#GET THAT BOY A CHARGING PAD

[rxng]

he needs to go WIRELESS

[simonbrain]

getting the biggest, scariest bastard at the pub in your bed must have been one of your greatest achievements, especially after watching the way he turned down a few girls prior to you.

he glanced at you each time, disregarding the way the poor things scuttled off in embarrassment; their confidence dampened. it's like he was preening under your attention, and even underneath that silly balaclava of his, you picked up on the way he seemed to flush. his shoulders became more square, and his chest seemed to puff out more. the air around him became more charged with his cockiness rather than the pointless attempts at hiding himself from the other patrons. surely he's aware that he's the centre of the room, no matter which one.

he only grew more bold until he was right at your side, and you held his gaze the entire time.

now, he rewards you with the greatest dicking-down of your life, his fat cock stretching you impossibly thin, the thick girth bullying its way into you over and over again. he fucks you like a man starved, touches you as if he's trying to sink his hands beneath your soft skin and stroke your bones.

although nothing could have prepared you for how fucking filthy his mouth is. his voice holds the right amount of grittiness, the kind that makes your eyes roll back as he whispers the nastiest things in your ear, his accent adding to the thrill his words send down your spine. each moan that fell from his mouth, each promise of ruining you for anyone else after him, each pet name he called you had you going brainless on his cock, your sensitive bundle of nerves twitching under the pads of his fingers as he follows through with his promise. maybe if you were any more lucid, you might have realised it sounded more like a threat rather than just plain dirty talk.

the next morning, you woke up to an aching body, a bottle of water and a box of tylenol on your bedside table, and no stranger in your bed. this may be the greatest one-night stand you've ever had.

well, it was until you realised a couple of weeks later that you're still getting off to the image of him blanketing you and that damn voice of his purring low in your ear. your fingers circle your clit, your eyes unfocused as you imagine him on top of you, taking you deep right where he belongs, and when you think about how he growled at you to soak his cock like a good girl, you come all over your fingers with a humiliatingly loud whine.

it only gets worse from there. you can no longer come to porn unless the person in the video resembles the big boy who rearranged your guts, and even that is a feat of its own. you can't find anyone who has similar tattoos, similar scars, or even a similar voice. reading smut can only get you so far, and some nights, you go to bed feeling defeated because you just couldn't orgasm.

you get so desperate you start searching for those dirty little audios people post online, and for a while, you manage to make yourself come (maybe not as hard, but at this point, you'll take anything). the voices that rumble through your headphones aren't as husky as your mystery man, and their accents aren't exactly close to his, but it holds you off... until it doesn't. and now you're desperate to find him again, but he's probably long gone now.

you can't believe it; the fucker really did ruin you.

it's not until a few months later that you hear that familiar voice again, and your knees almost give out in the middle of the damn store.

(they actually do when simon, he tells you through hungry kisses, bends you in half in the dreadful alleyway, your poor cunt taking each brutal fill of that cock you've been craving so badly.

"she's fuckin' squeezin' me, sweet'art. missed me tha' much?" he chuckles hoarsely in your ear, and you would have fallen over if not for his firm hold keeping you upright.

yep, he can fuck right off again. you'll get your lick back. just as soon as your legs stop shaking and you're not seeing double.)

[starcrossedmusings]

Pretty Hands

Pairing: best friend!Yunho x f!reader WC: 3.2k Warnings: eventual smut, reader has a thing for Yunho's hands (who doesn't??), swearing, fingering, choking, a little bit of degradation (he compares her to a whore literally once), PRAISE so much praise, Yunho talks reader through it (you're welcome), pov is kinda all over the place just let it be, Yunho is absolutely WHIPPED for reader teehee, probably some other things that I missed (let me know)

Summary: You and Yunho have been friends for years, and you tell each other everything. He suddenly takes a much more vested interest in your love life when you can't stop mentioning your newest interest.

A/N: This is entirely self indulgent and also I just wanted to get something full posted. The Phantom fic is turning out to be much longer than I originally anticipated (and so did this one once I started writing it). Let me know what you think♡

Stepping into Yunho's apartment had always felt like coming home, and today was no exception. You take your shoes off in the tiled entryway and pad your way through the main living area, calling out to him as you walk.

"Yun? I'm here!"

His muffled response flows down from the end of the hall, "Bedroom!"

You make your way through the back hallway and enter his room, finding him exactly where you thought he would be, focused in on his computer. There's a selection of empty drink cans and snack wrappers scattered around his desk, which tells you that whatever he's currently building on Minecraft has probably occupied the majority of his day so far. He pauses the game and turns his chair to face you.

"Whats up?"

"Got bored at home and my roommate isn't even trying to muffle her pornstar moans for her new boy toy."

Yunho barks out a laugh, "Does she seriously sound--"

"Just like it Yun I can't make this shit up. I'm starting to think maybe they're recording themselves in there."

Yunho wiggles his eyebrows as he stretches his arms up and over his head, leaning back in his chair. "Well, if I ever see your living room on Pornhub I'll be sure to let you know"

You crinkle your nose. "Ew. I do NOT need to know that."

"Whatever, don't act like you haven't been talking to me for weeks about how horny you are. If I have to hear about your vibrator dying one more time I'm gonna buy you a new one myself."

"You try getting unintentionally edged three nights in a row with a full charge, it's some bullshit Yun. Besides, I'm allowed to complain about my dry spell."

Yunho scoffs, tone playful and lighthearted. "Dry spell? It's been what? Two months?"

"It's been three thank you very much." You move to sit on his bed.

"Well some of us haven't had sex in much longer."

"Oh, please, that girl that San was messing around with was all over you at his birthday party last month, don't tell me you didn't take that opportunity."

Yunho raises his eyebrows in shock, leaning forward in his chair. "Wait, really?"

"Oh my GOD Yun you are so oblivious. Yes really. She was all giggly and twirling her hair and shit. That's like...girl flirting basics."

"I am not oblivious, I am actually quite observant. I could tell you things about yourself you don't even know. I just have my sights set on someone and that someone is not her."

You shoot him an incredulous look and snort out a laugh, leaning back to lay down completely on his bed, legs dangling off the edge. "Sure Yun, whatever makes you feel better."

You hear Yunho stand from his chair and feel his weight shift onto the mattress. He appears in your vision, a challenging playful sparkle in his eyes as he peers down at you. "Okay, fine. I can tell that you're trying out a new perfume, you just went shopping because your leggings are a different brand than you usually wear, and I know that you washed your hair last night because you're wearing it all the way down today."

You do your best to ignore the way your stomach summersaults at his attention to detail about you and your routines. You roll onto your side and prop your head up on your elbow, matching his challenging gaze. "Okay Sherlock Holmes. What kind of underwear am I wearing then?"

Yunho pauses to consider before responding "a thong, probably black." You grin triumphantly and lean in just a bit closer.

"Wrong. I'm not wearing any. You lose!" You stick your tongue out playfully at him and he swats your shoulder, falling back onto his mattress.

"You set me up!"

"Face it Yun, I'm just better than you."

"Yeah yeah, whatever" Yunho pouts, voice hightening slightly from surprise. He can feel a slight redness creeping up his ears and prays his hair has grown long enough to cover it. 'I'm not wearing any.' He clears his throat. "So why go commando? You finally planning to seduce your new conquest?"

"He is not a new conquest, he doesn't even know I like him."

"He will once he knows you aren't wearing any underwear for him" Yunho jokes, smiling cheekily. You smack at his chest.

"I didn't want to do laundry last night, asshole. Get your mind out of the gutter!"

"You're one to talk" he mutters under his breath.

You sit up fully and reach for one of the pillows at the top of his bed, slamming it down on his face. "Jeong Yunho I swear to god!" On your second swing, he manages to catch the pillow with one hand and pry it from your grasp, but not before giving you an entirely unhelpful image of his long fingers gripping the plush material.

"What?? All I ever hear you talk about lately is how tall and handsome this dude is and how much his hands make you drool."

"You sound jealous."

"I'm not jealous, I'm pissed that I have to hear all about him and don't even get to know what the dude's name is."

"I told you, I'm gatekeeping this time. You run your mouth too much."

"I do not!"

"Do too."

"Ugh FINE whatever," Yunho chucks the pillow back towards you and you dodge it, leaving both pillows on one side of the headboard, "You're so agitating."

"You know you love me Yun. But just for the attitude," You adjust both pillows and shuffle your way back until you're leaned against both of them, "no pillow for you for tonights doomscrolling session."

He huffs a laugh and scoots up to meet you, pulling out his phone and settling in against the headboard.

An hour later you get up to go to the bathroom, and when you get back Yunho has stolen both of his pillows. You frown and cross your arms. "Hey, asshole, those were mine!"

"Yeah?" He taunts playfully, "Well they were mine to begin with, and my back is killing me. So deal." You roll your eyes and cross back over to the bed, crawling over the side you've been sitting on and curling yourself into Yunho's side to rest your head against his chest. You feel him tense slightly underneath you before he moves one of his arms around your shoulders to let you lay more comfortably.

"There's no way in hell I'm sitting up against that cold ass metal frame you call a headboard." You mutter as you begin scrolling. Yunho's chuckle rumbles through his chest and tickles your cheek. You both sit in silence for a while, content to scroll on your phones. Eventually, you turn to look up at him from his chest.

"I meant to ask how your new project has been going. Whatever you were building when I came in looked pretty intense." You can see the faint tinge of red trail up his ears and neck--a telltale sign that whatever you caught him building makes him embarrassed. You sit up, propping your weight on your elbow and placing a hand on his chest to shove him slightly. "Ooooo now you have to tell me what it is!"

"It's embarrassing..."

"Tell me tell me tell me tell me--"

"Okay fine, fuck. I'll tell you if you promise not to laugh--"

"I won't I swear!"

"Pinky promise?" He holds his pinky out to you, and you raise a hand from his chest. Before you can lace your pinky in his, he pulls his hand up above his head. "I'm serious, Y/N, if you laugh I'll have no choice but to tickle you to death."

He's definitely not stalling because he has to come up with a reply, because he certainly hasn't been building a treehouse for you in what he hopes will one day be a shared server. Yunho thinks to himself that he would rather die than let you find out.

You scoff, "I won't laugh...and even if I did I'm not ticklish so your threat is a moot point."

Yunho drops his hand down onto the mattress. "Bullshit."

"It's not. I don't have a ticklish bone in my body."

"Liar."

You shake your head, and Yunho takes the opportunity to gently press the pads of his fingers into the sides of your ribs. The sensation hits you almost immediately, and you feel the tight feeling in your chest as he begins tickling you. You squeal and thrash around in his grasp, trying desperately to get away from his assault.

"Yun stop it--"

"Not until you admit you're a liar!" You begin to giggle and manage to roll away from him, but Yunho is quick to follow. He swings a long leg over your hips and pins you beneath him, a single large hand trapping both of your wrists above your head while the other dances across your ribs. "Admit it," He sings out.

"Okay! Okay fine I'm a liar!" You gasp out between laughter. Yunho beams down at you and immediately stops tickling your sides, leaving you panting underneath him--

Oh fuck...you're panting underneath him.

He can almost feel the shift in the air as he stares down at you. He knows he should move, just roll off of you and make up some bullshit lie about what he was building. You like someone else, and he clearly wasn't getting out of the friend zone any time soon. He's just making a fool of himself...and yet he just can't bring himself to stop memorizing the way you look splayed out beneath his hips. Eventually he forces himself to stop staring at the way your chest rises and falls or the sliver of your tummy that's poking out from underneath your shirt that's riding up. He locks eyes with you.

Your voice comes out softer than he's ever heard you speak before. "Hey Yun?"

"Yeah?"

"You know that mystery guy I've been telling you about? The one with the pretty hands?"

A twinge of annoyance flairs in his stomach and he can't help but grumble out his reply. "Yeah?"

"I'll give you a hint. He's got me pinned to the mattress right now."

Yunho feels his heart drop deep into the pit of his stomach.

"Like...like right now he does?"

You laugh lightly. "Yeah, right now, Yun."

Yunho swallows thickly as his head starts spinning. He leans down much slower than he would have liked to, giving you plenty of time to take it back--to laugh at him and tell him you got him good. He feels like his whole body lights ablaze when you close the final gap between your lips, and suddenly he is kissing you.

In almost any circumstance that you had seen Yunho kissing someone, he was always fast-paced--hot and heavy petting in the corner of a darkened bar, dares in drunken party circles--which is why you were floored at the reverence he was kissing you with now. His mouth was steady and intense against yours, his hands roaming slowly across the expanse of your torso like he was memorizing the feel of something priceless. You gently pull your hands from his grasp and tangle them in his hair, pulling him closer and matching his intensity with your fervor. You feel his hands make their way to the lower hem of your shirt, and your skin erupts in goosebumps as you feel his fingers ghost along the sliver of skin there. He breaks the kiss and you feel his breath fan across your face as he pants. His hands gently make their way to rest just under your shirt, not quite pushing the fabric up. He locks eyes with you.

"Is this okay?"

You chuckle gently. "Yes, Yun, you can touch me. I want you to touch me." You watch his eyes darken and his hands start running up your torso, pulling your shirt up with them.

"Where do you want me to touch you, baby?"

You exhale heavily and arch your back into his touch. "Anywhere...everywhere...I don't care."

Yunho smirks and feels his ego inflate. "You don't care? Hmm..." He starts planting kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck. Slow. Teasing. "If I remember correctly, you seemed pretty keen about having my hands in some specific places baby. Can you refresh my memory?"

The low whine that escapes your throat nearly sends him spiraling. "You know where...don't make me say it."

He does know, but there's nothing he wants to hear more right now than to hear you say it. He brings one hand up to your chest, cupping one of your boobs and squeezing gently as he continues peppering your neck with kisses. "Was it here? Or..." His hand trails back down and grips your hip possessively, "Here, maybe?" He hears you huff and feels your hand wrap around his wrist. You try to tug it up, and he chuckles softly but allows you to move his hand. He nips your earlobe and asks lowly, "Where do you need my hands baby?" He feels his cock twitch in his sweats when you wrap his fingers around your throat, guiding him to squeeze the sides gently. Your hands run down his chest and drop to your sides as he squeezes a little harder. "Fuck, look at you. So pretty with my hand around your neck."

You whine and buck your hips up, desperately looking for friction. Yunho coos as he looks down at you, wanting to have the image burned into his memory. He adjusts his position so he's sat on one side of you and brings his free hand to your thighs, squeezing the flesh there and watching the way you spread your legs for him. "Pretty girl, I need you to use your words. Spreading your legs like a whore isn't gonna get you what you want." He revels in the way you throw your head back onto the mattress and close your eyes, frustration evident already on your face.

"Need your fingers, Yun. Please."

Holy shit, he could combust right then and there. He smiles and traces his hands along the inside of your clothed thighs. "Good girl. So polite for me." He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your leggings and pulls them down and off, leaving you bare from the waist down. "Sit up for me baby. I want you between my legs."

Yunho sits on the edge of the mattress and allows you time to sit up, moving to sit in between his thighs. He hooks your legs over his, leaving you spread and completely at his mercy. A shiver runs down your spine as the pads of his fingers run across your thighs and you gasp as they brush against your core. He presses kisses into your neck and chuckles, "You're already soaking wet, what's got you all bothered hmm? I've barely touched you..." Yunho hums and teases your entrance with this middle finger. He can feel you clenching. "Do you like my hands that much baby? All it takes is a little choking and you're putty for me." He pushes two fingers inside, pumping slowly and curling back to find your sweet spot. He feels pride flare through his chest at the noise you make, a mix between a whine and a moan that eggs him on.

Your toes curl as Yunho almost immediately finds your g-spot. The pace he sets is almost perfect, and when he begins rubbing tight circles on your clit your eyes roll back into your head. The pleasure is a building wave, and it's all you can do to keep yourself remotely still as he continues pumping his thick fingers in and out. "Oh my god, Yun, please don't stop!" You clench helplessly around his fingers and let your head roll back to rest on his shoulder.

"Awe baby I'm not gonna stop. Not until I see how pretty you look cumming all over me. Will you do that for me, sweetheart?" he coos, bringing his other hand back up to your throat and squeezing lightly. "Will you cum all over my fingers? I bet you want to right? Wanna come on my fingers while I squeeze this pretty neck of yours?"

You whine and preen at his words and arch your back. Your legs begin to shake as Yunho's circling on your clit quickens pace just slightly, the thrusts of his fingers audible from the squelching between your thighs. Your breath quickens.

"My pretty girl, you're such a mess for me, aren't you? Can you hear how wet you are? All soaked for me? I bet your hands don't feel as good as mine hmm?"

You shake your head no violently, whining as he continues to talk lowly into your ear. Your orgasm builds quickly, and at this point you have no faith in your ability to speak coherently.

"No, they don't do they? I want you to show me how good my hands feel baby. Let go for me, sweetheart."

Your breath catches in your throat as you tip over the edge, and the feeling of your release washes over you. Your whole body jolts in his grasp as he continues pumping his fingers. You feel him squeeze your throat gently, just enough pressure to remind you that he's got you.

"Atta girl, look at you! Doing so good for me." You whine and buck your hips, orgasm still riding through your body. Yunho nips at your neck lightly and slows his pumping to a stop as you continue to shake. "That's it baby, just grind on them for me." The final aftershock of your orgasm finishes, and you go limp in his arms, leaning all of your weight back into his chest and breathing heavily.

Yunho pulls his fingers out and admires the mess you made on them before popping them into his mouth. He's still rock hard, and the taste of you on his fingers makes him twitch again. He'll definitely need your help with that later. He uses the hand around your neck to brush a stray hair from out of your face. "How are you feeling?"

You huff out a breathless laugh and turn your face to nuzzle into his neck. "How do you think I feel? That was...wow."

He can't help the goofy smile that crosses his face. "Oh really? Tell me more, I'd like a full report." He jokes, pulling the two of you down to snuggle on his bed. He grabs a throw blanket from your side and pulls it over the two of you and nearly melts when you curl closer to him, burying your face into his chest.

"Give me a few minutes to recover and I'll show you exactly how I'm feeling right now." Yunho rubs a hand up and down your back.

"I look forward to that."

"And then afterwards you're going to show me what you've been building."

Yunho chuckles and kisses the top of your head. No way in hell.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

BEG!

Tags: Satoru x fem!Reader, nocurse!au, misogynistic!gojo, college!au, reader puts him in his place, CRACK do not take this fic seriously, enemies to lovers, suggestive, mdni

Synopsis: Satoru is a stupid alpha bro who’s misogynistic and a play boy in a fraternity at your college. He learns that he can’t walk all over you, and that turns him on.

An: Thank you to everyone who commented on that post and encouraged me to write this! I didn’t think you guys would eat it up like you did 😅 I thought this would be a smutty one-off, but I actually wanted to try and make it into something a little more meaningful; hence why it took a bit longer to post. This is only part one :)

The party. |

His house screamed wealth and overconsumption at every corner. Money was obviously frivolously spent with building and furnishing the Gojo fraternity house. It was sleek, modern, but still a devastating bachelor’s pad.

The Gojo fraternity held parties every day of the weekend, including Sunday. Women got in for free, and men had to pay 5 dollars to get in. Not that Satoru needed the money — he was disgustingly wealthy and a trust fund baby. He merely charged guys money that way no one below his standard could just waltz into his frat house.

Of course, he truly believed every other man in the frat house was below him in some way. He had the full package: smart, funny, rich, handsome, a dick that should be registered as a legal weapon.

It was no wonder that women was never an issue for him. He found flirting with them to be like child’s play. It’s just too fucking easy…. pun intended. He and Suguru once had a challenge to see who could pick up the most women in a single night. Satoru ended his night after fucking 9 women in a single night, and one of those events was actually a foursome between him and three girls at once.

Honestly, he could be so much worse. With a witty personality and a mouth that just won’t shut up, he could talk his way into or out of anything.

It’s a Sunday night, which usually isn’t a big turn out for the party at his house since everyone has class the next morning. Plus, all homework is due at 11:59pm on Sundays. But this turn out was just embarrassing, there was merely 10 people all sat in his living room.

Suguru already had a girl in his lap. Everyone was giggling about something. Satoru felt like he had a chip on his shoulder, he wasn’t the center of attention right now, so he had to fix that.

Plus, there was a pretty girl in the room who he wanted to impress.

Sitting down in front of you, Satoru grins and hands you a cup undoubtedly of liquor. “Here you go, sweetness. Have one more.” He encourages, knowing that it’d be easier to chat you up if you’re a little buzzed.

“Oh, thanks.” You smile politely, and you fake taking a drink out of it. You’ve heard the stories about Satoru, and there’s just no way in hell you’re drinking something he gives you.

“What are you all talking about?” Satoru asks with a casual grin, and he takes a sip of his own drink.

“Oh, just how dumb Andrew Tate is.” A nobody responds from within the group.

“What? He’s not dumb…” Satoru nearly pouts as his favorite starboy was being harshly criticized by his friends.

“Oh god, don’t tell me you like him.” You say with disgusted look on your face as you eye Satoru. Now, you’re definitely not drinking whatever he just gave you.

Satoru’s face twists in defense as you so boldly speak up about his interests. It’s clear to you that he’s offended, but he’s trying not to make a big deal out of it.

“Why? What do you think is so bad about him?” He retorts as he cocks an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat to try to appear as confident and collected as possible.

“How about how he treats women like shit?” You ask, raising your own eyebrow. Satoru has another thing coming if he thinks you’re just going to bow down and not argue with him because he’s rich.

“He doesn’t treat women like shit-? Where are you getting your facts from?” Satoru argues, and his jaw tightens a minuscule amount. It’s bad enough that he’s being challenged, but he’s being challenged by a woman.

“His literal interviews, and the video of him literally beating a woman?”

“That video was just a sex act without any context.” He dismisses, rolling his eyes and not dispelling any claims about the interviews.

“Bitch, is that what sex sounds like to you? Because you must not be doing it right if she sounds like that.”The room erupts into laughter, and Satoru’s face only makes it better. His pale skin is becoming a little flushed. His eyebrow is twitching slightly with anger.

He takes a breath before quickly recovering. He hasn’t forgotten his objective tonight is to sleep with you. His signature smile returns to his face, and he leans in slightly. “I don’t know. Why don’t you come teach me how to do it right?”

“As if. I’d rather grind my pussy against a cheese grater than fuck an Andrew Tate fan.” More laughter breaks out amongst the small group of people.

Satoru’s jaw drops as he looks at you with disbelief. You’d rather… grate your cunt than sleep with him? “Oh yeah? So, what kind of guy piques your interest then, princess? You probably like those woke emasculated guys. Suguru might be more up your alley.”

“Hey, what the fuck?” Suguru laughs, chunking an empty beer can at Satoru’s head. The girl in Suguru’s lap continues to mindlessly giggle and play with his hair.

“No, I like men who are calm and capable. Maybe a guy who can lead but also knows when to take the backseat.” You explain, eyes wandering over Satoru’s stature. “I like them funny and kind.”

“See? I’m just what you need, princess. I can do all those things and so much more.”

“Yeah? You’re going to take the backseat sometimes?” You challenge with a knowing smile on your face. You already know what type of guy Satoru is based off of this sole interaction — plus all of the horror stories of how he’s a modern-day Casanova.

“Princess, the only time you’ll need me to take a backseat is when you’re riding that pretty pussy against my face.” His cerulean eyes gleam against the LEDs in the room. He’s fully confident that will win you over.

Your face stays completely flat. You don’t even crack a small pity smile for him. “Oh sorry, was this meant to be the part where you’re funny?”

Satoru looks at you, and you see a small twitch in his eye. He’s never had someone match his wit or his sass before. You were the perfect challenge for him — his perfect match up.

He tips his red solo cup up until his finishes the rest of his drink. Fuck sleeping with you. He wants to make you beg for him to fuck you while he just laughs in disinterest. You’re his mission now.

“You’re cute, princess.” He finally comments before getting comfortable in his chair again. “You don’t have to act like you don’t want me. ‘s okay. No one here will blame you.”

Your arms cross over your chest, and your lips curl into a frown. As much as you want to pretend to be unbothered, your face can help but show the irritation you feel from him. He’s unwavering, thinking that he will just argue and flirt his way to winning you over.

He needs to be humbled real quick, and you’ve got nothing else better to do.

“Oh really? Thank god. I’ve been dying to get on my knees and suck the most mediocre dick of my life.”

“You have the wrong guy, sweetness. I’m anything but mediocre.” He retorts without missing a beat.

By this time, most of everyone has stopped paying attention to you two — used to Satoru’s antics by now. This is just another Sunday night for him — chasing pussy as per usual.

“Yeah? Any guy who constantly boasts about how good they are in bed usually isn’t good at all.” You respond with a small eye roll.

Satoru’s strong arms cross over his chest. He’s wearing a simple white shirt with some black pants. It’s overwhelming plain, but it compliments him so well since his appearance is striking enough as it is. “I never boasted, princess. I simply stated that I wasn’t mediocre.”

You let out a small scoff and shake your head. It was honestly arguing with a brick wall. “Semantics. Either way, I don’t want to fuck you.” You dump your liquor out into a potted plant that’s next to the couch.

Wondering why you even decided to come to this stupid party, you stand up, and Satoru follows suit. “Hey now, darling. Come on. Don’t leave now. The night’s still young.” He tries to smooth things over as he takes puts his hands up in surrender. “I promise I won’t call out the obvious sexual tension between us for the rest of the night.”

“I have more sexual tension with your fake houseplant that I dumped my liquor into.” You deadpan, gathering your things as you decide that a cozy night in would be better than this mess.

Walking outside the house after everyone wishes you goodbye, you let out an audible sigh as you hear the door open and shut once more behind you. You spin on your heel to find Satoru jogging up behind you.

“Did I ruin your mood that much?” He asks with a small smile, shoving his hands into his pockets as he falls in step beside you.

“Well, following me home is certainly not giving you any bonus points.” You retort, tugging your jacket a little bit closer to your body. “Besides, that’s not really my scene.”

Satoru glances over at you as the two of you walk. He finds himself hypnotized in the way your skin glows in the moonlight. He would be lying if he tried to convince himself that you weren’t pretty because you are. Gorgeous — in fact.

“Really?” His voice is a shade softer now that he doesn’t have everyone’s eyes on him. “You seemed like a natural in there.”

You shrug your shoulders, not offering up any more information about yourself to him. He’s just another misguided frat boy with no intentions to change who’s looking to hit.

Satoru hates silence almost as much as he hates not being the center of attention. He hates how you’re not giving in even the slightest for him

“We should go out to dinner together sometime. I think you’d be surprised on how well I can fit in to any scene.” He offers, not quite giving up on hope just yet. He’s determined to get you in his bed, genuinely deluding himself that it would be a favor to you and him.

“No thanks.” Your voice is blunt as you step toward the entrance of a girls’ dormitories. Satoru’s technically not allowed inside at this late of an hour, but he’d be amused to see who would try and stop him. His family is the top donor of the university. He practically owns this place.

He stands there baffled for a moment as you turn down his date invitation. Rejecting his sexual advances is one thing, but you won’t even give him the time of day.

“So, when can I see you?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed and lips curled into a small pout.

“You’ll unfortunately probably see me in class.” You respond, letting the door close behind you and checking to make sure it locked. Breathing a sigh of relief, you trudge your way up the steps to finally get away from that leech of a man.

Satoru stays at the door for a moment, contemplating following you inside — not for any nefarious reason. He just truly believes that you’d like him if you gave him the time of day. One of his many charming qualities is that he can talk anyone into enjoying his presence.

He had already made up his mind. You’re going to like him. You’re going to sleep with him too and like it, and he’s definitely not going to catch feelings for you so he can make you feel as embarrassed as he did tonight.

He’ll just have to set his plan in motion during class.

[giuseppe-yuki]

Since franco is quite unhinged and not PR trained, I feel like his girlfriend would be equally as unhinged and unpredictable like an orange cat constantly doing stupid things like climbing on stupid things and doing funny stuff around the paddock and becoming a fan favourite duo of unpredictable and hilarious behaviour - especially in the fan zone

FRANCO’S POOR PR MANAGER!!!!!

picture credits from pinterest :)

franco colapinto x orange cat shapeshifter!reader

“franco,” the disheveled looking woman snaps, a look of pure annoyance on her face. “tell your fucking cat to get down from those spare tires right now!

rolling his eyes, franco stops his laughter from looking at you prancing on tires and beckons you over.

leaping off the tower of rubber tires, you scamper over to his side, butting your head playfully against his leg. you couldn’t understand why you couldn’t have a little fun in the paddock though. it was media day, and those were soooo boring. his pr manager was a total killjoy. and besides, the fans loved you, so wouldn’t that be good for your boyfriend’s public image?

as if proving your point, the fans gathered around the fanzone squeal as you pad next to franco and his disgruntled pr manager.

while he stops momentarily to sign a few pieces of merch, you claw your way up his shoulder. the man getting his merch signed laughs, pointing his camera at your purring figure perched on franco.

“yeah, sorry, she does that sometimes,” you boyfriend remarks, recapping the pen and handing it back to the fan.

you grin at him, flashing your sharp cat canines at the camera. suddenly, an epic thought crosses your mind. what if you did a backflip off of franco’s shoulder and landed on the ground perfectly? that would be kind of cool.

gathering your wits, you leap off of your boyfriend and do two flips in the air before landing gently on your four paws. the fans in the fanzone erupt into cheers.

“ha!” your boyfriend laughs, pointing at you proudly leaping in circles on the ground. “simone biles who? make way for next big olympic gymnast!”

seeing the commotion, franco’s pr manager speeds over. “franco!” she hisses, dragging him away from the crowd. “you can not be saying that! we don’t want a bad public image from you slandering simone biles!”

“slandering???” franco says, in shock. “i was not slandering. i was merely making a comparison between her and my extraordinarily talented cat!”

you meow loudly, as if backing him up.

franco’s pr manager just pinches her nose and groans.

it’s not even ten minutes before you accidentally get yourself into trouble again.

a young fan sits on the sidewalk, talking animatedly to his mother, leaving his lunch open and inviting. hey, if he didn't want it, you’d gladly take it. you were pretty much starving after spending a good part of the day doing media duties with franco.

charging towards the open container, you take a huge bite of the contents, which turns out to be lasagna.

the boy turns around, eyes wide at seeing not only the orange cat eating his food, but also at franco colapinto jogging towards him.

“i-i-is this your cat?” he stutters out, blinking quickly at the sight in front of him, disbelieving.

“er, yes,” franco responds. scooting by the kid, he bends down and grabs you by the scruff of your neck, trying his best to separate you from the container of lasagna that you were trying your best to shove into your mouth at an ungodly speed.

the boy, seeing your actions, laughs. “she’s just like garfield!”

your boyfriend only successfully removes you from the container after you’ve devoured the entire piece of lasagna. “sorry buddy,” he says to the kid sheepishly, with your tomato-sauce covered body dangling from one hand. “i’ll give you a piece of merch to make up for the lasagna.”

still manhandling you with one hand, he uncaps a sharpie with his teeth and scribbles his signature on his own williams-branded jacket. he shrugs it off with a bit of difficulty before dumping it in the kid’s arms. the small fan ecstatically beams at franco, and thanks him profusely.

when your boyfriend squeezes by the crowd of people that were gathered to see the scene play out, he finds his pr manager standing with her arms crossed with a rather disappointed look on her face.

“did you even think before doing whatever that was?” she questions franco, simultaneously glaring at you.

when you give her a hiss of annoyance at reprimanding your boyfriend, she just about snaps.

“yeah, you’re done,” she say irritatedly. “franco, take yourself and your cat back into your driver’s room. you're grounded. both of you are prohibited from coming out for the next hour.”

you giggle inside. that’s a win for you, honestly. an hour with just yourself and franco? sounds like a great time to get into a little more mischief!

[daenysx]

Hey girl!

I just saw that you’re looking for Marauders requests so I thought I’d send one through! Maybe a poly! Marauders x reader where she is hurt or sick and the boys take care of her?

Hope you’re doing well 🥰

i hope you enjoy <33

poly!marauders x fem!reader, fluff - modern au

"where's she?" james asks in a hurry sirius doesn't understand.

"what-"

a sound of water comes from the bathroom and james rushes to the door. he knocks gently to not startle you. "sweetheart?"

"i'm okay." you say.

"i'm waiting here, take your time."

sirius comes next to him after leaving his jacket and phone on the couch. "what's happening?" he asks. "why are you guarding the door?"

james gives him a slow kiss to calm down any worry. it works very well. "she feels a bit sick." he explains. "she didn't want me to call you, thought you'd be worried and try to leave work early."

you open the bathroom door slowly. the first thing you see is sirius's huge eyes. "hey, baby." you say with a sick but soft voice. "how was your day?"

he reaches for your hand to inspect you. you seem tired- your eyes half closed and your voice coming out low. "my angel." he squeezes your fingers. "what happened to you?"

his tone is always dramatic, you give him a smile. "i'm fine." you say. "i just feel tired. my throat hurts. it might be 'cause of weather."

"take her to the couch, pads." james says with a fond smile. "i'll make us some tea."

"we should call remus." sirius says as he holds your hand on the short way to the couch.

"i'm okay." you insist. "he's working, he'll be worried if you tell him i'm sick."

sirius fixes your hair, he kneels in front of your place on couch. "you are sick." he says with a slow tease. "i don't know if you notice."

"i refuse to admit i'm sick." you tell him.

sirius has cuteness aggression. it has always been the case, and now he gets to take in the way you look. so soft and pretty without any make up on, your quiet voice and teary eyes, you look at him like you want him to hold you and he wants to drown you in his affection. he doesn't care if what you have is contagious.

"we can call remus." you say after a long minute of thinking. "i miss him."

your boyfriend smiles, he nods before leaving you to james's care. here he is with two cups of herbal tea you like drinking. he enjoys it too, but he knows sirius prefers coffee. when james is in charge of kitchen, everyone can drink their favorites. he already prepared the coffee.

"he's calling remus, right?" james settles down next to you. "you don't have fever, how's your head? are you hurting anywhere?"

you lean back against the pillows. "i feel tired. my head feels like it's full of cottons."

james rubs a big hand on your arm. you are grateful for the smell of tea and your boyfriend's warmth. careful with the mug in your hand, you settle down next to james, he accepts you into his chest.

"we can get you some painkillers after you finish your tea." he says. "you'll feel better when you get some good sleep."

you nod, taking a sip from your cup. sirius comes back with his coffee, he sits down next to james. "moony will be here soon. he also promised getting all of us soup, so we're free of cooking tonight."

james makes a sweet sound, he kisses your head. you take another sip. it's not like your throat's burning or hurting too much, but it feels sore. you don't want your sickness to grow into something more. closing your eyes, you give your tea cup to james. your head feels mushy like you can't form a single thought.

you don't know how much time passed but when you open your eyes, you're on someone's chest. more like someone who smells amazing and has big hands. you put your sleepy face on his neck, he gives you a few kisses on your head in response.

"remus?"

"hey." remus whispers. "hi, sweetheart. do you feel better?"

you hum, words are hard to form with your dry throat. "when did you get back?"

"almost an hour ago. you were sleeping. i wanted to stay with you in case you wake up."

"james and sirius were here."

"they are heating up the soup." remus says. "we can stay here a bit longer if you want."

you nod against his chest. he's warm and more cuddly than ever. he kisses your face, his lips make lovely paths on the side of your head. "hold me." you say, softly. you're always more hungry for touch when you feel poorly. "closer."

remus wraps his arms around you to pull you impossibly close. his lips stay pressed on your hair for a long minute. you feel so tired like you can sleep for an eternity. he rubs your back and you melt easy, go lax in his arms.

james comes into living room a few minutes later. he accepts a kiss from remus before checking you. "you must be hungry." he says to both of you. "soup is ready."

it takes a great amount of energy to leave your comfy spot to go to kitchen. james offers to bring your soup here but you want to sit at the table with them, to not let the sickness take over. he also offers to carry you and you refuse with a smile. he doesn't let go of your hand, though, helps you sit on your chair.

sirius places a bowl of steamy soup in front of you with a kiss on your head after. "enjoy, pretty girl." he says, settles down on his seat.

you eat your soup silently, feeling their gaze on your face. "don't look at me like that." you say, three pairs of worried eyes looking elsewhere immediately. "i'm fine, i promise. i'll be better when i sleep."

"well, of course you will." sirius says. "we wouldn't let our girl drown in sickness, would we?"

being taken care of is the nicest thing, you realize as you feel remus rubbing your thigh under the table. you're used to take care of yourself and you wouldn't let yourself be so vulnerable if they were other people, but no. the boys have different ways of showing their love, the common ground being you feeling how much they love you through everything they do. you feel better, thinking all these as you take your last sip from your soup.

"it was delicious." you say. "thank you, baby." the baby's directed at remus for getting the soup but you kiss james's cheek after that and give sirius a nice smile across the table.

"you're ready to go to bed then." james says. "i'll get you some painkillers."

the bed feels softer than ever under your body when you finally settle down. james leaves for kitchen to help his boyfriends clean up after he gives you pills and water. he promises they'll be with you shortly.

you feel the bed moving after a while, your eyes already closed on their own. you don't try to resist your sleep, snuggling into james's chest as he gets next to you.

remus and sirius are in their own bubble, chatting softly under the blankets. remus holds your hand, his other arm wrapped around sirius. james rubs your back and he makes wonders, you're asleep in a second.

[moonstruckme]

Can I request whimsical!reader and Sirius Black?? Or maybe poly!marauders but I just feel like Sirius would be so whipped for his quirky girl and join in on whatever shenanigans she starts 🫶

Sooo right babe, thanks for requesting :)

poly!marauders x whimsical!reader ♡ 878 words

“Darling,” Sirius keeps his voice quiet as he slinks down into the armchair. “What are you doing?” 

You look up from where you’re knelt beside the couch, bent ominously over James’ sleeping form. He’s out cold, his glasses discarded and placed carefully on the coffee table by Remus. James is a hard sleeper on a good day, but when he’s sick even the apocalypse couldn’t wake him. His breath wheezes noisily in and out through clogged nostrils. 

“I’m cleansing him,” you whisper. 

“With rocks.” 

You send your boyfriend a smile, well used to his ragging. “With crystals,” you correct him softly, placing another on James’ sternum. 

Sirius sits forward curiously. “What do they do?” he asks.

“Different things.” 

When you don’t seem inclined to go on, he reaches forward to poke at your shoulder. You sway placidly like a ship on calm waters. “Like?” he prompts. 

You hum, taking a smooth, green rock from your pouch. “Well,” you say, “this one is jade. It helps with headaches.” You place it gingerly on James’ forehead. 

“I see.” Sirius nods thoughtfully. “And what’s that blue one?” 

“It’s to help support his immune system.” 

“Uh huh. So you’re trying to heal him, is that it?” 

You consider this for a moment. “Sort of,” you say. “More like help his body heal itself.” 

Sirius grins at your breezy kindheartedness and slides down onto his knees beside you. “That’s sweet, baby.” He kisses your cheek, delighting when it dimples. “Can I help?” 

“Sure,” you say, looking pleased, “if you want to.” 

You move your little pouch so it sits between the two of you. Sirius brushes a piece of hair behind his ear, considering the stones inside. He picks up a cool-looking black and red one. 

“What’s this?” 

You glance over from where you’re setting another crystal on James’ chest. “Garnet,” you tell him. 

“And what’s it help with?” 

“Calcium deficiency.” 

Sirius guffaws. He covers his mouth with his hand when Remus pokes his head out of the kitchen, looking suspicious. 

“You think our boy’s fallen ill because he’s low in calcium?” he whispers. 

You shrug, scrunching your nose in that silly way you do when you don’t get why he’s laughing. “I guess I thought it couldn’t hurt.” 

“What are you two doing?” Remus asks, coming over with his arms crossed to lean against the wall. His voice is cautiously quiet. 

Sirius leaves you in charge of fielding questions while he dedicates himself to carefully balancing the garnet crystal on the point of James’ nose. His knuckles brush his boyfriend’s overwarm cheek as he retracts his hand, grinning at his work. He wonders if he can get one in his mouth without waking him. 

“We’re using crystals to help Jamie get better,” you explain, voice light as thistledown. “Siri, love, you can’t put it there. It’ll fall.” 

To his disappointment, you take the stone from James’ nose and place it between his collarbones. When Sirius pouts, you dig in the pouch to hand him another. 

“Here, try again.” 

“No.” Remus recognizes the glint in Sirius’ eyes and steps forward to snatch the stone from him. “Don’t enable him, sweetheart,” he tells you. “He’s just playing around.” 

You seem unconcerned, leaving Remus to deal with Sirius as he sees fit while you continue your healing rituals. 

“Excuse me for trying to help our sick boyfriend,” Sirius protests. 

“She’s trying to help,” Remus says sternly. “You’re just going to wake him.” 

“He could sleep through a tornado.” 

“He’s ill, Pads. Leave him be.” 

“Sorry, Jamie,” your voice comes, soft and sympathetic. Remus and Sirius both turn. “How are you feeling?” 

“Wha…” James clears his throat, then sniffles thickly. “What’s on me?” 

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” you say. Your hand comes up to stroke at the damp curls lying across his forehead. “Do you feel calcium sufficient?” 

“What?” 

“The answer is yes,” Sirius helps him out. “Yes, you do feel calcium sufficient.” 

“I suppose so.” Crystals fall from James’ face as he sits up on his elbows, rubbing at his cheek. 

“I’m sorry we woke you,” Remus murmurs, crouching by James face and beginning to take crystals off his chest. You look slightly put out, but you don’t protest. Sirius kisses the side of your head consolingly. “How are you feeling, love?” 

“Properly stuffed up.” He inhales sharply through his nose, and Sirius feels his mouth twist at the ugly snuffling sound. “A bit better than when I fell asleep, though.” 

Remus and Sirius both look at you. Your smile spreads like a slow sunrise, the tops of your cheeks turning a pleased pink. Sirius’ heart does an embarrassing little dance. He takes your hand, stamping a kiss on the back of your palm. 

“Do you feel like some tea?” Remus asks James, his own lips curved slightly. 

“That sounds fantastic,” James admits. 

Remus smiles over at you. “Want to help me make it?” 

You hop up eagerly. “I can go get some thyme from the garden,” you say, headed for the back door. “It’s good for respiratory issues.” 

James makes a face and Remus takes you by the shoulders, gently redirecting you towards the kitchen. “Maybe just a regular tea for now, sweetheart,” he says. “But we can definitely try that later.”

[danikamariewrites]

Straddle Me (smut)

Eris x reader

Notes: another installment of my favorite lil series I write for Eris 🥰 I realized the other day I really written any smut for Eris besides this stuff, then I felt bad lmao. I feel like I’m neglecting my sweet baby boy

Warnings: dry humping (I hate saying that), allusions to oral

Finally, Eris thinks, stretching his long body against the soft blankets. Alone at last. He closes his eyes, folding his arms behind his head.

It had been a very long day. Beron had required more attention from Eris than usual all afternoon. Sending him on errands all over the Forest House that brought him to advisor after advisor. Then he had his generals to meet with to go over recruitment.

It was exhausting.

And on top of all of that he hadn’t even seen you today!

You had woken up before Eris this morning to spend time with his mother. As the wedding draws closer you’ve begun shadowing Lady Autumn, learning what her duties are as the High Lord’s wife.

Eris couldn’t wait for you to return. For you to be safely in his arms.

The want for you to come back was short lived. Your hurried, excited footsteps padded across the carpet in the sitting room. Flinging the door open to the bedroom, a huge smile on your face, you let out a joyous squeal and launch yourself on the bed.

“Eris! I missed you!” You say giddily, pecking kisses to his freckled cheeks. He cradles you to his chest pressing a long kiss to your forehead, inhaling your scent. “I missed you too, little fox. Tell me about your day.” His tone was gentle and full of genuine curiosity.

To Eris’s dismay you untangle yourself from his embrace. Sitting up, you straddle his stomach, your bare things caging his clothed torso as your dress pools around the two of you. You hold onto his hands, absentmindedly playing with his fingers as you ramble about what his mother showed you.

Looking down you notice his pupils blown wide as they stare at where your legs are placed. You giggle, knowing Eris’s thoughts are wandering to something dirty that he’s itching to show you.

You wanted it too. Ever since you started reading smutty romance books things have gotten heated between you and your mate. You craved his touch every moment you could get it.

Your eyes grow wide, sparkling with mischief as an idea blossoms in your mind. Your new goal: make Eris feel as needy as you have.

The thought has a wet spot growing rapidly in your panties. You pulled his hands to your chest, cradling them and loving the heat radiating from them. “Tell me about your day, my love.”

On command, Eris starts to list everything he did today. If you wanted to hear about it he would tell you every godsdamn detail you wanted. Hell, Eris would tell you the color of the rocks stuck in his shoe if you demanded it.

As your mate's deep melodic voice fills your ears you slowly slide down his body, resting over his crotch. You begin to lightly grind your hips back and forth. Teasing your mate at an agonizing pace.

Eris tried to ignore the feeling of you rubbing against his cock. He tripped over his words as he tried to focus on you, not your movements. He could feel the blood rushing to his cock as it pressed against his pants.

He so badly wants to pin you to the mattress and tease you until your legs are shaking, begging Eris to let you come.

You pick up the pace of your hips. Eris bites down on his lips to keep from moaning loud enough for the Forest House to hear him. “Little fox… You’re going to be the death of me if you keep this up.”

The giggle that leaves your lips almost sends him over the edge. Gods, he’s going to come in his pants like a teenager.

Eris holds your hips in a vice grip that you fight through. You lean down, pressing your breasts into his chest. “Let me make you feel good, my mate.” You whispered in his ear.

Your mate was always taking charge in making you feel good. For once you wanted to rile him up. Make him feel good.

His hands slip from your hips to rest on your thighs, allowing you to continue. Resting your hands flat on his chest you quicken your pace. Biting your lip you let out a small moan. The feeling of Eris’s hard cock pressing against your soaked panties, rubbing against your clit has your back arching. Definitely better than your fingers.

You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that you and Eris get this worked up over each other. And you haven’t even taken your clothes off.

Dragging your nails down his chest, Eris tenses and groans. His grip turns bruising on your hips helping you move faster. You lean down to whisper in his ear again. “Come, Eris. Let go baby, you know you want to.”

Eris pushes his face into your neck, his moans muffled as his thighs and cock twitch under you.

“Fuck,” he groans, holding you tight to his body. You smile pleased with yourself. Running your fingers through his hair you say soft ‘I love you’s to help him calm down.

Propping yourself up you bat your lashes at him innocently. Eris looks down at you breathless, “You are going to be the death of me, little fox.” You giggle and slither down his body. His eyes go wide as you reach to undo the ties of his pants. Eris knows he should feel embarrassed by the stain on his pants, but he can’t help but get turned on by your hungry gaze.

“What are you doing, little fox?” You send him a smirk and tug at the fabric restricting him. “Getting you cleaned up.”

[angeliicheartt]

🐬 "ᴘᴜʟʟ ʜɪᴍ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴄʜᴀᴛ!" — send a dialogue prompt and a character and i'll write a blurb!

um hi elle!! asking tenya ida “will you ever kiss me?” or smth to that effect ! fkfjdjdjcmb 🩵🩵🩵

ᴋɪꜱꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ!

includes: tenya iida

fem!reader

note: 1.1k wc, fluff with a touch of angst (in the beginning), wingmen denki and toko, mentions of kamijiro & kacchako, hope u enjoy!

you watch as the sun sets over the UA dorms, casting the world in a golden glow. you sat with tenya on one of the benches lining the path from the dorms to the main school building. the two of you sat in a comfortable but tension charged silence. you could feel each time he adjusted his position, slowly getting closer to you. you felt your pinkie tips brush against one another, the contact making you flinch before relaxing again. 

your heart pounded in your chest, your eyes flickering to tenya’s face. his eyes are already trained on you, his cheeks flushed and lips parted. your body angles toward tenya, your nails digging into the concrete bench holding the two of you. was this it? was he finally gonna kiss you?

tenya clears his throat, his head ducking as his gaze locks onto the dirt floor below your feet. he pushes his glasses up his nose from where they had slid down before standing up, offering you a hand, “we should head inside.”

your eyebrows furrow up at him, your lips parted as you think of what to say. this is how’d it been for weeks, you knew tenya wanted to take things slow, and you did too, but not this slow. you easily stand up on your own, ignoring tenya’s hand, a look of dismay crossing his face. 

“will you ever kiss me?” you posed, your arms moving to hug yourself as tenya sputters. 

“y/n—” he hesitated, his arms twitching at his sides, wanting to comfort you, but you wanted to take things slow. the problem was tenya waited for you to make moves, not wanting to rush or pressure you. 

“listen, I’ll see you in class, just.. get your thoughts together.” you say, walking past tenya into the 1A dorm building. you gave a simple greeting to everyone before getting a dish of dinner and sitting beside mina on the couch. 

“you just get back from hanging out with iida? how was itttt?” mina drags out, giddy over the class couple. you sigh, beginning to dig into the dinner your classmates prepared. 

“well when he first asked me out he told me he wanted to take things slow, and i totally get it! i’m the same way.. but it’s been weeks and all we’ve done is held hands, twice.” you rant, your voice hushed as to not attract everyone’s attention. mina listens attentively as she eats, nodding along to your words. 

“well—” she cuts herself off, finishing her bite and swallowing before continuing, “i think you’ve gotta talk to him about it, he’ll never know for sure otherwise,” she advised, leading you to sigh before nodding. 

“i know.. i’ll do it tomorrow, when we’ve both got clear heads, y’know?” you stand up from the couch, padding over to the sink to rinse your dish. you bid an early goodnight to everyone before heading to your dorm.

unbeknownst to you, your rant travels from mina to jiro, and from jiro to denki and tokoyami. the two boys, denki dragging tokoyami along approach tenya, the boy looking up at them confused.

“yes? what is it, kaminari?” he asks the blonde, a tense smile on his face. 

“we’ve gotta talk,” denki says, grabbing tenya’s arm and attempting to pull him away. tenya stands up, placing his dish on the counter to come back to. denki sighs in relief as he now guides both tenya and tokoyami to the first floor hallway, devoid of any listening ears, besides jiro maybe. 

“listen, bud, we know you and y/n are struggling right now,” the blonde starts off, placing his hand 'soothingly' on tenya’s shoulder. tenya’s eyebrows furrow at the boy, grasping his wrist and placing his hand back at his side, “we’re what?”

tokoyami shakes his head, nudging kaminari’s shoulder with his own, “kaminari doesn’t mean that. we’ve heard that you two got into a small altercation in your relationship.” the dark haired boy starts off, “we’re here to assist you in clearing it up.”

tenya’s eyes widen slightly, his face flushing at the mention of your guys’ relationship. denki grins at the boy’s reaction resting his elbow on tokoyami’s shoulder he leans forward, pointing a finger gun at tenya. 

“so spill them juicy secrets, glasses boy!” the blonde urges, flashing a pearly grin. tenya sighs, disheartened by having the electric boy help fix his relationship. he takes his glasses off, massaging the bridge of his nose briefly before replacing his glasses once again. 

“we were outside, just sitting on one of the benches and when i suggested we go inside, she asked ‘will you ever kiss me,’ and then walked inside. i was waiting for her to initiate anything because she said she also wanted to take our relationship slow.” tenya vents to the two boys, tokoyami nodding in tandem with tenya’s words and denki staring blankly as he listens. 

“well—”

“obviously she wants you to kiss her, and usually girls want guys to make the first move, tenya buddy. i know you’re just being a gentleman and all, but trust me, girls like it when the guy initiates it.” denki insights, clueless to his violet-haired girlfriend’s rolling eyes as she listens in. 

“best course of action would probably be to kiss her tomorrow, as soon as you see her,” denki advises as Tenya’s gaze flickers from the blonde to the dark haired boy, who only nods in agreement. 

tenya goes back to the kitchen, cleaning up as if in a trance. he collected all the dishes from everyone, washing each of them in silence as he contemplated how he should approach you. eventually he retires to his dorm room, rolling restlessly in the early hours of the night before finally passing out.

the next morning, you and mina are heading to the school building, walking side by side before you hear your name get called, you turn your head watching as tenya speeds over to you. you hear mina yelp as she’s pulled away by kaminari, but before you can respond to that tenya’s less than a foot away from you, his hand cupping your cheek, his own cheeks flushed. 

“yes?” you ask timidly, feeling your cheeks heat at the notion. 

“may i kiss you?” he murmurs, his nose already brushing yours as you nod. you feel his slightly chapped lips melt against yours, your hand moving to wrap around his neck before you hear a familiar voice. 

“IT'S EIGHT IN THE GODDAMN MORNING, I DO NOT WANT TO SEE FOUR EYES SWAPPING SPIT!” bakugo yells from a few feet behind you two, causing the two of you to part. you look past tenya to see bakugo with ochako on his arm, grumbling as she berates him for ruining the moment. you chuckle softly before turning back to tenya, planting a gentle peck on his lips before taking his hand in yours, “thank you,”

“my pleasure,” he says softly as the two of you continue to walk, now ready to start the day.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @miyamoratsumuu @comicxzzsalt @goobzi @sviidoll @sunolls @sepptember

[msnmnt]

Midnight Comfort

Summary: Just a short something inspired by Mase’s little injury at the weekend. Set during early stages of a relationship, lots of (debatable) banter and just fluff really. 🥹🩶

The sound of your front door buzzing in sync with your phone startled you, the book you had once been engrossed in slipping from your fingers and down onto your bed.

You scrunched up your face in confusion, placing your book to the side as you hurriedly pulled your phone off charge from your bedside table, quickly tapping the notification that told you someone was at the front door of your flat.

You pondered who it could be, after all, it was getting on for midnight on a Sunday night. Anxiety hit you as the live feed of your security camera loaded up on your phone. Your heart hammered in your chest and you let out a heavy breath seeing Mason stood there, absent mindingly looking around the corridor as he waited on your door step.

You hurried out from the blanket you had been tucked under, winding down for the evening. You frantically searched for your hairbrush, tugging it through your messy locks as you did your best to somewhat tame it. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and cursed under your breath for having already taken your makeup off.

You hadn’t been living in Manchester for very long, but you had had your first meeting with Mason not long after you’d moved in. He had held the door open for you when you were both heading out at the same time one day, and from then on out you seemed to bump into him and his dreamy chocolate eyes every time you left your flat.

After numerous encounters of catching the other taking cheeky glances in the lift, passing in the hallway, walking to your cars. Mason had finally begun to make small talk and one evening when he had returned from having drinks with the boys, the alcohol had gave him the push he needed to pluck up the courage to ask you out.

It was still the early stages of your relationship, but you were absolutely smitten with him. Your dates so far had been kept casual: grabbing a drink at a local coffee shop, spending the afternoon on a dog walk and a Saturday spent having a game of crazy golf before indulging in a picnic. Mason had been the perfect gentleman; opening his car door for you, always complementing how you looked and never making you pay for a thing. He truly made you feel like a princess.

You had enjoyed your time getting to know him and were looking forward to your next date during the week at some fancy restaurant Mason often frequented. You weren’t ashamed to say the prospect of seeing him all dressed up for the first time made you feel a little giddy.

As much as you adored his company, you couldn’t help but be a little concerned as to what he could possibly be doing outside your flat at this time, and so you slipped your feet into your slippers and padded over to the front door.

You looked out of the eye hole, almost as if to check you hadn’t imagined what you had seen on your camera, before you cautiously opened the door.

His arms were folded across his big hoodie that made him look extra soft and cuddly. His hair appeared slightly damp and his face was a little paler than usual, wide brown eyes immediately meeting yours and making you melt as they always did.

“Y/n! Hi, how’re you?” He babbled out, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jogging bottoms, finding himself uncharacteristically nervous.

“Umm, I’m fine, are you - is everything okay, Mason?” You asked, confusion clear in your voice.

“Yeah, yeah everything’s fine.” He quickly spoke, not wanting to worry you. “I just, um-“ He rambled on, not sure how to word himself. “I had a bit of an accident at the game today, I smacked my head up pretty bad.” He turned around briefly, showing you the fresh stitches which made you wince in sympathy.

“They told me I’ll be fine but it might be a good idea to have someone around, you know, just incase anything was to happen.”

You felt your chest tighten and your throat go dry. He wanted you to look after him?

“I remembered you said you had a few days off work and I just thought -“ Mason stopped himself, suddenly realising how much he was asking from you. After all, you weren’t his girlfriend. Hell, he hadn’t even asked you to be exclusive yet. But when the doctor told him he might want to have someone with him for the night, the only person he wanted to be with was you.

“You can say no, I mean - you probably have plans tomorrow, I shouldn’t have came round at this time, I just - God, I’m sorry.” Mason continued, a little overcome with emotions from the injury that added to his worry you were going to say no.

“Mason, of course you can come in.”

He dipped his head up, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

“Really?”

You nodded, opening the door and beckoning him inside.

Mason wandered in and you closed the door behind him, leading him through to the living room. You flicked the light switch on and Mason felt a pang of guilt that you had clearly been settled down for the evening.

“I’m sorry, were you asleep?” He glanced over at your body, taking in the plaid pair of pyjama bottoms and little strappy top you had on.

You shook your head. “I was just reading.”

“Another one of your spooky books?”

You couldn’t help but grin knowing he had remembered how much you loved your horror books, something you had mentioned to him on your first date.

You nodded and Mason smiled before pressing a little more for the details of his book. You knew he had no real interest in them, but the fact he was willing to listen to you go on about it made you so happy.

When the conversation died down a little, you took the opportunity to turn the TV on. You left it on whatever channel you had been watching most recently, just wanting a bit of background noise to help break the tension and make you feel a little more comfortable at the new setting you had found yourself in.

“So, what happened?” You asked and Mason couldn’t help but feel a little gutted that you hadn’t been watching the game.

He did his best to explain, showing off his stitches once more which just made you more concerned for him. He reassured you he was fine and there should be no after affects apart from a sore head for a few days.

“Shall I make us some hot chocolates?” You suggested and Mason’s eyes lit up. “It might do you good to get some sugar in you.”

“That would be nice.” Mason grinned.

You fixed up two mugs in the kitchen before returning to your living room to find Mason sat up straight on the sofa, his arms tucked in his lap. He looked almost as though he was a school boy waiting to be told what he could and couldn’t do.

You chuckled softly making Mason jump as you appeared around the corner. You walked over to him and he quietly thanked you as you handed him the mug.

“Cute slippers.” You looked down at your feet, your face warming as you took in your fluffy and totally seasonably inappropriate reindeer slippers that you had popped on to answer the door in.

“Well I wasn’t exactly expecting company at this time.” You pouted in an effort to defend yourself, but you immediately regretted it when you noticed Mason tense up, clearly feeling bad again.

“You can make yourself at home, Mase.” You settled yourself next to him on the sofa, trying to relax him. Mason’s heart jumped at you using his nickname for the first time, feeling a little more as ease.

He wiggled around on the sofa, repositioning himself as he lent back, taking a sip of the warm coco before placing it on a coaster on your coffee table.

“I’m sorry, I do feel bad for just turning up.” He murmed and you just wanted to make him feel better, loving the fact that you were the person he wanted to be with him.

“Honestly, don’t worry, Mason. I would’ve been up for another couple of hours reading anyway.” You lied, knowing full well you were dropping off to sleep in your book. You didn’t want him to feel guilty and besides, you’d have stayed up all night if that was what he wanted.

The pair of you made small talk about your days, Mason telling you about the rest of the game before his incident. You finished your hot chocolates and it wasn’t long before you felt your eyes threatening to close. You stifled a yawn with your hand, blinking in an attempt to keep your eyes open.

“You’re sleepy, I’m sorry -“ Mason stood up, fully prepared to leave till you jumped up to stop him.

“Why don’t we go relax in my bed?”

Your own words took you by surprise and Mason’s eyes lit up hearing you talk about your bed, for a brief moment completely forgetting about his injury.

Mason nodded at your suggestion. “If that’s okay with you, I mean, if it isn’t I can sleep on the sofa?”

You shook your head. “And how am I supposed to keep an eye on you if you’re in a different room to me?” You asked playfully, extending your hand out for him to grab. “Come on.”

Mason’s heart twinged as he followed you into your bedroom. Your duvet was pulled back on your side and your book was led open, upside down on your bedside table to save your page.

He made his way round to the other side of the bed, standing there hesitantly as he waited for you to pull the duvet back for him.

You giggled at how apprehensive he was. “There’s no need to be nervous, Mase. I won’t bite.” You chuckled, gladly slipping your legs under the duvet before playfully tapping the empty space next to you.

Mason felt silly as his cheeks heated up, internally telling himself to get a grip.

You gestured for him to come lay his head on your chest as he got himself cosy next to you. He begun to lean down onto you but as his head came into contact with your chest, he groaned in pain, having put too much pressure on the back of his head.

“Fuck.” Mason cursed. He immediately sat up and you followed him, your heart hammering in your chest.

“Shit, sorry, I - I shouldn’t have got you to do that, I wasn’t thinking.” You apologised, feeling awful.

Mason was clutching his head with one hand, reaching out with his other to intertwine his fingers with yours, letting you know he was okay. He took a few moments till the initial shock and pain had passed before he squeezed your hand.

Your eyes were glazed over as you watched on, not wanting to do anything that could potentially make the pain any worse. Mason noticed your bleary eyes, giving your hand another tight squeeze. “Hey, don’t be silly, baby. I should’ve known better than to put pressure on it. It’s not your fault.”

You huffed. I’m not doing a very good job of looking after you.” You bowed your head slightly. “You must be in so much pain, it looked like you hit it so hard.”

You were confused when a smirk appeared on Mason’s face, suddenly looking very smug.

“What?”

Mason chuckled. “I thought you didn’t watch the game?” He teased knowingly, enjoying watching as you squirmed knowing you had been caught out.

You didn’t want to come across as too keen, and admitting you had been sat at home on your own that evening, watching some football game you couldn’t care less about just to see his pretty face? That wasn’t something you were wanting to admit to.

You were greatful for the minimal lighting your lamp was providing, hoping Mason wouldn’t catch on to how embarrassed you were.

“I might have caught a little bit.” You admitted sheepishly. “I just wanted to see how you were getting on so I knew what kind of mood you’d be in for our date.”

Mason raised his eyebrows. “Date?”

“Oh, I , er-“ You stuttered, scrambling for words. Is that not what it was?

You began to panic, only breathing a sigh of relief when Mason sniggered.

“I’m just kidding, angel.” All was forgotten when the pet name left his lips, your insides bubbling up and giving you a sickly sweet feeling in your tummy.

You tried not to let it show how happy one simple word had made you.

“You’re well enough to still behave like a little shit, then.” You rolled your eyes and Mason chuckled.

“I’m very much looking forward to it, our date.” He confirmed. “Our fourth date, actually.”

You gave him a soft smile, heart beaming that he had been keeping track.

“I’d still really like a cuddle.” He jutted out his bottom lip, his big brown eyes looking up at you like butter wouldn’t melt.

“If you lay on your side I can, um, I can cuddle up to you.” You shyly offered.

“Yeah?” He asked and you nodded.

“Just be careful laying down this time, okay?” You were stern, not wanting to see him in any more pain.

Mason slowly settled himself down in the bed, turning sideways so he wasn’t putting any pressure on the back of his head.

You were quick to join him, carefully laying behind him and tucking your body as close to his as you could. You wrapped your arm around his torso, repositioning your body so it was slightly higher up the bed and you could tuck your face into Mason’s neck, gently planting a singular soft kiss there.

“That okay?” You asked, suddenly feeling nervous about what you had just done.

Mason mumbled a content ‘yes’, the feel of your breath on his neck making his eyes fall shut, and the pain in his head somehow subsiding as he settled into your arms. His hand went to intertwine his fingers with yours, your arm still holding him closely to you.

“Mhm, think I could get used to this.” Mason shamelessly admitted, loving having you snuggled up behind him and holding him.

You tangled your legs with Mason’s, tucking your feet in between the fabric of his trousers to keep them warm. You just hoped Mason couldn’t feel the way your heart was hammering in your chest at being so close to him for the first time.

You hummed, feeling yourself get sleepy, completely relaxed. “No, this is special treatment for today only.” You told him. “I’m definitely being little spoon next time.”

[aeralux]

"After Midnight" - Jacaerys Velaryon

Boyfriend!Jacaerys x Girlfriend!Reader (modern!au) Because the 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 Calvin Klein ad still has me salivating Could be read as pt.2 to "Pretty When You Cry" or separately

Summary: You and Jace just relaxing before going to bed... in your underwear. He simply can't help but get turned on when admiring the view

Warnings: SMUT (18+); grinding; teasing (from both ends); oral (f!receiving); fingering; praising each other; the reader gets called slut twice (endearingly); both are switches (kinda?); fluffy; dry humping

Words: 4k

Notes: No description of the reader, except for having female parts and hair. I need this man biblically, I fear. If you do not like this content, do not read it.

𐔌 . ⋮ aera .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

It was a quiet evening, just like any other, really. You were straddling Jace's lap on the bed, scrolling Pinterest on your phone. It was late, and you were ready to go to bed, clad in your undies, a loose tee, and Jace in his boxers.

Suddenly you feel his cock twitching under you, getting harder just by you innocently sitting on his lap. What's the harm in teasing him a little?

You smirked, rolling your hips an experimental roll on top of his. When you heard a low groan coming from him, your phone was long forgotten. His sweet moans like music to your ears, and his beautiful face all twisted in pleasure. Any woman would go feral.

Beginning to grind against him, seeking friction against your now aching core. You could feel the head of his cock rubbing against your sensitive clit through the thin barrier of your underwear, sending shivers of pleasure through your body. Great. Now you'll need to change your underwear...

"Mmm, Jacaerys," you moaned softly, your brows furrowing in bliss as you continued to grind yourself against him. Doing all of this just to spur him on even more. You captured his lips in a heated kiss, your tongue delving into his mouth hungrily.

Jacaerys groaned into the kiss, his hands gripping your hips, guiding your movements as you ground yourself against him. He could feel your wetness through the thin fabric of your underwear, could feel the heat of your core as it pressed against his cock.

He broke the kiss, breathing heavily as he looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Fuck, baby," he breathed, his voice hoarse with want. "You feel so fucking good."

He reached down, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear, tugging it to the side.

He rubbed his thumb over your clit, the pad of his finger circling the sensitive bundle of nerves, slick pooling out of you. He could feel you tremble above him, could hear your breath hitch as he touched you.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard," he promised, his voice low and husky. "I'm going to make you scream my name until you're hoarse."

Oh, but he's got it all wrong. You are in charge right now (at least for a while).

You leaned back, a wicked smirk playing on my lips as you savoured the look of pure desire across Jacaerys' handsome features. Your hips continuing to grind against him, teasingly slow.

"Nuh-uh," you purred, your voice low and seductive. "You're gonna cum like this, pretty boy," you emphasised each word with a sensual roll of your hips. "You're gonna cum in your clean boxers from feeling my wet cunt rub against you like a good boy, yeah?"

You gazed down at him through hooded eyes, drinking in the sight of his face contorted in pleasure, the way his muscles tensed beneath you. The power you held over him at this moment sent pleasure straight to your core.

Your fingers trailed down his chest, nails lightly scraping against his skin as you kept up your torturous pace. You could feel his cock throbbing beneath the thin fabric of his boxers, the damp patch growing with each pass of your hips.

Jacaerys let out a low groan, his head falling back against the pillows as you teased him mercilessly. The feel of your wet heat against his cock was almost too much to bear, the friction driving him wild with need.

He could feel his release building, his balls tightening, his cock pulsing with the need to spill itself inside you.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with lust and adoration. "You're so fucking sexy," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. "I'm gonna cum," he warned, his voice strained.

Without a word, you raised your hips just as he was about to let go. Denying his sweet release.

Jacaerys let out a frustrated groan as you did that, his hips bucking up desperately, seeking the friction he so desperately craved. "Fuck," he growled, his voice strained with need. "Don't tease me like this."

He could feel his cock throbbing, aching for relief, the damp patch in his boxers growing bigger with each passing second. He was so close, so fucking close, and the denial was almost too much to bear.

You simply looked down at Jacaerys with a cruel smile, your hips gently bouncing on his in a slow, tantalising rhythm. The friction was minimal, barely enough to tease, and you knew it was driving him wild.

"You want more, don't you, pretty boy?" You purred, your voice low and seductive. "You want to feel me, all of me, wrapped around your hot, throbbing cock."

You ran your nails lightly down his chest, leaving faint red lines in their wake.

Jacaerys let out a low, pained moan, his hips bucking up into your teasing touches. He could feel every nerve ending in his body screaming for more, begging for release, but you kept him on the edge, denying him the pleasure he so desperately craved.

"Yes," he growled, his voice rough with need. "Fuck, I want you. I need you. Please, baby, let me feel you."

He reached up, his hands gripping your hips, trying to pull you down onto him, but you resisted, keeping your movements slow and torturous.

"Tease," he accused, his voice strained. His weak accusations making you grin.

But even as he complained, he couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips, the way his eyes darkened with desire. He loved the way you were taking control, the way you drove him wild with need.

"If you want me to beg," he challenged, his voice low and seductive, "then I will beg. Please, please let me feel your tight, wet pussy wrapped around my cock. Please let me fuck you until you're screaming my name."

A shiver runs down your spine as you hear his desperate pleas, almost giving in. His needy whimpers sending heat straight to your core. "Mmm, you sound so pretty when you beg for me," you purr, your voice thick with lust. "Such a good boy." Jace's eyes close in pleasure from the praise, letting out a low moan.

You grind your soaked folds along the length of his throbbing cock. The friction is delicious, the heat of him searing you even through the thin fabric of your underwear.

"Fuck, Jacaerys," you moan, your head falling back as you lose yourself in the sensation.

You grind your hips harder, faster, the friction borders on uncomfortable, but it feels so fucking good.

Jacaerys moans loudly as you grind against him. He can feel his cock throbbing, leaking pre-cum, the damp patch in his boxers growing with each pass of your hips.

"Yes," he hisses, his hands gripping your hips tightly, guiding your movements. "Fuck, just like that. Grind on my cock like a good girl."

He reaches up, his hands cupping your breasts, squeezing them roughly, thumbing your nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt. He leans up, capturing one in his mouth, sucking hard, grazing it with his teeth.

"I'm so fucking close," he pants against your skin, his hips bucking up into yours. "Gonna cum in my fucking boxers if you keep this up."

He releases your nipple, leaving a wet patch on your shirt. He looks up at you with hooded eyes, his face flushed with pleasure.

You lean back, giving him a wicked smirk as your hips grind against his with increasing desperation. "Mmm, my pretty boy," you say breathily.

You can feel his cock twitching beneath you, so hard and ready. You want to feel him soil himself, cum just from your touch, all pathetic and whiny, just for you. Making his mind blank from pleasure.

"That's it," you encourage, your voice low and breathy. "Cum in your fucking boxers like a good boy."

You can feel your own release building, your core clenching, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. But it’s not enough, though his release will be just as sweet nonetheless.

Jacaerys lets out a whiny, tortured moan as you tease and praise him. He can feel his release building, his cock throbbing, aching for relief, but he tries to hold back, wanting to prolong this moment for as long as possible.

"Fuck," he growls, his voice strained. "You're gonna make me cum like a fucking virgin..."

He looks up at you, his eyes dark and wild, his chest heaving with each laboured breath.

His hips buck up into yours, the friction beginning to get slightly uncomfortable, but still so incredibly pleasurable. He can feel his balls tightening, his cock pulsing, the pressure building to a breaking point.

"Please," he begs, his voice breaking on the word. "Please let me cum, please let me fill my fucking boxers with my seed."

He knows he's being pathetic, knows he sounds like a desperate, needy mess, but he doesn't care. All he cares about is his release.

You grind your wet, dripping pussy harder against Jacaerys' throbbing cock, feeling every inch of him through our barely-there layers. Your panties are thoroughly soaked, and there is a wet patch on the front of his boxers, right where his hard shaft is.

"Mmh, fuck," you breathe, losing yourself in the delicious friction. You guide his face to your chest, and he eagerly latches onto your nipple again through your top, his warm mouth sending sparks of pleasure through you.

Jacaerys whimpers against your nipple, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. He can feel his cock throbbing, aching for release, the pressure building to an unbearable level.

"Cum for me, Jace," you coo, your nails raking down his back and neck now. "Be pathetic, fill your boxers like a good boy..."

He sucks harder on your nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud. His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he grinds up into you, seeking more friction, more heat.

You press your hips down harder, desperate for more. You want to feel him lose control, soak himself just from your touch. You're so fucking close, but you’ll deal with that later. Right now, all that matters is getting him to cum in his 'pants'.

He releases your nipple, panting heavily as he looks up at you, his eyes wild and desperate. "Fuck," he groans, his voice strained. "I'm so fucking close. Gonna cum like a pathetic little boy, just for you."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chants, his voice high and desperate. "Gonna cum, gonna fucking cum."

His cock pulses once, twice, three times, and then he's coming, spilling himself in his boxers, ruining his clean boxers. He moans loudly, his face buried in your chest, his hips jerking erratically as he rides out his release.

He collapses back onto the bed, his chest heaving, his skin slick with sweat. He looks up at you, his eyes glassy and unfocused, a satisfied and tired smile on his face.

"Holy shit," he pants, his voice hoarse.

"Look at the mess you made," you purr, teasing him as you glance down at the damp patch on Jacaerys' boxers. Your panties were sticky as well, with your juices and his hot seed.

With a smile, you hook your fingers under the bottom of your soaked panties, slowly pulling them to the side. The cool air hits your slick folds, making you shudder. You're aching for release, your pussy wet and messy with his sticky seed and your arousal.

"Clean me up, pretty boy," you coo, spreading your legs wider on top of him, leaning back and giving him a perfect view of your glistening sex.

Jacaerys swallows hard, his eyes locked onto your glistening folds. He can see his own release mixed with your juices, the sight making his cock twitch in his soiled boxers.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. "So fucking messy."

Jace pushes you gently onto your back, quickly settling in between your thighs. With an urgency you've never seen before, he quickly tugs down your cute panties, groaning at the sight.

He wastes no time, leaning in and burying his face between your thighs, his tongue lapping at your folds, tasting the mix of your arousal and his own release. He moans at the taste, the sounds vibrating against your sensitive flesh, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Oh fuck!" you moan, your brows furrowing in pleasure. Your hands instinctively go to his hair, tugging him closer to your dripping cunny. You try to grind against his tongue, seeking more, but his iron grip on your ass holds you in place.

"All it took was someone to touch this messy little pussy, and you're back to being all docile," Jace smirks, his teasing words sending a shiver down your spine. He's right, and you both know it. The moment he touches you, and takes control, you turn submissive. It feels too good to have him take control and let him do whatever he wants to you.

You arch your back, pushing your hips forward, desperate for more. "Yes," you pant, your voice breathy and needy. "I just want to be a good girl for you, Jace."

Jacaerys' ego swells at your words, a smug grin spreading across his face. He loves how responsive you are to his touch, how easily he can reduce you to a needy, desperate mess with just a flick of his tongue.

He continues his oral assault on your pussy, his tongue delving deep, fucking you hard and fast, before circling your clit, teasing you mercilessly. He alternates between long, slow licks and quick flicks, paying attention to your reactions.

"Mmm, such a good girl," he purrs, the words muffled against your wet flesh. "Such an obedient little slut for me." Your eyes widen at his dirty words, a whimper escaping your lips. Only he could call you a 'slut' and make it feel like praise.

He slides two fingers into your tight heat, pumping them in and out, curling them just right, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. At the same time, he seals his lips around your clit, sucking hard, flicking the sensitive nub with his tongue.

"Fuuuck," you shriek, your hips stuttering as he repeatedly hits the soft spot inside your velvety walls, making you see white spots. But it doesn't last long. Jacaerys soon pulls up and flashes you a teasing smirk.

He blows cool air over your heated flesh, watching your tight hole contract, as you writhe beneath him. "You want to be a good girl for me?" he asks, his voice rough with lust. "What does a good girl do?"

You look at him with wide glossy eyes, clit pulsing with need. "I-I don't... what?" You ask him, mind blank from his assault on your sopping pussy.

Jacaerys chuckles darkly, amused by your dazed expression. He knows exactly what he's doing to you, how he's reducing you to a needy, desperate mess with just his mouth and fingers.

"A good girl begs for what she wants," he explains, his voice low and commanding. "A good girl tells her master exactly what she needs."

He leans in, his breath hot against your inner thigh. "So tell me, baby. Tell me what you want. Beg for it. Show me how much you need it."

He punctuates each word with a teasing flick of his tongue against your clit, the brief contact sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

Before the words even register, you find yourself pleading with him, your best puppy-dog eyes trained on his face. "Please, Jace," you whimper, your voice cracking with desperation. "I missed you so much. Fuck."

"Come on, sweetheart," he coaxes, his voice gentle despite the filthy words. "I know you can do better than that. Beg for my tongue, beg for my fingers. Beg for me to make you cum like the desperate little slut you are."

You bite your lip, your cheeks flushing with heat as you admit, "Every time I touched myself at night, I thought of you. Your tongue, your fingers... your fat cock," you say, drawing out the last words in a sultry whine.

You squirm beneath him, your pussy contracting with need. "Please, I want to gush all over your tongue. I want to be a good girl for you, Jace."

You look at him through your lashes, your eyes wide and pleading. "Please. I need you. I need your mouth on me. I need to cum."

acaerys groans at your desperate pleas, his cock throbbing in his boxers. He loves seeing you like this, so needy and wanton, begging for his touch. It strokes his ego in the best ways.

"Fuck, you're so sexy when you beg," he praises, his voice low and rough. "So desperate for my cock, for my mouth. Such a good little slut for me."

He buries his face between your thighs once more, his tongue delving deep into your heat, fucking you hard and fast. He licks up your slit, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue, before sealing his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

He sucks hard, flicking it with the tip of his tongue, his lips creating a delicious suction. At the same time, he pumped his fingers into your tight channel. His tongue works your clit while his fingers fuck you hard and fast, the obscene wet sounds of his mouth on your pussy filling the room. Your coquettish high-pitched moans reaching the neighbours, surely.

"Fuck, I missed you so much. Thought about you and your sweet cunt all day and night," his dirt yet sweet words make your pussy clench around his digits, drawing a smirk from him.

"You...you did?" You breathe, your voice trembling. You tug at his hair, needing to feel him closer to ensure this is real.

You pull him to your pussy, needing his mouth on you, needing him close. "Show me," you urge him, your voice desperate. "Show me how much you missed me."

"Fuck, you taste so good," he groans, the words muffled against your flesh. "Missed this sweet little cunt. Missed the way you taste, the way you feel, the way you scream for me."

He pulls back just enough to look up at you, his eyes dark and intense. "Gonna make you cum so hard, baby. Gonna make you shake and scream and gush all over my face. Gonna make you forget everything except my name."

With that promise, he dives back in, his tongue and fingers working you over, pushing you closer and closer to that brink of pleasure.

"Ahh!" you shriek in ecstasy, your back arching off the bed as Jace's skilled tongue works you over. Each flick against your clit sends electrifying waves of pleasure through your body, your muscles tightening as you climb higher and higher towards your peak. You squeeze your eyes shut, lost in the intense sensations consuming you.

It feels so damn good, his mouth on you, devouring your most intimate places. The way he sucks and licks, the filthy noises he makes, it's all driving you wild. You can feel your orgasm building, your core clenching, the pressure growing.

"Oh god, Jace, yes!" You cry out, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him against you. You grind your hips against his face, desperate for more, chasing that delicious high.

You're so close, teetering on the edge, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Just a little more, a little harder. You can feel it, your body tensing, your toes curling, your whole world narrowing to the incredible pleasure radiating from your core.

"Please, please, please," you chant, your voice high and desperate.

Jacaerys feels you tensing, your body coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap. He can sense your impending orgasm, can feel it in the way your muscles quiver beneath him, can taste it in the flood of your arousal on his tongue.

He works his fingers at an almost punishing pace, your juices making it easy for him to slip them in and out of you.

"That's it, baby," he growls, the words vibrating against your sensitive flesh. "Cum for me. Cum all over my face. Let go, let go."

He seals his lips around your clit once more, sucking hard, flicking the sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue.

And with a final flick of his tongue, a final pump of his fingers, he sends you flying, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as your orgasm washes over you. A single, loud moan slips out, your voice breaking with the intensity of your pleasure. "Oh fuck!" You cry out, your head spinning, your vision blurring at the edges.

Your hands tremble as they pet Jace's hair, urging him on as he fingers you through the aftershocks, drawing out your pleasure.

Jacaerys moans as you cum on his tongue, your sweet nectar flooding his mouth, your body shaking and jerking beneath him. He continues to lap at your clit, to pump his fingers into your fluttering channel, prolonging your pleasure for as long as possible.

He slows his touches as you start to come down, his tongue licking soft and slow over your sensitive flesh, soothing you as your body twitches and flutters. He presses soft kisses to your inner thighs, to your mound, his slight stubble tickling your skin.

Finally, he pulls back, looking up at you with a satisfied smirk. He licks your essence from his lips, his eyes dark and hungry. "Fuck, you taste even better than I remembered," he says in a dark voice.

He crawls up your body, pressing soft kisses to your stomach, your ribs, your breasts, until he reaches your mouth. He kisses you deeply, sharing your taste with you, letting you feel the heat of your own arousal on his tongue.

"You're incredible," he murmurs against your lips, his hand cupping your cheek tenderly. "The hottest, sexiest woman I've ever met. And you're all mine."

"Wow," you giggle as you hear his words, pressing a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. "And I have the most handsome, the prettiest man," you whisper into his ear. "You know I'm bad with compliments, so enjoy this," you tease him with a soft smirk playing on your lips.

Jacaerys chuckles, nuzzling into your neck, his breath tickling your sensitive skin. "Well, you're just full of surprises, aren't you?" he teases back, his hand trailing down your side, over the curve of your hip, coming to rest on your ass.

He gives it a squeeze, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. "Pretty boy, huh? Guess I can't argue with that. Especially when you're staring at me with those pretty eyes of yours, all fuck-drunk and satisfied."

You whine softly as Jace's fingers dig into the soft flesh of your rear. But as his words reach your ears, a smile overtakes your features, pupils wide.

"And it's all because of you," you murmur, your voice low and breathy. "I'm all yours, any way you want me."

You gaze up at him, your eyes filled with tenderness, brushing your thumb gently over his lower lip.

Jacaerys captures your thumb between his teeth, giving it a playful nip before sucking it into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the digit. He looks down at you through his lashes, his eyes dark and hooded, still filled with lingering lust.

He releases your thumb with a wet pop, his lips curving into a wicked grin. "Mmm, mine," he says, his voice low and possessive. "All mine to touch, to taste, to fuck."

"And I intend to do all of those things, over and over again. Until you're sore and satisfied, mind blank and body limp."

He punctuates his words with a sharp nip to your bottom lip, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. His hand moves from your ass to your lower back, pulling you closer.

[eringobragh420]

🖤 Pairing: Damian Priest x f!Reader 🖤 Summary: Damian loses a bet to his girlfriend. Now she gets to use the toys on him. 🛑 Warnings: NSFW. Mild restraints, nipple clamps, vibrator, oral (m receiving), spitting, dirty talk, hair pulling, cum 18+ 🖤 Notes: Spanish translations are at the end of the story. I do not speak Spanish, so if anything is incorrect, please let me know and I’ll fix it!  🖤 Taglist: In the comments. If you’d like to be added, please click here!  🖤 Requested By: @misskukinz95. Hope you enjoy!  🖤 MASTERLIST

“I wish you could see yourself right now,” you purred. “Can I please take a picture?”

“No,” Damian growled, breathless, adding a fuck when you increased the vibration of the nipple clamps. His long, athletic body squirmed on the expensive sheets, eyes closed, dark lashes brushing his bronze cheeks. 

The most beautiful man you’d ever seen was at your mercy, more or less, having lost a bet to you that he’d been positive he would win. Damian had chosen Mike Tyson as the winner, and, rigged or not, Iron Mike had lost. As your boyfriend pouted, you were jumping up onto the couch cushions, glass of wine sloshing about, dancing like you’d just won the lottery. In a way, you had. The terms of the wager had been clear: if Tyson won, Damian would receive a blowjob any time and any place of his choosing—boys are too easy, you’d thought, biting your tongue on asking how that was any different than your regular, everyday life—but if you won, he would allow you to use some of your toys on him. And that was worth its weight in gold.

“Listen here,” you whispered, soft lips grazing the shell of his ear, and you smirked as he shivered, “I’m the one in charge …”

Damian chuckled, the bass in his tone so deep, it had its own discernible vibration from the nipple clamps. “Oh, careful, querida,” he rumbled, eyes opening. You slowly backed away, still smiling, and your eyes met. “You’re never the one in charge.”

“Yeah,” you cooed, gripping his stubbled chin, “you’re so cute when you’re wrong.”

“You really think I can’t get out of this and spank your ass raw just because I feel like it?” your boyfriend retorted, and your eyes switched to his wrists loosely tied to each other and the headboard with the silk belt from the robe you were wearing.

“You could … but do you really want to?” Your nail scraped down Damian’s smooth chest, clinking against his necklace, the chain connecting the clamps, over the bumps and ridges of his well-defined muscles, the pad of your index finger rising over the stiff lump in his black briefs. His back arched and the lump twitched, his cock desperately seeking you. 

Damian breathed a laugh. “The longer you make me wait—”

“Just say I’m in charge,” you interrupted, palming his rigid length before cupping and gently squeezing his balls, “and I’ll rock your world, Papi.” Damian sucked in oxygen through his nostrils, your mouth making a meal of his neck and on down to his shoulder.

“Fine,” he rasped breathlessly. “You’re in charge.” Your heart soared and your pussy tingled, and you even had to force back a giggle. “For now.” You knew what that meant—you’d pay for whatever you did to him sometime in the near future—but you’d cross that bridge when you came to it. Never mind the fact that you tended to enjoy the punishments he bestowed upon you, but that was a secret you would take to the grave.

Straddling him, you crawled down his body, kissing, licking, sucking, biting. Tugging hard enough on the chain across his chest to steal a moan from deep in his throat as you continued to slither southerward. Your chin grazed his bulge, and his hips jerked before you mouthed his rock hard cock through the soft, thin material of his briefs. As your tongue dampened his underwear, distracting Damian with ease, you reached into the velvet pouch beside you to retrieve your secret weapon. The Archer of Infamy had been so worried you’d wanted to use a plug on him, or any other type of toy that might be inserted inside of him, so when you pulled out the mini vibrator—the silicone one that slipped over the pad of your finger and was less than an inch in size—there was no stopping the snicker that slipped from your lips.

“What guy doesn’t love it when their girlfriend giggles while she has her mouth on his dick?” Damian complained, lifting his head to see what was so hilarious.

“No peeking,” you snapped, hand on his jaw so you could gently return his head to the pillow.

“When I get a hold of you …” Damian mumbled, a faint chuckle decorating his words, “you won’t be able to walk for a month.”

Slithering further down his legs, you hooked your fingers under the waistband of his briefs and tugged, Damian eagerly lifting his hips so you could slide them down to his thighs. You didn’t miss the shit-eating grin on your boyfriend’s full, talented lips, and you shook your head. No doubt he was thinking you were about to suck him off. He was probably thinking he got away with one—losing a bet but coming away with the winnings. He couldn’t have been more wrong, and you wanted to laugh in his face, but that would come later. His thick cock lying heavily against his belly had your mouth filling with saliva as if you’d just smelled your most favorite dish in the world cooking in the kitchen. You spit on the exposed underside, emphatically, lewdly, and you allowed Damian to lift his head this time and take in the scenery, simply hiding the tiny vibrator in your fist.

“Fuck yeah,” Damian drawled. “Spit all over that cock, angelita.”

“Gotta get it nice and wet for Papi,” you murmured, spitting one more time before finally wrapping your hand around Damian’s cock, a cock thick enough to make your hand look ten times smaller than it already was. You loved the size difference, always taking a moment to revere him and all parts of him and thank whatever higher power gifted you with such a perfect man.

Following a few flicks of your wrist, you unfisted your hand with the vibrator, clicked it on with your thumb, and placed it behind his balls, applying slight pressure. Damian’s entire body arched, and the roar you elicited from him was incredibly similar to the one he used during live shows. You didn’t bother trying to hide your giggle at his reaction, especially after how concerned he’d been with which toy exactly you’d be using on him. 

“What the f—” Damian sputtered, body lying back on the bed, but his hips continued to thrust against the rhythm of your hand and the slight massaging of the vibrator still against his sack.

“How’s that feel, Papi?” you whispered, lips grazing the soft skin of his balls before you lathered them with your spit-covered tongue, sucking each one into your hot mouth.

“Like I won the fuckin’ bet,” Damian breathed. He missed the wicked grin that flashed across your glistening lips. “Jesus Christ, we should have done this a long time ago.” It wasn’t easy ignoring the urge to roll your eyes, but you succeeded, continuing on your journey to bring your boyfriend exactly where you wanted him. You spit again along his shaft, and it was wet enough at this point to create squishing noises with each stroke of your dwarfed hand. “Fuck, baby, use your mouth,” Damian moaned.

“Well, since I won the bet,” you replied, “I think I wanna hear you beg first.”

“Oh, gatita, you’re askin’ for it,” Damian groaned, finishing with a laugh.

“But you’re not,” you muttered against his balls, licking, kissing, before continuing, “and that’s the problem.”

You noticed the stuttering of his hips. You noticed the short bursts of breath escaping his full lips. You noticed his hands fisting the silk belt barely restraining his wrists. You noticed the tightening of his biceps and pecs and abs and thighs and, most importantly, his balls. Your hand sped up on his cock, flicking your thumb over the head, and you repositioned the vibrator to the base.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Damian announced, surprise coloring his tone. “Please, baby …”

“What, Papi?” you asked, full of fraudulent innocence.

“Please let me cum in your mouth,” he begged, and the desperation in his tone was like a symphony to your ears.

“Do it, baby,” you urged.

“Fuck, fuck,” Damian repeated over and over as he neared the edge of his orgasm. 

Timing it just perfectly, your hand released his dick, your mouth abandoned his balls, and the tiny vibrator on your finger was clicked off. Damian screamed, ripping his hands from the headboard, the robe belt tearing in the process, and he rose like the Undertaker. He reached immediately for his cock, but you blocked his hands, and he started to cum, and he couldn’t fight while he was cumming. You both watched, hands awkwardly intertwined, as his rigid length pulsed with each expulsion of rope after rope of cum, the sticky cream painting his thighs and the lower part of his abdomen. Damian squeezed your hands as he caught his breath and came down. When his fiery eyes met yours, the two of you gazed at each other for a long moment before you broke the silence.

“That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” you whispered, untangling your hands from his and dropping your tongue out of your mouth before beginning to lap up any cum that had landed on his bare skin.

“I’m not gonna say I hated it,” Damian replied, waiting for you to finish cleaning up before snatching a fistful of your hair and yanking you back into an upright kneeling position. He pressed his face to yours. “But don’t you ever let my cum go to waste like that again.”

** Querida - Dear/Beloved ** Papi - Daddy ** Angelita - Little angel ** Gatita - Kitten

[puck-luck]

last resort | trevor zegras

warnings: face-sitting, fingering, dirty talk… etc. trevor is kind of a little subby in his words, but he’s VERY much in charge, so. pairing: trevor zegras x inexperienced!reader request: “face-sitting! she would be soooo hesitant and shy about it but he would literally love everything abt it (also trevor kinda has the perfect nose for face sitting icl)” wc: 1250

“Look how pretty you are riding my fingers,” Trevor murmurs in your ear, his head tilted down to stare at the place where your hips are bucking against his hand. He’s fully clothed beside you, one of your legs thrown across his lap and the other spread wide, dangling off the bed. “Can’t wait to see how pretty you look riding my face.”

You whine, your hips still swiveling and trying to get some friction onto your swollen clit. Trevor is torturing you, wanting to bring you to orgasm with his fingers alone. You’ve been going at it for what feels like forever, with sweat lining your brow and causing your hair to stick to your forehead in a way that is decidedly NOT sexy, but Trevor loves anyway.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Trevor continues. 

His voice sticks to your skin and bounces around in your head like a growing fog. You throw your head back and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on the way his fingers feel inside of you rather than the dirty words that are distracting you.

“You’ve gotten so good at moving your hips for me and making yourself feel good,” he says. “I love when you use me like I’m your toy.” 

He smears a kiss on your cheek and you cry out as the pads of his fingers rub over your walls, pressing incessantly against the one spot inside of you that’s causing you to see stars behind your closed eyelids. 

“I want you to fuck my tongue like you fuck my fingers, baby.”

Your orgasm is so close, just out of reach, and you can’t handle Trevor’s words.

“Stop talking and just fuck me,” you grit out, your hand finding his chest and fisting at the fabric of his shirt.

“Why don’t you shut me up?” Trevor suggests, teasing you by stilling his fingers inside of you. 

You grind down, trying to get him to move again, but he refuses. He draws his fingers out of your cunt and brings them, dripping, to his mouth. When you open your eyes, you find him sucking on the digits, staring at you like he had been waiting to make this point for ages. He moans around his fingers, drawing them out of his mouth with a pop.

“You taste so good,” he says. “So sweet. I’d die a happy man if I suffocated between your legs.”

You glare at him, still feeling incredibly empty and incredibly exposed. Your hand goes between your legs, filling yourself up for a singular moment of reprieve before Trevor takes your wrist and brings it behind your back, along with the other. He holds your wrists with one of his hands and the other comes up to cradle your breast. He squeezes, watching you squirm and grow red.

“Give it to me,” Trevor breathes out, tilting his head to ghost over your lips with his own. “C’mon, baby, it’s simple. I want you to sit on my face and you want to come. I’ll be a good boy for you, so quiet as I fill you up with my tongue. Just want to make you feel good, please?”

You whimper, your lip jutting out in a pout. “Trevor,” you reply, your voice shaking. You don’t trust yourself to say much else. 

He understands anyway.

Trevor takes the chance to kiss you, a pinch to your nipple causing you to open your mouth in a moan, and he slips his tongue inside your mouth. You lose yourself in the feeling of the kiss, following Trevor’s lips when he pulls away. 

Eyes hazy, you watch as he lays back on the bed and looks at you. 

“Come up here and take what you need,” Trevor says.

Your eyelashes flutter at the command, still feeling a little stupid from the way his tongue invaded your mouth in that kiss. You know Trevor’s good with his tongue, but you’ve never sat on his face before. The dynamics of the act fill your head. Are you supposed to sit-sit? Are you supposed to stay up on your knees and let him do the work? Are you supposed to grind down on him? Can he even breathe?

As you consider it, Trevor just smiles at you with raised eyebrows. He sticks out his tongue and wiggles it at you, making you laugh. You shuffle towards him on your knees, and his smile turns into a predatory smirk. He places a hand on one of your thighs and looks you up and down. He licks his lips.

“I want you to sit on my face,” he commands. “And I want you to ride my tongue until you come.”

You swing a leg over his body, so that now your knees are bracketing his head. “Shut up,” you tell him again, angling yourself so his mouth is right under your hole. It aches to be filled, just inches away from relief, but you can’t manage to lower yourself down yet.

Trevor wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you down, anchoring you on his face.

You let out a loud moan at the first contact, the flat of Trevor’s tongue flexing against your entrance while he nuzzles his face into your folds. He keeps you in place as he begins to lap at the wet slick that had already accumulated while he fingered you, deciding that only once you were cleaned up, he would stick his tongue inside your entrance.

Your mouth drops open as his nose bumps against your clit, making you buck your hips forward. You can’t move much due to Trevor’s strong arms, but he allows you to make your aborted grinds against his nose while his tongue probes your hole.

You feel a bit cross-eyed when he finally licks into your entrance, your fingers finding his hair and pulling at the light brown strands. Your eyes, lids hooded and vision fuzzy, find his clear green ones below you. They’re full of a challenge and you know that if he could smile, his lips would be turned up in a smirk. He’s begging you to come undone. 

You throw your head back and whimper, little sounds escaping you with each grind against his nose. Trevor flicks his tongue inside of you and you bring one of your hands up to knead your breast. With a pinch to your nipple and a pointed thrust of his tongue, your legs shake and you come all over Trevor’s mouth. He licks you through it, continuing to suck up your juices like it’s his last meal until you’re wrenching yourself away and collapsing on the other side of him.

You breathe heavily, trying to catch your breath, and Trevor turns to lay on his side and face you. Your stomach flips at the glistening fluids dripping down Trevor’s chin, at the way his tongue darts out to swipe over his lips to capture as much of the come as he can.

You reach out and drag him closer, licking into his mouth and tasting yourself. Trevor’s hand rests on your hip, while the other returns to your chest, and you find his hair again. 

“Was it everything you dreamed?” You ask.

Trevor shakes his head. You blink in surprise, ready to open your mouth and ask why, ask what you could’ve done better, but Trevor silences you with a statement of his own. “It didn’t last long enough,” he says. “We’ll have to go again.”

notes: hi welcome back i thought i would reward y'all for your patience this past week with an inexperienced!reader oneshot! <3 loving you guys big, as always, hit me up! talk to me in my inbox! i miss you guys!

[eideticmemory]

BETTER OFF AS LOVERS | SPENCER REID

Three years after ending your relationship with Spencer Reid, you find yourself representing him in court on federal murder charges.

Word Count: 12k.

Warning/Includes: MAJOR CW for Spencer’s dilaudid arc and graphic mentions of drug use. Prison!Spencer, Lawyer!Reader. Bounces between the past and present through bold italics. Mentions of murder, prison, and violence. A little bit of smut.

Because both you and Spencer are compulsive overachievers, it’s been hard to ignore each other. He saves a kids life every other week and your quick wit has taken you to the (very near) top of the DC law food chain. He picks up a newspaper, you’re smiling arm in arm with the district attorney. You turn on the TV, he’s up there declaring national manhunts. It’s hard to avoid each other, but you have both tried so, very hard.

So hard, in fact, that when Spencer is lying in a jail cell, waiting for any sign of life to shine through the bars, he is not even thinking about you. He’s thinking about his mom. His job. His future. His very recent past. But not you. And even though he doesn’t realize it in the moment, it’s a blessing. He should’ve taken the moment to be grateful.

When Emily comes up to his cell, he hops up and all the thoughts stuck in his head rush out in word vomit. Why isn’t she in the office? How is the office? How’s his mom? And once he learns that everything else is perfectly fine, he remembers that he, alone, is fucked.

And Emily’s very good at that soft voice, that everything will be okay voice, but she doesn’t know that. Not really. Spencer knows that she doesn’t and he swallows himself in self pity, saying, “I don’t even have a lawyer.”

“About that…” Emily says before a beat can pass. “I, um…I made a call…”

Spencer tilts his head at her.

“I don’t think you’re gonna like it.”

You’re eating lunch when you get the call. You have a sandwich held in your mouth as you scribble notes on a legal pad which you promptly cross out.

“Miss [y/l/n]?” your receptionist announces herself at the door.

You drop your sandwich, “Hey,” you smile. “Yes?”

“You have an Emily Prentiss on the line for you. Do you want me to patch her through?”

Your smile drops, you can’t help it. Your heart sinks to the very bottom of your stomach and you have to clear your throat, remind yourself to breathe.

“No,” you shake your head. “No,” you stand to your feet. “No, thank you. I’ll answer her in here.”

You close your office door behind her. You close the blinds. You stare at the blinking light on the phone for what feels like hours. You take a seat at your desk, you stare some more. Then you pick up the phone.

“This is [y/n].”

“Hi, [y/n]. It’s Emily Prentiss.”

“Emily…” you breathe out. “Hey.”

“Do you have a moment to talk?”

You sigh, “Is…is this about Spencer?”

Emily pauses, just for a moment, but she knows it’s best to be honest, “It is.”

“Is he dead?” It seems blunt. But, to you, it sounds like a fair and natural question.

Emily clears her throat, “He’s in jail.”

Maybe she expected a gasp. A soft cry. But all you do is close your eyes and draw in a deep breath. You say, “Okay.”

“Now, I understand if you decline. I do. But I have to ask…are you available to come to Quantico for a legal consult with me? Just me?”

You stare at the ceiling, grinding your teeth so hard that you think your jaw may crack under the pressure. And in the span of just two hours, you tell her yes. You reschedule your afternoon meeting. You walk through a metal detector and pat down in Quantico. Yet, you’re not truly in your body until you step on the elevator. You feel yourself rising through the building and the familiarity of it hits you like lightening. You think, not now. You cannot break down now.

Later.

You stand and look over at Spencer’s empty desk, only for a moment and then you tear yourself away. You knock on Emily’s open door and she immediately stands when you sees you, “[y/n], hi,” she moves around her desk, “Hi, thanks for coming.”

You give her a hug, and she holds on for longer than she means to. She looks you in the eye and asks, “How are you?”

“I’m okay. How are you?”

She sighs, walking back to her desk as you close the door. “We’ve been better.”

You take a seat across from her, look around the office, and now you smile, “I like you in here, chief.”

She chuckles, “I assume you heard about Hotch?”

You nod, “I did…only courthouse rumblings.”

“Yeah, well, uh, team’s been good,” she rummages around her desk. “Pushing through. I see you’ve climbed the ladder in recent years.”

You shrug, smirking, “All bribes.”

She laughs, “Oh, c’mon, we both know that’s not true. You’re the best of the best. I wouldn’t have called you if you weren’t.”

And when she sees the light go out in your eyes, reminded by the reality of the situation, she does nothing but set the file in front of you. You exhale quickly out of your nose and you stare at Spencer’s name etched along the edge. You pick it up and place it in your lap, ducking your head to read it. His mugshots nearly make you gasp, but you stifle it. You put your finger to your lips and you try. You try so hard not react. Not in front of Emily, even though she can read you anyway.

You read the entire file. Front to back. Your eyes flick off of the last word and you slam the manilla folder closed. You look up at Emily, her looking at you, waiting for you, so patiently. You open your mouth, and she prepares herself for whatever you could say. Anything. Everything. She’s prepared.

You breath out, “He was high?”

She was not prepared for that.

She shakes her head, “He was drugged. The guy we’re after is notorious for using drugs to incapacitate his victims.”

You nod, “And let me guess. The bureau won’t help with his legal defense?”

She shakes her head, “He broke protocol.”

You roll your eyes, “Stupid…”

“[y/n],” she calls to you.

You look up at her, raising your eyebrows.

“I understand if you don’t wanna be involved. I know defense isn’t your normal side of the bench. But I meant it when I said you’re the best of the best. When I didn’t know who else to call, I called you. That doesn’t mean you have to agree to this.”

You look out the window and your eyes fall on Spencer’s desk once again. It is empty like he has not been there for weeks, lifeless. You turn back to Emily, “Where are they holding him?”

In the dead of night, you burst into the law library in town. It was pouring rain outside and when the receptionist saw you drenched and leaving muddy footprints behind you, she asked, “You need any help, hon?”

“No, thank you,” you called, but you did not stop moving. You marched over to the torts section, you knew it all by heart. You swiped your fingers over every author, noting the alphabet in your head and you were slightly enraged to find that the book you needed was missing. You groaned and checked again. Then again and again. You sighed. You looked around the dimly lit library and it was almost instant. You saw his table, you saw the book, and then you saw him.

And before you really knew what you were doing, you were walking up to him and he was so entranced in reading that he didn’t even look up at you.

“How much longer are you gonna be?” you asked him. And then he looked at you. You thought, oh wow he’s pretty, but you were on a mission here.

“I’m-I’m sorry?”

“With the book. How much longer do you think you’ll be?”

“Uh…I probably have…about a hundred pages left so…five, six minutes maybe?”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, “Are you fucking with me?”

He couldn’t help but laugh, an awkward laugh, an uncomfortable laugh, but mainly an oh fuck a pretty girl is talking to me laugh. “No. No. You can…sit and watch, I swear. Time me if you want.”

You looked at him, arms crossed. You checked your watch and nodded, taking a seat, “Fine. Five minutes. Go.”

He gave you a small smile and then went back to it. You watched him trace his fingertip down the page, flick to the next one and down he traced again. You were curious. But irritated. But intrigued? You checked your watch with one minute to go and he went, “Okay, done,” and slid the book across the table.

You caught it in your palm, and looked up at him, “You are so full of shit.”

“What?”

“There’s no way you just read all of that in five minutes. There’s no way.”

“But there is a way because I did.”

“No you didn’t.”

He laughed, “I can recite it all to you right now. Front to back.”

“Where are you?” he seemed confused by this question so you continued, “Hm? George Washington? UDC?”

“Quantico.”

“Oh, you are so full of shit!” you went to grab the book and leave but he wasn’t ready for you to go.

“No, no, wait. Seriously. Look at my badge,” he pulled it right out of his bag. “I just got it today.”

You took a look, and when it wasn’t clear enough, you stepped closer, held it in your hands.

Spencer Reid. Behavioral Analysis Unit.

You handed it back to him, “Never met a twelve year old fed.”

“Twenty-three,” he corrected you. “And, uh…I get that a lot.”

“And what does a twenty-three year old fed need with a first year law book?”

He shrugged, “Just light reading.”

You rolled your eyes and he could just tell that you wanted to smile and so he smiled so big at you, hoping it would rub off.

“Book’s all yours,” he said. “I’ll find another.”

No smile.

“A-a-and if you’d like to…I-I don’t know…stay out of the rain, I’d…like it if you’d…maybe sit and read with me?”

You bit down on your lip and you hesitated, looked around as you weighed your options. Then, you took a seat. He grinned over at you as you flipped the book open and it was there.

Small, but a smile.

Back in holding, Spencer sits. He waits. He digs his nails into the bandage on his hand and his knee won’t stop bouncing. The same thoughts rush through his head, but every so often they are cut off by images of you. Every you. Every season. The last time he saw you. His breath catches so tightly in his chest that he actually hunches over in pain, squeezes his fist. His eyes keep darting towards the door, anxious, quick, hoping you’ll come. Hoping you won’t.

What gives it away is your heels. They’re fast and they’re loud, a rapid click-clack-click-clack on the floor. He sits up straight, holds his hands in his lap, forces his leg to stop shaking. Emily walks in first, and in behind her comes you. Picture perfect, dolled up, professional you. Your eyes connect and it should make him nauseous. Instead, his body relaxes. You’re the one that’s nauseous.

“Well,” Emily says to cut the tension. “I know this is an legal meeting so I’ll just give you two some privacy.” And she gets the hell out of there.

You step to the side as the door closes behind her. You set your brief case down on the table and have a seat. As the two of you sit in silence, Spencer feels that you’re judging him. Scolding him, staring him down. But all you’re thinking about is how much his hair has grown, from his head and from his face and underneath it all, he is still him.

You clear your throat, look away, “I’m obligated to remind you that everything you share here is kept confidential by attorney-client privilege.”

“I didnt use,” he spits out.

You pause, your eyes cutting up to him. He is staring into your soul. He wants you to hear him.

“I didn’t,” he shakes his head. “I wouldnt. I swear.”

You have to let that simmer in the air for a moment. You have to swallow it like a large pill, let it force its way down your throat and into your stomach. Through your bloodstream.

“I believe you,” you say. “Tell me what happened.”

“I-I…I did not kill her.”

You nod, “…okay. What else.”

“I-I…don’t remember anything else.”

“Well that…doesn’t help me here. It doesn’t matter if you say you didn’t kill her and you know that. What matters is evidence. The facts of the case.”

“I’m telling you I don’t remember anything, [y/n]. If I did, I would tell you but the entire thing is a-a blur.”

“And I’m telling you I can’t do anything with that.”

“Just… tell me what you really want to say.”

You consider it.

“I’m not here to judge you,” you tell him. “I’m here to build you a legal defense.”

“Whatever’s going through your head, I can take it,” he huffs. “Tell me.”

You purse your lips at him. You shake your head. But he insists. He peers into your eyes in waiting. Begging.

You inhale and with a hefty wave of breath, you shout, “Going to Mexico? Not telling anyone where you are? Smuggling experimental drugs across the border? Are you serious?”

He nods. He takes the blows as they land.

“Do you even comprehend the shit hole that you’ve dug for yourself? I mean, honestly, you-you should go to prison for at least,” you pinch your fingers. “A little bit because it should be a crime to be this stupid with an IQ that high,” and you punctuate it all with a sigh of relief.

Spencer sniffles, “Feel better?”

“No,” you say instantly. And you say this next part very clearly, “Because I can’t promise you that you won’t go to prison.”

The reason that you and Spencer worked so well together, you think - you thought - is that there was a certain amount of independence. After your meeting in the library, after all the pulling he did to sweep you off your feet, you decided that yes, you could do this. You could have a boyfriend who traveled for work. You could handle not seeing him for days or weeks on end. Just in your second year of law school, you thought: I will never have time to miss him. I will drown in school work and textbooks until he returns. It will not phase me. It will not change me.

Then you kind of fell in love with him. And suddenly you always, always had time to miss him.

“Hey,” you found yourself smiling when he called. On the other side of the country, it was only nine but you were in DC still studying at midnight.

“Hey, honey,” Spencer cooed. “I knew you’d be awake.”

“Like I could sleep at a time like this? No, thank you, this is all nighter territory.”

“Sorry I won’t be there the day of your exam.”

“Don’t worry about it. They need you out there more than I do.”

“I know, I know, I’d just slow you down,” he laughed.

“Oh yeah, definitely,” you nodded. “But…I miss you…wish you were here to slow me down.”

“Soon.”

“I know.”

“And, y’know, if we just moved into together, it could be even sooner.”

“Ooh, yeah, and we could get a plant too and watch it die a slow death because no one’s ever home.”

He cackled, quieted down as he whispered, “Just…try to actually get some sleep, okay? You can’t pass your exam if you’re exhausted. And make sure you have a good breakfast. A real breakfast, not coffee and some pop tarts. At least toaster strudels, okay? And afterwards, take yourself out for lunch or-or take someone with you. But don’t sit and think about it and drive yourself crazy. You’re gonna do great. You always do.”

You nodded, stifling a soft laugh, “Yes, doctor. Anything else?”

He shrugs to himself, “Just that I miss you. I can’t wait to see you.”

You grinned, “Soon.”

When your alarm went off at seven in the morning, you checked your phone to see that Spencer had woken himself up, three hours behind, to send you a message.

Two words: Toaster strudels!!!!

And over the next few days, you were truly too busy to miss him. You took your exam at ten o’clock on the dot and you took his advice, you went out to lunch. You thought about the exam only a little bit, to run through it with your friends before you started day drinking, and then there was nothing to do but wait. Keep yourself busy.

As soon as the jet lifted off, Spencer called you. Your phone was buried at the bottom of your bag, which was swinging against your hip as you walked across campus. You didn’t realize it was ringing until the very last second and by the time you pulled it out, he had already left you a voicemail.

As you waded through the crowd to see your posted exam score, you held the phone to your ear and listened.

“Hey! Hey, [y/n], we’re, uh, on the way back now. Safe and sound. I should be there by this afternoon. Uh, let me know if you get your exam results, okay? I’m so excited to see you. Call me when you can.”

Posted on the wall was the glare of your future, staring you in the face, chewing into your soul and you dropped the phone back in your bag.

When Spencer landed and still hadn’t heard from you, he slowly came to expect bad news. He bought you flowers on the way home, he called you, he texted multiple times to tell you he’d be coming over. He walked up to his apartment solely to drop off his things and before he could get to the door, he stopped in his tracks.

You stood up quickly, your face breaking out into a wide smile. Your hands shook and all you could say was, “I passed! I-I passed!”

And in an instant, he dropped everything except your flowers and ran to you, engulfing you in a big, tight hug. “Of course you did!” he shouted. “Oh, god [y/n], of course you did! Here…” he released you so he could rush to unlock the door.

“And I didn’t just pass, babe. I passed with flying fucking colors!” You let yourself into his apartment, still rambling while he dragged his things inside. He stood in awe as you paced around the living room, throwing your hands in the air. “Do you know what this means? I could be a real lawyer any day now!”

You looked at him, huffing and puffing with this toothless, wide smile that sat in your cheekbones. So happy and pretty that he forgot how to talk. “T-These are for you,” he stuttered, walking over to you with a bright bouquet of flowers.

Your eyes darted to the flowers, but only for a moment and then back to Spencer, and he was looking at you with so much love that you felt it in the pit of your stomach. You held eye contact with him as you took hold of the flowers, your fingers overlapping for a split second. And in one swift motion, you pulled him in by the back of his neck and dropped the flowers on the couch. It stunned him, sure, but it was instinct for him to grab onto your hips and kiss you. That is, after all, exactly what you wanted him to do.

You stood of the tip of your toes, took hold of his face and balled your fist in his hair. He grunted against your lips, held onto you tight as you dragged him into his bedroom.

“Okay, okay, okay, just-“ he stuttered as you tore off his shirt. His head got caught, the two of you burst into laughter, and you gave him a kiss as soon as the shirt hit the floor. You swiped his books off of his bed and laid yourself down, pulling him on top of you. When your pants got suffocating, you flipped him over so you could take them off. Your boobs hung in his face as you grabbed a condom from the nightstand and he ran his hands all over your body. Even when he could hardly breathe because you were rolling the condom onto him, he caressed your thighs and his nails rolled on your skin.

You giggled, going, “Stop, that tickles.”

He said, “Sorry,” and tickled you again, laughing as your body squirmed around and you chuckled into a kiss with him.

You were usually a lot softer with him. No rush. But the adrenaline in your body had you bouncing on his cock so quickly that you wondered if the whole bed might cave in. You kept looking at Spencer to make sure he was enjoying himself he was enjoying himself. His head was hanging off the bed, hanging loose from his neck and his mouth was wide open, releasing some of the loudest moans you’ve ever heard from him. When he realized he was getting close, he would grab your hips real tight, you’d stop and after a few breaths, he’d let you go. He’d let you get right back to it.

Afterwards, you collapsed beside him and tucked yourself in the crook of his arm, your hand on his heaving chest. You kissed him softly and he moaned, “Mm…” rubbing your back. “I love when you get a good grade.”

You cackled and threw your head back, tracing his bottom lip with your fingertip, “I love when you’re home.”

“Oh!” he suddenly shouted. “Speaking of, we have dinner reservations on our anniversary at seven. I’ll probably get called out before then but I will be back in time. I promise.”

“And if you’re not?”

“Then I’m a bad boy. A very bad boy,” he grinned, leaning into you as you laughed.

You held his face, gave him a kiss and nodded, “It’s a date.”

And he did eventually get called out again just over a week before your reservation. You have a very vivid memory of kissing him goodbye the day he left. He was himself. He was happy, and towards the end of the week, he called overly cocky saying that this case would be wrapped up soon. That he’d be home with a night to spare.

He lied.

People know you here. When you speak with the distric attorney on Spencer’s case, he knows you. He knows Spencer. And that should make it easy to negotiate here, but it unfortunately makes it that much harder. Luckily, you’re as stubborn as you are determined and with a bit of sparkle, you can get Spencer down to two to five years in federal prison.

That is, until new evidence arises. In that moment, all the oxygen and arguing and fight you’ve given goes out the window. Emily trails up beside you when you return, saying, “I just got the news. What now?”

“Now,” you sigh. “We tell Spencer.”

And as soon as you walk into the room, he is rising to his feet, staring at you. His eyes scan over your features and he goes, “That’s not a good face. What happened?”

“I…” you start. “Was able to talk Martinez down to involuntary manslaughter.”

“Manny Martinez?” he interrupts you.

“Yes,” you enunciate. “And he offered two to five years.”

Emily glances at Spencer, and asks you, “A deal? Well, that could mean they know they have a weak case?”

“Maybe,” you shrug. “But they could also just be in a rush to close this with minimal publicity.”

Looking to Spencer, you owe him the truth, “But they found the murder weapon in the desert. About an hour ago. The blood and prints are yours.”

The words knock the air out of him like a strong punch to the chest. You can see his eyes zone out, stuck on the floor as he sits himself down and tries to breathe. Emily is spinning gears in her head but you cannot stop watching him.

“Okay, so, where do we go from here?” she asks you.

“Well, the two to five quickly came off the table. Now, it’s five to ten at minimum.” Still, you watch Spencer. He can’t stand to look at you.

“And this is the only way he can avoid trial?”

You purse your lips and nod, shrugging, “Plead guilty to involuntary manslaughter, write a statement to the bureau. That’d be the end of it. Any other course of action will require presenting evidence to a jury.”

When Spencer finally decides to lift his head and speak, he looks you dead in the eye and asks, “Do you think I should take it?”

Your face visibly softens and you shrug, “Beats twenty-five to life. Which they will sentence if you’re found guilty, and with this evidence…it’s likely…”

He looks at Emily and when he cannot take the look of pity in her eyes for one more second, he asks you, specifically, “May I speak to you alone, [y/n]?”

You glance at Emily and nod, “Sure.”

The door closes and Spencer, comfortable enough to let his guard down, suddenly stands from the chair, hiding his face in his hands. He paces around the small room and pulls at the root of his hair. It’s very unlike him but in this moment, he says, “Fuck.”

“Yes,” is all you can add. “What do you want to do here, Spencer?”

“I-I-I don’t know. You’re my lawyer, can’t you just tell me what I should do? Tell me what to do.”

“I can’t do that. I’m not the one facing prison here. You have two options, okay? If you want to take your chances in court, I will be there. I will bring every weapon in my arsenal to defend you, but I can’t guarantee that the outcome will be better than five to ten.”

He shakes his head, “The team will crack the case. They will. They’ll catch Scratch and they’ll clear my name.”

“Oh, my…when?” you raise your voice. You don’t mean to. “This month? This year? This decade? Who knows? W-who knows how long you could be locked up before they catch a break?”

He sniffles, one single tear falling down his cheek as his head falls in defeat, “What…what do I do, [y/n]?” he cries. “Just tell me what to do. I don’t know what to do.”

And against ever fiber of your being, you instinctively cross the room and engulf him in a hug. He sobs into your neck and holds your waist in tight in his arms, breaks down when you run your hand through his hair.

He’s hurting but this helps. This helps a lot.

“Hey!” you answered Spencer’s phone with a joyous greeting. “Hi, Diana. Hi! It’s [y/n], how are you?”

And while she was beyond excited to talk to you, she rambled about her son. How he hadn’t called her in close to a week. How she missed the sound of his voice. “It just isn’t like him,” she said. “It just isn’t like Spencer. He calls me. He calls me everyday. Is he okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied as you stood over him in bed. “Yeah, he’s okay. He’s, uh, he’s…”

He waved you off, silently ordering you to hang up and leave him alone. He rolled over onto his side and hid his face under the blankets. He wanted to make sure he was as avoidant as possible.

“He’s just…tired. But I know he…he’d love to speak with you…”

He did not move. And he had not moved since returning home from Tobias Hankel. He just hadn’t. You weren’t sure if he ever would. But as you continued to talk on the phone, the sound of your voice going, “Yeah, yeah,” grating his nerves, he hopped out of bed and went straight for the bathroom. The door slammed, it locked and you just hoped Diana didn’t hear it.

“Yeah,” you told her. “Yeah, he’s busy right now. Y’know, case paperwork and such. I can have him call you back?”

Then there’s a thud. Loud. It shakes the floor of the entire apartment and your breath catches in your throat.

“Yes, of course. I will have him call you,” you stared at the bathroom door. “I promise. Okay. Alright, bye.”

You rushed to the bathroom, immediately trying to open the door but it was locked. You wiggled the knob, you pounded on it, calling, “Spencer? Spencer?”

You found the key on top of the sill, with your hands trembling as you shoved it into the lock. When the door swung open, it stopped against something. Something heavy, something big. So you pushed and shoved enough that you could poke your head in and when you did, you screamed. You shrieked at the top of your lungs. The thing blocking the door, the thing laid out on the floor.

It was Spencer.

Spencer is due to appear in court this morning. You’re going to vomit.

You arrive promptly with thirty minutes to spare and you spend that time trying to find your client. Though you do not see his face, you notice him standing at the phone, dressed to impress in a sharp suit. His hand bandaged in the least disgusting way possible.

“Mom,” he says into the reciever. “I want you know that I’m safe and I have a great lawyer.”

You cross your arms over your chest, stand firm behind him and proudly eavesdrop.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, it’s actually, um…[y/n]. Yeah, no. No, we’re not back together, she just…she’s a great lawyer. The best.”

And he goes looking for you, at the mention of your name, he starts scanning the room, like he can feel you somewhere. Somewhere. He turns around to find you leaning against the wall. He smiles. He can’t help it. Neither can you. You throw up a small wave and he waves back.

He speaks into the phone, telling Diana, “She says hi.”

The judge comes into the courtroom and almost immediately, she looks ready to leave. You weren’t nervous before, you don’t think Spencer was all that much either. But now, shit is getting real. Shit is getting very real.

“Miss [y/l/n],” she says to you. “Your client is a federal agent?”

You rise to your feet, nodding, “That’s correct, your honor.” You both notice Spencer still sitting and you whisper through your teeth, “Stand the hell up,” and he stands the hell up.

“Some very serious offenses brought against you today,” she tells him.

“Yes, your honor,” he nods.

“Miss [y/l/n], does your client wish to enter a plea at this time?”

You nod, “He does.”

“And how do you plead, Agent Reid?”

Spencer looks her in the eye and proclaims, “Not guilty.” You hope nobody sees you roll your eyes.

“Mhm,” the judge nods. “And as to bail?”

“The people oppose bail and request remand, your honor,” the district attorney responds, now standing.

“Remand?” you repeat. “Your honor, my client does not present a flight risk.”

“He’ll be staying with you, I suppose?” he fires back and you can’t help but cut your eyes at him.

“Good one, Manny.”

“Your honor,” he continues. “The defendant fled the scene in Mexico…”

“Those were extenuating circumstances,” you interrupt. “He was drugged against his will.”

“And failed to inform the FBI of his international travel, effectively breaking protocol.”

“With the intent to return home and care for his mother, who struggles with schizophrenia and alzheimer’s and lives with him full time. He is her sole caretaker, in addition to his career as a highly decorated member of the BAU.”

“And as a member of the BAU, he has connections all over the world that could prove highly useful if he chose to flee.”

“Agent Reid is more than willing to surrend both his professional and personal passports if it pleases the court.”

“Again, he has the connections to both recieve a counterfeit passport and evade arrest.”

“Your honor, all Agent Reid wants to do is stay here and clear his good name.”

“He should’ve thought about his good name before sneaking across the border.”

You glare at Martinez and look back to the judge, “I can provide sincere and respected character witness to the court today. All highly decorated members of FBI, willing to speak on Agent Reid’s behalf.”

“Miss [y/l/n], I am not particularly inclined to hear character witnesses at the moment,” the judge tells you.

“Then we can abide by a curfew, court ordered restrictions…”

“Too little, too late for that, Miss [y/l/n],” she silences you. “If past behavior is the best indicator of future behavior, and I do believe that it is…then your client does present a flight risk…” and with one, dramatic pauses, she says, “Bail is denied. The defendant will be remanded to federal custody pending trial.”

The gavel lands and that’s it.

Spencer is put in handcuffs, in front of his entire team, in front of his family. In front of you. And all he can do is look at you. Eyes wide and terrified, looking at you.

“I’m so sorry,” you tell him. “I’m so sorry, I’ll come see you as soon as I can.”

He believes you. He has to believe you.

Standing there in shame, the feeling in your gut quickly turns to anger and you march out of the courtroom, pass the team and into the hallway. You see the district attorney walking towards his office and chase him down.

“A flight risk?” you catch his attention and he turns around. “Really, Manny?”

He shrugs, “Judge Frost agreed.”

“Yeah, judges tend to do that when things are taken out of context.”

“Hey, the facts were clear as day. Don’t be mad at me because your boyfriend might go to prison, okay? That’s on him.” And with that, he walks away. You want to throw something at the back of his head.

You want to burn the whole building down.

Instead, you run. You run off to an empty corridor, where you are well aware no one will find you. You pace up and down the floor, your chest heaving, your hands on your hips.

“[y/n]?” Emily calls from behind you. When you cannot get out of your own head, she repeats, “[y/n]?”

“Why did you call me?” You shout as you turn to her. “Why did you bring me into this? Why? Why?” you sob and you put your face in your hands, sliding down the wall in a dramatic breakdown.

Emily immediately rushes to you, bending down to hold you in her arms. “You did everything that you could,” she tells you. “You did your best.”

“I’m always doing my best!” you whine. “I’m always, always doing my best for him and it’s not enough! It’s never enough!”

There’s too much for Emily to unpack there, so she shuts her mouth and she holds you.

The day that you graduated law school, Spencer stayed by your side the entire time. And that was good. That was good because you could be sure that he wasn’t shooting up and you could relax. He looked good that day. Not perfect. Not clean. But good. He dressed up, he could walk in a straight line and he was so, unbelievably proud of you.

He handed you flowers the moment the commencement was over. He took all the pictures so you could have the memories forever. He hung on your arm like a trophy boyfriend because, that day, he was a trophy boyfriend and he could not have been happier.

“Surprise!” was shouted at you as soon as you stepped into your apartment. Adorned with balloons and family and friends, you were overwhelmed and nearly dropped your degree. You turned to Spencer and he dropped his shoulders bashfully, too shy to outright accept all the credit. And still, you took him in a firey kiss, you gave him all the credit.

As you walked around, having something to eat, thanking everyone for coming, talking about your plans for the future, Spencer came up to you and said, “I’m going to grab the cake, okay, honey? I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

“Oh, okay, baby, thank you,” you smiled and gave him a kiss.

He didn’t come back for an hour.

And when he did come back, he overcompensated by putting the cake down in front of you and going, “Sorry! Sorry about that. Traffic was crazy,” and placing a big, sloppy kiss on your cheek.

Right then, you knew.

He was bouncing off the walls, extroverted, enthusiastic, eating cake that other people had cut into and not able to get enough of it. Grabbing onto your waist and kissing your neck in front of a crowd, dozing off when he actually sat, flicking himself in the neck to keep himself awake.

And you knew.

By the end of the night, when everyone had cleared out and Spencer was missing, you stepped around the quiet apartment and found him passed out in your bed. You put two fingers on his neck, made sure he was alive, and you slept on the couch.

You woke up early even though he slept like a rock until closer to noon. You sat on the couch until he decided to get out of bed and come looking for you.

“Hey,” he smiled, his voice hoarse. “Hey, what are you doing out here?”

You could hardly stand to look at him. You hands were bound in front of your lips, your eyes focused on the coffee table. It wasn’t until that second that he looked down and noticed the collection on the table. Needles. A little vial.

“How…” you cleared your throat. “How long have you been hiding this in my apartment?”

“I…” he spit out. “I…that’s old. It’s old. I forgot it was even here.”

You choked out a gust of air and couldn’t help but laugh, “You are so full of shit.”

“[y/n]…”

“No!” you shouted, rising to your feet. “Tell me what’s so fucking good about this shit that you needed to shoot up during my graduation party?”

“I…I didn’t…I was just excited. I was excited for you.”

“No, you were fucking loaded.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Stop.”

“I wasn’t.”

“No, stop! Stop treating me like I’m fucking stupid! I mean, fuck, Spencer! After all the therapy and meetings and outpatient rehabs, you do this? Really?”

“I didn’t.”

“And what’s worse is that you lie. You lie about everything. You’re lying right and you don’t care!”

“[y/n]…”

“You don’t care. You don’t care. I’m the one who shot narcan up your fucking nose so you wouldn’t OD on my bathroom floor. I’m the one who couldn’t have one fucking night to myself and you, dont, care!”

You let out a quick huff and he simmered in the silence of your anger.

“I…I can’t do this anymore…” you said softly.

He stared at you, shaking in his own skin, “W-what? You can’t do what?”

You released a slow sigh, “I can’t…be with a drug addict.”

“I…am not…”

“You are. You are, Spencer, and you need help. You need more than I can give you.” And before he can retaliate, you set a box of his things on the table. Some books, some clothes with blood on the sleeves, some records.

He started to cry. You knew these were real tears because when he merely wanted to get his way, they would start flowing instantly. Here, they came on slow, rolling down his pale face. “[y/n]…”

“No.” You said sternly, avoiding eye contact. “You need to leave. Leave.”

“B-b-but I-I’m better,” he tried to touch you and you flinched. “I-I can get better. I can do that.”

“Not here. Not with me. Please leave.”

“B-but…” he cried. “But I don’t wanna leave. I wanna be with you. I need to be with you. Please. P-please, [y/n].”

You shook your head, quickly wiped away your tears. “I don’t want you here. Please leave.” You held the door open for him and put his box on the porch. “Please.”

“[y/n], please don’t do this,” he tried to shut the door but you held your own. “Please, please, I’ll go to a meeting right now. You can come with me. I’ll get better. I can get better.”

“Spencer…please. Go.”

“No.”

“Please,” you begged. “Leave.”

“No. No, I’m not leaving you.”

And so, because you had to, you absolutely had to, you pushed him out. He fought, never to hurt you, but he dug his feet in the ground and tried to push your hands away. “N-no, [y/n], please. Please. Please don’t do this.”

Spencer was never that strong before the dilaudid. But when he was on it, he was weak. He was slow and even with all his strength, he could not stop you from throwing him out and slamming the door in his face. You locked it quickly, pressed your palms to the wood to keep it closed up tight as he knocked lightly.

You could hear him sobbing, “[y/n]…please…[y/n]…” and his voice cracked. You heard him slide down the door and sniffling, “[y/n]…”

There was a moment where you thought to open the door. To take it all back. To change your mind. Tears were running into your mouth and you ground your teeth together to stifle your cries. Instead, you stood up straight, you took a deep breath. You went into your room, closed the door and turned the TV up loud.

Spencer still lives in his same apartment. So as you go up the stairs, hundreds of memories come flooding back to you at a hundred miles per minute. It makes you so dizzy that you nearly trip, fall down the stairs. Run.

But you make it to his door and knock, greeted by a younger woman who gives you a bright smile, “Hi.”

“Hi,” you wave to her. “Cassie?”

“Yes?”

“Hi, I’m [y/n]. I’m-I’m a friend of Spencer’s. Is Diana here?”

“She is.”

“Is she up for a visitor?”

You let yourself in, stepping in to find that the apartment has not changed much. Same couch, same chairs, same coffee pot in the kitchen. Diana is sat near the window reading a book, picking at her nails anxiously. When she looks up and sees you, she stops and her entire face lights up like you’ve come back from the dead.

“[y/n], hi!” she greets you. She stands from her chair and rushes towards you with open arms. You let her hug you tight, her hand in your hair, your head on her shoulder and you want to cry. “Hi, honey, how are you?”

“Oh, I’m okay…” you shrug. “Can we talk?”

Her eyes go wide. Scared. “This is about Spencer. About that awful mess he’s in.”

“Yes,” you nod.

“Well, please, come, sit. Do you want some tea? Cassie makes a great cup.”

“Sure. Yes, please,” you smile as you sit across from her.

“Y’know, when I heard what happened to Spencer. I-I couldn’t believe it…my baby boy, in a jail cell,” she shakes her head. “But then he tells me that you were his lawyer and I could,” she exhales. “Breathe. You, such a smart and fierce young woman. There’s no one I’d trust more.”

A single tear rolls down your cheek and you shake your head, breaking eye contact with her.

“Oh. Oh, no, no, honey, what’s wrong?”

“Sorry…” you whimper. You wipe your face and huff, “Ugh, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“For what? For what, honey?” she takes hold of your hands.

“I-I couldn’t…I didn’t…” you sob. “I…Spencer pleaded not guilty, but the judge ruled him a flight risk. S-so, he’s…in federal prison. Pending trial.”

You can see the shock spread across her face and it makes you sick to your fucking stomach. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I tried.”

“Hey, you don’t apologize,” she squeezes your hands. Tight, tight, tight, tight. “You don’t apologize, you hear me? I know you did everything in your power. And if you couldn’t do it, then no one else could.”

You choke out another sob and she rubs your arm, cooing “Oh…oh…” and when Cassie sets a mug in front of you, Diana orders, “Here. Here, [y/n], please, have some tea. Calm down, sweetie.”

While you take sip, hiccuping against the glass, she changes the subject entirely. The rest of the visit spirals into a nice chat, mainly about you. What you’re up to these days. And as you fill her in, her eyes light up in pride, in almost disbelief. The last thing she says to you is, “Oh, I do wish you and Spencer could’ve worked things out. You are just…so special, [y/n]. Such a special, gifted girl. You made him so happy.”

She hugs you before you leave and you stroll beside Cassie to the front door. “Um…” you whisper to Cassie. “Is she normally this lucid?”

She purses her lips, “There are good days. There are bad ones.”

You nod.

“That’s the fastest I’ve ever seen her recognize anyone, though.”

For an extended amount of time after your first breakup, you thought Spencer was dead.

After you kicked him out of your apartment, there was radio silence. Scary radio silence. And you had visions in your head of him laid out with a needle in his arm and too much dilaudid in his veins and vomit in his mouth. Or, perhaps, he ran in front of a bullet in the field and no one thought anything of it. For months, you were so sure he was dead.

When you saw him on the news a year later, only then, you could breathe. You visibly and loudly sighed in relief just seeing his face, hearing his voice. More than grateful he was alive, you were grateful to see him healthy. Very clearly clean. Weight back in his face, light back in his eyes. You had almost forgotten what it looked like on him. It wasn’t until then that you knew you’d made the right decision.

You wouldn’t see him again for another two years. Save for a few local newpapers articles, the radio silence continued. You had moved to a larger apartment, close to the courthouse where you were still clawing your way to the top. Somehow, someway, Spencer found this new apartment. It was a conscious decision to do so.

He knocked on your door and you, not expecting company, catiously checked the peephole. You dropped from your tippy toes, sucked in a breath and opened the door. “Spencer? What…what are you doing here?”

“I’m…I’m sorry to drop by like this…” he stuttered, sucking back tears. “I am. I’m sorry. I…Emily…died.”

Your eyes went wide and you visibly stepped back. “What?”

“Y-yeah, she, um, she was murdered. Bled out in the ambulance and I…” he descended into a fit of cries and you just stood in the doorway, watching him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I-I don’t mean to be a stalker. I don’t mean to barge in on you. I-I-I-I was just scared of what I might do if I was alone and n-no one else understands why I’m so scared to be alone and-and I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

You stood there in shock for a long time. The only thing that cut the tension was a sound from the TV, a strange sound that caught Spencer off guard. He peeked inside your apartment, sniffling, “What are you doing in here?”

“Uh…um, I’m playing Wii Sports?” you told him, holding up the remote dangling from your wrist. “…I have two remotes if-if you wanna play. It always makes me feel better.”

He tilted his head at you, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Oh, c’mon!” you shouted in front of the TV, swinging your remote through the air. “Put your back into it!”

“I am!” Spencer yelled, taking another swing that just barely hit the digital tennis ball.

“No, you’re not!” you swung and scored a point, Spencer feeling especially defeated by the cheer of the crowd. “You’re losing, is what you’re doing.”

“I give up,” he takes off his remote. “This game is rigged.”

“Is it?” you smirk. “Or are you just a sore loser? Not used to it?”

“Uh, yeah. Duh.”

You laughed and it poured a blanket of warmth over him that he had not felt in a long time. “You hungry?” you asked him.

“Starving.”

So you ordered a pizza and you got so caught up in speaking with him that you barely heard the knock on the door. When you set a slice down in front of him, he instantly picked it up and shoves it in his mouth, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy. He noticed you watching him and chuckled, wiping his mouth, “What?”

“Nothing…”you smiled. “Nothing, it’s just you’re…eating so good, you…you look good.”

He smiled at you. Not a big smile, not a proud smile, but a soft smile. A thank-you-I-did-it-for-you smile. “Thank you. I feel good.”

“Good,” you nodded. “That’s good.”

And the two of you ate in silence with the TV on to keep the peace. By the end of the night, his head was resting in your lap and his knees were tucked against his chest. He rubbed his thumb on your knee lightly and said, “I can go. If you want me to, I can go.”

“Yeah…” you whispered, your fingertip tracing his ear, your hand running through his hair, “Yeah, it’s getting late.”

He breathed you in one last time and sat himself up. He looked at you and you looked at him and if he stared at you any longer, it would’ve torn him apart. Instead, he hopped up from the couch and escorted himself to the door, you following close behind him.

“Thank you,” he told you. “For letting me stay. For feeding me. For taking care of me.”

“For kicking your ass at Wii Sports?”

“Yes,” he laughed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you nodded.

“Okay,” he huffed. “So…”

“So…” you shrugged.

He reached out to give you a hug and before you knew what you were doing, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed him. That is, after all, exactly what he wanted you to do.

His arms locked around your waist and you moaned softly under your breath, sticking your tongue down his throat, drowning in the familiar taste of him. He pushed his body into yours, boldly nudging you towards the couch until you fell back and he could fall on top of you. Right where he was meant to be.

You’re uncomfortable in the prison. Milburn isn’t exactly known for it’s favorable accommodations and the last thing you want to do is appear prissy, but fuck, it’s gross. It’s crowded. It smells. You think: this must be killing Spencer.

He sits down across from you and he looks tired. Tired, but relieved to see you.

“Oof,” you exclaim. “You’re so lucky you look good in blue or else this would be really shitty for you.”

He snickers, shakes his head, “That was actually my exact thought.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “JJ says you’ve been by to see my mom?”

“I have. She’s doing okay, she seemed okay. We spoke for a long time. It was good to see her.”

“I bet she was excited to see you.”

“She was, it was sweet. I…I don’t wanna sound insensitive here, but, if she has an alzheimer’s diagnosis why does the memory of us breaking up just… linger?”

He wants to cackle but he stifles it, “Tell me about it. Every so often, I get an earful about how I should’ve done more to keep you around.”

“Oh. You…you didn’t tell her that I…”

“No,” he says quickly. “No, I didn’t.”

And just like that, a moment that was lighthearted and comfortable becomes unbearable. You clear your throat, “Well, I didn’t just come by to visit, I have news. It’s not great.”

“Okay, what is it?”

You sigh, “Your trial is postponed. I can’t say how long, but I will be the first to know and you’ll be the second.”

“Postponed?” he mimicked. “W-why? Why?”

You shrug, “They didn’t say. But it could be anything, I mean, higher profile cases, judge schedules, anything.”

He ducks his head down, breathing hard through his nose to prevent himself from crying.

“Hey…” you coo. “Hey, I’m going to figure this out. Don’t worry.”

“I know,” he nods. He looks up at you, “I know you’re trying. Thank you for trying.”

You nod, break a toothless smile, “Always.”

When Spencer wasn’t on drugs, you two managed to stay together for a whole four years. This was twice as long as you made it the first time around and not once did you worry that he had relapsed. You spent a lot of time worried that he might. You spent a lot of time keeping an extra close eye on him, watching for any of the signs, overly cautious. For a reason.

And Spencer was patient with this. He worked so hard to regain your trust because he knew how badly he had fucked up before. How different he’d become, how much he’d hurt you. He could not bear to ever put you through that again. And he never did. He was consistent, he was loving and he was sober.

On your third anniversary, he flew back into town late but he came straight to you. You had not officially moved in with him, but you had a drawer and a toothbrush and you could walk to work from his apartment. He woke you up from your peaceful slumber in his bed just to present you with your gift.

“C’mon, c’mon, I’ve been waiting so long to give it to you,” he cut the lamp on and you groaned, rolling onto your stomach. “Noooo, noooo, c’mon, my love. Look.”

You rolled back over and he was holding up a gold charm bracelet that immediately caught your eye. It woke you up entirely.

“I know you’re not a big jewelry girl,” he whispered, placing the bracelet on your wrist. “But this, uh, has a little charm of your birthstone and one with your birth flower. And, I don’t know, I thought it’d be nice to have on while you’re arguing in court, y’know? Wave it around a bit. Persuade the judge and jury.”

He fixed the clasp and you admired the gold against your skin, tracing it with your finger softly. You grinned, your eyes flickering up to him. “Wave it around…” you teased. “Like this?” and you motioned for him to come closer with your finger. The charms rang lightly and Spencer smirked at you.

“See, it’s just so compulsive, I can’t help but obey you,” he crawled on top of you, his voice mixing in with your laughter. “You’ll never lose a case again.”

And ironically, you went an absurd amount of time without losing a case after that. The bracelet was, in every sense of the word, your good luck charm. Your wrist came to feel naked without it and the ring of the metal gave you a special kind of confidence that couldn’t be replaced or replicated.

The day that Spencer got shot and nearly died, you were due to argue what would’ve been your tenth successful case in a row. You were on such a roll. A streak that no one around you had seen before and they were all eager to see how it progressed.

But as you approached the courtroom doors, your phone buzzed in your hand and you answered without much thought. You kept your brisk pace, speaking with a normalcy that JJ tried her best to match. Your heels were fast, click-clack, click-clack, click-clack, until the information ran through your ears and into your brain and then there was click-clack, click-clack, click…and you stood in the middle of the hallway. Stuck.

Your bottom lip trembled, at the thought of Spencer in critical condition. At the thought of him dying. Dying, dead, without you. You looked back at the courtroom and zoned back into JJ’s voice. You took one step towards the door, stopped and turned around.

Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack.

Contrary to the belief of the BAU, Spencer is not your only client. You have to remind yourself of this as well. Despite a pile of work that you slowly chip away at, you find yourself running back to the details of Spencer’s file. Over and over, as if something new will stand out. It’s happened to you before. You think, it could happen again. It has to happen again. It doesn’t seem like it will.

“Hey, [y/n]?” you coworker calls, knocking on your office door.

“Hey!” you pip.

“Wanna grab lunch? My treat.”

“Lunch? It’s already lunch?” you check the clock and gasp, “Holy shit.”

She laughs, “You work too hard. What do ya’ say?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. I, uh, thought you had to meet a client at Milburn this afternoon, though? The armed robbery guy.”

“Ah, no. Whole prison’s on lockdown. Something about a bad batch of heroin or meth or whatever they pass around in there, I don’t know. Attorneys are still allowed in but I’m not walking into that. I mean, can you imagine?”

It all pours out of her like a joke. Like a comedy of epic proportions that you are meant to laugh along with. But you can’t. You think about Spencer and you just can’t.

“[y/n]?” she calls, pulling you back into reality. “You alright?”

“Yeah!” you overcompensate. “Yes. Sorry. I’m ready. Let’s go.”

You grab your purse and swing it over your shoulder, following her out of your office and reminding yourself to breathe.

“You’re sure?” you questioned the doctor. “You’re positive?”

He released a hearty laugh and nodded, “Yes. He is fully recovered. No swelling, no tenderness, he’s cleared to work and resume any physical activity.”

“Any physical activity?” Spencer asked. You blushed and put your hand to your cheek.

“Yes, that’s right,” the doctor confirmed. “I must say, Spencer, this is quite impressive progress with such a severe injury.”

“I couldn’t have done it all without [y/n],” Spencer beamed, holding onto your hand. “She’s been amazing. She oversaw all my treatment and physical therapy. Slapped me aside my head when I was stubborn. It’s all thanks to her.”

You smiled, bashful and sweet, though you felt a weird, painful knot in your stomach. “Well, that’s quite a spectacular lady you’ve got there.”

“I think so, too,” Spencer grinned and kissed your cheek.

Immediately after Spencer was shot, followed by a long hospital stay, months of physical therapy and doctor’s visits, you lost your streak. You lost your glimmer. You lost that aura of shock and awe that you once so proudly carried. Though you kept it hidden from Spencer, you were one, giant ball of anxiety. All the time. It wrecked your brain, scrambled into a big pile of goo until you were having panic attacks in the courthouse bathroom.

Days later, you finally brought home a winning case. The adrenaline of a successful verdict rushed through your veins and you raced up the stairs to tell Spencer. You unlocked the door to his apartment and burst inside, stopping dead in your tracks when you saw him. He had cleaned, cooked and set up the dining room table with a meal for two.

“Hi, baby!” he exclaimed. “How was your closing statement?”

“Uhh, good. The judge ruled in our favor…” you spoke slowly, setting your things down.

“Really?” he smiled. “Of course! Of course they did. Baby, I’m so proud of you,” he held your face in his hands and gave you a kiss.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “What’s all this?”

“Oh, well,” he lead you into the dining room. “I made us a roasted chicken with mashed potatoes and corn on the cob. It should be good, I followed the recipe exactly. And, uh, some sparkling cider and I got you some lilies from the florist down the street and-and I even went to that store to get you a bath bomb even though all the smells give me a headache.” He was quite proud of himself.

“You went to Lush? No way.”

“Way! I thought we could take a bath together. Or you can take one by yourself, if you want. I got some candles, too.”

“Spencer, this is so sweet. What the fuck?” you wrapped your arms around him and the thought pinged in your head, “Ohhh. Oh, you wanna have sex with me.”

His face immediately turned bright red, “W-what? What? Sex? No. Ew…gross…”

You cackled and put your hands on his waist, “You got the go ahead from your doctor and it’s been driving you crazy. Admit it.”

“It has not been driving me crazy. I-I…have…been thinking about it quite a bit. But that’s not why I did this. I just wanted to thank you. Wanted to do something for you.”

“Mhm, keep talking,” you nuzzled your nose into his. “You’re almost there.”

He giggled and took hold of your hands, “C’mon, c’monnnn, I worked really hard on this dinner. Can you sit down and eat with me and then, maybe, after…”

You kissed the tip of his nose and took a seat at the table, “Definitely after,” you smirked at him.

He grinned and sat right next to you. And he watched you the entire time that you tried your food. It was delicious, you made sure to tell him that. You made sure to praise him, tell him that you loved him. He was already overrun with joy, but when you suggested a nice bath, he all but jumped out of his seat.

“The dishes!” you laughed.

He scurried back to the table, picked up your plates and dropped them in the sink. As he ran to the bathroom, he grabbed onto your wrist and dragged you along. He turned the water on, let it heat to just the right temperature and left it running. You undressed each other from head to toe and despite the sensuality of it all, you couldn’t stop giggling.

Sat in the tub, he cradled your back against his chest and he said, “Y’know…this bath bomb actually doesn’t freak me out as much as I thought it would.”

You laughed, “It smells really good, right?”

“Yeah! And the colors are cool.”

“I told you!”

Spencer got out of the bath first and he held out a towel for you to wrap yourself in. He wrapped his arms around your waist as you looked at yourselves in the mirror. He caressed your hair, whispering, “You’re so beautiful.”

You smiled, “Thank you. So are you.”

He kissed your shoulder, resting his chin in the crook of your neck, “I love you.”

“Eh,” you shrugged. “You’re alright, I guess.”

Your laughter overlapped with one another’s and you quickly corrected yourself, “I love you, honey,” with a kiss to his temple.

He turned his head and looked at you, his lips pressed against your ear, “Hey.”

You turned to him, “Hey.”

“We should get married.”

Your jaw dropped and you took a step back, “Are…are you just saying that because I’m naked and wet?”

He chuckled, “No,” he pulled you close, chest to chest, “No, no. I mean it. I mean, I don’t have a ring and I’m in no condition to get down on one knee but you deserve that, you deserve everything and I want to give that to you. I love you. So much. And I never, ever want to experience life without you again. I want you to be my wife, I want to be your husband. I want that. Don’t you want that?”

You let out a dry laugh, furrowing your eyebrows at him. You take his face in your hands, gripping tight on boths sides of his jaw and smush your lips into his. You undo the towel from around your chest and it falls to the floor, leaving every inch of your body open to Spencer’s touch.

“Mm…” he moans sharply when you break the kiss, giggling when you drag him to his bedroom by the hem of his towel.

The two of you landed on the bed with a thud, Spencer on top, tangling his body in yours, kissing your neck. Kissing your chest. Making his way to the apex of your thighs where he spread your legs and buried his face in between them.

Your breath caught in your throat but you released it all with a guttural moan, your arms limp around your head. The thing about Spencer, and that beautiful, talented mouth of his, is how gentle he was. His tongue was never rough, never hard flushed against you, but light and soft, hitting all the spots that made your body twitch. He could make you come so easily. And if you’d let him, he’d do it again and again and again.

But you took hold of his shoulders, you brought his face to yours and tangled your hands in his soaking wet hair and that is how you stayed the entire time that he fucked you. Close to him, bonded to him, staring into his eyes. You legs wrapped tight around his waist. Your body weakened underneath, became consumed by him and you swear, you have never come so hard in your life.

After his own orgasm, Spencer’s eyes focused in on you and you were crying. Not sobbing, just silent tears.

“Oh god, oh my god, [y/n]? What happened?” he panicked. “Are you okay? Did I-did I hurt you?”

“No,” you shook your head. “No, no. I…that was…it was just very good for me.”

“Oh…” he sighed. “Oh,” he gave you a kiss. “For me, too.”

He laid at your side and held you in his arms, rubbing your back, squeezing you tight.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, Spencer.”

You managed to fall asleep in his arms, but not for very long. All through the night, you shuddered awake like your skeleton was trying to crawl out of your skin. When your eyes popped open as the sun was starting to rise, you couldn’t take it anymore.

You emptied your drawer. You packed all your clothes. You put your toothbrush in a ziplock. And for the rest of the morning, you sat at the dining room table with a pen and paper. Every thought that rushed through your head sounded trite. Cliche. Dumb. So you kept it short and sweet and wrote:

I love you. I LOVE YOU. But I can’t. I’m sorry. Don’t hate me.

Aside from the shitty note, it was the perfect goodbye.

Spencer doesn’t want to see you right now. He doesn’t want to see anyone right now but especially not you. When the guard notifies him of his lawyers arrival, he’s confused. A bit irritated. But he has no choice but to let them haul him off.

They let him into the meeting room, where at first, you are sitting but when you see him, you stand to your feet. Your eyes scan all over his beaten and bruised face and you order the guards, “Cuffs. Off. Please.” And they’re off Spencer’s wrists just like that.

The guards leave the room and you are still staring at him. Now you are touching his face. Now you are whimpering, “What…what happened?”

You can see him soften a little bit, only a little bit, and then he is shrugging your hand off of him. He’s never done that before and it kind of hurts.

“You shouldn’t be here, [y/n].”

“What happened? Who did this to you?”

“[y/n.]…” he’s stern, but he quickly changes his tone. “You need to go. Please. I don’t feel like talking right now.”

You huff, “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

He shakes his head, “I’m just not in the mood to talk. I don’t think anyone needs to be around me right now.”

“Well, too bad. I’m here, you look like someone took a walk on your face, and I want you to talk to me.”

“I have nothing to say.”

“What are you getting into in here? Huh?” you scold him, waving your hands around. “Didn’t everyone tell you to shut up and lay low? You didn’t listen, did you?”

Your charm bracelet catches his eye and he cannot stop tracking it, “…You don’t know anything anout anything.”

“I think-“

“No, you know what I think?” he snaps. “I think you ended our relationship in a fourteen word note and now you’re here for what? For what, [y/n]?”

“Okay, lower your voice.”

“Seriously? Your obligation is done. You fought the good fight. Let me rot. It what you would’ve done anyway.”

“Oh, fuck you. Do you know why I left you a note, Spencer? It’s because I really sucked at breaking up with you. You have one little meltdown and suddenly, it’s me. Suddenly, I’m the answer to all your problems. Well, I’m not. I never was. I’m just one of the many melodramatic problems that you have and I needed to be released before it just happened over and over and over again.”

“Melodrama- okay…” he turns around and bangs on the door, signaling the guards to get him the hell out of here.

“Spencer!”

“We’re done.”

“Will you just- talk to me,” you beg.

The door swings open and you instantly clamp up, attempting to appear calm and collected. You watch Spencer leave the room and you want to scream. You want to shout at him from the top of your lungs but you don’t. You think, if I can just get outside. If I can just cross the parking lot. If I just get to my car, I can scream.

You never make it.

By the time Diana is able to visit Spencer, by the time Spencer gets in contact with Emily, rambling and screaming into the phone like he’s just witnessed a murder, nearly a full night has passed. Emily meets Spencer in the moonlit prison and it takes her an entire minute to get him calm enough to talk, to explain thoroughly. The memories of Mexico that come flooding back, the woman who drugged him.

“Has anyone checked on my mom?” he shouts. “Can someone please check on my mom?”

“Spencer,” Emily calls to him. “We did.”

“And?”

“And, she’s fine. Apparently, Cassie was unable to come in and they sent another nurse in her place. But, um…”

Spencer leans forward in his seat, “What? What?”

“Cassie said this was delivered to your apartment,” she digs through her bag. “No name, no address. Just a knock at the door.”

And she holds up your gold charm bracelet, sealed in an evidence bag, “Do you recognize it?”

Author’s note:

Inspired by me finishing Better Call Saul and being torn apart by Jimmy and Kim. Also added Saul Goodman to my list of Old Men I’m Obsessed With 😭 Anyways stream the Breaking Bad universe on Netflix! Thanks 4 reading!! <3

[lou-struck]

Three Heads, Three Costumes

Lucifer x reader

Flufftober Day 3: Pet Costumes

WC: 1.4k

~ You were supposed to go shopping for your own Halloween Costume but got carried away and ended up making Lucifer's whole month.

Lucifer is exhausted. The haunting melody of one of his favorite records does little to destress him as he sits hunched over his dark mahogany desk, completely engrossed in the expense report for the upcoming RAD Halloween party. Each charge on the ledger seems to deepen the crease between his dark eyebrows. 

No matter how many times he looks lit over, he cannot understand why Asmodeus spent 36,000 Grimm just on Mirrors for what he has labeled as aesthetic purposes. 

He sighs deeply and runs his hand through his hair. Of course, he trusts his brother, but he worries that the fifth-born may be letting the power of being on the party planning committee go to his head.

After staring down at these documents for so long, the demon feels a headache brewing behind his tired eyes. Even when he glances away, he can still see the numbers from the ledger ingrained in his blurred vision.

"You look like you could use a break," a soft voice says from the doorway. He has to blink a few times to remove the numbers from your figure, but simply seeing you eases his mind tremendously. 

"Ah Mc. How did the costume shopping go?" he asks as you pad across the room over to his seat and wrap your arms around the demon, which melts under your loving touch.

"I didn't quite make it there," you say with a strange little chuckle. Lucifer looks up at your face, and he knows you are hiding something from him. 

"But you were gone all afternoon; how did you not manage to buy anything?" he presses, shooting you a knowing smirk. 

"I never said I didn't get anything, just nothing for me." You say, your excitement bursting at the seams as you let go of the demon and pull his chair out from his desk. "Come see what I got."

Your eagerness is contagious and Lucifer finds himself on his own two feet, following you out the door, a loving smile on his face as he wonders what he has gotten himself into.

~

You had wanted to go costume shopping today, you really did. 

But as you were walking to the little boutique Asmodeus told you about, you passed the pet store advertising new seasonal pet treats and you just had to go in and get a few special biscuits for Cerberus has been such a good boy lately. 

You filled your basket with more treats than even Beel could eat in one sitting. You realized that the store didn't just carry pet food and seasonal treats; they also had a huge section of enchanted pet costumes designed to fit whatever pet the owner has. 

You immediately discarded your basket and grabbed a cart instead.

As you descend down into the underground tomb where your sweet, three-headed, fire-breathing hellhound resides. You hope that Lucifer doesn't bring up how much Grimm you have spent today…

"Well, I hope you aren't bringing me down here to share a Cask of Amontillado with me," Lucifer chuckles, following behind you. 

"Nope, not today," you pant, forgetting how many freaking stairs you have to climb to get down here. You pant and are so thankful you used a spell to whisk your many, many shopping bags down all these stairs just moments after you got home. "I got a little something for Cerberus."

"I see," the demon says amusedly, not sounding out of breath at all. "Whatever it is, I hope it doesn't spoil his dinner."

"What kind of dog parent would I be if I don't spoil him a bit," you huff, reaching the bottom of the steps and glancing back at him with a smile.

His lips curl into a smirk as he stops on the last step, towering over your form. "Are you implying that the two of us are a married couple?" 

"For now," you say playfully, looking up at the handsome demon, "but if you don't play your cards right, I'll take the dog when we split." He laughs as you walk over to your pile of shopping bags next to a long stone bench. 

"Did you really get all of this for the dog?" he asks, eyeing your purchases. Of course, you weren't gonna be able to hide anything from him; he's been dealing with Mammon's spending habits for years. 

"I had to," you say quickly. You look around for Cerberus, but he must be off wandering the tunnels, which means that you'll have to do the first part of your pet store haul without him. This may be for the best because you know there is no way in Diavolo you will get that dog to try on all the costumes you bought him. "Have a seat, and I'll show you what I got."

"What's in the bags?" he asks, sliding onto the bench next to you. 

"Costumes," you say, holding up the first bag, "I thought he should get to dress up for Halloween, too."

"You bought costumes… for my Hellhound…" he says slowly, trying to process your strange request. 

"One costume for each head, actually," you say, reaching into the bag filled to the brim with treats and crinkling the packaging; the faint sound travels through the room, alerting the puppy to your presence. 

From one of the tunnels, Cerberus emerges; his sleek fur shines in the light of the enchanted torches as he rushes towards you, his three tongues out and tail wagging up a storm as he slides across the stone to side obediently in front of you. 

"Hey babyyyy," you squeal, rushing up to him and petting the giant hellhound; his tail thumps the ground so much, you feel the vibrations in your feet, but you don't mind at all. "I got you something." you step back and reach into the treat bag, pulling out three pumpkin-shaped dog treats that are supposed to help with digestion. You toss one into each one of his mouths as his six eyes sparkle. 

"You spoil him, MC," Lucifer says, walking up and scratching under his pet's large chin. "Just how many treats did you buy?"

"Only this bag," you say, trying to look as innocent as you can. But you can tell that despite the demon's obvious soft spot for you, he isn't falling for it.

"Okay, fine, like three bags." You say, cracking under the pressure of his knowing gaze. "But I had to. How else are we  going to get him to try on all the costumes I bought him?"

The damn breaks and Lucifer's low laughter fills the room; the look of loving joy on his face makes him look far more lively, almost angelic. You find yourself unable to look away from him. "What am I going to do with you, human?"

"Help me?"

He pulls off his cape and sets it on the bench behind him. "Alright then, where do we start?"

~

Cerberus has had quite the afternoon, being dressed by you and Lucifer. So far, your favorite demonic pupper has had its heads dressed up as doctors…

Sailors, Superheroes, Lions, Tigers, Bears, and more.

And every time he sits still, he gets showered with treats and friendly scratches.

"Alright, Cerberus… you are doing so good. Just sit still for just a little longer," you grunt, trying to secure the last feathered hat on the Hellhound heads. Lucifer gives him another treat as a bribe, and he stills once again.

His dinner is definitely spoiled now.

Sliding down his back, you step back to admire your handiwork. So far, the Three Musketeers costume you picked out is the best yet. The large hats and bright blue doublets around their necks make them look absolutely adorable.

"What do you think of this one, Lucifer?" you ask, looking over at The Avatar of Pride, who looks much happier picking out Halloween costumes for his pet than wasting his day away in his study. 

"I like this costume more than the last," he says, sparing a glance at the charred pile that used to be the bumble bee costumes on the floor next to him. Cerberus certainly has his own opinions when it comes to the outfits you pick out. "But I still think we can do better; what else did you buy?"

"Let's see," you walk over to your now-smaller pile of costumes and go through them carefully. "I have the alien, the astronaut, and the moon set."

"Interesting…" he says, "Cerberus would look rather fetching with the little alien headband. What else do we have?"

His little pun brings a smile to your face as you grab the next few bags, holding them up to the light, "How long do you have?"

Tagging: @pixelcafe-network @ambiguouslady42

[xxoxobree]

The Boy Is Mine

Miles Morales x Black Fem Spider-person Reader v Gwen Stacy.

Summary: He saved you and She didn’t want to and maybe she was right because the boy is now yours.

WARNINGS: Fighting, bad words, I think that’s it.

A/n: I was tied!!! Of seeing Miles cheat with Gwen so I took matters into my own hands. This is probably one of the best stories I’ve ever written too so don’t skip. I had so much fun writing this.

For the past 2 years, you've been the one and only Spider-woman. Everyone knows the story by now, bitten by a radioactive spider, and now you spend your time protecting the city. Everything was going great. Or that's what you wanted to believe as you fought Wilson Fisk, a person who is supposed to be behind bars. This Wilson was different - bigger, stronger, he was giving you a run for your money.

"What have they been feeding you at the Raft, Willie?" You quipped as you dodged a punch. "Haha, missed me," you said, landing a punch combo to his jaw.

"You stupid spiders are always in the way," he said, managing to catch you off guard, knocking you back. This fight is definitely gonna take a while.

"Who are you anyway, where's Spider-Man?" Fisk asked, walking menacingly toward you as you lay on the floor to catch a breath.

"I don't get paid enough for this," you said, getting up, squaring up with the large man.

Spider-Man, what are you talking about, Fisk?" You asked the man leaping backwards, dodging all of his hits.

"Enough of this talk, this ends now," Fisk said, running toward you. You charged back, your fist balled, about to strike, but he dodged and caught you by your throat.

"Another spider under my belt," Fisk said, laughing as he squeezed your throat. Gasping for air, you tried your best to break free from his grip, but your vision began to fade out. Your strength left you, and your eyes began to close. All you wanted to do was sleep, but you blinked your eyes again. Maybe you were hallucinating from the lack of oxygen, but a portal with glowing lights appeared, and two other spider personas flew forward, knocking Fisk out. You dropped to the floor, gasping for air, but still fainted in the process.

You probably weren't out for long, but you heard faint voices, a female and a male.

"What do we do, Gwen? We can't just leave her here."

"Miles, what are we supposed to do? We can't take her back to HQ."

You were too weak to actually open your eyes to see who was talking. Too weak to stop them from kidnapping you and taking you to wherever HQ was. You tried to let out a small groan, but it was useless.

"That's exactly what we need to do, Gwen. She needs medical care."

"Ughhh.... Fine, you grab her."

You heard footsteps move towards you, and your body being lifted before you succumbed to the darkness around you again.

✨HQ✨

Your bloodshot eyes shot open as you sat up, feeling around for your mask that wasn't on your face. You heard the fast-paced beeping of a heart monitor, letting you know your heart rate was up as you ripped all the pads off of you, standing ready to leave the room before two people came walking inside. You immediately got in defense mode as you studied them - an older man in a blue suit with a spider on the front, and a younger boy about your age in a black suit, also with a spider on the front.

"Where the fuck am I, and who are you?" you said, pointing.

"Welcome to HQ, Spiderwoman. I'm Spider-Man, and he's Spider-Man. Glad you survived. Miles, I'll leave you to it," the older man in the blue suit said, walking away.

Miles walked closer to you, setting off your spider senses. You closed one of your eyes, moving your head to the side, resting your hand on your head. "Don't come any closer," you said.

You're probably not used to that, but you're like me, it does that sometimes. I'm Miles.

"Yeah, I got that from earlier," you said, flopping back on the hospital cot, still very much in pain.

Miles wasn't in the room when they took off your mask, so this was the first time he saw your face. He scanned every detail of your face, taking in the way your plump lips formed into a natural pout, or maybe that was just because you were in pain. The way your brown eyes sparkled under the bright white light, he couldn't help but be captivated by your gaze. He loved your braids and the way your pink beads rattled every time you moved.

Miles felt something stir in the pit of his stomach the longer he looked at you. Maybe it was just gas from the spicy food he ate earlier, he thought, in denial of the growing attraction he felt for a stranger.

"Well, aren't you gonna tell me your name?" Miles finally mustered the courage to ask.

You turned to face him, the pain momentarily forgotten as you observed his silly smirk. You weren't usually the friendliest person, but there was something about Miles that felt different, something that made you want to open up.

"I'm Y/n," you replied, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Nice to meet you Y/n," Miles said, offering his hand. You looked at it. "I'd shake your hand, but I'm in too much pain right now," you said, causing both of you to laugh. There it was, that fluttering feeling in the pit of Miles' stomach again as he watched a beautiful smile grace your face.

"So, what is this place and why am I here?" you asked Miles, curiosity shining in your eyes. "This is the Spider Society. We brought you here because you were in bad shape from fighting Fisk," Miles explained. You coughed a bit. "Yup, he whooped my ass," you said, making both you and Miles burst into laughter again.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, Gwen stood outside the door, her eyes fixed on the scene unfolding inside. With each word you said to Miles, with each chuckle you elicited from him, the flames of jealousy ignited within her. Unable to bear it any longer, she burst into the room, startling both you and Miles.

"What the fuck? You didn't even have to do all that, shawty," You exclaimed. Miles stood up, a look of surprise on his face. "Gwen, this is Y/n, Spider-woman, the one we helped," he explained, pointing toward you.

"Oh, hi. I'm glad you're okay," Gwen said, her words laced with a hint of insincerity.

This your girl Miles ?" You asked.

"No, no." They both said in unison dragging their o's. It was obvious to you that there was more to the story by the way she busted into the room but that was none of your business.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Y/n. We should get going," Gwen said, gently tugging Miles towards the door.

Before leaving, Miles tossed you a watch that you effortlessly caught. "Maybe we can see each other again," he said, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. You smiled, watching him walk away.

"Hmmm," you hummed, examining the watch before clasping it onto your wrist. "Maybe we will, Spider-Man."

As Gwen and Miles made their way through the headquarters, Miles couldn't ignore Gwen's evident distress. He studied her face and body language.He called out to her, "Gwen?"

Getting no response, Miles tried a sing-songy voice, calling her name once more. "What, Miles?" she replied, her voice tinged with bitterness.

"I know you're upset. Do you want to talk or not?" Miles asked, genuinely wanting to understand what was bothering her.

"Why don't you go talk to Y/n?"

"Gwen, are you serious? I barely know her, but she's a cool girl," Miles defended, trying to reassure her.

"Oh, she's cool now?" Gwen's tone dripped with sarcasm and doubt.

Miles gently reached for Gwen's hand, stopping her in her tracks, making her face him directly. "Look, Gwen, you don't have to worry about her, okay?" he said softly.

Gwen's expression softened, and she nodded, a flicker of trust returning to her eyes. "Alright, Miles. She said giving him a small punch to the shoulder.

✨The Mission✨

You were back in your dimension 2 days post fight with Fisk feeling good as new. You were in bed, examining the watch Miles gave you, when a hologram of a woman appeared, making you scream.

"Oh hey there new recruit, I'm Lyla," she said, waving.

"Hi... Lyla," you said slowly, waving back.

"Sorry to scare you, but the boss needs you at HQ, your first mission... Yayyyy, so suit up," she said before disappearing.

"Uh, okay," you said, slipping into your skintight suit and mask, slapping on your watch, struggling to find out how to get it to work because no one gave you a tutorial. But you managed using your genius brain and stepped through the portal, gracefully landing in a dark room with monitors.

"Great, you're here......Miles!" the man you were familiar with but never got his name called out.

From the shadows, Miles emerged with a smile on his face. "Good to see you again, Mamita," he said.

"Oh, we're using pet names now?" you said, matching his flirty energy.

"That's enough," Miguel said as he stood before you two. "Anomaly in Earth 746, catch it."

"Anomaly?" you questioned.

"I'll tell you all about it later," Miles said, grabbing your hand, opening a portal, and pulling you through.

You dusted off your hands. The mission went well, a little too well, especially for a Goblin mission.

"You're pretty good, Miles."

"You too, Mamita. Gotta say, I doubted you a little after the Fisk fight," he teased.

"Oh, whatever," you said, rolling your eyes, chuckling a bit.

You moved closer to Miles, mere inches between you two, as you ran your fingers along his jawline.

Miles' breath hitched as you touched him, his hazel eyes expressing the tension between you two. There was no denying that Miles was handsome, and you were eager to learn more about him.

"So what dimension are you from, Papa?" you asked playfully, a flirtatious smile gracing your lips.

"1610. Maybe we could go there?" Miles responded, his voice filled with anticipation.

"Take a girl on a date first, Miles," you laughed, teasing him gently.

"No, I didn't mean it like that. I..." Miles stammered, trying to explain himself.

"I would love to see your dimension, Miles," you interrupted, cutting him off.

And so, Miles took you to his dimension.

"This is Brooklyn." Miles said as you two stood atop the Williamsburg Bank building, you marveled at the city below. It was similar to your own home, yet distinctly different. Miles watched in awe as your eyes sparkled at the city, feeling a flutter in his stomach.

"It's beautiful, Miles," you whispered, taking a seat to soak in the view.

He walked forward and sat beside you, his face beaming with joy. You turned towards him, a warm smile on your lips.

"So, what's your story, big head?" you asked, playfully leaning on him.

"My story?" Miles responded, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"You're Spider-Man, Miles. What's your origin?" you asked , curious him.

"You know, regular Spider-Man stuff. I gained my powers and now I fight bad guys," Miles answered, a humble tone in his voice.

"That's not what I meant," you said, giving him a small shove. "What's the real story? I was bitten by a radioactive spider too, two years ago on a field trip to Oscorp. Your world doesn't seem to have Oscorp." You sighed, frustration and sadness mixing in your voice. "I got these crazy powers that I didn't know what to do with, so I decided to keep them a secret and pretend that I was a regular kid."

The weight of your words hung heavy in the air as you choked up, memories flooding back. Miles noticed your distress and perked up. "It's okay, you don't have to share if you don't want to," he said, trying to comfort you.

But something compelled you to open up, to let go of the burden you had been carrying alone for so long. You rested your hand gently on top of his. "I pretended to be some regular kid, and that led to me losing my mom. And from then on, I decided to help everyone else," you finished.

Miles's heart stung as he listened to your story. "I lost someone close to me too, my uncle Aaron. He was shot saving me," he shared, the pain evident in his voice.

A sense of understanding and connection washed over you both. You leaned your head on his shoulder. "See, that's your story, Papa," you said softly, appreciating the bond that formed between you. "You know, Miles, it's so nice to have someone to talk about this stuff with now," you added, gazing at the sun setting on the horizon.

That moment solidified your blooming relationship with Miles. Whenever you had free time, you would pop into his dimension, and vice versa. Now, in your suit, you found yourself in dimension 1610, patiently waiting for Miles to catch up as you swung through the bustling city.

"Keep up, Miles," you teased, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you effortlessly jumped from building to building, landing with grace. The two of you were headed back to his house, where Jeff and Rio, his parents, adored you and had grown fond to your presence after all the time you spent with Miles.

They couldn't wrap their head around the whole different dimension thing and just assumed Miles' imagination had run wild. You two walked through his front door.

"Hey Mama Rio," you greeted Miles' mom.

"Hey Mija."

"Hey Mom," Miles said, hugging his mom before the two of you walked into his room. You two were too caught up in conversation to notice a guest. Gwen. She cleared her throat, making you two snap your attention towards her.

"Gwen, hey," Miles said nervously. "What are you - what are you doing here?"

"I came to see you because I barely see you anymore, but now I know why," Gwen answered.

You snickered a bit, knowing you essentially snatched Miles from Gwen.

"Oh, that's funny?" Gwen asked.

You threw your hands up in surrender, not wanting to get into it with her.

"We were about to watch a movie, order some pizza. You can stay if you want," Miles offered to pacify Gwen, but he was hoping she'd turn it down. He cherished his alone time with you.

"No, it's fine, Miles. I'll leave," Gwen said with a hint of frustration in her voice.

"Uh, okay. Bye," Miles said

"Bye, Gwendolyn," you added, unable to hide the small smirk on your face.

Gwen turned to you and asked, "You know what, can we talk outside, Y/n?"

Rolling your eyes, you agreed, "Sure, why not?" You grabbed Miles' hand, signaling for him to come along.

"Alone," Gwen insisted, her tone unwavering.

"Okay... I'll be back, papa," you said to Miles, giving him a smile and a pat on the cheek.

As you followed Gwen out of the window and onto the roof, you could feel the tension building up. Once you reached a secluded corner, she turned to face you, arms folded.

"What is your problem?" she asked, her voice filled with accusation.

"Girl, what are you talking about?" you answered defensively.

"Miles," she replied, her tone laced with frustration.

"What about him? He's fine, great even," you said, walking closer to her.

"Don't play dumb, Y/n," Gwen snapped.

"What are you getting at, Gwen?" you said, your tone becoming pointed as you grew tired of the conversation.

"He's mine, Y/n, and you're trying to steal him away," her voice filled with possessiveness.

You couldn't help but burst into laughter. "Yours?" you asked, shaking your head. "Gwen, you lost him the day you two saved me."

As the words left your mouth, the truth hung heavy in the air. Gwen had been holding onto her feelings for Miles while pretending everything was okay. But deep down, she knew that the connection between you and Miles was undeniable.

What you didn't see coming was a slap across your face from Gwen, not thinking she was bold enough to do it. The sting of her actions lingered in the air as shock resonated through your entire being. And what Gwen didn't see was Miles, camouflaged and watching you two from a distance. He didn't hear anything you two talked about, but he sure did see the slap.

As the pain subsided, you didn't retaliate. Deep down, you and Gwen both knew that you had won this battle, that Miles was now dedicated to you.

"Why would you do that, Gwen?" You heard a voice behind you, and turned to see Miles standing there, his eyes filled with disappointment.

You watched in satisfaction as Gwen's eyes widened, realizing that she had not only hurt you but also jeopardized her chances with Miles. She had unknowingly made it even easier for you to snatch his affection away from her.

"Miles, I..." Gwen stammered, unable to find the right words to justify her actions.

"Why would you hit her?" Miles asked, his voice filled with a mix of anger and hurt.

"You didn't hear what she said, Miles. She's trying to tear us apart. You were mine," Gwen spewed out, desperately clinging to her fading hopes.

"Yours? I'm not some object, Gwen," Miles retorted, his voice laced with disappointment. "Is that why you brought her outside? To hit her?"

A heavy silence hung in the air as Gwen struggled to find an explanation, her words failing her. The truth had been laid bare, and Miles saw her for who she truly was.

"Save it, Gwen," Miles said, his voice firm. "You just showed me the type of person you really are. I've been pining after you for months, and you always brushed me off. But now, now I have someone who actually likes me back."

With those words, he took your hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

You looked at Gwen, a smug look on your face as you squeezed Miles' hand tighter.

"You don't mean that, Miles."Gwen said.

"Yes, I do," Miles turned to you. "She likes me back, and she's the most caring, sweetest, funniest person in this dimension and every other," Miles said, making you tear up a bit, your lip bottom poking out.

"You're so cute when you do that," Miles said.

Gwen watched as her heart slowly broke. She had played with Miles,but now she had lost the game. She wanted to look away, but she couldn't. She should be the one he said all those things to. The tears pricked her eyes.

"Y/n, will you be my girlfriend?" The words echoed in Gwen's head, the final blow that made her tears roll down her face.

"Of course, I will, papa," you said, jumping on Miles and giving him a tight hug before pulling back and giving him a big kiss, your first one in front of his former crush.

You and Miles turned to Gwen, watching as she continued to cry.

"You should go, Gwen," you said, your heart aching a bit for the girl, but not a lot.

Miles grabbed your hand as the two of you walked off toward the stairwell, leaving Gwen behind.