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rafestify · 2 months ago

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need a rafe fic please where reader is part of the pogues, her and rafe have been on and off for forever obviously due to everything he’s done but deep down he’s so down bad for reader and maybe she’s pregnant instead of sarah and he doesn’t find out until morocco because the pogues are hovering over her idk angst fluff whatever you feel!!!

Two lines — Rafe Cameron

Summary : Fem!Reader is pregnant with Rafe’s baby, but he doesn't know until pope accidentally mentions her baby (season 4 ep 10 spoilers!! ⚠️)

Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings : mentions of vomiting & language (english is not my first language)

A/N : as requested 😉 hope u like it anon!

Two lines, and the father was long gone, off doing god knows what. Rafe was the last guy I'd hooked up with, and even after we broke up, we somehow kept finding our way back to each other, especially after the Kildare Enduro. He knew no one else could satisfy me the way he did, and so it became this endless cycle, break up, hook up, make up. What Rafe didn’t know was that I was pregnant. I hadn’t planned on telling him, at least not until we made up.

There I was, back on Rafe’s boat with my friends, setting off to Morocco in search of the Blue Crown and Chandler Groff. My friends had locked Rafe up, tying him up in a small room, just in case. We all knew better than to trust Rafe Cameron, not after everything he’d done.

I walked into the dimly lit room, carrying a tray with a glass of water, a plate of food, and a couple of aspirin for his black eye. The sight of him, bruised, tugged at something deep inside me.

“Here,” I murmured, setting the tray down on the table beside him. “I brought some aspirin, just in case you’re feeling dizzy or something…”

He snorted, cutting me off. “What? You’re just gonna throw it in my mouth like I’m a fuckin' seal?” He wasn’t exactly wrong, but his sharp tone made me bristle. “Nobody trusts you, Rafe,” I replied, my voice steady. “Not after what you did.”

His jaw tightened, and a flash of anger sparked in his eyes. “I saved your asses!” he shot back, his face flushing with frustration. “And not even a thank you was said.”

I took a slow breath, steadying myself. “I know, Rafe. I know,” I said softly. “Thank you, really.” I offered him a small, sincere smile.

He looked at me for a moment, his gaze softening just slightly. “You trust me, right?” he asked, his voice quieter, a bit more vulnerable. I bit down on my lip, feeling the pull he always seemed to have on me.

“Yeah,” I admitted, almost reluctantly. God, he knew exactly how to get to me.

He looked at the ropes binding his wrists and nodded toward them. “Then untie me. Get this shit off me.”

I shook my head, feeling a pang of guilt but holding my ground. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” I pressed my lips together, trying to keep my resolve. “Just… eat the food. We wouldn’t want you dying in here.” With that, I turned and walked out, the door closing softly behind me, leaving me with a sigh that I didn’t even realize I’d been holding back.

As I stepped out of the room, I was met by Kiara’s anxious expression, her arms folded tightly as she waited. The moment she saw me, her face softened slightly, though worry still flickered in her eyes.

"How’d it go?" she asked quietly, as if afraid to hear the answer.

I shrugged, trying to mask the mixture of emotions stirring inside me. "Same old Rafe," I replied, keeping my tone light, but my gaze drifted, unable to meet hers directly.

Kiara studied me for a moment before speaking again. "Soo... did you tell him?"

I frowned, genuinely puzzled. "Tell him what?"

She raised an eyebrow, giving me a pointed look. "That you’re pregnant, with his child."

Oh, right. That one.

I swallowed, feeling a sudden knot in my stomach. "Uh—no, not yet," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "I just… I don’t know how he’d react." My hands found each other, my fingers nervously fidgeting as I tried to imagine how that conversation would even go. "What if he doesn’t want to keep the baby?"

Kiara sighed softly and reached out, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Her warmth grounded me, pulling me back from my spiraling thoughts. "Look," she said firmly, her gaze locking onto mine. "You have us. We’ll help you through every single part of this. That’s what friends are for, right?"

I looked at her, the tension in my chest easing slightly. Her words held a strength that I so desperately needed. "Yeah," I whispered, a small smile breaking through my worry. "Thank you, Kie."

She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a hug, and for a moment, the uncertainty and fear faded. In her embrace, I felt a flicker of hope—a reminder that I wouldn’t have to face this alone.

After battling fierce winds and waves, we finally arrived in Essaouira. The coastal city spread before us, its whitewashed buildings with blue shutters gleaming under softened storm light. Narrow streets twisted through the medina, lined with shops selling handmade crafts and drenched in a timeless, rustic charm.

The Atlantic crashed against the ancient medina walls, sturdy and weathered, while blue fishing boats bobbed in the harbor—just like the skiffs in the Outer Banks. The salty air and easy warmth of the locals, the slow rhythm of the sea, and the hum of daily life brought back memories of home, as if Essaouira was a Moroccan echo of the Outer Banks.

We continued to wander through the narrow streets of Essaouira, the sound of bustling market vendors and the distant call of seagulls filling the air. John B and Sarah led the way, their steps light and carefree, like they had no care in the world. Following behind them was Cleo, Pope, and Kiara, their conversations flowing easily as they walked, with JJ and I bringing up the rear. But it was Rafe who trailed behind, his presence almost ghostlike, like a lost puppy, following silently in our wake.

As we strolled through the maze of alleyways, I felt a sudden, sharp wave of nausea hit me. It was sudden, and intense, as if something in my stomach was threatening to rise up. I let out a soft huff, pressing my hand to my stomach, trying to hold back the overwhelming feeling of sickness.

JJ, who had been walking beside me, must've noticed the change in my posture because he looked at me with concern. "Y/N?" he called, his voice laced with worry.

"Oh god," I muttered under my breath, the nausea worsening, my head spinning.

"What's wrong? You okay?" JJ asked, his voice low, concern evident on his face.

I shook my head, barely able to focus on him. "No... I need to sit," I said, my voice strained. I felt like I was going to collapse if I didn’t stop moving.

JJ quickly guided me to a pile of carpets that were stacked outside a shop. The soft fabric felt like a relief under me as I sat down, trying to steady my breathing. The rest of the group quickly noticed, and soon I was surrounded by their concerned faces. Kiara dropped to her knees in front of me, her eyes searching mine, her hand resting on my knee in a comforting gesture.

"What's up? What are you feeling?" she asked, her voice soft and filled with genuine concern.

"I'm really nauseous," I managed to answer, my hand covering my mouth, just in case. I didn’t trust myself to hold it down any longer.

Cleo, who had been standing off to the side, stepped forward, her arms crossed over her chest. "She probably needs food. It’s been like two days..or what?" she said, her voice tinged with practicality.

"Yeah, the baby’s probably hungry too," Pope added, offering a casual shrug, as if it was just an obvious conclusion.

I froze, my stomach twisting. The mention of "the baby" caught me off guard, and suddenly, all eyes turned to me. Rafe, who had been hanging back, still distant, looked like he was suddenly paying attention. His gaze shifted from me to Pope and then back to me, his brow furrowing.

"What baby?" Rafe asked, his voice sharp, as if something about the situation didn't sit right with him.

Oh god, here we go.

Pope went silent, and I could feel the tension rise in the air, thickening around us. I glanced up at Rafe, who was now standing a few feet away, looking at me with an expression that was hard to read. His eyes narrowed as if trying to make sense of what he had just heard.

"No, seriously, what baby?" he repeated, his voice insistent, even stern now.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over me. There was no easy way to say it, but it had to be said. "I’m pregnant, Rafe," I said quietly, locking eyes with him. "With your baby."

The words hung in the air between us, like they were too heavy to carry. For a long moment, Rafe didn’t say anything. He just stood there, silent, his expression unreadable. The others were watching him closely, waiting for a reaction, but he remained eerily still.

I could feel the tension growing, an awkwardness settling in the space around us, as if everything had just shifted. My hands were shaking slightly, not from the nausea anymore, but from the weight of what had just been revealed. And Rafe, he was just staring at me, his mouth slightly parted but no words coming out.

"Go get her something to eat," Rafe suddenly snapped, his voice cutting through the tension that still hung thick in the air.

Without another word, he dug through his small waist bag, the leather creaking under his movements. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but then, with a small grunt of satisfaction, he pulled out a wad of cash—several bills, all stacked neatly together. As he unfolded them, I saw that he had about $400 in his hand, a small fortune for street vendors in Essaouira.

"Wait what?" JJ’s voice broke the moment of disbelief. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "They don’t take dollars, you idiot—"

"I said go," Rafe interrupted sharply, his tone hardening. There was no room for argument, no sign of hesitation in his voice. It was almost as if he was trying to regain some control over the situation, and in doing so, he completely dismissed JJ’s protests. His words were a command, not a suggestion.

The rest of us exchanged uneasy glances, the shift in Rafe’s demeanor catching everyone off guard. But without further discussion, John B, Sarah, Cleo, Pope, and Kiara reluctantly turned to start walking back toward the market, their steps unsure but obedient. JJ hesitated for a moment, clearly frustrated by Rafe’s abruptness, but eventually followed along as well.

Rafe’s eyes lingered on me for a second, his expression unreadable. He stood still for a moment longer, his gaze momentarily drifting over to the group before returning to me. He didn’t say anything else. His words had been clear, and I could tell that something about the situation had shifted for him.

"I don’t care whether you want the baby or not, but I’m keeping them," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. My heart pounded in my chest, the weight of my decision pressing down on me. The truth was, I had made up my mind. I had to keep the baby, and nothing anyone said or did would change that. Not even Rafe.

Rafe’s eyes widened at my declaration, and for a moment, he just stood there, staring at me, his face unreadable. Then, he kneeled down, and he let out a sharp breath. "Hey, hey, hey—who said I don’t want to keep the baby?" His voice was calm, but there was an underlying tension to it, as if my words had hit a nerve.

I blinked, caught off guard by his response. The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment, and I wasn’t sure what to say next. His eyes were fixed on me now, intense, searching. It felt like something was shifting between us, and I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it.

"We’ll take care of them," Rafe continued, his tone softening just a fraction. "I’ll be with you throughout the whole journey, Y/N. You’re not doing this alone." His voice held a kind of resolve, as if he had already decided, as if he was offering something that felt almost too good to be true.

For a split second, it felt like the world around me had stopped moving. The noise from the market faded into the background, and all I could hear was the steady beat of my own heart. The words he said felt surreal, like they were echoing in my head. "I’ll be with you, 'aight?"

I blinked again, almost feeling like I was in a dream, like I had slipped into some alternate reality where everything suddenly made sense. But when I looked at Rafe, his gaze never wavering from mine, I felt a wave of disbelief wash over me. It felt like a nap dream, a momentary illusion that would disappear when I woke up.

"What?" I said, my voice coming out in a whisper of disbelief. "Sorry—"

Rafe seemed unbothered by my shock. He placed his hands on my knees, his movements deliberate. "You heard me, Y/N." His words were firm, and there was no mistaking the sincerity in them.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us was thick with unspoken thoughts, and I could feel the weight of what he had just said settle in my chest. It was almost too much to process. I had always expected Rafe to pull away, to make this harder for me. But here he was, standing before me with something I hadn’t expected, a promise. A promise to be there. A promise to face this together.

My mind spun, trying to make sense of it. I glanced away for a moment, as if hoping the world would shift and reveal the truth. But when I looked back at him, his expression hadn’t changed. He was still looking at me with those steady, unwavering eyes.

"You’re serious," I murmured more to myself than to him.

Rafe didn’t flinch. "Yeah," he said simply, as if there was nothing more to discuss, as if the decision had already been made. "I’ll be there for you. For us."

For the first time, I didn’t know what to say. My heart was still racing, but for a different reason now. There was a part of me that wanted to believe him, to hold on to this moment, to trust that things might actually be okay. But there was also a part of me that was terrified of what this all meant, of how my life was about to change in ways I couldn’t predict.

I stared at him in utter disbelief, barely able to process the reality unfolding before me. It felt like some kind of miracle. My vision began to blur as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, the emotions welling up and spilling over, probably caused by the pregnancy hormones, but I couldn’t stop them. I tried to blink them away, but they only gathered faster, until a warm tear rolled down my cheek.

Rafe’s expression softened when he noticed, his gaze never leaving mine. He reached out and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close in a way that felt so natural, so steady. He didn’t hesitate for a second, and his embrace was warm, reassuring, holding me together when I felt like I was on the edge of falling apart, and God, it felt good to be back in his arms.

His hand rubbed gentle circles on my back as he murmured, “We’re gonna be parents.” His voice was soft, filled with awe and disbelief, as if he was speaking the words for the first time and couldn’t quite believe them either.

I nodded against his chest, clutching onto him as tightly as I could. The weight of his words settled over us, the reality of what lay ahead, and as much as I wanted to be brave, I couldn’t shake the fear that started to consume my mind. I let out a shaky breath, my voice coming out in a whisper, “I’m scared, Rafe.” The words felt small, vulnerable, but they were the truth.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands gently cupping my face as his thumbs brushed away the stray tears still slipping down my cheeks. “I know,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I am scared too.” There was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored my own, a glimmer of uncertainty about the unknown future that lay ahead.

“But we’re in this together,” he continued, his voice growing stronger, as if he was convincing himself as much as he was reassuring me. “I don’t have all the answers, and I don’t know what’s coming… but I’m not going anywhere.” He leaned down and rested his forehead against mine, closing the space between us. “I’ll be there every step of the way.”

His words washed over me, filling some hollow place I hadn’t realized was empty. In that moment, his presence felt like a lifeline, pulling me out of my fears, giving me a glimpse of something that felt almost like hope. The future was terrifying, yes, but it felt a little less daunting with him by my side.

I looked up at him, my voice steadying as I replied, “I’m glad it’s you.” And as I said the words, I realized just how much I meant them.

He offered me a small, crooked smile, a warmth in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before. “We’re gonna figure this out together,” he promised. “One step at a time.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. And in that moment, held in his arms, I felt a little less afraid.

Suddenly, as if on cue, the rest of the group appeared, each carrying an assortment of food and drinks. It was almost comical, watching them return all at once, each of them holding something different, John B with a handful of pita bread, Cleo balancing a bowl of yogurt, JJ carrying bottled water, and Sarah clutching a small bag of fruit, including a shiny red apple that she immediately extended toward me.

“Here,” Sarah said softly, her face easing with relief as she offered the apple. I took it gratefully, feeling the cool skin of the fruit in my hand, and took a tentative bite. The crisp, sweet flavor flooded my senses, soothing the nausea that had been twisting in my stomach. They watched with eager anticipation, and as they saw me begin to nibble, their worried expressions started to relax.

“Feeling better now?” Pope asked, his voice gentle but laced with concern as he studied my face.

I swallowed another bite and nodded, a smile creeping onto my face. “Yeah, yeah… thank you,” I replied, glancing at each of them.

They exchanged glances, visibly relieved, and a sense of warmth spread through me as I looked around at their familiar faces, each one showing their own brand of care. I realized then just how much I’d come to rely on them, not just as friends, but as family. I felt a comforting wave of gratitude for each of them, knowing they’d been there for me without question, supporting me in ways I hadn’t even thought possible.

As I took another sip of water, Rafe moved a little closer to me, his hand resting gently on my thigh. His touch was subtle, but the gesture was enough to let me know he was still there, holding his promise to stay by my side. There was something calming in his presence now, something steadying that I hadn’t noticed before.

The others began chatting among themselves, sharing their own stories of haggling with the vendors, laughing about who’d paid the most for what they’d brought. They were giving Rafe and me a moment, I realized, a chance to talk without the pogues’ attention fixed on us.

Rafe leaned down slightly, his face level with mine, his voice low and steady. “You really okay?” he asked, his hand still warm on my thigh.

I took a deep breath, the initial dizziness and nausea fading, leaving behind a feeling of clarity I hadn’t expected. “Yeah, I think so." I paused, looking up into his eyes.

He smiled, a soft, almost vulnerable expression, and for a moment, he seemed like a different Rafe—one who wasn’t weighed down by pride or bravado. “That's good” His voice was filled with a sincerity that softened something inside me. "Don't want our little one and her mommy to starve, do we?" He smiled making me let out a low chuckle.

In this quiet moment, I knew, deep down, that I wouldn’t want anyone else to be the father of my child. Everything just felt right. Despite all the chaos, the ups and downs, there was a steady comfort in knowing me and Rafe would face it together.

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nereidprinc3ss · 7 months ago

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do you believe me now? | 7

in which spencer reid and inexperienced!fem reader sleep together for the first time

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: loss of virginity, oral f/m receiving, so much praise, pain during sex, unprotected sex, cr**mp**, bit of overstim, soft dom spence, if u don't like that freak shit (love and intimacy) this is not for u, spencer is a nerd, they're both nerds actually and that factors in heavily, you may get more from this part by FIRST reading how they met in this bonus chapter a/n: thank you all for being patient, ilysm, this was the most laborious thing i've ever done for no reason and also this part changed so many times and is not what i expected it to be so pls go in with tempered expectations and keep in mind that this story is more about the characters and their specific relationship dynamic than just being porn. i truly have no idea how you guys will react to this but i sincerely hope you love it and them like i do<3 also it's twice as long as the other parts so feedback would be very very appreciated! again i love u all and enjoy the penultimate part!

Spencer’s lips are on yours, and you weren’t expecting it—hell, you weren’t expecting him to be in your apartment. After all, he’d wished you goodnight and walked out only a moment ago.

“Spencer—wh—”

But he’s insistent with his lips, kissing you bruisingly over and over like there’s nectar on your tongue and he’s parched for you. Still, he has enough decency to not completely ignore you, exhaling a quick excuse over your flushed lips.

“I missed you.”

This time, though, you dodge his hungry kiss. Part of you thinks, as he watches you, eyes alight and breathing heavily, that he sort of likes your playing hard to get. It’s not something you do very often, admittedly.

“We’ve been apart for like, maybe a minute.”

“I didn’t even make it to the parking lot.”

Your face heats.

“Well you can’t just—you can’t just walk in like that! And I thought you said we weren’t supposed to mix fighting with pleasure.”

“Then start locking your door. And I thought you said we weren’t fighting.”

You roll your eyes in response, though your heart is still pittering in your chest.

At least his hands move to your arms, stroking up and down relatively chastely—although he has this way of making everything seem intimate. Especially when paired with those amber eyes of his—glowing like a candlelight beacon in the window guiding you home. He speaks in low, appeasing tones and darts his tongue over his lips.

“I originally said it’s a bad idea for couples to sleep together after an argument. But you know—makeup sex is ubiquitous across culture and time because it works. Anger and arousal trigger a lot of the same hormones, specifically norepinephrine which is involved in feelings of longing and—”

“Spencer.”

“You know what else?” He mutters in a way that feels dangerous. “It tends to feel better than regular sex.”

That earns a shaky exhale from you. Whether from irritation or arousal is anyone’s guess—probably a combination of both.

“So you came back to fuck me?”

It’s probably evident to Spencer from your choice of language that this already isn’t going exactly as he’d planned. He doesn’t answer right away—just regards you, gaze bouncing between your two eyes like he’s trying to calculate your level of anger.

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

You push him away and move to walk down the hall.

“Maybe your window of opportunity has passed.”

A warm hand wraps around your wrist in the dark of the hallway and he pulls you back until you’re falling against something tall and warm and lean. The smell of polished amber and sandalwood overwhelms your senses.

“What’s wrong, angel? What happened in the minute I was gone to change your mind?” His voice is scratchy like a favorite record. It’s the voice he could hold you captive with. The one you have a very difficult time saying no to.

“I don’t know,” you mutter, unintentionally leaning back against him. “What happened to change yours?”

His response comes pressed against your ear, half-lost in your hair.

“You’re upset that I changed my mind. I thought you wanted this, honey.”

“I do,” you admit, letting your head fall back against his shoulder and bringing his arm to wrap around you. “And if you hadn’t walked out earlier I would’ve done it. But… I’m tired of us doing everything on your timeline. You just… you expect me to be amenable to what you want, constantly.” His nose and lips press into your shoulder.

“What do you mean?”

“Like… I’ve been begging you to sleep with me for I don’t even know how long. And you keep changing your mind, and I feel like you’re being really confusing about it. Obviously you don’t have to sleep with me, you never did, but I just feel kind of… jerked around. And you did it again tonight.”

A beat of silence.

“I understand your frustration,” he appeases, securing both his arms around you. You cling weakly to his wrist, to his warmth, like he’s a tether in a storm. “Would you prefer to wait until you initiate it?”

“No. Yes! I don’t know,” you huff, disentangling yourself from his arms and continuing toward your bedroom. “Now I’m annoyed at you again.”

He follows you right through the door.

“Just tell me what to do! I don’t want to be annoying.”

“I can’t. I’m being unreasonable.” You flick on your adjoining bathroom light and examine yourself in the mirror. Yeesh. The eye makeup situation is abysmal after all the crying that has taken place over the course of the evening.

“So choose to be reasonable and tell me what you want from me. I’ll give it to you.”

You frown at your reflection, pushing your hair back and rubbing at some excess mascara.

“No, you’re not understanding me. I’m not choosing to be unreasonable. My thought process regarding the situation is inherently unreasonable and there’s nothing I can do about it because it’s just the way I feel.”

“The feeling being that I’ve been too domineering over how our sexual relationship has unfolded?”

Spencer watches you in the bathroom mirror, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed as you tip some makeup remover onto a reusable cotton pad. You try not to check him out as you nod, but it’s impossible—with his sleeves rolled up to show defined forearms cradled in capable hands, and his hair all messy.

When he pushes off the wall you freeze, unsure of his next move—until he’s gently spinning you around and taking the bottle and cloth from your hands.

“Maybe it would help,” he begins, soft as he focuses on the new task, carefully bringing the round to your right eye so he can remove the bleeding mascara. You allow your eyes to flutter shut. “If I remind you why I’ve been so hesitant.”

“Because you hate giving me joy.”

He laughs, nothing more than one huff from his nose.

“You’re spoiled and we both know it.”

Point taken, as he gently wipes your makeup away for you. Your silence is his cue to continue.

“Everything I said about worrying that you would regret choosing me is true. It was especially true when I thought you felt lukewarm toward me. And all of that confusing stuff I said in the phone is true too—having sex for the first time is incredibly intimate and weird and sometimes scary. If you’re not 100% sure about your partner, or if you think your feelings are unrequited, it’s hard to be completely comfortable in such a vulnerable situation and your likelihood of getting hurt or having regrets skyrockets. I know that from experience. I wanted better for you than what I got. Still, I know it was wrong to project my feelings about the significance of sex onto you. In that regard, you’re right. I was being domineering, and I guess… I guess to an extent I’m still deflecting. I shouldn’t be trying to pretend like it’s about you when in reality I mostly just didn’t want to get hurt again. I didn’t want to go through that again, and that’s okay, but I shouldn’t have made you feel like it was something you could have changed.”

You try to process that.

“Go through what?” You whisper hoarsely. Something about having him at such close range while he takes such care with you feels whisper-y.

“Sleeping with someone who didn’t love me back.”

Your reply is small.

“Oh. Right.”

How could anyone not love him back?

Spencer’s reply is simple and kind, without a hint of, obviously you dumb bitch—which is pretty much what you’re thinking to yourself.

“Does that make sense, lovely? Do you understand why I wanted to wait?”

He lets you ponder for a while in comfortable-enough silence as he finishes removing your eye makeup with a characteristically gentle hand. When you open your eyes, he looks genuinely content, screwing the lid back on the bottle as if he’s got an eternity to wait for your answer.

“Yeah. That part makes sense. But why did you seem so… I don’t know, like, wishy-washy about it?”

Spencer’s eyes dart up to meet yours, brows slightly raised. Then a small laugh bubbles up from somewhere inside him.

“Because I’m obsessed with you. I thought about you like that constantly. I still do.”

Your breath catches at the casual admission.

“Oh.”

Spencer hums, setting the bottle down before tenderly thumbing away some excess mascara that he must have missed from under your eye.

“You didn’t think it was easy for me, did you?”

“Well… kind of,” you admit, tracking his eyes until they meet yours.

“Not sleeping with you has been among the hardest things I’ve ever done. Especially when you started begging me. That first time, when I picked you up from Penelope’s and you asked me why we hadn’t had sex yet…”

He trails off, still rubbing at your cheek as he loses himself in thought.

Eventually, you grow impatient, prompting, “what?”

“It’s not a nice thought.”

“Well, you have to tell me now,” you insist.

He half smiles, thumb straying to your lips.

“It was just… you had no idea what you were talking about, and you were ready to throw a tantrum in my living room until I gave you what you thought you wanted. Part of me was imagining bending you over the couch right then, since you thought you were so ready.”

It feels like someone has snipped the pulley that keeps your stomach in place.

“Spencer,” you splutter, convinced your cheek is tangibly heating under his touch as your head reels at the revelation that he could have such a deeply dirty and mildly sinister mind.

“I told you it wasn’t nice.”

You swallow.

“Is that… is that still what you want?”

His brows flicker again and he tucks hair behind your ear.

“To bend you over my couch? No.”

Your face warms even more and you turn to leave the bathroom, sick of his teasing.

“Okay, goodni—”

“Hold on.” Spencer catches you by your waist and pulls you back into him for the second time tonight. A dangerous smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “I know what you meant. And no, I don’t want to bend you over my couch.” He laughs, slipping a hand under your shirt to rub your back. “You know what I want. I’m more interested in learning what you want.”

“I want…” Your eyes dance between his, and your heart flutters against the confines of your chest as you realize what you’ve wanted for so long is finally yours for the taking. “I want to stop talking about it.”

His expression neutralizes and you know it’s probably intentional to stop whatever feelings you assume him to be having color your decision.

“Oh?”

“I just think we’ve talked about it enough.”

Before he can say another word, or ask you another question, you kiss him with such passion there’s no way he can doubt how much you want this.

Only a moment passes before he allows himself to lean into it, cupping your face between reverent hands and taking control of the pace of the kiss, slowing it down until you can hardly breathe. Your little noise of want has him quickening the process, pressing against you until you’re walking backward out of the bathroom. It’s like the first crack in a dam. After that, everything becomes inevitable.

Your knees hit the back of the bed and you sit down hard on the mattress, smiling up at him. You skim the front of his thighs with your palms as he smooths your hair.

Spencer groans, leaning down and kissing you til you’re on your back.

“Don’t make that face.”

An affronted huff from you breaks the kiss up and he pulls back to study your expression.

“What do you mean don’t make that face? I was just smiling at you.”

“I know you were. And you have such a pretty smile it makes me feel guilty about… defiling you.”

Your brows flicker up and your mouth drops open with an affronted scoff.

“Watch yourself. I’ll defile you.”

“You already have,” he admits with a half-laugh as he kisses you again. “My mind was never this dirty before we met.”

“Hm. Tell me you like my smile.”

He pauses and then chuckles dryly against your mouth.

“I love your smile. You’re gorgeous. Any more demands?”

Pleased, you shake your head and pull him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Not currently.”

“Really?” he murmurs, trailing kisses over your cheek and down your jaw, “I’d do just about anything you asked me right now. You don’t want to take advantage of that?”

The sensation of his lips just below your ear threatens all rational thought in your brain, but you manage a reply with only a slight delay and a hint of a waver coloring your tone.

“I shouldn’t have to demand things. You should just know to do them.”

His kisses drag lower, warm and unhurried and you’re trying not to let your hyper-sensitivity from going a week completely untouched show—but you doubt he misses the way your breath catches, or the barely audible squeaks, or the arch of your back or the tightening grip on his shirt.

“Well, for future reference—” he nips at a sensitive spot and you gasp quietly, even as you tilt your head to offer him more access. More room to bite, if he so chooses. “—I happen to enjoy it when you make demands of me. Especially when those demands entail letting me call you pretty.”

“I’ve never not let you call me pretty before,” you huff. It’s a touchy subject, and Spencer can probably sense your hackles rising, but he has you right where he wants you and so he pushes anyway.

“No. But you never believe me. We’ve had this conversation. You always act like I’m walking you to the gallows when I compliment you.”

It’s hard to make a defense when he’s leaning his weight onto one arm so he can unbutton your jeans, when he’s looking down at you with sparkling onyx and scorched-earth eyes like you’re something to be consumed. But not violently, no—ardently. Like fruit heavy on the vine. Like you’re a religious rite to the devout and deluded. A sacrament.

But it’s not a blind passion. Spencer knows you; every inch of you and every loose thread on your soul begging to be pulled. He knows you and he still wants you like this. To be perfectly honest, you’d never thought you’d feel comfortable handing yourself over to someone like this—vulnerable and all your layers of armor shed. Never in your life would you have thought you could trust a person so implicitly that you’d hand them a knife and show them exactly where to press, that you’d say, I know once you open me and you see me you’ll not want to change a thing.

You adore him. Cosmically. Enormously. In every dimension. He’s lodged so deep in your heart you have no choice but to love him eternally.

It’s deep in the midst of all these very profound revelations that you realize Spencer has stalled with your zipper undone. His hand has strayed to your hip, to sweetly push your shirt up and trace love letters into warmed and downy skin with his thumb.

“I just wish you could see yourself how I see you,” he says softly, the weight of the truth a strain on his vocal cords.

Sometimes, he is so kind it’s like a punch to your stomach. You’ve never been quite as kind as him. And nobody’s ever been as kind to you as he is. You’ve done nothing to deserve his kindness, but you know he needs a place for it, and you’re here with open arms.

He studies you a moment longer, swallowing as his eyes trail over your face and lower. You want to reach out and brush strands of caramel hair out of his face, but he seems to be thinking so hard you’re hesitant to distract him.

“I’ve never told you this, because I know you’d just shoot it down, but… you are genuinely the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met in my life.”

Something twinges in the depths of your stomach—the darker shades who live there and exist solely to whisper not enough not enough not enough to you every minute of every day.

But they’re simply not a match for the softness you find when you do reach out for his hair, or the way he looks at you. Spencer loosely wraps his fingers around your wrist—not a cuff, but an affectionate hold.

“Do you believe me?”

There’s so much earnest hope in his voice it almost jars you. He so badly wants you to understand how feels about you—he’s been trying to tell you for months and all you know how to do is refute his praise and insist on your worthlessness.

Ever since Spencer, you don’t see the faces on magazine covers or in superhero movies, no matter how mathematically flawless they are. Nobody gets close to being as beautiful as he is in your eyes. He’s in an entirely different echelon, and despite how you feel about yourself, you have to accept that he might feel the same about you.

“I do,” you say, equally soft, and 100% honest. You believe that he believes it, and that’s enough. It’s all that matters.

The shallow knit of his brow loosens. His lips ease into a suggestion of a smile. But it’s most visible in his eyes—the way smoldering coals reignite, melting the amber glass of his irises until they’re molten.

The way he kisses you then, you’d think you’d lassoed the moon and pulled it down from the sky for him. But apparently all it takes to make him incandescently, contagiously happy, is to accept a compliment.

There’s a renewed sense of urgency on his breath as he kisses you deeply and quick enough your heart is racing. It only goes faster when he remembers his previous task and begins tugging your jeans down, but he doesn’t even bother to pull them past your knees before his hand is creeping up your thigh. Goosebumps race each other across your body as you try to remember what it feels like—what he feels like. But you can’t, even as his thumb fans over your inner thigh and pushes it open, gently encouraging you to give him more access to you.

“You’re not wasting any time,” you breathe against him while he traces the edge of your underwear.

“Do you want me to slow down?”

Judging by the way the tips of his fingers only barely shy away from the fabric, he really wants the answer to be no. But you know in his searching gaze that he’d never push you.

“No, it’s fine. As long as we… don’t go this fast the whole time.”

“We won’t.” The hasty words are of lower priority than the next kiss he plants to your swollen lips. “We won’t. I just missed you so much.”

“Yeah?” You giggle airily as he drags his fingers over your clit through the material, trying to ignore the way it makes your head spin.

“Yes. Yeah.”

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this, so… desperate for you, as he drops his lips to your neck and presses barely-there kisses everywhere he knows you’re sensitive. Just the feeling of his breath against your skin has you shivering. His hand between your legs only brushes your most nerve-dense spot, but a few touches in and you’re already wound up, like if Spencer doesn’t give you more soon you’ll burst. And not in the good way.

When he finally commits to actually kissing your neck, you squeak, warmth emanating from that spot just below your jaw all the way to your toes. The frantic energy of earlier is slowly melting away, and he loses focus with his hand, as it begins straying wider, stroking your hip, your inner thigh, your stomach. It’s like your nerve endings are on overdrive, delivering twice as much feedback to your brain as they normally would. Each touch feels like he’s conducting electricity over your body, like you’re a plasma ball. He’d probably like that analogy—you, a core of alternating voltage, and him, the conductor, tracing a path and giving all those electrons an easy release. If you weren’t so distracted, you’d tell Spencer you found a way to work Nikola Tesla into your mutual sex life, and he’d probably propose on the spot.

But that electricity is building fast—even more so when he drags his lips down just above your collarbone. Your breath hitches, simultaneously trying to crane your neck to give him more room, and curl into him so as to escape the stimulation. Finally he pulls away, and losing the softness of his mouth while the air feels so cold against the places he’d kissed almost hurts.

“You’re a mess,” he chuckles affectionately, raising his hand to brush hair away from your face before stroking the heated high point of your cheek. “What am I going to do with you?”

It’s teasing, but so low and gentle and honeyed it swirls your stomach.

“Whatever you want,” you admit quietly. It’s a shy confession more than it is a salacious flirtation because he already has you. And you want nothing more than for him to act on that in any way he so pleases. Whatever he does, it will be careful, and kind, and because he loves you. You know that no matter how he takes you apart—he’ll put you back together again.

“I don’t know if I can. You’re all jumpy.”

God, he has the prettiest smile—even when it’s twisted with sarcasm and a thin veneer of guilt, like he knows he shouldn’t be teasing and just can’t help himself.

“I’m not,” you defend, face heating further. “I’m not nervous. I don’t know what it is.”

That sticky sweet tone is back, pooling in his eyes and dripping all over you like nectar as he languidly looks you over.

“I didn’t say you were nervous. Just a little bit jumpy.”

It’s not accusatory—he’s simply stating a fact. Easy, gentle, designed to soothe.

You shrug helplessly and chew on your lip, unsure of how he wants you to respond. It’s definitely true that excited as you are, you’re slightly on edge. You feel taut as a string on a guitar, tense and waiting to be yanked at any second.

His expression is serene, and his thoughts inscrutable as he continues lavishing you with his eyes, down to where he’s lying over you and back up. His lips part, but he doesn’t speak for a moment as he formulates his words.

“Can we try something? There’s this tantric exercise that might help you relax.”

Your brows draw earnestly and you nod up at him, not requiring any convincing even though you have no idea what he’s talking about.

Spencer directs you to sit up, and you do—kicking your jeans all the way off so you can sit criss-cross with your hands braced on your ankles.

He’s next to you on the bed, at a slight angle, one of your knees in his lap. You blink at him.

“Now what?”

“Now you give me one of your hands,” he says, tone tinted with a hint of an amused smile, as if your impatience is funny to him. Of course it probably is.

Frowning only a little, you unlock your left arm and hold it out for him, watching curiously as he takes your one hand between his and flips it palm-up.

“Did you know,” Spencer begins, voice low and confidential, “that the fingertips are the second most sensitive part of the human body?”

“What’s the first?”

“Lips,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on your hand where he’s brushing the tips of your fingers light enough it almost tickles. “They’re both incredibly important for keeping you alive, which is why they’re one and two. But you’ll be particularly sensitive anywhere you’re vulnerable.” His words are trailing off as he brushes his thumb over your palm and to the delicate skin of your wrist. “Like here.”

His knuckles skim up your forearm, to the crook of your elbow.

“And especially here.”

You’re fascinated as he traces back down the length of your arm and over your inner-wrist, feather light. Then up once more, with the blunted edges of his nails, and your breath catches. You’ve never noticed how sensitive such an innocuous part of your body could be, but it has your stomach flipping—more so when he looses a breathy laugh. “You know, some people are actually able to reach orgasm just by light stimulation to this area.”

Your response is just as airy—you don’t recognize your voice when it comes out like that, hanging in the pitch black between you.

“Really?”

An affirmative hum from him, as he lifts your hand and places an intentional kiss over your pulse at the bend of your wrist. Your chest aches and heat is pooling in your stomach as his gently trails them up the delicate skin of your arm. Maybe you should be embarrassed by the reaction you’re having—after all, it’s just your arm. But he treats every part of you like it warrants love and attention and intimacy. Even the parts you typically ignore. Certainly parts you never considered to be sexually or romantically relevant. It’s dizzying. It’s like magic.

“Arms up,” Spencer finally directs, just as sweetly as he’s doing everything else, and helps you tug your shirt over your head. Every brush of fabric, every seam against your skin registers more than it normally would. Everything is heightened, and despite your state of undress you’re still warm. “Your neck is really sensitive, too. It’s the most commonly acknowledged erogenous zone.”

Erogenous zone. Of course this all comes back to biology.

“Tilt your head for me, honey.”

Utterly entranced and useless to not abide by him, you do so. Spencer brushes your hair over your shoulder, and if the slip of it down your back weren’t enough, the graze of his fingertips against the nape of your neck has you shivering.

The warmth of him at your throat feels completely brand new, despite having already had his lips there only minutes before. But now they ghost over your skin with a kind of novelty, and your own lips part in silent pleasure, head lolling to allow him greater access.

“Lie back.”

Without hesitation (but perhaps a bit sluggishly in your stupor) you obey, sliding down until you’re propped up only by pillows once more. Spencer takes his place propped above you once more, thighs slotted with yours as he quickly picks up where he left off.

The sweet kisses are perfect and feel so much better than you’d ever thought to notice before—but at the same time your core aches and there’s that pressure building again that’s starting to get to you.

“Spencer,” you try, and it comes out hoarse but you don’t care at all. “More.”

“You want me to leave marks?”

And the offer is so tempting you’ll wait a few more minutes to ask for what you really need, nodding semi-frantically and ‘mhm’-ing desperately.

As he gently latches onto a spot that will require concealer later but feels fantastic for now, one of his hands slips down your side, just barely letting his nails skim, and your back actually arches. It’s a shocking amount of stimulation for being nowhere near any sexual hotspots. That tiny caught breath dissolves as his fingers continue down just as lightly over your hip and thigh. Your muscles tense as you chase and run away from the feeling. It’s ridiculous.

There’s no point in trying to keep your eyes open now—they grow heavy and you let them fall shut as he sucks another love bite to your throat.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? It’s kind of weird.” He says, voicing your thoughts as he eventually decides the mark will be sufficiently dark.

“Yeah,” you agree, lacking all eloquence as he caresses every sensitive place you didn’t know you had and your hips writhe minutely in a little desperate dance of your own creation.

“Most people aren’t aware of the potential of the erogenous zones that aren’t actual sex organs. They don’t pay attention to them. You know what else is an interesting function of erotic stimulation to areas that aren’t directly involved in reproduction?”

“Hm,” you hum as his hand skims to your back. You lean into it and he promptly undoes your bra with a single hand—a skill you’re not even sure you have.

“It releases not quite as much oxytocin as an orgasm but more than sexual pleasure alone. So you’re less tense before sex than you usually would be, and you’re primed to build more trust and feel more connected with your partner during.”

God, he’s a nerd. And it’s so, so hot.

You roll over on your back again and look up at him through half-lidded eyes. The corner of his mouth flickers as he takes in your expression, before trailing downward, following the path his fingertips make over your skin as they tug the straps over your shoulders. Trying to stop him, to be shy, would be a pointless venture. He’s seen you like this and you want him to see you again.

A shaky exhale of his own brings a little smile to your face as he pulls your bra away and observes the newly bared skin with a hunger that you can feel.

“I missed you,” he murmurs, eyes cast pointedly down and thumb brushing over the side of your right breast.

“You mentioned.”

“I’m not allowed to say it again?” He teases, leaning down to kiss you soft. Your lips curve against his.

“You can say it as many times as you want.”

Spencer hums, finally thumbing over your breast’s sensitive peak. It sends a chill down your back and seeing as you’re already worked up to the point of near insanity, the pleasure from such a simple touch is much stronger than it would be otherwise.

“Good. Because I missed you a lot.”

After that, he doesn’t waste much time—only toying with your flesh for another minute as he kisses you before his hand is skimming down your abdomen and dipping below the waistband of your underwear.

“Please,” you whisper, tilting your hips toward him when he doesn’t move to touch you anymore.

“Please what?”

“Spencer, don’t.”

He smiles at this, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth as his hand travels lower. Fingers slip between wet folds and he begins making the lightest of circles over your clit.

“You’ve probably been waiting long enough, huh? I should be nicer.”

Your answer is a breathy almost-whine as you seek more friction against his hand.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, pressing down harder. The sensation sends sparks down to your toes and you attempt to clamp your legs shut around his wrist. “These need to stay open,” Spencer chuckles, “or else I can’t help you.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” The words are a sweet sing-song against your cheek as he kisses you there, before hooking his fingers into the fabric of your underwear and pulling down. You try to help wiggle out of them as best you can, gasping when he tosses them away and immediately returns his hand between your legs. He dips his head down, tongue lathing over your breast, and teases you with the tip of one finger circling around your entrance.

“I need—”

“Shh. Let me worry about it.”

With that, he’s dipping his ring and middle fingers just barely inside of you to the first knuckle, then back out, before pushing a bit deeper, and repeating the cycle until they’re as far as they’ll go. When he slowly starts fucking you with them, still mouthing sweetly at your breast, you’re ready to melt.

The room is quiet except for your breathy mewls, the lewd, wet sound of his fingers inside of you, and the blood rushing in your ears. Soon your breast pops from between his lips and he finds somewhere else to leave his mark. Spencer is turning you into a work of art, with his fingers, with his mouth. You don’t mind at all. You’d let him sign his name, if he could—but you doubt he’d let you get his name tattooed.

Soon you stop fighting the perpetual tug of your lids down and let them flutter shut, loosing a freer moan as he brushes over that sweet spot inside you. Even when he’d told you how to find it over the phone, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t like this—maddening enough to have your hips twisting again and that hot bed of coals in your tummy sparking.

“Spencer,” you warn, leg twitching as he stokes the fire beyond the point where you can passively enjoy it. Either he’s got to slow down or he’s got to let you burn all the way up. You practically jump when you feel his tongue flick over your clit—you hadn’t even been aware of his shifting positions. Maybe you’re more out of it than you’d previously thought. Your eyes shoot open and he does it again. “Oh, fuck.”

The words are simple, quiet, and apparently that’s not enough. Before you can even process the sensation of the tip of his tongue on you he’s latching onto your clit, suckling in a way that has your vision momentarily going out. You cry out and kick involuntarily, hips jumping up, but he captures your leg and presses you down into the mattress so no matter how much you squirm and squeak you can’t get away.

“Fuckfuckfuck, Spencer I wa—ah—sn’t ready—oh my god.”

He remembers his fingers deep inside you and begins rutting them and you hiss, inhaling sharply through your teeth before letting it all out in a tremulous moan. The orgasm is building up so quickly it almost feels like an attack on your poor body as you try to process it all to no avail. Every sound you make is a vulnerable mess of pleasure and pain, a clear fear of surrendering to something inevitable. Of course, it doesn’t really hurt at all. As usual, he’s blindsided you. Found you unprepared. You rake your fingers through Spencer’s hair, continuing on with your shaky moans that sound half-worried.

“Oh, please.” Really, you’re just pleading to be put out of your misery. It’s in moments like this, as the black is creeping in around the edges of your vision and your thoughts become threads in the tangle of an existence knotting in on itself with no discernible end or beginning in your mind until everything is completely abstract, that you’re reminded why the French refer to orgasm as the little death.

Your fingers lace tight enough in the wilds of his hair to pull, and he groans against you, and those vibrations are your undoing. You succumb to the dark momentarily but he continues a loving assault of gentle kisses to your clit—careful enough so as to be inoffensive even after the euphoria abates and you’re hypersensitive, still relishing soft strands of hair between your knuckles.

You’re breathing hard as you blink your vision back, looking down at him as he looks up at you from his place between your legs and rubs the top of your thigh.

“I wasn’t ready,” you pant, lips flashing into a tired smile that doesn’t hold a candle to his own livelier one.

“Took it like a champ.”

If you weren’t already so warm his sarcastic comment would inspire more heat in the apples of your cheeks.

“Dr. Spencer Reid using sports idioms?” You smile as he climbs back up your body.

“It’s unreasonably sexy that you said idiom and not simile.” He kisses you, grin mirroring yours, and you don’t complain about the slick still on his lips. “And look at that. Not afraid to kiss me when I taste like you anymore.”

“I remember what you said,” you whisper, eyes bouncing between his, glowing amber pools in the low light. The words echo in your head from the first time he’d gone down on you and you’d been hesitant to taste yourself.

One day, I’ll make you come just like that again, and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re really going to want me to kiss you then, angel.

“So do I,” he points out needlessly. “Eerily prophetic, hm?”

“I think you just like going down on me,” you laugh.

Without the light on, his smile is just as brilliant as usual.

“You might be right about that.”

Another interlude of quiet begins, but you don’t mind it. Taking this slow, as desperate as you’ve been for it, feels nice. Easy. Waves of burning need ebb and flow, but for now, it feels nice to be bathed in his candlelight gaze, know you’re loved, and nothing else.

“What next?” You whisper after a long moment, lifting your hand to trace the line of his jaw. He leans into it slightly, lips brushing your palm.

“That’s up to you, angel. What’s going to make you feel most comfortable?”

Your bottom lip rolls between your teeth as you think and he tracks the movement, corner of his mouth twitching fondly.

“It might help if you weren’t fully clothed.”

“I think we could probably do something about that.”

He pecks the tip of your nose playfully and then he’s pushing off the bed. Your brow wrinkles as you follow suit only partially, sitting up with your legs folded under you and pulling the sheets over your body to combat the chill and the vulnerability of being completely naked.

“Oh, my god. You had your shoes on that whole time?”

“I got distracted,” Spencer defends, almost tripping over himself in his hurry to slip the loafers off.

You clutch the sheet to your chest, watching the adorable way he pushes his hair out of his face as he rushes. He’s so clearly excited—it shows in the flush of his cheek and his even worse than usual coordination.

“But on my bed?”

“I’m sorry,” he says without seeming very apologetic, leaning down to catch your chin between his thumb and forefinger and pressing his lips to yours. “I’ll pay to have your comforter dry cleaned. I’ll buy you a new one. I don’t care.”

“How chivalrous.”

“I am,” he insists against your lips, shaped by what is surely a boyish smirk.

Unsurprisingly, you get lost in the kiss, dropping the sheet to hang onto his shoulders. Spencer takes advantage of the once-more revealed skin, rubbing your thigh with slow passes in a way that has you all lit up again already. It doesn’t help that his tie is skimming right over the recess between your folded thighs as he leans over your seated form, kissing you deeper as the moments pass.

“You’re distracting me now,” you scold, but your voice is quiet and smiley as your noses brush.

“Do you want to help me with my clothes?”

You nod, heart hatching like a cocoon and already slipping a finger into the knot of his tie so you can tug perhaps not gently enough. He chuckles, bracing himself with his fists on either side of your lap as you pull and yank until the fabric comes loose and you slip it from around his neck, flinging it blindly for dramatic effect. Then he slowly draws back to his full height, until you’re about eye-level with his chest. His gaze fixes on you, feverish and intent as he finds the buckle of his belt without looking. The slide of leather on leather, the jingle of the metal has the hairs on the back of your neck rising and you fight a chill as he pins you with his stare—feeling rather powerless as he towers over you, still essentially fully clothed while you’re completely naked.

You probably shouldn’t be as thrilled by it as you are.

Spencer tosses the belt on the floor and watches on, utterly charmed as you rise to your knees. His hands find your waist, steadying you as you begin unbuttoning his shirt with slow, careful fingers.

“See?” You murmur bashfully. “Helping.”

His voice is equally as soft.

“Very helpful. Thank you.”

The tension in the quiet room gets to be too much and you have to focus hard on the task at hand, failing to bite back a twisty smile. For once, he keeps his stupid perfect mouth shut and lets you push the fabric of his open shirt from his shoulders in humid silence.

Your fingers skate down his torso and you watch the muscles tense. You wonder if he notices the way he pulls you slightly closer or if it’s subconscious as you both track the path of your hands.

“Your button is on the wrong side,” you note, voice wavering slightly, once your fingers stall at the waistband of his pants.

Spencer chuckles. You feel silly.

“Men and women’s clothing tend to have the buttons on different sides, if that’s what you mean.”

“Oh.” A beat of silence, before the words come pouring out. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I’m still a little bit nervous, I think.”

“That’s okay,” Spencer assures you, hands gliding up and down the soft lines of your waist. “It’s okay that you’re nervous. But I’m going to take really good care of you, okay?”

You nod, not looking away from the exposed skin of his torso.

“And if at any point you need to take a break or stop, you’ll tell me.”

“I will, but… I don’t need to stop right now.”

“Then you can go as slow as you want.”

You swallow and take a moment to gather yourself before continuing on undoing his pants. With his assistance, you pull them down, and with them his boxers tug an inch or two lower, exposing a subtle v-shape before it disappears beneath the waistband. The fabric is obviously tented. A ball of nervous anticipation spins faster in your stomach, drawing all the heat in your body down between your legs. He’s pretty everywhere. You’d nearly forgotten.

Spencer’s stomach tenses under your light touch as you drag your fingers down, down, just to the waistband. It’s then that you look up at him for permission to continue, and find his eyes already on you, heated and intense.

“Go ahead, honey.”

Again you find yourself quite excited to touch him, but you start cautiously, simply letting your hand fall over the shape of him through the fabric. Even that has his chest rising and falling at a slightly quickened rate, and one of his hands finds your unoccupied one, twining them together. That small gesture inspires you to bolden your explorations, becoming more insistent in the way you palm at him. He feels big, which is a concern of yours. But you try not to let that intimidate you.

Already he’s quite hard, you suspect from going down on you earlier (which is flattering as much as it embarrasses you) and your fingers graze a small wet patch of fabric. You fixate on the shaky little breath he releases as you push down his boxers with new fervor, and his cock springs up.

He’s still perfect.

You smear beads of precum down his tip, and he sighs, letting his head fall against yours as you both watch. A few coquettish pumps and he’s humming, kissing your face and dragging his lips down your neck where he makes a home for himself. Apparently the sight of your hand wrapped around him had been too much to bear.

“So good. Missed this.”

“It’s just my hand,” you whisper, a little insecure that he’s maybe playing it up for your benefit.

“It’s you.”

His voice is so breathy, you sort of have to believe him.

“Can I…?”

Too nervous to voice what you really mean, you trail off, but it apparently doesn’t matter to Spencer. He lifts his head like he’s in a stupor but you’ve said something urgent.

“Anything you want. You can do whatever you want.”

“Okay. Um…”

You let go of his hand (and his dick). Spencer automatically rotates to accommodate you as you end up on your knees on the wooden floor in front of him.

“This is what you want?” He breathes, already pushing his fingers through your hair and gathering it back as you look up at him and nod.

Very quickly you have him back in your hand, trying to remember what you learned from the few times you’ve done this. You start perhaps a bit softer, less eager to prove yourself than you have in the past—simply dragging him over your tongue before enveloping his tip in your mouth, and releasing with a pop. Despite being overtly, explicitly, and undeniably sexual, there’s something almost chaste about the way you handle him. It’s a (dirty) expression of love, and you think he understands that as he rubs at your cheek affectionately.

Eventually, however, you get too excited, and you take him into your mouth in earnest, bobbing your head slowly and seeing how much of him you can take without gagging.

Spencer makes the prettiest noises—they’re breathy, and not ostentatious, but he’s got such a nice speaking voice it’s like his gasps are bars in a song. You whine around him, wriggling your hips in a rather pathetic display, and then all too quickly he’s tugging your hair so you can’t keep him in your mouth.

“What?” You ask, closer to pouting than you’d care to admit and voice slightly hoarse. “You said I could do anything I want.”

“Not if you’re that good at it. Come here.”

He helps you up and catches you in a deep, messy kiss before you’ve fully regained your footing, swaying against him, but he holds you fast, pulling away slow like strings of honey trail between your mouths.

Spencer’s eyes are fixed on yours, lips parted in a sort of wonder before he glances down to your own mouth, wiping the shine from your bottom lip. Any moment you’re expecting him to say something, to tell you you’re beautiful or perfect or that he’s in love with you—but instead he just meets your eyes again, that same wonder-struck look on his pretty face. A tiny, breathy laugh forces itself from his chest like you’re a genuine miracle.

You feel so observed—seen in a way you’ve never been seen, looked at closer than anyone has ever looked at you before. And he still looks at you like you’re the human embodiment of love, the closest mortal manifestation of the divine, Galatea come down from her marble pedestal. The way he looks at you has your heart pounding and your breathing hastened. Adoration has never been something so physical, so tangible, ever before in your life. Your blood hums at the frequency of his electromagnetic field—an energetic aura that surrounds each person and can be detected from several feet away, as he’d explained it to you. It originates from the heart and if you spend enough time close to someone, syncs up the beating of your most vital organ with theirs until it’s a perfect match. Maybe that’s why, almost as quickly as your heart had begun to pound, it slows again, and you feel any reservation flush from your body like a fever.

“Okay,” you breathe, cataloguing every angle and curve of his face to store with all the rest, all the moments that feel important. Of course, you’ll never remember them like he does yours. But you’ll be damned if you don’t try your hardest.

“Okay?” Spencer asks. He understands the confirmation for what it is, and searches for signs of hesitation on your face while rubbing reassuring circles into your hip. You nod resolutely.

As he lays you down on your bed, it feels like you’re entering some kind of altered state. Everything is muted and glowing with a watercolor aura in the dark and you really only care about the man on top of you and the way moonlight dances on his skin and the way he smells like smoky amber and rain. He makes sure the pillows are fluffed under you, before sweeping your hair from beneath your shoulders into a corona around your head. All the while his eyes are so soft on you, just like his hands, and his lips when he leans down to touch them to yours.

One of said hands finds its way to your jaw, trailing down over your neck and collarbone, before settling over your breast where he swipes a thumb over your nipple, lightly, slowly, several times.

Once again you’re struck with the odd feeling, even with his hand on you like this, that the situation isn’t sexual in the way you’d anticipated. It’s not pornographic, or even very dirty. Everything Spencer does, even as his hand sneaks down between your legs, he does because he loves you.

“One more like this,” he mutters against your jaw after a moment.

“Why?”

Your impatience yields a smile you can only feel against your skin.

“Just want you relaxed and feeling good. That’s all.”

When you assent, his fingers are already slowly pushing inside you.

It seems you’ve entered some sort of time warp as well, because you reach a gentle peak in what feels like record time, aided by his easy murmurings and saccharine praise.

“Perfect. That was perfect,” Spencer says with a kiss to your shoulder as he slides his fingers from you and you feel yourself literally dripping onto the sheets. “Can I ask you something before we get carried away?”

“Mhm,” you hum, sweet and compliant as pleasure dulls your inhibitions for the second time tonight and your head lolls into the pillows.

“Baby,” he croons, voice soft as worn paper as your lids flutter and lashes brush febrile cheeks, thumbing over the heated skin. “Need you a little more alert, sweet girl.”

“’M trying,” you whine, though it’s half self-effacing laugh. Spencer chuckles too as you shake your head and take a deep breath, trying to reinvigorate yourself. “Okay. Go.”

“Well… we don’t have any protection.” Before you can groan, loudly, he hurries on. “And that’s… I’m okay with that, if it’s what you still want. I trust you. But there will come… a moment of reckoning. And I need to know where I should… reckon. So you don’t end up surprised.”

Now you’re really laughing—a giggly mess beneath him as your arms loop over his shoulders.

“Stop it,” he whines, pressing his nose to your cheek as you turn your head in an effort to not snort at your boyfriend to his face. “That was for your benefit, you know. You get squeamish.”

“I’m sorry, I just can’t take you seriously when you refer to it as reckoning.”

“Fine. I’ll rephrase. When I come, you essentially have two options. Inside, or on your stomach. Tell me where you want it.”

Your breath catches and your stomach does that tripping-over-itself thing again.

“Um…”

Another fond half laugh, at your expense, is pressed against your skin. It’s enough to prompt you into answering—he doesn’t have to say anything to make his point about your being squeamish.

“Inside,” you mutter, shy as you attempt to bring him closer so he won’t be able to look at you quite so closely. You wonder if he’s remembering the conversation you’d had over the phone last week—before he’d accidentally kind of broken up with you—about this very subject. You certainly are.

“Okay. I want you to have everything that you want.” A few kisses to your neck later, between nips, he speaks again. “Just need to hear that you want this one more time.”

“I want this,” you repeat, obedient and honest, plain and simple. “Now, please.”

Spencer responds by first kissing you, firm and loving. It soothes you, and he punctuates it with a kiss to your cheek, before he’s reaching down and guiding himself between your legs. You feel surprisingly calm, more overcome with love and the light pleasure rolling down your back as he drags himself over your clit than you are by nerves. Still, you pointedly hold his gaze, not looking down in case you psych yourself out. He slots himself in place, tip resting against your entrance.

“Remember, if you need to stop at any point—”

“I remember,” you cut him off hurriedly.

Okay. So perhaps you’re still slightly nervous.

He watches you, sympathetic though you’re not sure what for.

“I need you as relaxed as possible, okay? I want this to be easy on you.”

You take a moment, scanning your whole body for tense muscles. When you feel sufficiently relaxed, you offer Spencer a small nod, and at that, he begins pushing into you ever so slightly.

At first, it just feels foreign. He’s going so slowly, so carefully, you’re not sure he’s moving at all—until he finds resistance and the odd full feeling changes to a hint of burning stretch. Your hips jump and your breath catches, and Spencer stops immediately, relieving the pressure with a tiny shift in position.

“It’s gonna hurt,” you realize, eyes darting between his like he might be able to tell you otherwise. You’d always been aware of the possibility, but you were holding out hope that you’d be one of those people who didn’t experience any pain their first time.

“Just for a minute. Then it’ll feel good, angel.”

You swallow and nod. At the end of the day, you trust him completely. You trust him enough to let him hurt you.

“Super deep breaths for me.”

He watches intently as you follow his directions, taking several deep breaths in succession, before he begins pushing into you once more. The pressure builds and builds until he pushes past that point of resistance, and it’s like he’s breaking you in two.

“Ah,” you gasp, abs twisting as your body tries to escape the sensation without any input from you.

“I know. I know, baby, that was the hardest part. Breathe.”

He drops his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles with light pressure to distract from the pain.

You nod, lips pressed together tight as the deep ache muddles your brain. It’s an insistent pressure against something does not seem to want to budge. It burns and stretches and is laced with sour, flirtatious pleasure so that you can hardly tell what it is you’re feeling. Mostly, you’re dizzy and hot.

“Relax, just like that,” he strains, looking down. “My good girl. We’re almost there, baby.”

Cries spill unbidden from your mouth and your eyes shut as he continues to open you up deeper, until finally, finally, his hips settle into the cradle of yours.

Spencer sighs a curse under his breath, so quiet you don’t think it was meant for you.

He’s inside of you. It’s bizarre.

You whimper, and he snaps out of whatever revery he’d been in.

“You okay? How does that feel?”

You take a shuddering breath, closing your eyes and trying to clear your head to no avail—your thoughts are like TV static.

“I’m good. I need… I need a minute.”

“You can have as much time as you need. It’s a lot, huh?”

“Yeah,” you admit, voice small and weak.

“I bet,” he agrees, peppering soft kisses all over your face. “But you’re doing so well. Proud of you, brave girl. You’re doing so well and we’re gonna make sure it feels good soon, okay? Whenever you’re ready.”

“Will you please kiss me again?” you whisper, and Spencer’s brow knits with concern.

“Of course, angel. Of course I’ll kiss you,” he says, and makes good on his promise with his lips on yours. It sweetens the ache. “I’ll do whatever you want. You can have anything. You’re so perfect.”

He kisses you again, just as lovingly, and soft, like you’re delicate. All the praise is only contributing to your lightheadedness, but you don’t mind at all. It feels good.

“You can… you can move.”

“Okay. We’ll go really slow, yeah?”

He waits for your nod before his hips are pulling back and you arch at the odd sensation. When he pushes back in, eyes carefully locked on yours the whole time, you keen slightly, frowning and brain shorting out as it tries and fails to process this new feeling.

“Uh-huh. You’re okay, I promise.”

At first it doesn’t feel good. It mostly hurts. But slowly, the pain begins to abate as you acclimate to having him inside of you, and he’s careful the whole time.

“Spence?”

“Hm?”

He sounds concentrated on the task at hand—you’re entranced by the sight of him above you, the parted lips, the unkempt hair over the brow furrowed in pleasure and focus. But he’s never too busy for you.

“Does it… um—” you pause to hold back a whine—“what does it feel like for you?”

At this, he slows even further and chuckles—it’s a strained, slightly breathy sound.

“For me?”

“Mhm.”

“You feel perfect, baby. You feel so fucking good.”

The slight fry in Spencer’s voice as he curses, which is a rare event in and of itself, flips your stomach, turns you on immensely. The idea that you’re giving him pleasure too—it’s almost overwhelming. That’s when it starts feeling good.

“Oh—” you squeak, jaw dropping and bucking your hips inadvertently as the first bolt of true pleasure shocks deep in your core. He hums.

“Yeah, is that it, sweet girl?”

But you can’t answer for a long moment. Your brain is melting as your legs lock around him.

“Mm—it’s—it feels…”

“I know it does,” Spencer murmurs.

You whine and press your face into the curve of his shoulder as each thrust gently rocks your body. As the pace picks up bit by bit, you feel yourself clenching hard around him. His hips stutter and he hisses.

“Ah. Can’t do that, lovely.”

“What? Did I hurt you?”

He laughs breathily.

“No, you didn’t hurt me. You almost pushed me out. You have to relax.”

“Sorry,” you whisper. “’M trying.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. I know you’re trying, baby, you’re being so good for me.”

Your nails skim his back—a small expression of a much larger desperation. Once he’s sure you’re relaxed around him, begins going faster.

Your gasps and soft moans come more often now as he finds a steady rhythm and it feels so different when he’s actually fucking you. It feels like he’s everywhere. Every time your hips meet you feel the sweet shock of it in your teeth, your toes, the back of your neck. In the best way, you feel consumed by him. It’s not at all like you’d imagined, and it’s perfect.

“Wait, Spencer,” you breathe, struggling to form the words. Immediately he stops again, lifting his head from your shoulder to examine your face.

“What is it?”

He sounds just as wrecked as you feel, panting and strained and it feels good to hear.

“I wanna watch.”

For a moment his eyes dart between yours like he’s trying to determine what you really mean—but you said exactly what you meant. Then he laughs, a huff of air from his nose as he presses his head to yours and gives you a quick kiss.

Your toes curl as he readjusts his position, holding himself a little higher and resting your heads together so you can both look between your bodies.

“There,” he murmurs as he slowly begins to withdraw again. “Like that?”

But you can’t answer, because you’re too busy whimpering at the sight of him pushing into you. The feeling seems to increase tenfold as you watch it happen. Distantly you wonder how the fuck it fits.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Like that.”

Spencer takes this as a blessing to find a pace again, slower now as he seems to be just as enthralled by the sight as you are.

“Give me your leg,” he rasps after a few moments like that, and you don’t know what he means exactly but you lift your right leg slightly only for him to press his hand to the back of your knee and push toward your chest, effectively opening you up and giving him more range of motion. It also enables him to fuck you even deeper. Again he slows, apparently savoring the feel of you yielding around him all the way down to the hilt.

Black spots dance in your eyes as he settles at your deepest point—not pain, necessarily, just overwhelming sensation. Your jaw drops and you choke out a moan as he presses into recesses you didn’t know you had, as he shows you a part that you might have gone the rest of your life without knowing existed. He stops there, like that. Everything stops there, like that. If the cars on the road below ceased to drive, if the airplanes froze in the sky, you’d not be the least bit surprised. Somehow, you’ve unlocked a small eternity. There’s no sound but your joint heavy breathing and your heart pounding in your ears. The words just come bubbling up out of you in a little whine.

“I love you.”

Spencer’s breath pauses for a moment before he’s letting it all out at once, brushing his lips up the ridge of your nose before they settle on your forehead in what seems like a permanent kiss. A few breaths in, you allow your eyes to flutter shut. Your heart rate slows down a touch, and you settle into the moment, never having been quite so content as you are like this—never having felt quite so adored and safe.

“I love you,” he finally echoes, voice rasping, lips still pressed to your skin, still breathing against your hair. When he starts to move again, drawing back ever so slowly, you hiss softly. He raises his head from yours, and you look away from where he’s pulling out, meeting his eyes just in time for him to push back in, just as deep. They shine in the mostly-dark room and you moan unabashedly. It’s a high-pitched, sweet thing, nothing that will have the neighbors complaining—but so clearly true, from the depths of your soul, an expression of everything you’re feeling—not just the pleasure.

Although that’s good, too, as Spencer shapes you to him again and again, the head of his cock kissing places nobody’s ever been and places you hope nobody else will ever venture to. This is all you need. Him.

“Jesus,” Spencer groans, eyes fixed on your face as he fucks you slowly. But you can’t bring yourself to talk, too new to this kind of pleasure to find it anything other than mind-boggling and world altering. Your lips are still parted, allowing each sound to pass without filter. “Listen to you, beautiful.”

When he stops again, just to look down and marvel at you, you’re conflicted. On the one hand, you can taste the pleasure on the back of your tongue and he keeps taking it away when it’s so close. But on the other—you’re just as overwhelmed as he said you’d be. Your body has never had to process this kind of sensory information before, and you’re exhausted, but it’s so good.

“Spencer,” you manage. He looks up, pupils blown and eyes lidded where they’d normally be wide. “Please don’t stop.”

He swallows, spurred into action again as soon as you say it.

“Good?”

You nod and whine again as he picks up the pace bit by bit, remembering to push your leg back once more so he can get as deep as you need him.

“So good,” you exhale at the top pitch of your voice. Your brows pinch and you release a fuller moan as Spencer finds a speed that’s fast enough to constantly feel good no matter where he is. You’re gasping for breath, back arching—and he finds a new angle, catching against the spot inside you that renders all those years of human evolution that gave you sentience and intelligence a waste. He chuckles airily at your series of series of affronted moans and halted gasps.

“Right there? That's a good spot, isn’t it?”

“Oh, go—fuck, fuck!”

It feels so good it almost hurts, and your eyes are stinging to prove it. Your legs clamp tighter around him and you realize there’s a very lewd wet sound and you can’t believe that’s you.

“Spencer, you’re—oh my god, I love you,” you whine, and it sounds like you’re pleading for your life. At this makes his own sound of pleasure, and hastens his messy circles on your clit as if in reward.

But it’s too much all combined.

Your hand claps to your mouth to obscure the loud, licentious moan that comes out—but Spencer immediately moves his hand from between your legs to grab your wrist and pin it gently to the bed, intertwining your fingers.

“Don’t do that. Let me hear.”

You nod, and he lets go of your hand to return his fingers to your clit. If possible you get wetter around his cock—you can feel yourself gushing.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whine as if pained.

“Yeah? Gonna finally let me feel you cumming, angel?”

He has a filthy mouth when he wants to. The words hit like high voltage to your core and the very pit of your stomach. You can’t even respond beyond a desperate sob.

“Show me, baby. I’m right here. Let go.”

You cum around his cock with a broken cry and it’s like a purge of every drop of angst you’d felt over the past week or so—hell, it’s a purge of all the insecurities that had bubbled to the surface since you started dating him. None of it matters anymore. How could it matter when you have him? When you have this?

The orgasm washes you out like a tidal wave, taking everything with it. It’s strong, and it’s so good, so intense, your body is overwrought with sensation and it’s too much even though it’s perfect. Your brain is drawing a blank as it tries to react to the feeling, and it’s like every button on the damn panel has been hit.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Spencer grits, and you feel it in the way he adjusts his position, shifting as he grips at the edge of the mattress for leverage and the thrusts become messier, needier. You gasp as his other hand tangles in your hair, turning your head to ghost your lips over his forearm. It’s not entirely surprising when his own lips find your shoulder—but the feeling of him finding his release just as his teeth sink into your skin does come as quite a shock. It doesn’t hurt, and you’re sure there’s no skin broken, but it’s an undeniable fact that he has grounded himself in the throes of passion by biting down on you.

Inside you, he feels hot. Searing, almost, as his spend tries to fill space that doesn’t exist. There is absolutely no room for anything else inside of you. Stars dance in your eyes at the overstimulation, but long after he’s finished he’s still fucking into you—albeit much slower and with far less technique. Spencer moans like a two bit whore, like he’s reached pain to a point of ecstasy, and to you it’s as good, as special as the singing of the planets. If he’s as sensitive as you are now, it’s no small feat for him to keep going on like this. It’s a testament to how much he doesn’t want it to be over. The pleasure is carrying him away, but you’re beginning to feel how soft you must be and how if he continues on like this you may bruise like an overripe peach.

“Spencer,” you manage, skating your hand up and down his back in what you hope are soothing lines. “Baby.”

He whines as his lips detach from your shoulder, but his hips finally slow to a stop, nestled inside you.

“Jesus, fuck, I'm sorry,” he breathes, opting now to bury his face in your neck (with significantly less biting this time).

You’re still reeling, toes still curled, still struggling to breathe as your head spins and spins and spins. His chest pushes against yours with every heaving breath, hot and heavy on your skin, and that’s the only sign he’s still alive until his hand eventually reanimates in your hair, scratching your head tenderly.

For a span of minutes, you stay like that—silent, twined together like caducean serpents. His weight on top of you is perfect. This, the lack of differentiation between your body and his, is perfect. You don’t know where he ends and you begin and you don’t need to. It’s a blissful moment.

“Hey.”

Spencer’s voice is hoarse when he finally speaks, lifting his head to look at you with flushed cheeks and messy hair and sparkly eyes.

“Hi.”

He smiles.

“You’re so pretty.”

“You too,” you murmur, moving your hand from his back and pressing your thumb into the hollow of his cheek. His eyes map the curves of your face as he pushes your surely askew hair back.

“How do you feel?”

It takes you a moment to seriously consider his question, scanning your body for any undue pains, but for the moment, you find none, beyond a dull aching throb that you can manage.

“Good. Tired.”

You wince at the uncomfortable feeling of him pulling out. Spencer hums sympathetically and presses a sticky kiss to your lips which makes it a little better, though you can’t ignore how uncomfortable all the previously pleasant wetness has become between your legs.

“Here—stay here, I’ll get a wash cloth and—”

“It’s fine,” you insist, holding on even as he tries to roll off of you. “I just need… will you stay here for a little bit?”

“Of course,” he promises, now pressed close to your side and propped up on an elbow, “whatever you want.”

You lavish in his gaze, warm like a spotlight, as he strokes your cheek and plays with your hair. Very quickly you’re lulled into a doze, eyes fluttering shut. Minutes stretch. You feel drunk on waking dreams, and perfectly at peace. Safe.

“Angel girl,” he christens you fondly. More than anything, it’s an observation, so lovely it sinks into your skin like a balm, soothing every tired muscle and little mark he’d made. Even half-asleep, it makes you smile.

“You’re an angel,” you slur, reaching blindly for him, and he chuckles, catching your wrist and helpfully settling your hand on his cheek.

“I thought you were asleep.”

You hum, “mm-mm,” looking up at him with just as much adoration as he has for you. Those cuddle hormones must be kicking in because soon you’re attempting to pull him back on top of you. He doesn’t quite comply, probably for fear of crushing you—rather he settles next to you, gathering you in his arms.

Silence blankets the two of you, but it’s not unpleasant as you just watch each other with barely-there smiles curling your mouths. This kind of intimacy still manages to give you butterflies, even after everything else you’ve done. This kind of satisfaction, reverie in the sound of each other’s blood flowing and lungs filling. Setting aside words because you don’t need conversation as a pretense for wanting to be around each other anymore. You don’t need an excuse to look at him like this. You don’t need words any more than you need clothes. It’s enough to just be.

“I love you,” he says, a soft reminder, and entirely redundant with the way he’d already been looking at you, touching you.

“I know. I love you too.”

The smile flickers brighter on his face.

“And thank you.”

Your eyes narrow minutely as you consider what he could possibly be thanking you for.

“For what?”

“For loving me. And trusting me. It’s…” your heart squeezes as you realizes tears are pooling in his eyes. He takes a moment and clears his throat. It’s incredibly endearing. “It means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me.”

You look down, thumbing at the sheets where you’ve hoisted them over your bodies.

“You do realize how lame we are if we have sex and both immediately start crying, right?”

At this he laughs loudly but not loud enough to pop the little bubble you’re in, and you look up just in time to catch the brilliance of his smile, the way it changes his whole face and he becomes superhuman in his beauty, the lines that form by his eyes and the way they narrow and crystalline tears bead his lashes like precious gems.

“Don’t cry,” he requests gently, hypocritically as your own eyes sting. The way his smile fades is like the sun setting. Gorgeous, like everything else he does. “You’ve cried so much, honey. Please don’t cry.”

You sniffle, gathering yourself.

“I’m not. That would be pathetic.”

Spender leans forward to kiss you tenderly a few more times. Ordinarily you’d worry about coming across as clingy when you hold onto him so closely and so insistently like this, but for now you don’t care. Neither does he, it seems, as he seems unable to get you close enough. Eventually, you end up curled against him, head tucked under his chin and dozing on and off as he traces shapes into your skin.

“What are you writing?” You mumble some time later, cheek smushed against his shoulder. He only responds with a soft hm, like he was lost deep in thought. You clarify, “it feels like you were writing something.”

“She Walks in Beauty.”

Your lips pull into a sleepy smile.

“The Lord Byron poem?”

The first time you’d met Spencer, he’d inadvertently caused your painstakingly annotated copy of Lord Byron’s works to go flying all over a cafe, and then kindly helped clean up the pages and reorder them for you in record time. Among the poems had been She Walks in Beauty.

“Yeah. I was trying to figure out when exactly I fell in love with you, and as someone who is deeply skeptical about love at first sight, I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I keep coming back to our first conversation. I mean, I believe in genetic compatibility, and how that contributes to attraction and what we think of as chemistry, but—”

“Wait, what about our first conversation did it?” Your cheeks ache from smiling as you speak. “As I recall I was being a bitch and I was covered in coffee.”

He laughs dreamily, still tracing letters over the small of your back. You wonder what part of the poem he’s at now.

“Yeah, mean to me and covered in coffee is pretty much exactly my type. But I think it was actually the annotations on that copy of Lord Byron’s works. They were so insightful, and personal, I—it kind of took my breath away, and I know I shouldn’t have read them all but I couldn’t stop. You were compelling, and charming, and funny and wildly intelligent and beautiful and… and I didn’t stand a chance.”

Everything aches. It’s a good ache. Despite being seconds from tearing up all over again, you snort. He never told you about that first day.

“You thought me writing ‘sister fucker’ in all caps every time he mentioned Augusta was charming?”

“Oh, obscenely so. But now that I’m looking back, I feel like… I feel like I can’t remember not being in love with you. I mean, I remember when I realized I was, and that was later. But it was like I met you, and then I was just… waiting for you to catch up.”

You grab his hand and interlace your fingers, watching the way the ambient nighttime light from the window and the bathroom dips them half in color.

“We were pretty much on the same page. I was debating courthouse versus small intimate ceremony as soon as you left.”

You watch him watching your joined hands, features soft and relaxed, fiddling with your fingers absentmindedly as he speaks.

“Definitely small intimate ceremony. I have too many friends who would kill me if they weren’t invited to the wedding.”

You giggle and pretend the thought doesn’t give you butterflies. You imagine a ring on your finger, the one he’s got between his own. Marriage had never been something you’d considered. Not when you had no reason to. It seemed like something for other people. But maybe one day, it will be for you, too.

“Did you know Lord Byron had a daughter who is regarded by many as the first computer programmer? She wrote the first algorithm for a theoretical machine that was so complex it couldn’t be built with the technology available at the time. It was called an Analytical Engine.”

He sounds almost wistful as he gives you the utterly unprompted, but still welcome, abridged version of her life. The description is ringing a bell—but you can’t quite place her, sleepy as you are.

“What was her name?”

“Ada Lovelace. She was exceptionally gifted. The odds of parent and child being so extraordinary in their respective fields are incalculable, but from a purely theoretical perspective, negligible. I mean, they’re both massive historical figureheads. That’s extremely uncommon.”

You adore it when he goes off on these tangents—the passion that stains his voice, the ardor that grips him until he has no choice but to tell you exactly what’s got him so excited. You could listen to him talk for hours. It means he’s here with you, and he wants you to love what he loves.

Since he met you, that’s all Spencer has wanted—for you to love what he loves.

You want the same.

“Pretty name,” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut. “Tell me more.”

part eight

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic

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zillychu · 7 months ago

Text

designs for a zine piece! enjoy some background story my illustration never needed under the read more (fair warning I did NOT edit this at all):

newbie mage apprentices Sam and Tucker who became friends bc they're kinda… the ones at the bottom of their class and struggle the most, for different reasons. they become besties over time and practice together!

except one night, something goes terribly wrong. they spent the last few nights preparing for a project, a bigger spell that needs an intricate circle with precise measurements to work. but when they try to activate it, well…

oops. they summoned a demon.

which is, for one, extremely illegal. only certified demonologists are allowed to summon demons because they're so dangerous. anything less than a perfect binding circle and thoroughly researched info on the demon, including their true name, is even remotely safe.

but, weirdly enough… the demon seems just as surprised as they are. as Sam and Tuck frantically try to figure out how to dispel the demon, they realize–oh god, did their circle actually sufficiently bind the demon? it can't leave. they watch the demon tentatively poke it's claws into the air around the boundary, and watch it fizzle, retreating back with a strained hiss.

okay. okay, they can do this. without death looming over their heads, they can figure out how to send the demon back. it's cool, it's fine. except while they leaf through their books, they notice the demon watching them. it looks kind of… curious. timid. interested in what they're doing. it catches them noticing his staring, and it. apologizes? it seems flustered?

weird, okay. they keep looking, and the demon starts talking. at first, little comments to itself. mumbles that soon get just loud enough to hear. little “ooh, is that a telescope?" and “is that what fire looks like up here?" and “that must be for making charcoal…”

Sam is the one brave enough to be like "are all demons as chatty as you??” and the demon gets flustered again, apologizing. says he's just never been topside before, he's only read about humans in tomes. oh wow is that the moon outside? it really IS blue up here! is it always blue? what are you doing up? I thought humans slept at night?

Sam and Tuck can't help getting pulled in with the demon's genuine curiosity. they're wary though, since they know demons can be clever, conniving. there's a number of ways a demon can get the upper hand on a summoner who has them bound. if he gets their full names, gets them to smudge and break the circle… there could also be ways they aren't aware of. so they consider their words carefully, but engage in some chatter while they research.

it's almost morning by the time they find a way to send the demon back–but as they prepare the spell, the demon says WAIT WAIT and they stop, uncertain. the demon starts stammering out how this is weird but like… he really had fun tonight. he doesn't get to just hang out much, especially with anyone his age.

Tuck is like “how do you know our ages??" and the demon points out "oh, you said something about Paulie’s 18th birthday party, so I thought…” and they're both like oh shit we didn't even notice we did that?

“Paulina" Sam corrects in her dumbfounded stupor.

“Right, Paulina!" the demon snaps his fingers, but quickly loses his confidence when Sam and Tuck continue to stare at him like they're not sure what's going on. he coughs and fidgets and says “um, well, I was just wondering, I guess… if you wanted to summon me another time, I wouldn't mind. you see those circles there? yeah, that's what summoned me. the candles helped too I think. oh, it doesn't need all those runes though, probably don't want to redraw all those.”

Sam and Tuck are practically gawking, but… for some reason, this demon looks so sincere. so much like them, awkward and lonely and genuinely curious.

it's a bad idea. a terrible one, even. the demon probably noticed they're newbies and not demonologists. it could be hoping they make an error in their circle, or mess up a candle, or reveal their names on accident.

But, well. They're stupid. they're also eager for anything to help them in school, and too empathetic for their own good. they send the demon off with a yeah, no. they then think about it for a week, and end up summoning the demon against their better judgment.

the demon is shocked and so happy, they can't help but be a little endeared. they lay down some ground rules, take care to be as safe as possible… and soon, this demon that introduces himself as “Phantom" becomes a nightly visitor. they talk about their worlds, find out they share a lot of common interests, and help each other in their studies. which, hello, demons also study? bro are you serious??

they play games, laugh till their ribs hurt, and open up to each other on a far deeper level than anyone expected. over time, Phantom becomes a true friend.

Sam and Tuck quietly begin to lament the fact Phantom is stuck in that damn circle. they want to take him places, let him see the human world he seems so interested in. they want to paint his stupid claws and noogie him between his dumb horns and hug him.

but it's an astronomical risk. it's legal for a demonologist with a proper permit, but it's still considered a grave taboo to grant access to a demon outside a circle. there's just too much at risk. demons can be dangerous enough to lay waste to entire towns, take multiple teams of military-rank mages to take down.

they wouldn't risk it… if they hadn't snuck into the library’s restricted section and copy a page from a demonologist book that gives them good framework for a contract. they make some edits to it though, giving Phantom at least a little wiggle room to protect himself if need be. and allow him use of transformation magic so he can hide somehow. but they spend weeks making sure they have airtight wording to ensure Phantom can't cause anyone or anything any substantial harm.

when they finally bring the contract to Phantom, he's stunned. he cries. nothing needs to be said, they all know the gravity of their proposal. even if they ask for proof of Phantom's trust in turn, first. they ask for his full name, so they can bind him. just temporarily. but in that moment, they'll have full control over him. they could instead tell Phantom to serve them, force him to obey their every order. even if it's just for a moment, giving them his full name with the proper circle and incantation, is putting his life in their hands.

Phantom, with tears still in his eyes, smiles warmly and nods. with only a breath to steel himself, he gives them his full name. Daniel James Fenton.

magic sparks in the circle, and Sam and Tuck finish the incantation. ethereal chains sprout up to wrap around Phantom's arms and legs, which makes him jump–but the unwavering trust in his eyes makes the two humans choke up.

they release the binding. all that's left is to break the containment barrier in the circle, so Phantom can walk free.

“Uh, about that…” Phantom laughs sheepishly… then proceeds to step outside of the circle, merely wincing when the barrier zaps around him.

Sam and Tucker gawk. Phantom scratches his neck. “Y-yeah, so… your barrier circle was already broken that first night. It's, uh… right over there. You missed a spot.”

abject horror overcomes them because this entire time Phantom's been visiting, he could have broken out? EASILY?? THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN DEAD.

Tucker falls to his knees, but soon starts to laugh. it's kind of hysterical at first but slowly, he and Sam are genuinely laughing. they're so STUPID, and Phantom is the most un-demonlike demon they've ever HEARD of. Phantom is still flustered, stammering out apologies because he wasn't trying to deceive them or anything! he just didn't want to scare them! without a proper containment circle they technically couldn't send him back either, so he just… went back using his own magic each time they “dispelled" him.

once they've calmed down, Phantom morphs his body into a human form–which shock Sam and Tuck, because uh, only elite demons are capable of that. they were expecting an animal, or straight up going invisible. Phantom laughs it off, says he just, spent a lot of time practicing bc he's so interested in the human world (not a lie, but). he proceeds to adopt the nickname Danny, and they all have FUN WONDERFUL SHENANIGANS

(and sometime in the near future, when faced with something truly threatening he needs to protect them from, Danny reveals that. well. their contract also had some holes in it. and he's had access to his full demon power this whole time. whoopsie! it's a good thing he genuinely loves them and doesn't want to hurt anyone, or their asses would be SO dead lol)

they're about as normal about his full demon form as you'd expect from me btw:

#danny phantom #dp demon au #everlasting trio #when is it not lmao #zilly art #Tucker: oh I am SO climbing that #Tucker: no I'm serious get me a grappling hook

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princessefemmelesbian · 7 months ago

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*sighs*

the weirdest fucking thing to me is how men will be like "it's so hard being a man. no one cares that i'm sad. the loneliness we experience could NEVER be understood by a woman" and then also be like "btw i never talk to my friends and i don't know their names and i love hanging out with men because they don't talk about their stupid emotions all the time. women could never understand a bond like this." like ???

#like idk man #no hope #idk this person's gender or if they are a man woman or non-binary #but regardless this makes me so sad #if you are a woman typing this shit then you desperately need to get a grip #men do not need your love and support what they need is to get their act together and stop making women feel like we have an obligation to #play mommy bangmaid and fix their problems rather than have accountability #they do not need women catering to them #like i'm not even trying to be mean or 'cancel' this person lol i'm just saddened and puzzled that there are people out there who think thi #way #that men are the tragic damsels who need saving #they convinced y'all that this is the case because it is part of their victim complex to make everybody worry about and center their #fragile male feelings and nothing more!#like seriously WAKE UP! i'm saying this from a place of genuine sincerity btw #don't let men manipulate you into thinking their problems are yours to fix! please!#idk why tumblr and social media in general loves to deny male privilege and act like men are just as much victims of sexism as women #like imagine if a black person said 'i will forever be on the love-and-support-white-people train' we'd all call them an uncle ruckus #but women regularly bending over backwards for men is the expectation and it sickens me #please stand up

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the-tarot-witch22 · 7 months ago

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Love letter from your future spouse 💌 - Pick a pile

Note : *Some intense se*ual messages for you guys too, soo minors DNI*

Pile 1/Pile 2

Pile 3/ Pile 4

Hello everyone ! This is my another pick a pile or pac reading so please be kind and leave comment or reblog, and let me know if it resonated with you!

Note : This is a general reading or collective reading. It may or may not resonate with you. Please take what resonates and leave what doesn't. And it's totally okay if our energies aren't aligned!

How to pick : Take a deep breath and choose a pile which you feel most connected to!

Note : This reading is based on my intuition and channeled messages from tarot cards.

I worked really hard on this pile please show some love by leaving comments, likes and reblogs!

*Buy me a kofi*

Pile 1

(The cards I got ace of pentacles, ace of cups, 2 of cups, page of cups, and the fool)

Hello my dearest,

What can I say? I didn't even meet you and yet I still miss you. Am I going mad, my love? I am working towards my goal and I have almost everything i need at the moment but why do I still feel that longing and sadness, am I insane for this? my life has been okay, I work or study and do what needs to be done, but is it weird to say i am searching for you? I hope you feel the same way… sometimes i dream of you or have that romantic dreams where you are there and when i wake up… nothing? It's making me lose my mind, i can't really talk about it with everyone, they will or might think i am just desperate for some shit, but i am not i want something serious, i want you. I have fun too i sometimes go out with my friends we laugh together, but still when I look at them or when they talk about their lovers or text them in front of me, i just miss you.. Am i being too much? probably but i wanted to tell of this to you, I feel like i need some rest or space from everything or just go somewhere where i can be alone with my and your thoughts, but the responsibilities are holding me back , I wish you were here to hold me and tell me everything will be okay. Sometimes I feel like we make some telepathic or some sort of connection and i feel that intense vibrations in my body, I haven't even met you and here I am being vulnerable, But i know you will love this side of me, will you not? I also want to tell you you're doing great and you will achieve everything you have dreamt of please take proper care of yourself, I wanna meet you soon, and have the love , fun i never experienced or had, You know love, what's funny thing is? I never had something serious or people had just taken advantage of me, but you without even meeting you, i can tell you are what i need. Please be patient for me, universe is in work and they will help us meet at divine timing and I can't wait for it. Until then, my love.

Phew so intense they had a lot to say to you, and they seem so sweet, don't they? i wish you meet them soon.

Pile 2:

(the cards I got 3 of cups, the star, 5 of cups and king of cups)

hey ;)

Hello my star, what are you up to nowadays? Are you having fun without me? wait don't answer me that i might get jealous over it, what's wrong with me I am not scaring you away am I? I tend to speak my mind, and show what I feel, because that's how I am. But sincerely tho, i hope you are having fun and celebration and you are enjoying your life, you know this is what we should do? Like just enjoy our times, I know how hectic life can get and we all deserve the break, so do it for you don't let anyone tell you that you are not doing enough because my star , you are and i already swooning over here from the thoughts of you, would you like to hear about my life too? I will tell you what I am doing nowadays, I had lost something precious to me, I know not a way great way to start a conversation right? But i wanna tell you, I lost something, i hate that I did, but to be honest? If it leads me to you , then i am willing to sacrifice anything for it, i wish we could meet sooner, but i know this distance this gap between us only increase our love towards each other, because distance makes heart grows fonder right? Now I wont deny when I lost that thing I was sad and even cried, But now I am healing and your thoughts are helping me? Do you miss me too at the same time? and wonder what we could have been doing if we were together? Because I do. Always. It's not even funny at this point. Gosh your thoughts make me feel all romantic thoughts, you are such a tease by the way hiding away and making desperate for you, don't you worry my star , I will take my revenge when I meet you, sweet revenge, I will tease you so much that you will regret meeting me late, Don't worry I am just kidding, i tend to get intense sometimes, but your thoughts are responsible they make me like this. But right now I am working towards something I am saving money for us our future and maybe kids too? Well, its a conversation for later… But if you don't want kids we can always have pets, right? I want to give you the world, and care for you so much for you. Now, I have to go… Duty calls, but remember I miss you, and I love you even if we haven't met yet.

Pile 2 your fs sounds like a total flirt and a good person, and I love it for you! You guys deserve it <3

Pile 3:

the cards I got (knight of wands, 9 of wands, 3 of wands, 8 of wands)

Hello sexy wanderer,

Do you know what kind of thoughts, I have for you? You my sexy wildcat, you are a pure goddess and you are so beautiful, and what can I say i have such dreams for you, I just wanna tear off your clothes, i will just leave it at that, You feel like a dream come true. Wherever I go I imagine having intense intimate moments with you, and I don't even know why, such a hold you have on me, and guess what we haven't even met yet. I have to say so much to you but i will hold out for now, I don't wanna scare you away, but its totally opposite I don't wanna scare you away but i also want to impress you, I wanna have enjoy small moments with you. I would like to make out and show everyone who you actually love. Not them who stares at your beauty or just wanna have fun with you but me, you chose me, i will show that I am a proud men, and worthy of you, right now I am travelling to far away lands I like doing that you know, but i am gonna coming to meet you soon. And you believe me when i say i will sweep you off your feet and give everything you are worthy of. See you soon.

Wow, they seem too passionate, and you know what? Good for you guys! Their message was short but their energy? give me a fan right now because I need it! They are definitely fire sign and love travelling, and their sexual drive? HIGH. They gave me so much hot kind of energy, I love it for you guys, i totally see you both meeting soon!

Pile 4 :

(the cards I got 4 of pentacles, the magician, ace of wands, strength, The Hermit, 6 of cups, 3 of pentacles)

Sweetheart? Once, we meet I am not letting you go ever, But i will make sure you know that I deserve you, I might make mistakes here and there, but that's just me being foolish or silly, but I never intend to fight with you or hurt you, You know I am a bit overprotective, but if you don't like that I am willing to change my ways for you, Right now there is so much work pressure on me, i feel overwhelmed so I decided to talk with you, even though we are not in each other's lives right now, I feel I can talk to you about anything you make me feel safe like i can be myself, i never had that, it was always me making efforts, but with you i can feel we are each other's light, and I wish we cross each other's path soon, right now i am enjoying my alone time, I am not dating around, I am waiting for you sweetheart, and I have a feeling we will know we are the ones for each other. I feel we have known each other in past lives or we might have each cross each other's path, but that time timing might not be right, And we both needed to learn some lessons before we meet again, and honestly? I'd like that. I wanna be the best men for you. I love you, and for you I am willing to fight anything or anyone, Some people think i am workaholic, but they don't know what I feel, or who i feel for the person i feel for is you, you make me wanna be a better man, i wish there wasn't this much wait for us to meet, I have so much to tell you, Sometimes I end up fighting with my close ones, I regret it, I am a very calm person but when someone provokes me? I can't take it. I am working on that too. And that's why we are having our self journey's together and let's meet at our best, sweetheart. Till then remember I am here waiting for you and trying to be a best person who deserves you. I love you my sweetheart.

Okayyyy, very masculine and hardworking energy, they or you might be spiritual too, you meeting will be for the best, for some of you i feel friends to lovers trope going to be here, your man sounds so sweet yet tired. But he is doing his best, you guys got a gem.

Thank you for stopping by! Take care and remember you are loved <3

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goldsbitch · 12 days ago

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That one night stranded

There is good sex...and then there is good sex. And when you know and love someone, it's very easy to tell when they fall into an anxiety trap and try to fuck it out.

Lando is determined to have good sex only for the rest of his life.

Or - Lando and Y/N get stranded in between flights. accidental 7k epilogue p.2 to That one Christmas flight, but can be read as a stand-alone

warning: angst, shit family, smut, p in v, oral, minors DNI, typos, couple therapists - please leave, i'm not ready for your judgement

There were two very different text message chains happening in the hotel lobby, where the young couple stood, waiting for the receptionist who was coding they key card.

Lando's phone was bursting up with family photos, taken the day before. Lots of smiley faces, tables overflowing with food and pictures blurred up, because the person taking the photo was most likely laughing too hard to stay still. And even better - most of the messages were words of praise his family had for his no-so-new girlfriend. He knew well enough his family was proud of him nevertheless. Somehow, bringing home someone who fit in right easily, laughed at the same jokes and earned a sincere approval, filled up a hole he had no idea was present in his heart.

This one night they'd "earned" by the delayed flight felt like a reward. They'd done great together. Alone time was a rare luxury, especially when it was unexpected and not planned out for weeks. He glanced over to her, glued to her phone in a similar way that he was. Only difference being the furrowed brows.

The other text chain was Y/N and her mother. Right when the reality sank in - the fact that no plane would be able to fly to Japan with these weather conditions - her heart did too. She'd somehow hoped it would be different. That her mother would save the snarky comments. Yet she found a way to make this all seem like Y/N's fault.

You should have taken an earlier flight.

She knew it was irrational. But yes, if they had opted for the earlier flight, they'd be in the air by now. Funny, how only parents know the exact formula to make one’s brain switch off the rational part. It was the hidden undertone in the text messages. Her mom would usually save those for phone calls. The last thing Y/N wanted to do at the moment. You're too reckless. Not organized enough. Being late is your fault. Bad planning. Do you even care about seeing me? I took a day off from work to spend time with you. Are you sure about bringing the racer boy over here?

Guilt filled up her stomach and her eyes were glued to the phone, hoping for more letters to appear. Something along the lines like "have a safe flight". Or "I'm looking forward to finally meeting Lando". Words she knew would never appear. She felt her boyfriend's arm embrace her as he exchanged few final words with the receptionist. The specific info got lost on her, but the tone spoke on it's own. Even a stranger could pick up on his unmasked joy and comfort. He didn't mind they were stranded for few hours. She wished for that kind of peace of mind. His family had been incredibly lovely to her. Accepted her the way she was and gave her enough space to express herself. She was ready for "double checking" or some sort of acceptance tests. Expected to have to prove herself to them more. None of that came. Part of her was secretly infuriated by that. There was no way in hell Lando would get the same treatment. Y/N wished she could provide that comfort for him too. It resembled the same feeling she had when he came to her apartment for the first time and she forgot to put away all the mugs overflowing the nightstand. Like something that was her responsibility to fix, clean up before he even knew this was a thing.

"Look at me, honey," he said in the elevator, his finger pulling her chin up. His eyes scanned her with a look she grew to love. Pure, unfiltered adoration. "Feels like we got gifted a night only for ourselves. I can't think of anything better to receive." She smiled as best as she could, trying to get on his level of ease. But one thought sat in her brain, unwilling to make space for anything else. Today's bliss for tomorrow's misery.

"You're right, as always," she replied, trying to convince herself maybe more than him. The kiss she gave him afterwards was to divert his attention from looking at her, because she knew from experience, he'd soon see right through her.

"Have you texted your mom that we'll be late?" he asked, unaware of her bubbling anxiety.

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbled, trying to dismiss the situation.

Who cares that mom thinks he's just a reckless celebrity. Would an immature asshole who "can't possibly care about me in the longterm" be say things like that? It was pure fire running through her veins. Maybe it really was a gift, these few hours they got extra. The reality was that even if they'd arrived on time, fresh and dressed up as a cookie cutter loved up couple, her mom would still find something wrong to drill about later. Screw that. Last few moments of solitude.

She was standing in a hotel room bathroom, looking into the mirror, trying to calm herself down.

This worked perfectly into Lando's favor, him still being completely high on the good Christmas vibes. The minute she excused herself, he got on the phone with the hotel concierge and offered to throw any amount of money at them if they'd manage to follow up on his impromptu request. By some miracle, the trail with cold champagne, strawberries and few roses arrived before she returned from the bathroom. When his lovely girlfriend entered the room again, he greeted her with a dramatic spin, rose in one, a tall glass in the other hand. His interpretation of an angelic smile plastered on his face. The plan of catching her off guard worked. She stood there for a moment, taking the scenery in.

"Lando..." she said, speechless enough to muster anything more.

He winked at her and stepped closer. "It is technically our anniversary..." he said, like an open invitation.

Y/N stared at the loved up guy standing in front of her. Mother's voice still ringing in her head. All composure she managed to gain by staring at herself in the mirror gone in a second. How can anyone, ever and anywhere think that Lando, her Lando, is anything but a perfect boyfriend. How can her mother feed her with words like reckless, immature, wild and careless...without ever even meeting him in person. Her phone dinged with the sound a text message and she just knew it was her mom again. She didn't even bother looking at the notification.

"You're perfect, you know that?" she blurbed slowly. Once again, as if more to herself than to him.

His smile grew wider. "I try my best," he noted with a tone that could only be described as playful.

"Many people forget anniversaries..."

"To be fair, it is easier if it's pinned to annoyingly recognized holiday..." he joked and handed her the glass. "Do not ask me when we actually got together, because I don't think there is enough champagne around here for me to apologize for not knowing that date."

She smirked and accepted the glass.

"You did kind of just admit that yourself, you know..."

"I know, but, you didn't ask, so it doesn't count."

He knew her well enough to know that she was about to ask exactly that just to tease him, so interrupted her before she had a chance to even breathe in.

"Toast! To us! To the best outcome a desperate secret meeting at Honda could ever have!"

Giving up on teasing him, she clinked her glass with his. "To the Christmas champagne tradition."

He leaned in and kissed her before tasting the champagne. If it weren't for the symbolic gesture, he'd order anything else. Champagne had a weird undertone of podiums and that was something he hated to get reminded of during off season. But that was not something he needed to tell her.

She gulped the whole glass, happy have something to take the edge off.

"How bizarre, we managed to make it here," she remarked, courage building up.

"Wouldn't have it any other way, honey."

That's it. He was being the ultimate boyfriend, while she was there, barely participating. No more of that. She grabbed the glass from his hands and downed the liquid he barely touched anyway. Surprised Lando only raised his eyebrows and watched her put both of their glasses away.

"Bed. Now," she ordered him, changing the tone of the conversation.

Fascination overruled Lando's facial expression and he obeyed, without a single word. Usually, he was the more dominant one in their sex life. He couldn't help himself, forever horny teenager. But, sometimes, out of nowhere, she whipped up her bossy side. He often fantasized about that when he was alone, racing around the world.

She waited for him to absentmindedly kick his shoes to the corner only to sit at the edge of the bed. Shook her head and nodded toward the pillow. He obeyed and pushed himself further to the back. His eyes were literally inviting her, encouraging her to continue.

With full determination, she took her shirt off, following by swiftly removing her bra. Then she climbed over to him, never breaking eye contact.

Lando wanted to say something, anything, but he was worried that would somehow break the spell. He followed her every move, tuning in. They had spent few days in the family circus and they were about to enter another one. It's been the longest they'd gotten without sex while being in the same timezone. Even though he was not demanding or expecting anything, he was craving it like a starved man.

She wanted to feel hot. Determined to prove that she is a good girlfriend. Swung her leg over his, practically sitting on him. Their lips crashed together in a messy kiss, tongues fighting for dominance. Lando sighed when she parted them. But she was on a mission now. Knowing well enough Lando was a boobs man, she pulled his face towards her nipple and he didn't think twice about what to do next. She watched him suck and pure physical relief washed over her. All will be well soon.

She grabbed him over his jeans, pleased to find that he was already getting hard. Abandoning the kiss, she moved over to gain access to his crotch. Locked eyes with him while opening his zipper, almost violently.

"Take this off," she ordered and boy, did he do as he was told.

The air was heavy with anticipation on both parties.

With thick determination, she knelt over and took him into her mouth. He grew in her instantly, reaching full erection almost immediately.

Wasting no time, she started to move, up and down and suck him off. One hand called over to help at the bottom of his shaft, the other used as a support for her to lean on. She quickly got lost in the rhythm and continued, almost like someone dead set on completing a task. She had to prove herself. He was a great boyfriend and she needed to be the best girl he had. Because tomorrow, only ugly judgemental looks from her mother would await. No warm family welcome, this bliss they lived in for the past few days would be long gone. She could almost see it already happening, Lando desperately trying to impress her mother and her just dismissing him, because she had already made up her mind about him.

But he was perfect and Y/N was head-over-heels in love. With her eyes closed, she kept on moving, barely reaching for breath, ignoring the growing pain in her back, because the pit of despair growing in her stomach was louder anyway. It was all worth it for making her lover happy. Because who knows how it will all look tomorrow. If she could back down from the trip, she would. Her mom does not deserve to criticize someone so perfect like Lando.

Out of nowhere, felt his hand reaching over to her shoulder, somewhat bringing her back to Earth.

"Y/N," he moaned, with an unusual undertone. She took it as a sign to speed up her movements.

"Stop," he continued instantly. She froze, not quite sure what had happened.

"Ok, ugh," he pulled away unwillingly. "I can't believe I'm about to interrupt...Whatever amazing thing is happening right now."

She swallowed her own saliva. Got up a bit, slightly mortified. Why did he stop her. What has she done wrong? He never complained before? That's it - this connected with the treatment her mother had prepared instead of Christmas dinner would be the final straw ending their lovey-dovey period. Her thoughts were tripping one over another, making up an incoherent mess.

Once again, he pulled up his finger and arched her chin up.

"Is everything alright?"

Silence followed. He gave her a questioning, puzzled look.

"I thought you liked my blow jobs," she said with a stern look stripped of any emotion.

"Believe me, I do," he said with a heavy sigh. He couldn't believe himself, never expected himself to pause a perfect blow. "But something feels off about you."

She failed. She failed at going with Lando's flow and ruined what was suppose to be a nice romantic holiday evening. Giving up, she threw herself on her back, lying 90 degrees next to him, eyes glued to the ceiling. If they hadn't been so comfortable with each other, she'd feel very small, lying there like that, him with his dick out and her topless.

Lando had hoped his intuition was wrong. But sadly, he recognized the signs correctly. Without knowing this emotion had pained her ever since the plane got delayed, he felt his own anxiety pile up. Only years of mental preparation for his overly demanding job had helped him to avoid jumping into conclusions too quickly. Even though, deep down, he was terrified that her sudden mood change was due to the fact she didn't love him anymore. It was always the first thing he thought about, no matter how much he tried to work on it. But - years of mental training - he was going to cash that in.

He watched her, hoping she'd look back at him. When she didn't, he reached his fingertips towards hers. Her own hand responded instantly and their fingers tangled together.

"What happened...Did I do something wrong?" he opened with, reaching for any clues.

She kept her stare up the ceiling and chuckled. How cute it was, finding him so unaware.

"No. Lando, you're amazing. Annoyingly so, lately."

He took that as an invitation and shifted his body over so that they shared the same angle and joined her at the "staring at the ceiling" activity.

"I hope that is not the problem - I have hard time not being like that," he joked, hoping it would diffuse the tension a bit. The Lando she met a year ago would probably run away in a situation like this. Or maybe even ignored the obvious distress of his sex partner and let he blow him to his release. But not the Lando of today.

Her lips curled into a small smile.

"Oh, if only all of us were like you," she couldn't help but comment sarcastically.

"You know that you're more than perfect to me, right?" There was no lightness to be detected in his tone. She shifted, a wave of uncomfortableness washing her over.

I may be, but not my family.

"Yes, but I need you to know...I need you to understand, that I truly love you and I am totally mesmerized by you. To me, you are perfect. Even when you irritate me to heavens," she admited, making sure to highlight the words of praise. Scared that if she didn't build enough foundation today, there will be nothing to stand on once the challenge comes tomorrow. She'd tried to warm him about the meeting, but it always seemed to go through his ears.

It was like she was speaking in riddles. "Why do you need me to understand that now?" he asked, eyes now fully glued at his girlfriend, searching for some clues.

She felt his eyes on her and out of nowhere felt very naked. "Because...." ...Words were hard.

"Go on, I'm not backing away from this," Lando insisted, trying to get them both on the same page.

A loud sigh. "We had such a great time with your family..."

It was like she was speaking in a language he was not yet fluent in. "Don't divert the conversation," he hissed, eyes on her like she was some sort of target.

"I'm not!" she gasped, almost offended.

Lando was still not following. "My family is basically in love with you, I have messages if you need proof."

"Yeah. And that's the problem," Y/N smirked bitterly.

He leaned closer to her. "I think we should look up a definition of the word problem..." he joked.

She was still burning holes in the ceiling with her look. "We missed the flight. It's another bullet to my mother’s gun." Stupid, stupid mistake.

"Who is she planning on shooting?" Lando asked softly.

"Us, I'm afraid." She finally met his look and the only emotion he was able to read in her eyes was concern.

If this relationship had taught Lando anything, it was that the hard way is sometimes the only way. So, he finally allowed himself to ask the one thing that had been on his mind for a while now. "Does she not like me?"

Deep down he was suspecting this might be one of the reasons why his girlfriend is acting sketchy. He just hoped it was something more trivial. "She's never met you," she whispered, as if she was defending him for something he hadn't yet committed. So far, there had been only one moment when her mom Facetimed her when he was right next to her. One greeting, awkward wave and a smile that was not reciprocated. He made up some excuse to leave them alone promptly after that, feeling like he was intruding on a private conversation.

"I wondered when you were going to tell me that," he remarked, ready to go full on. He was just now allowing the thought that his lover's parent might have been feeding her bitter doubts for some time now enter his brain.

The obvious change of Lando's expression made her stomach turn, kind of like drinking milk that's gone off does. But, they'd vowed to be fully honest with each other after their first big fight. Deep breath. "She um...It's not like you can say she is exactly on board with all of this,“ she gestured between them.

And there it was. The confirmation he feared. He did his best to remain as calm as possible. "Don't worry, I figured, you sort of hinted at that few times before. And I'm planning on charming the hell out of her. After all, you do share genes. Some of my tricks gotta work on her." It was more of a plea, lacking his general playful confidence. When she studied his look, it reminded her of the times when he was hiding his real emotions in front of hungry reporters.

He told her once he wanted her to be blunt, rather than deceptive in difficult times. The words started to leave her mouth without much of a filter. "But, what if it does not work. She has this habit of making her mind up before I have any chance to affect it."

Somehow, the fact she voiced it, made it easier for him to react. "Honey, don't take this the wrong way. But, I only care about your opinion. It would be great to have your mom on our side...However, I'd like to believe it's not the base of our relationship."

"No, it's not," she said quickly, silently hoping it was going to be enough for them to survive this challenge.

"So, tell me. What does she think about me?" he asked, suddenly craving to know it all.

She bit her lip. "Lando, don't make me say things like that."

Wow. That bad. "I'm used to getting hate from thousands of people who don't know me. I can cope. The more specifics I know, the better I can prepare...Come on, spill it," he countered, trying to convince her that he can handle it. However, it wasn't like he himself was completely sure of that. Her face was expressionless and he nodded to confirm it nonverbally.

"She thinks you're reckless," she spoke slowly, skipping few heartbeats. She was used to being on the other side, praising Lando when he doubted himself. This place, where she found herself at, was not one she liked.

He analysed it for a moment. "Well, I do get into a car every week to purposefully drive it as fast as possible, so I can she from which angle she might be coming from. Nothing new."

"You're a party boy," she shot back faster than she could think.

And he shot right back at her. "You're a party girl, but I assume your mom has no idea, huh."

"No...," she admitted. For some reason, this calmed her down a bit. She finally took another breath.

"What else," Lando's stared at her, following his internal feeling they hadn't arrived to the end yet.

No point in holding back now, she figured. There was a weird ball of tension in her chest, almost asking daring her to push him to the limit. "She googled you. A lot. And she made sure to tell me names of all your model exes. Then proceeded to tell me I look nothing like that," Y/N deadpanned.

Lando knew this was probably the one thing that stung her the most. But, the thought of someone she held so dearly voicing it her was making him extremely angry. "That's just fucked up-"

She continued, before he had any chance to react more.

"And, she thinks you'll affect my school. That the lifestyle around you is shallow and only attracts bonehead people."

Now, this was finally getting to Lando. Of course, he could not let Y/N know that, not in this moment.

"Do you think that too?" he asked, because he craved to know the truth. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, when the world around felt silent and his mind had time to roam freely, he found himself thinking about this. He never really studied and was never going to. His life was based on different approach. He loved it. But that didn't stop him from feeling a bit inferior from time to time.

He expected anything, but a laugh. For a moment he figured she was mocking him. Only once she reached to touch his face he realized just how still and stiff he became throuout out their conversation.

"I think it's shallow and bonehead to assume that. I've met some amazing people in your team, smart people who have dedicated their lives into the sport I'd grown to love while watching get so passionate about it."

There was an unspoken question hanging in the air. Lando dared not to say it outloud.

"And, no. I don't think you deserve to be called any of those words. Only when you're looking in the mirror, because that smug face deserves to be punched one day."

He chuckled. It would take him few moment to truly let her words sink in. "You didn't seem to think that one time in Abu Dhabi." That time when he fucked over a bathroom sink and made sure that she watched them the whole time. Lando watched with joy as her face started getting some color again. He couldn't fight his urge to get closer to his partner, break the tension even further. So, he rolled over to bury his nose in her neck. It was almost automatic at this point. None of his previous girlfriends were this understanding of his overly touchy needs. Words were important, but they grew more on meaning when he could feel her skin, explore her light shiver, watch how her body reacted. When he felt her pushing towards his touch, he swung his arm over her, with the notion of providing some heat to her naked chest.

A more comfortable silence fell upon the hotel room. Both of them lost in their own thoughts. Lando was taking in all of the newly found information. It was a heavy burden, not because of the substance, but because it was coming from someone Y/N held dearly. It was hard not to feel a little injustice of it all. But more than that, he was grateful that she was able to avoid internalizing all of that what was fed to her from her mom. He approached all of this as he would any strategy meeting before a difficult race. Find the strengths, capitalize on them and try to minimize the advantage "the opponent" might have. But truth be told, he'd rather not have to have this sort of competition.

"Thank you," he whispered into the crease of her neck. "Thank you for not giving into it all." He hoped, prayed, that was he as saying was true. It was not just about her mom. It was the press, some of the overbearing fans and anyone who dared to challenge them without having any real insight in their relationship. "I know it must be really hard and not exactly what you might have signed up for."

What did I sign up for?

She reached over to embrace him, mindlessly drawing circles on his back. The pit inside her stomach was growing smaller. Without really intending to, signed up for a partnership, exciting love affair that got out of hand. Anyone who came before him was redundant. He outshined everyone.

"I’m pretty sure I must have bribed faith in my past life to have you thrown in my life."

"Aren’t you my little smart poetic girl," he murmured approvingly and started to cover her skin with kisses. Few moments flew by. "We could order some food, put on the show you like and drift away. How does that sound?"

She understood his intention. It had been a long day and another one was coming. Her emotions were clashing from one end to another and as much as she tried to hide it all, Lando was proving to be hard to fool. And no - she did not want to chill in. Burning all of it out sounded more fun. To be held for a moment, stuck in the timelessness only lightheaded orgasm created.

He was still trailing her neck with small pecks, arm locking her in. The untamed curls almost tickling like small feathers. Everything was heightened, as if his skin was loudly calling her in. His words of initiating a calm wind down not matching his action.

"Please, no more of this PG fun. It’s been days."

He stopped all of his movements. "Well then, pray tell, what do you have on mind?"

The next words flew out of her mouth before she could filter them. "Are you in the mood to fuck me?"

"Am I in the mood to fuck you," he repeated, in his signature sarcasm dripping style. He was having trouble processing how his sexual partner could ever arrive to this question. Unsure whether to address her clumsy dirty talk first instead of the absurdity of the question, he arrived at a simple "Charming…". Of course he was in the mood. Always, anytime and quite literally anywhere.

"Well it's just, it's been quite a tense talk..." she hinted back carefully. To her surprise, his face went into smirk mode.

"I will ask you the same thing next time you're hyperventilating about school and you come in begging for stress release," he jested, once again making her eyebrows shooting up.

"I am never begging," she defended, unwilling to give into his narrative.

And then he shot back, with his signature you-don’t-have-any-chance-to-resist look. "I said what I said."

Blood ran boiling in her veins. If oil had been in such abundance as his audacity, the world would be able to run cars freely for centuries. "Tell me one example of me begging for sex with you."

Lando turned his head slowly. Oh. Oh, it was on.

Very quickly she realized her own mistake. She ran into that one like a fool. "No, Lando, don't-"

"You know, it has been indeed quite a long day, I think I'm gonna hop in the shower and get a healthy dose of beauty sleep," he declared dramatically, sat up and removed his t-shirt. She rolled her eyes as high as humanly possible. No way would follow through with this premise. "Fine, Lando. I’ll be here, munching on strawberries, naked and horny, all by myself," she tried to tease and leaned over to grab one of the bright red fruits from the trail. Eyes locked in with him as she shamelessly sucked on it. There was a glitch and a twinkle in his look. Almost got her thinking she had this one in the bag. He stepped closer, noses almost touching as he whispered: "Have fun, honey," gave her a little peck on the cheeks while having the nerve to grab her exposed breast. His tone was teasing, daring her to dare a little more. It was annoying in a typical Lando fashion.

"Lando, you gotta be kidding me right now," she sighed, impatience getting the better of her.

"Few magic words and you get exactly what you want from your reckless racer fuck boy,“ he mocked everyone who ever doubted them. "Oh, sorry, forgot to add, very good at taking your edge off. Am I right?"

His presence was more intoxicating than usual. As if he radiated some hormones making her feral. All the complicated emotions leaving the conversation one by one. Nothing but the two of them left in the room. His hot breath on her cheek, fingers circling over her nipple and his body heat reminding her of each time she wrapped her arms around him as he pushed into her.

"Yes, that you are," she responded mindlessly and searched for his lips with her own. He allowed her a small peck, like a chef would at a tasting menu. Enough to hook, but not enough to fill up. And with that thought in mind he broke their kiss. "Come on, say it. I want to hear it."

Few moments of silence, her breathing heavy and his almost undetectable. Two ego’s fighting a battle so pointless it was almost amusing. She couldn’t just give in like that, no matter how dizzy her head was getting.

"Fine by me, honey. Your choice," he danced away, letting her hanging. There was something infuriating about how nonchalantly and elegantly he smiled, knowing well enough her was winning this battle. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes as to prevent herself from watching his tone back.

This. This was her Lando. Always pushing her into a direction she had no idea she wanted or needed to go. Never the same thing twice, somehow, he always dug up something new.

She sat on the bed, dumbfounded, playful anger replacing all the anxiety she had felt just moments ago. Was this his plan all along, or did he just have a natural talent at steering her mood into a place where she’d happily go and give into anything he’d suggest her to do?

He was grinning all the way coming to the shower. It was a statement, a game and something to ease the tension. Once the water started, he’d allowed himself do a light check-in with his own feelings. It wasn’t easy to hear all those things. In fact, some of them hit a little close to home. Lando made sure to separate what he had heard from Y/N as a person. She wasn’t the author of these thoughts. Someone else was. A person who he had not yet even met. There wasn’t a single cell in him that would doubt that everything she stared had been said by her mother at some point.

He closed his eyes and aimed his face directly under the shower head. Images of him and Y/N all coupled up at his family house started to come in, like a set of developed photos. So natural, calming and most of all - honest. Comfort memories he knew he’d be reaching for once the new season and it’s challenges catch up, when the distance and loneliness hit. But at that moment, there she was, right next door and probably still a bit fired up by his uncharacteristic postponing of sex. His hand slid over to his crotch, squeezing himself casually and switching up the mental images to less family-friendly moments. He was sort of expecting her to come and join him in the shower. But no, of course not. Not when he set her up like that. They were all too similar for their own good.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, towel purposefully hanging dangerously low, he couldn’t stop himself from simpering. Once he got a look at her, sitting under the covers, phone in her hand and too stingy to pass him more than two looks. But, she did come for the second one and that betrayed her, aiming directly to where his tower barely covered his waist.

To prove his point, he shuffled his wet hair, sudden movement making her glance once again. It felt really addictive to know he was the centre of her attention, despite how much she tried to hide it.

Smugness and water dripping from him, he landed shamelessly on the bed, towel giving up on trying to participate. Her reaction was to frown, making her pet peeve of people getting into the bed wet known, once again. Something Lando became aware very early on. He used this information only when the situation required it. No words were said, as he leaned over her, making sure to leave some remaining water drops on her, and grabbed a moisturizer.

Then he proceeded to slowly plump it and rub it on his body. The unreasonably loud sounds of him doing that were cutting the silence of the room like a knife.

His partner sitting next to him hummed quietly. "Whatever this is, it’s not working."

He replied, elegant as ever. "I don’t know what you’re insinuating." He pretended to be as focused on his activity, the same way as he did when doing PR bullshit. "Ah, honey. Would you be so kind and help me reach to my back?" Lando asked overly nicely. Y/N watched him, almost admiring just how bad his acting skills were and how he proceeded with his act without any remorse. He was reaching over to his back, unable to do so, and making it look like the biggest tragedy human kind has ever experienced. And with puppy eyes, he decided to go for a low blow.

"Please, baby," he said in a tone so insincere it wouldn’t fool a child. This was yet another provocation.

"You know it irks me when you’re wet in the bed."

He let out a chuckle. She was so bad at keeping herself in check. It was adorable. She just sat there, pretending to be scrolling Instagram, little lines around her eyes forming from how tense her eyebrows frowned. "I do. And we seriously have to get your accidental innuendos under control. Can’t have you walking in public saying these things." He wiggled the moisturizer in front of her face.

Finally, she snapped. "You are the most annoying and immature guy I’ve ever met. You’re impossible." Lando looked at her, like one would at an angry puppy that’s trying to jump a little too high.

"One would almost say a miracle, huh."

Once again, he shook his bottle of moisturizer. Having had enough, she snatched it from his hands and put it back on the nightstand. "It’s a miracle I haven’t killed you yet."

Without missing a beat, he shot back. "And how will we celebrate?"

She let out a sigh so loud the people in the next room must have heard it. Sitting there, not knowing what do with her hands anymore. He wished they were pulling his hair.

"Are you seriously gonna make me say it."

He simply nodded, arching himself up. If her mind had been clouded before, it was now full on can't-see-further-than-my-nose type of situation.

He leaned over even closer, getting up all over in her personal space. As if that was even a thing anymore.

Somehow, for some reason he would have yet unpack, his heart was beating like crazy. Say it.

Accepting that he won what ever this was, she gulped and finally whispered. "Please."

He gave her a questioning look, as if he didn’t hear her. "Hm? Sorry?"

Still debating whether she should smack him or not, she repeated herself. "Please."

"What, do you want me to put the cream on you too? Hydration is important for the skin,“ he teased, enjoying himself immensely.

"Lando."

"Y/N."

If he were to be completely honest, he was extremely proud of himself to withholding this long. Also, not sure how longer he could go on, given the fact his erection has entered the chat.

To make it more complicated, she sat up and put her mouth almost onto his. He could smell her aroused energy. Almost taste her on his mouth. And that as even before she licked his lips lightly with her tongue.

"Say it," he mumbled, unable to make it not sound like a plea.

It was different than what they’d usually do. Many couples dabbled in talking during sex, they never really did. Then something hit her. Like a secret wavelength he was sending her way. Maybe he needed her to talk today. So, finally, she broke in.

"Lando, please, fuck me.“

All those times, he waited for the five red lights to go out only for him to smash the pedal, paid off. Like opening windows in a stale room, he let the fresh air in. Ripped the duvet covering her off, he grabbed her legs to pull her into a laying down position, not even giving her time to gasp. His moves were quick and oh-so-sure of himself.

"Tell me what you need, love,“ he ordered, while he traced the line of her neck with his tongue.

He wasn’t certain if she was finding the idea of talking as hot as he did. But he sure as hell hoped. It wasn’t like he needed any guidance at that point. Had every inch of her body mapped out already. But he longed to hear it from her mouth. Towering over her, he nibbled on her neck, one hand running through her hair and the other squeezing her hips, keeping her exactly where he wanted her.

He noticed she stopped her breathing and locked him with her arms, holding on for dear life.

"You, I need you, Lando,“ she let out, suddenly all uncertain and shy. It was the vulnerability in her tone that got him. He moved his lips a little lower, so that he could leave a mark on her collarbone, without fearing she’d regret it tomorrow.

His body was moving on its own. Brushing on her upper thigh, opening her legs up and positioning himself between her. All the blood left his brain.

"I want you to touch me. I want to walk with marks made from you in public, a secret only you will know.“

He was only now realizing how good of a fuel this was for him. Lightheaded, he folded her legs and pushed them to her stomach, making as small as possible. So that she would be completely in his control.

To grand her wished, he left one mark just below he collarbone and moved to leave a second one on her breast. She let out a heavy breath.

"Lando, please. I need you inside.“

He was almost getting too dizzy not to comply immediately. His erection throbbing into her leg.

Then, out of nowhere, he flipped them both.

"Get over me, baby,“ he hummed and positioned himself on his back. She gave him a questioning look and knelt above his dick.

But he shook his head and grabbed her hips once again. "Up here.“

His hungry look must have encouraged her, so she moved until he stopped her, ending up directly above his mouth. "Sit down.“

His statement was followed by his strong hands literally pushing her down on his mouth.

Eyes finally locked again, he smirked for the last time, before he buried his mouth in her.

Lando wished he knew what he looked like from her perspective. Squished between her, licking and sucking, letting her move in the exact way how she wished. He felt her legs tense up with each move his tongue made. This all got even more intense when he squeezed her nipple between his fingers.

He twirled his tongue through her folds, circled around the clit, which had her melt.

"More,“ she demanded and positioned herself so that he could only access.

Saliva and her juices were mixing in his mouth, the smell of her arousal hitting his nose and making him high.

He upped his pace and went for the moves he already knew from the past would work. Watching her crumble, barely being able to keep herself up, to the point where she had to balance herself against the wall, was probably becoming his definition of heaven. His tongue moved in a fixed rhythm, exploring every possible place she had to offer.

"Lando..." she moaned, completely lost due to the moves his tongue was making.

He felt the urge to stop and take a breath, because judging by the slight movements of her thighs, she was getting close.

And only moments later, her first release came. Wetter than ever, she held on dearly and with one high pitched sigh, she collapsed almost completely. He had to stop her from crushing his face.

"Sorry," she let out mindlessly, unable to give him more reaction.

Amused, he helped her back down and rolled her over on her back.

Wasting no time, Lando pushed two fingers in her immediately, not giving her any time to calm down or rest.

Wondering in which dimension he managed to send her off to, he watched, as she squeezed her eyes shut with every little twist her made. As her moans target to get intense again, he shut her off with a kiss. His tongue matching the movements of his fingers. He waited patiently, before he felt like she was getting lost in the same haze as bare minutes ago, only to remove his fingers and stop kissing her out of a sudden.

Confusion and mild anger washed over her.

"What-"

"I can’t hear you, baby," he teased and hovered his wet fingers above her mouth. "What was it that you wanted from me? Must have slipped my mind."

The look of pure desperation she gave him was the hottest shit he’d ever seen.

"Lando…"

"Let’s made a deal, sunshine," he proclaimed and slowly shoved his wet fingers into her mouth. Like the good girl she was, she sucked on them without hesitation. „I’ll stop anything we’re doing, the moment you shut up. Ok?“

They were so close to each other with every possible body part. But it was not enough. It would never be enough. She nodded and he pulled his fingers out, slowly.

"Deal, Norris."

A lightning shot through his body and nearly split him in half. She never used his last name before, ever. Why was that, out of all the things, doing it for him. She must have picked up on his momentary relapse and gained more confidence with that. "Stop fucking around, I want you inside. Now.“

He was already almost touching her entrance with his dick. Eye locked, he reached for her hand and intertwined their fingers.

"Please,“ she said, loud and proud, making it sound like a demand.

When he finally pushed into her, it was like anything else stopped existing. He belonged there and nothing else mattered.

"Oh my God, yes,“ she whined, keeping up at her promise. "This is the best shit ever.“

Lando’s autopilot kicked in as the last braincell was truly gone. He started to move in a steady beat, finding it incredibly hard to keep himself from literally pounding into her immediately.

„Faster,“ she encouraged as she held his shoulder with her other hand, to help her find balance.

Lando was lost, in the best way possible. In her body, in his mind, in the fact that having sex was something completely different when you absolutely adored the person you’d be lying on top of. The built up energy finally finding its release, after days of dancing around. With each thrust, he lost touch with reality more. Only pure pleasure and reminiscence of her voice finding their way in.

"Oh, God, baby." "Yes." "I need you." "It’s only you." "Shit, you’re so good."

Lando figured a long time ago that, for the lack of better comparison, their bodies must have been made for each other. Different shapes fitting perfectly into each other. They shared their sense of rhythm. It was never too short or too long. She scratched the itch before he got the chance to mention he had one. Lando felt almost sad for anyone who did not get to experience that.

Somehow, their sex got better every time.

He missed when she came for the second time, as he was too lost in his own release. His thrusts got more uneven, his body completely arched and then finally - like the slap in the face, pure bliss washed over him. He felt it in what seemed like every muscle, every strain of hair and in every inch of his lower stomach, spreading like nice hot drink in the middle of winter. All was good. There were no problems, only good things. She was perfect.

He had a hard time recalling what were the exact words they’d share right after he came. The haze started to clear few moments after, when he found himself next to her, puddle of his cum in the middle of her stomach, noses touching each other and light kisses being left like little presents.

As the heavy breaths grew lighter, he returned back to Earth.

"All good, baby?“ he asked, the sweetness in his tone coming naturally. Searched for any sign of discomfort in her face. He had hoped that she got exactly the kind of release she deserved.

And many signs pointed towards that. The smile of her disbelief, red flushed face, sensitive skin that reacted to each light touch as if it was a strong grip.

"I, um. Yes. More than good. Thank you.“ Most people would barely understand with they way she mumbled.

He chuckled. "You don’t have to thank me, ever.“

"I was taught that after every please comes a thank you, so pick you battle. All or nothing," she shot back, teasing as ever.

He didn't have to think much before replying. "Well, all of that then.“

She nudged him with her nose. "You seemed to enjoy me begging. Though begging might be a strong word. I would never do that."

Even though she said it in a light tone, he knew it was intended seriously. "Maybe I just really needed to hear it today. That you want me. Need me.“

"What I love about this all is that we need each other. Both for different reasons, but that just makes it work even more.“

There was comfort in her answer. A realization, an answer to a question they never asked before.

"I’ll be there for you tomorrow. We’ll crush it, as a team.“

703 notes · View notes

prismkith · 30 days ago

Note

may I ask for a oneshot with jinx like introducing her girlfriend, fem!reader to vander/warwick? and for a while he's like just sniffing and eyeing her suspiciously or whatever until he sees her and jinx in a super like intimate and sincerely loving moment?

also! may I be 🫀 anon? :3

Hi! Yes you absolutely may! i loved this request, and I hope you love what I wrote based off of it!

'How I met your grandfather'

pairing: Jinx X Fem!Reader

genre: fluff, maybe a hint of hurt/comfort

Wc: 2835

You sigh as you enter Jinx’s hideout, shoulders sore and the bags under your eyes growing heavier and heavier. You'd been out with Sevika keeping the lanes in check after the Stillwater breakout, and it was tireless. Enforces had been down your throats the entire time, and balancing keeping the enforcers from beating angry zaunites while also wanting to beat the shit out of them yourself had taken its toll.

The lanes have been a never-ending job since Silco died.

You felt horrible for leaving jinx alone after the attack, but she understood. You worked for Silco when he was here, and now sevika. She knew what your job entailed and was used to you being gone for days at a time.

Stepping onto the still wings of the fan, you were confused by the noise or lack thereof. Her hideout was never quiet, always the sound of her tinkering, or having dance parties and bug-boxing matches mixed with Ishas giggles.

“I’m home! Anybody here?” you call out into the air. The only response is the echo of your own voice. “Isha? Jinx?” you call out once more. Confused, you walk up to her workstation, cluttered and disorganized as always. You're met with a note on her desk, your name in her distinctive scribbly handwriting on the front page.

‘Hey trinket, we found Vander. Took him to some mystery healer on the edge of Zaun. Meet us there if we aren't back before you.

Love ya’

Your eyes widen as you scan the letter once more, her lack of detail slightly worrying. Questions flooded your brain as you flipped her vague note to find directions on the back.

Scurrying to get your things together as quickly as possible, you take off in the direction of this ‘mystery healer’, your heavy boots loud as you run to find your girlfriend and her back from the dead dad

________________________________________________________________________

You're slightly panting as you reach the gates she directed you to, having sprinted half the way there, and jogged the other half. Pausing for a moment as you catch your breath, you make eye contact with a man standing in front of the gates.

His eyes are white, and he's covered in these bubbly pearlescent patterns, donned in the strangest clothes you've seen. You manage to mutter “The fuck…” before he’d beckoning you closer.

You slowly stand up straighter, distrust evident in your features as you begin to approach him.

Deciding that you in fact, do not want to open the can of worms that is the freaky-looking man with a blank expression, you attempt to walk straight past him, eyes set on the entrance in front of you, searching for any sign of wild blue hair or large semi robot beast.

You're stopped by Mr. Freaky before you can waltz past, his thin frame swerving in front of you. “I must ask that you turn in any weapons before entering,” he says, an odd cadence in his voice that you've never heard from a zaunite. You scoff at this request, “yeah, no thanks” you reply before attempting to shove past once more.

You stopped once again, his tone firmer this time. “I must insist, as it is the policy of the Machine Herald”. You consider just socking the guy in the face and making a run for it but decide that you don't know what kind of crazy superpowers this guy might have, and to be quite honest you don't want to find out.

“Look, not gonna happen. Not sure who this ‘machine herald’ is, but I'm looking for someone else. Just let me pass, i’ll be on my merry way and you can keep doing whatever…. This is” the annoyance shameless drips from your voice now, you have places to be and this guy is single-handedly keeping you from said places.

He once again denies you access, and you lose your shit. You're now (loudly) in a full-blown argument with this guy, neither of you budging. His voice is only starting to rile you up more, and you're an inch away from executing your hit-and-run plan from earlier when you hear the raspy voice of your lover calling your name.

You freeze immediately, fist pausing mid-air as your eyes dart behind the man to see Jinx, leaning against the entrance, arms crossed and a knowing smirk on her face.

“Stand down, sergeant. No beating the greeter.” her voice is sarcastic and teasing, and you sigh in defeat. Arms dropping and face annoyed as you reluctantly hand the man your pistol and several pocket knives that you keep strapped to you in various places.

Once unarmed, the man simply smiles and steps aside, and you make sure to knock him in the shoulder before stomping over to your girlfriend.

Your annoyance subsides as you see her smiling face, your arms immediately wrapping around her shoulders and pulling her close. You feel her relax into your embrace, strong arms circling your waist and giving you a good squeeze before pulling back.

“What the hell is this place, and why did that fish-man never change his facial expression once?” you question your voice laced with confusion and slight concern.

She simply shrugs her shoulders and turns to start guiding you through the odd community full of tents and more people with white eyes and pearlescent patterns. “Vi said she knew of a healer here in the lanes. Said he was performing some miracles or some magic bullshit.” she spins on her heel to look at you while continuing to walk backward. “Personally I think he's just some weird purple fortune teller, but Vi trusts him and Vanders actually getting better, so..” her voice softens during the last part of her sentence, voice trailing off as her eyes cast slightly downward.

You pause in your tracks, shock evident on your features. “Wait, Vi’s here?” not even attempting to hide the surprise in your voice at the mention of her estranged sister.

She sighs, once again avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, I mean, it's her dad too. Didn't feel right not letting her know that he's alive, at least.” you slowly nod as you come to terms with her reasoning.

“Anywho! Now we're here at this weird commune run by a metal fortune cookie that can read minds and I dead honestly think this place is a cult. Everyone here is weird. And the only good food is the fruit. The only snacks are trail mix and it's all eighty percent raisins,” her lip curls in disgust, shaking her head slightly before continuing. “I fucking hate raisins. Just give me a grape, I don't want its juiceless corpse as an alternative.”

You snort at her wording, but can't help yourself agreeing. Raisins suck and it's a crime to ruin perfectly good snacks with them.

You continue to follow her, passing tents all full of people dressed similarly to the first man you met. Some were in tents that looked more like workshops, cooking, and sewing, and some in tents that looked more like homes, full of pillows and blankets and small furniture pieces.

She continues to ramble about this place, she mentions that Isha is off in a tent somewhere helping a group of women weave a blanket (boring), how the healer (who you figured out is the machine herald from earlier) somehow knew her childhood name, and how Vi had turned into some emo looking alcoholic and lost another fight to jinx in an underground tunnel.

Finally, her walking begins to slow as you both reach a greenhouse near the middle of the village. It's a dome made of detailed stained glass, and you can vaguely make out the shape of the massive frame of Vander inside. You spot Vi sitting on the edge of what seems to be a water well, and Jinx’s description isn't too off. You make a mental note of the poorly done hair job and vow to make fun of her for it later.

When Vi looks up and spots you, she sends you a nasty glare before stomping away with an excuse of finding Isha. You roll your eyes, so what if you've tried to kill each other a couple of times? No big deal, honestly.

Jinx also rolled her eyes and dismissed her sister with a wave of her hand. “She’ll get over it, don't worry. She was just as dramatic when I went to find her.”

She simply crossed her arms, leading you to a bench outside the greenhouse. Once sat, she slumps into your side, shoulder pressing against yours and head leaning against the side of your own.

“It's weird, you know? It's him, he remembers me and Vi but… he’s also part of this beast he's trapped in. Vi keeps asking for my opinion on… All of this, but I have no clue. I think I'm still in shock from when I realized it was him.” She shakes her head, letting her voice trail off. You sit in silence for a moment, letting her words marinate in your brain.

You weren't sure how to respond, for Christ's sake, you barely even knew your own parents. What the hell do you say to someone who killed two of her dads, and then found out the first one is actually alive but trapped in the body of a hostile science experiment?

Deciding that there was nobody on the planet who could find the words to comfort someone in this situation, you simply grab her hand instead and allow her to rest against you. She knew what your body language meant when words failed you. She always did.

You sat like that for a while, enjoying each other's company and the quiet. It wasn't often that there was peaceful silence in Zaun, as silence usually meant danger. You both relished the feeling of letting your guard down for the first time in years.

Eventually, a man… or.. Robot? You weren't sure, steps out of the greenhouse. His body is a mix of purples and blues, looking like a painted night sky, and he is adorned in a cloak similar to those worn by the others on the commune. He approaches the both of you, still sitting on the bench, an aura of confidence and peace to him. His accent is thick when he finally addresses Jinx.

“I've decided to end our session today. Your father's condition is improving slowly but I can see him growing tired, and I fear pushing him too far may bear consequences.” he nods his head at you in a greeting as he finishes his sentence, before turning and walking away.

Jinx grumbles a response, something of a ‘thank you’ mixed with some sarcastic remarks, and you think you hear an ‘aluminum psychic’ mixed in there, but before you can think too hard she grabs your hand pulling you towards the greenhouse.

You stumble slightly, but follow her as she impatiently hops towards the door. Pushing the large door open, she drops your hand and runs inside. You're met with the smell of fresh plants and herbs as you follow her inside, slowly looking around the room and taking everything in as she runs over and wraps her arms around her father, asking how he's feeling.

His eyes immediately snap to you, a look of distrust and unease in his eyes as he stares you down. Jinx notices, and slowly steps back from her hug. She keeps her eyes on vander as she backs towards you, grabbing your hand before speaking.

“Vander, this is my girlfriend.” her voice is soft as she begins to slowly walk towards him, hand still locked in yours.

Fuck, you were not prepared for the whole “meeting the dad” part of all of this. Sure, you've met one of her dads before, but that's because you worked for him, so the stereotypical introduction wasn't necessary at the time.

Attempting to calm your nerves and make a good impression, you clear your throat and lift your hand as an offering for a handshake. “Hi- um, hello. Nice to meet you, sir. Big fan of your work. Both the daughter and the, uh, other stuff.” your voice shakes as you attempt a joke to try and relieve some of the tension growing in the small greenhouse.

Your introduction is met with silence, and then more silence, as Vander just stares at you, occasionally glancing between you and Jinx.

Finally, your girlfriend decides she's seen enough to rescue the situation, stepping between the two of you before breaking the screaming silence. “Well, this has been wonderful. We’ll let you get some rest for now, though.” she grabs your hand again, speedily leading you out of the greenhouse back into the peaceful village of tents.

Once outside you feel her drop your hand and pause, looking over to see her with her arms crossed and eyebrows raised, amusement causing the corners of her lips to curl up. “Nice one! Real smooth, babe.” she teases. You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek and resting your hands on your hips. “I don't wanna talk about it.”

_____________________________________________________________

Vander glances around at the smiling faces surrounding him. Sat at a small picnic table outside the greenhouse sat his family. His eldest daughter to his right, and the miniature Powder to his left. A feast of fruits, salads, and roasted vegetables covered the table. A dinner cooked by a group of people on the commune.

Across from him sat grownup Powder and her… girlfriend.

Vander was already struggling to come to terms with the fact that his daughters were now grown. It felt like no time had passed in his mind, but the years had left their mark on the girls nonetheless, and now he has to come to terms with his youngest daughter being out in the world of romance. His little girl, all grown up and dating women he'd never even met before.

He continues to stare at the two of you, giggling and talking with the others at the table, shoulders occasionally brushing together. His eyes were weary as he watched you two, despite the fact that Powder seems to trust you with everything, nothing changes his distrust and distaste towards seeing his little girl all grown up.

He continues this internal battle in his mind, struggling with the growing protectiveness only amplified by the traces of the beast still in his mind. Even the tiny powder trying to get him to eat and offering him water couldn't help distract him from the affection being shown from across the table.

He could tell you knew he didn't trust you, as every time you made eye contact your eyes would dart away, face casting downwards.

Eventually, the sun sets, and the conversation at the table begins to slow as the food in front of him is quickly destroyed by the hungry teens accompanying him, miniature powder having fallen asleep against his leg not too long after.

He watches as Powder begins to grow tired next to you, her eyes drooping and shoulders slowly slouching as she tries to keep herself awake. You notice, and gently nudge her before deciding it's time to call it a night. You stand, and pull Powder up from the bench she's sat on.

“C'mon, sleepyhead,” you grumble as you turn around and lean over. She turns around and throws herself onto your back, her legs going around your waist as you catch her and lift her until she's snuggly pressed into your back, her head leaning into your neck as her eyes close once more.

His eyes soften as he watches you make your way to his side of the table to pick up the miniature powder from his lap and lift her to your front, one arm wrapped around her keeping her small frame firmly against your chest, the other arm still hooked under one of Powders knees to keep her balanced against your back.

The act reminds him of when Powder and Vi were young and would fall asleep on the couch or at the barstools while he cleaned up the bar after a long night. The memories caused a pang in his heart, chest contracting at the memories of when they were young, reminding him of all the years he must have missed.

As you slowly begin to walk away towards the tent Vi directed them to, he speaks up before you're too far away.

His gravelly and deep voice calls out behind you, “It was nice meeting you too..” you pause in your steps, turning your head to look at the man behind you to confirm you weren't hearing things. Upon seeing your face, he glances down before continuing, “You seem like a good kid, you're, uh, good for Powder.”

Your face slowly splits into a grin, simply nodding your head at him once, before turning and continuing your trek into the night.

Meet the future father-in-law: check.

____________________________________

A/N: ahhh first one shot let's go! hope you guys enjoy this one :3 luv my girl jinx that's my wife fr

#fanfic #fanfiction #arcane fanfic #arcane #arcane x reader #jinx arcane #jinx x reader #jinx #league of legends #jinx and isha #vander #warwick

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cosmicrelease · 21 days ago

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steve notices everything about eddie. and one thing he has noticed recently is that eddie has been painting his finger nails more often. sure, he always paints them black because it’s “hardcore”, but still steve is obsessed.

one day while he is hanging out at robin’s he notices her collection of polishes, “do you think you could teach me how to paint nails?” steve inquired.

“of course i can. this wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain metalhead painting his nails would it?”

steve blushed, “robs, will you teach me or not?”

a couple weeks, and a lot of practice later, steve finds himself at eddie’s place for a movie night. they had already eaten too much pizza and were about to start a second movie when eddie casually said,

“hey stevie do you mind if i paint my nails? i’ve seen this movie dozens of times and i need a fresh coat.” he mentioned with a small laugh.

“want me to do it?” steve asked hesitantly.

“what?”

“do you want me to paint your nails?” he asked more confidently this time.

“um I’m not sure what you know about painting nails but i’ll let a pretty boy like you give it a go.” eddie quipped. leaving steve with a pink tinge on his cheeks.

after eddie went and grabbed the bottle of black polish he and steve situated themselves to face each other on the couch, “are you sure you’re okay with me doing this on the couch? what if i get it everywhere?”

“i trust you sweetheart.”

steve shook the bottle, mixing the polish together, another trick he picked up from robin. then he grabbed eddie’s right hand and began meticulously swiping polish across the nails. steve could feel eddie’s eyes on him so he was trying his best to not get nervous causing a shaky hand.

“stop staring at me you’re making me nervous!” steve tried to bush it off as a joke.

“i can’t help it stevie! you just look so adorable when you’re focused.” eddie openly flirted. causing the other man to blush again.

once eddie finally pulled his eyes away from steve’s pink cheeks and looked at his almost done nails he realized something, “holy shit steve! i didn’t think you’d be this good at this! have you been secretly painting your nails and not letting me see?”

“what? no! trust me if i painted my nails i would show you.” steve joked.

“be real steve how did you get so good at this? i mean, i paint my nails regularly and I’m not even this good. have you been secretly practicing?”

steve didn’t reply while he cleaned up the edges and made sure they were dry he released his hold on eddie’s hands, quickly missing the feeling.

“i asked robin to teach me. you never know when a friend might be i need of polish assistance.” steve tried to joke.

“really sweetheart? because i think you just wanted an excuse to hold my hand.” no hint of joking or teasing in his voice.

steve felt caught. he thought he had done a good job of hiding his feelings for eddie. had he really been that obvious? what should he say? what if eddie is upset? would eddie call him sweetheart if he was upset with him?

avoiding looking eddie in the eye steve softly asked,“would you be upset if it was?”

eddie took steve’s hands in his, looking softly and sweetly at steve, “of course i wouldn’t be upset! if anything i’d be overjoyed! you think i just flirt with everyone stevie? i was hoping you would notice at some point, i wasn’t exactly being subtle about it.

“i think it’s adorable that you learned how to paint nails just so you could hold my hand. but i want you to know you could have just asked. you can ask for anything you want baby and i’ll give it to you.”

steve was looking into eddie’s eyes, looking for any hint of lie. but he couldn’t find one. he knew eddie was being sincere. before leaving eddie hanging for too long steve piped up, “can i have a kiss?”

eddie smiled wide at the request before leaning in to give steve exactly what he asked for. and they both knew it wouldn’t be the last time.

a/n: your honor, they love each other! and they deserve to make out! this thought came to me when i was painting my nails and i felt compelled to share it with the world.

#steddie #steve x eddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #getting together #steddie fic

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hemlock-dreams · 2 months ago

Note

What's Spidys relationship like with the other NY bound heros?

Got a bunch of other hero asks so it's time for Ye Olde Lore Dump!

Johnny and H!Spiderman have never gotten along- in either universe.

They don't even really have any real beef with each other, they're just two dudes who grate on each other's nerves for no particular reason- like two guys at a frat party who are just waiting for an excuse to duke it out.

There's just something about Johnny's playboy easy-come-and-go vibe that makes Spidey want to plant a fist in his face. And Johnny thinks Spiderman is a fucking buzzkill.

Black Widow and Spiderman have a good working relationship. He once helped her out of a tight spot in New York and he was fast, smart and discreet about it- so when she's got some ops she needs a second pair of hands for (under the table), she calls him.

Spiderman admires Nat's competence and single-minded focus in getting things done- they all appeal to the hunter in him. (And he's got a massive crush on her.)

They usually do one or two jobs every few months, and meet up for drinks at one of her safehouses. She's also knows his secret identity, because she's just that scary.

Logan and Peter are BFFs. For real. Logan was in town to help with some shit that ended up involving Deadpool and found himself at St. Margaret's.

He and Peter struck up a friendship that ends up with them going camping every couple of months for a week or so.

Logan likes Peter's no-bullshit sincerity and can tell he's had some shit(TM) go down in his life. Peter's easy to talk to and is good at reading the room. And Peter feels like Logan fills in that space Marko left as a friend/mentor/gruff bro figure.

Logan actually picks up when Peter calls. (most others he leaves on read).

Fun fact, he has no idea Peter is Spiderman.

And another fun fact, it's not Johnny Deadpool is jealous of, it's Logan.

Peter has a very complicated relationship with the Avengers.

On one hand, he knows what they do and what they stand for- on the other hand, he's got a real problem with authority figures. He's been invited to the Avengers multiple times, in both realities.

The answer is always blanket N.O. (And, depending on whether it's stark asking, accompanied by a giant middle finger). (Though he's reluctantly agreed to have an avenger's phone in case there are any massive threats they need help with).

As for the members:

Stark gets on his nerves like nothing else. He's not super easy to rile up, but Stark's playboy arrogance (real or not), way he talks down at people, the self-appointed authority, the entitlement, and, of course, the fucking hypocrisy- it makes Spidey go 0 to 'cashmeoutside' immediately.

He and the Captain sometimes get along, but mostly when the Captain isn't in one of his preachy, pontificating moments. They do work very well together in a combat capacity, but they don't have much to talk about.

Thor is fine, but completely outside of Spidey's sphere and also, difficult to work with given his powers.

Bruce and Spidey just don't have much to talk about, and once again, Hulk is way too loud and can't particularly coordinate when they have to team up.

In general, H!Spiderman gets along with the more 'loner' heroes like Murdock, Deadpool, Black Widow, Bucky, Logan, Clint and so on.

(Side note, imagine he said all these shots fired shit to the Avengers and they were like 'no? none of this happened?' because it's not the same reality and Spiderman has to go home and die from the cringe???) (no we'll let him be cool for this)

-----

Once again, thank you so much for the asks!! I really appreciate all the love this AU has gotten and I hope these answers satisfy!!!

#hunting!spider #spiderman #deadpool #spideypool #wolverine #black widow #the avengers #iron man #thor #captain america #johnny storm #sorry no bromance/romance with Johnny #same shit that makes him want to punch Stark makes him want to punch Johnny.#Every time they're in a room they're fighting demons not to just start fighting #he'd literally do anything for a chance with Black Widow #Hunting!Spider is adrenosexual- anyone who keeps his spider senses at a low constantly tingle is immediately crushzoned

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vaguely-concerned · 1 month ago

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for what it's worth I personally don't believe spite had anything to do with the pantry near-kiss experience at all. I think that was a 100% lucanis naturel disaster no supernatural additives present or indeed required. at most spite was watching that whole situation go down with mild puzzlement about approximately every part of it, I don't think he'd have much interest in it one way or the other. the explanation seems much more mundane and grounded and in some ways much sadder to me.

if your nervous system has never been in a place where any surge of emotion, even -- in fact sometimes especially! -- a good and exciting one makes you feel like your soul just touched a hot stove it can't get away from, then sincerely, from the bottom of my heart and without a trace of snark, thank goodness and I hope you never experience it. For the rest of you... fistbump of solidarity it's rough out here but *grits teeth* we stay silly etc. In the place lucanis is in during that part of the game, feeling like you're losing control (again even for ostensibly good happy reasons) can feel an awful lot like you're dying, or worse. on top of everything else going on for him -- again going only with non-supernatural elements and not even comprehensive: a year of non-stop horrific trauma added to pile of previous mountain of childhood and attachment trauma. chronic sleep deprivation. apparently dead grandma doubling as mother figure. cousin-brother aggressively fucking around and in real danger of finding out. fucked up the ONE thing he thought he knew how to do that's been the central pillar of his identity. the world might be ending even more than it already was because of it. keeps faceplanting with barely any dignity and having to get up again with alarming regularity GOD how could I ever not save treviso this man desperately needs a W (just one!!) like few people in the history of the world have before him. he's more caffeine than man because the alternative feels worse. it's bad in here. and ON TOP of all that he's in the process of falling just. appallingly soul-shrivingly in love, which can notably be playing on hard mode even when you're in a mostly functional place, that shit routinely rocks people to the core under the best of circumstances.

so I'm not surprised it's too overwhelming for him to handle when he tries to throw himself in head first -- in fact I'd have been more surprised if it weren't lol. he clearly wants it so much, which only makes it so much more painful that he can't actually bear to touch it when it's offered to him freely and eagerly. this is the tantalus-level awfulness of this kind of attachment trauma; food seems to be right there, you can see it, almost smell it sometimes, but no matter what you just can't seem to reach it. seemingly not for any flaw in the existence of the food, but because of something broken in you that can't or can't bear to actually eat. his deliberate flirting routine is kind of deeply dorky tbh lol (in the most endearing way possible let's be perfectly clear) and I don't think it's entirely natural to him -- that's a hastily cobbled together 'oh god I am getting the vibes here it is happening for some reason they like me for my personality quick what would illario do' approach if ever I saw it, supported by the fact that it never really makes a return after this --

BUT I do think his obvious near-unbearable delight with rook's existence and person that shines through in that scene is entirely real and unfeigned. he likes them so much. he wants so bad to be able to be close to them. he's so hungry for the reprieve and release and relief they represent to him, just for one moment, just one break from all the awfulness to have something uncomplicatedly good. and it's here, it's been offered, he's welcome!!! and he has to flinch away at the last minute anyway because he's an exposed nerve of a human being. there's a point at which every sensation including joy becomes indistinguishable from agony. he's pretty much exactly at that point. for the love of god have some mercy on him people. the feeling that salvation is right here but you're too broken a vessel to hold it is one I wouldn't wish on anyone. let him have a few moments to stare into the void before he's ready to get back up and try again surely we all deserve at least that much lol

#dragon age #dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: the veilguard spoilers #dragon age spoilers #lucanis dellamorte #rook x lucanis #rookanis #this is literally just me ranting about the feelings he evokes in me and not really directed at anyone I just. I Feel. things #in case you can't tell. I'm the lucanis. him is me. we be like this. this all makes the too much kind of perfect sense to me #it's odd in narrative structure but it's uh. uncomfortably real in some ways. freeze is difficult to describe in conventional narrative #it's a bad time to have in a bad place. but very decent company to be in I must say I love him. so much #also I think we might have exposed some of the basic garrusness going on here haha (just one thing please just one good thing)#and how much getting there hinges on feeling completely safe in that relationship. anyway. everyone ok. I'm not but someone should be

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bbydoll18xx · 3 months ago

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I’ve Got a Wand and a Rabbit (Bonus)

Paige wants to try scissoring, but she’s too shy to tell you.

Paige Bueckers x Reader

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Word Count: 1.2k

Themes: smut, humor, fluff if u squint

A/N: one of my beautiful anons suggested this and I just want to thank whoever it was. This shit is too good. To those who enjoy shy, bottom Paige: you are welcome ;)

“Babe,” you say for the third time, trying to catch Paige’s attention, who was deeply engrossed in her cell phone. She had been acting weird all day. She was usually all over you, clinging onto you, trying to get you as close to her as possible. But today, she was glued to her phone, only giving you short answers, and you were starting to get annoyed.

“Madison!” You snap, and her head whips up to meet your furrowed brow with a guilty look on her face.

She smiles sheepishly at you. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, leaving her phone face down on the arm of the couch and coming over to where you were sitting. “Didn’t mean to ignore my pretty girl.”

You look at her suspiciously as she pulls you into her lap, pressing hot, open mouth kisses to your jaw and trailing them down your neck.

You were not an idiot. You had dated multiple conniving liars, and your instincts were never wrong. The situation reeked of something fishy, and you were going to figure it out. You sincerely hoped nothing crazy was going on; you actually really liked Paige.

And because you were a girl with a pulse, you gave into Paige’s mouth, as she drew you in with her unrelenting charm.

God, you were so fucked.

She pulls you into her bedroom to have her way with you, making you forget all about her weird behavior and her abandoned cell phone.

For now at least.

The next day rolls around and you are determined to figure out the source of Paige’s odd behavior. You walk into her apartment quietly, giggling to yourself as you imagine spy music in the background as you creep towards her closed door. There was no noise coming from her room, and you were not actually sure if she was in there or not.

Taking a deep breath, you carefully open the door and step into the room. Paige is laying on her stomach with her large headphones covering her ears. Her back is to you, and she is watching something intently on her iPad.

She was always fucking around on that thing.

‘She’s probably playing Roblox again,’ you snicker inside your head before taking another step forward to see what she was looking at.

Your heart stumbles in your chest as you glance over her shoulder to see two girls scissoring in broad daylight on the screen, and you let out a gasp, giving you away.

Paige whips her head around to see you staring at her with your mouth open in shock. Her cheeks bloom with embarrassment, and she rubs a hand across her neck before sending you a sheepish smile. “I can explain?”

You take a seat on her bed, wringing your sweaty hands together. “You know I don’t care that you’re watching porn right? But, like, why?” You ask, still in shock.

Paige sighs, looking back at the paused screen of her iPad that was haphazardly thrown onto her pillows. “I wanted to try scissoring with you. And I’ve never done that shit. And I was scared to bring it up,” she mumbles.

You giggle, and she whines in protest, pushing at your arm. “Not funny,” she pouts.

“Actually, it’s pretty fucking hilarious!” You cackle, poking at her side. “But why didn’t you just tell me? Who was the one who taught you how to use a vibrator?” You say pointedly. “And that was before we were even dating.”

“I know,” she groans, putting her head in her hands. “I just get kinda shy ‘bout this shit.”

“You poor baby,” you coo. “Now, c’mon, let's go scissor.”

Paige looks at you with a dumbfounded expression. “What?”

“Well don’t you want to try it? I’m horny, and I can see you’re soaked through those flimsy sweatpants,” you add, pointing to her crotch.

Her face turns bright red again.

Her sheepishness was divine, and you were eager to show her the many pleasures of scissoring. You were going to leave her absolutely wrecked.

Paige’s breathless whines cut through the air as you press hot, wet kisses to her inner thighs. She writhes against her bedsheets, and you continue to tease her.

“You look so pretty all spread out f’me,” you simper, overtly pleased with yourself. No one could get a rise out of her like you.

“Such a fuckin’ tease,” she grunts, throwing an arm across her face. Her hips jump up as you swipe your thumb across her swollen clit in retaliation. “Please, baby,” she cries, thrusting her bottom lip out in a ridiculous pout.

Your own pussy was dripping in excitement, and you doubted you’d be able to hold off much longer, so you decided to show her a little mercy.

“C’mere,” you instruct, pulling her closer and slotting her open legs through yours. Loud gasps ring out as your slick pussies connect as you both adjust to the feeling.

Paige leans forward, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss before she rolls her hips experimentally, leaving you to moan into her mouth. It was raw, the sheer magnetism exuding out from between the two of you.

Grabbing onto her long, toned leg, you use it to slide her soaked folds against yours, ensuring your clits aligned perfectly. It was erotic, and as you stared at Paige’s heaving body, you felt another gush trickle down onto the soft skin of your inner thighs.

Her mouth is open, head tilted back, as she inhales sharply. Her grip moves to your ass, and she sends a stinging slap to your sensitive skin.

“Fuck,” you moan out, rolling your hips again and watching as your movement sends shockwaves through Paige’s body. Her thighs tremble and her tits bounce as you pull her in close to you, kissing her deeply as you grind against her.

“S’good,” she mumbles against your mouth before a needy whine leaves her lips with another roll of your hips. “Can’t last much longer,” she pants out.

You stroke her cheek, making her look into your eyes as you speed up your movements. The noises were downright filthy as your pussy slid wetly against hers, the friction quickly bringing you to a glorious edge.

Paige cums with your name on her lips, her body shuddering as the pleasure rips through her. Expletives and moans fill the air as you and Paige come down from your highs together.

As your breathing evens out, you reach to move her blonde hair out of her face, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“That was way better than I expected,” she grins, and you laugh.

“Now what are you going to do the next time you wanna try out something new?” You ask, a teasing tone ringing through your voice.

Paige sighs, looking bashful. “I’m gonna tell you instead of watching it on Pornhub.”

You pull her in for another kiss. “That’s my good girl.”

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think

xoxo katy

Taglist:

@fullladypanda-blog, @omg-imtumbling, @tenaciousglitternerd, @oldcrdigan, @paigebuxkets, @the-other-half , @patscorner @dietcokesmom @ch12334 @double22-k @inthedeathofherreptuation , @authentic-girl03 , @blueredg52 @tndaqlifwy

Want to be added to my taglist? Comment or send me a message!

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers x you #paige x reader #uconn wbb #ive got a wand and a rabbit #paige bueckers smut

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mcondance · 2 years ago

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hobie 🕷️🎸: 1 video

the video's dark. looks like it was shot somewhere that definitely reeks. but with your brightness all the way up, what's going on in the video.. is crystal fucking clear.

"i tried to wait, swear i did love, but i couldn't. couldn't stop thinkin' about you, and your pretty cunt." he’s not shy. even needy, he’s cocky and unashamed of what he’s doing. he’s got his hand wrapped around his cock, spider suit unzipped and pants unbuttoned, only hanging onto his waist because of his studded belt. his slim frame looks beautiful.

he's jerking himself off in a busted back alley, camera propped up on a window sill. his pretty tip is already leaking pre-cum, lithe fingers coming up to swipe it down, to make the slide easier.

"got hard thinkin' about you, had to dip off n' take care of it." he flashes a wicked smile, throwing his head back, exposing his neck. his hips cant into his fist, fucking the little circle he makes knowing he wishes he was fucking you instead.

"god, 'm just a fuckin' perv, ain i? pants pulled down in an alley, fuckin' my fist for you?" he chuckles, bringing his eyes down to gaze at the camera, and then down at his cock.

"shit, wish it was you, doll." he speeds up, moaning shakily. "'s not wet enough, need your pretty pussy," he groans. his hand leaves his cock, coming up to his mouth, and he spits, trying the best he can to simulate the wet warmth of your cunt. he looks so gorgeous, with his pretty dick with it’s pretty upward curve held tight in his hand.

he starts his pace again, fucking his fist with visions of you on your knees doing it for him instead flying through his mind, the sound of his own hand moving against his dick loud and unmistakable. he’s desperate, whiney, broken moans falling from his lips. he looks so good, happy trail just barely visible. his taut stomach flexes with his every thrust, the expanse of pretty brown skin looking beautiful even with the darkness of the video.

lips parted and slick with spit, dick hard and leaking for you, he looks the image of a god. your god. and yet, he’s pleading to you, begging for salvation that he knows he won’t receive until he gets back home. his fist’ll have to do for now.

and it does, as long as he keeps you in the forefront of his mind. and he does.

“‘m close already,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on where his cock disappears into his hand and comes out on the other side, swiping his thumb over his pretty brown tip. “shit, you’d make me cum so hard, know you would. jerk me so good i’d be shootin’ blanks.” he can’t help but laugh again, breathless and wanting.

“cum with me, yeah? know you’ve been touchin’ yourself to this— fuck, wish it was me instead. should be me, with my hands all over you.” his thrusts pick up, his hand speeds up too.

“‘m g’na cum, please cum with me, love, don’t w’na cum alone,” he whines, deep and sincere. “fuckfuckfuck,” he spills into his hand, moaning loud, throwing his head back again. he rambles mixed together letters of your name and wishes that you were here, that you were the one making him bust.

he comes down with a heaving chest, hand still stroking slowly at his cock. laughs start to rack through him, his eyes focusing back on his camera. wiping his hand off on a tattered piece of fabric with a blissed out look on his face, he pulls his suit back up and fixes his pants.

“hope you liked it, love,” is all he says before he ends the video, pretty face frozen on your phone screen.

#hobie brown smut #hobie brown x black reader #hobie brown x reader #uhhh. guys i don’t have anything to say for myself i’m so sorry

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419jhat · 1 month ago

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Eddie's lagging behind his friends at comicon, lazily taking in a particularly cool d20 being sold in the artist alley when he spots her. Seated in a chair, looking bored as fuck while she scrolls on her phone, was the most beautiful Blossom he's ever laid his eyes on. She wasn't wearing the usual outfit. She'd switched it out for something preppy and modern- a pleated pink skirt swishing around her thighs, cute white socks, and a sweater vest that shows off how much she goes to the gym. She looks like she would've called him a freak in high school, but in a sexy way, which is a thought that he doesn't want to reflect on without his therapist present.

"You gonna shoot your shot?" Gareth asks.

Eddie feels like he's been caught.

"I don't know, maybe I will," he says with a shrug.

"She's out of your league, friend. She looks like she'd step on you."

"I know," Eddie sighs.

Gareth looks incredibly unimpressed . "Ugh. Go. Before I leave you standing here like an idiot and she notices you staring. Which you're doing a lot, by the way."

He finishes with a shove right between Eddie's shoulder blades, forcing him to stumble toward Ms. Blossom in a way that catches her attention. And then he has to walk up to her, because he's looking at her and she's looking at him, and neither of them are looking away and it's becoming a whole thing. He walks toward her slowly, because he can't think of what to say, and the way she's playing with her wig is really distracting and cute.

"Uh. Waiting for a Rowdy Ruff Boy?" he jokes awkwardly. Blossom's face morph into pure disgust and Eddie wants to melt into the floor.

"Seriously bro?" she asks with a shockingly deep voice.

Before Eddie can make his brain snap together a response, the other Power Puff Girls are running up to them.

"Steve! I hope you didn't wait long, Chris wanted to get one of those- oh. Hello," Buttercup says, when she notices him. Bubbles' blonde hair is very real, and very cute pulled into pigtails. Buttercup seems to have just dyed hers black for the occasion.

"Hi," Eddie says lamely. He waves at them, for some reason.

Buttercup gasps. "Are you hitting on him? We can leave and come back. Come on, babe," she says, grabbing Buttercup's hand.

"Don't fuck this up!" Bubbles says as she's pulled away.

"Oh my god, ignore them. What did you say?" Steve, apparently, asks. Eddie wants to crawl in a hole and die. He can just feel Gareth laughing behind him.

"It's was a joke. You know, the Rowdy Rough Boys?" Steve doesn't seem to know, so he adds, "the evil boy version of the Power Puff Girls?"

Steve looks down at his clothes as some kind of recognition dawns on his face. "Oh! Shit dude, I haven't seen the show. Rob and her girlfriend just really needed a Blossom."

This is usually the point Eddie would tease Steve about being a poser, but he looks so sincere (and his biceps are so distracting) that his game is totally out of shape. A guy who would don a skirt for his friends? A man after his own heart! He half wants to make up an excuse and leave to save himself from further shame, but he's too enticed by the cute moles on Steve's jaw that he lets himself suffer a little longer.

Steve looks him up and down and asks, "so what are you supposed to be?"

Eddie looks down at his ripped jeans and says, "...me."

He's internally kicking himself for leaving his own outfit in the hotel room.

Steve smiles up at him in a way that shows off his makeup. "Well it's working for you. You know when you first came up to me I thought you were asking me if I wanted to get rough with you."

Eddie laughs awkwardly, cheeks burning, because bombing an interaction this badly is exactly the kind of thing the universe would demand of him. Steve just stares at him. Eddie stares back awkwardly, wondering what he's supposed to even say. He can see Buttercup and Bubbles a few feet away, mouthing something at him combined with a collection of hand gestures he doesn't really understand. Steve sighs. Then he flicks the wig in a way that's kind of flirty and says, "that was an invitation, dude. You gonna take it or sit there and keep staring at my tits?"

And Eddie does take the invitation, thank you very much.

#stranger things #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fanficiton #steddie fanfiction

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lalunanymph · 5 months ago

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𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟑: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒

after a scandal that rocks the entire nation, itadori 'ryomen' sukuna is forced to marry a girl chosen by his brother in order to straighten him out. but, what jin doesn't expect is how much he's willing to destroy everything he knows just to get his freedom back—even at the expense of breaking his wife's soul.

warnings: mean!sukuna, unrequited love, explicit smut (sukuna x este), gojoyn besties, forced proximity, overhearing trope, misunderstandings, tension, mentions of alcohol, mentions of drugs, MDNI !!

masterlist | playlist

Itadori Jin is used to cleaning up his brother’s messes.

Whenever Sukuna got himself involved in something he couldn’t handle, Jin would be there in the wings, roped into unwillingly helping him or else his brother would find himself in deeper shit than he could fathom. That has always been the nature of their relationship, and this time, it’s no different.

I want to push the wedding back by a month, his brother’s voice slurs in his memories.

Tch, Jin internally moans. He’s just offended one of their biggest, potential investors and now, Jin has to scramble to solve the issue before your father decides that this match was not worth pursuing.

Standing right in front of your father’s study, he raises a fist and knocks three times to get Jiro’s attention.

The door opens, and your father finds Jin sheepishly smiling at him, hands politely clasped behind his back.

Snapping the book in his grasp shut, the patriarch of the L/N family gestures for him to come into his study with a smile. Jin takes it as a win that he’s not frowning or angry—it means he can still salvage this deal.

“How can I help you, Itadori-san?”

Bowing to the older man, the Itadori Chairman humbly takes a seat before him, hands folded primly on his lap as he shoots your father a tentative smile. “I wanted to talk to you about something important—a wedding date for Sukuna and your daughter.”

“Oh.” Fully turning his attention to the younger man, your father earnestly searches Jin’s gaze, waiting for him to continue.

“I know my brother has unfairly pushed back the wedding date for a month without consulting me, and so to make amends, I want us to discuss a timing that would suit your family.”

Jiro strokes his chin. He’s dressed in a casual, blue button down and charcoal slacks, looking like a man waiting for a meeting to start rather than a relaxed father on holiday. In a way, both men were similar—Jin, too, was always alert and available to talk business despite how drained he was from the burdens of running such a big company all on his own.

“Your consideration is admirable, Itadori-san,” your father praises, a twinkle in his eye. “I think we can put it for the middle of next month when autumn begins so it’ll be a fruitful union, don’t you think?”

“An autumn wedding,” Jin hums. “It would be lovely.”

“So that by spring, my daughter might bear both our families the fruits of her labor,” he chuckles, and Jin joins him, a little perplexed at how openly he’s speaking about your future pregnancy.

“It is my sincere hope she and my brother finds happiness together,” Jin remains polite, though he’s wondering how Sukuna would come to terms with this new arrangement.

Jiro stands and heads to his liquor cart, pouring out a measure of whiskey in two custom made glasses. “I think we should toast to this, Itadori-san.”

Never one to miss out on a good celebration, Jin’s chuckle is considerably warmer, and he accepts the whiskey with a nod of thanks.

The older man settles onto the high back chair, and lifts up his glass.

“To both our families—may we be united as one very soon.”

Relief courses through Jin at how easily Jiro accepts the apology and suggestion, knowing that he’s overcome the hardest part. Now, it was up to Sukuna to keep their deal alive.

“To our families,” Jin touches the rim of his glass to Jiro’s. “May we be united very soon.”

Sukuna almost misses home.

It’s not as if he’s not enjoying his time in Hokkaido. He’s trying (keyword: trying) to play it cool with you so that Jin doesn’t get on his case and constantly harps on him to treat you better.

But, it’s so hard to keep up this facade when another woman is lingering in the back of his mind.

Este is always in the periphery whenever he’s trying to have a conversation with you, playing cards or having a meal together. He can’t fight the feeling of how her eyes seem to burn into him, and it’s made even worse when he remembers that her room is just a few doors down from his own.

In all honesty, Sukuna would’ve made do with his own company and a glass of whiskey for tonight, when a familiar scent wafts into the room and a dark beauty wearing a seductive smile catches his eye.

“Oi, you can’t come in here,” Sukuna scolds without looking at her. Your things are still on his side of the bed. You’re god knows where in this fucking colossal lodge, but you could return anytime to find your fiance entangled with a woman who you thought, for all intents and purposes, was his closest friend.

“Come on, Sukuna,” she coos, and he stifles the urge to roll his eyes, knowing it would just egg her on.

The tattooed man is about to call her out for her fuckery and ask her to leave when he hears the unmistakable snap of a zip lock bag opening.

He stiffens, the sound he loathes yet loves the most Pavloving him into utter stillness.

Este’s triumph melts on his tongue, but he’s immune to its taste when he slowly comes face to face with her, pupils in pinpricks and mouth slightly ajar.

She breezes past the threshold with a coy smile, and in her hands is his salvation—his one true love he’s been missing since their excursion to the mountains.

“I couldn’t sleep, Ryo,” she purrs, and slides onto his bed, crossing her legs. It takes everything in Sukuna not to jump her and grab the small packet grasped in between her purple acrylics, its contents shaken teasingly as she drags her gaze up and down his fit build. “So, I thought, why don’t I come here with our favorite lullaby?”

That deranged pit inside of him twists and turns, clawing out for relief. He swallows hard, and she doesn’t miss how his eyes never leave the white powder in her hands.

She knows it’s been days since his last hit; in fact, she was there when they were both high out of their fucking minds.

Este is treading dangerous waters, especially when she senses the tension emanating off him in waves. The tightening cord of the muscles in his jaw, the hitched breath.

There is no way you’re going to do this, the last shred of sanity inside of him screams. This is yours and Y/N’s bedroom! It’s sacrilegious to even bring another person here.

But, like every warning in his life, he ignores it, dragging his feet towards her. An unwilling slave to this prison that she’s erected with her own two hands—playing on his ruin with a smile on her rose blush lips and a twinkle in her deep brown eyes.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mumbles hoarsely. Sukuna unwillingly lays it on thick, the desperation making him say things he doesn’t mean. “I need you.”

“You do?” She loves to tease him, draw out his relief. “If you did, then why are you getting closer and closer to her, hmm?”

Oh. Sukuna’s brow knits together. She’s talking about you.

“What the fuck do you mean?” He fights back the urge to snarl, needing to play nice with her so he can feel the hit in his veins; the adrenaline spiking and taking him down those blessed roads of blissful numbness.

A pout worms its way on her full lips, and Sukuna feels his cock twitch in his sleep pants.

“Y/N,” she drags your name like it’s a curse, eyes flashing darkly. “I hate it that she’s here. That I have to see you two together.”

Sukuna rolls his eyes, planting his hands on either side of her thighs. This close, he can see the sheen of some expensive serum or another glazing her skin, taste her minty breath.

He drags his nose up her neck, feeling her pulse quicken underneath the thin skin. Skin which blooms easily with marks, he thinks, as he places his lips on where her blood hums the wildest, sucking and tasting her till she tenses and her thighs squeeze.

Gotcha. Sukuna hears her breathing deepen, and he senses her crumbling walls; the flimsy self-control she barely has disintegrating to dust right at his feet.

He grabs the packet from her hands, continuing to kiss and lick down her neck, leaving his marks between her breasts and around them—careful not to mark her neck in case the other families notice.

She preens and whines under his attention, her legs instinctively hooking around his midsection. He chuckles, a low, baritone sound which makes her shakily whimper out his name.

The straps of her nightgown slip off her shoulders while he’s busy tasting her skin, and Sukuna eggs them on; removing the scanty piece of clothing and leaving her bare, firm body open to his scrutiny.

As thanks for her kindness in sharing such a gift with him, Sukuna rips open the package and tips it over her chest, leaving a well-practiced white line in between her tits.

Este giggles when she feels his hair tickling her neck, and Sukuna inhales the coke with a flourish, letting the drugs coat his neurotransmitters, bringing a zing of happiness all the way up into his brain. He kisses her, well and deep with tongue, and Este reciprocates, running her hands up and down his back; squeezing his biceps and grabbing his shoulders.

Blood rushes down his body, straight to his cock, and he can’t hold back any longer; he needs to reward her for her kindness.

“Keep your legs spread,” he commands, pushing the band of his sweatpants down to free his stiff cock. Those glassy vermillion eyes focus on her lips, using them as an anchor when he leans forward and kisses her; a distraction for when he pushes past her tight pussy.

“Ssh,” he mumbles, slapping a huge hand over her mouth. Sukuna would personally kill himself if any of the other upper echelon families found out about his affair with Este. “Shut up. No one can know you’re here.”

She nods behind his palm, and he keeps it there in case she can’t control her reactions. Moving inside of her, Sukuna feels her body rhythmically pulsing along with his, a dance the two of them were familiar with.

The coke messes with his mind, and his resolve weakens considerably, especially when he removes his palm and kisses her right on her parted mouth.

“I love you,” she whines past his lips, where he tastes her desperation and the truth he can’t spit out of his mouth. His bloodshot eyes devour her expressions, wondering how many times he’s put her in this position and he comes to terms with the fact that he’s lost count.

Sukuna doesn’t reply to her inebriated declaration, choosing instead to kiss her hard when she shatters around his cock with a soft cry of his name.

Throughout the entire trip, you’ve never exactly hung out with Sukuna one-on-one.

It was always chaperoned by your mother or an activity attended by the other important families so you two would never fully be alone. Since the Gojos sent their only son as a representative, you would hang out with Satoru on afternoons when your artistic inspiration was at its lowest.

Despite having every right to be reserved with you as your family was not on the level of vieux riche as theirs were, Satoru was easy company to keep throughout the day. Whenever you painted, he would hang around you, throwing jokes and chortles which distracted you from your rampant art block and eased your discomfort till you were comfortable enough to rib him back.

“Oi, Y/N, get your eyes off the canvas and let’s go for a soak,” Satoru whines, and you narrowly dodge a cushion he throws at you.

Scoffing indignantly, you pick the throw up and lob it back to him, catching him square in the face. “This is just an excuse for you to see me in a towel, Satoru.”

If your mother were here, she would chastise your blatant words, citing them as a flirtation tactic which would jeopardize your deal with the Itadoris. But, thankfully, she was having tea with the other mamas, and wasn’t around to hear you and giggling at Satoru’s betrayed expression.

“Then bring your damn fiance along and let’s get this show on the road,” he groans, tossing his head back and letting it thump against the sofa back. “I’m so bored out of my wits. The mountains have nothing. No clubs, no hot girls. I’m famished.”

“What if we went skiing?” you suggested. Not one for pursuing the slopes, this was a new adventure zone for you, but Satoru didn’t have to know about your discomfort. He perks up, grinning. You think that in another life, you and Gojo could’ve been the best of siblings.

“I think that’s great,” he claps his hands, looking like an overgrown 6’3 toddler with twinkling blue eyes. “We can take the pro slope! And then once we’re done, let’s go for some ochazuke—”

“What’s happening?”

Instantly, the air in the room nosedives to Hyperborean levels. Sukuna and Este stand by the second living room door, and you miss how Satoru’s bright blue gaze darts from between them, his mouth twisting at the corners.

You don’t sense his unease, back going ramrod straight as you shoot your fiance a smile. “Hey, Itadori-san. Satoru was just thinking we should go skiing. I’ve never done it before, so maybe you can show me?”

What was an innocent question was met with a smirk from him and a giggle from Este.

“Sukuna loves skiing,” she says, and you’re confused why they’re both sharing a look of knowing contempt.

“Oh,” you mutter. “If that’s the case then it’ll be great if you can join, too, Este-san.”

While you weren’t exactly comfortable with spending having Este onboard, it would be rude to not try and include her. Maybe you both would finally break the ice, figuratively and literally, and get to know each other better.

Sukuna opens his mouth, and you think he’s about to reject your offer, when Este butts in with a saccharine sweet, “I would love that! Wouldn’t you, ‘Kuna?”

If either men were thrown off by the sudden flirtatious note in her tone, they didn’t bring it up to you. Satoru looks away, coughing awkwardly, while Sukuna glares, his displeasure hewed out of stone cold annoyance.

Backed into a corner by his oldest friend and with nowhere to go, Sukuna raises his hands in defeat, tossing you a careless smirk which makes you catch your breath.

“I guess I have no choice. We should all go, then, Y/N. Does 3PM sound good?”

This time, it’s you who opens your mouth but is interrupted by Satoru who barks out a laugh.

“3PM is perfect.”

Sukuna levels him a look which Satoru doesn’t back down from. As one of the most important heirs in the country’s economic wheel, the white-haired man is a key player in any future biddings of mergers; Sukuna knows not to overstep in case he misses out on a pot of gold.

Flashing the other man a brief grin, Sukuna nods. “Fine. 3PM, then.”

As he disappears out of the room, Este trails behind him, looking like a lost puppy following after her owner’s heels.

The sight doesn’t give you any malicious afterthought, until it’s Satoru who clears his throat and you look up to find him frowning.

“Don’t you think it’s strange,” he starts, and confusion settles in for you when he nervously darts his gaze away.

“What’s strange?”

Instead of answering you, the Gojo heir lobs you a look of pure disbelief. “Um, hello? Don’t we both have eyes? I’m sure yours is still working, Y/N-kun.”

Your brows knit together, and you mumble a quick, “Huh?”

Satoru heaves in a dramatic sigh, as if he can’t believe he has to do this. “Oh my god, don’t make me spell it out for you—Este and Sukuna.”

You’re genuinely confused now, setting your palette and brush down. “What about the both of them?”

For the first time since you’ve met him, you’re confronted with Gojo’s annoyed stare. Shrinking back, you wait for his anger to overflow, as it tends to do with people in these circles who have little patience for you. And it does—just, surprisingly, not directed at you.

“They think they’re so slick being all cuddly and lovey-dovey right in front of us like we wouldn’t talk,” he hisses. “I’m sure the maids are already gossiping amongst themselves. Sukuna is shameless to act this way—especially to you of all people considering you’re gonna be his future wife.”

You’re struck mute by his observation and without warning, a dull ache pierces your chest. You wince, and look away from those glacial blue eyes, needing some time to compose yourself before you speak cautiously, as if every word you put forward has the potential to trap you under a crushing weight.

“Sukuna and Este have been close friends since they were in university together, Satoru. I trust my fiance and know he wouldn’t hurt me like this,” you pause, biting your lower lip. “Especially when he himself knows what’s at stake if he doesn’t marry me.”

Satoru wrinkles his nose. “Accepting it and actually having to live through it are two different things, Y/N. Imagine if you married him and it’s not the life you want? Would you still be this nonchalant about your fate?”

His intentions come from a good place, but you couldn’t help feeling like a little girl getting a thorough scolding.

Removing your paint-splattered overalls, you drape it over the chair, sighing. “It’s not like I had hopes we would be in love or even happy together, Satoru. As long as Itadori-san respects me, I’m willing to see this marriage through—for the sake of my family.”

The note of finality you elucidate is enough for Satoru to take heed and pause.

You can tell he’s still disgruntled on your behalf, but doesn’t say a word, shrugging his broad shoulders. “You know what, you’re stronger than most of us, Y/N. Anyway, just please be careful and—”

He surprises you by reaching out to grab your wrist, holding you in place. Those icy blue eyes of his melt, transforming into two pools of worry.

“—if you ever need someone to talk to, you can always reach out to me.” He lets go of your wrist, and in a show of kindness you don’t deserve, says:

“I’m here for you as a friend. You’re going to need someone soon enough, Y/N.”

Satoru’s words linger long in your mind as you gaze out of the sedan’s tinted window, dressed in your skiing gear.

The Gojo heir had an emergency meeting to handle and couldn’t follow you to the slopes, so it’s just you, Sukuna and Este.

Butterflies pool in your stomach, their wings collectively beating a disconcerting tune that threatens to spill out of your ribcage. You feel slightly dizzy when the car comes to a stop, right at the lobby of a nearby resort.

Disembarking, you accept your butler’s help to carry your gear, the rumbling of another pair of wheels catching your attention.

Sukuna steps out of the Jeep, Este right behind him as they’re laughter rings through your buzzing ears, dying down once they notice you at the entrance.

His grin takes you off guard, and he sweeps past her, surprising you both by wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Glancing up at him, it’s easy to be blinded by his effortless charisma, the indents of dimples on his cheeks whenever his smile grows too wide.

“Thanks for waiting for us, Y/N. Come on—you’re gonna enjoy this ride.”

You let him steer you towards the practice slopes, and he even bends down to snap on your gear for you, making sure to adjust your helmet and goggles. All three layers of your clothes and windbreaker makes you feel like a bobbing snowman, your grumbles making him snicker.

“At least when you fall on your ass, it’ll be well-padded.”

“What do you mean?” It’s easy to mishear his words as a provocation, especially when he couples them with that devilish smile you’re still getting used to.

Sukuna snorts, handing you the poles an instructor passes to him. “Come on, or we’ll miss the ski lift.”

In your periphery, another instructor helps Este with her boots, and you try not to pay too much attention to how even in multiple layers, she manages to look so effortlessly chic. Her sleek black gear strikes a contrast with the white powdery snow, and compared to your girlish pink jacket and board you borrowed from your mother, it’s clear who’s the seasoned pro.

“I’ll catch you both down the slope, okay?” She chimes as she passes by the two of you. Luckily, your back faces Sukuna, or else you would’ve noticed the slight frown he wore.

“Be careful,” he warns, and she waves him off.

“I know what I’m doing.” Tossing you a smirk, she adds, “Whatever you do, don’t fall flat on your face, Y/N—it won’t be pretty.”

Before you could retort, she’s gliding away towards the ski lift, and you’re left in an awkward state together with your fiance.

“Well, come on,” he mutters gruffly, dropping all pretext now that nobody’s here to see him pretend. “Your mother told us to get back in time for dinner. Let’s move now.”

You follow behind him, trudging in your too big boots and using your ski poles as support. The wind bites through the scarf pulled up high over your cheeks, and you swear your fingers are frozen around the pole. But, you don’t pay any of it too much attention, focusing on following Sukuna right to the ski lift.

He’s a natural with his movements, fluid and sure, and you follow his instructions to lift off the second your board touches the ground. For a split second, you’re cruising down the slope when you’re gaining too much momentum, and speed past him. A scream rips from your throat and you try to slow down, digging in your heels…

Only to fall flat right on your ass, like he predicted.

Soreness radiates from where you’re planted on the ground, and you wince, trying to stand.

Sukuna skids to a stop right in front of you, and instead of helping you up, he’s trying his hardest not to laugh.

“It’s not funny,” you whine, and try to stand. Unfortunately, your core muscles aren’t strong enough, and you flop right back down to the ground. He doesn’t assist you, arching a brow and waiting for you to stand.

“Come on. Just tuck in your tailbone and try to stand.”

“I can’t!” you shoot back, giving him a murderous glare. “Help me, damn it.”

Sukuna snorts, and you’re sure he would at least extend a hand, not shrug and kick up snow once he pivots away, joining the black dot in the distance that you recognize as Este.

Humiliation creeps up to you in burning waves, making your face all hot and splotchy.

The snow is starting to make your ski pants wet, and you’re close enough to disregard your dignity and flop onto your belly just for a chance to try and shuffle onto your hands and knees, when a tall figure blocks out the sunlight, casting you in his shadow.

“Damn, already kissing the ground, loser?”

You don’t expect to see Satoru right in front of you, bearing a smirk and an outstretched hand.

“Wait, why’re you here—?”

“Meeting ended early, so I came to watch you embarrass yourself,” he replies and giggles as if it was the funniest joke in the world.

Tossing him a glare, you don’t refute his help, especially when it comes after Sukuna’s rejection. He effortlessly tugs you up, scrutinizing you from head to toe for any injuries. Satisfied at finding none, he turns his attention to another pressing matter.

“They didn’t wait for you?” Satoru questions once you’re stable on your feet. Fighting back shivers from the frigid cold, you shake your head.

He doesn’t say another word, though you can tell the wheels in his head are turning. But, he chooses to shrug it off, gesturing down the peaks, looking tall and sturdy in his professional gray gear and UV protection goggles.

“Race you down to the bottom—loser has to buy the other one a beer!”

“Hey—”

For the second time today, you’re left tasting snow in your mouth when Satoru shoots past you, straight to the end goal. Without any time to waste, you push yourself downwards, maneuvering with the ski poles, hellbent on beating that lanky asshole and showing Sukuna that you could handle yourself.

You’re going faster than before, everything becomes white in your periphery; focusing on passing the break of fir trees faster than Satoru could. Someone calls for you to stop, and you bend your knees, snow flying everywhere, breathing hard when you realize you’re almost at the lip of another cabin.

Huffing, Satoru comes behind you, narrowing his eyes with his cheeks red and puffy.

“Oi, you could’ve collided into a wall with that speed,” he grumbles, but you don’t hear him.

“Did I win?” You look around expectantly, and notice Sukuna trudging towards you both.

“Satoru,” he doesn't sound the least amicable when regarding the other man; in fact, he sounds sort of disappointed. “Why’re you here?”

“I came to see if Y/N could beat your ass,” he smoothly changes his motive, and you gape, wondering if you should call him out in front of your fiance.

“Everything was fine,” he says and jerks his head towards you. “She didn’t die.”

“I wasn’t here for her,” Satoru snorts, and if you weren’t buzzing from the adrenaline, you would’ve noticed Sukuna glaring at him like a cat who’s had its prey snapped up from its jaw by another feline.

Their bickering is interrupted by Este sliding to a stop next to Sukuna, her pale cheeks glowing from the cold. You subconsciously touch your beanie, hoping it's not askew and your hair is not in a mess.

“Stop fighting,” she snorts, the winter breeze playing with the ends of her brown locks. Landing her gaze on you, you’re surprised to find a fond smile etched on her lips, as if you two were close friends rather than awkward acquaintances—another ruse meant to confuse you and Satoru.

“All that matters is Y/N has won and that’s it. I think we should rent a cabin and celebrate.”

Shockingly, it’s Satoru who’s all for it. “Yeah, sounds like a plan,” he enthuses, and you wonder what he has up his sleeve. “I’ll make a call. Excuse me.”

Within seconds when Gojo leaves and you’re left standing, dumbstruck with a frowning Sukuna and an aloof Este, you wonder what you had done in your past life to deserve such excruciating awkwardness. The Nara heiress is scrolling through her phone and Sukuna stifles a yawn, both of them looking like they would be anywhere else in the world rather than here.

“—thank you!”

Everyone perks up when Satoru ambles back to the group, a big grin in place. “Found a spot. Cabin 12. Come on. The owner says they’re usually booked but it’s a rare gem for vacant spots.”

Begrudgingly, you follow Satoru, Este and Sukuna, feeling out of place when the three of them strike up conversations about business and properties, your own knowledge of your father’s company being shoddy at best. All of them come from old money and have seen how their grandfathers ran these companies since they could walk while you, on the other hand, barely visited your father’s office if you could help it.

To say you were a fish out of the water was an understatement.

“... $5 million in notes, they should be launching an IPO anytime soon.”

“Nice,” Sukuna nods appreciatively, sparing Este a sly smile. “40,000 shares would suffice, don’t you think?”

She scoffs, and you wonder why out of everyone else’s word, hers is taken into more consideration than Satoru’s who is the literal heir to the great Gojo Corp.

“Make that 50,000. Projections on profits are at 13% come next quarter. You should bank then buck when January rolls around or else you’re going to suffer.”

Satoru hums, and turns back to look at you, the glint in his ice-blue eyes cajoling you to join in the conversation and not linger behind the group like a silent shadow.

“Dreaming of opening any big businesses, Y/N?”

Uncomfortable with the sudden attention on you, your eyes fall to the snow-packed ground, buying yourself time to reply. “Um… I told Itadori-san before that I wanted to open an art gallery—”

“Why?” Before you could even finish your thought, Este interrupts you with a scoff. She looks at you like you’ve failed a simple comprehension test, her mauve lips tautly pulled into a pout. “Art galleries are money drainers, Y/N. Even a child knows that.”

She scrutinizes you from head to toe, and you can’t help the shiver tearing through you which has nothing to do with the sub zero mountain temperature.

“Galleries are for bored wives of rich men who have nothing to do and nothing to show for.” She waves a hand towards Sukuna’s direction. “But, I suppose that’s all your life will be once you marry Sukuna, isn’t that right?”

You don’t know how to answer her, and you’re spared from this cringeworthy situation when Satoru exclaims, “We’re here!”

Saved by the bell, you hasten your steps, catching up to Gojo and leaving both Sukuna and Este behind.

Satoru leans close, and to anyone else it looks like he’s trying to tell you a joke, but the reality could not be any different.

“Don’t let her get to you, okay?” He advises, an easygoing smile on his lips though you can detect an undercurrent of tension from his words. “It isn’t worth it to get worked up over people like her.”

You want to ask him what he means by people like her when you catch your tongue, coming to the slow realization.

Both Sukuna and Este were two sides of the same coin, equally vicious and mean-spirited towards you when you meant no harm. Does Satoru know about how treats me behind doors and makes me sleep on the floor when we’re supposed to share a bed together? You debate telling him about it, wondering how he would react; if he would recoil in disgust or shrug as if such a thing were normal.

There isn’t any time to reconsider when he opens the door, leading everyone into a simple yet clean looking living room space with wide windows and a tiny fireplace belching out heat.

“Let’s rest here and reconvene later to go back up to our base,” Gojo suggests. No one refutes him, too tired to make the long trek back to the hotel lobby and wait for their Range Rovers to arrive. “Y/N,” he looks at you, “Do you want to help me in the kitchen?”

Satoru cooks? You wonder what else the Gojo heir can surprise you with. As you tag along and follow the white-haired man into the kitchen, you feel someone’s gaze on you.

Turning back, you see Sukuna’s sharp stare piercing through you.

But, before you can open your mouth and ask him what’s wrong, he drops his gaze and sinks onto the couch, ignoring your existence once again.

“... reports of a snowstorm ravaging Mount Hakodate... advised to stay inside... skiing operations are suspended for the time being…”

Heavy snowfall batters against the glass windows, the hail gusting outside rattling the cabin’s hollow walls as the radio cracks the news in the background.

You’re huddled up next to Satoru, close to the fireplace while Sukuna stays by your right, Este tucked right next to him.

The reason for such close proximity isn’t because of want, but because of the embers glowing faintly from the fireplace and the lack of firewood which spikes unspoken worries across the room. You fight back a shiver, imagining your mother’s frantic worry and your father trying to reason with the other parents to bring down a rescue team for his daughter and future son-in-law.

No one could’ve anticipated such a setback, the snowstorm warning coming in shortly after the doors started rattling and white snow blankets the outside world, covering the windows and effectively locking everyone inside until further notice.

Your stomach growls and you’re reminded that besides some spiked eggnog, you’ve barely eaten anything for the day.

“We should’ve left for the lodge when we had a chance,” Este grumbles. Sukuna echoes her frustration in a sigh.

“I’m going to lie down on the bed, it’s too cramped here,” he complains, mouth set in a sour line as he trudges towards a nearby room. Satoru watches and waits to see if Este would follow him, but she doesn’t, wisely staying put to not draw more attention to her.

Smart girl, he thinks. She’s playing the long-term game. He shudders to think what would happen if he wasn’t here with you—how she wouldn’t bother to hide behind a facade as she sinks her talons into your fiance.

Satoru casts a look towards you, and what he feels bubbling in his chest catches him unexpectedly.

He wants nothing more than for you to open your eyes to what he can clearly see right in front of him. But, you’re too innocent and sweet for your own good. You think no one has it out for you, when this world is made of thorns and deception, thriving on the strong devouring the weak. And as the strongest, he has a duty to watch out for those who can’t even protect themselves.

“We’ll get home safely,” he says to the quiet room. You smile at his attempt at trying to comfort the both of you, while Este rolls her eyes petulantly, ever the pessimist.

“We better,” she grumbles, inspecting her nails and frowning when she finds her pinkie nail chipped. “I need another dose of retinol… this cold is making me shrivel up.”

You can tell Satoru is resisting the urge to snort because you’re trying your hardest not to as well.

Catching his eye, you think it’s not so bad to be caught in this storm if you had him by your side.

“So,” he starts, ignoring Este and focusing on you. “You beat me at the race. When would you like to claim your free beer?”

You miss how the brunette gives you a look laced with shock and outward contempt. Satoru’s attention is not on her either, the both of you collectively deciding to ignore her like she was a piece of furniture in this room.

“I guess whenever you’re free.” Unable to resist subtly throwing Este’s words back in her face, you mumble, “Maybe after I set up the gallery because that’s all my life will be—boring—so you’ll have to brighten it a little, Satoru.”

He exhales a laugh, and from the corner of your eye, you see Este shooting you a look of vitriol.

Keeping up with your wit, the white-haired man snorts, shaking his head.

“Anything to liven up a bored, rich wife’s life, am I right?”

The minute all four of you return to safety once the snowstorm subsides, your mother calls for a party to celebrate.

Barely finding your footing out of the Range Rover and back to the warmth of the lodge, you’re whisked away to get ready for the night, this confusing turn of events exacerbated by Sukuna’s distance when you both have a chance to unwind in the shared room.

He doesn’t utter a word when you set your clothes on the bed, faraway gaze locked in the distance as if he couldn’t be bothered with your presence.

“Itadori-san, you didn’t catch a cold, right?”

His attention snaps back to you, and you shrink back, wondering if you’ve done something wrong judging from his bitter glare.

“Why don’t you ask Gojo instead, hmm? Seeing as you’re both being so chummy together.”

You pause from the motion of wiping your face, gaping at him in confusion. “Excuse me?”

Your fiance, who only a few hours ago barely cared to help you to your feet from the slopes, advances towards you, a sneer on his handsome face as he corners you flush to the wall, close enough for you to smell the threatening anger wafting off of him.

“Don’t you fucking play stupid with me, woman,” he snarls. “I saw the way you looked at him. Do you want me to tell daddy that his little girl is two-timing her fiance with another man?”

Grating and mocking. His words send a chill up your spine. You want to fight back—to tell him that he’s wrong and that if anyone is to be blamed, it’s him with his blatant preference for Este over you. But, the words can’t fall from your tongue. To say them would be to confront their existence, and you’re not sure if you have the courage to cross that bridge just yet.

The idea of your fiance preferring another woman, even if she’s his friend, doesn't sit right with you. Coupled with the fact that he’s never once spoken ill of her and solely chose to treat you harshly makes you wonder if Satoru’s words were right—if Este and Sukuna are more than just friends.

“You’re insane,” you splutter, pushing him away. “Satoru and I are just friends. Unlike you and Este.”

His sneer falters, and you swear for a single second you see a sheen of fear in his vermillion eyes. It’s instantly replaced with disdain.

“Now, you’re the one who’s insane. Este?” He scoffs and grabs your arm, dragging you close enough so you’re face-to-face with him. Heart in your throat, you feel the fear pressing close to you, breathing down your neck like a terrifying poltergeist.

“Don’t you dare insinuate something like that.” He lets you go, pushing you away, leaving you to stumble and hold onto the wall to right yourself. “Know your place, Y/N.”

The storm of his retribution passes, and he leaves you alone with your chaotic thoughts, mind racing a mile a minute.

Anger… fear… injustice…

It all coalesces in you until you feel its tightening grip around your throat. Your vision narrows to nothing but your trembling palms; your heart is beating so erratically you think it might claw out of your chest.

You hear nothing. See nothing.

Why? The unfairness crashes into you, clogging your mind, numbing to sensations until you feel like you exist in a vacuum, floating aimlessly in a void created by the lack of your fiance’s presence.

He hates you. Sukuna hates you with every fiber of his being.

You thought it was a joke; a blip of his personality where he takes time to open up and get to know a person. But, right off the bat, he’s never liked you.

For what reason? You try to wrack your brain for a hint of wrongdoing you’ve committed against him, shuffling through memories, micro-expressions, a change in the mood or tone which signifies the reason for his deep seated anger towards you.

Your rumination comes up empty.

You stagger back onto the bed, feeling its softness for the first time in days, casting your gaze to the alcove with a futon, blanket and pillow he’s made you sleep on so he doesn’t have to be burdened by your presence.

Humiliation grates you like a shredder, sloughing away your defenses until only anger remains and you stagger to your feet, fists clenched to your side.

You were going to ask him the reason once and for all.

Why do you hate me?

What have I ever done to you?

Do you even want this marriage in the first place?

What average people didn’t know about the ultra rich was that they were born with a different set of shackles—restraints which many of them couldn’t even comprehend.

Unlike the other individuals in your society concerned with superficial things like money, status or accumulated wealth, your concern has and always will be, your family’s well being. It didn’t matter what role you had to play. You understood from a young age how important you were to your father’s legacy—his position in this society—and you would do anything to help him advance it.

That was your role. These were your shackles.

And didn’t Sukuna have the same type of burden?

He, too, was raised with the idea of duty above all—duty above love. Above selfishness and lust.

If anyone is to understand your predicament, it would be the man you were set to weather these storms with.

Rounding the corner, you pass the in-house glass garden, about to wander towards the bar when you hear the unmistakable sound of someone sniffling. You hide in the shadows, the light of a mock gaslight throwing you into complete anonymity. Only a sliver of light graces the barely-lit hallway where the open door and a sudden, heavy sadness pricks your curiosity.

There’s a pause. An unsteady breath.

“He’s brought the wedding forward,” you hear the voice murmur, and it strikes you with his deepness—Sukuna’s richness and despair.

Inching closer towards the parted door, you hear him groan and exude a shuddering breath.

He’s crying. The astonishment doesn’t last, shattered by him cursing under his breath.

“I can’t marry her. I don’t ever want to marry. I’m not… not the type…”

He trails off and there’s another shuddering exhale.

It hits you then that he’s sobbing.

“Fucking Jiro. He won’t stop until he’s destroyed us. I will never forgive him for what he did to our family. Never in a million years—”

Sukuna breaks off, muffling a keen with what sounded like his palm.

“And Jin, he—” Sukuna curses. “He just fucking agrees with no hesitation? Like this? Fuck!”

The sound of glass shatters, making you flinch.

“I can’t do this. I can’t. I can’t—” He chokes off, and you think this might be it; he’s going to call off the engagement tonight.

“But, what about the merger money?”

Nothing in the world could prepare you for such a shock.

Este’s soft voice ripples around you like a bomb that’s just been activated, shaking you so badly you have to cover your mouth to keep from gasping out loud.

“It’s just until the transaction is complete. That’s like, what—? A year? You can be with her for just a year, Ryo. Then, once it’s done—”

“I’ll divorce her,” Sukuna vows, and shards of pain stab into you with how resolute he sounds.

Like he’s already made up his mind even before giving you the chance to change it.

The wool is lifted from your eyes, and panic settles around you, muffling your every thought, making you sick to the stomach.

What should I do? Do I tell my parents? Do I go on with this? Is this real? Is he just drunk? Why is Este with him? Are they together? Is she conspiring with him? Will he hurt me? Why does he hate my family? What did my father do? What should I do?

What should I do?

a/n. ruh-roh

btw feedbacks and reblogs will always be loved <3 thank you for supporting my story this far i luv u

©️ lalunanymph. do not copy elements of my work, repost, change the sentence structures, translate across any other platforms. and claim as your own

#🦢 writes #sukuna smut #sukuna angst #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #jjk series #jjk fic #sukuna ryomen smut #ryomen x reader #jjk ryomen #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #series: hopelessly devoted

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cherrychilli · 7 months ago

Text

18+ Eddie Munson x f! reader, established relationship, reader has sensitive nipples, nipple play(f receiving), brief handjob mention, use of nipple clamps, allusions to PIV sex WC:4K

You were right where you wanted to be, alone together in Eddie's van, not exactly cramped but you liked that it required you to press up against each other a lot more than if you were somewhere more spacious.

After an hour and a half of nervously pulling at the hem of your new pleated skirt, not used to showing your legs off like this, you allowed it to inch up around your thighs when he pulled you closer to straddle his lap, no longer concerned about how much skin you're revealing when he's touching you so eagerly, whispering honeyed praises against your heated skin.

The buttons on your blouse were undone while Eddie had his lips at your neck, sucking and nipping hard enough to make you draw sharp, shuddery breaths. One of his hands snuck underneath the unbuttoned fabric and smoothed over your ribs, thumb tracing the curve of your breast, finding no cotton or lace there this time.

The discovery prompts a smile to emerge on his face which you can feel as he presses sweet kisses along your jaw, one of your own starting to form on your lips as you pluck up the courage to take the lead.

Flattening your palms against his broad chest, you're able to gently guide him back against the leather seat, interrupting the path he was kissing up towards your lips. Eddie lets out a little groan in protest, lips pushing into a pout, not wanting to spend even a moment without his lips on your skin but he's quick to perk up when he sees you start to pull at your blouse.

Easing it down your shoulders, you let him see you like this for the first time, chest completely bare, nipples pert and pulled tight. You’re all warm and soft, perfumed skin turned dewy with a light sheen of sweat; your figure cloaked in moonlight that shines through the windscreen on this lonely dirt road he’s chosen to park at.

In the past, you've only ever let him touch your breasts over your clothes in the short time that you've been together, never receiving any kind of complaint about it from Eddie like you had with some of the boys you’ve dated previously. While those boys had bitched and moaned about it, claiming blue balls and other bullshit excuses in the hopes of getting you to take your clothes off, Eddie had only ever been respectful and considerate, treating you with the decency most others had lacked.

"Shit, baby they're so pretty", he breathed, saying it with so much adoration and sincerity it makes you swoon.

"Can I? please?", he begged softly next, hands drawing closer towards your breasts, waiting for you to give him permission to touch you there.

You draw in a deep breath to prepare yourself.

He was going to find out eventually.

You wanted him to find out. You'd been waiting for him to discover your little secret all on his own because you couldn't bring yourself to look him in the eyes and explain without burning up.

"Yes Eddie, I want you to touch me", you answer with a smile, soft and yearning. Those long, thick fingers you've daydreamed about while watching him pinch the end of a cigarette or pluck aptly at guitar strings were finally reaching for you, climbing higher, thumb and index fingers closing around a perky nipple.

It was easy to anticipate his touch but not the effect of it, calloused fingertips making sparks light up on your skin unlike what you could produce on your own, hot and instantaneous like striking a match.

The way you suddenly gasp and twitch in his lap has him pulling his hand away from surprise, eyes widening, lips parting.

"Sweetheart..."

This was it. This was the part that made your whole face feel like it might go up in smoke, watching the realization spread across his face.

You knew you were pretty sensitive, probably more than most people, some light grazing and gentle squeezing enough to set you alight whenever you played with yourself. For the longest time you wanted to hide it, that feeling only worsening when none of the other boys you went out with showed you the patience or kindness you deserved but with Eddie? Well, you were starting to feel differently about the whole thing now.

"Have they always been like this?", he asks with so much awe pooling in his eyes, all round and practically glittering with excitement that you feel no room for your usual self-consciousness to creep in and make you want to curl away from his sight.

Instead, you lean in a little closer and offer him a chaste nod, breath caught in your throat as he reaches for the same nipple again.

He's a little more gentle this time, index finger pointed to circle the outline of your areola, feeling you twitch and your chest rise and fall with a pleased sigh beneath his fingertip before flicking his eyes up to yours.

"Ever cum from this? just this?"

Oh.

He’s getting right down to it. None of that beating around the bush kind of bullshit and honestly, you liked that.

"Yeah. Yeah, sometimes", you tell him truthfully, growing more excited when he grins up at you, teeth bared like a panther ready to pounce.

Without warning, he begins swiping his thumb back and forth over one tender bud, his bulge growing more prominent under his jeans when you jerk in his lap, thighs squeezing around his hips, letting out a little mewl from the sudden stimulation.

You could have argued that it was mean of him to catch you off guard like that but you didn't. Not when you liked it so much. And he could tell that you did.

Seeing the corner of your lips pick up through your shaky exhale, he progresses to pinching both nipples gently, your spine curving when he tugged on them next and rolls them both between his fingers, squirming in his lap, nails digging into his leather jacket.

"Fuck, baby they're so sensitive", he covers your tits with his large palms, squeezing the soft swell, kneading them.

"Gonna put my mouth on them. That okay?"

"Fuck, yes Eddie please", you choked out, hands leaving his shoulders to wind your fingers into his soft curls, pulling him closer.

He tongues and laps at your nipples with fervor, flicking and swirling, lips sucking the sensitive peaks until you buck and grind down into his lap, clothed clit catching on his bulge perfectly.

The magma he'd breathed into your veins flows through your chest and spills down into your stomach, licking over your bones as it descends, surging, roiling, everything growing hot and contracting tight inside you. "Eddie, oh fuck– wai–", you'd meant to warn him but it all happens much faster and harder than you're used to. You came with your nails scraping along his scalp though he shows no sign of discomfort as you clutched at him, whining so high and loud, the wetness pooling in your panties transferring to his clothes.

Registering the dampness saturating the front of his jeans he reluctantly lets your swollen nipple go, able to pull back when your hold on him slackens, eyes searching for yours.

"Fuck– are you okay? could you do that again? is it too much? do you need a break?", he rambles, caught between not wanting to overwhelm you and wanting to watch you come undone in his lap again and again.

Large warm hands rub soothingly at your waist while you catch your breath, pulse just a little under racing when you give him your answer. One that leads to him making you cum twice more before it's your turn to help sate Eddie's throbbing ache, taking him into your hand and stroking him until he spilled messily all over your fingers.

Sharing your little secret with him sparked an obsession that you happily welcomed. Eddie couldn't get enough of how reactive you were to his touch, the way you writhed and moaned, no penetration required. You reveled in his attention and the pleasure it brought you. So much so that weeks later you find yourself wanting to take things further.

Wanting to surprise him, you had him drive you close to the mall under the pretense of needing to buy something important but it wasn't until you arrived outside the store you'd directed him to that you admitted what the item was.

The adult boutique was one you’d surveyed curiously out of the corner of your eye and only when you were certain no one else could see you do so every time you passed it on your way to the mall, intrigued by the cherry red neon sign advertising its collection of intimate apparel and adult toys, never thinking that one day you'd actually end up going inside.

From the moment you revealed the truth to Eddie, you knew what you were in for. The boy practically lit up like a Christmas tree, unable to contain his excitement. You had to tug him along through the store. Like blinkers on a horse, you kept him on path for what you had come in for, no detours. It was so clear he'd be in there for hours had he come in alone judging by the way his eyes kept darting to every corner, not wanting to miss seeing every item of paraphernalia displayed.

He's like a hummingbird, focus whizzing everywhere, pointing at every item that catches his attention, forgetting the last one as soon as he set his eyes on something new.

"Baby, what about that? you wanna go check it out?"

"Oh my god, look at those"

"What the hell are these even for?"

"Fuck, d'you see the size of that thing?"

And even though you roll your eyes you do find his enthusiasm endearing, even feeling grateful for it because it helps to put you at ease now that you've reached the part of the store you've been looking for.

"Oh honey...", he trails off, taking in the wall length display of literally every kind of nipple clamp one could imagine. While Eddie was awed by it you were a little overwhelmed by the collection and the options available – all kinds of styles, colors and attachments displayed and waiting to be picked.

"I don't know which ones I should choose", you admit, looking to Eddie for some guidance.

"Shit, I'll buy you the whole rack if that's what you want", he reached for a pair fitted with silver bells, poking it with his forefinger to make them chime. Not the most helpful suggestion but the gesture makes you fill with fondness for him nonetheless.

"I just need one pair, Eddie", you remind him with a giggle.

Aside from the store clerk who’d hardly paid either of you any attention, you were the only ones in the store and for that you were thankful. She was stony faced woman who regarded the two of you just once over her magazine when you entered, disinterest clear behind her reading glasses.

She left you and Eddie to browse as you pleased, seemingly having sized the pair of you up as the flustered first-time patrons that you were and looked to be past caring. Honestly, you preferred her distance over the types of sales assistants who tended to hover and with this being an intimate purchase, you'd rather not have a third-party looming over you as you surveyed the options.

You picked up different pairs of clamps off the display, trying to decide what might be best for you, getting Eddie's input too. Some looked cute and appealing and some bore too close a resemblance to something that might be used to commit torture. You ignored those in favor of the less intimidating ones.

"See these ones? they're pretty soft", Eddie picked up what you'd learned from your internet research was a tweezer style clamp, smoothing his thumb along the rubber tip. "Bet they'd fit great", he tells you, nearly holding them up to your breasts before remembering that you're still in public and within the clerk’s line of sight were she to look up from her magazine.

Drawing his hands back just as you let out a sunny laugh, the corner of your eyes crinkling in that way that made him want to kiss you there. He smiled then too; his happiness far vaster than what showed on his face as he saw you beginning to relax. "Anyway, they're not too tight. Adjustable. Could get you nice and worked up with just the right pressure".

It makes your cheeks feel warm hearing him talk about using them on you so unabashedly with that sort of confidence which came more easily to him than it did to you.

"Or these", he picked up a pair of alligator nipple clamps next, similar rubber padded tips adorning it but you know they're a little more advance than the previous pair. "I could get these nice and tight on you...if you want", he added, tapping on the screw mechanism that protruded from its side. "Keep those pretty nipples nice and pinched". He takes a step closer towards you and you can feel the heat radiating off him, just as you're sure he can feel the same coming off you.

You nearly whimper when he tips your chin up, thumb swiping along your bottom lip, tension building. "That what you want? want it to hurt?", he asked, eyes dark.

"Yeah, I want that", you answer, lips pressing against his thumb in a soft kiss, going from demure to brazen in an instant when your tongue slips out to lick the digit, doe eyes turning sultry.

"Jesus, baby..." he felt as if the world was somersaulting.

The choice was obvious then.

The clerk sighed when you approached the counter and set the alligator clamps down, eyes moving from her magazine straight to the register without connecting with either of you as she rang you up.

"Try not to hurt yourself", she said suddenly, all monotonous as your purchase beeped under the scanner and she tapped away on the keyboard.

The comment nearly makes you jump, launching into a sputtering ramble, cheeks very very warm as you assured her that you knew how to use them safely, your mind racing with all you'd learned from your research.

"I meant him", she cuts you off, tipping her head towards Eddie without looking away from the receipt as it spewed out of the thermal printer, tone impossibly bored like she'd been in this situation far more times than could be counted.

Confused, you looked to your boyfriend and quickly understood, finding his cheeks colored a deep shade of mauve, looking like the anticipation of what was to come had gotten the better of him. Your little playful swipe of your tongue must have affected him more than he'd let on.

"Remember to breathe or you'll get lightheaded, son", she advised, the epitome of world-weary. She tore off the receipt and held out your bagged up clamps in one hand and took her magazine back into the other, eyes lowering back to her article.

Eddie cleared his throat, the color draining from his face. Yours felt paper dry when you swallowed, mutely collecting your purchase before joining him in slinking away to the exit.

Eddie made the ride home in less time than you thought possible, even with you reminding him to slow down every time he pushed down too much on the accelerator. The mood wasn’t dampened for very long after you’d left the store.

"Sorry babe– I just can't wait", he’d said to you, smile bright, one hand leaving the steering wheel to squeeze your thigh. You felt the same way.

Back at yours, the bag rustled noisily in Eddie’s hold as he nearly tears the thing apart trying to get the clamps out while kicking off his shoes at the same time. You do your part in the meanwhile, shedding your layers of clothing until you’re left in just your panties.

“Alright” he huffed, cheeks pink, wielding the freed clamps, bag crumpled by his feet, tossing his shirt off and undoing his belt. “Got em. So how do you want to do this?”

“I was hoping we could try something I saw a few days ago?”, you posit hopefully.

Eyebrows raising, he listened intently as you told him about the videos you’d watched as part of your research. You had to click through quite a few, multiple viewings of women bound in leather and chains in dingy, scarlet rooms, their nipples slapped and pulled and clamped so tight it made you grimace. None of it was how you wanted to spend your first time using your own clamps with Eddie but then you found a different kind of video. Soft lighting, gentle caresses, airy moans. Sensual, lingering touches that made your own arousal climb, picturing your boyfriend handling you like that - readying you with both delicate care and fervent hands.

“That’s how I want you to touch me at the start. 'Want it like that before you put them on me”, you tell him.

With his pulse pounding and just as the clerk had advised, Eddie remembers to take a deep breath because listening to you talk about how you want him to touch you has him so terribly excited already. “Yeah, I can do that”, he replied, Adams apple bobbing as he swallowed.

So, you positioned yourselves in the same way as in the video you’d watched. Eddie laid back in bed in his boxers, his back against the headboard and legs spread enough for you to lie between them with your head resting against his chest.

The clamps are set aside on your bedside table for the time being. He’s sweet with you as he gets you ready, lips dropping kisses on your cheek, neck and shoulder, hands warming your waist, climbing higher to cup your breasts gently.

“You’re amazing you know that? Surprising me today with all of this”, he squeezed gently and you sighed like you've been deprived of his touch for too long.

“Wanted to do it sooner”, you breathed, fingers furling over your thighs.

“Yeah?”, he prompts, swiping a thumb mildly over your right nipple, coaxing it to perk up.

“Yeah…you make me feel so good…so safe…never would have done it if it wasn’t for you, Eddie”, you confide, earnestly.

His heart swells hearing you say all that about him. “Sweetheart”, he crooned, feeling you shiver in his arms when he said it, rolling your left nipple between his fingers as you moan.

You let him touch you like this for a few minutes, fingers circling, sweeping gently over each peak, surprising you with an occasional pinch and groaning proudly when it made you arch into him further.

“Eddie, I think I’m ready now”, you let him know with a soft whimper.

He picks up one of the clamps and brings it up to your chest, pressing down on the lever, both of your eyes trained on the rubber tips parting to make room for your nipple.

“Gonna start with one. Okay?”, he circled your right nipple and you sucked in a short breath in preparation.

“Okay”

It’s impossible to feel nervous when he’s holding you so lovingly, letting the rubber tips close around your nipple gently. "How's that feel?", he makes sure to check. Your right breast pulsed from the scintillating twinge; the peak of your nipple squeezed just the perfect amount between the clamps.

"Good, really good– hurts but not too much. I like it", you explain softly

He clamps the second one on as well, the same sensation washing over your left breast too, the weight of the clamps hanging on your chest heightening the intensity with a gentle pull adding to the pinch.

"Fuck, these look amazing on you", he praised with a low drawl.

You could feel Eddie's cock pushing against the base of your spine now, trapped behind his boxers for the time being. "Think you could play with your clit for me? Until it’s time to take them off?", he requests sweetly.

You nod, working a hand between your thighs, finding the bump of your clit over your panties and rubbing gently to stave the pressure inside you.

"That's my good girl", he encourages you. It makes him feel greedy listening to you pleasure yourself while he squeezes your tits, committing every little mewl and moan to memory, lightly nudging and tugging at the clamps.

“Can still hardly believe this if I’m being honest, honey”, he mumbles against your cheek, his chin balanced on your shoulder.

“Because I don’t seem the type?”, you guessed with a whimper.

“You hid it pretty well, you have to admit”, he shrugged “Unlike me. It’s no secret that I’m into this stuff. Just look at me”

You giggle softly. “Yeah, the handcuff belt’s not the most subtle thing, is it?” you teased and it makes Eddie laugh too.

“It wasn’t easy. Hiding it from you I mean. I didn’t want to. I’m glad I don’t have to anymore”, you tell him gasping as your clit throbs beneath your fingers, panties growing damp with slick.

“Me too– Jesus you look so fucking sexy with these on, angel. Pretty naughty”, he winds a hand up to wrap around your throat in a light grasp, tugging on one of the clamps with the other.

“Eddie… how much longer?”, you whined, feeling impatient.

“Just a little longer, baby”, he chuckled.

The pinch begins to develop into a sting, not unpleasant but definitely more intense now. Your fingers slow down on your clit, still working you up but not enough to tip you over the edge.

The longer the clamps remain on your body the more you begin to squirm and twist like you’re trying to get away from the pinch, nearing your limit and Eddie senses it easily.

“Alright, let’s get them off.”

Gently, he takes off the right one first, marveling at how swollen and puffy your nipple looks now. It tingles as the blood flow resumes, a subtle throbbing coursing through in time with your heartbeat as well. when Eddie removes the second one next it feels the same, both of your nipples tingling and throbbing, so tender and in desperate need of having his fingers on them.

“Eddie please touch me”, you mewl, raking your nails over his thigh with your free hand.

It’s fiery bliss when he plays with your nipples now, making you cry out when he drags the blunt edge of a nail across your areola.

“That’s it baby, keep playing with that pretty clit for me– god, they’re so fucking perfect and sensitive”

You work yourself over with messy circles, taking on a sloppy but firm rhythm as you continue to stimulate your twitching clit.

“I meant what I said back at the store. I’ll buy you whatever you want, shit– we’ll have to because I’m going to wear these the fuck out, I can already tell”, he groans into the juncture of your neck, lightly humping his cock against your lower back for some much needed relief.

“Eddie” you moan, your orgasm in sight as he rolls your sore nipples between his fingers, tugging them and releasing them to watch your breasts bounce against your chest.

“You’d look so pretty with them on while you bounce on my cock. You want that don’t you? Want me to fill you up while you show off these pretty tits?”

Your fingers have turned tacky with your slick, the beginnings of a cramp starting to form in your knuckles but you're too fucking close to even think of stopping now. “Yes, Eddie – wanna feel you inside while I wear them”, you keen, your thighs squeezing so tight, the same as your belly when finally, the floodgates containing your pleasure swing open.

The impact feels like a thunderclap, a choked cry of Eddie's name spilling out of you as you writhe in his arms, spine curving into a beautiful arch, nails sinking into your bedsheets, your cunt drenching your panties with your tangy essence.

When you come to, you feel like you've been drifting in and out of weightlessness, realizing Eddie's been soothing you through the comedown, gently stroking your body when you turn around to blink up at him, smiling thankfully.

"How'd that feel?" he asks as if the answer wasn't obvious.

"Amazing", you tell him anyway. "Fuck Eds, I wanna do it again".

His smile widens into a toothy grin. He turns to snatch up the clamps once more from the bedside table before he wrestles you onto your back, peeling your wet panties from your body as you squeal delightedly, face flaring hot when he takes a moment to lick at the slick soaked cotton and lets out a rumbling groan.

"Good because–", he moves on to gently reattaching the clamps onto your swollen nipples again as you mewl, tugging his boxers off and letting them join your panties on the floor. "Gonna make you cum all over my cock while you wear them this time."

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things smut #stranger things #eddie munson x reader

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