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respectthepetty · 11 months

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Reading the (Visual) Rainbow 101

Lesson 5 - Go Team Go!

Because I get so many asks about colors, I decided the best way to celebrate Pride is to educate anyone who is interested in how to better Read the (Visual) Rainbow and simultaneously allow myself to appreciate queer media.

No man is an island, so today's lesson will focus on how we must comprehensively examine the cast of characters to understand the narrative.

We are going to need a little help from our friends for this one.

As we continue to build on each lesson, we must begin to look at items as part of a collective story rather than stand alone objects that present a single idea. Sounds complicated, but it's the most simple concept of all the lessons.

Pick Your Fighter

The most common group story we get in media is one where each individual has a specific color within the group. Think Power Rangers, Powerpuff Girls, or Care Bears. Each person has a specific color associated with them, and they must do their individual part to benefit the collective group. If one person fails, the entire group fails because each person/color is important to the overall dynamic.

If you watched either video from the first portion of the previous lesson's activity, you would have noticed that each person was situated within their own room that expressed their color and personality, but the rooms were in the same house. Each person carried their metaphorical weight to contribute to the overall goal. If we see this style of group coloring in a show, we can assume the underlying theme is one of collaboration and support.

Group Association

If we saw the following images, we'd understand (without being told) that we are seeing two teams, most likely getting ready to compete against each other.

And the same can be implied by the next two images.

Seeing people in the same color immediately causes us to label them as a group, mostly if the outfits are all the same style like a jersey or a uniform. If we see another set of people in a different color, we can assume these two groups are different. It seems obvious, yet when we see two individuals in two different colors, we might not come to the same conclusion since they have been removed from the group.

However, even though someone is removed from the group, through the colors, they still represent that group and what the group stands for. If the reds are creative pretty boys and blues/blacks are brash jocks, even when the individual characters are away from the group, and perhaps not in their respective color, they still carry those traits.

If we look at the following two images, what can we assume about the two different groups?

The ones in black and white outfits are more sophisticated, elegant, and look richer. They also seem to be closed off due to their tight positioning right next to each other. The colorful group in blues and pinks which implies friendliness are dressed casually and more open to strangers because of their spread out stance.

So even if someone breaks away from the group, we still apply those traits to the individual characters.

Character Alignment

The association doesn't have to be an entire group of people. If we are first introduced to two characters in certain colors, when we see two other characters in those colors within the show, we can apply the same characteristics to them.

The intelligent blues helping the the mysterious blacks.

The blues being isolated while the reds have a community of support.

Or the dominant blacks being in love with the caring pinks.

It's an easy way for the narrative to quickly remind of us of allegiances while also reinforcing a particular aspect.

Let's practice. If you see these two characters, a man in red who is reckless, a rule-breaker, and careless walking next to a woman in blue who is intelligent, rule-abiding, and meticulous

Then when we see these two boys with a red and blue pen in their pockets, we can assume they carry those same traits.

The story has already given us this understanding, so it doesn't need to restate it. It's quick. It's easy. It's convenient.

Group Assignment

If the colors tell us who is a member of the group

Then they also tell us who isn't.

If we see a character NOT wearing the same colors as the others, they not only stand out within the scene, but it's important to the story. They are different than the others, they don't belong, or they are intentionally not wanting to be a member of the group dynamic.

It Takes Two

If you watched either of the videos from the second portion of last lesson's activity, you would have noticed that the men wore pink and the women wore blue.

If we saw the characters individually, we might not have put much thought into a woman wearing blue, but might have thought a bit more about a man wearing pink. However, when we see them together, we realize the narrative is commenting on gender roles through the use of color on each artist.

Sometimes we need both characters to understand the story's underlying theme.

If we saw each character individually, we might not think much about one wearing darker clothing and the other wearing lighter clothing. We might even assume that the one in darker colors is evil or a menace, but once we see the two characters together, we realize the story is commenting on the nature of light and dark. The two characters are yin and yang, and the story's underlying theme is one of stability and balance.

If we add in other concepts from previous lessons like lighting, positioning, and barriers, we get another layer of understanding.

We can guess this is a story of finding the balance between light and dark, but the lighting creating a halo over the character's head also tells us there is a element of the cursed versus the blessed and their positioning implies a power imbalance.

And within this shot, we can see the light and dark theme as well as one of a power dynamic (the steps), the reason for this imbalance (the books between them), and repressed emotions (the bars).

Now, let's continue to strengthen our understanding of visual rhetoric.

Activity

Watch each video and start applying concepts from the previous lessons: What are the colors saying? What are the signs saying? Are there any barriers or boundaries? What is the dynamic of the group?

Avicii "Silhouettes" - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6VJBBUqr1wM

Bad Bunny "Yo Perreo Sola" - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GtSRKwDCaZM

See you Friday for Lesson 6 - Cultural Awareness

#Reading the (Visual) Rainbow #lesson five - go team go!

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gallifreyanhotfive · 7 days

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What Would Have Happened If The Other Doctors Stepped on the "Boom" Land Mine

One: The land mine is diffused by the power of parental love much sooner. Splice and Mundy join the TARDIS team after he decides that Splice will be his next fill-in granddaughter.

Two: Plays the recorder instead of singing. Jamie attacks the ambulance with his knife as soon as it attaches the lines to the Doctor, and it's only Zoe that stops him from getting killed. The detonation happens much sooner because the Doctor gets antsy and plays with the fiddly bits.

Three: Expertly controls his blood pressure to stop a premature detonation. Tries to keep his companion far away, but they discover the land mine anyway. Takes the land mine with him after it is diffused to use for spare parts in the UNIT lab.

Four: "Harry, I'm standing on a land mine." Doesn't bother with a counterbalance and just stands on one foot for the whole episode. Snacks on some jelly babies while waiting for the right moment.

Five: Has an in depth conversation with Nyssa about how he is regulating his biology on a molecular level. They use a cricket ball from the TARDIS as a counterbalance, meaning that he never gets shot or targeted by the ambulance. One of his companions still ends up getting shot, at which point he falls over, immediately self destructs, and blows a giant hole in the planet.

Six: Gets far too irritated for his blood pressure to stay low. Could really do with some of Evelyn's cocoa right about now. The land mine blows up because he cannot calm down enough to disguise his presence.

Seven: A much longer conversation on how the Doctor is a complex space-time event. The countdown finishes, but the land mine doesn't blow because he had disarmed it at the beginning of the episode. The entire time, he was just pretending the land mine was live in order to teach his teenage companion a life lesson.

Eight: Forgets he's standing on a land mine and blows up. Gets into a passionate conversation with his companion about the war industry complex. Soliloquizes about life and death. Almost sacrifices himself in an inferno of self-loathing, but his companion saves the day.

War: His associates go back in time and extract him before he steps on the land mine. This new version of him continues fighting the Daleks while the time echo standing on the land mine is used to blow a hole in the nearby Dalek command ship.

Nine: Has flashbacks to the War while standing on the land mine but somehow manages to stabilize his blood pressure thanks to the presence of Rose and Jack. Jack manages to diffuse the bomb while he is on it thanks to his experience with Villengard tech.

Ten: "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." Tries to convince his companion to evacuate as much of the population into the TARDIS as possible because they would be safe there. Almost lets himself blow up, but his companion forces him to find a way to survive.

Eleven: The mine blows up in about ten seconds because he can't stand still. The entire planet is blown to smithereens, but his friends are okay because he locked them in the TARDIS.

Twelve: Gets into mind games with Clara while she is trying to figure out what he is standing on. Clara tries to take his place, but he doesn't let her. Missy eventually shows up and disarms the land mine because she wants to be the one to kill him.

Thirteen: Only manages to stay still because the Fam calms her down. Is oddly stoic about the entire thing and disappears into the depths of the TARDIS for several days after it happens. She never brings it up again even though Yaz tries to get her to talk about it.

Fourteen: God damn it this guy is supposed to be retired. He's supposed to be having a break. He talks about how much he loves his companion and how so, so sorry he is that he can't fix this.

Fugitive: This is a normal Tuesday for her. Probably has some sort of anti-land mine device in one of her coat pockets.

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bunnysbrainrot · 27 days

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A Lesson in Manners

Relationship: Dean Winchester x f!Reader

Content: Romantic tension, protective Dean, alcohol consumption, a weird guy ft. the way Dean handles it.

Summary: After a long, exhausting day of hunting, Team Free Will unwinds with drinks at a nearby bar. You're enjoying your time until a stranger decides to pester you, but that won't go unnoticed by Dean.

The signature purr of the Impala faded as Dean turned off the ignition, releasing a heavy sigh, a defeated and tired noise. Whatever nasties they have down here in Georgia have been difficult. All signs in this case were pointing to a djinn, but without getting in closer, there was no way to be completely sure.

That risk was left to Sam and Dean, as they had told you yesterday, when the research finally fell into place.

Sam's lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at his laptop screen, his brows twitching. He deadpanned and looked to his brother, "Djinn. How the hell didn't we think of that yet?"

Dean matched Sam's frustration with a scoff. He simply shook his head.

Djinn were unfamiliar to you still. Though you had done a fair bit of research, helpfully guided by Sam, and learned quite a lot. But, you also knew that research and experience were very, very different for a hunter.

"Awesome, so... what?" Dean inquired, raising a brow at Sam. You sat in the small armchair in the boys' motel room, looking between them. "We gonna go into blood-sucking paradise-dream-world again?"

Sam flashed a quick smile, "Let's just hope it doesn't come to that. Do we have any more lamb's blood?"

Dean's expression changed to annoyance, "Not after that dickbag Balthazar used it for that stupid parallel-universe crap." He crossed his arms over his chest and threw his head back in thought. "And where are we supposed to get it, anyway? We're in the middle of friggin' nowhere."

"Cas?"

"If we could even get a hold of him."

"I'm sure he's still listening, Dean. I know he's been here and there for a while, but-" Sam explained.

Whirling to face his brother, Dean countered, "'Here and there'? Sam, we basically wait three to five business days for him to give us anything. If he's so focused on Heaven right now, let him stay up there."

You had seen Dean's rising upset with his friend for a few weeks now, seeing the angel's presence less and less. Castiel didn't indulge any details, and kept recollections vague - but, the lack of transparency had been taking a toll on the group.

He’d been absent for two weeks now. Nothing.

Dean's lengthy sigh showed his stress. He brought a hand up to his brow; Sam rolled his head to stretch his neck in the passenger seat.

"I need a fuckin' beer," Dean breathed.

You laid a hand on his shoulder from the seat directly behind his - Sam was more conversational on long drives, so sitting on the left side gave good distraction in the long hours on the road. Dean craned his neck to you, looking to you expectantly.

Because as much as he didn't like to admit it, Dean craved the moments when you touched him.

You couldn’t tell if you spooked him, judging by the way Dean froze in his seat, eyes boring directly into yours. A grin spread across your face, "Let's get shitfaced."

Dean shook his head and pointed to you, "You don't wanna get to shitfaced level with me, sweetheart. Just a few beers. Plus, I’ve seen you get tipsy even after one."

Each of you started stepped out of the Impala, respectively stretching your achy legs, or arms, or backs or neck and everything else. No matter the hunt, the soreness remained the same. You released a groan as you lean backward, flexing your stiffened spine. Dean neared and landed a gentle pat between your shoulders to get you moving along.

You noticed how quickly Dean pushed ahead to open the front door, before you had the chance to lift a finger. He looked into the cracked door - an assessing glaze cast over his eyes. Always on the lookout for danger.

Who could keep you safer than Dean Winchester?

After all of his impressive feats so far, it’d be hard for someone not to admire Dean. Saving the world was easier on the drawing board, and with having been to hell and back, you couldn’t fathom the willpower he gained to push past it. Not a semblance of that traumatic experience showed in that handsome, stoic face.

Dean pressed the door ajar to make way for you and Sam. You scanned the tables and stools at the bar; patrons scattered around in clusters, each chattering and laughing amongst themselves.

The thick smell of liquor filled the air. You noticed the hints of whiskey, oddly reminding you of Dean, and the way that scent mixed with his cologne. You memorized that smell from his occasional hugs, or times where you’d sit together, and you’d wondered if he could hear your heart hammering in your chest.

Sam led the way toward a taller table in the corner of the joint, settling in a stool closest to the back emergency exit. You eyed the stool at the outer side, but a creeping feeling dawns on you - someone is staring. Settling into your stool, you took the chance to swivel around, looking for the source of that persistent feeling.

At the bar, a man with a scruffy beard had his eyes trained on yours, roving over your form in the chair. You exhaled, fighting back the feeling of disgust, and turned back to Sam, plastering on a terse smile.

“What is it?” Sam asked, his brows furrowing in concern.

You paled slightly, the man’s stare still honed in on your back, “Dude at the bar has a staring problem.”

Sam leaned casually to reach for his pocket, craning his head for a swift second. A glint in his eye told you he’d found the perpetrator. Footsteps approached from behind - a familiar pattern, one you’d heard every day, and without turning you’d known it was Dean. A careful brush of his hand between your shoulder blades eased you, a gentle reminder he was here.

“Bottoms up, buttercup,” Dean teased, placing a shot of amber liquor in front of you, himself, and then his brother.

Three lime wedges rested on a plate, along with a salt shaker. You glance at Dean with a ‘seriously?’ look, and he gave a signature Winchester grin. You did say you wanted to get shitfaced. And hell, it could help with that looming creep. You licked the back of your hand and sprinkled some salt.

“To figuring something out,” you proclaimed, raising the shot glass. The boys follow your lead before clinking them on the table, and tossing their heads back.

The tequila burns the back of your throat, but the lime helps you ignore it. Sam held a steady face while Dean grimaced at the burn.

You giggled softly, “Can’t handle tequila, Dean?”

He flashed a toothy grin, and a quick middle finger. Your giggle evolved into a bright laugh that drew one from Sam, too.

“Bet you couldn’t handle pool, though,” countered Dean.

Sam eyed you from the side and threw a knowing smirk. You’d never back down from a challenge, especially when it was Dean testing you. There was a desire to beat him at his own games, to show him you could match his skill and then some.

Then there was the chase of it - cycles of teasing comments and passing glances, but never a break in the tension.

Your voice lowers, “I’ll take you on any day, Winchester.”

The jest made Dean grin. The chase was on again.

Sam stayed behind when you and Dean claimed a vacant pool table, letting you set yourselves up for the perfect one-on-one.

Dean nodded to you and eyed the cue ball. You bend at the waist over the table, and felt the creeping feeling again. It radiated along your spine to the nape of your neck, as if your body was set ablaze under the stranger’s stare.

Until suddenly, you had company.

“Say, think you could spare me a game when you’re done, beautiful?”

The voice matched the face. It was nasally with a copious amount of douchery; another entitled asshole who got involved when he wasn’t wanted.

Across the table, Dean’s brow twitched.

“Listen bud, we’re just getting started here. Plenty of other folks in here who can play you,” the edge in Dean’s tone was a warning in and of itself.

You hitched a breath awaiting the man’s reaction.

Out of the corner of your eye you spotted Sam sliding off his barstool, slowly making his way closer to your pool table. He idly looked at his phone, but kept a watchful glance.

“I’m sure you’ll have the time for another one, right, baby?” The stranger’s words slurred stupidly. He didn’t address Dean with meeting his stare, and instead fought to have yours. He closed the gap between you two further - the smell of alcohol lingered on him, thick and nauseating.

You bark, “You’ve got ten seconds.”

“Oh…. hic… ten seconds ain’t enough for me, sweetheart..”

Dean’s voice was taunting, probably trying to pull the dickbag away from you, “It’s plenty for us.”

Finally, the man looked to Dean, straightening his posture at the height difference. He was lean, but couldn’t hold a firm stance, by the looks of it. The man scanned Dean top to bottom before turning back to you.

Before crossing a crucial line.

A foreign hand stroked your spine, making you recoil. Anger contorted your features as you warned him yourself.

“Try that again, fucker,” you spat with disgust. You could still feel the touch on your back. Gross.

The man’s lips tug into a smile, and the anger continued to brew. Of course, you were not the only one with that bubbling rage. Dean has closed the distance before you could register he’d moved at all.

Dean loomed over the man with a haunting glare. To add fuel to the fire, the man had the gall to grin at the threat, raising his hands to Dean’s chest.

“Come on, jus’ gavin’ a lil’ fun,” said the stranger.

In one swift motion, Dean collected the man’s wrists with one hand, and delivered a hook with the other.

The blow knocked his head to the side. Other patrons turned to the scene unfolding - some turned back to their drinks, some kept staring. You gasped when Dean landed another strike, sending the man tumbling to the floor with a resounding thud.

“Dean, that’s enough, he’s-“

He didn’t react to your objection.

Behind the commotion, Sam’s eyes widen with shock, though he smiles with satisfaction at the takedown.

A final shove put enough distance between you and the pathetic drunk. You turned to see the bartender giving Dean a stern look, but they return to filling a pint glass.

You panted softly while the stranger walked away, bracing his bloodied chin with his hand. You looked to Dean and found his attention back at the pool table, letting out a frustrated grunt. There wasn’t a way to thank him. No need. The man had made great strides in protecting you, enough to reassure that you didn’t have to offer thanks. It came naturally, protecting one another.

Sam made his way back to the table and returned to his stool, shaking his head in disbelief, a smile on his face.

What a night, right?

It was Dean’s voice that brought you back to your senses. That same voice that calmed you, that ignited your body to its core.

“Alright, sweetheart, you go first.”

——

“Dammit, whathefuck- that isn’t fair-“ you protested. You’d lost, but kept trying to knock the striped pool balls into the pockets, insisting that there was some sort of rule to let you go until you were fully done, including the cue ball.

Sam handed you a glass of water, which you sipped on immediately. Your fingertips slowly grew numb against the cold glass.

Dean chortled as he collected the pool balls, “Shitfaced and pool don’t mix well, do they?”

You let out a tipsy laugh and shake your head at him. The moment stilled, where the rest of the scene faded away. Dean scanned you over, and held a too-long look. A small spark lit behind his eyes.

“Let’s getcha home.”

Thank you for reading! I liked this idea, and I think it could easily have a second part. Vote in the poll or me know in the comments if you’d like to see where this goes!

#fanfiction #supernatural #spnfandom #spn #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural smut #bunny writes #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader

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uniquedinosaurdreamland · 5 months

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Ingrid Engen & Mapi León x Reader

-Annoying-

yay (kind of hate the ending but lol)

Ingrid Engen & Mapi León x Reader -Annoying- 🩷

🌸

“Who pissed in your coffee this morning sunshine?” Lucy smirked as she caught sight of you walking into the change room with a scowl covering your face. “Where are the other two, thought you guys were attached at the hip.” Lucy continued to tease.

“I can’t deal with Mapi right now, so I am going to stay far away from her otherwise I will kill her.” You said to your national teammate trying to control your emotions and stay calm. The morning started like any other waking up between your two girlfriends, engulfed in warmth until you all had to get up and get ready for training.

You don’t know why but Mapi had woken up in an extra annoying mood and her sole purpose was to make you want to pull your hair out. She knew how much you hated to be poked and tickled so all she had been doing those exact things, in the bathroom, when you were making coffee, when you just passed each other in your morning routines and even when you were walking down the stairs causing you to almost slip as well as lose your shit. Mapi had also turned to making fun of your height, you were only a few centimetres shorter then the older women but that was enough for her.

You had grown up with three older brothers who took pride in how ticklish you were and who sit on you and poke and prod until you couldn’t breathe. They had traumatised you so much that you hated anyone even making the movement of poking or tickling as it made you squirm. Yet Mapi didn’t care, loving your pouting face when she did it.

She had riled you up so much you had decided to drive yourself to training instead of getting driven by Ingrid. “You're an idiot.” Ingrid directed to Mapi, shaking her head as she watched you pull out of the driveway.

“Come on, it was just a joke, Corazón.” Mapi said, trying to defend herself.

“You know how much Y/N hates you poking and tickling her, and yet you continued.” Ingrid replied, grabbing her keys from the counter to take the other car to training since you had taken the main one.

“She’ll get over it.”

You in fact did not ‘get over it’ instead you worked hard to ignore your Spanish girlfriend through the entire training session, moving away when she stood too close, ignoring her calls from across the field, deciding to only speak to the older woman when you were placed on the same team for a game at the end of training.

Ingrid watched from the sidelines with Frido and Keira sat on either side of her, she laughed lightly as you scored a goal moving to high five your team members except for Mapi who had her hand up for you only to get brushed. “What's up with your girls?” Frido asked.

“Mapi was annoying Y/N and now Y/N won’t speak to Mapi so I’m just leaving them to sort it out, like always.” The three watched as Mapi ran by you pushing out a finger to hit your side, you scowled, hitting her hand away while Mapi smirked back winking.

“At the World Cup Ella and Alessia tried to tickle Y/N, she almost killed them. Lucy can vouch for me, she was the one having to hold little miss sunshine back from strangling them.” Keira said remembering the time you had been napping on one of the couches at national camp and Ella and Alessia had woken you up by tickling you under your arms and around your neck.

“Mapi needs to learn when to stop and she will learn her lesson once she takes it too far. Y/N did grow up with three older brothers.” Ingrid said shrugging her shoulder, she’d seen enough of Mapi teasing you and she knew you always got the last laugh.

Not even a minute later Mapi had snuck up on you and proceeded to tickle you, you let out a scream as you tried to get out of her tight grasp. You had finally been pushed over the edge and once you finally got out of her grip you turned around using all your force to tackle your Spanish girlfriend to the ground. Mapi wasn’t a typically ticklish person but you knew of the one spot on her neck that was very ticklish.

So with Mapi’s arms pinned under your knees your hands made their way to that spot that made the defender laugh and squirm underneath you. Mapi begged you to stop, being too weak from being tickled to throw you off. After a few moments she finally mustered the strength to get her arms from under your knees to grab your waist and flip you over onto your back.

“Calm down mi amor.” Mapi laughed as she now had your hands pinned down.

“I hate you.” You said through gritted teeth.

“I am sorry I have been annoying you. I will stop now if you calm down.” Mapi said looking down at you with her signature smirk plastered on her face.

“I hope you know I will get you back.” You stared back up at her as she got off you offering you her hand to be pulled up.

“I’m sure you will Cariño.” The slightly taller woman said, pressing a soft kiss to your hairline, smirking as she noticed you trying to hide your smile at the action. The whistle had been blown to end the game without you two realising so you both started to walk to your other girlfriend who stood talking with Frido and Keira waiting for you both.

Mapi stopped to talk as you grabbed a water bottle to drink from, before you made your way to the locker room you had one last plan. Turning to Mapi once again who had her back faced to you, you put your foot up and pushed it into the back of her knee successfully giving her a dead leg. You laughed loudly as her knee crumbled, with the mix of the dead leg and the hard training session her leg wasn’t working.

You weren’t sticking around to deal with Mapi’s annoyance, ignoring her colourful language and laughing as Ingrid hit her on the back of the head running to fall into step with Lucy. You were quick to move to the shower once you got back to the locker room. You had finished getting dressed in your (Ingrid’s) hoodie and some shorts.

“You are annoying.” Mapi said as the three of you said your goodbyes and moved to the parking lot to head home.

“I know.” You smiled back. “But I’ll go get some stuff for dinner on the way home, so you can’t stay mad at me.” You said as you walked to the car you had taken while Ingrid and Mapi walked to the other one.

Starting the car and pulling out, sending light smiles to the fans that were hanging around the entrance. Your shopping trip was quick, grabbing the last few things to make your mum's famous soup recipe before making your way back home. Quickly grabbing your training bag and shopping bags from the boot you unlocked your front door and headed into the kitchen.

Blowing a kiss to Ingrid who sat on the couch reading a book, not knowing where your other lover was but just figured she was in your shared room somewhere. Not having to start dinner for another two hours you put all the groceries away before moving to the couch flopping down so your head was sat on Ingrid's lap.

“Hei Kjære.”(Hello Darling) Ingrid smiling down at you moving to press a soft kiss to your lips, you smiled against hers as she pulled away to continue her book. You smiled as Bagheera jumped up onto your lap, your fingers threaded themselves though his fur getting a satisfied purr from the cat.

You were too focused on Bagheera to notice Mapi finally made her way from the bedroom to the lounge. The older woman smiled at the scene in front of her before moving to take Bagheera away. “Hey, give me my precious boy back.” You whined as Mapi moved the now sleeping cat to his bed.

“No cause you need to hug tu novia.”(your girlfriend) Mapi smiled, moving to lay down.

“You're annoying though.” You looked up at her teasingly.

“Lástima.”(Too bad) Mapi said before running full speed ahead to launch herself on top of you. Immediately burying her head into your neck, your hands made their way up her hoodie to scratch her back lightly.

“Why can’t you get along like this all the time.” Ingrid said, looking down at the two of you.

“Because my love, Maria is like a child she needs attention all the time and she thinks in order to get the attention she wants she has to poke and tickle.” You smiled up at your Norwegian lover, Mapi didn’t seem to like your comment as she grabbed onto your sides and dug into them with her fingers.

You immediately tried to get her off and you did which meant that Mapi was now on the ground. “I take it back.” Ingrid mutters under her breath as she once again watches the two of you get into a play fight. Which ends up with you over Mapi’s shoulder as she pokes you in the stomach over and over.

“STOP PLEASE STOP.” You yelled.

“Say I am the best most amazing person ever.” Mapi said, stopping her movements for a moment.

“No.” You squealed again as Mapi started to poke you again, not letting you move down from over her shoulder as you banged on her back. “Fine, you are the best most amazing person ever. Happy.” And with that you were placed back on your feet.

“Very.” Mapi looked down at you, as you moved to get out of her grip and return to your position on the sofa she pulled you in and connected your lips. Mapi moved to deepen the kiss, your legs feeling weak as she squeezed your hips, but before she would get carried away you pushed her away gently.

“I have to get dinner ready.” You said simply pecking her lips one more time before moving to the kitchen, Mapi happily making her way over to Ingrid to cuddle into her side.

You spent the rest of the night eating and watching a new movie that Ingrid had picked out, you were first to call quits and head to bed finishing your night routine before hopping into bed while your lovers finished the movie. An hour later the movie finished and Ingrid and Mapi headed up to bed, catching sight of you snuggled into the sheets made their hearts flutter.

Ingrid climbed into her side on the left after she was finished, closely followed by Mapi who took her side on the right on either side of you. Ingrid and Mapi’s hands intertwined over your waist as Ingrid snuggled into your neck and Mapi pulled your head gently to rest on her chest, the three of you now in a deep sleep tired from the fun but annoying day you had.

#woso x reader #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #barcelona femeni #fc barcelona #lionesses #lucy bronze

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endlessthxxghts · 4 months

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Hungry

Frankie Morales x afab!reader | W/C: 1.7k

Summary: You decide to go home on your lunch break. You call to see if your boyfriend can join you.

Content/Warnings: No physical descriptions of reader. No “y/n”. Implied that Frankie and you live together. Porn with a sprinkle of plot. 18+ MDNI!! Oral sex (both receiving). Face riding turned 69…Cumming untouched (kind of?). Cum eating. Please do let me know if I missed anything!!!

A/N: HI GUYS I’VE MISSED YOU. I’m on my university campus from 9-5, and I had a particularly rough day, so I went home on my lunch break (which I normally don’t do), and instead of lunch, I did something else. This was that something else. I hope you enjoy.👹

MASTERLIST || NOTIFS BLOG

He picks up after one ring. “Baby? What’s wrong?”

You don’t usually call him during your work day—the lab being too hectic even on your lunch break to enjoy anything other than the lunch you packed yourself.

“Nothing, I just- I miss you,” you tell him softly.

Today, though…Today is different. You’re exhausted and your other team members are also having a slow day, so you decide to call your boyfriend. You also decide that you deserve lunch off-site: in the comfort of your own home.

“I miss you, querida,” Frankie says, returning your warmth and gentleness tenfold.

Gods, his voice. The deep, softness of his voice never fails to make the butterflies flutter in your belly. And also… further below. You can’t help the next words that fall from your mouth.

“I want you.”

Only then does he realize—you’re not at the lab. He doesn’t hear the hustle and bustle of research going on in the background, he doesn’t even hear the air conditioning that’s always blasting in the break room. He’s called you once while you were on site, and he learned his lesson then. So, seeing you call today prompted him to think there was an emergency. And in his realization—yes, this is very much an emergency, but not the one he was expecting.

“You’re home, aren’t you?” He asks, really not needing the confirmation but obliges anyway.

“Yeah,” you say breathily.

“Do not go anywhere. Be there in ten, baby.”

“Make it five,” you whimper, ending the call, not wanting the formalities of a goodbye, too hung up on your dire need for him to handle hearing his voice without being able to touch him.

Frankie does make it home in five—taking my forty-five! he calls out to his boss as he walks out with no time for extra conversation. Professionally, that really wouldn’t do, but luckily, he’s always been on the good side of his superior.

“Querida!” He calls out as he enters the front door.

As soon as he’s through the door, you’re on him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he drops the keys in his hands to fully engulf you. The kiss is needy, desperate. You can’t help the moans already falling from your lips, and he’s just as eager to swallow them up. You do a mini jump, your legs wrapping around his waist, as he walks you two to your shared bedroom.

As he nears the edge of the bed, you untangle your legs from around him so he can sit down. But as soon as he’s hitting the bed, you’re straddling him once again, licking into his mouth as you grasp at the nape of his neck, your needy center grinding into his hard length.

Frankie’s lips break from yours, trailing kisses down your jaw, passing your chin, and settling on your neck, nipping and sucking the sweet spots that always have your hips bucking wildly into him, begging for more. He can feel the heat radiating from your center, his cock leaking at the sensation.

However, neither of you really have much time before you need to return to your respective jobs, and Frankie simply needs to eat.

His fingers meet the hem of your bottoms, pulling them down as you move your body around, allowing them to come down with ease.

Frankie starts leaning back, his hands trailing back to the meat of your thighs, grabbing them tightly and nudging you up his torso.

“F-Frankie, what-” you stutter, breathless and mind hazy from your makeout session.

You’re on your knees now, situated above his shoulders, your gaze looking down into his. “Sit,” is all he tells you.

“Frankie… we’re both on a clock here,” your voice waivers. Hesitant. When Frankie eats you out, he eats, and most of the time, he’ll continue out of his own pleasure well after however many orgasms he pulls out of you in this way.

“Just gonna make you cum, querida, promise,” he smirks, mischief written all over his face.

Without another word, he grabs your thighs, and forces your entire weight onto him, your thighs immediately clenching in the feeling as his tongue glides through your soaked folds. “Oh- Fuck,” you gasp, the pleasure hitting you all at once.

You can feel his smirk as your breathing grows heavier and your hips start to move on their own. Realizing what your body’s asking for, Frankie lifts you off of him and urges you to turn around. You don’t understand what for until his hands are guiding yours to grip onto his waist—your torso leaning forward at the movement.

Oh.

Oh, you like this. A lot.

In this angle, your pelvis opens up more for him, and you have more support to be able to freely grind against his face. This was Frankie’s main reason for repositioning you, but he didn’t realize what he just did. You now have complete access to the part of him that’s been throbbing for your attention.

Slowly, you let one of your hands glide upwards to his belt, the twang of his belt buckle making your mouth drool in response. Frankie pulls away momentarily. “What- what are you doing?” He asks, voice hoarse and utterly aroused at what you’re about to do.

You smile to yourself at his question. “Just keep eating, baby,” you say, pushing your sex back into his face, his nose nudging a particularly sensitive spot making you moan at the contact. You can feel the way he groans into you, the vibrations sending more slick for him to greedily drink up.

You finally get his cock free from the restraining khakis, and your pussy flutters at the view. He’s painfully hard, his tip red and precum all over. You put him into your mouth, swirling the head with your tongue to collect everything he’s giving you. You lift off him with a pop, a moan and a so fucking good leaving your mouth before you spit on him—watching his cock twitch as your drool drips down his length.

You pump his cock a few times to spread the mixture of your spit and his precum down his length. Satisfied, you take him back into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and flattening your tongue, pushing him as far back as you possibly can. Your gag reflex triggers then, your throat constricting around where he’s most sensitive, and he whimpers at the feeling, momentarily pausing his attention on you.

Using your gag to your advantage, you don’t stop bobbing up and down on his length, the sloppiness of it all sending him into a horny spiral. He loves having his mouth on you, but the feel of your mouth on him has his eyes rolling back to his head, his tongue slowing in his strokes as his body buzzes in the pleasure you’re giving him. His hips start fucking up into your mouth, and you moan around him, getting spurred on at his desperation.

“F-fuck-” he grunts. “Taking me- fuck- taking me so fucking good,” Frankie sighs, head falling back into the mattress. You almost made him forget his task at hand—which you genuinely wouldn’t mind because he’s always putting your pleasure first—but as soon as the fact hits him, oh, he’s going in.

Frankie grabs onto your waist, forcing your entire center flush against his face as he brings your clit to his mouth, sucking and nipping at it with a calculated intensity—the feeling radiating up your spine and down into your toes—hurtling you towards your orgasm within seconds. His cock slips from your mouth at his action, but right now, you really can’t think about anything else.

“Oh, yes, Frankie-” you gasp, “fuck, I’m gon- I’m gonna cum, please,” you whine, your cunt grinding wildly into his face.

“Mmmm,” he grunts. Cum for me, querida, you know he’s telling you.

Your orgasm is blinding, eyes clamped shut as your mouth mindlessly babbles praises to the man underneath you. “Oh my- oh fuck, you’re so-” you pant, unable to catch your breath at the intensity. “Good God, Frankie,” you whine.

Although you stopped paying attention to his thick member, the way your body convulses above him sends him to his own edge, cum shooting out and landing across his lower tummy, nearly half a centimeter away from splashing your face. You don’t realize this until after your breathing has slowed, your eyes finally peeling open and peering at the pooling milky liquid near his belly button.

As much as you can in your exhausted state, you pull your head up and dart your tongue out, coating every part of your tongue with his cum, a squeaky little sigh escaping you at the taste of his salty musk.

“Christ, baby,” you hear him mutter when he feels your tongue tickling across his surface.

You untangle yourself from his body, repositioning so your head is in alignment with his. “That was fun,” you say casually before pressing a lengthy kiss to his lips, tongue sneaking into his mouth, exchanging each other’s flavor.

“Yeah? Wanna go for round two?” Frankie asks, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Frankie!” You scold, slapping his chest. “We’re on a lunch break—no, we can’t go for round two!”

He pouts at you, bringing his hand up to cradle the back of your head, pulling you into one more kiss before you both have to leave again. As if your colleagues are watching you, both yours and his phone ring right as your lips begin to touch.

Jumping off the bed, you ignore your bottoms on the floor and run straight to your phone, answering it with your last name.

“Hey. No rush, but when do you think you’ll be back? Dr. Mowak is ready for your report if you are,” your lab assistant tells you.

Oh, fuck.

“Hey, yeah, I’m on my way back now, I accidentally caught up with a last minute… emergency,” you say, a little awkwardly.

You hear a soft chuckle behind you. You turn around to see Frankie with a boyish grin, winking at you.

You roll your eyes at him, but the butterflies flutter all the same.

Or maybe it’s your stomach growling.

Shit, you’re hungry.

If you’d like to see more, check out my masterlist or follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs to be updated on my new stories!! Much love to you all, thank you so much for reading and interacting with my silly little delusional self. 🫶🏼🫶🏼

@pedrostories

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astonmartinii · 10 months

Text

signed up for life | lewis hamilton social media au

pairing: lewis hamilton x signlanguageinterpretator!reader

f1 finally introduces a sign language interpretor to their media team

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, danielricciardo and 110,951 others

yourusername: ahhhh such a dream come true, my first f1 weekend was an absolute dream and to be able to represent the deaf community on such a big platform was such a pleasure - here's to many more and to normalising sign language on major sports broadcasts !!

view all comments

user1: f1 may be going backwards in terms of fia tomfoolery but i'm super happy to see some good progress

user2: why isn't sign language compulsory in schools? seeing y/n has defo inspired me to start learning

lewishamilton: you're such an inspiration and a great addition to the paddock

yourusername: thank you lewis and thank you for the warm welcome <3

user3: f1 finally stepping up the representation game

user4: i was living for the sass in her signing i can't wait to watch her sign the inevitable domestic between toto and christian

charles_leclerc: welcome to the paddock y/n!

yourusername: thank you charles :)

user5: i ship it already

user6: take a day off already lord she's been there one weekend and you're already minimising her to a driver she could date

liked by lewishamilton, yourusername and 1,204,871 others

tagged: yourusername

f1: how did you guys enjoy y/n y/ln's sky sports debut this weekend? y/n will be on the broadcast team this season as their sign language interpreter!

view all comments

user10: she killed it i love her already

user11: the signing was a slay but can we also talk about how she's slaying the fashion game?

user12: finally lewis has some good competition

lewishamilton liked this comment

alexalbon: welcome y/n !! thank you for the extra help with the hard of hearing fans on friday

user13: huh?

user14: oh a girl on twitter has a thread about this, she's hard of hearing and y/n stopped and acted as translator for her with all of the drivers going into the paddock

user15: omg i love her even more

lewishamilton: can't wait to start my signing lessons

yourusername: you're lucky you've got the best teacher around

user16: uh HELLO?

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, lilymunhe and 149,086 others

yourusername: taking advantage of the mini break

view all comments

user17: who told her she could serve this hard?

lilymunhe: gosh i have a crush on you

alexalbon: do i mean nothing to you?

lilymunhe: not compared to her

yourusername: well i am flattered but unfortunately not up for grabs :(

user18: she's not up for grabs ??? we already lost her ???

user19: it's only been like five races who ever it is wasn't messing around

user20: not to be one of those crazy wag conspiracy theorists but the guy in the last slide is defo lewis

lewishamilton: pastries on a boat?

yourusername: idk the guy i was with thought it was a great idea

user21: chatting like it wasn't him they're so shameless

lewishamilton

liked by yourusername, georgerussell63 and 1,023,677 others

lewishamilton: perks to living in monaco

view all comments

user22: oh to be rich...

yourusername: hmmm a baguette on a boat

lewishamilton: idk the girl i was with thought it was a great idea

user23: please stop playing with us

georgerussell63: i see my invite was lost in the post yet again

lewishamilton: i wasn't prepared to hear you complain about thirdwheeling the whole time

georgerussell63: clear solution here... invite carmen and it's a double date?

user24: so they're just gonna be like this and just never confirm whether they're together or not?

charles_leclerc: so this is what my boat was used for ?

lewishamilton: i think i'll keep everything that happened on that boat to myself

charles_leclerc: based on that i don't think i want to know

user25: poor guy, getting fucked by ferrari and lewis fucked y/n on his boat

pierregasly: most action he's seen in a while

user26: charles is just catching so many strays 😭

f1wagupdates

liked by user38, user29 and 2,340 others

tagged: yourusername, lewishamilton

f1wagupdates: y/n y/ln and lewis hamilton have all but confirmed their relationship after they spent the entire summer break together and arrived to the first race back at spa together. lewis even showed how much time they've been spending together by signing during a tiktok filmed for mercedes' account. what do you think of the couple?

view all comments

user39: they're so so cute that's my PADDOCK POWER COUPLE

user40: they are too sexy it should be illegal for them to be so sexy

user41: can't wait for some bitter old men to say that she can't be on the broadcast team cause of "bias"

user42: i need them to stand on me

user43: i think they might actually be the best f1 couple ever soz

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, lewishamilton and 309,778 others

tagged: lewishamilton

yourusername: yeah i guess he won yet another race but we all know his biggest win is off the track

view all comments

user44: mama knows her worth i love her

lewishamilton: never doubt that you're my biggest prize

yourusername: i love youuuuuuuuuu

lewishamilton: leave your meeting and come home please

user45: move over roscoe i'm their dog now anything to be with them

roscoelovescoco: ????

lilymunhe: give me a chance i swear

alexalbon: i regret ever introducing you two

yourusername: oh please albono you love any excuse to hang out with us

lewishamilton: yea i don't hear you complaining on our double dates

user46: lily, y/n, lewis and alex all double date ???? kill me.

lewishamilton

liked by georgerussell63, yourusername and 1,340,887 others

tagged: yourusername

lewishamilton: getting to the end of the season and the hard work is paying off. we keep pushing until the end but always remember to take time to be with the ones you love

view all comments

user47: only this man could make a race win post so sappy

yourusername: proud of you baby

lewishamilton: i love you

user48: the fact that lewis is so good at signing now he could do most of his post race interview in bsl (though he still needs y/n there for reassurance)

user49: i was there and interlagos had a mainstage activity of y/n teaching basic sign language I LOVED IT

mercedesamgf1: let's go lewis 💪

roscoelovescoco: lets goooooooo dads

user50: guys i worked out that sign we always see lewis and y/n do to each other that's not on any of dictionaries i've looked at - it's their sign names and saying they love each other

user51: they're so fucking cheesy but i love them

mercedesamgf1

liked by yourusername, f1 and 1,679,045 others

tagged: lewishamilton

mercedesamgf1: LEWIS HAMILTON IS FINALLY AN EIGHT TIME CHAMPION OF THE WORLD 🏆

view all comments

user52: OMFG IT FINALLY HAPPENED I NEEDED THIS SO MCUH

yourusername: speechless honestly

lewishamilton: really? cause all i heard was screaming on the broadcast

yourusername: FALSE I WAS PROFESSIONAL

user53: the way i knew he would win but i don't know what to do with myself now it has happened?

roscoelovescoco: congrats dad !!!!

georgerussell63: mega season from lewis 🏆 we go again next season 💪

lewishamilton: thank you george, your time will come

user54: the kiss... parents for real

yourusername

liked by georgerussell63, lewishamilton and 901,347 others

tagged: lewishamilton

yourusername: this season has been a rollercoaster but two things have stood out to me. 1. i met the love of my life and the man i will be with for the rest of my life and was able to watch the man i love make history and i couldn't be prouder. 2. i got to represent my community on one of the biggest platforms ever and inspire people to pick up the beautiful language of sign language which is the most rewarding part of my job!! thank you so much for this opportunity, the love and for taking the journey into sign language, we welcome you xx

view all comments

user53: no i love you so much and your addition to f1 is invaluable

user54: you guys are so cute and so inspiring, really god's favourites

lewishamilton: i love you so much, thank you for your love and support and for introducing me to this beautiful language

yourusername: you're such an inspiration to me baby, you're a record holder and the holder of my heart

landonorris: lord i might throw up

yourusernme: if you're not here to congratulate STFU

landonorris: my bad, congrats (you guys are so grossly in love)

user55: they're so parents it's now illegal for them to divorce

f1: thank you for educating us, we'll see you next season !

note: hope y'all enjoy, i'm partially deaf in both ears and am currently learning BSL to feel closer to my community and had this idea. i wish this was an actual position in f1 but hopefully in the future xx

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton instagram au

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wrestlingwithlife · 1 year

Text

Texas Style

Most people quiver at the thought of having to face Ghost, let alone in hand to hand combat, but Ghost is about to have a sparring partner like he’s never had before. With a little Texas flare thrown in, of course.

Task Force 141 x Male!Reader

—————————————————————————————————————

Y/n fished around in his dresser, searching for sturdier tank top than the one he’d had on. The last thing he wanted was to rip another, especially after what had happened last hand to hand combat day. The h/c haired male didn’t even bother to look up when he heard his door swing, already having a strong idea about who it was.

“Howdy, Partner.” Soap laughed as he plopped onto Y/n’s bed. The s/t male only rolled his eyes at Soap’s humor.

“Hello, Soap.”

Y/n gave up on his search for a thicker tank top, shutting the drawer and turning back to face Soap. Y/n had learned his lesson on ignoring the Scott for to long.

A coy smile danced across the mohawked man’s face. “You sound like your not simply ecstatic to see me.” He teased, eyes blazing with mischief as he scanned them over his team mate.

“Hmm, how rude of me.” Y/n spoke flatly, but he couldn’t fight the smallest up turn of his lips. “Let’s go, don’t want Price on us for being late.”

Y/n leads the way out of his room, when they step out Gaz is there, waiting for them. “Would you look at us, we done got a reunion going.” Y/n drawled, shutting his door behind them. The three made their way across the base, turning a few heads as they did.

Now, Y/n was gorgeous. Everyone knew that. Well, everyone except Y/n himself but the poor guy didn’t have a mind for much more than his teammates, so who could really blame him.

But Y/n wasn’t just that pretty guy who went to your high school with you. No, he was the kind of pretty that was untouchable. Like a celebrity, or some guy at the airport that you’ll probably never see again.

The 141 squad understood this, and they reveled in the fact that Y/n was their’s. Well, mostly Soap and Gaz, but who’s really paying attention to that? However, as much as they loved to flaunt Y/n, there were times when even they’d get protective.

So when Soap slung his arm over Y/n’s shoulder and tugged him in closer the h/c haired male didn’t bat an eye. Not even when Gaz’s arm slipped around his waist. This was just his daily life, and he’d grown used to it.

In fact, when the looming figure seemingly appeared out of nowhere behind them he was the only one of the trio not to jump out of his skin. Y/n offered Ghost a smile, nodding in greeting to the silent male.

“So, Cowboy, you nervous?” Soap slung his arm over Y/n’s shoulder again, taking back his place pressed up to the male.

The h/c male blinked, tilting his head in confusion. “Nervous? What for?”

Soap had to bite his cheek to hide how adorable the head tilt looked from his point of view. “Well you and Ghosty are the only ones with undefeated records in hand to hand, means you two will be fighting today.”

Y/n shrugged, reaching for the knob of the training room door. “Ain’t nothing. I wrestled steers twice as big as Simon, and four times as mean.” The male shot Ghost a playful and teasing look, and Ghost was lucky he wore a mask or his pink cheeks would have been on full display.

When the group stepped into the training room heads turned. I mean, of course they did. This was THE 141 Task Force. Who wouldn’t look?

Price looked up from the trainer he was talking to to, a grin on his lips as he motioned the group over.

“Ghost, Cowboy, go get stretched. You’re up in five.”

Ghost’s eyes cut over to Y/n, but the smaller male was already looking at him. His e/c eyes are blazing with something that Simon could only describe as wild adrenaline. Cowboy grins, giving Ghost a wink before going off to stretch, Soap trailing after him like a little lost dog.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜

Soap’s hands worked into the muscles of Y/n shoulders as the male wrapped his hands. He didn’t plan on throwing many punches, but better safe than sorry.

“Really pampering me ain’t ya? Feel like one of my Pa’s show calves right about now.” Y/n chuckled, looking over his shoulder at Soap once he was done with his hands.

“Now I know how Ghost feels when I talk.” Johnny huffed, moving down to Y/n’s shoulder blades. “Well somebody has to pamper you, you’re about to face the grim reaper after all.”

Now, one could argue that Soap was only massaging the muscles on Y/n shoulders to give himself the opportunity to feel him up a little. However, those people would be hypocrites, because every person in the room was shooting Soap a jealous look.

And Y/n wasn’t complaining, so it was a win-win.

“Cowboy! Ghost! You’re up!”

Y/n pulled away from Soap’s hold, jumping a bit in surprise when he felt a hard slap on his ass. “Give him hell, Cowboy!” Soap cheered.

Y/n just shook his head, making his way to the ring. Ghost stood before him, a looming presence of muscles and angst. Y/n couldn’t help but shudder in excitement.

“Good luck.” The e/c eyed male smirked, taking up a ready stance. Ghost didn’t say anything, he only nodded, watching Y/n with careful eyes.

“Alright, you two know the rules. First one on their back for a three count or I call it.” The trainer spoke. “On my call… begin!”

Ghost was the first to make a move, throwing a right hook at the shorter male. Y/n managed to just barely duck under it, slipping past him with ease.

Cowboy hooks an arm around Ghost’s waist using his momentum to carry him to the skull masked male’s other side, catching him off guard.

Y/n’s arm slips up Ghost’s back, trapping his head and left arm in a tight grip. However, Ghost refused to go down easy. He did his best to break the hold, slinging Y/n around wildly, but his grip remained unbroken.

Gaz watched in amazement as Y/n clung to Ghost, his e/c eyes wild with delight and his face sporting an equally wild grin.

When Y/n’s feet finally hit the ground he saw his opportunity. The male dropped his hips, twisting his body and threw his weight around, flipping Ghost over his shoulder.

Ghost’s back hit the ground with a thundering noise, knocking the breath from his lungs. Cowboy was quick to straddle the man’s waist, pinning his arms above his head.

They sat there for a moment, Ghost breathing heavily and Y/n grinning down at him, before the trainer blew his whistle. The match was over, Cowboy had won, and Ghost had learned something about himself that day.

There were claps and whoops, and when the two stepped off the mat Soap practically tackled the poor country boy to the floor.

“I didn’t doubt you for a second!” He beamed, arm wrapped tightly around Y/n’s slim waist.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜

Y/n towel dried his hair as he stepped out from the shower, pulling on a loose pair of joggers. He was lounging in his room for the rest of the day, so he saw no need to bother with a shirt.

He opened his bathroom door and stepped out into his room only to see Ghost sat in one of his bean bag chairs reading a book while Soap and Gaz sat at the foot of his bed, engrossed in some true crime show.

“Hello people who do not live here.” Y/n huffed, three sets of eyes darted over to look at him. Ghost had the luxury of having a mask to cover his cheeks, the other two were less fortunate. Luckily for Gaz, Soap was there to take the attention from him.

“My oh my, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” Soap whistled flirtatiously, wiggling his eye brows. Y/n rolled his eyes, grabbing a pillow from the top of his bed and smacking the Scott with it.

Y/n plopped down onto his bed leaning against his pillows. Gaz and Soap shifted a bit, resting their heads on the southern males thick thighs, going back to being absorbed into their show.

The bed dipped a bit and Ghost sat down, laying back so his head was resting against Y/n’s chest. He didn’t make eyes contact with the male, eyes still focused on the book in his hand.

Y/n smiled softly, letting his hand rest on top of Ghost’s head. His eyes cut back over to the show that was playing on the screen, and he had to admit, this was pretty nice.

————————————————————————

Hope this was okay! If you guys like the cowboy!reader I’d love to do more. It’s hard to find any love for cowboy readers out there lol

- Author~Chan out ✌️

#cod mwf2 #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod x male reader #cod x cowboy!reader #cowboy!reader #male!reader #codxmale!reader #ghost #simon riley #soap mctavish #task force 141 #cod gaz

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dilfl0v3rss · 1 year

Note

Hear me outt 🌝 - jealous ony .. and y/n gets a lil lesson

yes yes yesssssss😩

all mine

cw: car sex, public sex!!

word count: 1.8k

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

ony isn’t the jealous type, having lots of confidence in your love for him. he trusted you with his life and expected you to do the same with him so if there was an issue that had him feeling a little more possessive then it usually had barely anything to do with you. it was these thirsty ass niggas.

“baby please go sit the fuck down. too damn early for you t’be irritating me.” it was nine in the morning and you decided i’d be fun to give ony a little show in the living room, twerking and singing along to different songs playing on youtube. right now the princess dianna remix was playing and you was sitting in his lap, bouncing up and down as if you were riding him. “cmon boy i know you wanna touch all dis.” hands raking all over your body as you looked down at his bored face.

ony wasn’t trying to do nothing but smoke a wood with his breakfast and you were ruining that by putting your tiddies all in his face. “mama go somewhere wit allat before i spank you furreal.” his deep voice rumbled from his chest as he lightly pushed you off of him. this man clearly had an attitude, but you knew his stuck up ass wasn’t gon say nothing about it. “what’s wrong papa? why you so aggy?” you were trying to get him to communicate with you, but quickly changed your mind once he got to sucking his teeth, acting as if you were being a pest or something.

rolling your eyes, you started to say something smart, but we’re cut off by the sound of ony’s ringtone. connie’s contact came up and the way your man moved to grab the phone pissed you tf off. “yoo?……nah i’m just chillin at the crib rn…..of course gang we out.” your hands instantly gravitated towards your hips, weight being supported on one leg as you gave him a stank face. “you out where?”

once again, this sassy ass man sucked his teeth before replying. “finna go hoop wit the guys.” this had to be some type of sick joke. there’s no way this man, YOUR man, the one who literally had an attitude five minutes ago, was suddenly prepped up and ready to go run around with his little friends, but couldn’t even have a little fun with you.

“what about me? you don’t wanna stay wit me today daddy?” voice softening as you leaned down to ony’s face. you looked into his brown eyes as you waited for him to fold. he stared right back at you, licking his lips before his phone buzzed once again, ruining the moment as you seen his group chat start to blow his phone up with messages. “you can come wit me ma, but i wanna go hoop.”

what a fucking joke. you pushed yourself of off where your arms were rested before walking to your room, hips swaying with attitude. you wanted to go to target anyways so you decided you’d go to the park with him just this once to get what you wanted, but you had no intention of speaking to this man until he gave you the attention you deserved.

you sat on the park bench, watching ony get all sweaty and sexy playing with his friends. “cashhh bitch! y’all niggas suck i’m finna start putting money on this shit.” ony chuckled as he watched eren and reiner holding their hands on their knees, clearly out of breath from getting their ass whooped again.

“man fuck you. you and connie don’t even need to be on the same team cause y’all mothafuckas played in high school. if we was on that field you know damn well me and rei would be whooping that ass.” eren and reiner dapped each other up before each of them went to go get some water. ony approached you on the bench, shirt discarded somewhere near the courts, chest glistening with sweat as he practically snatched the water from in front of you and drank it.

“excuse me you fucking beast. at least ask.” you reached to snatch the water back, but he just held it higher so you couldn’t reach, giving you a warning glacé. “girl watch your mouth ‘fore i embarrass you in this park.” you rolled your eyes, plopping yourself back in your seat and pulling out your phone. “just go play wit ya little boyfriends ony.” you mumbled, texting on your phone as if you said nothing.

ony clearly didn’t hear you, walking back to go set up another game. “excuse me. this seat taken?” you turned around with attitude, still pissed at your stupid ass boyfriend. when you looked up at where the voice was coming from you were surprised to see a very handsome older man staring back at you. “nah you good. s’just me.” the man smiled at you, gladly taking a seat while digging in his back for his sneakers. “aww that’s a shame. why’s a pretty girl like you at the park all alone?”

you were going to correct him and let him know that you meant alone on the bench, not alone at the park, but your words were soon forgotten. “i’m zeke, eren’s brother. you a friend of his?” you nodded your head, voice stuck in your throat as zeke chuckled at your lack of reply. “you don’t talk much do ya? that’s fine. how about you give me your number and i’ll do all the talking.” as handsome as he was, you were a loyal woman and only wanted to be with one man.

you opened your mouth to politely shoot him down when you were interrupted. “nah she good.” ony’s lower stomach was was right behind your head as you and zeke looked up at him. face showing signs of irritation as he stood over you with his arms crossed on his chest. zeke held his hands up in defense as he practically rats you out. “i mean no harm, the pretty lady said she was here alone so i asked for her number. i had no idea.”

you looked up at your boyfriend, giving him a shy smile as you practically smelled the jealousy coming off of him. “uhh we’ll since that’s outta the way, you guys got room for one more?” zeke stood up, clearly uncomfortable with the tense energy being emitted from the both of you right now. “go ahead man, m’just leaving.” the blonde man gave him a small nod before leaving the two of you alone. “baby it’s not what is lo-”

“get in the car mama, we going home.”

the two of you didn’t even make is home, legs spread in the passenger seat as ony had one hand caressing the back of your neck while the other was buried deep in your panties. you’ve tried explaining the situation many times, and he seemed to understand what really happened, but he still fingered you with so much vigor that you couldn’t help but feel he was upset with you. “p-please papa i didn’t do anything wrongggg. it was just mis-miscommunication.”

his fingers dug into you deeper, nodding to you in understanding as he sucked hickies into your neck. “i know mama. i know. it’s just…just-” “jus’ what daddy? what i do?” a soft sigh left your lips at ony’s fingers left your hole, lifting to your clit before rubbing it slowly. “ion like seeing you talk to men ion know.” his fingers moved faster, making you shake under his arm as your release approached.

“i didn’t k-know. m’sorryyyy” your climax was at the tip of your tongue, but before long it was ripped away. ony leaned back in his seat before pulling his shorts and boxers below his hips. dick standing tall against his stomach as his hands moved towards your hips. “it’s okay princes. ima teach you, and make sure you never forget.”

though ony had a soft smile on his face, his grip on your hips was tight as he lifted you over the center console. your sundress was bunched up at your stomach so your boyfriend had easy access to your pretty pussy. he waisted no time ripping your panties in the middle and lining himself up with your tight entrance. “no screaming, no running, no crying, understand?”

before you could answer a scream erupted from your throat as ony slammed you down on his dick. “the fuck i just say mama?” large hands squeezing your ass tightly as he continued bouncing you up and down on his lap. lewd moans flew from your lips as you felt how delicious your walls felt against him. “i know it feel good, but i need you to stay quiet f’me okay? we still in public.” your eyes migrated toward the tinted windows, getting a good view of the still occupied park as well as you friends playing basketball.

“i’ll be quiet, promise.” your lips connected, dancing sloppily with each other before ony spoke into your mouth. “good girl.” his dick began kissing your cervix, palms taking up most of the space of your ass. “you mine right?” the two of you were eye to eye as he moved his hand to your neck, a silent command for you to bounce on your own as he continued thrusting from under you.

“y-yes daddy. only yours.” ony smiled at your response, rewarding you by angling his hips upward in the way that makes you want to melt into him. “this my pussy ain’t it?” he took your wrists, holding them behind your back as the two of you made love chest to chest. you moaned his name repeatedly like a prayer until you felt the urge to pee. “your heart, mind, and body. who’s is it?”

you felt your climax once again, this time stronger than before. pussy already leaking so much that it wet the seats under you as you continued fucking yourself onto ony’s dick. he knew you were close when you clenched tightly around him, clearly holding your release in so you can ask for permission. a wide smile crept into his face as he watched how obedient you were. “answer me and you can cum mama. who you belong to?”

“y-you daddyyy.” usually this answer would’ve satisfied him, but your boyfriend was in a different type of mood today. “nah princess say my name. my real name.” your pussy fluttered around him in delight, loving every second of this moment as you began kissing up his chest. ony shivered under you when you reached his neck, stopping right behind his ear. “i’m all y-yours. on-onyankoponnnn.”

your orgasm crashed down in waves, making you shake as your juices ran down his thighs. your boyfriend wasn’t far behind you, shooting his load deep inside you while holding your body on his. “that’s my good girl. never forget that either.”

#aot onyankopon #onyankopon x black reader #aot x black reader #onyankopon x reader #aot #aot smut #onyankopon x black!reader #onyankopon aot #onyankopon smut #onyankopon

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comicaurora · 7 months

Note

Are there any tropes or lessons you like to see used on the five man band.

I.E.: the lancer needs to learn the power of friendship or the heart needing to learn self care

Oh man. So many. Just off the top of my head-

The Leader is out of commission and The Lancer gets their wish of being in charge! Oh god why is everything so difficult this is like herding cats how does The Leader stand it

The Smart Guy has friends now, so it's easy to forget that before The Band they were isolated and awkward and overall very alone. Let's unpack that!

Oh nooooo The Lancer was overconfident and got their ass beat by bad guys and now they need to get rescuuuuuued nooooooo what if they learn a lesson about truuuuuust

The Heart supports the team without complaint… but what happens when they need support? (hugs. hugs happen)

Has The Lancer… betrayed us?? (maybe a little, as a treat, but not for long so relax)

Everyone else is out of commission! It's up to The Smart Guy to sneakily save the day!

The villain of the week made someone in the group experience Deep Emotional Issues and now The Heart is going to straight-up murder them if nobody stops them

hey bad news they brainwashed the chillest friendliest member of the gang and now we have to do an absolutely terrifying fight scene about it

Everyone on the team is relying on one member's unique skill to save them all while the rest of them buy time, and the only person who isn't sure they can do it is the person doing it

One of them is cornered, but wins using a skill they picked up from a teammate (and possibly complains about it nonstop)

Everyone is being independently interrogated about something they all did and every single one of them is either stonewalling or lying outrageously

Okay one of the team is out of commission let's try REALLY HARD to take care of them and handle any problems WITHOUT BOTHERING THEM I'm sure this won't result in a comedy of errors

Everyone gets knocked flat in a one-shot move but how cool is it when the powerhouse is the only one who manages to get back up

Okay you guys go handle the main villain I'll stay here by myself and hold off the entire army of minions no sweat

Oh hey, turns out this Heart character we've been underestimating isn't weak or underpowered, they're just usually much too nice to kick anyone's ass half as hard as they deserve. congrats on finally finding their breaking point tho

One of the characters is feeling useless, sure hope they don't push themself to deeply self-destructive extremes to compensate

Somehow The Leader has been temporarily compromised to the side of Evil I sure hope The Lancer doesn't take it upon themself to solve this the only way they know how (running off on their own and getting their shit rocked)

Local Lancer Unfortunately Concludes They Are Undyingly Loyal To These Idiots

#asks #not aurora #tropes

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dreamauri · 6 months

Note

WHEN IS THE NEXT CHAPTER OF My love mine all mine COMING OUT BCZ IM INVESTED

┇𝗠𝗬 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗘 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗘 - part five ┇୧ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ :🪴: ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ୨୧ ╮ ┇arranged marriage does not always hold ┇the outcome you expect !! ┇︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦˚₊ ┇ . 🌿 :: pairing — ( max vertsappen x wife! reader ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠genre — ( romance + smut ) ┇ . 🌿 :: ⁠song — ( link ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠word count — ( 1, 047 ) ╰ 🌿 :: ⁠ content warning — ( oral f receiving )

★ ☆ 🫡 ━━━━━━━

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( previous | next )

"First driving lesson. Are you ready?" "Absolutely not."

You gave a smile and thumbs up to the camera recording you and your husband, whilst max adjusted the strap to your helmet. "Learning to drive in a fast car is a bad idea." You warned him. looking around the controls to the NSX.

"It's not a bad idea." Max assured you, reaching over and buckling you up. "It very much is, liefje." [baby] You dismissed, looking out the open window to the Red Bull team filming you guys from the outside. "Can we get a slower car? I feel like We'd be much safter in . . . I have no idea. A slow car. A Kia maybe?."

Max laughed at you. "Are you serious? A kia? You think I'm a bad teacher." "No!" You turned to him quickly, holding his hands. He was teasing you but you still felt the need to make sure he knew. "Max, you're an amazing teacher. But you being intact is more for our home race is more important than me learning drive."

"You don't like my birthday present?" He gasped, putting his hand on his chest, being dramatic. "I—" you pulled him in a kiss only for your headgear to bump into his and stop you. "ow . . . I was gonna say I love it." Max laughed at you, leaning his head on the window while your glared at him.

"Where's the go and stop." You were commanding him now, putting both your hands on the steering wheel.

You did eventually get the basics, you were to scared to lift your leg off the brake that the car was literally only moving for a meter before it came to a full stop. The process of breaking every few seconds continued until max was able to get you confident in yourself to drive a steady 40 kilometre per hour around the long straight.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"How is it, with the wife." "My wife?" Max's eyes light up at the mention of you. He was up onstage in the fan zone, sitting on a stool with checo and an f1 presenter. "Married life, how is it?"

"Well, I didn't know if the video went out yet, but i just gave her her first driving lesson this morning—" "really?" Natalie pink ham butted in, giggling.

"Is that what that was?" Checo laughed along with the crowd.

"I mean, no offense, Shatje; she sucks at driving. But it's nice to have that contrast, because I cannot paint or cook for the life of me." He laughed, leaning back to look at the side stage where you stood, smiling at him. "She's gonna kill me when we get home. Look at that smile."

The crowd erupted in laughter. Max waved you a hi, even though he was spending the whole day with you. You rolled your eyes playfully, folding your arms. You couldn't help the smile that curled on your lips as you looked at the cute puppy of a Dutch f1 driver. "Beautiful smile." Max chuckled, turning back to the fans.

You two were stuck to each other after the interview, sitting all cozied up in the hospitality, snuggled up to each other as you scrolled through your phone, both of you judging the décor and furniture you would need to renovate.

"This wallpaper is nice." You hum, pressing on the image. "My love, we don't need wallpaper. We have you." You chuckled, shaking your head. "I'm serious, you're very talented." He tilted your chin up kissing you.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Maxie!" you called through the house, peaking out of the bathroom door. You peaked down the foreign Belgian house, looking down the hall looking for your husband. "Maxie!" You called louder. "Ja, schat?" [yes, love]

"Kun je een handdoek voor me halen? . . alstublieft." [can you get me a towel, please]

"Wat? ik kan je niet horen."[what? i cant hear you] he called back. You could hear the faint noise of the tv from where max sat in the living room.

"Towel, Max." You sighed. What was he watching, foot ball? "I'm wet, and I'm cold and I'm naked—" yep that did it. You heard his footsteps run up the stairs at the word, his fluff of blond peaked from behind the wall to try and see you.

But you thought before hand and hid your body behind the door so all Max could see was your wet and messy hair and smile as you repeated the word. "Towel."

He pouted with a huff as he stomped to your room, returning seconds later with a fluffy towel. "Thank you." You hum, pulling the towel in with you, disappearing behind the door. Only, the towel was pulling from you. You peaked out the door to see Max holding the opposite corner, puppy eyes as he looked at you.

"Max, not now." You whispered feeling your face redden with embarrassment as he tried to peak in. "één kus, één kus." [one kiss, one kiss] you pleaded and you couldn't say no, leaning in and granting him his wish.

Well, you ended up granting him another wish as well because asking for one kiss turned into two kiss turned into 6 turned into 20 and so on. Which led you to being eaten out for the first time while sitting on the edge of the bathtub, hand entangled in blond locks, with gasps leaving your mouth.

You didn't know what max was doing, head between his thighs, eyes staring up at you as he licked and sucked and lapped and did things you never imagined of before. Your body shivered each time his warm tongue would drag across your gummy walls or take your bud into his mouth. You didn't even realize it when your orgasm dawned on you, heaving with whines and whimpers.

You caught his lips once he was back to your height and max was quick to return the favour, savouring your lips as he pulled you straight to your feet to his bedroom, 2 and a half hours from zandvoort f1 circuit; but he wanted you to have your first time in a home, under the moonlight of his windows.

Which you've got to admit, was a magical night.

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mediumgayitalian · 2 months

Text

part two

———

Getting outrun for seven miles by an eight year old is a uniquely humbling experience. Compactly humiliating, coincidentally, is being outrun by an eight year old while dragging along a bouquet large enough that it cannot be adequately contained with two hands and must therefore be carried between two people.

Lee is having something of an afternoon.

“It starts in seven minutes!” shouts Will, at least twelve solid yards ahead of them and running backwards. He does not appear even to be sweating. “Hurry!”

“Could not be hurrying more if I tried,” Lee wheezes.

(It’s not that Lee isn’t a good runner. He is. It’s that Will is freakishly fast, because he has dimples when he smiles and has endeared himself to the dryads, who have been teaching him how to sprint like the hopped up little Energizer Bunny he is. Michael has been calling him Soda Boy for ages, on account of how he so closely resembles a can of pop that has been vigorously shaken, which he hates. Remembering it brings Lee some peace.)

“Let’s go let’s go let’s go!”

Clamping his mouth shut in a desperate attempt to preserve energy, Lee surges forward. Michael matches him, having to run significantly faster to keep up with his long legs. Their panting forms a discordant melody of despair. Poetic.

When they stumble through the door, chests heaving, Lee considers collapsing to the ground and weeping for joy. He will never run again. If a monster chases him, he will simply fight or accept his fate. He has reached his quota.

But, for perhaps the first time in his life, there is no time for dramatics. The lobby is devoid of the massive crowds it held earlier, shadows eerie in their absence, and only the final tail end of a line shuffles through the stage doors.

Despite his internal vow, Lee sprints forward to catch up with them.

“Hold it,” says a man in a venue volunteer! vest, holding up a hand. He glances at them, resting his gaze on Will’s messy hair, Michael’s scuffed shoes, Lee’s wrinkled shirt, and pausing for quite a while on the giant bouquet. The narrowed eyes and thinned lips are familiar. Lee stiffens.

“Go on in,” the man says to the middle aged couple in front of them, who’s crease-free jackets read ‘Dance Mom’ and ‘Prop Team Dad’ respectively. He shoos them inside, complimenting the honest-to-Apollo corsage in the woman’s hand, chortling along to the man’s joke. The laughter drops from his face the second the couple is guided through the doors, and the man turns back to the three of them.

“The show,” he says, nose upturned, “has begun. I can’t let anyone else in lest they cause any…disturbances.”

“The show starts on three minutes and forty-seven seconds!” Will protests, sticking his watch in the man’s face. Completely oblivious to his murderous look, he continues, “Forty-six seconds! Forty-five! Time’s-a-tickin’, let us in!”

The man bares his teeth in a smile. “Regrettably, you are too late. You’ll have to wait for the intermission.”

Will blinks at him. He looks at Lee, at the doors, then back at the man.

“But…we’re on time. And if we come back later, we’ll miss my sister’s dance!”

The man shrugs. “This will be a valuable lesson, then.” He purses his lips, glancing again at the bouquet. “Perhaps be more prepared, next time.”

Will turns back to Lee and Michael, crestfallen. He swipes quickly under his eyes, squeezing his thumb into fists, but the tears well up anyway. “We’re going to miss it?”

Michael snarls. In one quick move he shoves the massive bouquet entirely into Lee’s arms, yanks Will by the shoulders to stand behind him, and gets right in the man’s face.

“You listen here, you slimy ratbag, you had no fuckin’ trouble letting those last scragglers in so you better clean up your act quick before I —”

A loud crashing noise makes them all jump, interrupting him. Nearly crushing the flowers, Lee whips towards the source of the sound. One of the competition banners has been yanked down, metal frame collapsing on the tile floor. Fastening screws rattle to a slow stop beside it.

“What the —”

Another banner crashes to the floor. This time, the little hands that tore it down are a touch too slow to dart away, a blonde head not quick enough to duck behind a corner.

“Hey!” the man shouts. Shoving Michael aside, and moving quicker than Lee can think to stop him, he sprints towards the corner Will disappeared behind. “Get back here! You can’t do that!”

Lee curses, trying to manoeuvre the flowers to see and run at the same time. Michael runs ahead of him, on the man’s heels, chanting shit shit shit shit under his breath. Lee’s brain takes the initiative to alternate, chanting fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck every time he takes a breath.

They’re going to get kicked out for sure. Diana is going to kill them and it’s going to be justified, because Lee is going to have to live with the noble look he knows Cass will have on when she realises they’re not there to watch. The shakey, practiced smile she’ll slap over the disappointment in her dark eyes.

Shit shit shit shit indeed.

“Lee! Michael! Over here!” whispers a voice. Lee whirls around to face it — boy does he ever feel like a puppet on a stick right now — and, for the second time in as many minutes, feels his head pound at the disorienting frenzy of emotions that bubble up when he sees his baby brother’s face. Will stands half inside a doorway Lee hadn’t noticed on the way in, tucked in the shadow of a corner.

He is fast, holy shit.

“What the hell are you doing,” hisses Michael.

“Getting us inside! Hurry up!”

Lee doesn’t need further prompting, clock ticking in his brain. Gods, how long do they have left? Thirty seconds? Less?

“Most big theatres have sideline entrances,” Will explains after Michael helps shove the giant bouquet through the tiny door. He guides them, upright to their hunching, down a tight corridor. “They’re for performers to pop up in the audience without being seen. Mama and I race each other to find ‘em when she did shows.”

Lee had forgotten, for a moment, how much of his life Will has spent in and out of theatres, bars, stages. Naomi Solace has been growing more and more famous since…half of his life, at least. Lee remembers hearing about her four years ago, when she’d done a smaller show in Queens. A friend of his had gone.

Michael reaches out and tugs the mostly-undone ponytail he’d wrestled Will’s hair into that morning. “Good job, kid.”

He grins over his shoulder. “Thanks.”

They stumble into the darkened audience in the nick of time. The second Lee steps out of the cramped little corridor, dragging the stupid flowers (he is, in fact, regretting his choices at this point in time; when he has a free moment he will add this to the list of reasons he will be kicking his past self’s ass if the Hephaestus cabin successfully recreates DeLorean time machine) along with him, the stage lights come on. An announcer’s voice calls out, “Entry 109, Competitive Open Solo: Cass Hasapi.”

“Fuck,” Michael mutters. A quaint family of four gasps. He sneers at them. “Fuck, you see Diana?”

“No, is she maybe —”

“I think that’s her hair —”

“That person is way too tall, what are you —”

“I swear to the gods, I am going to kill you both,” whispers a beautifully familiar voice, and then Lee is being dragged. “Sit the hell down and shut the hell up. Will, baby, c’mere.”

Will climbs happily over the two empty seats, settling onto Diana’s lap and curling under her chin. He sticks his tongue out when Lee and Michael follow in behind him, struggling with the bouquet, muttering about favouritism.

“I’ve literally known you for six times longer than you’ve known him,” Michael mutters, sticking his tongue out right back. A grandmother with a severe bob whirls back and hushes him.

“Yeah, I’ve had all that time to get tired of your bullshit. Shut up.”

Before Michael can retort — Lee is sure he has an eloquent and devastating response, Lee has been helping him practice — soft piano drifts out from the speakers. A light turns on, pointed at the stage.

All four of them snap their mouths shut.

In the centre of the stage, Cass stands, poised. Her back is turned to the audience, arms extended above her and tilted to the right, as if reaching for the setting sun. Her hair, braided loosely back, brushes the edge of her thickly draping purple costume. Her knees are bent and locked and one bare foot sticks out like she’s trying to balance herself, like she’s mid fall.

A gravelly, male voice sings lowly along to the piano. How do you know which time might be the last? She moves along the dip of his voice, dragging her limbs through the rigid air. What I would give just to see you again? She moves with a swooping twist of her heels, twisting at the waist. Under the heat of the stage lights, her face contorts, forehead deeply wrinkled, mouth parted, breathing quickly. I’d walk to the depths of a world down below and demand to get back what some circumstance stole. She holds herself with such tension that Lee finds his own shoulders hiking up to his ears. Her chest moves rapidly, hands shaking, knees buckling. His breath goes stale in his lungs.

When the chorus starts, hard and heavy and sudden, I turned back one last time just to prove you were there, Cass hits the floor. He gasps with the rest of the audience, clutching the plush armrest, but it’s intentional, part of the dance. ‘Cause the last ray of sun made Eurydice cold. Collapsed on the floor, limbs bent, dress askew, she crawls, begging, towards the audience. Did she know? Did she know? Did she know? Did she know?

Cass does not move gracefully. She moves like a beached, gasping siren dragging herself back to the depths, like someone climbing out of a pit. Every movement looks heavy and painful. She looks at the audience and Lee is surging forward before he can stop himself, breath hitching, brain screaming: help her! help her! help her!

If I knew how it’d feel back then, I wouldn’t take another step.

Her body twists again, hair escaping her loose braid and sticking to her neck, her forehead. She claws at her throat like she’s suffocating, eyes accusing everyone watching like they’re holding her under. Each movement of her arms swell and sway on the beat, bare feet slapping the ground with every hit of the kettle drum. If you can see me it’s all in your head, but it feels real to me now, it felt real to me then.

Everything ends.

The piano fades out, the drums hit their last beat. All that’s left is the wretched guitar, taught like strings snapping, taught like the tense pull of her suspended muscles.

But I opened the door and went down the stairs; I turned back one last time to prove you were there.

As the last word fades, she drops. Not slowly, not evenly, but like whatever was holding her up crumbled to dust. Like she was shot. Her purple dress pools out around her like dark Hyacinth. She lays completely, entirely still.

The lights cut. The air in the audience goes heavy.

They come back on and no one says a word. Lee realises, as it drips onto his hands, that he is crying. Diana is, too, tear tracks too fresh to dry on her face, and Will is leaned forward so far he sways precariously. Michael’s hands are pressed harshly to his eyes.

Trancelike, Lee stands. All eyes snap, abruptly, towards him, but he ignores them. He looks straight across the rows of chairs and locks eyes with his sister, upright now, heaving, standing hesitant. She looks at him, and then beside him at Michael, and then at Will in Diana’s lap. They scramble quickly up next to him, and without any of them saying anything, they begin to cheer.

Cass’s face lights up.

With permission, much of the audience claps. No one stands as they do and as they continue hooting and hollering the claps fade quickly, replaced with stares and murmurs, but Cass still stands there, beaming, looking away and looking back like she can’t believe they’re there. That someone is there, that someone watched her, her, from beginning to end. A hand tugs on his sleeve.

“Can I sonic?” Will asks, raising his voice to be heard.

“Level four,” Lee allows.

He needs no further permission, grinning. He lets out a piercing whistle that makes everyone around them shout in alarm and Lee’s ears ring. But Cass laughs, loud and bright, so it’s worth it, and when Will looks at him in question he nods. The second whistle is definitely beyond a level four, but Lee doesn’t care. Cass looks the happiest he’s seen in a long time.

———

None of them care too much about staying for the other performances. But Cass has two more dances with her studio classes, spread out as they are, so Lee remains doomed to two hours of an aching ass and performances that come nowhere near Cass’s masterpiece. Will seems intrigued, though, by some of the pieces, so he grits his teeth and bares it. Besides, the rolled eyes he shares with Diana and Michael every time someone does something exceedingly cliche or tries and fails at depth (someone, often, being one of Cass’s teammates, shocker) makes it somewhat worth it.

By the time the judges call the last entry, though, Lee is ready to book it out of there.

The lights come back on and pop music plays through the speakers as dancers, in track suits over their costumes, congregate on the stage. Lee stands and stretches, letting Will stand on his shoulders and jump off into Michael’s arms to get some of his energy out. (And, also, ‘cause tossing a small child between them is fun. Diana jogs into the aisle so they can throw farther, but they all decide against it when a security guard glances over.)

After what feels like eight million years, the judges finally lumber over to the stage. The building voices hush as they climb the steps, standing in front of the gathered studios with cabled mics and stacks of foreboding envelopes.

“Welcome, dancers and families,” starts one judge.

She blabs on for several minutes about what an honour it was to judge and how wonderful everyone was. Blah, blah, blah. Lee spaces out about the time Diana’s eyes glaze over, and he looks instead to the gathered stage, observing. There are five different studios that he can see, each with about forty to fifty dancers. Mostly young women. They sit tangled together, legs on legs, arms around shoulders, feet tucked under thighs. Cass, he notices, sits on her own, at the very back of the stage. She sits straight-backed and proud, though. Chin lifted, braid resting over her shoulder.

Impossible to miss.

Two of her group dances win Diamond (Diana explains to them that this is Very Good. She thinks). Most others do not get this honour. Lee notices especially the older couple to their left looking quite sour. The glee he feels is indescribable.

“The winner for our open solo, for all age groups, was actually unanimous. It’s been a while since that happened!”

A girl near the front of the stage, who Lee recognises as the one to make a cruel joke about Cass’ mother, preens. Her solo was boring as hell. He’s not sure what she’s so smug about.

“With a score of 97.6, congratulations to Entry 109, Cass Hasapi!”

The four of them scream like lunatics.

They don’t even wait for scattered applause. Each one of them clambers up on the pristine chairs, covering them with scuff marks, and yell at the top of their lungs, jumping and cheering like chimps in a cage. Cass goes red, but she can’t hide her smile as she stands and accepts her award, grinning over at them. Michael holds up his camera and snaps a photo of her, pink-cheeked and wild-haired, glowing.

———

“Cass!”

Will sees her before the rest of them, sprinting towards the changeroom doors at top speeds and leaping up into her arms. She catches him easily, spinning them both around, pressing a thousand kisses to his hair and face.

“Hello, my darling! Hello hello hello!” Every word is punctuations with a kiss, or rather a press of her wide smile to anywhere she can reach. In seconds his cheeks are stained with her lipstick. “Oh, it has been weeks, darling boy, I missed you!”

Will clings to her sweater, face buried in the crook of her neck. She holds him just as tightly.

(Will has seen Cass more than Lee, in the past few months. He knows she’s made a few sudden trips to camp. But he also knows that she was the first one to welcome him into camp, the day his mother dropped him off, and when he was claimed she was the first to bring him home. She loves to tote him around, too, to have him trail after her for cabin inspections, holding the clipboard, or paint his nails when she’s bored. He misses her something fierce in the winters. She holds on tightly when she comes back home.)

Squeezing him one last time, she turns to the rest of them. Despite her wide smile, her mascara runs.

“You came,” she says, voice wobbling.

Michael clears his throat. “No shit.”

His voice wobbles, too.

“Come here, you goober.”

He’s the next to cling to her, inserting himself under her arm. She presses a kiss to his temple and he pinches her ribs, complaining, getting louder when she digs a knuckle into his hair. Diana jogs up and separates them, as she always does, flicking Michael on the forehead and pressing a kiss to her sister’s cheek.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispers, squeezing her hand.

Cass’s tears spill over again. “Thank you.”

Lee clears his throat. He feels, suddenly, like a doofus, holding a bouquet of flowers the size of him, but Cass looks at them and grins again, chuckling.

“You sell your kidney for that or what?”

Lee snorts. “No, we exchanged Will. This is a clone.”

“Did not!”

Lee blows a raspberry. “Did too. Clone.”

“I’m not a clone! I’m me!”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Ya-huh!”

“Alright,” Cass interrupts, rolling her eyes fondly. She kisses the tip of Will’s nose again and sets him down, turning towards Lee, hands outstretched dramatically. “Hand me my dues.”

Because she is, at the core of her, a true daughter of Apollo, even though the amount of poise and grace that bleeds from her at any given time contradicts almost directly with the guy who beams Pocketful of Sunshine directly into their brains at five in the morning every single day without fail, she kneels with a flourish. Because Lee is, at the core of him, also a child of Apollo, he goes unquestioningly along with the bit, pulling out one of the flowers to knight her before resting the entire bouquet in her arms. She has to hold it with both hands.

“You guys are ridiculous,” she says, grinning.

“They are ridiculous,” Diana stresses. “Dumbasses were damn near late getting this for you. They already had flowers, mind you. They’re just dumb.”

Will holds up his hand with his watch. “I kept us from being late!”

Diana squishes his cheek. “Thank you, sweetpea. You’re already smarter than your brothers combined.”

“Stick out your tongue again and I’ll grab it, you little snitch,” Lee warns.

Will, darting to hide behind Diana, does not heed his warning. Because he’s a little shit. bc

The walk out of the building in a gaggle of movement. As other dancers and their families walk by, glowering at Cass’ flowers and at Cass in general, Lee makes a point to catch their eyes. To smirk. To let them know, without saying a word — you were wrong. Of course you were wrong. Look at how she’s better than your bitter ass without even trying.

It warms him inside, truly.

“I’m thinking,” Diana says, walking back to the car, “that we stop at Dairy Queen on the way home. On Michael’s dollar. Will, look real excited so Michael can’t say no.”

“I am excited,” Will says, turning to face him, “so that’s real easy.”

Michael sighs. He taps his foot on the pavement, glaring. He sighs again. “You’re getting s plain cone and that’s that. You understand me?”

Will takes that as code for ‘begin negotiating’. Diana joins him, the two of them chasing Michael to the car, yelling about Blizzards and sundaes. Cass falls into step next to Lee, adjusting the flowers.

“So,” she says, shooting him a small smile.

“So,” he intones.

“Diana told me you snuck the boys out of camp.”

“…Yes.”

“Organised the whole trip, basically.”

“It wasn’t hard. I just told Michael to pack his shit and he listened, for once. So.”

“Lee.” She waits for him to open the trunk, letting him stuff the ridiculous flowers inside before facing him, grabbing his hands and squeezing. “Thank you.”

“I don’t —”

He swallows past the lump in his throat. How can he say it? How can he tell her about being fourteen and older than half the unclaimed kids in Hermes, still reeling over camp as a whole, and the fear that had dissipated from his chest when she stood in front of camp and said, firmly, he’s ours? About the hours she spent listening to him ramble about Pokémon, learning the game for him, mailing him cards she finds around? About the letters she sends him every week without fail, even though she’s swamped with her own shit, because she remembers the night he cried, months and years of being weird and lonely and unlike anyone else he knew? How can he explain the bubbling in his chest, the ache for her, because of her?

“Of course, Cass.”

She opens her arms and he falls into them, forehead on her shoulder, arms tight around her waist. She grips around his back, pressing a kiss to his hair. His throat is dry, choking back the thickness of his tears.

“I love you.”

“Love you too, Lee.”

#AND WERE DONE #AND ITS FIVE THIRTY IN THE MORNING FUCK #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #hoo #heroes of olympus #lee fletcher #will solace #michael yew #diana mckinney #cass hasapi #cabin seven #my writing #fic #longpost #song is orpheus by vincent lima btw #pjo hoo toa

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blue-babygirl · 8 months

Text

The Stolen Donut

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Innocent!BAU!Reader

Type: Fluff

Description: You didn't know that Spencer doesn't like sharing his sweets nor did you know that they were his donuts. Oh well.

Warnings: Mentions of food.

Note: y/f/f = your favorite flavor

Everyone in the BAU knows not to touch Spencer’s sweets. Ever. Let alone eat them. At least that’s what they all think. Y/n has heard word spread around the bullpen when Spencer brings sweets to the office with a warning tone but never really heard the warning in them.

I mean, why would people gossip about someone’s food? That doesn’t even make sense.

So, when you see a box of donuts with a couple of your favorite flavors, you don’t hesitate too long before taking one, only waiting a couple seconds to consider that the person that the box belongs to won’t miss a donut all that much when they still have five more.

Leaving a couple two-dollar bills where the donut in your hand previously was, you wait for your coffee while savoring the donut that you had been craving for the past week but weren’t able to get until just now.

Two minutes later as you were getting your coffee ready after finishing off the donut, Spencer walks in with his own cup. You silently offer him the pot with a smile, receiving a grateful smile in return. With that, you go back to your desk next to Emily.

“Who ate my donut?” A voice booms across the bullpen, making everyone look at the entrance of the breakroom. There stands Spencer with his eyes set on you and the box of donuts, the one which you had stolen one from, in his hands.

Everyone is quick to deny even touching the box, making Spencer stride across the bullpen to your desk. He narrows his eyes at you, making you nervous, but you make sure not to show it. Instead, all he finds is the surprise written across your face.

Truth is, you are surprised. You didn’t think that Spencer Reid, the nerd, the sweetest guy in the BAU, the one that rarely ever raised his voice and usually at unsubs or people that deserved it, your crush, and apparently the owner of the box of donuts, would be this mad at having lost a donut. In that moment, you decide that you don’t want to find out what would happen if he were to know that you ate his donut.

“Was it you? Did you eat the donut? My favorite y/f/f donut?” Spencer stands tall in front of your chair, and you feel intimidated at the difference in your heights in that setting.

“Nope. I didn’t even know you brought donuts.” You shrug nonchalantly before taking a sip of your coffee.

“Just so you know, I’m not the one who ate it alright! I learned my lesson last time!” Emily defends herself from behind you when Spencer turns to look at her after your denial.

Spencer huffs before practically stomping to his desk, clearly still mad about the stolen donut. You hear him mumble how that was his favorite flavor with a pout as he sits at his desk, making you feel bad.

Now you know why word usually spreads so fast whenever Spencer brings sweets to the office. You feel bad for having stolen the treat and then lying to him for the rest of the day before deciding that you will just get him a couple more of the same as an apology.

The next day you are the first one at the office with a box of two of your, and apparently Spencer’s, favorite flavor of donut in one hand and a half-eaten donut in another. You stop at your desk to quickly draft a cute note saying that you were sorry and that the treat was to make up for the stolen donut.

Leaving the box with the note addressed to Spencer in the fridge felt safe considering how scared most people are of touching his sweets. Once done, you get the coffee pot started and get to work.

When Spencer steps foot into the bullpen, most of the team is already here along with a lot of other people so you are sure that he is not going to know that you are the one what left the donuts in the fridge. But you still get a bit worried when you see Spencer storm off to Penny’s office with the donuts. To say you are nervous for what might be about to happen when he gets back is an understatement. So, the relief you feel when the two of them come out together, talking happily with Spencer eating one of the donuts, is pretty immense.

You gather your things to get to the round table as Penny calls everyone in for the briefing. You are still unsure if Spencer knows that you are the culprit or not but with how happy he looks, you don’t feel too worried. But that doesn’t last long as he calls your name after the quick briefing for your next case as everyone left the room to meet at the jet.

“What’s up?” You make sure not to let your nerves show in your voice. You fail.

“You know,” Spencer smiles as he comes closer to you and you realize what they mean when they say their knees went weak in those books, “you could have just asked for a donut Y/n. I wouldn’t say no to you.”

“Um... I’m sorry! I didn’t know they were yours! I just-” You stop when you hear him chuckle, making you pout slightly.

“Y/n, I like you and I don’t mind sharing my sweets with you. But that’s the extent of it, only you are allowed to have my sweets, okay?” Spencer grins as your cheeks turn crimson.

“Y-you like m-me? Like… like-like?” You ask him with wide eyes, not quite believing that your crush, who had been really mad yesterday, was confessing to not only liking you but also that he didn’t mind sharing his sweets with you.

“Yes, I like-like you. And I was hoping that you like-like me too. So, how do you feel about going to a cake-testing event with me?” Spencer leans against the table, rubbing the back of his neck as he slightly blushes.

“As a date?” Your eyes go even wider as if that was possible as he nods. “I would love to! Oh my god, yes yes yes!!” I jump forward and hug him without thinking, pulling back when you realize what you are doing. “W-we should pr-probably get going. Before everyone leaves.”

Spencer agrees as you make your way to the door with flaming red cheeks only to be greeted by the rest of the team outside the door, grinning at you, making you both blush even more if that was even possible.

“My man’s finally got game!” Derek laughs as he pats Spencer’s back.

The girls surround you, congratulating you and announcing a mandatory team night out after your date with Spence. Dave and Hotch congratulate you and Spencer before heading the team to get to the airport.

It’s safe to say that you came back with a boyfriend from your case.

#fluff #criminal minds #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader

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show-your-fangs · 11 months

Note

lil request of some jealous hotch maybe👉🏻👈🏻 i’m kinda picturing moments aaron getting all jealous and taking the matter in his own hands and teaching reader a lesson🫣😫

this is so fucking good, and coincidentally will be chapter 28 of moments 👀 (it involves a toy, a bed, and a few hours)

so instead please enjoy secret relationship hotch becoming jealous of his baby being hit on by some dude at a bar while the team is out, and then proceeding to finger her under the table

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader

Words: 1.8k

CW: 18+, nsfw, mdni.

Tags/warnings: established secret relationship, jealous!hotch, possessiveness, pet names (baby, good girl), sir kink, groping, teasing, dirty talk, fingering (f receiving), exhibitionist kink, public sex, aaron basically fingers you in a booth in a bar.

Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.

Aaron had never been more thankful for the low light of Shaw’s, thankful that the shadows that lingered all around them obscuring his hot, red ears from the agents around him. He wasn’t embarrassed by any means, no, he was livid.

They were all staring and snickering about you, leaning over the bar as you waited for the drinks they’d all made you go get just so that you’d be forced to talk to the cute guy that had been making eyes at you all night.

When you’d told them that you hadn’t noticed, they all scoffed and rolled their eyes, telling you that was the reason you were still single. But none of them knew, they couldn’t have, that the reason why you hadn’t seen him staring was because you only cared about one man’s eyes on you – your boss's.

He was rendered completely useless, unable to do anything about him, unable to leap to his feet, stalk across the bar and make him stop talking to you, before swiftly dragging you to the bathroom and fucking you silly until the only thing you could think about was his cock.

He knew you weren’t doing it maliciously. There wasn’t a single bad bone in your body. It wasn’t your fault that he found you attractive, wasn’t your fault that Emily was determined to get you laid, wasn’t your fault that you were making him so unbelievably jealous that he couldn’t think straight.

He almost let out a sigh of relief when the bartender slid five drinks on the counter in front of you and you skillfully grabbed all of them in your hands before quickly making your way back to their table.

“So?” Emily asked the second you put the drinks down, everyone reaching out to grab their glass and the scoop of your flirting.

You shook your head. “Eh, not for me.”

You slid in next to Aaron, uncharacteristically so, and yet it didn’t seem anyone noticed, still too focused on you to notice how Aaron’s body had relaxed beside you.

“That’s not for you?” Emily shockingly pointed back at the blonde guy at the bar who was now engrossed in conversation with another beautiful woman.

“Nope,” you simply stated, not giving her anything to continue prying. She scoffed then, unbelieving.

“Can we go dance now?” Penelope whined again and Morgan immediately began pushing Emily out of the booth so they could get out.

You took a sip of your drink as you watched them scurry towards the other side of the bar, hand in hand, but not before they dragged Emily and JJ along for the ride. It was just the six of you now, Spencer having left earlier in the night and Rossi not even entertaining the possibility of getting wasted with you on a perfectly fine Friday night.

“Have fun,” you joked, Emily poking her tongue out at you and you returned the gesture. “Get her to relax a little and leave me alone, JJ!”

Aaron took a swing of the cold beer he’d been nursing since you got here an hour ago, trying to play it as cool as he could, disinterest being what would maintain your relationship private, until you were finally alone.

He set the glass back down on the table before his hand came down on your thigh, slapping it slightly, the coldness of his hand mixing with the sting on his action. Your gaze snapped to his, shocked, scared, ashamed, while his remained dark, glossy, enraged.

He was jealous, so unbelievably jealous he couldn’t even hide it. Your breathing picked up, your heart practically rattling against your chest, your mouth going dry with anticipation.

“Just out of curiosity,” he whispered, slowly running his hand up towards your heat. “What is your type?”

You slumped back in your seat, back pressed tightly against the plush cushions of the booth, acutely aware of where you were and the fact that your closest friends were dancing just behind you.

Thankfully you were hidden away, obscured, but there were still a lot of people around, a lot of bodies that could turn to you at any moment.

“I asked you a question, baby,” he snapped, grip tightening unbelievably close to where you needed him.

“You,” you swallowed thickly. “You, sir.”

The pockets of haziness, of blurred lines and dark corners were finally working to his advantage as he draped your left leg over his lap, opening you up under the table to gain easier access.

You couldn’t help but dart your eyes around the room once more, desperate to make sure that no one could see you like this.

“Don’t look at them, look at me,” he commanded and you swiftly obeyed, turning your hazy eyes back on his, the fire burning in them almost mesmerizing, holding you hostage. His hand slid off your leg, swiftly cupping your crotch tightly. “This belongs to me,” he squeezed. “You belong to me,” your eyes were glossy with tears now. “No one gets to touch you, ever, no one gets to flirt with you, no one gets to so much as look at you, do I make myself clear?”

You whimpered pathetically, nodding your head feverishly, and yet it only made him squeeze harder, bordering on painful. Your brows furrowed, confusion at his continued roughness making a single tear fall down your cheek.

“Apparently I wasn’t clear enough,” he spat, his fingers skillfully pulling your panties to the side. His cold fingers were immediately met with wet warmth, your clit practically on fire as he began to tease it, never touching it long enough for you to feel anything other than frustration.

“No, sir, please,” you sobbed, your hand wrapping around his wrist, but instead of trying to force him off you, you tried to get him to touch you where you wanted him.

“No?” he repeated, incredulous. “You’re not mine?”

His movements stilled then and yet you continued to grind yourself against his palm, against his fingers, against him. Whatever shame, whatever fears you had about getting caught, about someone seeing him touch you seemed to have evaporated as the desire to finally come undone took over.

“Such a greedy girl,” he groaned in your ear. “Even when you’ve been bad and I’m trying to punish you, you still have one thing on your mind.”

His other arm wrapped around your waist, his hand tightly gripping your left hip to pin you back down to the seat and keep you there, unable to move yourself where you desperately needed.

It was like a spell lifted then, your face immediately flushing crimson as you were reminded of where you were and just how exposed you truly were, even in the low light. Your head fell into the crook of his neck, face buried into his shirt in shame.

Your shame only spurred him on, his movements picking up once more, his fingers running along the entirety of your slit, collecting your slick, making sure to never touch your entrance or clit.

“Next time a guy comes up to you, what are you going to say?” he asked, bitter, condescending, mean.

You couldn’t breathe much less think about what you wanted to answer, too concerned by trying to act as normal as possible.

He landed a slap against your clit then, perfectly timed with the music around you, the instrument solo drowning out the sharp sound. You moaned, quickly biting into his suit jacket to further muffle the lewd noises spilling out your mouth.

He gave you a second to allow the shock to sharpen your senses, his fingers returning to their previous movements casually as he scanned the room, making sure you hadn’t drawn any attention to yourselves.

“Next time a guy comes up to me,” you managed through ragged breaths, bravely lifting your head so your gaze could meet his. “I’ll tell him I’m not interested.”

“Next time some guy comes up to you,” he seethed in your ear, low and terrifying. “You’re going to tell them your boyfriend doesn’t like to share,” he emphasized his words by finally sinking his fingers into you, coaxing a whimper from your throat. “And they should probably leave you alone before he comes back.”

He curled his fingers upwards, hooking them against the spot deep inside you that always made you come undone in seconds.

“Yes, sir,” you smiled brightly, the fact that he’d called himself your boyfriend fully processing through your fucked out brain.

“Good girl,” and with that he let loose, his fingers thrashing inside you, not even building up to his big finale by sliding them in and out of you first.

You held his stare, your mouth opening for silent moans, for restrained whimpers, for jagged breathing. He didn’t stop, couldn’t stop as the song your teammates had all been dancing too was quickly coming to a close.

Your hands wrapped around his shirt, bunching it up and wrinkling it. That’s how he knew you were close. His thumb returned to your clit, rubbing fast circles over it. Your walls began to clench around him, your hips began to sink themselves farther into his hand.

“Cum, baby,” he whispered into your ear, soft yet commanding.

It all came at you too quickly, the tension in your body snapping sharply and out of nowhere. Wetness dripped out of you and onto his hand as your body shook against his steady frame. His grip around your waist tightened slightly, bringing your body against him to help keep you stable.

He looked back at his subordinates still twirling around to the final chorus of the song, distracted enough for him to chance it. He leaned forward and placed a delicate kiss to your temple, slowly retracting his fingers from you as he reached over to grab a napkin.

Even in the low light, in the darkness, he could see his hand glisten with your slick and a proud smirk enveloped his lips. You were still curled against him as he did his best to clean you up, to get rid of any evidence of what the two of you had just done.

He bunched the napkins up, swiftly pocketing them before he set you back down on the seat, a respectable distance away from him, and wiped your face clean of your runny mascara. Almost as if he’d timed it perfectly, four bodies approached your table.

“Are you okay, sweetness?” Morgan asked you as they returned to the table, definitely noticing your flushed face.

You nodded, not daring to make eye contact as your heart continued to race, the aftershock of your orgasm still rocking through you.

“I think she’s had too much to drink,” Aaron told him, concerned softness lacing his words, like a boss taking care of his employees. “I’m gonna take her home.”

He didn’t even have to prompt you to follow before you were sliding off the booth, your legs barely keeping you up. He followed quickly after you, hooking his arm around your back before you could collapse, leaving your untouched drink on the table in front of them.

idk what it is about these two but they really like going at it in public

tags: @canuck-eh, @ssamorganhotchner, @criminalskies, @xladyxdreamer

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x female reader #show your fangs writes #show your fangs asks #show your fangs hotch blurbs #hotch x reader #hotch x you #jealous!hotch

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mggsv · 7 months

Text

Daddy! (Hotchner Ver.)

gn!reader x aaron hotch hotchner (18+)

summary: Jealousy gets the best of Hotch, and he just can’t help himself

warnings: dom!hotch, hard dom!hotch, sub!reader, daddy!hotch, spanking, degrading, blindfolding, choking, crying

“I’m only going to start over and add five more. Is that what you want?” His hand rubbed over the already bruised spot. You panted, legs shaking. You couldn’t see, the blindfold wet with your tears. Yet your sex throbbed. His thumb pressed your hole, his cooing sounding more like sarcasm as it slipped in. “Answer me.”

“No…No Sir-“ You gasp feeling that familiar sting on your ass. “Fifteen..” You whine. Your legs moved uncomfortably around his legs, nothing to balance them on as they dangled. He had you bent over his knees while he spanked you. Twenty! Could you believe it? He’s never went that high before. It all started at work. You went to visit Aaron before you headed off to work, and when Morgan did his usual flirting. You became just as close with the team as Aaron did- so it wasn’t an issue with you, when he did the same to Garcia. You flirted back playfully and even hugged him before leaving. You didn’t see an issue but it made Hotch furious, even after Morgan teased him for it. He didnt show it, but once he showed up to your apartment you knew.

“Fuck-!” you cried out at another smack. “What was that?” He hums, hands going to lift your hips a bit. He balanced you out well, everytime. “Twenty..F-Four.” You squeezed your thighs together, your ass imprinted with the outline of his fingers.

“Have you learned your lesson?” He moves your hair back, grabbing the back of your neck. You take a deep breath, nodding quickly. “Yes sir.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” He raises a brow. Oh that sneaky fuck.. always toying with you. He picks you up while he stands, laying you down on the bed. He flips you over onto your stomach. Your senses were heightened, the blindfold dark. You panted loudly into the soft duvet. You hear the sound of his belt clinking, and it slipping out of the pants sooner later.

“Daddy…?” You whimper. Aaron chuckles. You felt his presence behind you, lifting your hips and spreading your legs. Your sex dripped. His cock rubbing up against your hole. “Is this what you wanted? Purposely slutting around in my face just to be punished?” He groans, entering you slowly, just the tip.. Oh how you moaned…

“Answer me- Come to think of it, I’ve said this more than once today haven’t I?”

“Yes sir..” You shudder, back arching. You moan feeling him slip further into you. You hear the clink of his belt before your arms are pulled back. “Daddy-“

“Shhh..You have an awful lot to say for someone who doesn’t have the upper hand right now.” You felt the belt wrap around your wrists, pulling them together. With a pull, Aaron’s cock slips fully into you. “Fuck!” you gasp, your arms being pulled back, back arching. You felt somewhat scared. You couldn’t see, and now you couldn’t touch anything. But boy did he fill you up so well..

“You think Morgan will fuck you like this?” His hips snap forward, and back- pulling out to the tip. “No sir-“

“You think Morgan can have you on your knees taking his cock like a slut?” he tugs at the belt.

“N-No sir!” your eyes roll, you tried to catch your breath. Your orgasm hitting you hard. He fucks you through it just the way you loved..The way he fucked you hard, slowly. The way he spanked you everytime you took a second longer to answer him- everything felt so good.. At some point he changed positions, with his leg kneeling on the bed as he held your head down into the duvet. How you loved it when he whispered just how much of you belonged to him.

“Who do you belong to?” He leans down to you neck, biting down gently.

“You Daddy.”

“Damn right.”

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joequiinn · 1 month

Text

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 5

[chap four] | [chap six] | [all chapters here]

summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, slow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

a/n: I'm very excited for this chapter because it's actually one of the scenes that inspired this whole fic! Before I knew what the hell I even wanted to write, I played this idea of a figure skating character over and over again in my head as I built up the story around it. I'm a little behind on writing the next chap, so it may be a slightly longer wait between this and the next one! Hope you all love it!

wc: 4.8k

taglist: @costellation-hunter @daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie @delilaaahhh @em0220 @fromasgardandback @kthomps914 @lotrefcp @marrowfrog00 @mewchiili @munsonssweets @no-bueno-writer @rach5ive @sav12321 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @steeldaisies @stormgrl19

Chapter Five

You skated at least four times a week. You’ve done so since you were ten years old, when you decided that you wanted to take figure skating more seriously. Whether or not you had competitions, whether or not you were in the mood for it, you always stuck with your skating routine. With competition season coming up in November, you knew you’d have to start practicing more, putting in longer hours and more days in preparation.

Or maybe not. After all, competing was something that your mom enjoyed, that she encouraged wholeheartedly. Regardless of how much you enjoyed it, it didn’t exactly fit the teenage rebellion thing you had going on right now. Maybe you wouldn’t go to competition this year, maybe you’d skip out on your final season out of pure spite - now that would be cruel. Although a part of you hurt at that idea - because you really did love skating - you reasoned that it was something you had to consider.

Fridays were always very long days for you. While your peers would be set free to roam following the 3pm school bell, you had more obligations for the day. Once you left school, you crammed in as much homework as you could before hitting the ice rink by 4:30 at the latest to get your own practice in. Once that was done, you led a youth skating practice until 7pm, then you tried to squeeze in some more skating time before the hockey team took to the ice at 7:15. After arriving home at 8 o’clock or later, you crammed more homework so you wouldn’t have to deal with it over the weekend, and then by that point you’d be too worn out for anything else, so you generally slept late into the next morning.

This had been your routine for over a year now, ever since your own couch suggested that you needed to get more extracurriculars under your belt for your college applications. She had insisted that your resume would look far more impressive if you showed that you had teaching experience and “leadership potential,” an idea that really appealed to your parents, who were determined for you to get into a good school, maybe even on a figure skating scholarship. So, you ended up taking over the Friday night children’s lessons whether you wanted to or not.

You honestly despised it. You led children age 5 to 7, and they were a constant pain in the ass. You couldn’t raise your voice without one of them crying, you couldn’t leave them to their own devices without someone inevitably ending up hurt. Yet, you stuck with it because you were told to, because the adults around you insisted that you needed to. You couldn’t stand the way your coach would insist that this would help develop your skills, you couldn’t stand how your mother insisted “you’ll look back on this so fondly when you’re older.” These damned kids skating lessons were something else you’d probably drop soon, because you barely tolerated them as is.

While everyone else was at the football game, while Eddie was probably off playing his stupid fantasy game or doing something equally as nerdy, you were here at the ice rink, shouting instructions at children while parents and hockey players watched. Some of the parents had made it clear before that they weren’t fond of your impatient and mean teaching methods, but your coach always seemed to talk them out of pulling their kids from your group. She always argued something about you being the best skating in the county, but you weren’t sure how true that was - sure, you had your fair share of medals, but even with your ego you were pretty sure there were better skaters at your level.

“Come on, slackers, we’ve got five minutes left!” You taunted your group of 11 kids as they skated around the perimeter of the rink as a cool down. You zipped ahead of them, leading the charge as you skated backwards to keep an eye on them.

Many of the older kids had grown used to your abrasive coaching, but you could see that many of the newbies were still frightened of you, your loud voice, and your cold eyes. As a means of excusing your poor teaching style, you always said that skating was a tough sport and they needed to toughen up if they wanted to be any good at it. For how pretty and elegant figure skating could be, you knew from experience that competitive skating could be harsh, so you figured you were helping these kids prepare for it.

Because the Hawkins High hockey team had the rink after your group every Friday, many of them were already sitting on the sidelines, getting their gear ready or watching you work. The cocky part of you enjoyed the attention, but hockey players were stupid, so you rarely gave any of them a chance whenever they tried talking to you. Nonetheless, when you were in a good mood, you enjoyed putting on a bit of a show for them, shooting flirty glances their way or occasionally calling out remarks to them between instructing the kids. Tonight, you were paying them little mind, but that didn’t stop you from looking their way every now and again.

As you led the kids back to the center of the ice to wrap up the lesson, a lot of their parents were also waiting in the bleachers or out in the lobby. While you skated back and forth in front of your little army of children, going over some instructions for their next practice with your coach on Monday, your eyes roamed the bleachers. You gave a wicked grin to the hockey players that watched you, meanwhile you took in the parents with very little regards. It was as you looked over the clusters of parents that you saw a familiar face sitting at the penalty bench, and unintentionally you let your toe pick drag on the ice, which very nearly caused you to trip.

God damn Eddie Munson.

As you glared in his direction, hoping your momentary lack of balance didn’t make you look too stupid, you dismissed the kids before gliding towards the dasher board. Eddie, grinning like an asshole, stood up to meet you as children began to exit the ice. You braced yourself on the rail of the board, eyes narrowed at Eddie who appeared far too amused for your liking.

“What are you doing here?” You ask in lieu of a greeting. Eddie briefly glances over at the kids leaving the ice.

“You’re incredible with children.” He mocked, smiling far too wide for your liking; you narrowed your eyes while wondering just how long he’d been here, “Figured I might find you here.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here, though.” You respond coldly, gaze briefly looking in the direction of the hockey team to find a couple of them watching your interaction.

“You did say we needed to make plans, figure out how this was going to work,” Eddie started, taking in your red cheeks and slightly damp forehead that developed over the course of your skating lessons.

“I also said we’d talk about it next week.” You glowered a little, not worried if any of the hockey players saw it - maybe they’d simply mistake it for a lovers quarrel. Eddie grinned, holding his arms up as if he were a presenter on some dumb show.

“No time like the present, right?” Your unamused face gave him all the answer he needed, and his expression fell a little in annoyance, “And here I hoped I was being a good fake boyfriend by visiting you at the rink.”

“You’re being too good a fake boyfriend,” You jab.

Now that all the kids were off the ice, you slid towards the open gate; Eddie kept pace with you on the other side of the dasher board, meeting you at the gate and offering you his hand in assistance. You looked between his face and his outstretched hand with a glare, but eventually accepted his help, stepping over the barrier and onto the slightly cushy floor on the other side.

“I told you not tonight because I’m busy.” You walk over to the gym bag you left sitting on the nearest bleachers. As you sat beside it, Eddie shrugged with a carelessness that seemed almost false.

“Then I’ll go.” He answered simply as you removed your skates, “Just thought it might not be a bad idea to get to know you a little better. It’s not gonna be easy to fake date someone who you know nothing about.”

You shot him a harsh look while putting skate guards over your blades. You didn’t want to admit that he was right, but he had a good point, especially since you had already discussed it before. You sighed heavily through your nose, your cold eyes locked on Eddie’s.

“Can’t it wait? I’ve had a long day.”

Eddie studied you for a moment, leaning back against the dasher board before looking around the ice rink. You quickly put some worn sneakers on your feet and stood, picking your bag and turning away with the intention to leave. But Eddie’s gentle grip on your wrist stopped you from going anywhere, causing you to look between his hand and his face. As you two held eye contact, you realized that Eddie could be just as stubborn as you when he wanted; damn, was this going to be difficult.

“Let me buy you dinner - I’m sure you’re starving,” Eddie started, and for a fleeting moment you wondered if he thought your attitude was because you were hangry. You chewed your lower lip, eyes staring critically at Eddie for another few moments before you let out a defeated sigh, allowing your shoulders to relax a little. Considering that it had been nearly eight hours since your lunch break, it might now be a bad idea to eat something.

Eddie’s eyes softened at your silent resignation, the corner of his mouth pulling up. He finally released your wrist, nodding his head in the direction of the lobby, “Come on, you pick.”

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Your pick ended up being a 24-hour diner downtown. Eddie showed clear confusion when you mentioned it, so you explained that - for whatever reason - the diner had become something of a tradition, where students congregated post-Friday night football into the wee hours of the night. You’d joined that crowd a number of times in the past, but had no more interest in it - what you were interested in was having people see you and Eddie out together.

You knew it would still be at least an hour before the football crowd arrived, but that wasn’t such a bad thing - it gave you and Eddie a bit of time to actually become acquainted, to learn more about each other beyond “ice princess” and “the freak.”

You studied Eddie while sipping on a chocolate shake, waiting for your food to arrive. He stared back at you unabashedly, and you figured you could be locked into this staring contest until the end of time given how stubborn you both could be. As if Eddie knew what you were thinking, he smirked, finally caving as he looked away from you.

“Not to sound cliche,” Eddie scratched the back of his neck, almost as if he were nervous, but you assumed that couldn’t be true, “but… tell me about yourself?”

You smiled at how dumb the question was - that was so cliche. It was as good a starting place as any you figured, but that didn’t make it sound any less silly and forced. You leaned back in your seat, still holding tight to your milkshake as if it were a lifeline.

Putting on your best Miss America voice, you replied, “Well, I’m freshly 18 from Hawkins, Indiana. I love long walks on the beach, snuggling up with a good book, and I hope one day we’ll have world peace.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes at you, although you could tell he was fighting back a grin, “You’re making this very challenging considering that it was your idea.”

You shrug, taking a big gulp of the chocolate shake, “I guess I’m just a challenging person.”

“You guess?” Eddie laughed mockingly at that, “You’re the most challenging I’ve met. So, how about you try relaxing a little or else no one’s going to buy that we’re together.”

You made a face at the near-insult, finally putting down your drink. You leaned your elbows on the table, taking in Eddie’s face for a moment, stubbornly resisting the urge to say anything. Again, he had a good point, not that you wanted to tell him that. Eddie appeared to have an idea as he mirrored your pose.

“Okay, we’ll go back and forth, a question for a question; how’s that?” You nodded, “Right. First question: Why me?”

Your brows furrowed a little in thought, pinning down a good answer while trying to recall what you’ve already told him, “Haven’t I already explained that?”

“Kind of.” Eddie rolled his hand in a motion that basically said “but go on.”

You bit the inside of your cheek for a moment while thinking, “Your reputation. People don’t know you, but your reputation is in the absolute gutter. No better person to turn to than the guy who everyone in the school already hates.”

Eddie nodded in acceptance of the answer, “Okay, your turn.”

You grinned a little, a question already on your lips, “Why’d you agree to it?”

It was something you’d speculated briefly throughout the week, as you thought that your trade offer might not have been a compelling enough reason for Eddie to agree to this stupid plan. And now you could finally get the answer you were looking for.

Eddie silently stared at you in consideration, and again it almost felt like he was able to read your thoughts somehow. Finally, he answered, “Curiosity.”

You raised a brow in question, to which he once more scratched the back of his neck - maybe that actually was a nervous habit, so you took note of it.

“We both know this idea is kinda crazy,” Eddie started, mulling over his thoughts before continuing, “But I wanted to see how it plays out. See if we can actually trick people into believing it. And I wanted to see if you were as awful as I thought you were.”

You balked instantly, an amused huff escaping your mouth, “‘Awful?’ Jesus, you keep acting like I’m the devil or something.”

Eddie made a face while shrugging, not disagreeing with you, “You thought the same about me. So, let’s call it square.”

Food was finally brought to your table, and you had to resist the urge to attack the greasy burger set in front of you; you didn’t need Eddie to see you act like a ravenous gremlin over some food, even if it had been over eight hours since you’d eaten anything. But you nonetheless dug in, albeit with far more control than your empty, growling stomach would have liked.

“Your turn.” You say around a bite of food, causing Eddie to smile in amusement and the unladylike action.

“Hmm…” He leaned forward, scrutinizing you as he contemplated his next question. Self consciously, you wiped at the corner of your mouth just to make sure there wasn’t any stray ketchup or grease sitting there, “Why ice skating?”

“Because it’s better than cheerleading.” You smiled at your own joke before giving a slightly better answer, “I always thought it was pretty. Nothing else to it, unfortunately; no deep story and significance to it.”

“Fine.” Eddie responded almost as if he was disappointed by the mundane answer.

“Why Dungeons and Dragons?”

“Your questions can’t keep being off-shoots of mine.” Eddie laughed a little, and despite yourself it caused you to smile smally as well.

“Says who?”

“Says me,” He responded while pointing at himself, “I get to come up with some of the rules now, remember?”

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes with a degree of fondness, which you immediately found strange, so you tried to wipe the look from your face. Nope, you weren’t fond of Eddie Munson, not at all.

You went back to your food, hoping Eddie didn’t catch the amused look on your face. You spoke around another bite of food, “Do you have siblings?”

“None that I know of.” He replied around his own mouthful of food, “But I wouldn’t exactly be surprised if there were any out there.”

You cocked your head a little at the response; it wasn’t so much shocking or sad, rather it was unexpected and different from your own life. You made a mental note to learn more about Eddie’s family, if not tonight then at a later point.

“What’s your plan after graduation?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but then paused - what was your plan now that you were trying to make your own decisions? You hadn’t even considered it. Did you still want to go to college? Where? Studying what? You suddenly realized that you had no true plan for yourself, only the one outlined by your parents, and that realization made you nervous.

“Honest answer: not a fucking clue.” Eddie looked taken aback by the response, so you continued, “My plan before was getting into a good school on a skating scholarship, and studying something completely irrelevant. My parents expect my skating to carry me through life until some good, rich man sweeps me off my feet.”

“But that’s not your plan anymore?”

“That’s another question.” You give him a teasing grin, causing Eddie to roll his eyes, “First, answer me this: If you weren’t stuck in Hawkins, where would you go?”

Eddie grinned with an unexpected eagerness, “LA. The music scene there is insane, and I’d happily sleep on the streets if it meant I had a shot at making my own music.”

Your eyes softened ever so slightly at the unexpected, genuine response - admittedly, you didn’t peg Eddie as the type to have any real goals. But music? That was interesting to you since you weren’t even aware that he played any instruments. You wondered if he was actually any good at it, or if it was some foolish aspiration.

“Now, what’s your plan?” Eddie repeated, smirking at the look on your face - this was one of the few times you didn’t look like a total bitch, so he appreciated it. In fact, you looked relaxed and, dare he say, content; that was certainly unexpected from you.

When you shrugged, he shook his head, leaning forward again, “No, you come up with a plan right now. Don’t base it off what your parents want or what you think sounds like the right answer. What do you want to do with your life once we’re done with this shit hole?”

You contemplated, a mild concern washing over you as you stared at Eddie - what the hell did you want? And why did you suddenly feel so vulnerable because of the question. You had to rip your gaze away from Eddie’s, hardening your expression as you tried to think up an answer that felt right.

“I… I like art, I love clothes,” You started dumbly, glancing at Eddie through your lashes, expecting him to make a face at the lame answer, “I don’t know shit about them in a technical way, but it might be fun for college. Take painting or sewing classes during the day, skate until my feet hurt at night, maybe… I want to be somewhere big and interesting. New York, LA… fuck, even Florida for all I care, I just want out of Hawkins, out of this town.”

“Then I guess we’ll be those high school sweethearts that run off to LA together after graduation, huh?” Eddie smiled widely, and you allowed an amused look to cross your face.

“Oh, I’m sure.” You returned to your food as you tried to come up with a good question for Eddie. An intriguing one came to you, so you asked before you could second guess it, “How do you expect your fake girlfriend to act?”

Eddie’s brow furrowed; it didn’t appear to be due to him misunderstanding the question, but rather that it was unexpected; he even looked maybe hesitant to answer it. Again, he scratched his neck.

You lean forward a little, looking at him seriously, “Give me a good answer, okay? We’re just gonna keep going in circles otherwise.”

Eddie shrugged, “Maybe I don’t have any expectations.”

“Then come up with some.” You immediately counter, prodding the same way he had about your plans for the future. Eddie stared at you with scrutiny while chewing the inside of his lip, as if he didn’t want to come up with a response to the question. You waited, making a mock sweet face at him while you chowed down on your fries. You were going to demand an answer until he gave you one.

“Well, going off the rules you already established,” He made a bit of a face as if to mock the oh-so-sacred fake dating rules, “Aside from playing nice in front of others, it might be helpful if you were less stubborn; you’re like a damn bull.”

You gave him a joshing smile right back, “Fair. Is that it?”

Eddie quickly shook his finger; now it was just a back-and-forth game of you mocking one another, “Ah, that’s another question.”

“Oh, fuck off.” You rolled your eyes with a short laugh, “That is not another question.”

Eddie gave a fake look of apology, shrugging again, “Unfortunately, it is.”

You threw a french fry at him, which lamely hit his chest then landed in his lap. As he laughed and picked it up, you found yourself smiling fondly again, and you quickly tried to shake off the expression.

At that moment, the bell above the front door chimed, and immediately the diner was filled with rambunctious conversation. Your heart jumped a little, realizing the time, and you briefly glanced in the direction of the door; the group that had entered wasn’t your friends, although you recognized them. You turned your attention back to Eddie, who gave you another grin.

“Showtime.” He stated simply, and then a thought appeared to cross his mind, “You want another expectation? Tell me if anything I do is too much, but otherwise let me do what I do - you don’t need to be in control all the time.”

“Don’t I, though?” You countered haughtily, which was met by a flash of seriousness across Eddie’s eyes.

“No, you don’t. I know what I’m doing, okay?”

You studied him for a moment, not entirely convinced that he did, in fact, know what he was doing. Considering that you’d never seen him even interact with a girl before, you weren’t sure if he knew the first thing about dating or romance. But despite your doubts, you relented, relaxing your shoulders as if to show you were relinquishing some control.

“Fine,” You rolled your eyes nonetheless, forever obstinate as you mocked, “I’ll tell you if I don’t like something, but otherwise I’ll let you do what you do.”

“Was that so hard?” Eddie replied with a condescending smirk. You sneered before relaxing your face, knowing your friends were bound to appear any minute now.

As you stole another glance at the door, you suddenly felt Eddie’s fingers graze the back of your hand, drawing your attention back to him with a confused little knot between your brows. He held your gaze as if to make a point, as if to remind you of the conversation you just had, that he knew what he was doing. His hand simply sat on top of yours, your fingers ever so slightly lacing together - he raised his brows as if to dare you to pull away from him. You had to resist the urge to narrow your eyes at him and snatch your hand away, and in turn Eddie gave you a cocky grin before continuing to eat with his free hand.

Eventually, your friends appeared, although they didn’t notice you at first. They were all so full of energy as they excitedly spoke to each other, descending upon a few tables in the middle of the diner and pushing them together. The staff were used to it, although you knew from experience that they nonetheless hated it; you guys were always disruptive to the other patrons, and you figured that was never going to change.

You tried your best not to stare, but your eyes kept trailing over, kept studying the excited faces of the people you considered friends only a couple of weeks ago. After your eyes had drifted over for the umpteenth time, you felt Eddie lightly squeeze your fingers, causing you to unintentionally sneer at how strange it was to maintain this physical contact with him.

“Stop staring,” He instructed when you looked back at him.

With a quarrelsome look in your eyes, you did as Eddie told you, returning your attention to the half eaten burger on your plate, “Talk to me about something, then.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t care, just talk so I can pretend to be interested.”

Eddie looked mildly put off by that, and you realized that you’d taken your customary mean tone with him. You couldn’t seem to help yourself with your former cohorts nearby, it was as if their energy was rubbing off on you.

“You know what I’m going to talk about,” Eddie taunted with a wide grin.

Your face fell in realization, “Please not Dungeons and Dragons.”

“I’m gonna do it.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

“So, there’s this character, Kas, who has really interesting lore--”

You threw another fry at Eddie, and at that same moment, you felt someone come up alongside your table. You both look up to see Amelia there with a critical look on her face; your gaze drifts past her, noticing that a few people from her table were also looking at you and Eddie.

You met Amelia’s eyes again, giving her a wide, false smile, “Small world.”

Her eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms, “Yeah, I’m sure you just completely forgot we always come here after games.”

“Maybe she just wanted to see her dear friends.” Eddie chimed in mockingly, once again surprising you with his willingness to instigate confrontation. You laughed as a dumbfounded look crossed Amelia’s at his remark.

“I don’t know what the hell she sees in you.” Amelia snarked with a glare before turning her gaze back to you, “And I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, but it’s already getting pretty old.”

You shrug with exaggerated nonchalance, “Sometimes a girl just needs a bit of a change every now and then, you know?”

Amelia didn’t look convinced as she rolled her eyes with a dramatic sigh, “Yeah, well, this ‘change’ doesn’t suit you at all.”

Before you could respond with another quip, Amelia spun on her heel and briskly returned to her table. By that point, everyone there was watching and awaiting Amelia’s return, quickly huddling together to whisper conspiratorially once she sat down.

You and Eddie shared an amused glance; he went back to poking at his food as your gaze trailed back to Amelia and company. You happened to lock eyes with Duncan, who stared at you with harsh scrutiny, as if he wasn’t buying this thing between you and Eddie in the slightest. You gave Duncan a mocking while, starting to wave before flipping him off, causing Eddie to snort and choke on his food. You couldn’t help but laugh out loud as he hit his chest a couple of times, trying to clear his throat. The sound of such a genuine laugh escaping you was absolutely foreign to Eddie, but he decided it was a sound he enjoyed, even if it was at his expense; he made a mental note that he had to find ways to make you laugh more that didn’t involve him choking.

“You could’ve killed me.” Eddie croaked before laughing himself, his smile wide.

“You’re fine.” You teased, squeezing his fingers while giving him a false pout of sympathy, “You big baby.”

Eddie rolled his eyes in amusement, digging his wallet out while finally relinquishing the grip he had on your hand, “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

He tossed money onto the table and stood, offering his hand to you again. You quickly snagged one last fry before accepting Eddie’s hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. He once again laced his fingers with yours as he led you through the crowded diner, and you had to fight back the desire to cringe in confusion at it. The both of you eyed the crowd of Hawkins High’s elite as they watched you back critically.

Once outside the diner, Eddie paused in front of one of the large windows and pulled a ridiculous face at the kids still watching you; he quickly tugged your arm, leading you back towards the van as you laughed again at his antics.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #em #dos and donts

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