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tobeholyistobeempty · 27 days ago

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“here’s what’s gonna’ happen.” he mutters, kissing the gun up your neck, leaning an elbow on your thigh. “m’gonna answer this call, you’re gonna’ talk. be honest for daddy. tell em’ you’re tied up.”

so fucking obsessed with the idea of a you x ghost lovers-turned-enemies who just can’t stay the fuck away from eachother. it’s gross and it’s toxic and it’s brutal and it’s probably more insane than it should be but with all the war around you it’s one of the only fucking things left that makes you actually feel alive, so inevitably you end up back under him in new inventive ways each time you cross paths.

maybe you’re working for shadow company during the time graves decides to betray 141 - perhaps you didn’t know it was going to happen because you weren’t directly involved with that mission, after all, but with your rank, ghost has a hard goddamn time believing anything otherwise - no matter how many times he turns it over in his head.

so when he sees you - rather, when you all too conveniently find yourselves in the same map dot city, some shithole for some hellscape intel search while graves and his team are still actively after them - it’s all a little too much for him.

ghost doesn’t know who you’re serving, what your loyalty is, and decides that maybe he’ll just have to get that information out of you himself.

but that’s all little to your knowledge - because you don’t even know the fucker knows you’re here. it’s been a long fucking day. you’re already exhausted, graves has all but sent you to deathrow to chase dead end leads in circles, and everything just keeps getting worse with each passing day. but it’s late, and the motel that you’re staying in has a decent bar that you think you’d like to take advantage of.

you decide one quick drink can’t hurt, can it?

ha.

about as famous last words as any. because, turns out, it can. yes, it can hurt.

it can actually hurt real fucking good when the living embodiment of every mortal man’s nightmares decides (at the most convenient of times, because just so happens you left your gun back in your room) that he’s got questions for you, and isn’t too fucking keen on waiting for answers.

he strikes when the lights have gone out and the bar has closed. when the motel has fallen silent and the only noise is your footsteps as you creep down the hallway that leads to your door. you, however foolishly, drop your guard, thinking you have fuck all to worry about at this point - when suddenly the shadows by your door shift, and the owner of the hand that has the muzzle of a fucking gun pressed to the back of your head tells you that your mistake was waiting until so late, coming here so alone, and not realizing that the shadows in this place are not empty but instead filled with men that can see you just a little bit better than you can see them.

but when the voice sinks in, and you merely smile - dread subsiding as you ask him what took him so damn long to find you - he decides he isn’t too fond of the response. you’re inside your decrepit room only in a few moments after that, tied to a chair, and he’s just looking at you like he can’t quite figure out what’s so damn funny.

you let him have the win, you always do. you know that despite it all, when he’s infront of you like this, it’s never as ghost.

simon riley could never hurt you. not truly.

“who knows you’re here?” he husks, pale eyes surveying the room in a quick sweep. for show, you’re sure. he mapped every inch of this room before he’d even stepped foot inside.

you suck your teeth, fighting to let that shit-eating grin spread. “you mean like, my mom? dad? sister—“

“watch it.” he cuts you off, and the muzzle made of cool steel is pressed at the side of your jaw, shifting your head, turning it away from his. “y’know how i feel about tha’ smart fuckin’ mouth of yours.”

“stupid questions get stupid answers.” you reply back sweetly, tilting your head a little so the steel digs in harder, amplifying the ache for the hell of it. “you’ve got a gun at my jaw, LT. talk to me straight.”

there’s silence, until there’s a hum - he shifts then, crouching beside your chair, stalling at eye level with you. “talk t’ya straight, huh.”

“you act like i don’t know why you’re here.” your chest feels tight, with the way he’s looking at you. it’s a battle with an army of its own to push it down. “you’re looking for the big man, aren’t you? graves. heard he—“

the press of his gun softens momentarily as his free hand finds the other side of your jaw, tilting your eyes back to him, forcing you to look him right in that dead fuckin stare of his.

“y’best be real careful about lying t’me, princess.”

“you can kiss my ass.” you smile thinly, and in the darkness you think you see his eyes gleam, but whether it’s out of irritation or out of something else entirely, you can’t be sure. you exhale. “i had nothing to do with graves’ little villain arc. i don’t know fuck all about it, or where he currently is. you’re wasting your breath.”

the muzzle of his gun trails down, down along your jaw and throat, sparking gooseflesh to life.

“liar.” he rasps, and despite all your moral instincts screaming at you that this is all but a shade off insane, when it comes to this behemoth of a man before you your depraved instincts are just a tad stronger. and when your thighs tense, he notices. “what’s it gonna take, mm? t’get ya talkin.”

you exhale a breath you didn’t even know you were holding - and ghost smiles. you see it through the crease in his mask - but just when he goes to speak again, your fucking cellphone, buried in your jacket pocket, starts to ring.

“well if that ain’t just my fucking luck.” you don’t need to see it to know who’s calling. you ignored check in twice already. too busy at the bar, drowning your sorrows. “ghost, listen—“

oh, he’s listening, alright. listening to the sound of that fucking ringtone filling the space between your words. you can’t tell he’s cocking an eyebrow at you, his eyes not leaving yours as he shifts a hand, reaching for your pocket. you open your mouth, but he’s already withdrawing your phone, snorting after a fleeting glance at the name lit up on it.

he turns it to you, and you try to fight it - but you can’t stop the deadpan. no matter how much you’d already known it would be him.

graves.

oh, dear go—

“this your fucking idea of a loyalty test?” you hiss, and you can suddenly feel your blood roaring in your ears, your heart hammering. “are you insane?”

that’s a redundant question, you think, and ghost must agree, because his only answer is to shift the gun in a way that allows him to press a fingertip against your pulse.

you swallow - he’s checking for pulse leaps like a fucking lie detector.

“mhm.” he purrs, absolutely loving this - before pressing a button on your phone, and a low rumble of anticipation rocks through you.

he’s put it on speaker - and the second it connects, graves is talking.

“sergeant.” he all but barks, and you tense, closing your eyes at the sound of his voice. he’s pissed. “where the fuck are you? you missed two of—“

“sorry, sir.” you say through your teeth, flicking your eyes to ghost. he just tilts his head, as if he’s saying go on, show me that you’re still mine. christ. “i uh, got a little…tied up.”

there’s a brief silence, presumably as graves just stands there (you can envision it in your head, crease in his eyebrows, hand clutching his phone - trying to determine what the fuck that means) before he eventually clears his throat.

“and what could you possibly have gotten yourself so tied up with that you can’t report in on time?” he asks, and you want to laugh, because if only he knew. your hands tense against the ropes, and he speaks again. “that was a rhetorical question, sergeant. you’d better have a damn good excuse for this.”

oh, you definitely have a good excuse, though you’re pretty sure that if you were to tell graves who it was that had you so very busy right now, he might just turn into fairy dust and transport himself through the phone to try and kill you both. (keyword, try.)

you open your mouth to answer but words disintegrate as ghost shifts, standing to his full height.

you look up at him, and the blood that rushes to your stomach is something catastrophic - so disarming that you almost forget graves is still on the goddamn line. you blink, and you’re about to say something, when ghost does something you don’t expect; he tucks the gun back into his holster, before moving to the buckle of his belt.

oh - oh.

“christ,” you breathe out, before you even realize it. and when ghost shoves the phone closer to your face, you realize you couldn’t give less of a fuck about graves at this moment. “sir—graves, i was fucking busy, okay? i had shit to do. you’re the one who sent me out here, into this goddamn nightmare, to do your grunt work. should i be really sitting around waiting for your call while you’re out sucking off the general?” the silence that answers you is deafening. and so is the rage you can suddenly feel permeating the air. you suck your teeth when he doesn’t answer. “right, well. if you don’t mind, i’d like to go the fuck to bed. i’ll call in first thing tomorrow.”

ghost’s fingers drift, starting to undo the latch and you know, with your heart and bloodied soul - that he’s smiling right now.

you hear a low, rumbling growl coming over the other end of the line - it takes you a moment to realize it’s coming from graves - and the next thing you hear is the dial tone as he hangs up, presumably plotting the ways he’s going to make your life hell for the next unforeseeable future.

but then, the belt buckle of ghost’s belt is undone, your phone is tossed somewhere behind him, and you find yourself smirking up at him with glistening lips.

“now, look what you made me do.” you whisper, a lazy drawl. “always doubting me, huh. insane fuck.”

and ghost just snorts at the insult, before taking off one of his gloves with his teeth and shoving it into your mouth. you groan at the sudden taste of leather and dust that touches your tongue - but when he leans over you, lips at your ear, it’s a little too easily forgotten.

“quiet now.” he murmurs, with an audible smile. your eyes close at the sound, and his breath against your neck makes you want to scream. “no more talkin’ less you’re good n’ beggin’ f’me put that mouth to proper use.”

you want to spit at him, just for the fun of it, but settle for biting down on the glove as you shift, trying to bring your legs together. but then he’s crouching between them again, pushing them back open with his bulk, and you can only groan as he rips the leather from your mouth.

“if he finds out,” the words spill out without much thought - as you stare into his eyes. “he’ll—“

“mmm.” he hums, leaning in to press his teeth against your jaw. “he’ll what.”

oh, the things your mouth should say. but if you’re being honest, the only thing you want your mouth to say right now is please.

“i’ll - i’ll be the next one getting shot at.” you hiss out as his hands find your thighs. “christ. untie me, asshole.”

“y’jus told the boss you’re tied up.” he mutters back, and from the heat of his breath alone, you know he’s smiling again. “wouldn’t’ wanna’ make a liar outta’ y’self now, would ya?”

————————————-

a/n: the way i would let this man ruin me is concerning.

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thewickedjazzy · 5 months ago

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Level 3: Baby Fever [Breeding] for Kinktober.

ᡣ𐭩osamu dazai x afab! reader.

ᡣ𐭩Synopsis: you're thrilled to kick off the new kinky card game with your boyfriend, but you definitely didn't expect it to culminate in your first time going raw.

ᡣ𐭩Warnings: nsfw, mdni, 18+ content, smut with plot, breeding kink, mating press, bdsm elements, breathplay, alcohol consumption, profanity, kink and fetish themes, sexual challenges, pregnancy kink, unprotected sex, cum mentioned...etc.

ᡣ𐭩Word count: 2.3k

ᡣ𐭩-check Kink Coin to unlock bonus fics´-

“Is everything set?” you ask, eyes locking onto your boyfriend’s figure as he places the last decently sized shot glass on the table looking you up with a mischievous smirk, sweet excitement sparkling in his brown irises.

“all set, my love.” he chuckles, enthusiasm radiating from him warm as the sunshine of spring as he rests both hands on the table in front of you, his sleeves rolled up and shirt fully unbuttoned.

you take a deep breath, feeling the exhilaration twisting in your stomach. tonight is the night you’ve been waiting for—a card game you’d eagerly anticipated all week: freak or drink. while the game is pretty straightforward, the risks and rewards are irresistibly enticing. each card drawn could push your boundaries, could strip you bare—figuratively and literally—just thought of it makes your thighs press together instinctively.

“okay, let’s start!” your voice betraying the nervous excitement that courses through your veins. you bite your lip as your hand hovers over the deck before pulling the top card from the pile, feeling the cool edges glide across your fingertips as you flip it over, eyes going wide at the challenge: “ sensual stuffing.”

you snort softly, caught between disbelief and laughter. “no way,” you scoff, shaking your head with a smile.

“c'mon, baby... are you shy?” dazai teases, leaning in closer against the table, eyes roving over your form, stripping you down before he even touches you.

you roll your eyes as the familiar rush of high heavens of pleasure pulse through you. “not shy, just... strategic,” you purr, smirking as your hands slide beneath the hem of your dress. the lace of your panties catches on your fingertips as you slowly drag them down, stepping out of them and holding them up, feeling the cool air hit the places where your warmth had been trapped.

with a sly grin, you twirl the delicate lace between your fingers, holding it up like a prize. “open up, pretty boy.”

dazai’s smirk never fades, his lips parting ever so slightly as his eyes flicker between your face and the panties dangling between your fingers. it feels exhilarating to push boundaries, especially with that brown haired-brat, who always keeps you on your toes.

you step closer, heat rushing to your face spreading a pink tint under the barrier of your skin as you bring the lace closer to his mouth. slowly, you press the delicate fabric past his lips, watching him hum softly, his tongue grazing the lace before biting down just enough to hold it in place, never breaking eye contact.

his smirk falters for a moment as he tastes your slick drenched panties, before he groans pulling the lace out of his mouth.

“two things that i love,” he murmurs, “you and how easily you get wet.” his tongue darts out, flicking over his lips, tasting the ghost of you still lingering there as he lazily draws the next card from the deck. it's obvious that his focus isn’t on the game but rather on you, completely.

he holds the card between his fingers for a moment, his smirk widening devilishly as he reads it aloud. “fuck yes!! 'body shot.'”

before you can respond, dazai’s grip tightens around your waist, hoisting you up effortlessly. the world spins for a second, your breath catching in your throat as he slams you down onto the couch, knocking the air from your lungs. you barely have time to gasp his name before his hands are on you again, fingers slipping under the fabric, peeling the dress from your body as if it were nothing more than a flimsy barrier in his way.

he doesn’t stop, brown irises completely dilated as he grabs the shot glass filled with your favourite amber liquid before tipping it ever so slowly over your chest. the cold alcohol spills onto your bare breasts and the sudden cold sensation makes you arch into him feeling a shiver ripples down your spine as the liquor trickles over your nipples, leaving a glistening trail.

“fuck...’samu,” you whimper, thighs instinctively clenching as he watches the liquid pool at the curve of your breast.

without hesitation, his lips are on your naked bud, tongue flicking out to lap up the trail of alcohol all over your aerola, relishing the feeling of his mouth hot against your chilled skin as he slurps up every drop with a fervent hunger, sucking and nibbling on your sensitive nipples, taking his time, to admire the way you writhe beneath him. each flick of his tongue sends jolts of pleasure straight to your core, juices already starting to slick your thighs.

“you're a moaning mess when we're just getting started?” he pulls away with a low chuckle, stretching his arm to draw a card from the nearby table.

you’re barely recovering from the high of his touch, breath coming in short, needy gasps, “ugh—show meee,” you whine, making a grab for it.

“holy fuck—” the burnet curses under his breath, pausing for a moment.

“whattt?” you pout, leaning closer to catch the words on the card. 'breeding'. oh no! you’ve always been so careful—always on your pills, always using protection. you never let yourself slip, never let caution fall away. but this time? you can’t help it. the temptation eats you alive, a desperate, yearning desire to feel every inch of him, raw and reckless. what if it’s even better than you imagined? what if it’s a pleasure so intense, it leaves you breathless, trembling, and utterly undone?

the thought rushes through your mind and before you can fully process it, you feel his cold fingers dig into your bare skin again lifting you from the couch. needless to say, the next thing you hear is the bedroom door swinging open. suddenly, you’re being pushed down onto the bed, the soft mattress beneath you bouncing with the force.

“listen baby, we’re not just gonna try for a baby tonight. we’re gonna make one.”

once he says that with a whisper, your cunt clenches around nothing instinctively, you part your lips to utter something— anything.

“aa—’samu?” you manage, breathless, as he climbs onto the bed, hovering low, his hands press the mattress on either side of you.

“you’re gonna take all of me tonight, hmm?... spread your gorgeous legs baby—uh, fuck yes, just like that.” his large palms push apart the plushy gates of thighs and spread you wide by your perky ass cheeks, giving him a clearer view of your flushed folds.

no amount of imagination could prepare dazai for how much you're leaking right now. juices soaking your pillowy folds, and he can not move his eyes away from you. it's like he's been craving this very moment a long time ago.

“ahh... i've always dreamed of this moment, filling you up with my seed, ngh—!” you never expected to crave his thick, hot cum to fill you this much, but with the way he hangs above you now? mop of brown hair tickling the tip of your nose while his gaze locks on your spread-open thighs and puffy pussy—so ready to welcome his angry flushed cock, his pants hang low, barely clinging to his hips, just under the heavy weight of his balls.

“’s-samu—” you gasp, barely able to breathe his name. oh god, he's losing it, going absolutely wild just hearing his name drip so sweetly from your glossy lips. you feel it before you see it—his thick, swollen tip pressing against your slick entrance, throbbing and red as it starts to push inside your tight, resisting cunt.

“gonna wreck that pretty little pussy of yours,” he growls, head dropping forward to rest on your soft alcohol stained breasts “stretch it wide, make you my slut.”

“ffffuck- this feels better than i imagined—” he exhales sharply, trying his best to resist the urge not to slam his entire lengthy cock deep inside you.

you thrash under his touch, the languid, torturous rhythm making your hips buck toward him, seeking any sort of friction. “nngh—samu-please... more,” you gasp, eyes fluttering closed, head spinning from the combination of enthusiasm, desire, and his tip teasing your entrance.

he cannot help but hug you to his chest, feeling your heartbeats ripple through your ribcage and mingle with his own, he pushes several more inches through your sopping folds, your hips buck up involuntarily circling them over his cock, listening out for the lewd noises that sounds from both your sexes rubbing against one another.

drops of thick precum oozing from his cock finding solace between your gooey walls, the sensation of his bare lengthy cock slipping slowly inside you is ethereal.

finally he slams his entire cock through your fluttering cunt with a throaty groan, jaw completely slack as he gasps next to your ear shoving both of the legs to your chest from beneath your knees, completely folding you in half and sinking his cock deeper and deeper inside you. the full stretch makes your cunt clench and thighs spasm before trembling against his palms.

and oh god, the feeling of dopamine surging through you as technicolor bursts of pleasure dance behind your eyelids. you know your boyfriend's body all too well—his cock is more long than thick, with most of the heft in his swollen, heavy balls, slapping against your doughy ass with each thust. but this time? it’s different—this time, there’s no barrier between you. it’s raw. his bare cock filling you up to the brim in ways you’ve never felt before, and you can feel almost evey ridge, every vein of it pulsing between your tight, slick walls, making your nerve-endings buzz with pleasure.

��you feel that baby? ngh— you want me to make—oh shit—your pretty pussy leak with my cum hmm? put a baby in you?” he says in a low bristling tone making you swallow his cock even more with his words.

the constant hitting of his tip against your spongy spot is too much, but you can't push him from this position, even when your pretty nails are scaping his back, nothing would push him away.

“our baby's gonna have those pretty eyes of yours? and those sweet, soft lips?” he purrs gently, as if he isn't rearranging your guts and bottoming out inside you with a harsh, resounding slap of skin on skin, his heavy balls smacking against the curve of your ass as he drives himself deep to the hilt almost breaking the bed as it creaks beneath you from the force of his thrusts.

“’sammuuu ahh— t’much mngh fuck—you're insane.” you cry out frantically, voice hoarse, body jiggling like jelly with each harsh thrust.

“stay with me, babe… mmff— it’s only been thirty minutes..i know you can handle more.” he murmurs, his forehead pressed against yours, lips forming a soft ‘o’ shape. “ goddammit mngh—you ready to be a mama?” with that, he begins a fast, deep rhythm inside you, his slender hips delivering the perfect stroke.

each thrust has his tip brushing delightfully against your cervix, making your cunt spasm wildly as each thrust sending your essence to splatter against his abs, slick and messy.

“fuck- s’tight and perfect,” dazai growls deeply, pressing his weight against you as he slips his tongue into your mouth, capturing your swollen pink lips and swallowing your moans and whimpers with your knees positioned on either side of your chest.

dazai osamu, the devil that he is, the man who has cradled your heart in his hands, is giving you the best night of your life—guiding you to meet whatever divine force dwells above the clouds as he fills your gooey hole so perfectly.

“mmph shiit—’s-amu..’m clos-e” you cry as he keeps hitting into you roughly, his pelvis grinding against your swollen clit as he grunts ferally into your mouth.

“yeah? gonna let me cum so hard inside you, baby?” he drawls against the sensitive skin where your jaw meets your neck, before gripping your ankles and pressing them back near your ears, his cock sinking into the endless black hole between your thighs, as if he's being consumed by the gravitational force of your cunt.

“gonna make you pregnant... fuh-k—your pussy feels so good mmph holy fuck—i love you hahh.. i fuckin’ love you,” he groans as his vision starts to blur with white-hot pleasure, his balls tightening almost painfully and hips stuttering as he pushes deeper into you, the sloppy heat of your tight walls squeezing every last drop from him. the moment he feels your walls spasm around his twitching cock signalling that you're cumming a throaty groan leaves his chest, spilling hot thick globs of cum inside you—and you couldn't help but unconsciously count the amout of pumps he's feeding your delicious cunt with. seven.. eight.. nine.. ten??—holy fuck! twelve? his cock pulsing with every shot as he kept going, pushing more and more of his release into you till tears cloud your vision.

his breath starts to subside, body finally beginning to relax as the intoxicating pleasure starts to fade into a hazy afterglow. he lets out a long, shaky sigh, pulling out leisurely, your soft whimper catching his ear as his softened cock slips free from your stuffed entrance with a slick 'plop' sound.

his eyes fix on the sight of his cum slowly dripping out of your now-so-wide cunt, a trail of white drops of ambrosia running down toward the bedsheets before he scoops some of it up with two fingers, pushing it back inside you again.

you instinctively grip his wrist tightly still breathing heavily, however you don’t stop him, in fact, your body shudders at the sensation as he gently plunges his fingers deeper, making sure every last drop stays inside as he watches, fascinated with how your trembling body accepts it all again.

he lets out a breathless chuckle as he glances at the nightstand, reaching for his phone, he then opens the camera app, focusing on you before snapping a picture of your dripping pussy.

“ugh ’samu, what are you doin’?!” you groan, trying to catch your breath.

“i'll save this for when our kid's old enough and say, 'this is how we made you.'”

“please don’t tell me you’re starting a scrapbook!” you breathe out, rolling your eyes, still trying to steady your racing heart.

“and ruin the surprise for our kid? tsk..never! i’ll keep the best bits for a bedtime story instead.” the burnet chuckles lowly, his hands tenderly massaging your trembling legs, fingers digging into the soft skin.

“that’s one way to guarantee therapy bills in the future.”

TAGS: @a-smol-bean @violetbutterflix @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @chuuminn @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguro @writingandmusing @corruptedwrathkitsune @thedamselzelda @fyodorssimp1 @vikkinakahara @laylabuurr

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bunnis-monsters · 5 months ago

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See you again

Male!Yandere!Vampire x Fem!Reader

Bunni’s Monstertober Event

Oct 8th

Oct 7th

Oct 9th

summary: when a rich vampire suspects you are a reincarnation of his lover, you have no choice but to return with him to his manor and become his wife.

warnings: yandere behavior, breeding, dubcon, aphrodisiac venom

a/n: sorry this is so late I’ve had horrible writers block lately ><

Moonlight flickered through the stained glass window, casting a multicolored light across your plump frame.

You almost glowed, looking like an angel sent from above.

He had spotted you across the ballroom an hour ago.

The vampire usually never came to such things, but it was a particularly lonely night for him. About 20 years ago, his human lover died in his arms. A plague had swept across the town she lived, and he hadn’t been there quick enough to turn her before the illness took her life.

He had spent all that time in agony, drifting between thoughts of suicide and loathing, to moments of bliss when he’d remember how much he loved her… and she loved him.

Tonight was the anniversary of her death, and he figured he’d drown his sorrows in the blood of the rich and expensive alcohol.

Instead, he found you.

You were sitting at a table, your elegant gown ill fired on your plump frame. Your breasts were absolutely squished by the tight fabric, and his eyes were drab to your fat belly.

If he hadn’t known any better, he would have thought you were her, his love, his everything. You had the same plump frame, eye color, hair the same texture and style…

God you were gorgeous… his pants tightened as he caught a whiff of your perfume.

The same scent she used to use.

He took in a deep breath before approaching you. Maybe a night of fun could… make him feel just a little bit better.

“Hello, beautiful…”

You didn’t look up, assuming he was talking to someone else. This made him pause for a moment before he walked closer and cleared his throat. “My lady, may I have a word with you?”

When your eyes met his, he nearly teared up. He felt an instant spark, his undead heart soaring. You had to be her, no one else had ever made him feel this way before!

“What is it you’d like to speak about?”

He sat down across from you, smiling. “How about you tell me your name?”

The two of you spent the next hour making idle small talk, with him leading most of it. You were shy and soft spoken, much like you had been in your previous life.

You had borrowed a dress from your cousin to attend this party in hopes of finding a decently wealthy husband, an order given to you by your father. That explained why your gown was ill fitting. The man frowned deeply, his fangs threatening to peek out from his lip.

He would be making sure you wore only the finest of fabrics from now on, each dress and outfit custom made to suit your figure. Gods, he wanted to undress you right now more than anything…

But things like this were a process. He didn’t want to hurt or scare you so badly that you tried to flee, and he would rather you home with him willingly. Scaring you would have to wait until you were reliant on him…

So instead he listened to your woes and leaned forward. As long as he could get close enough to your neck to deliver a bite, he could bring you home with him…

“So your father’s business isn’t doing well, I assume?”

You nodded shyly, playing with a bit of lace on your dress. “That’s why he wants me to marry quickly while he still has his status… he hopes that my future husband will support him financially enough to keep the business afloat.”

“How troublesome, being stuck in the middle of this…”

He reached out to caress your cheek, shivering when he made contact with your soft skin. “Mmm… wouldn’t it be nice to get away from it all?”

You were about to say something, but he spoke over you. “Come with me, my love… perhaps I can do something to help.”

Your eyes lit up. He was dressed well, and people seemed to respect him enough to make way for him while you walked through the crowded ballroom to somewhere private! Maybe he could help your father…

But as he closed the door, something shifted. His eyes that had previously been a rich brown in color suddenly changed to be a startling ruby red.

“Oh, how I have yearned for you…”

He was on you in seconds, pinning you to the wall. You couldn’t even scream before his teeth were sinking into your neck, something thick and warm coursing through your veins.

“My venom will help this be a pleasant experience for you, my princess… gods…”

He shivered in pleasure, his bulge pressing into your thigh as he lapped up your blood. “Fuck, I missed you, I missed you so damn much…”

Tears fell down his face, his lips meeting yours in a feverish kiss. His fangs nipped at your tongue, but he didn’t seem to care. The man needed you more than anything.

He held onto you so tightly that your skin began to bruise. It had been decades since he had seen his lover, and going so long without you had been agony. Every night he lay awake, unable to sleep or even exist in peace without you by his side.

And now that he had you back… he wasn’t going to let you go.

It took only a moment for the aphrodisiac in his venom to kick in. Your body grew hot and weak, your pussy drenched within seconds. When he pulled down the zipper of your stress, you wiggled out of it and willingly clung to him.

“S-so warm… p-please… make it better…”

Your soaked panties against his bulge made him hiss. In his twisted, lovesick mind this proved to him that you were her. You wanted him, you loved him!

“Of course…” he purred, stroking your clit through the wet fabric. “Anything for you, I’d gather the stars and lay them at your feet if it meant you’d be happy, my love…”

Seeing your fat pussy for the first time in years was enough to have him rock hard.

Back before you died, you had always wished for children, but he was too stubborn, not wanting it. When he was ready, it was too late and you were gone.

He had regretted it ever since. How he yearned to see your belly swell with his baby, to fill you up with cum and make you a happy mother…

“My pretty girl…”

He rubbed his tip against your entrance. It was flushed an angry red, desperate to feel your gummy insides. “I love you… I love you so much…”

He pushed in, capturing your lips in a kiss as he fucked into your warm cunt. All he wanted now was to cherish and protect you, to lock you away and make sure no one but him got to even look at his beautiful girl.

They didn’t deserve you, didn’t have the honor of laying their eyes on you. Only he did.

He lost count of how many times he came inside of you. The aphrodisiac in his venom had you crying out and blubbering for more, desperate for his touch. It ands his chest will with bride to watch your belly bulge with his cum.

As he road home in his carriage with your exhausted body in his lap, he couldn’t help but rub your fat belly, a fond look in his eyes.

He was getting a redo, and this time he’d give you everything you wanted, treasure you even more than he had before.

And there was nothing you could do to convince him otherwise. You were his, bound to him by fate. Even if you had no memory of this man… it was no use.

You would be with him until the day you died… if he let you.

want more? I thought about expanding on this and making it more of a thought out story… I’ll do it if you send me a kofi! ><

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spxllcxstxr · 8 months ago

Text

Northern Attitude (I) • C.S

(Gif not mine)

Request: hey!! can i request something where you’re a targaryen and you’ve been sent to speak with cregan like jacaerys did on the show, but you’re quite soft spoken and feel lowkey intimidated by all these big burly northmen. and ofc some flirting with cregan and he makes you feel safe :) -- @sarahisslytherin

Summary: In the process of assuring Winterfell’s loyalty to your mother, you get close to Lord Stark

Warnings: fem!reader, you’re the daughter of Rhaenyra but I don’t specify the father so it can be more inclusive (older than jace), alcohol and eating mentions

Word Count: 1.3k

A.N: This wasn't going to be this long and then I got so into it. I'm actually really happy with how this turned out! Not just because it's actually over 1k words, but also because i really really like it! And I hope you guys enjoy it too!!

Part I | Read the last part here!

•

The bitter cold of the North nips at your extremities even when housed inside the walls of Winterfell. This was a cold you felt right down to the bone, despite the furs your host had provided you with only hours prior when you arrived.

Since your arrival, you have occupied yourself in your chambers, flitting between the books on the shelves and the small hearth on the other side of the decent sized room.

It is not until late your host makes an appearance; matters from the Wall taking priority over the Queen's daughter. You held no ill will, knowing how important the Wall was for the Northmen closest to it.

The greeting outside of your chamber door goes smoothly; since birth you had to greet numerous Lords and Ladies, this one being no different. His charming looks, though stoic, catch you off guard. You take his offered arm before he guides you to the welcome feast.

Cregan leads you through the dark stone corridors of Winterfell, your arms intertwined as you hold onto the crook of his elbow. You feel his strong muscle through his many layers of thick fabric. Your footsteps echo along with the metallic rattling of your guards behind the two of you. The absence of conversation is comfortable, however, something you truly have not felt since the death of your Grandsire.

Beside you, Cregan practically radiates warmth which has you almost melting into his side. Despite the chill, his hands are uncovered, the palm of his hand rests on your arm, heating your covered skin beneath.

The sight of the rugged wooden doors causes you to stiffen almost immediately. The reality of your purpose for being at Winterfell cools your blood as it finally washes over you. You were here on behalf of your mother, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. Swallowing uneasily, you attempt to calm your nerves.

Sensing your distress, Cregan leans closer to your frame. "Do not fret, Princess," He mutters kindly. "You have no one to convince except me—and I am already highly inclined to agree to your terms."

You do not spare your host a glance as your face burns. In front of you, the grand doors open, revealing a large hall and guests already rising for the two of you.

Your gaze glides over the bowing figures, all men, you notice. The only women in the hall were serving girls; stiffly standing at the ends of the room, pitchers full of presumably ale clutched in their hands.

Attempting to muster up a commanding presence was difficult when next to the Lord of Winterfell, for he commands the room with no effort. His men watch you as you continue to the other side. Their intense stares and built bodies making you nervous. Swords were strewn recklessly across their dining tables, bows and arrows litter the floor. In their eyes you were a defenseless babe crawling into a den of wolves.

The men in King’s Landing and Dragonstone were dangerous in a different way. Their sharp wit and web of lies could cut deep and kill. The men of the North, however, used their brute force and self-assured bravery to kill you just as dreadfully. Any one of these men could bloody you as you walk by them. This rattles you just as much as the plotting traitors back in King’s Landing does.

Taking a deep breath, you feel the soothing motions of Cregan's thumb tracing circles against your arm. The reassurance pulls you out of your spiral of thoughts. With your chin held high you continue to the front of the hall, the long wooden table already covered with food and goblets of wine and ale.

After a few words from both you and Cregan the feast begins and the once silent hall becomes almost deafening. There were plenty of jeers and jokes thrown around at your expense. If you had more fire in your blood like the rest of your family, you might have said something to stay their tongues.

You and Cregan make small talk, the two of you paying more attention to the plates on the table. By the time your appetite is sated the Lord of Winterfell had noticed your meek demeanor and timid glances at the drunk Northmen below.

"Pay them no mind, Princess," The warm light of the hall's hearth dance in Cregan's striking grey eyes. "These rowdy bastards lack decency after a drop of ale."

You scan Winterfell's great hall from your position at the high table. Cregan Stark's men were all in various states of disarray, though you suppose it’s only characteristic of Northerners. The room was loud, almost overwhelmingly so, with booming laughter and arguments that spanned across the tables.

"Not like Dragonstone, I presume?" At Cregan's soft yet baritone voice, heat creeps up your neck.

Your gaze turns to the Lord of Winterfell, a smile gracing his usually stoic face. "Not at all, my Lord. Dragonstone is more.."

"Boring?"

"Traditional," You finish, smile mirroring his own.

Cregan snorts. "Aye, you Southerners have quite the stick up the arse."

"Oh really now?" You lightly giggle, tilting your head as if to challenge the Northerner at your side. You drink from your goblet, the red wine sweet on your lips, eyebrows raised.

"Aye, Princess. I think you need a Northerner to invigorate your life down there."

You hum in response, the wine making your skin tingle. With your attention now solely on Cregan Stark, you feel yourself melting into comfort.

Cregan briefly pauses, looking into your eyes. They mirror an oncoming winter storm and you’re unable to look away.

“I have something to attend to, Princess. My men will escort you and your guards to your quarters.” He takes your hand in his, the delicate grip of such a strong man making you bite your bottom lip. “I will try to see you before the night ends.” With that, his lips meet your knuckles in a soft kiss.

Cregan heaves himself out of his seat, throwing you one last smirk before leaving you in the hall with your guards and the remaining feasting men.

With one last sip from your goblet, you allow yourself to be escorted to your chambers, tugging your fur cloak tighter around you.

The crescent moon is shining through your window when you hear three knocks on you door. Assuming that this late night visitor could only be Lord Stark, you rise from the bed, adorning the fur cloak your host had provided you earlier in the day.

The door creaks as you open it tentatively. Cregan stands at the threshold, wearing the same attire from the feast. You take note of the hint of pink on his cheeks and the red hue of the tips of his ears peeking out of his shoulder length brown hair. Whether this was a result of the North's bitter chill or something else, you do not know.

"Princess." He bows his head as he greets you.

"Lord Stark..." You breathe out, smiling at the man in front of you. "Is this visit based on the business of the Crown?"

"No, Princess, I just..." His low tone tapers off as he lifts his hand up in order to stroke you face. His fingertips feel warm against your skin. You wait with bated breath for his next move. Slowly, his fingertips trace down your delicate skin to hold your chin between his index and his thumb. He tilts your head up slightly. His stormy grey eyes never leave your own. "I just wanted to gaze upon your beauty once more before I fall asleep."

The maneuver has you practically trembling under your heavy furs. You wet your lips, his eyes only quickly following the movement before once again settling back on your eyes.

"I am happy to indulge in your desires...my Lord." You whisper, voice almost quivering.

"Sleep well, Princess," With that, Cregan removes his touch, though his warmth still lingers across your face. He bows once more before turning and walking down the stone corridor.

Slowly you close your chamber door, smiling lips pursed.

"Mother will be pleased." You sigh before sitting once more on your bed, thoughts of Cregan Stark dancing through your head.

•

#house of the dragon #hotd #game of thrones #got #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x reader #got x reader #game of thrones x reader #cregan stark #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x Targaryen!reader #cregan stark fanfiction

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joelmillergirl · 3 months ago

Text

Hot n' Cold

Word count: 4,898

Warnings: oral sex (f receiving), piv, unprotected sex, creampie, hard/passionate sex, cowboy🤠

Authors Note: It was hot, I wrote smut, what do you want from me.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You had your curtains drawn, shielding your house from the violent light outside. It was officially Summer, and you were already hating it.

Summer had always been your least favourite season, even before the outbreak when you had better access to fans and coolers. Now, finding a fan that wasn’t rusted and broken was rare, a reality you tried hardest not to think about.

You had resorted to laying down on your kitchen tiles, limbs spread out lazily in almost a desperate attempt to cool off. You prayed that someone here in Jackson would be able to get the old air conditioning units working, but given it had been a year of trial and error, you weren’t feeling too hopeful.

With a huff, you sluggishly lift up your arm, checking the time on your old watch. It was just getting into the evening, and with no sign of the heat dimming down just yet, you accepted defeat.

With no energy to do anything, you decided then and there that the rest of your day would look the same, you laying on your floor until it cooled down enough so you’d be able to have a decent amount of sleep. Your plans, however, were rudely interrupted by knocking at your front door.

You lift your head up slightly, eyes training past your living room to the front entrance, “Are you fucking kidding me?” You groan, seeing a blurry figure waiting through the stained glass next to your door.

Only when three more knocks echoed through the house did you grudgingly pull yourself up, almost limping to the front door due to your lack of energy. You were frowning when you opened the door, face to face with your closest friend.

“I know.” Joel nodded, looking almost smug at your unamused expression. “How you handlin’ it?”

If even possible, your face contorted further into a frown, shaking your head slightly at him. “I’m sweating from places I don’t even feel comfortable naming.” You deadpanned, biting your lip to smother a smile.

Joel hummed, his eyes quickly raking over your figure before coming back to rest on your face, “Tommy’s got people working on getting the units workin’”

You interrupt him, “Okay… Joel? Inside, please. The heat is literally hitting me on the face and I’m about to just lose my cool.”

With a nod, he stepped inside the border of your house, gently closing the door behind him. “Do you even have any cool to lose?” He joked.

You glare at him for a moment before going back to your kitchen, slumping down on the floor. “They’ve been trying to get them to work for ages, I will go out there myself and get them to work if I do not hear that thing running anytime soon.” You point to the air conditioning unit in the living room.

“They’ll get it sorted. Don’t think they particularly appreciate workin’ in this weather fixing somethin’.” He said, groaning as he sat down adjacent to you, head leaning back against your fridge.

He suddenly frowned, looking over his shoulder slightly at the fridge behind him, then he was up, knees cracking beneath him as he moved to where you were, nudging you out the way. You looked at him confused. He nudged his head towards the fridge, “Go sit there.”

You complied, moving to sit where Joel had been, an instant flush of cool hit the back of your neck. “Dammit, why didn’t I think of this.” You mutter, pressing your back against the cold steel.

“Heat‘s messin’ with ya, huh?” Joel chuckled, tilting his head slightly. You shake your head in response, gently closing your eyes and untensing your limbs.

You met Joel four years ago when Tommy had introduced you to him. He’d just arrived at Jackson, and you’d been assigned to be his patrol partner which was only supposed to last a couple months, but you’d been such a good duo, Maria had decided to make it permanent.

Over the past couple months though, your relationship with him had seemingly changed. With recent struggles brewing between him and Ellie, you seemed to always be by his side, for his comfort but also your own. You didn’t always have to talk with him, a lot of the time you’d sit comfortably next to each other, doing your own thing whilst he strummed on his guitar.

The boundary line was ever so slowly becoming blurred, feelings becoming confusing. But like a lot of topics that required confrontation, you push it to the back of your mind, adopting the quote; out of sight out of mind.

“What’s got that head worked up?” Joel mumbled in front of you, dragging your mind back to reality.

You looked at him for a moment, blinking slowly. “Nothing.” You plainly say, smiling at him gently before closing your eyes again.

The next day wasn’t any better.

The air conditioning still wasn’t working and your tactic of closing the curtains to deflect the heat, was now failing. Rather than lying on your tiles, moping all day, you had resorted to hanging out in The Tipsy Bison, a cozy makeshift bar in the middle of Jackson.

The only reason you’d packed up the courage to be in such a social setting was due to the cold drinks offered there and most importantly, it had a big fan mounted to the wall that actually worked. It was a step up from how hot you were yesterday, and the drink in your hand was helping to cool your skin.

The leather next to you sunk as someone sat down in the empty booth you were sitting at. You turn your head to your left, coming face to face with Tommy; Joel’s younger brother. “Hi,” He smiled, “Fuckin’ steamin’ out there.”

You raise your eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, “Steaming?”

“Yeah.” Tommy nodded, leaning over to peer into your glass, “Some people are out there, sweatin’ their gooch off, trynna get air working for lazy folks like you.”

A pair of women next to your booth look over at his words, eyeing you and Tommy down. You quickly look away. “Can you not speak like that in public?” You huff, close to speechless.

Tommy laughs loudly, finding himself hilarious, but suddenly his demeanour changes and he turns to you with a serious look. “So… How’s Joel?”

You look at him for a moment before answering, “He’s your brother, ask him yourself.” You’re silent for a second before you smile, “Why’re you here bothering me? Go get the air working.”

He shakes his head, a smile spread wide across his face, "Just have to get out the heat for a fuckin, minute. Saw you here... Haven't talked for a while."

"And the first thing you wanna do is ask how your brother is?" You ask, tilting your head slightly at him.

He looks away from you, sucking in a breath, "Feisty."

“Tommy, if it’s not cold in my house tomorrow I’m gonna kill you.” You warn, a warm breeze filing through the cracks of the windows.

"Jesus, woman." Tommy says, shaking his head slightly, “Venom.” He stands up and adjusts his jeans, “Every word you spit at me is laced with venom.”

You laugh gently, gesturing your head towards the front door, "Go work some more." You watch as he walks away, an unexplainable pit in the bottom of your stomach. You avoid the stares coming from the booth again.

People talked a lot in Jackson. Usually it was all rumours, secret words whispered behind a hand as you walked by, it brought a sense of familiarity back, considering they were acting like they were in high school again.

They noticed things, could see the little things, like how you and Joel were always together, seemingly always just alone. You supposed it gave them a sense of familiarity too, finally being able to talk about something other than the end of the world.

Sometimes it made you feel good, knowing other people could see Joel was focused on you, watching as he turned down other women just to talk to you. Aside from the odd insult you’d hear every now and then, you weren’t bothered by the rumours.

On your way home, you decided to stop by Joel’s. The side gate was unlocked, the hinges creaking quietly as it gently banged open and closed. Hot wind. Adding onto the heat. You could hear him before you saw him, the gentle strum of his guitar, a low hum. You round the corner, stopping by the edge of the house to watch him, a smile tugging at your lips.

He sat in a chair he made himself on his back porch, he’d made you a set also, specialised carving in the wood. He had a leg crossed over the other, his foot jerking to the beat of the song he was playing, you vaguely recognise it being a Pearl Jam song. His hair’s getting longer, you can see the curls at the base of his neck, greying slightly.

You step up the little steps up to the porch, the floorboards under your feet creak, Joel flinches slightly, looking over at you. “Sorry,” You smile, brushing out the fabric of the dress you’d thrown on, “Keep playing.”

He shakes his head slowly, gently lifting the guitar off his lap and placing it by his side, “No free shows here.” He smiles at you, leaning back in his chair. “So… Cooling ain’t on.” He’s trying to rile you up.

You roll your eyes, moving closer to him. “Don’t remind me.” A gust of warm wind blows past, a shiver of annoyance rushes through your veins. You move to the railing, the wood burns your hands for a second, having been exposed to the naked sun for so long.

The chair creaks behind you, heavy boots thumped closer until he was standing beside you. You watched as he moved to grab onto the wood, he too flinched back slightly at the contact, you smile. “Ellie…” Joel starts, “Think she’s warming back up to me.”

“That’s good, Joel.” You can hear him breathing, deep and calm. He looks down at you and you look back, “I’m glad.” You add, stepping sideways slightly to bump into his side. You stayed at his house until the sun had set well past the horizon, different constellations appeared back into the clear, dark sky. Only then did you decide to go home, praying to yourself as you walked back that someone had fingers lucky enough to get some cold air working.

You’d always heard about ‘the third time, the lucky charm’, and you’d never given it much thought. But today, you decided you didn’t believe in it, because it was the third day of this mini heat wave, and it was even hotter.

The sheets were damp beneath you when you woke up. Thin sheets, minimal clothing and the open window had done nothing to help aid the temperature; you were at your breaking point, further being pushed when you discovered the air conditioning had still not been fixed.

You tried to remain grateful, understood that the people working on it had limited supplies, that they too had to endure the heat, and the pressure to get it done. Feeling bad for your frustration over something they could not control, you made some lemonade for them all, bringing over a jug and some empty cups to where they were stationed. A small good deed to redeem your attitude.

“Fucking heat.” You mumbled to yourself, wiping your hands on your dress, stepping up to your front porch, reaching for your door. Before you could open it, someone cleared their throat behind you, making you jump.

Joel laughed, moving up the stairs to meet you, “I scare you?” He looks down at you innocently, waiting for you to answer him, a little curl falls in front of his face.

“Yes, Joel.” You huff, opening your door aggressively, “You scared me.” You step inside, waiting for him to walk in before closing the door.

He shrugs off his shoes, leaving them by the entrance, “It’s actually cooler outside.” He points out, moving into your living room.

“I don’t even want to think about that.” You shake your head, brushing past him to the kitchen, pouring two glasses of water. “Reckon we could sit out the back?”

Joel nods, gratefully taking his glass from your hand, “Lead the way.”

Your porch was small, a perfect size, filled with plants, two chairs and a little rug underneath. Joel went straight for his usual chair, sitting down with a grunt. You vacated the chair next to him, leaning back with your glass nestled in your hands.

Joel was silent beside you, eyebrows furrowed and eyes zoning out into your small backyard. You followed his gaze, admiring the wooden fence surrounding your home. He and Tommy had built it for you after you’d complained for a week straight about the old rotted wood that once stood there, now you were blessed with privacy you’d once had years ago. You’d never kept your promise to pay them back with some of your cooking, you suddenly remembered.

A flicker of movement catches your eye, a small, grey bunny slips through a crack in the fence. You tut under your breath, shaking your head. Joel’s body moves; he’s laughing. “Don’t even start. It’s barely a crack, I’m not bloody fixin’ it.”

“I didn’t say anything!” You laugh back, but your eyebrows furrow slightly as you take in Joel’s posture. His smiles faded again and he’s back to zoning out. You nudge him gently, “What’s up?”

He suddenly stands up, placing the glass by your feet, it’s only then you noticed he hadn’t had any of it. He goes to your railing, leaning over it. “It’s gettin’ harder. Every day, I’m fightin’ it, and I don’t think I can anymore.” He starts, leaning his head to the right slightly, making sure you could hear every word. He sighs, “Don’t think I want to anymore.”

You place your own glass down, standing up to join him. “I don’t understand.” You see him hesitate, his body tenses slightly, you can hear his jagged breathing. A warm wind blows past you both, you watch as the trees sway gently in it.

Joel looks at you then, turning his whole body towards you. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me this isn’t mutual.”

You watch him quietly, almost taken back at his forwardness. “Joel…”

“No.” He interrupts, taking a step closer, “Tell me this isn’t in my head. I mean, fuck, baby. I love how we are now, but god do I ever wish it was something more.”

A conversation you’d fought so hard to push to the back of your mind, words you’d dreamt about saying, planning out the best sentences to say that would articulate your feelings best, yet you stand in silence. Something inside you tingles, something deep in your stomach that travels up your body to your head, something goes fuzzy. Then you’re moving to him and closing the space between you, your hands moving to hold the back of his neck as your lips connect to his. It’s sort of an awkward angle, your head tilted back to be able to reach his face, you’re almost on the tips of your toes.

He takes a second to react, his hands awkwardly hovering by your sides as you first press your lips against his. As you moved to pull back having sensed his hesitance, Joel reached out. His hands move to your back, pulling you back to his chest tightly, firmly pressing his lips against yours. You feel him harden against your abdomen and he moans into your mouth with exhilaration, teasing his tongue against yours.

You worry for a second, worry that things were moving too fast. You’d spent years pent up, hiding your deepest feelings and forcing yourself to keep your hands away from him, but with every little movement, every spark sent through your body, your worries slowly started to vanish. As his hands move down your back to fondle your ass, you finally decide you don’t care.

He squeezes the flesh between his hands, slapping it gently before he pulls away from you, looking pained as he does so. You watch him carefully, waiting for his next move. “Can I taste you?” He asks gently, his hands moving to ball the fabric of your dress. He spoke the words with such softness, such innocence, you faltered, almost uncertain if he meant what you were thinking. His fists tighten further, pleading with you with his eyes.

You take a gamble and nod, you think you’d like whatever he meant anyways; he doesn’t wait another second. He gently moved you backwards, your back pushed up against the railing of your porch, using it as a stabiliser as he moved down to his knees. “Careful.” You mutter, acknowledging the tenderness and soreness he often experienced with his aging body.

He doesn’t respond, instead, he bunches your dress in his hands and shoves it up, exposing your cunt hidden by a slightly damp pair of underwear. You reach down and hold your dress up, clutching it tightly as he brings two fingers up to your clothed clit, rubbing it gently. The sensation tears a moan from your throat, your fingers tightened around the fabric of the dress. As Joel slowly circled your clit, you doubled back and remembered that you were outside, you’d have to try and be quiet. Joel, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care, he probably found it to be a competition. ‘How far can I go without informing the entire neighbourhood I’m fucking my best friend on her porch.’

He finally tugs down your underwear, leaving it hanging by your ankles as he gently spreads your knees further apart. He was taking his time, you noted, savouring every second. You didn’t have any patience for savouring. “Please.” You moan, one of your hands let go of your dress to move to the back of Joel’s neck, pulling him closer in between your legs. “Just do it.”

You could see him debate with himself for a second, tease her more or give in. He decided to do the latter. He looked as desperate as you felt as he gripped the sides of your thighs, looking up at you once more before he connected his mouth with your clit. He used his tongue in replacement of his fingers, circling your clit as he used the rest of his mouth as a suction. You jolted in place, mouth strung open and eyebrows furrowed together as he worked his way through your body. You could feel every movement his tongue made, the slow pressure of release in your abdomen quickly built its way up, finally forcing another moan from your throat. You tightened your hand around Joel’s hair, tugging the curls at the base of his neck, eliciting a deep groan from him.

You knew you weren’t gonna last long, not as he moved one of his hands to play with your clit as his mouth moved further down, his tongue pushed into you slightly as he fully engrossed himself in you. His other hand rotated between holding your hip and moving back down to your thigh, squeezing the flesh beneath his palm, the sensation somehow pushing you further into euphoria. You take your hand away from his neck, moving back up to your dress, you let go with your other hand, moving it down the base of your body to where his hand was resting on your hip.

When he felt you hold onto him, he adjusted your hands so that he was holding yours, fingers gripping you tightly as his mouth moved back up to your clit, his other arm moved around to the backs of your thighs, pulling you closer to his mouth. He was moaning gently into your clit, you could feel the vibrations pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your orgasm took you by surprise, arriving so suddenly you could hardly think as your legs began to shake and your fingers gripped so tightly around Joel’s hands, he winced. You don’t know how loud you were being, your senses were all out of whack. The high seemed to last forever, your clit throbbed gently. Your heart was beating out of your chest, the slight tremors in your legs not ceasing even after he’d slowly moved backwards, away from your cunt.

“Fuck.” He whispered quietly, admiring you once more before he hauled himself up, giving you no time to react as he crashed his lips against yours, pulling you so tightly against his chest you struggled to breathe. “Fuck that was sexy.” He muttered against your lips. Resting his forehead on yours for a moment. Behind you, you could hear a back door open. The sounds of a quiet hum dragged you back to your senses, you’d forgotten to stay quiet.

“Inside.” You mumble, dropping your dress back down and pulling up your underwear. He closed the door behind you when you walked in, you were still trying to catch your breath. It was hot inside, hotter than it was outside; your hair stuck to the back of your neck. Joel approached you quietly, brushing your hair away from your neck with the back of his hand. He laid a gentle kiss there, when he pulled away you could still feel his lips on your skin.

You pulled your dress up over your head, leaving it to drop down next to your feet. You stood before him in nothing but your damp underwear. Joel inhaled deeply behind you, his hands hesitantly reaching out to turn you around. His eyes immediately dropped down, taking in every feature, every curve. You could feel every callous on his fingers as he moved his hands down your shoulders and over your breasts, teasing your nipples gently for a moment before moving back up your body, where his hand ghosted the front of your neck.

He tugged at his shirt then, pulling it off his body before moving to his jeans, his fingers fumbling with his belt. You smiled at him softly, brushing his hands aside and helping him out of the material. It was your turn to stare now. You traced your finger along every scar splattered across the length of his body. He watched carefully as you did so, bringing his hand up to your cheek. After what seemed like forever, you retracted your hand back to yourself and started moving backwards towards the couch. Joel followed you wordlessly, not taking his eyes off you.

When you reached the couch, you gestured for him to sit down. He complied easily, leaning back into the couch, just watching you. You moved to stand between his legs, your nipples hardened further in anticipation. Slowly, you moved down and took your underwear completely off, throwing them somewhere behind you. As you did so, Joel moved to take his off, leaving you both bare and vulnerable. It seemed as if your body was moving on autopilot, everything started to seem so unreal. As you stood before him, his eyes wild and desperate, you found you couldn’t really remember how this had happened so fast.

Was it just a buildup of hidden emotions? Or had something happened that made him snap? You breathed in deeply, debating with yourself. Telling yourself that you could still back out. Label what happened outside as two lonely people who got desperate. You caught yourself, pushing those thoughts to the back of your head. That’s not what you wanted to do, you couldn’t understand why you were fighting against it so hard. You recognised a glimmer of fear within the thoughts. Fear of opening up to someone, maybe.

Joel called your name softly. You blinked, focusing back onto him. “Stop thinkin’ so much.” He said, sitting up a little straighter. “If you don’t want this, that’s fine. Don’t freak yourself out ‘bout it.” You furrowed your eyebrows, you did want it. You blinked again, internally scolding your brain for a second before you moved forwards. You straddled his lap, knees resting on either side of his thighs, your hands rested on his chest. He looked at you silently, searching for any sign of discomfort.

“I do want this.” You whisper, “It’s just new.” Joel nodded slowly, leaning back into the couch. You smile softly, your fingers subconsciously trace patterns on his skin. It was getting harder to ignore the warmth in your lower abdomen, you could feel yourself getting wetter for him, more desperate for him. He was in the same boat, his cock lay firmly against his stomach, the tip of him a deep pink. You reached between your legs, grasping him firmly in your hand. He was big, for a second you hesitated, it had been a while.

“We’ll take it slow.” Joel grunted, leaning his head back for a moment. You gripped him tighter, slowly moving your hand up and down, causing a deep moan to slip out his mouth. You teased him like that for a little while, watching his reactions curiously. After a few minutes, he leant his head back up to look at you, “Enough.” He practically growled. You smile at him in response, finally lifting your hips up slightly. You both watched as his cock slowly slipped inside you, small moans of pleasure and release sounded out into the room. The initial stretch hurt, you had expected it but it still caused you to completely stop. Joel stayed still until you were ready to keep going.

After that you didn’t need to stop. Even if you did have to, you weren't sure if you could. You were fully sat on Joel’s lap, his cock nestled deep up inside you, his pubic hair brushed against your clit as you slowly circled your hips. Joel was gripping your hips so tightly, you could already feel them bruising, with every move, a small moan or grunt huffed from his lips. A couple minutes had passed of the slow circling, you had passed the point of desperation. With a slight sigh, you adjusted yourself so you were leaning more of your body weight on your feet before you slowly lifted yourself up the length of his dick, then abruptly sat back down, the sudden movement had Joel moaning loudly, his hands moved to the bottom of your ass to help you bounce up and down continuously.

You fucked yourself on him hard, your ass connected with his thighs with a satisfying noise, your moans increasingly getting louder. At one point, you leant back slightly, resting your arms on his thighs as you continued to move on top of him. Joel took this opportunity to play with your clit again, his movements precise. You could feel sweat accumulating on your back, the hot environment mixed with this, you didn’t care. Not when Joel moved forwards in what looked like an uncomfortable manner, desperately connecting his lips with your breasts. “Fuck, Joel.” You gasp, feeling his teeth graze against your nipples.

So caught up in the feeling of Joel inside you, you almost missed the sound coming from behind you. You faltered in your movements to try and listen out for what you’d barely heard over the sound of your own cries, Joel immediately sat up, his hands moved to your waist. “What is it? Are you okay?” You quickly shush him, furrowing your eyebrows.

Then, a wooshing sound was heard and a cool breeze suddenly followed, flowing over your skin and cooling you instantly. You look at the air conditioner, a new little green light you’d never seen before was on. “Oh.” You say, now completely still in Joel’s lap. You were about to say something, but before you could, you were being manoeuvred around, taking the breath away from you. Joel lay you on your back, still sheathed fully inside you. It seemed that any sense of patience and tenderness had disappeared, instead, a more unforgiving and relentless version of him came out, he fucked into you hard, harder than you could ever expect from such a careful man.

You threw your head back, wrapping your legs around his hips as he thrust into you, grunting in your ear. One of his hands moved up to palm your breast again, squeezing it roughly before he let go and moved further up your body, resting on your throat. His movements faltered for a moment, his eyes shut close before he resumed the pace. Grunts were replaced with soft moans, almost whimpers as his hips collided with the backs of your thighs. You barely had time to warn him, you managed to let out a strangled moan as you came, your body tightening around him. He came quickly after you did, his body practically collapsing against you as he shot his cum deep inside you, his heavy breath heating your skin.

After a little while of him on top of you, whispering sweet things into your ear and kissing you gently on your neck, he sat up. You followed, glancing behind you at the air conditioning unit. “Thank fucking god.” You mutter, shaking your head.

#joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #joel smut #joel x reader #tlou #tlou part 2 #tlou smut #joel the last of us #tlou hbo

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hellfirecvnt · 4 months ago

Text

Don't Piss me Off (Pt. 2)

John Q. (Simon) X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, oral (female receiving), "public" sex, unprotected sex (don't do that), poor life choices.

Summary: You still can't stand sticking around your parents for too long, but you stay in town for a while longer just to see him play. PART ONE IS HERE!!

Notes: I love him. I'm gonna write a million versions of the same story I stg. I didn't proof read. I got like 6 ideas at once and they're all getting written at the same time.

In the basement of a warehouse you'd assume abandoned, Simon and his band consisting of a handful of less ill-tempered, but just as dirty and dead-looking men set up for their performance. They're all spitting insults at each other as they scramble to plug in each meticulous piece of shoddy equipment they've acquired.

Simon's preoccupied. Clearly stuck on the thought of you. He realized hours ago that he never told you about the show tonight. He's wrapping the wire of the mic around his fist when he overhears the stagehands. "I didn't make it to Y/N's last party, I figured there would at least be one more before she bolted."

"She went back home?" Simon interrupts.

"Yeah, man. She left today, I'm pretty sure." The stagehands hoist a large amp to its spot, leaving Simon in the silence of realizing you two have no way of contacting each other. That's it. He shrugs his shoulders, brushing off any disappointment, as he's used to things falling through. Nothing's special to someone like him, or that's what he tells himself. He reaches into his back pocket and reveals a pair of underwear that had gotten tangled with his clothes when you did his laundry. He chuckles at the thought of how he would've made you think he stole them on purpose. He stuffs them back into his pocket and gets ready to perform as people start piling in the small venue.

You're nearly flooring it back to that gas station. Once inside, you leap over the counter and snatch the poster from the wall. "God damn! You could've just asked for the fucking flyer, man!" The cashier exclaims, certain you were attempting to rob the store.

"I don't have time!" You yell behind you as you sprint out the door. "Old fuckin' Mill building? Where the fuck is that?" You mumble to yourself, frustrated. You read that Psyops isn't set to play for another 30 minutes, so you speed around town to every old and decrepit site you can find. Four failures before you find the warehouse hosting the show tonight. "Finally!" You slam the van in park before bolting to the door.

"It's $10 to get in," a nonchalant man at the door huffs. You shove the money into his hand and he opens the large, black, graffitied door behind him. You're not shy in a crowd, so when you hear the boisterous speakers blasting the sound of guitar riffs through the building, you start shoving. The vibration sends the decently sized crowd into a wave of cheers and you finally make your way toward the front. You can hear a voice over the speakers, Simon. It's hard to make out what he's saying, but once the song starts, the crowd starts moving.

You're being jostled around for most of the set. Song after song, you try to force yourself to the front, but to no avail. Finally, once Simon takes one step off the slightly raised platform on which they're performing, you can reach him. His grip is white-knuckled around the microphone, now's your chance. You lunge forward and wrap a hand around the mic, pulling yourself forward. Confused and annoyed by the sudden tugging, Simon pulls back, effectively breaking through the wall of people blocking you. The moment your eyes meet his, under his ski mask, he grins. In the moment bringing you before him, he'd missed a few bars of the song, but effortlessly picks back up once you're front and center.

It feels like his eyes are locked on you for the rest of their set. You hate to admit it, but it's a hell of a show. The energy of the crowd, their presence on stage. No wonder Simon feels so strongly about it. He's a different person when he's John Q. An alias you found out about when you were seniors, and you hoped staying quiet about it would've shown him you weren't the snitch, but instead it took a coke bender several, several years later. Plus, he wasn't much less of a loser than you were. Who fucking cared back then that he has a stage name?

After Psyops' set, you and Simon slip outside for a smoke. Riled up from the show, he's too abuzz to make sure his face matches the angry stare he usually wears. "Someone said you were headed home already, didn't think I'd see you at a show any time soon," he says, lighting a cigarette.

"Said I would," you echo his words from his promise to back you up next time you got yourself into an altercation. "Can't let fucking John Q. be more trustworthy than me." Simon laughs at the mention of his stage persona. "I like the mask, though."

"Oh, yeah? That do somethin' for you?" He teases, reaching into his pocket for the mask, but pulling out a different wad of fabric. "Oops," he laughs, dangling your panties in front of you.

"Is that my fuckin' underwear, you god damn pervert?" You curl your lip, put off by the invasive behavior.

"They might be yours, I don't know. I get a lot pussy." Simon smirks with his eyes darkened on you.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck-" you're ready to lay into him, too violated to make any excuses despite how attractive he looks with messy hair and drying sweat.

"Calm the fuck down, they got mixed up with my shit when you washed my clothes at your house," he laughs. You roll your eyes and jump to grab them, but he's too quick. You miss the swipe and are now a great deal closer to him. "I'm gonna hold on to these," he says with a low voice as he scoops you against him with a hand placed on the small of your back. A second passes like an eternity and the two of you lock lips as he stuffs your underwear into his pocket again, allowing some of the silk and lace detail to hang out. As the kiss deepens, his hands move down your body, to your thighs before he grips your ass roughly. Soft moans escape against his lips as he gropes various parts of your curves.

"Do you know how worked up you get me?" He whispers between the press of your kiss. "Thought you left before I could get a taste." He reaches for your eyelet belt, but you stop him.

"Someone's gonna see us."

"Call it an encore," he mumbles before going back at your belt, but you swat him away again.

"At least take me around back, dumbass." You grab a fistful of his shirt and nearly drag him around the corner. It's dark and concealed from any passerby. He lifts you up onto a pad-mounted transformer and wraps your legs around him, still moving his head in sync with yours as each of your tongues explore each other's mouths.

"I guess I was kind of a prick to you back in the day, huh?" He whispers, running his hand through your hair.

"You were an angry piece of shit, yeah. We fuckin' or having a breakthrough?"

"Shut the fuck up for a second," he snaps. "I'm trying to apologize." He slips your denim shorts off your legs and all but falls to his knees in front of the large metal, green box you're sat on. His nimble index finger hooks around your thong and pulls it to the side. You barely have time to process what his "apology" will be before he plunges his head between your thighs. You fight to stifle a surprised moan as he conducts his skillful movements against your sensitive skin.

"Simon, oh, my God!" You whine, arching your back against the friction. He laughs against your skin sending waves of vibrations through your legs. One of his hands is occupied holding your panties to the side, the other is hooked around your hip, holding you securely in place as he meticulously works you over the edge.

"You want me to stop?" He asks, lips framed with drenched facial hair.

"No! No, I-" he cuts off your plea, resuming his position.

"Then stop fighting me," he snaps, harshly pinning you to the metal with the hand he had hooked on your hip. The stimulation quickly builds up, becoming too much, too quickly. You throw your head back and tangle a fist in his hair as he guides you through the high. Your legs shake and threaten to close around him, but his grip is too strong. You remain exactly where he wants you until you've ridden out your orgasm. You're slumped back on your elbows with your head down, breathing heavily as you return to reality.

Simon towers over you where you lay, staring down at you with his dark-circled eyes. You look up and watch him teasingly wipe his mouth, licking his lips like you're the first thing he's devoured in months. He slips your shorts halfway up your legs for you, leaving the rest of the work for whenever you can feel your legs again. "Um," you sigh. "Apology accepted."

"Tits."

"Is 'tits' good?" You furrow your eyebrows. He sighs, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"You're leaving tonight, huh?" Simon lights a cigarette.

"Well... That's the plan." You feel a pit in your stomach when you think about going back home. The place is nice, it's far away. It's what you wanted, but life is full and meaningless. You don't have friends out there, it didn't strike you how hard it'd be to meet people in your mid 20s.

"You don't sound so sure about that plan, Y/N." He exhales a cloud that illuminates under the street lamp's orange glow.

"It's boring out there, but it's quiet. It's peaceful. My parents aren't in my ear telling me trying something new could kill me." You shrug.

"That's why you're running? Because of your frigid bitch mom and dad?" Simon laughs as if it's the funniest thing he's ever heard.

"Okay, well. You know, maybe don't call them that or I'll lay you the fuck out, but yeah." You stand and fasten your shorts and belt, knees still threatening to buckle. "You had a hand in me leaving too."

"I know, I apologized!" He gestures to your trembling legs and you laugh.

"Yeah, yeah," you wave your hand at him. "Where'd you go? I was in town for weeks. I thought you were in the pin."

"I didn't want to overstay my welcome," he chuckles. "Or watch another fuckin' 80s movie with the volume on ten." He turns to look at you and he smirks.

"Well, my parents are in town now. I still have the rest of this week off. I was gonna spend it getting unpacked, but-"

"Fuck that. Let's go, you're driving." He walks off around the building toward the parking lot and you're dumbfounded for a moment.

"Of course I'm driving, it's my van!" You scramble after him. He hops in your passenger seat and you pull out of the lot, leaving his disgruntled band mates to pack up their own equipment. "You're not gonna help them?"

"What for? My shit's in the van. It's a microphone."

"Yeesh, sorry. Forgot you're actually kind of the worst when your head's not between my legs," you tease and Simon can't suppress a smile. As you cruise down the dark road, bright blue lights ignite in your mirrors. "Fuck. Get it the back." Simon wastes no time, he throws himself in the spacious rear area of the van as you pull over. You both wait anxiously for the cop to approach the window. Everything feels silent, until you finally hear the footsteps.

"I'm gonna run," Simon whispers, hand on the rear door latch.

"Don't." You demand sharply, rolling down your window for the cop. The air feels still and tight. It seems like it takes hours for the cop to speak, but when he does it's a routine traffic stop. He asks you if you knew how fast you were going and you innocently explain the floating nature of your speedometer. The officer laughs when he reads your ID and sees your last name.

"You're Frank's kid, right?"

"Yeah, his one and only." You beam, proudly. Happy to name drop your wealthy family.

"You just try to slow it down and tell your dad I said hello, alright?" The cop taps your door twice and sends you on your way. As you pull off, Simon peeks out from under the blankets and sighs with relief.

"Holy shit, with the way this thing looks, you should've been strip searched." Simon tosses himself back into the passenger seat.

"Don't shit-talk my van," you hiss. Simon proceeds to tell you where to go, each turn and shortcut, until you reach a large white house, almost as status defining as your parents'.

"My parents are out of town." He points to a concealed area to park and leads you to a basement door. He fights with a key for a moment before leading you inside. It's a messy basement room with red walls and posters from ceiling to floor. Instruments take up most of the space, aside from the bed.

"Do you avoid your parents like me, or do your parents avoid you?" You ask, bluntly, not considering the weight of that question.

"Both, I guess." He says after a long pause.

"You... Wanna smoke?" You ask, unsure how to navigate the silence.

"Can't. Fucks with my motivation," he grins. You shrug, rolling and smoking a joint by yourself while Simon works on some songs. He's got an ear for every instrument in his room, and he layers them over each other, creating complex instrumentals. It's nice to listen to while you lie on his bed and watch the swirling tendrils of smoke twist into the light and air above you.

"It sounds nice," you hum, settling into the cozy divot in the center of his mattress-on-the-floor.

"Write something for it," he commands, tossing a notepad and pen at you.

"Like lyrics? Why?" You stare at the blank page, unable to read the layers and layers of writing indented into it from Simon's heavy, angry hand.

"You need an out, I'm giving you one." He leans back in the rolling chair he resides in, staring me down like a hawk.

"I don't think I'm a very musical person. I think I'm more of a doodler, really," you argue, scribbling in the corner of the paper.

"Just fuckin' write something down and stop being a pussy." He snatches the pen from you and tosses it onto the pad.

"Bitch- How does that make me a pussy?" Your eyes narrow at him.

"It'd be too vulnerable. You're no tougher than that kid you were in high school. It's all fake now." It's clear he's taunting you. Making a fair attempt at reverse psychology.

"Fuck you, give me a minute," you huff, writing a line or two to start with. "Play your shit again." And he does. Restarting the instrumental he put together just for you. After a while, you've written something and you sling the notepad at Simon. He takes a moment to read through it a few times, almost trying to decode the melody of how I'd sang it in my head.

"Perfect. Now sing it." He nods toward his microphone stand.

"Fuck's sake, dude. Are you serious?" You whine, pushed further and further out of your comfort zone.

"Come on, let's see what you got," he says in a tone that lets me know I've already lost the argument.

"It doesn't feel good to be vulnerable to you."

"Tough it out." You roll your eyes at his demand, but you do it. You tough it out and recite your song over the music he provided. He hits 'restart,' and then 'record,' and then he points to you. After a measure you begin to sing. Low effort, but still angelic. Your song is about the feeling of being homesick no matter where you end up. It's about running and putting up a face as a defense mechanism. It's about wearing a mask.

When you're done singing and the music fades out, Simon slides the headphones off his ears. "That... Was tits." He looks elated. Like a poor painter with a new pallet.

"Is 'tits' good?" You ask again, emphasizing the lack of answer last time you asked.

"Yeah, 'tits' is good." He grins. "That was good."

"Fuck you. Who's not vulnerable?" You curl your lip, clearly more moved by the challenge than the release he was offering. Simon just shakes his head.

"Let's mix it." He beelines for the computer and begins fine tuning the song. You're watching in awe of his quick skill at this craft. As if watching him play all those instruments wasn't impressive enough. The night grows older. Simon offers you your favorite party favor, but you're over it. So the two of you share a joint.

"You don't ever get tired of living in a circle?" You ask through a cloud of smoke.

"A fuckin' circle?" He looks at you.

"Just, still in this town, still avoiding your parents, still making music alone in your room."

"Fuck," he huffs, offended but acknowledging the truth in your words. "Do you ever get tired of running from it?"

"Touché." You bring the joint to your lips as you lie in his disheveled bed. His arm snaked around you ages ago, slowly pulling you closer and closer to him. Like he's worried you'll float away.

"If our only two options are run away or get sucked into this shit hole of a town, I think we're a little fucked, don't you?" He chuckles to himself.

"Maybe those aren't the only options. We just don't have all the answers yet. I don't think anyone does." Your voice is wistful and quiet. You can feel Simon's eyes on you, but you stare at his dark ceiling. He rolls his eyes at your corny words, but he knows you're right. "It's funny, because if I could run from the uncertainty too, I would." You giggle, aware of your vices and poor coping skills.

"Yeah, you would," Simon mocks.

"And you? You're just going to live with it? Sit right beside the discomfort and accept that for yourself? Have you ever tried to give yourself more, even if it meant running?" You're slowly building up a sense of passion behind your words and Simon just listens, staring deeply into your eyes as you speak. Suddenly, you're cut off when he wraps a hand around the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss. His lips crash into yours and the two of you melt into each other.

You can't even remember what you were saying, you just know you don't want to stop touching him. The heat of the kiss begins to swell as Simon's hands trail up and down your body. He's grabbing at you in a specific order, like he's been waiting to get his hands on it. Really get his hands on it. You grasp at the hem of his shirt, tugging in semblance to take it the fuck off, and he does.

His broad, pale chest rises and falls with anticipation as you strip off the same article of clothing. "Jesus Christ," he moans, pulling you to him to shove his face directly between your breasts. He breathes deeply, taking you in. With one swift motion, he's hoisted you on top of him, your legs straddling his waist. Simon unfastens the button on your jeans before tossing you to the side to undress you.

You're both naked and greatly anticipating the next moment your skin will touch. Seconds feel like hours until you're pressed against each other again. Simon buries his face in the crook of your neck as he guides his throbbing erection to your entrance. You're squirming and arching beneath him, and he releases a breathy laugh as he watches you writhe. "You're aching for it," he groans.

"Fuck you," you hiss, pulling him closer to you by his shoulders. All he does is chuckle before slowly slipping inside you. You moan loudly as you adjust to his size. Something about a lanky, dead-eyed man. His pace is steady as he rocks his hips against yours, picking up speed as you gush around him. Soon his thrusts are hard and rough, and your loud, vulgar moans echo off his bedroom walls.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he huffs, pulling out of you and tossing you aside. Simon quickly repositions you in front of him, on all fours. You let your back arch naturally, putting on a bit of a show for him as he watches you. His eyes are darkened and his smirk sends chills down your spine. You can't help but smile wide in excitement. With two round hands, he grabs your waist and positions you at the perfect height. His hands wander the soft flesh of your ass as you press up against him. "You drive me fucking crazy..." He sighs as he slips inside you.

Simon digs the tips of his fingers into your skin, pulling you against him with every violent thrust. You do everything you can to contort your body to give him more of you. He throws his head back, falling into a sloppy, unsteady pace. His breathing is wild and primal all the way up until the point of climax. You release a loud, fluttering moan as he fucks you through your high, quickly withdrawing to finish on your back and ass. You're both breathless for a while, the room is silent but for the sound of your lungs filling and deflating.

Simon climbs off the bed, but you're too fucked out to even raise your head up to watch where he's going. Moments later, he returns, towel in hand. He cleans you up and lands a hard smack on your right ass cheek. The sound is thunderous against the silence. You yelp and break into quiet chuckles.

Finally, you have the strength to roll over. You sit up against the mess of pillows that became a sort of headboard for his bed, feeling beautiful and bare before him. It's a nice feeling that you're not used to. Sure you've had your flings, but it's never occurred to you how quickly you tend to leave or cover up after. Not this time. You're both fully exposed and Simon's eyes drink you in, one last time before he speaks. "Don't go back." You stare at him for a long while, silent.

"I won't," you gasp, surprised by your own promise. As soon as the words leave your mouth, his lips are on yours. In the next few days, you quit your job and Simon rides with you to go back and get the most important of your shit. The rest goes with the trailer when you sell it. You don't run a single thing past your parents and you don't tell them you're coming back to town. It's a new sense of peace and adventure, though it feels like abandoning your old life.

After a month of van living, you and Simon get an apartment and constantly receive complaints about the noise, but nothing stops the music overflowing from your floor of the building. A new sense of bliss. It's comfortable now.

#hellfirecvnt #reader insert #john q fanfic #john q #dinner in america simon x reader #simon from dinner in america #simon dinner in america #simon #dinner in america fan fic #dinner in america #john q. smut #john q smut #dinner in america smut #smut #kyle gallner fanfic #kyle gallner

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fruitjoos · 5 months ago

Text

serving up suds!

parings: patrick zweig x fem!reader / art donaldson x tashi duncan

word count: 3.9k

summary: you and the rest of the girls on the tennis team need to figure out a way to earn money for new uniforms. your boyfriend suggests the best idea.

contains: SMUT 18+ with lots of cute boyfriend patrick plot, fluff, only contains art and tashi as side characters (sorry), suggestive language between art and tashi, oral (m receiving), inaccurate numbers probs, if you think anything else should be added, please let me know!

note: wrote this simply because i love and miss pookie patrick zweig so enjoy… i planned to post i choose you but wanted to post this instead! also, not edited – will be doing so shortly.

You stood in front of Coach Williams, arms crossed and brows furrowed, your frustration barely masked. “We don’t even have proper uniforms,” you said, voice tight. “They just told us to wear red tank tops and the shortest white shorts we could find. It’s ridiculous. No one takes us seriously.”

It had been a minor irritation at first, something you could almost shrug off as a small injustice. But when you found out that the boys' team, including your boyfriend Patrick, had crisp, matching uniforms—with collars and the school logo stitched on the chest—your irritation curdled into anger. They looked like a team. They looked respectable. And you? You and the other five girls on the team looked like a mismatched afterthought.

A few of you had approached Coach Williams, hoping she’d understand, hoping she’d do something. You told her how embarrassing it was to stand on the court, mismatched and disheveled, while the boys walked by in their pristine gear. She’d just sighed and said the school didn’t have the funds. “Those boys raised the money themselves,” she added, almost proud. “If you girls want uniforms that badly, you’ll have to do the same.”

You groaned. Right, like it was that simple. You had done the math in your head—the cost would be at least a thousand dollars to get anything decent, something that would make you all look polished and cohesive. You wanted sharp collars, the school name embroidered in neat white stitching over your hearts, maybe even matching skirts. But there were only six of you, and $200 each was a lot to ask from college girls already juggling tuition, textbooks, meals, and a list of other expenses that never seemed to end.

The thought gnawed at you for days, and finally, you did something you never would’ve considered before. You went to Patrick. The two of you were sprawled out on the campus quad, the grass prickling your skin, the sun warm on your back. Patrick was fiddling with a Rubik's Cube he’d picked up from god knows where, twisting it clumsily, his focus entirely absorbed. You were trying to study, your math textbook open in front of you, but the thought of those damn uniforms kept distracting you. You sighed, louder than usual, trying to get his attention. He didn’t look up.

Another sigh, this one practically a groan. Patrick smirked, eyes still fixed on the colored squares in his hands. “Something on your mind?” he asked, voice teasing, as if he was enjoying your distress.

“Actually, yeah,” you said, sitting up and crossing your legs. “The girls’ tennis team needs uniforms.” He finally glanced up, confusion flickering in his eyes. “And I was wondering…” you trailed off, giving him a mischievous grin before reaching out to tickle his side. He jerked away, laughing, and caught your wrist. “...if you could, you know, maybe donate a little to help out.”

“You’re cute,” he said, kissing your cheek. “But I’m broke. Spent my allowance for the month already.”

Your head slumped against his chest, and you whined, letting the sound drag out, like a child who didn’t want to go to bed. “C’mon, Patrick. We need this.”

He chuckled, but you could sense his patience thinning. “Why don’t you do a fundraiser or something?” he suggested. “I don’t know, a bake sale?”

It was a simple idea, but it sparked something. You sat up straight, eyes bright with sudden inspiration. “A car wash!” you said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “We could do a car wash! Who wouldn’t want to donate to a group of girls in bikinis?”

Patrick’s smile faded. “Wait, I meant like selling cookies or something, not—”

But you were already on your feet, packing your things, a plan forming in your mind. Oh you’ll be selling cookies all right. “Thanks, babe! I’ll call you later,” you said, barely looking back as you headed off to find the other girls.

Patrick’s voice trailed after you, a mix of amusement and resignation. “Great. This is going to end well, I’m sure.” But you didn’t care. For the first time in days, you felt a thrill of hope. If it took a little shamelessness to raise the money, so be it. At least the girls’ team would finally have the chance to be seen.

You stood outside Art Donaldson’s dorm room, tapping your foot impatiently, half-wishing you didn’t have to do this. You were almost certain Tashi was hooking up with him. Everyone on the courts could sense the weird tension between them, the way they eyed each other during practice. It wasn’t admiration for his technique, that was for sure. Art was talented, sure, but he played like a baby deer—deft, but awkwardly loose, stumbling into his own brilliance.

Your knuckles rapped softly against the door, and when it finally creaked open, you caught sight of Art’s glassy eyes and his half-buttoned shirt. You had to stifle a laugh. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, and not because he was taking a nap. “Uh, is Tashi around?” you asked, already guessing the answer. Art glanced over his shoulder, almost as if he was checking to see if she was still there.

“Yeah, but she’s busy,” he said, with a casual shrug that didn’t quite hide his irritation.

“I’m sure,” you replied, tilting your head with a knowing grin. You leaned past him, raising your voice. “Tashi, come out here! I’ve got an idea!” Art winced, his expression morphing into a tight-lipped smile, the kind you give when someone’s overstaying their welcome. “She’ll be out in a minute,” he muttered, stepping back to let you linger in the doorway.

You could hear the faint sounds of shuffling before Tashi appeared, her hair tousled and her expression caught somewhere between glee and annoyance. “What are you doing here?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

“Patrick gave me the best idea,” you said, ignoring the way she rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. She didn’t even try to hide her skepticism—those words didn’t belong in the same sentence, and she knew it.

“No, really,” you insisted, giving her a playful shove. “We should do a fundraiser!”

Tashi’s face softened slightly, but her arms remained crossed, a single brow arching. “A fundraiser?”

“Yes! Think about it—tight bikinis, soapy cars, a bunch of frat boys with too much cash to spare. We’d make bank!” You bounced on your toes, grinning—your excitement spilling out uncontrollably.

She scoffed, but you caught the flicker of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Maybe she was amused, or maybe it was just the sheer absurdity of the situation. “I’m not selling my body to a bunch of frat boys,” she said, shaking her head firmly.

“You’re literally in there with Art Donaldson,” you shot back, your shoulders slumping with exasperation.

Tashi’s eyes narrowed, and she folded her arms, leaning against the doorframe. “So, what’s that supposed to mean?”

You let out an awkward laugh, waving your hands. “Oh, nothing. Just making an observation.” You could see her jaw tense, but you pressed on, undeterred. “Anyway, I’m telling the other girls. We’re doing this, with or without you.” You winked, trying to keep things light, but Tashi’s expression was unreadable as she watched you turn and leave.

A week later, you found yourself in your dorm room, sorting through an array of colorful bikini tops. The whole plan felt like a gamble, but you were determined to make it work. You wanted it to be fun, at least, if you were going to be out there scrubbing cars for spare change. Patrick was sprawled on the edge of your bed, watching with a bemused expression. “You’re seriously going through with this?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

“You suggested it!” you argued, as you adjusted the lettering on a handmade sign with your glitter gel pens.

“I suggested you bake cookies and sell them on campus,” he corrected, waving his hand as if to swat away the absurdity of your plan. “This is not what I meant.”

“We’re just washing cars,” you said, shaking your head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And besides, it’s for a good cause.” You added a few more swirls and hearts to the sign, mockingly repeating his earlier words in a high-pitched voice before tossing a pink towel at him.

Patrick caught the towel and laughed, shaking his head. “You’re something else.”

Grabbing your keys and the finished signs, you turned to him, flashing a grin. “Walk me over there,” you said, already halfway out the door.

He groaned, dragging himself to his feet. “I better get a free car wash out of this,” he muttered, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. The two of you headed down the hall, and as you passed by, you could almost imagine the scene—the sun beating down, water glistening, and a line of cars full of guys willing to fork over their cash just to see a group of girls make a splash. Maybe it was shameless, but you were desperate, and desperate times called for bold, glittery, bikini-clad measures.

The sun was barely up, but the day was already heating up as you and a few of the girls set up the buckets of sudsy water, sponges bobbing in the foam, and wrangled with the nearest hose. Patrick stood nearby, scanning the growing crowd like a bouncer at a club, his eyes narrowing at any guy who dared stare a little too long when you bent over to dip your sponge. He was protective like that, and maybe just a bit possessive, but you couldn’t deny it felt good having someone in your corner, even if he looked ready to body check anyone who ogled you.

You were just about to yell something smart at him when Tashi strolled up, the sound of her flip-flops soft on the concrete, and every head turned as she made her entrance. She was all long, tanned legs, glistening in the sunlight, a tiny bikini peeking out from under her daisy dukes, and she moved with a sort of effortless grace that made you want to both envy and applaud her. You let out a sharp whistle, catcalling her as she approached, unable to resist. She rolled her eyes.

“Careful, those eyes are gonna get stuck back there one day,” you said with a small smile on your lips, and you could tell she was enjoying the attention.

“You look so hot!” you squealed, bouncing on your toes. Tashi flicked her hair over her shoulder, pretending to be exasperated, but she knew she was killing it, and so did everyone else.

Hours passed, the sun climbing higher, scorching the asphalt, and the music thumped from the speakers you’d set up, loud enough to echo down the block. You and the girls took turns yelling at passersby, daring them to get their cars washed, and you couldn’t believe how fast the line grew. It felt like every guy within a five mile radius had suddenly remembered he needed a wash, and they queued up, engines idling, windows down, some leaning out just to get a better look.

Your bodies were practically spilling out of your clothes, skin glistening, slick with soap and sweat. You pressed up against car windows, sponges swirling over the glass, your laughter and chatter floating above the music. “Thank you!” you sang out, flashing bright smiles as you took crumpled bills from hands reaching out of car windows, a parade of faces you didn’t even recognize. You skipped over to where Patrick was standing, collecting the money, and tossed the latest stack of bills into the box he was holding.

The pink, glittery box which you wrote ‘Stick something in me!’ on. It was heavier than you’d expected; you were actually making bank.

Before you could turn back to the cars, Patrick caught your wrist and pulled you close, his hand warm and firm. He cupped your cheeks between his fingers, smushing them slightly, and before you could even register the movement, he kissed you hard, right there in front of everyone. It wasn’t gentle, wasn’t soft. It was a claim, a brand, like he was marking his territory for all to see.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice low, but loud enough for everyone nearby to hear, a hint of a challenge in his eyes. He wanted to remind you.

You blushed, caught off guard, but then a grin spread across your face. “I’m yours,” you repeated, just as firmly, before pulling him down and planting another kiss on his lips, making sure the message was clear. As you pulled back, you saw a few guys in line avert their eyes, and you laughed to yourself, a mix of pride and relief swelling in your chest. You had Patrick, you had the girls, and if things kept going this well, you’d have those uniforms too.

"Six-fifty… seven-fifty," Patrick counted, his voice low and steady, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in soft pinks and purples. You were sprawled out across the lawn, grass tickling your bare arms, and you watched him with a warm, tired smile, the kind of smile you give when everything feels just right for once. It had been a long, sweaty day, but now the breeze was gentle, like a cool kiss against your skin, and you felt almost weightless. Your body thrumming with a sense of accomplishment.

“Okay, that’s great!” you said, grabbing his arm, a burst of giddy excitement surging through you. Around you, the girls broke into their own cheers, hugging and high-fiving each other, still buzzing from the success of the day.

“And $100 from me,” Patrick said, pulling out a crisp bill from his wallet and tossing it into the box with a casual flick. The girls swarmed him, shaking his shoulders and showering him with thank-yous, calling him sweet, generous, the best. Even Tashi, who’d been leaning coolly against Art, broke into a grin, and she nudged him with her elbow. Art, who’d been half-pretending not to care, rolled his eyes but couldn’t resist. With a reluctant sigh, he parted with another $100, mumbling under his breath as he handed it over.

“Fine,” he said, almost as if the word hurt, but he was grinning a little, too, when the girls shrieked and patted his back. Rich people, you thought, shaking your head with a smirk. They always made it seem like giving was a struggle when it barely scratched the surface of their wallets.

You took a breath, pushing yourself up to your feet and looking at the small circle of girls around you, their faces flushed and glowing under the dimming sky. "I just want to say… thank you," you started, your voice slightly hoarse from yelling all day but still earnest. "I know this wasn’t exactly easy, but we did it. And I’m really proud." You reached into your own wallet, pulling out a $50 bill, twirling it between your fingers, and held it up like a trophy. “Here’s to us. And new uniforms!”

The girls erupted, their cheers echoing across the lawn, loud and jubilant, as if they’d just won a championship. For a moment, it felt like they had. The line between a football team scoring a last minute touchdown and a group of college girls hustling for their dignity had blurred, and you all basked in the glow of it, even as the day faded into night.

Later, you stumbled back to your dorm, too exhausted to think but too exhilarated to sleep. You flopped down on your bed, sinking into the mattress, letting out a long, satisfied sigh. You barely had time to close your eyes before Patrick followed, landing on top of you with a playful thud, his chin digging uncomfortably into your stomach.

“Ow,” you laughed, swatting at his head as he tried to adjust, mumbling an absent apology. He shifted, then propped himself up, and you cradled his face in your hands, tilting it up so you could look into his eyes. They were the soft blue of summer berries, glinting with mischief and tenderness, and you felt a sudden rush of affection that made your chest ache a little.

“I have the best boyfriend in the world,” you said, the words coming out soft, almost like a secret you were finally ready to admit. Patrick’s cheeks flushed a faint pink, something he did so rarely it was almost a treat to see. He gave you a shy, crooked smile, and you could tell he was savoring the moment, letting it hang in the air between you.

Then he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours, slow and careful, his mouth tasting faintly of your pomegranate chapstick. It was gentle at first, then firmer, like he was memorizing every bit of sweetness. When he pulled back, his eyes were still half-lidded, and his lips curved into a teasing smile.

“So, what’s the reward for being the best boyfriend?” he murmured, his gaze flicking over your face, taking in every detail as if he hadn’t already committed them to memory. His eyelashes fluttered, casting a silhouette across his cheeks, and you felt a shiver of warmth spread through you.

His reward for enduring the humid, sticky air all day, the sun beating down relentlessly on his already sunkissed skin, was right here, pressed against him. He had been patient, sitting there with the box of crumpled bills, sweat glistening on his forehead, eyes darting protectively every time someone lingered a little too long on you. He deserved something for putting up with the heat, the endless chatter, and the occasional, awkward guy who looked like he wanted to challenge him just for standing there. And this was it. You, warm and pliant under his hands, your fingers tangled in his hair, lips brushing his, teasing, like you were savoring every second as much as he was.

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head in mock contemplation. “Hmm, I guess I’ll have to think of something…” you said, running your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer until your noses touched. “Maybe a little more of this,” you whispered, your lips brushing his as you spoke, letting the promise linger in the space.

You rolled over, his back sinking into the worn mattress. You let your lips graze his jaw, then drifted down to his neck. He shifted under your touch, laughter mingling with a nervous squirm as your breath tickled his skin. “You’re so good to me,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his earlobe. “So supportive,” another kiss at his temple. “And so, so handsome.” A faint smile broke across his face, eyes closed, lost in the moment.

You let your fingers glide over the cool, metallic buttons of his shorts, tracing each engraved design as if it were spelling out something only you knew. You helped him pull them off, giggling as you threw them across the room. Your hand dipped into the dark mouth of his boxers, rummaging past his trimmed bush of curls, until your fingers closed around the smooth, familiar shape.

His hard cock slid out, catching the light above, precum gleaming, almost tauntingly. You held it up to your mouth, breathing in the faint trace of scent that lingered, delicate but intoxicating.

You stared at it for a moment, feeling a slow, subtle warmth unfurl in your chest. It was a tiny, almost imperceptible smile that tugged at your lips, like the beginning of a secret, and you could feel the tension building under your skin, pooling low in your stomach. Something about holding it in your hand made you feel powerful, like you were in control.

The head was your favorite color—deep, cherry red and glistening like a polished gem when you pulled back his foreskin slowly. You slid it between your lips, supple and sweet. Your tongue circled over his tip, feeling the tiny slit. His sap dissolving against your taste buds. You closed your eyes, savoring the taste.

His arousal melted on your tongue, sweet and syrupy. A thin string of saliva stretched between your lips and the tip when you pulled it away, snapping when you moved it too far. It was deliciously wrong, like sneaking a piece of forbidden fruit.

"You’re so sweet," you murmured, almost to yourself, but loud enough for Patrick to hear. He glanced up, his expression lustful and high.

“Wanna taste it?” you asked, slightly lolling your head to the side. The way you said it was innocent, almost playful, but there was a glint in your eyes, a subtle edge to the offer. You leaned up to him, grazing your tongue over his lips. He moaned at the contact. You grabbed his jaw, letting the glob mixed of your saliva and himself fall onto the heart of his tongue. He groaned, letting it slide down his throat. “I love you.” he whimpered, sloppily inhaling your lips.

You furrowed your brows, mocking the desperate look in his eyes. You watched him, a slow smile curling on your lips. You hadn’t realized how much you’d loved being in control. It reminded you that, for once, you weren’t following the rules, and that felt more delicious than anything you’d tasted in a long, long time.

You pumped your hand up and down his shaft, practically begging him to release all over your pretty face. “You wanna come for me?” you asked with a sweet, honey tone. “I’m so close,” he panted, fingers tangling between your strands of hair. “Fu– please,” he cried, mouth gaping open while hips desperately bucked toward you.

Taking him in your mouth again, you slapped his stiff cock against your tongue, the familiar sensation flooding your mouth as saliva pooled in your cheeks. His fluids mixed with spit, oozing down your lips and pooling on your chin. It felt disgusting, the wetness creeping along your skin, but deep down, every drop was a small victory for making him feel good.

With each stroke, you watched the fizzy mixture drip, the mess clinging to your hand and wrist as you pumped vigorously. You squeezed him in your palms, watching him sputter. Come painting across your face. You bit your lip, trying to steady your hand, hoping you milked him empty. His slit deflating a little more with every squeeze. You could see the droplets peeking through, mocking you.

He threw his head back, catching his breath. “Feel good?” you teased, sucking your fingers. You slid your body up his, his bare cock still hard, brushing against the skin of your thigh. His body jolting at the touch.

"Thank you for your help today, baby," you murmured, letting your lips brush gently against the tip of his nose, a soft, affectionate kiss.

“Anytime,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes. “And don’t hesitate to bring me any other problems you’ve got,” he added, only half-joking, clearly savoring the reward you’d just given him. “I’m always glad to help.”

You laughed, the sound light and warm, as you slipped off the bed. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you teased, padding across the room toward the bathroom to shower. You glanced back at him once more, a smile still tugging at the corners of your mouth, “You coming?” you ask, disappearing into the bathroom.

He slid off the bed in a hurried, awkward motion, the springs letting out a sharp, staccato creak that echoed through the room. His feet barely touched the floor before he was shuffling off, making his way into the bathroom behind you.

#challengers #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #challengers fanfic #patrick zweig smut #tashi duncan #tashi duncan x reader

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mrsshabana · 7 months ago

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𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

ꔫ‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, 18+ MDNI, vaginal sex, creampie, breeding kink, pregnancy, age difference, angst, fluff, modern au ꔫ‧₊ Note 5k words. This is the last chapter for this fic, but I still have lots of things that I want to write for this au so be on the lookout for oneshots in the future. Thank you for all of your support for this series ♡ ✧:･ﾟ→ Part one ✧:･ﾟ→ Part two

“Fuck fuck fuck! What do I do? Her mom is gonna kill me if she figures out I’m dating her daughter! And then Y/N is gonna kill me for telling her mom!” Gyutaro thinks to himself as he begins to panic.

“Ahem,” your mother clears her throat and repeats her question, “Who the hell are you, sir?”

“Er um… Gyutaro?” he says as if he’s not sure what his own name is.

“Gyutaro?!” her eyes widen.

“Shit… does she already know who I am? I thought Y/N didn’t tell her…” he thinks again.

“Y/N! Come here!” she yells inside the house, then she turns back to Gyutaro and opens the door, “Come in, Gyutaro.”

“Um… th-thanks,” he stutters as he nervously steps inside, not sure whether your mother is angry with him or not.

“Yeah, mom? What’s wro-” you stop mid-sentence as you come into the dining room and see your boyfriend standing there.

“Y/N,” your mom says sternly, “This man just told me that his name is Gyutaro.”

You blush, “Um yeah… this is Gyutaro.”

“You failed to tell me that your boyfriend was a grown ass man,” she scowls and walks into the kitchen.

“Mom, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you! I was scared of how you’d react,” you plea as you follow her into the kitchen.

Gyutaro just stands awkwardly in your dining room, wishing that he could shrink and hide somewhere. His palms begin to sweat as he thinks about the consequences of his actions. Is your mother going to make you break up with him?

The thought makes his heart ache. Is he going to lose his sister and his girlfriend on the same day?

Your mom comes back into the dining room holding a teapot and some cups, “Gyutaro, come sit and make yourself comfortable,” she says as she pours a cup of tea for him.

“Y-Yes ma’am,” he mutters and sits at the table.

You aren’t sure what to do or say to make things better, but you sit beside Gyutaro and give him a reassuring look in an attempt to comfort him. In response, he looks at you with a guilty look in his eyes as if he’s apologizing.

“Gyutaro,” your mom says calmly as she sits across from him at the table, “I have three questions for you.”

“Y-yes?” he gulps.

“Do you have a job?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Do you have a criminal record?”

“No ma’am.”

“Do you pay your taxes?”

“Of course!” he answers enthusiastically.

“Alright. Now Y/N, I have three questions for you,” she diverts her attention to you now, “Does Gyutaro make you happy?”

“Y-Yes! He makes me very happy…” you blush.

“Does he behave like a gentleman?”

“Yes, always,” your cheeks redden.

“Do you love him?”

“I-I do,” you mutter, feeling shy about admitting this in front of your mom.

“Alright, then I approve of him. Even though he’s a bit older than you, he seems like a decent man,” she states as she looks over at Gyutaro’s flustered face, “Welcome to the family, Gyutaro.”

“Th-Thank you Miss L/N!” he lets out a sigh of relief, finally feeling in the clear that your mom approves of your relationship.

“See mom! I told you he was a good boyfriend!” You jump up and give him a big hug, genuinely feeling so happy that your mom accepts your relationship. It was something you were really worried about, especially since your mom has always been very protective of you. Honestly, you're quite surprised she’s so cool about the age difference between you and your boyfriend.

“I honestly thought you’d be mad,” you laugh nervously, hoping you aren’t jinxing it.

She sighs and sips her tea, “You know dear, your father was the same age as me. And he left me when I was pregnant with you. He was young and immature. Age means nothing,” she shakes her head, “I rather you date an older man that pays his taxes and takes care of you than a man your age that only cares about himself.”

Gyutaro smiles, finally feeling like someone accepts him and doesn’t judge him. He sees where you get it from now.

“And that’s why your father is in prison for tax evasion…” she mumbles under her breath, only Gyutaro hears what she says.

“Aw mom… I promise you Gyutaro is nothing like dad,” you say, looking a bit somber as you take a sip of your tea.

“I can already tell,” she smiles, “Well, you two can go have your fun. Just be home by ten.”

“Are we going on a date, Gyu?”

“Oh uh no… actually I came over for something else,” he swallows dryly, “Um… I told Ume about us.”

Immediately from the look on his face you can tell things didn’t go well. “Oh… Did she take it really hard?”

“Yeah,” he nods, choking up a bit, “She called me disgusting… then she slapped me and left,” he touches his cheek, still red from her hand.

“She what?!” you gasp, totally shocked that Ume would get physical with her brother. You aren’t sure what words to say, it seems like nothing would be able to fix this. The one person who has been with him his entire life, the person he dedicates all of his hard work to doesn’t accept his relationship. It’s a really hard pill to swallow, and he’s still struggling to even think about it.

The surprise meeting with your mother distracted him momentarily, but all of those raw feelings from his argument with Ume are flowing back now and he feels his eyes begin to well up with tears.

“Ume is his sister, right?” Your mother whispers to you.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“I see,” she puts her hand on Gyutaro’s shoulder, feeling lots of sympathy for him, “Gyutaro listen, your sister didn’t mean it and I think you know that. The two people that she’s closest to started dating and she’s probably feeling left out. Like you two will get closer without her and leave her. She’s just scared and said whatever she could to try to hurt your relationship. Just give her time, I promise she’ll come around.”

Your mom smiles softly, offering Gyutaro that motherly care he grew up without.

“Th-thanks,” he sniffles, trying to hold back his tears, “I know you’re right. It just hurt when she said those things, but I know she still loves me… and I still love her too. I just hope she comes home soon…”

“Maybe try calling her tomorrow if she doesn’t come home by then,” you suggest as you rub his back.

Gyutaro nods, feeling better after having talked to the both of you.

Of course, it hurt like a ton of bricks crushing his balls, but he knows the pain is only temporary. Soon enough his sister will come back and he’s going to make sure she doesn’t feel left out.

The thing is, even after a couple of days Ume doesn’t return home. Nor does she answer Gyutaro’s phone calls.

Every day you receive worried texts and calls from Gyutaro asking if you’ve seen his sister. You haven’t heard anything from her, and to be honest you think it’s kinda messed up that she’s ignoring her brother like this. Sure they had a pretty big argument but she knows he cares about her, and she knows he’s losing his shit worrying about her right now.

Seeing your boyfriend so torn up over it is making you really upset, and you’ve had enough of it.

Ume has been ditching class for a couple of days, but she finally shows up. Coming into the room completely ignoring you, taking her seat at the opposite side of the lecture hall. Even though you hate confrontation you know you can’t just let her walk away after class ends, so you stop her as she’s leaving the lecture hall.

“Ume! Hey wait up!” you shout as you follow her out of the room.

“I have nothing to say to you,” she turns her nose up.

“Please talk to me,” you finally catch up to her, “I just want to talk, Gyutaro told me what happened.”

“Of course he did,” she scoffs, “Because you two are so buddy-buddy now. How about you just move in with him and take my spot in the house? I bet you’d like that, huh?”

“What? No! I’m not trying to take him away from you!”

“What else am I supposed to think?! You were my best friend and then I find out you’ve been hooking up with my brother behind my back! You’re a shady bitch!”

“It’s not like that! I was never “hooking up” with him!” You plea, “We just started dating like any other couple, I don’t see why you have to say it like that.”

“So what is it then? If you weren’t just hooking up with him what were you doing then? Do you want his money or something? Want him to be your sugar daddy?” she makes a disgusted face.

“No! You don’t get it! Just because Gyutaro’s older than me doesn’t mean I’m using him for this or that. I just like him because he’s a good guy,” you say, trying to get your point across without yelling at her, “Why can’t you just accept that I like him for who he is?”

Ume’s frown begins to soften and her eyes dart from side to side as if she’s thinking about something. She’s beginning to realize how selfish it was of her to think that someone couldn’t love her brother for who he is. Gyutaro came to the realization that he was unlovable long ago, and his beliefs rubbed off on his sister. But now she’s starting to see how wrong that is, she should have been his biggest cheerleader regardless of how glum things seemed.

Sure Gyutaro isn’t the most attractive guy, nor is he the most charming, but she knows her brother more than anyone. And she can think of a thousands reasons why someone would fall in love with him.

“I’m sorry Y/N,” she says, “You’re right. My brother is super slay, and I shouldn’t have been surprised you liked him. You’re the only girl to get close to him, so I guess it makes sense.”

You smile, finally feeling like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

“It’s alright, I know it came as a surprise to you,” you lean forward and hug her, “But I’m honestly just happy to have my friend back.”

“Me too,” she says with a smile.

After you reconcile with Ume, Gyutaro comes to pick you up from campus as the two of you had planned a date for tonight at his place. But when he pulls up to the curb and sees you with Ume he immediately parks his car and gets out.

“Ume!” he shouts as he runs towards you, “Where the hell have you been?!”

“Calm down brother,” she acts nonchalant about being missing for three days, “I was staying with a friend.”

“You had me worried sick,” his voice cracks as he tears up. Feeling a mixture of anger and relief.

“I’m sorry,” she gives him a tight hug, “I-I’ve been a brat lately. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did when you told me about Y/N… and I should never have hit you either. I’m really sorry, brother…”

“It’s alright, sis,” immediately Gyutaro’s attitude changes and he has a smile on his face, “You are a brat, but I love you anyways,”

For the first time in your relationship, Gyutaro actually feels normal. Knowing that he has the approval of his sister, he no longer feels so much shame about being older than you. He can confidently walk out in public with you now and hold your hand without giving a fuck. Someone stares at you weirdly? Well, fuck them! Gyutaro is with his girl and he couldn’t care less about anyone else’s opinion about it. He’s happy and you’re happy. That’s all that matters to him.

The three of you go back to Gyutaro’s house and watch a movie together. The plan was for you and Gyutaro to have a stay-at-home date together, but you decided it’d be best to include Ume too so she doesn’t feel left out. It went well despite the fact that Ume decided to sit in between you and Gyutaro.

After the movie ends Gyutaro asks you a question as he cleans up some popcorn that fell between the couch cushions, “So uh… did you want to stay the night?”

“Not with me!” Ume butts in, “She has your cooties now!”

“Ume! Shut it!” Gyutaro blushes, “Cooties don’t exist, don’t be so childish.”

“I was just kidding, brother,” she rolls her eyes, “Y/N just stay in my brother's room. Just promise you guys won’t be too loud.”

“H-Hey!! It ain’t like that!!” he shouts with a completely red face as Ume is already walking back towards her bedroom. He knows she’s just teasing him but he still feels very shy when it comes to this kind of thing. Especially since the two of you have only spent one night in the same bed, and both of you vividly remember what took place then.

“It’s ok Gyu,” you chuckle, your cheeks already pink from Ume’s earlier statement, “Let’s just get ready for bed, ok?”

“Ok…” he grumbles as he finishes cleaning up his sister’s mess.

Following Gyutaro to his room, you can’t help but think about what might happen tonight. Will you have sex with him again? How will it go? Maybe you’ll try a different position or maybe even oral this time. Your heartbeat quickens as you think about all of the possibilities.

Little do you know, he’s thinking about the exact same thing. He wants to be intimate with you again so badly. And for the first time instead of feeling awkward and insecure, he feels confident about initiating sex with you.

“I’m going to run a bath for us,” he says after he closes the bedroom door behind you and walks into the bathroom that’s connected to his room.

“O-Ok,” you stutter as your face heats up. Did he say he’s going to run a bath for us? Meaning he wants to take a bath with you?

As you hear the water running in the bathroom you decide to take off your clothes, only leaving your undergarments. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you take a deep breath and try to calm your thoughts. If you do end up having sex with him tonight, you want to be relaxed so you can enjoy the moment.

But even though Gyutaro seemed cool and collected he’s freaking out on the inside. And that shows when he comes back into the room to see you in nothing but panties and a bra. Immediately the cool guy act crumbles and he’s staring at you like this is the first time he’s seen a naked woman.

“U-um Y/N?” he stutters.

“Is the bath ready?” you sit up to meet his flustered gaze.

“Yeah,” he nods, tenderly taking your hand and leading you to his pristine bathroom. The first thing you notice is how clean and neat it is compared to Ume’s.

Gyutaro avoids eye contact with you as he begins removing his clothes. First to go is his shirt, revealing his muscled torso and the large tattoo on his arm. He hesitates when taking off his pants, already feeling himself getting hard.

“Fuck…” he mutters to himself. Not wanting to make this awkward by just flaunting his hard-on. So he faces away from you and quickly steps into the tub, covering himself with his hand just to be safe.

To be honest, he got in so quickly that you didn’t even really notice. You do feel a bit shy removing your own clothes though, this will be the first time he’s seen you nude in a fully lit room.

And your boyfriend can tell just how nervous you are so he doesn’t stare. Only reaching out a hand to help you get into the tub when you’re ready.

The water is warm and soothing, the surface covered by cherry scented bubbles - which he strategically put in there so you wouldn’t be able to see how achingly hard he is.

Leaning back with a content sigh, Gyutaro opens his arms to you, “C’mere.”

With a blush you come to your boyfriend and lay your head on his chest, snuggling up to him under the warm water. Surely by now you can feel it, so maybe the bubbles were a waste of time. But that’s ok because Gyutaro isn’t even worried about that anymore, he’s too focused on how lucky he is to be having this moment with you right now.

“This is nice, Gyu,” you hum as you trail your hand up and down his chest, “I like being alone with you like this.”

“Me too,” he whispers while trying not to moan from your touch. “You-you look really beautiful by the way…” His gaze drifts down to see your curves peeking out from beneath the water.

He can’t deny it anymore, how badly he wants to have sex with you right now. Ever since you did it the first time it’s constantly been on his mind. But not for the reason you may think. He loved it so much because he felt so loved. It was the first time in his life that he felt so intimately close to someone. That kind of love and closeness is something he’s craved for his entire thirty-five years of life.

And after today, all of the confidence he gained from finally having his sister’s acceptance, he’s feeling less ashamed of himself. His girl loves him, so why shouldn’t he show her how much he wants her? There’s nothing to be afraid of.

Mustering all of the confidence he has, Gyutaro gently caresses your cheek - moving a strand of hair away from your face and looking into your eyes. Immediately you feel your knees go weak and your thighs rub together with need.

He pulls you closer and presses his lips against yours, initiating a heated kiss.

You can’t help but completely melt into him, allowing him to guide you fully on top of him. Now you’re definitely able to feel his erection as it presses between your legs. But it’s no surprise, you could tell he wanted you by the way he looked at you before he kissed you.

Beneath the water he maneuvers his hands, one cupping your breast and the other squeezing your thigh. Enjoying the slippery softness of your soapy skin under his touch. Moving his kiss down to your neck, he nibbles and sucks on your delicate skin.

“Ah, Gyu,” you whimper and hold onto his shoulders.

He can’t help but smirk, pride building up within him that he’s able to make you melt like this. “M’gonna make love to you,” he whispers into your ear as he moves forward, pushing you to lay on your back as he moves your legs to hang over his shoulders.

Looking up at him, you feel like your body has become jelly. He looks so sexy as he hovers above you, from the way his long damp hair sticks to his forehead and neck to the way the water droplets cling to his abs and biceps. Not to mention the patch of hair that trails up to his belly button. It all makes you feel butterflies and you can’t help but spread your legs for him.

Tightly gripping your thighs, he leans forward and whispers, “Don’t worry baby, I’ll go slow,” and gently moves his hips forward - gradually sliding into you, splitting you apart on his length.

You gasp and squirm beneath him, your body sweats as you are not only surrounded by the warm water but also by his hot body on top of you.

Once fully inside, he slowly thrusts into you just as he had promised. Making sure to pay close attention to your reaction to make sure you're comfortable.

And you’re more than comfortable. If anything you’re too comfortable. The fact that he isn’t vigorously ramming into you as if he intends to put a baby in you is unbearable. So you grab his hips and forcefully plunge him into you, “Fuck me harder Gyu!” You pant, desperately trying to guide him to a faster pace.

His eyes widen and his cheeks turn pink, but he doesn’t need to be told twice. With your permission, he grabs your hips and violently thrusts into you - so hard that the water in the tub spills over the edge. But neither of you care, too lost in pleasure to even notice.

“Ahh, I wish you could put a baby in me, Gyu!” you moan, not fully realizing what you’re saying. But your statement sparks something within him and triggers a kink he didn’t even know he had.

“Fuck… I wanna put a baby in you so bad,” he grunts, “gonna stuff you full.”

The thought of getting you pregnant makes Gyutaro absolutely feral. A family is something he’s always wanted, so just the mere idea of you carrying his baby drives him to fuck you even harder. Determined to get as deep as possible, ensuring that his seed fills you nice and full.

With that thought in mind, he picks you up and holds you close to his body while he stands on his knees. Holding onto your hips as he pounds into you, the sound of wet skin slapping fills the room along with water splattering onto the tile floor.

Meanwhile, you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on tightly while he fucks you silly. Saliva dripping down your chin and your tongue lolls out of your mouth, moaning and gasping as your boyfriend continuously forces the air out of your lungs. Your entire body begins to tingle, you know you’re getting close. And he knows it too by the way your walls are tightening around him.

That’s the only warning he gets before you’re cumming all over him. Your body shaking as his strong arms hold you up.

However, his orgasm hits him out of nowhere, as soon as he feels your orgasm hit you it pushes him over the edge as well. He didn’t want to cum just yet but you feel so good that he can’t help it. His cock twitches as it fills you to the brim with his sticky seed. The warmth spreading inside of you comforts you as your sensitive body lies in his arms.

Gyutaro pants as he holds you there for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Then he gently lowers himself back into the tub, holding you and softly kissing you as you remain in his arms.

Now that his orgasm has ended, he knows it was all just talk. That he can’t actually get you pregnant since you’re on birth control. But he can tell that a part of what you said was true and not only because it was in the heat of the moment. And it was true for him too. He really would like to get you pregnant and start a family one day.

“Don’t worry my love,” he whispers, “One day we will start a family together, I promise.”

You can’t help but smile and snuggle closer to him - hoping that one day you really will get to start a family with him.

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

And it won’t be long until Gyutaro makes you an official Shabana.

Because a year later he proposes to you.

After you graduated and moved in with him he knew that he had to make you his wife. So it wasn’t long until he couldn’t wait any longer and just asked. The two of you were on a weekend trip to the beach when he proposed. Nothing too fancy, but it was nice and romantic. He hadn’t planned to propose that weekend either, he had been carrying the ring around in his pocket for weeks. But when he saw how beautiful you looked as you walked beside him on the shore, he knew he had to make you his wife as soon as possible.

You had the wedding four months after the proposal. It was a small ceremony with close family and friends, but it was absolutely perfect.

Ever since then your life has felt like a dream.

Gyutaro got a promotion so now he doesn’t have to work overtime as often and there’s no pressure for you to work a full-time job if you don’t want to. Ume moved into an apartment in the city so now it’s just you and Gyutaro living in his house. He’s even taken up doing some renovations in the kitchen and the spare bedroom too.

It’s strange how your life changed so quickly after you met Gyutaro. You went from a college student living with your mom to being married and living with your husband in your own house all in the span of a year and a half.

This isn’t the life you had envisioned yourself having after college, but you wouldn’t change a single thing. It’s perfect, and it’s only going to get better from here.

“Honey, I’m home!” Gyutaro shouts as he comes into the house, “Sorry I’m late. I wanted to pick us up something from the bakery-” he stops when he looks around and sees you’re nowhere in sight.

He peeks into the kitchen, “Where the hell is she?” next he checks the garden. “Y/N?” no, not there either.

Usually, when he gets home from work you’re in the kitchen preparing dinner or sometimes outside in the garden. Sometimes you go out with your friends but you usually tell him first. He’s not mad though, he just assumes you went out and forgot to tell him.

“Oh well, I’ll text her and see what she wants for dinner tonight,” he says to himself as he takes off his tie. His mind is lost in thought as he thinks about what he wants to make tonight, he’s thinking one of your favorites.

As he contemplates dinner, he walks into the bedroom to see you sitting on the bed. Immediately he can tell that something is wrong.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” he walks over to you and puts his hand on your shoulder, “What’s that in your hand?” He asks as he notices you’re clutching something in your hands, hiding it from his view.

“Gyu… I-I have to tell you something…” you mutter.

“Babe, you’re scaring me… whatever it is, you can tell me. I promise I won’t be mad,” he says in a caring manner, trying to comfort you.

Your thoughts are spiraling, not sure whether he will be happy or angered by what you say. But you know that it’s something he needs to know.

However, you can’t even muster the words. So you just hand him the object you had clutched in your palms.

The room is filled with silence as he closely observes the object, “You… you’re pregnant?”

“Y-yeah, I’m pregnant,” you nod and look up at him, anxious to see his reaction. And it isn’t at all what you had expected.

There are tears pouring from his eyes as he clutches the positive pregnancy test. All of his walls start crumbling down and he lets it all out, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Gyutaro?” you gasp, starting to panic.

Before you can reach out to him he lunges forward and embraces you, tightly wrapping his arms around you. “We-we’re gonna have a baby!” he sobs, “I can’t believe it.”

“Aw honey, so… you’re happy?”

“Of course I’m happy! Th-this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me!” he says between sobs.

It seems you were worried for nothing. You knew Gyutaro always wanted children but you didn’t know if he wanted them now especially since you haven’t been married for very long. Gyutaro has always been nothing but loving and supportive towards you, so of course he was overjoyed at the news.

Your husband drops to his knees and presses his forehead against your stomach, “This is everything I’ve ever wanted…”

“Aw Gyu…” you smile and kiss the top of his head, “You’re going to be a great father.”

Hearing those words makes his tears flow even more. “I-I had no idea you were pregnant...”

“It was bound to happen,” you chuckle causing him to chuckle too.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right haha,” he stands and gives you another tight hug.

The news was shocking to him, but he couldn’t be that surprised. Ever since you got married you’ve been having unprotected sex so it’s no surprise that it happened so soon. However, even though he’s married to a beautiful woman there was still a part of him that told him he was too old to have a family. Too old to have a child of his own. And too old to make a woman like you happy.

But now he’s finally starting to realize that none of it was true.

And he does deserve this. Marriage, children, and most importantly you.

“I love you, Y/N… thank you for making all of my dreams come true.”

Taglist: @gyusimp @kyu-kitsune @idontevenknowlsjsbsbdj @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @chibi-absol @sterzin @cherrysxuya @angelicsaiko @misskaorii @matsukaah @dawn-rays-dingo @hoshigafuru @gloomysel @tergyri @404starlight @irondreamerface @zoroisminty @edenminx @multisstuff @that1lxnlybxch @emberlovesthemoon @blurpleuni-squid @boggiesho @nekee-lilac02

#gyutaro #gyutaro shabana #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro x y/n #gyuutarou #gyuutarou x reader #gyutaro smut #ume shabana #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #age difference #kny smut #demon slayer smut #dilftaro

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i-like-writing-stuff · 7 months ago

Text

the other five; part 2 [ five hargreeves x reader ]

okayyyy so it’s not my best work and i hope it is not too rushed or cheesy i have my best and i hope i didn’t crush y’all’s expectations 😭😭 writing this i literally gave no shit on the paradox psychosis, it’s also an AU where they did save the world, and not to mention again that everyone, including reader and five are around 32, basically the same age as the rest of the family

hope y’all still like it tho 🥹🥹🥹

part one

“I can’t believe how bad you suck at Scrabble in every single timeline, my love,” Five laughed, shaking his head in disbelief as you threw a wooden piece at him over the table, offended to say the least;

“I can’t believe what a piece of shit you are in every timeline!”

“Oh, she’s also a sore loser in every timeline!”

As you threw yet another wooden piece at the man before you, you couldn’t help but get infected with his contagious laugh and burst into giggles as well. Five was smiling from ear to ear, as he was heavily laughing, with a hand over his chest, as his other one was resting peacefully on top of yours on the table.

You were sitting on the rug, on each side of the coffee table in your living room. It was a peaceful Thursday night, and you didn’t really have anything planned. You worked all day, so you figured that a glass of wine and some chocolate to snack on while watching a movie would be a decent end of the day, but a couple knocks on your door changed that.

It had been a while since you met Five, a couple of weeks maybe. Nothing short of a miracle helped you save the world for good this time, but that’s a story for another time. Things were actually looking up for you, as the Hargreeves siblings were all safe in one piece, as well as your own parents. Viktor was visiting you in the States a lot more often, Allison, Klaus and Claire resumed their day to day lives, Luther was trying to reabilitate the old mansion for good this time and actually own it, Ben and Jennifer were happily together, as Diego and Lila were doing their best to save their marriage for the sake of their three children.

As for Five, last you heard he was still in the CIA, but that was about it.

The Five from your timeline, that was.

The Five standing in front of you, he was an entirely different story.

After he comforted you the day you and Five broke up, you tried to prioritize your interests and went back to help the family stop the apocalypse. In spite of how much you wanted to just lay in his arms until you went completely numb, you knew that if that’s where you were meant to be, you’d find your way back eventually.

And you did.

“Fuck me, that was draining,” You rubbed your face, falling onto the dusty leather couch with a loud thud, next to Allison.

“You’d think we would get the hang of it by now,” She sarcastically said, letting her head fall on your shoulder.

“If there’s a fifth apocalypse, let’s just let it happen,” Klaus suggested, as some of you couldn’t help but nod in agreement.

“At least this one wasn’t Viktor’s fault,” Luther pointed out, making Viktor waive his arms;

“Excuse me?”

“I’m swear I’m gonna kill myself,” Ben rolled his eyes bored as ever. On the surface, that was.

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck?” Lila raised her brows at the man.

“Do it later, we literally just saved your sorry ass,” Five pointed out.

“And to think that after all this shit, on Monday I’m back to delivering packages…” Diego deeply sighed, as you all turned to judge him.

The nine of you were standing in the middle of the old mansion, trying to catch your breath after your hardest efforts yet to save the world. It was a mixture of everyone’s powers, a droplet of a miracle and lots of yelling around, but eventually you did it. You could finally breathe again and not worry that tomorrow may not come.

However, it didn’t mean that you weren’t suffering anymore. You tried your everything to keep your composure around the Five from your timeline and Lila, since apparently even Diego was willing to make amends. He loved his brother and his kids far too much, as well as his wife. He was willing to put it all behind, after all, you were given a second chance and he was not going to waste it.

“Am I going crazy or is that another Five?” Klaus pointed towards the main entrance to the living room, as your Five walked in with a slight smile across his lips and his hands in his pockets;

“I wouldn’t have bet my last two cents that you idiots would have actually managed to save the universe.”

“Asshole,” You giggled, getting up to run instantly into his arms.

Five was taken aback by your sudden excitement for a mere second, as he stumbled a step back, but not wasting another second to wrap his arms around your waist. He walked you back from the diner to the train station that would take you back to Five, and eventually back to your timeline a couple hours ago, but if you were to be honest it felt like forever since the last time you saw him. In spite of being literally yet not really the man who crushed your heart that day, you found such an intense comfort in him, it was stupid.

You were still grieving your old relationship, you were still heartbroken over what had happened. Six years with Five on your side were not that easy to get over, but this one truly helped you feel better. He was so thoughtful, so sweet and kind, yet sarcastic and sassy, he was totally your perfect match, which was insane since you thought that your ex-boyfriend of six years would be your soulmate.

“I hate you,” You declared, crossing your arms over your chest, “You have no business making fun of me- you’re like a hundred years old.”

“Don’t- Don’t go there and make it awkward,” Five instantly said, raising his hands in front of you, “You’re making me feel like a pervert.”

“As you should,” You lightly shrugged your shoulders, watching as he rolled his eyes playfully.

The two of you started spending a considerable amount of time together lately, as he managed to make himself comfortable in your timeline. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so happy, not only because he had lost his own Y/N, but he also hadn’t seen his siblings in such a long time. In his timeline, they didn’t manage to save themselves after Reggie reset the timeline at Hotel Oblivion, so getting his family back in a way was surreal to him as well.

Five felt alive again and it was all because of you.

All because he stumbled upon the love of his life that day in the subway system, the same woman who brought him back to his family. Maybe they weren’t actually the ones from his timeline, but they were his family nonetheless.

“Okay, one more round so I can shut your trash mouth again,” Five declared, straightening his jacket, as he leant over the table to rearrange the board.

“I can think of another way you can shut my trash mouth,” You smirked, leaning forward on the table as well, resting your weight on your elbows.

The two of you took things surprisingly slow. You couldn’t deny the instant connection, after all- you were a couple in every single timeline. But you couldn’t help the need to avoid the rush. Sure, you held hands sometimes and bump your knees under the table, or he would place wild strands of hair behind your ears and you would sometimes fix his tie for him. You also tended to share tight hugs that lasted maybe a second too long, or linger some touched here and there, but you neither of you ever had the courage to bring it up in a discussion.

You had never even kissed.

“My, my, is my little Y/N getting impatient?” Five mimicked your smirk, lightly grabbing your chin between his index and thumb.

One thing you knew for sure was that you didn’t have feelings anymore for your ex-boyfriend. There was no doubt about that. You just didn’t feel it would be wise to jump into another relationship so soon with his doppelgänger, but after these past few weeks you were so done waiting.

If there’s one thing you learned from saving the world one too many times it definitely was that you should not be wasting precious seconds.

“Aren’t you?” You asked, looking into his eyes, trying to figure out where he stood on all this.

“I’d wait for you decades, darling,” Five confessed, running his thumb across your bottom lip in a gentle manner.

He loved the feel of you, every square inch of your body- he couldn’t get enough of it. He would touch anywhere possible, he wanted to pepper kisses along every part of you, but he did mean every word he said. He did want to wait for you for as long as you needed until you were ready to be with him, truly.

“Promise?” You couldn’t help but wonder, as Five let go of your chin to put some fallen strands of hair behind your ears, “Would you actually wait for me?”

“It’s not even up for debate,” He nodded, getting up from the floor, straightening his three piece suit.

He offered you his hands, as he lifted you to your feet as well. You didn’t know exactly if your legs were numb because of how long you’d been sitting crisscrossed on the floor, or simply because the man before you made your knees weak with one smile, but you knew for certain that you never wanted this night to end.

Five cupped your cheeks in his hands, as you naturally rested your hands on his chest. You were so smitten by him, but in all fairness- how could you not be? He was doing everything right, giving you all the love he had and a bit more extra, while still being his true sassy self that you loved so much.

“Kiss me, please,” You whispered, looking into his beautiful eyes, feeling as you were slowly losing yourself into the moment.

Five smiled as he leaned in slowly to give your lips a light peck, as careful and attentive as possible. His long fingers found their way into your hair, as your own arms wrapped around his neck to pull him in closer. He took that as his cue to go in for a more passionate kiss, capturing your lips with his in just a matter of seconds, losing his whole being in that moment to wrap himself around your pinky finger.

Anything you wanted, he would go through the ends of the world to get it for you- and that was an understatement.

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy x reader #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader #five hargreeves imagines #number five #five hargreeves imagine #the umbrella academy imagines #tua x reader

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hazbinhotei · 14 days ago

Text

a little too prideful.

read part two (a semi-standalone comfort fic) here

warnings: blood, mimzy, violence & gore (alastor), injury & gun violence (you), cannabalism (alastor again), light angst w/ a happy ending

word count: 3735

summary: When Mimzy lures a group of vengeful loan sharks to the hotel, you’re left to deal with the fallout—both physically and emotionally—while Alastor is forced to realize that his pride blinded him to the one thing that truly mattered: you. (story takes place during ep. 5)

alastor x f!reader—technically gn!reader minus the ~two instances i use 'her' pronouns for clarity. whoo this one's a doozy. i'm not necessarily sure if i'm proud of how this turned out, especially since a good chunk is just taken from episode 5. i also struggle a lot with multi-character scenes like this, so please let me know if i could improve on anything. nonetheless, though, i hope you all enjoy!

Life at the Hazbin Hotel with Alastor was many things—chaotic, unconventional, but above all, it was yours. The two of you had carved out a comfortable existence amidst the madness, his constant grin and ever dramatic behavior a fixture in your day-to-day life. It was hard not to adore the way he’d hum while cooking, or the way he’d twirl you in the hallway just for the fun of it. You had accepted him despite all his flaws, including his particular flaw of being obsessive over his power. But, hey, they don’t just call it the Pride Ring for no reason.

Tonight was no different. You sat with the rest of the hotel group, half-listening as Lucifer and Alastor bickered back and forth in song, their battle of wits crescendoing in dramatic flair. It was an odd sort of game, something between posturing and genuine irritation, and though you were used to Alastor’s theatrics, the sudden appearance of Lucifer had only seemed to make him more insufferable.

And that's when she arrived.

Mimzy. A name whispered from the past, a figure Alastor knew from his time alive. She waltzed through the doors of the hotel like she owned the place, all charm and nostalgia, completely interrupting Alastor and Lucifer—the goddamned Radio Demon and the very King of Hell. Everyone else seemed bewildered by her unexpected entrance, save for you and Husk. Because unlike the others, you both recognized her. Mimzy wasn’t just another demon Alastor knew: she was perhaps the only one still lingering from his life before Hell. And that was a life he never spoke about to you.

You weren’t jealous. Of course not. That would be ridiculous. Petty, even!

Which is why you smiled and offered her a drink when she settled in like she belonged there. Even when Alastor seemed more preoccupied with his initial task of challenging Lucifer, you continued to make polite conversation, keeping Mimzy company like a good host as Alastor waltzed off with Charlie and Vaggie to show Lucifer around the hotel. You even decided not to question why exactly she was there, because you definitely weren’t someone who was even remotely bothered by the way she looked at your lover—your Alastor—like she still knew him better than anyone else in the room. You must simply be paranoid!

Thankfully, Angel Dust and Husk kept you entertained by the bar with their usual banter, sparing you from being the sole communicator with Mimzy. You were actually starting to have a decent conversation with her, listening to her talk about how she used to perform at the jazz club Alastor commonly frequented, finally excited to get a glimpse into Alastor’s life before his fall to damnation. But Mimzy had a way of causing commotion, and she knew it. She, like Al, seemed to share the same sin of pride, which resulted in her slipping a sharp, snide little comment hidden beneath her layers of old-timey charm.

"Oh, sweetheart, I do admire ya dedication. Must be so tiring, trying to keep a man like Alastor entertained. I mean, he does get bored so easily, doesn’t he? I’m even surprised he kept me along for this long!"

The words struck deeper than you wanted to admit. Her comment made Angel Dust’s amused grin falter, his mismatched eyes widening in offense for you. Even Husk paused, ears flicking at the sheer audacity.

But you? You simply smiled.

Because you weren’t petty. You were raised better than to stoop down to her level, knowing just how much she wanted to see the worst in you come out. So all you did was smile, your hand tightening on your glass imperceptibly.

“I like to think I do alright,” you replied, voice saccharine. And before she could get in another jab, you excused yourself, turning on your heel before anyone could see the way your jaw clenched just a little too tight.

You needed to find Alastor.

It took some searching, but you found him shadowing Charlie, Vaggie, and Lucifer as they walked the halls, his posture perfectly poised, his expression fixed in a grin that was just a little too flawless. Lucifer’s presence was, as expected, a threat to the power balance in the hotel, and Alastor was treating it as such.

Your feet picked up the pace, jogging up to him as you called his name. He didn’t turn.

You tried again, and this time, his head snapped toward you, his entire neck cracking with the speed of it. His smile was still there, but his eyes… they were strained.

“Dearest,” he greeted, the word drawn out with thin patience as he twisted his body to match his inhumanely turned neck. “I’m a little busy at the moment.”

You purse your lips sourly, crossing your arms as you replied. “Mimzy said something to me. Something rude. I—”

“Oh, she does that all the time,” Alastor interrupted, waving a dismissive hand. “Don’t take it so personally, cher.”

Your brows furrowed, impatience rising. “Al, she—”

“Really, must we do this now?” His voice, usually so smooth and lilting, held the barest edge of frustration. His focus was drifting back to Lucifer, and that—that stung more than it should have.

“Alastor,” you pressed, but he cut you off again, his expression flickering with exasperation.

“I’m trying to ensure Lucifer Morningstar doesn’t throw this place into absolute chaos,” he said, his usual theatrics dampened by irritation. “Forgive me if I don’t have time to entertain every little grievance.”

That was the breaking point.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides. You weren’t asking him to start a war over this, you just wanted him to listen. But apparently, his pride, his status, his stupid fixation on proving himself compared to Lucifer—that mattered more.

“Fine,” you bit out, voice tight. “Go ahead. Play your little game. I’ll be downstairs.”

And with that, you resisted the urge to bark anything else at him and left, ignoring the way his shadow frowned as you stormed away.

By the time you reached the lobby again, your anger was simmering beneath the surface, hot and unresolved. Angel Dust raised a brow as you rejoined them, Husk grunted in acknowledgment, and Mimzy?

She just smirked.

And that—oh, that just made your blood boil all the more. You bit your cheek harshly, letting the pain distract you from the way you wanted to absolutely tear your claws into her snobby little head.

Just as you were about to say something, the hotel trembled violently, sending dust raining from the ceiling. Your eyes shot open from the interruption, the four of you jolting from the bar in surprise. Angel Dust barely had time to curse before another explosion rocked the walls, and even Sir Pentious and Niffty had rushed out into the lobby to see what was happening. Husk’s ears flicked in irritation, eyes narrowing as he downed the rest of his whiskey in a single gulp.

“What the hell is goin’ on?” Husk grumbled, pushing himself off the counter.

Niffty skittered toward the window, peeking outside. Her single eye widened, smile terrifyingly wide: "Oh, wow! Lots of company! And they don’t look very friendly!"

You pushed yourself up from the bar stool, already seething from your argument with Alastor, only for your frustration to triple when you caught sight of what was happening outside through the windows. Your hotel was under attack.

Explosions continued to pelt the exterior, fire and debris scattering across the pavement. Figures lurked in the smoke, their silhouettes illuminated by the flickering flames. Loan sharks. Armed. Dangerous. And heading straight for the entrance.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you hissed, storming toward the door, ignoring Angel Dust’s warning call.

The moment you stepped outside, the gunfire ceased momentarily as the gangsters caught sight of you. Their expressions twisted into rage, and before you could say a word, one of them barked, “That must be her—Mimzy! Get her!”

You barely had time to register what they meant before pain exploded through your side. A gunshot rang in your ears, the impact knocking you backward as agony tore through you. You hit the pavement, breath wheezing from your lungs as Angel Dust and Husk shouted your name.

“Oh, hell no!” Angel snarled, grabbing you before they could get another shot off. Husk swore under his breath, hauling you back into the hotel as more bullets followed, splintering the doorframe. “What the ever-loving fuck did you do, Mimzy?!”

Inside, you gasped, hand pressing against the wound in your side as black blood seeped through your fingers. The injury wasn’t too damaging and you hardly worried since it wasn’t an angelic bullet, but your vision still swam from the sudden sting. Angel crouched beside you, protective, his face set in grim determination (and annoyance of this entire situation) as Niffty rushed off to grab medical supplies. You were too busy focusing on the teeth-clenching pain to hear Husk arguing with Mimzy over why these loan sharks had said her name, hearing her say she apparently owes them fifty grand. Before you could even respond to her words, Sir Pentious’ shouted at everyone as he dodged a fireball. “Take cover!”

You watched as the hotel descended into chaos. Angel lunged forward, yanking Niffty out of the way before another fireball could flatten her. Husk abandoned Mimzy without a second thought, his wings fluttering as he rushed to your side. He grabbed you gently, hauling you against the bar wall, out of the direct line of fire.

Angel was back in an instant, Niffty dangling from one of his arms. The moment he drops her onto the floor, she tears through the hotel's makeshift first aid kit, muttering curses about bloodstains on her carpets.

(A passing reminder to thank Charlie for creating a first aid kit for the hotel entered your mind, the temporary thought stored in the back of your adrenaline-filled brain as you realized how genius the idea was even if you all had originally found the concept laughable.

Who knew you would need one when fighting and pain was practically a daily guarantee in Hell?)

Charlie, Lucifer, Vaggie, and Alastor descend from the staircase a minute later, their eyes scanning the chaos. But it was Alastor who froze, his entire frame going rigid as his eyes landed on you. You two locked eyes for a moment, his foot hovering mid step as he took in your pained expression.

The ever-present smile on his face faltered, just for a second.

Then his world snapped.

Alastor’s gaze darkened, his static flickering erratically as he shadowed towards you in the blink of an eye. His movements were slow, almost mechanical, as he crouched before you, reaching out to gently touch the black blood on your fingers. When he pulled back, his hand trembled, shadows pooling below his kneeling body exponentially.

You had never seen him look like this before.

Vaggie took a step forward from behind the broken front doors, holding her spear in her hands with a pissed off expression. “All of you, get a safe distance. I’ll take care of this.”

Alastor didn’t even glance at her. His voice came out in a low, sickeningly sweet purr. "No, my dear, leave it to me. It’s time I remind everyone why I am here."

Mimzy, pops up from behind the bar counter, perked up. “Oh, finally! Took ya long enough!”

Alastor didn’t react. His shadow twisted violently beneath him, tendrils stretching, shifting, writhing as an eerie green glow seeped through the cracks of the floorboards.

Outside, the gangsters were reloading their catapult and guns, laughing amongst themselves—until the air grew thick with static. A heavy, suffocating weight pressed down on the street, the distant flickering of the hotel’s neon sign the only warning before a massive tendril shot out, smashing the catapult to pieces.

The loan sharks barely had time to scream before more tendrils erupted from the ground, slicing through them like they were nothing but paper dolls.

Alastor’s laughter rang through the chaos, distorted and wrong. His body grew taller, limbs elongating unnaturally as his smile stretched too wide, his antlers curling into jagged points. His form twisted, pulsing with raw, unfiltered eldritch power as his shadow spread across the pavement. You heard Husk curse next to you in horror, your eyes glancing to the terrified bartender as he crouched beside you.

“A reminder to all,” Alastor’s voice boomed, shaking the very ground beneath them, “not to mess with the Radio Demon!”

The remaining demons screamed, scrambling to retreat, their weapons useless against something so vastly beyond them. Alastor stepped forward out of the archway of the once undamaged doors, unforgiving and unrelenting as he grew in size with every step. His eyes turn into two red radio dials floating in dark pools of shadow, his radio staff puny compared to his now gigantic form.

“I will devour each and every one of you,” he broadcasted from his unmoving smile, voice rich with unhinged delight.

You winced as you watched your lover start to swallow the mafia members whole, unleashing his stress from today as distant cries of terror fill the hotel. Unfortunately, the broken windows of the lobby did no justice in shielding any of your eyes from the chaos outside, resulting in you having to grossly look away at the gore happening in front of you.

Angel Dust watches beside you, shaking his head as he’s mesmerized by the scene. “I can’t believe you date this guy.”

Your chest huffs in an attempt to laugh, groaning softly as you hear Charlie and Lucifer arguing in the background. The hotel was filled with the sound of family drama and cannibalism, yet somehow that seemed to be even better than the sound of Mimzy’s grating voice cheering Alastor on.

After a mere few seconds, the battlefield was silent save for the faint crackling of embers and the distant, gurgling groans of the last unlucky gangsters who had met their demise at The Radio Demon’s hands. Alastor, now shrinking back into his usual form, let out a sigh of satisfaction, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeves.

“Oh, I missed getting to let off steam!” he chirped, his voice dripping with amusement.

The tension in the air hadn’t yet settled when Mimzy emerged from the hotel, peeking out to ensure the coast was clear before prancing toward Alastor with a delighted grin. “Oh, Alastor! What a fantastic show! Bravo! As always. Thanks for helpin’ lil’ old me out of a tough spot, you're always such a pal!”

Before Alastor could respond, a loud crack split the air above you.

Your head snapped up just in time to see a massive chunk of debris from the ruined floor above give way, plummeting toward you and Angel Dust.

“Move!” Angel yelped, grabbing you as the two of you dove aside. The wreckage slammed into the ground where you had been leaning on the wall just seconds before, sending a gust of dust and gravel into the air.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, adrenaline and pain mingling in your veins as you looked up, meeting Alastor’s gaze. His red eyes flickered between you and Mimzy, and for the first time since the carnage began, his smile began to wane as the static in the air crackled with unease.

You weren’t just glaring—you were seething.

It was a rare sight to see you so angry, your emotions normally hidden well behind your mask of calm, poised indifference. Typically, Alastor would be reveling at the fire blazing within your eyes, delighted to see his darling so full of wrath it made anyone in your line of sight shake in terror. Yet in this instance, as Alastor stared a moment longer, he realized he was technically in your line of sight, along with the blonde flapper next to him who caused this whole mess.

Alastor watched as you narrowed your eyes even more at him, taking a mental picture of your fury to cherish forever. Then, with a slow turn of his head, he set his gaze upon Mimzy, his usually cheerful aura twisting into something cold. He realized Mimzy had been speaking to him, something along the lines of apologizing for the mess—really, he could care less what Mimzy was saying given the full extent of things.

“I think you should go, Mimzy.” His flat voice was devoid of amusement.

Mimzy scoffed, twirling a stray curl of hair between her fingers. “Oh pff, Alastor, you're such a kidder, you! Haha, you are so funny—”

“I mean it.” His voice sharpened, cutting through the tension like a knife. “You deliberately brought danger to this place just to have me clean up your mess. I can’t have that here.”

Mimzy’s smug expression faltered, but she quickly recovered, waving a dismissive hand. “But you love takin’ care of me! What? You don’t actually give a shit about this tacky little place, do ya? Come on. I know you.”

She took a step forward, jabbing a sharp-nailed finger into his chest with every word.

“You heartless son—” poke.

“—of a—” poke.

“—bitch!” poke.

Before she could finish, Alastor caught her wrist in midair, his grip like iron. His smile had all but disappeared.

“I do care about this place.” He let her wrist go, stepping past her to glance where you sat on the ground in the hotel, still nursing your injury. His fingers twitched, desperate to shadow next to you, but he simply clenched his twitching hand into a fist. “And more than that, I care about her.”

Mimzy’s face twisted in disbelief. “What?”

Alastor’s eyes sideglanced at Mimzy, his voice laced with something genuine. “I am madly devoted to her. And I refuse to let anyone—anyone—disrespect her. Especially under my roof.” His eyes flickered with finality as he fully turned back to Mimzy. “So unless you plan on giving a damn well and sincere apology to her, you are no longer welcome here.”

Mimzy stood there, mouth agape, before scoffing dramatically and throwing her arms up. “Well, fine! Who needs ya?! Have fun with ya little sweetheart and ya little hotel. See if I care!”

With one last huff, she stomped off, disappearing into the distance.

The moment she was gone, Alastor turned back to the hotel, his sharp gaze softening with concern as his eyes landed on you. Everyone in the lobby had seen this little fiasco unravel, Husk, Sir Pentious, and Angel all sharing snacks as they hummed in appreciation at the drama. You simply sat on the ground a few feet away as he appeared in front of you, his shadow curling around your ankle as it stared up in worry from the floor. Alastor crouched down, his fingers ghosting over your wound, his usual devil-may-care attitude completely absent.

“You should have listened to me,” you muttered, still glaring, though your voice had lost some of its edge.

Alastor winced, his breath hitching at the exhaustion laced in your voice. His fingers twitched against yours, his usual bravado faltering for just a moment. He averted his gaze, as if the sight of your pain was too much even for him, before forcing himself to meet your eyes again.

"Yes… I see that now." His hand finally rested over yours, pressing lightly against the wound as if to assure himself that you were still there. “I was wrong. I should have listened to you from the start. I was too… preoccupied.”

You raised a skeptical brow. “Too prideful.”

He let out a soft, breathy chuckle. “That, too.”

A moment of silence stretched between you before Alastor finally sighed, something deeply regretful in his expression. “I’m… truly, truly sorry, mon cœur. I should have protected you. I will make this up to you.” His voice lowered, his fingers gently lacing with yours. “Just… tell me how. Anything you ask for is yours, even though it was already yours before this whole incident occured today.”

You sighed, the tension in your body slowly easing, though not entirely. A part of you still wanted to stay angry, to let him sweat a little longer, but exhaustion tugged at your limbs. The ache in your side throbbed as if reminding you that you had bigger things to worry about. Still, you weren’t ready to let him off the hook so easily, exhaling deeply once more as you spoke. “You owe me, Al.”

His grin returned, softer this time—devoid of its usual mischief, holding only sincerity. “Then I shall spend every waking moment treating you the way you deserve. Like royalty, my love.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the tiny smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Damn right you will.”

Alastor chuckled, finally helping you to your feet as you rejoined the group. His grip was firm, steadying you a little too carefully, his fingers lingering at your waist even after you were standing upright. His usual boundless energy seemed restrained, his eyes flickering over your wounds before he forced his smile to remain in place. You could tell—he was still shaken, even if he’d never admit it.

You watched as Niffty scurried around the hotel, eager to clean up the damage. It seemed like Charlie and Lucifer had made up, your anger at today’s events lessening ever so slightly as you watched the two. Even Husk, Angel Dust, and Sir Pentious had seemed to be helping clean up, even if Vaggie was yelling at them to do it.

As Alastor wrapped a careful arm around you, leading you toward a more comfortable place to rest on one of the less damaged couches, he leaned down, whispering just for you to hear.

“I do love you, you know.”

Your heart fluttered, but you played it cool, nudging him in the ribs. “You better.”

His smile widened, his head lowering to give you a hidden kiss behind your ear as he paused for a moment. “I’m sorry you got hurt… because of me.”

You hum slightly at his display of vulnerability, your own mouth morphing into a soft smile. “You’re an idiot, but,” You pause, closing the distance between you as you rub his head with yours, “I love you as well.”

And despite the pain, despite the chaos, despite everything—you knew he would spend the rest of his afterlife making sure he never let his pride come before you again.

#this was supposed to be angstier #and it did not satiate my angst crave #so buckle up for the next angst fic everybody #there might be a part two comfort fic to this #alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x you #alastor x reader #oneshot

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imagining-in-the-margins · 2 years ago

Text

Sunscreen & Statistics (S.R.)

Summary: Reader asks for Spencer’s help putting on sunscreen (and washing it off after). Request: Spencer lecturing Reader on the statistics of wearing sunscreen, but his mind going blank when reader needs him to help put it on. A/N: This is my (first) entry to my Summer Sunshine Challenge! Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Spencer POV, so much sexual tension, mutual pining, heavy petting, fingering, rough sex, unprotected penetrative sex, coworker relationship, so many statistics (showers, skin cancer, sunscreen, sex), schizophrenia mention, Reader wears a bikini Word Count: 5.6k

MASTERLIST

It was a beautiful day—the kind that artists had attempted to capture through many mediums. The summer sun was relentless, stretching its rays across every inch of the region. Even the shade hardly seemed spared, with bits of bright light slipping between green rustling leaves.

This seemingly idyllic set of circumstances offered the BAU a wonderful excuse to stay behind on the sunnier coast. Everyone was quick to buy new bathing suits and Rossi had already begrudgingly extended an invitation for everyone to stay at his favorite luxury hotel (on his dime, of course, or none of us would’ve made it).

The celebrations were already in full swing, and everyone was blissfully happy. It was, after all, the perfect day to hang out by the pool. So, they did. Each and every one…

Except for me. I stayed inside.

I wasn’t trying to ruin the fun. I had my reasons. Some were more reasonable than others.

Others were scary and slightly embarrassing. They wore a smile so bright it would rival the sun and managed to make me turn red even quicker than the star could. The kind of reason that turned me to nothing but a blubbering mess of a man.

I should’ve known better than to try to avoid her, though. Because that reason, that very important and tempting enchantress of a reason, always seemed to find me at the most inopportune time.

“Are you still hiding in here?”

I nearly jumped through my skin at the sound.

“No!”

I turned to find her staring back with an entertained, albeit disbelieving stare.

“Sort of. Maybe,” I felt compelled to continue.

When she still didn’t believe me—for obvious reasons—I finally conceded, “Yes.”

To my joy and eternal shame, she laughed like it had been an intentional joke.

“Well, I got banished back inside because I forgot sunscreen, so I’m trying to figure out where JJ left her bag,” she sighed.

Thankfully, that had been something I could help with. Despite everyone’s enthusiasm when they’d tossed the bags into the center of the suite lobby, I had managed to determine who owned which brightly colored pattern.

From my seat in the center, I reached over to pull JJ’s bag from the fray.

As soon as (y/n) spotted the motion, she was quick to exclaim, “My hero!”

Immediately, I felt the blood rush to my face.

I suppose there were worse places it could have gone.

“How did you forget sunscreen?” I asked.

“I hate the way it feels, so I almost never wear it unless forced,” she shrugged. Then, she turned to me, pointing the bottle like a weapon as she explained, “Plus, it always feels like they’re trying to trick me with all the numbers. I don’t know what SPF is. They could just be lying to me.”

“Well, the good news is that even a weak sunscreen is helpful,” I tried to reassure her. “Regular daily use of at least 15 SPF can reduce your risk of squamous cell carcinoma and melanoma by up to 50%.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah. I can tell you more about this product specifically, if you want.”

When I held out my hand, she was quick to hand me the bottle. I was, in turn, very happy to have an excuse to look at something other than her before all the blood left my brain.

“Okay, so, this one is an interesting formula. It offers a decent coverage and—,” I started, but my voice died just as soon as I looked up.

Because there she was, pulling her top over her head to reveal the barely-there bikini beneath it.

I knew I only had a few seconds to shamelessly ogle her before she would find out, and I greedily accepted the sight of soft curves that all consisted of and led to her.

My eyes traversed her body the way I wished my hands could until I was left practically trembling.

The blood wasn’t in my face anymore. It wasn’t even anywhere near my brain. To the point I’d barely even noticed she’d already taken her pants off until her voice snapped me back to reality.

“And what?” she said.

“What?”

“… You stopped talking.”

“I did?”

She reached forward and grabbed the bottle from my hand. If she’d noticed the way I had been looking at her, she didn’t say anything about it. She just sort of… smiled.

“Are you alright, Doctor?” she asked.

“Yes,” I lied.

I might’ve been able to answer honestly if it hadn’t been for the way she dumped the contents of the bottle into her hand and began lathering it over her legs.

“A-Anyways,” I tried to continue. With a wavering voice and wandering eyes, I rambled, “to maximize protection you should really use about an ounce of sunscreen with an SPF of 30. Anything over 30 is, well, like you suggested, sort of a scam.”

All the while, there she was, smoothing over slick skin that smelled like summer.

“An ounce, huh?” she hummed as her hands traveled between pillowy thighs to coat skin the sun could rarely reach. “Feels like you could make it a drinking game with enough motivation.”

“Drinking alcohol actually dramatically increases your risk of sunburn, so you should definitely wear more sunscreen if you’re drinking,” I muttered absently while my eyes stayed firmly fixed between her thighs long after her hands had abandoned the area.

“Noted,” she said, the end of the word tinged with a little bit of amusement.

I looked up at her to try to understand what had excited her, or perhaps annoyed her.

Or at least, I tried to look at her face. My eyes made a few involuntarily stops along the way. Once they settled safely back on her smile, however, she was quick to get my blood pumping in a different way.

“So, will you help me?” she asked.

“With what?”

She scoffed, then laughed.

“… the sunscreen? Duh.”

Despite my best efforts to make any sense of the request, I was, once again, a hopeless, lovesick idiot.

“W-What?” I babbled, “You… You want me to put it on? You?”

“I can ask JJ if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No!” I blurted out with both hands raised in opposition or surrender.

Didn’t seem to matter which.

I tried to explain it away, but my attempts to bolster my good character seemed even less convincing than the sudden outburst.

“N-No, no it’s fine. I-It’s… why would that make me… uncomfortable? I’m fine. I can do it.”

“Wow. Convincing,” she teased.

And that is what it was. There was no anger in her tone; not even a hint of resentment. She laughed, and I did, too.

“Okay, I admit that wasn’t very convincing. But seriously, I can do it. Promise.”

She spoke through her teeth when she muttered, “Whatever you say.”

When she tossed me the bottle back, we were both surprised to find that I’d caught it.

My hands, still shaky, were quick to close the gap between our bodies. The sunscreen felt nearly frigid compared to our skin, but she didn’t seem to mind.

In fact, she rewarded the sensation with a dreamy sigh and a slight arching of her back.

That motion, however small, felt like fire to an already ruined man. I tried to stay focused on more innocent areas. I worked my hands over knotted muscles in her shoulder and tried to free her of those burdens, too. With each swipe of my thumbs, she would let out the most delicious rumble that made me want to do it again.

Each time that I pulled away to add more, I came back a few inches lower until my fingers nearly slipped beneath the top of her bikini bottoms.

At that moment, with her arched lower back pressed against my palms and my fingers brushing against the little fabric between us, she shivered. Silently, I watched as the goosebumps covered her skin like a sheet.

Reaching forward to grab hold of the couch in front of her, she arched her back once more. The movement seemed intentional, closing a couple inches of the distance between us until there was almost nothing.

With more speed than I’d intended, I stepped back and nearly fell.

“O-Okay, I-I think that’s it!” I said with a squeak.

To my dismay, she stayed exactly where she was for a long moment. In fact, she deepened the stretch and fell forward with a sigh before she whined, “Shame.”

I tried to calm my fast beating heart while simultaneously trying to run from the thoughts that continued to chase me the longer she stayed bent over. My hands were still buzzing from the contact, and I felt almost lightheaded from the strength of the unrelenting erection still struggling against compression shorts underneath my pants.

(I had been right that I would need them if she was going to be there.)

And there she was, finally standing and stretching her arms over her head. They dropped back down and I couldn’t stop myself from admiring the effect of physics on her chest.

“It felt nice to be touched like that,” she sighed.

I couldn’t respond to that without making a complete fool of myself, so I tried to distance myself from the moment, instead.

“You’re actually supposed to wait 30 minutes after application to go into the sun, but, y-you can probably just sit in the shade and wait.”

“Did you already apply yours?”

“I’m not taking off my clothes so I could do it myself,” I explained.

I should’ve known better than to doubt her ability to get whatever she wanted—which, at the moment seemed to be my catastrophic defeat.

“Well, that’s not fair,” she whined, “I want to return the favor!”

“I-I mean… I’ll probably have to reapply it to my face soon, but I doubt you want to—.”

“Awe! Fun!” she cried before I could finish the thought, “Gimme!”

“Oh… um, okay.”

I handed her the bottle and whatever I still had of my heart. With expert fingers, she spread the chilly contents over my cheeks. We were both smiling, the expressions growing wider and more genuine as she started to play with pliable skin.

I involuntarily joined in on her laughter. Her hands and eyes were so warm, I couldn’t help but melt into a puddle in her palms.

The moment ended far too quickly. I missed her immediately, but she made sure that my smile didn’t fade.

“There. You’re only sort of pasty now,” she sighed contentedly before adding, “Mostly red, actually.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” I grumbled back. The sarcastic tilt to the sound wasn’t lost on her.

I realized in that awkward, somehow lonely quiet that I loved her more than I’d thought.

I almost wanted to tell her. I’d even opened my mouth, ready to spill the contents of my soul and hope for the best.

I never got a chance, though. Because before I’d uttered a single syllable, she jumped with her own realization.

“Oh, I forgot the most important part!”

“What?”

She turned away from me and dove her attention into the pile of bags without further explanation. I watched as she dug through clothing and whatever else she’d stuffed into her tote until she stood triumphantly with a closed fist.

“What?” I asked again.

She held up a single finger in reply.

I followed her instruction, waiting patiently as I watched her uncap a small tube of chapstick and use it to thoroughly coat her lips. Once again, I was left to shamelessly stare at a beautiful woman as she dutifully cared for herself in a way I’d wished I could.

Swallowing the lump in my throat that carried heartfelt confessions, I spoke again.

“What am I waiting for, exactly?” I teased.

Her eyes narrowed with what seemed to be a playful warning.

“Sunscreen application,” she explained flatly, “Duh.”

I paused. My head cocked to the side and my face twisted as I struggled to find any explanation for why she’d needed me for this part.

“Wha—?”

Then, just when I’d started to speak, it hit me all at once.

And by that, I mean she kissed me.

With both hands cupping already-reddened cheeks, she pulled me forward until I could taste flavored lip balm and her.

Her lips opened, sliding against mine with an undeniable affection that made my whole body tense. I tried to hold her, but it all happened so quickly that by the time I raised my hands to her arms, she was almost gone.

“There!” she said happily, “Now we’re ready.”

For what? I wanted to ask.

But before I could make myself speak, she was already gone.

I spent the next several hours outside.

The rest of the team seemed both surprised and not surprised about my decision to join them. After all, everyone knew I didn’t particularly enjoy pools or any body of water, and, despite my Vegas origins, the sun and I didn’t quite get along.

But they also knew I liked her.

It had never been more obvious than it was that day, when I emerged from the safety of darkness with freshly kissed lips and an expression filled with utter confusion.

(Y/n) was quick to greet me in her usual manner. She said nothing about the kiss.

Part of me had even started to wonder if I’d hallucinated the whole thing. Maybe the doctors had all been wrong, and I was already waist-deep in psychosis that manifested purely through happy memories of her.

It would be an odd presentation, sure, but at the time it somehow felt more likely than her returning my affections. But as soon as I started to convince myself, she would flash me a glance that set my already overheated body on fire. Even as she peered up at me from the edge, I could still see her smile under the water.

She wore that same look in her eye she always did when we were alone. It was a slightly unnerving but mostly flattering feeling. It felt like being wanted by a beautiful woman.

I’m definitely losing it.

That was the only reasonable conclusion to reach. Because when she emerged from the pool, I could’ve sworn she paused before to make sure I was watching.

Of course, I was watching. I made sure that my flawless memory captured damn near every droplet as it caressed her curves. I stared, practically worshipped the sight of her lips parted with a relieved exhale that I could see leave her chest.

The blood was gone again. I was doomed.

“You’re still hiding, huh?”

I was too afraid to answer until she took the seat closest to me.

“No, not hiding, just… staying safe,” I explained through my typical awkward smile.

I pointed up to the umbrella above me, but she didn’t look. Her eyes stayed glued to me.

“It’s probably time for me to reapply, huh?” she laughed.

I liked the way it sounded, so, I laughed, too.

“Yeah, to be honest, you really should’ve done it a couple hours ago, but I didn’t want you to think I was… a wet blanket or a pervert.”

She snorted at the suggestion. Her eyes squinted, playful as always and carrying some meaning that evaded me.

“It’s very interesting that those were the two options that came to your mind,” she said.

I panicked.

“I don’t know, it’s weird, isn’t it? Me insisting you should let me touch you?” I rushed, “I’m not crazy, right? It’s… weird! It’s…!”

She sighed.

At first, I mistook the sound for annoyance. But when I looked into her eyes, I knew that wasn’t right.

Because she looked… like she had been caught in a dream. A melancholy fantasy of something she felt was just beyond her reach.

She was looking at me, I realized, exactly the same way I looked at her.

“You’re not crazy, Spencer,” she said with a smile, “Just a little oblivious.”

My lips twitched as I fought a smirk that came through, anyway.

“I can accept that.”

She seemed pleased, as if I’d given the right answer.

“Well, the good news is I’m done with the sun for the day,” she announced.

Her eyes finally left me as she once again stretched her arms over her head and left me to ogle her like an idiot. Then, when I was thoroughly distracted, she glanced around like she was checking to see if anyone could hear her.

“They don’t seem to be calming down, so…” she said, much quieter now, “any statistics on what I should do with sunscreen when I’m finished with it?”

“No statistics, per se, but you definitely should wash it off. It can be pretty irritating for skin,” I answered matter-of-factly. “Not to mention the salts and chemicals from the pool.”

“I see,” she laughed.

Then, when she realized that I was, in fact, a hopeless, perverted fool with no blood in his brain, she made her intentions much clearer.

“Will you help me with that?”

Not clear enough for me, though.

“What?” I asked.

“With the sunscreen,” she answered simply.

“Uh—.”

Even that eloquent thought couldn’t make it through a parched, tightening throat. With each passing second and every syllable uttered, my voice got higher and even more unstable.

“I’m sorry, are you—what—w-what are you asking me?”

That’s when she took my hand, bursting with laughter as she dragged me from me seat with the most terrifying, alluring, and magical answer.

“Come on, pretty boy.”

I followed her without question but many concerns—the largest of which was the fear that she was actually leading me to my demise by humiliation.

Those worries grew tenfold when she yanked me over the threshold into her private room.

I stumbled forward and practically fell into her arms. But she was waiting for me, seemingly anticipating the clumsiness. Her hands were still soft, still soothing on boiling skin as she guided my lips to hers for the second time that day.

That time, I was prepared.

My hands covered her sun-kissed cheeks and pulled her even closer than she’d done to me before.

She tasted like salt and sugar from summer fresh fruit. I gave her every breath that I had, panting hopelessly against her lips each time that we broke apart.

Her hands were gentle when they found mine. I was reluctant to leave her until I realized that she was simply repositioning them to less innocent areas.

Still, I hesitated to go any further. I let my hands rest softly against her hips while I struggled to express my relief.

“Thank god,” I laughed, “I was sort of worried you were going to beat me up for staring at you all day.”

Her eyes locked onto mine with a hunger that seemed almost insatiable.

“No, I like it when you look at me like that,” she stated so simply it hurt. “In fact, I think I want to thank you.”

Before I could ask her how she intended to that, she made her intentions very clear by grabbing my dick through the fabric of my pants.

“So, tell me… any statistics on why we shouldn’t have sex in the shower?” she asked.

I don’t know how she’d expected me to think clearly. It actually seemed like she was purposefully trying to make it harder for me to form any words at all.

“It’s actually—,” I started just to stop when she started stroking the full length of me with devilish fingers.

“It’s actually really dangerous to try to have sex in the shower,” I tried again.

That time, she began applying a cascading pressure through playful fingertips. I spoke faster, trying to finish any thought before I truly lost my mind.

“There is a—fuck—a 44% chance of injury,” I forced out.

Her hand stopped. She cocked her head to the side with a brilliant smile and asked, “Is that right?”

I was almost relieved. Almost.

“Yeah, and…”

Then she started taking off my pants.

“A-and it can be quite uncomfortable for a woman without additional lubrication,” I said while shaking my head.

Even my subconscious knew I was speaking against my own self-interest, that I could’ve just accepted her question as rhetorical. I could’ve just shut up and go along with whatever she wanted because I would always be happy so long as she was happy.

She dropped down as she pulled my pants to the ground and revealed a second set of bottoms. I couldn’t be sure of it, but she seemed vindicated when she realized how hard my body was struggling against the compression shorts.

“The movies make it look so fun, don’t they?” she hummed as she stood back up. “I guess it is pretty dangerous. And inconvenient.”

“Yeah, but also, I sort of wish I hadn’t said any of that,” I responded immediately, “Let’s do it anyway.”

Thankfully, she found my eagerness charming and not pathetic (or perhaps those were the same to her). Her fingers sneaked past the band of the compression shorts, but she didn’t make the move to remove them yet.

Instead, she used her free hand to lead mine straight to the knot holding her bikini bottoms together.

My fingers twitched. She leaned closer, her cheek pressed against mine and her breath hot on my ear as she said the most beautiful words.

“We can shower after, then.”

“Thank you god,” I cried.

Practiced fingers untangled the knots within seconds, and I fought the urge to stare at her newly exposed skin by kissing her instead.

Her skin, still wet, was chilled enough from the cooler air that she barely reacted when I backed her against the ceramic countertop in the bathroom.

She leaned back, groaning with relief when I finally undid the knots of her top.

Again, I shamelessly admired the wonderful world of physics as it was displayed before me. With each breath, her chest lifted and came closer to my own.

Seemingly sharing the same thoughts, she reached forward and practically tugged my shirt off of me.

As soon as I could, I held her naked body as close to me as I could. My hands covered her lower back and drifted further down her hips, seeking every inch of cold skin that remained.

“God, you’re beautiful,” I whispered. I couldn’t see most of her, but the memory from mere seconds ago was as vivid as it would ever be. “Words don’t exist that would ever do it justice.”

She pulled back, still toying with the tops of my shorts with that insatiable look in her eyes.

“I’d say take a picture, but I think your memory might rival a camera,” she giggled.

“I’ll never forget this,” I promised her, “I’ll never forget you.”

But there were so many other ways I’d yet to see her. So, after carefully loving each inch of her hips, I turned my attention to the burning heat between her thighs.

At the same time my finger slid through slick folds, my lips found hers once more.

“I wanna make you feel good,” I slurred.

Her lips parted in a broken gasp as I tried to do just that. I inched eager fingers between tight muscles and didn’t even bother fighting the urge to moan into her mouth.

She swallowed that desire and returned her own with a growing enthusiasm. My fingers grew faster, sloppier in their gentle beckoning for her to fall apart.

“That’s it. Good girl,” I reassured her when her breathy moans became pitchy. “Oh, you deserve to feel so good, sweetheart.”

That spark in her eyes had turned into a wildfire further stoked by my praise. I leaned into it; I became more confident in my loving her. Her walls were tense and insistent, seeking something more than what my hand could give them.

I withdrew them despite her immediate protests. She recanted any complaint as soon as I moved drenched fingers to the small pearl at her center.

Her moans became shameless, and I accepted them as an imminent victory. She rocked her hips against my hand, riding it to find her elusive end.

All the while, her eyes were locked onto mine. She refused to look away, forced us both to acknowledge that I was the one who brought her here. To the edge of the abyss, to the ultimate euphoria.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” I said through a smirk, “Come for me.”

She followed the direction with the utmost enthusiasm. She fell forward, favoring me to the cold countertop. I caught her but continued my relentless efforts to please her.

I kept going, kept cherishing her until she whimpered from my touch. Then I held her. I pet her damp hair and laid a gentle kiss atop the crown of her head.

“Good girl,” I assured her.

But I wasn’t finished yet.

“Now turn around.”

She perked up the second she’d heard the order. Although she’d barely caught her breath, she turned on shaky legs without question.

My hands found her hips just like they had before. Except this time, there were no bikini bottoms. There was only pillowy flesh and the strong muscles of her backside pressed firmly against my dick.

Barely moving away from her, I finally freed myself from the confines of compression shorts. I groaned with relief and noticed how the sound made her back arch further.

When I lined myself up at her entrance, she rewarded the action with a dreamy sigh.

It wasn’t enough for me. I wanted to see the look on her face, to hear the desperation in her voice before I gave her what I’d fantasized of from the moment I met her.

My hand knotted in her hair. I pulled her back from her comfortable position braced against the countertop. I held her up so that I could whisper in her ear the same as she’d done to me earlier.

“This is what you wanted, right?” I asked, as if her whimpers hadn’t been answer enough.

“Yes,” she moaned, “please.”

The sound of debauchery on her tongue sent shockwaves through me. My cock twitched involuntarily, bumping against satin skin now dripping with desire.

I barely resisted the urge to slam into her with full force. Instead, I stayed there, with just the tip of me inside of her as I groaned.

“Oh, I’d give you the whole world if you asked me like that.”

“This’ll do for now,” she giggled.

Her hips began to sway as she rocked on her toes. She chased even just a half inch more of me and rewarded me with beautiful sounds when I finally started to sink into her.

“That’s it…” I sighed.

Her confidence was quickly shaken, though, as my pursuit continued. Not even half of my dick was inside her when I felt her start to tremble.

“You can take it,” I assured her.

She responded by tightening her muscles even further, resisting the gentle stretch of her body as it accommodated my own.

“That’s my girl,” I groaned. The blinding heat of her demanded my full attention to the point that I was barely coherent as I slurred, “You’re doing such a good job, sweetheart.”

But all it took was one word to unravel my best efforts.

“Spencer,” she whimpered.

Any hesitance I had vanished without a trace. I thrust my hips forward to the hilt with so much force that she scrambled to stay on her feet. Manicured nails struggled to find a grip the ceramic before my next motion.

I took my time pulling back, and I watched her struggle with the fullness that was our bodies come together. I reveled in the sight of her heaving chest and clouded eyes.

That time, I didn’t fight the urge to slam into her. I even pulled her back as I did it, bringing our bodies together over and over again with a blissful type of violence.

With each thrust, I watched her reaction in the mirror. I made sure that my mind captured each second of her pleasure. Each time her jaw dropped open with whines and praise in the shape of my name.

“Please, Spencer,” she keened with a white-knuckled grip on the edge of the counter.

I hadn’t been sure what she was asking for, so I continued to love her the same as I always had.

But she only became more frustrated, sobbing with pleasure the next time my hips crashed into hers.

“Harder,” she cried out.

And I tried. I tried to follow her instruction, to grant her the release that could only be found in the fullest expression of years of repressed passion.

The problem wasn’t my unwillingness to give my everything to her. Rather, it was the siren’s call of resistant, relentlessly desperate muscles.

“You’re so fucking tight,” I ground through clenched jaw.

Then, with a small and wavering voice, she insisted, “I can take it.”

Every atom of my being burned with a suffocating desire. It felt nearly feral; fully free to show her just how badly my body ached to be with her.

She began slamming back against me with a similar fervor and I almost made myself stop.

“Fuck, I’m so close, but I don’t want it to end,” I begged her.

But that beautiful, evasive, brilliant star of a woman just giggled. I could practically feel myself leaving bruises in the shape of my fingertips and she couldn’t have been happier.

Through the mirror, she looked at me and reminded me of the full, unrelenting power of the sun.

“Don’t worry,” she purred, “we can do it again later.”

That was all it took. With just a look, she practically brought me to my knees.

“Fuck!” I choked as I slammed into her with my full force. We both nearly collapsed against the counter, but I managed to pull her hips down harder against me just as I found my release.

The blissful heat of her grew to new heights as I filled her. Each wave of pleasure caused her to shiver with sheets of goosebumps.

I watched through half-lidded, lust-clouded vision as she accepted every inch and every drop of my desire with a euphoric smile.

“Sorry,” I said while trying to catch my breath. Even when I managed to capture some breath, it escaped me with a laugh as I explained, “I… I wasn’t expecting you to say that.”

“Don’t apologize,” she slurred.

I might’ve thought she was just being merciful if she hadn’t immediately followed, “That was fun.”

It was so obviously sincere, but I was so ridiculously stupid that I had to be sure, anyway.

“Yeah?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she laughed.

The sound was even more beautiful when I could feel the vibrations from within. I groaned from the thought of how it might feel for her lips to be wrapped around my cock. It twitched inside her, and she responded with a small whimper.

My hips bucked one more time, forcing me to the hilt before I withdrew in one quick motion.

I stood there for a moment, holding her hips steady as I watched the evidence of what we’d just done drip down her thighs.

My stomach was filled with butterflies doing flips and there was no accounting for the blood that still hadn’t made its way back to my brain.

(Y/n) was patient as ever with a pitiful man.

“Come on, pretty boy,” she chuckled as she took my hand, “help me get clean.”

Despite my best efforts, there were significantly less attempts to get clean in the shower than I’d expected. It was only thanks to her self-preservation that we didn’t end up having sex in the shower, although we came pretty close.

I could never tire of kissing her, but I realized I could love her just as much with lather as I could with my lips. My worship shifted as I dutifully cared for her the way I’d always wished I could.

When it was over, I didn’t give up. I followed her into her bed and she made no attempt to stop me.

In fact, she moved closer to me until my arm could reach around her waist and her head rested on my chest.

“Any other statistics you want to share?” she mumbled, now sleepy from the sun and… other activities.

“Always,” I answered. “Like, did you know, I have now joined the 54% of people who have slept with a coworker?”

“Fascinating. Was it worth it?” she chuckled, having already known my answer.

“Yes,” I told her, anyway. But the way I always did when it came to sharing statistics, I couldn’t stop myself. “Although, there is a smaller subset of that group that’s even more interesting.”

She gasped, quickly pressing her fingers to my lips to stop me from ruining her moment.

“Let me guess—at least half of them fucked in the office,” she said.

And in that quiet, private moment, the only thing more beautiful than her hopeful smile was the fact she’d gotten it right.

“You are, without a doubt, the most attractive woman I’ve ever met in my life,” I confessed.

She gave her wholehearted admission that she felt the same in the best way she could.

With a cheeky smile and the utmost sincerity, she asked, “What are the odds of that?”

(Tell me what you thought about this fic here!)

Looking for another mutual pining summer-themed fic? Check out my 11.2k oneshot Lost Time, where Reader and Spencer spend their mandatory leave taking the Spring Break Spencer never got to have.

Reid Taglist: @mrs-dr-reid , @dreatine , @hopefulfangirl24 , @laurakirsten0502 , @dontcallmekittens , @rintheemolion , @andreasworlsboring101 , @imsuperawkward , @wentz2005 , @lovejules888 , @dashneydanger , @materialisthicc , @violetspoetic , @mslowlife , @conniesanchor , @trippol-threat , @will-byers-needs-a-hug , @poo-tay-toot , @bookobsessedfreak

Complete Taglist: @cynbx , @emsma11 , @mediocre-writer , @fightingdragonswithwho , @andiebeaword , @jayyeahthatsme , @pepperthealien

Thanks for reading!

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds smut #spencer reid self insert #imaginingafterdark

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