#Their heads are tilted slightly in opposite directions

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Somehow the timing was just right, and Bradley's arrival meant he could join you for your appointment. He'd find out if he was having a son or daughter in person, with you. The enormity of Bradley's affection seemed to grow every day now, just like the Nugget he loved so much.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, swearing, pregnancy

Length: 4900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

"Bradley," you gasped, head tipped back against the pillar that was pressing into your shoulder. "Your duffle is here. I can see it." Actually, it was just going around and around on the conveyor belt while Bradley sucked gently on your neck and slowly bunched the fabric of your dress in his hand over your bump. And just like that, once again, your focus drifted away from the bag as soon as he spoke.

"I'll get it in a minute," he murmured next to your ear. "I'm a little busy."

You were getting side eye from a woman, and a random man was outright gawking at you, but you didn't really care. The airport was busy, but it wasn't enough to make you pull your fingers from Bradley's soft hair or tell him to stop kissing his way back to your lips. His bristly mustache made you sigh when he reached his destination once again, and you let him taste your tongue before you pulled away slightly.

"Roo. We're kind of on a tight schedule." When he just grunted in response and headed for your lips again, you laughed. "Daddy! Let's go see the Nugget."

He seemed to snap out of it a little bit, the desire in his eyes giving way to excitement. "Right. Let's go. I can taste you everywhere at home later."

When he took you by the hand, you had to dig your heels in. "We need your bag!" you said with a smile. Then he led you in the opposite direction and snatched his massive duffle up like it was nothing and tossed it over his shoulder. You had to hustle along next to him as he exited the airport through the sliding doors and headed for the parking garage. It was like he knew you parked near the spot where he totaled your beloved little Honda when he finally got you pregnant on his birthday. You felt your cheeks grow warm as you recalled the details.

He must have seen his blue Bronco in the last row, because he picked up his pace a little bit more. "I don't think we have time for reunion sex yet," he muttered, glancing at you and letting his gaze dip down your body. "But I'll take care of you later. You got along okay without me?"

You let out a little squeak as he tossed his bag in the back and headed for the passenger side door so he could unlock it for you. "Honestly? I haven't been as insatiable since the first trimester ended," you told him, leaning closer to inhale the scent of his deodorant. "At least... I wasn't until right now."

He pulled you close again and tilted your chin up so you were looking at him. "Listen, I'm a little keyed up, and I don't think I can be quick. Can you wait until later?"

"Oh, God," you whined, your skin tingling at the thought of how long he might last for you and how good he would feel. "This is just as exciting as when I felt the baby moving on Halloween."

His brown eyes went wide, and his lips parted in surprise. "You felt the Nugget?!" When you nodded, he asked, "Why didn't you tell me before?"

You just gaped at him. "Seriously? You had your mouth all over mine! How was I supposed to tell you anything?"

"Shit," he hissed and handed you the keys before his hands settled on your belly, drifting around, trying to feel something. "You drive," he said, slowly guiding you to the other side of the Bronco. "I need to work on feeling a kick." 

As he buckled you in behind the wheel, you didn't have the heart to tell him that the baby wasn't even moving around much right now, or that it would probably be weeks before he'd be able to feel anything externally. He was too adorable when he was this excited, and you watched him run around the hood and jump inside like an overgrown golden retriever who had been offered a treat. His eyes were wide as he got himself buckled before placing both hands on your belly.

"Okay. I'm ready to go," he informed you with a nod.

"You sure?" you asked, smirking as you put the key in the ignition. "A minute ago, you looked like you were ready to have parking garage sex again, and now you're all over me and the Nugget."

You shifted into gear, and he whispered, "I'm ready, Baby Girl. I'm so fucking ready to learn what we're having, and if I feel a little kick on the way, it'll be like a cherry on top of the best day."

You paid the parking fee and pulled out onto the main road as you realized you only had about twenty minutes to get to Dr. Morris's office on time. "Don't get your hopes up," you said while Bradley felt you all over. "You probably won't be able to feel anything. It's still early for that."

"Hey, not to be rude, Sweetheart, but I'm actually going to need you to stop talking."

"What?" you asked, so startled you laughed a little bit. "Did you just ask me to be quiet?"

He kissed your cheek while you drove and whispered, "It's just that I can't tell if it's the vibrations from your voice or the baby moving. Please? I love you." Now you were laughing even harder as his big hands moved all around on you. "No, no, that's- see you're actually moving more when you laugh though." He kissed your cheek again as you rolled your eyes and smothered your laughter. "That's better."

When you pulled into the parking lot of the medical complex, your husband's fingers were stroking your belly gently, and when you parked again and looked at him, you saw a few tears in his eyes. "You okay?" you asked softly. 

"Yeah. I'm good. Like really fucking good."

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

Bradley was forever wondering when his luck would run out. His life just seemed too good to be true. He was holding hands with his hot, pregnant wife in the waiting room, just buzzing with excitement. In a few short minutes, he was going to find out if he was having a son or a daughter. He wondered if this was how his dad felt in 1984. He wondered if Nick Bradshaw ever wanted to randomly get on his knees for his wife for no reason.

"They called us," you whispered, kissing his cheek before you stood up. Bradley jumped to his feet as well, so deep in thought, he hadn't heard anything. He'd never admit it to you, but this was probably more exciting than the day the two of you got married.

He pressed his sweaty palm to yours and walked past the reception desk at your side. Three short hallways later, and a nurse led you into a large, dimly lit room with huge computer monitors on one wall. "I'm so fucking excited, I might pass out," he said, voice deep and raspy. 

The nurse eyed him cautiously. "Perhaps you should have a seat while Dr. Morris performs the scan?"

He nodded, intercepting the cotton gown before you could take it from her. "That's a great idea. I'll do that."

Once she was gone, Bradley turned to you and started unfolding the gown while you stepped out of your boat shoes. "Are you really going to pass out?" you asked him as you started to pull your sinfully snug dress up your legs.

"Let me do that," he grunted, kneeling on the floor and pushing the fabric up and over your belly. He kissed your tattoo through your underwear, and then he kissed the spot next to your belly button where he always imagined the Nugget was hanging out. "I love you," he whispered before getting to his feet again and pulling the dress up and over your head. You weren't wearing a bra, and your breasts looked so fucking incredible, he wanted them in his mouth.

"You're staring at me," you said, reaching for the gown as you shifted back and forth in place like you were getting cold. "I know I look different. I gained like eight or nine pounds while you were gone once I stopped throwing up all the time."

Bradley let you take the gown from his hands. "Jesus Christ, maybe I really should sit down," he muttered, dragging a chair over next to the table where you'd be sitting in a moment. "And I was just staring at your tits, Baby Girl. You don't look different, you look fucking hot pregnant. God, this is more exciting than when you let me fuck you in the ass."

And that was the exact moment when Dr. Morris entered the room and cleared her throat. "Lieutenant Bradshaw," she said, reaching out to shake his hand as he hovered awkwardly over the chair before standing up again. "It's so nice to have you back with us." You were cradling your head in your hand in embarrassment as he shook hands with your obstetrician.

"Dr. Morris," he murmured. "I only missed the last appointments, because I was deployed. There's nothing else that could have kept me away, I swear."

She laughed and looked between the two of you and said, "Well, we do like a supportive and adventurous partner."

"Roo," you groaned softly as you started to climb up on the table. Bradley turned to help you, and you let him.

"She's a doctor, Sweetheart," he whispered. "She's heard it all."

"That's true," Dr. Morris said as she washed her hands, and you gave Bradley a bland look as you settled back on the table which was bent at an angle that would let you see the monitors. He was so excited, he just kissed your forehead a bunch of times while Dr. Morris asked, "Are we ready to get started?"

"Yes!" he practically shouted while you responded in a much calmer tone. He eased himself down into the chair and looked up at you as he reached for your hand.

"This is it," you told him with a nervous smile. "Any final guesses?"

He shook his head, his attention drawn to the monitors as they came to life. "I don't care one way or the other. I just want to know everything I can about the Nugget." 

Then he took your hand in both of his bigger ones and brought your fingers up to his lips as you said, "Me, too."

Bradley's heart skipped around as Dr. Morris spread the warm gel on your belly, and he had to press his lips together to keep quiet. He'd imagined himself holding a son, and he'd imagined himself holding a daughter. He had thought about names he liked for both. He considered what wild colors he might one day paint the bedroom walls, and he looked forward to it. He thought he'd be good at being a basketball dad or a dance dad or a cheer dad or a soccer dad. And that's why it didn't really matter what Dr. Morris said today. It didn't really matter what his kid was into or not into, because the Nugget was going to be an extension of the two of you. Somehow that equated to perfection in his mind.

"Let's count some little toes," Dr. Morris said, and then Bradley squeezed your hand as two tiny feet appeared on the screen.

"Holy shit," he whispered. There were ten perfect toes on his perfect baby, and he had to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand as you laughed softly in awe. The Nugget would be smart and confident just like you were. Bradley would get the attic taken care of, and he'd put together the jungle gym. He would do every single thing that needed to be done to make a perfect home for this child. He would take care of you every day right now until he was taking care of both of you.

"Now let's check on the fingers."

Ten tiny fingers, attached to the cutest baby he'd ever seen in his life. Bradley took a deep breath and let his forehead rest against your arm as he tried to get himself under control. "Oh my God," he whispered, knowing he'd be able to count those toes and fingers in person next year. He could tickle them and send piggies to the market. He could kiss them and watch them toddle across the living room floor after Tramp.

"Let's just get a look at the heartbeat and a few other things here." Dr. Morris was taking her time, which Bradley appreciated. He liked a thorough doctor, but the anticipation was killing him. 

The heartbeat on the screen had you mesmerized when he looked at your beautiful face, but then you turned to look at him. Once again, he had no idea how he ended up this lucky. "I love you, Roo."

His already blurry vision just got worse as he sucked in a deep breath. "I love you so much." 

This time you brought his fingers up to your lips and kissed him as Dr. Morris added a little more gel to your belly and smashed it down with the ultrasound paddle. "Are you sure you want to find out the sex?"

"Yes!" you said, smiling at Bradley like you fucking knew you were his whole world. Like you didn't mind sharing him with the Nugget from now on. "We want to know!"

Bradley watched your face as you watched the monitor. His fingers on your wrist told him your heart was racing just like his was, and you were licking your lips in anticipation. You were perfect. His life was perfect. His baby was going to follow suit, no doubt about that. A smile found its way to his lips, and his shoulders relaxed, knowing that the next words he heard were going to be perfect, too. How could they not be?

"Congratulations. It's a girl."

The feeling inside his body was something he never knew before. He felt as much love as he had when he listened to you read your wedding vows, but this was something more. He was going to have a perfect little girl. Tears filled his eyes as he realized he was going to get to love and take responsibility for raising a daughter.

"Roo!" you sobbed, reaching for him, and then he was on his feet and kissing you.

"A girl," he said even as he mashed his lips to yours. "A daughter."

He wasn't sure if he felt his own tears or yours on his cheeks as you pressed your forehead to his and asked, "Are you happy?"

It took him a few seconds to get control of his voice as he held your face in his hands. "I'm living the life of my dreams."

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

Bradley had tears in his eyes and ultrasound images clutched to his chest as you led him outside to the Bronco. His free hand was clasped tight with yours, and you'd never seen him look so happy in your life. "A little girl," he said, handing you his keys once again, and you already knew what he was going to do when he buckled you into the driver's seat. "We're having a girl," he whispered, brown eyes wide as he kissed your wedding rings.

You nodded and wiped your thumb along his cheek. "It just makes sense somehow."

"It does," he agreed, kissing your lips before leaning down to kiss your bump through your dress. "I love this Nugget," he whispered. "My daughter."

You whined his name as he said those words, and when he looked up at you, all you could say was, "You're going to be the best Daddy, Roo." You thought about it all the time. The way he'd carry the baby around and read bedtime stories. The way he'd always be patient and sweet. You weren't sure if you'd always imagined a little girl or not, but it made so much sense right now.

"Let's go home," he rasped, kissing his way up from your belly until he got to your tender breasts. Technically you were supposed to work this afternoon, at least that's what you'd told Bickel. As Bradley ran around to the passenger side, you dug your phone out and texted your boss, letting him know that the baby was fine, and you'd see him on Monday. 

"What's wrong?" Bradley asked as you tossed your phone aside and started the engine.

"Nothing. Everything is right. I'm taking the rest of the day off so we can spend it together," you replied softly as his hands found their way back to your belly. It had been too many weeks since you'd been touched, and it felt so good, you had to press your lips together to keep from moaning. "I want to spend it with you."

He grunted and kissed the side of your neck as you pulled out of the parking lot. "I'm not letting my girls out of my sight all weekend."

"Bradley," you whined, feeling so much desire for him. The two of you could start talking about nursery decor and girl names and when you wanted to break the news to everyone else. You could do all of those things this weekend now that he was home. But you were also just needy for him.

You made a little noise as you tried your best to go the speed limit, and you knew that your husband knew what you needed. "I'll take care of you, Sweetheart. Don't worry about that. I'll take care of everything." 

He was tracing hearts along your belly, and you turned to look at his slightly lovesick eyes when you stopped at an intersection. "I know you will." You delighted in the fact that you were having a little girl who would get to share all of his love with you. The enormity of Bradley's affection seemed to grow every day now, just like the Nugget, and pretty soon she would be showered in it too.

When you pulled into the driveway and parked in the tight spot next to your red Bronco, Bradley eyed the pallets of jungle gym pieces. "I can't fucking wait to build that thing. I've been dreaming about it for so long." Then he was jumping out the door as you shifted into park, and he was around to your side in an instant. "Been dreaming about this day for ages," he whispered as you climbed down and into his arms. His hands found your lower back as he added, "Been thinking about you and the Nugget since I left."

You smiled up at him. "You know what might be fun, Daddy?"

"What?" he asked, keeping his eyes on yours as he started to lead you up to the porch.

"If you start building the Nugget's playset tomorrow, and you get all sweaty and let me watch," you said, your voice turning into a soft whimper at the end. 

Bradley jammed the house key into the lock, and shoved the door open. He hooked one arm around your waist and pulled you inside with him as Tramp started jumping around like a maniac. "Hey, buddy," Bradley told him with a smile. "I missed you, too. But I need some time with my girls first."

"It's okay," you said as you closed the door behind you. "He probably won't calm down until you play with him a little bit."

But Bradley was pushing you back against the door even as Tramp ran around in circles. "Wait right here," he commanded softly, and lust rippled through you at the sight of his pupils blown wide. "Don't move an inch." 

You felt like you were barely even breathing as you stood very still and watched Bradley lead Tramp past the piano and out the back sliding glass door. "I promise I'll play with you next. I just desperately need to fuck my wife." Then he made his way back to you, his lips set in a determined smirk, and his movements beyond sexy. "I promised I wouldn't leave you hanging."

You closed your eyes as his palm came to rest on the wooden door just next to your head. His warmth was so close, but he wasn't touching you yet as you whispered, "You always take care of me."

His fingers started to pull up the hem of your dress as he crooned, "Why don't you go ahead and tell me how much you missed me."

You tipped your head back until it met the door, and you kept your eyes squeezed closed as you whined, "Couldn't go another day without you." When his lips met your cleavage, your eyes flew open. His lips grazed your nipple through the thin fabric as he slowly knelt in front of you, and you told him, "Your daughter and I missed you terribly."

When he looked up at your face, he pulled your dress up and said, "I'm so in love with you." He ran his lips along your bare belly. "And you." Then he pressed the bunched up fabric against your ribs, and when he said, "Hold this for me, Baby Girl," you did exactly as you were told.

"Yes, Daddy."

"Fuck," he grunted, rough hands on your thighs as he kissed your belly button. "Do you have any idea how perfect you are?" His eyes met yours again. "You asked me if I was happy. I've been happy since I met you. Since you gave me a purpose. Since you let me love you." His hands found the scrap of your white lace underwear and started to pull it down your thighs. "God, I missed this," he murmured, pressing his lips to your pussy as soon as you were free of the lace which slipped all the way down until your panties hit your boat shoes.

"Bradley," you croaked, the second syllable sounding much longer than the first as he licked his way up your slit to the patch of hair that you kept neatly trimmed. He licked along this same path again, this time pressing deeper with his tongue. The third time, he separated you a little more, and then he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked gently. All the while he kept his big hands on the swell of your belly. "I really missed you."

He responded by kissing your dainty rooster tattoo and burying his face in your pussy. Bradley gently nudged your legs further apart so he could taste you everywhere, and each time you started to buck, he pushed your hips back. You were gripping your dress so tight in both hands, you were afraid you might rip the fabric, but he just kept going in a smooth up and down stripe until you could tell you were dripping wet.

"Yeah, you missed me," he grunted, kissing your tattoo one more time. "I can taste how much."

"Roo."

He got to his feet and cupped your pussy below the swell of your belly, circling your opening with the tip of one finger as he leaned in close. "Will you let me take you to bed and show you how much I missed you?"

Your voice shook as he pushed his finger inside you, just a promise of what was to come if you agreed. "Please!"

Barely ten seconds later, you were on your back in bed, your dress pushed all the way up, exposing your breasts and belly to him. Your soaked pussy was already clenching as the cool air hit your skin, and you watched Bradley wrench his shirt off and unzip his pants. But he didn't penetrate you yet. He pushed on the backs of your thighs so your knees got a little closer to your shoulders, and you whimpered his name.

His eyes were a little wild as he said, "Yeah, I'll take care of everything, Sweetheart." Bradley wrapped his hands around your thighs and leaned down to kiss at your furled nipples, his mustache leaving you squirming, searching for release. "Your fucking tits are huge. My God. And so warm." 

He nuzzled himself against your breasts which were in fact getting to the point where your bras were fitting a little too tight. He sucked and swiped his tongue along, and you let your fingers sink into his hair as he brought you close with his mouth wrapped around one nipple then the other. "Oh my God," you panted, just spurring him on. Because next, his mouth trailed back down to your belly where he whispered and worshipped you.

"I love my girls," he crooned, spreading your legs open wider as you tugged on his hair to keep yourself grounded. "I love you so much."

"Please," you begged softly, and he finally put that mouth back on your soaking wet core. You were about to come, grinding against his lips and his nose, his name falling from you like a depraved prayer. Eventually he paused before filling you with his cock instead. You cried out as he stretched you fully for the first time in so long, and almost immediately he was fucking you to completion. You came hard, your back arching off the bed as you grabbed at his shoulders, but you knew he wanted his share, too.

Bradley fucked you through your orgasm, lips pressed to your ear so you could hear every word he said and every deep rumble at the back of his throat. "You were made for me, weren't you, Baby Girl? And I was made to worship you."

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

By the time Bradley came, he was sweaty and babbling like a lovesick idiot. Everything he cared about most was right there in his arms as you took him deep, always welcoming him into your sweetness. The relief he felt was incredible as he finally rolled onto his back, pulling you a little closer as he went.

"I'm gonna be a girl dad," he said with a smile as he looked at the ceiling through his post orgasm haze. "I can't wait."

The slick friction from his cum teased at his leg hairs as your pussy rested against his thigh, and you snuggled up against his chest. "Me too, Roo. I'm so excited to meet her." 

Your fingers teased along his abs, lulling him ever closer to an afternoon nap. He knew that one of you needed to let Tramp back inside, and he was going to have to scrape together something for you to eat soon. But right now, he didn't want to move.

"What happened with your deployment?" you asked softly as he yawned. This was the last thing he wanted to talk about right now when he knew you were carrying his little girl, but he should have known you'd have questions. 

"It fucking sucked. Being away from you gets harder and harder each time now. They kept tacking on more weeks of these random bombing runs, and the weather was miserable. We had to fly in the rain half the time."

He listened to you hum, contemplating what he said. "It was so scary when you got called to action in the middle of talking to me over FaceTime. I couldn't stop crying. And then it was weeks before some random guy in personnel called me to let me know you were on your way home."

It was hard to believe he was on that flight back to San Diego just a few hours ago. "Honestly, in all of the excitement today, that already feels so distant in my mind," he told you, kissing your forehead as he thought about how long he had been away from you. "We didn't really know we were heading home until it was happening. And it was so late here when we got released, they told me they'd have someone reach out so I didn't have to wake you up again. Then there was only one seat left on the first flight home, and once Payback and I were being airlifted to Hong Kong, they told us to decide who was taking that spot. He gave it to me, no questions asked. Told me to get home to you and the Nugget."

You gasped and murmured, "Reuben is the sweetest."

Bradley chuckled as his fingers grazed along the side of your bump. "Yeah, well, you actually owe him three dozen chocolate chip cookies. That was the only stipulation for the deal."

Your laughter made Bradley's smile grow. "Totally worth it. Actually, since you made it home in time for my appointment, I'll make five dozen for him."

"No wonder everyone thinks I'm spoiled," he told you, tugging on you until you were straddling his hips and looking down at him with your hands braced on his chest. "Fuck. Just look at you." 

His sticky cum was matted in your pubic hair, and your tits looked delicious. There was no way he'd be able to keep his hands away from you now that he'd seen and felt your little bump in person. His daughter was growing in there. He smiled and ran his palm gently over your skin, stroking you with his thumb as your pretty gaze stayed transfixed on his.

"I'm happy you're home, Roo."

He nodded, eye lids growing heavy from jet lag and the time zones, and he simply didn't argue when you kissed his cheek and said you were going to let Tramp inside and then take a nap with him. Soon enough, Bradley was snuggled up in bed with his head resting next to your belly and your fingers tangled in his hair. Your sweet voice lulled him to sleep for the best afternoon nap of his life.

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

This has been a very emotional day for Bradley. He's home with his hot wife, and now he gets to start planning for the arrival of their daughter in a few more months! Thank you so much for reading about the Nugget! More to come soon, including the first wedding anniversary! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster imagine #rooster fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #aim for the sky

[i-am-literally-deranged]

The way that Ryouta and Okosan's pictures are posed, every time the two of them are on screen together it looks like they're about to kiss, and that will never not be funny to me

#like ESPECIALLY during the school festival #You know the scene I'm referring to #They're in maid dresses #their little png beaks mere pixels apart #it's just really funny to me #Their heads are tilted slightly in opposite directions #and that just really sells it

[entitled-fangirl]

He would burn the world for her.

Felix Carton x fem!reader

Summary: Felix and the reader don’t appreciate the looks Oliver is giving her. 

Words: 1,689

Warnings: Oliver is his own warning. He’s creepy to the reader. Making out in a bathtub- not super descriptive. Yelling, cursing.

Author's note: May god bless our souls for not only watching Saltburn but also reading fanfics about it :|

Masterlist

.........................................

Y/N was a usual resident at Saltburn. The girlfriend of Felix Catton himself, she often found herself spending her time at his family mansion during holiday. She had a family that loved her, sure. But it couldn’t match up to the things that Saltburn, and Felix, gave her. 

Oliver was one of those things. A seemingly loyal friend to her dear Felix. And she was overjoyed when he agreed to spend the summer at Saltburn with them. 

She sat on a lawn chair near the pool, a bikini adorning her body. She tilts her head slightly to the side, to see her perfect Felix in the pool. A graceful smile shows on her face as she moves back to relax in the chair. She hears the sound of splashing water and soon, a shadow is felt over her body. She moves her sunglasses down her nose to peer over them. Felix stands above her, his body dripping from the pool and a large smirk across his face. 

“Hi, beautiful,” he says. His smirk grows into a grin. He leans his tall body down, his arms reaching out to catch him against her chair. His frame towers over her more than it does when he’s standing. 

She meets him halfway, their lips touching in a gentle kiss. Her hand moves up to the back of his neck, lightly tugging at the hair there. He groans, pushing into her lips a little rougher. 

Farleigh gives a small laugh, “You two are too horny to be out here, right now. Go get a fucking room.”

Y/N pulls apart from him with a slight blush on her cheeks. Felix’s jaw clenches slightly, his head turning in Farleigh’s direction. “Don’t be jealous of what I have and you don’t.” He then leans back down to kiss Y/N as if no comment was ever made.

They made out for a little while, Y/N at Felix’s mercy. Not that he was ever a cruel lover. No, quite the opposite. He was very giving. He was a giving person in general, a quality his girlfriend admired greatly.

They pulled away from each other, Y/N slouching back against the lounger like before, and Felix going back to the pool. Her eyes closed as she heard the splash of his return to the water.

The moment was interrupted yet again, but by Felix’s voice, “Oliver! You getting in?”

Y/N opened her eyes at that to see Oliver’s answer. But Oliver’s eyes were on her. They had been on her. She could see that Felix’s question had broken his train of thought. Oliver shakes his head a bit, blinking. “Oh, uh. Not sure.”

Felix nods his head with a certain look. Y/N had seen it many times. It was a knowing look. He didn’t give two shits if Oliver got in the water, but he did care if the scholarship boy was looking at his girl a little too much. But he took that as an answer and went back to relaxing in the warm water.

But Y/N still felt Oliver’s gaze. It was quite uncomfortable now that she knew it was there. She tried to do anything to relax. She closed her eyes. She watched Felix. None of it would distract from the constant feeling of being watched by Oliver’s piercing eyes.

Hours passed and the family found themselves retiring for the night. Felix lead Y/N by the hand to his room, a routine the entire family was used to at this point. He closed the door behind them before turning around and placing his hands on her waist.

She sighed at the feeling, a relaxing end to the day. The day’s events were still bothering her, but she didn’t wish to bring them to her boyfriend’s attention. After all, Oliver was to stay here for a while, and the last thing she wanted was to cause conflict between the two.

Felix noticed the deep look in her eye. He let out a soft sigh, “How about a warm bath?”

Her eyes met his, “a bath?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day. A warm bath might be nice. I mean we don’t have to-“

“-No. I want to. I do.”

He smiles, leaning down to kiss the top of her head before disappearing into the bathroom. The sound of the running water is heard soon after.

She sits at the end of his bed, running her hands through her hair to calm herself. It truly did bother her, but what if it’s nothing? She knows that Felix would burn the world for her, but she didn’t know if it was worth the world burning. Not over something so stupid as a stare from one of his friends.

He returned before she had even noticed. He pulled her hands from her hair, placing them on his chest. He pulls her up easily. “C’mon, love.” 

…

She is straddling Felix in the tub, their bodies close. Her hands are in his hair, and his are wandering over her body, admiring every part. Their lips are locked in a passionate kiss that is getting hotter by the minute.

Why was Oliver looking at her? Was he jealous? Perhaps just curious? Did he want her? Did he want Felix? Simply judging? What does the boy want and why? He was beyond impossible to read.

Felix at this point had slowed himself, seeing that she was not reciprocating his movements. His hands now rest on the side of her thighs, keeping her in place. He pulled away softly, his tone quiet and comforting, “What’s wrong, beautiful?”

She is pulled from all of her thoughts quickly, realizing he had caught on. “Nothing, Felix. It’s nothing, really.” She moves forward to catch his lips again.

He lets her for a moment, before his hands gently grab her face, pulling her away. “Don’t lie to me. And don’t try to deflect like this. I know something is bothering you. It has been. Please. Trust me?”

The sound of the water trying to settle is all that is heard in the bathroom at this point. She finally lets out a breath, “It’s not something you can fix. I can handle it.”

He pulls her face into his hands again. “Is it something I’m doing? If it is, I-“

How could she do this to him? He was now doubting himself, and it was all her fault. She felt awful. She had to correct this.

Her hands move to each side of his chest. “No, Felix. It’s not. I promise, it’s not. You’ve done nothing.”

He nods, his jaw clenching slightly as if he knows exactly what’s bothering her at this point. “It’s Oliver, isn’t it?”

Her hand reaches up to his mouth, a finger pushed to his lips. “Shh… he’ll hear us.”

He moved his head back from her hand. “I don’t care,” he says, “If it is Oli, I understand. I noticed it today, too. And it is a big deal to me if it bothers you, angel. It bothered me, but I figured I’d let it go if it was just me noticing. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

He was the sweetest thing she had ever seen in her life. Her eyebrows lifted, “You’d do that for me?”

He smiled, “‘Course. Consider it done.”

She smiled as well, moving her body against his. Her lips connected with his once more.

…

She woke up to the sound of yelling. She sat up in bed quickly. Her hair was a mess, her body in nothing but Felix’s t-shirt and her underwear. Her head cocked to the side as the sound continued. It was coming from Oliver’s bedroom.

It was Felix’s voice.

She never heard Felix raising his voice like this before in her life. It had been raised before, yes. But never like this, and never had it had this horrid tone in it. 

She pushed herself to the end of the bed, standing herself up. She ran towards his voice, opening the bathroom door and running through it to Oliver’s room. She opened that door quickly, her body standing in the doorframe.

This caught both men’s attention. They both turned to her. Oliver’s eyes widen at her attire before a smirk appeared on his face. Felix’s eyes softened as he saw her worried expression.

“Oh, angel. I’m sorry to wake you up,” Felix says, his usual sweet tone returning as if he wasn’t screaming seconds earlier.

Oliver chips in, “Yeah, sorry. Felix and I were just chatting about yo-“

A glare was sent to Oliver from Felix, shutting him up quickly. Felix turned back her her, his eyes comforting again.

“Go back to bed. Breakfast isn’t for another hour,” he said, stepping towards her.

She’s beyond confused at this point. Her hand rests against the doorframe, her eyes moving between the two men. “Is... Is everything alright, Fe?”

Felix sighs, moving towards her again. Now in front of her, his hand moves up to the side of her neck, caressing it gently. “Yeah. We’re fine. Back to bed now.”

Her eyes shift to Oliver again. He stands with a confident appearance. He has a smirk on his face, his eyes focused on her bare legs.

Embarrassed, she nods, moving backwards into the bathroom. “Alright. Good morning then, Felix,” her quiet voice says. She nods to Oliver, “Oli.”

She moves back quickly, but not quick enough, hearing Oliver quip, “Good morning to you, beautiful.” 

Felix head spins back to Oliver, his voice a growl, “Don’t fucking-“

That’s all she heard, for she had went back into Felix’s room, shutting both doors. She rested her head again, letting sleep overtake her as Felix had requested.

…

When breakfast time came, Oliver was nowhere to be found, but Farleigh had blabbed to her later that Oliver had left Saltburn in a rush before breakfast with at least a black eye and a limp in his step.

She twisted the fork in her hand, her eyes focusing across the table at Felix’s bloody knuckles.

He would burn the world for her.

#saltburn #saltburn 2023 #felix catton #felix catton x reader #felix catton imagine #felix catton x you #oliver quick #saltburn fanfiction #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi imagine

[ichorai]

wool ; coriolanus snow.

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; when you laughed, airy and light and reminiscent to that of wind chimes, coryo wished he could bottle up the sound and keep it as his, only his.

words ; 1.5k

themes ; mild fluff/angst, slightly suggestive

warnings / includes ; set before events of tbosas so no actual spoilers, making out, clemensia appearance, mentions of other characters, coryo's paranoia, he's not exactly toxic yet but the seeds are very much planted, i tried to keep him in character as best i could, let's pretend the academy also serves dinner

a/n ; this man has consumed me body and soul. this fic was inspired by the song wool by flatland cavalry on the movie soundtrack! let me know if you guys would like a second part :)

series masterlist. main masterlist.

Coriolanus Snow was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He bore an aristocratic last name—yet you noticed that his dress shirt’s buttons seemed to be various different shades of black and slightly misshapen. His voice, so sweetly saccharine, charming, seductive—would whisper falsities like it was second nature. He would often claim that he wasn’t hungry, but you’d catch the longing glint in his pale irises as he eyed the steaming bread rolls Sejanus slathered with generous helpings of butter. 

Control. That was all he needed. 

It crumbled, ever so slightly, when you nudged your slice of apple pie in his direction. His eye twitched, and you pursed your lips, pulling your plate back to you. You ate quietly, and Coryo stared at you all the while, as if he were mentally dissecting your mind—studying you. 

You knew. It was all too clear, even if he wouldn’t tell you. And if he wouldn’t tell his closest friend—or, the closest thing he had to a friend, the two of you certainly did things that friends wouldn’t do—he most definitely wouldn’t let it slip that he was financially strapped to anyone else.

That same day, he met you in the back of the library. The two of you were supposed to be studying history—Professor Demigloss was one of the nicer teachers at the academy, but that didn’t mean he was any less strict with grades. And neither you nor Coryo could afford slipping now. Not if you both wanted to get into university. Being on top meant that there was only greater distance to fall.

But there were… distractions.

Mainly, his foot knocking against yours under the table. Your hand over his jostling knee. His teeth digging into his bottom lip. When you shifted so that your thighs brushed against his, the books spread out over the table were entirely forgotten.

He pushed you against the bookshelves a mere second later, the wood digging into your back uncomfortably, and kissed you until you grew dizzy. You were a welcome distraction—he could taste the apples on your tongue. The way you snaked your arms around his neck, toying with his pale blonde curls, pulling him closer until his body slotted against yours just perfectly—clicking into place like a pair of magnets facing opposite directions. It was desperate and heavy and he could only barely pull away to inhale sharply before cradling the base of your head to tilt your jaw back and kiss you even harder. Coryo swallowed any muffled whimpers that slipped from you when his free hand traveled lower.

Lower, lower, dangerously low—

When Clemensia’s voice echoed through the library in search of her lab partner, the two of you sprang apart, gasping for air.

She rounded the bend, and her dark eyes landed on the two of you. Keen, observant, narrowed. Coriolanus was flushed, hair mussed, lips swollen, chest rising and falling erratically. You were looking anywhere but the two of them, smoothing out your clothes and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Oh! I guess I’ll just have to find another time to bother you, Coriolanus,” she tittered, sickly sweet. She tilted her head with a tempered smile. “What’re you guys studying?”

Snow rolled his eyes in exasperation. “History,” he said. Curt, simple.

“Right.” She eyed you curiously. When she spoke again, it was directed more to you than him, sounding uncharacteristically void of frigid scorn. “I’d be careful if I were you. You sure he’s not just sleeping with you because you’re the top of the class?”

You stiffened, and Coryo bristled. 

“I’ll be fine, Clem. See you tomorrow.” 

There was another beat of terse silence. Her eyes darted warily between the two of you, and she whisked away in a flutter of red and black.

You blew out a breath. Your mouth tingled with the phantom memory of his lips planted over yours, and your cheeks flushed with heat. The two of you sat back down, both quiet. You worked in fluid tandem with each other, as you always did. His hands kept to himself this time. 

“I’m not using you,” he whispered, eventually. “It’s not like that.”

“I know,” you replied hesitantly, testing the waters. “It’s not like you’d need to. Your grades are just fine as is.”

The two of you kept working until your fingers cramped with overuse and his head pulsed with the beginnings of a migraine. 

“Dinner?” you asked once the clock struck six, nudging him. “I think they’ll be serving mashed potatoes today.”

His stomach clenched at the thought of warm food. Control.

“Sure,” he replied coolly, flicking his books closed and gathering up all the papers to stuff into his bag. “I’m sick of mashed potatoes, though.”

You shot him an incredulous smile, brows quirking up. He was lying, but you didn’t know. “Not even when it’s seasoned with roasted garlic? A dash of the freshest of herbs?”

The blue of his eyes gleamed when they bore into yours. “Not even then.”

“You’re a strange man, Coriolanus Snow.” Your lips twisted downward, but it was more of a smile than a frown. When your eyes darted below to glance at his school uniform, you couldn’t help but notice the unironed creases in the carmine fabric. One of the buttons—the very top one—was oddly shaped and a different color from all the rest. It reminded you of his dress shirt. You quite liked that dress shirt. He looked handsome in it, but you chalked it up to his uncanny ability to look handsome in just about anything.

Your head tilted to the side, molten eyes fixed on the button. You knew. He knew that you knew. Panic seized in his chest, an irrational clawing sensation searing within his lungs. Would you tell the rest of the class? What would you say to them? That he was living as filthily as a District boy? That he skipped meals because he couldn’t afford them? That his cousin mended his clothes for him?

But your frown-smile deepened. Fondness stained your expression, clear as day. Coriolanus found himself surprised, as he often did around you. 

“I love your buttons, by the way,” you mumbled, reaching out to trace it with a finger. He held his breath on instinct. “Is it a stylistic choice? Having them all irregular like this?”

Stylistic. Coriolanus almost laughed.

“Mhm. It’ll be in fashion one day. I’m just ahead of the trends,” he murmured charmingly. A bluff.

When you laughed, airy and light and reminiscent to that of wind chimes, Coryo wished he could bottle up the sound and keep it as his, only his. 

“Maybe I’ll start wearing mismatched buttons now, too. Rebel against uniformity.” You stood up from your chair as you spoke, not catching the way Coriolanus’ expression faltered momentarily with your last three words. It was a joke, he had to remind himself. Just a joke. “Come on. Let’s go have dinner. I’m starving.”

He jerkily stood up. Grabbed your hand just because he could, fingers folding over your wrist. He could feel your pulse, thumping quicker and quicker. You regarded him curiously. Snow’s remaining spindly hand cradled your face and he stepped closer, intuitive eyes roaming over your face, wondering just how much of you was real. How much of you was lying, just as he was?

His lips fell over yours again. This time, the kiss was sweeter. Slower, more languid. His nose brushed over your cheekbone, warm to the touch. You hummed pleasantly against him, before placing a hand flat over his chest—over the crooked button—and pulled away with a dazed smile. It felt dangerously good that you hadn’t tugged your hand out of his grasp yet. His grip tightened in a near possessive manner.

As the two of you began walking out of the library, Coriolanus couldn’t help but think back to your hyperbole—about how far from starving you truly were. You wouldn’t ever know, not when your family was the very epitome of Capitol wealth. But he was glad he wasn’t the only one lying, for once, even if your lie was merely an inflation of the truth. 

After dinner, Coryo worked off the top button of his uniform with repeated tugs to the threads, pulling apart Tigris’ handiwork. He slid it over the table to you, watching the way your countenance softened in endearment. He kissed you again in the dark hallways outside the cafeteria, finding it difficult to get your lips to melt away from your tightly-stretched grin.

He walked home with a mirroring smile and a missing button that night. One less piece of the wolf’s sheeply clothes.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow x you #hunger games fanfiction #coriolanus snow drabbles #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #young!coriolanus snow x reader #young!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow

[propertyofwicked]

FIX THAT ATTITUDE - LN

warnings: smut !! MDNI !! semi public sex, fingering, oral (fem!receiving), withholding orgasms, overstim, light choking, unprotected sex, implied aftercare

3.4k words (sorry i had a LOT to say) (not proof read)

masterlist

thank u for 1k!! lemme know if u want more fluff/smut content in the comments - my inbox is also open for requests! <3

“you wanna fix that attitude before i fuck it out of you?” lando whispered harshly in her ear, his hands resting on her hips as he stood behind her. to anyone looking at them, the exchange looked nothing more than a romantic moment between the young couple, but y/n knew better.

she had barely seen him for 3 weeks, with him travelling for races, and then training and meetings when he was home, her behaviour was a cry for help.

she’d tried everything. brushing past his crotch when she walked past him, bending over in front of her vanity to apply her lipstick, even hiking her dress up dangerously high when she sat in the passenger seat of his car, dragging her fingers up his veiny arms when his hand came to rest on her thigh. but still, he didn’t react, he simply smiled at her like she was an angel, softly stroking the top of her thigh without even a second glance in her direction.

she didn’t want to be treated like an angel, she didn’t want soft. she wanted to be fucked from every angle, covered in their sweat. she wanted him to use her until she was sore, legs shaking, clawing at his bare skin for anything to ground her in reality.

so, y/n got to work. complimenting oscar on his suit, smiling a little much and for a little too long at any man that approached her, twirling the ends of her hair around her fingers throughout entire conversations, all whilst ignoring lando, only acknowledging him when she wanted another drink.

he wasn’t stupid, he caught on quickly, but he let her continue. she’d get what she wanted, but he wanted her to work for it. he was jealous, sure, but he trusted her to not take it too far, and god did he find it amusing watching her try so hard to provoke a reaction from him.

“you wanna fix that attitude before i fuck it out of you?”

the unwavering grip on her hip, sure to leave bruises - even through the layers of her dress - lando’s glares and tensed jaw. was she scared? no. was this exactly the reaction she was hoping for? well, she hadn’t worn that short black dress that dropped a little too low on her chest for lando to simply open the door for her and hold her hand like a gentleman. she wanted him, and she wanted him bad. she was desperate for any ounce of his attention.

“i’d love to see you try,” she whispered in response, tilting her head back to rest on his shoulder, so her words could only be heard by him, her back arching as she did. he pulled her waist in roughly, rolling his hips into her slightly.

“you think anyone here could have you writhing underneath them like i do? you think they could make you feel so good you forget your own name? i’d love to see them try,” he added, sending shivers down her spine and straight to the base of her stomach. he said no more, instead, he moved to stand beside her, taking her hand in his and guiding them to sit in a nearby booth. oscar sat opposite them, glancing up in concern at the red flush rising on y/n’s face.

“y/n? you good?” he asked.

“she doesn’t feel too good,” lando answered for her, his hand resting on her thigh, “combination of a long day and too much socialising, i think,” he adds, his eyebrows raising at her when he mentioned socialising.

“you know me,” she interjects, taking the chance to speak for herself, “social situations without a drink in my hand don’t mix.”

the men chuckled lightly at her response, before discussing an upcoming meeting that oscar had forgotten about, all the while, lando’s fingers toyed with the base of her dress, pushing the material further and further up her legs. she was thankful that the large table and dim lighting hid the way her hips rolled into his hand as his fingers came to stroke over the lace of her underwear. he pulled his hand away quickly, moving to grab his drink as she whimpered quietly at the loss of contact.

“you ok, angel?” lando asked her, feigning innocence, as he held the back of his hand up to her forehead, “y/n, you’re burning up,” he added, biting back a smirk.

“there’s an outside area, through that door there,” oscar told them, pointing to his left, “get some fresh air, it might help.”

“thanks, mate,” lando said, pulling the girl up to stand, her hands tugging her dress back down as he did, “ill see you later, yeah?”

the boys nodded a quick bye at each other as the couple walked in the direction of the door, the fresh air engulfing the two of them as the door closed behind them.

“you need to learn to behave yourself,” lando started, glancing around at the empty patio before pushing her roughly against a nearby wall, “whimpering like that when i barely touched you.”

“im sorry,” she replied, kissing his jaw lightly.

“you’re sorry? no, you wanted this. acting up all night like a desperate little whore,” he spat, before pressing a harsh kiss to her lips, his tongue moving into her mouth as their teeth clashed slightly from the force. the kiss was messy and heated, one hand resting on her jaw, the other on her waist as his rolled his hips into hers. she moaned into his mouth, tugging lightly at his curls as he pulled her leg up, his hardening bulge grazing her lace panties, exposed as her dressed rolled further up her thighs.

“not here,” he groaned in her ear, pulling back and letting her leg drop for her to stand.

“you didn’t care before,” she retorted, her hands grabbing at his jaw to kiss him again, “playing with me in front of oscar like that.”

“not risking someone walking out and seeing what’s mine,” he said again, grabbing her hand before walking around to the valet. y/n trailed behind him, taking large steps in a bid to keep up with his pace with only his arm to leverage the distance he put between them.

the car ride was tense, the silence heavy as she waited for lando to do something, anything. instead, both hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. the anticipation had her clit pulsing, blood running hard and fast through her body as she sought for any friction to relieve her. y/n wriggled in her seat, repositioning herself over and over again with no such luck.

“is my pretty girl so desperate she can’t even sit still?” lando taunted, glancing to his side to watch as she sat fully upright, shoes abandoned in the footwell. she brought one leg up on the seat, her head resting on her knee as her free hand moved over the grab his from the steering wheel.

“please, lan,” she begged, guiding his hand to rest on her thigh.

“we’re almost there,” he countered, yet his hand still gripped at the flesh of her thigh, releasing only to stroke his fingers along the skin, closer to her heat.

“just do something, please lan. i’ll do anything you want, just need you now please,” she said, pleading with him again. his fingers grazed her panties finally, pulling the fabric to the side as his fingers slid through her folds softly, coating his fingertips in the wetness she’d built up throughout the evening.

“so desperate, so wet for me,” he said, rubbing small circles into her clit as he patronised her, “couldn’t just behave for one night could you? just had to try and rile me up to get your way, huh?”

“just missed you is all,” she panted out, head rolling back as he pinched at her clit, she was getting close, “wanted you all night, just you.”

“too late for you to act cute, y/n,” he warned, “you wanted this. you’ll get what you want, you just need to be taught a lesson.”

he pulled his hand away, resting it on the back of her head rest as he turned to reverse into the parking spot. she whimpered at the loss of contact, having her climax snatched away from her, her sounds sending blood rushing back to his cock.

this was a game they played, he was never truly mad at her, he knew her bids to make him jealous were just that - bids. he’d do anything to see her smile, anything to be close to her, anything to show his gratitude for every little thing she does for him. if she wanted it rough, she’d get it rough. if she wanted gentle, he’d be gentle.

and right now, she wanted him between her legs.

lando pushed her down on their bed, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her heat closer to him. he pulls at the sides of her panties, toying with the fabric before slowly pulling them down her legs when she moans at him to hurry up. she’s resting on her forearms, staring down at him as he rolls the sleeves of his white shirt up, her hair falling down her back as she rolls her hips up, desperate for him.

“patience, angel. taking my time with you,” he says, breaking the silence. he wraps an arm around her leg, pulling it over his shoulder as he rests his forearm over her stomach, stopping her wriggling. his finger returns to her folds, still slick from earlier, as he pushes a digit inside her, feeling the stretch around him. he pumps into her a few times, before adding a second finger, twisting them into her, feeling the way her walls contracted around them.

“more, please,” she moaned out. he simply chuckled at her.

he ignored her, fingers never faltering as he curled them up in her, hitting a spot that had her struggling to arch her back as he pinned her down into the mattress. he moved his head closer to her heat, dropping it to the side to rest on her leg, lightly kissing at her inner thigh and nipping at the skin. his eyes flittering from looking into hers before moving back to watch as his fingers disappeared inside her. she tightened around him, her breathing heavier as she got closer to finishing.

lando retracted his fingers, pushing her leg from his shoulder as he stood to look down at her.

“what the fuck?” she stated as her orgasm slipped away from her for the second time this evening.

“i told you. good girls get to cum. whores get taught a lesson,” he replied, hovering over her as he pushed the same two fingers into her mouth. she whined at him, muffled as her tongue ran along them, tasting herself.

he moved back, eyes dropping to her chest as he pulled her dress down. he stopped at her breasts, thankful for the lack of bra, as the tight material pushed the flesh upwards, her nipples hardening as he leant down to blow softly on them. one hand propped himself up, the other moved to grasp at the flesh, squeezing it roughly. his head dropped, taking her other nipple in his mouth, tongue swirling around them, teeth nipping at the surrounding skin. he dropped his grip on her other breast, fingers moving to tug at her, her back arching, chest rising into his touch.

“love these,” lando groaned, pulling away to look down at her again. her hair fanned around her head, chest rising and falling with hesitant breaths. he dropped to his knees again, face to face with her heat. with no warning, his face dove into her folds, licking a stripe from her hole, nose nudging at her clit.

“taste so good,” he mumbled, though he doubted she heard him, as he moved back to circle his tongue around her clit. his hands pawed at her thigh again, gripping the flesh as she pulled her legs up, wrapping them over his shoulders. lando’s free hand reached up, gripping her breast again, fingers flicking at her nipple. he could hear her moaning out his name, almost like a chant, his trousers growing unbearably tight.

“lan- fuck, so good.”

he groaned in response, sending vibrations through her heat. her legs tightened around his head, desperate for more, trying to hold on to her orgasm.

“im gonn-”

“hold it.” he said, slapping at her thigh lightly.

“i can-” she started, words halted as her climax washed over her. she tried to hold it, but the overstimulation from the previous assaults took over, pushing her to her finish, legs tightening further around his head as her hips rolled up. his nose brushing her clit again as she rode out her high, using his face.

when she caught her breath, her legs relaxed. lando crawled up her body, his crotch pressing against her heat as he did. he held back a moan.

“i told you to hold it,” he said, hand coming to squeeze lightly at the base of her throat.

“i know, im sorry, i tried, im sorry,” she rambled, panting in between each statement.

“i know you tried,” he cooed at her, mocking, as her hands came to undo the buttons of his shirt, pushing the material away from him. his sat back on his knees, taking the shirt off and launching it across the room as she sat back up, resting on her forearms.

she glanced down at his crotch, noticing the way his bulge strained against his suit trousers, the pressure enough that the zip was starting to roll down by itself. y/n’s hand reached out, palming him through the material before fiddling to unzip them fully, tugging the button out from the loop.

“let me make it up to you,” she begged, eyes blown wide as she stared up into his. he nearly folded at the sight, a groan getting caught in the back of his throat. he didn’t respond, he simply leaned forward, laying her back down on the bed as he pressed a heated kiss to her lips, his tongue grazing her bottom lip before pulling back to press kisses along her jaw, his hand returning to squeeze the base of her neck, harder this time.

“not tonight,” he groaned in her ear, rolling his hips over hers slightly.

lando tried to keep up the poker face but she pouted at him, turning her face, as her eyes questioned him. his head dropped to her neck again, sucking lightly at the skin.

“if i even think about you with my cock rammed down your throat, ill cum - and i’d quite like to feel that tight pussy around my dick,” he laughed softly, as did she, her smile sending warmth spreading through his stomach.

her legs raised around his back rolling the two over so that she straddled his waist, his hips jutting upwards at the weight of her sat on his clothed cock. he wriggled the two of them up the bed, so that he sat upright against the headboard, his trousers shuffling down in the processes, his boxers soon after.

his cock sprang up, hitting his stomach. y/n isn’t sure he’s ever been this hard. hell, lando isn’t sure he’s ever been this hard.

her hand moved to him, thumb running over his tip spreading pre cum down his shaft, his sensitivity causing him to momentarily forget who was supposed to be in charge. lando’s hands moved to grab hers, pulling them up to rest on his shoulders, before dropping them back to her waist to raise her hips up above his cock.

“you cum when i say you can,” he stated, eyes staring directly into hers, her eyelids fluttering from exhaustion. she nodded at him. his free hand lined his tip at her entrance, running it through her folds a few times to use her slick to prepare himself. she began lowering her hips, assuming she was taking the lead. however, when she had taken only half of his shaft, his hands gripped her hips, pushing her roughly down, filling her completely.

“fuck,” she whined, as he continued to pull at her hips, the two of them working together to maintain the pace he set as she slid up and back down his cock. his moans filled the room, his head rolling back slightly at the feeling of her tight walls clamping around him every time he bottomed out. one of her hands gripped the headboard, the other playing with the curls at the back of his head as he leant back forwards to take her nipple in his mouth, a free hand helping to grip at her flesh.

“lan, fuck. too big,” y/n whimpered again, as his hips moved to thrust up into her, taking back control of the situation.

“too big?” he laughed, “never complained before,” he added before pressing a kiss on her jaw.

his hand moved back up to her neck, finger stroking the small bruises forming on her skin.

“you think anyone else could fuck you like this?” he asked, his grip around her neck tightening, her eyes shutting at the overwhelming pleasure racking her whole body.

“eyes open,” he told her, and she pried her eyes open to stare into his. her pupils were blown, and he imagined his looked the same, noises escaped her open mouth, no longer able to form words.

“good girl, taking me so well,” he praised her, noticing the way her body began to slump, her walls tightening around his cock as he continued his brutal thrusts into her, “who else could make you feel this good?” he asked her, but she simply whimpered in response, words caught in the back of her throat.

his hand left her neck, slapping softly as her cheek as her eyes closed again.

“who else?” he asked again, tone harsh.

“no one,” she stuttered, “only you.”

“good girl. you gonna come for me?”

she nodded desperately, no longer sure if she was asking him or telling him.

“can you hold it for a little longer?” he asked, eyes looking softly into hers despite the intensity of the pace he set, “wanna come with you.”

“please, lan. i need t-”

“i know,” he leveraged with her, “im almost there baby,” he added, fingers dropping to toy with her overstimulated clit, her body arching forwards so that her head rested on his shoulder, arms tightly wrapping around his back.

she felt his thrusts falter, his pace slowing as his jutted up into her inconsistently.

“that’s it, baby. come with me, come for me.”

she felt herself let go, waves of climax washing over her again as her entire body shook around him. the walls of her heat, tightening and relaxing as she finished, the feeling pulling lando to his own finishes, each contraction milking his cock as ropes of cum shot into her.

the couple fell silent, lando remained inside of her as she curled into him further, both panting, trying to catch their breaths.

“fuck me that was -” she started, unable to find the words to finish her sentence. she didn’t need to though, he knew what she wanted to say as he hummed in agreement. he rolled the two over, pulling slowly out of her as her face scrunched up from the sting. he looked between the two of them, looking at the mixture of both climaxes coating his own shaft and the top of her thighs, leaking onto her dress slightly.

“you wanna shower?” he asked her, resuming domestic conversation between the two.

“i don’t think i can walk,” she said, smiling, as she rolled onto her back and throwing her arms to either side of her body. she was a sight to behold, fucked out, hair messy and the dress they never took off sat scrunched up around her stomach leaving her mostly exposed. he laughed at the sight, not in jest, but admiration for the woman before him.

“come on,” lando said softly, moving round to her side of the bed, “let’s get you cleaned up and into some clean clothes.”

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 #mclaren f1 #mclaren #lando norris fluff #propertyofwicked #oscar piastri #LN4 #OP81

[beautysamour]

ok, confession time.

pairing: miguel o’hara x reader

summary: confession time ٩( ᐛ )و

warnings: none.

a/n: I caved…

“Alright, hear me out.” “No.”

Miguel interrupts without missing a beat. You scoff as you watch him turn his back to you as he refocuses on the many projectors in front of him. “All that technology is going to rot your brain,” you mumble out under your breath.

“What?”

“Nothing. Anyways,” you curl your two middle fingers inward towards your palm as you direct a web to the floating island Miguel was on. “As I was saying, hear me out.” You hear a distressed sigh coming from the man in front of you but decided to brush it off. He was going to hear you out.

He remained silent, an indirect indication for you to continue your thoughts.

“Being stressed all the time is going to do no good for the spiderverse.”

“Arachnoid humanoid poly multiverse.”

“Yeah, that, so as I was saying… having one dinner wouldn’t doom the multiverse.”

Another sigh was let out this time, but this time it was out of exhaustion. He calls out your name causing your back to straighten as he finally turns to face you.

“The fate of the multiverse,” he begins before getting cut off by a web, coming from you, connecting with his torso and jerking him towards your direction.

He tilted his head at you once you stopped pulling him closer, leaving probably three centimeters of space between you two.

He wasn’t surprised by this action, no, you’ve done this multiple times. Pulled him too close for comfort, causing all logical thoughts in his brain to short circuit as it filled with thoughts of you.

You could hear his heartbeat. It’s one of the pros that come with being a spider person, your heightened senses. In moments like these where your own heartbeat was far too hard for you control you’d rely on his to calm you down, however it seemed to have done the opposite.

Why was it so fast?

Hearing your name managed to take you out of your momentarily dazed self.

“Is everything alright?” Miguel, whose body was practically leaning on yours, lightly shook you for he was disturbed by your suddenly quiet self.

“Yeah,” you replied far too quickly as you forced yourself to take a few steps back to create some distance between you two.

“Anyways,” you stuttered out, “I was just going to say how you always loose me whenever you start talking about the multiverse. Yeah, always manages to make my brain shut off.”

Miguel stared at you confused as you start to awkwardly ramble on about how the very premise of the multiverse is strange.

“And it’s so weird how technically-“

“Stop talking.”

You immediately close your mouth.

For the third time tonight, Miguel lets out a sigh as he closes the distance between the two of you. One second your mouth is opening to question why he’s taking more steps than necessary, and the next it’s occupied by the mouth of his.

When you don’t push him away and instead lean into his body, his hand travels up to your neck and his thumb presses against the area where your adams apple would’ve been to tilt your head up slightly more.

The one to end the kiss first is you, Miguel attempts to follow and close that distance once again but gets interrupted by the hand you put on his chest to stop him.

For a second Miguel starts to think he read the entire situation wrong. But you leaned into him so what does that mean-

“Miguel,” you begin saying softly and you looked up at him, “how did you know,” when he gives you a blank expression you let out a small snicker before continuing, “that I liked you.”

He tilts his head again as he looked down at you, “You thought I wasn’t able to sense your heartbeat? Cariño, even though I don’t have the spider sense that you have, my senses are still heightened.”

“Oh,” you say dumbfounded. Right.

“Yeah,” he says quietly as he tries to kiss you again.

“Wait,” you interrupt. “So, do you…like me too?”

“…We just kissed.”

“Yeah but, friends with benefits exist-“

Miguel groaned as you began to ramble on about how kissing doesn’t mean requited feelings, and while he understood what you were saying he’d much rather feel your lips on his than watch them speak about a scenario that wasn’t the case with this situation.

“Ok, then how about we get dinner.”

You widened your eyes at his words, a smile threatens to show on your face but you try to keep your composure, “…Ok. So…is this a date?”

“Yes,” he exhales, “Yes, it will be a date.”

“Ok.” You say excitedly before connecting a web with the ground beneath you two and jumping down, “See you in…?”

“Does thirty minutes sound good?”

“Yeah,” you start to smile, “yeah, thirty minutes sounds good.” You give him an actual smile before turning around getting ready to run through the halls of hq to tell Peter and Mayday all about this interaction.

“Ok,” Miguel says under his breath as he watches you leave.

“Why are you so awkward?”

“Lyla shut up.”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o’hara atsv #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel x reader #spider man 2099 x reader

[strang3lov3]

Brain Scramblies

Joel Miller x Fem! Reader

Summary: Bubbly and sweet Reader slips and falls at Tommy and Maria’s anniversary party, hitting her head hard on the floor. Tommy tasks Joel, her grumpy patrol partner, with getting her home safe. In her dazed state, she spills to Joel how she really feels about him! Basically two idiots dancing around their feelings for each other

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: Talk of traumatic brain injuries, but that’s it. Brief mention of smut but mostly goofy fluff. Joel is afraid of feelings lol

A/N: I actually don't feel fantastic about this story, but felt like you all deserved something new from me to satisfy the absence. Next week I'll have a bit more time to continue my bd!joel story and a few others! yes, the title is from wwdits. my other favorite show lol

if you like this story, please leave me a comment 🩷

masterlist

It’s a beautiful night, laughter and music fill the air of the Tipsy Bison bar in Jackson, Wyoming. It’s Tommy and Maria’s anniversary party and you were having a ball celebrating with the two of them. Tommy and Maria loved you, and you loved them. You often babysat their child, took care of chores around their home, and brought them baked goods and other treats. They loved you like you were their own. 

The party was a blast, you spent the night dancing and chatting with Tommy and Maria and others. It couldn’t have been a better night.

Until you trip over your own feet. .

Boom. In one swift motion, too quick for your brain to process, your legs kick up into the air and your back slams the ground, your head following suit. 

Your vision goes dark then, voices fading out. You feel a strong pair of hands grip your shoulders and jiggle your face slightly. You open your eyes slowly, blinking a few times, and the figure in front of you speaks. “Hey, now. Wake up, wake up, Jesus, girl. What did you do?” he asks, but his words sound muddled, like he’s underwater. “Maria, go get Joel. I think she might have a concussion.” he shouts in the opposite direction.

Your fuzzy vision focuses then and you recognize the friendly face and long black hair in front of you. It’s Tommy. You squint your eyes and look around, confused as to why you’re on the floor. The lights are blindingly bright and the music is blaring. It’s too much for your senses. 

“Can you hear me, honey? You took quite a tumble and it looked like you hit your head pretty hard. Drink too much?” 

You struggle to respond, finding it difficult to form words and coherent thoughts. You feel dazed and foggy and there’s a pounding throb at the back of your head. and “Think I tripped,” you finally mumble out, carefully prodding the back of your skull. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time, you klutz,” he chuckled, tilting your chin and looking into your eyes. “Maria’s getting Joel, I think we’re gonna have him take you home. Infirmary’s closed at this time of night but we can get you checked out tomorrow, make sure you didn’t thump your head too hard.”

Joel. Your eyes widened at the mention of him. Now that was something your brain had no issue focusing on. “Your older brother, Joel?” 

“Yes, Joel, my older brother,”

“I like Joel,”

“I know you do, honey,”

“I really like Joel,” you say through a long sigh. “Isn’t he just lovely?”

Tommy looks at you with an eyebrow cocked, completely amused by your honesty. Tommy and Maria had a feeling you were crushing on him, but you stayed tight lipped about your feelings for him. “Yeah, sure. Lovely describes Joel perfectly,”

Joel was your patrol partner. He was tall, handsome, brave, and skilled. He had the most gorgeous brown eyes you had ever seen, and the prettiest gentle curls atop his head. And he couldn’t fucking stand you. 

You didn’t often go on patrol, but everyone pitched in with patrol around Jackson. Being so near and dear to Tommy and Maria’s hearts, they wanted the best for you and always put you on patrol with Joel. He’d keep you safe, they told you. 

And he did keep you safe. But not without constant grumbling and griping about your sprightly attitude and constant chatter. He thought he had it rough with Ellie, but she was a walk in the park compared to you, with your sweet and pure heart and bubbly personality. 

“What’s your favorite kind of cookie?” you asked him once while traveling horseback through a grassy meadow. It was a beautiful day, the clouds were big and fluffy and tall. The wildflowers were blooming left and right, painting the grass with violet and crimson. You held onto Joel tightly, pressing your face against his back. He tried his best to ignore how much he enjoyed the feeling of your arms around his stomach. 

“You ask too many goddamn questions,” he grunted.

“That’s not an answer,” you scolded playfully. 

Joel stayed silent. You were like an annoying, buzzing bee. If he ignored you, hopefully you’d go away. Easy, he thought. Just ignore the annoying, cute, thoughtful, and beautiful bee. 

You asked him again. Maybe he didn’t hear you, you spoke into his right side after all. Still, nothing. “Joel?”

You could hear him inhale and exhale deeply. He was definitely ignoring you. That just wouldn’t do. 

So you pinched his side.

He yelped in surprise. “Ow! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I asked you a question,”

“I’m not answerin’,”

“That’s rude of you,”

“Yeah, well, tough,”

You pinched him again. 

“Gaah!” Joel swatted your hand, nearly losing his balance. “Jesus, fucking snickerdoodles!” he hissed at you. Oh, how you got under his skin. Snickerdoodles were, in fact, his favorite cookies. He wasn’t just saying that to shut you up. His grandmother used to make them for him and Tommy when they were young. His heart broke a little at the thought of her, thankful she had passed long before the world went to shit. “Happy now?”

Yes, you were happy. You rubbed soothing circles into where you pinched him. 

The next day, you whipped up a batch of the best snickerdoodles Joel would ever taste. You dropped them off on his doorstep and left, not alerting Joel or Ellie to what you had done.

Ellie was the one to find your cookies. “Joel, what’re these?” she called into their home, shoving a cookie into her mouth. Joel looked up, rolling his eyes when he recognized the treats in her hand. “Give me those,” he grumbled. 

He took one cookie and examined it, then brought it to his lips. He took a bite, and melted when he tasted the sweet cinnamon and sugar cookie, so buttery and slightly tangy, just how a snickerdoodle should be. It was soft and chewy, just how he liked them.

And dear lord, it was orgasmic. The best snickerdoodle he had ever tasted. He prayed his grandmother up in heaven would forgive him for enjoying it so much, but this was definitely his new favorite. How dare you weasel your way into his heart with baked goods? What a contemptible thing to do. He felt his heart swell at the thought of you and your sweetness. And it fucking terrified him.

Joel put on his boots and practically sprinted to Tommy and Maria’s. Without knocking, he let himself inside and sat down at the table with Tommy as he tried to catch his breath. Tommy looked at him with wide eyes, completely perplexed by his brother. “You have to–” he stopped for a second, breathing in and out deeply. “You have to take her off patrol with me. I ain’t gonna be her partner anymore.” Joel’s heaving began to slow.

“And why would I do that, Joel?”

“She talks too much,”

Tommy let out a dry laugh. Joel Miller, ever the grinch. Heart two sizes too small. “Are we eight years old? Suck it up, big brother,”

Joel shook his head, squinting his eyes and squeezing the bridge of his nose. “She fuckin’ pinched me,” Tommy opened his mouth to speak, but Joel interrupted. “Twice!”

Tommy smiled at the thought of sweet little you pinching Joel. “I’m sure she had a good reason for pinchin’ you. What’d you do to her?”

“I didn’t–it doesn’t matter,” Joel sighed exasperatedly. He had a penchant for the dramatics at times. “You don’t get it. She made me cookies.”

Tommy gasped sarcastically. “No, not cookies. How horrible, Joel! What should we do with her, throw her in jail? Banish her? Feed her to lions?”

“Tommy,” Joel warned with a low voice. “I am not doin’ patrol with her anymore.”

“Joel,” Tommy warned back, matching his tone. “Quit your bitchin’. She’s a nice girl, and you’re gonna take care of her. She likes you, why, I haven’t got a clue.”

Tommy knew the real reason Joel wanted to stop patrolling with you. He was catching feelings for you. And Joel reacted exactly how Tommy expected. He was frightened of these feelings, terrified to let anyone new into his heart. He already made room for Ellie and her bad puns, he didn’t know if he had room for you and your snickerdoodles as well. He did. You were already there. 

Joel and Maria appeared in front of you then, your eyes brightening when you met Joel’s sour expression. 

“What’d you do now, trouble?” 

Trouble. That was Joel’s nickname for you. When he and Ellie finished your cookies, he returned your container to you on your porch.

“Thanks for the cookies, trouble. They were delicious,” he said, his voice was low and gravelly. “Didn’t need to do all that for me.”

“Trouble? Is that what I am?” you asked incredulously.

“Yeah, actually. Pinchin’ me. Talkin’ too much,” Joel did his best to bite back the smile threatening to form on his lips. “And now you’re tryin’ to make me fat, so yeah. You’re a troublemaker.”

Your glassy eyes scanned his face. “What did you do now, trouble?”

Joel bent down to meet your gaze and Maria checked the back of your head for cuts or swelling. 

“Maria says you’re hurt. What’d you do?”

“I tripped and fell,” Joel scoffed. “Figures,” Joel pushed Tommy to the side, crouching in front of you. He took your face into his hands, checking for any other injuries. Your eyes were unfocused and pupils blown wide. He held a finger in front of your eyes, moving it from side to side. You had difficulty following the movement.

“Ouch,” you winced, feeling Maria’s fingers on the tender spot at the back of your head. “I think she smacked her head pretty hard.” she told Tommy. “Very swollen back here.”

“She’s not following my finger. Think it’s probably a concussion, but I don’t know for sure,” he said. “She seems pretty out of it.”

In your fuzzy state, you reached forward and held Joel’s face, mimicking how he did to you. “Handsome,” you murmured. 

Joel felt his face go hot at your compliment. You thumbed his cheeks, savoring the feeling of his prickly hairs on your fingertips. “Uhh,”

“You’re so handsome,” you repeated. Not even drinking a barrel of whiskey could have pried that out of you. You did a number on your poor brain. 

“That’s nice, sweetheart,” Joel turned his head to the side and coughed, trying to hide his embarrassment. He gripped your wrists and pulled your hands away from his face as you pouted. “Think she needs to go home.” “That’s right. You make sure she gets home safe,” Tommy said. 

Joel looked up with a furrowed brow. “Me? Why can’t you deal with her?” his words came out more bitter than he intended, like taking you home was the biggest inconvenience of his life.

“Hey,” you whined. How rude!

Joel apologized quickly. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean it like that,”

“Because it’s our anniversary, and I told you to keep her safe. Remember? Come on now, Joel. Be a gentleman,” Tommy motioned to Maria to help you up. Slowly, you stood up. On shaky legs, you felt your knees begin to give out. Joel lunged forward to catch your fall. 

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. Joel held out his arm for you and you wrapped your hands around his bicep. “Can you walk for me, trouble?” He didn’t actually mind leaving the party early. He wasn’t having too much fun anyway.

“I’ll do anything for you, Joel,” you erupted into a fit of giggles. “You’re so strong!” 

Joel felt his face go warm again as he cleared his throat. Wow, you really did hit your head hard. Joel was used to being flirted with, but this was an entirely different animal. You hit your head so hard it knocked your filter loose. What would you say next?

 His eyes darted to Tommy and Maria, who stood there watching you both, smirking. “Take good care of our girl,” Maria ordered.

Joel begins walking slowly, taking careful steps. You stumble along and can hardly maintain your footing as you make your way out of the bar. You’re still giggling and squeezing his arm. “You are so strong and so handsome!” you squeal.

“Jesus,” he whispered to himself. Was this real you or concussed you speaking?

You walked silently for a bit, gaining a slow and steady rhythm. The world around you blurred and moved quickly. 

“I have a crush on you,” you blurt out with slurred speech.

“That’s nice, trouble,” Joel said, not believing you. You might as well be completely wasted, the way you were making no sense. 

“I mean it,”

“I’m sure you do,” Joel replied sardonically. You tripped again, nearly falling over a second time. Joel caught you and held you tightly. Frustrated, he groaned.“Alright, no more talking. We’re playing the quiet game the rest of the way home,”

“Seriously,” you giggle. “You’re so fucking handsome. You’re the most handsomest man I’ve ever met,” You kept walking and stumbling awkwardly. It was as if you weren’t even walking, just floating along. Your legs didn’t feel real.

“Thank you,” Joel mumbles. He was never good at accepting compliments. But you seem so insistent on informing him of his good looks, he might as well take the compliments in stride.

“You have such pretty brown eyes. Did you know that?”

“I did not,”

“You do. And you have pretty hair,” you paused for a second, catching your breath. “And you have a nice butt,” Joel rolls his eyes, biting back his smile. “I want to have sex with you.” 

“Woah,” he barks at you, unable to contain his shock at your sudden boldness. Where is your fucking filter? Is this even real? Joel will be thinking of this night for weeks to come. “You have brain damage,” he tells you. “Need to stop talking like this,”

“You have brain damage!” You giggle, your feet crossing with Joel’s. Bam. It’s his turn to hit the ground now. You couldn’t walk in a straight line to save your life, even with Joel supporting you. “Oh, shoot. I tripped you.”

“Okay, that’s it,” Joel stands up and without asking permission, he lifts your body over his shoulder. He tries to ignore the fact that your ass is so close to his face. You erupt into laughter, absolutely tickled by his actions. “I know this probably isn’t great for your head, but we need to move. Almost home anyway,” 

“Fine by me, handsome!” you poke his back and his sides. He’s trying to fight off the tingles your touch leaves on his skin. “Are you gonna take me home and have sex with me?”

“Behave,” he warns you. “No, I am not having sex with you. I’m puttin’ you to bed and going to try to forget any of this ever happened. Now quiet, you.”

You let out an angry groan, but oblige. You’re running out of steam, fogginess filling your head even more. You can hardly keep your eyes open. 

Before you know it, Joel is at your doorstep and sets you down. “Where are your keys?” he asks you. 

You slap your thigh, indicating that your keys are in the front right pocket of your jeans. Joel pulls you close and quickly pulls the keys out of your jeans, looking up into the sky to avoid your gaze. He’d need to drink an ocean of alcohol to forget this night. 

Joel fumbles with the keys, trying each one and jiggling it in your door. He figured asking you which key was futile, you were so far gone.

As he’s working diligently to open your door, you can’t help but sigh in admiration. His back muscles tense through his shirt, the fabric stretching and moving back. And god, his ass. So round and plump in his tight jeans. You can’t help yourself. It needs to be pinched. “You really do have a nice butt,” you whisper.

You reach forward and pinch his ass with your thumb and pointer finger. Joel jumps and whips around. “What is wrong with you?” He looks at you with a furrowed brow, but his frustrated heart softens when he sees your expression. You’re smirking, eyes big and without a single thought behind them. You have no idea what you’re doing. He knows that. The real you would probably die of embarrassment if she knew of your flirty and bold antics tonight. He can’t help the smile curling up on his lips. You have to mean all of it, right?. All the compliments and confessions. He knows they’re all true. At least, he hopes they are.

Joel grabs your hand and helps you inside. He leads you through your house, checking each door to find your room. He could ask you, but he really doesn’t want you talking. You need to relax.

Once he finds your room, he turns on the light, leads you inside, and helps you sit your bed. Your room reflects your personality perfectly, so bright and colorful. Decorations everywhere. 

Then, he leaves. 

You feel like crying. Your head feels so murky and full, and the pounding has worsened. “Joel?” your voice is thick. 

No answer. He just left without saying goodbye?

Your bottom lip wobbles and you feel tears well up in your eyes as your heart begins to break. How did you even end up here? What even happened tonight? All you knew is that you felt cold and sick and all alone. Your head feels like it’s going to fall right off. 

You sniffle and hear a thump in the distance. And then another. And another. They’re getting louder now. Footsteps. 

Joel returns and your heart blooms. He always kept you safe, even when you drove him fucking nuts. Of course he wouldn’t just leave you. You see that he has a glass of water in his hand. 

He sits on the bed and faces you. You smile gently, admiring all of his features. His scars, his freckles. His sparkly brown eyes. His salt and pepper mustache. “You didn’t leave?”

“‘Course not,” he grips the back of your head softly and tilts it back, then presses the glass to your lips. “Gotta make sure you’re safe, right?” He doesn’t let you respond to his question and tilts the glass into your mouth, forcing you to take a little sip of water. 

“You take such good care of me, Joelie,” His cheeks turn rosy at his new nickname. How sweet it sounds from your lips. He presses the glass to your lips again and makes you drink. 

“You’re so handsome,” Sip. “Did you know I have a crush on you?” sip.

“I did, actually,” Sip. “Now drink. You need to finish the glass.”

Sip. “You have such gorgeous brown eyes. Like coffee beans,” you whisper. Sip.

“Is that right? Coffee beans?” Well, that’s a thoughtful compliment. He doesn’t bother hiding his smile anymore. 

“Mhm,” Sip. “And your butt–”

“What about my butt?” he teases you with a raised eyebrow. You won’t remember any of this anyway, he might as well play along. 

“Like a peach,” “A peach, huh?” He presses the glass to your lips again, this time not pulling it away. You drink the rest of the water. 

“What about a peach, Joelie?” you question. Your eyes are big and lost. It’s as if the last thirty seconds didn’t happen. 

Your forgetfulness would have worried Joel, but he was no stranger to concussions. Had a few of his own. His daughter, Sarah, also had sustained a few concussions from flying soccer balls. She’d be like this too, acting goofy and speaking incoherently. She was always back to normal within a day or two. You would be okay too. 

“Nothin’, sweetheart,” Joel lifts your legs onto the bed and takes off your shoes, plopping each on the ground. He pulls a knitted blanket over your body and gently leans your head back into your pillows.

You stare into his eyes, his gorgeous coffee bean eyes, let out a big yawn. Your eyes are heavy now and your head feels like a weight, like you couldn’t lift it even if you tried. Joel stares back at you, the gears in his head are spinning. He places an experimental hand on your head and combs his fingers over your scalp.

He continues stroking your scalp, soothing you. Your eyes fall shut, and within seconds you’re in a peaceful slumber. 

He doesn’t leave. He stays with you for another minute, making sure you’re really asleep. 

He still doesn’t leave. One more minute passes. 

He’s still sitting there, stroking your head. He can’t bring himself to leave you. He needs to make sure you’re safe, just like Tommy and Maria told him to. 

He’ll stay here all night, gently stroking your head and your back. Telling himself he’s just making sure you’re safe, that’s all. “Goodnight, trouble,” he whispers. 

He’ll deal with his feelings later.

Part two: troublemaker

@swiftispunk @rosaliedepp @pedrotonin @kittenlittle24 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @brittmb115 @bigboiseason123 @laysmt @venusdemonroe @guiltgoldglory @aubreysylvain @leeeesahhh @oliveg95 @ifall4dilfs @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @harriedandharassed @vickie5546 @louisxosblog @southernbe @ravenouswild @luvrking @r02eg0ld @amythenortherner @walkintheprk @zpandaqueen @silkiers @angel-with-a-heart @kdogreads @boofy1998 @theoremrobin @ihatespoilers @2valentines @happy--birthday--kiddo @elissaaa @paleidiot @brie-annwyl @str84pedro @sesigsss @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @palomaluvsdilfs @kyloispunk @tiredbuthappy @yuk-for-president @jazzy-music-cat

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller fluff #strang3lov3 #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller #i love laszlo cravensworth #brain scramblies

[ohimsummer]

IT'S TOO COLD ft. BULLY! SUGURU

— minors dni, anal, closet sex, bully! suguru x fem! reader, dubcon, fingering (anal), creampie, fem! reader, begging, pet names (puppy, darling), ending is a little rushed :'DD

An icy breeze creeps through the cracks of your clothes, any inch of fabric careless enough not to shield you from cool winds. Your body lay way more unprotected than you were comfortable with, considering you were dressed for a brisk 70 degrees and not 15 degrees colder.

It’s appalling how the forecast could possibly be this inaccurate, but you’ve braved the weather so far, having no time to stop by your room for a jacket. Sure, the wind sent your little sundress fluttering and raised goosebumps on any bare patch of skin, but at least you weren’t late for any classes?

“You’re gonna catch a cold like that.”

At the sound of his voice, your feet fix themselves to the ground. You hadn’t even spotted him, too caught up in rushing to your final lecture and the comforting thought of a nice, warm nap after a day of classes.

You turn to watch Geto approach, clad in a dark sweater beneath a darker hooded coat, one he unzips as he draws nearer. He holds the garment out for you to take, amused at the doubt clouded over your expression.

“Come on, darling, you want my arm to get tired?,” he rushes you.

You cross arms over your chest, partially for warmth, partially in defiance, and unintentionally smushing your breasts up perfectly for Geto to get an eyeful, mumbling. “I don’t need your jacket.”

He raises a brow, eyes lingering on your shivering legs for less than innocent reasons, before flashing you his signature, calming grin. “Sure you don’t. Put it on, anyway.”

The subsequent pout of your bottom lip reminds him of Gojo. “But I d-“

“Now.” And you recognize the menacing look in his eyes, a forewarning to obey or else.

Without a word, you snatch the oversized jacket from him, slotting your arms through the spacious sleeves, and zipping it up to your chin. The length of it brushes your knees, and admittedly, you’re grateful for the extra coverage.

“There.,” as the collar of the jacket engulfs the lower half of your face. “Happy now?”

Geto pads even closer, chilly hands grazing your cheeks and ears to send a shiver up your spine, and pulls the hood over your head. He tugs at the strings to tighten it a little, brushing off complaints about your hair to make sure it fits snug.

“Perfect.,” he hums and pats the top of your head. “Though…”

A curious look plasters itself on your face as Geto tilts his head, gaze traveling from your head to toe, stopping again on the rest of your barren legs, and settling on your eyes. ‘C’mon’ he mutters with a hand around your wrist, essentially dragging you in the opposite direction.

“G-Geto!,” you quiet your protests to avoid judgmental stares. “I was g-, let go of me, I was going to class!”

He doesn’t break his gait, pulling you behind him to who-knows-where, your objections flowing straight over his head with the accompanying frigid gusts. Sounds of feet scuffing the ground as you fight against Geto’s steady strides, though to no avail as he slips you both into the campus’s art building. The halls are vacant, slightly less cold than outside, no noise except the loudening sound of drums and instruments as he guides you down a hall destined for trumpet players and the like.

You two arrive at an ordinary, brown door, a storage closet. Geto manhandles the knob, heaving it open with his shoulder against the wood, and gestures you inside. Glancing left and right and seeing no witnesses, you tiptoe inside, nerves worsening as Geto shuts the door behind you.

You mutter, “It’s dark in here.” And as if on cue, a dim, yellowish light fills the small room. Geto’s hand wraps around a dingy string tailing from a single lightbulb, before he walks forward to corner you against a tiny sink stuffed in the room.

“Wh-what are you–?,” croaks out, interrupted by him spinning you around to bend over the porcelain fixture.

“ ‘M warming you up.,” he replies, hands ducking beneath the jacket and your dress to glide up and down your thighs. “You felt pretty cold earlier, can’t let you walk around like that. I’ll help you out before sending you on your way.”

You crane your neck to look at him. Geto looks so much bigger cramped in this tiny janitor’s closet amidst forgotten cleaning supplies and gloomy concrete walls.

“Geto–“

“Suguru.,” he corrects.

You huff, brows furrowing at him, though his eyes are locked on the sight of your exposed panties from where he’s bundled both the jacket and your dress around your waist. “Suguru, I got a lecture to get to, and I’m running late–“

“Mhm.”

You clench at the sensation of something hard against your ass, rambling, “A–nd it’s important, we’re doing group–, group assignments–“

A loud ripping sound and your panties are gone, then the sound of spitting followed by a warm something dripping down the seam of your ass. “Tell me all about it, darling.”

Something prods at your puckered hole, and your lungs shrivel inside your ribcage. You choke out, “Su-Suguru, I really, really–,” a whine as his slick finger breaches your hole, “need to be in cla–ss!” He sinks knuckle-deep into the tight orifice, wriggling around before pumping a few shallow thrusts. Wetness builds between your legs, that knowing ache forming in your core as Geto stills the writhing of your hips with his other hand.

“Geto-!,” a corrective ‘smack’ that leaves a hot sting on your ass, yelping ‘oh!’ before you continue pleading. “Suguru, cut it out, I really can’t fail this class!”

“Of course you can’t.,” Geto says automatically, clearly not listening, too busy stuffing another finger in to prep your hole. His dick twitches as another glob of spit drops from his lips, soaking between his fingers as they stretch your little opening. He scissors them apart, earning a gasp from you, before retrieving them as Geto’s now decided you’re ready.

“Look at that, you feel warmer already.”, he laughs softly, hands tracing the expanse of your skin, trailing up your lower back to feel the new heat radiating off you.

Of course Geto’s right, his playtime with your hole has blossomed a scorching heat over your body, coated in a sheen of sweat, a blazing throb between your thighs. The mass of his chest weighs on your back, Geto’s hand moving over one of yours to lace your fingers together on the edge of the sink; wet sounds of him thrusting into his hand fill the room, and your asshole clenches when you feel something much larger breaching your inside.

“S-Suguru!,” you whine, clutching the smooth porcelain as his tip forces it’s way into your entrance. “O-oh fuck, wait!”

Geto ignores your pleas, already halfway in. Your neck tingles under the vibration of his groan, hot breath on your neck, and Geto makes himself at home amongst the tightness of your walls, you squeezing around his dick as he buries himself deeper. “Fuck. So tight, loosen up, darling.”

His leaking tip drags along your walls, and you both synchronize an unbroken moan when he finally bottoms out in you, flush against your ass. The fullness of it feels funny, but you don’t have time to dwell on it as Geto draws out, before slamming back inside and sending you careening forward. Choked whines echo amidst the small room, mingling with Geto’s low, animalistic grunts, and the occasional curse entwined with rasps of ‘feels so fucking good ’ and ‘god, you’re gonna snap my dick off’. He nibbles on your neck, sucks a dark bruise on the skin, a hand trailing down to balance your leg on the edge of the sink. You embed teeth into your fist, suddenly fearful of passerby overhearing your activities, though it in turn prompts Geto to force a deeper arch in your back, your ass rippling as he ruts into your behind.

Your needy pussy clenches around nothing, clit aching for some kind of stimulation but both of your hands are busy. “Suguru–! O-oh god, please!”

Geto tightens his grip, further entangling your fingers, leaning to press you down some more. “Please what? You want me to touch you?”

You nod with a whine, earning a hard thrust before mewling out, “Yes, yes!”

Geto hums in thought, lips brushing behind your shoulder, and pants ,” Well?” and when he notices the knit of your brows. “Start begging then.”

“But–“

“Ah, ah, I’m waiting.” And he presses a rough kiss to your cheek. The hand on your hip creeps ever closer to your core, tracing over the crease of your thighs but not daring to go any further. A babble of pleas fall off your tongue, tears threatening to slip down your cheeks as your pussy yearns for some kind of stimulation.

“I’m being such a good g-girl for you, Sugu, your good pup–py.”

Aw, aren’t you cute, pulling out the little nickname you’d angrily sworn at them to never use. ‘Why would I ever use that, I don’t even like you.’ Suguru licks up your jawline, smothering your neck in another layer of sloppy kisses. You pull your drool-soaked fist from your mouth, lips quivering. Geto looks through lustful eyes to meet your needy, wide-eyed gaze, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips at your subtle pout.

"Pretty please, Suguru, I really want it...", you whine.

You're such a sight for sore eyes, Geto thinks, tongue darting over his lips as he finally dips a finger between your folds. He's immediately met with your cry, watching your head fall as he massages the swollen nub under his middle finger, basking in the desperate mewls of his name that leave you.

"I wanna cum with you, Sugu, please, please, feels so, s-so good..”

Geto's smile widens. "Yeah?” You nod eagerly. “Ask politely, like a good puppy, and I’ll let you."

His fingers plunge deep into your spasming hole, leaking juices down to his wrist, the rough thrusts of his cock leaving words to catch in your throat. Your release is just around the corner, and it's a struggle to hold back the way Geto is pounding into you, with his thumb still pressing circles into your clit.

"May I please cum with you, Sugu, please, please, please?", you whimper into the back of your hand.

A short silence follows. Geto's way of toying with you further. The way you squeeze around his fingers and dick make it evident you're close, but he just wants to see. Is his puppy really gonna go ahead and cum without his say so?

"Please–!" It's taking all your strength, and you don't know how much longer you can hold out. "Suguru, fuck, I-I might–“

And his answer feels like a blessing in your ears. "Go ahead, darling. Cum with me."

You let out a broken, choked moan, trembling in Geto's hands as your orgasm sends you over the edge. He thinks you just might actually cut off his dick the way you contract around him, groaning against your neck as he releases thick strings of cum into your entrance. Geto spreads your ass cheeks wide as he pulls out. Globs of his cum dribble out your tight hole, trailing down to mix with the cum leaking from your cunt. If not for Suguru holding you up, surely you would have collapsed on the floor, legs weak and useless in keeping you upright. Geto gives your ass a little smack, before readjusting your dress and his jacket to make you look a little more decent.

"There, all done.," he says. "Want me to walk you to class, now?"

You roll your eyes, shivering and gulping in air. Of course he’s wants to be funny with his cum running down your legs. Between shaky breaths, you rasp, "It's too–, far too late for that."

tagz: @anthoosies today i offer u bully suguru, tomorrow….who knowz

#suguru geto smut #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #bully!suguru #geto x reader smut #suguru x reader #suguru x reader smut

[ibbythebee]

Anything

pairing: Fred Weasley x Prefect!Reader

summary: Fred would do anything to see you, 'Hogwart's strictest Prefect', loosen up.

genre: fluff 'n stuff, and only slight angst, also borderline slowburn

warnings: swearing, bullying moments, implied that reader is in Slytherin, lots of teasing, flirting, kissing, Fred is completely and utterly whipped for reader, "your highness" nickname

a/n: not me in the middle of writing a neville fic and then having a shower thought of a fred x reader and writing this instead.

words: 6.9k

masterlist

»»————-　⌁　————-««

You can hear them. And you know it's them, because of the sniggering and that laugh.

By now, when you patrolled outside of class hours you'd find yourself actively seeking out these boys. Today happens to be good day to continue your spotless Prefect record.

With a hand sliding to your hip, you smoothly round the corner of the door to your Potions classroom and as you suspected, Fred and George Weasley are there, huddled over a particular cauldron. Something's clearly already been brewed and Fred is holding a cork screwed flask with the mysterious liquid.

It takes a minute until Fred happens to glance toward the door and sees you there, nose in the air and hands now clasped in front of you. He's trying not to laugh when he sees you, and elbows his brother.

The said Weasley is about to say something, but as he meets your gaze his lips press together in a slightly curved line.

Successful in catching their attention, one eyebrow and then one corner of your lips gently raise. "We've really got to stop bumping into each other like this."

"I think you wanted to bump into us," Fred says with a prominent smile. He looks innocent, just like always.

You neither confirm nor deny his remark and instead stride closer to them. You take your time, head turning in each direction, eyes scanning for any other suspicious looking activity. It feels good, because you can feel their stares and how they wait with bated breaths for your next move.

With a last step you settle on the opposite side of their table. You look at Fred, head tilted softly, studying his expression.

His smile only grows when you reach his eyes and it's finally time to address the elephant in the room.

In a newly straightened posture you say in a slow and sarcastic tone, "did you know... that I can take away points from your House? From each of you, in fact?"

"Oh, come on. Our favourite Prefect. Can't you pretend you never saw us, like last time?" George answers.

"Sorry what was that? You'd like 30 points taken away?"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Fred waves with a chuckle, "let's not get hasty. What about... a-a compromise?"

George nods desperately.

Your eyebrow raises again, and you lean back, crossing your arms. "A compromise, instead of taking away your precious points?"

"Yes, we'll do anything."

"Anything?"

"Anything." Fred glides a tongue over his bottom lip, speaking to you through his eyes.

For once he looks completely serious and it makes you smile in delight. An expression seldom found in your features. It's completely magical and Fred finds no regret to bargaining with you.

"There is something you can do for me," your eyes glaze over Fred's face and then you turn to George, leaning forward over the table on your elbows. "The next Quidditch Game."

"Yeah? Slytherin v Gryffindor. Need us to bug someone?" George grins.

You shake your head and smile again. You're frighteningly beautiful with that curve on your face as you continue. "I need you to make sure that Slytherin wins."

"What?"

Fred captures your attention, so you lean in closer to his side of the desk. "It shouldn't be too hard for you both, right?"

He squints, unable to hold back a smile of his own. In the previous times when you had caught the twins in the middle of scheming, you'd never been so coy with them. Ruffling your feathers a bit was always the boys' goal when getting caught by you, however now that you seem to be playing along, Fred can't get enough. "That's hardly something to wish for, your highness. You can have anything from us, really anything. Don't hold back."

You shrug, "well, that's what I choose."

"But if you think about it you cou—"

"I can take the points off now, if you like? It's really no problem."

"Fine. W-We'll do it." George huffs, and his brother follows with a playful bow.

"Your wish is our command."

"Please just don't take the points off. We'll be kicked out of Gryffindor if you snitch again."

"Me? Snitch?" Your voice drips in sarcastic innocence, and you push yourself off of the desk. Your feet turn to walk back outside first, but your eyes remain on Fred until it's physically impossible to stay focused on him. As you saunter to the door, you feel their gazes on you again and it's oh so satisfying to know that you get the last say. "You need to get better at not getting caught. Because, if I didn't know any better, it looks more like you want me to bump into you."

You turn around to face them again, and stare at the flask in between Fred's long fingers. By some miracle you'd never found yourself to be the butt of their schemes, unlike the other prefects. Even as a chaser of the twins' opposition in Quidditch, you've been the only lucky soul on your team to come out the other end. The question was why? Why spare you?

"Who in Salazar's name threw that?" Your captain shrieks, massaging the back of his head, small flakes of snow dropping to the skin of his neck.

How bothersome, you think, looking around at the rest of your teammates who're busy cooling down after Quidditch training.

"What?! A snowball just happens to gain sentience and hit me, huh? An owl maybe? Just come forward, admit you did it and I'll go easy on you—"

The spray of snow flies off of the captain's head again and you dodge the icy substance in time, some of it landing on your beater and chaser teammate. Everyone exclaims except you, you're too busy scanning over the field.

Suddenly, the burly boy of a captain huffs toward you, and you take a shove to the shoulder.

Stumbling back by a metre, you frown. Increasingly annoyed by your captain's baseless judgements. "What the hell is wrong with you? How many times do I have to tell you I'm a prefect?"

"I know a guilty person when I see one."

You're about to give him a piece of your mind until the idiot is hit again and you stifle a laugh at the noise he makes.

"Clever," he says through gritted teeth. Despite clearly looking at you just seconds before the snowball made contact with his thick skull, his pride is still hell-bent on accusing you. "I knew you were good at school, but I didn't think you'd stoop so low to use non-verball spells for something so stupid."

"Well, I knew you were delusional before, but now it's perfectly clear that you just don't have a brain."

As though your words were a signal, a tsunami of white ice balls appear in the sky and you don't hold back your smile as it pauses over your team. They each look up, faces with panicked expressions, and before they can even begin to escape, the snow crashes down over your peers. Figuring, it's the perfect moment to leave, you zoom out of the field on your broom and land to your feet once you can't see those angry faces anymore.

And that's when you hear him. That laugh, and he's looking at you and combing a hand through his ginger hair, all whilst adorning a satisfied ear-to-ear grin.

"Thanks." Is all you can say at first, then you realise his partner-in-crime George isn't right by his side. "Where's your brother?"

"On the other end of the field."

You nod. When you don't say anything more and turn to leave, you feel long fingers wrap around your wrist. He's warm against your icy skin, and your eyes shoot up, only to be greeted by a soft smirk.

"You're not going to snitch on us are you, your highness?"

"Me? Snitch?" You stop yourself from feeling so giddy about the previous event and instead focus on the fact that would you be doing your prefectoral duties correctly, you would have absolutely told a Professor about the twins. But the adrenaline rush feels too great and so you finally shake your head at the tall ginger. "You were just... watching us practice, right? I don't see anything suspicious about that."

His smirk twists into a genuine smile, and he allows your wrist to slide out of his grasp. A twinkle of mischievousness reaches your eyes, and then you're off, jogging into the distance. A few metres in, you take a chance to glance back to where you left Fred. And you don't know whether it was from training or the adrenaline, but you feel your neck and cheeks flare with heat at the sight of him lean against the frame of the entrance, steadily watching you run.

Clearing your throat, you push your recollection of the past away and take out your wand.

“You know you’re not allowed to use spells outside of class, your highness,” says Fred, his voice playful.

“That’s okay,” you shrug, “because I know you won’t tell on me.”

“Are you quite sure about that?” George chimes.

You nod immediately, the easiest question to answer. “I’m your favourite prefect, am I not?”

Fred’s expression is unreadable to you at first as he shakes his head slowly. He looks shocked, but at the same time pleased and a hint of something else that you can’t quite grasp.

Figuring you’ve stared at him long enough you send the twins’ a wink and the door shuts with a swipe of your wand.

»»————-　⌁　————-««

Your robe is floating behind you, a spitting image of Professor Snape, as you walk with purpose to your class, books cradled in your arms and head held high. You round a corner of the halls smoothly and find yourself at your Potions classroom. It's been a week since finding the Weasleys in there, and you still haven't found out what concoction they had created.

In any case, your class has already begun, and Snape's voice is barely audible with the door in front of you. You let your fingers clench around your books for a moment, taking in a breath. Then you push your way in, and each one of your classmates turn their attention to you.

"How lovely of you to join us, Miss L/N."

Having already predicted the Professor's sarcasm-filled reaction to your tardiness, you hand out a small slip of paper. "A note from Professor McGonagall."

He barely skims over the words and indicates for you to find a seat. Fingers clenching around your books again, you let yourself look over your peers. There's a seat next to Ginger Jorkins from Hufflepuff, but after noticing your stare she's quick to put her belongings where you could have sat. You hold off from sighing, because to your relief there is one more free seat, all the way at the back of the room. Right beside the vacant spot is a familiar head of red hair, and the pain from your tight grip subsides upon seeing him. That sigh you've been holding lets free once you sit down and the class continues.

"Welcome to the back of the class," Fred whispers with his signature grin. "You're with the cool kids now."

"Speaking of..." You glance behind him and frown. "Where's your brother?"

He makes a face. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." And then it hits you. The Slytherin versus Gryffindor Quidditch Game. The compromise. The "make-sure-that-Slytherin-wins" game. The "George-has-been-completely-annihilated-by-a-bludger" and "won't-be-walking-around-anytime-soon" game.

"Oh... right."

Fred simply nods, finding the way you froze for a moment to be equally funny and endearing. The rest of your face doesn't show it, but he notices the panic in your pretty eyes and gives your arm a little nudge. "Hey. The git's okay. Says it was worth the pain because the girl he fancies paid him a visit."

You bite your lip and let yourself focus on Snape, who's mouth is moving, but you can't hear anything coming out. "It's still technically my fault. He looked awful."

Fred leans forward, his head turning to rest against his crossed arms. He studies your features as you attempt to listen into the class. When he speaks, his voice is a whisper again. "Come to Hogsmeade with me."

You give him a side glance. No one's ever invited you to come before and for all you know he could be making fun of you. It'd been hard in the beginning, though you eventually found comfort being in your own presence; drinking butterbeer while other people joked and laughed and shared stories and the gossip of the week. And talked about how they received a pointless detention after being told off from that know-it-all bitch.

"I-I don't..." You stumble upon your words, the crease between your brows growing deeper as you try to recollect your thoughts.

"Yeah, you're coming," he declares. And when you go to protest, he sits back up, sending you a wink.

"AND so..." Snape glares in your direction, "by the end of this class, I will be testing the quality of your potions by using a simple leaf. If it melts you've brewed successfully, and if not... you'll be in here on the weekend till you get it right."

To your surprise, Fred doesn't make a fuss, instead he beams at you with a clap of his hands. "Let's get started then, shall we Professor?"

The said man only grunts in response, so you all begin.

Forty minutes passes by in an instant, and no matter how well you follow the recipe, the liquid in your cauldron doesn't look like a liquid anymore and it smells differently to Fred's.

Wait. Fred's?

You frown down into his cauldron. His potion's immaculate.

You pull at the sleeve of his robe till his head comes down and his long hair tickles the tip of your nose. "How are you doing this?"

"I'm smart when I want to be," he chuckles.

"That's not an answer. I demand you give me an answer, or... I will take off points from Gryffindor."

He feigns an expression of shock which immediately gives way to a smirk, face just a few inches away from yours. "And what if I do tell you? You promise not to snitch?"

"Me? Snitch?"

That mischievousness is back into your dolomitic eyes, and Fred swears that the potion isn't required to melt the leaf.

"How about a compromise?" you whisper.

He shoots a glance toward the Professor and then hums when he feels it's all clear to keep talking. "I'm listening."

"I come with you to Hogsmeade, and I promise to do whatever you want to do. Deal?"

He doesn't need a moment, or even a second to reply. He's already nodding, slipping a hand into yours. "Deal."

You share a knowing look and shake your intwined hands. Compromise confirmed. "Now—"

Before you get to finish, he pulls out a very familiar cork-screwed flask, and in perfect fashion you keep from gasping or reacting at all, but Fred can see it in your eyes. He scans over the classroom, Snape's busy writing something on the board, and so he's clear to lower his head to you.

Your fingers graze as he passes you the concoction he had made with his brother. Electricity runs through the veins of your fingers till it hits your heart, skipping a beat.

"Someone might've tipped us off about this assignment," Fred murmurs. "So, naturally, we just wanted to be prepared. There was no way we were going to miss out on a Hogsmeade visit."

Not with George in the Hospital Wing, you think to yourself with guilt, pulling your robe sleeve down to hide the flask should your Professor stop by.

"Well... my beloved brother sadly will. I'll never forget his bravery." Fred makes a show out of a simple sigh and you feel like slapping his arm. He places his hand over his chest and sighs again, only it's a little louder this time and longer. "A girl we know threatened us to rig the Quidditch game so that Slytherin would win, if we didn't do as she asked she would've gotten us into trouble—"

"Fred." Images of the poor Weasley twin with a whole half of his body covered in the sickening colour of a bruise flood your brain.

"—and being the good man that he is, Georgie sacrificed himself, in order to satisfy the needs of this girl."

"Oi! I already feel horrible, okay?" You finally give his arm that well-earned smack, and when all he does is laugh, you huff with a pout.

He recollects himself, and makes sure Snape's still preoccupied. He bends down to your level again, and his breath fans over the strands of hair by your ear. "I would do the same for this girl."

There's that heat in your neck again and yet another electric feeling runs up your spine at his worlds. You don't meet his gaze and instead stare forward. To save yourself from embarrassment, you lift your chin and with one swift movement, the liquid from the flask falls into your cauldron.

Fred watches in delight as you stir until your previously horrible creation morphs and dissolves into that flawless fluid that you had just seen in the Weasley's cauldron. From such a result, you're unable to stop yourself as your lips curl into a smile, parting slowly to reveal your teeth.

You are the embodiment of this potion. Any person or creature of the magical world would completely disarm at the sight of your expression. And Fred's lucky enough to be your first victim.

"You seem very pleased, Miss L/N."

The black figure of Snape shadows yours and Fred's vision as he glides in front of your desk. He peers into your cauldron, nothing shows on his face and then he's examining Fred's, the same reaction of nothing.

The man then clicks his tongue and floats back to the front of the classroom, picking two leaves off of the plant on his desk. He returns swiftly, gesturing the rest of the class to join him by your table.

"Look closely." Snape says as his hand hovers over your creation, and then his fingers let go of the green object.

Hushed breaths watch as it hits the surface of the liquid with a ripple. There's no reaction at first and it fills you with dread. You even see Fred stiffen in the corner of your sight.

Then the leaf twitches with a change in colour, and soon it's no where to be seen, dissolved. Successful.

Someone mutters a 'wow', others share glances of contempt or roll their eyes. You on the other hand feel relieved and lean onto your hip, arm brushing against the tall boy beside you. He relaxes at your gentle touch.

"It seems you will have the fortune of freedom this weekend." Professor Snape mutters, and then with no time to waste, moves on to Fred. You barely have a chance to thank the man. His hand hovers, fingers open and a new leaf falls.

In a blink, the leaf has melted and you feel the Weasley straighten up in pride.

Snape however, isn't convinced and folds his arms. "How convenient that you should produce a successful potion - out of many failures - when seated beside Miss L/N."

Innocent until proven guilty, you think and look up at Fred, who's only smiling like a fool, his focused trained on Snape's. Your classmates murmur, and it isn't hard to place who they're talking about with their not-so subtle glares pointed in your direction.

"So I did a good job?" The boy's happy expression grows with innocence.

"Somehow. Five points... to each of you." The raven-haired man admits, his gaze lingers on the Weasley before he turns away, addressing you both and the rest of the class. "L/N and Weasley, seeing as you have completed the task, you may be dismissed. However, by next class I expect a 2,000 word written report of your method and findings. That'll be all. The rest of you... you have fifteen minutes."

Groans and curses hidden under breaths echo through the room, you and Fred, however, turn to each other with eyebrows raised and stupid grins plastered over your faces.

Adrenaline kicks in, and you both scramble to clear up the desk and snatch up your belongings. You sprint out the door not after sending the Professor a 'thank you', and then you're out the door and sprinting into the courtyard, crisp winter air nipping at your extremities.

You pause by the fountain, leaning against the tall structure and Fred follows suit, situating himself in front of you. "I can't believe I did that," you say in a breathless tone still grinning, books hugging into your chest.

He chuckles in between his own pants of breath. "Feels good doesn't it, your highness?"

"I hate to admit but... yes."

You watch as his gaze on you softens, as well as his grin subduing into contentment. "You make a good partner-in-crime. I think I might just replace George."

"Then he will surely kill me once he's recovered! That is... if he doesn't already."

Fred winks, "I'll make sure that won't happen. A princess such as yourself deserves a knight-in-shining armour."

"Oh yes." You give a curtsy and wave of your hand, your voice forming a posh accent. Well, no more posh than you already sound. "Then will you do the honour of escorting me to Hogsmeade tomorrow?"

With a fist to his chest, Fred bows. "For you, my dear, anything."

»»————-　⌁　————-««

It's irregular of you to be so fashionably late. Last night you'd found yourself restless, thoughts of sleep hidden behind scenes of you and Fred eating candy together, laughing, using magic outside of class to throw snowballs at your Quidditch Captain. Despite the chill of a winter night, being covered by your duvet and blankets was suffocatingly warm, especially when you kept seeing Fred pull you behind a tree, gloved hands drawing you into him by your hips, noses barely touching and lips parted with warm butterbeered breaths.

Your chocolate-brown screech owl whinnies by the foot of your bed and you flinch, adjusting your beanie for the hundredth time. "What do you think, Prim? Do I look tired? I look tired, don't I?"

The owl blinks and gives another whinny, a sound similar to that of a miniature pony. You check the clock on the wall of your dormitory and bite your lip, jostling through your belongings and retrieving a small purse of galleons to shove into your coat pocket.

One more look in the mirror, just one more. Your hair looks surprising lovely, strands of it squished against your thick scarf, and fortunately covering areas of your blemished face that couldn't be covered enough by your concealer. "It'll have to do!"

Prim purrs when you stroke her head and then you're off. You almost trip at the bottom of the stairs and as a result you pause, taking in a breath, calming the pounding in your chest. This Hogsmeade visit is just like any other. Just like any other. You’re just… not alone this time. That’s enough to get you smiling, as you saunter through the halls and finally out the gates, where you see a few groups of students still hanging around Hogwarts.

At the top of the steps you crane your neck in an attempts to find Fred amongst the small groups.

“I was beginning to think you stood me up.”

You spin on your heels at the sound of his voice, and are greeted with a growing grin. Teeth sparkling and everything. It takes a toll on you not to tackle him in a hug right then and there. The thick hoody he’s adorning, as well as the adorable beanie all look extra cuddly. Those gloved hands that you’ve been thinking about slide out of the pockets of his jeans and reach for your scarf, gently tightening the fabric around your face and neck.

On the outside you seem unbothered by his action, but he already sees what you’re really feeling through those dolomitic eyes of yours. “A deal’s a deal,” you finally say. “But it was rude of me to keep you waiting so long, so I’ll buy you a butterbeer.”

He shakes his head, fiddling with the hem of the scarf. “You turning up is enough for me.”

You shake your head back, dipping your chin into the material to hide your smile. “I’m buying you one. Argument over.”

“Alright then.” He chuckles and gives your scarf a gentle tug. “No more time to waste, your highness, let’s go.”

“Lead the way, Sir Weasley.”

You’re perfectly giddy as you trudge your way to the little village. Fred tells you about his plans for Christmas and you tell him yours, not very big and not very exciting, but he adores listening to you speak. He tells you about George and his recovery, and teases you when he sees guilt written over your face. Then despite your many differences, you both bond over your love for Quidditch, especially the Irish team. Occasionally, your shoulders and arms graze, and other times your fingers, as you stomp through the snow covered grounds. With every touch your chest grows warm, and your belly flips. You almost forget that you should be looking out for any bad behaviour. You almost forget that you still have a duty to uphold to the school.

Hogsmeade is bustling with life when you finally arrive. More so now that you could share it with someone.

“Come on, let’s warm up first.” Fred tugs your scarf again and successfully gains your full attention. He pulls you into the Three Broomsticks, greeted immediately by a wave of warmth. He’s still pulling on your scarf so you swiftly ask for two hot butterbeers and allow him to lead you to a table at the far end of the room.

“Am I your pet? Leading me around like that.” You sit down opposite him, motioning to his hand still holding onto the end of the long material.

He hums for a moment, and doesn't look to have any intention of letting go. “More like restraining you from going into ‘prefect’ mode.”

"Hey! Some people need disciplining," you pout.

"You sound like a Professor..." he narrows his eyes at you, lacking the skills to stop smiling so big. "You're not Professor Snape using Polyjuice potion, are you? Trying to figure out my secrets for passing your class, huh?"

Slowly, meticulously you straighten your back and fold your hands over the table, and void any emotion on your face. Your voice is low and slow and articulating every syllable as you speak. "What a ri-di-cu-lous suggestion. However... while we are on the topic, you didn't... copy off me, did you?"

Fred is so bad at suppressing his smirk. "Bloody Norah, you found me out! You're so smart, Profess— I mean... your highness."

The clink of glass hitting your table interrupts yours and Fred's thoughts. Madam Rosmerta's standing over you and when you meet her gaze she winks. "Good to see you with company this time around, Y/N."

Your face squishes into the fabric that Fred's still holding onto as you feel heat rise in your cheeks. Desperate to eliminate the fact that she basically just called you a loner in front of him, you fish into your pocket and pull out some coins, placing them onto the woman's open palm. "Thank you, Madam Rosmerta."

"Pleasure, dears. Enjoy.” Another wink is sent your way and she’s off to tend the rest of her pub.

As you bring the hot beverage to your mouth, you peek through your eyelashes. Fred has removed one glove and is now using that bare hand hold onto his drink, allowing the warmth to transfer into his already warm skin.

"Thank you," he says.

Your brows press together, "what for?"

"For paying."

"Well... thank you too."

He raises an eyebrow as he takes a good sip of the butterbeer, waiting for you to elaborate.

"For inviting me," you say shyly, fingers sliding across the surface of the mug.

"Awh, that's nothing," he chuckles, gently swaying your scarf.

"It's not 'nothing'. I didn't get a wink of sleep last night because I was so excited to come with you."

The ginger-haired boy presses his lips together tightly and then leans his face closer to you. "Wait, really?!"

How many times has it been now that you've felt your face heat up around Fred? You could play so coy and confident before, but now you felt like any other girl-with-a-crush in your year. "As a matter of fact, yes." You raise your chin and attempt to sit up straighter. "I know it may seem that I only agreed to come because of a compromise, but... I really did — do — appreciate you considering me."

"I don't think we'll need to stop by Honeydukes, your highness. You're so sweet, that my teeth already ache."

"You're so...!" You smack his arm.

But he's grinning like a fool, pulling at your scarf. "I'm so what?"

"I'm gonna take points off Gryffindor, just because you asked."

He guffaws, "what is this abuse of power?"

You take a swig of butterbeer and shrug, head high and smirk on display. "I like to call them perks."

"See?" You feel on your neck as he gives a tug-tug. "This is why you need to be kept on a lead."

Before you can retort, you notice he's pointing at his upper-lip and quietly chuckling. It sets off your heart.

"Brilliant moustache you got there," he says.

"Oh... thank you." How embarrassing. You really thought he was suggesting something else for a moment there. You glance around the room to make sure no one's watching before you slide a tongue over the sweet foam above your lip. "Is it gone?"

"Just..." at first there's a second of hesitation, but then he pulls you in over the table and meets you half-way, un-gloved hand coming up to cup your face. Why is he always so warm? Why is it that one of the most notorious rule-breakers of the school is taking your fancy? And so easily at that.

It feels like an hour passes when his thumb smooths over the left corner of your mouth and you hold in a breath, fingers clenched around your mug. You simply cannot help the urge to look at his own lips; pretty, pink and gently parted, calm breaths passing through.

His movements pause all of a sudden, so you glance at his eyes, but he's already looking at you. Completely under your spell, completely forgetting how to move, and completely forgetting that you're in public. You seem to have forgotten the same, still not pulling away from his touch. He catches your eyes dip to his lips again and he swallows thickly.

Then he's moving away and sitting back down, clearing his throat. "There, now you're good."

"Thanks," you wipe a finger over for extra measure and then look out the window, clearing your throat and straightening your back.

"You know how you mentioned that part of the deal was that we'd do anything I want to do?" He inquires, finishing his drink with a last swig.

"Yeah. A deal is a deal," you answer, finally turning back to him, surprised to see a confident smile carved into his features.

"Perfect. There's something I want to show you, but first I have a really good idea to help you unwind and forget about your prefect-ness."

"That doesn't sound good," you tease, chugging the last bit of your own butterbeer.

He's smirking now, "you won't be saying that when you see what we'll be doing."

»»————-　⌁　————-««

You're both crouched behind a boulder that oversees the Shrieking Shack in the distance. The perfect spot to spy on anyone who visits the lookout point. The perfect spot to snog outside of school walls. And it also happens to be the perfect spot to stock up on snowballs and wait for one particular person to fall into your trap.

"I hate to admit, but you were right, Sir Weasley. Again," you mutter, rubbing your gloved hands together.

"The more you hang out with me, the more you'll find out just how right I always am." He peeks over the boulder for a moment and then his hand shoots up in alarm, speaking in barely a whisper, "he's here."

He is. You can hear your Quidditch captain now and a few of his buddies, chatting and laughing. Someone puts on a voice, and it makes the group howl, but makes your stomach churn. The closer they get to the lookout, the clearer their words sound and the more you're looking forward to breaking the rules.

"—thinks she's all that, just 'cause she's a prefect. Like, bitch, I'm older than you!"

Their laughter is equal to that of nails on a chalkboard. Pelting them with some snowballs might not be fulfilling enough.

"Nah, it's 'cause she's got Snape behind her, hah. Thinks she can say and do whatever she wants."

Fred is hearing all of this. You feel like screaming, and perhaps hexing the hell out of all of them. They need a proper disciplining.

"Yeah, that's probably what's happening!" The group laugh again, and the next thing they say is the last straw. "She only got prefect because she's fucking him."

The bottom of your vision is blurry, but you tell Fred you're ready and he only nods. You both raise your wands, and he counts to three.

One snowball hits the back of the captain's head and to your satisfaction he lands on his face. You and Fred are enjoying the scene a little too much that it isn't until one of the idiots shout your name, do you realise you've blown your cover.

"Shoot!"

"Quick! We need to unleash all we've got!" Fred takes your free hand and guides you up to stand beside him. "One, two, THREE!"

Adrenaline shoots through your veins, as together you swish your wands and the rest of your snow pile is sent into the air. One more flick of the wands, and the balls fly with the speed of a snitch. Straight toward their faces. Exclamations, grunts, yells echo through the woods and open winter air. They swipe at their faces and eyes, blinded by your attack. The captain's still trying to recover from the first hit, from head to toe the entire front half of him is covered in white.

You let out a laugh, and suddenly Fred takes your hand again and you're sprinting away from the crime scene.

"HEY!" The Quidditch captain shouts after you, pure rage in his tone.

But you couldn't care less, because that grin on the Weasley's face is too contagious as you run by him, gloved hand in gloved hand.

He peeks over his shoulder to meet your gaze, only resulting in a skip of his heart and a flip of his stomach. Losing that Quidditch match was absolutely worth it, and Fred had to remind himself to thank George later for taking the blow.

You share breathless laughter as the shouts increase in amount, but decrease in volume. You're both much too fast for them and manage to get back to the village where you could hide within the crowds.

Your feet slow to a walk, and you both check if any of the idiots followed. Fred spots two pass by a tree and squeezes your hand to gain your attention.

"In here," he jerks his head, and pulls you into a small alley between two buildings.

Finally having a moment to catch your breath, you realise that it isn't really an alley, and more like a small gap. The space is so narrow in fact that your body is essentially pressed up against his. Back against wall. Heaving chest against heaving chest. Feet and legs side-by-side each other as though woven.

You don't care to look to your left where those jerks could be looking for you. You simply can't. You can't because all you can see are Fred's parted lips again, and he's looking down at yours. After which, your gazes meet and you don't think you've ever felt so hot in the middle of winter before.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes. No grin, no smirk, no teasing, just facts.

"And you're..." Your eyes dip again.

His hand slides out of yours, and then you feel weight by your hips and he's squeezing against the material of your pants and sweater.

You crane your neck, and he dips his head, as those gloved hands of his pull you into him.

Your own hunger has your fingers smooth over his chest and grip the collar of his hoody, desperately tugging for him to come closer and closer, tension in the air building with each breath.

"And I'm... what?" He purrs.

Something stirs in the bottom of your abdomen as the scent of butterbeer fills your senses, just millimetres away now. And then he captures your lips. And it's like heaven, because his hands can't help but slide up under your sweater and hold you by the skin of your waist.

At first the kiss is gentle, hesitant, but then you open your mouth a little wider and Fred takes this as a clear invitation. He smooths a tongue over yours, the taste of the sweet foamy drink still lingering on your lips.

His bold action elicits a hum from you, and his grip only tightens, craving more and more of you and your pretty sounds. You go until you can't breathe, mouths parting reluctantly but eyes still closed.

Fred presses his forehead against yours, your noses brushing in a feather-like touch. His thumbs caress your sides as he whispers, "you never answered my question."

"You wanna know what you are, right?” You murmur, hands sliding down over his collarbone and resting on his chest.

“Yeah. You’ve said it twice now and never finished your sentence.”

“Okay,” you lean in, lips feathering over his. “You’re…”

Good Godric you’re addicting. He pushes his head forward to meet you, but you pull back with the most attractive breathy laugh he's ever heard. Your lips stay brushing against his, but you won't give him any more than that and he loves it.

"You're..." you say again on his mouth, and he hangs on every single one of your words. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me at Hogwarts."

He watches your eyes for a moment, and leans into you once more, hands climbing up to lay flat against your back, your sweater pooling by his wrists. And you share the softest kiss ever, full of adoration, full of care, full of absolute affection.

"You saying that, you being here right now... feels like I've just won the Quidditch cup," he says when you part.

"I really mean it, Fred." You wrap your arms around his middle and squeeze him there, cheek squishing into his chest. "You've heard how people talk about me, but you don't seem to care about any of that stuff."

He returns your gesture, his own cheek landing on the top of your head. "You're right. I don't care about it, because I've seen how much you care for the school and care for keeping things in order. A little too much, but to each their own."

"Oi."

"I have to tease, I have to. Still, joking aside, if anyone says that kind of shit about you and you hear about it, find me and tell me. Me and Georgie have your back."

"Just don't get caught," you smirk.

"You won't take points away if you catch us, will you?"

You pull away from the cuddle and send him that beautifully, intimidating smile of yours. "Not if you promise to keep losing your Quidditch games."

"Low blow, your highness!" He laughs and then you're running away, giggling like a fool.

You manage to slip through the crowds and head toward the woods by the Shrieking Shack lookout, your giggles only getting louder and more frequent when you see Fred bounding closer and closer to you. Your cadence slows when the ground starts to feel icy under your boots, and sooner than you think, you feel arms wrap around your stomach and you squeal.

Fred's laugh vibrates against your back, and after a few pants of breath he speaks into your ear. "There's still something I wanted to show you."

"Oh?" You spin around in his hold. "That's right. What is it then?"

"Surprise. Follow me." He's hasty in his movements, as he takes your hand, running further into the woods. Then he rounds the corner of a large tree trunk, his fingers slip out of yours as he twists around to face you and then he's pulling you by your hips, grin on display.

Your heart flips when your back meets with the rough surface of the tree, bodies pressing into one another and then his mouth is hovering over yours. There's hunger in his eyes, yet he's waiting for your next move.

"Wow. 'I have something to show you'. That was so corny," you tease in a whisper.

He chuckles, feeling your lips just barely touch his, "but you loved it."

"I did. You're right again, Sir Weasley."

"Always am, your highness."

He squeezes your hips. You lift your chin and you kiss for a third time that day.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader smut #fred weasley smut #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley x y/n

[drabblesandimagines]

Cramped

Inspired by @creativepromptsforwriting prompt 1080! "I can't stop thinking about kissing you." "And what are you going to do about that?" Leon Kennedy x gn reader

“I can’t do this.” Leon mutters under his breath, but you hear it as clear as day from your position.

How could you not, seeing as you’re currently only an inch away from his chest, his head nearly resting atop your own?

You’ve been trapped in this tiny storage cupboard for at least 20 minutes now, waiting for Hunnigan to give the all-clear that all 27 heat signals had dispersed from outside your current location. You would describe yourself as a relatively decent shot, Leon more so, but the numbers weren’t in your favour.

“Claustrophobic?” You whisper back, cautious that your voice may carry. You wish you could shift your left foot ever so slightly, currently standing awkwardly over a bucket that was sat at the bottom at the cupboard when you entered.

“No.” He has his hands braced either side of you against the opposite wall, seemingly caging you in more than the cupboard is. Your arms awkwardly hung by your side, painfully aware of how if you moved even slightly forward you’d be pressing your front into his chest, fingers ghosting against his hips.

“I can’t do this.” Leon says again. “Missions - with you.”

“Oh, come on,” you wish you could step back so you could give him a proper withering stare. “You can’t blame me every time something goes wrong. The intel definitely said only five guards were on site at any one time.”

“No. I mean, I…” He’d rub the bridge of his nose if he could bring his arm forward to do it without hitting you in the process. “I can’t concentrate.” You scoff, immediately defensive. “And how is that my fault?” “Because I can’t stop thinking about kissing you!” Silence. “Oh.” “Yes, oh.” He mocks, frustrated. He's meant to be better than this. Hell, he usually is when the two of you are paired up. Leon’s flirty, sure, but he knows to be professional when it’s a matter of life and death, and trapped in a cupboard with a number of hostiles outside is definitely a time when he should be at his most focused. But ever since the two of you retreated in here, all he can think about is how close you are, how good you smell, the warmth of your body pressed up against his, how he could place his fingers under your chin, tilt your head up… “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

“Sorry?” He looks down at you in disbelief, sure he’s misheard. “I said,” you lift your hand and trail your fingers up his chest before you rest it just above his pounding heart and meet those soft blue eyes. “What are you going to do about it?”

He doesn’t need a third invitation, dropping his hands from the wall. One arm wraps around your waist, bringing you needlessly forward that final inch, your left thigh finding its way between his in lieu of anywhere else to go. His other hands grabs the back of your head and tilts it up to meet his lips, stealing your breath with a deep, frantic kiss... Hunnigan smiles to herself as she leans back in her chair at HQ, your voices falling silent on the comms in what she suspects is the result of other activity – Leon had left the channel open when you'd been forced to find cover. It’s only when she hears Kennedy let out a muffled moan that she taps to disconnect the audio, her suspicions now well and truly confirmed. The computer screen in front of her shows a blueprint of the factory, where two red dots reside in the small storage cupboard she’d directed them to after she’d ‘alerted’ them to the unwelcome company. She still needs to work out how to explain the sudden disappearance of 27 hostiles, but it’s worth it so she won’t be forced to watch the two of you dance awkwardly around each other in the office anymore.

--- This is probably the closest to a drabble I've ever gotten despite my blog name, ha! Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

PS: Thanks to @porcelainseashore for helping me clarify the ending <3

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff

[nishikiace]

fingerfucking gojo in ijichi's backseat and forcing ijichi to watch 😌

ftm! sub! gojo satoru, voyeur ijichi kiyotaka

Warnings: dubcon tw, gn!reader, dom!reader, ftm!character - afab anatomy, fingering, squirting, dubcon - voyeurism (ijichi does not initially consent to seeing sexual acts)

[masterlist]

satoru gojo is obnoxious, unashamed. he's spoilt beyond belief and rarely faces social consequences for his behaviour - he's the strongest, after all.

which is why he thinks it's acceptable to slide directly into your lap after a long day of missions, right when you sit down in the backseat of ijichis car.

"oh? didn't realise you were sitting here too!" he flirts down at you, laying his back flush to your chest. you give a deep sign, deciding its not worth the battle and wrapping an arm around his waist in lieu of a seatbelt. you nod at ijichi in the rear view mirror to start the drive home.

satoru pouts at being ignored by everyone, fists curling up under his chin as he begins to plot.

its only the car jolts from a bump in the road that he starts to work. using the jolt to his advantage, satoru repositions himself over your groin, feeling the imaginary heat between your legs pressing up into his. he grinds down. you stiffen and slowly turn to look at him.

"don't you fucking dare." your arm pulls him closer to you, trying to stop his movement. the man smirks and grinds down again, gyrating his hips in barely visible, shallow circles over your lap. your fingers dig in to his side in warning. "satoru, ijichi is right there."

he turns his head to whisper in your ear.

"I know."

before returning to pushing his ass into your crotch. he pauses to angle his hips down - to feel the pressure better on his pussy, before continuing to grind in deep and shallow thrusts on you. your mouth tightens at the ministrations, eyes closing in an attempt to have self control as you hear his soft sighs of pleasure barely audible near your ears. hiding your face in the crook of his neck, you start counting down the minutes before you get back home but this has the opposite effect for you. your breath is warm and mouth too close to satoru's sensitive skin and he finds himself getting too wet too fast, gasps sputtering slightly in realisation. he grinds more desperately.

your willpower for self control snaps as soon as you feel him seeping through his own uniform and onto yours. you move the hand wrapped around him to hold tightly at his lower abdomen, flat against his womb, and bring the other to slowly dip into his waistband. your fingers reach down to cup his pussy over his underwear, inside his trousers, massaging the wet tissue and feeling his heartbeat through the fabric. a muffled whine reaches your ears as satoru's blindfold tilts in your direction, anticipation trembling on his lips.

his cunt is pulsing so you begin to slowly rub over his clit and down to his covered hole. slick is soaking the thin fabric and it's barely minimising the feel of your fingers. a blush is beginning to appear under his blindfold and his hips tilt further into your hand, discreetly moving with each slide and trying to angle you to slip into his underwear. however, he got himself into this situation so you mercilessly grab his whole cunt, middle fingers almost in his hole and palm on his pubic bone, and squeeze threateningly. satoru hiccups from the pain, jolting and losing control over his hips. he bucks into your hand, hips shaking as you begin to rapidly circle his clit with your fingertips.

"p-please.. inside." he manages to whisper between hiccuping gasps, head beginning to fall back onto your shoulder. by this point, his face is too red to hide and his crotch is visibly wet and bumpy from where your hand is rubbing. you open your mouth to reply, wet hand gripping to stop another too-strong bucking when your eyes flick up to catch a sweating ijichi staring at you in the mirror.

he jumps at the eye contact, near swerving and gulping nervously. you maintain your pupils on his, waiting for him to catch your gaze again. when he does, you bring your hand out of satoru's wet pants and slowly lick your fingers for show. satoru lifts his head to see why you stopped and stills when he catches ijichis eyes flicker down to his covered pussy.

"a-ahah, you didn't see any-nngh!" he stumbles through his excuse with a yelp as you rip open his trousers to expose his soaked wet panties to the driver. "what a-are you - stop!" satoru thrashes slightly to hide himself, but your hand on his lower tummy presses down hard and pushes his clothed cunt in the air for ijichi to see better. the man gulps.

"you wanted this satoru." humming, you bring your wet hand to his clit and pinch between two fingers, sliding the rest up and down his overheated slit. his thighs spasm with each pass, ass writhing and head thrown back against your shoulder. you don't break eye contact with ijcihi, who is struggling between focusing on the road or on the fat cunt trembling in his mirror view. his hands are clenching white on the steering wheel.

finding the panties too annoying and slimy to remain, you push them to the side, exposing satoru's bare, red-pink cunt to ijichi for the first time. he's glistening and shining in slick and matted white hairs, hole clenching on nothing. satoru whines pathetically into your ear, legs spreading wider at how stupidly hot this situation is.

satoru gojo is obnoxious and unashamed, but he's especially a menace to kiyotaka ijichi's mental health.

you bare down harder on his womb to present his pussy. then, you put your hand back to his cunt to dip your fingers in his slick and stretch out the webs and drips for ijichi to see. the smell of musk is filling the car and you can see as he realises that, shifting his lower half slightly.

amused, you press two fingers down to the knuckles into satoru's hole and ignore his ragged moan to rapidly tap them into his g-spot. his walls clench around you and milk your hand while you rub harder, rougher into that spongy area. he's wailing in your ear, you realise half-heartedly, still watching ijichi's hesitant glances at the naked pussy and pulsating hole. satoru whines harder, hips lifting off your lap and bucking in the drivers direction as you bring him closer to his orgasm, fingers pushing more and more inside him with loud squelching and drooling slick.

ijichi's flushed face is now almost fully focused on satoru's shaking, bucking body, car near stationary from how slow its moving. he is writhing in his seat slightly, wanting to adjust the bulge thats no doubt throbbing and painful against his tight slacks. his eyes flick to yours, swallowing and licking his lips.

you take your fingers out, ignoring satoru's sobbing complaint, and slap your palm down hard across his clit.

the body in your lap seizes and convulses, ripped and choked screams leaving satoru's gaping mouth, thighs spread in the air and tense as his pussy squirts violently. you bring your fingers to rub at his clit mercilessly as he cums to lengthen his orgasm and spray harder into the front seat. his hips are bucking and shaking like a live wire as satoru struggles to process the unholy pleasure that wracks his body.

raising your eyes from satorus soaked and matted lower half, you look at ijichi again. his mouth is wide open, red face sprayed in satoru's squirt, sweat collecting on his body and hips aimlessly pulsing in his seat. his whitened knuckles are shaking on the steering wheel.

he's panting.

satoru has collapsed and passed out, so it's just you and ijichi. you bring your hand to the abused cunt on your lap, stroking it through the aftershocks gently.

"well? drive us home, then."

#dubcon tw #dom reader #gn reader #top reader #sub character #ftm character #bottom character #anime x reader #x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #ijichi kiyotaka #gojo x reader #nishikiace s #nishikiace writes #male reader #female reader

[brain-rot-central]

The Cellar

A/N: I feel like I hit my quota in the smut mines, for this weekend. I left this open so I could eventually make a part two, if it so suits me, heh.

Words: 3.1k CW: 18+, dry humping, Virgin!Tav, masturbation, fingering, dubcon (?? not really sure but I'm gonna put it), sexual themes, pining, Astarion being a little shit Pairing: Astarion x Female!Tav (the reader is Tav) Summary: You and Astarion were looting a particular cellar within the Blighted Village when you happened to brush hands. As brief as the exchange was, it quickly escalated to something more. You can't stop thinking about it, and neither can Astarion. What portal into the Hells have you opened for yourself?

“Hello, my sweet.”

Astarion sought you out from the opposite side of camp, the flap of your tent closing behind him as he entered.

“Oh, Astarion! Hello,” you greet him. You're sitting on the floor of your abode, wiping various kinds of blood and grime from your armor. Thank the Gods you wear a metal breastplate; you couldn't imagine how tough it must be to remove blood once it's soaked into leather.

“You do know that Gale called everyone for dinner not long ago, right?” He tilts his head slightly back toward the direction of the campfire, a clenched fist raising above his shoulders. The thumb of his hand echoes his head, also pointed toward the middle of camp.

You place the armor and handkerchief off to your side, standing up. “Oh, yes, I did happen to hear him.” You cast your eyes to the floor and let out a brief chuckle, patting your hands over your lap to brush off some dirt. “I guess I just got carried away!” Your eyes move from the floor and up to Astarion's face, and you can see it immediately spelled out on his expression.

You're bullshiting him, and he knows it.

With his head still tilted to the side, he furrows his brows together. His eyes draw into narrow slits, and the corner of his mouth turns upward into a smile.

Truth be told, you were thinking about him.

You'd removed most of the blood on your breastplate hours ago. Though, your mind drifted to thoughts about your vampiric companion. 

His fingers have brushed up against yours a few times on your adventure, mostly when you were both looting an old residence you'd come upon. You'd place your hand on a particular item, only to feel Astarion's hand covering your own from the opposite side of the shelf. You mindlessly began scrubbing every nook and cranny on your armor as you imagined his long, lithe fingers ghosting over your own.

~~~

A chill shoots down your spine at the sensation and you instinctively pull your hand back, a small startled yelp leaving your mouth.

“My apologies, darling. Didn't see you there!” Astarion calls from behind the shelf. He steps around the corner of the shelf, quickly enough to see you shaking off your hand.

“I-It’s quite alright, Astarion,” you stammer. An unsettling warmth radiates over your body, and you realize that his eyes are fixated on you.

But, something is different about this look.

He looks… hungry.

His eyelids have dropped and he's stepping closer, closer, until his cologne tickles the underside of your nose.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice dripping with honey. “You look rather distressed.”

You briefly scan the room around you, only to realize that yourself and Astarion are the only occupants. Your breath catches in your throat as he clasps a hand over one of yours, bringing your hand to his mouth.

His eyes drift closed and he kisses the inside of your hand, interlocking his fingers between your own. He begins trailing kisses down your palm and to the inside of your wrist.

“Astarion, wha-” you manage to choke out before he cuts you off.

“I know you think of me, Tavaria.” Astarion's voice is a growl, low and throaty. He steps before you, his chest mere centimeters from yours.

“I see it in the way you stare.” He takes both of your arms, fingers skating gently over your forearms before sinking into the skin, and guides them to wrap around his neck. “Oh, so eagerly.”

~~~

“Of course, I'm sure you did,” Astarion says, his voice cutting you free from your thoughts. He's still smiling, as if he knew exactly where your mind had just been.

“Anyhow,” he continues, “I'll be out there mingling amongst the others. Do be sure to eat while it's still warm, hmm?”

With a wave of a hand, Astarion turns on his heels and walks out of your tent. 

You release a sigh you didn't know you were holding as the flap to your dwelling draws closed again.

You haven’t yet told him you were a virgin. The chance hasn't come up naturally yet, though it almost did that night in the cellar.

Again, your mind drifts.

~~~

You gasp as his hands come to hold each side of your waist. He grinds his pelvis into yours, and you feel it through the layers of your clothing, nudging against your mound. 

That's him. 

The pressure of the lewd contact against your front sends a delicious wave of electricity down to your core. Your cunt throbs with each rut of his hips into yours and your mouth falls open in a silent cry. Your hands fall to grasp his biceps, needing something, anything, to help ground you in this moment.

Astarion drops his head to your ear, nipping softly at your earlobe. “Does our ‘illustrious leader’ touch herself while alone in her tent, as she thinks of me?”

You groan and collapse slightly into his grasp, wetness gathering at the apex of your thighs. This fucking bastard. How did he know? Did he overhear you at night?

…Did he stay up just to listen?

~~~

The thought sends your mind reeling all over again. You shake your head vigorously, hoping to rid yourself of the memory and the newly-formed blush across your cheeks.

He would have fucked you, right then and there. Would have happily taken you on the dirt floor of some musty old cellar. Probably would have shoved your face down into the dirt as he mercilessly plowed into you from behind, stuffing your cunt to the brim with his seed as he roared through his climax.

He would have never known that was your first time.

The thought excites you more than you'd ever care to admit.

Whatever you lacked in experience, you made up for in knowledge. You knew what you liked, and what lines you were hard pressed to cross. You were learned in the topic sex, knew of erogenous zones for humans and elves alike. You weren't quite sure if your hand felt as good as Astarion's cock would, but you made due. It was a worthy substitute, for now.

Your mind did indeed travel often to visions of the pale elf. You dreamed of your lips interlocked in a slow, tender kiss. You envisioned his hands traveling up and down the expanse of your back, coming to settle on the swell of your ass.

But mostly… you think of the cellar.

~~~

You groan through clenched teeth as his fingers pump languidly into your core. You can hear how wet you are, how much of a mess he has made of your body. You've never been touched like this before; it's better than anything you could have imagined.

Astarion's fingers curl into a “come hither” motion within you and you careen, back arching and your mouth falling open in a ragged scream. The palm of his hand grinds against your clit, and you swear you're going to die.

You swear he's trying to kill you, swear he's doing this so he can drink every last drop of your blood without consequence.

He begins to move his fingers in earnest and it's too much, too much too soon, your body has never known pleasure like this.

“Astarion-!” you call his name, your voice a panicked whisper. Suddenly, you shatter. Your vision bleeds into solid white as tremors overtake your body. Your hands seek purchase on his forearms, your nails digging deep enough to pierce his skin.

“That's it, little girl,” he coos into your ear. “You’re doing so well for me.” His fingers continue their assault against that particular spot inside you and you whine, dropping your head onto his shoulder. It's too much, you're too sensitive.

Your chest heaves, sucking in deep breaths as Astarion finally removes his fingers from your aching hole. A pitiful sob escapes you at the lost sensation of being filled. He chuckles darkly and takes his hand, the one that had just brought you to the peak of pleasure, and shoves it down the front of his trousers to adjust and squeeze his straining cock into a better position. Astarion lets out a soft groan as his length rests up against his abdomen, pulling his hand free from his leathers.

You finally find strength enough to lift yourself straight into a standing position, bracing your hands on his shoulders for leverage. You look up and do your best to focus on his face, watching as he sucks the two fingers he just had in your cunt, and on his cock, into his mouth. They're sure to have tasted of you and him, at this point.

“Absolutely exquisite, my darling. Truly the nectar of the most forbidden fruit,” he states with a sultry tone. 

Half-lidded eyes were transfixed on yours and you suck in a shaky breath. You follow his tongue as it weaves around and between each of his digits, cleaning them diligently.

~~~

You raise both hands to your face, digging the heels of your palms into your eyeballs.

This fucking bastard.

He knew what he was doing. And by the Gods, did he do it well.

“It's all a bit of fun, my dear,” he told you after your encounter. Just two, beautiful people staring down the end of their lives together. Why not go out with a bang?

Your nose catches a faint waft of Astarion’s signature cologne, reminding you he had been in your tent mere moments ago. 

“Probably best I go and grab supper,” you say to yourself. Not that you'd mind Astarion returning to your tent again, but you weren't necessarily prepared for the possibility of things… escalating.

You draw in a deep breath and cross the threshold of your tent. You're greeted by sounds of laughter coming from around the campfire. Wyll seems to be telling an entertaining story, based on Karlach wiping tears of joy from her eyes. Shadowheart watches as she sips from her goblet, Gale looking attentively at Wyll as he speaks.

Lae’zel has taken her dinner back to her tent, taking small bites in between the sharpening of her blade on the grindstone. Some might call it unsettling, but you feel a sense of calm and safety knowing she is always prepared to strike within a moment's notice.

Astarion is seated on the end of the wooden bench, a tome in hand as he laughs in response to Wyll’s story. You see a purple aura emanating from Astarion's lap, and you recognize the book he's holding to be the very one you found that same day in the cellar. 

The Necromancy of Thay.

You'd taken down a Spider Queen and her clutch in order to obtain the purple oval gemstone placed in mouth on the book’s cover. It pulsed a brilliant violet light in Astarion's lap, his fingers slowly tracing each line of text within the pages of the tome.

You weren't quite sure why Astarion was interested in this book, but you let him have it. “That looks awfully heavy,” he had told you. “Why don't you let me carry it for you?”

You didn't know much about Astarion yet, but you knew that he was never quite pleased with the hand life had dealt him. Perhaps he was seeking answers to cure his vampirism, or hoping to find a weakness to exploit against his old master, Cazador. Whatever his motivation was, his eyes were glued to each page of the book, making sure to absorb each shred of information it had to offer.

“Good evening, everyone,” you say, picking up a bowl from around the edge of the campfire. You ladle some stew into your bowl, pleased to see that it's boar meat this time as opposed to rabbit.

Your companions nod and wave in your direction in acknowledgement of your presence. You hear slight murmurs as they resume their prior conversation.

“I figured I'd bring back a fresh kill for you all to enjoy,” Astarion spoke up, lifting his eyes momentarily from his book. “Why waste perfectly good meat?”

Gale clears his throat. “An excellent contribution to our feast, Astarion. We're most pleased by your generosity,” Gale says as he shovels his last spoonful of stew into his mouth. 

“I’ll admit, it was the most flavorful boar I've had in a while,” Shadowheart adds, taking another small sip of wine, “though I'm unsure if it's due to hunger, or the meat being fully exsanguinated prior to butchering.”

Astarion rolls his eyes in response, settling them back onto the pages in his lap. “Remind me never to be nice again,” he retorts.

Wyll chuckles. “Oh come now, Astarion. We truly appreciate you sharing with us. You could have left the carcass to rot, but no! You were thoughtful enough to consider your fellow companions.” Wyll clenches a fist and brings it over his heart, dipping his head to the floor. “We thank you for your generosity.”

Astarion scoffs audibly as he turns a page, his face scrunching up in disgust.

“It was merely a matter of convenience that Astarion brought the boar back to camp,” Lae’zel suggests, coming to drop her bowl in the wash bin next to the fire. “Had Astarion not required blood, we'd be feasting once more on the lean, pathetic meat of a field rabbit.”

Astarion’s head lifts up from the book in his lap, his arm extending toward Lae’zel’s direction. “Finally, someone who truly understands!” he exclaims, voice jovial. “Thank you, Lae’zel. I always knew you were smarter than you looked.”

Lae’zel groans in response and returns to her tent, grabbing a cloth to polish her armor. A brief moment of silence spreads over the camp, the firewood crackling and hissing into the night air.

Karlach places her bowl on the floor between her feet and looks toward Astarion. “Hey, Fangs,” she says, “what's the book you got there?”

Astarion softly closes the book on his lap and holds it up with both hands, as if displaying it for the others to view. “Oh, this old thing? Just something Tav and I found while looting a residence in the Blighted Village.”

You watch as his eyes dip low, settling on you. “It was located in a cellar, along with some other most delightful trinkets.”

You swallow thickly around the innuendo, somewhat startled, nearly choking on a chunk of boar. You audibly clear your throat, casting your eyes downward at the bowl resting on your thighs. You feel your cheeks begin to burn and you dare not return Astarion's gaze. You mindlessly begin spooning your stew.

You'd read of vampires having the ability to charm their victims, particularly those who are of the young, innocent, female variety. Astarion had told you he was simply a spawn, lacking the powers and abilities of a vampire lord. Though, you didn't believe it. How else could he have lured so many people back to Cazador? They'd surely fallen under his thrall… to some degree.

Astarion is a portrait frozen in time, turned at the peak of his physical maturity. He has hard, chiseled muscle covering the entire expanse of his body. His face is cut sharply, as if carved out of diamonds. His cheekbones sit high and his nose is strong and prominent, the slightest bump seen right below the bridge. His jawline is well defined, drawing together into the soft cleft of his chin. Soft silver curls envelope his face in a halo, and he truly looks god-like when the evening sun shines over him just right.

A forever young, devastatingly handsome vampire, destined to walk Faerûn for all of eternity.

“Huh,” Karlach spoke up, breaking your mind free from the confines of your latest rabbit hole. “Well, what's it about?” Her questions were innocent enough, bless her Hellfire engine of a heart.

“It's a book of the dead,” Astarion explains. “I'm hoping to gain some particular knowledge from it.”

Both Gale and Wyll chime in together, almost in unison. “I don't think that's a good idea,” they say in near synchronicity.

Astarion's face scrunches into a scowl as he rises from his seat on the log. “Well, good thing it isn't either of you reading this tome.” He gestures toward you as you spoon another mouthful of stew past your lips. “Tav was gracious enough to share it with me. I think you all should have a bit more faith in our exalted leader.” His voice is positively saturated in sarcasm.

Shadowheart scoffs, crossing her legs. “You always somehow manage to deflect everything onto another, don't you, Astarion?”

With a wave of his hand, Astarion begins to turn on his heels and walk back toward the direction of his tent. “This conversation has outgrown its purpose,” he replies. “And for that reason, I shall retire for the evening.”

He suddenly turns back around, eyes again meeting your own. “But before I go,” he states, raising his free arm above his side. He dips his head in a gentle bow, crossing that same arm over his chest. “Please, let me know if you'd care for a detailed report of all I've learned, thus far.”

Your eyes widen and heat creeps up your neck once more. The bastard is really doing this in the middle of camp? In front of everyone?

“Goodnight, my dear,” he says in a hushed tone. You catch his mouth turning upward into a devious smile, and he once again turns his back to you and continues his path toward his tent.

“Go-goodnight, Astarion,” you manage to choke out. “Thank you a-again for the boar.” He waves a hand in acknowledgement before retreating into the safety of his tent.

“So, Astarion is trying to teach himself the secrets of Necromancy, is he?” Gale says, hand rubbing over the tip of his chin. “Out of all the magicks of the Weave, Necromancy is one that is strictly forbidden.”

The conversation drifts into Gale giving an explanation of Mystra rejecting the practice of Necromancy for her followers. The rest of camp seems drawn to his story, though your eyes are fixated on the red fabric of Astarion's tent across camp.

Was he giving you an invitation to join him later tonight?

A shiver passes over you at the thought, and you deposit your bowl into the wash bin near the edge of the campfire. You stand and nod gently toward your companions, ushering well wishes of good sleep and pleasant dreams to each. They return the favor, and you begin to walk back toward the direction of your own tent.

Perhaps you'd pay Astarion a visit later, after everyone has settled in for the night. It seems as though he’s awfully eager to show you something.

Yes, you think you will pay him a visit. You just have to wait until the camp quells for the night… which you hope doesn't take much longer.

#astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion smut #astarion ancunin #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #fanfiction #bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x you #astarion fanfic

[reiding-writing]

Cold!reader accidentally letting a laugh slip after someone tells a joke (preferably Spencer) and the team is just a little shocked

CHECKMATE [ONESHOT]

/ˈtʃɛkˌmeɪt/

morgan and spencer just cannot agree on whether or not chess is actually a fun game to play, dragging you and emily into their debate in hopes of gaining a majority vote.

WARNINGS: fem!reader, playful arguing, chess slander

spencer reid x cold!reader || fluff || 1.1k || series masterlist!!

a/n: do people actually like chess? personally i think it’s really fun but my brother seems to disagree

main masterlist!!

“You play chess in your spare time Reid, at least my hobbies are interesting,” Morgan rolls his eyes with a laugh, leaning against the back of his chair with a confident smirk on his face.

“Chess is interesting,” Spencer furrows his eyebrows slightly at Morgan’s comment, frowning like it was a direct insult to him and not just the game.

It was nine o’clock in the morning, and Spencer and Morgan were having a debate about goddamn chess. What did you do to deserve such torture first thing on a Monday?

Letting Spencer sit opposite you probably, but sometimes he’d basically do your work for you so you suppose it still had its benefits sometimes.

Sometimes being the key word.

Today was not one of those times.

“Interesting to eighty-year-old scholars maybe,” Morgan scoffs at the mere idea that chess could be a fun and intellectual game at the same time.

You didn’t mind chess per se, you wouldn’t choose it as a way to satiate your boredom, but if someone - that someone being Spencer Reid because he was the only one in the office who actually played chess regularly - asked to play a match with you, you wouldn’t turn it down.

“Actually, the average age for competitive chess players is thirty one in the United States,”

Morgan presses his middle finger against his nose bridge like he’s pushing up an imaginary pair of glasses, pointing the index finger of his other hand upwards. “Actually-”

Spencer serves him with a hard push against his shoulder. “Shut up-”

The movement causes Emily to give a little snicker from her own desk, and Morgan takes it as a sign of his victory, clasping his hands together and bringing them to rest behind his head as he crosses his left ankle over his right knee.

“Alright, chess consensus, ‘fun’ or boring?” Morgan throws his arm out to you and Emily as a gesture for your responses.

“Not for me,” Emily’s answer, whilst definitely leaning in Morgan’s favour, is objective enough so that it doesn’t unintentionally insult Spencer’s entire lineage by suggesting that chess can’t be fun.

“Alright, Ice Queen, final vote’s up to you, you can make or break the final verdict here,” Morgan tilts his head dramatically in your direction with his hands outstretched.

You look up from your desk with an exasperated sigh, looking at him through your eyebrows in a clear indication that you don’t want to be involved in the conversation.

“Awe come on don’t look like that, this is very important stuff here,” Its like every word that leaves Morgan’s mouth is just to poke fun at Spencer’s love for playing chess, and as you glance in his direction you can see his eyes on you.

He wanted the answer too. Great.

With an exaggerated groan you lean back in your chair and shrug your shoulders. “It’s fun depending on who you play it with,”

“Oh come on, what kind of half-assed answer is that?” Morgan shakes his head, crossing his arms. “You gotta pick a side here,”

“I’m entirely right,” You mirror Morgan as you cross your arms over your chest. “If you have a shit opponent then obviously it’s going to be boring,” You enunciate your answer as if it applies directly to Morgan himself.

“I am not a ‘shit opponent’,” Morgan rolls his eyes in feigned indignation. “I just get bored half-way through,”

“Because you’re shit and don’t actually know how to play,”

“Not true-”

Spencer’s nodding calls Morgan’s defences insignificant.

“Hey-” Morgan pushes his hand against Spencer’s shoulder. “Don’t agree with her, I’m not bad at chess I just don’t like chess,”

“People who aren’t good at certain activities have a three times higher chance of disliking said activity,” Spencer doesn’t back down from his stance, shrugging lightly with a nonchalant expression.

“Okay, you’re teaming up on me now I’m calling favouritism,” Morgan waves his hands with a shake of his head. “Prentiss back me up here, she is so only siding with Reid because they’re secretly in love with each other,”

“Oh 100%,”

You scoff at Emily’s answer, rolling your eyes. “You’re just defensive because we’re right,”

“Chess is a very intellectual game, maybe you’re just not smart enough to understand it,” Spencer shrugs again as he shoots Morgan down, and a small snicker leaves your mouth at the combination of Spencer’s burn and the look on Morgan’s face as he computes it.

You cover up the tail end of it with a cough, hiding your mouth behind your hand, but it’s not enough to actually cover it up, and Morgan’s face moves from shock to horror as he blinks in your direction. “Am I tripping balls right now or did I just hear a laugh from the robot herself?”

“What? Am I not allowed to laugh now?” You scoff at Morgan’s apparent shock of you being able to experience positive emotions, immediately falling back into your naturally icy demeanour.

“There you are, you got possessed by a spirit of joy there for a second,”

“Shut your mouth,” You throw a crumpled up piece of paper across the desks to hit him square between his eyes and your three coworkers all burst out into laughing fits of their own.

Spencer’s laughter was much quieter than Morgan and Emily’s but it seemed to dominate your ear canals nonetheless, quashing your frustration for Morgan’s attitude under the waves of his voice and again leaving you, as Morgan had so nicely put it, ‘possessed by a spirit of joy’.

He was in a similar state, a small sense of pride flowing through his veins not only because you’d taken his side in his little debate, but also at the fact that he’d managed to make you laugh.

Him. Spencer Reid had actually managed to make the most emotionally guarded person in the whole office actually laugh.

Score one for Spencer.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #mgg #asks 🫶

[huexuri]

⊹ sit. - [ dom!soobin x fem!reader ]

NSFW, MDNI!!

warnings: bf!binnie, humping, in front of a mirror, choking kink, everything is just slightly slow and cute, praise, pet names, slight degrading n mocking

note: was i really going to write smut about soob because of these pics? yeah. + i was so wet writing this istg

you're in soobin's room, legs up as you slump in his gaming chair. your laptop is currently repairing, so about a thousand powerpoint tabs are open on his pc, and your hand is busy clicking and typing since you're rushing a presentation that's due tomorrow.

though,, you can't seem to focus — since soobin came back from work, he's exhausted and all, and he looks so good like that. panting as his wet hair frames his face just perfectly with every step he takes. he's manspreading on the edge of his bed, coat falling off his shoulders on one side, gripping his bedsheets so sensually with his mouth parted.. and he's clicking pictures. he's probably going to post those pictures to instagram, you assume. a slight wave of jealousy pours through your body — the fact that others, millions of people get to share him, get to see him when he's looking all pretty and slutty.

"that's not fair," you mutter your thoughts out loud — you hadn't realized you're completely facing him now, no more towards the computer screen and now towards the man on his bed across the room.

soobin's head snipes straight at you.

"what's not fair?" soobin puts his phone down, looking at you as you rub your temples.

"oh?? uhm.. uh.." you try to make up an excuse, as if you weren't just admiring him, jealous that people would be looking at your man like he's theirs.

"what?" his head tilted in confusion.

"no, just.. the projects hard,, is all." you turn back to the bright computer screen and try your best to focus.

"mm, okay." soobin picked up his phone again, now looking even more slutty and sexy, shoulders slanting and leaning against his supporting arm. you have no idea if he's doing this on purpose because you've caught yourself drooling over him again.. your body's no longer facing the screen but now at him, staring at his beauty as faint clicks of his camera go in one ear and come out the other.

"why're you staring, hm?" soobin calmly asked as he'd noticed you daydreaming his direction.

"it's unfair, soobin.." you mutter hesitantly. your eyes are looking the opposite direction — refusing to make eye contact with him.

"what's unfair, love??" soobin finally puts his phone down for good and places it onto his bedside table. he waits for an answer.

"millions of people get to see you like," your arms gesture the shape of his body — eyeing him with a knowing look, hoping he'd understand what you mean, "like, you know?? that??"

"huhhhh??" soobin chuckles. you can't tell if he's honestly confused.

"you're taking pictures of yourself looking so slutty like that.. only i can see you like that, you know? so i'm just.. jealous." you avoid his gaze again, your head low as you mumble the last sentence.

"mmm... mkay." soobin says in an understanding tone.

there's an awkward silence that fills the room not long after, as you hesitantly turn back to the computer as if you never had that conversation with him.

"cmere," soobin breaks the silence.

you take your headset off as you walk up to him — somewhat expecting him to be upset that you're so sensitive.

soobin pats his thighs while looking up at you. you look at him as your eyebrows furrow in puzzlement.

"sit."

"h...huh??" you reply.

"sit, baby." he pats his thighs once again, and only then you realize the growing tent beneath his jeans.

you waste no time sitting onto him, your back arching in the process. his bulge really feels like it's going to burst out of his pants at his point. you're wearing nothing but silky pajama shorts that ride up your thighs when you're on his lap. you can see yourself in the mirror in front of you.

"fucking hell, y/n.." soobin mutters. his large hands stroke your thighs gently as he points towards the mirror, his head in the crook of your neck.

"see that girl? that's my girl." soobin whispers in your ear, and you slightly chuckle.

"maybe other people get to see me like this, but only she gets to be on my lap and ride me." soobin turns his head towards you with a knowing smirk.

you smile back at him. "okay." you reply to him, with much more confidence than you had earlier.

his hands travel from your thighs and up your shirt where you're wearing nothing under. he lays sloppy, wet kisses down your jawline and suck on your neck as he licks his way back up to your pretty lips — his plump lips cushioning yours.

"mmmh," you moan into the kiss as his cold fingers flick your hard nipples.

soobin's hands leave your breasts and holds onto your hips as he looks to the mirror. he controls your hips to rock front and back on his hard-on and you try your best not to moan.

once you've picked up your comfortable pace, you're humping him yourself and a wet spot grows on the both of your pants. soobin's hands lead themselves around your body — one at your waist and one at your neck. he holds you against him by your throat.

"fuck, you look so sexy like this." soobin smiles at the sight of the reflection infront of the both of you.

his hand still on your throat, he lifts up a finger and digs his way into your lips. you're sucking on his finger while looking at yourself. your tongue lewdly sticking out as the corner of your eyelids glow a rosy red.

"what a whore you look like." soobin chuckled. he looks at you with so much desire, licking his lips as you swirl your tongue around his long index finger, eyes can't help but roll back at the pleasure of his hard-on pressing against the sensitivity of your clit.

"fuck, soob— ah—" your breath staggers; your hips stutter,

"shit shit shiiiit... mmhh.." you whisper as you try not to clench your teeth, still with his finger playing with your tongue.

"cumming?" soobin coos.

"c-cu-cumming, soobin, ngh—" your head throws back onto his shoulder and your back arches as you feel yourself reach your high.

"mm, but i'm not done yet~" soobin mocked, looking at your already fucked out face.

"only humping me and you came already? awh, pathetic.. but i'm gonna have to go out of my way to prove i only have eyes for you, isn't that right?"

you can't back out now, can you?

#soobin hard hours #soobin x reader smut #soobin x reader #soobin smut #soobin hard thoughts #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt x reader #soobin scenarios #soobin x you #soobin x y/n #ahhhhhhhh??????????

[messylustt]

I just finished the Miguel fic and its not bested YET my standers are HIGH. With that being said i have a hobie blurb/fic idea

goody reader! who hobie swear he cant stand (he's obssessed)

you angelllll and this scenario for hobie—ugh it lives rent free now THANK YOU my sweet anon

GOODY-TWO-SHOES AND BRITISH PUNK — hobie brown + reader: just hobie pushing away the fact that he’s obsessed with you, by finding your goody nature “annoying”.

marks no warnings. just a bit of banter. wc 1.6k.

When you joined the spider society, everyone thought of you as ‘sweet’ and an all in all ‘do gooder’. Many found it endearing, while Hobie claimed to think the complete opposite.

Even though his mouth was saying things like “ya could ‘ave aimed that web better.” And “maybe try catchin’ the evil guy next time…ay?” His body had always stayed close to you.

He said things regarding your ‘sweetness’, pinning it as ‘no good’, it won’t help being overly sweet while fighting bad guys. And god did you being a little ‘do gooder’ and following the rules piss him off the most.

But even after all those confirmations in his head he found himself looking for you, standing next to you in de-briefs or when a few of you would just hang out. It was always when you were in a group—Hobie was near.

And right now as you listened to Jess speak on the new ‘villain of the week’, you felt a presence beside you. As you glanced to the left you saw Hobie, standing, hands in pockets, as he acted oblivious to his own body’s movements.

He had moved closer to you. In his head he brushed it off as him just making sure you were listening and paying attention to Jess’s words so that you wouldn’t fuck anything up this time. (Not that Hobie ever does pay that much attention himself).

Hobie had never been a nitpicker, but when it came to you he noticed all the details. He could almost tell you your own body’s habits before you even realised them yourself. Like the little nose scrunch you’d do when you were bored. Or the tilt of your head, signalling that you were really trying to listen. Or even the press of your lips, showing that you were just…thinking.

He didn’t pay much attention to his reasons for taking such close notice though. No. Because he's sure that the sole reason (only one) is because you've always annoyed him.

“So please….” Jess is saying. “Please don’t touch any of the guy’s gadgets.”

Then the debrief is over, and you’re getting to your feet, having jumped up onto a ledge. Hobie can’t help but watch as you began to walk towards a portal. “Careful there luv…woul’n’t want you to get ahead of yourself. Maybe ya should stay back this round?” Hobie walks backwards, leaning his head slightly to the side as he moves to the portal.

You press your lips together, eyeing him. What is she thinking about?—Hobie thought to himself, eyeing you back, as he continues to speak. “To be good at ya job, ya gotta loosen up on those rules, ya do know that…right?”

“You say that like you think I’m wound tight.” You say, slowly walking with him—his feet still walking backwards as you walked forward.

He raises a brow. “Aren’t you, luv?” He tongue began to absentmindedly play with his lip ring, dragging it slightly between his teeth as he neared the portal. Then he’s leaning back, and falling through it, you not far behind.

The portal had opened up over a high sky, resulting in you both falling. Hobie tilted his head, watching as you faced each other, skyrocketing down. You spare him a tilt of your head, before your web is attaching to a building as you slip away from his line of sight. And Hobie doesn’t know why but his lips had began to twitch up.

Shooting his own web out, he swung to a stop on the building, where everyone else resided. And of course, he yet again moved closer to you.

Directions were given by Jess as the spider variants all went their separate ways. "Nah, you're comin' with me." Hobie says, grabbing your arm as he pulls you towards the edge of the building. "I thought I bothered you too much..." you mutter more to yourself.

"What was that?" Hobie asks, but you just spare him a "Hm?" before you're web slinging to the next building. Hobie scoffs, copying the action.

Soon you're both swinging past buildings, and when Hobie attaches his web to where yours was gonna go, your face actually displays a slight scowl. Hobie raises his brows—effortlessly swinging backwards. "See...I knew ya were fakin' ya sweetness." Hobie comments through the wind.

"And when were you paying so much attention to me for you to know that?" You call back, slipping past him as your hand slightly brushes his guitar strap. He doesn't like the feeling that crawled up his neck when you brushed so close. He was the one who initiated the closeness, and you having barely touched him made him quickly follow you.

Then you're both swinging almost together, Hobie's gaze stuck on your relaxed posture. "Ya did learn from last time right, luv?" Hobie asks, to which you lazily glance at him.

"That wasn't my fault." You say, slipping through a narrow gap. Hobie went over so as not to scratch his guitar. "Ya can't be that blind...can ya?"

"You know, I've never understood why you act like this." You say, coming to a stop on a lower building and gazing down, spotting the gadget wearing anomaly. Hobie fluidly stops beside you as you both crouched down. But as you stared at the anomaly, Hobie stared at you.

"Act like what?" He asks, feeling a strange urge to pull your mask off. Why did he want to see your expressions when he was talking to you?

You glance at him. "Act like you hate me. Maybe you do...but I just can't pinpoint an exact reason why."

"Aw..." Hobie coos. "Scared not everyone is fallin' for ya goody-two-shoes act?"

"It's not an act. And I am not a goody-two-shoes." You slightly huff out.

"Yeah ya are..." Hobie hums out, almost sounding amused. "You always follow the rules, being a dottin' little helper to Miguel."

You look back to the anomaly. Jess had said to wait, as backup, so you do, trying your best to ignore a now closer hobie. "And you always do that...can't find a reason for it either." You mutter.

"Do what?" Hobie shifts closer. You turn your head, eyeing him. "That. Coming close."

"Maybe I'm scared you might do something overly heroic, just to get into Miguel's good books."

"Hobie being scared? Now that's a first." Hobie's surprised to hear the clear sarcasm in your voice. "And what makes you think I'm trying so hard to get into Miguel's 'good books'?" You ask.

"Ya are always the first to accept missions." Hobie says, and he hopes you don't notice his slight jealous tone. "And Miguel seems rather pleased with that."

"Maybe because I'm doing my job?" You ask, finally glancing at him again. And Hobie can't help but swiftly grab your mask. He wanted to know if you were bored, thinking, or actually listening to him.

"Hobie..." You say, reaching for your mask again. "I need that."

But Hobie just pockets it in his jacket. "Nah, Jess won't need us. She's too prideful and...usually completes missions..." He eyes you like he's hinting at something.

"I'm sorry—but when have I ever not completed a mission?" You have a slight frown on your face. And Hobie grins under his mask, liking seeing your expressions. Especially because he's been able to get new ones, like a frown and a scowl.

"Last week." He answers, fiddling with your mask material in his pocket.

You groan. "I told you, that wasn't my fault."

"Hm..." Hobie's eyes had begun to grow distracted in your moving mouth, noticing the details...yet again. The way they would slightly part when you were confused. You were confused now, so Hobie got a chance to see a fraction of your teeth. Why was he focusing so hard? And maybe if his mask was off, you would see exactly where his gaze was trapped.

"Hobie." You say, noticing he had stayed silent for a little too long. "Hobie." You shuffle closer to knock his shoulder. "Can I have my mask back?"

But he just began to shake his head. "Nah...I think I'll keep it." He then stands, looking down at you. You quickly get to your feet also, eyes narrowed. "Why? I do actually need it."

Hobie just shrugs, feeling thoroughly amused with the whole situation. You go to reach for his pocket, but he easily dodges. "This is really not the time." You mutter, trying again. But Hobie just moves around you.

You then swiftly shoot a web, aiming for the inside of his pocket, but hobie snatches the end, yanking you towards him, making tumble to a stop against his chest. And you can feel the slight rumble of a chuckle, making you quickly stand straight, only for your breath to hitch.

Because now his mask is off, and he's extremely close. Now you can see his eyes dart, fully absorbing your details, and you actually grow to feel a tad nervous. "Can I please have it back?"

"Back to the fake sweetness, are we?" He asks, his gaze now stopping on your lips.

"It's not fake." You mutter out, moving to step back, but Hobie tightens his hold on your web, keeping you still. "What are you doing?" You ask, a slight groan of annoyance edging your tone.

Hobie tilts his head, acting as if he isn't doing anything, as his finger comes out to just brush your collarbone through your suit. You don't know what to do, as you stare at him. He'd never been this close, facing you, at least. He's always been behind you or beside you. And now as his tongue comes out to lick his full lips, you find your gaze getting caught up in the action.

"I'm not a goody-two-shoes..." You choose to say, still slightly hung up on the nickname.

"Yeah...ya are." Hobie repeats, this time quieter. "...but it's..." You narrow your eyes on him. 'It's' what? "It's kinda cute, luv."

Your eyes widen. "W-what?"

"Hm?" He quickly hums, before he's webbing away, making you spin to gaze after him. "Hobie!" You call, as you quickly web after him.

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

#. ( spidey mark ) #the hobie effect #hobie x reader #hobie x y/n #hobie spiderverse #atsv hobie #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie x you #astv hobie #hobie oneshot #hobie drabble #hobie blurb #hobie my beloved #atsv #spiderman atsv #atsv x reader #hobie brown atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #spiderpunk #spider punk

[disneyprincemuke]

i quit drinking * cl16

you were never one to turn down alcohol. when you do, it causes a ruckus among your friends.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: um, heartbreak, i guess??!?!?!? mentions of alcohol, and breakups

notes: omg this one has a counterpart too, and i lOVE WRIting things like this i SWEAAAARRRR!!!1!!!11 but i'm ngl, it feels SOOOO poorly written so honestly i can only apologise for the lack of umph this fic has... i will make it up to you with the counterpart and a sequel pLSsSSS

(i quit drinking) // (to forget you) // (you called)

it had happened quietly - the breakup. none of your friends know that it had even happened, especially since you'd gone absolutely ghost mode since. everyone just thought you were in one of your moods where you weren't feeling very sociable. not one of them probed, simply because there was no reason to. until you very politely declined the glass of champagne carmen had offered you.

it's like the room fell silent when you shook your head.

"you don't feel like drinking?" george repeats your answer, confusion dripping with every word he speaks. he has a small scowl on his face as he stares down at you. "that's your excuse?"

you stare back at them as innocently as you can pass it off. but there's a lump forming in your throat, and you feel your chest feel slightly heavier. you feel your eyes start to sting.

you cough to clear your throat, standing slightly straighter. you look up at them with a polite smile. "yes. what's so wrong about that?"

but you know, more than anybody in this room, why it's such a shock that you don't feel like drinking.

"are you sure?" max slurs his words, pushing himself between george and carmen. he had been passing by when he heard your rejection, so here he is, invested in your relationship with alcohol. his eyes are narrowed into a glare as he interrogates you, clearly knowing more than he leads on. "you never turn down champagne."

max steps back almost immediately, throwing his head back. "maybe she doesn't like this champagne in particular!" he looks at you. "i've got better ones, if you want!"

you raise your eyebrows. "no, please! it's not the brand!"

"what is it, then?" george tilts his head, clearly confused.

your eyes linger on the champagne in carmen's hand. of course, you had considered accepting it just for show. clearly, if you'd known that your rejection would cause such a fuss, you would have just taken it to avoid this interrogation.

you're not even sure if charles had told them what happened.

"hey, what's wrong?" carmen's voice is gentle compared to the men probing about your life, so it makes you lift your head to finally look her in the eye.

you're hoping the couple of seconds of a stare-down with her is enough to let you off the hook.

much to your surprise, it does. because she starts to throw her hands in the air and push george and max in the opposite direction, preaching about how your rejection of alcohol is absolutely none of their business.

but she leaves the glass of champagne on the table next to you. and it's just starting to tempt you.

the cause of your breakup was uncontrollable, which is what made it even harder to deal with. one and a half months in, it proves difficult to be moving on from someone you weren't even with for that long.

you'd just simply grown apart, is what you told your family. the longer truth is that the spark that had once existed between you had just dissipated; there was nothing but an empty void.

the relationship started to feel different without the alcohol.

he paraded you everywhere on his arm. every race, you were there to celebrate the wins and a few heartbreaking losses. and with that came the drinking and the alcohol.

what you shared was so intense, more so with the alcohol that you consumed every couple of days. you can still taste his lips the last time you'd drank whiskey hours after the split, which is why you simply refuse to get a drop in your mouth.

all you could think of was being dizzy all morning after a night out, tangled in sheets and reeking of alcohol together. he would make you a cup of coffee and immediately crawl back into the sheets with you.

you hate waking up hungover, but he made it feel so good.

nowadays, you wake up with a clear head. the moment you open your eyes in the morning, you're ready to take on the day. with him, you always needed a couple of minutes to gather yourself from the night out.

the only downside to this is that you toss and turn in bed for hours at a time.

"drink it." carmen's voice slowly brings you out of your internal conflict. it's only then that you realise you are still staring at the champagne. your eyes slowly meet hers, your eyes filling up with tears when she picks up the glass and tilts it towards you. "i'm sorry you broke up. i wish you'd told me earlier."

you smile slightly. you know that if you take it from her, there is no chance that the night will end peacefully. you'd only end up dialling his phone number, begging him for another chance to talk and think about it all.

you scratch your arm. "i don't know..."

"you look like you need it," she says softly.

in her, you can see charles offering you a drink at one of his afterparties. you know it's unhealthy to still be seeing him in crowds, and everything that you do. but you just can't let it go.

there has to be another way out of this. but you take the glass into your grasp anyway. in one breath, the glass is already empty. you meet carmen's eyes once more, a slightly more genuine smile on her face.

you shouldn't even be drinking. but it feels so good, it's like you're back in your element.

your tighten your grip on your phone, checking it for notifications once more; notifications that will never come by.

you sigh heavily, taking the newly replenished glass of champagne from carmen's hand. the night only consisted of that - you never declined a shot anybody offered you.

you were about 5 glasses of champagne and 3 shots of tequila in when you finally forgot the way charles would look at you. you'd forgotten the way he would lazily drag his feet along the floor with two mugs of coffee, and the way his fingers felt grazing over your skin.

you couldn't remember the way you'd take on the dance floor together, hands in the air as he twirled you around. the way his hands would feel on your cheeks when you couldn't even feel them amidst all the alcohol.

you can't even dig your brain for the way he sounds; his accent, his voice, or his drunken slurs.

but you were then about 7 glasses of champagne, 5 shots of tequila, and a glass of margarita in when you found yourself alone in a quiet corner of max verstappen's crowded living room with your phone pressed up against your ear. the ringing of the line echoes in your head, and you're counting slowly in your head to keep yourself sane.

you can't even feel your face anymore. but there’s one thing for sure that you want. it’s the reason you’d avoided drinking all night.

then it goes silent for a moment. your heart drops when his voice comes through, "hello?"

#omg what even is this?? #ahhh so poorly written #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke f1 #charles leclerc