tears threatening to leave her eyes at any given moment.

"i'll put on a wig and one of mommy's shirts if it'll make you feel better," he says in his baby-talk voice. "i'll do whatever you want if you'll just stop giving me those big sad eyes."

you can't help but to chuckle at that. you step more into the kitchen to rest your elbows against the island counter directly behind him.

"what's goin' on in here?" you finally say and hotch spins around, his face cracking open with a smile.

"hey!" he laughs through his smile, "when did you get home?"

"just now." you tell him. you stand behind him and pop up on your toes to peer over his broad shoulder at your baby girl. she's nearly stopped crying at this point but the second her eyes land on you and she realizes who you are, she full on screams, the tears sitting in her eyes now free falling down her cheeks. her face scrunches up so much you wonder how it's even possible.

"oh, baby," you coo, moving to stand next to your husband as he helps you pull her out of the carrier. "what's the matter, huh? stuck at home with daddy all day got you the blues?"

hotch turns to glare at you for that. "we had a good time." he says turning back to the stove. "you know, until she started screaming at me."

you hold her close to your chest, your lips resting on the top of her soft head. she almost immediately calms, save for a few shuttering breaths. you sway her slowly, giving her a little squeeze of comfort.

"where's jack?" you ask, turning to look back into the living room to see if he was in there watching tv.

"he's probably in his room getting ready."

you blink a couple of times, your eyes drifting up to think about why jack would be getting ready to go somewhere. and then it hits you.

"oh, no, dave's is tonight?" you questioned, checking the time on the on the stove. dave had invited the entire bau gang + family to his house for christmas eve dinner, it had been in your planner since thanksgiving.

hotch turns to look at you. "yeah. is that a problem? we can cancel if-"

"no! no, it's okay. i just forgot. it's been a long tiring day." you sigh, a little mad at yourself for forgetting.

hotch opens the oven door and takes out a batch of what looks like sugar cookies. he uses his foot to close the door behind him as he sets the cookie tray down, and then he shuffles his socked feet over to you, quickly enveloping you and your daughter in a hug. he smiles at you lovingly before he kisses your lips and then kisses his daughter's head.

"i can take the kids if you want to stay here."

you shift the now sleeping baby to your left arm and use your right arm to pull him closer to you, reconnecting your lips.

"that's sweet. but i don't mind going, really. my social battery might be a little on the dead side, though." you kiss him again with a hum, chuckling softly when you taste the sugar cookies on his lips.

he smiles against you. "okay," he says, taking the baby out of your arms. "i'll take her, you go check on jack and then go get ready. everything in here is nearly done, and then all i have to do is get changed and put her in her christmas onesie." the little girl whines a little as shes moved but doesn't make much of an effort to wake up or cry. he sits her back in her carrier, her head lulling to his chest, her little lips smacking as she settles into him. you nearly cry at the sweetness of it all. especially the thought of the littlest hotchner in her green christmas tree onesie that penelope had gotten her before she was even born.

"she's fine, honey, get outta here." and with that, he lightly snaps a hand towel across your butt grinning.

you laugh and turn to leave the kitchen but not without throwing "keep that up, hotchner, and we won't leave this house," over your shoulder. and then you're gone.

"oooh, mommy's being mean to daddy, little one." hotch stage whispers. she doesn't move or even open her eyes. "oh, i see how it is. take her side, huh?"

The one where he carries you home after a fight (Toji xFem!Reader)

A/N: My 7AM sleepless demons wrote this, not me.

warning: mentions of alcohol

Series Masterlist

“Thanks for coming, Toji. She wanted us to hit Roppongi next.”

“No problem.” Toji mutters as he lifts your limp body over his shoulders—arms thrown over his neck and knees buckled around his torso.

He nearly winces at the overwhelming stench of tequila emanating from your breath, praying that the wetness seeping through his shirt is drool and not vomit, though that’s more like wishful thinking. You are wasted. Completely and utterly drunk out of your mind to the point where you can’t differentiate the setting or those around him.

“Mistah, drop me off at the next station,” you slur with your eyes closed, pointing somewhere on the horizon before nodding off again. This was the third time you repeated that motion.

“How much did ya make her drink?” Toji doesn’t ask so much as accuse the two women, who are quick to shut him down with the dirtiest of looks. Nothing new. Your friends never liked him, and the feeling’s mutual.

“Make her?” Utahime huffs, rolling her sleeves over her elbows. “She’s the one who dragged us out on a Tuesday night. If anything, you’re the one to blame—you pushed her to it!”

“Senpai, calm down already.” Shoko lowers her friend’s fists. Out of the two, she’s the better one at acting like she tolerates him. “What did you fight over, anyway?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

With the way you stormed out the door in your finest high-heel shoe, black party dress, and red lipstick combo, he’d expect your lovers quarrel to make headlines by midnight.

However, they both shake their heads negatively.

“Who knows?” Toji flashes an oblivious smile before he gets you going. You were so angry at him earlier, and in all honesty, he did cross a line or two, but it doesn’t feel all that important now. Come tomorrow, this will become just another entry in your record of petty arguments to look back on and laugh at.

You’ve made it halfway up the slope that leads to your crappy apartment building when he catches you flailing around on his back like a fish fresh out of water. He slots his hands into the crevices beneath your thighs, applying enough pressure so that you won’t fall.

“Rise and shine, sleepy-head.”

Your slow blinks turn rapid the second you realize your feet aren’t touching the ground and you’re piggybacking on a stranger. “W-Who are you?”

“Ya don’t remember?” Toji rolls his eyes with a loud tsk. “What was it again? Mister Taxi? Mister Killjoy? Or Mister Buzzkill?” He goes through the different names you bestowed on him in your sleep.

“Mister… Buzzkill?” Your jaw drops slack on his shoulder, only for your palms to clap at his chest in excitement a minute later. “Mister Buzzkill, I remember! You kidapped me from my friends and spoiled our fun!”

“More like your friends got sick of your ass and called me to pick up the pieces.” He argues. “Hold on tight if ya don’t wanna fall. Climb’s steep from now on.”

Strength returns to your arms as they cage his neck. “Where are you taking me, Mister Buzzkill? Are we going to party?”

“Don’tcha think you’ve had enough partying for one night, princess?” He grunts. “We’re goin’ home.”

“Home? Whose home?”

Toji’s starting to miss the you that nags him about not soaking his dirty dishes. Alcohol always chips away at your mental capacity, and while he wants to be understanding, he can’t understand that which he’s never experienced for himself. “Our home, dummy.”

The epithet doesn’t faze you in the slightest. “Are you going to exploit me?”

“Prospect makes you happy?” You hum in return. “Fine. You can pay for the ride once we make it home.”

“But…” And you sound so sad that he cocks his head to peer at your face, glassy, puppy eyes welling up with fat tears that make him wonder whether he said something hurtful again. “I don’t have any money. My husband said we’re out of money ‘cause he—he gambled it away.”

The cogs in his brain are put in reverse, reminding him of the cash he snatched from your open wallet with the intention of waging it on a guaranteed victory and the little white lie you took at face value. You didn’t even give him the chance to explain that the bills were still in his pocket because the race was called off, and he let you run off to your friends without offering a single apology.

“I’m sure we’ll work something out.” Toji squeezes your thighs reassuringly. “Ya can pay me back in kind, too.”

“But my husband—”

“Your husband is a shithead.” He spits out, hoping that his remorse registers without leaving behind any actual trace of his words.

“You are so kind, Mister Buzzkill. Unlike him—my Toji.” The fingers of your one hand pull on your wedding band until it comes off. “Wanna marry me again, Mister…Toji?”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Toji catches the wedding band right before it slips from your fingers to the street. Part of him wants to scold you for being a scatterbrained nuisance, but the part of him that finds even your plastered form endearing comes out on top.

He slides the ring around the ring finger of his ring-less hand and pieces your hands together, holding onto them until you finally reach the front door and you’re sober enough to call him by his name.

“A’right, we’re here.” Toji declares once the key’s inside the hole.

He calls out your name and shakes you softly, but there’s no answer coming from you other than a single embarrassingly loud snore. He lets go of your legs and slowly puts your feet on the floor before hoisting them up in the air again, shifting to carrying you into bridal position. Your hands reach around his neck on their own volition, and he swears your lips curl into the softest smile when your nose pressed against his shirt.

He sighs, parting the hair that’s fallen inside your agape mouth.

“What am I gonna do with you?”

Life in the City 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bad friends, creep behaviour, abuse of power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You move to the big city and find yourself swallowed up by its chaos.

Characters: Clark Kent, Thor Odinson, short!reader

Note: A brief reprieve from the snakish prince.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you. No tag list, do not ask for updates.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You sleep lightly, A restless night that leaves your skull fragile. You give up your attempts as the sun rises through the windows. You sit up and stretch, looking around the soft hues limning the walls of Melanie’s apartment.

You stand and move cautiously through the space. You change in the bathroom, doing your best not to make too much noise as you go out to grab your bag. You brush your teeth and tidy up. You’ll have a shower when you get home.

You emerge and look around, making sure you haven’t left anything out. You take the time to clean up the snacks from the night before and place everything away in the cupboard. You know Melanie’s on a diet but it feels wrong to take it all back with you.

As you zip up your bag, a shadow darkness the hallway and you look up as Clark tussles his dark hair and stretches. You glimpse at him briefly, mortified to find him shirtless, his hard torso exposed above the low elastic of his sweatpants.

“Morning,” his voice is silty with sleep, “what… are you leaving already?”

“Well, I… I should head off. Get out of your way,” you shrug as you speak quietly, “plus, I got chores…”

“Oh, do you need a ride,” he lets his hand drag down his chest as you shift awkwardly, clinging to your knapsack.

“Um, that’s nice, but I’ll just catch the bus–”

“The bus?” He echoes, “let me throw on a shirt and get myself together. I can’t let you just sneak off.”

“Erm, I guess… I could wait and say goodbye to Melanie, I just thought–”

“Yeah, she won’t be up for a while,” he drops his arms, his chest puffed proudly, “you know, she drank a lot. She wasn’t feeling too well. You didn’t hear her?”

“What? I…” you blink and avoid his gaze, “I was asleep, I didn’t hear anything.”

“Oh, yeah, she was sick in the middle of the night. Pretty bad. I tell her not to drink on an empty stomach.”

“Ah, uh, yeah, that’s awful,” you sputter, “I… I’m sorry to rush out, it’s just I got a lot to catch up.”

“No problem. I’ll save you waiting for the bus,” he says, “won’t be long at all.”

“Oh, okay, but–”

“Really, it’s no trouble. If I don’t wake her up with a real latte, she’ll bite my head off,” he chuckles, “hungover Melanie is not nice Melanie.”

“Right,” you try to laugh but it’s more a croak, “I’ll just be… here then.”

🏙️

You sit in the car silently. The tension is roiling. You don’t know why you agreed. You could have insisted; the bus won’t be long…

Too late for that. You’re stuck now. At least there’s not much traffic. You hug your bag in your lap, anxious to just get home. He drives patiently despite the empty streets, taking his time as he turns onto the next street.

“So, chores, sounds exciting,” he teases.

“Mm, yeah, I guess,” you agree squeakily.

“What else are Saturday’s for? Guess you’re headed back to work on Monday?”

You nod, “mhmm.”

“How is it? Work? You making lots of friends?”

You almost feel like a kid. It reminds you of when your dad would pick you up from school and ask what trouble you go into. You twiddle your fingers against your bag.

“Um, well, everyone sort’ve keeps to themselves,” you eke out, “there’s a lot of work so…”

“You’ll settle in. I’m sure you’ll find lots of friends,” he slows and flips on his blinker, “I mean, you already have.” You tilt your head and glance at him in confusion, “me.”

“Oh, uh, sure, yeah, sorry, I’m tired,” you laugh nervously.

“So,” he rolls into the lot of the Coffee Bean, “want something?”

“You don’t have to–”

“I’m stopping by anyway, no biggie,” he insists, “coffee, tea?”

You pick at the zipper of your bag. He’s so nice. Too nice. But that’s not a real problem, you’re just making it into one. Last night… what did he do so wrong? Pull a blanket over you? It was cold.

“Sure, could I just get an iced green tea, please and thank you?” You unzip your bag and fish around.

He steers into the drive through and puts in his order at the speaker, listing off Melanie’s complicated lite syrup, half-foam, coconut milk monstrosity at the end. You pull out your wallet as he’s directed to the window.

“My treat,” he insists.

“Really, it’s just three bucks.”

“Exactly,” he insists, “you brought all those treats last night, the least I can do is buy you an iced tea.”

“Thanks,” you sniff and look out the window.

“I’ll make sure Mel gives you a call. You two can hash this out,” he stops and waits at the window, “she needs a friend like you. All the others are so… well, they’re not as nice as you.”

“Maybe, I… if she wants to call. I don’t want to bug her.”

“Bug her? Oh, sweetie, she doesn’t deserve a friend like you,” he says, “but I’m being selfish and I think you’d be a good influence.”

You nod again, put off by his tone. It’s like he’s a parent the way he talks about Melanie. Almost like he’s trying to mould her into something. Someone like him, with his name and his looks, you’re sure he could find someone who already fits right in.

The window opens and he takes the tray of drinks. He hands you yours before sliding the other two into the cup holders. He flings the cardboard tray onto the backseat and continues through the exit. He idles at the signs.

“I forgot, which way am I going?” 

You point him in the right direction, nearly sighing in relief. You’re almost home. You just want to hide away in your shame and never be perceived again.

🏙️

You’re not very surprised when Melanie doesn’t call. Not on Saturday or Sunday. You’re grateful that she doesn’t. You’re trying to forget about the movie night gone wrong. It’s probably better off. You’ve both changed a lot since high school, or maybe you haven’t changed enough.

You go through your usual. You’re not a liar, you do have chores. Dishes, laundry, floors, dusting… You keep yourself busy in an effort to block out the memory of the night. You won’t be watching Never Been Kissed ever again, that’s for sure.

Monday morning greets you with a new start but it all feels so stale. The routine is the same as the weeks before. Wake up, green tea in a thermos, pack your lunch, make yourself presentable, and out the door to catch the bus.

You enjoy the route, letting it lull your pre-work jitters. You’ve been there going on a month and somehow you still feel out-of-place. It’s not like before, where you knew all the people at your work study, or in high school where the associates in the department store joked around more than they ever did the price changes.

You stroll up to the building, slowing behind a pair of men in tailored suits. You feel like a minnow in a sea of sharks. You follow them inside as they drop the door on you. They’re important. They’re chatting about an important meeting and business trip next week. You’ll be dutifully perched at your desk, roving through spreadsheets.

The salesmen are higher up the chain than you in the ecosystem of the company. You’re somewhere along the lower-middle ground, below the lions and the hyenas. You’re off with Timon and Pumbaa, trying not to get eaten.

You step onto the elevator with them, shrinking down. You’re invisible to them. You’re not Stella in her red-soled stilettos and tight pencil skirts, or Ginnifer in her high-buns and sleek pantsuits. You feel like a little girl playing dress up even in your simple powder blue cardigan and flowered skirt.

The elevator bings and the men nearly bowl you over as they brush past you on each side. You get off after them and scurry away to your desk. You see Stella now, sipping a tall latte as she purrs at Tony. She struts down the hall ahead of him as she calls back about some expense report.

You tuck your bag under your desk and get yourself situated. You plunk down your thermos beside your mouse and boot up. You roll your ankles under the desk, your Keds soft-soled but comfortable. You can’t run for the bus in heels.

You steel yourself for another day buried in Excel columns. You sign in and push back the cap on the lid of your cup. Steam escapes and you let the heat escape before you dare taste it. You pull up your inbox and scroll through your emails. Your task list is ever longer by the day.

Your work isn’t unimportant. You give the analytics to the salesman and the big suits. You provide the numbers for their strategy but for them, all that is menial. That’s not the real meat of the company. You and all the other ants in the hill are dispensable.

You push your chair back as you reach into your bag for your notebook. As you do, the back collides with something. You quickly roll back in, knocking your head on the edge of the desk as you do. You rub your brow as you spin to face the obstruction.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you babble up at the tall man. 

He’s big, blond, and burly, and wears a suit that demarcates him as one of them. You don’t need an introduction, everyone knows who he is. The COO is memorable for more than his title. His booming voice and towering size set him apart from all the other men in their leather shoes and skinny ties.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you stand but still have to crane your neck to look at him, “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“That’s quite alright,” he smiles broadly, “are you alright? You took quite a bump.”

“Oh,” you drop your hand from your head, “yeah, I’m fine, sir. Thank you. I was just… looking for something.”

“So long as you’re alright. However, I am the safety officer, I could have a look,” he offers.

“Really, I’m fine,” you insist, “I didn’t mean to do that–”

“I didn’t mind so much,” he assures you, “I don’t know you. You’re new. Leah’s replacement?”

“Um, I think,” you look at your desk, “I wouldn’t know.”

“Of course not,” he accepts, “Thor Odinson.”

He holds out his large hand. You consider it and give him your own. Your hand is tiny in comparison as he easily wraps his fingers around it. You supply your name with a squeak.

“Ah, I like that,” he praises, “well, you have a wonderful day. And welcome to the company.”

“Yes, sir,” you rescind your hand as he releases it. His cologne wafts towards you, vanilla underscored by something woodsy.

“Thor,” he affirms.

You repeat his name and clutch your hands together. He lingers, looking you up and down, then turns on his heel. You watch him go before you sit.

You want to hold your head and hide. What did he think of you? This girl in her thin wool cardigan and lace-up sneakers. You don’t know why you care so much. He’s your boss but not directly. He’s probably already forgotten about you.

You cringe and swirl your mouse around. Focus. You’re at work. This isn’t high school or college. This isn’t about making friends and all that. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of you, your work matters.

You lean into the screen and squint at the tight boxes, increasing their size as you open a new report. For all your studying, you never saw yourself sitting there fighting with numbers all day. Percentages, rates, medians, mean… how boring.

You jolt as you feel your bag buzz against your leg. You look behind you before you push your chair out this time and bring your bag into your lap. You retrieve your notebook as you remember the cause of your first folly then fish out your phone. 

You bring down the menu and set it to silent. Before you hit lock, you see the message beaming back at you. It’s from Melanie.

‘Hey girl. Let’s talk.’

You frown. You’d already accepted that Mel was done with you. She was always good at holding a grudge, even for the slightest offence. You wonder if Clark really had talked to her. You leave it unread and tuck your phone away, dropping your bag back to the floor and shoving it away with your toes.

As you return your attention to your monitor, you sense something behind it. There, across the room, you meet Thor’s eyes as he stares at you. He has a red mug of coffee in his hand as he sips. He pulls the brim away from his lips and grins, sending a wink in your direction.

You blink and look over your shoulder. Who is he looking at? You turn back to face him again. He’s gone. Ah, whoever it was, must’ve caught up to him.

You shake off the collision and the text message. Work!