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mokulule · 6 months

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A Man has Needs part 1

This will hopefully be a short thing, maybe three or four parts. Silly with a small dash of angst for flavor. Also someone needs to stop me from starting new stories, instead of indulging my insanity.

Ship: Dead on Main (Jason/Danny)

It had been an exhausting Friday, people were out celebrating the weekend and payday both. To top it off it was prime petty crime weather too with no rain. It was a patrol that would never end. Crime Alley had really lived up to its name tonight.

Jason was exhausted. Not because anything had been particularly challenging or dangerous, but it had just been one very long night of constant stupid little crimes.

It was five in the morning and his bed was calling him. He’d already stashed his gear in storage on the roof and he was so close to being home he could practically feel the soft sheets, the promise of sleep. The open bathroom window was a bother when he was this tired. Maybe he should have just gone down to the street and walked in the door, but keys also seemed like such a bother right now and more stairs… No, window was fine, he was in.

Bed. Now.

He bumped into something outside the bathroom door. Fuzzily he looked down to see a moving box - odd. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, he’d deal with that in the morning. Bed, comfort, safe.

He stumbled into the bedroom when it turned out the door wasn’t properly shut just pushed mostly closed.

Okay check list. Boots off. What else? Pants off, shirt off. He’d pick up in the morning. Did he forget anything? Toothbrush. He glanced backwards halfheartedly, he’d already left the bathroom; bed was right there.

The bed won. Tomorrow he would deal with teeth.

Tomorrow…

He crawled under the sheets. Warm and nice and safe and mmmmh he snuggled closer to the source, breathing in mint and something biting like frosty morning air. His nose buried into soft short hair and breathed in deep again. Good. Amazing. Safe. Sated.

Sleep.

Oo o oO

Danny turned and stretched with a yawn. He frowned when something held him into place. Must have gotten himself caught in the sheets again. It wasn’t a problem, he just slipped away intangibly, rolling to the edge of the bed to reach blindly for the night table.

Where was the phone? It took him a moment but finally it connected with his hand.

He groaned when he saw the time, it was nearly midday. Jazz would frown at him for already messing his sleep schedule up, but he’d just wanted to get as much set up in his apartment as possible, that had to be an okay excuse? He turned back on his back and looked at the light dancing across the ceiling from the light breeze moving the curtains.   Okay time to get up. He had another day of unpacking today.

He got out and stretched absently. He turned around intending to make his bed if only to look responsible for when Jazz would come later to see the apartment.

He turned and promptly clapped his hands over his mouth to contain the frightened scream.

There was a guy in his bed! How was there a guy in his bed?! Ancients, what the fuck?!

Wait.

Danny tilted his head, eyes trailed down the muscular and scarred back, to a well shaped butt, which the tight boxers did very little to hide, and then those thighs!

There was a hot guy in Danny’s bed!

Focus Danny. He shook his head and slapped himself for good measure. That wasn’t what was important right now - though those thighs… Ancients, Danny would happily die again crushed by them.

No!

What was important was somehow there was a (hot) stranger in his bed. Danny had not invited him, of that he was sure. He had been unpacking yesterday, there had been no consumption of ghost zone alcohol yesterday, which could otherwise explain the lack of memory.

Which meant the guy had for some reason entered Danny’s apartment and slept with him - in the boring ordinary sense, Danny lamented this fact quietly for a moment.

Danny wasn’t surprised he hadn’t woken up, he slept, well, like the dead. The only thing that would wake him was very loud noises (like his alarm or his Dad’s inside voice) or occasionally his ghost sense.

It wasn’t even that Danny was surprised to find a bedmate. It was rare that Danny slept alone these days. He was, no matter how you put it, a very powerful ghost and he gave off a lot of good concentrated ambient ectoplasm.

Sometime last year the blobs and animal ghosts in Amity had started to join him every now and then when he slept. According to Frostbite it wasn’t so strange. They fed on the energy he gave off and also benefitted from his presence, which apparently radiated safety.

At first he’d been woken up by his ghost sense every time, but he’d gotten to a point where he just subconsciously dismissed the sense when the ghosts in question didn’t have ill intentions.

So Danny wasn’t surprised he wasn’t alone. He’d expected a bit more time to pass before whatever weak ghosts might be around figured out he was here, but you don’t wake up six days out of seven with cuddly animal ghosts in your bed and get surprised by it.

No, Danny was surprised by the fact that it was a guy. A human. A person. With muscled arms and- Oh, Danny realized cheeks heating up, that probably hadn’t been the sheets he’d been stuck in earlier.

Danny covered his face with his hands and groaned in despair.

Why was there a guy in his bed? Why couldn’t there be a guy in his bed for normal reasons? Danny would have brought this guy to his bed for normal bringing a guy to bed reasons.

He crawled onto the bed intending to wake the stranger, but as he reached out for the guy’s shoulder he turned leaning into the touch and sighed like the weight of the world had just lifted off his shoulders.

Danny was frozen, staring at the point of contact. He could sense it now: the man’s malnourished ghost core.

Danny swallowed thickly, suddenly seeing the many scars on the man’s back in a different light and that pure white streak in the otherwise black hair, it all seemed so obvious now.

The man was a halfa, or halfa adjacent. Because that was definitely warm human flesh underneath Danny’s hand.

So incredibly, unbelievably, absurdly this was essentially the same situation as usual, except not at all, because this was a person. Humanoid ghosts and ghosts with human-like or above intelligence didn’t do this. There were social conventions in place and not to mention they were usually powerful enough on their own to not need the ectoplasm.

But this guy was malnourished. He probably never had a good stable source of ectoplasm to properly develop his metabolism. Also to Danny’s metaphysical senses he smelled like he’d done the ghostly equivalent of dumpster diving to survive. Danny’s ectoplasmic aura had to be like the siren call of a buffet table.

Shit.

New plan. Danny was not gonna embarrass the poor guy. The situation was weird enough as it was. Danny was just gonna act like this was normal. Danny woke up with guests practically every day.

This was a person, not an animal, therefore petting was out of the question, so coffee.

Coffee was normal to offer guests. Also Danny needed coffee. He nodded to himself in satisfaction and floated off the bed to enter his combined kitchen and living room. The coffee machine was the first thing he got set up yesterday, clearly smart of past Danny.

It wouldn’t be long before his guest awoke with Danny no longer in the room to supply passive ectoplasm.

Maybe his human stomach wanted food too?

Oo o oO

Jason woke up with his head and nose buried in a pillow that smelled wonderful and comfortable somehow. He breathed in deep, catching mint and that biting cold he vaguely remembered from last night. Now, however he wasn’t dead on his feet, he was awake, more rested than he remember feeling for a long time and his brain connected the details into very alarming facts:

This was not his pillow. This was not his bed.

He sat up, quickly taking in the bare white walls and the stack of emptied and flattened moving boxes leaning against the wall next to a built-in closet.

This was very much not his apartment.

There was a noise of a cupboard clanging shut and Jason’s head snapped to the door that was open just a crack; he was not alone.

Shit.

He jumped out of bed, bending his knees upon impact to soften the sound. He needed to leave. Where was his clothes? His gaze darted around and he hurried to pick up his discarded items of clothing as he found them. Somehow one of his boots had ended up under the bed.

Quickly he pulled on the jeans and the shirt, was he wearing a jacket yesterday? He didn’t remember. Boots on and then he was going out the window- except there was the scent of coffee and something in the air. What was that smell?

He found himself moving to the door instead. The door squeaked as he pulled it open and he froze, hand still on the door handle, when the sound drew the attention of the young man in the kitchen.

His hair was black and sleep tousled, he had a slender athletic build and as he walked around the kitchen island bearing two cups it became apparent he was just wearing boxers. Jason’s inspection ended on his legs, which were admittedly very nice. When he looked back up he found the man standing a cautious distance away and a cute pink blush stretched all the way from his cheeks to his chest. Sky blue eyes looked up a him from underneath slightly frowning brows.

“So, you’re awake,” the man opened with an admirable attempt at a smile considering the situation. There was a beat of silence in which Jason grasped for what to even say, then the man reached his hand forward offering one of the cups, “coffee?”

There were many a thing Jason could say or should say. Like, what the fuck? You’re just gonna offer the guy who broke into your apartment coffee? Or, I’m sorry I broke into your apartment (and bed!)? And, why do you sleep with your windows open and unlocked? This is freaking Crime Alley! Or, what is it that smells so good?

What he actually said was a quiet, “yes, please.”

The cup was warm in his hands as he sipped it. And clearly this was enough for the cute guy because his smile turned more real and he nodded to himself and walked back to the kitchen counter. Jason really hoped that didn’t mean the coffee was poisoned.

“Feel free to take a seat. I hope you like pop tarts, it’s kinda all that I have at the moment.” As if summoned the toaster made a swish noise popping up the tarts.   Hesitantly Jason sat down at the small square table paired with two mismatched foldable chairs. He really should turn and jump out a window. There had to be some kind of reckoning coming. Maybe the guy really cared about hospitality and Jason would be questioned after the food? Maybe that’s what was going on.

But also strangely his gut was telling him he was safe here? He really had no clue what to do with that.  A paper plate with a pop tart was set down in front of him and after setting down his own pop tart and coffee the man joined him.

Jason was supremely aware of the few inches between their knees. This wasn’t a large table after all and if he moved just slightly they would be touching. But why would he want them to be touching? Why was it so tempting?

Jason clenched his hands firmly and stared down at the pop tart, with an intensity born of the fact that for some reason he had to focus on not knocking knees with a stranger.

“You look at that poor pop tart as if you think it’s gonna explode, that’s not actually what pop tart means, you know.”

Jason looked up at the guy in disbelief.

He rubbed the back of his neck, “yeah that was terrible I know.”

Silence stretched between them and clearly embarrassed the guy hastily took a sip of his coffee and a bite of his pop tart avoiding Jason’s gaze.

Guilt twisted in Jason’s chest, not only did he invade his home he was also making him uncomfortable. His only comfort was the fact that the guy clearly wasn’t afraid of him.

Jason started eating the pop tart. For whatever the reason breakfast was part of the script the guy had decided on to make an attempt at normalcy. What else was Jason to do? He hadn’t fled when he had the chance and-

Oh-

The guy had shifted in his chair, one of their knees were touching, there was a spark and it felt like something uncurled inside him, a weight lifted. Jason blinked. This was…Mint and frost was a sting in his nose, a fullness in his chest. Goose bumps ran along his arms, and it tingled all the way to his fingertips.

Jason snapped his head up, but the guy was just looking at his phone sipping his coffee. As if he couldn’t feel the cold electricity between them. There was no way he could sit like that if he felt it? Was Jason just imagining it? He shuddered and moved slightly, just enough that they weren’t touching and instantly he regretted it. The wave of longing was almost enough to make his vision black out.

The guy looked up with a frown. “You okay, man?”

“Fine,” Jason said hoarsely, desperately focusing on the half eaten pop tart and taking another bite.

When the pop tarts were eaten and the cups emptied the man stood and Jason matched him. Jason wasn’t sure what he expected to happen at this point but it certainly wasn’t the guy, to walk over to his front door with a casual, “well I should get ready for the day.”  It was a clear dismissal. An out for the whole strange situation. Jason stood up and walked over to the door.

The guy opened the door letting Jason out with a short electrifying clap on the back and a “Take care, man.”

Jason was left standing outside the door to the previously empty apartment 4A, several floors below Jason’s own top floor apartment. How did he ever mistake it for his own?

What was the deal with the guy’s touch and why did Jason crave it so desperately?

Unsettled. he started walking towards the stairwell. As he moved further away from the apartment the pull to go back lessened. It was still there, but it was replaced quickly by something else.

He felt rested, energized in a way he hadn’t felt in a long while. There was an urge to do something. He felt like he could take on the world - maybe even Sunday dinner at the manor tomorrow.

Jason laughed. Wouldn’t that surprise everyone?

He was so caught up in the euphoria of productivity and social interactions that didn’t go sour for the next couple of days, that he completely forgot about the strange Saturday morning.

If you liked this consider telling me your thoughts in the replies or tags, it is motivating. Now to hopefully write a bit on Catnip.

#dp x dc #dead on main #a man has needs #Danny is trying his best to pretend this is normal #and okay #Jason has no clue whatsoever.

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amomentsescape · 4 months

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A candle lit bubble bath with the slashers (and Sinclair brothers) after very bad and long day of chasing a victim who was being extra difficult?

Slashers + Sinclair Brothers & a Bubble Bath with Reader

Slashers x Reader (Separate)

A/N: I didn't really go into detail about them having trouble with their victim. I mostly focused on the aftermath. I hope that's okay!

Freddy Krueger

He's honestly worse than a teenage girl

Immediately comes to you ranting and calling the victim every name in the book

You just wait for him to get the anger out of his system

Once he's done dumping all of his thoughts out on you, he insists on spending some time just relaxing with one another

He clearly needs it

Jumps at the opportunity of a bath with you, excited to be this close to you (especially with no clothes on)

He likes when you lean against him, giving him full access to place kisses on your neck

Can change the lighting in his world to whatever he feels like

He says he just doesn't like candles

But you're certain the flames freak him out a bit

He keeps the water from getting cold, allowing you both to stay in the tub for literal hours if your heart desires

Michael Myers

Michael is pretty self-aware that his anger is explosive

So when he comes home after wasting his whole night chasing down one victim, he's fuming

Immediately locks himself in the bedroom for a good hour, not wanting to accidentally hurt you

You've been through this a few times before, knowing that he'll come to you when he's ready

Once he feels calm enough, he comes out and sits beside you, letting you rest your weight against him

Seeing how dirty he is, you insist on having him join you in the tub

He denies it for a bit, but eventually gives in when he realizes you're just going to keep asking

Has your back against his chest

He sort of just sits there for a while, letting the water do its thing

But if you start putting shampoo in his hair and help wash him up, he won't be opposed

Jason Voorhees

The only way Jason will ever take a bath is if you're in there with him

He's learned to find some relaxation in the warm water now, and today is one of those days where he feels like he really needs it

He comes home and just hugs you for a bit, trying to get rid of his frustrations from earlier

And once you lead him by the hand to the warm tub, he's already feeling a bit better

He's a little big for the tub, so you kind of have to sit in his lap when you join him, not that he minds

Practically becomes putty in your hands

Rub his back? Loves it

Give him little kisses? Melts

Literally just poke him? All yours

You're basically the only thing that makes Jason feel better after days like these

Thomas Hewitt

After the day he had, he just wants to see you

It's actually his idea to take a bath in the first place

He thinks it's the perfect excuse to be close with you

Will pull you up to your feet and lead you towards the tub

He already has the water running

Needs you to add the bubbles though

He just thinks you have the magic touch when it comes to adding the right amount of soap

Unsurprisingly, he's the one that wants to pamper you

Helps wash your back and rinse the shampoo from your hair

He isn't sure why, but taking care of you is what puts him in a good mood after a long day

There's just something about seeing you so happy that makes him feel happy too

Bubba Sawyer

When he comes home, he immediately grabs your hand and is blubbering about his day

Is making huge gestures on what went wrong and how upset he is

All the while, you are already leading him to the bathroom, Bubba not even paying attention to where he's going

You help him get out of his dirty clothes and lead him into the tub

You also begin lighting some of his favorite scented candles while he sits, him still freaking out

It's only when you get in the tub with him that he calms down

You both sit facing each other, pushing a toy duck back and forth

It's his favorite

His whines of anger slowly turn into giggles as you start throwing bubbles at him

With you, his mood can do a 180 in a matter of minutes

You both end up in a bit of a water fight though, soaking the whole floor

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms is pissed

After chasing around this victim, knocking over furniture, and almost breaking his arm, he is practically ready to burst

You have to hold him tightly to you as you shush him, trying to calm him down

It only seems to work when you suggest taking a bath together to relax

He helps light candles while you tend to the water and bubbles

About makes you fall when he drags you into the tub with him, making you sit right in front of him

Gets very touchy and wants to help you get clean

But you also switch the roles too, helping him wash up even though he insists on just washing you

He eventually relaxes though, closing his eyes as you run your fingers through his hair

You both end up falling asleep together, only waking once the water cools

Norman Bates

He doesn't quite remember what had him so upset, but all he knows is that he needs some down time

When he walks through the door to see that you've already made him his favorite tea, he gives you the kindest smile

You offer a warm bath to help ease him, and he simply requests that you join as well

You both sip on your mugs while you catch up on everything that happened today

He enjoys talking with you

And having you cuddled up against him makes it all even better

He doesn't even remember feeling upset before

He just closes his eyes and leans his head back, still silently listening to you talk

Billy Loomis

He comes home silently fuming

(He got out most of his yells and punches earlier)

Before you can even ask about his day, he is grabbing you and pulling you to the bathroom with him

Doesn't say anything, just starts the bath and begins piling his dirty clothing onto the floor

Once the tub is full, he's pulling you in with him, wrapping his arms around you roughly

You both don't have to say anything, just finding comfort in being with each other during this time

He does take this moment to just reflect though, thinking of all the ways to kill in the future so another victim doesn't give him such a hard time

But don't worry, he's back to his usual self once the water has cooled

You both end up cuddling on the couch, still wrapped in your towels

Stu Macher

The moment you see his face through the door, he's on a tangent

He's telling you all about what happened, but he's talking so fast that you can barely keep up with him

And the whole time he's ranting, he's stripping off his clothes, rummaging through bags of chips, and pushing you towards the bathroom

You still don't understand how someone can multitask as much as him

He's helping you undress, still talking about how terrible the victim was and how frustrated he is feeling

But the moment he's in the tub, he's all lovey dovey

Insists on being held by you, wanting to be babied

He didn't even let the bath fill completely before hopping in, so he's practically yelling over the sound of the water

But it's worth it to be with him when he's so needy

Eric Draven

Even just one person escaping means another crime waiting to be committed in Eric's eyes

So when he comes home, his head hung a bit low, you immediately know

He sits beside you and leans into your arms, listening to your quiet reassurances

Once his mood seems a little lighter, you hurry into the bathroom and get the water running

You already had plenty of candles lit since Eric enjoys the gentle light they provide

He gets in the tub first, making sure the water isn't too hot or cold for you

Then, he opens his arms wide with a soft smile

You sit between his legs and let his full frame engulf you

Making you feel safe and secure is a guaranteed way to make Eric feel content

It never fails

Vincent Sinclair

He's absolutely exhausted

He just wants to lay with you and feel your hand in his hair

The moment he comes home and finds you waiting by the bathroom, a soft smile on your face, he's instantly put in a better mood

And this joy only increases when he sees the gentle flicker of the candles and the soapy bubbles of the tub

Immediately pulls you into a long hug, physically relaxing in your arms

And the moment the warm water engulfs him?

He's literally in heaven

Will gladly let you wash his hair and rub the soap along his back

That tough victim he dealt with just an hour before is long gone from his mind

He knows that whenever he needs fixing, you're the one to come to

Bo Sinclair

Bo isn't very easy to calm down

When he storms in, a scowl on his face, you can tell that things didn't go well for him

You just let him rage around for a bit, waiting patiently for him to calm down on his own

You can always tell he's feeling better once his eyes meet yours

"I have the bath running" is all you have to say

Bo gently nods

He'll never admit it, but during moments like these, he just wants to be pampered and babied

Leans his full weight against you, sighing in relief as the bubbles engulf him

"You always know just what I need, darlin'"

Expects long scalp massages and gentle squeezes along his arms

But don't worry, he's sure to return the favor, pressing soft kisses to your bare shoulders

Won't let you leave the tub until he's ready, and that's usually when the water has turned cold

Lester Sinclair

Although he doesn't really participate in the killings, he's still expected to help clean up

And boy, did his brothers leave him with quite the mess

He comes home filthy, his white t-shirt no longer recognizable

"Oh, honey. Looks like you need a bath."

His frustrated gaze softens quickly when looks at you

"Please," he insists

He pulls you in with him, wanting you to hold him so close that he is literally engulfed by you

Gazes at the different candles you lit while you talk to him softly

Even if his day didn't go well, he still wants to hear about yours

It's the best way to lighten his mood, knowing everything you were up to while he was out

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manjjiros · 4 months

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JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY

ran haitani x fem!afab!reader

cws: d/s dynamics, brat!reader, brat taming, spanking, fingering, spit, piv, creampie, ‘little girl,’ ‘brat,’ ‘slut’ used for reader, ask to tag.

from the ASM: ran and his girlfriend left in kind of a hurry after she spent the whole night with takeomi. i hope they don’t fight too bad.

over the loudspeaker: @sin-and-punishment (teehee)

“i still don’t understand why you made us leave early!”

you pouted from your spot in the passenger’s seat of ran’s car, arms crossed over your chest and eyes focused on the night lights passing by. ran clicked his tongue in annoyance, his fingers gripping harder into the flesh of your thigh.

“i think you know exactly why we left early.”

“no, i don’t! it was so rude! all the other guys were still there and you threw a hissy fit and made us leave!” you whipped your head around to finally look at him for the first time since he had placed his hand on your back at the party and guided you away from your conversation.

he was angry. his jaw rolled at your comment, tongue clicking against his teeth. his index finger tapped against your thigh; if he was at a table, he’d be tapping that instead, rhythmically and with a certain ferocity behind it that meant you were in for it.

you knew what it was that caused him to get in this foul fucking mood. mostly because you had done it on purpose.

sidling up to takeomi to say hello in greeting was one thing. lingering around the older man, sharing a cigarette with him, letting him get you a drink from the open bar and eventually letting his hand wander to your thigh while talking? that was another thing entirely.

ran had been the one to invite you along to the work party as a plus one. manjiro industries needed to keep up public appearances, after all, and renting out an illustrious party hall for new year’s eve was one good way to keep things under wraps. your caring boyfriend had allowed you to come this year, under the impression that you would cling to him and let him take you home.

instead, you had grinned and made your rounds to the other executives, clad in a tight dress and that thick fur coat he had purchased for you, before taking a seat at takeomi’s table to ‘catch up,’ your words, not his.

ran did not appreciate your complete disregard of him at the dinner. he wouldn’t allow it to go unchecked.

“are you gonna answer me? or are you just going to sit there all quiet like you’re a child? what are we, five?” you hissed at him, trying to tug your thigh out from under his grip, but he curled his fingers tighter into your exposed flesh to prevent you from going anywhere. he said nothing as he used his other hand to turn the car into the parking garage of his high-rise building, veins in his forearm flexing with the movement. you hadn’t realized he hadn’t even put his suit coat back on before leaving, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. you had half a mind to ogle him at the moment, focusing on the fact that you were in fact still mad at him for his silent treatment and for being pulled from a fun party early.

he turned rather quickly into his parking spot, finally letting go of your thigh to put his luxury car in park and get out. you didn’t give him a chance to come around and open the door for you, as he often did. you stepped out of the vehicle, heels clicking along the pavement. he still wouldn’t look at you, not even coming around the car to wait for you. he slung his suit coat over his forearm and tucked his keys into his pocket as he felt around for his keycard, walking ahead of you.

“excuse me? hello? earth to ran? are you seriously going to ignore me now?”

“don’t yell, it echoes in here. you’ll embarrass yourself.”

oh, now you were boiling, hurrying your pace in your heels to catch up to him. “are you being serious? don’t embarrass myself? imagine how i felt when you practically dragged me out of that party! you’re acting like we’re in grade school!”

ran’s brows twitched as he rolled his eyes at you, swiping his keycard in the elevator pad to open the doors and allow you both access. you followed him in, and watched him swipe his keycard yet again to gain access to the top floor where his unit was.

“i don’t see how i’m the one acting like a child when you did the same shit. what were you thinking, huh? that getting all close to takeomi wouldn’t be such a bad idea?” his voice was rough as he tucked his keycard away in his pocket, cracking his knuckles as your face flared.

ah. this was about you. obviously it was, and you knew it well. your lips twitched before you turned away from him with a huff. “i don’t see an issue with knowing your coworkers, ran. or should i say, your other gang leaders.”

“no? you don’t think so?”

“nope. not at all.”

“final answer?”

“are we on a game show now? lock it in, host!”

“you’re a real fuckin’ brat, little girl.”

you didn’t get a chance to spew another word at him, because the elevator made that sweet chiming noise to let you know you were on the right floor, and ran was all up in your space.

his hand met your lower back and guided you out roughly, making you stumble in your heels. “hey-!”

“enough already. i don’t want to hear any more fucking complaints come from you. no sounds unless you’re crying my name, do you understand me?”

ran moved his hand from your lower back to the nape of your neck as the doors of the elevator closed silently behind you. his fingers dug into your skin as he forced you to look up at him. his eyes were blown and dark in that way that made your whole body feel like it was alight in flames.

your head bobbed in a yes motion, feeling the way his fingers were twitching against the sides of your neck. ran was pissed, rightfully so, and you were in for it.

he let go of you entirely and tossed his suit jacket over the back of the nearest loveseat, loosening his tie and sliding it off. you stood near the elevator still, dazed and confused, while he took a seat and messed with his tie.

he looked over the back of the couch at you with a glare and a crook of his finger, and you were following immediately, circling to the front of the couch and standing in front of him.

“turn around.”

you blinked down at him before slowly turning away from him. his hands reached up and tugged your fur coat off, tossing it haphazardly to the side and probably to the floor. you felt the rough pads of his fingers between your shoulder blades as he fumbled with the tiny zipper holding your dress up. he tugged it down, down, down, his knuckles ghosting along your spine as he moved, before he was peeling the fabric off of your body and dropping it to the floor to pool around your ankles.

“no panties, either? what, did you want to get slutted out to everyone in the fucking room?”

“no, i-”

“shut up.” he hissed through gritted teeth. “you could be so good if you just fucking listened.”

you stood bare in front of him, back turned to him on the couch. your thighs trembled; you knew that in the dim lighting of the lamps in the living room, ran could see the slick that glistened between your folds.

he tapped the back of one of your knees and you turned to face him. he’d unbuttoned the top few buttons of his dress shirt, tattoos starting to poke out. he sat up on the couch then and reached up to grab your jaw, squishing your cheeks together and tugging you close. you gasped slightly from the sudden movement, stumbling forward to stand between his knees.

“open.”

you furrowed your brows at him, and he squeezed your cheeks harder.

“i said, open.”

with a tap of his index finger on your cheek, you relented fully, opening your mouth as asked. you expected him to shove his fingers into your mouth, make you gag and choke.

what you didn’t expect was for him to take a brief pause before spitting directly into your mouth. you moaned, a sound you didn’t anticipate to come from your own throat, as the taste of his saliva coated your tongue.

you barely had a moment to think about it before ran’s mouth was on yours, practically devouring you whole as his hands moved to your hips to drag you into his lap.

you went with ease, straddling his waist and wrapping your arms tight around his neck. he hungrily licked into your mouth, tasting the drink that takeomi had gotten for you still on your tongue mixed with his spit.

he pulled back with your bottom lip between your teeth, making you whimper and grip at the short hair at the base of ran’s neck.

“y’such a needy little fuckin’ brat, huh? goin’ out to a party with dangerous men and wearing nothing underneath your little dress. what did you want to happen? wanted one of the other men to grab you and whore you out in front of everyone? in front of the boss?”

he growled practically against your lips as you started to rock against the bulge in his slacks, no doubt leaving a wet patch in your wake. one of his hands moved from your hip, and for a moment you thought he would grab a handful of your tits like he always did, flicking at your nipple and making you keen.

ran, ever the surprising man, brought his hand down on your ass, hard.

you cried out from the sting and arched your back, tears springing to the corners of your eyes. “r-ran-”

“that’s a good girl, finally saying my name like i asked.” ran hummed against your jaw as he nipped at the skin there, bringing a heavy hand down against your ass again and making you jolt and whine.

suddenly his hands returned to your hips, and he moved you easily down onto the couch cushions, pushing your face into a throw pillow and hiking your hips up high. sometimes you wondered how he had the strength to move you around like you were nothing, but you were in no position to ask him at the moment. you felt dizzy as you hit the couch, hips wriggling and hands scrambling for purchase on the cushions.

you heard the clinking of ran’s belt behind you, feeling the warmed metal of the gucchi logo bump against your thigh as he slid it out of his belt loops. you felt one of his hands slide along your spine, rings dragging along your skin, the other coming down on your other ass cheek and making you yelp.

“brats like you need to be reminded of who you belong to, don’t you think?”

you went to respond, but again, you didn’t get a chance. ran’s two middle fingers swiped through your folds before pushing into your tight hole, scissoring you open roughly and stretching you out. you felt his rings bump against your pussy, the cold metal making you pulse around his digits.

“you get off on making me mad, don’t you? you like when i throw you around and spank this pretty ass?”

you nodded, and heard him stifle a laugh. “of course you do. sluts like you crave attention. that’s why you were all over takeomi tonight. i heard he gets real rough on girls. you want me to be rougher? huh? answer me.”

you were drooling against the pillows as his fingers hooked into you in the right spots, dragging along your gummy walls and filling the large living room with the wet squelching sounds of your cunt. you found it in yourself to nod, head turning to press your cheek into the pillow and try to get a better glimpse of ran bending over your back.

this time, he did laugh, removing his fingers and popping them in his mouth for a taste. you clenched around nothing, feeling so empty without his fingers filling you just right. “all you had to do was ask, brat. you didn’t need to go and make me angry.”

there was a pause as you heard him fumble with the fabric of his slacks, leaving you trembling in front of him. knowing he was still mostly dressed while you were completely nude in front of him almost made you bashful, wanting to shy away from him as he freed his cock and slapped the tip against your clit.

“beg.”

“ran! ran, please, ‘m sorry, shouldn’t have gotten close to ‘omi, jus’ wanted you to be rough, i’m sorry, please fuck me!” the words tumbled from your wet lips so effortlessly, thrumming at the feeling of ran’s cock sliding slowly through your folds as he listened to you whine.

he slapped his hand down against your ass, and you swore the rings on his fingers would leave bruises in the morning with indents of the hard metal bands. he grasped both globes of your ass and spread you open for him, cock pressed up against your dripping hole as he had you exposed in front of him.

you heard him gather spit between his lips before it dripped down onto your pussy, cold and tantalizing, as if he was further lubing you up.

“wanted me to be mean to you? shoulda just said that.”

you babbled incoherently until finally, finally, he popped the head of his cock into your cunt and bullied his long length all the way in.

you moaned, already starting to shake as he started a rough pace. his hand repeatedly came down on your ass, making you shake and cry out under him. if it was possible, you knew he’d be in your guts.

he filled you perfectly, slamming himself into your sweet spot over and over again. he bent his body over your back, the fabric of his shirt scratching against your skin as he moved one of his hands to shove three fingers into your mouth. he pressed on your tongue and made you gargle and gag around his digits, smiling meanly at your teary face.

“see, brat? this is what happens when you get me mad. this what you needed tonight? just needed to get fucked so hard you can’t see? can’t - fuck - think? squeezin’ me so tight, don’t tell me you wanna cum already.”

you did. his words, the spanking to your ass, it had you spinning and flying close to the edge within minutes. ran was chuckling breathlessly at you, gritting his teeth from how tight you were squeezing his cock.

he fucked into you hard and rough, tip of his cock carving a home inside your tight walls. your ass stung, each smack sending you closer and closer. you choked on his fingers when he pushed them further back into your mouth, almost into your throat.

“fine, slut. go ahead, cream all over my cock. cum. fucking cum.”

you practically screamed. well, you would have, had there not been three fingers in your mouth making you gag and drool all over his hand. your whole body shook as your eyes rolled back, pleasure washing over you like a tsunami’s wave hits the coast.

ran did not stop. he didn’t slow down, not for a second.“we’re not done here. you wanted mean, you’ll get mean.”

#ran haitani x reader #ran x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #tr x reader #♧ — ran haitani #♤ — message from owner

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pucksandpower · 9 months

Note

hi love!! i’m not sure if you’re talking requests so completely ignore this if you’re not but, i’m in love with your grid kids series and i was wondering if you could do something with the grid kids that goes more into readers line of work?🫶🏼

Grid Kids: She Means Business

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: your career as a renowned sports psychologist means you often work with your husband and grid kids

Series Masterlist

Sebastian Vettel: Meet Cute

Red Bull Racing’s pit wall is a hive of activity during the practice session for the Monaco Grand Prix. Engineers, strategists, and everyone in between are glued to their screens, analyzing data and communicating with the drivers.

You’re there in an official capacity, hired by Red Bull Racing to conduct a series of workshops to help the team, particularly the drivers, cope with the mental pressures of racing. With a headset on, you’re mostly observing, making notes on communication dynamics, when suddenly a voice interrupts your thoughts.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

You look up, slightly startled, to see none other than Sebastian Vettel, the team’s star driver, smiling down at you. His mop of hair sweaty and slightly tousled from the helmet he just took off after finishing up with FP2, the impish twinkle in his eyes making you feel … something.

“Oh, no. Not at all. I was just ...” you stammer, suddenly feeling a bit out of your element.

Sebastian sits down next to you, leaning in conspiratorially. “Between you and me, I think I’m here to see what the mysterious new hire is up to.”

You chuckle, “Well, if you must know, I’m observing team dynamics, communication patterns ... very thrilling stuff.”

He feigns a gasp, “So you’re spying on us?”

“In the most professional way possible,” you reply with a smirk.

Sebastian laughs, the sound genuine and contagious. “Well, I hope we’re giving you some good material.”

You lean in this time, matching his playful tone, “You? Always.”

There’s a brief pause, a moment of charged silence, before Sebastian grins, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You smile back, “You should.”

The two of you chat easily, talking about the intricacies of the sport and the importance of mental preparedness.

As the session winds down and Mark Webber also makes his way back into the garage, Sebastian looks over at you, “You know, for someone who’s here to observe, you’re quite the distraction.”

Your cheeks warm, “Is that so?”

He nods, mock serious, “Absolutely. It’s a problem. I think we might need a one-on-one session to discuss it further.”

You laugh, “I’ll have to check my schedule but I’m sure we can arrange something.”

Sebastian winks, “Looking forward to it,” and with that he’s off to debrief with his engineers.

As you remove your headset, you can’t help but smile to yourself. This job assignment just got a lot more interesting.

Max Verstappen: Unloading the Past

Ten years later, the Red Bull Racing hospitality suite is buzzing with activity: the clink of glasses, murmurs of conversation, and the distant roar of engines echoing from the track. But in a quiet corner, there’s a space that feels a world apart.

Soft, ambient lighting casts a serene glow, a few comfortable chairs are arranged in a circle, and on the coffee table lies an assortment of fidget tools, from stress balls to sensory mats. This is your corner, specially designed for individual sessions.

Max Verstappen hesitates at the entrance. His eyes dart around, taking in the unfamiliar setting. It’s clear that beneath that façade of unshakable confidence lies vulnerability.

You rise, offering a comforting smile. “Hey, Max. Ready?”

He gives a tentative nod, following you in. “I’m not ... I’m not sure how to do this,” he admits, voice barely audible.

“That’s okay,” you assure him, guiding him to a chair. “There’s no right or wrong way. Just start wherever you feel comfortable.”

Taking a deep breath, Max begins, his words tumbling out, “It’s just ... sometimes, when I’m out there on the track, I feel like that kid again.” His voice cracks and he pauses, searching for the right words. “The kid who always felt he wasn’t good enough no matter how hard I tried.”

You nod, encouraging him to continue, “Tell me about that kid.”

As Max delves into memories of his childhood, stories of relentless training sessions, the weight of expectations, and the struggle to fit in, you listen. Every word, every pause, every shift in his tone paints a picture of a boy who was thrust into the world of racing at a young age, grappling with the colossal pressure to prove himself.

You gently prod, asking him to revisit specific incidents, encouraging him to express his feelings, and offering insights when necessary.

As the session progresses, Max’s demeanor changes. His initial hesitation gives way to openness, vulnerability transforms into strength, and slowly, the pieces start falling into place.

“You know,” you say softly, “It’s natural to carry the scars of our past with us but it’s important to remember they don’t define us.”

Max looks up, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, “But how do I move past it?”

You want so badly to reach out and hug him — this young man who you consider a son in all but blood — but hold yourself back. You’re both here for work and, right now, Max needs you as a professional and not a mom.

“By acknowledging it, understanding it, and then channeling it. Every time you get in the car, it’s an opportunity to rewrite that narrative. Not for anyone else but for yourself.”

Max takes a moment, absorbing your words. “Thank you,” he murmurs, a weight visibly lifted off his shoulders.

You give him a reassuring smile. “Anytime, Max. Remember, you’re not alone in this journey. Oh, and remember, we’re all meeting at that little Italian place Charles recommended for dinner.”

There’s a lightness in Max’s voice that wasn’t there before, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Charles Leclerc: Bittersweet Memories

The setting sun casts a somber glow across the paddock at Suzuka Circuit. It’s a track rich with history, triumphs, and heartbreaks. For Charles Leclerc, it’s where he lost Jules Bianchi, his godfather, mentor, and friend.

You find Charles seated alone in a quiet part of the Ferrari motorhome, gazing out the window. The overflowing sadness in his eyes nearly makes you stop in your tracks.

“Hey,” you greet gently, not wanting to startle him. “Mind if I join you?”

He offers a small nod, his gaze still distant.

Sitting down next to him, you allow a comfortable silence to settle, giving him the space to open up when he’s ready. Moments pass before Charles finally speaks, his voice tinged with melancholy.

“Every time I come here,” he starts, “it feels like I’m reliving that day. The memories, the pain, it all just floods back.”

You nod, understandingly, “Grief has a way of doing that, especially when tied to such a tangible reminder.”

Charles looks down, fiddling with his bracelet. “It’s hard, you know? Racing on the same track where I lost him. Every corner, every turn, it’s like he’s there with me.”

Taking a deep breath, you offer, “Maybe that’s a way for you to connect with Jules. To honor his memory, to carry his spirit with you every lap you drive.”

Charles’ eyes shimmer with tears. “I want to make him proud, to show that everything he taught me wasn’t in vain. But sometimes, the weight of it all just becomes too much.”

You reach out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. Grief isn’t linear. There will be days when it hits harder, especially in places like this. You just have to remember it’s not about racing against the pain but learning that it’s okay to race with it.”

He meets your gaze, searching for strength, “How do I do that?”

“By allowing yourself to feel, by acknowledging the pain, and by channeling it into your drive. Jules might not be here physically but he’s with you in spirit. And every time you get behind that wheel is another opportunity to show that.”

Charles takes a deep breath, absorbing your words. “Thank you,” he murmurs, a glimmer of determination returning to his eyes.

You give him a comforting smile. “I’m glad I could help, even if it’s just a little. We’re all here for you every step of the way.”

Lance Stroll: Nepo Babies Have Feelings Too

Inside the Aston Martin team lounge, screens show replays of the latest race, commentators discussing various drivers’ performance. One topic that often comes up is Lance Stroll. The chatter revolves around his father’s ownership of the team and whether Lance truly earned his seat or if he’s just a product of nepotism.

You notice Lance sitting a bit apart from the rest, headphones on but his face is a giveaway. The furrowed brows, the downward curve of his lips —he’s clearly overheard the unsubtle whispers.

You make your way over, gesturing to ask if he’d like some company. He nods, removing his headphones.

“Those comments,” you begin gently, “they don’t define you.”

Lance sighs, his frustration palpable. “It’s just ... no matter what I do, how hard I work, how much I improve, it always comes back to the same thing. That I’m only here because of my father.”

You nod, understanding the weight of such judgments. “It’s tough, Lance. But remember, others’ opinions of you are just that — opinions. They aren’t the truth and they most definitely are not your truth.”

He looks up, eyes searching. “But how do I prove them wrong? How do I show that I deserve to be here?”

“It starts with belief,” you say, leaning forward for emphasis, “belief in yourself. You’ve trained, you’ve raced, you’ve faced challenges head-on, and you’ve earned your spot. Your journey in F1 isn’t just about your last name. It’s about every late-night on the simulator, every risk taken on the track, every lap you’ve driven.”

Lance nods slowly, taking in your words. “But the chatter, it’s just so deafening sometimes.”

You offer a comforting smile. “You can’t control what others say but you can control how you react. Every time you’re on that track, you have the power to redefine the narrative, to let your skills speak louder than any spiteful words.”

Motivation straightens his hunched shoulders, the weight of doubt lifting slightly. “So focus on the drive, not the noise?”

“Exactly,” you affirm. “Your talent, your dedication, that’s what matters. Let the world see Lance Stroll, the driver, not just Lance Stroll, the son.”

He chuckles, “Easier said than done.”

You wink, “That’s why you have a stellar support system. Lean on us whenever the noise gets too loud.”

George Russell: Comparing Comparisons

It’s a cool afternoon at the Silverstone Circuit and the entire paddock is buzzing with excitement. There’s an added layer of intrigue to the British Grand Prix this season. Lewis Hamilton, the seven-time world champion, will be racing alongside his much younger compatriot, George Russell, as teammates for the first time.

In the Mercedes team garage, George is meticulously going over his race data, replaying certain turns and maneuvers in his head. But an undertone of tension cuts through his concentration.

You walk over, picking up on his restlessness. “Nervous about tomorrow?”

He glances up, forcing a smile. “That obvious, huh? It’s just racing alongside Lewis … it’s a dream come true but also incredibly daunting.”

You nod, understanding the pressure of standing next to a giant in the sport. “It’s natural to feel that way. Lewis has carved a legacy in F1 and now you’re right beside him, sharing the same tracks in the same car.”

George sighs, “That’s the thing. Everywhere I turn, there’s a comparison. It’s not just about my performance anymore, it’s about how I measure up to him.”

You lean against the worktable, choosing your words carefully. “Here’s the thing, George. You can’t control comparisons or expectations but you can control your race. Every driver brings something unique to the track. Lewis has his legacy, yes, but you have your own journey and story still to build.”

George nods slowly, pondering over your words. “I want to be able to block all of that out. I’ve tried every single weekend so far. But it’s hard. How do I focus on my race and not the looming shadow beside me?”

“There’s no one right answer,” you sympathize. “Look, Lewis is an icon and racing alongside him is an opportunity to learn, to grow. But remember, you’ve earned your spot here. This is as much your race as it is his.”

He chuckles, “You always know exactly what to say.”

You smile, “Just a little wisdom from the sidelines. Trust your training, trust your instincts, and let George Russell shine.”

Lando Norris: Never Grow Up

It’s a warm and bright morning but the mood inside the McLaren motorhome doesn’t quite reflect the sunny atmosphere outside. Lando Norris sits in a corner, earbuds in, lost deep in thought. The usual playful energy that surrounds him is missing today.

You approach, sensing the shift in his demeanor. “Room for one more?”

He looks up, offering a half-hearted smile. “Sure.”

You settle beside him, waiting for him to speak. After a brief pause, Lando finally breaks the silence. “Do you think I’m too childish?”

You’re slightly taken aback. “What makes you say that?”

Lando sighs, “I overheard some comments from a few crew members from another team. They said that no one takes me seriously because I’m always joking around, always laughing. They think that I’m not mature enough for this sport.”

You consider his words, understanding where he’s coming from. "Formula 1 is intense. It’s demanding and requires immense focus and dedication. But it’s also about personality, about bringing your unique touch to the grid.”

He nods but still seems unsure. “But what if they’re right? What if I’m not taken seriously because of how I act?”

You lean in, ensuring he listens to every word. “Lando, your driving speaks volumes. Every time you get behind the wheel, you showcase your skill and your tenacity. The playful side of you, the side that loves to laugh and bring joy, that’s a part of who you are. It doesn’t diminish your talent or your dedication.”

Lando seems to ponder your words, “But it’s hard, you know? Feeling like I have to constantly prove myself. Like there’s something wrong with being myself.”

You take his hand into both of yours, “Every driver feels that way at some point. But remember, the beauty of this sport is that it’s as much about character as it is about speed. Your playful nature, your genuine laughter, it brings a freshness to the paddock. Embrace it.”

He chuckles, the familiar sparkle returning to his eyes. “So be me and let my racing do the talking?”

“Without a doubt,” you confirm. “Stay true to yourself. The world needs more genuine smiles and more authentic laughter. Then, on the track, just keep doing what you do best.”

Lando grins, “Thanks. I really needed to hear that.”

Mick Schumacher: What’s In a Name?

The aftermath of a race is evident inside the Haas garage. Engineers are engaged in post-race analysis, the car undergoing routine checks. A desolate Mick Schumacher sits among the organized chaos, his helmet still on, concealing his face.

Walking over, you notice the subtle tremors in his frame, the weight of something heavy weighing on his young shoulders. Gently, you tap on his helmet, signaling for him to lift it. When he does, the anguish in his eyes is palpable.

“You okay, Mick?” you ask softly.

He tries to answer but his voice breaks. Swallowing hard, he confesses, “I just ... I can’t do it. I can’t ever live up to the name.”

You know the gravity of his sentiment. Being Michael Schumacher’s son in Formula 1 is no easy feat. The legacy, the expectations, the constant comparisons that follow Mick everywhere — it’s overwhelming.

You sit down beside him, “I won’t pretend to understand the pressure you feel but remember this: You are not just your last name. You are Mick Schumacher, your own person with your own journey, your own challenges, and your own victories.”

“But everywhere I go, it’s always about him,” Mick interjects, frustration evident. “The great Michael Schumacher’s son. Can he do it? Will he be even a fraction as good? It’s suffocating.”

You nod, acknowledging his feelings. “Your father is a legend and it’s natural for people to draw parallels. But racing isn’t just about legacy, it's about passion, determination, and personal growth. The shape your path takes in this sport is yours alone.”

Mick wipes away a tear, his gaze distant. “But what if I never truly make it? What if I never even score a point much less a podium or a win? What if I’m always just the son of the legend, never a making a name for myself in my own right?”

You squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. “Then you make peace with that and find joy in what you managed to achieve regardless. You are among twenty of the best drivers on the planet right now. Getting here is no easy feat. Not every path has to lead to the same destination. Maybe you’ll carve a different legacy, one that is uniquely yours.”

Mick seems to ponder over your words, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I just ... I want to make him proud.”

You smile gently, “By being yourself, by giving every race your best shot, you already are. It’s not the titles or the championships that define us. It’s our heart and the impact we make on those around us. And trust me, your heart is in the right place. Your father would only ever want you to be happy, whatever that entails.”

With a deep breath, Mick nods, a content smile crossing his lips. “Thank you. I needed that.”

You give him an encouraging pat, “I’m always in your corner. Remember that it’s not the shadow that defines us but how we emerge from it.”

Mick stands up, ready to face another day, another race. The legacy of his last name will always be there but he’s slowly learning that his own identity holds value and strength too.

Toto Wolff & Christian Horner: Couples Therapy

The sun filters through the sheer curtains of the sophisticated office, casting dancing patterns on the wooden floor. A blend of vanilla and sandalwood wafts through the air, lending to an ambiance of calm. But this illusion is quickly shattered by two animated voices engaged in heated debate, echoing from the hallway. The door flings open to reveal Toto Wolff and Christian Horner, each determined to prove their point even before the session officially starts, and the cameras and sound equipment stationed around the room quickly zero in on them.

You sit in your chair, a hint of amusement in your eyes, as you address them. “Gentlemen, welcome! How about we start by taking our seats?”

Toto and Christian hesitantly sit on the couch, keeping as much distance from each other as possible.

“So,” you begin, trying to contain your laughter, “Drive to Survive mentioned you two might need some ... couples therapy?” You add air quotes for emphasis.

Christian immediately rolls his eyes. “It’s ridiculous! We’re competitors, not some bickering married couple.”

Toto chimes in, “Although he does nag like my grandmother.”

Christian retorts, “Oh please, Toto! The way you carry on, anyone would think you’re auditioning for a soap opera.”

You hold up a hand, “Alright, let’s take a deep breath. We’re here to find common ground.”

The two team principals continue their banter, airing their grievances, from stolen engineers to wind tunnels to secret agreements. You listen, scribbling notes, occasionally nodding or offering a “hmm” of understanding.

After what seems like an eternity, you interrupt their tirade. “Okay, I’ve come to a conclusion. You both are quite the pair. But instead of directing this ... energy at each other, how about a united front? Surely there’s something, or someone, you both dislike equally?”

Christian and Toto exchange glances, a mischievous glint appearing simultaneously. “The producers,” they chorus.

You swear that you can hear the men standing out of camera range behind you — the producers in question — audibly swallow.

You lean in, intrigued. “Go on.”

Toto grins, “They’ve been poking and prodding, trying to get a reaction out of us. It’s why they set this whole thing up in the first place. And while we do love the drama,” he eyes Christian, “maybe it’s time they get a taste of their own medicine.”

Christian nods in agreement, “A united front to give the producers a season they won’t forget.”

You clap your hands together, “Perfect! So what’s the plan?”

As the session concludes, Toto and Christian leave, arms around each other’s shoulders, laughter echoing down the hall.

You lean back in your chair, chuckling. “Well, that was certainly one for the books.”

You turn around to face the Drive to Survive crew already packing their equipment and producers looking shell shocked . You’ve never seen grown men look quite so pale. But they only have themselves to blame — the session was their idea in the first place.

Sometimes you really love your job.

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aureatchi · 2 months

Text

⚕ ᡣ𐭩 . ° . AND IF THERE WAS A PLACE I HAD TO CHOOSE…IT’D BE IN YOUR ARMS TONIGHT. (bedroom session) ft. dazai, chuuya, fyodor, akutagawa, sigma

— how the bsd men treat you when you’re sick. (& more)

a/n. started writing when i was sick djsjsja. tagging my moots who were under the weather anytime this month <3 to them & anyone else unwell, feel better soon !!

info. fem!reader. fluff. established relationships. light angst & hospital in akutagawa’s. chuuya plays the guitar. you play the piano in fyodor’s. sigma’s a chef. some inspo from RED for dazai & fyodor’s (our hcs!)

DAZAI will cuddle with you anyway, even when you are buried under bundles of blankets. he still thinks you need a little more warmth…and you look just too cute wrapped up in what resembles an igloo to not nuzzle with you! however, don’t be surprised when he blames you for making him sick once you recover, as if it wasn’t his fault.

“A-choo!” Your eyes were watery, you felt too cold for your liking, and it was harder than usual to breathe through your nose. Your sneeze made you sit up in discomfort, and you hastily pulled the covers toward you.

“‘Bella? Are you alright?” Dazai sat up next, meeting your eyes as you turned your face toward him.

He noticed how flushed your cheeks were and how watery your eyes were as you frowned—no, the first thought Dazai had wasn’t Oh no! You’re sick!

“Aw, love! You look so cute!” And he tackled you back down.

“Osamu!” you shouted as he lay practically atop you, squeezing you like a teddy bear.

“‘Samu!” you repeated once more. “You’re going to suffocate me!”

“You feel so cold, though, darling!” His reply was muffled as he buried his face into your neck.

“It’s like you’re trying to get yourself sick!”

He sat the both of you back up.

“H-huh? What’d you mean? Why would anyone willingly get sick?”

“Oh, I’m not sure either!” you exclaimed. “Maybe so you can use it as an excuse to skip wor-“

You sneezed again, interrupting your statement, seeing through Dazai’s plan.

“Bless you ‘bella!” he replied, a bit too excited. “What were you saying?”

“I. Was-” you sneezed again. And then twice. And then thrice.

“Aw, my poor baby!” Dazai spoke in his infantile voice. “Looks like you’re super sick…don’t you worry your pretty head about that. I have a solution.”

“Yes, please,” you responded—as best as you could with him pinching your cheeks—thinking Dazai would finally get up and bring you medicine so you didn’t have to do it yourself. That was, in fact, a terrible assumption.

“You trust me so well you didn’t even wait for me to tell you!”

“Uh-”

He then proceeded to pepper your entire face with kisses.

“Get-well kisses! They work better than medicine, trust me. Because these ones are made from lo-ove~.”

“Osamu!” you shouted. “You’re really going to get sick!”

“Do you really think I care, pretty?” He moved his face so his nose was touching yours. “I’ll tell you a secret. I know why I’d get willingly sick. So that I’ll be taken care of by my favorite girl in the world-“

“You’re so stupid!” you facepalmed. “You see being ill as a reward?”

“Yeah, I’ll make you believe so by the end of the day,” he winked. “I’m not going anywhere.”

…

Thankfully, Dazai did give you medicine to clear your stuffy nose. And then he told you to stay in bed while he would prepare you…breakfast.

“Oh no,” you said, knowing well that you mostly cooked the meals for a reason. Dazai was good at many things, but there were exceptions. He wasn’t the worst cook, but he certainly wasn’t the best.

“Wait, please trust me on this one!” he pleaded before you could get up. “I promise you I won’t burn the house down.”

The brunette was staring at you with dramatic puppy-dog eyes, and you were too tired to object any further.

“You have to make sure it’s edible, too,” you glumly replied.

…

It felt like almost an hour passed. You started to get worried—was he really struggling with cooking you something? You imagined the kitchen would be a chaotic nightmare by now, and it was enough to make you want to check on him.

But the moment you decided to get up, the door opened with Dazai bringing in a bowl of hot soup. Surprisingly, you could smell the aroma—and it was good.

“You really underestimated me, ‘bella?” Dazai smirked as he placed the bowl on a portable bed tray. “Bon appétit!”

“I haven’t even tried it yet,” you smiled back. “It might be the worst soup I’ve ever had.”

It wasn’t bad. You hated to admit it, but it tasted delicious.

“The virus must’ve affected my taste buds, too,” you chuckled. “Because for someone whose forte isn’t cooking, this tastes really good.”

Dazai wiped his head with a phew! “I actually…put in a lot of effort. I wanted to make sure I did it all right for you. Sorry it took so long.”

You wanted to hug him. You found it so adorable that he had really taken his time to make you something.

“Awe, thanks, Osamu,” you responded. “This was really sweet.”

“So…do I get a few kisses and back rubs as a thank you?” he asked.

“Sorry, back rubs? I’m the one sick; you should be the one giving me them!”

…

Dazai ended up giving you the massages in exchange for continuing to cling to you without complaint. You accepted and were defeated at this point—the man really wasn’t going anywhere.

He continued to stay with you until you felt better, and very unsurprisingly he spoiled your recovery celebration by becoming sick himself.

“Heh…” he mumbled as you looked at the thermometer with a frown. Contradicting was Dazai with a large smile, despite just finding out he had a fever.

“Your turn, ‘bella!” he exclaimed. “I already called Kunikida saying I’m going to be out for another week! This almost beats a vacation.”

“Osamu!”

“What? Any time spent with you feels just as amazing. And this is just a result of how well I’ve taken care of you.”

CHUUYA wants to make your recovery as comfortable and entertaining as possible—he doesn’t want his darling feeling mopey the entire time. after all, enjoying something distracts one from the botherations of being sick, right?

You hadn’t done as much as you would’ve liked today. Unfortunately, you were sick, but not to the point where you had to visit a doctor or were stuck in bed. It was an inconvenient gray area, where you were still able to do things but accompanied by the mild symptoms of a cold.

“Nah, doll, you’re just a workaholic.”

Chuuya laughed as you pouted while trying to do your laundry. Just because you were sick didn’t mean you should skip your chores. You would probably still go to work the next day, too—as long as you weren’t dying, you’d be alright.

You sort of felt like you were, though. You were overcome by a haze of debilitation, whether you wanted to admit it or not. But you couldn’t just sit around all day.

“I’m fine though, Chuu,” you replied, but a contradicting sneeze immediately followed.

“Your nose is saying something different,” he replied, handing you a tissue. “If you’re so bored, how ‘bout we do something actually fun? And won’t exhaust the life out of you?”

“Well, what are you thinking?” you asked, curious as you wiped your nose.

…

Chuuya had you sat by the table with a bowl and a box of cornstarch.

“Out of all people, it was Q who showed me this.” You raised an eyebrow. “Don’t worry, baby, it’s not dangerous. It’s weird, but I can’t deny this entrances me.”

Chuuya poured some cornstarch into the container and added a cup of water. “It gets a little messy, but…” he started combining the contents until it became a gooey mixture.

You started giggling. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t the sort of crafts experiment you did as a kid.

“Chuu, this is quicksand. You’ve never made it before?”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Quicksand? Nope. But look—if you play around with it, it becomes solid—isn’t that amazing? But if you let it go-“

“It turns back into liquid, yes,” you replied before you sneezed again.

“It’s so weird! What kinda manipulation is this?

You couldn’t help but laugh at how the Port Mafia executive was captivated by such a simple science project. You watched as he played around with the oobleck.

You realized you could live this day simply as well. You proceeded to make your own cool mixture as well.

“You got some on your face,” Chuuya said a little after you were finished with your venture and were washing your hands.

“Where?” you asked, about to touch your head.

“Right here,” you felt his thumb gently rub your cheek and then move around your neck to tug you closer.

“Just kidding.” He stole a kiss in its place.

…

Chuuya sat down on the edge of the bed with his guitar. It was late afternoon, and you decided for once a very needed nap. But not before your lover entertained you with one more thing.

“I’m gonna give ya a little performance.”

He strung his guitar several times and ensured everything was correctly tuned.

Your widened eyes in curiosity made his heart warm. You were so enamored with everything he did—just as he was utterly obsessed with you.

He started playing a familiar tune. Your favorite song. You immediately smiled despite your oncoming headache.

“One day, I think I’ll write my own song for you,” Chuuya said. “You work so hard, how couldn’t you be the inspiration of a ballad?”

You cherished times like these. Even though you were sick, you had the company of the soft, sweetheart side of the Mafia Executive.

FYODOR is full of surprises, and you falling ill is no exception. unexpectedly, he decides to let go of his schemes and responsibilities for the day, to make sure you’re feeling better.

He could already tell by your unusual exhaustion yesterday evening. You didn’t do anything that required more exertion than usual, and it was too frigid in the year for you to feel so hot.

Fyodor already knew you wouldn’t feel so good when you woke up the following day. Your cheeks were flushed, and your head was pounding. It even ached to sit up. It was the worst combination.

Feverishly, you sneezed. A tissue was immediately placed over your nose.

“Blow, milaya.”

You looked up at Fyodor, who was standing by the bed. His amethyst gaze fell upon you—his usual amalgam of tranquility and complacency looked a bit different today…was there a hint of concern shining through his eyes?

You took the tissue from his hands and blew your nose.

“You’re supposed to be at work, no?”

You tried your hardest not to get sick because of this reason. You would be another hassle on Fyodor’s list of endeavors. You hated the thought of contributing, especially when he was already stressed and occasionally neglected his own needs with what he already had to do.

“You would really expect me to when I had to carry you to bed last night?”

The previous evening was a blur. Sometime after dinner, the weather immediately flew over you, and all your energy just drained out.

“Ah.” You sneezed again into the tissue. “Well, I think I’ll be fine on my own. I know you have a lot on your hands. I can take care of myse-“

“Please believe me. You’re not being a burden,” Fyodor cut you off and directly addressed the point you had been dancing around. His hand found yours and started to massage your fingers. He felt ice cold against you—or perhaps, you were on fire.

“Is your throat sore? I’ll make you some tea.”

…

He didn’t leave you alone for too long. Fyodor returned with a cup of hot ginger tea that you immediately took, desperate for some relief for your throat. Your nose was quickly soothed by the warm, sharp aroma of the ginger as you held the mug close to your mouth.

If there was one thing you learned, there was a type of tea for every occasion. Fyodor had an entire cabinet dedicated to those beverages—all precisely arranged.

“Is it alright?” Fyodor asked as you sipped, the liquid alleviating the soreness in your throat.

“Yes, of course,” you replied. “Maybe after I can try to get up…” your voice trailed off as you struggled even to shift your position.

“What’s wrong?” Fyodor moved beside you again as you frowned.

“I feel really sore. Like I ran a marathon without stretching at all yesterday,” you dryly chuckled, even though that had not been the case at all. Your whole body ached; it felt uncomfortable to move anything, and you felt awfully weak.

Fyodor didn’t respond for a moment, thinking.

“You can still entertain yourself without moving. Do you want to read? I’ll bring you to the living room.”

You curtly nodded your head and picked out one of the many books on the large shelf before Fyodor carried you to the sofa in the next room.

“Stay on my lap,” he said, holding you by your waist when you tried to move away.

“I don’t want you to get sick too,” you replied, confused.

“I won’t, don’t worry. Besides, I’m doing a favor for you.”

He motioned for you to enjoy your book and not pay attention to him. So you did as he said—you flipped to the page you left off on and tried to immerse yourself in the plot.

It got easy to do so and lose track of reality because Fyodor started to massage you—hands moving in circular motions on your shoulders to ease and relax the pain on your joints.

You felt both too hot and cold alone on your bed earlier. But here, in the embrace of your lover, you could see the end of your little tunnel of fever.

“Thank you, Fedya,” you whispered sometime after.

…

He got up to do something on his own a little later, but not before tucking you into the softest blankets you owned on the couch. He admired you for a moment right after—a touch of amusement in his eyes.

“What’s so funny?” you asked with a pout. You felt like you were made into a burrito.

Fyodor had thought the same.

“Milashka,” he simply smiled.

You thought he went away to attend to the business he was able to at home—Fyodor was infamous for being a workaholic after all, but you were surprised once again when amidst your reading, you heard a melody coming from the other room. Rich and resonant, you realized he was practicing his cello.

You placed your book down and freed yourself from the warm blankets before making your way over to the next room, disregarding the dull pain that still accompanied you.

Fyodor didn’t pause as you entered and sat down on the piano’s stool. You opened the cover and placed your fingers on the keys before smoothly joining in with the composition you had secretly been learning while he was away so you could play with him.

He probably suspected it anyway, but you still smiled and felt a little pride as you harmonized with him without error—and while sick.

♬♩♫♪

There was a moment of silence after the final note. You felt at peace. The tune made you sleepy.

Fyodor stepped towards you, and you lifted your head to meet his gaze.

“You played it perfectly, lyubov,” he said before kissing your forehead. “How about a nap now as a reward?”

…

After a glass of water and an adjustment of the heater, Fyodor tucked you back under the covers. He checked your temperature with the back of his palm, and he was appeased to find that your fever had noticeably gone down.

You suddenly giggled, catching Fyodor off guard.

“Why are you giggling?”

“I had an observation,” you chirped. You wanted to tell him it was evident he had been stealing physical affection from you throughout the day and that he wasn’t sly, but alas, exhaustion had overcome you again.

You took his own hand in yours. “Wash your hands after,” you whispered before placing a kiss on his fingertips. “This was nice. I feel better because of you staying.”

AKUTAGAWA feels that the roles have been reversed because it is usually him who is sick, and you helping him get better. however, this time it’s you, and so he wants to repay all the care and love you showed him. for once, not to prove something, but to show proof of your adoration towards him.

You didn’t want Akutagawa to visit you that day. You had sent him a text earlier that you were sick—your pneumonia was so severe that you were admitted to the hospital. He immediately rushed over right after.

You told him he didn’t have to—truthfully, half of your heart didn’t want him to because of his already weakened immune system and his tendency to get sick easily.

Yet he still showed up at your bedside with a “get-better” box and pink tulips, a mask covering half his face.

“Ryu, I appreciate this so much,” you told him, a cough accompanying your statement. “But I promise you don’t need to stay—I don’t want you to get sick too.”

He didn’t respond before striding over to the sink as if he were in his own house, grabbing a vase and filling it with water. You watched him trim your flowers, place them in the container, and then putting it on the counter.

“Ryu…”

“You’re in the hospital. Do you think I could just go about my day like my girlfriend isn’t sick?”

Even though his tone was straightforward, his hand gently brushed away the hair covering your eyes.

He was visibly bothered. He hated seeing you in the hospital gown, lying on the bed. He hated the IV line attached to you and the distant beeps! of your vitals. Akutagawa went through this experience more often than not, and if not painful, it was always irritating and unpleasant.

He would never want you going through this, even once.

“Are you comfortable? Should I move you to one of the VIP rooms?”

“That’s not necessary, thank you though,” you replied. You noticed the exhaustive distress in his argentine eyes.

“I’m going to be okay, Ryu,” you reassured him. “I promise. Just don’t touch me for now.”

Akutagawa nodded. “Are you hungry? Is there anything you’re craving?”

“I want…something sweet,” you bashfully replied. “All the hospital food was savory…they missed a dessert.”

You could see the corners of his mouth slightly lift up—an unlikely smile, especially in a place like this. “No explanations are needed. I’ll be back.”

…

He returned with one of the sweets you always picked up whenever you went grocery shopping and a couple of figs for himself. Akutagawa didn’t like sugary things that much, but this fruit he could eat for days. He indeed ate one a day—you were able to observe how long he would be gone on a mission based on how many figs he brought with him.

Akutagawa had brought two today. Was he planning to stay with you overnight? You knew he hated the hospitals—he would never willingly go to one.

Yet here he was, pulling up a chair by your bedside.

“I brought a book,” he said. “Can I read to you?”

“Of course,” you replied. “I didn’t feel like using the TV here anyway, so nothing’s been entertaining.”

The onyx-haired pulled out a book from his coat.

“Once when I was six years old I saw a magnificent picture in a book, called True Stories from Nature, about the primeval forest,” he started.

When Akutagawa was sick, you often read him children’s stories to combat his restlessness. He was calmed by your voice and fell asleep faster than any over-the-counter medication ever worked.

The first time you had found him in the hospital before you were even in a relationship with him, you introduced him to The Little Prince. At first, he scoffed and turned his back the other way, pretending not to listen. But his furrowed brows relaxed, and his frown lifted as you continued with the story—the theme of the openmindedness of children compared to adults, loneliness, love, and loss all gave him something to think about.

Eventually, the book became a source of comfort and light to Akutagawa, and now he had his own copy.

"‘And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.’” By the time Akutagawa had gotten to that part, you had dozed off into a nap.

…

When you finally awoke, the curtains were closed, and the only source of light came from an ambient lamp on the nightstand. And in this night, you also felt a soft pressure on your legs—Akutagawa’s head. He had fallen asleep too, with the book still flipped to a page.

You felt both adoration and woe in your heart. He was sacrificing comfort and possibly his health for you. You desperately felt the need to stroke through his white-tipped raven hair, but you didn’t want to heighten any more chances.

You fell asleep again after minutes of watching your lover’s chest delicately rise and fall, just as he carried his true self without his violent front.

…

Akutagawa stayed until you woke up the following day. He went out to do some errands and then returned with a small gift for you he picked up during the day. That was the routine he followed for the next three days, always content to find you better than the previous day until you were all better.

A nurse came in with a final evaluation and discharged you. You changed into new clothes Akutagawa had brought you before running up and embracing him.

He hugged you back tightly, relieved that you were finally out. He turned to the vase of the pink tulips, which were starting to wither.

“Just in time,” he said.

“The get-well-soon flowers,” you giggled, taking your first good look at them. You loved how he knew of flower symbolism.

“Let’s get out of here,” Akutagawa said, holding out his hand for yours to take. “I despise dwelling in this place any longer.”

SIGMA is worried sick, even though you’re the one sick. how could he not, especially when he isn’t with you? are you feeling alright? drinking enough water? eating well?

“You’re sick?” Sigma asked over the phone.

“Is it my fault? I mean, I was feeling unwell last week, but I got better in a day, so I didn’t think it was that serious…”

“No, it wasn’t; please don’t worry,” you replied. You hated when your lover blamed your problems on himself. “But yeah, it sucks. I even lost my smell! I can’t smell anything.”

“Really?” You sensed his worry through the call.

“Do you need to go to a doctor? I can pick you up and take you there—or I can call the doctor to your house if you’d prefer that-“

“No, it’s okay! It’s not that serious; I’ll be fine in a few days,” you said. “I just wanted to let you know because I won’t be able to see you for a week. But don’t worry about me. I’ll update you.”

“Oh, I see,” Sigma responded. “Alright then.”

Firstly, Sigma was most definitely worried. Secondly, you couldn’t smell? He knew how much you loved the dulcet scents of the desserts he created and the delicate fragrances of your favorite flowers. You must’ve been even a little upset when you realized that sense was gone.

Of course, he wasn’t going to leave you to battle the viruses alone, despite you having just said you didn’t plan to see him until you got better. So, the part lilac, part pearly-haired immediately set out to plan a sweet surprise for you.

…

The next day, Sigma showed up at your front door with a homemade bento box and a few bags of groceries.

“What are you doing here?”

“I at least have to check if you’re eating well.”

One thing that hadn’t changed since meeting Sigma was the butterflies in your stomach feeling. He always showed nothing but ultimate consideration and compassion towards you, treating you like royalty.

“I’m trying,” you replied honestly. “Everything tastes the same. I can’t smell any of it.”

“Maybe it’ll be more appealing if the food looks nice.” With that, he walked to the dining table.

“You haven’t had lunch yet?” You nodded, expectably to him.

“Sit down, love.” He pulled out one of the chairs. You followed him, taking a seat as he prepared your meal—putting a placemat on the table and setting the bento box on top.

You opened the container, and you were revealed with an assortment of the prettiest foods. For the first time this week, you were hungry.

The ones that caught your eye the most were the rice balls decorated to look like chibi versions of you and Sigma. A part of you didn’t want to ruin something so cute.

“What—this is so cute, Sigma! You’re so creative,” you complimented him. “It’s like you cook with magic.”

You noticed Sigma’s cheeks tint a rosy pink. “T-thank you. Go ahead and eat while I prepare your dessert.”

“Dessert?” you asked as you eyed the remaining grocery bags he was holding.

“You’re going to bake here?” You weren’t complaining, but you wondered why he didn’t decide to do it at his place.

“Yeah. That way, it’ll taste the best. Everything tastes the best when it’s freshly baked.”

…

You ended up eating everything. Sigma’s cooking never failed to impress you, even for a previously sated stomach.

“I finished!” you exclaimed, earning a smile from Sigma in the kitchen.

You hadn’t paid attention to what he was making in the meantime. He had put the tray of mystery into the oven a few minutes ago, so you were unable to see what it was.

“It’ll be done in twenty minutes,” Sigma said, walking over to you and taking your hand. “Was it good?”

“Very tasty; I’m full now,” you replied, looking up at him. His ashen eyes shone a gleam of fondness once he made eye contact with you, causing him to fluster again. He was so cute—at times, Sigma still acted like a schoolboy with a crush on you.

“You know your body makes room for dessert,” he noted coyly.

He guided you to stand up, and as you did, a familiar scent softly breezed past you.

The smell of your favorite muffin—and the smell of Sigma’s kitchen. It was faint, but it was there. Your eyes widened in wonder.

“Wait, Sigma—I can smell this!”

Even though it was a bit dramatic, you were cheerful to finally be able to smell any thing after a couple of days. You spun with Sigma around the room in delight. Surrounded by the aroma that made you feel truly at home and the sunrays through the windows, you started to dance together.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked, a bit concerned you were spinning around while feeling unwell.

“Yes,” you reassured him, drawing Sigma into an embrace. “I’m just thrilled right now. I think you’re cooking does have magic.”

…

The muffins were out and looked mouthwatering. Sigma took the first one from the tray and peeled down the wrapper.

“First taste is yours,” he said, taking your palm and placing the pastry in your hand.

“Today, I’ll be Sigma’s food critic,” you joked among the two of you. “He’s baked my favorite muffin—I’m rea-ally picky about this dessert, for your information. So I’m going to be really harsh on this review…”

Catching him off guard, you ate the entire sweet in one bite. You started laughing when Sigma abruptly gasped.

“Mm! That was delicious!” you declared, trying to sound like you were trying this for the first time. However, it contradicted the way you were reaching for a second one. Sigma had made this for you hundreds of times before—there was never one time you refused a muffin from him.

“Eleven out of ten!”

“And so are you,” Sigma added, bopping you on the nose. “If my cuisine does involve magic, then I hope that the food works better than medicine.”

bea’s acoustic songs are always so calming & pretty; in my mind, this is what chuuya plays for me. <3

i saw you said you were sick on the dash this month, i’m glad you’re feeling better by now/feel better soon, this is for you <3 @lovedazai @cheriiyaya @chuuyrr @osaemu @atlasnessie

i heard if you rb, your fav will give you get-well kisses until you feel better !! reblogs are cherished; they are what support me the most <3

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sundrop-writes · 3 months

Text

Push and Pull

Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader

Summary:

While playing games with Viper, Emily (accidentally) plays on your attraction to her - something you had been trying to hide since you started with the BAU. The results end up being more than interesting.

Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader - Co-Workers to Lovers. Smut, Sexual Tension.

Word Count: 2,800 words

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: smut; this is set during Season 4, Episode 9 (52 Pickup) and there is a lot of references to the episode in this, but I think you could read this without having seen the episode; mentions of typically sexist practices - in the form of ‘pickup artistry’: the reader character replaces Jordan Todd on the team; there is an age gap between Emily and the reader - Emily is older and the reader character is younger; the reader character uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; mention of the reader wearing a dress and makeup; the reader has sexual fantasies about Emily - which include: pussy eating, fingering, rough sex, semi public sex, being called 'naughty girl’; most of the sex acts are in fantasies (this fic is mostly tension and build up and sexually adjacent situations rather than actual sex); masturbation (the reader masturbates); mentions of masturbation being unsatisfying or not feeling 'as good’ as having sex with the desired partner; caught masturbating - Emily walks in on the reader; Emily refers to herself as 'Mama’ (once); rough kissing, Emily gropes the reader through clothing, very light choking (from Emily toward the reader) (Emily puts her hand on the reader’s neck and applies pressure for a few seconds to get her attention), Emily calls the reader 'needy little thing’ (in this case the word 'little’ is meant to be condescending and not a description of size); undertones of degradation kink; I believe that is everything.

A/N: This was based on a request, and the original request mentioned fake dating (and I would love to do that trope with Emily), but I couldn’t stop thinking about how stunning and gorgeous Emily looks in this episode, and I thought it would be interesting to use it. Also the idea of a man basing his pickup techniques on women needing male validation when - hey, what kind of women wouldn’t want or need male validation? A woman who is obsessed with the other gorgeous woman at the table. It was such a fun scenario to write about. I definitely wanna write more Emily fics in the future.

...

At first, you really weren’t looking forward to it.

Though it seemed fun in concept - having an excuse to dress up and go out to a club while on the job - Emily assured you that it was going to be miserable.

The way Emily talked about the man - Viper. She almost made him sound worse than some of the confirmed killers you had dealt with during your short time at the BAU. She said that he was the scum of the earth, a waste of oxygen, that made her feel dirty just by giving her a weird look. She joked that she was ‘dragging you along’ because she didn’t want to suffer alone (that, and she needed backup, in case the guy truly was dangerous).

From the way she talked about it, you thought the night was going to be miserable.

You certainly didn’t expect it to be one of the best nights of your life.

Viper frequented bars and nightclubs. So of course, nightclub appropriate attire was required. You rushed to a store and grabbed the first tight dress you could find (a red one with spaghetti straps that would pair well with a pair of modest black heels you already had in your bag for the job). You didn’t expect to come back and see Emily getting changed into a clingy black dress that fit her like sin, her makeup subtle but smokey.

You had been actively suppressing your attraction to her, a gorgeous older woman, since you had joined the BAU a month ago. You told yourself that you could keep your lustful feelings under control because you would only be there temporarily, to replace their usual media liaison - who was on maternity leave. But seeing her dressed up like this, it certainly didn’t help with that suppression.

Things only got worse when you got to the club and Viper descended upon the two of you. (You quietly whispered to Emily that his name should have been Vulture and the soft laughter she let out had your insides fluttering.)

Turns out, Emily had been paying extra attention to the ‘push and pull’ technique that Reid had talked about. And even though you knew that it was just in the name of messing with the cocky man - you fell hook, line, and sinker for Emily’s combatants of this technique.

See, rather than letting him push and pull the two of you - compliment one of you and leave the other one reeling for validation, Emily complimented you herself. She never let Viper leave room for you to need that validation. Not that you would ever need it from someone like him. But she certainly threw him off with this tactic.

She supported you, focused far more of her attention on you than she did on him. The two of you never fell to the traditional ‘women in constant competition’ market that his techniques were built on. If she put far more of her focus on you and actively ignored him (or even not-so-subtly insulted him), then what could he do?

Women not vying for his attention? It was a curveball for the ages.

Clearly, he had no backup plan. He was struggling to keep up.

If he called your dress cheap, Emily said how well the fabric complimented your amazing body. If he said your mascara was clumpy and poorly done, Emily said your eyes were naturally beautiful and shined bright without makeup anyway.

The more annoyed it seemed to make him, the more she fawned over you.

And it left you staring at her all night. Captivated by her beauty, her silky voice. You barely even knew that he was there as she laughed at him, engaged in his silly games, taunted him.

By the time you left the club, you were almost high on the affection Emily had given you.

The rest seemed to go by in a blur. The real killer was caught at a different club, and the team retired back to their hotel to get some rest before returning home. As you and Emily walked back to your shared room, you were still laughing and joking about the pathetic man who somehow made his living off of scamming men more pathetic than him.

“And did - did you see the look on his face when I said ‘you probably go home alone, don’t you?’ - Like he - he couldn’t believe that I wasn’t falling for his BS,” Emily said, stuttering through her words as hardy laughter disrupted her speech.

“It’s like he’s never met a confident woman in his life.” You replied, a delicate chuckle in your voice.

It was a subtle compliment toward Emily, admiring her confidence in how well she had dealt with the scummy, overly cocky man.

“No, not quite.” Emily sighed, using the keycard to open the hotel room door.

Your insides fluttered even more when she held the door open for you. You couldn’t help but enjoy the domestic feeling behind it as you brushed past her body in order to get inside.

Of course, she wasn’t even paying attention to the dreamy, starstruck look on your face as she continued speaking.

“He’s never approached a confident woman before.” She quickly corrected, letting the door fall shut and click locked behind her. “He’s never approached a woman he thought he couldn’t con.”

“And for some reason he dared you to ‘meet him on his turf’?” You questioned, repeating the words she had told you, when ranting about the previous interaction she had with the awful man. “You, of all people?”

You had to wonder what about Emily Prentiss would come off as even slightly insecure or - what about her said that she would fall for his stupid tricks. In your opinion, it was like trying to outrun a cheetah using a tricycle.

“Yeah, I guess he was counting on me being drunk and blinded by all his guyliner.” Emily joked, tossing her bag down onto one of the twin beds.

You collapsed down onto the other bed with intense laughter. The joke itself was funny, but her delivery, her confidence, and her smile caused a spark through you that forced you to laugh off the tension before you jumped her bones. You had to be professional. You had to keep reminding yourself of that.

“I call the bathroom first.” She announced. “I really need a shower after being drowned in Drakkar Noir all night.”

You had to ignore the dryness in your throat and the heat between your thighs at the thought of her in the shower. Previously, it was something your mind could have easily glossed over, but after she spent the night fawning over you and capturing your attention completely, it was like you were a horny teenager again. Now all you could think about was her completely naked, droplets of hot water rolling across her skin, surrounded by steam.

You had to pull yourself together. You had to be professional, for fuck’s sake.

“But of course.” You told her, giving a smile and a nod. You motioned toward the bathroom, as if presenting it to her in a gentlemanly fashion. “I’ll probably just shower in the morning.”

Emily nodded in acknowledgement of this, and there was no further conversation.

This left your mind reeling, your body entirely tense and hyper aware of her every movement as she got ready. You had to busy yourself with grabbing your pajamas out of your own bag - an oversized X-Files tee shirt and a pair of comfortable cotton shorts - while she grabbed her toiletries bag and went into the bathroom.

The water turned on and you tried your hardest not to think about her undressing and stepping under the stream as you changed into your pjs. You tried your hardest not to think about her tight, fit body relaxing under the steam. You tried your hardest not to think about soft bubbles rolling across her soft, pale skin.

Clearly, you were failing. Failing not to think about her. Failing miserably when it came to suppressing your attraction for her.

By the time you climbed into bed, there was a hard, hot pain between your thighs.

You wanted so badly to simply roll over and go to sleep. You wanted to ignore it. But a very large part of you worried that if you didn’t ‘take care’ of that nagging arousal, then you wouldn’t be able to sleep. And if you didn’t sleep and you rolled into the next day with this attraction to Emily still at the forefront of your mind - then you wouldn’t be able to act normal around her for the travel day home tomorrow. You might say or do something stupid.

You had to do something.

The longer you laid there in bed, unconsciously squeezing your thighs together, feeling your pussy throbbing between them - thinking about Emily’s head being trapped between your legs - the more it bothered you.

You had some time while she was in the shower, right? You could be quick. Of course you could. And if you heard the water turn off, you would simply stop.

Before any true logic could catch up between your ears, a hand was sneaking below the waistband of your shorts. That hand easily went inside your underwear and found a natural place on your throbbing clit. You dipped down into your wetness (leaking out of you abundantly from how much you had been thinking about Emily) and slicked up the hot button before you began rubbing it in hard circles. You were determined to cum quickly and be done with it.

You closed your eyes and tiled your head back against the pillow, your mind drifting back to her once again. You couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect she looked in that ruby lipstick. All night, you had felt jealous of the glass when she brought her drink up to her lips.

You imagined her approaching you at a bar.

You would be out by yourself, and she would see you from across the room. So entirely confident, she would see you and in a moment, know that she could have you.

She would come up behind you, whisper sweetly in your ear, telling you how perfect you looked. She would smirk at your initial shyness when you giggled at the compliment. She would tell you that she couldn’t wait to get you home - that she wanted you and she wanted you now.

So she would pull you into a bathroom, pinning you against a counter. And then she would shove her hand under your dress, only to find that you weren’t wearing any panties, just for her. She would scold you, call you a naughty girl. Her voice so sweet and condescending, only making you wetter. And then she would shove her fingers into your slick cunt and shove her other hand over your mouth, trying in vain to keep your whorish moans from being heard as you begged for her.

“Emily, please,” You couldn’t stop the faint, needy moan that escaped you as you got lost in the fantasy.

Of course, so lost in it, that you didn’t hear the shower turning off.

Your pussy ached, leaking freely into your underwear, and your clit throbbed, emanating a needy pain out through your pelvis. You worked your fingers in more frantic circles, doubling down. Your hips canted up off the bed, knocking the covers off you slightly as dull pleasure radiated out across your hips.

(Dull compared to what Emily would have given you, you were sure.)

Even if it was unsatisfactory, you were close.

“Emily-!” You cried out desperately, right on the edge of orgasm.

“Hey, do you have some makeup remover I can borrow? I forgot-”

Shock cascaded through your system and you instantly stilled your movements. This caused your orgasm to become a low hum in your pelvis once again as your eyes shot open in disbelief.

Your gaze locked onto Emily where she stood in the bathroom doorway. Your insides were still with shock - embarrassment or any other emotion hadn’t even caught up yet.

Steam ploomed around her and she was forced to hold up the hotel towel with one hand as it couldn’t fully wrap around her body, leaving a sliver of her skin exposed from her armpit to her knee - the curve of her breast, her waist, and her hip on full display. With her hair soaked and her bangs slicked back from her face, and true to what she had said, her makeup still on but slightly smudged from the shower - she looked utterly delicious.

She was like a pornographic dream, live in front of you.

You let out a quiet whimper at the sight.

It was only then that your brain began to unfreeze from the shock, and you realized how truly incriminating you looked. The covers pooled around your thighs, your hand quite visibly inside your shorts, your face contorted with pleasure as your eyes scanned over her half naked body. You rushed to rip your hand out of your underwear - and you realized the sight wasn’t much better as your fingers glistened in the light.

Emily’s eyes moved from your glistening fingers to your stiff, nervous body, your thighs still parted (as it would be too uncomfortable to clamp them down on your wet underwear and aching cunt). She smirked at you. She looked at you with the same devious, cocky expression that Viper had started out the night with - before she had taken him down notch by notch.

The look alone caused any apology to be stuck in your throat. You waited for her to speak before you made any moves.

“What were you thinking about?” She asked, her voice breathy, soft, yet entirely commanding.

In that moment, caught in the smoldering gate of her eyes, you could find nothing but honesty pounding inside of your chest.

“You.” You whined quietly.

Emily chuckled gently.

Your stomach twisted with embarrassment for the split second that you thought she might be laughing at you. But then you realized that it was, in fact, a sound of satisfaction.

That realization hit you when she dropped the towel completely. She stood in front of you proudly, showing off all of her naked, wet glory. Her dark nipples pebbling in the air, the damp sheen of water making her skin glow like a dewy goddess. Quite obviously, she wanted you to look.

Your eyes traced a few thick droplets of water as they escaped her hair and ran down her body. You became absolutely mesmerized by the way gravity pulled the water over her collarbones, the teardrop curve of her breasts, the plushness of her stomach, across her pelvis, down her thighs. You imagined yourself tracing over those exact lines with your tongue.

“Come to me.”

Her silken voice snapped you out of your trance. Your eyes shot back up to her face once again, and in the sluggish moment that it took the words to get to your brain, she added something onto the command that absolutely knocked the wind out of you.

“Come on. Come to Mama.”

Her calling herself that name, so self assured, so certain - the phrase almost had you down on all fours, crawling to her like a dog.

But instead, you scrambled to get upright and practically ran across the room to her on shaking legs. Entirely eager, you stood in front of her and leaned in to press your mouth against hers. Naturally, you expected that the interaction would start with a kiss.

But she quickly reached up and stopped you with a hand on the side of your neck. You let out a harsh whimper of disappointment - one that quickly turned into a moan when she pressed her thumb into your windpipe with just enough pressure to make your brain go fuzzy.

She was showing you who was in charge.

“Not so fast,” She told you, her breath cascading against your lips now.

Although she was completely naked and you were clothed, it was very apparent that she was the one in complete control.

“Tell me how badly you want it.” She ordered, her voice low and almost gentle - a soft domineering that caused the hairs on your arms to stand up straight.

“I want it so badly,” You easily replied, your voice intensely needy. “I need it. I need you, Em.”

Emily reached up with her other hand and - with no warning - harshly gripped your pussy through your underwear and shorts. This caused sharp shocks of arousal to flow through you, making you moan out weakly. It was a dizzying euphoria that had you bucking into her hand. You almost came from that single touch alone.

“Needy little thing.” She purred. “I am gonna have so much fun with you.”

This was her last verbal sentiment before she pulled you forward by that hand on your neck and silenced any further moans with a bruising kiss.

...

A/N: This is a standalone oneshot, so there will not be a sequel or a continuation of it. If you enjoyed the fic, please comment about the body of work that has been written here. And if you like my writing style, please check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist or my other Masterlists for other fandoms.

#sundrop writes #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fandom

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corrodedcorpses · 1 year

Text

Boys on Film. Part ii.

Pairing: PS!Steve x PS!Eddie x Virgin!reader

Summary: It's been a week since you watched that tape and you haven't been able to get the images of Eddie and Steve out of your head since. Scared you'd say or do something weird around them, you've decided to avoid them instead. But of course, they show up announced just to torture you.

Warnings: Smut (18+), light angst, Masturbation (female), Voyeurism, Oral sex (m)

Word count: 9.5k (god damn)

a/n: Here's part 2!! Finally! Thank you so much for the love on the first part and I hope everyone enjoys this part!! Definitely more parts to come 🫢

Part 1 // Part 3

It’s been a week since you’d watched that damn video. A week since you’d even dared to touch yourself, the feelings of guilt growing each second that past since you’d come down from the most intense orgasm of your life.

Ever since that night you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to see them, or hardly even talk to them. They’d been ringing you nonstop but everytime you picked up the phone and heard their voice you could practically hear them moaning through the receiver. Each time you’d given them some excuse to end the call early, opting now to just not pick up the phone at all.

Of course they wouldn’t know what you’d done but you couldn’t shake the intense feeling of guilt. You felt guilty for seeing them like that, sure but you mostly felt the guilt at how much you ached for them now. How you would do anything to swap places with the girl in the video.

How you wanted your first time to be them.

You’d thought about nothing else and had imagined every scenario of you asking them to be your firsts. But every scenario you played out in your head ended with rejection. There’s no way they would ever see you like that, you were certain.

You also knew that they would sense something was wrong and you were certain Steve’s charm and Eddie’s smirk could convince you to confess to murder. There’s no way you would be able to keep your mouth shut.

But, even if you did somehow manage to just not mention it you weren’t sure you could be around them with all these new and weird feelings bubbling inside you. How could you stand to be around someone when your whole body longed for them?

***

Steve waited outside his house as he heard the familiar sounds of Eddie’s van coming down his street, the usual beat of some metal song Steve automatically recognises being heard before he could even see the van. I definitely hang out with Eddie too much, he thinks to himself with a fond smirk.

He nervously picks at the skin on his fingers as he waits for Eddie’s van to park before jogging down the driveway to meet him. He isn’t nervous to see Eddie, it's you. You've been distant with both of them and they’re worried. It’s not like you to push them away no matter what. So they both decided to show up at your house tonight, favourite takeaway in hand and get to the bottom of what was going on with you.

Eddie greets Steve as he climbs into his van.

“Do you think she’d prefer Chinese or Pizza tonight?” Eddie asks while backing out of the driveway.

“You choose,” Steve mumbles back. He’s uncharacteristically quiet and maybe even a little sad, Eddie notices.

“Hey, I’m sure whatever’s bothering her isn’t that big of a deal. She’ll talk to us, don’t worry.

Steve sighs in response, “you’re probably right, I guess I’m just thinking the worst. But what if we’ve done something, what if I’ve done something? Like something really bad and I didn’t realise?” Steve rambles.

Eddie tries his best to listen intently as Steve goes through the list of scenarios swimming around in his head.

“What if she has a boyfriend?” Steve questions, practically spitting the last word. He freezes as he realises how that must have sounded, “No- ah, I don't mean like that, of course she can have a boyfriend, it's not like she needs, my- um our permission and I wouldn’t like care, just, her last boyfriend was awful and I don’t want her hurt like that again”.

“Yeah, shit, I hated that guy,” Eddie agrees, brushing over the other awkwardness but Steve sees a weird and unreadable expression on Eddie’s face at the mention of your possible boyfriend being the cause for you pulling away so suddenly. “We only saw her less than two weeks ago anyway, there’s no way she could have met someone that fast,” Eddie reassures Steve, although it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more.

“Well, ah that’s not exactly true man,” Steve says sheepishly, “I did see her a couple days ago at the grocery store, right before I called you actually”.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I said hi and she was weird man, she was looking around too, like anywhere but me as if she was looking for someone maybe?”

“Oh.” Eddie clenched his jaw as his knuckles turned white against the steering wheel.

*****

You had just gotten home from work and changed into something comfortable, contemplating what you wanted for dinner tonight when you heard the unmistakable sound of Eddie’s van pull up your driveway

Shit.

You knew it was too good to be true that you would be able to keep your distance. Your goddamn amazing, sweet and thoughtful bestfriends of course knew you were avoiding them and of course they couldn’t just let you.

You quickly check yourself in the mirror, brushing down your hair and feeling weirdly self conscious in the tiny lounge shorts and singlet top both Eddie and Steve had seen you in countless times.

You contemplated changing into something more baggy but didn’t have time as you heard a rap at your door. It’s just Eddie and Steve you tell yourself as you open it.

The minute you see them they’re pulling you into tight hugs, telling you how much they both missed you. You mumble back that you missed them too but can’t help feeling tense under their once comforting touch.

“We bought your favourite”, Eddie sang as you let them inside, jiggling the plastic bag in his hand.

Your gaze lingered a little too long on Eddie's fingers as he gripped the bag, thoughts immediately going to how they looked wrapped around his cock or tangled in Steve’s hair. It’s not like you’d never noticed Eddie’s hands before, especially with those bloody rings he wore but it seemed as though you were seeing them, really seeing them for the first time.

You felt arousal pool at your core at the thought of them exploring all over you, inside of you.

I’m going to ask them.

You jumped as you felt Steve’s hand on your shoulder, realising you’d been staring at Eddie for way too long.

“You okay honey?” Steve asked, concern scrunching his features.

“Y-yeah, yeah sorry, I’m just a bit tired I think,” you replied with a weak laugh, “let's eat.”

Eddie and Steve share a look but don’t say anything as you all sit at the table at your usual spots. The spots you’ve all sat in millions of time, eating, laughing and drinking with the closest friends you’ve ever had. Friends that meant the world to you. Friends you couldn’t lose.

I can’t ask them.

Eddie and Steve started up a conversation, talking about a new scene Steve had done, how it was “by far one of the craziest”. Usually you’d be interested in what it was but as Steve kept rambling on, you just couldn’t get yourself to listen. Too caught up in your own thoughts as you mentally battled the ache between your legs.

It’s not like they’d care right? I mean they do this for work. It’d just be like work. It couldn’t hurt to ask at least… unless they completely reject you and you ruin the best friendship you’ve ever had.

But they did that scene together, they even kissed and did… other stuff and it didn’t ruin their friendship. If anything they seem closer now, it would be the same for you, right?

But that’s their job. It would be different with you. You’re less skilled, less confident, this isn’t your job.

Maybe it would be better with you? You’ve known them forever, maybe they’d be even more comfortable if it were you?

God, you’re not even listening to what Steve’s saying. You feel like such a bad friend. Here you are thinking about fucking both of them instead of listening and having a nice dinner with them. A dinner of your favourite food that they surprised you with because they knew something was off with you.

How did I get lucky enough to have these two boys in my life?

But you were lucky. These two boys knew you. They knew everything about you and would never judge you. Even if they didn’t want to do it with you, you knew they’d be nice about it. God knows they’ve said and asked you more embarrassing things, they’d forgive you, they’d be kind.

You want your first time to be them.

You knew you’d never be able to think straight unless you just asked them. Before your brain could catch up with your mouth you suddenly blurted it out.

“I wanna fuck,” you cut off Steve suddenly, almost yelling it out and startling them both, “me, both of you, want you to fuck me.” The last bit comes out in barely a whisper.

Wow so smooth

Eddie all but chokes on his food while Steve lets out a shocked what????

You look down at your lap, fiddling with your fingers as your cheeks flush with embarrassment… this wasn’t how you were going to ask and that definitely wasn;t the reaction you’d hoped for.

They both stare at you, waiting for some kind of explanation.

“I watched the tape,” you mumble.

“Ohhhhh,” Eddie says as Steve looks at him confused. Steve didn’t know that Eddie dropped the tape off, shit.

“The tape, Harrington,” Eddie explains, “you know, of the two sexiest men alive doing some very naughty things together.”

It finally clicks in Steve’s head what you’re both talking about. “You gave her a copy of the tape?” He asks.

He sounds angry, you think as shame washes over you.

“How did you even get extra copies yet?” Steve asks Eddie.

“I gave her my personal copy,” Eddie shrugs.

They’re glossing over your question.

You sink in on yourself further. This was such a bad idea, of course they wouldn’t want to fuck you. The girl in the tape was so confident, so experienced. Why would they want to go for someone like you? There’s no way they’d have any fun with you.

“Didn’t want her to have to wait until it was fully released and good thing I didn’t. You liked what ya saw that much huh sweetheart?” Eddie says cockily.

You know he doesn’t mean it to come out mean but it has you on the verge of tears. You feel so embarrassed, contemplating running to your room and locking yourself in until they leave. You can’t bring yourself to look at them.

Steve kicks Eddie under the table at seeing your reaction to his comment.

“Ouch! Dude what the-“ he goes to scold Steve but quickly stops at the look on Steve’s face. Steve cocks his head towards you and gives Eddie a look of shut up, look what you did.

Eddie looks over at you, seeming to only just notice how much you’ve shrunk in your seat. Tears threatening to fall out of the corner of your sad, embarrassed eyes.

“No, sweetheart, I’m sorry please don’t cry,” Eddie tried to console. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have teased you I just ah, did not expect that.”

Steve seems somewhat pleased with that and tries his best to sooth you too. “Come on honey, we’re not mad or anything, promise,” Eddie nods in agreement and mumbles out a “yeah absolutely not”. “We were just a little shocked is all.” Steve continues with a laugh.

You finally chance a glance at them. You’re surprised to see no anger or teasing looks on their faces. They look kind, safe and maybe like pitying you just a little bit. Still not what you were hoping for but you’d take it over them being angry and hating you forever.

You take a deep breath before finally talking properly for the first time all night.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve found a better way to ask, it’s just,” you sigh, trying to form the right words this time, “you both know I’m not the most experienced - or really experienced at all- and the little experience I do have… wasn’t the best.”

Eddie snorts, recalling you ex- douchebag with a scoff of “understatement”. You smile slightly at how annoyed he still is at how your ex treated you.

“And I just,” you continue, “when I saw both of you, with that chick, and how much she was enjoying it and how much fun it looked, I guess I just felt like maybe I was missing out.”

“Hey,” Steve coos, taking your hand gently in his,”you’re not missing out on anything, there's no timeframe for when you have to do that stuff.”

“I mean, it is definitely fun,” Eddie expands, “but only if you’re comfortable and feel like it’s the right time for you.”

You give them both a small smile. They’re so nice, but they still didn’t say yes.

“I’m sorry I asked,” you say sheepishly, “I just feel so safe with you both and I guess just thought that maybe sex would actually be good with you. I know that was stupid because you’re my best friends and I wouldn’t know what I’m doing so I know you wouldn’t have fun with me. I can’t do the things that the other girl did.”

Their hearts swell at your confession, you feel safe with them. But they grow confused as you mention the girl from the tape.

“Hey,” Eddie tries, “experience doesn’t mean shit -”

“Eddie, I can hardly even make myself cum!” you practically yell at him, you appreciate them trying to be nice but you’re growing frustrated at the whole situation, “I know you both don’t want to and I know you wouldn’t have fun, it’s okay.”

“Wait seriously?” Eddie exclaims before he can stop himself.

Great, another thing to feel shame about.

This earns him another look from Steve. “No not like that,” Eddie tries to rectify what he said, “it just seems like a real shame that a pretty thing like you hardly ever gets to feel good, even from herself.”

You roll your eyes at his trademark flirting but have to hide the smile trying to grace your lips at him calling you pretty.

Steve and Eddie share a look, seemingly having a silent conversation. You really hate how much closer they’ve gotten recently.

“Alright,” Eddie says with a nod, “we'll do it.”

“What?” you question.

“We wanna help you out,” Steve explains, “we want to be your firsts, if you still want to.”

You’re hearing things. You must be. The shame got too much and you passed out, this is now some weird and cruel trick your brain is playing on you. It has to be.

“A-are you sure?” you question hesitantly.

“Positive,” Eddie says while flashing his gorgeous smile, “hell, if I’d known it wouldn’t ruin our friendship I would’ve been all over you since highschool sweetheart.”

You shake your head and bite back a smile. You know he’s joking and just trying to butter you up - but you’re only half right.

“Well, how do we start?” You blurt out, you want them, need them right now.

“We’re not going to do anything tonight babe” Steve says sweetly.

“Oh, right,” you say embarrassed but they both smile sweetly at your eagerness.

“I’m free Tuesday and Wednesday next week, what about you two?” you ask.

“Yeah Tuesday works for me.”

“Me too.”

“Perfect,” Eddie says, “so Tuesday we’ll meet here and then we can sit down with you and figure out your likes and dislikes, what you have and haven’t done, and what you’d like to try. Just like we do before any scene we’re in.”

You’re kind of surprised to see Eddie so serious, all business. But you guess that makes sense, this is his job after all.

You appreciate how serious they’re treating this but can’t help but feel a little nervous now, you’re not even sure what you like.

Sensing your nerves, Steve quickly reassures you, “don’t worry, we’ll walk you through it okay?”.

“Yeah, we’ll figure all that stuff out together,” Eddie adds.

“Okay”, you reply.

Steve gives your knee a reassuring squeeze while Eddie flashes you a smile. You can’t believe how much you trust both men in front of you.

The rest of dinner went by smoothly. You felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your chest and you finally felt like your old self again. It was back to normal, just you, Eddie and Steve.

****

Wednesday comes around faster than you expected. You thought that the days in between would drag on but as Wednesday approached you found your nerves easily drawing the excitement you’d once felt. That’s when Wednesday seemed to be in front of you too quickly.

You’ve spent all afternoon after you got off work frantically cleaning, showering, drowning yourself in nice smelling things, washing your hair, moisturising, your whole routine practically 5 times over.

You hear a knock on the door, yelling that it’s open as you check yourself over once more in the mirror. You wipe your clammy palms on the front of your singlet top and shorts while trying to huff out all of your anxieties.

Come on you can do this, you wanted this.

You reach for the door with shaky hands, slinking out of the bathroom on jelly legs. You find them both relaxing on the couch, looking much more comfortable than you feel.

“H-hey,” you stutter out sheepishly. Their heads turn to you as they hear you enter. Comforting smiles adorn their faces, melting a tinge of your worries as soft heys leave their lips. Eddie pats the couch in between the two of them and you plop down between them, not meeting their eyes as you pick nervously at the skin on your fingers.

Eddie puts his arm on the back of the couch, absentmindedly playing with a strand of your hair as Steve places his warm hand on your knee. The gestures are supposed to be comforting but you can’t help but flinch slightly under their touch.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks softly, ducking his head to try and meet your gaze.

“Y-yeah,” you respond shakily, hating how small your voice sounds.

“Hey, you know we don’t have to do this, yeah?” Eddie asks reassuringly, “say the word sweetheart and we’ll just hang out and watch a movie or something.”

“No, no, I want to… I just have no clue what I'm doing,” you respond with a nervous laugh.

“That’s what your own personal sex gods are for darling,” Eddie quips.

This earns a chuckle from you and Steve, your shoulders relaxing slightly at the familiar feeling of Eddie.

“So,” Steve announces, “what are some of your “hard no”s?” And at the confused look on your face, “what’s something that, no matter what, you do not want us to do.”

You looked away from him as you thought long and hard…. You came up blank though, how could you know what you didn’t like if you didn’t even know what you do?

“Hard No’s could be something like you hate neck kisses or in more intense situations you’re not a massive fan of face slapping, things like that.”

Your eyes widened at that.

“We’re not gonna do anything like that now! No slapping or anything, yet,” Eddie emphasised that with a wink, “but those are some examples.”

“I-I like neck kisses… I think,” you mumble, “and if we’re not going to do anything that… intense right now I guess I don’t really have any?”

Eddie and Steve nod as they hang on to your every word. The care in which they’re approaching this definitely helping to lower your rapid heart rate.

“Okay,” Steve continues, “anything you really want to try right now?”

“Umm… I guess I wish I was better at kissing,” you say with a cringe, embarrassed at how tame that request was, you try to cover yourself as your cheeks heat up. “I mean, I have kissed before, obviously, I just haven’t for a while and I dunno I feel like I kind of do it weird I don-“

Eddie cuts off your rambling when he brings his hand to cup your cheek. You look in his eyes hesitantly as you subconsciously nuzzle into his calloused hand.

A small smile adorns his lips as he searches your eyes, his own chocolate orbs darkening slightly as he glances at your lips.

He slowly brings his thumb up to ghost over your bottom lip, causing goosebumps to rise on your arms.

“We can definitely help with that, sweetheart,” he whispers lowly as he moves increasingly closer to you.

You nod slightly. Trying to will him to close the sliver of a distance between your lips.

“Words,” he whispers.

“Please,” you breathe. And it’s all Eddie needs to hear before closing the distance, his lips barely pressing into yours as if too much pressure would break you under him.

Feeling a surge of confidence you push your lips into his more. It’s all the confirmation he needs before he’s deepening the kiss. It’s all consuming, years of emotion, comfort and longing all coming to the surface as you kiss each other with vigour.

You feel Steve’s soft lips travel up your shoulder to the slope of your neck and up along your throat. You audibly shiver at the feeling, causing Eddie and Steve to smile into your lips and neck.

“Yeah you definitely like neck kisses,” Steve teases in between the feather touches. You don’t know if it’s from Steve’s tone or the kisses themselves but you can feel arousal pool in your panties because of it.

You feel all consumed by Steve and Eddie but before you can lose yourself in them completely you feel Eddie pull away. He smirks as you chase his lips but uses the hand still cupping your cheek to gently direct you towards Steve. You see that he also has his other hand cupping Steve’s cheek as he brings you both together.

Steve’s kiss is gentler than Eddies, where Eddie was all consuming Steve is controlled, where Eddie was intense and a little messy Steve is gentle and longing. Eddie’s hand on your face means he can slightly manoeuvre your face, gently guiding you as you and Steve explore each other's mouths.

Eddie then pulls you away from Steve, you’re about to protest but before you can Eddie leans forward on the couch, dragging Steve with him before crashing his lips against Steve’s in front of you.

You watch in awe as they practically devour each other. You can tell they were definitely holding back for you as this kiss is feral and bruising. It has you clenching your thighs together, longing for them to handle you like this.

You’re also very aware of Eddie’s hand still cupping your face and Steve’s hand still on your knee, both of them rubbing soothing circles in your skin to let you know they haven’t forgotten about you.

You whine as you watch the continued onslaught, causing Eddie and Steve to finally break the kiss.

“This is supposed to be about her,” Steve breathes into Eddie’s lips, faces barely pulled away from each other.

“Couldn’t help myself,” Eddie mumbles, staring at Steve’s raw and glistening lips.

“I don’t mind,” you say quickly, as much as you’d love for their attention to be back on you, you cannot deny how erotic it was watching them together, “trust me.”

They chuckle at how breathless you sound just from some kissing, but it only spurs them on more.

Eddie leans away from Steve then, dropping his hand from Steve’s face to bring both hands up to your face, palms pressed into your cheeks gently, contrasting the fierce kiss he seers into your lips.

The kiss still doesn’t match the roughness of Eddie and Steve’s kiss but it’s by far the most intensely you’ve ever been kissed. It’s all consuming and leaves you breathless but aching for more. You subconsciously press yourself further into Eddie as you let him consume you.

Eddie can’t get enough of you either, wishing he’d had the courage to do this years ago. He expertly hooks his hands under your knees and drags you on to his lap, swallowing the gasp you let out into his mouth, lips never leaving each other.

His hands venture up the sides of your plush thighs, you can tell that he’s holding back, doing his best to not overwhelm you but you need more. You tangle your fingers in his soft, frizzy hair, pulling every so slightly, as you start to timidly rock your hips against him, earning the most beautiful groan from him.

You hear Steve shuffle closer, sitting with his thigh pressed into the side of calf as you straddle Eddie. His hand travelling up your back soothingly until it comes to rest on the side of your neck.

At hearing Steve shuffle forward, Eddie pulls back from you again, so that Steve can capture your lips but also so he can take a breather, self control drastically slipping away the longer he feels your body move on his.

Steve matches Eddie’s intensity, causing you to let little moans and sighs slip into his lips as you continue to grind against Eddie. Your little shorts and soft fabric of your underwear were almost soaked through.

Eddie watches you both, pupils blown completely black from lust. You rock your hips at a particularly good angle, dragging sinfully over Eddie’s almost hard dick. He hisses and throws his head back, willing himself to stay softer for long. This is about you, he tries to remind himself.

“We should take this to the bedroom,” Eddie sighs with a shaky breath, desperation lacing his words.

You giggle and hop off his lap, taking both of their hands and pulling them up off the couch before turning to lead them to your room. Boy are they thankful for you going first, their eyes watching your ass jiggle in your incredibly tight and tiny shorts as you walk.

You stand awkwardly in the middle of the room as they both filter in after you.

“So, we’ve talked about it,” Steve breaks the silence first, “and we think the first thing should be you showing us how you get yourself off.”

“That way at least you know how to make yourself feel good and it's a real shame you’re missing out.”

“O-okay,” you mumble, but don’t move, you’re not really sure what they want from you and you’re frozen from the fear of making a fool of yourself. Also trying not to think about the fact that they’ve talked about it, talked about you and how to make you feel good without you. But also very thankful that they’re obviously taking this very seriously.

After a pause Eddie continues, “why don’t you take your shorts off for us, yeah?”

You nod, and with trembling fingers you slowly slide your shorts off. Both boys eye your core, clad in cute cotton panties.

“These are cute,” Eddie whispers, ghosting his fingers along your bare thigh before snapping your waistband lightly against you. You jump and giggle, ducking your head as your cheeks turn crimson.

“Hop on the bed for us?” Eddie asks, but it’s more of a request, “Get nice and comfy against the headboard.”

You do as they say, leaning back against your pillows half propped up as the boys come to kneel at the end of your bed, watching you intently. You’re confused as to why you’re not fully naked, or at least have your underwear off but don’t have time to dwell on that.

“Whenever you’re ready, beautiful,” Steve coos.

Before you can overthink it you move your underwear to the side, plunging your finger in straight away. “Whoa whoa whoa, hey,” Eddie stops you and you freeze and take your finger out instantly, looking up at him with worried eyes, anxious thoughts swimming in your head, “you just put your fingers in straight away?”

“Well yeah…” how else were you supposed to finger yourself?

Steve smiles at your innocence, trying not to laugh at how adorable you look right now.

“Jesus well no wonder you can’t make yourself cum, there’s no foreplay”

You just look at them confused.

“You know,” Steve tries, “you gotta get yourself warmed up.” But you still just stare confusedly at them.

They exchange a look, wondering how else to explain it to you.

“Hang on I got an idea,” Steve says, climbing towards you on the bed. Your breath hitches as you watch him crawl towards you, very aware of his proximity to your half naked form, even though you just had your lips all over his minutes ago. “Sit up and scoot down for me a little bit honey?”

You do as he says and he comes to sit behind you, legs outstretched on either side of yours. He softly drags his fingertips down your arms, until he reaches your hands, you go to hold his hands and you feel him smile against the side of your head.

“Other way,” he whispers and you flip your hands so that the back of yours is resting in his palms.

“That’s it,” he coos, “now rub your hands up your thighs, yeah, just like that.” Goosebumps started to rise on your skin from the slight touches, running up and down your legs, sometimes dipping in between them but never actually touching your core.

“Give those gorgeous tits some attention Stevie,” Eddie demands softly, eyes burning holes into you and Steve in front of him.

Steve complies silently. Bringing your hands up for you to cup one of your breasts, squeezing softly as your other hand teases the waistband of your panties. Everything feels so good and so sensual but it’s not enough. You start to get antsy, whimpering softly and arching into your own touch, willing Steve to give you more.

Your eyes meet Eddie’s silently begging him to make Steve do something. You’re lucky that Eddie seems to be in a gentle mood today as he smirks at you.

“Why don’t you show us those pretty tits properly huh?”

“Please,” you whine desperately.

Steve lets go of your hands to lift your shirt over your head, discarding it somewhere on the floor. You suddenly feel very self conscious but the look of awe on Eddie’s face and the sharp intake of breath you hear Steve take behind you has you feeling more confident than you thought.

You can’t help but think back to the look on their faces as they watched the other girl on the tape. You feel almost pride as you realise the way Eddie is looking at you is different, better. He’s looking at you not just with lust but with awe and adoration.

Steve finally brings both of your hands up to cup your tits firmly, nudging your thumbs up to rub your nipples into hard perks. You moan at the feeling, head lulling back against his shoulder and grinding into the mattress to try and gain some friction.

“God, look at you,” Eddie practically moans, “wish you could see how pretty and needy she looks right now, and so wet.” You whimper at his words, grinding harder and pinching your nipples.

“Yeah?” Steve whispers, lips grazing your ear, “that feel good princess? You ready for some more?”

“Please more, n-need more,” you beg.

“Mmm good girl using your manners,” Eddie teases, as he inches his hands towards your core, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your panties. Your stomach flips at the praise, breath hitching. Finally you get to be their good girl. Steve takes note of that.

Eddie pauses, looking at you for confirmation before pulling them down your legs once you nod.

Any previous nerves you might have had at being fully naked before them, especially while they were still fully clothed is gone. Replaces only with lust and your need to come.

Eddie repositions your legs so that they’re spread open and bent before him as he leans back on his heels between them. Steve finally directs your hand to your core.

“Think you can do this part yourself?” He checks, “we’ll still walk you through it though okay?”

“Yeah, I can,” you reply.

“Good girl,” he coos much more sweetly than Eddie, smirking when he gets a similar reaction, “leave this hand up here though, keep giving these tits some love.”

You nod and Steve lets go of your other hand, it’s all up to you now. You dip your fingers near your core, but this time you run your fingers over it, surprised at how wet you feel as you smear the slick around.

“That’s it, pretty girl, nice and slow,” Eddie coos.

You finally dip your finger into your dripping cunt, moaning at how much more intense it is compared to usual. You pump your finger inside you, and try your best to remember to play with your nipple at the same time.

Slowly you add another finger, pumping them faster.

“Do you usually play with your clit too baby?”

You shake your head, “it’s never really felt that good.”

“You’re nice and wet, trust me it’ll feel good,” Eddie assures you, “use your thumb but keep those fingers going in your pretty cunt.”

Your eyes roll back at his words as you bring your thumb up to circle your clit. You jolt as you feel the pad slide over the wet bud,

“Fuck it feels so good,” you moan as the boys smirk at you.

You speed up your assault on your sopping pussy. Feeling the telltale signs that your orgasm was rapidly approaching.

“‘M close,” you warn desperately. The sounds of your fingers flying in and out of your dripping core filling the room.

You vaguely hear them tell you that you can cum before your orgasm crashes into you. It's so intense it has you practically screaming, legs shaking as you drench your hand and wrist.

It lasts for what seems like hours as you continue to finger yourself through it before slumping back against Steve, fingers falling from your abused hole.

You’re a panting, whimpering mess as you finally register Eddie and Steve whispering sweet praises of you did so good for us, you’re so pretty baby and bet that felt good sweet girl. All while Steve caresses your shoulders and arms as Eddie smooths circles in your ankles.

When Eddie can see you’ve finally returned to earth he asks how it was, a smug look gracing his features.

“So good,” you moan with a laugh.

Eddie then climbs in between your legs, giving you a soft kiss as he mumbles “you look so pretty when you cum for us little one.” The old nickname has your heart swelling and cunt pulsing.

“More,” you whimper against his lips. They chuckle at you as Steve presses a kiss to your temple.

“Not today sweetheart,” Eddie responds, “wouldn’t want to overwhelm you”.

“But what about you two?” you ask innocently, wanting nothing more than to get your hands on more of them.

“It’s okay sweet girl,” Eddie coos, “you don’t have to worry about us.” Steve mumbles in agreement, pressing more kisses to your temple and cheek.

You suddenly remember the position in the tape that made you get to the edge fastest, Steve on his knees in front of Eddie. You need to see them fully, you need to see what you got a glimpse at on the tape.

“Hey you know, in the- ah, in the film,” you start, nerves suddenly returning. Eddie cocks his head, interested in where this is going. “A-after you,” you nod towards Eddie, “had fucked her and then Steve um… knelt in front of you and um-” you try your best to explain it but you can’t seem to form the words you need. Brain foggy from your orgasm and nerves.

“You wanna watch Stevie suck my cock baby?” Eddie asks cockily, finishing your request for you.

You nod.

“hmm guess it’s a good way to teach her how,” Steve reasons.

“Mmm,” Eddie hums in agreement, “and I’d be lying if I said seeing you cum didn’t make me as hard as a rock sweetheart”. You look down and blush at the obvious outline of Eddie’s hard cock in his pants, eyes bulging slightly. You knew he was big, you saw it in the tape, but seeing even the outline in person was completely different. You meet his eyes again and he gives you a wink, causing your cheeks to heat up.

“Yeah shit,” Steve replies, “me too.” That’s when you realise you can feel his boner pressed against your back, causing you to blush even further. Surprised you had the effect on both of them.

“Besides,” Steve continues, tone flirty, “would love to get my mouth around that pretty cock of yours again Eds.” You whimper at his words which causes both of them to chuckle fondly at you.

“Hop up baby,” Steve instructs while patting the sides of your ass fondly, “We’ll go kneel in front of Ed’s on the floor while he sits on the bed, everyone can be nice and comfortable like that.”

You nod as you hop off the bed. Eddie rids himself of his shirt as he sits at the end of the bed, grabbing one of your pillows to place on the floor before helping you to kneel on it in between his spread legs.

Your eyes wander over the expanse of his chest and stomach unabashedly. Feeling much bolder in your post orgasm haze. You take in the black ink that lines his chest and arms, a few more than you realised he’d had and that you’d definitely missed while watching the tape. In your defence you were a little preoccupied then.

Your eyes linger a little on the happy trail that dips into the waist of his jeans. You’re suddenly very aware of the fact that you’re going to see Eddie, all of Eddie in person. Something you'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about, many times, since that first week at highschool.

Your eyes travel up and take in how his curly locks cascade over his shoulders, almost covering the demon that adorns his upper chest. Your eyes finally meet his and you realise he’s been watching you watch him the whole time, an amused expression on his face.

He brings his hand up to cup your face, rubbing soothing circles in your skin. Your eyes flutter slightly as you nuzzle into his hand.

You notice Steve as he comes to stand next to you, having taken his shirt off too as well as his jeans, leaving him in nothing but his boxers before you. His dick has softened slightly but you can still make out a pretty clear outline of it in your boxers. The site makes you ache for them, but you know they’re going to make you take this painfully slow.

You look up at him in awe as he comes to kneel beside you, capturing your lips with his, smiling as he kisses you sweetly.

“Ready Eds?” Steve asks tauntingly, pulling away from you, already knowing Eddie’s answer.

“Yep,” Eddie replies, popping the last letter of the word.

Steve’s hands smooth up Eddie’s thighs, looking up at him innocently. He goes to pop open the button of Eddie’s jeans but before he can, a thought crosses your mind.

“Do guys need to be, like, “warmed up” too?” you ask innocently.

“Not exactly,” Eddie responds with a sweet, gentle smile, “maybe a little bit to get hard but trust me, watching you cum and having you two pretty things kneeling in front of me is more than enough warming up for me.” He chuckles with a shake of his head, like he’s in disbelief of the sight in front of him.

Steve finally unbuttons Eddie's jeans, pulling his pants and boxers down as Eddie lifts his hips to help. You and Steve move back slightly so Eddie can get his pants off fully.

You watch, mouth slightly agape as his dick springs up against his stomach, tip red and leaking precum. Your mouth waters at the sight, but you wait for Steve to demonstrate.

You watch as Steve takes Eddie in his hand, gripping loosely as he licks from his balls all the way to the tip. Your eyes flick to Eddie’s face, watching as his eyes flutter softly as he sucks in a breath at the feeling of Steve's tongue on his shaft.

After licking up and down Eddie’s length a couple of times Steve finally takes the tip into his mouth, sucking wetly on it. You watch with lidded eyes as Eddie’s head lulls back, exposing the length of his gorgeous neck as he moans out “jesus Steve.”

Steve smiles as much as he can with Eddie still in his mouth before bobbing his head up and down along the length, taking more and more into his mouth with each movement. He suddenly brings his hand up to the length not in his mouth before pulling off Eddie fully with a pop and spitting a string of saliva over the tip.

You watch it drip slowly down the length, mouth opening slightly at the urge to lick it up.

Steve then brings his hand up, catching the spit and rubbing it all over Eddie before taking him back in his mouth, Eddie’s hand flying to Steve’s head to tangle his fingers in the golden locks. You feel more arousal coat your slit as you watch Steve suck Eddie’s cock desperately.

You hear pretty, soft moans coming from Eddie. You tear your eyes away from Steve to glance up at Eddie’s face. You look at him through lust filled eyes. His lips parted slightly as his moans fall off them, eyebrows furrowed slightly as his face contorts with the onslaught of pleasure, his bangs sticking to his sweaty forehead. He looks breathtaking.

Eddie notices you staring, dark, chocolate orbs finding your lust filled ones as he holds your gaze, staring deep into you as he continues to moan and whimper.

Your body feels like it's on fire. You need to feel Eddie down your throat.

“Can I try?” you ask suddenly. Tearing your gaze from Eddie back to Steve as he releases the older boy from his mouth. His lips are red and swollen, mouth wet from a mix of saliva and Eddie’s precum, his hair dishevelled from Eddie’s fingers and tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

“Sure thing pretty girl,” Steve rasps, his throat raw from Eddie’s cock, “you think you got it?”

You nod before leaning forward, tongue darting out to rub along Eddie’s slit as Steve still holds the shaft for you. The salty, musky taste of the mix of Eddie’s pre and Steve’s saliva invades your mouth, you need more.

Cautiously you take the tip into your mouth, sucking on it lightly. You hear Eddie suck in a shaky breath in response, your confidence growing as you start to suck more harshly.

You start to bob your head before Steve pats your head mumbling out a one second. You release Eddie from your mouth with a confused look on your face and Steve just wants to kiss it away.

He grabs your hand with the one not around Eddie and brings it to his lips. Kissing the palm before spitting directly on to it. You gasp slightly at the action, not realising how turned on that would make you.

Steve then directs your hand to Eddie’s length, replacing his hand with yours. You take the tip in your mouth again, using the other hand to jerk off the length not in your mouth, as Steve had.

You start to bob your head faster and take more of Eddie into your throat. His moans increase and you can tell he’s trying his best not to tangle his fingers roughly in your hair too, knuckles white as he grips the duvet instead.

“God, you’re such a good girl,” he moans. You get a little too cocky when his head hits the back of your throat violently, causing you to gag on his thick length, you hear Eddie moan in surprise before you’re pulling off of him, spluttering as tears prick your eyes.

Eddie rubs your head soothingly, while Steve rubs your back, cooing softly at you until you stop coughing.

“Sorry,” you mumble, feeling embarrassed by your reaction. Eddie wipes away a stray tear that’s fallen down your cheek

“S’okay baby,” he reassures, “you don’t have to go that deep.”

“I just wanted to make you cum,” you mumble, looking down at the floor.

“Oh sweet girl, trust me you will,” he expels air, almost in disbelief at how good you were making him feel, “you were getting me so close.”

“Really?” you ask, eyes twinkling up at him.

He nods with a fond look on his face, “wanna try again?”

You nod vigorously, gripping on to his shaft again. You remember how Steve had licked the length of Eddie before taking him into his mouth. You repeat his action from earlier while maintaining eye contact with Eddie, earning you a low moan of oh fuck before taking him into your mouth once more.

You bob your head a couple more times, speeding up and making sure you keep jerking off the part you can’t fit into your mouth. Eddie's hand flies to your head but he tries his best to not push your head or grab your hair too tightly.

His head tips back with a groan, orgasm hurtling towards him after holding back and being edged for so long - not that he minded, he wanted to make this good for you, even if that meant being edged all night.

Eddie turns into a babbling mess, “fuck baby I’m getting so close, yeah just like that, you’re such a good girl for us, yeah, don’t take it too deep, just keep going like that sweetheart.”

You feel Eddie’s dick get incredibly hard, pulsing in your mouth and you know he’s close.

“Oh fuck baby, if you don’t stop I’m gonna cum in that pretty mouth,” he warns. You only look up at him, maintaining eye contact as you continue to suck him.

“Shit, you want it, don’t ya baby? My dirty fucking girl,” he drawls out.

You moan in response, the vibrations shooting straight up Eddie’s spine. It’s all Eddie needs to send him over the edge.

“I’m gonna, fuck sweetheart, I’m gonna-” Eddie cums down your throat with a loud moan, you do your best to swallow it all but some of his cum dribbles out the side of your mouth involuntarily.

Once you’re sure you've got the last drop you let Eddie fall out of your mouth with a pop. Eddie and Steve stare at you in awe, you look completely fucked out with you glassy eyes, swollen lips and cum dripping down to your chin.

Steve can’t help himself - he’d missed the taste of Eddie too much- he leans forward, licking from your chin to your mouth before capturing your lips in a sloppy kiss. Tongue frantically exploring every crevice, savouring any taste of Eddie he can get.

Eddie watches you both, panting as he comes down from his high. He can see the outline of Steve’s hard cock straining painfully against his boxers, his mouth waters as he gets an idea.

“I’d hate to break you two up but I think Stevie more than deserves some attention from us too sweetheart.”

You break the kiss with a wicked smile on your face, oh he definitely does.

“Wanna help me babe?” He asks you.

“Please,” you reply too sweetly.

“Alright, swap with me Steve,” Eddie instructs.

The boys swap positions and Steve rids himself of his boxers before sitting in his spot on the bed. You swallow hard at the sight of his thick cock before you, much thicker than Eddie’s is and you’d struggled with his. Your uncertainty must show on your face because Steve tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Don’t worry, Eddie’s gotcha honey,” he reassures cockily.

“I’m gonna put my hand on your head okay?” Eddie explains, “then I’m gonna move it so one of us is sucking him off while the other plays with his balls and then we’ll swap, sound okay?”

“Jesus…” Steve pants at the idea, there’s no way he’s gonna last with both of you playing with him. You nod at Eddie’s question as his hand comes to tangle softly in your hair.

He guides you to Steve’s balls while he takes Steve’s tip into his mouth. Steve groans loudly at the sudden onslaught of pleasure from you both.

You lick Steve’s fuzzy sack sloppily before chancing at taking one into your mouth and sucking lightly. He gasps at the feeling, accidentally bucking at the feeling. You expect Eddie to gag but you’re surprised at how easily Eddie takes him almost all the way down his throat before continuing to bob on him lazily.

You feel Eddie tug your hair lightly, making you change positions with him. You open your mouth as far as it’ll go before taking Steve’s glistening tip into your mouth. The stretch to your jaw was intoxicating.

You feel Eddie’s head move up again towards the tip so you release Steve from your mouth, thinking you’re swapping positions again but Eddie doesn’t let you move your head back to Steve’s balls. You watch as he continues to lick all over Steve’s shaft and tip, so you decide to copy his motions instead.

You both lick messily around Steve, a mix of saliva and pre coating every inch of him. Every now and then you feel Eddie’s tongue graze your own until you’re both practically making out over the tip. You can hear Steve panting and moaning above you. Every time you glance up at him he's watching you both with a dazed, almost pained expression.

“You guys are, fuck, I’m getting close,” Steve warns.

At Steve's warning Eddie directs you back to Steve’s balls and you gleefully take one back into your mouth. Eddie takes most of Steve’s length into his mouth, deepthroating him and swallowing, before hallowing his cheeks and dragging his mouth up to the tip . He repeats this over and over until you feel Steve start to shake above you.

Steve doesn’t even get a chance to warn you both before he’s cumming in Eddie’s mouth with a broken cry, hands flying to both of your heads, holding you both close to him. You’re the first to pull back, watching as Eddie sucks the last out of Steve’s tip with a whine.

Eddie hears it, and before you see him swallow he’s crashing his lips to yours, shoving his cum covered tongue down your throat. You gasp as it invades your mouth but the sound quickly turns into a moan as you taste Steve on your tongue.

The kiss is heated and dizzyingly dirty. You’re moaning into each other’s mouths, hands gripping on to each other as your bodies start to inch closer together. You think you’re finally going to feel Eddie’s body pressed against yours when he stops suddenly.

Eddie could feel himself getting worked up again, and knew if this continued he would have a hard time holding back, wanting nothing more than to make you cum over and over again on his fingers, tongue and cock. Another time he reminds himself.

All three of you sit panting, none of you willing to break the silence that’s fallen over the room.

You laugh breathlessly, “holy shit”, you exclaim in disbelief at how the night had unfolded, it was perfect.

Eddie and Steve copy your breathless laugh.

“That good huh?” Eddie asks

“It was, shit, it was so good.”

“Good,” steve responds, “it was fucking good for us too.”

“Fuck yeah,” Eddie agrees.

“Alright,” Steve groans as he stands up with a stretch, “I desperately need a shower.”

You and Eddie roll your eyes and chuckle at Steve fondly, he sees and give you both the finger while walking back to the living room to grab his and Eddie’s bag, throwing it at the other boy, earning a full blown laugh from you.

Eddie then stands up before flopping on to the bed, grabbing out to you until you crawl up beside him to join him. He lays on his back while you snuggle up on your side next to him, barely touching each other but close enough to take in the comfort of the others presence.

“Ya know, if I didn’t know you better I’d think you were lying about being a virgin babe,” he says with no malice behind it, tucking your hair sweetly behind your ear.

You snort and roll your eyes at him.

“I’m serious!” he assures you, “one of the best blowjobs of my life.”

You shake your head at him but take the compliment anyway, a smile plastered to your face.

You lie like that for a while, staring at each other in comfortable silence. Eddie loses himself in your gentle eyes, all the feelings he’s harboured since highschool threatening to spill once again.

He keeps them to himself though, not wanting to ruin the moment and knowing that wasn’t what this was about. This was just about helping out a friend, so she could be more confident. So she can finally show everyone else the amazing person he’s always seen.

He watches as your face seems to fall slightly, it’s a subtle change but he picks it up either way.

“Hey,” he coos, “you still with me?”

“Y-yeah, im fine,” you insist. He doesn’t buy it.

He gives you the look he always does when he sees straight through your lies, you know there’s no point hiding it.

“I, um, I don’t know if I wanna be alone tonight,” you whisper.

You hadn’t noticed the shower had stopped until you hear Steve walk into the room, beating Eddies to reply to you.

“Duh, of course we’re staying,” he answers. You look up at him in the doorway, drying his hair with a towel and you notice the green and white plaid pjs hanging low on his hips and soft cotton shirt tight against his chest.

“You’re staying?” you exclaim excitedly.

“Of course,” Eddie chuckles, “Great sex always needs great aftercare little one.” He plants a sloppy smack of a kiss to your forehead before going for his turn in the shower.

Steve flops down next to you on his stomach as you roll onto your back, looking up at his damp face and hair.

“You have fun?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“So much fun,” you confirm with a smile.

“I think I died and went to heaven when you and Eddie were sucking me off together,” he laughs and you giggle at his dramatics, he’s definitely been spending too much time with Eddie.

After your laughter has died down he looks at you seriously, tone softening “hey, I’m glad you trusted us enough to do this.”

“Me too,” you reply, soft tone matching his own.

“And I know eds is glad too,” he continues, you can tell there’s something deeper behind that statement but you’re too tired and blissed out right now to care.

“I hope so,” is all you reply instead.

Eddie comes back into the room in his own black pj pants and worn band shirt, letting you know the shower is all yours.

You grab some pjs out of your drawers before having the quickest shower of your life, scared that you’ll take too long and by the time you get out they’ll be gone. This whole evening some sick hallucination your brain made up.

After you’re dried and dressed you practically run to the room, heart swelling when you see the two men tucked into your bed, facing each other as they whisper softly, Steve on the side closest to your door. They’ve turned off all the lights bar your bedside lamp and have cleaned up all the stray pieces of clothing, all now in a pile at the corner of your room next to their bags.

At hearing you enter the room Steve rolls on to his back, arm outstretched to you. You take his hand and he helps you climb over him and into the middle of both of them. They mumble hey pretty girl and hey honey and you snuggle up between the two.

Eddie pulls you on to his chest as Steve snakes an arm around your waist, cuddling up to your back. You’ve all shared a bed together many times before but this time feels different, more intimate. You slowly drift off into a peaceful sleep to the sounds of Eddie’s heartbeat and Steve’s steady breathing.

Tag List: @andvys @pxrxcxa @wroteclassicaly @eddiemunsonfuxks @usedtobecooler @translatemunson @glorykaterina @bandofoxxking @littledemondani @hellfirebabes @eveatethefruit

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ghouljams · 1 month

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In honor of the holiday dearest to tumblr, the ides of March, can King! König get another attempt on his life? Poor guy is probably bored

Oh my god of course, how silly of me to neglect him like this. Have a couple assassination attempts.

You wake up before König does, a light sleeper by practice not by nature. You yank yourself out of his firm gasp to sit up at the first odd noise, and you think that's what rouses him more than anything else. More than the knife poised over him, or the shadow clad assassin that hovers beside the bed. You stare at them as your king blearily pushes himself into wakefulness. Just enough to grab the assassin's wrist and jerk it to the side with a sickening snap.

The knife falls with a pained whimper, grabbed tight by König and flipped clumsily in his tired hand to be forced into the side of the assassin's neck. König yanks the knife free of its ghastly lodgings and blood spurts over his hand. The assassin pitifully grasping at the wound as he collapses back, crimson painting every direction he turns. König tosses the knife into his chest, it sticks with a solid thunk, as the man writhes.

You're gathered back into your king's arms with a tired grumble, and dragged down to the mattress. König is wet with blood, the drip of it smearing the pillow as you shudder at the slick gurgling coming from the side of the bed. König seems unbothered, his breathing even and regular, his hands gripping you with the same possessive tightness he had before your sleep was interrupted. Your heart hammers in your chest. You don't sleep.

König pauses what he was saying, staring down at his cup with rapt attention. You sip your own wine with a raised brow. His eyes grow darker, hungrier, the longer he stares. Redder, you think, he gets this glow to his eyes, murderous and blood tinged, when he's particularly excited. You glance at the servants in the room, all of them standing at rigid attention. He's already standing when your eyes grace him again. You settle your cup on the table and blink at the discolored metal. Ah.

You fish through your pockets for your charcoal, and eye the unfortunate soul still holding the wine pitcher. Actually as far as poisons go, you're finding this one rather mild. You lick the last drops of wine off your lips and decide on another sip. It can't do any more damage than it's already doing, and focusing on this is easier than focusing on the awful crunch of bone against bone.

Your stomach turns, you're unsure if it's the arsenic or the knowledge that König has no sword on him, and yet you can still hear the visceral squelch of blood. You hazard a peak in his direction and catch the raise of his fist, blood dripping from his knuckles into the concave remains of the wine-bearer's face. König, for all his frenzied glee, has a stillness about him that unnerves you. His body poised to put all its power into every beat of his fist against the bloodied pulp he's already reduced the would-be assassin to.

You raise a hand for König's aid and he's beside you without fanfare. You swallow and settle your cup on the table, breaking off charcoal from the stick you carry. "Would you find out who else touched the wine?" You ask, polite and collected to hide the way your bones are starting to shake, "and order some vervain in hot water." The man bows and disappears as quickly as he'd shown himself.

You chew your dose of charcoal, force yourself to swallow the sludge before you turn your attention to the king. His heaving shoulders and blood splattered clothes prickle like ice over your skin, exciting and terrifying in the same breath. You wonder sometimes if these attempts on his life aren't without good reason.

You don't know why the fuck you're here, except that König asked you to be and you didn't have an excuse quick enough. The kingdom is airing their grievances, mostly the general populace complaining about uneven roads, crops dying, taxes still being too high. There's always too much that König would have no hope of solving, but through divine right has to listen to. You're only here to ask about moving your perennials to a different bed. You didn't think you'd have to go through such a demeaning process just to do something you were going to do anyway.

You think König gets a kick out of seeing you bow in front of other people.

Not that you get a chance to. The relatively tedious and boring display interrupted by the flash of knives and the death grunts of several guards. The instant panic that the collapse of the king's protectors sends through the crowd leads to a stampede towards the chamber doors. It's the sort of atmosphere you know König relishes, pulling a sword from the guard nearest him and thrusting it through the nearest assassin's middle. He rips the sword skyward, stopped only by the man's sternum. Though you suspect even that wouldn't have stopped König if another hadn't lunged for him.

You're pushed by the crowd, but you hardly feel it, too focused on the draw of König's sword through the air, the way it slices through a man's neck and turns to pierce his chest. There is a madness to the way König moves, nothing short of joy spreading through him as he turns and brings the sword down hard between another man's eyes. Three lives ripped away without a scratch on him.

He holds his sword as his side, rolls his shoulders as he eyes the last assassin, baiting the man into action. You watch, with your breath held, as the man darts forward and plunges his knife into the meat of König's stomach. Your heart hammers against your ribs, anxiety twisting your stomach as König drops his sword.

Two big hands fix themselves on either side of the man's head, and twist sharply to one side. You may be the only person in the room to head the snap of it, to see the jolt of death's motion through the body before it goes limp, held aloft only by the king's hands. Your breath catches in your throat as König tosses him to the side and tugs the knife from his stomach.

It's hard to tell which red is from the blood, and which is from his usual clothes. You don't try to identify either one, frozen where you stand as König turns and walks out of the room. People file past you, still pushing and shoving in a panic. A servant grips your arm, your eyes still fixed on the throne.

"The king is asking for you," they tell you.

"Right-" You mutter, before you can shake yourself awake, "right, yes, of course." You swallow, pull your wits about you, and offer them a smile. "Lead the way."

There are many reasons you cannot be queen, a lack of affection for the king isn't one of them.

#cod x reader #x reader #x oc #cod x oc #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #call of duty #konig x reader #oc: liebling #king!König #medieval au #tw violence #tw murder #let the man be an animal

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d-dixonimagines · 12 days

Text

PROMPT: "Thought you'd be taller.."

I feel like I want to do this one again with a different approach, but I don't know. I envisioned it being something light-hearted and fun, so please excuse my attempt at being funny...! @darylsdelts A/N: It's not edited so there's probably typos

There was a weird buzz of energy going around the camp that you couldn't quite place. The way people whispered to one another excitedly like gossiping teenagers. Eventually you got wind that Daryl Dixon was supposed to be arriving. It was overheard on the radio when your group leader was communicating with Aaron, arranging some kind of supply drop. They had been talking for months and were finally closing on a deal to join forces and create connections.

Sure, you had heard Daryl's name before, but it was strange to see people act like it was some celebrity coming through their town, a behavior you thought was long dead when everything fell. He had been the talk for days, apparently. People telling stories about all the things they've heard he's done, even some you were sure couldn't possibly be true, like blowing up a group with a bazooka? It sounded ridiculous.

He had managed to gain a sort of reputation. He was the lone wolf you didn't mess with. People have said that he mostly kept to himself, some describing him as a grumpy old bear, and good luck if you ever got on his bad side.

You've heard he was mean and intimidating and had a permanent glare, but others say he is kind and had a softness to him. That he had a type of charm that was hard to explain. But it was all the same as rumors go; you didn't know what you were supposed to believe.

He had come to the camp a few times, but somehow you've never seen or met him yourself. It was like he was a myth. A story someone made up, and depending on which version you heard, he was either a scary boogeyman or some kind of hero.

None of that mattered, though. You were determined to find out for yourself who this Daryl guy really was, and if he was worth all of the commotion he seemed to cause.

The sun was just about to set when he and Aaron finally arrived. They were greeted with welcoming smiles and were invited to join you all for dinner. You were appreciative of the large cart of food and supplies they brought, but so far you weren't seeing anything too spectacular. He was quiet, mostly. Handing over crates and stuff, no particular look about him. He didn't look scary, there was no scowl-y expression. So many not a grumpy bear?

As the evening went on and everyone was settled, scattered about around the fire, you sat silently - continuing to watch him. When it was mostly just the two of you remaining, you decided that the silent stalking was getting you nowhere, so you took things to the next level; you approached him..

"Would you like some more?" You offered, extending the kettle of food you had in your hand. He looked up at you for a second before shaking his head, "Nah, I'm good.. Thanks." His voice was gruff, but there was a softness to it, it didn't make sense!

"I'll have some more." Your attention was brought to Larson, a guy from your group, who was sitting close by with his plate stretched out, a friendly smile on his face. Without saying a word, you took a step towards him and practically tossed the kettle in his lap, taking a seat next to Daryl, your back towards Larson.

There was a silence again, aside from the confused mumblings from Larson as he dished himself more food. You tried not to make it so obvious that you were eyeing Daryl, trying to glance at the fire every now and then, but you were failing quite miserably.

"Can I help ya with somethin'?" Daryl finally confronted you. When you didn't respond he continued. "You've been starin' me down since I got here and it's startin' to weird me out..."

You straightened up a bit and put your hands up briefly, an attempt to express you didn't mean anything by it. "I'm sorry. I'm just... trying to figure you out." "Whats'ta figure out, exactly?" he remained calm, but you could tell he had a guard up. Which was understandable.

You have a quick shrug as you tried to gather your thoughts. "The way people talk about you, you're at all what I expected." He gave a sight grunt, like where this was going all clicked. "Should I even ask what you were expectin'?" "Thought you'd be taller.." Your response surprised him a bit, causing him to let out a chuckle. Your shoulders relaxed at his reaction. He definitely wasn't a boogeyman type.

"There were a lotta things you could'a said, but I wasn't expectin' that one," he shook his head a bit and set his dish down by his feet. You could understand where he thought you were going, so many mixed reactions to him, but you were feeling more inclined to believe the positive ones, based on your current encounter with him.

"There was a lot of buzz around here when people learned you were visiting. They talk about you like you're some kind of celebrity. Which, I guess in some sense, you kind of are. With all the stuff you've done, you've made quite a name for yourself."

"Pshh.." he scoffed, "I don't buy into all that. People's opinions don't mean shit." "Even if it's good? People look up to you, from what I gather." He shook his head again. "It's all bullshit. They don't know me or the shit I've done." "We've all done things. Larson here?" you pointed your finger over your shoulder, Daryl's eyes following the direction, "the worst thing he's probably done is kill a rabbit, and that's saying something when it comes to him, and while he's probably not the best example, we all still know he's a good person."

Larson looked up from his plate, his gaze going back and forth between you and Daryl. "It was an accident..." Larson defended himself, a silent look of panic etched on his face. "The rabbit, I didn't see it, it was in the -" "You don't have to explain, Larson, it's OK. No one blames you." You cut him off before looking back at Daryl. "...Why would they blame me..?" "It was a whole thing.. but that's not the point. I'm just saying, the stuff you do makes a difference to people. The good stuff, I mean."

Daryl looked confused for a second, trying to figure out Larson's deal, but brought his attention back to you. "I dunno about any of that. I ain't tryin' to be anythin', I'm just doin' what anybody else would." You nodded, planning on keeping things at that, but there was one thing you couldn't get out of your head and needed answers on.

"I just have one question," you opened. He seemed almost reluctant to agree, but he did with a nod. "Is it true you shot a bazooka at some group? Some people say there was a group of like fifty highwaymen and you just blew them all up." He looked at you for a second like you were insane and let out a sigh. "There weren't fifty of 'em, there was only about eight.." "But you blasted them with a bazooka?" "Yeah?" he responded like he didn't understand what the big deal was. "They were a bunch'a assholes, they had it comin'."

"No, I completely get it," you let out a small laugh. "It's just a crazy thing to think about, you know? A bazooka! Where the hell would you even get one of those?" "Military truck," both Daryl and Larson answered at the same time, causing you both to look at him. "Sorry, I keep forgetting you're there." You almost felt bad. "Anyway, I should get going. It was cool to meet you," you turned back to Daryl and stood up, talking some of the empty dishes. Daryl gave a nod as you walked off.

"... The rabbit incident really was an accident," Larson chimed in after a moment of silence; he was leaning towards Daryl like he was trying to keep it between the two of them. "It was in the -" "Let it go, Larson!" Two other people in the group shouted at the same time. Larson slammed his plate on his lap in frustration as he was interrupted once more and he straightened up. Daryl sat there awkwardly in silence for a moment before getting up himself. He walked passed Larson and gave a quick sympathetic pat on his shoulder. "It's alright, buddy. I believe ya.." Daryl let out an amused scoff as he walked away to find Aaron.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #d-dixonimagines #daryl dixon imagines #daryl dixon x reader #norman reedus

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starzshopoflove · 8 months

Text

Simon "ghost" Riley x Reader

Notes: fem reader! i hc ghost doesn't wear a mask when he's off duty, this is just whatever rot my mouse brain creates, age gap but not to crazy, sfw mostly ,size kink if you squint, literally just me projecting onto reader sorry

no thoughts just ghost meeting cute little civvie reader in a shop when he's just trying to get his shopping done after coming back from a mission just wanting to fill his fridge with enough beer and groceries that vaguely resemble food

Simon watching you struggle to reach the flour from a set high shelf in the aisle, grumbling to yourself about "who fucking needs flour anyway" still trying to reach it and he just pluck it off the shelf and drops it in your cart before making his way to another aisle and your just left looking stupid watching this giant trudge away with a little blue tesco basket in tow

Simon who notices you at the same book shop he frequents, but your perched behind the counter doing god knows what ( vaguely resembles inventory but hey do what you will) calculator in hand as he peeks from behind a bookshelf trying to remember where he's seen you before.

Civvie reader who passes her days working quietly in a book shop and living in a simple one room flat indulging her romantic needs in fiction too nervous to actually talk to men, fictional ones satisfying her needs better. That is until you see some books on the counter sliding over to scan them.

"Your total's 23.55" you mumble looking at the screen "Cash or Card?" you add before lifting your head to meet the brick wall of a muscle man. Oh OH, no thoughts as you just stare at his pecs in your line of sight thanking whatever god you believe in for the sight before you, better then anything your little brain could muster up even with the detailed descriptions authors would spit out onto the pages you read

You violently peel your eyes away from the most beautiful pair of man tits you've ever seen to see what man was the owner, and by god do you wish you werent so bad around men. I mean the wind practically got knocked out of your lungs as you let out a barely audible squeak watching this man fish in his pockets for his wallet

Messy blonde hair that was in that weird phase of curly but not really, a nose that looks like its seen a good fight, deep set brown eyes, and a few healed scars settled on the skin. Aged but like wine, a really really fine wine

"Right, cash" His hands fiddling through the wallet to pull out the bank notes, while you prayed you didnt look like a hunger dog staring at his hands as they placed the cash on the counter.

Simon who watches the little bookshop employee look like she just got punched in the gut and was trying not groan as she quickly rang him up, Do i smell? he thinks to himself

Simon who watches your smaller hands shuffle the cash into the register, noting how they're free of calluses, nailed neat and slightly grown, soft.

Simon who leaves the bookstore thinking of a excuse to go again tomorrow, not to see the bookshop girl or anything, he has his reasons!! he just hasn't thought of it yet!!

You start looking up from your notes for your class when the shop bell jingles hoping to see the mystery man whos built exactly like your favorite webcomic character but with the gruff and mature aura of that mc from the game your friend made you play that you cant quite remember. Only disappointed when its just another customer , until later in the day the man returns again.

But its much later in the day and you've switched on the shops warm lights, turning off the ac letting the place warm up as you hear the door jingle again, mystery man making his way to the counter your eyes following his every step, meaty thighs

You who perks up when his forearms settle at the counter suddenly eyes locking onto yours and suddenly very glad you tidied up a bit today, tinted chapstick, perfume, cleaner turtle neck, lashes, lipgloss, earrings ahm

"Tesco" he grumbles out unmoving

"what" well thats not what you were expecting to hear

"You were the girl , couldnt reach the flour yeah?" oh that was him

"Oh, that was you? thank you?" oh what the fuck were you supposed to say?? oh thank you freakishly tall man who watched me struggle?? let me take your whole cock in my mouth while you call me a good pet feeding your meaty length down my throat??

"Yeah" Simon didnt think to much on what to do now, gaze getting awkward now that hes got his confirmation

"Did you need anything" you finally broke the silence, god its fuckin tense in here and hes so close, you wanna just get a sniff but thats hardly workplace behavior doesn't matter if its your dads shop or not.

"Mhm, ye got any cook books?"

"yeah, section 12, shelf 9" whos he cooking for? his wife? i dont see a ring? maybe a long time girlfriend?? who wouldnt snatch up this actual beefcake

"Thanks, tryna cook something new for myself. Flats been quiet" He mumbled like speaking too much would give him a headache

SImon purchased his books same stare at the girls hand like last time as she took his money. God do something you look like a creep staring at this poor girls hands.

"Got a notepad luv?" again that same punched face returned, is she alright? he thought to himself

Oh he just called me luv oh fuck dont wheeze dont wheeze just hand him the pen and paper like a good employee, come on. Oh god dont stare at his arms, are those tattoos oh my god

Sliding back the notepad simon made pace of grabbing his cook book a slipping out the shop just as quick as he went in

You who looked at the notepad almost slipping back out of your chair

"Simon 44 xxx xxx xxx"

Children were singing, the angels sang their songs, the trees regrew in that parking lot down the street, healthcare in america was just made free, and you just got the phone number of a man built like a double door fridge that you have every intention of climbing

#cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod mw x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost x reader #mw2022 #ghost call of duty #sorry i just love civilian reader x ghost #reader def has a tumblr acc #reader most likely survived middle school with a undertale phase #reader is literally just as fictional man hungry as us

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astxroiid · 2 months

Text

new york private life // tasm! peter parker

❥ childhood crush, date nights, vigilantes, apprehension, sweet young love.

wc: 1.5k

navigation ✩ empire state of mind (II) ✩ manhattan longing (III)

"Hey, um... I'm Peter."

A familiar face stands in front of you, one you've known all your life.

"We went to high school together. I, uh, was wondering if maybe you'd want to maybe hang out sometime." The walls of the college cafeteria seem to be closing in around Peter. His hands twitching nervously as he shifted his feet uneasily.

"Oh!" you're caught a little off guard. "Well, I'm free tomorrow. Where will we be going?"

Peter smiles to himself a little. "There's this sushi place that just opened up a few blocks over... if you like sushi, that is."

The amount of anxiety radiating off this poor boy is so potent you can practically taste it.

"I love it," you grin up at the boy from your seat. "Pick me up at 5:30? we could be there by 6."

"Th-that sounds great!" His eyes light up as an excited smile spreads across his face. He's never gotten a this positive of a response before. This feels good.

"I'll pick you up at 5:30 then. Thank you," he says, trying not to be too happy about this, but he is. Very.

“Sounds like a date to me.” you smile, stand from your seat and kiss his cheek before walking away with a bounce in your step.

A date?! A kiss to his cheek! He's never felt so alive before! His cheeks burn red as you walk away. He can't believe that you said yes.

When 5:30 comes around the next day, you’re waiting by the entrance of your house, ready to meet up with Peter. You’re a bit nervous, but mostly excited. You felt a strange flutter in your stomach, your heart beating fast and body tingling.

When 5:45 comes, you start to worry. Where could Peter be?

5:50. Your heart begins to sink. Was this all a joke?

5:55. Is he... not coming?

6:00. You're officially distraught. Your mind immediately starts running to various conclusions. Is he busy? Did something happen to him? Or did he simply change his mind?

6:15. Maybe he forgot? Maybe he's late? Maybe he lost track of time?

6:30. Your eyes are puffy and red. Tears start to stream down your face as you realize he’s probably not coming.

7:00. Anger replaces sadness. Did he do this on purpose?! What the hell?! What was the point of even asking you out?

8:00. Sadness returns. After all your emotions drained your energy and tears blurred your eyes, you cant help but come back ton the thought: Why did he do this? He can't even have the courtesy to at least call you?

Just as the thought come to mind, your phone rings. It's Peter.

Your eyes widen and you quickly pick up the phone. You desperately hope that this might just change things, but you also can't help and start to feel anxious, afraid of what he might have to say.

"Hey," Your voice cracks as you hold the phone to your ear.

Peter's heart sinks at your tone, immediately feeling at fault. "Hey," he echoes in a small tone. "I'm sorry I didn't show up today..." he says, almost inaudible for a moment. He sounds... shaky. Nervous. "Something came up..."

In what world is that a good excuse for leaving a girl waiting for you for two and a half hours? He mentally cringes, wishing he could explain better. How? 'Hey, sorry I basically ghosted you , I'm Spiderman and I had to stop a robbery?!' it almost sounds made up.

"oh..." the same, tearful tone etched into your voice from before. "it's okay, I guess."

He gulps at the sadness in your voice, feeling worse now, not sure how to handle this situation.

"My aunt called me. She had some things she needed help with," he said, trying his best to avoid giving details. "I lost track of time and only just realized how late it was. I was rushing as fast as I could but I know I missed our date. I'm sorry, I should have at least sent you a text."

“It’s okay.” you sound only slightly more cheerful. “How about you make it up to me come over with some takeout and we watch a movie?”

"Really?" he asks, sounding surprised. After the tense conversation you both just had, he didn't think the night - or relationship for that matter - would be salvageable. "I mean sure," he says, not being able to hide the joy in his voice or the smile on his face. "What kind food do you want?"

“You pick.” You smile “Come over as soon as you can.”

꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

About 20 minutes later Peter knocks on your door. You open it to reveal the sweetest looking boy with flowers an Thai food in hand, appearing a little guilty but still excited.

You couldn't resist smiling back at him, feeling much less mad about what happened earlier.

"Sorry for the wait," Peter apologizes as he hands you the bouquet of tulips. You gladly take them.

Walking over to the kitchen and filling a vase with water, you call out to Peter, who's still standing in the doorway.

“You can come in Pete! You can set the food down over there," you gesture to the coffee table, covered in candles and books for your college classes.

Pete?! He smiles warmly as he enters into the living room and he watches you set the flowers in the vase. Peter glances around your apartment, your home is quite cozy.

Dark blue curtains hang around each window, soft lights from the New York night glowing through. Every surface in your home is decorated with mixtures of candles, lamps, books, or cute little trinkets.

The whole place smells like cherries and coffee. The soft music playing in the background bringing the whole mood together.

He goes ahead and sets the food down on the coffee table and he looks around the room. "Your place is nice," he says softly. He loves it. he could get used to spending more time here.

“Why thank you.” You blush, placing the flowers down “Oh! I was thinking about watching some of the Star Wars movies - is that okay?” You plop on the couch, patting next to you for Peter to sit.

"Star Wars is always okay with me," Peter replies, happy that you're not upset anymore. He sits down next to you and he can't help but notice how close you're both sitting next to each other. His heart flutters.

"The Empire Strikes Back is my favorite," Peter replies excitedly, happy to be sharing one of his interests with you.

He smiles, feeling very happy with the current state of things.

"That's my favorite too!" You smile brightly, looking into his eyes.

There was an odd and almost indescribable intimacy between you two, as if your shared love of Star Wars had brought you closer together in some unknown way.

“Really?” Peter asks, feeling thrilled by this coincidence.

You nod, giggling at Peter's excitement.

"What's your favorite character?" Peter asks. He's trying to watch the movie, although it's hard to take his eyes off of you for too long.

"Hmmm..." you place your finger on your chin, feigning deep thought. "Obi Wan, hands down the best in my opinion. What about you?"

"Definitely Han Solo," he replies, smiling. You notice how his cheeks are a bit red right now.

Is he blushing?

"He's cocky and always in the middle of trouble, but so charismatic and charming," Peter adds. He leans closer, getting a little more comfortable on the couch.

"Who's your least favorite?"

You notice him moving closer but don’t mind at all “Kylo Ren, I think. His character is just too underdone - they could’ve done better. What about you, Pete? Who’s your least favorite?” You lean in close to him, placing Your hand on his shoulder.

"Totally agree," Peter says quickly, gulping. "Kylo Ren sucks."

Chills take over Peter's body as your hand rests on his shoulder.

You're sitting awfully close, and the thought of it makes his head rush. He wishes he could take his eyes off of you.

Your heart begins to pound. He's getting so lost in the atmosphere.

You smile and turn your head back to the TV watching along as Han Solo grabs Leia, kissing her deeply. There's an ache in your chest for something similar.

Please kiss me. Peter's mind races and begs. Just go for it! He silently urges himself.

He's dying to turn his head towards you. The closeness is sending him into a spiral of emotion. If only he could find the courage to make a move. As he glances your way, he notices you're not looking at him; your attention is elsewhere. A wave of disappointment washes through him.

Peter looks to his fidgeting hands, now incredibly insecure.

Is he reading the signals wrong? His heart sinks. Does she not feel the same way?

His breath is shaky and he's afraid of ruining the evening.

Peter decides it's best to focus on the movie and not his growing, aching feelings.

I hope y'all enjoyed my first fic in a loooong time lmao, big thanks to character.ai for helping me come up with this!

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader #tasm #tasm peter parker #tasm x reader #tasm!peter x reader #andrew garfield #andrew garfield x reader #marvel #sony #marvel x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter imagine #parker

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writer-by-the-sea · 1 year

Note

hello!! may i request something fluffy where a touch starved elliott is visited by a farmer who can’t sleep and wants to cuddle with him? they’re not yet dating, but there’s EXTREME romantic tension between them

Slightly BARELY NSFT, No beta, no spell check lol

The storm raged outside, the lighting illuminating my cabin, each flash of light shortly accompanied by thunder that roared so loudly it shook my bed. I sighed and stared up at the ceiling, the rain beating down on the roof and providing me with the white noise I would normally crave; but now I laid there disturbed by the storm and sleep continues to evade me.

I let my thoughts slip to the farmer… Weeks ago they told me how they can’t have trouble sleeping through the night, that they were considering pills to help them through the night. I couldn’t help by wonder how they were fairing this night. Were they just as frustrated as I? Tossing and turning under the covers and considering giving up and waiting for the morning?

All I knew was that tomorrow would be a day with many cups of coffee, perhaps even an espresso or two.

I leaned over, reaching for my bedside lamp, flicking the switch with well rehearsed practice— only for the light to ignore me. I blinked at the light, tapping the switching again, and then once more..

“Lovely,” I mumbled and stood. The power was out.

Near my desk sat an oil lamp, one that I preferred to save for emergencies; I suppose this fell into that category. I considered what I would do with my time now, writing coming across my mind. Although, as of late, anything I’ve written has only been conveying my sappy and desperate need for the touch of another.

For far too long I’ve lived in this cabin alone. Something I thought I would enjoy, but I find myself feeling more and more lonely as each day passes. These days it’s gotten to the point where I find myself starved for attention. I wander around town more often than ever, finding excuses to see the others (mostly the farmer,) and I go on to bore them with tales of my unsuccessful writings.

With my lamp lit, I found my way back to my bed, my new plan for the night to reread over my pages and correct any mistakes I come across. Forever I will misspell at minimum ten words per page.

I may be a writer but I am no expert at spelling, ironic as it may be.

Just as I began to settle back in bed, there’s a knock at the door.

Unusual, but it wouldn’t be the first time Willy visited in the dead of the night. He might be in need of some snacks if he saw Sebastian earlier in the day, or asking for help to shovel rain water out of his shop again.

I groaned and slipped out of bed, now giving up on my plans and preparing myself for Willy’s visit. A night of fishermen’s stories and tellings of his childhood. Not that I minded it, but I would rather relax tonight..

The knocking came again, urging me to open it and let them in. Part of me was tempted to ignore it, to pretend to be sleeping and leave Willy on his own — as rude as it may be.

But then—

“Elliott?” A voice called from outside my door, helpless and scared.

I ran to the door, flinging it open to reveal the farmer standing there. Drenched from head to toe, but still smiling as I greeted them. “Oh my goodness!” I cried and stepped back, opening the door even further and ushered them inside. “You must be freezing! Please, come inside!”

The farmer quickly ducked in, wasting no time in kicking off their boots and closing the door behind them. “I’m sorry to drop by so late,” they began and removed their jacket. “I just—“

“Couldn’t sleep?” I asked and took their jacket. I hung it and then offered a towel.

They gave me a sheepish smile, nodding and accepting the towel. “Did I wake you?”

I waved them off. “No worries, I was awake. I couldn’t sleep either.”

“Is it okay if… I stay here a while?”

I could tell they were embarrassed to ask, scared even as they avoided my gaze. If not for the cold weather outside, I would think they were hiding heated cheeked. But that may have just been wishful thinking. “Of course!” I replied. “Stay as long as you like—“ I paused, looking over their drenched clothes and uncertain on how to phrase my next words. “Do you… perhaps need a change of clothes?”

The farmer looked down again, chewing their bottom lip and twisting their hands in front of themselves. “I don’t want to be a burden—“

“Nonsense!” I rushed to my dresser, plucking a few of my clothes out to present them. Mostly oversized clothing, things I haven’t worn in ages but I knew would be comfortable and warm. It would definitely be better than what they wore now, anyway. “Let me know if these are okay,” I said and handed the clothes over. “You can change in the bathroom if—“

“Thank you!” The farmer replied and took the offered clothing….

And then began to strip before me.

I gasped and spun around, heat flooding my cheeks from what I’d saw so little of. Soft, supple skin… A few minor scars across their body, no doubt from the farm and the mines… How I wished to turn back around and take them into my arms, to kiss every scar, to lick every curve, to worship and adore their body just as they deserved.

I held myself back, taking a breath and moving to my bed to readjust the blankets and pillows. I wasn’t sure what tonight would bring, I wanted to keep my hopes low but—

“You can turn back around.”

They stood there, my sweater hanging off one shoulder and my old pajama pants hanging low on their waist. “Sorry about that,” the farmer mumbled. “I was actually really cold and started changing without thinking.”

“It’s no problem.” I chuckled and took their wet clothes from them, moving to hang them in my bathroom. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

Once in the bathroom, I closed the door behind me. How could they look so adorable in my clothing….

I slowly hung their clothing, willing down the urge to run back out and pull the farmer into my arms. To compliment them on how cute they looked, to kiss across their exposed skin and slip my hands under the sweater they wore. To lead them into my bed and remove their borrowed clothing piece by piece—

“Fuck,” I whispered and stared down at the shirt I held. I forced myself to hang it up with everything else.

Tonight, the farmer came to me for a place to relax. For a place to hide out the storm. For a place they knew they could trust without a starving writers wandering hands all over their body. Their perfect, gorgeous, sexy, strong body.

I shook my head and stepped out of the bathroom, ready to chat with the farmer about the weather, about the night sky, about everything but my cravings to just touch them. But all of the words fell out of my mouth.

They laid in my bed, under the covers and flipping through one of my books from the library. The light of my lantern dancing across them, their beauty freezing me in place. A fantasy I’ve dreamt of a million times, only now I could do nothing. My breathing unsteady, the palms now sweaty, my throat dry and all words failing me as I let my eyes trail over them.

The farmer noticed me and scooted to the side of my bed, pushing themselves into the wall before patting the empty side. “It’ll be warmer under the covers,” was all they said before they looked back down at the book. A book that only detailed the secret to ‘writing an award willing novel.’ Something I knew they wouldn’t actually be interested in but…

I climbed into the bed and slid under the covers, biting my tongue when my leg brushed against their own. This couldn’t actually be happening, right? There was no storm outside and I was simply in a very deep sleep. If not for the warmth coming from the farmer, I may have actually believed I was dreaming…

The farmer leaned towards me, their head coming to rest on my shoulder, their book now closed and forgotten in their lap. I kept my eyes forward, my hands turning to fists as I let the weight of their head settle upon me. “This is nice,” they whispered and snuggled in a little further, one of their hands going to lap on my arm. “Do you mind?”

“No,” I muttered back, gulping as they shifted even closer, their arm now laying across my chest as they got more comfortable. “I— I don’t mind.”

My body felt like it was being doused in flames, feeling more aware than ever of everything around me. The rain coming back to my mind, softer than before as it fell across the roof, the thunder still rumbling outside but now miles away, the farmers hair as it brushed against my cheek, their arm as it laid over my fast beating heart, their thumb as it caressed my arm.

“I really appreciate you letting me come in tonight…” I could feel their breath across my neck, my body shivering as I let the feeling wash over me.

I took a breath, attempting to form the words. Their legs were on my own now, the farmer pulling me further into the bed and encouraging me to relax and our combined warmth made my eyes grow heavy.

“I’ve dreamt of this so many times,” I said, my voice a whisper as I finally gave me.

The farmer giggled, their laugh light and adorable… and bringing what I’d just said to light. “And? Is it everything you imagined?”

I sighed and wrapped one of my arms around them. “Even better.”

In the morning I would wake with the farmer still in my arms, their nose tucked into my neck and snoring softly. Our first night together that would become one of many.

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 1 year

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Hi! Xavier has been living in my head rent free since I watched the show. Could you do a jealous boyfriend Xavier x reader?

I went with a light jealous boyfriend!Xavier

keep sending requests for Xavier

—

Despite the November drizzle, you and Xavier spent the day in Jericho. It was cold and foggy, but you really wanted to check out the new bookstore that just opened and Xavier needed restocks of some paints.

Your beret wasn’t doing much at protecting you from the rain, but you wore it mostly for the look rather than its practicality. You and Enid got matching ones the last time you went shopping. She tried to convince Wednesday to get one too, but she explicitly explain how sticking a needle in her eyes would be less painful than wearing a beret.

‘’Next time we come here, we’re gonna need a wheelbarrow to carry all your books,’’ Xavier teased as you took a corner, taking you back to the main street.

Your arm was looped around his, giving you an excuse to cuddle up to him as you walked. Xavier wasn’t big on PDA, but he liked walking around Jericho in this old fashioned way. It was a subtle way of letting everyone know you were taken.

‘’If the school had a better selection of novels, I would not need to buy all these books,’’ you retorted in justification, holding your shopping bag full of new books in your other hand. ‘’Besides, I didn't get all the books I was hoping for.’’

‘’You got four books. That’s a lot.’’

You once got ten books in one trip, but Xavier didn’t need to know that. It would just give him more material to make fun of you and your love for books and reading.

‘’One of them is a birthday present. I think Wednesday will love the collector copy of Salem's lot I found. I was not expecting a small business to have it.’’

Xavier wasn’t a bookworm, but he figured a collector edition was very nice. A sort of special artwork in the literary world.

‘’Small isn’t always bad.’’ He looked down at you as he said it.

You stopped in your tracks and tipped your head to look at him, raising an eyebrow. ‘’Are you calling me small?’’

‘’I’m a full head taller than you so…’’ A cheeky smile curled on Xavier’s lips.

‘’I hate you.’’ You glared at him, but he wrapped his arms around you, his embrace enveloping you in an extra layer of warmth. Why was November so cold? ‘’Can we stop to get coffee before we head back to the academy? I’m cold and craving a caramel macchiato.’’

Disgust formed on your boyfriend’s face, a strong hater of the overly sweet drink you loved so much.

You ended up stopping at Weathervane for your coffee. Unfortunately, Tyler was working today so Xavier stayed back and waited outside while you went in. The less interactions he had with him, the better.

Although he didn’t go in, he didn’t miss how Tyler talked to you for longer than the other customers or the way he was smiling as you were leaving with your drink.

‘’Tyler is not preying on me,’’ you denied after Xavier made the accusation. It was honestly ridiculous. ‘’We’ve spoken three times and two times out of three it was about ordering coffee. You’ve got nothing to worry about.’’

‘’What about the third time?’’

You took a sip of your coffee before answering, playing with his jealousy buttons. ‘’He asked if I had seen Wednesday.’’

He’ll let that one slide, but he was still not changing his mind on Tyler.

‘’Why do you jump to conclusions every time a guy interacts with me?’’ you asked. You loved that Xavier was protective of you, but jealousy was not something you found attractive.

Xavier shrugged, genuinely not knowing. ‘’I don’t know. Call it instinct.’’

His answer had you thinking. Perhaps his jealousy was to camouflage his insecurities? Perhaps Xavier was not as confident as he made himself appear, especially regarding you and your relationship. Perhaps he was scared you would leave him for someone else.

Your heart sank and you grabbed his hand, tangling your fingers together. He glanced down at your hands, but said nothing. ‘’I don't care about Tyler or whichever other boy that looks at me, I only have eyes for you.’’ You reached on your tiptoes to kiss him and when you pulled back, the corner of his lips twitched.

—

Xavier Thorpe taglist: @sofiaadler @partyfly @hoodforcalum @thelilacmourning @ellessecretobsession @su-alteza-emia @achoo---uu @not-leaprvt @xaviersgf @peterparkerdilf @roadworkaheadisurehopeitdoes @dragon-chica @coldtacozinepanda @wrldofsage @eddiemunsonsluvrrr @capriaura @officialsaturn @babyfiva @maevaomizzolo @kelloggs-world @whosljt @ajpanda181 @belovedrey @emerycrt @elizabitchsshit @heaven-hiding @lilithlikestoread @est-liber @moonisu @dessxoxsworld @parker-nite @bellblake121890 @vesperazhier @kaldurahms-lover @beeebo234 @nephilimsss @mayuphoenix @sweetheartlizzie07 @watermelon-18 @snixx2088 @555stargirl555 @robinscardigan @chumchum19 @lilttblog @aphex2winn @heizenka @mystargirl-interlude @hwrtsiren @babygirljay20 @wildflowerlyss @strangersomeone @openfandoms @charlottelaffin @iheartmaddyperez @starless-starkov @ali-r3n

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe x you #wednesday #wednesday imagine #wednesday netflix #percy hynes white

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genshin-scenarios · 6 months

Text

ways to ensnare a charmer (lyney x reader)

Summary: a Lyney drabble! Mostly him being down bad and falling for you. There’s also a dance near the fountain at midnight~

Wordcount: 706

Confidence is an attractive thing. Lyney knows this, and so do you.

He approaches you with a practiced smile, tricks up his sleeve to dazzle you (and the crowd). At the end of it all he gives you a rose, half an invitation and a statement to remind you of his interest. He wears this confidence like a shield against whatever rejection he might meet (be it direct, or the kind that comes in the acceptance of some but not all of him—gray and muddy his past may be).

But then you answer with a quieter smile than usual. On a night where he’s walking you home with another charming excuse, you respond with sincerity in your gaze as you thank him for looking out for you, and for a moment Lyney swears the stars are twinkling in your eyes.

The next day he finds you in the city while in a very good mood—only to falter and feel his cheeks grow red at your greeting.

“Good morning Lyney. Looks like the sun is shining as usual.”

“How can you tell?”

“Well, it’s smiling at me as we speak.”

The moment he shows that he’s capable of being flustered, it’s over for Lyney; you drop little compliments and lines around him without blinking an eye, leaving him to feel like he’s losing his mind.

Even if your lines weren’t all that extraordinary, Lyney finds himself focusing too much on the quirk of your lips to care. And now he’s thinking about the way you laughed when he was stunned speechless—he hasn’t seen that kind of laugh on you before, and a part of him wouldn’t mind being a fool if that’s what it took to pull that sound from you again.

As the both of you shed off the colors and costumes you wear in the day, you find yourself sneaking onto the top of buildings and roaming through the empty city at night. It’s a bit of a dance as much as it is a game of tag. Lyney chats about his siblings to you, and you ramble a bit about the things stressing you out this week.

Cheeks flushed and hair disheveled, you feel like school-children that have snuck out for some adventurous rendezvous. Fontaine should feel lonely when it looks as sparse as this, but as Lyney takes off his hat and bows to you while standing on the base of the fountain, it’s all you can do to return the gesture, stepping onto the makeshift stage.

The moonlight suits Lyney a lot more than the Sun, you realize. Not because of one's melancholy or the other’s brightness, but because of how he seems to unravel when the light is gentle and no one else is there to bear witness to his soul.

You’re aware there is one barrier left, as you are still an audience—but just as Lyney never pushed for you to lower your walls, you would do the same for him. Share the moment and feel his warmth from underneath his gloves as he spins you one last time, and steps away.

Except that’s not quite the end of the dance. Lyney pulls you towards him once more, placing a short kiss against your lips as goodbye.

He mutters your name with that farewell, and you haven’t been able to forget how mesmerizing he looked up close. As much as you’ve been able to ensnare him, he’s not having much trouble keeping you captive under his gaze either.

The next morning, well… Lyney, for a lack of better words, really wants to kiss you again.

He might’ve had a dream that essentially replayed the events of last night, except it ended with himself whispering a confession to you. He wakes up before dream-you can reply, and is in full-blown panic because it felt so realistic that he almost thought it was real (and if that were the case, why couldn’t he recall your answer?!)

“So if it’s alright with you…”

God, he buries his face in his hands. Why didn’t I say that last night? It would’ve been the perfect place, and just the thought of someone else winning your heart makes him want to bury himself six feet under.

#lyney x reader #genshin lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin reader insert #genshin drabbles #gi imagines #genshin scenarios #traveler wishes

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allophonicmess · 5 months

Text

Time and Time again - Part 2

14th Doctor x reader / mentioned 15th x reader

Masterlist

Full version cross-posted on Ao3

The Doctor is struggling after the Bi-regeneration. It only seems logical for you to move on with the next version of him. So why do you stay?

Established relationship

Timelord!wife reader

Mostly jealous 14th! Doctor and angst but balanced out with fluff.

The 25 of December 2023, Christmas day

"Okay, but I have to ask. Why two wedding bands?" Rose leaned over to you, eyes moving between your wedding rings and your face. On your left ring finger was a thin, twisted band adorned with a clear gem. On the right a wider band decorated in fine Gallifreyan symbols.

"It's an old tradition." You chuckled. "Two rings-"

"For two hearts?" She finished for you, smiling softly at the idea of the intricate gesture.

"Yep, exactly." You laughed softly, squeezing her hand under the table. The Doctor sat opposite you, next to Donna and Shaun. The table was set beautifully with Christmas decorations, lights and candles. The new Doctor had been right about the roast, complementing the Noble-Temple household for their magnificent cooking.

"Aww, that's so sweet!" Rose marvelled, gasping at Doctor. He blushed softly, suddenly very interested in the bits of carrots on his plate.

"One for each heart? I thought that whole ring to the heart idea is an American thing?" Shaun wondered, looking between you two and the others at the table.

"Well, actually-"The Doctor started, setting his cutlery in an attempt to create a rhetorical pause. You chuckled at his antics. You loved his storytelling. His expressiveness and capturing performance. You leaned back a little, watching the family around you, focusing on him with curious expressions.

"Many human cultural practices are adopted from alien contact." He casually crossed his arms, basking in the attention like a cat in warm sunlight. "Weddings themselves. Imported from the Bisianth. Inquisitive creatures, birdlike, like um-"

He went on with his tale, pretending to think about the proper expression.

"Like ostriches." You offered, leaning your elbow on the table to cover your grin. He loved it even more when you joined in. A team effort at wowing the company.

"Yes! Ostriches! Thank you, love." He laughed.

Rose smirked at you suggestively. She had grown close to you and your partner over the last few weeks. She loved each and every story about your adventures, fascinated by what is out there. She felt connected to you in a way that only the Doctor was. She was so much wiser and grown than her age allowed for.

"And what about them? You were explaining about the rings," Sylvia interjected. She was quick to notice the Doctor drifting off from his original story.

"Hm? Oh well, they bond for life. Ostriches, I mean. And Bisianth-"

He was lost in thought for a moment. Eyebrows furrowed, and gaze focused on the light of one of the candles. He remained silent for another moment. The humans at the table became slightly concerned at his sudden stop and change in demeanour.

He blinked a few times, shaking his head slightly. He seemed to have lost the plot, so you stepped in.

"They bond for life as do timelords. But our culture does so at a deeper level since death is a more, let's say, abstract concept." You explained simply, sipping from your glass and gently smiling at the others.

"And on that note, we'll ask you to excuse us. Someone here is still woozy from their Bi-regeneration and needs to sleep." You explained, finishing your drink and smiling at Donna.

"I thought timelords don't sleep…" Donna explained, looking at you and the Doctor quizzingly.

"I don't need sleep" The Doctor replied with a scoff. "Just a little bit for regeneration sickness, but I'm fine, so-"

He stopped talking when he saw your and Donna's doubtful expressions.

Rose spoke up after a moment of awkward silence, "Looks like that's something you can work on." she joked, getting up to help the others gather the plates and cutlery. You gave a soft laugh, sharing a knowing look until she rounded the corner to the kitchen. You also got up, pushing your chair to the table and walking around to meet the Doctor.

"As I said, Dinner was fantastic. Thank you so much, Donna, all of you." You called a little louder to make sure that all of them heard.

They had taken you in without any questions. You instantly became family and integrated with them as if it had been like this from the beginning. You were happy to have helped them when UNIT came in to fix the Noble-Temple's house after what happened with the Meep. The house had to be cleared and empty for repairs, so the whole family moved in with you. They spend 2 weeks living with you in the Tardis. It was a delight, the fascination they felt, and it finally gave you a chance to organize and relocate the rooms. In the end, you finally had a functioning kitchen, a proper bedroom for you and enough set guestrooms for a full-on family trip. The Doctor also enjoyed the new proper setup, even though he tried not to show it.

"Of course, darling. "Donna smiled, watching happily as you sneaked an arm around the Doctor's waist. His reaction was instantaneous, leaning into you and placing his arm around you, smoothing his thumb over your arm. You were good for him. Always have been. But your relatively stationary position on earth only allowed for a few visits and meetings between you and the Doctor. You had travelled with him every once and again but mainly took care of earth, protecting it when he was gone.

"Now get this one to bed. He's losing focus again, and I'm not going to let him sleep on the couch again. Not after all that complaining last time." She replied, pretending to sound strict and fed up. The Doctor had tried to sit through a binge-watching session with Rose, trying to build that proper Uncle-Niece relationship early on. But even a timelord has no chance against the hyperfocus and messed up sleep schedule of a 15-year-old. So he spent the night sleeping on the couch in an almost impossible position and proceeded to complain about his back for the next week.

"Eh, I'm fine. And I didn't complain." He scoffed, "But I won't fight with this one here." He pecked a kiss on your head, pulling you into his side.

"So, have a good night!" He called into the house, smiling softly at the "thank-you!"' s and "you-too!"' s that came from the kitchen and hallway.

He took in the moment, that easy joy he felt. He was surprised at how happy these small things made him. Dinner with the family, a game of cards, gardening, or simply watching the others with a cuppa in hand. It felt good, a joy that didn't need a grand entrance or having to save a civilization. Just life.

He took your hand and gently led you out towards the terrace, the garden, and into the blue box you called home. He opened the door for you, letting you inside while smiling at you with soft admiration. You thanked him, listening to his soft-soled steps as he followed you inside. You threw your jacket over one of the railings and approached the upper level.

But you paused at the door when you noticed he didn't follow.

"Are you coming?" You leaned onto the upper railing, watching him flip a few switches at the controls and studying one of the screens intensely. It took him a moment to answer, looking up at you. "Yeah, I'll be there in a second. Get settled already."

His focus shifted back towards the controls. He even took out his glasses, all attention on the screen.

You smiled at him and made your way towards the bedroom. You changed into your nightwear, brushed your teeth and settled under the soft duvet. With closed eyes, you focused on the steady hum of the Tardis. It was like breathing, a soft whining that sounded like home to you.

Soft rustling and a gentle tug on the duvet made you open your eyes again. The Doctor slipped under the covers next to you. He laid on his back and immediately lifted his arm to let you rest your head on his chest. He let out a long sigh, lowering his arm as your head came down over his right heart and gently running his fingers over your back and arm. You closed your eyes, letting out a sigh of your own and relaxing as the sound of his heartbeats drew you in. You hummed softly, just enjoying the moment and running your hand over the cotton of his shirt. Your hand consistently over his other heart.

"Why did you stay?" He whispered, almost as if too afraid to ask you out loud. Ever since that kiss with the new version, he had been thinking about it. It only seemed logical for you to keep going and settling in with the new Doctor. Especially since that one seemed to do so much better than he did.

You slowly lifted your head and turned to look at him properly. The lines on his face seemed more prominent in the soft orange light of the Tardis night setting.

"Why wouldn't I stay?" you ask, your hand gently smoothed through his hair. You felt him relax under you. Melt into your touch like candle wax.

He remained silent, eyes closed and quietly enjoying your touch. Then he breathed in deeply, licking his lower lip before focusing on your eyes with a stern look.

"He is better than me. In so many ways." He gently shook his head. "A younger body, the charisma, that smile. Oh, that damned grin. How dare he-"He gritted his teeth, his eyes moving away from you to focus on some random spot in the room. Anywhere, really, he regretted starting the conversation. He knew it was silly, but he needed to know.

"And he seems to be so much better. Lighter…”

"Healed." You interjected. Holding his chin to bring his attention back to you. You knew that you two would have this talk. You always had these types of discussions after he met other versions of himself. Especially the younger ones. Being with 12 had been a real challenge in that sense.

"He is healed. Because he stopped running." You smooth over the lines on his forehead. Caused by so much thinking and worrying.

"He stopped and faced his past. And that hurts, but it's the only way to keep going." You kissed his eyebrow that dared to lower in confusion to your statement.

"He stopped and reflected, spending his time with life's little joys. And over time, it helped him to become better. To lose that baggage." You saw the tears starting to well up in his eyes. He tried to look away again, but you kept your eyes on him.

"It's okay, Doctor. Let it out. You don't have to keep your emotions shut away." You encouraged him softly, feeling your own tears welling. It felt like a relief to feel his tears soak into your shirt. It was a first step.

He sat up slightly, pulling into a tight embrace and burying his face in your neck. You just held him, both of you letting your tears flow.

After a moment, you laugh softly, "See, this is what made you become him." Turning your head to kiss his cheek.

He sniffed softly, "Yeah?" "Yeah. And I'll be here for it. Every step of the way." You gently pushed him back onto the bed, resting on his chest again, both hands placed on his cheeks.

"And when this run ends, I'll be there for the next chapter." You kissed him slowly, feeling his desperation as he kissed you back. His lips moved softly against yours, and he moved his hands to hold your face like you had his.

"Hopefully, with this face, but who knows. Maybe I'll have a new face by then, and you'll have to be clever to find me in the crowd. No, wait-" You stopped to think about the exact workings of time in your situation. "You'll know the new face 'cause you were here before. Oh, I wanted to have you work for it. At least once." You sighed dramatically before going for another kiss.

He chuckled softly. "What are you on about?" the Doctor said, shaking his head softly. "We split. It's me and him from the point of Bi-Regeneration and onwards."

You stared at him momentarily, dumbfounded that he hadn't figured it out. You laughed, sitting up and looking at him with mischief.

"Is that how you think Bi-Regeneration works?" You giggled, watching his confused face.

"Well... Yeah! What else should be happening? It's two time-strands opening. I've got this once, and he's off doing new version things!" His hasty and offended answers made you laugh even harder.

"See, that is why I was at the academy and learned the proper stuff while you just went and stole a Tardis." You calmed down, still giggling but moving back towards him.

"This here is a time loop, silly." You peck a kiss on his nose. "You remain in this form till you regenerate, and then it's back to the rooftop, love." You grinned, watching gleefully as his 'Oh, now I understand' – expression took over his face.

He blinked, thinking for a moment, and you watched him quietly, a knowing smile on your lips.

"That's where he took off to. That's why he was in a hurry to leave!" He grinned triumphantly. He pulled you into a deep kiss, holding you close as he celebrated his achievement. You pushed yourself off him slowly," Now you have got to remember the date, Kensington Park, the 12 of June 2023. Italian Gardens."

"And bring some Ice cream?"

You held his cheek, gently smoothing over his skin.

"You know it, darling."

Thanks for reading! Feel free to send requests or promts if you would like to see more stories like this one :)

#doctor who x reader #doctor who #fourteenth doctor #the doctor x reader #reader insert #fifteenth doctor #14th doctor #60th anniversary #fourteenth doctor x fem! reader #14th doctor x reader #dw specials #timelord!reader

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