#but in my defense the last question was really hard but i got all the other questions correct except 2 questions

[reiderwriter]

Hi Kacie!! Now that your requests are open... Could I request a smutty fic where Spencer finds out reader has a not-so-common sensitive spot (like her legs, hair, arms, whatever body part you want). Maybe he finds out kinda in a public setting after she gets all flustered and wants to keep pushing to test his theory?? You can take as much inspo from this as you want<3

(If this emoji's not taken)-💃 anon

A/N: Hello! Sorry for going MIA for a while there. It was the beginning of a new school year here in SK, so I've been really busy! I've been chipping away at this one little by little, and it's finally done! I hope you enjoy it ♡

Warnings; Smut, 18+ Minors DNI, case details, misogyny from a bartender in the opening scene, Semi-public sexual experimentation, edging, PinV sex, use of pet names (good girl), slight degradation, cum play, etc.

Masterlist

The back of the bar was dimly lit as you walked through it, keeping pace with your teammate as you kept one eye on the shady inhabitants of the bar. 

You'd been sent - with Spencer of all people - to ask the local dive bar staff about suspicious regulars. A fact that didn't exactly take into account his general lack of intimidating looks and your status as the newest member of the team. 

A trial by fire if you'd ever seen one. 

You tried your best not to stick out like a sore thumb, but the people in these parts could spot a Fed from a mile away. And though Spencer was remarkably pipe-cleaner-like, they'd certainly recognised enough FBI in him to clam up upon your entrance. 

“We got some visitors, I see. What can I be getting you, little lady?” The barman greeted you as you reached the first stool at the counter, a patronizing smile on his moustache clad lips. 

“If it's okay, we'd like to ask you some questions. I'm Agent Y/N with the FBI. This is my partner, Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“You're a Fed? Now, why would you bother doing all that hard work when you could be warming my bed, girl. It's definitely more honest and satisfying work.” 

The way the man leered at you over the counter has you freezing momentarily. Your instincts were saying fight, but you held your tongue just long enough to not ruin any rapport your team could build with locals. 

“I'm flattered, but already spoken for I'm afraid. Have you seen any suspicious men in here in the last six months, one that would pass through only semi-regularly, maybe with a few female companions, though never the same.” 

Professionalism at the cost of your peace of mind was going to be a hard learn for you as you grit your teeth and swallowed the bile in your throat. 

He just continued to leer at you as he dried up beer glasses. 

“You're looking for a man who likes cheap whores? Maybe you are in the market for a career change after all.” 

That was about all you could take, and luckily, Spencer Reid was well aware. 

Quickly grabbing you by the wrist, he pulled you behind him defensively and leaned over the bar, his voice low and somewhat chilling. 

“Disrespect my partner like that again, and I'll have you charged with aiding and abetting a murderer who has kidnapped and ended the lives of three local girls. Local girls whose fathers you're more than likely acquainted with, who absolutely have multiple acres of property and just enough bullets to put you in the ground.” 

The blood rushed to your ears at his voice, but the light grip of your wrist held you in place indefinitely. 

All the fight left your body, as you found yourself coming dangerously close to melting into Spencer in relief. 

He forced the man to answer some more basic questions, but it wasn't as if you could hear them. He stroked a quick thumb back and forth across your wrist as all the thoughts fled your head, and the words fell asleep on your tongue, resting there until he released you from his grip. 

You'd known that the area was slightly sensitive for a while, having accidentally brushed up against things and felt serious chills shoot up your spine. What you hadn't known was that it was that kind of sensitivity. 

Though, in all honesty, you hadn't exactly known that you could feel that kind of excitement for Spencer either. You just hoped he wouldn't notice. That much. 

Having finished his line of questioning and reiterating his threat, he moved his hand from your wrist to the small of your back and adeptly guided you from the restaurant and out of the line of vision of every pair of eyes in the place. 

“Are you okay?” He asked when he finally got you to the car, voice still quiet and low, and slightly too close to let you fully relax. 

“Peachy. He talked to you at least.” You turned away from him and began opening the passenger side door. 

“Nothing new or useful, though. Your bpm is high,” he joined you in the car, putting on his seat belt while you completely let go of yours, letting it zip back into itself.

“My… my what?” 

“Your bpm is high. Your heart was beating so fast,” he said, reaching over you to help you reclip it. “Were you nervous, Y/n? Or just sensitive?”

“Your mouth is entirely too close to mine to be asking that question,” you breathed out, cursing your eyes from stealing a glance at his lips. 

Only five minutes into this sudden attraction to Spencer Reid, and you were already mortified and extremely horny. In equal measures. 

“What would be the appropriate distance to ask that, then?” 

“I hear Australia is lovely this time of year.” 

He chuckled softly at you as he finished adjusting your seat and then moved far enough away to let the ground swallow you in peace. 

Never one to leave well enough alone, it seemed that Spencer took it upon himself to experiment with you for weeks on end after that. 

He'd constantly ask you to pass him papers, pens, anything that'd allow him to run a finger across the inside of your wrist. On more than one occasion you'd caught him staring into your eyes as he did it, and it took a nearly embarrassing amount of time to realise he was checking how dilated your pupils were before and after. 

When he'd gathered enough data for that line of questioning, he moved on to bigger things. 

You knew you were in danger of seriously falling head over ads when he offered to walk you to your motel door in a seedier case location. 

You, an FBI agent with a real-life gun and badge and job at Quantico, and you were jumping at the chance to have a man walk you to your room. You'd have been embarrassed if you weren't burning with anticipation. 

You hoped that like every other man in history, he was gently trying to insinuate himself into your bedroom, and by extension, your bed and more intimate places. 

So you were more than slightly disappointed when he started wishing you a good night. All of the aforementioned disappointment fled your body, though, when he picked up your hand and dropped a kiss to the inside of your left wrist, repeating the action on the right before wordlessly retreating. 

You stared at his back as he walked purposefully down the corridor and into his own room, leaving you to pick up your jaw and retreat to your room to lick your wounds. 

You wished it was him picking you up instead and found your brain imagining just that as your fingers dropped between your thighs that night. 

It became a case tradition for him to tease you like this, kissing your wrist after innocently walking you back to your hotel room. The others thought it chivalrous, almost cute and childlike, a form of courting that graced the good old days. They didn't know he grabbed you by the waist and held you against his hard-on every time you rode an elevator together. They didn't know his tongue darted out a few times to lick your wrist on occasion. They didn't know how you once mentally begged him to bite you there and how you shuddered as he ran his teeth along the vein there. 

Spencer was coming to the crux of his research regarding how far he could push you before you cracked. Only now, it was how far he could get without pushing you against a wall and jumping your bones. 

You knew you were in danger when he offered to escort you home after a case. 

“To walk you to your door, you know? Like always,” he smiled at you, the picture of innocence as you became damp between your thighs. 

“Sure. Yeah, okay, I'll get my keys, let's go.” 

You weren't sure how no one else noticed that Spencer didn't have a car to drive himself home after taking you to yours. You were unsure if they'd connect the dots between him escorting you home and his own apartment being 45 minutes in the opposite direction. 

Luckily for you, you could keep your hands at 2 and 10 the entire journey, away from his grasp. If he'd have touched you right then, you're sure you'd have driven both of you right off the road into a ditch. 

Or a pedestrian. 

The drive was calm, but pulling up forced your heart to your throat and kept it suspended there, almost like it was frozen at gunpoint, a deer in the headlights. 

“We're here.” 

“Great. Let me walk you in.” 

In. You swallowed hard, wishing very much for him to be inside of your apartment. 

“Okay.” 

Stepping into the elevator a few minutes later, he waited mere seconds after the doors began closing to pull you into his personal space. He was hard, he was so hard once again and his cock was now straining against your ass.

“Spencer, we need to talk about t-that,” he stroked your wrist as his hand splayed across your stomach, holding you firmly against him. 

“About what, Y/N?” 

He pulled your arm up almost as if inspecting the wrist for imperfections, and your head melted back into his chest. Why was this elevator so goddamn slow? 

You sprung out quickly when the doors pinged open finally and moved straight towards your door without a glance back, but you felt him close behind you. 

“Y/N, wait for me, wait, I'm sorry,” he called out quietly as you forced your keys into the lock as fast as possible. 

“Y/N, I'm sorry if I stepped over the line, I didn't mean too, please look at me-” 

You got the door open and turned back around to grab a firm hold of his tie and yank him into the apartment behind you. 

“Months. Spencer, you have been edging me for months, and I am sick of it.” You half growled at him, slamming the door behind him and then pushing him up against it. 

“I can feel how hard you are right now. Obviously you want to fuck me, so why aren't you?” 

His face went from shocked to intrigued, then shot straight for mischievous as he cracked a smile, and you felt his hands wrap around your wrists slowly. 

Before you could react, he had your positions swapped, your arms above your head pinned at the wrists and his breath hitting your neck as he answered. 

“I wanted to see how long it would take you to break.” 

Your lips leapt to his, hitting him angrily as you searched for more pleasure in his touch, one leg pushing up to wrap around his waist as his hips settled between yours. 

He met you at your level, giving just as good as he got.   

“Call it scientific curiosity,” he murmured, lips trailing down your neck, but hips pinning you in closer to the wall, keeping you trapped there. He made his way along your shoulders and then pressed light teasing kisses up your arms while rutting his hips into you, dry humping you against the wall as your eyes glazed over in lust. 

“You react when I touch you, you heat up. But it gets worse if I touch you here, right Y/N?” His lips again found your wrist, but this time his teeth grazed across the veins he found there. 

“You get so horny now when I look at you. I can grab your wrist and make you beg for my cock, isn't that right?” His mouth was back by your ear as your legs went limp under you. He still had you caged against your own door, and you had no idea what to say to that. 

Part of you wanted to protest purely because of the rough tone of voice he was using. The other wanted to flood to the floor and tell him yes, beg him to just fuck you and be done with this pure torture. 

“I asked you a question, Y/N. Isn't that right?” 

“Yes, yes, Spencer fuck, I don't care anymore, yes. You can touch me and I'll react to you, please help me.”

“Good girl.” 

He pulled away instantly, but his hands wrapped firmly still around your wrists. Slowly, he pulled you towards him as he slowly walked backwards further into your apartment. You thought for a second about just throwing yourself back into his arms, to close the space he'd created again between the two of you. 

You tried it, lifted your head slightly, begging his lips to return there, but he held firm. Each step was an agony of need, and you fought to hold your tongue, begging yourself not to beg him so pathetically. 

“Such a good girl, I'm holding you by the wrist, and you won't even protest about how slow I'm being.” 

Your mouth fell open as you registered his words. 

“You're being an ass.” 

“What was that? You want me to touch your ass?”

“Spencer!”

“Don't worry, we'll get to that.”

His back finally made contact with your bedroom door, and you stumbled forward into his chest as he kept his grip even still. 

“You're going to listen, right? You're going to listen to me and do what I ask you to do, aren't you?”

You wavered again. He'd been teasing you, but now he was serious, his tone light and his voice soft, but you could feel the strength in his grip. You could feel his arousal at your hip. 

“Yes, Spencer.”

“Good. Get on your knees on the bed. No clothes.”

He released your hands and opened the door for you as you tried your best to walk forward calmly. 

By the time you reached the bed, you'd removed most of your clothes, but you hesitated at the underwear as he watched from behind you. A quick glance over your shoulder saw him palming his cock through his pants, still leaning against the door he'd opened for you. 

He was getting off watching you, and you were frozen in arousal. 

“No clothes, Y/N.” 

“I know.”

“Underwear is clothing.” 

“I know that, too, Spencer.”

“Then take it off.” 

You shot a quick glare over your shoulder as you unclaimed your bra behind your back and threw it to the floor. 

“On my knees, right?” You said, climbing on the bed still clad in your panties. 

“I also said no clothes.” 

“If you're so invested in my state of dress, how about you come and help me rectify it.”

His lips twitched in small annoyance, but he followed the trail of clothes you'd left, ridding himself of his tie, shirt, jacket, and pants along the way. 

He climbed on the bed slowly behind you, not opposite as you'd presumed he would. His hands reached out to touch your back before slowly sliding all the way up to your neck and pushing your upper body down into the sheets. 

You let out a little squeak in shock, but let his hands guide you, feeling especially pliant when he grabbed your hands and crossed them behind your back. 

“Maybe the panties can stay. I'll just decorate them afterwards,” he said, and with that, he pulled your hips up with his free hand  guiding you into the position he wanted you in, and pushed two fingers into you. 

“Fuck, Spencer-” your brain short circuited as he pumped the digits slowly in and out of you, setting an agonizing pace but holding you so tight that.you couldn't even press your cunt back into his fingers. 

“What? What is it, Y/N? Tell me how you feel?” 

“Feel good, so good Spencer, p-please more.” 

He shifted slowly behind you, pulling his fingers out almost completely before pushing them back in, this time with another finger added. He didn't quicken his pace as you assumed he would, but he took his time stretching you out further as you moaned and whined underneath him. 

“More. You wanted more,” he reminded you, and his voice was like a sharp hit straight to your cunt, rough and hot and filling you completely. 

You barely registered the orgasm that flowed over you, your brain replaying his words on a loop as he continued pleasuring you. 

“That's it. That's a good girl. Get my fingers nice and wet.” 

When you finally grounded yourself in the moment again, your cheeks flushed as you realized just how wet you'd gotten. You felt your arousal still dripping down your leg and turned your face further into the sheets to hide your embarrassment. 

He pulled his fingers out of you, though, and with his now free hand he crouched over you and hooked his fingers under your jaw lifting your head and body up, forcing your crotch back into his as your back arched. 

“Don't hide from this. Look how wet you are for me, Y/N. Taste it.” He tapped his fingers against your mouth and you were ashamed at how fast your lips dropped open, tongue falling out to let him wipe his cum stained fingers against your pretty little lips. 

You tasted yourself on his fingers, wrapping your tongue around them and sucking as he dragged his dick across your back, trying to relieve himself in any way he could. 

“Good girl. It's time for one more, Y/N.” 

You released his fingers with a wet pop as he pushed you back into the sheets. Lining himself up, he entered you easily, your cum providing ample lubricant. 

You whined at his first few pumps, certain he was going to continue his torturous pace and leave you begging for more hours into the night. 

Instead, he let himself work you up to it, each thrust gaining in speed and strength until you could hear the slap of your skin against his more vividly than your own heartbeat. 

His cock was thick, filling you perfectly as you lost yourself in the sensations. 

“One day, I'll handcuff you to this bed,” he said, leaning down and whispering in your ear as each part of your body vibrated with lust. 

“I'll tie you down to this bed, and I'll treat you like a princess. I'll eat your cunt for hours until you cum every time my breath hits your cunt, and I'll cover your pretty tits in my seed. I'll let you use my cock as your personal sex toy, and I'll fulfill every single need you have.” 

His hand released your wrists as both of his hands came to wrap around your waist, pushing you deeper into the plush covers and changing the angle of his dick. 

You screamed at the pleasure, forgetting the paper thin walls your apartment boasted. 

“Fuck, Spencer.” 

“And you're going to love every single second because your brain switches off every time I touch your delicate little wrists.”

With that, another wave of pleasure spread through your body, sending prolonged shivers throughout your body. 

You felt him withdraw and heard the sticky mess of him stroking himself behind you until he made good on his promise and sprayed his generous load across your ass and panties before collapsing on the bed next to you. 

The two of you laid there for what felt like hours, sharing nothing but your labored breaths and the space of the bed before he finally rose. 

You tried not to sleep, but your entire body felt stiff from the awkward, if enjoyable, position he'd held you in. 

Your eyes drifted shut, and you just listened to his movements. A creaking floorboard here, a stumble against some furniture there, culminating in some running water and a return to your space. 

“Y/N,” he whispered, cautious to rise you from what he assumed was much needed sleep. 

“Mmmm,” was all you could reply.

“I realize now that I made a pretty big mess, so we need to get you in the bath.” 

“Mmm,” you protested, brows furrowing as you tried to gather your sheets closer around you, cradling yourself in the warmth. 

But doing so only made you more aware of the sticky wet mess around your torso and legs, and you let out a small, frustrated sigh. 

“You're stubborn, you know that, right?” He said, admiration coating his tongue as he lifted you slowly and helped you place your feet on the floor and walk towards your bathroom. 

“Spencer, shouldn't have a bath, too sleepy.” 

“I know, I'm going to stay.”

“In the bath?” 

“In the bath.” 

“Good.”

And it was. You let him lift your legs one by one into the scorching water and melted back into him, your head resting on his shoulder as if it were the most comfortable pillow you'd ever used, and you slept. 

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

[wcters]

𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗟 𝗚𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

word count: 2.6k

summary: y/n joins the triplets on the cut the camera podcast to talk about having a boyfriend who’s a triplet, social media, and hobby’s

warnings: dirty/sexual jokes, established relationship, swearing, sexual innuendos, not a warning but thank you @whoetoshaw for some inspiration. please check her out! i will probably make another one 🤍

“Good morning campers, welcome back to the cut the camera podcast. It’s your hosts Nick Sturniolo,” Nick introduced, “Matt Sturniolo,” Matt told the camera, “and Chris Sturniolo.” The boys finished. “And we have a special guest if you couldn’t hear her laughing at us, Matt’s girlfriend, Y/n!” Nick told the camera as it showed you in your seat, smile on your face as you waved. “Happy to be here.” You spoke to the camera. It then panned to Matt sitting his his seat with his cheeks turning pink. “We had to beg her for so long to feature in one of these.” Chris laughed, shifting his hat as he spoke into the mic. “We had to buy her a box of Diet Coke.” He deadpanned. You smiled in response.

“Okay, to be fair, I’m not a social media person. I think the only social media I have and use a lot is Instagram and Facebook.” The three boys laughed as you mentioned Facebook. “It’s for family members! My grandparents have a hard time figuring out social media apps. But either way, have Tiktok but don’t even remember the last time I posted on there.” You tried to think but nothing was popping up. “That brings me into the first question,” Chris interrupts you, “what’s it like dating an “influencer” as some would call us while you just ━━ quite recently actually ━━ made your accounts public?”

“━━ before you speak,” Nick interrupted as Chris gave him an annoyed look and Matt groaned. “Here he goes.” Matt whispered into the mic. “I was just going to say she should introduce herself!” He yelled in defense as he put his hands up. “Oh shit, true.” Chris gestured to you. “Hello everyone, I am Y/n and I am a friend of the triplets and Matt’s girlfriend.” You started to introduce. “I like how she said a friend of the triplets and not just Matt’s girlfriend.” Nick laughed. “You know it babe.” You replied, laughing in your seat. “Anyway, I am nineteen. I am from Canada, and moved to LA around two ━━ three years ago? Yeah. Sorry, what was the question before?” “See, Chris? She has manners. You need to learn some.” Nick teased. “Shut the fuck up. The question was what’s it like to date an influencer?” Chris asked. Matt turned his head toward you.

“I’m not really sure what it’s like to not date an influencer since Matt was like . . . my first “real boyfriend” you could say, but I would assume it’s similar to a relationship with a non-influencer. You do the same things: dates, sleepovers, movies, etc. But he’s away sometimes,” you shrug, “when you guys went on tour, Matt was away a lot and we had to do long distance for a bit. I think it was hard for both of us ━━”

“━━ more for me.”

“━━ but it’s what happens when you date someone as famous as you guys are. I know what I was getting into, same with the social media part. I knew I would be on camera sometimes, especially because you guys vlog and other things. You guys respected my want to be off camera and I remember, Matt was so worried when we got together because we really liked each other but social media was his job, but I was fine with that! Of course I would be.”

“I was so worried,” Matt breathed out, “like I had mentioned before that I did what I do and she had mentioned that she didn’t want to be online, but when it got serious I didn’t want for this whole thing to be ruined because of what I do, you know?” “Of course,” Nick butted in, “and especially hate that she could’ve gotten ━━ no offense Y/n.” You nodded, “none at all. Completely agree.” “You would’ve felt a little scared, no?” Matt and you nodded. “I didn’t, and don’t, want her to be effected negatively from it. I mean, it’s inevitable really, but still. I couldn’t help it, still can’t, I’m her boyfriend.” “I knew what I was getting into,” you spoke, “it’s what happens in most male celebrity, youtuber fan bases. You guys get hate too sometimes.”

Chris nodded. “I think me and Nick were a bit unsure too. We had known you for awhile and we liked you. We talked to Matt about it too. Just saying like “watch out for hate,” and “support her,” and shit like that. You didn’t need any help at all.” “Like I said, I knew what I was getting into. I have friends that are dating some popular content creators and we have talked about it before. That’s how I know what to experience and how to deal with it. Thank you ━━“ there was a bleep as you said her name “━━ love you to bits.”

“What is it like to be on the podcast?” The youngest boy asked, looking at his phone and then to you. “To be honest? It feels great. I have seen this set from when it was just an idea to it actually happing and it is truly amazing to see what these boys can do.” You we’re honest, these boys had such great ideas and it felt unreal to see them come true. “Matt, you have such a nice girlfriend.” A laugh that sounded more like a giggle came out of Matt’s mouth. “Thanks. She is.” He replied, moving the mic. There was laughing around the table.

“This would’ve been super awkward if you were like “no, I hate her!”” You joked. Nick put his hand over his mouth. “I don’t know what I would do if that actually happened.” “Well good thing I’m not going to say that.” Matt spoke, looking at his girlfriend. “Thanks. What a man everyone,” you clapped your hands, “get yourself someone like this guy over here.” You pointed to him.

“Yes!” Nick yelled, clapping too. “And, there’s two other brothers . . . but one is gay. He is still available? Boys? Hit that line. And Chris’s too,” you pointed to the long-haired brother, “it’s too often he tries to get into the bed with me and Matt because he hates sleeping alone.” You whispered into the mic. The camera moved to Matt nodding and then to Chris as he started to protest. “No! You’re just over too often. Stop hogging my brother. I slept with him first ━━ wait!” He puts his hands up. You moved your hand over you mouth in shock as Matt leaned his head against the table and Nick copied your movement. “Not like that! I meant we,” pointing to Matt, him, and Nick, “had sleepovers before you did.” “Bitch, don’t bring me into this.” Nick chimed in. “Real.” You agreed.

“Let’s just move on!” Your boyfriend suggested as he lifted his arms up. “What is like dating a triplet?” He asked. “It’s not that much from dating a regular guy, apart from the fact that either one of these kids is following him everywhere ━━ mostly Chris ━━“ which earned a “what?” from the guy “━━ and sometimes I’ll like . . . steal a sweater or some sweats or something from Matt and then I’ll just be on the couch and one of the boys will come in and be like “I’ve been looking for that” and it gets confusing.” You laughed. “But besides some of those confusions, it’s like dating a guy and having two best friends that come with him.” “A package deal.” Nick agrees. You snapped your fingers at him, “yes. Exactly like that. And it’s so fun. It can get annoying, but what’s any kind of relationship if you don’t get annoyed?” “Yeah guys. I may be annoying, but you still like me.” Chris jumped in. “Yeah, sometimes I doubt that.” “Me too.” The other brothers agreed. “That was so inspiring.” Nick said. “Thank you.” You did a fake bow in your seat.

“You also help keep the house clean since you practically live over at our house.” Matt added. “I do, I do. I literally have clothes and my skincare shit at you house. And a toothbrush ━━”

“━━ And a toothbrush.” Matt said at the same time. “It’s convient for sleepovers!” Nick explained. “And also because you do just live here. There have been so many times where I’ve knocked on Matt’s door and then opened it and Matt’s just playing games while you’re chilling in his bed.” You nodded, shrugging. It was true. “Dude ━━ I have gone to wake up Matt for the day and I won’t even notice she’s there until I hear her move or some shit cause she’s all up under the blankets. Surprised you’re even under the blankets with Mr. Blanket stealer over here.” Chris points to Matt as Nick nodded his head and you laughed.

“I just tug em’ back. Or he just grabs me. This kid . . . I swear it’s like I’m never close enough.” “I just run hot you’re always cold.” Matt retaliated. “You run hot because you steal all the blankets!” Nick yelled. “I feel sorry for Chris every time you guys have to share a bed.” “Do you really though?” The boy in question asked. “. . . Not really, no. I like my blankets. Maybe you can teach him to share Y/n.” “I will certainly try.”

“And she can teach you fuckers to clean,” Matt retorted, “every time I go into your room it’s like I am walking through a morgue.” After he finished there was a “hey!” from Chris and a “that’s not true!” from Nick. “Keep me out of this.” You held your hands up in defense. “I will clean what I need to.” “She’s like a second mom.” Chris compared. “Don’t say that. That’s weird.” Matt muttered into the mic. “Yeah, this is like the same argument as the use of mommy and daddy.” Nick agreed. “Now, you just made it weird,” Chris pointed at Nick. “How about we move on so we can stop this from getting even weirder.” Matt clapped his hands.

“Yes. Next question. You watch our videos I would assume?” Nick asked. “Of course, who would I be if I didn’t?” You replied. “Period.” Chris replied. Nick gave him a side eye, “anyway . . . How do you feel that people are writing fan fiction about your boyfriend?” You covered your mouth with your hand. “What?” Matt asked, looking scared. “You guys are going to hate me for this.” You spoke. “You didn’t make one about Matt did you?” Chris joked. “No! I wasn’t that weird. But a canon event in every girls childhood ━━ and I mean every single one - was writing or at least reading fan fiction. Brittany Broski is so real for talking about it. Me? It was the guy who played in Doctor Who. The 2000s one.” “David Tennant?” “Yes. I was an avid Wattpad user. You could catch me on there every fucking day dude. I think I still have my account.”

A scream filled the room as everyone looked at Nick. “We have to find it and go through it. But . . . I still can’t believe you used Wattpad.” “Dude, ask any mentally unstable female girl and I promise you, she will tell you she did. I don’t use it anymore, but I was obsessed.” “Are the videos awkward to you because you used to write shit or no?” Chris jumped in. “A little bit. I mean, it must feel weird getting fan fiction written about anyone. But I think because I’ve been in that spot and writing it that I understand a bit more,” you admitted, “the videos are great ━━ like every video of yours is - and it’s so funny to see your reaction.” “We need to bring you sometime if you’re up for it.” Matt suggested. “Maybe?” You shrugged, dragging the word out. “It would be super funny.” Nick commented. “Oh for sure, but I don’t know if I’m ready to go back to that phase in my life.” You grimaced.

“Hashtag trauma.” Chris responded. “Please never say that again,” Nick murmured. Matt agreed with a “that was so cringey.” “Really though,” you laughed, “you get it.” Chris got up from his seat and high-fived you. “Have you guys ever read fan fiction outside of filming?” “Oh, switcharoo question. I mean, I have to check and find stories and make sure we don’t get demonetized. I don’t know about these two.” Nick answered first. “I haven’t, but I find it weird that Matt has wattpad downloaded . . . And that he asked people to send some to him.” Chris spoke. “It’s not like that!” Matt yelled, putting his face in his shirt. “Matt, honey. It’s fine.” You joked. “Oh my god.” His voice was muffled from the sweatshirt.

“Is that how you got into reading like . . . Actual books?” Nick asked you. “Not really. I’ve been a reader since I learned to read, but it probably had some effect on my reading.” You responded. “I read a lot now, too. Like if you guys are filming I’ll just hangout im Matt’s room or something and read.” “She’s always reading.” Matt said into the mic. “No actually. We could be getting picked up by Matt and this kid is in the passenger seat with a book in her hand. How can you even read in the car?” Chris blurted. “I actually don’t get car sick. I think I’ve been car sick once. I sleep in the car too. And I have the best naps in the car. It’s just something puts me to sleep. I’m not sure what.” You explain. “But yeah, I do read a good amount. I’ve got Matt to read a little too. Chris would you ever read?” “Probably not,” he answered,” just have too much going on. And no offence, but if I have time off I’m not going to sit down and read. There’s so many other things I could do.” You nodded your head, “to each their own.” “I’ll like nap or something. I feel like we’re all avid nappers.” Chris asked.

“No, totally. I love napping.” Matt answered. “Me too.” Nick agreed. “I’ll only get up if I have to.” “I’ll only get up if Y/n gets up or if Chris wakes me up. There’s not a lot that will get me up. Except if I need to pee or we have something that day.” Matt added on. “It’s true,” you nodded, “he will not let me go. And if I get up, he will get up and pull me to the couch if I’m not already on it and just lay there.” Your boyfriend nodded. “Hey, at least you have a personal pillow.” Chris added on. You nodded again. “You should by lucky? You know how many girls would want Chris to do that?” The blonde boy continued. Chris made a weird face. “Hey guys, make a fan fiction about it.” Matt looked at the camera. “No!” Chris yelled, slapping Matt’s finger that was pointing to the camera. “I’m just kidding, I don’t really care as long as they’re not super weird and gross.” “Cheers to that.” Nick agreed.

“On this note, I think we should wrap it up.” Nick announced. “That was today’s episode, it was amazing. Everyone thank Y/n for coming on the podcast.” Chris faced you, speaking into the mic. “It was an absolute pleasure. I would love to come back if you would have me.” You thanked them. “Of course. We won’t let you leave.” The blonde boy joked. “Just kidding, but still, thank you for coming on and we will see you guys next time. Bye!” Everyone waved to the different cameras before it showed you in your seat with Matt sitting next to you. “He’s secretly clingy.” You said before the camera shut off.

#emma writes #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #x reader #x fem!reader #fanfic #imagine #cutthecamerapodcast #sturniolo #youtube

[jobean12-blog]

Had to be You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (enemies to lovers ish)

Word Count: 2,270

Summary: You and Bucky have been going at each other for months. He's grumpy and defensive. You're sassy and frustrated. Steve's had enough. So when Steve steps in to do something will it work? Or will it makes things worse?

Author's Note: At this point all I want is for Bucky to kiss me senseless for the rest of my life (and do everything else) but really. Kisses. Yes please. Anyway. Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: some light mead comsumption, angsty ex talk, tension but softness, happy ending

“STEVEN GRANT ROGERS! You get back here right now and open this door before I kick your ass!”

Steve’s chuckle only makes you angrier. “I’ll open it when you two make nice.”

“STEVE!” you screech.

His retreating footsteps have you banging your forehead into the thick metal of the door, muttering curses under your breath.

“Please tell me Stark has some hidden exit in here somewhere?” you sigh.

“I’m going to kill Steve.”

When Bucky’s speaks his first words since you got locked in the gym together you spin to face him, eyes hard.

“Get in line Barnes!”

“Hey, look at that kids, you’re agreeing already!” Steve’s voice rings out from down the hall.

With that last remark everything goes silent other than your frustrated huffs.

“Is this actually happening?” you whine. “Can’t you just break the door down?”

Bucky’s blue eyes stare blankly and you grow more agitated.

“Why the hell did he do this?”

You glare back in his direction, hands on your hips. “Because of your sunshine and rainbows attitude toward me!”

You spit out the words, letting them drip with sarcasm.

“MY attitude?” Bucky grits out as he sticks a finger in his chest. “Doll face. I’ve been nothing but a perfect gentleman to you.” That same finger spins to point at you now.

You face him fully and take a step closer.

“Grunts do not equal a greeting and barely answering questions and barely making conversation definitely does not show your gentlemanly side!”

Bucky opens his mouth to retort but you continue on. “And what about avoiding me all together!? What the fuck is that about?”

He runs his large hand through his hair and squeezes the back of his neck, setting his lips in a hard line.

“Fuck. Please tell me there’s still some of Thor’s mead in here,” he mutters.

“Why the hell would he leave alcohol in the gym?” you ask, your brows nearly hitting your hairline.

With a shrug Bucky starts moving about and searching under things. “He likes to ‘get drunk’” and he makes air quotes as he says it, “and then show us how he can still lift heavier weights.”

You can’t help the laughter that boils up and over but you quickly cover your mouth when Bucky gives you an unamused look.

“Here it is!” he chimes, seeming far too relieved.

You move toward him as you watch him take a swig from the bottle, the muscles in his neck shifting with every swallow.

“Save some for me,” you say quietly and hold out your hand.

He smirks.

“Careful doll. Too much of this and I’ll have to carry you out of here.”

As more of the mead circulates through your body you start to relax marginally, thoughts of killing Steve slowly fading.

Bucky has been sure to keep your consumption under control and other than feeling less murderous and calmer you’re lucid.

“So,” you muse. “It doesn’t look like Steve is coming back any time soon. And we’ve been quiet. No yelling or fighting.”

Bucky simply grunts in agreement.

“SEE!” you nearly shout. “That’s exactly what I mean. I say something and your answer is a grunt…WHAT. THE. FUCK!”

While waiting for his explanation you notice a slight pink flush to his cheeks and you find it hard not to throw him a triumphant smile.

Deciding to let him off the hook for now, you ask, “how long have you known your best friend is insane?”

To your surprise, Bucky laughs. A real laugh that has his eyes crinkling and his nose scrunching up.

You try not to stare too long but you find it difficult to look away.

“Are you drunk Barnes?”

His eyes meet yours and the corner of his mouth twitches with a boyish smile.

“You’re full of questions tonight doll. And for the record it takes a lot more than this to get me drunk,” he admits as his smile widens.

He shifts in his spot on the floor, his long legs now stretched out in front of him and you can’t help but focus on his thighs and the way his jeans pull tightly over the thick muscle.

“Who knew all we needed was a little alcohol to not fight.”

You chuckle and hold your hand out for the more.

He shakes his head no and places the bottle down on the floor before leaning forward.

“I don’t want to fight with you. Ever.”

At his admission, your expression hardens.

“Then why are you so….so… unfriendly?” you ask.

“Why are you always so sassy?” he shoots back. “Seems to me like you’re the one always looking for a fight.”

His answer makes you sigh.

“I don’t see you doing that to Barton or Steve…hell anyone else!” he adds.

He waits patiently, his eyes trained on you and his body straining forward.

With more nonchalance than you feel, you confess, “you’re kind of my type. And my dating track record sucks. So…you know…”

You motion to him. All of him. His long legs, broad shoulders, hard chest, sculpted arms and his perfectly handsome face.

Stunned, Bucky stares for a second too long and too fiercely.

Heat starts to tickle your skin as you feel your body react to his focused attention.

“Are you…” he starts, before clearing his throat. “Are you telling me that you’re attracted to me and that’s why you hate me?”

The tension is thick, stretching between you for many long seconds before you wrench your eyes away and look down at your hands.

“I don’t hate you.”

Your words are quiet and the next sentence that passes your lips is even softer. “I just have a hard time trusting men.”

When he doesn’t say anything you look up at him and see the hurt etched across his features.

“Are you sure it’s not just me you don’t trust?”

At his question, the realization of what he’s implying hits you and you immediately slide closer to him and reach your hands toward him.

“No Bucky. That’s not it at all. In fact I trust you with my life…just not necessarily my heart.”

When he continues to study you, his features softening, but doesn’t speak, you add. “It’s not your fault. Really.”

“I want to know why.”

“Why what?” you ask.

“Why you don’t trust men.”

His jaw is tight and his fists are clenched in his lap.

He’s clearly distraught over the fact that you’ve been hurt and you’re sure he’s thinking the worst. It melts you more and you want to reach out and trace the hard line of his jaw to reassure him.

“It’s not anything that bad. I’ve just been hurt. A lot. And not just in romantic relationships. Friendships too.”

He scowls. “In what ways?”

You shrug like it’s nothing.

“What is there to say? The first real relationship I was in ended when he found something better. He told me when we broke up, ‘why would I say with you when I can do better’.”

“That motherfucker,” Bucky fumes as he opens and closes his metal fist, the whirring metal sounds momentarily distracting you.

“Yeah. But that wasn’t the last. My boyfriend after that I found out was sleeping with my friend. Or I thought she was my friend.”

“Fucking hell. Please tell me you’re kidding.”

He stands slowly, visibly agitated.

“And we haven’t even gotten to my last boyfriend yet. Better sit back down.”

“I’m too fucking pissed off to sit,” he growls.

“Honestly, it’s more my fault. I knew I shouldn’t have dated him. He was just like the rest and when my friend sent me a video of the two of them fucking I was hardly surprised.”

You couldn’t look at Bucky anymore and you dropped your eyes.

“Guess I’m just not good enough to stick around for.”

“Fuck,” he exhaled. “Doll.”

He sat down in front of you, forcing your attention back to him.

“Please don’t tell me you really believe that.”

You give him an exasperated look. “After being dumped three times you kind of start to believe it.”

Suddenly, he kicks at one of the weight machines, making the metal creak and bend then he falls to his knees in front of you and takes your hands in his.

The smell of him surrounds you and you have no where to look but into his eyes.

“These men,” and he spits out the last word. “Fuck that, they aren’t men. These pieces of shit have no idea what a gift you are and they don’t deserve you. They deserve a fucking beating.”

“Bucky.”

You squeeze his hands. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he counters. “Tell you the truth? Tell you that you’re gorgeous, sexy, smart, and kind.”

His eyes drop to your mouth and he licks his lips.

“Hardly kind,” you scoff. “Look how poorly I treated you.”

He reluctantly drags his eyes from your mouth and determination hardens his gaze.

“Nah doll face. I get it now. And honestly, a lot of that is on me. I couldn’t understand why someone as perfect as you wanted anything to do with me. I put up my defensives the only way I know how.”

You whisper his name hoarsely and run your thumb along his jawline.

His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks and he exhales.

Even if you wanted to you couldn’t stop the way your body moved closer to his and when he slides his hand up your arm and around the back of your neck your lips part in a gasp.

Just as you feel his warm breath tickle your skin the lock on the door turns and Steve calls your names.

You quickly pull away with wide eyes, shooting one last look at Bucky before you lift your eyes to Steve.

He stares between the two of you and then at the half empty bottle of mead.

“What…?”

“Nothing,” you and Bucky say at the same time.

Bucky jumps to his feet and holds his hand out for you.

You take it and let him pull you up and into his body. Your chest brushes his with your every breath and you’re right back where you were just seconds ago…under his spell.

It only takes a moment for your past hurt to flood back and wash away the desire you’re feeling and in the next breath you’re mumbling goodbyes and rushing off.

When Bucky finally finds you the next day the apology you’ve been wanting to give him spills out.

“I just want to say that I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting.”

He takes a step closer to you, crowding you against the door of your room.

“I really appreciate that doll, but I should be the one apologizing to you. I’m sorry. For everything.”

“Thank you.”

It’s all you can manage to say with him so close to you.

You can feel your pulse jump and when you hear the moving metal plates in his arm you look down at his hands to see them clenched into fists at his sides.

“Bucky?” you ask.

“I’m having a really hard time not touching you,” he explains in a pained whisper.

“Oh,” you breathe out.

He closes the space between you and your back hits the door. He slowly lifts his hand, caressing your cheek with his thumb and then slowly sliding his fingers down to stroke your neck.

The gentle dominance in his touch sets you on fire and you lean into him.

“I’m scared of getting hurt Bucky.”

The words tumble out and you start to drop your gaze but he stops you with the press of his fingers under your chin.

His eyes harden and he doesn’t speak.

You whisper his name, your voice shaky.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m just talking myself out of hunting every one of your exes down and skinning them alive.”

His voice grows with anger and you press a soft hand to his hard chest.

“They aren’t worth it.”

“You’re worth it.”

Taken aback by the intensity of his words you stare into his eyes, their blue color filled with longing and fierceness.

“Fuck doll. You have no idea how fucking gorgeous you are, do you? I can hardly catch my breath.”

Your hand shoots to your mouth and you quietly inhale, nibbling your bottom lip to stop the smile that wants to break out across your face.

“Do you want me to go?” he asks.

You drop your hand from your lips and reach for him. “No.”

He tilts his head and inches closer, his mouth lightly brushing yours.

Your fists clench the front of his Henley and your eyes close at the light press of his lips. You stay like that, trying to remember to breathe.

He pulls away only enough to stare at your mouth and then traces his thumb across your upper lip.

“What is it?” you ask with a worried tone.

His thumb falls to your lower lip and he gives it the same attention, savoring the softness.

“Why won’t you kiss me?”

He drops his hand from your lips and as his fingers fall they trace the outline of your neck before his hand wraps around the back of it and he brings you impossibly closer.

“I’m worried that once I start…” he breathes against your lips. “I won’t be able to stop.”

When he presses his lips to yours he groans low in the back of his throat, his hands desperate to get you closer.

The way you taste, the feel of your lips, your gasps and moans…he can’t stop.

He can’t stop.

@hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @kmc1989 @goldylions @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @littleseasiren @lizette50

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #enemies to lovers #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #bucky

[waitimcomingtoo]

Sugar And Spice

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x reader

Synopsis: Peeta gets jealous when a guy keeps coming into the bakery to flirt with you

Masterlist

“Can you watch the bakery for a second while I frost a cake?”

“I can do it but I have to warn you. I’m super charming so we’re probably gonna get a bunch of customers and sell out immediately.” You said and held up your hands in defense. Peeta couldn’t help but smile as he watched you tie an apron around your waist. Something about you wearing something that had his last name on it made you even more endearing. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking about his best friend like that, but he couldn’t help it.

“I don’t doubt your charm but we haven’t had any customers all day.” He reminded you.

“That’s because you’ve been keeping me in the back. Go frost your cake. This place will be packed when you return. Just watch”. You said and shooed him okay.

“Okay.” He replied sarcastically.

You were only alone in the bakery for a few minutes before someone came in. It was a guy around your age wearing a hard helmet so you could only assume he was a coal miner.

“Hello.” He smiled at you as he walked up the counter.

“Hello.” You replied. “Welcome to Mellark Bakery.”

“Do you guys sell bread?” He asked you.

“Here? At the bakery?” You asked and stepped to the side to give him a full view of all the baskets of bread behind you.

“Okay, it was a dumb question.” He admitted.

“It’s okay. It’s probably the only question you can ask that I could actually answer. I just learned what yeast was a little while ago.”

“Oh, so you don’t usually work here?”

“I don’t. My best friends family owns the place. But his brother gave his mom a cold and then the whole family caught it. I’m just filling in until they’re better.” You explained.

“That’s a shame. I thought I’d have two reasons to come in here now.” The boy said with a coy smile.

“Two reasons?”

“For delicious bread and a chance to see the pretty girl working the counter.” He replied. You raised your eyebrows in surprise at his flirting before smiling. You’d never had a boy flirt with you so boldly so it made you feel good.

“Well, thanks. How can I help you?” You asked him.

“My mother sent me to get that brown bread but I keep forgetting the name of it.”

“Isn’t all bread brown?”

“Well, yes.” He realized. “But she said this one is browner than the others.”

“I actually think I know what you’re talking about. Is it pumpernickel?” You asked and pulled out a loaf of pumpernickel bread.

“Yes! That’s the one. Look at you being smart. I’ll take a loaf of that.” The boy said. You didn’t really like the way he acted like it was shocking you’d say something smart but you didn’t say anything.

“Surely. Anything else I get you?” You asked as you handed him the wrapped up loaf.

“How about your name?” He smiled as he handed you the money.

“It’s Y/n. You?” You said through a nervous laugh. You weren’t entirely sure you liked the attention anymore.

“Hi. I’m Lycan.” He said and extended his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Lycan.” You smiled politely and shook his hand.

“It is nice, isn’t it? Will you be filling in all week?”

“Most likely.” You told him.

“Then I’ll be back. Thanks for the help.” He winked at you just as Peeta came out from the back. He saw the much taller and stronger looking Lycan leaving the bakery and stopped in his tracks.

“No problem.” You called after him. Peeta caught the way Lycan’s eyes lingered on you after he left the shop and he didn’t like it. He got a weird feeling in his stomach when he noticed that you were flustered.

“Who was that?” Peeta asked.

“That was Lycan. And he bought the last loaf of pumpernickel so we knead to make more. And that was a baking pun, by the way. But it would’ve worked better on paper.”

“Oh. Do you always learn the customers names?” Peeta asked as the weird feeling in his stomach grew. He was feeling jealous already and now that he knew you learned that guys name, it was even worse.

“Not always.” You shrugged. “But he asked my name so I asked his.”

“He asked your name? That was nice of him.” Peeta said through a forced smile. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much that you had caught the attention of the attractive stranger. Maybe because you’d caught Peeta’s attention years ago but still hadn’t noticed.

“Yeah. I guess he was nice. He called me pretty.” You said and looked at Peeta as if you were expecting him to disagree with that statement. Peeta clenched his jaw but kept a straight face.

“You are pretty.” He insisted. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I don’t know. I guess because no one’s ever just called me pretty before. Except maybe my mother. But I’ve never heard it from a boy. It was kinda, I don’t know, nice.” You said as you stared out the window. Peeta was kicking himself for never vocalizing how beautiful he found you because now you had to cling to the compliment of a stranger.

“I think you’re pretty.” Peeta said quietly. Your head turned to Peeta and you had a surprised smile on your face. Peeta turned a deep red as he waited for your answer.

“You’re pretty pretty yourself, blondie.” You replied as you passed by him. You started to rearrange some of the baked goods but Peeta was still hung up on this stranger who called you pretty.

“Did you like that guy?” Peeta asked you and feared for the answer.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “It was nice to be noticed. But I don’t him enough to know if I like him.”

“Right.” He nodded and desperately tried to take his mind off it. You noticed the far off look in Peeta’s eye but didn’t understand what was bothering him.

“So how’s your cake?” You asked.

“Not good. I made the frosting a weird color. Can you go look at it and tell me if I should scrap it or not?”

“Sure. But if you go check on it later and there’s a piece missing, it wasn’t me.” You teased.

“Very funny.” He said sarcastically.

“I know, right?” You laughed and went to the back. Peeta laughed as well but his smile quickly dropped when the door to the bakery opened. Lycan walked back in and Peeta gulped. He’d only seen him through the window before so now he got to see just how tall and handsome this guy was. Peeta nervously fumbled with the tie on his apron and felt a little insecure to be wearing it when this guy was covering in soot and dirt from being down in the mines.

“Hi. How can I help you?” Peeta asked him. Lycan was visibly disappointed to see Peeta there and was ignoring him as he looked around the bakery for you.

“What happened to the girl that was working here just a few minutes ago?” Lycan asked.

“Who’s asking?” Peeta asked without dropping his cheery smile. Lycan looked Peeta up and down and scoffed a little.

“I am.” He replied. “I wanted to ask her where she lives.”

“Why would you want to know that?” Peeta frowned.

“So I could see her again. I was planning on stopping by sometime. I figured she’d like that.” Lycan answered with a smug expression.

“Well I know her well enough to know she wouldn’t want me telling a stranger where she lives so…” Peeta trailed off and let Lycan fill in the blank.

“Hm. You must be the friend she mentioned. I guess I’ll just have to ask her myself. But why don’t you do me a favor and tell her I stopped by?”

“Surely.” Peeta replied. Lycan recognized the same word you had used and narrowed his eyes at Peeta.

“Thanks, baker boy. Bye.” Lycan smirked and left the bakery. Peeta blinked in surprise at the unexpected rude tone. If he was feeling insecure before, he was feeling even worse now that Lycan made it obvious that he looked down on him.

“Who was that?” You asked when you came out from the back.

“No one.” Peeta lied. “How’s the cake?”

“I actually like the grey color. You should leave it as it is.” You told him.

“But it was supposed to be a wedding cake. Won’t the customer be mad?”

“If I was getting married and my cake was baked by you, I wouldn’t care what it looked like because I would already know it was delicious. But you don’t have to worry about that because the cake looked great. Your cakes always look great. You’re the best cake decorator I know. So stop worrying about it.” You said and playfully smacked his chest.

“I’m the only cake decorator you know.” He said with a shy smile.

“That may be true.” You agreed. “But even if I knew more, you’d still be the best. You’re an artist. All your cakes are lovely. I promise.”

“Thanks for saying that.” He blushed. “We can have a grey cake at our wedding then.”

“Oh? Our wedding?” You raised your eyebrows.

“Your wedding.” He quickly corrected. “I meant your wedding. I will make you a grey cake for your wedding.”

“What if my groom wants a white cake?”

“He’ll want whatever you want.” Peeta said confidently.

“What makes you so sure?” You asked skeptically.

“Just a guess.” He said quickly. He wasn’t about to tell you that if he was the groom, you’d get whatever and however many cakes you wanted.

“Well he better. My mother is already on me about finding someone and settling down. That’s all she thinks I’m gonna be apparently. A wife.” You said with a roll of your eyes.

“Oh, yeah? Is there anyone in particular you’re thinking of?” Peeta asked without looking at you.

“I mean, I wouldn’t be against running off and eloping with you to get her off my back.” You joked. Peeta blushed at the joke and hoped there was some truth to it.

“Or maybe I’ll just marry this Lycan guy to shut her up.” You added, making Peeta’s smile drop. He was definitely jealous now and it was only gonna get worse.

The next day, you went to the bakery again and helped Peeta run the shop. He had you handling the customers while he stayed in the back to bake. Even though you had said it as a joke, you actually were bringing in a lot of customers and selling through baked goods fast. Unfortunately, you brought in Peeta’s least favorite customer.

“Oh no.” Peeta said when he saw Lycan through the windows.

“What?” You asked just as the door opened.

“Hello again.” Lycan greeted you and didn’t acknowledge Peeta in any way.

“Oh, hi, Lycan. What can I get for you today?” You asked him.

“How about you get me your favorite thing in the shop?” He asked with that smug look Peeta hated. Peeta rolled his eyes at the lack of manners but held his tongue.

“Well, that’s hard to pick. Peeta bakes everything and it’s all delicious. He’s an amazing baker.” You said and patted Peeta’s back. Peeta and Lycan made eye contact and gave each other tight smiles.

“Oh, so this is your friend who runs the bakery? Did he tell you I stopped by yesterday to see you?” Lycan asked knowing full well Peeta didn’t mention it. You looked at Peeta in surprise and Peeta gave you a sheepish smile.

“Must’ve forgotten to mention that.” He said quietly.

“Right.” You laughed awkwardly. “Well, I love the cinnamon buns Peeta makes. And we just frosted some so I’ll go grab one from the back.”

You went to the back to grab a cinnamon bun, leaving Peeta and Lycan alone together. Peeta kept his eyes down as Lycan stared at him with a smug expression.

“So how come you had her running the shop all alone yesterday?” Lycan asked with judgement in his voice.

“She was fine. She was only alone for a few minutes but she would’ve been perfectly capable of running the shop all day. She’s great at this stuff. She’s better than me and I grew up in this bakery.” Peeta defended you.

“I could tell.” Lycan snorted. “But running a business is no place for a lady. She should’ve been doing the baking while you handled the customers. A girl like that should be able to sit still and look pretty while you man the place, you know what I mean?”

“Um, no, I don’t know what you mean.” Peeta smiled tightly. “She’s not the type to sit still but you wouldn’t know that because you don’t know her. And we “manned”the shop together all day. I just happened to be in the back decorating the cakes when you came in.”

“Oh, so you make all these? Where did you learn how to do that?” Lycan asked with a condescending smile as he looked at the cakes on display.

“My mother taught me.” Peeta said quietly.

“Oh, I see. My mother taught me that a man’s job involves getting your hands dirty but hey, what does she know?” Lycan shrugged.

“Clearly not how to teach her son manners.” Peeta mumbled. You came out from the back and Peeta relaxed.

“Here. One hot cinnamon bun.” You smiled kindly and handed the treat to Lycan.

“Thank you. It looks almost as good as you do.” He said with a much kinder tone than he had given Peeta.

“Oh. Thank you.” You laughed in surprise and looked over at Peeta. Peeta was too busy staring daggers at Lycan to notice.

“See you tomorrow?” Lycan asked you.

“See you then.” You waved as he left the shop. Once he was gone again, Peeta could finally breathe.

“I don’t like that guy.” Peeta shook his head.

“What? Why not? He’s so nice.” You said. As much as Peeta disliked that guy, he wasn’t about to burst your bubble and tell you Lycan had implied you could not and should not run the bakery by yourself.

“He’s too nice.” Peeta insisted. “And I don’t like the way he was looking at you.”

“How was he looking at me?” You frowned.

“The same way every guy looks at you. Only he looks dumb enough to try something.” Peeta mumbled. You let out a laugh and Peeta was confused.

“What?” He wondered.

“Nothing. I’ve just never heard you call someone dumb before. Here I was thinking you were all sunshine and flowers.” You shrugged with an amused smile.

“I can be tough. You don’t think I can be tough?”

“Well, I’m sure you can be. I’ve just never seen it. I’ve only ever seen your good side.”

“I can be tough. I can be a real tough guy.” Peeta insisted but it sounded unnatural coming out of his mouth.

“Okay, tough guy.” You chuckled. “Show me what you got.”

“What do you mean?”

“Say something mean about me.” You said and gestured towards yourself.

“What? I would never do that.” He laughed but meant it.

“I knew it. You’re too sweet. You don’t have a mean bone in your body. You’re all sugar.” You said and squeezed his arm. Peeta blushed at the contact and felt a little better about himself.

“Here’s something mean. That guy just tracked mud all over the floors. Why are coal miners so messy?” He scoffed and grabbed the mop.

“Maybe because they’re in dirty mines all day? Just a thought.” You teased as Peeta cleaned the floor.

“This is just gross.” Peeta huffed. “And did you see his hands? They were filthy.”

“I didn’t notice them.” You shrugged.

“Yeah, cause you were too busy flirting.” Peeta grumbled.

“Flirting?” You laughed. “I was not flirting with that guy.”

“Yes you were. I’ve never seen you bat your eyelashes like that before. And when’s the last time you warmed something up for a customer? You did that to flirt.” He half joked, half meant entirely.

“That wasn’t me flirting. I was just blinking because of all the dust he brought in.” You said simply. Peeta stopped mopping and looked up to see if you were serious.

“You really weren’t flirting with him?” Peeta asked hopefully.

“With a stranger? Who do you think I am?” You scoffed and grabbed the mop from him. You cleaned up the rest of the mud tracks before handing the mop back.

“Okay.” Peeta smiled. “Good.”

“Why’s that good? You didn’t want me to be flirting with him?” You asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Psh. No. I don’t care who you flirt with.” Peeta quickly explained but even he didn’t believe it.

“Don’t you?” You asked and took a step towards him.

“I don’t.” He gulped.

“All right then.” You smiled sadly and went back behind the counter. Peeta looked over at you and wondered if you had wanted him to say that he didn’t want you flirting with anyone else.

The next day, Peeta was hesitant to leave you alone in the bakery in case Lycan came back to ask you out. If he actually made a move on you, Peeta knew he didn’t stand a chance. There weren’t a whole lot of options for dating in your district so if he asked you out, you’d probably say yes. But Peeta couldn’t stay in the front forever and eventually had to go to the back to frost cakes. And as soon as he was gone, the wolves descended.

“Good morning.” Lycan greeted as he came into the bakery. Your heart started to beat faster when he came in but it wasn’t from excitement. His presence was starting to make you anxious and you didn’t know if you liked the attention anymore.

“Good morning. What will it be today?” You asked politely.

“Some more pumpernickel please. But only half a loaf. I had some of my worker friends over last night and we went through it. We just get so hungry being down in the mines all day. You know how real men’s work is. It’s brutal but hey, someone’s gotta do it.” Lycan shrugged and leaned on the counters that you had just cleaned.

“Right.” You said sarcastically. “Anything else?”

“A smile. From you.” Lycan added. You gave him a tight smile back and realized you really didn’t like the attention. At least, not from him.

“Have a great day.” He said as you handed him the loaf and he handed you the money.

“Thanks. You too.”

“I already did. Because I got to see you.” Lycan said and pointed to you. You forced a smile back and watched as he tracked mud on the floor as he left. Peeta came out from the back a little while later and saw the mud.

“I see Lycan returned.” He said stiffly.

“He sure did.” You replied. Peeta rolled his eyes and grabbed the mop before looking at you.

“Don’t give me that look.” You laughed. “It’s not my fault Mr. Muddy Boots keeps coming in here.”

“Yes it is. I heard him telling you to smile. He likes you.” Peeta mumbled and mopped the floor. His jealousy was back and in full force so he kept his head down.

“Maybe he was just being friendly.”

“But he wasn’t being friendly to me. Only you.” Peeta pointed out.

“Okay, true. But that still doesn’t mean anything. He might just want to be friends.”

“No way. No guy wants to be just friends with a girl as interesting and funny as you.”

“What about you? You just want to be friends, don’t you?” You asked and smiled at his words but he didn’t see it. He was too busy keeping his head down so you couldn’t see how much he was blushing over what you asked.

“There. Finally clean. But if he comes in here and gets the floors muddy one more time, I’m gonna ban him from the bakery.” Peeta said to change the subject.

“Maybe he’s had enough of your baked goods and won’t come in anymore.” You shrugged.

“He’ll be back. Although he might stop buying things and just start coming in to stare at you.” Peeta grumbled, making you laugh. When your laughter died down, you thought about what it would mean if this guy actually wanted to be more than friends.

“Do you actually think he likes me?” You asked quietly.

“Of course he does. And I can’t blame him. But I can be annoyed about how often he comes in here.” Peeta said and continued to avoid eye contact with you.

“But him coming in here means you get more customers.” You reminded him. “And what do you mean you can’t blame him?”

“Him coming in here means I have to look at his dumb face while he bumbles around and tries to flirt with you. All while making the bakery muddy. I wouldn’t mind losing him as a customer.” Peeta replied and conveniently ignored the second half of what you said.

“Well we should probably bake another loaf of pumpernickel in case he comes in tomorrow.” You shrugged and started to gather the ingredients. Peeta froze and watched you tie on an apron as jealousy burned a hole inside him.

“What?” You asked when you saw Peeta’s face.

“You want him to come back?” Peeta asked in a soft voice.

“I didn’t say that. But if he does, which I’m assuming he will, we should have bread for him.”

Peeta was quiet again for a minute as he looked at you. He didn’t think you liked this guy back until he watched you gathering ingredients to make something specifically for him.

“Do you, um, do you like him back or something?” Peeta asked you. He didn’t sound angry or anything, just sad.

“What I like is earning money. Which customers bring in. Customers like Lycan.” You said and headed to the back where the oven was.

“Fine. But just don’t bake that with love, okay?” Peeta called after you. He heard you laugh and felt a little better because it reminded him that no one made you laugh quite like he did.

“I’ll try.” You called back.

The next day, Peeta was ready for anything. He asked you to bake some muffins in the back while he dealt with the customers during the evening rush. He had made it through almost the entire day before he saw Lycan coming in to the bakery. He looked around for you as soon as he walked in before walking up the counter.

“How can I help you?” Peeta asked with a forced smile.

“Actually, I was hoping Y/n could help me. She here?” Lycan asked and peered behind the counter.

“She’s busy with the baking in the back.”

“Really? I thought frosting cakes was your job? Tell me, how do you make them look so pretty?” Lycan asked in a mocking tone.

“It takes a steady hand. And a clean one.” Peeta said as his eyes dropped to Lycans dirt covered hands.

“These are workers hands. But you wouldn’t know anything about that would you, baker boy?” Lycan said in a low voice as he leaned on the counter. Peeta gulped but was determined to stand his ground.

“I know about hard work. Just because my work is different from yours doesn’t mean it’s any less important.” He replied.

“Are you serious?” Lycan laughed. “I risk my life everyday to get the coal that you use to bake your pretty little cakes. You’re not important. I mean, your work isn’t important. I know that, and she knows that.” Lycan whispered so only Peeta could hear. His words were getting to Peeta and he wasn’t feeling as confident as before.

“She’d never go for you.” Peeta said quietly.

“What other choice does she have? You?” Lycan scoffed. “I asked around about the two of you, you know. Everyone had the same thing to say. That the bakers boy absolutely adores her but isn’t man enough to do anything about it.”

“I could do something about it.” Peeta insisted.

“Oh really? Then why haven’t you?” Lycan asked him. Peeta opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. He had no answer to give.

“That’s what I thought.” Lycan snickered. “She’d never go for you either.”

Peeta looked down at the ground and believed what Lycan was saying. You came out from the back and immediately sensed the awkward tension. You first noticed Peeta’s sad expression and then Lycan’s smug smirk.

“Oh, hi Lycan. Back so soon?” You asked as you looked between the boys and tried to figure out what had just happened between them.

“I just needed to get some bread. And seeing your pretty face never hurts.” Lycan said and switched to a nice smile.

“Aw, thanks.” You said with a fake smile.

“You know, being a coal miner is really dangerous. Nothing like the easy job this guy has.” Lycan said and nodded towards Peeta. “When the boys and I go down into the mines, we never know if we’re gonna get to come back out. So I try to take a minute and appreciate the beautiful things in life as much as I can. And that includes you.”

“Aw, thanks.” You repeated in the same uncomfortable tone. Peeta looked up and saw that Lycan was staring at him with a puffed up smile. In other words, he thought he ate that.

“See you around, doll.” Lycan winked at you before leaving the shop.

“That was painful.” You said once he was gone.

“For us both.” Peeta mumbled.

“I think you were right. I think he may be more than just friendly.” You laughed nervously.

“What gave it away?” Peeta smiled sarcastically.

“I just don’t understand what he wants from me. I don’t even know what to say when he talks like that.” You said and grimaced at the memory of his little speech.

“He probably wants a wife. And he wants you to say it can be you.”

“A wife?” You laughed in shock. “He doesn’t even know me.”

“But he wants to. That’s why he keeps coming in here. He probably wanted to ask you out today but wouldn’t with me in here.”

“Well I wouldn’t say yes even if he did. So there’s nothing to worry about.” You shrugged.

“Don’t tell me there’s nothing to worry about.” Peeta snapped. You were both surprised by his tone and stood in awkward silence following his exclamation. Peeta was too embarrassed to look at you so he kept his head down and played with the ties in his apron. He heard your footsteps coming over to him and suddenly, you were lifting his chin to get him to look at you.

“What’s this about?” You asked quietly. Peeta sighed and looked to the side.

“He works in the mines and risks his life. I work in a bakery and decorate cakes. He’s covered in soot and dirt and I end the day covered in flour and sugar.”

“So?” You laughed.

“So, he’s a real man.” Peeta insisted. “And that’s what you deserve.”

“Do you think I don’t see you as a real man?” You asked and wrapped your arms around Peeta’s neck. He turned bright red and finally looked at you.

“Look at me. And look at him. We’re not the same.” Peeta said softly.

“Just because he works down there and you work up here doesn’t make you any less of a man.” You assured him.

“It feels like it does. Especially when…”

“When what?” You asked when Peeta trailed off.

“When I thought you liked him. I assumed he caught your attention because he’s all big and tough and I’m just…soft.” He shrugged and gave you an embarrassed smile.

“He caught my attention because he’s annoying and dirty. And I happen to like that you’re soft.” You told him.

“You do?” Peeta asked skeptically.

“Of course I do. I like that you never have a mean thing to say about anybody. I like that you decorate cakes and smell like cinnamon all the time. And I like that you stop to pick flowers that you like. But you know what I don’t like?”

“What?”

“That guy. I don’t like how he thinks I shouldn’t run the shop by myself. I don’t like how he can’t compliment me on anything but my looks. I don’t like how he thinks his job makes him superior to us. And I don’t like that he made you feel bad about yourself.” You said. Peeta looked into your eyes and saw how serious you were. A smile tugged at his lips as he believed that he didn’t have anything to worry about.

“He made fun of my cake decorating.” Peeta added with a coy smile.

“What? Now that’s too far. Let’s ban him.” You played along. Peeta laughed and pulled you into a hug.

“I never want you to think you’re not good enough ever again, okay?” You said as you rubbed his back.

“Okay.” Peeta reluctantly replied. You pulled out of the hug and rubbed his shoulders.

“If he comes in here again, I’ll tell him to back off. Of both of us.” You assured Peeta.

“Good. Because I’m not much of a fighter.” He said through a relieved laugh.

“I know. You’re a lover. Thats what I love about you.” You told him and went to go clean the counter. Peeta watched you for a minute with a content smile on his face.

“It is?” He asked in a soft voice.

“Amongst other things, but yes.” You replied.

“There are a lot of things I love about you too.” Peeta said without looking at you.

“Are there?” You asked with piqued interest.

“Of course. Dozens of things.”

“Dozens?” You pretended to gasp and looked over at him.

“Uh huh. A bakers dozen.” He replied with a coy smile.

“Hey.” You laughed. “Baking humor is my thing.”

“I know, I know. But I think that’s another reason Lycan bothered me so much. I thought he was gonna take you away before I got a chance to tell you any of them.” Peeta said simply. Your expression changed but he didn’t catch it as he went to change the sign on the door from “open” to “closed”.

“Well. It’s quitting time.” Peeta sighed and looked the front door.

“Right. We should go.”

The next day, Lycan came in bright and early in the morning. He was the first customer and walked in before you had even arrived yet. Peeta gulped when he saw him and hoped you’d get to the bakery as soon as possible. Then he remembered what you had said about what you loved about him and felt a little braver.

“Hey, Peeta. Just you today?” Lycan asked in a condescending voice.

“For now.” Peeta answered calmly.

“These are nice. You pick them yourself?” Lycan asked as he flicked one of the flowers Peeta had in a vase on the counter.

“As a matter of fact, yes. I did.”

“I thought so. Just when I thought you couldn’t get anymore pathetic. It’s no wonder Y/n doesn’t want you.” Lucan snorted. He hadn’t heard you entering the bakery from the back so when you appeared behind the counter where Peeta was, he gulped.

“Oh, hi, Y/n. Good morning.” He said nervously and hoped you hadn’t heard what he just said. You gave Lycan a big smile before turning to Peeta.

“Good morning.” You greeted Peeta before pulling him into a long kiss. Peeta was stiff with shock at first but then kissed you back as his hands found their place on your waist. Lycan watched this with a dropped jaw and angrily cleared his throat when he felt like it was going on too long. You pulled out of the kiss with a big smile and patted Peeta’s red cheek.

“Sorry about that.” You chuckled as you wrapped an arm around Peeta’s shoulders. Peeta and Lycan were both silent as they processed what had happened. You made your choice loud and clear to the both of them and they were both too stunned to speak. Peeta finally smiled and took one of the flowers out of the vase to place behind your ear as a little thank you. You smiled in appreciation before looking at Lycan.

“So.” You shrugged. “What can we get you?”

Tag List 🥖

@ilovetoomanymen @kittimbo @sipsthecoffee @ohmyhuenings @

@ilykitwalker @mayemperess @scenesofobx

#peeta mellark whump #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark fluff #peeta mellark angst #peeta mellark fanfic #peeta mellark x you #peeta x reader #Peeta mellark jealous #peeta mellark fanfiction

[aestrayla]

cherries or peaches? ft. obey me! brothers

summary: do they prefer ass or boobs? ft. obey me! brothers x f!reader

cw: highly suggestive, mdni, fluff??, pet names (darling, sweetheart), fondling, groping, MY HUMOUR..

word count: 1.5k

a/n: sorry for some of them being so short, it was actually kind of challenging trying to elaborate on the ideas rather than just plainly stating them out as they are, but i hope u still enjoy them just as much as i enjoyed writing them ^^ also, don't mind my shitty humour in the last two + i haven’t written for most of these characters before so they might sound off idk??

at first, it was hard to tell whether lucifer preferred ass or boobs.

he would always reply to you with a, "i prefer them both, equally," or a, "why should i choose when i can like them both?"

it drove you crazy because you clearly asked him to choose either one or the other. he was always dodging the question and at some point, you even got the brothers in on this, some bets were made too.

"it's obvious he likes ass more, have you seen the way he looks at y/n when they're wearing that skirt he bought for them?"

"nah he totally like boobs more, he can't keep his eyes off ‘em whenever they're wearin' a tight shirt!"

soon you started to take these signs into account, wearing much more revealing things to try and catch a reaction out of him, but to your demise, he never seemed to crack.

after weeks of bet-making and skin-revealing lucifer had finally had enough. the two of you were both lying in bed, facing one another while his arms were wrapped around your waist.

"y/n," he whispered.

"mhm?" you hummed in response.

"isn't it obvious i like these better?"

he pulled himself closer to you as his face buried against your chest. oh you thought. he had always found comfort sleeping against you like this, his head stuffed between your boobs while his arms wrapped around you tightly, that it became natural and you had almost forgot he did it.

"shit— you should've told me earlier! now we've all lost our bets to mammon!" you whined.

you could hear his muffled chuckles vibrate against your body as you wrapped your arms around his head, squeezing him closer.

mammon is 100% an ass-loving guy, no questions asked.

with mammon, no matter what you're doing, what you're wearing, where you are, or who you're with, he just loves touching you all the damn time.

whether you're walking through the halls of RAD to your next class or taking a stroll through the devildom while window shopping, he won't hesitate to sneak his hands up your skirt to feel your plump ass.

"mammon stop, we're in public!" you glare as you swat his hands away.

"’m sorry can't help it, just gotta have my hands all over ya!"

oh well, maybe next time he’d be lucky enough to sneak his hands further down your skirt and— who knows, you might just find yourself begging him for more.

and if it's just the two of you in your own company, you'll always find that his hands like to slip past the waistband of your panties just to lay onto your cheeks, rubbing and squeezing at the plump flesh. always smiling in delight as you squirm under his carnal touch.

as much as you like to complain, he always swears that "it's just comfortable!" or "my hands were just cold!"

there is no doubt in my mind that leviathan wouldn't be on team cherries.

he always lets you sit on his lap whenever he's grinding a video game or on an anime-watching marathon. a recent occurrence you've taken note of is that, almost as if it's a reflex, he'll always end up having a hand or two resting on your boobs, casually squeezing at it as if he owns the thing.

"you must be real comfortable there, levi." you teased, motioning to where his hand laid.

"huh— OH! um, I-I'M SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN TO!" he shot his hands up in defense. "it's just really soft… and warm... I'm sorry y/n." his face was bright red.

"it's fine, i was just teasing you, silly!"

there was also a time where you scolded levi for owning one of those mouse pads where ruri-chan’s the characters boobs would be squishy.

in desperate need to make it up to you, he custom ordered a version with you on it, only because he swears out of all his waifus, you're his absolute favourite.

it was a rainy night, and in the comfort of the library beside a crackling fireplace, you were messing around on your d.d.d while satan was next to you, reading what you assumed to be a mystery book.

"hey satan?" you put your d.d.d down for a moment, turning to look at him.

"hm?" he hummed, while keeping his eyes glued to the page.

"do you prefer ass or boobs?"

he pauses to look up at you and closes his book, placing it beside him, all while sighing.

"what does it look like i prefer?" he deadpans.

you break his eye contact as you look down to see his left hand buried under your sweater, which was fondling with your boob this entire time.

"so... boobs?"

he replies while picking his book up again, "yes darling, don't ask such foolish questions."

asmo loves boobs. your boobs to be specific.

don't blame him, your boobs are just so pretty and he loves pretty things.

the way they sit when you're wearing a low-cut garment, or the way they shine when you're having a bubble bath together. he loves it all.

as you know, asmo loves pampering you and surprises you with random gifts whenever he finds something that he'd love to see you in.

one night as he's doing your hair after a bath, he suddenly remembers something and stands to walk to his closet.

"the other day when i was shopping at majolish, i found this super pretty bra i thought you'd look just gorgeous in!" he approaches you with a box wrapped neatly with a ribbon.

as you open the box, you set your eyes on a beautiful red laced bra.

"are you sure i'd look good in this?"

"you look perfect in everything sweetheart, you know i’d never lie about that."

he's always buying you pretty things to wear, and trust me when i say, this definitely isn’t the first bra he's ever gotten you.

beel could not care less about choosing between your ass or boobs. they're both squishy and feel nice in his hands so it didn't really matter to him. well, not until today.

getting up from the edge of the bed and turning your heel to face him, you asked, "did you know a new cafe opened up in the devildom recently?"

"really? what food do they sell there?" he asked, his eyes looked as if there were stars in them.

"well apparently their cakes are a specialty, they're pretty popular for it."

"cake?" he drooled, "i love cake! hey we should go to the cafe right now, i'm starving." he sat up from the edge of the bed, drooling like a puppy dog.

little did he know, you decided to be a little jokester today.

"oh you're starving right now? then here," you turn around, bending over.

"what are you doing y/n?"

you turn your head back to look at his confused expression, "you said you were starving right? the cake's right here," you pointed to your ass.

he stares at you for a moment. then at your ass. then back at you again.

"so there's no cafe, is there?" he wipes his drool away with the back of his hand.

"nope. but there sure is cake," you smile cheekily while shuffling closer.

he sighs while grabbing ahold of your thighs, dragging you just inches away from his lips, "you're lucky i like this kind of cake too."

as long as he can sleep on them, belphie will like them no matter what. so when it comes to choosing between your ass or boobs, it can be a hard decision just to choose one.

belphie's "sleepability" criteria is: soft, warm and comfortable; and your boobs and ass were equal competition.

he sighs, "if i have to choose one over the other, i'd rather sleep on your ass all day" his reasoning being because your ass has more of an "even surface" compared to your boobs.

if you're ever just lounging around the house of lamentation, on your stomach specifically, within seconds you'll feel belphie's arms wrap around your legs while he lays his head onto you.

its crazy how instantly he falls asleep on you. he'd stay like that forever if you didn't have to get up to pee or because your legs fall numb.

"c'mon belphie, i needa pee so bad!" you squirm.

"mmmphh," he grumbles, half-asleep, while hugging onto your legs even tighter.

"hurry up or i'll fart on your face!" you threaten him jokingly.

"OKAY, OKAY!" he shoots up from his position and is scrambling to the edge of the bed. you laugh in response because it works every time.

"and i was having a good dream too!" he scowled, while rubbing his left eye from sleep.

lmk if u guys want a part two ft. the datables!

©2023 aestrayla. do not modify, copy, translate or share.

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me shall we date #obey me fanfic #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me x you #obey me imagines #obey me nightbringer #obey me lucifer #lucifer x reader #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #obey me leviathan #levi x reader #obey me satan #satan x reader #obey me asmodeus #asmo x reader #obey me beelzebub #beel x reader #obey me belphegor #belphegor x reader #obey me hcs

[papercorgiworld]

Boyfriend material

Reader is starting the new year in search of a little fun and a boyfriend. Pansy helps here pick the right outfit and guy.

For Blaise, Theo and Mattheo this will be a two part ‘porn with plot’ thing. This is part one and holds the plot. No Enzo part two, because apparently I can only write so much smut before my brain goes brrrr. Sorry.

I added a part 2 for Enzo!

Warning: reader has a little dirty make out daydream. Slytherin dudes have some naughty thoughts as well.

I had fun writing this. I really hope you like reading it. Kisses.

“New year, new me. I’m no longer a boring girl. I’m going to find myself a nice, good looking guy and get crazy with him.” You started as you sat down next to Hermoine. She laughed in response. “You don’t need a guy to have fun or to be cool.” But before you could say anything Pansy plopped down next to you. “Yes, you do, so who’s the lucky guy?” Hermoine rolled her eyes.

You looked around the great hall and settled on a handsome sixth year. “Him.” You tilted your face his way, subtly pointing. “Ew! No! Boring!” Pansy spat. “What’s wrong with that guy?” Hermoine asked, narrowing her eyes at Pansy. “You wanna be popular, you wanna have fun, you gotta date someone on top of the food chain.” Pansy said as a matter of fact and Hermoine mocked the last words of her sentence.

You ignored the tension completely and simply asked. “Who’s on top of the food chain?” Pansy looked around to search for a good example. “Aha!” She said pleased, when she saw who just walked in and grinned at the girls next to her. “Oh no.” Hermoine sighed as she saw a particular group of Slytherins enter the great hall. You simply pursed your lips at the idea. But you brought yourself back to reality. “How’s a gray mouse like me gonna date the top of the food chain?” Pansy simply wiggled her eyebrows and Hermoine was definitely worried now.

***

The next day you made your way to sit next to Hermoine in class. With your skirt short enough to make you question its purpose and your shirt tight and revealing, you now had all the guys paying attention. “What’s this?” Hermoine questioned, obviously referring to your outfit. “This. This is my battle-outfit. I’m conquering the top of the food chain.” You replied with confidence. Hermoine scoffed and raised an eyebrow. “Then why is the top of the food chain looking at you like you're their next meal.”

You quickly glanced around the classroom, getting a little nervous, you softly bit your lip. You want to defend your case to Hermoine, but accidentally drop your quill. As you reach for it, Enzo beats you to it. Handing it to you with a sweet smile, but also giving you a cheeky wink.

Theodore, who sits next to Enzo, shakes his head and huffs. “Don’t fall for it. Pansy’s clearly up to something.” Enzo smiles brightly at his friend. “Oh mate, I’ve already fallen. Badly, madly. And it’s okay, you can leave your fallen brother behind. He’s going to a better place, somewhere between her squishy thighs.” Mattheo who sits behind Theodore speaks up. “Oi, T. slap him for me, will ya?” And before Enzo even realizes what Mattheo said, Theo has already given him a light smack on the back of his head. Blaise bites his lip and comes to Enzo’s aid. “In his defense, look at those legs.” Slurring the last word and leaning closer to Mattheo, his eyes never leaving your body. Mattheo pushes his chair a little and leans back for a better view of what his friend is talking about. Mattheo is definitely seeing something he likes, his eyes scan your body. His tongue gently rolls over his lips and he swallows hard thinking about all the noises you would make if he could have his way with you. “Mister Zabini, mister Riddle, care to explain why you don’t have your books out yet.” Professor McGonnagol asks, looking down upon the boys. “Sorry professor.” Blaise immediately reaches for his book, while Mattheo only looks down at his desk like a pouty 5 year old that just got caught.

After class Theodore lets out a frustrated grown as you walk past them in the hallway. You did nothing aside from sitting there and being pretty, yet you had him fantasizing about things that made him loosen his tie halfway during class. “I should’ve skipped class. I wrote down less than when I’m not in class.” Enzo looked confused at Theo’s statement, questioning his logic. Mattheo was about to say something, but Blaise interrupted him. “That simp! Look at him.” Blaise pointed at Draco shamelessly leaning against a wall trying to casually make conversation with you as Pansy tries not to laugh at Draco’s desperation. “No backbone, those Malfoy’s.” Mattheo scoffs. “Yeaah.” Blaise affirms absentmindedly, staring at you as you smile at Draco. Such a beautiful smile, but I bet that mouth can do more than just smile. Blaise was smirking as his thoughts got less innocent with each passing second. “We should save the poor girl.” Enzo states, pulling Blaise out his trance. “Yeah.” Blaise and Enzo quickly make their way over to you. Making Pansy grin at Mattheo and Theodore. Raising her eyebrows as a way of non-verbally taunting them: are you two really gonna just stand there with your pathetic male pride. “Tell me you have smokes. I need one.” Mattheo sighs in frustration after he finally managed to pull his eyes away from you. Theo nods. “Girls and their games. They’ll be the death of me.” Theo can’t help but take one last look at you.

***

“Pans, I really don’t think this is a good idea. Hermoine’s right I’m attracting the wrong kind of guys.” Pansy eyes roll up in annoyance. That bloody Granger-girl can squeeze the fun out of everything. “You can set them straight. Believe me, if you bat your eyes they will start behaving.” You make a face disagreeing with her. “I’m looking for fun, yeah, but I’m also looking for boyfriend material, they’re not that.” Pansy huffs. “You know nothing.” You frown in confusion. “Just play my game. You’ll get what you want.” Pansy starts walking again, but then turns on her heels looking at you still confused. “You are gonna have to pick one, preferably by tonight. I would hate to see the Slytherin boy band break up, because I really don’t think they can share.” You bite your lip softly and your mind wonders.

If Pansy was really speaking the truth and you could just have your pick. Which one? Him. If he would push you against this cold hallway wall right now you would immediately spread your legs so he could lift you up. Your neck and your jaw would be peppered with his soft kisses. You would wrap your legs around him and he would buck his hips into yours. Your mouth would fall open slightly because of all the sensations building up between your legs. He would mercilessly attack your mouth and his hands would explore every inch of your body. Squeezing your butt, making you instinctively rub your core against his growing bulge. He would cup your breasts, his thumb caressing your nipple through the fabric. “Everything alright?” Luna snaps you out of your wonderful train of thoughts. You look at her sheepishly. “Yeah. I better get going. Class, and stuff.” You push your thighs together, before fully letting go of your daydream. “I have those moments too you know, when I forget about reality.” Luna comforts you as you both walk to class. “Uhu” Is all you manage to say, not really knowing what to think.

If Blaise is you’re guy: part 2

***

“Your party outfit is a shirt?” Hermoine asks, not hiding her judgment. “It’s an oversized shirt, which makes it a dress. It’s fashion, Granger, get over it.” Pansy snaps. “You’re corrupting my friend.” Hermoine hisses at Pansy. “Oh, darling. I’m not corrupting. But some guy might.” Pansy winks, Hermoine’s mouth falls open and you stand there sheepishly looking at your feet. “I’m wearing shorts under this dress. So it’s really not that bad.” You finally manage to say. “Alright, let’s party.” Pansy says and she’s the first to walk through the doors of the room of requirement.

For Mattheo: part 2

For Theodore: part 2

For Lorenzo: part 2

#theodore nott #blaise zabini #mattheo riddle #enzo berkshire #theodore nott imagine #blaise zabini imagine #mattheo riddle imagine #theodore nott x reader #blaise zabini x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin #papercorgiworldwritings

[oceanside-pixie]

me when there's a surprise test

#Jamil inspired #Twisted wonderland #jamil when he says he wont make midnight snacks anymore for kalim and he faints #twst #jamil viper #I'm a total dumbass at this even tho one time I got the highest marks out of the entire class and in another got 77.78 percent #but in my defense the last question was really hard but i got all the other questions correct except 2 questions #i was so happy at something this small #Jamil when kalim uses his um when the toilet flush isnt working or in his shower playing with his um #my art #drawing #twst fanart #traditional art #sketchbook #sketch #disney twst #twst jamil #artists on tumblr

[togrowoldinv]

Truth or Dare

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

While playing truth or dare with the team, feelings get revealed

Note: I was going to do it as a college au, but I thought an Avengers party would be a fun setting for this one. Enjoy!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

It was a silly idea, really, to play truth or dare with the rest of the Avengers. Everyone but Tony thought they were too old for it, but somehow he convinced everyone to play.

It started out simple. Sam dared Tony to chug a drink, Clint made Steve tell the group about his USO tour days, and you dared Wanda to fly up and touch the ceiling.

But as the night went on things got more intense. Everyone started asking hard hitting truth questions or daring each other to make questionable decisions.

“Alright, one last round,” Tony announces once everyone is more than a later wasted and definitely tiring of the job. “Romanoff, you’re up.”

Natasha hadn’t participated very much at this point. She was only dared a couple times to do simple things. No one wanted to mess with her.

“Fine,” she agrees. She rolls the dice and it lands on Tony’s number. He grins at her. “Truth or dare?”

“I think… dare. Why not end the night on a fun one,” Tony answers.

“Okay. I dare you to go home to your girlfriend,” Natasha says.

“Lame!” Tony yells.

“A dare is a dare, Stark,” Steve comes to Nat’s defense.

“I’m staying until my turn,” Tony declares. “Which is now.”

He rolls the dice this time. It lands on your number. You’ve avoided anything too embarrassing so far, but you never know with Tony.

“Y/n, my dear, truth or dare?” He asks dramatically.

“Um, dare?” You phrase it like a question. That makes everyone laugh.

“Dare it is,” he says. He rubs his chin as to appear to be thinking. “I dare you to kiss Natasha.”

The room goes silent at his dare. It seems like everyone is looking at you. Does he know you had a crush on her? Does everyone know? Does Natasha know? The thoughts run through your head as you’re not sure how much time has passed since he dared you.

“Alright, game over,” Sam cuts in.

“Yeah, we all need to rest up for training tomorrow,” Steve adds.

The guys leave the room one by one and say they’re goodnights. Natasha waits by the door frame to catch you when you leave. Wanda remains sitting by your side.

“Are you okay?” She asks.

“Yeah. I just- does he know?”

“I think he’s drunk and was trying to be funny,” Wanda reasons. “Hey, it’s going to be okay.”

She nudges your shoulder. You offer her a weak smile.

“Thanks Max,” you say.

“Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to tell her how you feel,” Wanda says. She hugs you before standing up to leave the room.

You stand up, taking a deep breath before you walk, and enter the hallway. Natasha watches and follows you towards the elevator. She steps in after you.

“Oh, your floor?” You ask her, ready to push the button.

“Actually, can we talk?” She asks.

You have no choice but to agree. The two of you exit on your floor. Natasha again follows you as you lead her into the living room area.

“What did you want to talk about?” You ask her.

“What happened back there,” Nat says. “What Tony said.”

“Oh, I don’t know why he did that.”

Natasha takes a step closer to you. It’s small but you notice it.

“Why didn’t you do it?” She asks.

“I- I don’t know,” you lie.

“Y/n, why didn’t you kiss me?”

She steps even closer now. Her body is within arms reach.

“Natasha,” is all you can mumble out.

“I would’ve kissed you,” she admits. “Even in front of everyone. I would’ve.”

You’re taken aback by that. All this time you’ve been crushing on her, you never considered she might have feelings for you too.

“So again, why didn’t you kiss me?” Natasha asks.

Here goes nothing.

“Because if I kissed you then I wouldn’t have been able to stop,” you say.

“I don’t see a problem with that.”

You take the steps closer to her this time. Her hands circle your waist as you do so. It feels right.

“Truth or dare?” Natasha whispers.

“Dare,” you reply.

“Kiss me,” the words fall off her lips just before you kiss them.

You kiss her for what feels like forever. You kiss her until you’re both out of breath. You kiss her like you’ve never kissed anyone before.

The truth is that you and Natasha both needed that push to take the leap together. You wonder if Wanda put the idea into Tony’s head somehow. She’s always looking out for you.

“Stay?” You ask Natasha once you’ve moved to the couch together.

She answers with another kiss. And another. And another.

It’s the perfect end to the day.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff comfort

[livinghostly]

hey there, sunshine — suguru geto x reader

a/n: not in love w this !! but couldn't get the idea out of my brain when i was trying to sleep. was also intended to be for choso but got too ooc sooooo wc: 2.3k yet another date didn't work out for you, and your roommate bears the burden of listening to all your complaints. he also may or may not have a crush on you. fluff/humor

the soft orange of the painted sky poured through your blinds, slipping through the cracks and almost deliberately shining down on your eyes that just barely peeked beneath your comforter. your curtains waved back and forth with the fan, soft whirrs that once lulled you to sleep now drawing you from your slumber with a ragged groan. far gone was the fulfillment of your soothing dreams, your memories running farther and farther away as you tried to recall them and sink yourself back into that peace of mind.

you screwed your eyes shut in defense from the harsh rays of the sun, huffing in the warmth of your pillow before lifting your head and sandwiching yourself against the mattress. your fists squeezed the pillowcase with irritation, pulling as hard as you could manage to encase you in the comfort of your bed. 

the birds chirped in unison, chattering as they built a nest on the apartment balcony your roommate refused to relocate (he called himself a humanitarian, but you were sure part of him refrained because he knew it bothered you). the slight creaks of your rotating fan were becoming more noticeable even as you tried to calm yourself back to sleep. you were uncomfortably warm now, the frustration culminating beneath your comforter and suffocating the air.

buzz.

your phone, shaking itself to life with a notification. you sighed.

buzz.

buzz.

you thrashed the bedsheets away from you, your pillows and plushies cocooning in your blankets landing on the ground with a soft thump. the palm of your hand slammed against the hollow wood of your bedside table in a blind rage, desperately scouring your clutter in an attempt to locate your phone.

finally, you dug your nails into the rubber case and snagged it from the charger with a thwack. you rolled over to your side, squinting at the sunlight as you turned it on. three new messages, and an aspiring text bubble all from one person.

080-7766-5289

hey 

good morning

would you want to get coffee with me?

the pondering text bubble finally popped, and your phone vibrated again.

maybe some breakfast too?

your groggy eyes glanced at the time. 8:23am. you barely had a chance to think through the onslaught of messages. the unrelenting number belonged to a guy you’d met at the bar last week, who was sweet enough for you to trade numbers with. last night had been your first date, a simple dinner and a movie.

unfortunately for him, you felt a better connection to the movie that night than to him. he was strangely stiff when you were around, answering any questions with caution that made you feel like an intruder for asking. comments and questions of his own were dry and anything but open-ended, his punctuation hanging in the stale air while you worked overtime to keep the conversation going.

it really didn’t seem worth it.

you shut off your phone and placed it on the table again, taking a deep breath. all at once, the scent of brewed coffee beans and pancakes wafted in from the kitchen. your stomach rumbled in response, mouth slightly watering as you came to terms with just how hungry you were.

you pulled yourself out of bed, dragging your feet along the plush carpet of the apartment. sluggishly, you ran your hands through your hair in an attempt to tame what mess it made of itself. it was cooler in the open loft, the windows propped open, welcoming the dewey air and various chattering of wild critters. those damn birds. 

your roommate, suguru, was in the kitchen, his back to you as he worked his magic on the stovetop in front of him. his red apron was tied into neat bows wrapped around his neck and his waist– the words ‘kiss the cook’ plastered in bold font on the front of it with puckered lips, a gag gift from gojo last christmas that he had now worn to the point of the ends being frayed and stained with various ingredients. 

he was wearing a black t-shirt that squeezed the tightness of his muscles, tense and working diligently as he flipped a pancake. his black basketball shorts hung loosely around his waist– surely thrown on haphazardly as he woke up –and he donned a pair of mismatched neon-striped socks. truly, a sight reserved for you, and only you.

on the island behind him, two steaming cups of coffee were presented next to empty plates. the pink one was yours, the black one was his. your utensils had a few extra napkins stuffed underneath them.

you make a mess one time and he can’t let it go.

he acknowledged your presence with a soft hum, before turning his head and offering a small smile. it was soft and captivating, just as he was. his charm washed over you as his gaze followed every part of your figure, raising a curious eyebrow at the sight of you missing a sock. nothing he hadn’t seen before, in fact, he’d seen you much worse and much more grumpy.

“good morning,” he said, his voice a low rumble. he met your tired eyes, taking in the delicate hues that warmed his skin. your eyebrows were still pinched together as you recovered from the confusion and discomfort of your untimely awakening. “rough night?”

“rough everything,” you huffed, grabbing your coffee and shuffling next to him. you hoisted yourself up to sit next to the stack of pancakes he’d created and leaned your head against the cabinets. 

suguru watched carefully as you took a sip of your coffee, a sense of pride fluttered in his stomach when a content smile graced your lips. his motions came to a slow stop as he stared you down. you paid him no mind as you wrapped both hands around the mug for warmth and basked in the taste again, then kept it close to your chest as you licked the sweetness off your lips. 

after many months, he’d refined your coffee blend to your ideal taste. pestering you each time if you liked it enough, or what he could improve on to make sure that his handiwork was no less than perfect in your eyes. he reveled in the way you adored his cooking, putting pieces of himself– his adoration, compassion, and sentiment –into his creations and curating your taste closer to his own. 

his grip on the spatula loosened, nearly slipping out of his hand and bringing him back to reality. 

suguru cleared his throat and resumed his task, sliding an additional pancake onto the tower, slowly but surely resembling the one of pisa. he kept his head low with a merciless blush refusing to back down. you didn’t notice. “did it not go well?”

“it was… fine, i guess.” you sighed, beginning to zone out as you stared down a picture frame hanging not too far away.

it was you and suguru, one of the first few nights you had finally gotten comfortable being around him and he’d invited you to meet his friends. more so, he begged you to come out of your room and gave you no room for escape when he sandwiched you between himself and the couch’s armrest. shoko took the photo, stealthily enough you didn’t realize it existed until you saw it hanging in the hallway.

suguru’s arm was thrown over the back of the couch, a lazy grin on his face as he looked at you. (gojo told him he looked goofy with that expression. lovestruck didn’t ‘suit’ him.) you couldn’t stop laughing at one of his many sly comments he’d whisper to you, covering your face as you cackled and peeked through them to get a look at him. his stare made your face burn hot and you kept it covered until gojo managed to grab everyone’s attention, like he always did.

it felt so long ago when suguru existed as your shy, withdrawn roommate who would stare at you with, seemingly, a dull interest when you spoke to him. despite his staring, he was always polite and considerate of your needs, your time, your privacy. he invited you to the food he’d make, setting aside extra servings for you. if you had already eaten, they’d go in the fridge with a sticky note on it.

then he was recording your shows, buying your snacks, anything he got for himself he seemed to get one for you as well, in a different color. it all came with ease, drawing you into his routines like he had his own gravitational pull and you were stuck in his orbit.

as he’d gotten to know you, he learned how spiteful you were to any form of change. you hated it when your go-to brands changed their packaging, when your restaurants were out of your preferred foods, or when your route to work was partially under construction. but you adjusted, without contest, to suguru’s rituals like it was nothing at all.

“i don’t know. maybe i’m being mean, but he was so, like, hard to talk to,” you shrugged. “it is so tiring to be the one doing all the talking.”

suguru doesn’t say anything, just nods.

“and then he texted me good morning. in what world are we in the good-morning-text phase?” you pouted, looking at him. “so weird. i barely know him.”

“and he asked me out for coffee. and breakfast. why would i do that?” suguru’s gaze flutters over you as you take a sip from your mug, his eyes lingering on the way you bite your lip in thought afterward. he chooses to stay quiet, inviting you to ramble for as long as you pleased, as long as he would be the one to hear your voice. “i don’t think i have the brainpower for either of those things and carrying an entire conversation on my back. it’s not even 9 in the morning.”

he turned the stovetop off, taking the pan over to the sink to wash. the mixing bowl and other utensils were taken care of earlier and already set aside on the drying rack, always so tidy.

“so, not well,” suguru concluded, his lips turning into a smirk. he teased, “i won’t get to meet him?”

“no, never. but also i got a free dinner and a movie out of it. so, something went right...” 

he chuckled. the one thing men are good for, you’d told him before. in that way, he really wasn’t any different from the rest of your roster. he supplied you with food and outings, and wouldn’t dream of you paying for them, paying no mind to the way you’d protest and nearly brawl at the register. 

suguru never met any of your dates, you’d disappear into the night– or days on end, not allowing them the gratification of crossing the threshold of your apartment.

he began to separate the pancakes onto your respective plates and set a small bowl of sliced fruit between them for you to share. he cleared his throat. “on to the next, then?” 

“maybe… i don’t know. the thought of going out and all the dates is just so exhausting.”

suguru hummed again. a man of few words. he liked the idea of you staying in– staying home, with him. he honestly wasn’t sure how many horrible date stories he could handle, you could do so much better. you deserved better, and he could give it to you.

he twirled his fork as you slipped behind him, gently caressing his back as you passed. a warm trail remained in the absence of your hand, burning into his skin before dissipating into nothing more than a longing to reel back into your embrace again. “are you still interested in that bodega that just opened up? i don’t want to exhaust you.”

“no, that's not…” you paused, slipping into your stool, mouth agape as you found your words. “it’s different, with you, you know. it’s easy.”

“i’m easy?”

it was too early in the morning for his games. you sputtered. “no– stop! that’s not what i’m saying.”

suguru chuckled. “we don’t have to call it a date, you know, if it makes it easier.”

“what?” you blinked, then narrowing your eyes at him. the sun from the loft brightened his toffee-colored eyes that bored into you expectantly, though not bothering to repeat himself. he’d rather watch you squirm while he kept that stupid grin on his face. “do you think you’re making me feel better?”

the gentle glow of his skin was unmatched to anything, or anyone, you’ve seen. his hair was unbrushed, the slight curls framing the sides of his face and tickling underneath his chin. he was always elegant. and pretty. unfortunately, he was just as aware as you were.

he shrugged half-heartedly, taking note of the way your fingers bounced your fork in the air as you stared. “don’t worry if you don’t want to go.”

“i do want to go.”

“so, it’s a date, then.”

suguru took a quick bite of his pancakes, poorly hiding his taunting grin with stuffed cheeks. maybe later he would feel guilty, making you all flustered so soon after waking up, drowsiness anchoring your posture against the stool. but, for now, with you in front of him, he found himself giddy as he toyed with your reactions.

“you’re impossible sometimes, do you know that?” you opted for taking a sip of your coffee, an anxious whisper in the shell of your ear warning you that you were going to embarrass yourself by chewing with your mouth full. as if he hadn't seen it before. it was hard to avoid his stare, to escape the painful position he put you in. was he serious?

you mumbled into your mug, “you hang out with gojo too much. is he gonna tag along, too?”

(gojo, the master of getting anything he wanted, any time, anywhere, no matter what.)

“it hurt's me, that you're thinking about him at a time like this.”

he smiled, more genuine this time. you watched him carefully, catching the nervous twitch of his fingertips he combated with a melodic thrum against the island. you considered how sincere his tone was, his gentle demeanor somehow becoming more soft as his playfulness subsided. 

"let me take you out."

you blinked, chewing on your lip thoughtfully. "to... the bodega?"

suguru laughed. "of course. i was thinking of a few different places, though."

"as in more dates?" you poked in his direction with your fork. he nodded. "who says we make it past one?"

"why not? we've already made it to our 'good morning' and 'eating breakfast together' phase."

#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk suguru #jjk suguru geto #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru x reader #geto x reader #suguru geto fluff #suguru fluff #geto fluff #jujutsu kaisen suguru #gojo mentioned #lol #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu geto #spleen writes

[captainfern]

heyyy, how are youu? as I see your request are open so here I am again. I absolutely loved “About A Girl” it was perfect and exactly what I imagined so i’m back for seconds 😋

hear me out 🫵🤠✋ what if after a long mission the team gets a few weeks off, reader goes on a date, Price sees and gets jealous and since reader’s date is a bit of a jackass and gets reader uncomfortable Price intervenes and takes reader. One thing lead to the other 😉😏 and there’s a little of everything, heavy on the degrading praise and breeding kink from Price cuz he’s always wanted to put a baby in reader since he first saw her :((

(as you can tell i’m a big Price enthusiast 😈)

Something In The Way

Captain John Price x fem!reader

["Something In The Way" by Nirvana]

[18+]

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• summary - read the request. price saves you from a bad date, then you fuck lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 4.4k • warnings - fem!reader, possessive!price, unprotected piv, breeding kink [you're welcome], praise, degradation [slut used like once], oral [f!receiving], lowkey dumbification, implied age gap but that isn't a problem for us obviously 🙏, this is basically a hybrid of my fics breed and lithium lol, strong language, an absolute arsehole of a bad date i'm sorry in advance

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

When you get a few weeks away from work, sometimes you don't know what to do with yourself.

Acting like a proper civilian was kind of hard when you'd just spent the last few months eradicating a terrorist threat on the opposite side of the world. But, hey, you weren't complaining that Laswell awarded you with a break.

One of the first things you did was catch up with your friends. You all went out to dinner together, eventually turning towards the bar down the street. Here, you met this guy– he was really nice, and quite good looking as well– and you gave him your number.

A week later, brought you to today.

The guy from the bar, Lucas, had taken you out on a date. You were really excited– your friends hyping you up via FaceTime as you got ready a few hours prior. You took a taxi and met him at this really nice restaurant, where he greeted you at the door with a warm smile, and took your arm, leading you inside.

An hour and a half into the date, you wondered just how drunk you were when you gave this guy your number.

"So, you're in the military?" Lucas asked as the two of you finished up desert.

"I am, yeah." You replied. He'd asked that question twice already, but you were giving him the benefit of the doubt.

He chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "You know, I never thought that women could join the military."

You paused, spoonful of crème brûlée halfway to your mouth. You lowered it. "What?"

"Yeah, I mean, it's such a masculine job when you think about it," Lucas said, swirling his spoon in the air while he talked. "I'm guessing you work with a lot of guys?"

"Yeah? Why should that matter?" You replied, placing your spoon beside your bowl. Your appetite for desert was suddenly gone.

He shrugged. "Just wondering. I bet you're popular on base, huh? I mean, if I worked with you, I'd definitely hit."

You scoffed. "You'd hit? Real mature, Lucas."

"Hey, don't get offended, Jesus," Lucas said defensively. "Surely you see where I'm coming from? It's not like I'm saying you're a fucking barracks bunny or anything like that–"

"Oh my god," you said, getting to your feet and snatching your purse off the table. The waitress arrived with the cheque, but paused when she saw what was unfolding before her. "Thanks for dinner, Lucas, but you just ruined it."

He got to his feet as you breezed past him, offering the waitress an apologetic smile. She returned it, and was quick to thrust the cheque into Lucas' hands, telling him he must pay before he leaves. You hid a grateful smile as you hurried out of the restaurant and into the night.

Outside, you felt yourself burning with rage. Who the hell does that fucker think he is talking like that? Cheeks burning, you pulled out your phone and attempted to dial one of your friends for an emergency pick-up.

"Hey, wait!" Lucas appeared behind you, walking briskly up to you and placing a hand on your shoulder. "What'd I do?"

You shrugged his hand off your shoulder with a scowl. "I don't appreciate being spoken to like that, thank you very much." It was sarcastic and had a blunt bite. Good.

He shook his head, sneering. "Oh, so you're offended? What a surprise, a woman getting emotional over a joke."

You really wanted to slap him. Smack your hand across his stupid fucking face. But, you didn't. You bit your tongue, looking down at your phone and pulling up one of your friends contact.

"I just wanted to fuck you, anyway," Lucas suddenly said, making your eyes snap up to his. "Waste of my time, clearly."

You gaped at him. "Are you fucking serious? You're an absolute arsehole."

He took a step closer to you. "What? Isn't that what you let the guys at your base do? Spreading your legs–"

"I wouldn't finish that sentence if you want to leave with your teeth still intact." A deep voice behind you, and you turned to see your captain walking towards you, cigar between his thumb and forefinger.

Lucas scoffed, giving Price a once-over. "What're you gonna do about it, old man? This doesn't concern you."

Price's other hand was in the pocket of his jacket. He moved his arm to the side, bringing his jacket away from his body, revealing a pistol strapped to a holster on his hip. He was quick to hide it beneath his jacket again as he stepped up beside you, arm brushing yours.

Lucas paled, backing away slowly. "Jesus, okay, fine, I'm leaving."

"Hold on," Price grumbled, beckoning Lucas forward with a flick of his cigar. An ember dislodged, sparkling through the air as Lucas took a hesitant step forward. "Delete her number."

Lucas pulled out his phone and quickly deleted your number. He showed it to Price, who simply exhaled a thick cloud of smoke into his face. Lucas coughed, eyes no doubt stinging, as Price leaned forward, speaking right next to his ear. You stood patiently behind him, not sure what he was even saying.

"If you ever talk to her like that again, or if you ever try to even contact her again, I'll fucking kill you. D'you understand?" Price uttered.

Lucas nodded quickly. Then, he yelped, cursing in pain, springing backwards and hurrying away without even looking at you. You saw him clutching his right hand, a circular burn mark branded on top. You cast a glimpse at Price, cigar still held tightly between his fingers. You smiled.

Price watched Lucas disappear before he turned to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. "You alright, rookie?"

You nodded. "Yeah, I'm okay."

Price scanned your face. "You sure? He was a right cunt, wasn't he?"

You chuckled. "Yeah, he was."

Price took a drag from his cigar. "What's a pretty girl like you going on a date with a fuckwit like him for?"

You shrugged. "I think I was way to drunk when I gave him my number."

Price smiled at you, the air between you hazy with smoke. He looked at your hands, where you were fidgeting with your phone.

"You need a ride home, rookie?" He asked.

You shook your head. "Oh, no, I'm okay. I was just about to call my friend to pick me up. They should be able to come and get me."

Price just shook his head softly, taking another drag from his cigar, now near the end of its life. He dropped the crumbling remnants into the gutter, shifting his foot so he could crush it further into the pavement with the heel of his shoe.

"I'll take you home."

You shook your head. "No, honestly–"

"Come on, rookie," Price was already walking away from you. "Captain's orders."

•º•

In his car, you don't know what came over you. One moment, you were telling him about how the date went and the next, you were sobbing into your hands in his passenger seat.

You apologised profusely once you had calmed down, and he offered words of support from the drivers seat.

"I'm sorry, I just feel so fucking stupid that I let him talk to me like that." You said, tears in your eyes drying.

"You're not stupid, love. It's normal to feel like this."

You sniffed, hugging your arms around yourself. Price glanced at you.

"Why don't you come to mine for a bit? Don't want you being alone when you're feeling like this, rookie. You can have a drink if you want."

Slowly, you nodded. "That would be nice. Thanks, cap."

"John's fine, love."

You made a face. "No way. It feels weird calling you anything other than captain or Price."

Price laughed. "But John's my name!"

"I know," you laughed too. "But, still, it just feels strange. Like when I called Ghost Simon that one time, and Soap went absolutely apeshit at me."

"Alright, fair enough," Price smiled. "You can call me Price, then."

"Thank you." You remarked, and Price shot you a smile. He was glad you were smiling now.

•º•

"Damn, your house is so nice," you said as he let you through the front door, locking it behind you. "What the hell are you getting paid to afford something like this?"

"Not that much more than you, love." Price said, taking off his jacket and hanging it on a hook near the door.

"Bullshit." You laughed, kicking off your heels and following him into the kitchen.

He rounded the kitchen island, opening a top cabinet and extracting two glasses. Then, he gestured to the array of alcohol bottles lines up along a nearby shelf. You selected one that you were familiar with, and he poured you a glass. You thanked him as he slid it across the island to you as you sat down on a barstool. He poured himself a bit of scotch.

"Feeling better?" Price asked, taking a sip of his drink.

You nodded. "Yeah, thanks, Price."

"No worries, love. Couldn't let that piece of shit talk to my rookie like that, eh?" He took a long sip.

My rookie.

Your stomach fluttered with butterflies for a moment as you took a sip of your drink, trying to calm them. He watched you with kind eyes.

"What's going through that mind of yours?" He asked, pushing his glass aside and holding the edge of the kitchen island, leaning against it.

"S'nothing." You grumbled around the rim of your glass.

"Come on, rookie."

You sighed. Embarrassed, almost. Cheeks heating up, you averted your eyes. "Just, I dunno, thankful."

"Don't worry about it," he smiled. "Now... are you sure that's all that's on your mind?"

You should have nodded. Should have told him that, yeah, I'm fine, thank you. But, you gently moved your glass aside, managing to look at him. He cocked his head, waiting for you to speak.

"I just..." You were past the point of embarrassment now. "I'm just really thankful. You didn't have to bring me here. I really appreciate it."

Price watched you closely. He hadn't touched his drink for a while. He wasn't even smiling anymore. He knew.

For fuck sake, you thought, nervousness building in your stomach. Of course he fucking knew. And, to top it all off, the butterflies were back. Great.

"I want to, um, thank you... properly."

"Thank me?" Price uttered. "Rookie..."

You cringed as he got up and began to approach you. This is it, you thought, biting your lip. He was going to fucking berate you for being so inappropriate. I mean, come on– he's your fucking boss for crying out loud! What the hell were you doing?!

"Shit, Price, I am so sorry. This is so inappropriate," you rambled. "I should never have put you in this position–"

He stood behind you now. You were still sat on the barstool, but could feel the warmth of his chest on your back. He leaned down, chest brushing your shoulder blades, lips by your ear.

"Stand up." He whispered.

Here we go, you thought as you gingerly got to your feet. He was going to kick you off the task force.

He nudged the barstool away with his foot and it skidded along the hardwood floor. You jolted at the noise, before his front was pushing into your back and suddenly– really fucking suddenly– he was bending you over the kitchen island.

"You said you want to thank me? This what you had in mind, rookie?" He asked, low in your ear. "Wanted to thank me like this?"

You were speechless. But, you nodded. The butterflies in your stomach were raving now, and you felt your body beginning to heat up as he pressed himself against you: chest and abdomen hard against the curve of your back, his pelvis flush to your arse.

"Yeah? Naughty fucking girl. Wants to get fucked by her captain?" He had a firm grip on your hips, holding you to him. "Naughty fucking girl." He repeated in a growl, shoving your dress up your hips.

It was all happening so fast that half the time you forgot to breath. Your dress was hiked up your legs, bunched around your waist as Price took a step back to admire your backside. He hooked a finger around the waistband of your underwear and let it go with a snap. You jolted, still pressed to the cool marble of the island.

"These are nice," he commented, and you could hear his smile. "Planning on getting fucked, eh?"

You shook your head. "No."

"Fucking liar." He said, grabbing your underwear again. This time, he ripped them down your legs and you felt them drop around your ankles.

You knew you were turned on, but when the cool air of his kitchen hit your bare core, you felt like squealing. Your arousal was dripping down from between your legs, running down your thighs now, much to Price's delight. He ran a finger up your thigh, collecting the fluid, and you shivered.

"Dripping..." he drawled, smearing your arousal across your inner-thighs. "Needy slut you are, rookie, aren't you? Dripping for your captain."

You whined at him as he turned you around, your lower back slamming into the edge of the table. You wondered what the hell he was doing, but that was answered when he kneeled in front of you, taking hold of your thighs and lifting you like you weighed nothing. He propped your thighs over his shoulders as you leaned against the island, arms spread along the marble. You underwear was flung off of your ankle and vanished somewhere in the room.

He blew a puff of air onto your soaked core, and you felt your body begin to burn again at the way he had your body reacting. With a satisfied smirk, he looked up at you, beard brushing the soft skin of your thighs.

"Can I?" He asked. Why was he even asking?!

You nodded desperately, angling your hips forward and shoving your cunt closer to his mouth. He chuckled and allowed you to do so– pressing his lips to your clit and drawing it into his mouth. You tossed your head back with a moan, hand reaching down to push his head further into you.

He pulled back, though, causing you to whine.

"Hands on the fucking counter." He snapped, before drawing your clit into his mouth and sucking harshly.

You choked on a sob and forced your arms away. You felt his teeth skim your nerves and you bucked your hips, just as he moved away and licked a fat stripe down your folds. He did that a couple of times, making you a whiney mess above him, before he shoved his tongue into your leaking hole.

"Mmm-mygod," you mumbled around a whimper as he moved his tongue in and out of you. You could hear him doing it– lewd squelching filling his quiet kitchen, matching the tempo of your whines and whimpers. "Price, feels so good."

Price hummed against you, vibrations making you spasm around his tongue. His hands gripped your thighs, clamping them harder around his head, resting firm on his shoulders. His nose nudged your clit repeatedly as he moved his tongue in and out of your cunt, and it had you seeing stars behind your eyelids.

It didn't take long at all before you were about to cum. Legs quivering against his strong shoulders, hips bucking desperately to meet the movements of his tongue, lower stomach tightening. You moaned loudly. "Price, please."

He didn't change his pace or movements, letting you pulse around his tongue as you came. He groaned into your cunt as your arousal flooded across his tongue, dripping out the sides of his mouth and running down his face. Your legs felt numb by the time he retreated with one last kiss to your swollen clit. You whined.

"Knew it'd taste this fucking good," Price mumbled to himself, but his words made your stomach flip. "Knew this cunt'd be so fucking good."

He carefully lowered you to the ground, your legs shaking. You sighed, bracing yourself against the island as he got to his feet, face dripping. Catching sight of beads of moisture rolling through his facial hair, you closed your eyes and whined, almost ashamed. But he didn't let you– he grabbed your face in one large hand and slammed his mouth onto yours. You could taste yourself, making you mewl, and you could feel your arousal now smearing across your face from his beard.

"Just so wet," He whispered against your mouth, tongue smoothing against yours before he pulled away. "Naughty girl you are, rookie. Letting your captain do that."

You hummed at him in response, a moan trapped in your throat. He shushed you, making quick work of pulling your dress over your head and discarding it on a nearby barstool. He then unclasped your bra, immediately drawing one of your nipples into his mouth with a nip of his teeth. You keened into him with a whisper of his name as he switched to the other, skimming his hands across them, massaging the soft flesh.

It ended all too soon, unfortunately, as a moment later he was spinning you around and bending you over the kitchen island. He was still dressed, but you heard the unbuckling of a belt and the sound of a zipper. After a moment, he placed his belt on the island in front of you, and you saw his pistol sitting in his holster. You whimpered when you looked at it.

Price chuckled darkly behind you, one hand on your hip as the other shimmied his pants down. "You liked when I threatened that fuckhead, didn't you, love? S'that what got this slutty cunt all wet?"

You nodded, skin hot.

Price tutted you softly. "Naughty, naughty girl, rookie."

"Only for you." You whimpered, and Price paused his movements behind you.

Then, he groaned, and you felt his warm cock press against the curve of your arse as he bent his body over you, draping his toned abdomen against your spine.

"Yeah, that's fucking right," he growled into your shoulder, pressing a kiss there. "S'only for me."

That definitely awakened something inside of him.

Leaning back, he grabbed hold of his painfully hard cock and began to drag the ruddy tip along your glistening folds. You moaned into your arm, resting them beneath your head. He grunted under his breath, snagging the head of his cock against your entrance, a schlick sounding through the kitchen.

"Fuck, listen to this pretty cunt talk," Price groaned, repeating the action with his cock and earning the same wet sound. "S'just begging to be stuffed full. Begging to be fucked."

You were burning up beneath him. You wiggled your hips, pressing your arse further onto him, and he gripped your hip tighter.

"Be patient." Price warned, drumming his fingers on the bone of your hip.

You didn't listen.

You whined, backing your arse against him. "Price, sir, I need it."

"You need it? Aw, my poor girl. My poor, needy girl, so desperate for cock," Price mused, running his cock along your folds again. "What do you say?"

"Please–"

"Please, what?"

"Please, sir, fuck, need you so bad." You sobbed.

"That's what I thought," Price uttered, pushing the fat head of his cock into your drooling cunt, stretching you out. "Needed this cock so bad, I know. S'all right, love."

He pushed deeper and deeper into you; your silken walls clinging to him, constricting his cock and making him sigh deeply into the skin of your back. Eventually, he was nestled as far as he could go with his hips flush to your arse and the head of his cock kissing the entrance of your cervix. You mewled quietly as he placed a few wet kisses along the column of your spine, hands massaging your hips.

"There we go, love, taking me so well." He whispered as he pulled out of you, tip resting at your entrance.

You were about to complain at the sudden emptiness, but he was thrusting all the way back in before you could get the words out. You choked on your sentence, gasping, as he slammed into you and began a pace that left you slumping against the kitchen island like a rag-doll, whimpering.

"I know, I know, just feels so good, doesn't it, darling?" Price cooed in response to your desperate whimpers. "Your captain's cock feels so good in this pretty cunt, doesn't it?"

Deliriously, you nodded. "Y-yeah, feels s-so good, sir."

He grunted in reply, slamming into you over and over and relishing in the way your walls sucked him in. He wanted to mould you to the shape of his cock. Ruin you for any other man. He wanted you to want his cock, and his alone. He wanted you.

He moaned deeply. "This cunt was made for me, love. Perfect, squeezing my cock so good. S'mine now, love. All mine."

You couldn't argue with that.

You'd never have thought that your captain could act like this. Animalistic in the way he rutted into your dripping heat, heavy cock dragging against your walls, head kissing the entrance of your womb. His hands were tight on the curve of your hips, groping and kneading the flesh as he pulled you onto his cock repeatedly, matching the gruelling pace of his thrusts.

He'd rendered you a babbling, whimpering mess– whining softly, calling his name, drunk off his cock. You let your mouth drop open, a languid string of moans falling from between your lips.

"Sir, m'gonna cum." You managed to say between airy moans, and he huffed in response, skimming his teeth down your spine.

"Cum for me, darling. Cum 'round my cock."

You did, with a loud moan that his neighbours may or may not have heard through the silence of the night. You spasmed around his cock, arousal flooding out of you and painting his lower abdomen and thighs in slick. You tightened around him and he groaned, sucking marks down the expanse of your arched back.

He redoubled his pace as you became pliant beneath him. You let him use you– fucking into your soaked cunt like he was starving for it. He was grunting and groaning under his breath, mouth still sucking bruises along your back, before he dragged his lips up your spine and rested his head at your shoulder.

His thrusts were losing rhythm as he neared his release. The movement of his hips was yearning– his need to cum stringing him rigid as he pounded into your tight cunt.

He was losing his absolute mind.

"Fuck, such a good cunt, so tight n' wet," he groaned into your shoulder. "Better than I imagined. So much better."

The needy rutting of his hips and the depth in which his cock reached inside of you was quickly pushing you towards another orgasm. It built fiery hot in your abdomen as he babbled into your shoulder, losing control of the dominant persona he had began with.

"Huh-hngh-fuck, yeah, that's it, darling, that's it, taking my cock so fucking well," his words were stringing together. "M'gonna cum inside, okay? Wanna fuck you full of me."

You arched further for him, taking him deeper. "Please, sir, cum inside–"

Your orgasm crashed over you and you whimpered his name, body shuddering, wetness dribbling down your legs. Price cursed quietly as you gushed around his cock again.

"Always wanted to fill this cunt. Wanted to– ah, fuck– wanted to breed you nice and full, rookie. Make it– hngh– take. Make you all pretty and fat with my kid–"

That made your cunt squeeze him extra tight, a new wave of arousal pooling between your thighs. In response, he groaned low into the crook of your neck and thrust his hips so hard you felt winded against the marble. The head of his cock nudged the plug of your womb as he came, a lot. Endless strings of warmth, filling you, overflowing onto the hardwood floor. He whined your name into your neck, sucking one last lazy bruise to the smooth skin.

"Good girl," he whispered, angling his head to kiss the juncture of your jaw. "My good girl."

•º•

"Morning, rookie, how was your break?" Soap asked as you walked into the barracks three weeks later.

You shrugged. "Not bad, actually. How about you?"

"It was good," he smiled. "Ghost n' I went up to Inverness. Beautiful part of the country, that is."

You smiled back at him. "That's really cool! Have you got any photos?"

He beamed as you dumped your bag onto the couch and slumped down next to it. Soap took a seat beside you, taking his phone out of his pocket. He opened his camera roll just as Price strolled into the room, hat on his head.

"Morning, Soap. Keeping well?" He asked, approaching the back of the couch and ruffling Soap's mohawk. "Need a bloody haircut."

Soap battered his captain's hand away, smiling. Then, Price was looming over you.

"Rookie." He said simply.

"Captain." You replied.

"Good break?" He asked.

Visions of the entire three weeks flashed through your mind– you and Price in his kitchen, his living-room, his bedroom, his bathroom, his pool, his fucking car. You were hardly ever home during those three weeks.

"It was a great break," you battered your eyelashes at him. "You?"

He pat your head gently, walking away. "The best break I've had in a while."

When he left, you followed his figure with your eyes. After a moment, you turned back to Soap, who was giving you a peculiar look.

You furrowed your brows. "What?"

"That was weird."

"What? No it wasn't"

"Mhm," he wiggled his eyebrows. "You have something to share, rookie?"

You rolled your eyes. "Not particularly."

"Oh, come on, lass."

"Nothing to share," you shrugged. "Unless you want to share the great time you had with Ghost in Inverness?"

You gave him a pointed look. He looked away, cheeks pink.

"Fuck off."

"Love you too, Soap."

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

#captainfern #captainfernsalutes #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #captain john price #captain price #captain price smut #fem reader #price x reader #captain john price x female reader #captain’snirvana

[kekaki-cupcakes]

Hi could you please write one where reader gets assigned as Leo's tutor cuz he's failing math so they go to his house for her to teach him math but they just end up making out instead (like, HEATED making out, like, very intensely)

I'm sorry but the Bad Boy Supreme is not failing his maths classes. So I changed it to English :] enjoy the 2.6k of golden hour! &lt;3

Studying no longer means student dying---Leo Valdez x Tutor!reader [making out. a lot]

»»————-　★　————-««

You sipped your apple juice and set the cup down, watching Leo continue to rest his forehead on the textbooks spread out in front of you on the cold concrete floor that you were sprawled across to fight the summer heat. “Are you just gonna go to sleep, or?”

“Why,” he said with a voice that was definitely smirking. It made your stomach feel funny. “You tryna get into my-”

“No, I’m trying to get into your mum’s wallet, actually,” you shot back, and finished your drink, the ice clinking around the bottom of the glass. You knew you’d won the argument and just waited for Leo to remember that he actually needed to pay attention if he wanted to not fail his class instead of bugging him. 

The flock of birds in the sky around your balcony both squawked and swooped at each other, acting a lot like you both this late afternoon as Leo tried to put off studying for as long as he could and you made a new playlist as he groaned and flopped about on the pillows you’d brought in from the couch. 

You were glad you weren’t the one having to concentrate because you didn’t think you’d be able to if Leo insisted on sitting there in the light of golden hour.

“All you have to do is read this one act, and then answer a few of the questions your teacher set. Then you’re done, okay?” You said a few minutes later when Leo hadn’t moved. “It’ll take twenty minutes at most. Besides, you’re a genius.”

Leo sat up with eyes squinted against the bright and then glared at the dog eared energy drink stained paperback sitting on the piles of worksheets and your laptops. 

You glanced at the streaks beneath his eyes and then down to his hands. He had very pretty hands, only his finger-nails had been bitten down til the skin around them was red and torn. You wanted to reach out and squeeze his hand, but you just tried for a comforting smile, “you really don’t want to do this, do you?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, I just can’t…” Leo said, staring out at the powerlines and tops of trees in front of him. He grinned and waved a hand, “anyways, I’ve got a much better id-”

“If this is another sex joke I’m pushing you off the balcony,” you said bluntly, and then let your tone soften. “Don’t just change the subject, because you can’t change your subjects. You have to do this.”

“I know!” Leo burst, his voice breaking, and then pulled his knees to his chest and screwed up his eyes, arms around his legs. “I- I’m sorry. That was loud.”

You gave him a moment to slow down his breathing and rub his face tiredly before you spoke. “If you can tell me, why do you think you can’t read?”

“I can do it, like, I’m not dumb.” he said defensively, and turned away a little, his chin on knee. “But it’s so hard to just start reading when I know that it’ll take me ages and give me a headache and I won’t get what they’re saying anyway. It’s stupid-”

You reached out and grabbed his hand at that last part, watching him whip around with a red face. “You’re not dumb, or stupid. And, Leo, not everyone’s good at everything. You’re just so math-y that you need a weakness. And it’s not your fault your brain is doing that self preservation thing, it knows that you’ll hate what you’re about to do, so it’s trying to protect you.”

Leo sniffled and nodded quickly, his little grin hidden by his arm as he hunched over. You squeezed his hand. “Don’t be mean to your brain when it’s just trying to look after you.”

“Okay… okay.” he said, and sat up, face red while he grinned harder. The sun glowed behind him like a halo and made his dark curls light up. “...Thanks.”

“All good,” you said, pretending not to notice how he didn’t stop clutching your hand. It made your chest light so you smiled at him. “Now, how about I read one character and you read the other?” 

»»————-　★　————-««

“I brought Starbucks!”

You looked up from your laptop and pulled your headphones out of your ears, the white cords tangling round your fingers as you stuffed them into your pocket. “Hey Valdez.”

“Hey yourself,” Leo said, doing that thing with his face where he tried not to smile. It was endearing, but his smile itself was just as cute. He put the drinks down on the ground next to you and collapsed onto the cushion he’d claimed, digging through his bulky backpack full of robotics club things and pulled out a few pieces of paper stapled together. He was waving it far too happily for you to read anything so you waited for him to burst. “I got a C!”

“No way,” you breathed, and then leapt up and grabbed the paper. It was his essay response you’d helped him study for last week. He got a C. “No way! Dude, that’s amazing!”

“Who knew I could be so good at English,” he smirked, hands in the pockets of his green army jacket. Then he let out a little yelp when you pulled him into a tight hug that smelt like machinery grease and incense and his laundry detergent. 

You sat back down and let him pull out his things a minute later, sipping the drink he’d brought over once your fridge had started to complain about its empty shelves. You couldn’t help that snacks were just great for studying. And the chocolate wafers seemed to motivate Leo greatly. 

“I thought your English teacher hated you,” you said, not really knowing how that situation had gone down. You didn’t know any of his teachers really, except the principal that had contacted you first, after you’d done tutoring for a few of her other students. 

You went to the school a few blocks from Leo’s, but you’d gone to primary school together and only lived a street apart. Teachers preferred tutors from other schools, because then they knew that their students weren’t just copying each-others work. It wasn’t a very full proof plan, but you hadn’t complained when Leo had shown up with a bag over his shoulder and equally as large ones under his eyes.

It’d been a semester and they were still there, but when he grinned at you, it wasn’t fake. 

He waved his hand away, “nah, she got fired cause she started selling weed to the year twelves before their exams or something, I dunno. I got a new one, Mr Blofis, he’s kinda weird, but he’s nice. And he brings swords in sometimes.”

“Why didn’t we think of that before?” you scoffed sarcastically, moving your books away as Leo dumped a binder as thick as the dictionary in front of you both. “I should’ve brought weapons to help you concentrate.” 

“Shuddup,” Leo muttered, picking up his drink that he probably shouldn’t have considering how much caffeine was in there, but he started sculling it anyway, and handed over the new book his class was studying. 

»»————-　★　————-««

Leo glared at you.

It wasn’t a look you were used to, so you lowered your laptop screen and raised your eyebrows. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

He fumed in the doorway leading to the balcony you’d spent endless hours on together, his shoulders bunched up and his bulky backpack slipping from his grip. Then he stormed forwards and held out a sheet of paper in your face, “I found this, today.” 

“Huh?” You asked, sitting up and taking the form from him, assuming he’d failed an assignment, but then he’d be mad at himself, not you. You’d hug him and he’d complain about teachers for a little bit then you’d go inside and play Mario Kart and eat chocolate wafers that would get stuck in his teeth. 

Your eyes widened as you scanned the document. “...Right.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” Leo snapped, “I’ve been wasting your afternoons for ages when my tutoring was over months ago!”

You looked down at your socks and wrung your hands together while you tried to think of what to say. It was true, though. Leo’s mum had stopped paying and the school had stopped sending emails, but apparently no one had told Leo that. Including you. He stood above you, shaking with anger. 

Leo screwed his face up, “I’m not a charity case, I don’t need you to lie to me about-”

“You were never a charity case, Leo,” you interrupted before he went on a misplaced tangent as he tended to do. Then you rolled your eyes kindly. “And you never wasted my afternoons.” 

“But-”

“It was selfish,” you said bluntly, and tried for a smile. “I just really like you.”

Leo’s shoulders sank, and he blinked stupidly. “Huh?”

“I pretended you had to come over longer than you needed to so I could keep hanging out with you, but I get that I was just forcing you to do schoolwork, it was mean.” You understood that he was going to leave now, he had no fake reasons to stay and lay his legs over your lap and make stupid jokes until dinner time. 

At least he’d know he was never a charity case. “You’re getting C’s and B’s in all of you essays now, and you’ve got that grammar checker too, so the school ended the contract.”

He didn’t say anything. You sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“You really like me?”

 “That’s what you got from that?” You raised an eyebrow. Then you patted the cushion next to you and Leo plopped onto it immediately, eyes wide. Then you squinted at him. “What were you even upset about? At the end of the day, you were getting free tutoring anyway.”

Leo shrugged, “I’m sure there was a reason.”

“You’ve forgotten, haven't you.”

“But you like me?” 

“You get very fixated, don’t you?” You smiled, and turned to afternoon sun fading over the powerlines and birds flitting around. Then you opened your arm over his shoulder and hugged him. “Course I like you, Valdez. Even if you eat all my food.” 

“Not my fault you’ve got good food.”

He was incredibly close. It made you face heat up because his hair was tickling your shoulder and his fingers tapped randomly on the space between you. Maybe it’d been selfish to not tell him, but god, it was sort of worth getting to see him a few times during the week. 

Leo was just so pretty. 

He glanced at you, “what?”

“Nothing,” you answered quickly, looking away from the little spatter of freckles across his nose and the warmth of his eyes. 

Then he poked your side with a curious grin, “what?”

“Nothing!” you shot back, wiggling away from his nimble fingers that tried to tickle you as he laughed. You kicked at his legs gently to scramble back through the pillows, laughing as you did so. “Hey!”

Leo slipped and made an odd yelping sound, then he managed to crash into you. 

You rubbed your face, chuckling, at his clumsiness. You sat up. Leo stared up at you with a red face, his shaky arms holding himself up on either side of you. He gulped, eyes moving between yours quickly. 

It was at this point that you both should’ve pulled away and laughed, going back to finding snacks and laughing over nothing, but then that window passed and Leo was turner redder by the second. His eyes moved away from your eyes slowly, and you reached to slide your fingers next to his slowly.

Leo’s chest rose and fell quickly. “I, uh… I really like you too.”

“I’m going to kiss you now, if that’s-”

“Yes!” 

You paused for a moment as his eyes crinkled and he grinned, ducking his head. Then you lifted his chin up a little bit and you watched his pupils visibly expand. 

“God, you’re so-” You cut yourself off, using his soft cracked lips to do so. The first thing you registered was Leo’s hands moving closer to you instantly and the way your eyes fluttered shut without warning. 

You pressed your lips to his harder and pulled back, breathless. He blinked up at you, eyes wide, and you reached out to pull him closer again, your fingers sliding along his jaw and holding his face. He scooted closer, kneeling between your legs and clutching the belt loops of your jeans while you pressed kiss after kiss to his lips.

He tilted his head and you gave him a second before you opened your mouth against his, realizing that you really were kissing the boy you’d been daydreaming about for months. Holy shit. It was better than you’d imagined, the way his breath fanned out over you when he kissed your open mouth back, tasting like strawberry gum and softness. 

When you took another breath, stealing a glance at Leo’s puffy lips and red face, but he pulled you back into the embrace, your shirt balled up in his fist. 

Teeth clashed together. You jerked back at the awful feeling and began to laugh, wiping at your mouth. “Oh my god.”

“Oh my god,” Leo choked, blinking rapidly. He looked around and a grin spread across his face. He was panting. “I’d be getting A’s if you kissed me instead of yelled, y’know.”

“I beg to differ,” you said, letting go of his jaw. Your fingernails had left little dints in his cheeks, but he didn’t look like he cared at all. You rested your hands on his waist and smirked. “I think you’d fail all your classes.”

“True,” he squeaked, breath catching.

You narrowed your eyes at him and slowly moved your hands up a little bit, fingers tracing his sides cautiously. 

You’d asked to kiss him, not pull weird sounds out of his throat and have him bury his head in your neck, but that’s what happened. As your fingers caught on the edge of his shirt, you whispered quietly to him. “Is this okay?” 

Leo just nodded frantically, his hot breath landing on the patch of skin where your neck and shoulder met. When your fingers touched his warm skin he grinned, his mouth brushing you. You felt the shiver that ran up him under the pads of your fingers, and you decided you liked it. 

He pressed his face tightly against you, hands curling around the back of your collar. 

Your chest tightened at the feeling of his lips and you dug your nails into the squishy part of Leo’s hips. It was a bad habit but it got you a firm kiss on your neck, even if it was accidental. 

Leo pulled back enough for him to look up at you, cheeks dusted with pink and lips puffy. He smiled the tiniest bit, but you could see a question in it and you answered by moving your hands to his back, rubbing circles. 

It was only at this point did you realize that he had sharp teeth, but as he chewed at your skin softly and licked it afterwards like an apology, you weren’t complaining. 

Neither was Leo, obviously. He left sore spots and his hair brushed your ear. His teeth picked you apart. You felt like rubber under his warm hands and wide grin, but then your hands traced his ribs because he’d begun sucking on a tender spot beneath your jaw. 

He insisted on leaving bruises you would have to cover up later. Maybe he’d take it as a challenge. Hopefully.

He pecked kisses along your kissed out skin until he reached your lips again. 

»»————-　★　————-««

#pjo fandom #pjo #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #leovaldez #leo valdez #Leo Valdez x reader #pjo x reader #Leovaldez #Leo Valdez x y/n #Leo Valdez x you

[sometimesanalice]

Like I Can (Part 1)

Summary: After yet another bad date and tired of swiping on apps, the Dagger Squad steps in to help you out by setting you up on a series of blind dates. Much to Rooster’s dismay.

Warnings: fuff, slight angst. Minors DNI

Length: 3.2K

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

Part 2

(We’re kicking of Valentine’s Day a bit early❣️ Enjoy!)

“I’m all for growing the sport, but Brady buying an MLP team is ruining the integrity of the league. He may be the GOAT of football, but he has nothing on Ben John’s world-class pickleball game,” your date Max passionately states from his spot across from you at the Italian place he had recommended.

Or was his name Mac?

He’d already told you all about the CRBN paddle drama. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had already prepared a PowerPoint presentation on the topic complete with transitions and color-coded charts. He seems the type.

And he had yet to ask you a single question about yourself all evening.

You can tell he is gearing up for the next part of his rant, when your phone lights up on the table, the ringer on higher than you realized.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I thought I had this on silent. It’s my mom, I should probably take this,” you apologize to him, your phone already halfway raised to your ear.

“Hey, kid, how’s it going?”

“Hi Mom, I’m with someone right now. Is everything ok?” You let a little worry tinge the tone of your voice.

“Seriously?” Rooster drolly rasps on the other end of the line, “Are we actually doing this?”

“Oh no! Is she alright?” You wouldn’t consider yourself actress, but you think you’re really selling the performance with the way you widen your eyes and how you make your voice go a little tighter and higher.

“Yup, seems like we’re really doing this. What’s it this time, kid? Did grandma slip on a banana peel and then get run over by a reindeer?” You can practically feel his eyes rolling as he begrudgingly goes along with you.

“Oh my goodness, that sounds serious! How would that even happen?” you ask, shaking your head in in faux shock determined to really sell the act.

“Is everything ok?” Max-Mac whispers to you from across the table. 

His profile didn’t raise any red flags when you’d swiped on him. If anything, he’d seemed a bit more of the beige flag type. Your chats had been fine, he seemed fine, so why not meet up for a date?

What you didn’t realize until it was too late was that “Sports Enthusiast” actually translated to “Pickleball Fanatic”.

“Hold on, Mom,” you hear Rooster scoff as you pull the phone away from your ear. “I’m so sorry, there’s been a family emergency. It’s my grandmother. I really need to go,” you announce to Mac-Max grabbing your purse from the back of the chair. “Thank you so much for understanding. And good luck at your pickleball tournament!” you call back to him as you hustle towards the front door.

“I take it you’ve made your escape?” You can hear the humor in his voice, your antics are nothing new to him.

“Oh my god, was that seriously only thirty minutes? He wouldn’t stop talking about pickleball, Rooster. Anytime I tried to change the subject, he found a way to circle right back to it!” You tell him as you attempt to dig your keys out from where they were buried in your bag. “And then, he pulled up the leg of his jeans and said, I kid you not: ‘Don’t worry, this isn’t an ankle monitor, I’m just wearing my ankle weights.’ Who does that?”

“Just come to the Hard Deck. You should have canceled like I told you to in the first place. Bob and Coyote got back the other day, so everyone’s here. Well, almost everyone,” he says pointedly. “We’re more fun anyways. And Hangman has been harassing me about you, something about your fluke of a win?”

You’d kicked Jake’s ass the last time you played darts with him. Although in his defense, he had been pretty drunk that night and it was a less than fair game since Phoenix would distract him while Fanboy moved your darts on the board.

You wouldn’t be challenging him to a rematch anytime soon. Not unless the odds were in your favor, it was better to keep him on his toes and his ego in check.

Thankful for the princess parking you managed to snag when you first arrived, you unlock your car and toss your bag into the passenger seat before climbing in. Breathing out a sigh of relief to be done with Mac-Max once inside.

“You back in your car yet?” Rooster asked. He was such a worrier, but you can’t say it bothered you. You liked knowing he cared.

“Yeah, just got in.”

“Ok good, see you in a few. Drive safe, kid.”

Thirty minutes later Natasha was sliding a cold, frothy pint in front of you with a sympathetic look.

It wasn’t too busy at the Hard Deck yet, but it was still early in the evening. You knew it would pick up soon, and before long Penny would be ringing her bell on some rowdy unsuspecting customer.

“Ankle weights?” She asked, trying and failing to keep from laughing at your expense.

“Seriously, Rooster?” you shoot a glare in his direction, “Where’s the loyalty?”

“What? She was right there when I called you. A request that was your idea, if you remember,” he said as he walked up to you, squeezing your shoulder before sliding his arm around you in greeting. “Plus, it’s not like you don’t already tell Phoenix about all your escapades. You really know how to pick ‘em, kid.”

You’ve known Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw since before you had braces back when you were still wearing your hair in two braids. Your moms had been on the school PTA together at the time and had hit it off immediately.

He hadn’t been too happy about being forced to hang out with the kid who was couple years younger than him, especially one who was so clearly enamored with the cute older boy. While you’d outgrown that phase, for the most part, somethings stuck- like the nickname. 

And over the years you’d formed your own bond outside of the forced proximity of your mothers’ friendship.

He’d taught you how to throw a punch, the different ways to pitch a baseball, and to drive a stick shift. You’d taught him how to whistle with his fingers, to play Nerts, and to tie a tie (after asking your dad to teach you).

The give and take was easy with him, you both showed up for the other.

You were there the night he drunkenly fell through the glass patio door at Jason Cameron’s homecoming party. As one of the only sober people there since he wouldn’t let you drink, or let anyone else give you alcohol for that matter, you were the one to take him to the ER. “Don’t worry, kid,” he had slurred, pressing the Washington High t-shirt that you’d found in your trunk to his face to stop the bleeding, “Looks s’worse than it feels.” And you were the one to stay with him as he was stitched up. The evidence of that night still unmistakable on his face.

He was there for you when your parents had sat you down and told you they were getting a divorce. A hurricane of angst and grief, you hadn’t left your room for anything other than school for over a week when he’d let himself in your room one afternoon. Rubbing small circles on your back as he’d let you cry for a bit, he didn’t even tease you about the stains you’d left behind on his shirt. And then he’d herded you into his crappy car and drove you to the slightly sketchy amusement park an hour away with the Tilt-A-Whirl and the giant corndogs. And when he’d told you “It’s going to be ok, kid” on the ride back home, you believed him.

You had been there for him when his mom passed, and all during that dark period after when he was set on self-destruction after his fallout with Maverick. While he had tried to push everyone away, you were always the type to hold on tightly to the people that mattered.

And then life had sent you on different directions. First when he went to college and then when you did. Next for him the Navy, and then you with your own career, both of you always in motion. You two shared a connection the way people with a long history do, the kind where you could go months without talking but knowing the other person is always right there if you need them. Your camaraderie sustained by texts, email, and the occasional FaceTime.

A long-distance friendship for over a decade.

So when your boss had approached you about a promotion that was dependent on you relocating to the West Coast, you thanked whatever kismet in the universe had you packing for San Diego where he was permanently stationed.

The break up with your boyfriend at the time was entirely too amicable considering how long you had been together. He was nice, the sex was nice, your life together was nice. You had all but signed the paperwork for your promotion when you told him, but he didn’t see himself as a west-coaster and you couldn’t envision yourself as anything but. Whether you had stayed together all that time out of convenience or complacency, you still couldn’t say.

It was easy to fall back into the comfort of your friendship with Rooster. Although the lanky teen you had known was replaced with a mustache sporting well-built man courtesy of the Navy. One that had left you feeling confusingly flustered on more than one occasion, and forced to cycle through your mental highlight reel of embarrassing teen Rooster moments to keep from your mind from wandering.

He’d helped you find your apartment, taught you about avoiding the 15 Northbound, and showed you where the best place in town to get tacos was. The transition was made easy with him by your side as he introduced you to his team members who quickly folded you into their group as one of their own.

That was a little over a year ago. You liked this new life of yours in San Diego.

And while the dating pool of men you could swipe through was much larger, well, some things never changed.

“You don’t get it, Rooster. You’re surrounded by absurdly hot Naval eye candy all day,” you complained gesturing to Natasha, she raised her beer to you as thanks in response. “While you’re getting women throwing themselves at you because of the gold wings, I’m fighting for my life on these stupid apps where all the men on there are posing with fish. It’s brutal!”

You’d need to officially call things off with Max-Mac later, thinking to yourself how glad you were that you never gave him your real number, and instead signing up for a Google voice number. You were just not cut out for the competitive pickleball lifestyle.

“Bradshaw, why don’t you set her up? It’s not like we don’t know enough people who would be better options than these fish men,” Natasha asked, like it was the most logical thing in the world, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, Bradshaw. Tell Nat your super logical reasons for leaving your longtime friend to fend for herself.” You knew where this was heading, so you took a long swig of the beer Phoenix had brought you.

“Seriously, not this again.” His arm that was around you was removed in favor for pinching the bridge of his nose and looking up to the ceiling like it would spare him from the conversation.

“You started it, now tell her.”

“I need another damn drink if we’re going to do this,” Rooster mumbled.

“Me too,” chimed Natasha, clearly reveling in his misery.

“Make that three. I need to catch up.” You hadn’t even stuck around long enough to get a drink at the restaurant, and now you were ready to let loose a bit.

He grunts out some unintelligible thing and then stalks off to the bar shaking his head.

“I’m an upstanding citizen, I pay my taxes, I make a mean peanut butter brownie, and I always drive him around when the Bronco is in the shop for a tune up. It’s literally the least he could do,” you say to Phoenix as you watch him chat with Penny as she works to grab the fresh bottles.

“Oh, so this is thing,” Natasha says decidedly when she eyes the six beers he’s carrying back to the table, three bottles held by the neck in each of his large hands. His classic Hawaiian shirt fluttering with every step, your eyes briefly drifting down to his defined waist.

“Sure is,” you confirm, drawing out the word. Downing the rest of the beer from your pint glass before reaching for one of the new bottles Rooster was divvying out amongst your trio, “I’ve never asked him for anything-”

“That is a boldfaced lie. And you know it,” he cuts in, as he hands you a granola bar from his pocket, that he must have snagged from Penny. “You definitely asked me to set you up with Kyle Cooke from my baseball team in high school. I didn’t do it then, and I’m not doing it now,” he declared, pointing at you with an accusatory finger to further drive the statement home.

“Reasons being?” Natasha wheedled, a mischievous smirk on her face. You could tell she was eating this up, there were two things Natasha Trace loved most in this world: juicy gossip and giving Rooster a hard time.  

Ever the showman, he dramatically lifts up a finger, “First of all, everyone I know is an asshole.”

“I am offended on Bob’s behalf,” you countered, unwrapping the bar and taking a bite, annoyed. Hangman might fit the description, but certainly not Bob.

“Two,” he continues on, raising a second finger, and ignoring you completely as if you hadn’t just made a very valid point, “Let’s say I set you with a friend and then you end up hating them. Then you’ll judge me for being friends with them, we’ll argue, and eventually we won’t be friends anymore. Or even worse, I set you up with someone, you hit it off and date for a while. What happens when you break up? I’m left having to pick sides and walk on eggshells around you guys about the other person.”

“God, you’re such a overthinker. That all sounds totally rational, you drama queen,” you look to Phoenix for agreement, but she’s busy typing out a text message on her phone.

“And three, it’s messy as fuck. And I don’t need to hear about your trophy of a one-night stand.”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes, “That was one time! It wasn’t a trophy it was a gold medal.”

“Wait, what?” Confusion coloring Natasha’s features. 

“One time this guy gave me one of those plastic gold medal things on a lanyard, kind of like the ones they give out at kids soccer games, after we hooked up. I mean, kicked him out right away, but I did keep the medal. It was a good confidence boost,” you shrug.  It wasn’t exactly a high point moment for you.

After that encounter you’d definitely started scrutinizing every profile a bit harder before swiping right, or at least you thought you had been. In your defense, at least Max-Mac’s profile didn’t have a fish photo, but the bar was still clearly on the ground.

“I knew you when you wore those shirts with that big mouthed monkey on them. And that’s the kind of shit I don’t need to know about. I don’t wanna be involved. Not gonna happen, kid,” his declaration resolute.

“Well, that sure is something, Bradshaw,” Natasha states, giving him a curious look.

“What are y’all over here discussing so intently,” Hangman questions as he saddles up to your little group, tucking his phone into his pocket. 

“We were just getting into the finer details of the kid’s dating life and how I am going to fix it by setting her up with this great guy I know,” she pronounces, looking all too pleased with herself. A truly self-satisfied grin gracing her face.

Natasha Trace was probably the most bad ass person you’ve ever met, so the idea of her setting you up with someone had you sitting up straighter on the stool you were seated on, “Really?”

“Who?” Rooster demands, frowning at her.

“Yeah, I mean Bradshaw clearly has his convictions, and I respect that. However, I’m an excellent wing-woman. Seriously, I don’t know why I haven’t thought about introducing you guys before. You two would be perfect together.”

Hangman never one to miss an opportunity to rile up Rooster is quick to jump in, “Just because you fly in a two-seater doesn’t make you a good wing-woman, Phoenix. However, now that you mention it, I have a buddy who might knock your socks off. Unless you’d rather just knock boots, I’m sure he’d be up for whatever you wanted,” he shooting you a wink. “I think I’ll toss my name in the ring here too. After all, I’m very good.”

“You want to make it a bet, Bagman?” Her accent always got a little more pronounced when she went toe to toe with him.

“What’re you thinkin’, Darlin’?” he drawls suggestively with a sharp smile. That ever-present toothpick being rolled in his mouth from side to side.

“You guys are not going to be making bets around the kid’s love life,” Rooster snaps.

“The big dogs are talking, Bradshaw,” Hangman taunts as he waves him off.  

“$50 entry? The dates happen here and at the end the kid picks which date was the best. Winner takes all?” You can see the competitive gleam in her eye.

“Alright, alright. Works for me, Phoenix. I can’t wait to take your money.”

“The hell you are,” Rooster barks, still trying to regain control of the quickly spiraling situation.

Well, this had certainly taken a turn.

You find yourself reaching for your third beer of the night.

And you’re even more surprised when Hangman hollers for the rest of the team to join, and before you know it your dating life takes centerstage as the subject of the bet between the group of competitive naval aviators. Many of the others deciding to join in, never ones to shy away from a bit of rivalry.  

“What do you say? You up for it?” Natasha asks, wanting to make sure you were still on board now that her original offer had taken on a life of its own.

You look over and see Rooster looking at you like you’d be crazy to get involved in their kind of chaos. You know he can already tell what your answer will be.

“Why not?” you agree cheerily as he groans into his beer.

At least you would be spared from swiping for a while. It’s what you deserve, you are an upstanding citizen after all.

Get ready for some dates! Part 2

Written as part of @roosterforme’s #Love Is In The Air TGM Fic Challenge! 

Song Inspiration Sam Smith’s “Like I Can”.

Thank you Jordan (@gretagerwigsmuse) for letting me bounce ideas off of you!

Edit: I’ve started a tag list for Part 2! Just let me know if you’d like to be added!

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #rooster x reader #rooster x female reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #love is in the air tgm #like i can tgm

[hedgehog-moss]

^ Macron did not enjoy us symbolically shutting him up by banging pans on Monday, and today for his official visit to a small town in the South of France, the Police Prefecture banned pots and pans from city streets. They might have realised it sounded insane, because they artfully phrased it as “passersby are banned from carrying portable sonorous devices” (‘dispositif sonore portatif’—here’s the prefectural decree:)

I won’t blame you if you think that’s too dumb to believe, but TV news today really showed us cops in that town explaining to people that saucepans shall not pass, and old ladies grumbling as they relinquished the old pans they had planned on using for protesting. (My mum lives nearby and was devastated that she didn’t go. “I could have been fined for illegal possession of saucepan... a once-in-a-lifetime crime...”)

(The caption says pans are being confiscated.) The lady on the left went through all five stages of grief at the thought of leaving her pan in police custody, from denial (“seriously?”) to bargaining (“can I keep my tin can?”) and anger (telling a cop “oh, go fuck yourself” on national television in a beautiful Southern accent) then finally, sadly walking away to leave her pan and can atop a pile of other confiscated kitchenware.

People trolled them so hard with the “portable sonorous device” thing that the police prefecture eventually responded that this never meant pans at all, and if police officers banned saucepans it’s because they didn’t understand the prefectural decree. (That meme of someone sweating in front of two buttons and it’s “we admit we issued a laughable (and illegal) decree” vs. “we imply cops have the reading comprehension of an oyster”...) (I tried to find a link for the prefecture spokesperson’s defensive statement but couldn’t find it again :( But I found another article from today saying protesters threw potatoes and eggs at gendarmes so it was a worthwhile google search.)

Here’s a tweet with a video:

For a visit to a village of 4000 people, 600 cops were deployed to ensure Macron’s safety (from seditious kitchen utensils) (okay, and potatoes). Now we’ve got MPs raising philosophical questions like “Can you solve a democratic crisis by banning saucepans...?” and the Association for the Protection of Constitutional Freedoms saying the prefectural decree was illegal as it “seems to associate the act of participating in a saucepan concert with a terrorist threat.” I mean it’s outrageous but also you’ve got to laugh at the absurdist play we find ourselves in.

One last thing:

^ The last sentence of Le Monde’s article summing up today’s presidential visit was: “Macron interacted at length with teachers, sitting in a circle around him on chairs hastily set up outside in the school’s playground”—because trade unionists shut off the power in the building Macron was visiting, for the second time this week, which is always funny.

#frpol #< i finally went back and tagged these posts!

[volttrashz]

Ehem ehem... more bully miguel x reader pls... ehem ehem

(Make miguel punish the reader for accidentally making 5 questions wrong... the punishment is.... miguel forcing reader to pretend that he is absent but in reality, reader is under Miguel's desk sucking him off as a sorry for his mistakes!!)

>_<

ʙᴜʟʟʏ! ᴍɪɢᴜᴇʟ ᴏ ʜᴀʀᴀ x ɴᴇʀᴅ! ᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (possible gn.)

cw:ᴍᴅɴɪ. ʙʟᴏᴡᴊᴏʙ. ꜱᴇᴍɪ-ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ. ᴏᴠᴇʀꜱᴛɪᴍᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ. ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴍɪɢᴜᴇʟ.

"Are you fucking serious right now?!"

Miguel's voice boomed as he shoved his marked-up paper into your face. Your glasses are hitting the bridge of your nose, giving you an unpleasant feeling. You could tell Miguel was mad. The way his voice sounded, he was going to beat the shit out of you. "You must be more of an idiot than I thought. You can even be capable of doing my damn homework correctly." Miguel aggressively said. I looked at you with an emotion you couldn't quite grasp. "I thought you said you knew what you were doing?" "I did! I just got distracted a little while doing it. That's  all."You reply back, mentally slapping yourself for how shaky and wobbly your voice sounds.

You just had so many things on your plate. You rushed through Miguel's homework literally this morning. Not even double-checking for the matter. You knew some would be wrong but it was way more than you anticipated.

"I'm sorry, I didn't. It was by accident, I swear!" You replied in defense. You watched him stare at you. For a second, you thought he must've zoned out the way he looked at you so intensely. "Is that all you have to say for yourself?" He tilts his head looking at you like you were some sort of pathetic excuse of person. "I'll make it up to you, I swear! I'll do your next few big projects coming up. How about that? Ill um. I'll carry your things for your next class! I'll-" He scoffed, hearing her nonsense rambling on and on. To the point you probably didn't even know what you were talking about anymore. "You talk too much. It's annoying."

"Such a pretty mouth and you can't even use it for good things...what a waste."

You close your mouth at that, not knowing exactly how to respond. Miguel watched your slumped form. "Hey don't look so down. I know exactly what you can do to make makeup for it." He smiled, seeing how his words piqued your interest immediately. Perhaps he would let you pay for his lunch for the week?

"You want me to what?!"

Miguel's expression didn't falter at your words. Acting as if he didn't just tell you to suck him off in class. There's no way he could be serious. Sure you guys have had your fair share of...intimate moments, but in class?! Where the chance of being caught is bound to happen if you make so much as a peep. Plus, you would be missing will your favorite lectures!

"I'm not doing that. Absolutely not."

"No [name] in class today? He's that last person I expected to miss my class.."

He was right. It was strange for you to miss his class. Too bad you're busy on your knees hunched under a desk. Miguel's desk. His legs spread open and his zipper on display waiting for you to hurry up and pull it down. Before you can, though Miguel's shoe nudges your leg. You can tell he's getting impatient. Better not keep him waiting any longer.

Rolling your eyes at the action, you quietly pull down the zipper. Revealing his boxer's underneath. You could tell he was straining beneath them, an obvious tent giving that away. Is this really turning him on that much? Interesting. You let your thoughts wonder as you make quick work pulling off his boxers. His cock slightly slapping you on the face as you do. Slightly flinching in surprise but looking with lust as his cock was now released from its confines, standing hard and completely erect before you.

You began to leave gentle kisses on his length. Enjoying how his thighs seem slightly tense at the action. You began to kiss his sticky tip that leaked with pre. Your tongue licked up and down his shaft, feeling the veins of his base. You do this a couple more times before you engulf his length into the heat of your mouth, feeling him hit the back of your throat. You gag slightly but proceed nonetheless, enjoying how he shudders from the sensation.

You continued bobbing your head on his cock. Trying to keep your noise to a minimum as you try to get some relief of your own. You feel him throb in your mouth. You could tell he was struggling to keep his composure in front of everyone. You continue anyway. Not minding how his hands entangled with your hair to push you further.

It doesn't take long for him to finish. Your eyes rolled back, as his load shot inside your throat, painting it completely. The feeling has you finishing almost immediately after. Coming off with a quiet pop panting, before you continue sucking on his tip. You feel him try to push you off. "¿Qué estás haciendo, idiota? Stop!" You hear him whisper in Spanish, almost sounding like a whine. Hearing slight panic in his voice. He was not expecting you to start again.Deciding not to want to get on his bad side (but also not wanting to be caught). You stop. 

Maybe you'll get his homework wrong more often..

¿Qué estás haciendo, idiota? - what are you doing you idiot?

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x male reader #atsv miguel #miguel smut #male reader #atsv smut #gn reader #bully miguel x male reader

[escelia]

Thank you so much to everyone who enjoyed the first part! I hope I didn't miss anyone in the tags.

You can click here to read the prologue and here to read part one.

Enjoy~

Not So Normal pt2

Bruce had gathered his whole brood in the Batcave for their debrief. This time, Danny included. He'd hoped that one day he would bring Danny down here and tell him all about their nightly activities, just not so soon. His newest son didn't even seem fazed at all by all the vigilantes flooding into the cave. Not that that really meant anything with him floating down through the ceiling with Dick and Damian in hand. To think one of the kids living under his own roof was a meta and he hadn't noticed… he had to step up his game as Gotham's greatest detective.

"Is the Joker alive?" Was Bruce's first question once everyone was situated and settled. He had a personal rule about not killing his rogues, but honestly, after what the Joker pulled, he thought he might be able to overlook it. After all, when an eldritch being takes a life, who is he to argue?

"Of course he's alive! Nobody dies when I get involved." Danny puffed his chest proudly. He hadn't broken his no casualty streak since he started hero work over a year ago. Not many heroes could say that, and Danny worked damn hard to keep it that way.

Bruce let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Out of relief or disappointment, he didn't know.

"Next question. Where and what is 'clown jail?'"

"It's a subspace of the Infinite Realms." The detective tucked that term away for questioning later. "It's a trick I picked up from my Head Guard back in the Realms. It's basically a space where you experience whatever punishment I think fits your crime. But it's all psychological, so no one ever gets hurt there."

"And what's his punishment?"

"Are you a meta or an alien? I can't tell at this point."

"How long have you known about us?"

"Why did you look so different back at the warehouse?"

"You have a Head Guard?"

The questions came in like a flood. Danny flushed at all the attention, unsure where to start first. He looked to Damian for help, but he only folded his arms and smiled smugly. That little traitor! But he supposed that's what he deserved for waiting so long to tell his family. In his defense, the last time he told a family about his abilities he'd ended up strapped to a table with a scalpel poking at his spleen.

"One question at a time, please!” Danny screeched, covering his face in embarrassment. He stared at Damian pleadingly one more time.

"I told you to tell them before something drastic happened, so don't look at me. "

"You knew?" Jason pouted. Damian just smirked and puffed his chest in pride. He knew exactly why Daniel hadn't told them, but had been confident that his new family wouldn't react the way his old one had. Perhaps this would teach Daniel to trust him a bit more. And wasn't it something that Damian wanted Daniel to trust him.

"They aren't like the Fentons, Daniel. You should tell them."

The words were like a balm on Danny's nerves. The others were smiling patiently at him, judgment absent in favor of eager curiosity but not in the cruel way it had been on Jack and Maddie's faces. He took a deep breath before starting in on the details. No place like the beginning, he guessed.

He told them about how he half died when he was 14 and all the abilities he gained as a result. He told them about his hunter parents and his colorful array of rogues turned friends. Bruce had paled considerably when he got to the part about Pariah Dark whisking their town away and his subsequent defeat of the Ghost King. And he looked downright nauseous when Danny detailed his victories over several of the more godlike entities of the Realms, like Overgrowth and Vortex. He left out Dan, skipping to the part where he'd effectively become the ward and apprentice to the Master of Time, Clockwork. And finally, he told them about Jack and Maddie.

When he'd stumbled into Gotham after the vivisection and begged Bruce to take him away, to protect him, "please, I just wanna feel safe again," he'd told him that it was abuse and refused to outline the details. This time, he looked him in the eyes, and with one finger wrapped around Damian's for support, he told his family about how the Dr's. Fenton had cut him open and poked around in the name of science.

"So… you're not a meta?" Duke asked in the silence that followed Danny's confessions. He had to admit he was grateful his brother wasn't dwelling on his past. Damian had been right, they were taking it well. Boy, did he let it show on his face in a typical, 12 year old, "I told you so," fashion.

"I don't have a metagene and I'm technically half-dead, half-alive. Damian used the term Pseudo-Meta. I kinda like it."

"So let me get this straight," Jason began. "Since dying, you won the Ghost King's crown by right of conquest, defeated several godlike entities, who are now your friends, and your mentor is the literal God of time?"

"Pretty much."

"Damn," he whistled. "I don't think I died right the first time. I want a do-over."

Danny snorted in laughter and Damian tutted at him while the others elbowed him in ribs.

"Does that make you a god?" Dick teased.

"I don't think so, but every time I ask Clockwork he gets all cryptic, so maybe?"

Bruce was getting a headache.

~~•○•~~

"Alright, it's time to solve some real mysteries now," Tim said with a gleam in his eyes. They'd migrated up to the kitchen for post patrol cookies. Alfred had been pleasantly surprised when Bruce had explained that, thanks to Danny, everyone had made it home relatively unscathed. And considering they'd had a run-in with Joker, that was worthy of cookies in his opinion.

"Danny, how in the world did you get Damian to stop trying to stab you?"

"Actually, yeah! You guys have gotten really close. What's the secret?" Dick asked with a raised eyebrow. Damian rolled his eyes and answered for Danny.

"I challenged him in combat and Daniel accepted. It's not my fault none of you were intelligent enough to realize it was a bonding tactic." Bruce tried to hide his laughter in his mug while the others blatantly gawked at him.

"No way."

"I have a picture of the first time he managed to graze me in a sparring session! You guys wanna see?" Everyone swarmed him to see the photo. Dick cooed and tried to pinch Damian's cheek, but was met with snapping teeth. Steph, with eyes sparkling, just muttered, "cute," so as not to stir the youngest's ire. Danny ended up promising to send the picture into the group chat later.

"By the way, you never did say what Joker's punishment was," Jason mentioned casually. Danny smiled cruelly, his frosty blue eyes glowing.

"His greatest fear, of course! A prolonged stay in a Gotham that has not nor will ever know the Joker. I swear, I've never met a clown that wasn't a total narcissist." Danny popped the last bite of a cookie into his mouth and dusted the crumbs off on his pants. "No one is allowed to hurt my brothers. Ever."

~~•○•~~

Damian was just about to climb into bed when he heard a knock at his door. He looked up just in time to see Danny phase through it into his room.

"Why even bother knocking?"

"Because it's polite!" Damian rolled his eyes. "I just wanted to say thank you for earlier." He took a seat at the end of the bed and Damian sat next to him, as was tradition for their late night chats.

"I'm the one who should be thanking you," Damian countered. "You weren't ready to tell everyone, and yet you came when I called."

"Of course I did. You're my little brother. And I'd do it for any of you." Danny nudged him with his shoulder, and it earned him a tiny, barely there smile.

"Thank you Danny."

"Using a nickname, huh? Don't let Dick hear that, he'll think you're playing favorites."

"Of course not. I have a reputation to uphold after all. Besides, Richard already thinks you're my favorite. It's giving him a complex."

"Well, aren't I?"

"Tt, don't push your luck."

There was a beat of silence before they erupted into laughter. Danny was so proud that he could make Damian laugh, even if it was more reserved than the guffaws he and their brothers had when they found something particularly funny. He couldn't wait to brag to Jazz about it once it was safe to contact her. If it was safe to contact her.

"I'll see you in the morning," Danny said, leaning lightly against his brother's shoulder in lieu of a hug. He floated over to the door. "Goodnight, Dami."

"Sleep well, Danny."

~~•○•~~

Vlad Masters gnashed his teeth while he stared at the computer screen in his office. First Daniel up and disappeared without so much as a word, and now he was all over the news and tabloids as the newly adopted "Daniel Fenton-Wayne." He was annoyed. He was furious! He was… confused. What had that fool Jack done to get Daniel taken away? Why hadn't Maddie stopped it? How did Daniel end up getting legally adopted by Bruce Wayne of all people? The boy should have come right to him if something was wrong. He deserved it! The boy was his or he was no one's!

The man swatted the mug off his desk. It shattered against the wall.

#danny phantom crossover #danny phantom #danny fenton #dc x dp #fanfiction #damian wayne #batfam #ghost king danny #big brother danny #protective danny #fright knight totally taught danny how to make fear dimensions #jason wants a do-over #bruce has a headache #danny is a pseudo-meta #or a god #clockwork refuses to clarify #no beta we die like danny #vlad throws a tiny lil temper tantrum

[moon-rivr]

eres mía

pairing: miguel o’hara x reader

warnings: arranged marriage, unprotected p in v (wrap it b4 u tap it), oral (f and m receiving), miguel calling you a slut (affectionately LOL), and just overall smut

author’s note: hi :) so this is my first time writing smut/fanfic, so it’s probably not that good lol 🫣 but anyways hope you enjoy. i got this idea from listening to ‘eres mía’ by romeo santos, i’ll leave it down below if you wanna listen 🫡

word count: 2372

"Por favor no te cases con él!" [please don't get married to him!]

—

A voice you haven't heard in three months, four days, and nine hours (not that you've been counting or anything) echoed through the chapel, muffling the sounds of the wedding bells ringing. His voice. You stopped in your tracks, knuckles turning white from how hard you were gripping the bouquet, feeling everyone's stares go from you to the man who was here to stop your wedding. You turned to meet his gaze, seeing how devastatingly handsome he looked in a black suit, his red eyes boring into yours.

The last time you'd seen Miguel O'Hara was when you had been at his apartment, breaking up with him. You'd spent the day at his apartment, going from watching 'Teresa' to cuddling on the couch. He was standing over the stove, checking that the pozole wasn't burning when you came up to him, asking to talk.

"What do you wanna talk about, chiquita hermosa?" [pretty little one]

"I think we should break up, this isn't working out for us anymore."

"Is this you or your mother talking?"

The question made you stop talking, tears collecting in your eyes as you looked down in shame. "You know what's expected of me, Miguel," you murmured, looking up at him through tear stricken eyes. "I do know what's expected of you, but that doesn't mean I agree with you marrying some stranger just because of the business boost," he said, grabbing your chin to look up at you as he wiped the tears away. "I'm sorry Mig, pero tengo que hacer lo que me piden," [but i have to do what they ask from me] you spoke up a couple seconds later, noting the way his brows furrowed as you spoke. "Espero que seas feliz, corazón. Nunca amaré a alguien como te amo a ti," [I hope you're happy, sweetheart. I'll never love anyone the way I love you] he whispered, kissing your forehead and keeping you in his embrace for just a couple seconds more.

Wedding arrangements were quickly made after you told your mother that you finally ended things with Miguel, from going to get the dress fitted to getting a venue booked for a fall wedding. You'd managed to catch a break a week before your wedding and decided to go out with your friend bar-hopping since your soon-to-be husband was out of the country again.

"So tell me again why you're planning on marrying this piece of shit if it's clear as day he's cheating on you?" your friend, Percy, asked as she took a sip from her margarita, her brows furrowed. "I mean, in his defense, we don't actually expect to fall in love y'know? plus, it's for business purposes and whatever," you tried your best to explain but the situation sounded stupid even to you. "I get that you want to make your parents happy with this marriage/business deal, but what about your own happiness? Is it really worth it to be in a loveless marriage just so your dad's happy?" she asked, her hands on top of yours as worry etched on to her features. You'd decided to change the conversation to a safer topic, because you were aware that deep down, she and Miguel were right.

And now you were here, standing in between the love of your life and the man that was pre planned for you to marry. Before you had a chance to say anything though, your mom quickly tugged you to the side, steam practically coming out of her ears. "Yo pensé que ya no estabas con ese muchacho! ¿Qué esta haciendo aquí?!" [ I thought you weren't with that boy anymore! What is he doing here?] your mom asked as she avoided the gazes from all the tias murmuring amongst themselves. "Yo no estoy con él! Yo no sé que hace aqui," [I'm not with him! I don't know what he's doing here] you tried to explain yourself as your mom paced around the hallway, shaking her head. "Do you know the amount of shame you've brought into this family with his little stunt? Your father gave you everything just for you to turn out to be a disappointment!" she screamed, standing a couple feet from you as she tugged at the roots of her hair, "Ve adentro y dile a ese bueno para nada que se vaya!" [go inside and tell that no good to leave]

You walked inside once more, walking all the way to the altar as the word 'disappointment' rang in your head. You quickly realized that even if you did this, it wouldn't give you the love that you wanted from your parents or the love that Miguel had given you once upon a time. You'd craved that love from your parents for so long, that you were willing to set yourself as a transactional token. As your fiancé decided to start reciting the vows he'd gotten off Google, you decided to speak up. "I'm sorry but I can't get married to this man. And I'm sorry to everyone for wasting your time."

You heard the mumbling that was building up in the chapel get louder as you stepped outside, full blown yelling coming from your mom. You looked over to the side, seeing Miguel sitting there with his hands in between his knees. "Hey, is this seat taken?" you asked, tapping his shoulder as he scooted over, looking at you with a smile.

"¿Qué paso, chiquita?" [what happened, little one?]

"I realized that despite all this, my parents still won't love me, so might as well chase my own happiness."

"Perdon por arruinarte la boda, pero es que no podía verte infeliz con ese tipo." [sorry for ruining your wedding, but I couldn't stand seeing you unhappy with that guy]

"I'll admit, it was kind of a big entrance, but I liked it. Thank you Miguelito, for fighting for us even if I haven't done the same."

"You're someone worth fighting for, mi cielito lindo. [pretty sweetheart] Even if your parents haven't shown you that."

"Hey Miguel?"

"¿Sí?" [yes?]

"Take me home."

Miguel carried you bridal style into the apartment you were so familiar with, dropping you carefully on the bed. "Espera te cierro los ojos que quiero intentar algo," he whispered into your ear once he placed you down, putting a blindfold on you. [hold on I'm gonna close your eyes, I want to try something] A couple seconds of Miguel humming to himself later, he took off the blindfold to reveal small candles lit around the room. "I know it's not the honeymoon you wanted but I hope it's still good," he said, rubbing the back of his head as he sat down on the bed next to you. "Esta perfecto, Miguel. Solo te necesito a ti," you reassured him, placing your hand on top of his. [it's perfect Miguel. I only need you]

He got on his knees, pulling your legs to drape over his shoulders as he kissed up your legs, his fangs gently grazing on the skin. He took his time kissing up your legs, kissing gently on your inner thighs, laughing silently as he ignored the way you squirmed to get your pussy closer to his face. He pressed a small kiss on the front of your panties, taking them off with his teeth, sliding them down your legs slowly. He tentatively licked your folds before delving in, his tongue plunging into your hole with no warning. You let out a moan, fingers flying to intertwine themselves in his hair as he continued to make out with your pussy.

Miguel sucked on your clit, circling his tongue around the bud as his finger plunged inside of you, instantly finding the spot that had you curling your toes and gripping his hair tighter. His tongue and fingers switched places a couple seconds later, his mouth exploring every inch of your spongy walls as his thumb rubbed your clit, basking in every single one of your moans. "Miguel, i'm about to-" you managed to say before you came all over his tongue, your hand limp against his hair. He sucked on your pussy, looking up at you as his mouth glistened from your juices. He leaned in, giving you a passionate kiss as he intertwined his hand in your hair.

You discarded of your wedding dress, leaving you in that white, almost angelic looking, white lacy bra and a garter, getting on your knees in front of Miguel. His claws ripped your bra apart, throwing it to the side as he bent down to take care of the garter on your legs. You kissed his tip, leaving small kisses down the shaft before you took his tip in your mouth. You started to slowly swirl your tongue around his tip, taking in his every moan and breathy gasp, his hands moving to both sides of your head. You take more of him in your mouth, looking up at him, his eyes meeting yours.

"Ay nena. [baby] Such a good little cocksucker for me," he moaned out, his hand caressing your cheek. You felt you felt your pussy clench around nothing as he praised you, calling you 'his good cocksleeve' and 'his pretty little slut'. "Let me fuck your face, princesa dulce," he told you, more as a warning than a question. [sweet princess] You stuck your tongue out flat as he started to thrust slowly into your mouth, wiping away the tears that were rolling down. "Que puta tan bonita," he moaned, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat as he started to slip in and out of your mouth faster. [what a pretty whore/slut] Your tongue glided across the shaft as he thrusted inside your mouth, his cum shooting deep into your throat. You stuck your tongue out after you swallowed it, watching him lean down and kiss you.

He slid inside of you slowly, feeling your walls clamp around his cock like a vice, his lips kissing your chest as he murmured sweet nothings into your skin. "You're doing so well for me, sweet girl," he whispered, sliding another deliciously painful inch inside, your hands gripping his back as he did so. He slowly retracted, trying to make the accommodation easier for you, before sliding in once more. He continued with the slow thrusts, your pussy eventually opening up to accommodate his length. He started speeding up, his hips slapping against your ass, his lips letting out small whimpers as he kissed your stomach. "Que puta tan hermosa que eres. Y solo para mi," he moaned, his lips moving to kiss your neck, his fangs digging in. [what a pretty whore you are. and just for me] "Solo para ti," you affirmed, your hips moving to meet his thrusts to the best of your ability as your hands raked down his back, marking him as yours. [just for you] You felt the all too familiar coil tightening in your lower stomach as your pussy walls tightened around his cock, your hands gripping on his shoulders. "Come for me, mi reina," he moaned, thrusting in deeply as his thumb circled around your clit, the action making you clench around him tightly before releasing. [my queen]

He flipped you over, massaging your ass before dipping a finger in your pussy, licking your juices and letting out a low moan. "Taste so good," he whispered before he slipped his cock inside you once more, his hands grabbing onto your hips. Your previous orgasm allowed him to slip in with ease, your pussy walls engulfing his cock. He started thrusting faster after he made sure that you weren't feeling too much pain, the only sounds in the room being skin slapping and your combined moaning. He lifted his hand up, slapping your ass before grabbing your hair in a makeshift ponytail, pulling your back to his chest as he littered kisses on your shoulder. He wanted to mark himself on your body, as his way to make sure you wouldn't leave him again. He thrusted deeper, the tip of his cock bruising your cervix, watching as you writhed and moaned underneath him.

You gripped the bedsheets, your mouth in a 'o' shape as you felt your incoming orgasm, your pussy walls clamping around him like a vice. "I'm almost there," he moaned out, his hands gripping your hips tightly as his thrusts started to get sloppier. You moved your hips against his, your orgasm coming in waves as you clenched around him tightly. "Squeezing me so good, mama," his voice came out breathier than expected as he continued moving against you, his orgasm coming moments after. He pulled his softening cock out, plunging two fingers in you to stuff the cum back inside.

Miguel got up from the bed a couple minutes after you two cuddled, walking over to the bathroom and turning on the faucet. He walked over to you once more, brushing the hair out of your face as he smiled, kissing your forehead. "The bath's almost ready," he said, grabbing you up from the bed and carrying to the bathroom. He'd poured in your favorite scented bath bomb and grabbed some of the candles from the bedroom, placing them on the counter with the lights dimmed. He set you down on the bath before sitting behind you, his hands gently rubbing circles on your back.

He left small kisses on your neck as his hands moved to give your back and shoulders a small massage. "I missed you," he sighed, turning you to look at him, a look of longing on his face. "I'm sorry for everything, for picking my family over you," you whispered, a small tear drop falling, his finger wiping it off your cheek. "Lo importante es que ya estas conmigo, cariño," he whispered reassuringly, lifting your chin up to kiss you, pulling away a couple seconds later, saying, "Porque te quería preguntar ¿que si te puedes casar conmigo?" [the important thing is that you're finally with me, sweetheart/because i wanted to ask if you would marry me]

#moon-rivr #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel smut #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara spiderverse #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman atsv #spiderman smut