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pedrospatch · 3 months ago

Text

run

Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader

*moodboard is for aesthetic purposes only. no mention of reader’s race or skin tone.

summary: When you’re given the chance to run from your captor, you don’t take it.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. RAIDER ERA. DARK!JOEL. DUBCON. MENTIONS PREVIOUS NONCON. UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 50). reader is described washing her hair (the exact length is not specified) and she wears a dress. she is also shorter than Joel. violence, kidnapping, reader has major stockholm syndrome, Joel is fairly soft for her but HE IS STILL NOT A GOOD MAN, brief mention of Tess and Joel being involved with each other, Tess seems like the villain but she might actually be the only one of these three who is not totally fucked up in the head. SMUT. daddy kink. size difference (no description of reader’s body type, Joel is just a big guy with a big dick, enjoy it). oral sex (female receiving), super risky unprotected p in v sex (mention of reader ovulating, Joel pulls out, don’t be be like these two, practice safe sex), creampie (yeah he doesn’t give a fuck the second time around). many, many pet names (baby, baby girl, honey, angel, sweetheart, little girl). um i think that’s it. oh, and they fuck in the dirt.

PLEASE HEED ALL WARNINGS.

word count: 8.6k

a/n: one thing about me is i WILL soften up EVERY version of Joel Miller to my little heart’s content. HUGE HUGE thank you to @endlessthxxghts and @joelsdagger for lending me their eyes and beta-ing this fic for me last night. <33 i love and appreciate you guys SO MUCH. i loved seeing you both in the doc at the same exact time lmao. this can be read as a standalone, but it is considered part of the captive universe.

Everyone in the group has a job. Except for you.

Or at least, that’s what you hear them say.

That bitch doesn’t do shit.

She never has to lift a fucking finger.

She should work for her meal—just like the rest of us.

Bitterness laces their tones when they talk about you.

Insults grow a little bolder when he’s not around.

Useless.

Freeloader.

Leech.

You might not be out there with a rifle in hand hunting game or invading camps and spilling blood for supplies—but you do in fact have a job, and that job is to make Joel Miller happy. It is your responsibility, your duty, to please him, and to keep him satisfied. Because keeping him satisfied keeps him in a good mood, and one thing you’ve come to learn about your captor is, where there is a good mood, often there is mercy.

Hell, you’re doing them a favor by keeping their violent, fearsome leader in a good mood. Because you’ve seen what he does to them when he’s not. He can be just as brutal towards his own people as he is to strangers.

It doesn’t make a difference, though. They still see you as nothing more than his coddled little whore.

“Fuck, that’s it.”

He groans, his thick, callused fingers digging harshly into the softness of your flesh as he holds you firmly in place underneath him. “Oh fuck, baby girl,” Joel curses through gritted teeth, his hands gripping your hips as he uses his own weight against you, pressing you down into the old mattress until you feel every uncomfortable lump, each creaking spring.

While he isn’t fucking you as roughly as he has on other occasions, he’s hardly being gentle. It’s hard, fast.

Loud.

Joel couldn’t care less about the rest of the group, the men and women on the other side of the wall, forced to listen to the sounds coming from the single bedroom of the cabin he decided they would hunker down in for the remainder of the summer season. Strings of curses and brutish grunts that came rumbling from deep within his chest, pleading gasps and whimpers that fell from your swollen, bitten lips. If anything, knowing they were listening only spurred him on—it didn’t hurt to remind them, especially the men with wandering eyes, that you were his special girl.

His good girl.

You certainly did your job, and you did it so, so well.

“Christ, sweetheart. M’so fuckin’ close—” Joel picks up speed, his hips snapping even harder, faster, the front of his thighs slapping against the backs of yours. Each thrust causes the bed’s rusted, iron headboard to slam violently against the wood panel wall.

You clutch fistfuls of the single, stale, yellowing sheet beneath you, each stroke he delivers knocking the wind out of your lungs, making it harder to breathe. He is so heavy on top of you, this big, broad, bulk of a man who makes you feel swallowed, smothered, and small. Joel takes up so much room inside of you, and it’s a wonder how you could possibly have any space left to spare.

It’s a fullness you can’t seem to get enough of.

It’s a craving, a need.

Worst of all, it’s slowly becoming a want.

“Daddy,” you choke out, fisting the sheet tighter, your skin stretching taut over your knuckles. Can the others also hear the squelch of your drenched cunt around his cock as it begs him for more?

“Fuck. You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me, baby,” Joel croons his praise. His hands abandon your hips and he hunches over you, his thrusts momentarily ceasing. He crushes his chest against your sweaty, quivering back and leans forward even further, bracing his large hands on either side of you. Then, his lips move to the shell of your ear and he speaks, his breath blazing hot on your skin. “Y’take me so well, honey. Y’take Daddy’s cock so fuckin’ well. This pretty little pussy was fuckin’ made for me. She was made jus’ for me—ain’t that right, angel?”

He’s right.

Oh, how you fucking hated that he was right.

It was made for him. Your cunt. Your body. You.

Every part of you was made for him, and only for him.

All you can do is nod dumbly in agreement.

“Say it,” Joel whispers his firm command. “Wanna hear you say it. Be a good girl and use your words. Say it, say this pussy is made for me.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you moan obediently, prompting him to grin against your ear. “My pussy is made for you, just—just for you. No one—no one else. Only you.” Could this really be the same voice that would break, grow hoarse from screaming for him to stop? The same voice that would beg and plead for him to set you free?

Jutting his hips forward, Joel buries himself to the hilt, eliciting a noise from you, something caught between a pained whimper and a contented sigh. His balls, heavy and full for you, rest on your clit, which is still sensitive to the touch after he’d spent a majority of the morning with his head buried in between your legs. Desiring yet another release, you try wriggling around beneath him in a silent plea for more. More, more, more.

Please, Daddy. More.

Joel’s grin widens. He places one of his hands on your soft lower belly, fingers dragging down the slope of it until he finds the slick swell of your seam between your legs where his girth splits you open. “Ready, baby?”

Nodding, you open your mouth to answer him, but the sound of your own groan cuts you off when his fingers firmly circle around your throbbing, swollen bud. “Oh,” you breathe, instantly sinking right into his touch. Your eyes screw shut tightly in pleasure, and you throw your head back onto his shoulder. The scruff of his beard is rough on your cheek, and it burns, the same way it had burned the tender flesh of your inner thighs.

His hips find their rhythm as you rub against his hand—you’re almost there. He knows this, you can tell by the chuckle that thunders in his chest and against your back. But you’re too busy chasing your pleasure to be embarrassed.

He’s made you a needy, greedy girl.

“Daddy,” you mewl, trying your hardest to move under him, to work your cunt up and down on his cock. “I’m gonna come—” You gasp, back arching as Joel strokes in and out, his fingers rubbing your clit with urgency.

Joel plants a sloppy, wet kiss on your cheek. “Give it to me, baby,” he grunts. “C’mon. Lemme feel her squeeze me.”

Feeling how close he is too, you try to hold on for just a little bit longer, at least long enough to finish with him, but Joel’s relentless, and you’re forced off of the ledge you’re both standing on first.

Crying out, your walls spasm around him, asking to be filled until he’s made a complete mess out of you, until white leaks, and it slowly dribbles down the insides of your trembling thighs.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel rasps. He lifts himself off you and he pulls out, taking his throbbing cock in his hand. His chest heaves as he fists himself, the wet sound of your slick in his palm filling the room. “Down,” he grits, and you obey him, lowering down yourself on the mattress until you’re lying almost completely flat before him. He gives himself one final stroke just as you look over your shoulder at him, the gentle flutter of your eyelashes the last push he needs. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck—” Joel spills his load, shooting thick ropes of warm cum along the soft curve of your spine.

You rest your cheek on your folded arms, biting back a small sigh.

He’s left behind an ache—you feel painfully empty.

But it was Tess, who had been given the task of helping you track your menstrual cycle, that had given him the warning earlier that morning. “She’s ovulating. Don’t be a fucking idiot, Joel. Last thing we need is for her to—”

“Relax,” he’d gruffed in response. “I fuckin’ know.”

Spent, Joel hunches over you once more and he lightly kisses the top of your head before burying his nose into your hair. “Good girl,” he murmurs. Affection that once was unwelcome and unwanted, that once made you feel sick to your fucking stomach, now makes you feel something else entirely. You’re not quite sure what it is, only that it’s warm. Comforting. “Y’did so well for me, sweetheart. Always do.”

Your lips curl into a faint, tired smile he doesn’t see.

A while later, you find yourself perched on the bed with the sheet wrapped around you, quietly watching as he gets dressed. “Daddy?” you say tentatively as he drops into a nearby chair to pull on his boots.

“What is it, baby girl?”

“Do you—do you think we can go to the creek today?”

Joel finishes lacing his boots and looks up at you.

“I’d really like to wash up,” you admit, softly. That, and you would like to see the light of day. He’d boarded up the windows with slabs of wood—sometimes, if you’re lucky, you get some decent light seeping through the teeny gaps.

“Not today, honey. I’ve got some things to take care of. Supplies are low, we gotta do a run. Don’t have the time to take you.” He stands and picks up his rifle, slinging the strap of it over his shoulder. Noticing the crestfallen expression on your face, Joel’s eyes soften. He walks over and gingerly cups the side of your face in his palm. His thumb strokes your cheek. “Promise I’ll take you to the creek tomorrow, sweetheart. First thing. Alright?”

Nodding, your eyes fall to your hands in your lap.

“Okay.”

Joel kisses your forehead, then leaves the room.

He makes sure to lock the door from the outside, and you can’t help but wonder if he knows locking you in is no longer necessary.

“I can take her.”

Joel’s dark eyes remain focused on the state map laid out on the table in front of him. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about, Tess?” He sees her in his periphery, but is too busy figuring out the group’s best route to look her way.

“I heard her asking you to take her to the creek so she can bathe,” she tells him. “I can take her.”

Finally, his head snaps up and he turns to her. “What?”

Tess leans her hip against the table, crossing her arms over her chest. “You and Tommy can take the group, go and take care of what you have to take care of. I’ll stay behind and take her down to the creek,” she suggests casually, as if she’s not asking him to trust her with his most prized possession—the only damn thing on what was left of this fucking earth Joel Miller actually gives a shit about. “Once she’s washed up, I’ll bring her back to the cabin and put her back into the room. Easy.”

Joel stares at her, bewildered. “What makes you think I’d fuckin’ allow somethin’ like that?”

“Oh, come on.” She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Anytime I bitch about having to do something for that girl, you’re on my fucking case about it, and now that I’m offering to do something for her, you don’t wanna let me?”

He shakes his head and lowers his voice. “You’re talkin’ about takin’ her outside, Tess. Without me.”

“The creek’s just a mile away,” Tess reminds him. “I’m pretty sure I can handle getting her there and back with no trouble, Joel.” When he says nothing, she cocks her head to the side and scoffs. “What? You don’t trust me enough to take her under my wing for a couple hours?”

Joel’s lips pull into a tight line.

Of course he does. Tess was his right hand woman, his second in command.

He trusted her more than his own fucking brother. She had never given him any reason not to, had never given him a reason to doubt her loyalty to him. No, his lack of trust has nothing to do with Tess—but everything to do with you. He doesn’t trust you. He will never trust you.

“What if she tries to—?” He can’t even say it.

“Tries to what?” She pauses. “Run?”

His throat goes dry and he gives her a subtle nod.

Joel Miller was a bad man who did bad things, but you were his good. You’ve brought back some meaning into this wretched life of his, gave him something that felt a lot like a sense of purpose. You were something for him to take care of, to keep safe and protect.

Tess raises an eyebrow at him. “You think I’d even give her the chance? Besides, the girl’s not that stupid, Joel. She knows better than to try anything. She knows she wouldn’t get very fucking far.”

“Tess—”

“I’m just trying to do something nice for her. Besides, I think it might do her some good to be in the company of someone else for once—the company of a woman.”

Joel peers at her, taking a minute to think it over in his mind before asking, “You’ll have her back in the room before I get back to the cabin?”

“Long before then,” she swears. “All in one piece.”

He hesitates. He’s still not sure.

It’s then that he remembers that disappointed look on your sweet, pretty little face. “Alright,” he relents with a deep sigh. “I trust you, Tess.”

It always feels a bit strange to be outside.

But being outside without Joel?

It feels even stranger.

When he’d walked back into the room and told you Tess was willing to take you to the creek, the news had taken you by complete surprise. When he said he was willing to let her take you, that you almost couldn’t believe. It hadn’t even sunk in until the three of you stood outside the cabin and he was kissing your forehead sweetly in a temporary goodbye before turning to Tess.

“Never take your eyes off her,” he’d instructed her.

“She’ll behave.” She had smiled at you as she pulled her pistol from the waistband of her jeans, the gleam of the silver barrel catching your eye. “Isn’t that right?”

Swallowing dryly, you had answered with a strained, “Of course.”

She’s the last fucking person you wanted to cross. She was almost as terrifying as Joel, if not more.

“Tess? W-Where are we going?” you ask as you trudge along behind her, hoping you don’t sound as winded as you feel. Although you had no way to keep track of the time, it felt like you’d been trekking for at least an hour. Your feet are starting to hurt in your shoes—old, worn, yellow canvas sneakers that certainly weren’t made for hiking. “I don’t remember the creek being this far from the cabin.”

Tess snorts. “Don’t tell me you’re tired already.”

“It’s just—we’ve been walking for a really long time.”

She glances over her shoulder at you. “Here I thought you would be a little fucking grateful to be out getting some fresh air,” she chuckles, shaking her head before turning her attention back to the path ahead.

“I am,” you squeak, stumbling over a fallen branch.

Silence falls over the both of you.

“We’re not going to the creek,” Tess finally speaks after a minute. “I’m taking you somewhere else. Somewhere even better. Just trust me, kid. Now hurry up.”

It takes another hour before you reach your destination, and you hear it before you can even see it, a humming sound that turns into buzzing the closer you get. Then, you feel it, a vibration in the rocks beneath your feet. “Is that a—?” Stepping around her, your mouth falls open in absolute awe at the sight before you.

The waterfall is nestled right in between the trees and surges over the rocky mountain, throwing up bubbles of spray as it plunges into the lake at the bottom, and from there, it foams into a thick, white lather at the base. On the bank, where you stand, you spot different types of vegetation you couldn’t identify even if you tried—all you know is that it’s green, and it’s beautiful.

“This is incredible,” you gasp.

“Way better than some little creek, huh?” Tess tucks her pistol into the waistband of her jeans and shrugs off her pack. She digs around in the front pocket and pulls out something wrapped in a piece of crumpled brown tissue paper. She hands it to you. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“Well, if you’d fucking open it, you would know,” Tess rolls her eyes. “It’s my last piece of soap. It’s all yours.”

Her kind generosity comes as a surprise—usually, Tess wanted nothing to do with you. But you don’t question it, and you certainly don’t turn the rare luxury down.

“Thanks,” you say, shooting her a grateful look.

Tess nods towards the body of water. “Alright, then. Go on and get to it.”

You take the piece of soap out the tissue. The scent of lavender is faint, but still very much there. Joel will like the smell of it on your skin tonight, you think.

As you start to pull the strap of your cotton blue dress down your shoulder, you feel her gaze fixed intently on you. Heat rushes to your cheeks. “Uh, aren’t you going to turn around?”

“For fuck’s sake,” she scoffs. “I’ve got what you’ve got. Now hurry up, we don’t have all fucking day.”

Nodding, you peel off your dress and underwear, your face on fire as the older woman’s eyes slowly drag over your naked body. Carefully, you step off the bank and wade into the water. It’s so clear that you can count the pebbles underneath your feet.

Leaning against a nearby tree, Tess calls out, “You have ten minutes! And stay out of the waterfall! Last thing I need is for you to fucking drown.”

As she lights a cigarette, you can’t help but stare at her. Her features, though worn down after the hell she had been through trying to survive the post outbreak world, are beautiful. Big, dark green eyes, a perfect nose, and full, pouty lips. There’s never been a doubt in your mind that she and Joel have been involved with one another, and lately, the mere thought of anything between them made you uncomfortable.

It’s an odd sensation deep in your gut—jealousy?

But what were you jealous of? Her having had him first?

It shouldn’t matter to you, but it does. Insecurities you have never in your life felt before seep into your bones.

“Anyone ever tell you it’s fucking rude to stare?” Tess quips, raising an eyebrow at you. She shoves her lighter into the back pocket of her jeans.

Nervously, you sink lower into the water, nibbling the inside of your cheek. “Tess? Can I ask you something?”

“What could you possibly fucking want to ask me?”

You hesitate.

“How—how long have you known each other?”

“Who?” Tess plucks the cigarette from between her lips and flicks the ashes. “Me and Joel?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

She shrugs. “Don’t know. Six, seven years?”

“How did you two meet?”

“Long story that’s none of your fucking business.”

You ask your next question before you lose your nerve. “Have you two ever—?” Unsure of how to phrase it, you stop and clamp your mouth shut in instant regret.

“Have we ever what?” Tess studies your face, and she quickly realizes what you’re trying to ask her. “You’re seriously asking me if me and Joel have ever fucked?”

Biting your bottom lip, you glance down into the water at your feet. You honestly don’t expect her to answer, so when she does, you look back up at her in surprise.

“Yeah.” She takes a long drag from her cigarette, then adds, “Few times.”

Something unpleasant claws at your insides. “You two were together? Like a couple?”

“Something like that,” Tess mutters, flicking her ashes once more.

“What happened?”

She looks at you, pausing before answering, “You.”

Oh.

Before you can utter another word, Tess snaps, “Quit asking so many goddamn fucking questions and finish up washing. You’ve got eight minutes left.”

Not wanting to push your luck further than you already have, you do as she tells you in complete silence.

You lather up the soap in your hands, washing your hair first, and then your face and body, using your hands to scrub yourself as best as you can. Between the calming scent of the soap, the soothing sound of the waterfall, and the warm afternoon sun, you find yourself relaxing. You try to clear your mind, live in this peaceful moment which you very well may never get again, but your mind begins to wander.

And it wanders straight to Joel.

Closing your eyes, you can’t help but picture him here, standing behind you in the lake. You can almost feel his hands on you, long, thick fingers lathered with lavender soap, sliding down your body. His lips at your neck, he cups your breasts in his hands, rolling his thumbs over your hardened nipples until your head lulls, falling back onto his shoulder. Joel drags his hands further down, over your stomach, going lower and lower towards the place where you need them the most. “Yeah, baby?” he murmurs into your neck, dipping one of them between your legs until you are, quite literally, in the palm of his hand. “This where y’need me?”

Breathless, you respond, “It’s where I want you.”

Suddenly, your eyes snap open.

There is a wetness between your thighs, one that has nothing to do with the fact that you’re standing waist-deep in the middle of a lake. You shake those thoughts away and finish washing yourself.

“Time’s up,” Tess calls. She meets you on the bank with a dry rag. “Here.”

The rag doesn’t exactly cover much surface area, but you dry yourself off as best you can before tugging on your underwear and slipping on your dress. Just as you crouch down to slip your shoes on, she tosses her pack and it lands in front of you with a soft thud.

Confused, you glance up at her.

“There’s about a week’s worth of jerky in there. Longer, if you know how to ration,” Tess explains, calmly. “And a canteen for water. I also packed you a flashlight and a pocket knife. It’s not much, but—”

Frowning, you rise to your feet. “What are you talking about, Tess? What’s going on? Why are you giving me your pack?”

“Because I’m giving you a chance, kid.”

A feeling of dread pools in the pit of your stomach.

“A chance to what?”

“Run.”

Your heart stutters a beat. “Run?”

“He’ll come looking for you. You need to get as far away from here as possible. Run away, as far as you can, and don’t fucking look back.”

All you can do is stare at her in shocked silence.

“I can help you get a head start,” Tess offers, quietly. “I can show you which direction to go in and put you on a path leading to the closest state highway—”

“But what if I don’t want to run?”

Tess places her hands on her hips, and she exhales an incredulous laugh. “Jesus,” she breathes, shaking her head in pity. “He’s really got you fucking brainwashed, doesn’t he?”

You glare at her. “I am not brainwashed, Tess.”

“You’ve gotta be if you’re telling me you wanna go back to him.”

“Tess—”

She cuts you off. “He gave the order to raid your camp and kill your people,” she reminds you. “He fucking slit your father’s throat right in front of you, then took you as his prisoner. He made you his fucking sex slave.”

“He takes care of me! He feeds me, makes sure I have a bed to sleep in no matter where we are. He keeps me safe. He—he cares about me.” You will your voice not to tremble as you stand your ground. “No. I’m not running away, Tess. I want to go back.”

Tess sighs. “You’re really not gonna make this easy, are you?”

“Take me back,” you all but demand, your hands curled into the least menacing little fists she had ever seen in her life at your sides. “Take me back to the cabin—take me back to him, Tess. I mean it.”

Amused, she huffs through her nose. “Or else what?”

“You can’t make me run away, Tess.” As you take a step towards her, she reaches behind her and swiftly whips out her pistol from the waistband of her jeans. You halt, freezing in fear when she aims the barrel of the gun at your chest.

“Actually, I can,” she says, her finger hovering over the trigger. “So here’s how this is gonna go. I’m gonna walk away now. And if you even think about following me, or trying to find your way back to the group, you will die.” She tosses you a tiny, wry smile. “Believe it or not, I’m doing you a real big favor, kid. Problem is, he’s got you so fucked in the head that you can’t see it.”

“Tess, please,” you plead. “Don’t do this to me!”

She begins to back away. “Remember when you’d say that to him? How you’d beg him not to do those things to you every night? Beg him to let you go?”

“Please, just take me back to him!”

You start to follow her.

“You take one more fucking step and I’ll shoot you,” she threatens, her eyes darkening. “Don’t think I won’t.”

Tess keeps her pistol pointed at you until she slips into the trees and disappears, abandoning you in the middle of the forest.

He’s furious. Livid.

Joel paces back and forth on the porch.

“Where the fuck are they?”

The old, rotting wood that wraps all the way around the cabin creaks, and certain softer spots bend and buckle, threatening to give way beneath his heavy boots. Joel’s younger brother leans against the railing, which is just as fragile, an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

“Christ, Joel. Can you fuckin’ relax?” Tommy grumbles, fishing around in his back pocket for his lighter. “You’re gonna bring the whole damn cabin down if ya don’t cut that shit out.” He sparks a flame and lights the filtered end of the cigarette. He takes a long drag, and exhales the smoke through his nose. “You’re gettin’ worked up over nothin’, brother.”

“S’almost sundown, and they’re still not fuckin’ back.” Joel shakes his head. “Fuckin’ knew I shouldn’t have let Tess take her. Somethin’ happened, Tommy. I just know it.” He lifts his shirt and reaches for his pistol, pulling it from the waistband of his jeans. “M’gonna head to the creek myself to find ‘em. Ain’t gonna sit around on my goddamn hands and wait for it to get fuckin’ dark.”

“She’s with Tess. M’sure the girl’s fine—” Tommy stops, his eyes widening slightly. “Well, hell.”

“What?”

Tommy jerks his chin over Joel’s shoulder before taking another slow, casual drag of his cigarette. He savors the last few seconds of peace before shit inevitably hits the fan and his brother unleashes his wrath on anything, or anyone, in his path.

Joel whips around and his stomach sinks, his blood ice in his veins when he sees Tess approaching the cabin. Alone.

Both his mind and body go numb. It’s a jarring shock to his nervous system, and it takes him a minute or two to fully process the fact that you’re not with her.

“Joel,” Tess says his name carefully as he descends the porch steps and walks towards her. “I need you to take a breath, alright?”

“Where—where is she?” His voice breaks, his weakness momentarily slipping through the cracks.

Not that Tess didn’t already know you were Joel Miller’s weakness, his soft white underbelly, the only vulnerable part of his hardened self that could be penetrated—you would have been his downfall. As much as she’d like to say she did what she did solely for your own good, she also did it for his, and for the sake of the group as a whole.

It needed to be done.

He stands in front of her, a ticking time bomb about to go off.

Prepared to face whatever consequences of the choice she had made, Tess tucks her gun away and sighs. “You need to take a breath—”

Joel snatches her arm, his fingers digging into the flesh above her elbow. His emotions hit him all at once.

Fear, worry, anger. It’s the third that takes precedence, and before Tess can utter another word, Joel yanks her forward. She crashes against his chest so hard that it knocks the wind out of her. “Where the fuck is she?” He leans down, his nostrils flaring as he brings their faces the closest they have been in almost a year.

“Joel, take a fucking breath—”

“Where. Is. She.” His grip on her arm tightens with each word he bites out through his teeth. He’s vaguely aware the others have piled out of the cabin, gathering on the porch to watch the altercation.

“She ran,” Tess explains, calmly. She doesn’t falter, not even as his fingers sink deeper into her skin, promising her painful bruises which will take days to fade away. If he decided to let her live. “She ran away, Joel. I turned my back for one fucking second and she was gone. She even took my fucking pack. I tried going after her, but it was no use. She was too fast.”

Behind him, Tommy snorts. “She outran you?”

Her eyes momentarily flicker to him. “Her knees are a lot younger than mine,” she replies, flatly.

“Which direction did she go in?” Joel demands. When Tess doesn’t immediately respond, he shouts, “Which fucking direction!”

Tess manages to snatch her arm out of his grasp. She glowers at him, hissing, “What the hell does it matter which direction she went? You won’t fucking find her.”

His eyes meet hers, and he sees it. Feels it.

She’s lying to him.

“Tess.” Joel’s voice drops dangerously low. He studies her face, his brows creasing with suspicion. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do shit, Joel. She fucking ran away.”

Without warning, Joel takes her by her throat. His other hand brings his pistol to her head, shoving the barrel of it against her temple. His nose touches hers. “Now, tell me why I have the feelin’ you’re not tellin’ me the whole truth?”

Tess lifts her chin. She searches his eyes, a sharp ache shooting through her. After everything, all the hell they had been through together—he would end her life, put a bullet in her because of you? Did she mean that little to him?

Or maybe she’d never meant anything to him at all?

She’s not sure which stings more.

“Because you’ve fucking deluded yourself into thinking that she willingly wants anything to do with you,” Tess finally answers. “That’s why.”

He ignores the burn of her scorching words.

“Where the fuck is she, Tess?”

“If she’s smart, she’s far away from here by now,” she hisses. “I did everyone a fucking favor, Joel. That girl is just another fucking mouth to feed. And what if you get her pregnant? That’ll be another one. Not to mention, a crying baby could draw unwanted attention and get us all killed. Ever thought about that? She’s not an asset to the group, she’s a fucking liability. Besides, I think I can speak for everyone when I say we’re all fucking tired of hearing you ra—”

Joel digs the barrel harder into her temple, his finger hovering over the trigger. “Listen to me. You’ve got ten seconds to tell me where she is, y’understand me?”

“Or what? You’ll blow my brains out?” Foolishly, Tess chooses to call his bluff despite not knowing for certain whether or not he’ll actually pull the trigger. “Go ahead, then. Kill me, Joel.”

His finger twitches over the trigger, but he doesn’t pull it. He can’t fucking pull it. Not on her. Not on Tess.

Still in his hands, she sags slightly in relief.

Swallowing harshly, Joel Miller lowers his gun and does something she’s never seen him do before. He begs.

“Tess, tell me where she is,” he whispers. His pleading is subtle, and only she can hear it. “Please—just fuckin’ tell me where my girl is.”

Tess stands her ground and says nothing.

Releasing her, Joel shoves her aside and with nothing but his gun in his hand, he sets off to find you.

“Ow, fuck!”

You gasp, quickly lifting your bare foot off the ground.

You’d stepped on something sharp—a stick, or maybe a rock?

In a desperate attempt to try and keep up with Tess’ tracks, you had stupidly left behind your shoes back at the waterfall. But the mere seconds you had spared by not stopping to put your shoes on hadn’t given you the advantage you thought it would. She had moved much too fast, and within minutes, you’d become helplessly, hopelessly lost. Every tree and every bush, they all look exactly the same, and for all you know, you’ve probably been going around in fucking circles for the past couple of hours in your search for her footprints in the dirt.

Sagging against the trunk of a nearby tree, you take a minute to try and catch your breath, to give your poor little feet a break from hiking over fallen branches and jagged stones.

Your head falls back, eyes gazing through the canopy of trees. Dusk has settled in, and nightfall is on its heels. It was foolish of you to leave behind your shoes, but even more so to leave behind the pack she had given you—in the pack were all the things meant to help you survive. Knife, flashlight, food.

Sure, you can survive a night out here in the wilderness without any of those things—but then what? Come dawn, what do you do? Where do you go? Do you just stumble around in the woods and hope for the best? Pray you’ll make it onto a highway with signs that will point you to a quarantine zone?

Hell, maybe you’re overestimating yourself. Maybe you wouldn’t survive long enough to worry about your next move. Howls in the distance remind you there’s wildlife out here, dangerous predators that come out after dark in search of their next meal. Or what about infected? It wasn’t unheard of for them to veer off the highway and lose themselves in the trees.

You recall your first few weeks in Joel Miller’s hands.

Escaping them was all you could ever think about, even though the chances of you surviving alone were slim to none, just like they are now. Never having been on your own, death would have been inevitable—but back then, in your darkest moments in captivity, you wished for it. You’d welcomed the idea of starving, freezing, or being torn apart limb from limb by an entire hoard of clickers. At least then, you’d die with your freedom.

Almost a year later, that wish has been granted.

You’re free.

You may very well die, but you would die free.

Closing your eyes, you think about Joel. His arms, that once held you down—held you still—as he did all those things to you without your consent, are arms your heart yearns to have wrapped around you, holding you close.

“Jesus,” you grit, a tear rolling down your cheek.

Maybe Tess had been right. Maybe he really does have you fucked in the head.

Joel was a monster. He had taken everything from you, including your innocence. He’d defiled you in ways you hadn’t known were possible. He was a terrible, terrible man.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you fed.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you warm.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you safe.

Another tear slides down the side of your face. What is fucking wrong with you?

You don’t know. But what you do know is, the thought of never seeing Joel again is somehow more terrifying to you than the thought of dying even the most brutal of deaths.

A loud rustling sound brings your train of thought to an immediate, sudden halt, and your eyes wrench open.

It’s darker now, but you manage to catch a movement in the shrubs, only mere feet in front of you. Panic flares in your chest, it rattles you to your very core, and even though every nerve in your body is urging you to move, you freeze, your back flush against the tree trunk. Your fingernails dig painfully into the bark as you watch the shrubs part down the middle, and a tall, hulking figure emerges with a heavy grunt.

At first, you think it’s just a figment of your imagination showing you what you wanted to see—a hallucination. Blinking furiously, you lightly shake your head, and then take another look at him. Your breath hitches when you realize it’s Joel.

He stares at you in the same manner, as if he’s trying to figure out if you’re real, or if his mind is playing a cruel, cruel trick on him. Feet cemented to the forest floor, he watches you take a small, tentative step towards him.

Once adamant that you’d never look him in the eye, you find your gaze locking directly with his as you carefully take another step closer. Then another, and another.

“Joel?” It’s the first time you’ve ever uttered his name.

He seems as taken aback hearing it as you are saying it.

“Joel.” It rolls off your tongue smoother, and with more ease the second time around.

It sparks a flame somewhere deep, deep inside of him, a fire that burns differently than those ignited by carnal desires.

No, this is something else entirely, and you feel it too.

“Baby?” he whispers hoarsely. “S’that really you?”

“Joel!” you cry, hurling yourself into his arms.

Joel’s gun falls from his hand and he curls them around you. Burying his nose into your hair, he inhales deeply. The scent of you, the feel of you—you’re fucking real.

Shuddering with sobs of relief, your arms wrap around his waist, and you cling to him as if you’re clinging onto dear, precious life itself.

“Hush now, s’alright,” Joel soothes, cradling the back of your head in one hand, while the rubs soft, calming circles into your back. “I’ve got you, honey. M’here.”

“I swear I didn’t want to run away,” you explain through your tears. “I begged her to take me back to you, Joel, I really did! But she left me out here—she said she would shoot me if I tried following her back. Please, you have to believe me, you just have to believe me!”

He squeezes you harder against his chest. “I do, baby. I do believe you,” he assures you. Pulling away, he takes a step backward and takes your face between his palms, peering at you in concern. “Y’hurt, sweetheart?”

“No,” you hiccup, curling your hands around his wrists. Your lower lip trembles. “I—I thought I’d never see you again. I was scared I wouldn’t,” you admit, softly.

Joel’s thumb wipes away a fresh tear. “M’here now,” he murmurs. “You’re with me, baby. You’re safe, alright?” As a late evening breeze passes through, he lets you go and shrugs out of his brown jacket. He goes to drape it around your shoulders, but you snatch it right out of his hands, then toss it aside.

Something in you snaps. You take fistfuls of his flannel, pulling him down towards you to do yet something else that takes you both by surprise—you initiate a kiss. You lean forward and press your lips to his, a little swipe of your tongue across his bottom lip as you clutch tighter at his shirt, holding him in place. Groaning, Joel opens his mouth more, his tongue brushing yours.

Liquid heat pools in your belly, and before you realize it, you’ve grown frantic, kissing him with fervor. Releasing his shirt, you slide your hands down his chest, over his stomach, lower and lower until you find his belt buckle. Desperate, you clumsily fumble with it, and that’s when Joel tears away from you, his breath hitching.

You’re begging before he can even say a word. “Please. I need you—I want you. Right now.”

You cup him through his jeans, and he exhales sharply.

“Fuck.” Without giving it a second thought, his hands reach for the straps of your dress, pushing them off of your shoulders. He roughly tugs at the material, letting it slip down your body until it falls around your feet. In a tangle of limbs and tongues, you both sink to the forest floor. Your hands brush his buckle, and he catches your wrists. “Not yet, baby girl. M’still in charge, alright?”

Sheepishly, you nod.

“Say it.” His command is firm, but somehow still gentle.

“You’re—you’re in charge.”

“Good girl.” Joel guides you onto your back. He’s over you in a second, swelling your lips with a hard, hungry kiss that leaves you dizzy and breathless. He moves his mouth, teeth scraping over your cheek and jaw, down to your neck where he nips at the tender, delicate flesh over your pulse point. Then, he bites his way over your collarbone and to your shoulder. “Bet she’s already wet for me,” he mumbles into your skin. “Ain’t she, baby?”

Pushing himself back onto his knees, he slides a finger over your clothed cunt, eliciting a small gasp from you. Hooking his fingers under the elastic waistband of your cotton underwear, he yanks the fabric down your legs. It catches on your foot, your wetness smearing against the inside of your ankle.

You’re drenched.

“C’mere,” Joel grunts, sliding his hands under your ass and pulling your hips over his thighs. He leans over you once more, your bare, throbbing cunt rubbing against the crotch of his jeans. He tuts lightly into your neck as you buck against him. “Such a fuckin’ needy little girl.”

Desperate, you try rolling your hips into his. “Joel.”

“Kinda like it when y’say my name.” He starts making his way down the length of your body. “Think I’ll like it even better when you’re screamin’ it. Won’t I, baby?”

Your stomach tightens as he nibbles his way down your neck again, teeth scraping over your clavicle and down your chest to your heaving tits. Taking one in his hand, the other goes into his mouth—his tongue is scorching hot over your nipple. He licks the pebbled flesh, sucks it and bites it while he rolls the other peak in between his thumb and index finger. “Oh fuck,” you gasp.

Releasing your breast with a wet pop, Joel sinks further down your body. He plants hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your tummy, leaving behind a trail of fire in their wake. He stops over your mound and hovers for a fraction of a second before pressing his nose into the silky soft curls there. Inhaling deeply, Joel picks up the subtle, herbal scent of the lavender soap you had washed yourself with. “Fuck, y’smell so fuckin’ good.”

He pushes your thighs open, pinning one to the ground with his hand while the other goes over his shoulder. Your foot slides down his back, toes curling despite the fact that he hasn’t even reached the spot where you’re aching to have him most. Heart thundering, your blood rushes, roaring in your ears.

Joel turns his head, his lips brushing your inner thigh in another kiss. “S’this where y’want me, honey?” he asks you. Goosebumps erupt over every inch of your skin as he draws closer, his breath like steam on your core. He glances up at you, his cock twitching against his zipper at the sight of you laying naked before him on the floor of the forest. Willing. Wanting. “Hm? Right here?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please, Joel.”

Thankfully, you only have to ask him once, and then his face is buried between your legs, and he is giving you what you want.

“Fuck!” you cry out. Back arching, your head tilts back until the crown of it meets the ground, leaves and twigs finding their way into your clean hair.

Joel’s tongue flattens over your cunt in a broad stroke, then dips between your folds, collecting your slick with a harsh groan, one that sends a bone-rattling vibration throughout your entire body, from head to curled toes. His mouth opens wider—a starving, greedy man trying to eat you whole. Sliding his tongue over your clit, Joel seals his lips around it, sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves until it swells in his mouth.

High-pitched little cries and whines spill from your lips. Your hands shoot down, fingers tangling themselves in his dark, graying curls, eliciting a grunt from him when you tug at his roots. “Joel, fuck,” you choke, your nails scraping against his scalp. He slurps and swallows your wetness, the sounds drowning out those of the night—the chirping of crickets, the croaking of frogs, the soft hooting of owls are washed away until all you can hear is him devouring your pussy.

Your body starts to tremble, and you know you’re close. Joel does, too. He feels your thighs twitch, threatening to close around his head, but he wrenches them further apart with a muffled but firm, “No.” He drapes his arm over your pelvis, his large hand splayed on your belly.

Relentless, he sucks your clit, gliding his tongue over it, again and again until the muscles in your lower tummy tighten and you burst at the seams, unraveling into his mouth. Warm slick gushes out of you, a sweet mess he licks clean. You choke back sobs of pleasure, your body tensing, vision blurring with every stroke of his tongue, each scrape of his teeth over your clit.

Joel lifts himself onto his knees with a grunt and gazes down at you—his good girl, sweet and pliant and ready to be fucked full of his cock. His hands slide his belt out of its brass buckle, eyes still trained on you as he pops the button of his jeans and yanks down his zipper.

Your mind is fuzzy, still syrupy and dripping—it doesn’t fully register what he’s doing, not until he climbs back over you and you his hard cock brushes your thigh, hot velvet that sears the inside of your leg. Precum smears your flesh.

“Y’feel that? Feel what you fuckin’ do to me?”

“Joel.” Hands shaking, you reach for the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more of his skin on yours. You whine when he catches both of your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. “Your clothes—”

“Stay on.” Ducking his head, he nips at your pulse point and mumbles, “Tell me what y’want, pretty girl.”

Joel shifts over you, his cock now resting on your lower belly, thick and heavy and leaking.

You squirm under him, hips coming off the ground, that hollow thing inside of you begging to be filled.

“Use your words, sweetheart. Tell me what y’want.”

“You, Joel—I want you. Please, please, please—”

He hushes you.

“I’ve you, baby. I’ve got you,” Joel promises. He wraps his other hand around himself, dragging the head of his cock along the seam of your puffy folds, up and down—he elicits a ragged little gasp from you when he grazes your clit and his fingers tighten around your wrists. He coats himself in your slippery slick until he’s glistening with it, and then he gives a slow roll of his hips, working himself into you.

Your mouth falls open. No words come out, no pleas for more—only jerky breaths, pathetic little pants for air as you take it.

Joel’s cock throbs, pulses like a heartbeat as your cunt welcomes him home. He presses his forehead to yours. “She’s always so fuckin’ sweet to me.” His voice is low, rough gravel. His eyes meet yours in the dark blue glow of the forest, and he savors the last moments of seeing your pretty face before the last traces of dusk are gone. Brushing his lips to the corner of your mouth, he feeds you his cock inch by inch, murmuring, “That’s it, honey. Good fuckin’ girl.”

You melt around him at his praise.

Releasing your wrists, he moves his hand, placing it on the crown of your head. “Ain’t ever lettin’ you out of my sight again,” he swears. “Alright? Never gonna be apart from me again, baby girl. Never. Y’understand me?” He curls his other hand firmly around your jaw, his fingers sticky with you and him. “Do you understand me?”

“Never,” you repeat, softly.

Joel kisses you, deep and slow, almost sweet. Tender. He breaks away, his lips hovering right over yours as he pushes his hips forward, bottoming out inside you.

Moaning, your hands grasp at his shoulders. Your legs widen further to accommodate the breadth of his hips.

“There y’go.” Joel presses deep within, until your belly feels hot and full. “That’s it, baby. Good girl,” he coos, drawing his hips back, then rolling them right back into you. He takes one of your ankles and tosses it over his shoulder, giving himself a better angle to fuck into you.

A loud cry tears from the back of your throat. “Joel!”

He grins in the darkness. He knew he’d like hearing you scream his name.

Joel’s hand settles on your leg that’s over his shoulder, your thigh already shaking. “Y’gonna be a real good girl n’ give me another one?”

You try to answer him, you really do, but your mind falls further and further away.

His fingertips sink into your thigh. He strokes in and out of you, never retreating more than inches at a time so he keeps you full. Stuffed. “Christ. Takin’ it so fuckin’ well,” he croons, moving your leg off of his shoulder so they are both wrapped around his waist. Hunching over you, he bears down hard, using most of his weight. He almost chuckles at the little oof that puffs out of you.

Rocks and twigs dig painfully into your back, but all you can do is feel him. How close he is.

You’re right there with him.

“Joel—fuck, I’m gonna co—”

You’re cut off by your own sharp gasp.

“That’s it. C’mon, honey.” Joel slips his hand between your thighs, his fingers firmly rubbing your clit. “C’mon, baby. Be a good girl and come on my cock—”

It rips through you like an electric current, a shockwave that has you clawing at the dirt. You come crying Joel’s name, crumbling into a whimpering, quivering mess.

Within seconds, he’s swept away by the same tide.

“Baby,” he groans, dropping his head into the hollow of your neck. He goes still and lets your tight cunt clench at him, gripping his cock as it throbs, pulses, empties into you. After a minute, he brushes a kiss to your neck before mumbling, “My sweet girl.”

Joel makes no move to pull out of you. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, your soiled fingers toy with the soft curls at the nape of his neck, shattered breaths slowing and piecing back together.

You gaze up through the trees at the night sky, feeling the safest you’ve ever been with the earth at your back and your whole world on top of you, his cock buried in your cunt.

Tess is right. Joel Miller really does have you fucked in the head.

You’re certain of it when you make the realization with a smile.

divider credit to @/saradika 🖤

for fic notifications please follow @joelsgreysupdates!

#why yes #i AM going to queue this to post when i am dead asleep #captive!joel #dark joel miller #dark! joel miller #tw dubcon #tw dubious consent #tw noncon #tw dark fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #fic: run

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igbylicious · 10 months ago

Text

knockout [woosan x reader]

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, boxer au, friends with benefits

summary: Wooyoung invites you over to play after San wins his latest match.

wc: 3.9k

warnings: boxer San, manager Wooyoung, threesome, consensual somnophilia (San is the one asleep), blow job, hand job, spit kink, face-sitting, cunnilingus, face-fucking, choking on cock, cumplay (eating and sharing), dirty talk, San has bruises, they use the pet names ‘baby’ and ‘good girl’ for you but no pronouns, reader wears a dress, established Woosan, San is whiny while he sleeps but gets cocky when awake, Wooyoung is a mischievous lil’ shit (affectionate) the whole way through

a/n: my first ateez fic! please consider a like/reblog if you like it (❁´◡`❁)

-☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧-

Your phone buzzes late at night, and you already know who it is before looking. You tear yourself away from the TV and check your messages, where you find a selfie from Wooyoung.

His hair is getting longer, pushed back with sunglasses resting on top of his head. (Even though it’s already dark out. Poser.) He wears a black-and-white shirt with a busy pattern and just one button too many undone, a heavy silver necklace around his neck. But all of that is just a sideshow to the main point of the selfie; Wooyoung is winking cheekily at the camera, holding up a big wad of cash. San won the match.

does this mean takeout is on you guys next time? you text him. After a brief pause you add, also congratulations i guess

(But the dismissive tone is just for show, riling each other up a natural part of your relationship with Wooyoung. You’re smiling as you press send, knowing how much a win means to him and San, how hard they work for it.)

Your phone buzzes again. you should come over

for takeout?

idk about takeout but there’s definitely a meal in it for you 😏😜😘🍆💦

You can’t decide whether to grin or roll your eyes at the message and its string of emojis at the end, but you do send Wooyoung an affirmative text back. Your face decides on a grin as you put your phone down, a spark of excitement coursing through you. Guess you’re going out tonight after all.

This thing between you and San and Wooyoung has been going on long enough that usually you don’t even bother dressing up for them anymore, but hey, it’s a special occasion, right? So you slip on some lacy panties and wiggle into a cute dress, and do a quick check in the mirror to make sure you’re looking at least halfway decent. (Not too much fuss. Wooyoung did text you in the middle of the night.)

Just before you go, your phone buzzes one last time; Wooyoung warns you to send a text once you get to the apartment, not ring the door. At first you do not give it too much thought; they do live in a crappy old place, might just be that the doorbell is broken.

But then the added photo loads, and you see San is conked out on the couch, sitting with spread legs and his head lolled back, mouth slightly hanging open. Apparently he hasn’t even changed clothes since the match, wearing a dirty white tank top and a smattering of bruises across his tanned skin. His dark hair is a mess, pretty lips set in a natural pout while he sleeps.

Immediately, a fresh buzz of excitement surges through you. There is a whole new layer of thrill to this invitation now.

After driving over, you send Wooyoung a text that you’ve arrived. He opens the door for you with a bright grin, and puts a quick finger to his lips to indicate you have to be quiet. His sunglasses have disappeared somewhere between making a selfie and your arrival, saving him a roasting from you. He gives your dress an appreciative once-over, and casually kisses your cheek as he lets you in, resting his hand on the small of your back. His good mood is incredibly obvious, fingers brushing against the top of your ass.

You slip off your shoes and step further into the apartment. The place is a bit messy as always, furnished with a combo of thrift-shop finds, stuff they won off bets, and random things donated by friends. (Even their old van is a hand-me-down, though you have no idea where they got it from.)

The result is a home that’s chaotic, but friendly. Shelves piled with keepsakes, stories attached to everything they own. And for all the messiness, at least they do keep it somewhat clean.

There is a desk in the corner, with a few neat piles of paper money on top. Clearly Wooyoung was in the middle of counting — and accounting, his books laying open with a pen next to them. Despite all his antics, Wooyoung is actually pretty responsible with money. He knows that he needs to be, never sure when they’ll get their next win. (You suspect they run a few less-than-legal stints on the side, but neither seems too keen on making that their main gig.)

And then there is San, sitting on their old couch. Still fast asleep.

“Look how tired,” Wooyoung murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. “He worked so hard today, I thought we should reward him. How about it, hm? Don’t you think he deserves a prize for taking home the victory?”

You lick your lips, a sharp craving growing in the pit of your stomach at the sight of San’s soft, sleeping face. As far as you are concerned, you are the one getting a prize here. It’s been a long time since you last had the chance to indulge in this particular kink; it can be tricky to coordinate when you don’t actually live in the same house.

And San makes such pretty noises when he’s asleep.

Wooyoung grins at the expression on your face. “Good girl,” he whispers indulgently, pressing one last kiss on your cheek before he playfully slaps your ass, pushing you towards the couch.

You glare back at him, even if the slap sent a crackle of pleasure through you. Just out of principle, to let Wooyoung know he can’t get away with everything. (He can absolutely get away with everything.)

But then you shift your focus to San, getting on your knees in front of him as quietly as possible. He usually is a deep sleeper but still, you are not about to risk waking him too early. You do take a moment to just look at him; to take in the way his broad chest moves with slow, even breaths.

The hard, battered muscles of his body are completely relaxed now, arms laying uselessly on the couch. There are marks on his knuckles, and it’s odd to think he was using those same fists to beat someone up, all for a cash prize, just a mere few hours ago. He looks so soft now. Not for the first time, you marvel at how handsome he is, the sharp cut of his jawline, pronounced cheekbones and pouty lips. So damn gorgeous, even with bruises marring his face, a particularly nasty one on the corner of his mouth. You want to kiss it, but you tuck that thought away for later.

San’s legs are already conveniently spread for you to shuffle close; could be a happy coincidence, could be that San was expecting this. Expecting you.

(This was a conversation you had long ago, where he’d given you a free pass to ‘wake’ him if an opportunity presented itself. It is entirely possible that he and Wooyoung discussed this before contacting you, and something about the idea of San falling asleep while thinking of your mouth on his dick makes you squirm in the best way.)

You press a hand against the front of his sweats, feeling the outline of his cock. You squeeze it with a light touch, give the impressive length a gentle stroke, and delight at the little “Hmm” that San sighs out.

Encouraged by the sound, you pull down the waistband of San’s sweats just enough so you can take his cock out, heavy in your hand. Still soft, though he gives a beautiful twitch when your thumb runs across a vein across the underside.

Your eyes glance up when Wooyoung sits down, just as carefully as you had been. He is slouched next to San with an arm slung across the back of the couch, fingers ghosting against San’s hair but never touching, while he raises his other hand to bite at his thumb. Uncharacteristically quiet, watching with rapt attention.

Heat pools between your thighs, you love being on display for him, teasing a sleeping San. You’re keenly aware of how your dress has ridden up, your ass sticking out, your neckline low enough for an ample view of your cleavage — though you’re sure it’s your hand that has Wooyoung’s full attention right now, wrapped around his lover’s slowly hardening dick.

You gather saliva in your mouth, then let it dribble down on your fingers and San’s cock. He moans, shifting slightly, lips parting a little wider as you take advantage of the easier slide of your palm. The sound goes right to your core; San’s moans are just a bit shallower when he is asleep, a bit more high-pitched. More needy.

More noises start to slip from his lips as you slowly stroke the length of his thick cock, thumb playing against his slit. Sometimes his hips shift to follow your movement, but he does not wake, his conscious mind unaware of your fist working him to full hardness.

San is getting beautifully flushed, a redness blooming across his cheeks and neck as he lets out a faint whimper, brow furrowed. It is always a fun game, to see how far you can take him before he wakes up — before you are treated to that toe-curling moment of aroused disorientation on San’s face, that split-second where he can’t quite figure out why he is so fucking horny until he sees you, nested between his thighs, and a sleepy yet cocky grin breaks out on his face.

But it’s not come so far yet; San is still under the hold of his tired slumber. His breath hitches as your fist twists around the head of his cock, almost like a little hiccup, precum mingling with your spit. You know you can’t hold off your impatience for much longer.

Wooyoung is still staring, though his eyes wander between San’s cock and the wiggle of your ass, his cheeky tongue dipping out to wet his lips. His gaze is heated, intense, and the slight asymmetry of his eyelids makes his stare only more attractive and striking, dotted by the little mole under his eye. He worries his bottom lip with his teeth as he watches, but grins when he catches you watching him in turn. He leans forward, elbow on his knees, and beckons for you to offer your hand.

You do so, and watch how Wooyoung decadently works his mouth and lets a thick globule of spit fall past his lips, onto your waiting palm. His grin widens when you moan weakly as his saliva mingles with yours, with San’s precum, and generously gives you more until your hand is messy and slick. Finally satisfied, Wooyoung leans back with a flirty wink.

You make good use of Wooyoung’s ‘contribution’, pumping San just a little faster now. His noises start to pick up, face contorted with unaware pleasure as a small trail of drool escapes the corner of his mouth. It won’t be long now before he wakes. Honestly, you are surprised it has lasted this long at all; San’s fight must have been particularly strenuous tonight.

Just when you contemplate whether it’s time to get your tongue involved, Wooyoung suddenly gets up from the couch.

You try not to get distracted by him moving around behind you, keeping your focus on San, but then you feel a little tap against your ass. You turn your head to see him lying on his back, head between your feet with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Lift your ass up, he mouths and gestures simultaneously.

You do exactly that, allowing Wooyoung to slide under you with his hands on your waist, his face right underneath the flimsy scrap of lace that covers your dripping core, barely worth the name ‘underwear’. “Seriously?” you whisper, though even just the sight of him, raised eyebrow and ready to eat you out, has more arousal leaking into your panties.

“Hey, San isn’t the only one who worked hard for this match,” Wooyoung whispers quietly, wetting his lips. “Don’t I deserve a reward, too?”

Well… If Wooyoung’s idea of a reward is to have you ride his face, then who are you to deny him? You really keep getting the better deal out of their hard-earned victory. Still, you roll your eyes at him, just to let him know how ridiculous you think he’s being, though the increasingly damp spot on your underwear tells Wooyoung all he needs to know.

He lets out a pleased, dark chuckle as you lower yourself down, his hands gripping tighter onto your waist as he positions you for the best angle. He does not even bother to pull the scrap of lace aside, happily eating you out through it.

San whines when your fingers squeeze around him, liquid oozing from the tip, his hips stuttering lightly before he settles back down. His cock is flushed dark, pulsing in your hand, but it is hard to focus on him right now. A lazy hand continues to stroke him while you struggle to focus on anything but Wooyoung’s muffled moans against your sopping heat.

You bite your lip to keep silent, hips moving on their own accord as Wooyoung’s nose presses against your clit, his mouth undeterred by the obstruction of lace as he makes a sloppy mess of your cunt, eagerly lapping away.

Wooyoung is rarely this quiet, but today he foregoes his usual dirty talk and running commentary to direct his full attention on reducing you to a mindless mess. He is a fiend with his mouth either way, thick swipes of his tongue and grazing teeth, mouth suckling at you through the now-ruined lace.

It takes all your self-control to stay on task, to not get distracted by the sound of a zipper, and soon after the wet noise of Wooyoung jerking himself off, still moaning against your leaking cunt. You shake yourself out of it, wrapping your lips around just the head of San’s cock, licking at the steady stream of precum while you use both hands to work his length. He twitches in your mouth, and for a moment you wonder if he’s going to cum without even waking up at all.

But then Wooyoung uses his nose to nudge your panties aside and sucks directly at your clit, and you moan loudly around San’s cock at the sudden stimuli.

San starts awake at the vibration, his hips reflexively jerking forward. You happily meet his thrust to gag on him, making San hiss a throttled curse. “F-fuck, what’s-ahhh—”

His hand flies to your hair, instinctively holding you in place. Your eyes tear up as he hits the back of your throat and stays there, but you can still glance upward to look at him — and he’s a fucking sight to behold. Bleary-eyed and disoriented, his mouth slack and panting hard for breath as he tries to get his bearings. Eyes landing on you, his cock twitching as understanding dawns. The moment is every bit as beautiful as you had imagined.

“Look who it is, Sannie,” Wooyoung grins when he notices San is awake, taking a break from tongue-fucking you. “Came over just to congratulate you. Ain’t that sweet?”

“Fuck,” San chokes out, his voice gravelly from sleep. He hisses sharply when you hollow your cheeks and give a light suck, drawing a low groan. Slowly, the sleep retreats from his eyes and is replaced by a dark alertness, though his face is still flushed, his body tired.

Lazily, he lets you continue doing what you do, only stroking your hair in encouragement as he releases you, letting you return to shallower bobs of your head. “Fuck, baby, just like that,” he groans, biting his lip. Once again, your attention is drawn to the bruise on the corner of his mouth, aching to be kissed — but your own mouth is preoccupied. Later, you promise yourself. There will be time for that later.

As expected, San’s moans are a little deeper now he is awake, slowly rocking his hips as he watches you take him further with every pass of your mouth. You wonder if he’s even aware of the difference in his sounds, or if that’s just a little secret for you and Wooyoung to know.

Speaking of Wooyoung — now that he doesn’t have to keep quiet for San, he gets talkative again. “Use me, baby,” he groans, his fingers digging into your ass. “Come on, ride me a little harder. Don’t be shy. Smear that wet pussy all over my face.”

You don’t need to be told twice, enthusiastically granting Wooyoung’s request. He moans happily as you fuck yourself on his tongue, any further words muffled between your thighs. You’d worry about whether Wooyoung can even breathe, except he has a death-grip on your hips and refuses to let you slow down. His nose repeatedly bumps into your clit, sending sparks through you every time, your moans reverberating around San.

San grunts at the feeling, voice husky and low. But as attractive as the sound is… some part of you wants to hear his whimper again. Just to see if you can make him do it.

Well. There are a few sure-fire ways you know to push San to the very limit and beyond — and one of them is immediately available to you.

He was already pushing deep inside your mouth, but you do your best to relax your throat and surge forward, your nose brushing his pelvis as you choke yourself on his cock, then pull back to do it again. And again. A lewd, wet gurgle filling the room every time, your throat constricting as you strain around his thick shaft, tears burning in your eyes.

San groans at your renewed efforts, a greed shining in his sharp eyes when he realises what you’re doing, what you are asking him to do. His fingers scrape your scalp as they embed tighter around the strands of hair. Recognising the unspoken invitation to fuck your mouth as hard as he wants.

“That’s it,” he growls, “you know how I like it. Choke on my cock, hm? I’ll stuff you until you can’t breathe.”

You can barely breathe already; it’s hard to pull in air through your nose like this, with San steadily rocking his hips forward. You go slack in his hold, just letting him use you to his liking, trying to curl your tongue around the underside of his cock in the way you know drives him up the wall.

Wooyoung makes a noise when you slump down on his face, and you try to catch yourself but he won’t have it, only sucking more eagerly onto your clit as he grabs onto your thighs to keep you in place. You moan loudly, and San curses in response, his breath getting pitchy.

It’s working, you realise. It’s not as much as when he is asleep, but slowly a whiny lilt creeps into San’s voice as he uses your throat, his face contorted with pained pleasure.

Your head starts to spin, the barrage of sensations threatening to overwhelm you. Slick sounds and deep moans, a heady scent of arousal permeating the air. San’s cock obstructing your breath, his little whines; Wooyoung’s tongue nimbly flicking against your clit, his hands squeezing at the soft meat of your thighs. You’re tilting, slowly but surely, right over the edge when Wooyoung sucks harshly, exactly when San whimpers.

It hits you like a freight train, the violent force of it enough to have you sobbing around San’s cock. You tremble and shake as electricity surges through you, only held up by San and Wooyoung’s hold on you.

Your garbled cries take San over the edge with you, though he still has enough restraint to pull back slightly, no longer nudging against your gag reflex. He shudders with a tight hiss, clumsy fingers catching in your hair as he spills hot seed inside your mouth.

You almost choke again; it’s messy, and there is a lot, leaving you to wonder if San has been abstaining before the match. Lately you certainly haven’t done more with them than casual texts or hangouts, but can make no assumptions about what he and Wooyoung get up to when you’re not around.

You try your best not to swallow it down — and not spill a single drop, either. At the latter, you don’t succeed entirely, a thin wet trail dribbling down your lips when San pulls out and slumps back onto the couch with a final, loud groan. But when Wooyoung gets out from underneath to sit next to you, and pushes a thumb on your bottom lip to show him, you can proudly stick out your tongue to him, sticky whiteness on display.

“Good girl,” Wooyoung purrs, fondly cupping your cheek. “Don’t even need me to tell you anymore, huh? So well-behaved for us.”

You moan contently at the praise, and again when Wooyoung eagerly puts his lips on you, sloppily lapping up San’s cum from your chin, your lips, until his tongue invades your mouth for a proper meal. You can taste yourself on him while Wooyoung tastes San, who is watching it all with a small, cocky grin, teeth flashing at you.

Wooyoung lets out a needy moan as he drinks deep, his tongue sliding against yours in a heady dance. He grabs for your hand, guiding you down to his still-hard cock, hot and weeping precum. Your fingers are still messy and slick, making it easy for you to jerk him off while he continues to hungrily kiss you, licking up every last drop he can reach.

It’s less of a challenge to make Wooyoung whimper, but the sound is no less exciting for it, his high-pitched moans like music to your ears. He cums messily in your hand, some spilling onto your dress. With a final bite to your bottom lip, he pulls away from your mouth, eyes heavy-lidded and looking thoroughly fucked out, lips swollen and shiny from the essences of both you and San. You grin at him, lifting your hand to suck his cum off your fingers.

Only then do you turn to San, who is indulging himself with slow strokes on his cock while he still watches you and Wooyoung intently.

“Congratulations on the match,” you say casually, cum-stained fingers lingering on your lips.

San’s grin returns to his face and he grabs your hand to pull you into his lap…where you finally get to kiss that bruise on the corner of his mouth. He winces as you press up to him, and you can hear Wooyoung grouse next to you.

“Be careful with him, alright? That’s my meal ticket you got there,” he complains, dusting himself off as he gets back on his feet.

But San wraps his arms around you, keeping you captive. “You don’t have to be that careful,” he murmurs against your mouth, his hands firmly planted on your ass as he grinds you against his crotch. The night is not over quite yet.

-☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧-

An indeterminate time and a thorough shower later, you are sitting snugly between San and Wooyoung on their shabby old couch. They graciously borrowed you some clothes, leaving you cosily wrapped in a pair of San’s sweats and one of Wooyoung’s oversized hoodies. In your hands you have freshly delivered takeout, enjoying a hot meal together with the guys.

Their treat, of course.

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k-hotchoisan · 9 months ago

Text

from the back

part two of 🔥to the side🔥

where Wooyoung finally gets to fuck you so good

Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs

Genre/Warnings: pervDILF!Wooyoung, smut, sexual tension, backshots, dirty talk, cream pies, orgasms, alcohol consumption, Wooyoung drinks but he keeps it within the limit because he’s driving y/n home (please do not drink and drive)

Needless to say, you were holding up pretty well, despite the countless times you squeezed your thighs when Wooyoung’s hands slid too close to your cunt. It was still driving you crazy from how full you felt. Your plate was half cleared, because half of the time the feeling of how full your cunt is with Wooyoung’s cum made you want to just spread your legs and let his cum leak all over out of your pussy and onto your thighs and chair. Maybe you’d beg Wooyoung for forgiveness for letting his cum spill out of your poor pussy, and let Wooyoung breed you so full, over and over again until he was satisfied.

Fuck. It was driving you nuts. Alcohol was served during the dinner, and even without it, you felt your face flush.

Your thighs are still tightly pressed against each other from the feeling of his cum just ready to pour out of you if you made any sudden movements. It doesn’t help that Wooyoung has his eyes on you—watching you like a hawk. He’s good at keep his face neutral and poker, almost perfectly nonchalant as he takes a sip of water. You stand up, feeling your thighs shake slightly. Screw this. You decide to go to the kitchen for a breather. It’s the only reasonable place to escape to for now. Not mention, it was big as fuck anyway, no one would know if you hid in the balcony for a breath of fresh air.

Wooyoung casts you a side glance, deeply and sickeningly satisfied that you’re squirming because of him. But in all honesty, he plays the facade very well, because he knows, given any moment if he were to be stuck with you alone, god knows what the fuck he would do to you.

And when you’re missing for a few long minutes it’s when he decides to take the gamble. Nonetheless he was quite concerned that you’ve been missing in the kitchen for a while. Even your friend noticed.

“Where’s y/n?” She asks, swirling the wine glass in her hand, casting glances around the table when she finally realises that you’re missing.

Her brother is about to stand but Wooyoung is quick. He cuts his nephew off, taking his niece’s words cue to go off and find you. “I’ll go get her”, Wooyoung says coolly.

He plasters a smile at his nephew as he gently pushes him down back to his seat. “Enjoy the dinner. Your plate still looks pretty full.”

You hear footsteps approaching behind and your back immediately straightens, well, barely because you’re still feeling all over the place right now. You expect it to be your friend, but when you turn and your eyes land on Wooyoung with his loose polo shirt, a hand in his trousers and the other holding his wine glass. The sight is just making your face heat up even more.

“Are you doing okay?” He asks, joining you at the kitchen balcony. You can’t meet his eyes. You think you’d just combust if you did.

“Barely”, you reply, biting back another moan when you feel his cum about to seep past your folds again. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Wooyoung.

Wooyoung is insanely horny but he isn’t stupid. At least, not yet, he thinks. He would gladly take you right here and then, but he knows he’d enjoy it even more if he had you confined within his walls instead of here. He’s also not in the mood to ruin a happy occasion and a family relationship. At least, not yet.

“A little longer, darling”, he says, almost in a whisper. “Good girls get rewards.”

“Stop teasing me”, you pout, giving him a light slap on his shoulder. Wooyoung only laughs.

You glance at the glass he has in his hands. “Aren’t you driving? You shouldn’t drink too much.”

Wooyoung lifts the glass in his hand higher and tilts his head. “It’s my first glass for the night, and I’m not planning to down another.” He takes a step dangerously close to you. “Wouldn’t want to miss my plans with you later too. We’ll leave when I squeeze your thigh.”

Red flushes on your cheeks again, and you break eye contact, only for Wooyoung to shift your glance right back at him with a single flick of his wrist on your jaw.

“Uncle, what are you doing?” The voice snaps the trance the both of you were in. Your eyes dart to the intruder, who stands with crossed arms, staring daggers at the both of you.

Wooyoung doesn’t falter. He shoots his nephew a glance and slowly releases his fingers from your jaw and smiles curtly at his nephew.

“Just making sure she doesn’t throw up”, he replies, knowing that your eyes are widened and glaring daggers at Wooyoung. He turns back to you, amused by your expression before he messed your hair with his hands. “Let’s go”, he gestures to the both of you. He doesn’t miss his nephew furrowing his eyebrows, so he plays it off by messing his hair up to, and your friend’s brother running off after his uncle, berating him about messing his hair that he took hours to style. You release an exhale. You’re in the clear, at least for now.

It’s not evident to the rest of the dinner table except you, that Wooyoung is getting irritated by the way your friend’s brother keeps trying to get your attention, and that only makes you friend satisfied, as she only eggs him on to openly flirt with you.

Throughout the dinner, Wooyoung keeps topping up the other male’s wine, and he observes the way his nephew progressively gets more tipsy, encouraging him to have more since he was back in the country.

Midway through the conversations, you feel a gentle squeeze on your thigh. You glance over at Wooyoung who’s laughing at something his brother is saying. His hand trails higher up your thigh.

“I think I’ll take my leave now”, you say, slowly standing up. “Thank you for the dinner.” You walk over to your friend who gives you a tight hug.

“How are you going home? By cab? I’d ask my brother to send you home but Uncle Wooyoung made him drink quite a bit.”

Before you answer, Wooyoung cuts in, “I can send her back safely.”

Your friend’s father raises an eyebrow. “You sure you don’t want to stay a little longer?”

Wooyoung shakes his head with a smile. He goes over and gives his niece a hug before he hand hovers over the small of your back, as he leads you out of the estate.

The car ride back felt agonisingly slow. The anticipation was just surging through your veins, and evidently leaked into the atmosphere in the car with Wooyoung. Wooyoung still keeps his soft and light tone when he talks to you in the car, but it’s obvious he’s at his limit, especially from the way he’s gripping the steering wheel with force.

The moment you step in his penthouse, his fingers intertwine with yours, and your jaw drops at how fucking huge his place is for a singular person to reside in. His hand is warm against yours and you wonder what he’s thinking.

He leads you to his bedroom, and when the door shuts, Wooyoung immediately has you pressed against the shut door, trapping you with his body as he tilts your chin to face him.

“Fucking hell. I think I’ve waited long enough”, he hisses before he dives in for a messy kiss. You let yourself be claimed by him, raising your arms to let Wooyoung pull your clothing off your body, letting him admire at your bare chest. You feel like you’re at your limit from the way Wooyoung is teasing you—his hands tugging your pants off, but he doesn’t touch you there just yet. But he leads you over to his bed, letting you fall onto his plush bed.

“Look at your panties. Ruined by yours truly,” Wooyoung hums, tugging the piece of pink clothing, completely stained dark with cum and fluids, now almost transparent. When your panties are finally removed, a drawn out whine echoes around the room, your head throws back, and Wooyoung watches in breathlessly as his cum leaks out of you, load by load, listening to you moan in relief.

“I’ve been good. Kept your cum in my pussy like a good girl”, you whine, tugging against your wet folds, thighs twitching as Wooyoung’s cum continues to spill out of your hole. Wooyoung plunges two fingers into you, pushing his cum back into your pussy, and it makes you flex your abdomen from the pleasure.

He smiles.

“Indeed you have, darling. So well-behaved”, he hums, as his hand brushes against your cheek, swallowing hard when you lean your face into it, staring at him with kitten eyes.

He’s so fucking weak for that. So he pushes his fingers deeper in you, drinking every single fucked out expression you wear. Oh god, he wants to break you so bad. Wooyoung’s fingers press against your g-spot, and your hands clasp onto his veiny, muscled arm, as you jerk with a gasp. Wooyoung tilts his head back slightly, and he wears a smirk when he feels you clench around his fingers.

Then he curls his fingers in you as he finger fucks you, making sure he draws out every dirty moan out of you.

“Wooyoung! Oh fuck. Right there”, your hands slip off his arm, back now completely on his bed letting yourself succumb to the pleasure.

“I know, baby. Feels good doesn’t it?” Wooyoung coos, watching your body jerk from the pleasure. “Look at you, fucking yourself on my fingers too”, he teases. And he’s right—you don’t realise when you even let your hips snap against his wet fingers, but at this point, shame is the last thing you’re worrying about.

The feeling builds so dangerously quick that soon enough, you completely let go, letting your jaw hang open as your orgasm hits, your cunt fluttering and your mind flooded with dopamine as moans leak out of your mouth freely like your cum.

“That’s it”, he encourages, applying light pressure on your clit with his thumb, feeling you convulse around him. “Good girl. Cum on my fingers like that. Dirty them for me just like that.” Your eyes are shut, your mind completely turned into mush.

Wooyoung pulls his fingers out of you slowly, watching the way your eyes slowly open as you catch your breath. At that moment is when you catch the way Wooyoung is eyeing you down, licking your glistening release from his fingers.

“Fuck me, darling. If I had known you tasted this good, I would have stolen the panties you keep in your little friend’s room when I came over for dinners”, Wooyoung sighs.

“Pervert”, you mutter, although the thought of him rubbing his cock onto the fabric, making it as wet and as dirty as possible, and leaving his cum stains all over your pretty little panties makes your cunt flutter.

“No better than you are, darling”, he shoots you back playfully when he watches your cheeks turn red, as he inches closer to you onto his bed, capturing your lips with his.

And you completely surrender to him, melting into the kiss that tasted more than just desire and lust. Wooyoung’s hands slide to the back of your neck to pull you as physically close to him as possible.

You pull back, breathless a few seconds later, a small prick blooming in your heart as the reminder that this man is your friend’s uncle sticking out like sore thumb at the back of your hand. You knew it was wrong to do this to your friend. What would happen if she found out then? What kind of repercussions would there be? Wooyoung senses the slight shift, and has his hands cup your cheek, and your eyes focus on his handsome face again.

“What are you distracted about, darling?” He asks, concern reflected in his expression. “Do you want to stop?”

You shake your head instinctively. “It’s just.…”

“-that I’m your friend’s relative?”

You bite your lip.

“But we’re both consenting adults, aren’t we? I can’t help it if every time I see you, I just want to make sure that you’re only looking at me.”

Oh gods, he was making your head spin.

“It’s just that it’s making me have a lot of thoughts”, you mutter, your hands toying with the bedsheets. Wooyoung plants a firm kiss behind your ear, before he leans into you and whispers, “then I’ll fuck the thoughts right out of you darling”, Wooyoung assures with smile, then he turns you over, now your stomach on the mattress. You hear him unbuckle his trousers, and your heart beats in your ears.

“I’ll take good care of you. I can definitely promise that”, he assures, letting his hands run down your sides, leaving goosebumps across your skin. He gives the nape of your neck a kiss before you feel his very hard erection pressing against the curve of your ass. You can’t see it but his cock is just wet with precum, but you hear the sounds he makes as he strokes himself before he presses his cockhead at your entrance.

Then he slides his cock in, inch by inch, so fucking good that you’re gasping and drooling. His cock fits in you so well, and even though he fucked you just hours before, he feels so different now.

“You’re so fucking thick. Fuck”, you curse, your eyebrows scrunched. Wooyoung chuckles behind you, trying to hold his composure as he watches your pussy stretch perfectly to accommodate him, as he sinks deeper into you. It doesn’t take long till he’s completely in you, and you’re drawing shallow breaths from how full you feel, his cock just resting in you.

“Gonna move now, darling”, he says, giving your ass a soft squeeze before he pulls back and thrusts in again, and a squeal leaves your lips. He’s definitely fucking every single thought out of you tonight, and you weren’t about to complain.

Every time his hips slam into you, you grow slightly light headed from the pleasure. Wooyoung has his hands grabbing your hips as he fucks you into the mattress, groaning himself as he watches you fuck his cock. “Fuck. You’re so fucking perfect, baby”, he groans, watching you swallow his cock in once more.

“So good. Keep fucking me like that, Wooyoungie”, you cry, feeling his cock grow bigger in you.

“That’s a cute nickname you’re giving me”, he smirks, biting back another moan when he feels you clench around him again. “I swear you’re gonna make me cum at this rate with how cute you’re acting.”

“Then do it. You promised me right?” You pout, and then jerk with your eyes rolled back when his cockhead presses onto your g-spot again. Wooyoung swears you could drive him insane just with the shit you say.

His cock twitches in you and another soft moan escapes from you.

“I’m cumming, baby. Fuck”, Wooyoung curses as he forcefully shuts his eyes, white spots splattering beneath his eyelids and cum filling you up again. You whimper softly as he fills you up, fisting the bedsheets beneath you as your body shakes. You could get addicted to this, you swear.

You almost lose feeling in your lower body, but Wooyoung catches you, littering your neck with more kisses once more before he sits you on his lap.

That’s when you realise—he’s still fucking hard. His cock is still covered in a sheer white layer of cum. His hands slide up and down your thighs, giving them squeezes.

“Sit on my dick, baby. You know you want to”, he coaxes, assisting you in lifting your hips over his cock. You’re completely entranced by Wooyoung’s expression and you slowly sink onto his cock—he looks as fucked out as you are, and so fucking beautiful. He sucks his teeth at the sensation of being deeper into your warm, cum-filled pussy.

“One more load to go, baby”, Wooyoung hums as he cups your breasts, giving them circular licks with his tongue, making your cunt leak another layer of fresh slick once more. Your arms wrap around his neck, tugging against his hair as he licks and sucks your nipples.

“Wooyoung, please-“ you cry out, only to be ignored as he switches to the other nipple, making sure he stimulates you to his liking. He finally pulls back, licking his lips. His eyes are glazed out, fucking horny from the feeling that he’s seated inside you, sensitive and overstimulated.

And when you start bouncing on his cock, his jaw slacks, his fingers finding yours to intertwine with. “So fucking good. You’re so warm baby. Oh my fucking god”, he groans, squeezing your hand. This position granted easier access to your g-spot and Wooyoung watches you wordlessly as you chase the feeling of his cockhead hitting that perfect spot over and over again.

“Gonna cum. Your cock feels so good, Wooyoungie,” you whimper, at one point pushing your hips down and slightly grinding to have his cockhead just rub against your g-spot, which evidently drives Wooyoung up the wall when he throws his head back and lifts his hips by instinct.

When he barely gains an ounce of rationale, he moans, “cum all over my cock, baby. Oh fuck. Such a good fucking girl you are for me.” And you do, clamping against his cock as your orgasm hits you for the second time, with Wooyoung holding your thighs down, watching you squirm and twitch as your orgasm sends you into a fucking orbit. Wooyoung can’t help but cum in you once more when the feeling of your pussy fluttering around him, which causes you to squeal and lift yourself off his cock, cum and fluids just trickling out of your abused hole and onto Wooyoung’s cock.

You don’t have time to react before Wooyoung cups you by your jaw and brings you in for a steamy kiss again, his hand snaking around your ass to give it a good squeeze before he lets go.

His eyes are as blown out as yours are, but he still manages to ask, “you doing good, darling?”

You nod, combing his wet bangs back, the both of you catching your breaths from your high.

“Time for a shower, baby”, Wooyoung says, lifting you off him completely, before he takes your hand in his to lead you to the bathroom.

Wooyoung’s arms are curled around your waist and he buries his nose into your neck, breathing deeply at the fact that you smell like his shampoo. It almost makes him horny again. Almost.

The thought of your friend and her brother pops into your brain again, but gets muddled when you hear Wooyoung groan softly before he gets pulled into slumber.

Well, that’ll be a problem for another day when Wooyoung comes around to your friend’s house. But you make a mental note to keep more pretty panties over for Wooyoung to steal the next round.

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez smut #smut #ateez fic #kpop smut #Wooyoung #wooyoung ateez #wooyoung x reader #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung

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ohimsummer · 2 months ago

Text

I’LL WORSHIP LIKE A DOG .ᐟ

♯ minors dni, oral [ m. receiving ], idolization, cult leader! suguru x reader, manipulation?

⭑ ࣪ ˖ sum’z notes.ᐟ hi mickey thank u for helping proofread i love you :3 @teddybeartoji

the cult leader has set his sights on you.

on the surface, there is nothing really notable about you. having tagged alongside a big group recruited by some of his current worshippers, you were at first regarded with suspicion—as all the newcomers were—but, eventually, you blended well with the rest of geto suguru's devout followers.

...you thought so, anyway. apparently, you were mistaken. apparently, something about you has caught his eye.

this is the handsome cult leader's den. a temple where he so graciously allows all of his humble and obedient followers to reside. with this in mind, you try not to think too highly of yourself, but you can't help but wonder if there is something about you that intrigues him. there must be.

there's a quiet call of your name on occasion, where master geto leads you to his private room. not every night, but often enough for it to feel routine. you always kneel before him quickly, wordlessly, head bowed. geto doesn't even have to open his mouth. though, if he does, it's to send you away, and the realization that you've both disappointed and disrespected the cult's leader almost makes your heart shatter. it makes you worry if this will be your last time in his room, and that anxiety builds and builds with each passing second until a week later, when he once against whispers the command for you to follow him.

once you've lowered yourself at his feet, geto takes in the sight of you. the seconds feel like minutes, hours, an eternity, but you don't dare move nor even look up at him, instead keeping your eyes closed and head lowered. only when you feel his warm caress, thumb glazing over the fat of your cheek, do you gamble a glance. whether or not he sends you away afterwards or accepts your appreciative gaze is entirely up to master geto's mood.

he thumbs over the smoothness of your skin: cheeks, chin, and then mouth, sticking the finger between your lips. pressing down on your tongue until there's a pool of drool, he soaks the digit to his satisfaction, and then makes you suck it dry. and, of course, you do so without question.

then, he's pulling off his robes, and wow, do you want to really worship the body he hides underneath. but, that is an act of adoration that you will only ever dream of. you're not nearly of enough importance for master geto to allow you such a luxury. not even a glance to the godlike features on his body, which will remain blurry visions in your peripherals, but you're satisfied with that, after all. as far as you know, the rest of his followers don't even get that. and this assumption makes you giddy. master geto must think you're special, gracing you with such a view.

you never break eye contact with him, ignoring the hands that trail to the last trace of his undergarments. even now, with his length literally inches from your face, you hold his steady stare, but your mouth waters and heart races when he pumps himself in front of you.

he begins pushing the fat, leaking tip of his cock up to your lips, glossing them up in a heavy sheen of precum. you sit still, obediently, perfectly like his little pet, as he continues to make a mess of you. geto presses his length forward until it just slips through your lips, before pulling back to smear his sticky substance over your cheeks and chin.

“open.”, he commands, and the corners of his mouth twitch up into a contemptuous smirk at the speed in which your jaw falls slack for him.

suguru pumps himself once, twice, then rubs the head again over your soft, glistening lips before tapping it on your tongue and granting you your first taste.

his hips thrust forward to enter the warm embrace of your mouth. your lips close around suguru's length automatically, and he gives a pleased hum as he uses you like a toy.

your eager eyes continue to meet his own, a lively shade of purple with a silent warning written in the hues—they dare you to disobey, to make even the slightest error and risk the fullest extent of geto suguru’s wrath. but he doesn't need to worry. he never does. you only ever act when your dearest leader instructs you, and that's just the way master geto likes it. he tells his little plaything to sit and open their mouth wide, and he knows that not a single thought will grace your head, not a word will leave your lips besides “yes, sir”.

the deeper he sinks into your throat, the harder it is to hold back a gag. regardless, you will force your body to comply and be good a worshipper. constantly under the heavy gaze of the beloved cult leader, you are instilled with a fear that showing him any amount of incompetence will disappoint geto enough to clear himself of your presence, perhaps even get rid of you entirely if he feels even a second of displeasure. but, you do your best to make sure that never happens. your life depends on it.

it doesn't take long before the cult leader pulls from the depths of your throat. you try not to show disappointment that he's chosen again not to cum inside, but it is quickly overrun by a determination to do better. surely if you were exceeding his expectations, he'd feel the need to reward you with a steady stream of his cum down your throat.

he graces you with a low grunt before shooting ropes of seed all over your face. it's warm and sticky. you wonder about the flavor, but don't risk a taste in front of him.

master geto disappears into what you know is his bathroom, before returning with a damp rag. he holds it out in his hand for you to take, and then sits on the bed and watches as you wipe down every inch of your face. when you're done, he extends the same hand, one which you place the used cloth in, and then dismisses you from his private quarters. geto never keeps you long, usually less than an hour, but it's time you deeply treasure, regardless.

you give him one last bow, and then make your quiet exit. your heart thuds in your chest in excitement for the next time. maybe it will be in a day. maybe a week. maybe a month. whatever he thinks you are worthy of. either way, you will wait faithfully in anticipation for master geto's call.

🪽: @anthoosies @teddybeartoji @blkkizzat @deepenthevoid @bubblez-blop @luvvmae @risuola @bunnymacaron @soraya-daydreams @starlightanyaaa @domainexpansionmypants @sobbangchan @apatauaia @b-b-b-my-b-f-f @getouolgy @sataraxia @leialilox @babytoshiii @sugu-love @akumicchi @sugojosgf @k-cris @triviahct @reiluvr @venzlenes @lovesickliyue @kisstoru @blindbabycadder @roronoaism @itztamar

#as of aug 30th im editing this again #will i post this with the abrupt ending or will it sit in my drafts for 2 more months #anyway ummmm suguru and being a god comparison things again #suguru smut #suguru geto smut #geto x reader #suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader smut #suguru geto x reader smut

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fyodor-s-rat · 1 year ago

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BUNGOU STRAY DOGS - when they want a hug

ft.: Dazai, Kunikida, Akutagawa, Chuuya, Nikolai, Fyodor

summary: what do they do when they want a hug?

Dazai

he's overall very touchy and clingy

so hugs with him are a regular thing

he just unexpectedly throws his arms around you, pulling you close

his grip is surprisingly strong, and he won't let you go easily

sometimes you're just chilling on a couch and he basically jumps on you, making you yelp

Kunikida

he's not the type to just come to you and hug you regularly

this doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy hugging you, he simply forgets because of all the work he has

but when he's really stressed, he tends to hug you from the back

he unexpectedly wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder

you just stay like this for a while, not saying a word

Akutagawa

he won't ask for a hug ever.

but he secretly craves physical touch

hovewer, he would rather die than admit it

so you're the one who initiates the hug usually

but when he's needy and you're busy at the moment, he tries to make small hints

(he just stares at you)

and he gets frustrated when you don't get his hints and ignore it

so he just activates rashomon, pulling you close to him by your waist

he won't let you go easily, his hand resting on the back of your head and the other around your waist

Chuuya

this guy gets what he wants

so when he's needy for a hug, he just says something like "come here, darling" and extends both arms

but sometimes, when he's in a bad mood, he doesn't say a thing, he just wraps his arms around you

he loves when you scratch his hair

his hold is really tight

he likes to squeeze your ass while hugging you

Nikolai

he's similarly clingy like Dazai

he just appears next to you out of nowhere and pulls you close

he always does it so aggressively tho 😭

his large body is practically suffocating you

loves being a big spoon as much as being a little spoon

very touchy, he likes to touch you everywhere

loves giving you head pats

Fyodor

let's be honest, he's not very fond of physical touch of any kind

but that doesn't mean he completely hates it

he's still just a human after all, and even though he seems emotionless, i hold onto the belief that he has emotions deep down

hovewer, when he does want a hug on rare occasions, he won't say it. nuh uh

he would take action

fyodor would reach for you and pull you into his embrace

his arms wrapped around your body, but never touching any explicit area (if you know what i mean)

it is kind of strange, he doesn't say a thing while holding you

he always pulls away first, quietly walking elsewhere

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd scenarios #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs headcanons #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd headcanons #bsd fluff #dazai #chuuya hcs #bsd fyodor #nikolai x reader #akutagawa x reader #bsd kunikida #dazai headcanons #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoevsky

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probablyintensemuses · 4 months ago

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Headcanon: Things I’m positive Armando Does In A Relationship.

SFW:

Worries. I’m sure he worries you’ll realize that he’s a monster and leave him, just like so many have before. You’re constantly reassuring him, reminding him of the good.

Always the big spoon. One thick arm wrapped around your middle all night. It’s his way of protecting you, even when you’re sleep. If you get up to pee, he’s wide awake until you come back just so he can wrap you deep into his arms again.

I think Armando is the type to come off just a little stand-offish, considering his past, but I think when he does come around, he comes aROUND! Like he absolutely spoils the shit out of you. I mean money, jewelry, shoes, clothes, makeup, the works. You want it, when you least expect it, you got it.

Armando is sooooo possessive. Like he really does not go for any of that you flirting with others. Hell if a man even looks at you in anyway he’s got his hands in your back pocket, caressing you or his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in close.

I can definitely see you being Armando’s safe space. The one place he can fully let his walls down and just sink into you with all his grievances. Once he sees it’s safe to open up to you about anything, I don’t think he’ll ever stop.

I can see him having a silly soft side, one only reserved for you with little quips and inside jokes. He might even be one to poke at you or thumb you if you bite into his sarcasm. But I can only see him doing that when he feels safe—whole—with you.

I can see Armando cooking for you. He loves making you authentic Spanish dishes and even going way out of the box and making dishes from other cultures. He loves watching you moan over the food he plates you.

Armando definitely gives pet names. Many in Spanish and some in English. But he’s hardly ever calling you by your government if you’re not in danger or in an argument.

Armando is definitely a traditionalist. He lets you walk on the inside of the sidewalk, he holds you hand, buys you flowers and gifts, holds the door open for you, pushes in your chair and shuts your car door. When you’re with Armando you hardly have to lift a finger to do anything

Armando definitely will want a family, eventually. He’ll want to do it differently than his parents. He’ll want to be stable and in love and do it right. He’ll break the curse.

NSFW:

Armando’s mood depends on how sex will go. If he’s missing you, you’ll make deep, passionate love. If he’s had a rough couple of days, he’s fucking you into the mattress. Simple.

Armando is an ass man. I don’t make the rules. Hell smack your ass at any given occasion. If it’s in his face, he’s smacking it. Period.

Armando is a man of foreplay. If you’re going to fuck him, then you’re going to cum. He knows a woman needs to be stimulated a bit more than a man. So he’ll take his time eating your dripping pussy, fingering it, and playing with every sensitive part of you until you’re begging for him to just slide his cock inside.

Armando loves to take care of you afterwards. He fills up the bath and lights candles around. You’ll slip in first and then he’ll slip in after—this is the only time he’s the little spoon btw—and you guys just chat about anything, as if he didn’t just fuck you into the sofa minutes earlier.

I don’t see Armando having many one night stands. There has to be substance for him. Like something boiling at the surface before he fucks you, or even a relationship. If there’s nothing, I don’t see him taking that chance.

Armando loves kissing. In fact that’s his favorite thing to do. Kiss and get you warm and wet for him. He’ll sit you on his lap and take you fully, peppering your jaw and neck too for a little extra dazzle.

#bwwm love #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #armando aretas x reader #armando aretas #armando x reader #bad boys for life #jacob scipio #armando x black

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woso-dreamzzz · 3 months ago

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World Cup VI

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adeventures Universe

Summary: It's heartbreaking

It's the worst kind of pain imaginable.

The kind of pain that lodges in a chest, in a throat, in a mind. The kind of pain that radiates throughout a body, weighing on someone, eating away at them until there's nothing left.

Eaten from the inside out.

Until there's nothing left but an empty husk of a person.

To be so close to a dream that will never be reached.

Not now.

Not ever.

It chokes someone from the inside, suffocating them until they can do nothing but accept their fate.

There's not much else to say about it.

The kind of pain that is only really experienced once in a lifetime.

The kind of pain only experienced in extra time of a football match as one last substitute is made.

The board goes up.

"On for number fourteen, number one for Sweden, Harder-Eriksson."

The final of a World Cup.

Sweden, two.

Spain, two.

And the worst person to take penalties against is subbed on.

"No," Talia says as she watches you run on," No, please. Please."

You'd taken a knock in the semifinals against Colombia, a bad one that had you sitting out most of the final.

Selfishly, Talia was glad for it.

The two goals she had scored wouldn't have gone in had you been standing between the sticks.

Had you been on in the beginning, there would have been no extra time.

You are the greatest goalkeeper in the world and you're never out of control in finals.

You thrive under the pressure, under the pressure of the whole world watching your every mood, under the pressure of Magda and Pernille's legacy.

You rise to the occasion every time.

You show why you are so sought after.

Extra time leaks away and the tears already fall as penalties are announced.

Your Sweden team isn't known for their penalty-taking abilities but it hardly matters. All it takes is one penalty to win.

One ball in the back of the net.

You can delay that for as long as you need to.

One goal to win a match.

One goal for a childhood dream to shatter.

One missed save to return to Spain as a World Champion.

But you have never let a penalty passed in your entire career.

Not at Linköping. Not at Arsenal. Not at Barcelona.

Not for Denmark. Not for Sweden.

No penalty has ever escaped you.

The shots are taken in quick succession.

You don't let any pass but neither does Spain's keeper.

The anticipation swells. The tension builds. The camera flashes to fans in the crowd.

To Patri, sitting in the stands with her hands clasped in front of her and a nervous look on her face. Talia has never seen her cousin so shaken before.

She cuts a striking picture against the complete calmness of Magda and Pernille when the camera switches again. They don't look worried in the slightest.

They've always been your biggest supporters, the biggest believers in your ability to do anything you set your mind to. They've seen the talent in you for years.

There is no reason for them to be worried.

Talia takes the ball, the last penalty for Spain.

She steps forward.

You come out of your goal, walking forward towards her until you're face to face.

The conflict is clear on your face.

To anyone else, you look deadly calm. Magda's feature on your face matches your mother's expression in the crowd but Talia can see through it.

The slight furrow of your brow, the downturn of the corner of your mouth. The way that you can't quite meet her eyes.

"I'm sorry," You say as she places the ball on the penalty spot.

"I know," Talia replies.

"I am really sorry, my love. I...I didn't want it to end like this."

"Don't be. Go do what you do best."

Talia's dreams of a World Cup slip through her fingers in an instant. She usually shoots right, in the top corner. This time though, she'll shoot left to the bottom.

Pernille sits up in the stands as you back away from Talia, returning to your line.

The stadium holds its breath.

A home World Cup win would mean the world to Sweden. To defeat the hosts would mean the world to Spain.

But you stand in their way.

A formidable force between the sticks with more experience than most your age and an unshakeable spirit that intimidates by just your mere presence on the pitch.

"She's got this," Magda whispers to her, clasping Pernille's hand tight," Even if it is Talia."

The stadium ripples with anticipation, shouts escaping throats as Talia lets the ball fly...

Your familiar red jersey moves, your black gloves reaching out.

Your body crashes to the ground.

A millisecond too late and the ball would have gone in.

Your fingertips manage to brush it away though, forcing it away from your line.

The knock to Spain's confidence is big.

It can be felt all around the stadium and just a box away, Pernille sees Patri bury her head in her hands.

Sweden's last penalty is taken quickly.

Scored even quicker by your captain.

A title defended on home soil. The triumph of Sweden over Spain.

The crowd is electric and Magda pumps her fist into the air, screaming like she'd just won this herself and Pernille hauls herself out of her seat to head down to the barriers with her wife to greet you.

The crowd is nothing compared to the roaring in Talia's ears as that pain settles into her bones and gnaws away at her muscles.

She falls to the floor, breathing in a ragged breath as a childhood dream slips away from her.

"I'm sorry," She can hear over her sobs," My love, I'm so sorry."

Familiar arms wrap around her. A familiar smell filling her senses and she grabs onto a familiar red jersey, pulling at it and forcing herself even closer.

"Go," She says," And celebrate."

"No," You reply, sitting down next to her and guiding her head to your shoulder where she could cry without cameras watching her," I'm staying right here."

"Your mothers-"

"Can wait," You insist," I want to be here. With you."

You've singlehandedly ruined Natalia's dreams. You had dangled a World Cup in her face and snatched it away again.

It was so close.

She was so close to being the first person to ever score a penalty against you.

Mere inches sat between her and the World Cup.

But you'd ruined it. You anticipated her change. You pushed away her penalty.

Last time, you'd scored Sweden's only goal. This year, you'd saved all of Spain's penalties.

You are Sweden's hero. Sweden's golden girl. Sweden's vice-captain and the greatest goalkeeper they've ever produced.

There is no hope of competing against you.

A World Cup won and a World Cup lost.

Magda and Pernille wait by the barrier. Talia can see them, ready to celebrate with you.

But you don't go anywhere.

You just hold her as she cries.

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #the big adventures universe

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jezabelle9299 · 2 months ago

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Make-up Birthday S.R x FEM! Reader

Overture: Spencer didn't just miss your birthday he forgot it. (Happy Ending)

C-Ws: Missed occasions, pushing down feelings for the benefit of another person, Spencer chose Gideon over you

A/N- Baby's first angst, go easy on me. And I've been in a sour mood so I have 2 other angst fics (also birthday themed), that will probably be posted sometime this week. Our regularly scheduled sap will return next week.

You weren’t a very big birthday person. Of course when you were young you had birthday parties with all of your little friends, but as time went on, things got busy. It was pushed to the side for years, until you preferred to just ignore it. Until a few weeks ago, when Spencer asked what you’d like to do to celebrate. You told him nothing was necessary, but he insisted that the two of you at least spend the day together. You let yourself get excited, you made good plans, just takeout and movie night, but that was enough. If it were anyone else you’d remind him, several times, but you knew he wouldn’t forget. He didn’t forget anything.

This morning you woke up to an empty bed, and you knew Spencer had gone to work. He had a few meetings he mentioned having to go to about their latest cases, but you weren't expecting him until this evening. The day passed you by when you got set up, but time slowed down when there was nothing to do but wait. Each second passed a little slower than the last, until you got worried. You haven't heard from Spencer all day.

You: Hey Spence, everything ok?

Spence: I’m ok, just got caught up at work. I’ll come to your place as soon as I can.

You: Ok, see you then

You were glad he was ok, and you knew he’d rather be with you, than at work. Something important must’ve come up, he wouldn’t miss this over nothing. But time passed with no more texts, until you resigned yourself to him just not coming. You changed from your date outfit into some comfy pajamas, and laid down in bed. You weren’t upset with Spencer, this job was important to him, and you knew he felt like he had something to prove just being there. You could celebrate another day.

It wasn't until well after nine when Gideon asked Spencer what he was still doing here, he’d mentioned weeks ago that he’d need to leave early. That’s when Spencer realized what he was missing. It wasn’t just movie night, by now he’d missed almost your entire birthday, after he’d pressed you to celebrate it at all. He rushed out as quickly as possible, but by the time he got to your place it was too late. He knocked on the door and as soon as you answered, all the apologies came pouring out. He couldn’t make himself stop until you put your hands on either side of his face making him look you in the eyes.

“It’s ok Spence, I know how important your job is, and we can celebrate another day.”

He leaned down to hug you, burying his face in your neck. “I’m so sorry honey, it totally slipped my mind. But I promise to make it up to you.” You pulled away from him at that.

“Wait, what do you mean?” He just looked at you, like he was replaying what he said to figure out what he did wrong.

“You–you forgot?”

“I thought you knew.”

“No, I didn’t. I had this picture in my mind, like when you leave for cases, when you tell me how you wish you could be here.”

“I do wish I was here, baby. You mean the world to me.” You couldn’t keep doing this, his reassurance was breaking you down bit by bit. Sure now he wished he was there, but he didn’t even realize you were missing him.

“I’m gonna go for a drive I think, we don’t have to celebrate another day, it’s fine.”

“No please stay– please let me make this up to you.” His phone rang. A shrill tone cutting through, nearly making you wince.

“It’s Gideon, I have to take this. But please stay with me, I want to talk about this. It’ll only take a minute.”

“It’s fine, I’ll talk to you tomorrow Spence, just remember to lock up when you leave ok?” You picked up your shoes and keys before you walked out, still in your pajamas. You gave him not even half of a smile, and it was breaking his heart. But he couldn’t ignore the call.

Gideon was like a father to him, and even though he winced when the door shut behind you, quietly, as if you weren’t even upset, he still answered. There wasn’t even a case, Gideon just had a question about some evidence. Nothing would’ve happened if he didn’t answer, no one was dying, and the only one hurt was you. He couldn’t have just ignored the call, and now you were gone.

Spencer didn’t forget anything, but somehow he forgot this.

You weren't sure where you’d go. You decided to allow yourself one evening to be upset. To acknowledge that this whole situation sucks and honestly today your usually wonderful boyfriend kind of sucks too. You’ll feel guilty about it tomorrow, but tonight you're going to drive an hour and a half down the highway, just to turn back around so you could avoid the drunk drivers on the road when the bars close. Spencer should be gone by then, you’re sure Gideon was calling to steal your boyfriend away on a case again and you’d call him in the morning to make sure he got there ok and tell him to be safe like you always did.

What Spencer did was important, and you couldn’t be mad at him for missing something as silly as a birthday for a work problem. But he wasn’t out saving lives like you thought. It may be selfish or overly-presumptuous about your standing in his life, but when you missed him it made you feel better to think he was missing you just as much. How he was at work thinking about how he loved you. And today was the day that illusion shattered.

You could only sob at the thought.

By the time you got home, it was almost 1am. The redness in your eyes finally started to subside, you got too dehydrated to continue actually crying almost an hour ago, so that’s when you decided that the time for being upset over this was done. Even the puffiness in your face was going down. But when you unlocked the door, Spencer was waiting for you.

“You’re home.”

“You’re here. I thought you had a case.”

“No, Gideon just had a question about some evidence, I wanted to be here when you got back.”

“That’s sweet of you Spencer, but I just went for a quick drive. I’m kind of tired, so I think I’m just going to head to bed now, ok? But I’ll see you in the morning.” You gave him a resigned kiss on the forehead and his heart broke. He did this. And you called him Spencer, not ‘Spence’, not ‘honey’, not ‘babe’. Spencer. It never sounded so awful.

He did all he could do, he slept on the couch and let you rest. You would be talking about this in the morning. You couldn’t shut him out forever, he loved you too much.

The beeping of the coffee machine woke him up, his legs half hanging off your couch. He immediately got up. If the coffee machine was going off, you were awake, and you could talk about last night.

“Honey?”

“Hi, I didn’t realize you’d stayed here last night, were you too tired to drive?”

“No, but I wanted to be here when you woke up.”

“You could've slept in my bed with me.” You were glad he didn’t. But you wanted to maintain your facade, you wanted to forgive him, and forget about everything.

“You’re upset with me, I wanted to talk to you.”

“I’m not upset.”

“You’re the love of my life and I hurt you. You don’t have to pretend to be ok with it.”

“It was one day, Spencer. It’s fine, you don’t have to sleep on the couch as penance.” You were putting on your coolest presence, but everything you said still came out as more of a mumble than it would’ve.

“I need you to listen to me, you are the most important person in my life. I love you so much it hurts, and I can’t stand the thought of you thinking I forgot about you.” That broke your barely held together exterior of confidence.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I need you to know that I love you, I can’t just let this go.”

“Ok fine. You made me celebrate my birthday and when you forgot anyway, it hurt my feelings. But I don’t want a makeup birthday, and I wish I could just forget about it, and I don’t understand why you want me to be mad at you.”

“I don’t want you to be mad, but when you are mad, I need you to tell me. I can’t do anything to help if I don’t know what’s going on.”

“But I don’t want you to know when I’m upset. I want to be the cool girlfriend that doesn’t get upset when her boyfriend does something by accident. You are the best boyfriend I’ve ever had and when you make one mistake about something I wouldn’t have even cared about a month ago, I can’t get over it. But I really want to get over it, so could we please just forget about it?” By this point tears were flowing down your face, but you were still wiping your face every few seconds to stop them in their tracks.

“No we can’t just forget, I think you’re the coolest girl I’ve ever met, and it’s not because you ignore your feelings whenever you think they’d be inconvenient. I want to spend the day with you if you’d be ok with it, but if you want some time alone that’s ok too.”

“I want to spend the day with you. But could we leave out the birthday theme?”

“Sure honey, whatever you want, I’m all yours.”

“You know I love you Spence, right?”

“I know, I love you too.” It was an upsetting morning, but he was still overjoyed that you called him ‘Spence’ again. He’d earned his pet name back.

“Do you really think I’m cool?” It was barely spoken into his chest, moreso whined, muffled by the fabric of his sweater vest. At this moment, you were so uncool. Yet he still kissed your forehead as he laughed.

“The coolest.”

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst

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helen-with-an-a · 7 days ago

Note

would you consider a part 2 to be the best?

maybe everyone realises reader making an effort and she starts to get closer at team bonding nights etc. then gets angry and thinks everyone will go back to hating her but happy ending

Hiiii - so I hope you enjoy this - I might make another part, I might not - I'm not quite sure

Be The Best part 3

AWFC x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3

Description: R joins the team on a trip to the cinema

Word Count: 4.4k

Deciding what to wear – it seemed like such a simple task, yet it was the one thing consuming your thoughts. It was more than just picking an outfit; it felt like the key to unlocking your entire evening. If you could just figure out what to wear, then maybe everything else would follow. The outfit could set the tone, give you confidence, and make you feel ready to face whatever was coming your way. Or at least, that's what you kept telling yourself, over and over, as if the right choice of clothes could somehow solve all your other problems too. The pressure to get it right was overwhelming, as if choosing the perfect outfit would magically make everything else fall into place.

But it wasn’t even a special occasion – it was just the cinema. A casual, relaxed outing, nothing crazy, nothing formal. Just the cinema. You were going to watch a movie, sit in the dark for a couple of hours, and maybe grab a snack or two. No big deal. It wasn’t like you were going to a fancy dinner or an important meeting. Just the cinema.

And yet, it wasn’t just the cinema. It was the cinema with your friends, work colleagues, people you have definitely bullied at times. You knew you had to strike a delicate balance – casual, but not too casual; relaxed, but still put together. It wasn’t simply about the clothes. It was about perception, about how the others would see you and what they would think. Every choice seemed to carry a weight that extended far beyond fabric and fashion. Would they notice if you were too dressed up, standing out like you were trying too hard? Or would they judge you if you were too laid-back, as if you didn’t care at all?

For most people, it was just a routine outing, something they had done countless times. But for you, it was uncharted territory, an experience you’d only heard about or seen in movies themselves. The idea of sitting in a dark theatre, surrounded by others, watching a story unfold on a massive screen – this was completely new. You didn’t know the unspoken rules, the social cues that everyone else seemed to take for granted. How were you supposed to act? What was the right amount of enthusiasm or restraint?

And what about conversation? That was another minefield altogether. You knew the basic rule: no talking during the film. That part seemed straightforward enough. But what about before the film started, when everyone was finding their seats, shuffling in with popcorn and drinks? Was there a right way to initiate small talk in those brief moments of dimmed lights and hushed voices? Should you comment on the previews, ask about their day, or maybe even crack a light joke to ease any tension? Or would it be better to keep it simple, just a casual greeting before settling into the silence? The uncertainty gnawed at you, making it difficult to predict how you should approach those moments.

And then there was the aftermath, the part that seemed the most daunting of all. What would you talk about after the film ended? How do people usually transition from the intensity of the movie back to regular conversation? Should you start with your thoughts on the film, maybe offer an opinion or ask for theirs? But what if your opinions didn’t match? What if you missed a key detail, or your interpretation was off? Would you come across as clueless or out of touch? You didn’t want to be the one who misread the mood, who either overanalysed every scene or brushed off the film too casually.

What if they didn’t want to talk to you? That fear was the heaviest of all, lurking in the back of your mind and casting a shadow over everything else. Leah had promised that you were welcome to attend the team bonding event, insisting that it would be a good opportunity to relax and connect away from the pressures of the football field. But did they really want you there? Was her invitation genuinely extended on behalf of the entire team, or was it just a polite gesture, something she felt obligated to offer? The thought gnawed at you, making you second-guess every detail of the evening.

You had been so mean to them for so long – too long, really. Screaming had been your only form of communication, your voice always raised, always harsh, leaving no room for warmth or understanding. It was as if yelling was the only way you knew how to convey your thoughts, your frustrations, your demands.

Images of Kyra’s terrified eyes flashed across your mind, haunting you in those quiet moments when the noise of the day had finally died down. You remembered the way she would flinch whenever you called her name, her eyes wide and fearful, as if bracing herself for the inevitable onslaught. It wasn’t just once or twice – no, those moments were all too frequent, etched into the fabric of your daily routine. You could almost hear the echo of your own voice, sharp and cutting, as you berated her for the smallest mistakes, things that now seemed so insignificant in hindsight.

You had changed four times already, each outfit a different attempt to strike the right balance, to somehow capture the perfect blend of casual yet polished, approachable yet confident. Each time you thought you’d found the right look, doubt crept in, nagging at the edges of your mind until you found yourself back at the mirror, scrutinising every detail. First, it was joggers and T-shirt – too casual, you decided, too close to something you’d wear lounging around the house, not quite right for an evening where you wanted to make a better impression. Then came the one dress you owned – simple, comfortable, but suddenly it felt too much, as if you were trying too hard, the exact opposite of what you wanted.

You tried again, opting for a more relaxed outfit, a sweater and a pair of tailored pants, thinking this might strike the right chord. But as you stood there, looking at yourself, the reflection staring back seemed off, like you were wearing someone else’s clothes. You looked like you were going into a business meeting. It didn’t feel like you, or at least not the version of yourself you wanted to present tonight. So you changed again, this time into something more middle-ground, some baggy jeans and a top. But even then, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t quite right.

As you stood there in front of the mirror, surrounded by discarded outfits strewn across the bed, you wondered if maybe the clothes weren’t the real issue. Maybe it was the fact that no matter what you wore, you couldn’t escape the history you carried with you, the reputation you had built, and the uncertainty of whether any outfit could really make a difference in how you were perceived.

Your phone buzzed on the desk, the familiar vibration cutting through the thick fog of your thoughts. The sound startled you, pulling you out of the endless loop of doubt and second-guessing that had been consuming your mind for what felt like hours. You glanced over and saw the screen light up with your alarm, its insistent tone a stark reminder that time had finally run out. There was no more room for deliberation, no more opportunity to agonise over every detail.

It took you longer than expected to get to the cinema, your nerves slowing you down at every turn. The streets seemed unfamiliar, the route winding through a part of town that you rarely ventured into. As you navigated through the maze of side roads and intersections, you couldn't help but notice how different this area felt from your usual haunts. It was quieter, more residential, with an air of nostalgia that hung in the evening breeze. The buildings here had a certain charm, with their old-fashioned storefronts and quaint cafés, each one exuding a sense of history that made you feel like you had stepped back in time.

When you finally arrived at the cinema, it wasn’t what you had expected. You had envisioned something sleek and modern, a polished building with neon lights and a buzzing crowd. Instead, you found yourself standing in front of a place that felt like a hidden gem, tucked away from the busier parts of the city. The cinema was smaller, more intimate, and as you approached, you were struck by its unexpected charm. The exterior was unassuming, with a classic marquee that displayed the film titles in black letters against a white backdrop, the lights around it softly glowing in the dimming light.

Inside, the atmosphere was cozy and inviting, a far cry from the sterile, impersonal theatre you had walked past as a kid. It was cute – more retro than you had anticipated, with an ambiance that immediately put you at ease. The plush blue seats lined the aisles, each one a deep, rich shade that contrasted beautifully with the cream-colored walls. The seats looked like they had been carefully maintained, their upholstery soft and welcoming, as if they had been chosen for comfort rather than just practicality. The walls, with their creamy tones, added to the sense of warmth, their subtle detailing suggesting a bygone era when cinemas were more than just places to watch a film – they were places to experience something special.

"Hey, I'm glad you could make it," Kim said softly when she saw you arrive, her voice warm and welcoming. There was something genuine in her tone, a sincerity that caught you slightly off guard. It was as if she truly meant it, as if your presence was something she had been hoping for rather than just politely acknowledging. Her smile was gentle, her eyes reflecting a kindness that made you pause for a moment, unsure of how to respond.

You had been so wrapped up in your own anxieties, so convinced that your arrival would be met with indifference – or worse, thinly veiled discomfort – that her friendly greeting threw you off balance. For a split second, you hesitated, searching for the right words, something casual and appropriate to say in return. But nothing came out. Instead, you grimaced awkwardly back at her, your lips twisting into a half-hearted smile that you knew looked forced.

It was as though your body had betrayed you, refusing to cooperate in this moment of unexpected kindness. You could feel the tension in your shoulders, the way your jaw tightened as you struggled to mirror the warmth in Kim’s voice with an expression that didn’t come naturally to you. Inside, you were cringing at your own inability to respond with the same ease, the same natural friendliness that Kim seemed to embody so effortlessly.

Your grimace felt clumsy, a stark contrast to her welcoming demeanour. It was as if all the insecurities you had been trying to suppress suddenly bubbled up to the surface, making it impossible to relax and just be in the moment. You worried that Kim could see through your awkwardness, that she might pick up on the discomfort you were trying so hard to mask. Would she interpret it as reluctance? As a sign that you didn't really want to be there? The thought made your stomach twist, amplifying the awkwardness of the situation.

But Kim, ever gracious, didn’t let it faze her. She continued to smile, her eyes softening with understanding, as if she sensed your unease but chose not to dwell on it. Her kindness was unwavering, a quiet reassurance that perhaps, despite your own self-doubt, you were more welcome than you realised. “I think you’re the last one to arrive.”

“Sorry, it took longer than I thought to get here,” you said, your voice tinged with an apologetic edge as you finally caught up with Kim. You tried to sound casual, but the nerves were evident in the way you fumbled with your words. Your gaze flickered around the room, searching for something to latch onto to avoid the awkwardness of the moment.

“No worries,” Kim replied with a reassuring smile, her tone light and understanding. “Was there much traffic?”

“Uh, no,” you began, your voice wavering slightly. You cleared your throat, trying to steady your nerves. “I mean, there wasn’t much traffic. I just – I've, I’ve just not been here before, so …” You trailed off, the words sputtering out like a car sputtering to a halt. The sentence hung in the air, unfinished and awkward.

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and discomfort. It wasn’t just the unfamiliarity of the location that threw you off; it was the whole social aspect of the evening that felt out of place.

“Hey, you came!” Leah shouted from across the lobby, her voice ringing out with a burst of enthusiasm that cut through the low murmur of conversation. The suddenness of her greeting was a relief, taking the spotlight off Kim and saving her from having to respond to your earlier, awkward attempt at small talk. Leah’s energy seemed to fill the space, her bright smile and warm manner making it clear that she was genuinely pleased to see you.

“Hi,” you whispered back, the word barely escaping your lips as you struggled to match her enthusiasm with your own shaky confidence. You felt a pang of awkwardness, compounded by the realisation that you were still adjusting to the surroundings

Leah, unfazed by your quiet response, continued with her upbeat tone. “Do you want to grab some snacks before you go in?”

Snacks? The word hit you like a revelation. You had always thought of the cinema as a place where people just sat in darkened rooms and watched movies, perhaps grabbing a quick drink from a vending machine if they were really desperate. But the idea of having snacks felt almost revolutionary. The concept of indulging in something edible during a film was so foreign to you that you blinked in surprise, momentarily caught off guard.

You looked around, taking in the lobby’s setup with new eyes. It was bustling with people moving toward a counter where a variety of snacks were displayed. The counter was an array of tempting options: large tubs of buttery popcorn and colourful sweets. The whole scene seemed like an elaborate concession to comfort, something you had never considered part of the cinema experience before.

Alessia, who had joined Leah in welcoming you, turned to you with a warm smile. “What’s your go-to?” she asked, her tone inviting and friendly. Her curiosity seemed genuine, and it made you feel a bit more at ease.

You hesitated, glancing at the array of snacks before you, feeling a bit overwhelmed. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your uncertainty evident. The variety of choices seemed almost overwhelming, and you weren’t sure where to start.

Alessia laughed lightly, a sound that was both comforting and disarming. “Ah, a ‘see how you feel’ kind of person,” she said, nodding knowingly as if she understood your approach. Her laughter and casual attitude made it clear that she wasn’t judging you, but rather finding your indecision endearing.

“Um, no,” you replied, feeling a bit embarrassed as you tried to explain. “I’ve not been to the cinema before.” The admission felt awkward, and you braced yourself for whatever reaction might follow.

Alessia stared at you, her eyes widening in shock. “What do you mean?” she asked, disbelief evident in her voice. “Surely you went growing up? I know we don’t have much time now, but still.”

You shifted uncomfortably, the weight of your admission feeling heavier under Alessia’s surprised gaze. “Uh, no. My, uh, my dad said it was a waste of time,” you said, your voice trailing off. The memory of your father’s dismissive attitude made you feel vulnerable, as if you were exposing a part of your past that was uncomfortable to revisit.

Alessia’s surprise was palpable, her mouth forming a small “O” as she processed what you had just revealed. Her eyes widened, clearly taken aback by the information. It was as if the notion of someone never having been to the cinema before was a concept so foreign that it took her a moment to fully grasp it. Her reaction was a blend of shock and genuine curiosity, making you feel even more self-conscious.

You could feel your face flush with embarrassment as you watched her reaction unfold. The realisation that you had just divulged a personal detail about your upbringing – a detail that seemed to have left such an impact on Alessia – made you mentally kick yourself. Why couldn’t you have just gone along with her question, given a generic answer, and avoided this awkward revelation altogether?

As Alessia’s initial shock gave way to a more empathetic expression, you mentally berated yourself for not just playing along. She could almost hear the internal dialogue in your head: “Why did I have to be so honest? Why couldn’t I just say I like popcorn or candy and leave it at that?” You bit your lip, hard, gasping slightly at the familiar pain.

But as you watched Alessia’s expression soften into one of understanding, you also noticed the subtle shift in her stance. She seemed genuinely concerned and determined to make sure you felt comfortable. Her initial shock had transformed into a compassionate response, as if she was now more committed than ever to ensuring that your first cinema experience was enjoyable and welcoming.

“Well, usually I go for some popcorn,” Alessia said with a casual shrug, her tone easy and conversational. “But I decided on Pick ‘n’ Mix today.” She paused, as if considering the options and her own choice. Her eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief and excitement, reflecting a genuine enthusiasm for the variety of treats on offer. “If you get some popcorn, we could share?” she suggested, her offer smooth and natural, as though it were the most effortless thing in the world.

“Y-you want to share?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. The shock in your tone was palpable, your words tinged with disbelief. The notion that Alessia, someone who had been so kind and welcoming, would offer to share something as simple as popcorn with you felt almost surreal. The gesture seemed magnified by your own insecurities and the weight of your past interactions with her

You stood there, momentarily taken aback, struggling to reconcile Alessia’s warmth with the harshness you remembered from your own behaviour. It was as if her kindness had momentarily suspended reality, making you question whether you deserved such a generous offer. You had been so accustomed to keeping others at a distance, to reacting defensively or with hostility, that the idea of someone reaching out to you with genuine friendliness felt foreign and unexpected.

“Of course, come on, let’s get some popcorn,” Alessia said, her smile broadening into a welcoming expression that seemed to dispel any lingering awkwardness. Her enthusiasm was infectious, a burst of positive energy that made you feel more at ease despite your earlier reservations.

Without missing a beat, she reached out and gently grabbed your elbow, her touch both firm and reassuring.

The film wasn’t necessarily your choice, but as it played out on the screen, you found yourself increasingly engrossed. You never really had time for films – growing up, your father had made you watch old matches and now, as an adult, you did the same. There was something about the action, the romance, the unexpected twist at the end that drew you in and kept you close.

Sitting wedged in between Alessia and Leah wasn’t too bad either. In fact, it turned out to be one of the more pleasant surprises of the evening. Alessia, seated to your right, had a laugh that was genuinely infectious. Each time something amusing or surprising happened on the screen, her laughter would bubble up – a warm, genuine sound that was impossible not to be affected by. It was the kind of laugh that seemed to fill the room with a sense of shared joy, creating a subtle but tangible bond between you and the rest of the audience. Her enthusiasm was both comforting and uplifting, making the film experience feel even more enjoyable.

Leah, on your left, contributed to the cozy atmosphere with her own unique presence. She kept up a quiet commentary throughout the film, her murmurs barely audible but filled with insightful observations and humorous remarks. Her comments were like little nuggets of insight, offering a fresh perspective on the film's twists and turns. You had expected that her talking might become distracting or irritating, but instead, it had the opposite effect. Leah’s commentary felt like a private conversation that added another layer to your viewing experience, one that was both engaging and endearing.

Rather than finding Leah's remarks bothersome, you found yourself appreciating them. Her thoughtful, almost reverent musings about the film’s plot and characters added depth to your own viewing experience. It was as though she was sharing a part of her own enthusiasm and understanding with you, making the film feel more interactive and immersive. Each comment was delivered with a subtlety that ensured it didn't disrupt your enjoyment, but rather complemented it, adding an extra dimension to your engagement with the story.

The combination of Alessia’s lively, infectious laughter and Leah’s quiet, reflective commentary created a perfect balance that made sitting between them a surprisingly enjoyable experience. It turned out to be a blend of energy and insight that enhanced the film’s appeal, making the whole experience feel more communal and enjoyable.

“Oh, my god. That was so good!” Stina cheered as you all left the theater, her excitement practically radiating from her. Her blonde ponytail whipped from side to side with each enthusiastic hop down the steps, creating a lively and contagious energy that seemed to spread through the group. Stina’s reaction was a burst of pure, unfiltered enthusiasm, her voice ringing with genuine excitement about the film you had just seen.

Conversations about favourite scenes and surprising plot twists began to bubble up, each person eager to share their thoughts and opinions on the film. It was as if Stina’s initial reaction had unlocked a wave of shared enthusiasm that everyone was eager to join in on.

“Yeah, that twist at the end was incredible!” Steph chimed in, her voice laced with amazement. “I didn’t see that coming at all.” The sentiment was echoed by several others, their faces animated with excitement as they recounted their favourite moments. The film had clearly struck a chord with the group, and the sense of collective satisfaction was palpable. Had this been what you were missing out on every time you declined an invite?

Before you could get too far into your head, Kim came up behind you, her shoulder gently nudging yours in a friendly, almost reassuring manner. The touch was light but deliberate, a small gesture that drew you back from your swirling thoughts and into the present moment. Her presence was warm and grounding, a reminder that you were part of a group, and her approachable demeanor made it easier to transition from the excitement of the film to the next part of the evening.

“So, what did you think?” Kim asked, her voice filled with genuine interest. There was a subtle anticipation in her tone, an expectation that your opinion would contribute to the collective conversation.

“I liked the film. It was very good,” you responded, your voice steady but still tinged with the residual excitement from the movie. You were still processing the film’s impact and the lively discussion that had followed, and Kim’s question provided a moment to articulate your enjoyment. It felt good to share your positive reaction, to be part of the enthusiastic response that had characterised the group’s reactions.

Kim’s eyes brightened at your response, and she smiled with a hint of mischief. “Good enough to come to dinner with us?” she asked, her tone light and inviting.

You froze for a moment, a sudden wave of uncertainty washing over you. Did Kim really want you to join them for dinner? The question seemed to echo in your mind, stirring up a flurry of anxious thoughts. The idea of continuing the evening with the group was both inviting and intimidating, and you couldn’t help but question whether you truly belonged in this social setting.

A twinge of apprehension gnawed at you as you considered the possibility of making a mistake. What if you inadvertently did something wrong or said something out of turn? The fear of misstepping or failing to live up to the group’s expectations loomed large. You imagined potential scenarios where your actions might not align with the group’s dynamics, leading to awkwardness or discomfort.

And what if you got angry with them again? What if you ruined the night? What if you did something wrong and they kicked you off the team? A tight knot of anxiety bubbled up in your chest, making it difficult to fully embrace the invitation. The prospect of making a good impression and avoiding past mistakes felt like a significant challenge. Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself that Kim’s invitation was a gesture of goodwill, a sign that your presence was valued and welcomed.

“Umm, yeah, yeah, I think so,” you said, your voice gaining confidence as you spoke. “If that’s ok with you?” The question was as much about seeking reassurance as it was about confirming your participation. It was a polite gesture, ensuring that your presence was welcome and that you weren’t imposing on the group’s plans.

Kim’s smile widened, and she gave you a reassuring nod. “Absolutely, it’s totally okay,” she said warmly. “We’d love to have you join us. It’s just a casual dinner, nothing too formal. We’re all going to this great place nearby – should be a lot of fun!”

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t1red-twilight · 4 months ago

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chills

summary: you and spence warm up👀

content/warnings: gn!reader, mdni, suggestive content, fluff

notes: oh no mr spencer reid i’m so cold it’s up to you to keep me warm🤭

word count: 0.5k

masterlist s. r. masterlist

on the very rare occasion that there was a snowstorm in DC, there was hardly over a few inches. despite the yearly average, there was a serious storm brewing outside.

“i really think i should be heading home. the snow is getting more intense.” you looked at the window of spencer’s apartment to witness the heavy winds accompanying the flurries of snow. you looked over at spencer to see that a look of mild panic and worry adorned his face.

“i really don’t think that’s a good idea. it’s not safe to drive in this weather.” you knew it wasn't worth arguing with him over it. you contemplated very briefly. drive in horrible weather, or stay in with your very warm, very snuggly boyfriend, who is always very eager to be around you? it wasn’t too much of a battle.

and that’s how you found yourself bundled in spencer’s purple sheets (that had a very high thread count, he would note). the darkened lights, the hum from the heater, and spencer’s favorite lamp made for a very cozy ambiance. “hey, how high is your thermostat set at?”

alarmingly quick, spence changed the mood. he began kissing across your collarbone very gingerly. “mmm, warm enough.”

“that is not specific at all,” you replied before gently grabbing his face, and pulling him up to meet your gaze. he shrugged before diving into you.

spencer broke away once more. “warm enough to not be freezing, but cold enough that you have to stay really close to me.”

you could taste the spearmint from his toothpaste on his tongue as he savored you in mouthfuls. his only response was a hum that you could feel against your face.

you chuckled at him, and he smiled into the kiss. his arms encircled your waist, and one fell to your lower back. his hand trailed lower and lower before he tentatively tried to hike your leg over his.

you followed his urges and used your leg to pull him closer to you. his corresponding leg went in between yours in response. one of your hands moved to his hair and the other splayed across his back and shoulders.

he hummed again into your mouth. you pulled away from him for a moment to look at the blown out look in his big eyes. you kissed him again, only lower towards his collarbone. you pulled his sleep shirt out of the way prior to sucking small love bites just below where people would notice.

the sounds he made were tantalizing; they hypnotized you.

mirroring your actions from earlier, he used his hand that wasn’t lingering on your leg to pull your face back up to his. one of your hands reached beneath his shirt and scratched his back ever-so-slightly. he kissed the corner of your mouth.

“is this why you wanted me to stay?” you parted from him to ask.

he glanced away before meeting your eyes again. his thumb traced circles on the space right before your ear. “hmmm, maybe. but the snow is actually very dangerous to drive in, did you know that-”

a laugh that broke from you interrupted him. “i wanted to stay anyways, you of all people should know that by now.”

#lee’s writing <3 #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #x reader #fluff

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imaginaryf1shots · 4 months ago

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Hot and Cold | Charles Leclerc

WC: 3K

Charles x gf!reader

Summery: "I can't do this anymore, I can't be everything to you one minute and then mean nothing to you the next." from my 1K celebration

Warning: angst, don’t think there’s anything else.

Masterlist

Charles Masterlist

Being a Formula 1 driver, isn't easy and it's a very demanding job. You know that and everyone that knows someone in F1 knows that. The sport takes a big toll on everyone involved, physically and mentally. You've seen what the pressure does to drivers. Charles, who you've been with for a long time is a testament to what it does to people.

The road to reaching F1 for Charles was long and hard and he lost so much on the way. There was so many sacrifices he had to make just to reach his destination and achieve his dream.

On track, the smell of burning rubber is strong and the air is filled with adrenaline. It was all familiar to you now. Charles was in his element there more than anywhere else. To everyone he's Charles Leclerc the prodigy, the hope to Ferrari, but beneath that helmet he's just a man juggling the weight of his dreams and the expectations.

Off track, as Charles's significant other, you try to be there for him as much as possible provide all the love he needs, to comfort him when he needs it, to be a stable constant in his life. Charles is a loving and attentive boyfriend, he always wants you to fly with him and be there with him. Whatever your needs are he always tries to meet them.

As the new season progressed though things have began to change, and at first it was just a bad race he'd be upset for a couple of days before he'd become normal again, but then his mood would stay down for longer and the moments when you two could be happy together became less and less. It was rare now to have a moment with Charles that's just the two of and filled with joy.

It was when Charles is home that you started to feel the distance between the two of you. Charles was home but his mind was a thousands miles away, caught in strategies, cars and lap times. As you watched you could see his brows furrowed in thought, his arms absently tapping the arm of the sofa, and a bang of longing twisted in your chest.

"Charles." You called gently trying to pull him back to you, to here, to now. Charles looked up, when his met yours, you can see reflecting exhaustion and something else you couldn't pinpoint. Guilt? Or was it the weight of the expectations?

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" He smiled oh so sweetly, and you returned his smile.

"I was saying if you're not feeling up to it we can cancel our reservation for dinner and go another time." You tell him and Charles takes a moment to answer, and that is telling enough for you, if he wanted to go he would've jumped at the idea of going and refused instantly. "It's alright my love, we can go another time."

"Can we? You won't be mad?" Charles asked and you gave him a reassuring smile.

"No I wouldn't." And you weren't mad, you were sad, you were really looking forwards to tonight, you bought a new outfit and had it all planned out. There was no other time to go, Charles is heading into a triple header and there was no time in between to do anything.

There was no late-night conversations, because Charles wanted to sleep to reenergize, there was no sharing dreams or thoughts, and you haven't been intimate in so long as well. Your heart ached on those night where Charles was sleeping next to you but it felt like he was so far away.

At one point he got you a gift with a hand written letter and you felt like the Charles you fell in love with is back, you were filled with hope. But then the next day he was back in his head, and distant. You're starting to feel like he's playing with your emotions.

Charles one day decided to take you out in Monaco to a café you haven't been to in a long time. You dressed for the occasion, dolled up. The walk to the café was a nice one, you walked hand in hand, talking and laughing. Once you reached the café, Charles got an email from Ferrari and like that he was gone, you ordered for the both of you, something that fit his diet so when you ate he wouldn't feel left out or tempted since he's been hard on himself when it came to the diet and the gym. The food and drinks came but he was still lost in his own world, taking a bite of your food, everything was tasteless, you wanted to spit out the food as your stomach churned. Putting the fork down you signalled to the waiter to bring the check all while Charles is still lost on his phone, he's been good at blocking everything when he's working these days, and he's been working a lot. You paid and he was still none the wiser.

Only when you stood up that he looked up from his phone.

“Amour?" He was confused, he looked around him and saw the now cold drink you ordered him and the bill on the table.

"I'm going home, don't worry about the bill, I paid, when you're done you can come home." You said with a smile and turned to leave.

"y/n, wait!" Charles scrambled to follow you, he walked out after you. Charles jogged until he was behind you, he held your arm to stop you from walking, and as he opened his mouth to speak his phone rang. He glanced at it and bit his lip. He had no idea what to do now. You laughed dryly.

“Just answer." Charles didn't put up a fight and you slipped out of his hold, but you didn't go home, you weren't in the mood. So you walked around the city, enjoying the good weather.

"y/n!" Someone called your name and for a split second you hoped, you hoped it would be Charles, but you recognized that voice. You turn and smile, a fake smile, your heart started beating in your chest as your emotions started to get to you and you fought them.

"Max, hey." You greeted the RedBull driver, you've been dating Charles long enough to be on good terms with the other drivers and their girlfriends. "Kelly, how are you?"

"We're good, how are you?" Kelly asks and you both hug and press your cheeks together in greeting.

"I'm, I'm good." You nod and then bite your lip, Kelly didn't believe you and frankly neither did Max and out of the two he knows you least.

"We were just going back home, if you're not doing anything, maybe you'd want to come over?" Kelly asked and you looked at the couple and gave them the smallest smile you could master.

"No, I don't want to intrude." You say and shake your head no.

"Where's Charles?" Max asks and Kelly hits his chest softly and glared at her boyfriend. Max was a bit confused. Kelly watched your expression, you smiled before your brows wavered and your lips trembled.

"Oh honey." Kelly pulls you in for a hug. Kelly holds you for a few minutes while you calm down, once you did the couple took you back to their home.

Sitting in their living room, you just broke down and told them what's been going on. Your phone started ringing half way through and blowing up with texts from Charles, all going unanswered. The couple were baffled with what you said, to everyone you always looked like the perfect couple, the envy of everyone. Yet, here you are crying your eyes out because your boyfriend has been ignoring you for the better part of the year.

You spent the night at the Verstappen-piquet household before you decided to head back home.

"Are you sure?" Max asked as he walked you to the door.

"Yes, thank you, I'll be fine." You reassured him, and with a quick hug you left. It didn't take long for you to reach your shared house with Charles, when you walked in you heard hurried movements before Charles appeared in front of you.

"Oh mon amour, I was so scared." He did look stressed, you sighed and closed the door lightly, your moves were slow, you took off your shoes and dropped off your bag on the table by the entrance before you turned to look at Charles, it's apparent you both didn't sleep well. You knew Charles had work today, that's why you went out yesterday, but he was dressed in sweatpants and a random shirt, a stay at home outfit.

"We need to talk." You said, your voice tight, struggling to contain the emotions that threatened to spill over. You had given Charles so much time and space in hope that with time he'd find his way back to you, that the coldness in him will thaw and melt, but the moments when you think it happened aren't enough, they're rare and far between.

"Look, if it's about yesterday, I'm so sorry, I should've-" Charles started before you cut him off.

"No, we need to talk about us." You said your voice trembling ever so slightly, you both move to the living room and you sit across from Charles. When you first started dating and until a year ago, you've never sat apart on any sofa, in any room, but it's becoming familiar now. "We need to talk about how we've been struggling lately, our relationship is drowning."

"Drowning? y/n, amour, yesterday I just had an important email and then call about work." Charles tried to explain but it just made you more sure that this conversation had to be had.

"And last week?" Charles frowns thinking about last week, you had planned to go out with your friends, but he bailed last minute to stay home and get on the sim, so you went alone. "And last month? My mum's birthday? Our anniversary?"

"A-Amour, I didn't realise I've been under alot of pressure, you know that." Charles sighed, the sound was heavy and weary, he couldn't meet your eyes, he knows he missed up big time. "The season is in full swing, and I need to focus." "Charles, we've been like that since last year, I only had you for a part of the winter break before you were back at work." You frown, trying to make him realise for how long he's been like this, and you've tried to be understanding, to be by his side and take it. "What about me? Do I not matter to you anymore? Does our relationship mean so little to you?"

"No, it's not like that." He said rubbing his temples. "I'm just... I'm trying to keep up with everything."

"Everything but us." You said your voice gaining an edge as you started feeling angry.

"I... I didn't realise," He stammered, standing up and taking a step towards you, you stood up but took a step back, you didn't want him near you, to touch you, if he did, you'll give up. It hurt him seeing you step away from him, but knows he deserved it. "I'm Sorry, I've neem so caught up with everything, I didn't see what I was doing to you."

"Caught up?" You repeated, the anger in your voice apparent, but your next words took a turn as your voice trembled. "You've been so focused on your career, on your races, that you've forgotten what's really important, I've been right here, waiting, hoping for the old Charles-my Charles-to come back, but all I got are those glimpses and small moments."

Charles' shoulders sagged, he ran a hand though his hair and his eyes filled with pain and regret. "I never meant to hurt you, I just thought that... I thought I could handle it all, I thought you understood."

"I did understand, I do." You said and the tears you've been fighting welled

up in your eyes. "But understanding doesn't mean I can endure this forever. I need you, Charles. I need you to be here, really here and not just you on the phone or in the sim room."

Charles wanted to promise you that he'll be better, but he's scared to make a promise that he may not be able to keep. You knew Charles well enough to know what's going on in his mind, and so the tears escaped and you smiled, it was a painful smile teary and hurtful.

"I can't do this anymore, Charles." You said and you tried to stop the tears from flowing, it's starting to dawn on him what your next words will be. "I can't mean everything to you one minute and then mean nothing to you the next."

"Amour." Charles sounded broken, he loves you and you know that, but sometimes love isn't enough. You've chosen Charles so many times but you have to choose yourself right now, you have to, or this relationship will drain you out. You walk around Charles and head to your shared bedroom, closing and locking the door behind you, you take out your suitcase, and pack your essentials, what you'd need for a week, knowing Charles will be out of the house for a race after that.

When you walked out after you were finished, you saw Charles siting on the sofa looking miserable, you left the suitcase by the door and walked up to Charles. He looked up at you and glanced at the bag behind you. this is it, you're leaving him and he deserved it. He looked broken and it took everything in you not to go back on your decision. You opened your arms and Charles walked in to your hug, he was heavy in your arms. You both held each other for a long while, this may be the last hug you share. No matter what happened there's still so much love that you have for each other making this more painful.

"I'm so sorry amour." Charles muttered in your ear and you ran your hand through his hair and sighed =

"I know, my love, I know." You say back and pull back, you try to give him a small smile. Your hand was on his cheek as you rubbed it, feeling him for the last time. Charles's arms on your waist tightened, he didn't want to let you go. "I'll see you around

Charles."

That was his que to let you go, you kissed his cheek just next to his lips and his hands flexed before he let go. You walked out of his arms. You opened the front door and rolled out your bag before you closed the door you looked at Charles, who was frozen.

"I'll still wear red on the weekends, I'll cheer you on, no matter what." You hesitated before you said. "I love you Charles, please don't make this hard on yourself and don't pressure yourself, I'm choosing myself, so you choose yourself too."

With that you closed the door after you and left.

Being without Charles has been hard, you’ve been together for so long. Even if he’s been distant before you broke it off, you’d always be finding yourself wanting to text or call him. You found an apartment in Nice that you rented until you know what your next steps will be like. Your life has been intertwined so much with Charles’ that it was hard to untangle it. There was this constant ache in your heart.

Charles, on the other hand, was a man undone. The realisation of what he had lost hit him with the force of a speeding car. He threw himself more into his races, each victory a hollow echo of what he truly wanted, his ups aren’t so satisfying now. It wasn’t the podiums that filled his thoughts; it was you, the person who had been his anchor and his heart.

And so one evening, as the sun started to set, there was a knock at your door. You opened it to find Charles standing there, his eyes red-rimmed and weary, a man who had been through his own kind of race, one that he desperately hoped would end with you.

“I know I don’t deserve another chance.” He began, his voice raw with emotion as he didn’t give you a chance to say anything, he was scared you’d slam the door in his face. “I know I’ve hurt you, and I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am. I’ve realised that without you, none of this means anything. The races, the wins, they’re all empty without you. Please, give me one more chance. I promise, I’ll be the man you need, the man you deserve.”

You stood there, heart pounding, torn between the pain of the past and the love you still felt for him. You saw the sincerity in his eyes, the desperation of a man who had finally realised what truly mattered.

“I still love you, Charles.” You said softly, tears welling up in your eyes. “But I can’t go through this again. You need to prove to me that things will be different, that you’ll be there, really there.”

“I will.” He said, taking your hands in his, his touch warm and familiar. “I swear to you, I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. Just give me the chance to show you.”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the man you had fallen in love with, the man who had been lost but now stood before you, pleading for a second chance. With a deep breath, you nodded, a tentative smile breaking through the tears.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “One more chance.”

And as the sun set, bathing the city in a warm, forgiving light, you stepped back into the arms of the man who had found his way back to you, ready to start anew and rebuild the love that had once seemed lost forever.

Maintaglist

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03

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